Love Without End: A Kings Meadow Romance

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Being employed helps a lot.”

  “Oh, is that it? I thought it might have something to do with Chet Leonard.”

  Kimberly straightened away from the counter. “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know.” Janet shrugged. “Just a gut feeling.”

  “Well, your gut is wrong. Chet’s a nice guy, and he’s been really good with Tara. Better than I could’ve dared hope that day I first went to talk to him about her and Wind Dancer. But I’ve got no interest in Chet other than as a horse trainer and riding instructor.”

  The words tasted like the lie they were. Her interest in Chet Leonard had become more than she was ready to admit. It had become . . . personal. Much too personal for comfort. She didn’t want to walk into a doomed relationship on purpose. The best way to protect all concerned was for her to find a way out of Kings Meadow. The sooner, the better.

  Twenty-one

  DEVON PARRY, THE VET, PEELED OFF HIS LATEX gloves as he stepped out of the corral. “It doesn’t look good, Chet. He’s in a bad way.”

  “Are you saying you can’t save him?” Chet looked through the rails at the ailing horse. Shiloh’s Thunder had sired some of the best foals to come out of the Leonard ranch. It would be a huge loss if he died.

  “I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises. We’ll know what his chances look like if he makes it through until morning.”

  “He was fine yesterday.”

  The vet didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Chet knew what Devon could have said. In his veterinary practice, Devon had lost horses to aneurisms, heart attacks, and toxins of one kind or another. An animal could be healthy in the morning and be dead by nightfall, and too often there wasn’t anything a vet or the owner could do to save it. That was just how it was sometimes. Still, the prognosis felt like a sucker punch to the gut. First the barn. Now this.

  The crunch of tires on gravel drew his head around. Kimberly and Tara. He wasn’t in the mood for riding lessons or guests for dinner. But despite that, he felt a strange comfort at the sight of Kimberly through the car’s window. And right now, he would take any comfort he could find.

  Devon said, “I’ve given him something to ease the pain, but if you need me back before morning . . .” He let his words drift into silence.

  Chet gave a curt nod, then moved away from the corral as Kimberly and Tara got out of their car. “Afternoon,” he greeted them, trying to keep his concern out of his voice.

  “Is something wrong with Thunder?” Tara asked. She knew the vet, of course. Chet had called Devon out to give her pinto a thorough physical examination soon after Wind Dancer had come to stay at the ranch.

  Before Chet could answer her, he saw Pete exit the house and descend the steps three at a time. The kid still had it bad for Tara. If she returned his feelings, it wasn’t obvious. At least not to Chet. The good news was the brothers weren’t warring over her.

  “What’d the vet say?” Pete asked as he came closer.

  “Won’t know anything for a while.” Chet shook his head. “Listen, I don’t have time to give a lesson right now. Why don’t you and Tara saddle up and ride to Hazel Creek?”

  “Sure thing, Dad. What horse do you want her to ride?”

  Chet faced Tara. “Think you and Wind Dancer are ready to get away from the paddocks?”

  Her eyes widened before she nodded.

  “I think you’re ready too. Both of you.” He gave her a tight smile, letting her know that he meant his words. To Pete he added, “Keep it at a walk for today. Ride up to the creek and back. That’ll give you several changes in terrain. Be cautious at the creek. I don’t think it’ll bother Wind Dancer but you need to be sure.”

  “Okay, Dad. We’ll do fine.”

  The teens hurried away.

  Kimberly said, “Shouldn’t she have helped Anna for a while first?”

  “Not today. This is for the best.”

  Her gaze went to the corral. “Is the horse dying?”

  “Maybe. Probably. Doesn’t look good.”

  She was silent awhile, then said, “I’m sorry, Chet.”

  He had a bad feeling that if he tried to answer her, he might choke on his own emotions. He didn’t want to appear weak. Not to this woman. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about it more than a few seconds before Anna’s approach provided the much-needed diversion.

  “Hello, Kimberly.”

  “Hi, Anna.”

