By the time the service ended, Trevor knew this would be the church he attended as long as he was in Kings Meadow. Nobody had to tell him that his Christianity—if he’d even been a Christian—had been a superficial thing. Knowing Brad had slowly made him aware of the difference between calling himself a Christian and truly being one. Maybe that was one reason he’d kept his promise to Brad. Maybe it was here that his faith, such as it was, could grow.
Trevor had met quite a few members of the congregation at the Christmas bazaar the previous day, and it surprised him how many of their names he remembered. Living a life on the road, he’d rarely seen anybody two days in a row, other than the members of his band. He found he liked this fledgling sense of community.
He received three invitations to Sunday dinner before he exited through the church doorway. He declined each of them. It would be rude to eat and then rush off in order to be to the Cartwright ranch by two o’clock. So he returned to his studio apartment, where he warmed up some leftovers. He tried not to think about what he might have been eating if he’d accepted one of those invitations.
When he next looked outside, two o’clock drawing closer, the blue skies from early that morning were gone. The wind had begun to whistle around the corners of his apartment. A strong gust rattled the windows. He left his Stetson on the hook by the door and reached for the knit cap and scarf his aunt had made for him a couple of years back. Still, he wasn’t prepared for the extreme drop in temperature that had happened while he was inside.
The streets of Kings Meadow were extra quiet on this Sunday afternoon, and as far as he could tell, only a few stores were open along Main Street. At least no Christmas shoppers were in sight when he stopped at the stop sign. All he heard was the mournful wind and the rumble of his truck’s engine. Loneliness wound around his heart, and he realized that despite how friendly people had been to him at church that morning, he wasn’t a part of that community—or a part of any other community. By his own choice, he’d kept himself from forming close relationships through the years. Brad Cartwright had been one of the few people who had found a way through Trevor’s defenses.
He turned his truck east and drove beyond the limits of town. Snow began to fall when he was about halfway to the ranch. Tiny flakes, carried sideways by the wind, obscured his view and forced him to go even slower, afraid he might miss the turn. But he didn’t miss it. Despite the snowstorm, the way felt familiar to him.
Arriving at the ranch, he parked in front of the house, got out of the pickup, and hurried up the steps to the front porch. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door was opened a short while later by Penny. Her expression was one of grudging resignation. She didn’t want him in her home, but because of her father she wouldn’t turn him away.
Did I think I could win her forgiveness in a matter of days?
Yes, in some ways, he supposed that was what he’d thought. Most women believed he had charm to spare. Plenty found him good looking and talented and fun to be around. But none of that mattered one iota to Penny Cartwright. It was clear as day. In her cool blue eyes. In the stern line of her mouth. In her rigid stance.
“Come in, Mr. Reynolds,” she said, frost in her voice. “Dad’s waiting for you.”
He wanted to remind her to call him Trevor, but he swallowed the words as he stepped into the house while removing his knit hat. Penny closed the door and then silently held out her hands to take his coat after he’d shrugged out of it. She placed it on the coat tree and his hat and scarf on a nearby table.
Her dad appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Trevor, glad to see you could make it. How are the roads?”
“Not bad.”
“Care for something warm to drink before we brave the elements?”
“Sure.”
“Coffee okay?”
Trevor nodded.
The older man waved him forward before turning and moving out of sight. Trevor followed, thinking to himself that Rodney was like his son in many ways. Brad had had an affable, hospitable nature too. No one had been a stranger to him. At least, not for very long. He’d had true empathy for those around him, no matter who they were. And when Brad had spoken of his family back in Kings Meadow, his love for his dad and sister had been obvious.
By comparison, Trevor’s relationship with his father had always been troubled, cold, and distant. After he left for Nashville, on those rare occasions when he’d spoken with his father by phone, there had always come a moment when his father would ask, “When are you going to get a real job? When are you going to make something of yourself?”
His father had passed away a number of years ago, but the memory of those questions remained a pinprick to Trevor’s heart. With practiced resolve, he pushed the thoughts away and let his gaze roam the room, looking for something to keep his thoughts from returning to those uncomfortable memories.
The kitchen in the Cartwright home was large and airy. The breakfast nook had bay windows that looked out on a fenced pasture where several horses stood, backs to the wind and snow. While Rodney filled two large mugs with coffee, Trevor crossed to a curio cabinet in one corner. Behind the glass were family photos, china and crystal, knicknacks, and a large collection of thimbles.
“The thimbles belonged to my wife, Charlotte.” Rodney stopped on Trevor’s left. “Some of them are rather valuable, but I can’t bring myself to sell them. She enjoyed them so much.” He held out the mug of coffee.
Trevor took it. “My mom collects those lighted villages.”
“Where do your parents live?”
“A small town in Northern California. But it’s just my mom now. My father died a few years ago.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Trevor accepted the words of condolence with a nod.
After that, the two men stood in silence as they drank their coffee.
Penny held her breath, listening from the hallway, but neither her dad nor his guest said anything more. Fearing she might get caught eavesdropping as they left the kitchen, she quietly moved to the living room, where she stopped and stared out the window at the snowstorm.
