home, one of the last people she wanted to see rode up alongside her.
“So, Mrs. Braddock . Been to see the lawyer, have you?” Shaw said, looking her up and down.
“Wh-what—” She felt as if she had no privacy at all anymore. The fumes of Virgil Tilly’s cheap rotgut wafted to her with his words.
“There’s no sense denying it. I just seen you outside his office. And I know what he told you, too—that I’m right. You’ll have to send that Grenfell and his boys packing now that your rightful husband is home. Too bad. He was a good wrangler but we’ll find someone else to fill in for him.”
She glared at his smug face, with its small, shoe-button eyes and lines drawn by a lifetime of weather and a sour, ill-tempered nature. Once, years ago, she’d hoped that Shaw Braddock would be the father she’d lost. She’d catered to him and spoiled him and put up with his cranky outbursts and limitless, carved-in-stone opinions. Now she wouldn’t wish this man on anyone, not even his own sons. And she wasn’t about to discuss personal business out here on Main Street.
“I will do no such thing.”
He stared at her, gawping like a landed salmon while a canyon-deep frown clenched his forehead.
“You keep your mouth shut about this unless you want to cause more trouble than you have already. If you want lunch, it will be on the table in an hour.”
His expression changed from anger to long-suffering vexation. “Forget it. I’m stopping at Mae’s. She might have something special cookin’ up for me in her kitchen.”
Susannah hoped it was a first-rate case of indigestion. “Fine.” She dug her knees into Sally’s sides and urged her into a trot, knowing that neither Shaw nor his horse would be able to keep up.
The hard-won peace she’d found after learning of Riley’s death and marrying Tanner was gone again. She’d slept very little for the past two nights since Riley had returned, and the bed she’d shared with Tanner seemed vast.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her father-in-law was now just a speck on the landscape in front of Granny Mae Rumsteadt’s café, and she let the mare slow down. Sally plodded along, as if sensing her mood. Once outside of town, Susannah could see farmers in the fields harvesting vegetables and fruit that would provide food and income through the winter. Along the edges of the road, robust Canada thistles, dandelions, and poison hemlock choked out the last of summer’s wildflowers.
How would she handle this? There were no easy answers to this problem—she couldn’t begin to guess its outcome. She owed both Tanner and Riley the truth of what she’d learned, and she hoped to talk to Tanner before the rush and bustle of supper this evening ate into her time. Tossing and turning all night—or for several nights—just wasn’t an option this time. There was no running away from this. She had to face it.
“Come on, Sally, we’ve got to get back. I have hungry people to feed.”
When she reached home, Tanner was working with a two-year-old filly in the corral. Cole sat on the top rail with one boot heel hooked on a rail below. Riley, wearing jeans and a shirt andvest that had come from the wardrobe in his bedroom, leaned on his cane and watched the proceedings from a greater distance. Those clothes were too big for him now. The vest hung on him as if he were just a wire coat hanger. At first glance, he made her think of an easterner who had come here to experience life on a ranch. The man she remembered would have been sitting on the fence rail, tossing off good-natured ribbing to Tanner or discussing the cost of training the horse with Cole. Or he might have been busy at his desk in the house, surrounded by ledgers and his fancy Burroughs adding machine. This man was frail and uncertain. A stranger who looked out of place.
She felt all eyes turn toward her.
Tanner acknowledged her with a nod and she tried to catch his eye with a meaningful look. But
Learning to Kill: Stories