by Jillian Hart
He was being given a second chance. At love. At life. Thank you, Lord. I promise, I won’t waste a moment of this gift.
Emotion wedged tight in his throat as he watched Kendra stroll away, waving her fingers in a dainty goodbye, taking every piece of his heart with her.
Where had the day gone? Kendra emptied the bucket of grain into the feed box in the northern paddock, where she’d built the fence eight feet high to hold the wild horses she rescued. A friend from high school worked in the Bureau of Land Management and called her when there were mustangs in need.
The copper stallion kept his distance. He’d stopped trying to bite her, but he refused to be cordial. He dismissed her as neither dangerous nor useful to him. He even refused the tasty grain she brought, trying to tempt him into being friends.
The old mare, who bore deep scars across her withers and haunches, claw marks from a cougar, was the bravest of the bunch. What good potential she had. Already sweet-natured and social, she was the one most likely to be gentled. She had a smart, searching gaze.
After she realized the human in their midst brought grain and kind words, the mare waited a few wary yards from the wooden trough.
“Hello, pretty girl.” Kendra upended the bucket and the rushing sound of corn and oats tumbling into the wooden feeder frightened all four horses.
The stallion took off at a fast run, neighing at her angrily, circling and tossing his head. The dun mare and foal followed him halfheartedly, not too sure they wanted to leave the grain behind.
The older mare, her black-and-white markings the same as the Indian Ponies that had run wild in this mountain valley and across the plains of Western America, shied a few steps. Scenting good food not to be found in the wild, she waited until Kendra moved a few paces back from the fence before moving cautiously forward to nibble up the sweet grain.
The stallion stayed back, teeth bared but scenting the food. The mare and colt stood indecisive. They’d approach in time. In the meanwhile, the white-tailed deer gathered in the tall grasses at the edge of the paddock, soft brown eyes watchful and ears upright, vigilant but unafraid.
Overhead a hawk circled, calling to its mate, hunting for field mice.
A beautiful evening. Kendra chose a spot, the tinder-dry grasses crackling beneath her riding boots, and sat cross-legged. She could smell autumn in the cooler breeze and in the softening of the blazing sun.
She cracked open her dog-eared paperback and began to read aloud, so the horses would get used to her voice. Used to her presence. See there was no threat.
Hooves thudded on the hard-packed earth behind her. Honeybear’s velvety nose tickled the ribbon trim on her shirt. She reached up to stroke the pony’s neck.
Sprite and Jingles grazed nearby, the ripping and chomping sounds as comforting as the muted light from the setting sun, as familiar as the sound of her own breathing.
She was surrounded by her best friends. Why did she feel so solitary? The space around her so open? It was a breathtaking evening and she had no one to share it with.
It was oddly comforting how she thought of Cameron every time she felt lonely.
He’d been funny today, so big and tall and out of place in the class of giggling, horse-crazy eight-year-old girls. How that man could make her laugh! Images of how his grin started with the crook in the corner of his mouth and spread across his face. She recalled how he’d teased her…how he’d confessed he wasn’t interested in Colleen.
Why did she feel lighter knowing that?
She knew the moment he came into sight on the path between the stables and her house, even though her back was to the cottage. Like an angel’s whisper, she heard him. The familiar pad of his gait, how it moved through her like music. She could feel the heavy weight of sadness he always carried. The steely integrity of the man. The zing of joy when he spotted her in the tall golden grass.
When she turned, he stood on the crest of the hill with the garden and cottage framing him, the broad strokes of sunlight cutting around him.
Like a warrior, he stood with shoulders square, both hands on his hips, strong legs planted. The light and shadow played with him, rendering him in silhouette and in the next blink full living color.
When she looked again, it was only Cameron striding toward her in a plain navy Henley and ordinary faded denims. A little of the warrior, of the hero she’d seen, remained, hovering around him like the light.
Her shields dismantled. The emptiness inside her ached like a second-degree burn. Throbbing and stinging and nothing would stop it.