She didn’t like the feeling that coiled in her stomach, and it wasn’t difficult to identify it: jealousy. Like her brother before him, her dad had taken a quick liking to Trevor Reynolds, and she didn’t want him to. They were acting like friends. Didn’t her dad understand that Trevor had taken Brad from them?
“Honey?”
She turned toward her dad’s voice.
“Trevor’s going with me to feed the livestock. Want to come along?”
“Shouldn’t you wait until the storm lets up a bit?”
Her dad pulled on his coat, followed by his gloves. “Maybe it will by the time we’re finished in the barn.”
Penny knew she should be glad her dad had help. He’d become an advocate of feeding his cattle three times a day after reading a study that showed increased weight gain in three feedings versus the same amount of feed given once or twice a day. But she thought the extra work was too much for him. He wasn’t as strong as he used to be. His back caused him a lot of pain, though he tried to hide it from her, and he tired easily.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” she answered at last, choosing not to repeat her concerns just now.
Her gaze slipped to Trevor, standing beyond her dad. She could see that he watched her, but the dim light in the entryway prevented her from reading his expression. Unsettled, she looked out at the snowstorm again. Moments later, she heard the door open and close.
She was reminded of last Christmas when Brad had been home. It had been a good holiday for all of them. How many times had she watched the two people in the world she loved the most bundle themselves in coats and hats and gloves and head out into the frigid elements to tend the livestock? Seeing father and son together had made her happy. Her brother had spent the days helping their dad with anything and everything that needed doing, and Penny had envisioned things going along the same way for years to come.
Brad, she’d believed, would find employment with an engineering firm in Boise, and the rest of the time he would be at the ranch, helping their dad. Then, two days after Christmas, her brother had dropped his bombshell: He wasn’t staying in Kings Meadow. He wasn’t looking for work in Idaho. He was leaving for Nashville to audition as a drummer for a band. If he got what he was hoping for, he would be going on the road with Trevor Reynolds.
Less than nine months later, he was dead.
Tears welled, but Penny refused to let them fall. Anger served her better than sorrow, she reminded herself. With a determined tilt of her chin, she headed for the mudroom, where warm attire awaited her. A short while later, ready for the elements, she headed outside, walking with head down toward the barn.
The door squeaked as she opened and closed it. Just inside, she stopped, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Then she moved toward the sound of her dad’s voice. He and Trevor stood side by side, forearms resting on the top rail of the stall that held Harmony.
“When’s the foal due?” Trevor asked.
Before her dad could answer, Penny said, “Late March or early April.”
Both men turned toward her.
Trevor said, “She’s a beautiful horse. I’ve always been partial to buckskins.”
The same was true for Penny, but she wasn’t about to say so to him. She didn’t want to sound as if they had anything in common.
“Well,” her dad said, intruding on her thoughts, “let’s get the cows fed.” He turned and headed for the rear door of the barn.
Parked outside was an ancient flatbed truck that her dad somehow managed to keep running from year to year. On the bed were bales of hay and, in a makeshift rack behind the cab, a couple of pitchforks. Penny went straight to the back of the truck and hopped onto the bed. Trevor followed close behind and mirrored her action while her dad got into the cab. Moments later, the engine roared to life. In unison, Penny and Trevor moved to the front of the bed and grabbed hold of the railing. As they drove toward the pasture where the cows awaited them, the wind died down and the falling snow turned to fat, lazy flakes that drifted to earth, catching on knit caps and eyelashes.
“It’s beautiful here,” Trevor said above the rumble of the truck.
“Mmm.”
“Brad always said Kings Meadow is the most beautiful place in the world, but I figured he was prejudiced. Now I’m not so sure.”
Penny followed his gaze to the nearby mountains, the green of pine trees dappling the snowscape. The tension that had been coiled so tightly inside of her eased a bit. Maybe it was hearing that her brother had talked about Kings Meadow with affection. When he’d turned his back on Idaho in pursuit of a different kind of dream, it had felt like a rejection of all that her parents had loved. All that Penny loved too.
The mooing of cows interrupted her thoughts.
Trevor laughed. “I guess they know what’s coming.”
Without answering—or waiting for the truck to stop completely—she hopped down from the bed and hurried to open the wide gate. Her father drove the truck through the opening, and Penny swung the gate shut again, then got back onto the bed. The truck followed a slow, circular route, and Penny began cutting twine and shoving the bales off one side of the bed. Trevor watched a moment and then joined in, shoving hay off the opposite side. She could see that he was strong, and he worked fast. When their gazes met again, he grinned, seeming to enjoy the physical labor.
“Is this how all ranchers feed their cows?” he asked.
She gave a little shrug. “Depends on the operation, the size of the herd, the location, the weather, and the preference of the rancher. Mostly the latter. This is how Dad’s always done it.”
“He loves this ranch. That’s obvious.” His smile broadened.
Is this how you charmed Brad into working for you? With that smile of yours and that easygoing manner and knowing just the right thing to say? With those silent questions, she willed her irritation with him to return. She succeeded . . . a little.
