unending life lessons. The only thing that wily man hadn’t been able to teach Tanner was how to let go of his shameful past. Of course Burt hadn’t known that by accepting his invitation to come to Wranglers, Tanner had abandoned the girlfriend who was going to have his child. In fact, it was only much later that Tanner himself understood that though he’d gained Burt and a home, he’d done exactly as his mother had—he’d thrown away his chance to be a father, to have the family he’d always craved. How could he possibly be forgiven for that?
With a sigh of regret Tanner pushed away the past and decided he’d focus on recruiting kids tomorrow. Right now he needed to relocate these rabbits so if a cute little girl, her grumpy brother and her pretty mom came to visit, he could allay their fears about their pets.
Moses Featherbed sat on the porch swing at Wranglers, watching as Tanner hefted the cage out of the truck. The elderly Native American had called Wranglers his home long before Tanner’s arrival and thanks to a stipend from Burt’s estate, Moses remained, refusing to retire, let alone stop rehabilitating the abused horses Burt had always welcomed on his spread.
“You raising rabbits now?” Moses, never short for a comment, lifted one bushy eyebrow.
“Not intentionally.” Conscious of the old man following, Tanner carried the cage to a fenced area he’d built last November to house a pair of injured Canadian geese that had since flown away. “I made an exchange.” He set the cage inside and opened the wire door.
“Rabbits for...?” Moses eased his arthritic hip onto a nearby bale and watched the animals hop out of the cage to explore their new home.
“Rabbits for pie or something like it for my ushers’ meeting tonight.” Tanner couldn’t hide his smile of anticipation.
“Good deal, especially if a pretty lady comes with it,” Moses approved with a chuckle.
“She’s pretty all right,” Tanner assured him. Then he frowned. “But that has nothing to do with the pie. I mean—uh—”
“Right.” Moses’s amused chuckle echoed through the feathery mesquites, over the spiky barrel cactus and tumbled down to the bubbling brook three hundred feet away. “The Lord’s ways surely are mysterious.”
Mysterious or not, the Lord wasn’t in the matchmaking business for Tanner Johns, because pretty as Sophie Armstrong was, God knew perfectly well that Tanner didn’t get involved with women. Never again.
* * *
“I sure hope your cowboy likes these kinds of pie.” Sophie studied the fluted golden crusts with a critical eye.
“He will.” Beth smiled dreamily, her mind obviously elsewhere. “Do you think the rabbits are happy, Mama?”
“On a ranch? I think they’re ecstatic. That means very happy,” she clarified when Beth frowned.
“Mr. Cowboy will be really nice to them.” Beth went back to coloring her oversize rabbit-picture-thank-you card for the rancher.
“How do you know that?” Curious to hear the response, Sophie listened before completing a last-minute mental check on her catered meal.
“’Cause he was really nice to me. Only he’s got sad eyes. I think he hurts inside. I don’t think he has anybody to love him.” Beth added a few blue lines to her drawing before she murmured, “I love him.”
I could almost love him for taking those rabbits. Immediately Sophie quashed the errant thought. Never falling into that trap again, she reminded herself. Independence is too precious.
“I love Mr. Cowboy lots.” Beth sounded the way Sophie had felt when she was fifteen and Marty Armstrong, the coolest guy in school, had first shown an interest in her.
“That’s nice to say, sweetie, but Mr. Johns is a stranger. You can’t love a stranger.” It was the wrong thing to say to her very literal daughter, and Sophie knew it the moment Beth’s blue eyes darkened to storm clouds.
“The Bible says to love everybody.” She glared at her mother, her voice accusing.
“That’s right. Thank you for reminding me, Bethy.” Sophie pressed a placating kiss against her daughter’s head, then checked the kitchen clock. Where was the man? She had to leave for her gig in less than five minutes. “Maybe that’s him,” she said when the phone rang a second later.
It wasn’t Tanner Johns calling.
“I can’t babysit, Sophie. I’m so sorry.” Edna Parker’s breathy voice sounded horribly weak.
“What’s wrong, Edna? Where are you?” Sophie asked worriedly.
“At the hospital. My son brought me. I fell and broke my hip while you were out trying to get rid of the rabbits. They’re going to do surgery soon.” That weepy tone told Sophie her elderly neighbor was very frightened.
“You stop fussing now,” she said gently. “The doctors will make everything better.”
“But I can’t babysit for you tonight,” the woman wailed in a feeble voice.
“I’ll get someone else to watch the kids. Don’t worry about us. And I’ll run over later and look after your cats. I have your key, remember? Everything’s going to be fine.” She heard a sigh of relief. “The kids and I will come see you as soon as we can. Don’t worry, Edna.”
“Thank you, dear.” Somewhat calmer, Edna chatted for a moment before saying, “I’m so glad God sent you into my life.” Then she hung up.
“I wish God would send me someone into my life. Where am I going to get a sitter at this time on a Friday night?” Sophie couldn’t mess up this catering job. She needed it to pay next month’s rent. “I need help, God.”
A loud rap on the front door startled her out of her silent prayer.
“It’s Mr. Cowboy,” Beth yelled, having raced to answer the door. Then to Sophie’s utter dismay, her daughter said to Tanner, “Houston, we have a problem.”
Tanner’s startled gaze moved from Beth to Sophie. One corner of his mouth kicked up. Dark green eyes, which earlier had been hidden behind sunglasses, were startling in his tanned face. Sophie gulped. Tall, lanky and lean, with wide denim-clad shoulders that looked perfect for leaning on, Tanner Johns was every woman’s fantasy cowboy.
Not her fantasy cowboy, of course, but—
“What’s the problem, er, Houston?” His gaze rested on Sophie while his fingers gripped the black Stetson he’d removed when he stepped over their threshold.
Sophie couldn’t explain because there was something wrong with her breathing. As in, she couldn’t. Then Davy came racing down the stairs, tripped on the perpetually loose runner at the bottom tread and tumbled headlong into the cowboy’s arms. Tanner grunted as he caught her son and held on just long enough to make sure Davy could stand on his own.
“Something I said?” he joked, winking at her.
The man winked at her! The control Sophie had almost recovered vanished. She figured she probably looked like a beached fish, gulping for air. Stupidly, she wished she’d had time to fix her hair.
Where’s your independence now?
“Our babysitter can’t come,” Beth explained. “Mama’s gonna lose this job and we need it to pay our bills.” The words were an exact repeat of her mother’s earlier meant-to-be-silent mutterings.
Sophie almost groaned out loud. Tanner so needed to hear that sad story, he of the billion-acre ranch with money coming out of his ears, thanks, according to church gossip, to Burt’s generosity. Now he’d feel sorry for her. Sophie thrust back her shoulders, independence reasserting itself.
“That’s enough, Beth. You and Davy get your sweaters. You’ll have to come with me and sit quietly in a corner of the kitchen while I work. Go now. Monica and Tiffany will meet us there.” She said hello to