  Anna embraced Kimberly, as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of the previous Sunday at church. “Didn’t Janet come?” she asked when she took a step back.

  “She had some things to do this afternoon, but she’ll be here for dinner.”

  “Oh, good. She’s such a delight.”

  “Yes, she is.” Kimberly glanced toward the cottage. “What are we doing today?”

  “Today we’re going to take photos and choose prices for the items we want to sell on eBay. Sam’s got his laptop up and running in the guesthouse for us, and I’ve got my little digital camera. So I think we’re set.”

  “Well then. Let’s get started.”

  Anna looked up at Chet. “You want to join us?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “All right. But before we list everything online, you’re going to have to give your okay.”

  “I trust you, Anna.”

  “I appreciate that, my boy. But I still want you to look things over.”

  He leaned down and kissed her on the temple. “Whatever you want. When you need me, just give a holler.”

  “KIMBERLY, I HAVE A GOOD MIND TO TAKE MY OWN sweet time with the work that’s left.” Anna tossed the words over her shoulder as she led the way into the cottage. “I’m going to miss having you spend these Saturday afternoons with me when we’re done.”

  “I’ll miss it too.” Kimberly said it to be polite, then realized how very true it was. “I guess I’ll have to come up with other excuses to visit you while I’m still in Kings Meadow.”

  Anna stopped midway across the small parlor and turned to face Kimberly. “You’re leaving?”

  She gave a slight shrug. “Not right away. But eventually. When I find a job that will support me and Tara . . . and a horse.” Another shrug. “And that’s a long shot as things stand right now.”

  Wearing a saddened expression, Anna sat at the small writing desk. She clicked on one of the laptop keys, bringing the screen to life. Kimberly joined her there.

  With another press of a finger, Anna opened a photo program. “Amazing, isn’t it? Maybe you’re too young to remember a world without computers, the Internet, e-mail, digital cameras, and smartphones.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “So many of my friends in Florida refused to learn the latest technologies as they came along. They had no idea how much not knowing would cut them off from others. From children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

  “You seem to know your way around the computer.”

  “I’ve always loved to learn new things. Still do.” Anna tapped her temple with an index finger. “As long as the old brain stays sharp.”

  “I seem to be more interested in old things.” Kimberly caressed the top and side of the writing desk. “Like this. It’s at least a hundred years old. You can’t find anything like it today. The craftsmanship is exquisite. Priceless, really.”

  “Well, we won’t have to put a price on it. It’s not for sale.” Anna smiled. “I spent many years writing letters and keeping a journal on this very desk. It belonged to Violet, Chet’s grandmother.” Her expression turned wistful. “Violet gave the desk to me on my eighteenth birthday because she said it was made for a woman’s use and the Leonard men admired horseflesh, not furniture.” She laughed softly. “Still true.”

  “But you didn’t take the desk with you when you moved to Florida. Why not?”

  “Because it belonged here, on this ranch, more than it belonged to me. It’s part of the history of this valley and of the Leonards.” Her eyes
seemed to look beyond Kimberly and into the past. “So much history.”

  “If only it could talk. It’s a shame it got buried under all of the other things that were stored in this guesthouse. I’m glad you’re going to use it again.”

  “Me too.”

  Anna

  1947

  ANNA AND MILES RODE THEIR HORSES TO THE FARTHEST end of the Leonard land. On the hillside, framed by trees of green and gold, was a small line shack, one of several erected before the turn of the century to accommodate cowboys who needed to take shelter in foul weather. With the grazing lands all fenced, the cabins hadn’t been used in years.

  “What’s this?” Miles asked as they reined in their mounts.

  Anna told him the history of the line shacks, then slipped to the ground and reached into the saddlebag for the sandwiches she’d packed for them. “Come inside and we’ll eat.” Her heart pounded in her ears as she opened the door.

  Early that morning, she’d ridden to the shack by herself. She’d swept it clean of dust and cobwebs. She’d placed a bouquet of colorful dried flowers in a jar in the center of the rickety table. She’d put fresh linens and blankets on the old tick mattress and built a fire in the stove to take away the autumn chill from the dim interior. The room was still warm all of these hours later. She moved inside and waited for Miles to follow.

