There was that stupid lump in her throat again. “I think it’s wonderful. Yes! Yes, we can do this.”
“Abe,” Violet said from close behind Anna, “put the horse back in the barn and come inside. Breakfast’s getting cold, and there are some packages under the tree to be opened.”
“Yes’m. On my way.”
“Anna?”
She turned to face Violet.
“You okay, honey?”
She nodded—lumpy throat, threatening tears, and all. Mama had told her to keep trusting the Lord, even when trouble came. Things would work out. And so it seemed they had.
Seven
ANNA SURVEYED THE COLLECTION OF BOXES AND odd household rejects that filled the living room of the cottage. Beyond a closed door, there was more of the same in the bedroom.
Today, she and Tara would get to work on clearing the clutter, although she was in no hurry to get the job done. She liked being part of the hustle and bustle of the family in the main house. The two teenage boys always on their way somewhere or returning from somewhere. The ranch hands eating lunch in the kitchen. Chet sitting at his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he studied the account records or a horse journal or sitting in his easy chair in the evening, visiting with Anna over a cup of decaf.
Still, this small house had been Anna’s home once upon a time, and everyone expected her to want to live in it again. Even she’d expected it. Abe and Violet had built the cottage especially for her. She’d moved into it on her twenty-first birthday and hadn’t left it until she’d married Walter thirty-three years later. And though she’d never told her husband, a piece of her heart had grieved for this little house, for this ranch, for this place all the years she was away.
A poignant smile curved her mouth as she remembered how hard it had been to say good-bye to the Leonard family all those years ago. If she hadn’t loved and adored her new husband to distraction, she never would have had the courage to venture so far away. Florida had been more than just another state. It had been another world. A flat, flat world. Glory, how she’d missed these mountains.
The creak of the screen door alerted her to Tara’s arrival. Anna turned around to see the girl and her mother in the doorway.
“Good morning,” Kimberly Welch said, stepping in behind her daughter. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long. It’s entirely my fault. I got a late start.”
Anna waved her hand in dismissal. “Didn’t mind waiting. I have nowhere to be.”
Kimberly looked around the room. “There is a lot to go through. Isn’t there?”
Quite the understatement.
“Indeed,” Anna answered.
Kimberly lowered her voice, saying to her daughter, “Don’t let Ms. McKenna do any heavy lifting.”
Anna almost announced that her hearing was excellent and she was stronger than she looked. But better not.
“Call me if you need me to come sooner,” Kimberly continued. “Otherwise, I’ll be here at three.”
“It won’t be sooner, Mom. I’m gonna get to ride today, when we’re done here.”
“You’re going to ride your horse?” Tara’s mother sounded alarmed.
“No. He’s not ready for that. I’m gonna ride one of Mr. Leonard’s saddle horses.”
“Isn’t it awfully soon for that? You’ve barely started your—”
“Mom!”
Anna turned away, pretending not to notice the sudden tension between the pair. Through the years, friends had talked about mothers and their teenage daughters, about the push and pull that happened between them. Anna didn’t pretend to understand it much. She’d spent most of her life around men and boys. There never had been much that was girlish about Anna McKenna. Except for her red hair, which she’d worn long in her younger days. She’d been more than a little vain about it—and keenly aware of the effect it had on men when she’d let it flow loose down her back.
Foolish old woman, she scolded herself. Those days are long gone. It had been eons since any man had made note of her. Except perhaps to offer an arm to help her across the street.
“Ms. McKenna?”
She turned again. Tara’s mother had left the guesthouse, and the girl was now standing a short distance away, looking at her questioningly.
“Where do we start?” Tara asked.
“How about with that stack of boxes over there?” Anna pointed. “That should keep us busy until lunchtime.”
CHET CAME OUT OF THE BARN IN TIME TO SEE Kimberly Welch walking to her car. When she noticed him, he waved and started in her direction. She waited by the driver’s side door.
“Morning,” he said, stopping on the other side of the automobile.
“Good morning.”
“Heard you got a job this week.”
“Yes.”
“Chris Russell’s a good man.” Chet removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “You’ll like working for him.”
“Mr. Russell is very nice, but the job is only temporary.”
“It’s a start.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “A start. Hopefully one that will lead to something better.” She drew in a deep breath, her slender shoulders rising and falling. “How is Tara doing?”
“All right. She’s eager to learn. Does what she’s told. This is her first day to help Anna.” He glanced toward the guesthouse.
“You’re lucky she wasn’t here at six this morning. She was so eager to get started. Too bad she isn’t as excited about cleaning her own room or doing her homework.”
Chet grinned as he met her gaze once again. “Kids.”
After a moment, she returned the smile. “Kids.”
He wondered, suddenly, what had happened to Mr. Welch. Where was he now? Had he walked out on Kimberly, the way Marsha had walked out on him? Or was Kimberly the one who did the walking? Not that it was any of his business.
“I’ll be back to pick Tara up around three.” She opened the car door. “Have her call me if she needs to leave earlier than that.”
“Will do.”
