Whenever You Come Around

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  As he pulled out onto the road, he couldn’t help himself. He leaned out the window and let out a whoop of joy.

  Freedom!

  WITH A SIGH, CHARITY CLOSED HER LAPTOP AND rolled her chair back from the desk. When she whirled the chair around, she was surprised to find the light fading outside. She couldn’t believe it was that late. Was a storm brewing? She rose and went to the window. No. The sky was clear. A glance at the bedside clock told her it was after nine p.m. No wonder her backside felt numb. She hadn’t moved from the chair in several hours.

  Cocoa whimpered from the doorway.

  Charity turned. “I’m sorry, girl. Need out?”

  The dog wagged her tail and did a little dance.

  “All right.” Charity laughed. “Let’s go outside.”

  As usual, Cocoa didn’t wait around for her mistress. She was down the stairs in an instant and stood near the door, waiting for Charity to catch up with her.

  “No walk today, girl. It’s too late. I’ll throw the ball for you instead.” She reached for the yellow tennis ball that she kept in a basket near the door.

  Cocoa quivered with excitement from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. The moment they were both outside, Charity threw the ball as hard as she could in the direction of Buck’s front yard, and the dog took off after it. Charity settled onto the top step of the front porch.

  Buck’s truck was gone from the side of his house, the spot where it had been ever since the accident. The pickup hadn’t been there the last time she’d looked either. She flinched at the thought, not liking that she’d made note of it.

  Cocoa brought the ball back and Charity threw it again—in the same direction.

  Wasn’t it enough that she thought about Buck during the day while she was writing? Lately he had invaded her dreams as well. Which seemed worse—more dangerous—than her old nightmares, as crazy as that sounded.

  She was about to throw the ball one more time for Cocoa when the sounds of Buck’s truck drew her eyes to the road. He waved at her through the open window of his pickup as he turned into the driveway.

  “Sit, Cocoa.”

  The dog obeyed as Charity rose to her feet.

  Buck got out of the truck and, grinning, walked toward her, a cane in one hand.

  She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Look at you.”

  “Yeah. Not too shabby.”

  She glanced toward the pickup and back again. “Must feel good to be able to drive.”

  “You have no idea.”

  The twilight dimmed even more, the silence of evening broken by the chirping of crickets and a breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Cocoa groaned as she lay down.

  “Been busy writing today?” Buck asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Going well?”

  “Yes. I think so. Better than I expected when I first got here.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He glanced toward the pasture behind his house. “Did you ride today?”

  “No, not today.” She felt a twinge of regret. With his casts off, he wouldn’t need her to exercise his horses any longer. He could do it himself. Look at him. He was on the mend. He would be back to his old life soon. She should get back to hers.

  “I had dinner tonight at Ken and Sara’s. You should see the baby. It’s amazing how much bigger he is already.”

  There was a catch in her heart, but not as bad as it might have been. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad he’s doing well.”

  He looked at her, and she was glad for the failing light, lest he see too much.

  “I . . . uh . . .” She pointed at his leg. “I’d better not keep you standing here.”

  “I’m all right.” But he took a step back from her.

  “It’s good to see you out and about, Buck. Really it is.”

  “Thanks.” He started to turn, then stopped. “You’re still welcome to ride whenever you want.”

  His words had a wonderful effect upon her, and she smiled her thanks.

  “Oh. Almost forgot. Sara said when I saw you to say she’s up for visitors and she hopes you’ll come to see her and the baby soon.”

  Charity’s earlier calm evaporated. With effort, she forced the smile to remain in place. “I will. I’ll go over soon.”

  Chapter 12

  THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, MINDFUL OF GRANT’S suggestion about possible work, Buck drove to the Leonard Ranch north of Kings Meadow. The place had been in Chet Leonard’s family since the 1860s, and cattle had covered their land for close to a hundred years. But around the end of World War II, the Leonards had begun the switch to raising quarter horses. Lots of rodeo champions had come from the Leonard Ranch in the years since. Fine working stock too.

