Chapter 17

17

Maisy's silence was more than he could bear.

Tanner sat forward in the chair beside her bed. His journal was open, but his pen was idle on the blank page. He'd been trying to write a little bit each day about the recent events up in the mountains with Lester and Smoke and Maisy, but every time he started penning the story, he couldn't keep the sadness at bay—sadness that those days with her had been so fleeting.

And sadness because after she'd awoken yesterday, she'd been so cold with him. He knew it was just with him, because she was talkative with Clementine, Hazel, and Maverick whenever they visited her.

She'd even been chatty with the doctor when he'd come this morning to check on her. Although her wound was still tender, the doctor had taken one look at it and declared she was on the mend. When she'd asked how much longer she would need to be abed, he'd said that if she was a good girl and rested a lot, it might only be a few more days.

Apparently she was in a hurry to get out of bed—likely to get away from him—because she was taking the doctor's orders to rest seriously. At least, she was resting whenever he was in the room with her.

He didn't know how much longer he could let the tension stretch before apologizing again. But after apologizing multiple times now, it was clear the tactic wasn't working.

Should he just blurt out that he loved her? Would that make everything better? It wouldn't hurt to try, would it? Because the truth was, over the past week of watching her hover between life and death, he'd realized all the more clearly just how much he loved her and didn't want to let her go. At the prospect of having to live without her, his life stretched out bleakly in front of him. If he'd thought he'd been lost and without any ties before, this was worse.

At the same time, her words from yesterday had plagued him too: "What happened was for the best. It reminded me of why we could never work out and why I can't give up the future I want."

That was one of the reasons he'd resisted a relationship with her all along—because he wanted her to be free to live a different life from everything she'd ever known, a life that was stable and secure and happy. And that kind of life didn't involve her remaining in the area and being tied to a mountain man like him.

But what if he gave up his mountain-man ways and settled down? Last night he'd even talked with Maverick about the possibility of taking over Ryder's ranch near Frisco. If he had land in the valley, a home, steady work, and goals for his life, would that be enough for her? Would that fulfill her dreams of what she wanted in a husband?

The trouble was, even if he could temporarily fulfill her dreams, what happened when he got tired of living on the ranch and was ready to move on? He refused to think of leaving a wife and family behind. But he also couldn't ask her to give up a normal life to move around with him. Would they both end up miserable?

With a heavy sigh, he sank back into the chair again and picked up the pen. He peered out the window to the hills in the distance. The midday sunshine had made an appearance, but now in late October, it had lost its warmth and brilliance. Even so, it highlighted a lone creature sitting atop a rocky outcropping overlooking the ranch.

It was Smoke. The wolf had been lingering on the outskirts of the ranch all week. In the few moments Tanner had taken a break from sitting beside Maisy, he'd gone out and hunted game for the wolf, leaving an elk carcass one day and a hare another. He'd hoped the offerings would keep Smoke from drawing too near the cattle or horses. Even though he'd asked Maverick and the other ranch hands not to shoot at Smoke, the wolf was still in danger. No one in his right mind would hesitate to kill the creature if he came near the livestock.

If they moved to Ryder's ranch, Smoke would have a better chance of surviving.

Tanner stared at the empty page, twisted his pen around his fingers, then snapped the book closed and stared at the outline of Maisy beneath the covers.

The problem was, even if he made a case for the move, she was still too mad to consider the option.

She sighed, although it was so quiet he couldn't be sure.

One thing was sure, though. He couldn't go on this way with the unending silence between them. "Maisy?" he said softly. "We need to talk."

She didn't say anything back.

"Please?"

This time her sigh was loud and exasperated.

Before he could formulate any words, horse hooves pounded through the ranch yard, loudly and urgently enough that he stood. Since the window faced the backyard, he wasn't able to see who the newcomer was.

But a few seconds later, shouts filled the air, followed by heavy bootsteps thudding up the porch stairs. Clementine wasn't home—had gone to town hours ago to help in Worth's General Store, where she sold her candy.

Maisy rolled over, wincing with the movement. Her face was pale from the days of lying near death's door, and her blue-green eyes looked especially bright.

Loud banging resounded against the front door. "Open up, Tanner!" came a man's gruff shout.

"Who in the blazes?" Tanner unholstered his revolver.

"It's Pa." Maisy tried pushing herself up but only made it halfway.

"I know you're in there with my daughter!" Sure enough, the bellow belonged to Cleveland Merritt.

As Tanner stepped into the wide front room of the house, which contained several sofas centered around a large fireplace, he stuffed his revolver away and tried to tamp down his irritation at Maisy's pa for finally coming to look for her.

Before he could make it past the first sofa, the lock popped off the inside and the door flew open.

Cleveland burst inside and barreled forward, his burly body twice the size of a normal man's—even more so with the bearskin robe he was wearing over his garments. His black curly hair was long and pulled back into a leather strap beneath a coonskin cap similar to the one Tanner wore. And his weathered face was barely visible beneath the layer of scruff and his curly black beard.

