Monty, a hidebound Luddite and proud of it, packing a cell phone.
“Yeah. He got it when Mom had her neck fusion surgery done.” Keira’s hesitant tone generated a thrum of sympathy.
“I was sorry to hear about the accident,” Tanner said. “Must have been scary.”
“It was. We’re thankful that nothing...nothing worse happened. It was a bad fall.”
Keira’s gaze ticked over his, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to say anything about David. Though two years had passed since the accident that killed his brother, Keira and Tanner hadn’t seen each other since his death.
But nothing.
Instead, Keira lifted her chin, staring directly at him. Her challenging attitude disturbed him, but it hurt him more. “What do you need to see my dad about?”
“I have a saddle I want him to fix,” Tanner said. “Maybe I can drop it off and he can call me later?”
“Dad doesn’t do much leather work anymore,” was Keira’s curt reply.
This was a surprise. Monty had been in the saddle-making business since he was a boy. He had learned the craft from his father and was a sought-after leather artisan. He had crafted numerous saddles given as awards in rodeos all over the Western states. The last Tanner had heard, Refuge Ranch Leatherworks was still a going concern. “I didn’t think your dad would quit until someone dragged him out of here. When did that happen?”
“Since the doctor told him to slow down, and I took over.”
Tanner frowned at that, trying to process this information.
“So if you want your saddle looked at, I’m the one you need to talk to,” Keira said. Then she spun around and ducked into the shop, Sugar right on her heels. Tanner wasn’t sure whether her abrupt departure meant the conversation was over or that he should follow her into the shop.
He assumed the latter, returned to his truck and pulled the bronc saddle out of the cab. He walked to the shop, and stepped inside.
After the glare of the sun on the snow outside, Tanner had to pause and let his vision adjust to the darker interior. He pulled his hat off then looked around the space of a shop that was once as familiar to him as his own home. He would often keep Keira company here when she did piecework for her father. He’d loved watching as she cut and stitched and did the intricate leather tooling on the saddles Monty was known for.
Neither Keira’s older brother, Lee, or sister, Heather, were interested in the business that their father had taken over from his father. Heather’s focus was barrel racing and Lee... Well, Lee liked his fun, running around with his buddy Mitch and, at times, Tanner’s brother, David.
Keira was moving some pieces of cut leather off the heavy butcher-block worktable dominating the center of the building as Tanner set the saddle on it.
Across from the table, rows of shelves stacked with boxes holding grommets, snaps, buckles and rigging D’s and other hardware necessary for saddle making filled most of the wall. Beside the shelves hung stirrups made of metal, or leather-covered wood, all lined up by size and shape. Next to them stood an old rolltop desk that held binders of photos of completed projects to show prospective customers.
Sugar lay on an old worn rug lying by the chair as he always did when Keira worked here.
The other corner of the shop was taken up by three industrial sewing machines. Beside them, perched on a saddle rack, was a half-finished saddle.
What had changed most was the wall opposite him. Monty used to hang pictures of finished saddles on it. Now shelves holding wallets, belts, briefcases and purses took up that space. Obviously a new venture for Refuge Ranch Leatherworks.
Keira brushed a few remnants of leather from the table, then adjusted a pile of cardboard patterns. Fussy work that kept her attention off him.
“Since when did you start cutting, stitching and stamping again?” Tanner asked, slipping his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
“When I came back. About two years ago.”
And a month after David’s funeral, he had discovered. Once again he wondered why she hadn’t attended the funeral. Once again the pain of her absence cut. He brushed the old feelings aside. They belonged to a past he’d closed the door on a long time ago.
“Looks like you’ve got a few other projects in the pipeline,” he said.
Keira rested her hands on the table in front of her, looking resolutely ahead at the wall of manufactured items Tanner guessed were made right here by her. “I’ve been taking the business in another direction,” was all she said.
“Pretty ambitious. Do you still do saddles?”
“I do a few. Dad helps out, and also helps me with the small work from time to time. He can’t stay completely out of it.” Her gaze skittered off him and onto the saddle now lying on the table between them. “That looks ragged.”
Tanner ran his hand over the misshapen cantle and adjusted the worn stirrups. “Last ride was a bit of a rodeo, if you’ll pardon the expression.” If it were his saddle, he would have junked it. But this saddle held memories, and he needed it fixed.
Keira shot him a frown. “You still riding? I thought you were done when you bought that mechanic shop in Sheridan, Wyoming?”
“I was, but I thought I’d take one more run at the NFR this year.”
Before his brother died, David had qualified for the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. After Tanner got over his grief, he promised himself he would do one last rodeo season in David’s honor, aiming to qualify for the NFR himself. This was that season and he had done well. He felt that God had honored his request to ride in the NFR for David. Had some good rides and made some good money. He’d gotten some injuries on his quest, but in a couple of weeks he would be riding in Vegas and he was determined to do it on David’s saddle.
He was equally determined to win. Maybe then he could lay his guilt over David’s death to rest.
“Wow, it certainly got a working over,” she said, examining the saddle carefully.
Her throaty voice was even. Well modulated. If anyone were listening, they would think she was talking to a complete stranger.
Not her former fiancé.
“The horse I drew was a bad spinner,” Tanner said. “Should have known when he looked back at me with those beady brown eyes. I thought I had him from the mark out but then he set me up. When he rolled back, everything went south. Landed on the saddle and fought for a while. Worst of it all, I was riding slack. Wasn’t even a performance.” Tanner caught himself midexplanation, aware that he was talking too much. It was a problem he had when he was nervous. He shut his mouth, then caught Keira’s puzzled look.
“You hurt your shoulder?” she asked.
Tanner hadn’t even realized he’d rolled his injured shoulder till she pointed it out. “It’s nothing.” It was more than nothing, but he didn’t want her sympathy. If she cared enough to give it.
Keira