Friends, he’d said. She’d be honored to have a friend like him.
“Isn’t this a lovely sight?” His deep baritone rang in harmony with the peaceful night, but the deer took discreet steps backward and melted into the tans and dark golds of the dried grasses and brown earth. “Guess I scared them off.”
“The stallion doesn’t like you around, either.” She watched the stunning animal arch his neck, prancing, snorting as he danced out his challenge. “I haven’t named him yet. He’s feisty, but he’s got a good heart, and he’s not terrified of people. My guess is he ran wild next to a farmer’s grassland, because he’s used to all this. He’s curious about me, when I’m not looking.”
“He looks ready to take a bite out of me. I sure am glad there’s that fence between us.”
“And solid, too. I sank the posts myself.” Kendra closed her book and stood, sweeping off the bits of dried grass and earth from her jeans.
“Some light reading?”
“Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. I always read the classics to the horses.”
“They like that better than, say, a good suspense novel? And they tell you this?”
“Yep. Who doesn’t enjoy a good story?” The pony tried to grab the book with his teeth, maybe thinking it would taste good. “See?” Laughing, she took the book. “Do you feel up to another lesson tonight?”
“To tell you the truth, my south end’s pretty sore from that trotting you made the horses do. The rest of me feels as if I spent time in a blender.”
“Well, that’s what I was trying to teach you. Posting. You don’t just sit like a lump of clay in the saddle. It’s work. It’s a skill.”
“I’ve had a tough day, teach. I wouldn’t mind a nice slow ride, with no trotting and no work.”
“What happened?”
“Had a call come in to assist the officer in the next town over. Domestic-violence call, hostage situation. It turned out all right, but a tense situation for everyone involved.”
“Oh.” The light inside her died. How could she be friends with the man who knew her secret? Who had seen with his own eyes her most shameful moment?
Let it go, Kendra. She stood on her faith like the earth at her feet. The Lord would see her through this.
So why had Cameron come into her life? At first she’d thought it was to help him. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“I’m glad everyone is safe,” she said, as if he’d been talking about anything but possible violence, and gave Honeybear a hug. “My sister came by today. We’re giving my little niece our pony to learn on.”
“That sounds generous of you.”
“No, Honeybear belongs to the whole family. He’s been passed down from my aunt’s kids, who learned to ride on him, and then to us girls. We had lots of other horses, of course, but he’s always been our favorite. He’s the sweetest animal in existence, aren’t you, boy?”
The old pony, with gray in his muzzle, leaned lovingly against Kendra’s stomach. She rubbed his ears with tender respect.
Cameron’s throat closed. He’d never had much of a family life. And with his mom scraping by to keep a roof over their heads, there was never extra money for things like a pony. “Before my wife got sick, we’d talk about what we wanted for our kids. The things we didn’t have growing up. Music lessons and a fancy swing set in the backyard, and land enough for a pony or two.”
What could she say? Cameron’s loss moved th
rough her, more deep and painful than her own. To have loved and have been loved, to have dreamed and dared to see a future like that, only to have it snatched away… She couldn’t imagine the depth of his grief. “You lost your whole life.”
“That I did.” He obliged Honeybear’s gentle request for a chin rub. “Some folks might get real angry at God. Debbie was in her twenties and she fought hard and suffered.”
He’d buried the memories because they hurt with an agony that was too powerful for words. How hard Deb had struggled, enduring chemotherapy and radiation treatments that nearly broke her. Her faith had never wavered.
His had come close to buckling. And now he was stronger for it. “God did me a favor, giving me those years with her, and I’m grateful for every one of them. Debbie was good and kind and had a beautiful spirit. Loving her was a rare gift.”
A gift? Having to bury a wife didn’t sound like a gift. Cameron rubbed his eyes, and in that moment, as the wind gusted and ruffled his short dark hair, she saw deep into the man. With his defenses down and the shadows in his eyes, he was no longer the helpful, friendly, sometimes wisecracking sheriff who protected and served. This man had a tender heart that had loved fiercely. Faithfully. Fully.
