13
THOUGH HE TOLD Jules he was going to head to the hospital and have a heart-to-heart with his father, Tanner wanted to be prepared first. The only bad plan when it came to battle was having no plan. His day with Jules had left him energized, and full of hope. She’d been right about a lot of the issues between him and his father. They needed what the corps should have given them—common ground.
After dropping her at the guesthouse to get her Jeep, he returned to the main house and headed straight into his father’s study. He needed a good feel for how the business was going—where were the weak points, how they generated their capital, and where, if any, they needed to make changes. He didn’t go looking for issues or trouble. What he wanted was a solid understanding of his father’s current plans coupled with openings he could create for himself—for them. Especially after discussing Jules’s idea for Mateo.
He really wanted to make that happen.
The best way to make himself indispensable to the Colonel, and not seem to intrude on his father’s territory, was to find work that he could do himself that the Colonel couldn’t: work that would help to grow the Round Top, and protect the family’s vested interests, while also helping alleviate the burden of the day-to-day operations from the Colonel’s shoulders. Doc Clayton had been very specific. If the Colonel didn’t slow down and didn’t take better care of himself, he wouldn’t live out the year. Much to his own surprise, it mattered to Tanner whether his father lived or died.
After a couple of hours spent going over the books and having an interesting discussion with Ramon, Tanner felt ready to take on his father. He was also tempted to stop and catch Jules at one of the barns, but he made himself drive onward.
He’d been relying a great deal on Jules Heller since he returned, even more so than he realized. Jules helped him see that sometimes it was what a person didn’t say that mattered more than what they did say. At the hospital, he found his father sitting up in bed, a scowl on his face, as one of the nurses argued with him over the meal. Though he wouldn’t call it much of an argument, however—it was more that his father was giving her instructions and she was giving him a gimlet eye.
In this one instance, Tanner would put his money on the nurse over his stubborn Marine father. Not interrupting, he waited patiently to be noticed. When the nurse finally left, she carried the tray out and murmured good luck to Tanner as she passed him. He didn’t laugh, only nodded.
He appreciated the well-wishes, particularly considering that over the years any time he and his father butted heads, it did not end well. Nor had it ended well at all of late. Closing the door, he stepped inside. “How are we doing, Colonel?”
The old man gave him a dark stare. “I’m forbidden bacon.”
Tanner would not laugh.
He would not laugh.
“Ever?” He shared his father’s horror at the statement because Tanner was a huge fan of bacon.
“So it would seem. No bacon, no alcohol, no heavy red meats, no cholesterol of any kind. My cholesterol is just fine.” Although his position in the hospital, hooked up to a heart monitor and leaning back in the bed looking frail while wearing a hospital gown would argue against the statement, Tanner let it slide. In this area Jules was correct that his father did not like to be told no, and he couldn’t fault him. Bacon was the lifeblood.
“Maybe we can revisit the bacon issue in a few months. They’re saying not now, but you just had surgery—you’re not up to eating a lot of the heavier things that you enjoy. That’s not to say in a few months you won’t be as strong as an ox and prove to them that a Marine can do whatever the hell he sets his mind out to do.”
The hell of it was that Tanner truly believed what he was saying.
“Damn straight.” The Colonel agreed with him. Armageddon must be nigh. “I say twelve weeks.”
With a slow nod, Tanner dragged the chair over to the bedside and took a seat. Leaning back in the chair, he said, “Twelve weeks might be a little soon. I think you should give them the full six months.”
“No, twelve weeks. Twenty-four weeks is just too extreme. I’ll be able to have my bacon again in twelve weeks.”
“You want to put money on that?” Tanner had asked himself what would work for him. He’d never taken a bet against himself in his whole career. Knowing damn good and well if someone bet him that he couldn’t do something, it wouldn’t matter what it cost him—he’d do it anyway. Tanner had to get that from somewhere, so maybe the Colonel was the source.
“You have yourself a deal, son. Twelve weeks and I expect you to re-up with the Marines while I am eating my bacon.” There was a hint of a concession in that—he no longer expected Tanner to leave immediately.
“I’ll take the bet, but not for those terms.”
His father eyed him, folding his hands together. All at once he straightened a little, seemed a little fuller. “What are your terms then?”
“Jules and I had a long talk, and she’s got a solid idea. Based on her research, and the questions we’ve drafted to explore, I want to start a new project at the ranch. In three months, if you’re eating bacon, I’ll give you the veto power on the project. But if you’re not, then you have to let me go ahead and do it.”
Appearing to ponder that for a moment, the Colonel tapped a finger against the back of his hand, almost but not quite seeming to scratch where the tape held the IV in. It had to be irritating him, but he didn’t comment. “What kind of project?”
So far, so good. His father was talking it over with him and not just dismissing the idea out of hand.