After he watched her drive away, Chet went to where his horse was tied. He stepped into the saddle and rode out to check some fences. But the pretty Mrs. Welch wasn’t soon forgotten.
ANNA AND TARA HAD BEEN SORTING THROUGH BOXES for over two hours by the time they came across a metal box filled with tax receipts. Fragile slips of paper with handwritten information filling the lines. The oldest one was dated all the way back to the twenties when George Leonard—Abe’s father—raised cattle on the land.
“My, oh my,” Anna said. “Isn’t this something?”
“What is it?” Tara peered over Anna’s shoulder.
“A tax receipt for this ranch. See that name there? George Leonard. He was Chet’s great grandfather. And it was George’s father, John, who came to this valley during the gold rush in the 1860s and started this ranch.”
“You mean the Leonards have lived on this same ranch for over a hundred years?” Tara asked, eyes wide with surprise.
“Hundred and fifty years, more like.” Anna nodded. “Six generations of them, counting Sam and Pete.”
“Never heard of anybody staying in one place so long. Have you always lived here too? Are you Mr. Leonard’s grandma?”
“I spent most of my life here, but no. I’m no relation by blood. I was an orphan when I came to this ranch during World War II. Just about your age. A bit younger. Chet’s grandparents took me in and made me a part of their family. Sometimes I still can’t believe the many ways God blessed me, bringing me to this valley when I was so scared and alone.”
“Wow. Wish the Leonards would take me in. I’d give anything to live on a horse ranch like this one.”
Anna smiled at the girl, feeling a kinship with her. “They ran mostly cattle back then, but it’s been all horses for a lot of years now.”
The screen door creaked and Pete stepped through the opening. “Hey, Na—” He broke off, then continued, “Anna, Tara. Dad says fo
r you two to come eat. Lunch is about ready to go on the table.”
“Good heavens.” Anna looked at her wristwatch. “I had no idea it was that time already. Did you, Tara?”
“No. But I am kinda hungry.”
Anna pushed herself up from the chair. “Come to think of it, so am I.”
Pete held the screen door open and waited for both Anna and Tara to pass. Then he let it swing closed. Anna didn’t look behind her, but she knew when Pete fell into step with Tara.
“How’s it going in there?” he asked.
Tara answered, “Okay.”
“You need any more help? I could lend a hand if you wanted.”
Pete has a crush, Anna thought with a smile.
If Tara noticed, too, her voice didn’t reveal it. “Nah. We’re doing all right.” She was silent a moment before adding, “Your dad’s going to let me ride today. Maybe right after lunch.”
Anna felt sorry for Pete. It would be difficult for him to compete with a horse for Tara’s attention. At least that was how it had been for Anna when she was fifteen.
It promised to be an interesting spring and summer.
Eight
FOR THE THIRD YEAR IN A ROW, NED AND SUSAN Lyle invited Chet and his family to share Easter dinner with them. For the third year in a row, Chet accepted. Holidays were still hard for him. They stirred up too many memories of when his family was whole and happy. He credited Ned, his closest friend, with helping him through the darkest times and deepest hurts, first when Rick was killed in that accident, and later when Marsha walked out on him and their two sons. Without Ned’s compassion and wisdom, Chet didn’t know what would have happened to him.
He wasn’t surprised to find others had been invited to the Lyles’ dinner. Susan was well-known in this valley for her hospitality and delicious Sunday dinners. This year, the other guests were Kimberly and Tara Welch, Janet Dunn, and the new—new by comparison to most residents, anyway—Methodist pastor, Reverend Tom Butler.
Even in April, Easter was often cold, sometimes still snowy, in this mountain valley. But not this year. The sun spread a blanket of golden warmth over Kings Meadow. While the women visited in the kitchen and finished the last of the dinner preparations, the teens disappeared into the family room to play games on the Wii, and the men went outside onto the deck to enjoy the fine weather. They each settled into a brightly painted Adirondack chair and sat in companionable silence for a long while.
It was Ned who spoke first. “Tom, tell Chet about yourself. Chet, did you know Tom came to Kings Meadow from Africa?”
“Africa?” Chet echoed.
“Yes, I served in a church there for three years. In Kenya.”
“Must have been quite the experience.”
“Oh, it was. But I have to admit, it’s good to be back in the States again, and I’m delighted to be serving the church here in Kings Meadow.”
Chet was about to ask some questions about Kenya when the sliding door to the deck opened and the men were summoned to the table. They arrived only moments before Sam, Pete, and Tara emerged from the family room. A delicious feast awaited them. After Ned said the blessing, hosts and guests dined on plum-glazed ham, scalloped potatoes, asparagus amandine, a salad made with tossed greens, strawberries, pears, and crumbled blue cheese, and homemade dinner rolls.
Although his earlier attempt to ask the Methodist minister questions about his years in Africa had been interrupted, such was not the case during dinner. Tom Butler didn’t seem to mind either. Not at first anyway. He shared several fascinating stories while the food on his plate grew cold.
Taking pity on the reverend, Susan told Tom that Kimberly and her daughter were new to Kings Meadow. “But they didn’t come from as far away as Kenya,” she added.