  Miles was leaving Kings Meadow next week. He was going to California to paint. He’d told her he would return in the spring. But would he? It was terrible to think she might never see him again. The ache in her heart was unbearable.

  “Anna?”

  She turned around. He stood framed in the doorway, the outside light a golden backdrop behind him. She wished she knew what he thought.

  “Why are we here, Anna?”

  “I love you, Miles,” she whispered, unable to keep those words to herself another moment.

  His gaze flicked to the small, inviting bed she’d made for them. Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Anna . . . we can’t do this.”

  “I love you and you’re going away.”

  “I’ll be back in the spring. I told you.”

  She took a step toward him. “What if you don’t return? What if you like California more than Idaho?” She took a quick breath. “What if you meet someone?”

  “You’re only seventeen.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in the spring.”

  Miles closed the distance between them, took the bag that held their sandwiches from her hand and dropped it onto the small table. Then he gathered her into his arms, pulling her close, rubbing his chin against the top of her head. Tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids and dampened his shirt. She didn’t want him to ever let go.

  Say you love me. Say you love me too. Please say it.

  Softly, he said, “I’ll only be gone six months, maybe seven. It isn’t so very long.”

  It was an eternity.

  “Anna, I can’t break Abe’s and Violet’s trust.” He leaned back, then tilted her head with his index finger beneath her chin so their eyes could meet. “I can’t break your trust either.”

  “You wouldn’t be break—”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t think so today, but one day you would. When you got married. It would matter to you then.”

  Tears welled up again, blinding her. What difference would it make once he was her husband? Didn’t he want her?

  “Anna . . . don’t think that. You’re wrong.”

  “Don’t think what?”

  “Believe me. I want you.” His smile was gentle and loving. “But I care for you too much to take you to bed before we’re married.”

  Her heart hiccupped. Before? Not if?

  His hands moved up to cup the sides of her face. His fingers felt soft against her skin. “Listen to me, Anna. I’m not proposing. Not yet. You’re young. After I’m gone, you might change your mind. You are the one who might meet someone else. I won’t ask you to promise me anything today. We’ll wait and see.”

  I won’t change my mind. I won’t.

  He hadn’t said he loved her. Not exactly. But the words were implied. He meant to propose to her when he returned. She could hold onto that while she waited for him, while she grew a little older.

  Still cupping her face, he leaned down and kissed her for the first time. Her heart galloped in response. The room seemed to spin, and her legs were unwilling to keep her upright. It was more wonderful than she’d dreamed.

  He drew back, although not far. When he spoke, his voice sounded gruff. “Come on. We’d better get you home.”

  Home for Anna would be wherever Miles was. Didn’t he know that?

  He turned, took hold of her by the hand, and drew her outside, into the soft light of the afternoon. When they reached her horse, he held her by the waist until she stepped up into the saddle. She missed the warmth of his hands at once.

  “Anna.”

  She looked down at him.

  “You’ll be thankful for this one day.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and all she could do was nod. There were no words left to be said.

  Twenty-two

  CHET AND SAM PREPARED THE DINNER THAT NIGHT, and no matter how often Kimberly—and Janet, who arrived around five o’clock—offered to help, they were turned down. “You’re our guests,” they were told.

  Tara, the birthday girl, didn’t get back from her ride with Pete until it was almost time to eat. Both of the teens dashed off to separate bathrooms to wash up and returned before all of the food had been set on the table. As Tara took her seat opposite her mother, Kimberly couldn’t help seeing the sparkle of happiness in the girl’s eyes. Would it still be there if they moved back to the city?

  No. Not if. When. When they moved back to the city. It might take longer than Kimberly wished, but it would happen. She was gaining work experience. Her résumé wasn’t as blank as it had been when they arrived in Kings Meadow. She didn’t look as unemployable on paper as she had a year ago.

  But Tara won’t want to go.

  Yes, she would. When the time came, Kimberly would be able to make her see why it was for the best.