His dark eyes locked on Tanner and his nostrils flared like a bull about to charge. "Tanner Oakley! You're a dead man!"

Dead man?

Tanner halted, unable to comprehend Cleveland's threat. Why was the fellow angry with him? Especially after he'd brought Maisy to town and saved her life.

Maybe Cleveland had heard about the gun battle over Smoke from Lester and was mad that Tanner hadn't done more to protect Maisy and see that she didn't get herself into the predicament to begin with. Tanner had beaten himself up over the incident plenty of times already and didn't need Cleveland heaping guilt upon him.

Or what if Cleveland was just as angry as Lester had predicted about Tanner living at the cabin with Maisy? Yes, that had to be it. All Tanner needed to do was explain the truth and make Cleveland see reason.

"Hold on now." Tanner put out a hand to stop the man's approach.

But Cleveland's stride didn't falter and neither did his fierce scowl. He stomped forward as though he planned to trample Tanner into dust.

Tanner squared his shoulders. "Don't worry. Maisy's alive and recovering just fine."

"Yep, already been to the doc in town and heard she'll live." Cleveland's steps clobbered ominously. "But that ain't gonna stop me from carving up your pretty face!"

Only then did Tanner notice Cleveland had unsheathed his hunting knife, a weapon that had a seven-inch blade sharp enough to slice through tough animal hide and bone. Tanner stumbled back a step and reached again for his revolver, but the man was already lunging for Tanner, grabbing his arm and twisting it hard behind his back.

With his free hand, Tanner slipped his gun out and had it ready to shoot in an instant. And even though he could have put a bullet in the big fellow's foot to stop him, Tanner knew he'd never be able to pull the trigger and bring harm to Maisy's pa. If he did so, she would never forgive him, and he'd never be able to forgive himself.

He had to solve this dispute with Cleveland without bloodshed.

Tanner stuffed his revolver away. He was strong and could fight against the brawniest of men. He'd had to at times, with the rough crowd that lived in the high altitudes. With a grunt, he reached up to wrap an arm around Cleveland and put him in a chokehold. But in the next instant, the hunting blade cut into Tanner's neck with a sting that brought him to a standstill.

"You're a dead man, Tanner. A dead man, y'hear?" Cleveland stank of bear grease and woodsmoke. At this proximity, Tanner could smell his breath too, which reeked of garlic and tobacco.

"Pa, that's enough." Maisy stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching the frame and leaning against it, breathless and flushed. Her hair was loose and fell down to her waist, and she'd wrapped a blanket around herself. But that didn't conceal her nightgown or the way it slipped off her injured shoulder, exposing a patch of skin from her neck to her arm.

It was a smooth, beautiful stretch, pale and dotted with freckles. And it was bare.

"Keep your eyes off her!" Cleveland roared, jerking Tanner backward. "Or I'll cut your eyeballs out first." With the threat hanging in the air, Cleveland shifted the knife from Tanner's neck to his cheek, just below one of his eyes, so that the pointed blade bit into Tanner's skin.

"Pa!" Maisy shouted with a glare at her father. "Stop hurting Tanner."

"Don't you sass me, girlie." Cleveland kept the knife right where it was.

A warm trickle of blood dribbled down Tanner's face.

Tanner held himself absolutely still. Maybe he should have shot Cleveland after all. The fellow was acting like a mad dog.

"What's going on?" Maverick barged through the front door, breathing hard, his rifle in hand. One of his ranch hands halted behind him, also carrying a rifle.

At the sight of Cleveland's knife against Tanner's face, Maverick's expression hardened.

Cleveland didn't seem at all bothered by the appearance of two men pointing guns at him. Instead, he leveled another fierce look at Tanner. "I've come to cut up this here boy for defiling my little baby girl."

"That never happened," Tanner rushed to explain, even as he realized he had his gun out again.

"Ain't nobody defiled Maisy." Maverick was aiming his rifle at Cleveland's head.

Tanner's gut clenched with sudden fear that the situation could easily go from bad to worse in a few seconds. He knew that all too well from everything that had happened at the cabin when Maisy had been shot.

"Listen." Tanner tried to keep his voice calm and level as he slipped his revolver away. "Let's all put the weapons down so no one gets hurt."

Cleveland pinched Tanner's arm behind his back. "Oh, you're getting hurt all right. I'm gonna slice you up until you're bleeding all over the floor."

"Pa!" Maisy pushed away from the door and took halting steps toward the burly man in his bearskin coat. "Lester Acker's been feeding you lies. Tanner didn't defile me."

"Oh yes he did!" Cleveland's roar was like that of an angry bear defending a cub.

Maisy didn't miss a beat as she neared him, not in the least intimidated by the bluster. "Tanner helped me, that's all."

