“A ride could be just what we all need,” she said quietly. She pulled a hatbox off the high shelf over the bridle rack and retrieved one of Brett’s old felt cattleman hats from the stack inside. It was a dark tan with a blackband, had only seen a few wears, and wasn’t stained with sweat like some of the others. The hats were just sitting up here, not being worn, and Liz thought maybe it was time to go through all of it and figure out what to do with it. Reminders of Brett were more complex now, with everything that had happened, and what Jake had talked about with her.
She looked at it, thumbing a bit of dust off one part of the crown, reminding herself that it was just a hat, nothing more.
“He’ll need this or he’ll burn to a crisp,” she remarked, setting it beside the chaps and gloves. “Who should we put him on?”
“Tan said to take Dolly,” Brady quipped, and they looked at one another.
“Oh, hell no. He didn’t.”
The two of them were still laughing when Tanner strode in, his chaps already zipped, beat-up felt hat identical to the one she’d picked for Jake in his hand, a scowl on his face.
“I’m taking Chip,” he muttered, and hefted a saddle up by the horn. “Brady, you taking Zane?”
“Yeah,” Brady replied, the levity gone like a vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room, and turned to gather his tack. Liz pulled Chip’s bridle off the wall and wordlessly handed it to Tanner, watching him for any sign that this was not a good idea. His temper was so razor-thin right now that any bobble might just do him in, and even though he’d never hurt a horse, he’d certainly fight with one if his hackles were up. Chip was as solid as they came, and knew his rider well, but lately nobody could put a guess on the stress levels bombing around inside Tanner. She had to try and poke through the storm he was carrying around before he got on a horse, especially if he and Jake pushed each other’s buttons again.
“Tan,” she said quietly as he turned to leave.
“What?” he growled curtly, his jaw flexing, his eyes snapping.
“Just stop for a hot second. You’re like a bear with a burr up its butt. What’s going on?”
Brady slid past them with his saddle and bridle, meeting Liz’s eyes. She nodded at him, and he quirked an eyebrow but left them alone. She’d see if Tanner would tell her what he was pissed about now, maybe it would lessen the bowstring-tight tension she could see in his shoulders.
“Nothin’.”
“Bullshit.”
He sighed and turned to her. She saw it then. The exhaustion, the hurt, the absolute rock bottom he was facing. The gut twist of helplessness hit her, because she didn’t know what to do with that.
He’d dusted it up with Jake, and they weren’t even talking to one another now. There had been no word from Frank. He was hating every moment of this exile imposed on him by a dead man he’d worshipped his whole life, and his hands were tied behind his back, his control gone.
“You gotta figure out how to be good with all this, Tan. It’s eating you alive,” was what she finally decided to say, hoping it wouldn’t blow his fuse.
“It’s not that, I was in town and saw—”
A horse kicked a stall and squealed just outside the tack room, and he stopped talking, instinct taking over to listen in case they needed to deal with it. When there was no resulting ruckus, Tanner frowned, not finishing his sentence.
“And saw what, Tan? Is everything okay?” Liz prodded.
He didn’t answer her, just stood there, bridle in his hands, eyes focused out the tiny window in the tack room that faced the sand ring. His jaw flexed, his face went hard with what Liz assumed was the grief that was consuming him, and she braced for impact. The clock on the wall ticked into the silence of the room.
“You comin’ on this ride too?” he finally replied, deflecting her question, his jaw clenched tightly. “The more eyes we have on City Boy, the less likely we’ll be pickin’ him out of the dirt.”
“I’ll set him on Sandy. She can keep up to our horses, and she’s as safe as they come.”
“Good. Who are you taking?”
“Finnegan. I haven’t gotten on him in a few days. He could use it.”
A sound of agreement came from Tanner before he stalked out of the room and she moved off to heft her own saddle, laying Finnegan’s bridle over the seat. Her mind was already on the task of tacking up two horses quickly, deciding which saddle would be best for Jake. Brett had an old working saddle he used to ride the fence lines, and after depositing her saddle on the rack in front of Finnegan’s stall, she went back and pulled the dust cover from it, eyeing the leather critically. It was still in great shape and would fit Sandy’s long back perfectly.
A hand touched her, and she turned back to see Tanner, an apologetic look on his face, his saddle hefted up on one shoulder.
“I . . . damn it, Lizzie. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my shit out on you. I—” he started, and swallowed hard, his eyes leaving her to look at the ground, then closing. She put her hand on his.
“You don’t have to answer my question, Tan. I’m just worried about you.”
He let his hand slip away from her. There. She’d said enough to make his gears turn, maybe. She yanked her chaps off her peg near the door, and as she was zipping them up, prayed it would be a nudge in the right direction.