“I want to bring in some trainers for some of the horses, and work with them and the horses: not only to bring the horses up to speed, but also to learn how to do it myself. I want to get some therapy horses going. We’ve got some excellent stock on the ranch, but we’ve also got some geldings and mares you’re never going to use for breeding. There’s something about working with a horse that’s really good for wounded veterans. It can help not only with their PTSD, but it could also help with physical injuries. Whether it’s just grooming the horse or learning to ride or doing groundwork with them, it encourages strength, independence, and can possibly be a fresh source of revenue for the whole ranch.” He had thought this through and done some research, and it was all thanks to Jules. He’d seen her with Mateo, and he’d experienced a level of peace himself by working with Satan. Even the tough old bastard of a horse had helped smooth some of the raw edges in Tanner. When Jules told him her idea, and mentioned a trainer out of London who’d been working with animals, horses in particular, as companion animals for wounded Royal Marines, it resonated with him. And since the trainer was having great success improving not only motor function but also psychological effects in her clients, Tanner wanted to give it a try himself. For Mateo’s sake, and because Jules was right: it would let them all give back.
It felt right.
“Sounds like a lot of bunk to me,” his father said slowly, but he didn’t sound dismissive. “I know they have PTSD dogs—they have horses too?”
“Apparently, but it’s more than that. They’ve been using horses with special-needs kids for years. They’ve also found that, for abused children, working with animals gives them a sense of belonging and control because horses aren’t threatening, even though they’re large. It may have something to do with the horses being a prey animal.” Tanner needed to do more research, but he could see the logical applications. “And there’s some studies coming in from Europe, and from a few other places here in the US. We’ve got the land, and we’ve got the space. I’ve been working with Satan over the last few weeks as you asked me to do.” Another concession on his part. During one of their arguments, his father challenged him to do something useful, so Tanner had run with it. He’d worked with the horse.
“How is that going?” That’s it, Colonel, take the bait.
“I got a saddle on him. I’m not up in the saddle yet. But he’ll let me do it. He’s also letting me groom him.”
His father nodded slowly, then said, “Let’s adjust the terms of the wager.”
Remembering Jules saying that neither one of them wanted to hear the word no, Tanner motioned with his hand. “Name them.”
“You’re still doing research on this prospective project, so you’ll need to bring in at least one trainer, if not more. So if you’ve managed to get Satan under saddle before I get clearance to eat bacon—then you can take lead on your project in six months.”
Okay, that was doable. At the rate he and Satan had been working together, Tanner could have them out doing trail rides in twelve weeks.
“And if you eat bacon first?”
“If I can, then you let me take lead on the project,” the Colonel retorted, and for just a flicker of a moment, Tanner felt triumph at his father acknowledging that he might not be able to eat bacon in twelve weeks. That was a huge concession on his part. “But you still have to get Satan under saddle, no matter how long it takes.”
But he still had to have Satan under saddle.
“How about I get him gentle enough that you can ride him?”
“Those are fighting words, son.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, if you want to make this a challenge for both of us, let’s make it a challenge for both of us.”
“Fine. Then you need to have him gentle enough that I can ride the beast within six months—and whoever this trainer is that you bring in, they have to give me lessons as well. You shouldn’t be the only one who knows how to train a therapy horse. For you to be using my place and my horses, I want to know how it’s done—we should involve Mateo as well.” Sold and sold. But Tanner kept his fist pump to himself.
“Now, I want to talk to you about something that might make you yell, Colonel, but you need to hear me out.”
“Speak.” Yes, he had his father’s full attention, so Tanner clasped his hands together and met his father’s gaze.
“I may have requested retirement and ended my service in the Marines because I got the call from Doc Clayton. I did it because I was needed here at home, and before you say you didn’t need me to show up, it wasn’t you that needed me here. I needed to be here. The Marines have been my whole life since I was eighteen years old. I’m very proud of everything I’ve accomplished. More, I’m proud of everything I’ve done. But I’m ready for more. I’m ready to set down roots again, and I’m ready to see this ranch grow. I’m ready for a family again. And I’m also ready to get to know you.” The rawness of the emotion surprised him; he hadn’t expected it to strike him quite so deeply. “If it pleases the Colonel, I need to be here. And I need your permission to continue pursuing that need without a constant reminder that I should return to the Marines. Do I have it?”
He’d done his best to not sound accusatory, or to remind his father how he hadn’t been there for Grandpa. Or that when he finally did find the time, Grandpa died. He didn’t want to make this contentious.
“Tanner.” His father sighed. “We’re not going to hug this out. We’re not men who hug. My father could hug. He could put his arm around you and tell you everything was going to be all right, and you believed him.”
Tanner didn’t argue there. Grandpa really could make the sun rise in the west or set in the east if he put his mind to it. “We’re not Grandpa, Colonel.”