“Black Angus, right?”
“Yes.”
“Beneath the frozen mud stuck to their coats, they’re a pretty animal, aren’t they?”
His comment surprised her.
“Don’t you think so?” Trevor asked with another of his effortless smiles.
She wanted to remain irritated with him, but how could she be annoyed after he said something like that? She’d always thought her dad’s cows were pretty. Especially the ones raised for 4-H, after they’d been bathed, brushed, and curried and were ready to be judged at the fair, their black coats gleaming in the sunshine. And their calves were beyond cute. Penny loved watching them gambol about the pasture in the springtime. Every year there was one that became her favorite.
“Yes,” she answered at last. “I think so.”
Trevor broke the twine on the last bale of hay and shoved the feed off the truck. As soon as she saw him step back from the edge, Penny rapped on the roof of the cab three times to let her father know they were done. The truck completed its wide circle, stopping once more at the gate. This time Trevor jumped to the ground before Penny could, and he was the one who opened the gate. He grinned at her as the truck rolled past him, his enjoyment obvious.
Mercy, he was much too handsome—and he knew it too. It was easy to imagine girls hanging all over him after a concert. He must have his choice of beauties in every town he and his band performed in. But he wouldn’t find that kind of attention here in Kings Meadow. Women in these parts had more sense than that.
Then she remembered Tess Carter at the bazaar yesterday, and her confidence in female friends and neighbors drained away.
Well, at least I have more sense than that. She frowned to herself. Was that what Brad liked about the life of a musician? The attention of women? She gave her head a slight shake, knowing that wasn’t true of Brad. He’d liked girls, of course, but his enthusiasm about music, especially about the drums, went back to before he’d noticed the opposite sex.
“Thanks for letting me help,” Trevor said. “I enjoyed it.”
She drew back, surprised to find him standing on the truck bed beside her. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed he’d rejoined her or that the vehicle was moving once again.
Wordless, she shrugged.
He looked as if he would say something else, then nodded and let it pass.
Thank goodness for small favors.
Brad
2008
THE SUMMER BETWEEN BRAD’S FRESHMAN AND SOPHOMORE years in high school, he got a part-time job as a bag boy at the Merc. He had his eye on a fancy new drum set, and there was no way he wanted to earn the money doing chores around the ranch. That might have been okay when he was thirteen. It wasn’t okay anymore.
He was bagging groceries for Sophie Anderson when he saw his sister enter through the automatic doors. His face broke into a smile that matched hers. “I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow,” he said as she drew closer.
“I couldn’t wait.” Penny kissed his cheek and lifted a hand as if to ruffle his hair, then thought better of it. She looked up at the two women on either side of the checkout counter. “Hi, Ms. Cook. Hi, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Another year of college under your belt?” Laura Cook asked as she rang up the final item on the conveyer belt.
“Yes. Three down. Three to go.”
“Getting your master’s, I take it.” Sophie Anderson slipped her debit card from her wallet. “Good for you. What in?”
“Library science.”
“Penny the librarian,” Brad said, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“It’s what interests me, buddy. It’ll be a good career.”
Brad liked to read, but he didn’t care for the idea of spending his life inside some stuffy old library. He had bigger dreams than that. Or maybe just different ones. Had Penny ever wanted something different? Something that involved stepping out on a limb? Ta
king a risk?
“I’d better let you get back to work,” she said, intruding on his wandering thoughts.
“Okay. I’ll see you at home in a couple of hours.”
Penny bid good-bye to the other women, ending with a little wave that took in all three of them. Then she left the grocery store.
“Your sister has blossomed into a beautiful young woman,” Laura Cook said as she handed the paper receipt to Sophie Anderson. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she found a husband before she gets that master’s degree.”
Brad gave a slight shake of his head. If that’s what Ms. Cook thought, she didn’t know Penny Cartwright. When his sister set a goal, she didn’t waver from it. She made her plan and then stuck to it. She’d been like that as far back as he could remember. Maybe she didn’t look strong because of her slender figure, but she had a will made of pure steel. No guy she met would be able to alter the plan she’d made. Brad would wager on it.
Chapter 6
TREVOR TOOK AN IMMEDIATE LIKING TO HIS SUPERVISOR, Yuli Elorrieta. The middle-aged man was short and slight of build. He had a hooked nose that seemed too prominent for his narrow face, but his smile came easily and there was a twinkle in his eyes that said he enjoyed life to the fullest degree possible. A photograph on the desk in his office suggested a large number of children and several grandchildren as well.
On Monday, Trevor’s first day on the job, Yuli gave him a walking tour of Kings Meadow. “Our department takes care of street maintenance and cleaning. We’re responsible for maintaining all of the town-owned properties.” He pointed out three of those as they walked west on Main Street. “We clean the storm drains, put up and take down the holiday decorations at Christmas and for the Fourth of July. Public Works is also in charge of trash pickup within the town limits. Residents who live outside the limits have to take their trash to a collection area on the southeast corner of town. We’ll drive over there later.”
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