“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 for 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.”
Was that the first time Chet Leonard had called her by her given name? If he’d done it before, she hadn’t noticed. But noticing it now made her feel quite strange—and just a little delicious.
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?”
“Good.” He nodded. “Now let’s see if you and Wind Dancer remember what to do next.”
“You heard his name. What do you think?”
“Pete’s right. It’s a good name. But it doesn’t really matter what we think. It only matters if you like it.”
“I like it.” Tara moved to take the lunge line.
Pete hesitated a moment before handing it to her. Afterward, he shoved his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans, as if not knowing what to do with his hands. A few more moments and he seemed to realize Tara was waiting for him to clear out of the round pen. His face flushed a bit as he turned away and strode toward the gate, but Chet was pretty sure the girl hadn’t noticed. Tara’s eyes were back on her horse. Wind Dancer was all that mattered to her.
“All right. Let’s go.” Chet leaned his forearms on the top rail.
Tara let out some of the line and pointed the small training whip behind Wind Dancer’s rump to urge him to move out. “Walk on.”
Chet didn’t say much over the next twenty minutes or so as he watched Tara put the horse through his paces. She lunged him counterclockwise at a walk, a trot, a slow canter, a trot again, and finally a walk to a halt. Then she turned him in a clockwise direction and repeated the exercise. She remembered to keep her voice calm but firm and didn’t fumble the commands. She remembered how to hold the lunge line and pointed with the whip only when necessary. Wind Dancer responded as if the two of them had been working together for months instead of a few weeks.
When the horse was stopped once again, Chet said, “Okay, Tara. That’s good. Give him a rub down.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Leonard.”
He opened the gate, and Tara led the pinto out of the pen and toward the barn. Pete fell in beside her. Not that Tara needed anyone’s help. By this time, she knew exactly what to do and where she would find whatever she needed.
Chet turned and started toward the house, then stopped when he saw the now familiar car coming toward him. Kimberly Welch was a little on the early side today. He waited for her to stop the car and get out.
“Afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat.
“Hello.” Her gaze went to the side of the barn where Tara was tying her horse at the rail. “How did it go today?”
Here was something else Chet had figured out. Kimberly was nervous around horses. She didn’t dislike them, and she wasn’t all-out terrified of them. At least not obviously so. But she wasn’t eager to be near them either, and that made her worry about her daughter more than most.
“Good,” he answered. “Tara’s a good student. So’s the horse.”
Kimberly’s eyes returned to him. “Ms. McKenna asked me to look at some things in the guesthouse. She wants to know if any are worth selling instead of giving away.”
“She did?” He remembered Tara saying her mother was some sort of expert with antiques, but Easter was the only time he’d heard it mentioned. He hadn’t known Anna p
ursued the topic with her. “Well, come with me then.”
They walked together toward the house, Chet shortening his stride to match hers.
He’d learned a few other things about the Welches, thanks to the hours he’d spent with Tara. He’d learned the girl’s father had passed away three years ago, and apparently the man had left their finances in a mess. Their house had been foreclosed. Cars repossessed. Kimberly had tried to find work, but her fine arts theater degree hadn’t helped on that front. She’d been a stay-at-home wife and mom since college, so she had no work history to make her desirable to employers. Her inability to find employment was what had finally brought them to Kings Meadow to stay with Janet. According to Tara, Kimberly would leave in a heartbeat if she found a job in the city. The latter he hadn’t needed Tara to tell him. He’d already figured it out for himself. Well, good luck to her. He couldn’t imagine himself living anywhere else, but he’d discovered it was useless to try to make anyone want to stay. His ex-wife had taught him that.
Anna stepped through the back doorway of the main house as Chet and Kimberly drew near. “Hello, Kimberly. Thank you for coming.”
“How could I refuse?” She smiled. “Tara is always telling me about something new you’ve found. She’s piqued my curiosity.”
Anna looked at Chet. “Want to join us? We’re on a treasure hunt.”
“No thanks. I’m pretty sure I’d be in the way.”
“Suit yourself.” Anna hooked arms with Kimberly. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
The two women set off for the guesthouse.
Chet had been surprised at first at the amount of time it was taking Anna to sort, keep, toss out. But then he’d realized she was in no hurry to occupy her old home. She would rather stay in the main house than have privacy in her own place. He’d thought it odd since she’d loved the cottage back before she got married. But it also pleased him, knowing she preferred to stay in the midst of his family.
While Anna might not be in any hurry to live in the cottage—if that ever happened, which he now doubted—she seemed to enjoy sorting through the collection of boxes and cast-offs, deciding what should stay and what must go. He also suspected the time she spent with Tara was valuable to the girl. And now Kimberly had been added to the mix. Perhaps time with Anna would be valuable to her too.
The Kings Meadow Romance Collection Page 6