Michelle had been right. Cameron was the kind of man who stood tall and loved with his entire soul.
There were men like that? It didn’t seem true. It couldn’t be possible. Her arm ached, no longer broken, and her soul hurt like spring’s first sudden touch. Lord, don’t make me feel this. I want to forget.
There was no answer on the wind. Nothing changed in the world around her. The season was turning, summer’s hold slipping as the dry grasses rustled in the wind and the sun lost its warmth. She shivered, although she wasn’t cold.
“Colleen said she’d saddle Warrior for me and leave him inside the back gate. I could sure use a peaceful ride tonight.” Cameron strode away, his shadow long on the uneven grass.
Me, too. Brittle, feeling like cracked ice ready to shatter apart with any more pressure, Kendra wrapped her arms around Honeybear. Breathed in the wonderful horsy scent of his warm coat. Felt his comfort in the press of his big body against hers.
The pain remained, tamed into a dull, old ache in the middle of her chest. Arthritic and endless.
She’d ride Sprite tonight, bareback. Too tired to bother with a bridle, she hooked her fingers around the blue nylon cheek strap of his halter and led him through the field and into the stinging rays of the sinking sun.
Cameron was glad for the silence. God’s hand was in nature’s beauty all around him and it was a comfort. The sweet sap of pine, the sharp scent of earth, the trickle of a runoff creek through a mountain meadow where elk drank and birds took flight.
Kendra stayed beside him. That was good. It was bad. Good because her presence soothed him. She was serenity and peace and goodness, and she didn’t even know it. But this love he felt for her scared him. It moved through him like a double-edged blade, cutting so deep to his very core that his entire being felt exposed. Down to the bottom of his soul.
He could feel her within him, as if they were somehow connected. Somehow a part of one another. He felt the raw, wounded places within her heart. In her spirit.
He’d loved Debra with all he had in him. Their marriage had been great. They’d laughed all the time, each put the other first, found comfort in taking care of one another. She had been his world, his entire life. When she died, he had, too, in all the ways that mattered.
He’d never thought he could recover from that black, suffocating grief, but the Good Lord had seen him through it every step of the way. Changing him like a season, healing his heart slowly so that he could live and love again. Cameron had no doubt he was made to love this woman now, at this time and forever.
Did it have to be so powerful? He’d never known a love that tugged at him like a lead wind, consumed him like a wildfire, made him feel wide open and exposed. When Kendra breathed, he did. He swore their hearts beat in rhythm. She opened her mouth to speak and he could feel her words before she said them.
The good Lord hadn’t led him to merely a new wife, but more. A soul mate.
Did Kendra feel this, too? Cam couldn’t tell as he reined Warrior in, proud that he now knew the right term, and dismounted with a creak of leather. He ached from the balls of his feet to the top of his head.
Now he knew why Kendra was in such good shape. It wasn’t only because of the barn work she did. Riding took strength and endurance. Whew, he was sore, and he ran three miles every morning.
Kendra moved like the water, sure and easy and weightless, as she dropped the blue strap of the lead. She hadn’t even bothered with bridle or saddle, and left her gelding to graze, his halter strap dangling. Did he do the same?
Kendra answered his unspoken question. “Warrior’s trail-trained. He knows not to run off. Come, follow me, there’s something I want to show you.”
She led the way through the streams of light, the glow from the setting sun casting her in a rose hue, haloing around her. Smoke’s haze hid the faces of the granite peaks that were close enough to touch. The meadow was a precipice holding them high, bringing the sky near.
Kendra walked to the edge, ringed by hundreds of wild sunflowers. They brushed her slim ankles, their faces followed the descending sun and looked as if they followed her, too.
When she smiled at him, he took her smaller hand in his.