“No, we’re not. I just didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
Tanner didn’t move at that admission. Not once could he recall in his thirty-plus years of living ever hearing his father admit to making a mistake. “I met your mother three days before I left for Lejeune. I fell in love with her in five minutes. It might have taken her a bit longer. The whole time I was away at boot camp, she was the only thing I could think about. I wrote her, I called her, and I even made a point of coming to visit her every chance I got. I wanted her to marry me because I wanted to make sure she would be there when I got home. I knew I was going to do my service and it would take a while, but she was too pretty, too sweet, and too good not to be snapped up. So I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I courted her; I chased her.”
It was the most words he’d ever heard his father utter about his mother. Tanner sat transfixed.
“She told me no. She told me no because I needed to hear it, and I should hear it more often.” He shook his head. “The day I graduated from basic, I invited your mother to the ranch. She came. We went out to dinner, and I asked her to marry me. She told me no. I went to my first deployment, and wrote her every day I was gone. When I came home, she was there, and I asked her to marry me again, and she said no.”
His mother impressed him more and more. He had no idea about this. His grandfather hadn’t mentioned it.
“During my next deployment, I was injured. Bad break in the leg. They sent me home to recover. I didn’t ask your mother the whole time, but she was there every day. When it was time to go back, she asked me why I hadn’t asked her again, and I said I was tired of hearing no. So she told me to ask and I did. She said yes. Happiest day of my life. We rushed down to the courthouse, got the marriage certificates, and got married right there and then. And I gave her a kiss and I left.”
The old man shook his head.
“I wanted your mother to marry me because I wanted her to belong to me. I wanted her to be there when I wasn’t, and I loved her. But I was a lousy husband. I took away her dream of a big wedding. She didn’t get a wedding night. It was another six months before I saw her again. And then only for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t until I got a new assignment stateside that she came to live with me. By then she had you.”
Another fresh bolt of news—Tanner hadn’t realized his father hadn’t been there when he was born.
“Not too long after, your brother and sister came along, and I wasn’t there for their births either. Your mother did it all. Then she got sick and she didn’t tell me.” He shook his head. “She told your grandpa, and he brought you all out here to live at the ranch. She didn’t say a word. When she died I found a note that she’d written to me. In it, she apologized for never telling me that she was sick. She said she didn’t tell me because she knew I didn’t like the word no. And there was nothing to be done. They told her she was terminal by the time they discovered it. I was angry the only life I’d ever known was as a Marine, so I went back. Your grandpa took care of you kids while I did my duty.”
What the hell could he say to that? Tanner had known none of this.
With a cough, his father cleared his throat, then said, “When you called me about your grandpa being in the hospital and I decided not to come”—he looked at Tanner in the eye—“I was a damn fool. I didn’t come because I didn’t want them to tell me no. I didn’t want to hear that he wouldn’t make it. I knew Dad—if he thought you kids would need him, he wouldn’t go anywhere.”
Tanner rubbed his jaw. “Grandpa never did anything he didn’t want to. Nothing you or I ever said or did was going to change that.”
His father nodded. “I did think you came out of pity. I thought you came here because you needed me to tell you to leave, and to go back to the Marines. I should know better, son: I wasn’t a good husband or a particularly good father.”
“I’m not going to try to make you feel better and say you were, Colonel. But I do respect you, sir, and I’d be honored to get to know you.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t think I don’t hear what you’re saying, Dad. This is my home, you’re my father—you don’t get to tell me I can’t stay. So suck it up, Marine, we don’t have to hug this out, but you do have to stick around long enough for us to get this right. You’re gonna get better, whether you can eat bacon in three months, six months, or a year, and we will take care of Round Top and train horses to help Marines.”
“You have yourself a deal. But you remember—this is my ranch, so you will do things my way. And I’ll do my best to talk to you first, but I expect you to respect everything that’s come before you. The rest shall be yours soon enough.”
“Hopefully not for a really long time.” Tanner released a deep breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “But there’s one order I can’t follow. . . .”
The Colonel waved a hand. “You go get Dr. Heller back. Don’t you tell her I said so, but she’s a better damn vet than her uncle ever was. And I expect you to treat her like a lady, no more hanky-panky in the barn. You don’t take a woman into a barn. You take her out to a nice meal, you treat her right, you pay for things, you open the door.”
“And her job?” They needed Jules. Tanner needed her.
“I owe her an apology, and when I can stand up, I’ll go to her with hat in hand and make it.” Damn. His father meant it too. Shame filled his expression. “I don’t like being a fool, so you go get her back—you don’t take no for an answer.”
Tanner met his dad’s gaze and smiled. “No problem, sir, no problem at all. “Then he extended his hand and his father took it. For the first time in his life, Tanner felt like he and his dad were on the same page.
“Sure you don’t want to hug it out?” Tanner asked, and his father laughed until he coughed.
“Get the hell out of here.”
His dad did not have to tell him twice.