"He helped himself to having what wasn't his—"

"That's not true." Maisy's eyes were blazing as she halted in front of Tanner and grabbed for her pa's hand holding the knife as though she meant to disarm him. How she would manage such a feat, Tanner didn't know. But he wasn't surprised Maisy thought she could.

Cleveland moved the knife high in the air out of her reach, and Tanner breathed a little easier without it pricking his face. Even though he didn't think Cleveland would follow through on his threat to cut him up, he'd also never seen the fellow so mad.

Maisy clawed at her pa's arm, going after the knife again, but then halted with a wince, clearly doing too much and risking opening her shoulder wound.

"Maisy," Tanner warned, unable to hold himself back. "You're overdoing it."

She only shot him a glare too, reminding him they weren't exactly on the best of terms. Then she shoved her pa. "Let him go. You know Tanner's an honorable man."

Cleveland's brows furrowed deeply above his dark eyes as he peered down at his daughter. "Heard from multiple people that Tanner was holed up with you for the past couple weeks and taking what don't belong to him."

"He stayed with me less than a week. And he wasn't taking anything."

"Oh, he was taking all right." Cleveland jerked on Tanner's arm that was twisted behind his back, this time hard enough to make Tanner grimace. "Weren't you, pretty boy?"

"No." Even as Tanner denied Cleveland's accusation, a needle of guilt kept him from saying more.

"So you're telling me you never once touched my baby girl?"

Tanner pressed his lips together, guessing it was better if he didn't say anything at all.

But Maisy huffed. "A little kissing never hurt anyone."

Tanner almost groaned at her confession, but before he could, Cleveland was roaring in anger and dropped the knife back against Tanner's throat, hard enough to draw blood again.

Maisy screamed, her eyes riveted to the knife and turning wild.

"Now hold on!" Maverick yelled, stepping farther into the room, his rifle still aimed at Cleveland's head, his finger on the trigger.

The situation was escalating too quickly. "Stop!" Tanner shouted. "I don't want Maisy getting hurt again!"

Cleveland released the pressure of the knife on Tanner's throat but still kept his hold on Tanner. "I won't be putting my knife away—not until the preacher pronounces you man and wife."

At the ultimatum, Maisy took a rapid step back. "I'm not marrying Tanner."

Cleveland leveled a withering look on her. "Oh yes you are, girlie."

What was Cleveland saying? That he intended to force a wedding?

Tanner's mind was spinning. Could he really marry Maisy? He loved her. And hadn't he just considered giving up his mountain-man ways in order to settle down on Ryder's ranch?

"Yep." Maverick inched closer. "I think that's a good idea. Tanner should marry Maisy."

Tanner knew he should argue against his brother and her pa, but he couldn't muster enough opposition to the idea of marrying her to put up more of a fight.

Cleveland gave a sharp nod. "Course it's a good idea. It's the only way to save her reputation."

"I don't care about my reputation here." Maisy pressed against the wall as though she needed the support. Her eyes were round, and Tanner was afraid she would collapse.

"You need to get back in bed, Maisy," he urged her gently. "You're still too weak to be up and about."

"I'm fine." Her eyes flashed with frustration. "Or at least, I'll be fine enough once everyone puts the idea of marriage out of their heads, because it's not gonna happen."

"Oh, you bet it's happening." Cleveland guffawed and then turned and called across the room and out the open door. "Glenn?"

A second man in a coonskin cap poked his head into the cabin. It was Glenn, who was just as scraggly looking as Cleveland with his long greasy hair and overgrown beard. But where Cleveland was big and burly, Glenn was thin and lanky, his limbs like twigs. He swept his gaze over the room, taking in everyone before nodding at Cleveland. "You ready?"

"More than ready," Cleveland boomed.

With the tip of his rifle, Glenn nudged another fellow into the house. Reverend Livingston. In a dark suit and wearing a clerical collar, the man edged forward reluctantly, his kindly eyes wary. He was a short waif of a man who could be easily trampled by either Cleveland or Glenn.

"Pa!" Maisy bunched her hands on her hips. "You didn't force the reverend to come out, did you?"

"Of course I did!"

Tanner tossed what he hoped was an apologetic look the reverend's way. Maverick had already crossed toward Glenn and pushed the fellow's rifle away from the reverend.

"Get over here, Reverend, and get this ceremony going," Cleveland called. "Before I cut him up some more."

Cleveland jabbed his knife against Tanner's face again, this time with the blade at his chin.

The reverend blanched, likely taking in the size of the knife and perhaps the blood that coated Tanner's cheek and neck. It probably looked worse than it was. Even so, the reverend scurried forward while opening his prayer book.

Tanner inwardly sighed. Cleveland Merritt intended to make him marry Maisy today and wasn't going to take no for an answer. The trouble was, Maisy's stormy expression said clearly enough that she wasn't planning to say yes—at least, not without a fight.