lot to me.” His conciliatory tone, so at odds with the faint mockery that had laced his words previously, caught her off guard.
She sighed, wondering again if she was letting sentiment dictate her actions. She turned the saddle over again, looking at it more closely. Then she frowned.
“This saddle has some initials stamped on it,” she said quietly, turning the leather of the skirt over to show him. “I can’t make it out.”
“D.F. David Fortier. It was my brother’s saddle.”
David’s saddle. Keira’s heart, already overworked, kicked up another notch. “Why are you using it?” She pulled her hands away.
“In honor of him. We were getting to the end of the season when he died. He had qualified for the NFR. I promised myself to finish what he started. It took me two years, but here I am.”
Keira turned the saddle over again with trembling hands, then set it carefully aside. “I’m sorry, Tanner. I can’t fix the saddle for you.”
“What? Why not?” Tanner shot her a frustrated scowl. “I thought you said it would take two weeks.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can find two weeks to work on it. I’ll get you the card of someone who might be able to help you,” she said, turning her back to him as she rummaged through the old wooden desk, her hands trembling again as she pulled a business card out of one of the drawers. Sugar, startled out of his sleep, stood and looked up at her, his head tilted to one side as if wondering what she was doing.
Keira took a deep breath, sent up another prayer then handed the card to Tanner.
He took it then frowned. “Landolt?”
“He does good work.”
“Not as good as Monty. And you.”
Keira’s hand lowered as she looked from the card Tanner held to the saddle laying on the table. It was as if that inanimate object encapsulated so much of what lay between her and Tanner. And what could never be changed.
“There’s another guy in Idaho who dad refers people to,” she said, turning back to her desk. “I’ll see if I have his information.”
Just then the door of the shop opened, bringing in the chill of the outdoors and a flash of sunlight. Sugar jumped up and ran to the door.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Tanner Fortier.” Her father’s voice boomed into the silence as he shut the door behind him, closing off the cold and the light.
Keira turned in time to see Tanner enveloped in a bear hug by her tall, lean father. Monty was easily six feet tall but Tanner topped him by a couple of inches. Monty pulled back, shaking his head as he looked Tanner over. “You look like some castaway cowboy,” he teased, clapping a hand on Tanner’s worn jacket.
“I feel like one,” Tanner retorted as a truly genuine smile softened his harsh features, put a sparkle in his dark eyes and disturbed Keira’s equilibrium. “Been a busy season.”
“You did well, I understand. Enough to qualify for the NFR. Good stuff. Proud of you, son.” Monty beamed his approval. He had always liked Tanner. Solid, dependable. Hardworking.
An overall great guy. Someone Monty easily called son as he had while he and Keira were dating. When they got engaged, her parents were thrilled. Part of that happiness was because Monty and Ellen needed some good news in their lives. Their oldest son, Lee, had just been sent to prison, and Keira’s older sister, Heather, had just moved to New York against their wishes. The engagement of a Fortier to a Tanner had been the one bright spot in that horrible year.
Keira’s heart stuttered again.
“So what do we have here?” Monty was saying as he picked up the saddle. “Not this saddle’s first rodeo.”
“I brought it here hoping you could fix it.”
Monty turned the saddle over and smiled. “I made this one,” he said. “For your brother, David.”
“I was just telling Tanner that we don’t have time to work on it,” Keira said, praying again as she caught Tanner’s confused gaze in her peripheral vision.
“Of course we have time,” he said, his frown showing her he didn’t get her unspoken message. “For Tanner, we make time.”
“We’ve got an exhibition to get stuff ready for and that order from that store in Seattle,” Keira replied, wishing she could keep the pleading tone out of her voice. She had no concrete reason not to do the job, nor was she about to get into specifics.
“Get Allison to come in and help you,” Monty said. “Or I can pitch in.”
“The doctor said you had to slow down. I don’t want you working too much.”
Monty waved off her concerns then turned to Tanner. “Just leave it here, son. We’ll get it fixed up for you one way or the other.”
Keira maintained a veneer of tense restraint but she felt it slipping. She wasn’t going to look at Tanner, but as if her eyes had their own will, they turned to him.
It wasn’t hard to see the hurt and puzzlement on his face, and for a moment she prayed for a return to the muted anger he had shown when he’d first come in.
That would be easier to deal with.
God had been her refuge and strength the past few years. Her strong fortress. And from the way events were moving now, she would need His strength more than ever in the next few weeks.
“You better come up to the house,” Monty said as Keira moved the saddle over to the workbench.
Tanner shot another look at Keira, still baffled at her hesitation, but then turned his attention back to Monty. “Yes. I’d like to see how Ellen’s doing,” he said.
“And your mother,” Monty added. “She’s been looking forward to your visit.”
Tanner doubted that. He and his stepmother had never been close and less so since David’s death. She had never come out and said it, but he knew she blamed him for the accident. And why not? Tanner blamed himself, as well. If he had been more insistent, he would have been driving his stepbrother back to the hotel. And both he and David would have made it safely to Cheyenne.
“Are you coming, Keira?” Monty asked as he dropped his worn cowboy hat on his head.
“Maybe later. I’ve got to cut out some wallets before I quit for the day.”
“Can’t that wait?” Monty asked.
“No. Not if we have to work on Tanner’s saddle, too.” Keira’s unexpectedly sharp tone grated on Tanner. But he shook off his frustration.
He’d gotten his first visit with Keira out of the way. Though he’d hoped his heart wouldn’t race at the sight of her, at least that was done. Maybe next time he saw her he would feel more even-keeled.