  With everyone seated at the table, Chet spoke a blessing, and then the passing of platters and serving bowls began. Baked glazed ham, one of Tara’s favorite foods. Au gratin potatoes. Peas with baby onions. Homemade dinner rolls—one of Anna’s specialties.

  Kimberly’s thoughts continued to wander, aware of the conversations taking place around the table but tuning them out until Tara spoke into a temporary lull. “Mr. Leonard, I was telling Pete that you oughta fix those little cabins up and rent them out. I mean the line shacks. You know. Fix them up for glamping.”

  “Glamping?” Chet raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “Glamorous camping. It started in Europe, I think. People are paying big money for the experience. It’s camping without all of the inconveniences. Roughing it but with the same amenities as a nice hotel.” Enthusiasm animated Tara’s face. “You could give guests a dude ranch experience and provide all kinds of comfort. Nice beds. Fancy sheets and down comforters. Besides horseback riding, they could go white-water rafting too. That’d bring even more of ’em. And if you don’t have enough cabins, you could do canvas tents on platforms.”

  Chet put down his fork. “How do you know so much about this . . . glamping?”

  “One of my friends in Seattle. Patty’s parents went glamping in Ireland this spring. They stayed in a yurt, and they rode bikes all around that part of Ireland. I saw some cool pictures of what they did over there, so I looked at glamping sites in the US. There’s no reason you couldn’t do it on your ranch. Who wouldn’t want to come stay here? It’s so pretty.”

  Patty. Patty Wainright. The girl’s parents had been acquaintances of Kimberly’s and Ellis’s, although the Wainrights’ wealth had given them entry into much higher circles of society. She hadn’t known Tara was in touch with Patty again. Was that a good thing?

  “I don’t think I’m cut out t
o be an innkeeper,” Chet said after a moment of silence.

  “You wouldn’t have to be anything like an innkeeper. Besides, Mom could run it for you. She and Dad used to take trips and stay in some fancy places. She’d know how to make it work, I’ll bet, and she’s good with people.”

  Kimberly felt her eyes widen. She knew plenty about what people desired in a luxury hotel. When Ellis was alive, they’d stayed in quite a few of them on their travels, both in the States and abroad. But in these mountains? In old shacks? Glamping? She was clueless. Why would anyone want to spend their vacations in a place like this?

  For the peace and tranquility. For the beauty of nature. Because it’s so pretty.

  Fine. Tara was right. It was beautiful. But that didn’t mean Kimberly wanted to be a part of this glamping nonsense.

  Janet said, “Chet, I think Tara may have hit on a great idea. It could be a real moneymaker for you.”

  “Sounds like a lot of extra work and frustration,” he answered.

  Janet turned toward Anna. “Don’t you have a bunch of things in the guesthouse you were planning to sell? Couldn’t you use some of those items to fix up those cabins?”

  “Yes. We could.”

  “I’ll volunteer to help any way I can,” Janet added.

  “Me too,” the three teenagers all said at once.

  Anna looked at Chet at the head of the table. “It does sound rather exciting,” the elderly woman said. “You could have guests from June through hunting season every year. You should at least look into it.”

  “I suppose I could do that,” he said with obvious reluctance.

  Kimberly felt sorry for Chet. With all the excitement generated around the table, nobody seemed to be listening to his hesitation. But she heard it. She heard it and sympathized. Because she didn’t want to get caught up in it any more than he did.

  IT WAS LIKE BEING SWEPT DOWNRIVER IN A STRONG current. To Chet, the idea of renting out the old line shacks sounded outrageous. Surely it would be a way to lose money, not make it. And yet there was a tug of anticipation in his chest as he listened to everyone tossing out ideas. Everyone except Kimberly. She looked as if she too thought the idea implausible. If he was crazy enough to try this glamping thing, would Kimberly consider helping with its operation? She already had a job with the mayor. But maybe she could help him out part-time. He liked the idea of seeing her at the ranch more often. He imagined the two of them sharing his office, using the computer. He imagined shared laughter. He imagined—