“Where are you from?” the reverend asked, looking at Kimberly.
“Washington. Near Seattle. I . . . we . . . I want to return there, when I can find the right job. I . . . miss the city.”
Chet glanced up from his plate. It didn’t surprise him, hearing her say that. He’d suspected as much.
Tom Butler turned his gaze toward Tara. “And what about you? Do you miss the city?”
“No, I like it here better. So would Mom if she’d give it a chance.”
“Tara,” Kimberly warned in a low voice.
“Well, you would, Mom. There’s lots here to like. You oughta come look at the stuff in the guesthouse I’m helping Ms. McKenna clean out. You’d go crazy over some of it.” Tara looked around the table. “When we lived in Washington, Mom used to go antiquing all the time. My dad said where he saw junk, Mom saw potential.” She focused her eyes on Chet, excitement lighting her expression. “Mr. Leonard, I’ll bet there’s stuff in that house my mom could fix up and sell online. You’d make a bundle.”
“A bundle, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow in Kimberly’s direction.
She flushed but didn’t answer.
Once again, Susan played the experienced hostess, this time turning toward Anna. “I’ll bet you have some stories to tell about Chet when he was a boy.”
Anna’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “A few.”
“We’re dying to hear some of them,” Susan said with a laugh.
Chet frowned at Susan, pretending a displeasure he didn’t feel. “And here I thought we were friends.”
KIMBERLY COULDN’T REMEMBER A TIME WHEN SHE’D felt as included as these people made her feel. She didn’t know why. She and Ellis had had good friends. Many good friends. They’d attended and they’d hosted dinners very much like this one through the years. And yet today felt different.
Perhaps it was seeing Tara’s smile and hearing the laughter in her voice. She’d let her daughter down so often since Ellis died. But for now, things were looking up. Kimberly was employed. They weren’t homeless. Tara even owned a horse, as impossible as that seemed.
She heard several gasps, and her attention was drawn back to Anna McKenna.
“And there Chet sat on the back of that green-broke horse, pleased as punch, holding onto his mane, while I nearly had a heart attack,” the older woman finished.
“How old did you say he was?” Susan asked.
“Only four, but he already had a way with horses. That gelding he got on didn’t so much as twitch until after I got Chet off and out of that corral.”
Her thoughts wandering, Kimberly had missed most of Anna’s story. But she’d caught enough to understand the danger Chet had been in. Did he have more common sense than that today? Would he make sure her daughter didn’t do anything foolish around the horses?
“Do you ride, Kimberly?” Anna asked.
She shook her head. “No. Not really. When Janet and I were girls, she got a pony and we rode double. I was the one in back, hanging onto Janet for dear life. I can’t say I cared for the experience much.”
“You should take a few lessons along with Tara. It would take your fear away.”
The very idea made Kimberly shiver with dread. “I’m sure Mr. Leonard doesn’t need another student taking up more of his time.” Against her will her gaze slid to Chet.
His expression was inscrutable.
“Well, if he’s too busy,” Anna continued, “I could give you lessons. My time’s not so valuable.”
Kimberly’s eyes widened as she turned toward the older woman again. “You still ride?”
“At my age, you mean? Of course I do. I even have my own horse again, thanks to Chet.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Kimberly said quickly.
“You didn’t insult me, dear. Not in the least. Plenty of folks besides you would be surprised to find someone my age riding a horse. But I’ll keep doing it as long as I’m able. Nothing so grand as sitting astride a horse, riding through these mountains on a soft summer day.”
The woman’s words almost made Kimberly want to experience it. Almost.
Chet spoke up. “If you’re interested, Kimberly, I think we could accommodate you without much trouble.”
Nine
ON THE FIRST SATURDAY IN MAY, TARA SQUATTED next to her pinto, slowly applying polo wrap around the horse’s left front leg. Pete stood at the pinto’s head, holding the lunge line.
Chet observed from outside the round pen. He was pleased with the girl’s progress. Hard to believe she had little actual experience with horses prior to her move to Kings Meadow. She appeared as comfortable as Pete was. And what she didn’t know, she didn’t hesitate to ask about. He liked that trait. It showed good character and wisdom.
“I’ve decided on a name,” Tara said to Pete as she glanced up at him.
“About time. What’s it gonna be?”
“Wind Dancer.” She stood and patted the horse’s neck. “I think it fits him. Don’t you?”
Chet smiled to himself. It had taken him awhile to realize Tara hadn’t wanted to name the pinto as long as there was any chance her mother might change her mind and sell him or give him away. If Tara was naming him now, she must feel more confident about the long term.
Pete said, “Yeah. It’s a good name. I like it.”
Chet figured his youngest son would have thought Green Goo a good name if that was what Tara had decided on.
“Thanks.” She moved to the horse’s right front leg, squatted down, and began to wrap it too.
The young horse was coming along almost as well as his mistress. Better than Chet had anticipated when he’d agreed to take on his training.
Finished wrapping the right leg, Tara stood and looked over the horse’s back toward Chet. “How did I do, Mr. Leonard?”
Love Without End: A Kings Meadow Romance Page 6