“You’re afraid of heights,” she guessed. “It’s all right. We’re perfectly safe. It’s a cliff, but the granite beneath us is thick and solid. It won’t give way.”
He nodded, unable to speak past the emotion caught in his throat. She’d misunderstood. Did he tell her? How could he find the right words?
His emotions remained tangled in his throat. The power of her touch, the connection that bound his soul to hers, expanded like the twilight, pulsing as if with a life of its own.
He let the brightening hues of sunset speak for him. Crimson seized control of the sky, luring a bold purple to join her in painting the bellies of the nimbus clouds gathering at the southern horizon. The last light blazed in a fiery liquid-red, and it felt as if the pain of his old life was falling away, the last of his grief and loneliness.
With Kendra’s hand tucked warm and solid in his, his life changed. The sun sank beneath the jagged-toothed mountains, taking the golden light with it, leaving only the bold-colored clouds and the coming darkness.
“There’s Mars,” he opened his mouth to say.
“There’s Mars,” she whispered.
Like minds, he thought. It’s more than that. When she sighed, her emotion moved across his soul like the shadows across the sky. The last colors leached from the thunderclouds, drawing the night with them. She withdrew her hand and he let her go, the connection unbroken.
A part of him moved with her as she stood near the edge of the precipice, a shadow and a voice in the night. “Sunflowers are my favorites. They raise their faces to the dawn every morning and look to the sun as it moves across the sky, never wavering. At day’s end they watch patiently as the sun sets, heads bowing in prayer. See?”
His throat ached worse, as if razor blades were lodged there, making it impossible to speak.
“They remain patient, waiting through the darkness to lift their faces in worship come the next day’s light. I think faith ought to be like that.”
“N-never wavering?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, but she couldn’t keep in all the pain. Being with Cameron made the indestructible titanium shields around her heart fall to pieces as if made of tinfoil.
She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to go back, but it didn’t matter. Images overtook her, the smell of pizza cooling in its cardboard take-out box, the linoleum floor hard against her forehead, the grit of dirt on the floor from Jerrod’s work boots, his hard lean form towering over her, his anger tainting the air like black, suffocating smoke.
Shaking so hard fr
om pain and fear, shaking harder now. The sting from his slap to her face like a burn on her cheek, her ears ringing. She’d raised her arm to block his next blow, but she was powerless to stop his fear. It was like a wildfire, feeding on itself—
Stop. Stop remembering. She wanted to stomp out the memories like a spark in the grass, killing the fire before it could rage out of control and consume everything she’d carefully rebuilt.
I won’t let that happen. The memories kept coming. The nausea gripping her stomach. The shocked seconds before the sharp jabbing pain registered. Lord, help me. Please, I don’t want to remember.
She didn’t want to forget. She’d trusted the wrong man once. She was doing it again. Cameron moved silently. She felt his approach like the breeze ruffling her ponytail. She tensed a nanosecond before his hand cupped the back of her neck.
The warm solid comfort of his touch ripped like newly sharpened steel through her exposed core. The place in her soul she guarded the most.
I won’t trust him. She held on tight to that vow. I will not. No good can come from it.
“Love is like that. Never wavering.” Cameron’s touch against her neck strengthened.
“Not in my experience.”
“True love. If it’s not steadfast, if it’s not giving and tender, then it isn’t true.”
His touch sparkled along her skin like the first stars in the night, like hope in a void.
A hope she would not believe in. She sidestepped, slipping away from his comfort. Remembering the man in uniform who took the blow meant for her. Standing over her, as lightning outside the picture window cast him in shadows, knocking Jerrod to the ground in a single maneuver, gun drawn and gleaming as the lightning flared again—
She screwed her eyes shut, refusing to see any other man in Cameron. He may be tender, he may be true, but he was a man of violence.
The stars shone as she turned her back on the view. Trudging away from Cameron as fast as she could go, she tripped on a fallen limb and slipped across stones in the creek. Whistling for Sprite she reached for the horse, who came to her, a warm comfort she could always trust.