  Then a year ago, they’d started renting out cabins to guests. Not a dude ranch in the usual way, from what he’d heard, but near enough. Glamping, they called it. Short for glamorous camping. The name alone made him shake his head.

  When he got to the ranch, Buck saw Chet working with a young horse in a corral near the barn. He parked his truck and got out, glad he could manage walking without the cane. It wouldn’t feel right to need it when he was applying for work. He went to the corral, his gait a bit choppy but not bad.

  Chet met him at the fence. “Hey, Buck. Glad to see you up and around. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” He glanced toward the horse in the corral. “Fine-looking colt you’ve got there.”

  “Yeah, he is. We’re going to keep him, I think, for Kimberly. He’s got such an easy temperament, even as young as he is.” Chet opened the gate and stepped out. After closing it behind him, he removed his hat and swept his shirtsleeve across his forehead. “Whew. Sure is hot for this early in the day.”

  Buck nodded. “Sure is.”

  “So what brings you out our way? You in the market for another horse?”

  “Not this year.”

  Chet nodded and appeared to be waiting for Buck to answer his first question.

  Buck drew a quick breath. “Grant Nichols told me you might be looking for someone to take your guests on trail rides. If you are, I’m interested.”

  Chet’s eyes widened. “You are?”

  “Yeah. I had to give away a lot of business this summer, and I’m not real sure when I’ll be back to full strength.” He gave a slight shrug. “I figured taking your guests on trail rides would be something I could do until I’m up for the more strenuous trips into the back country.”

  “We’d love to have you, Buck. In fact, if I could talk you into it, I’d bring you on for the whole season.” Chet laid a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Come into the office, and we’ll talk details.”

  Relief flooded through Buck. This was an answer to prayer.

  The two men headed across the barnyard, Chet shortening his stride to accommodate Buck’s slower pace. A few minutes later, they entered the single-level cottage that had been transformed into the offices of Leonard Ranch Ultimate Adventures. They were met by Kimberly, Chet’s wife of less than a year.

  “You remember Buck Malone,” Chet said to her. “He’s going to lead trail rides for our guests.”

  Kimberly grinned. “That’s wonderful news.” She got up from the desk and went to stand by her husband, putting an arm around Chet’s waist while still looking at Buck. “I’ll bet if you wanted, you could get some orders for your saddles too. I can’t tell you how often someone comments on the one Chet had you make for me.” Her eyes, filled with love, lifted to meet Chet’s gaze.

  Buck felt as if he’d intruded on an intimate moment between the pair. He looked away from them, but not before he saw Chet lean down to kiss his wife. He was startled by the envy that shot through him. Startled even more when he pictured himself kissing Charity, holding her close, staring down into her eyes in the exact same way.

  Chet cleared his throat. “Come with me, Buck.” He led the way into what had once been the bedroom of the cottage. Several filing cabinets, two tall bookcases, a printer on a rolling st
and, and a large desk with a computer monitor and keyboard on it took up most of the space. Chet motioned for Buck to sit in one of the chairs near a window while he sat in the one behind the desk. He clicked on the keyboard to awaken the computer and then opened a program on the screen.

  Buck had a lot of respect for Chet Leonard. That respect increased as the two men talked business for the next half hour. They settled quickly upon fair compensation for guiding guests on trail rides. But that wasn’t where Chet left it. He had ideas about how they could utilize Buck’s expertise to profit them both. By the time they were finished, Buck felt a new confidence. Even if his ankle and wrist weren’t up to the task of taking groups into the wilderness area this season, it wouldn’t be the ruination of him.

  Chet rose from his chair. “Let’s drive out to one of the guest cabins so you can get an idea of what we’re doing. You’ve got time, right?”

  “Sure.” Buck stood. “Time’s what I have the most of right now.”

  Kimberly was on the phone when the two men reentered the front office of the cottage. She wiggled her fingers at Chet. He mouthed that he’d be back soon. She nodded.

  “You’re a lucky man,” Buck said when they were outside again.

  Chet smiled. “I’m blessed. No doubt about it.”

  Chet and Buck got into a big black truck and followed a dirt road north, the fenced pastureland on their right. The mountains drew closer until finally they reached their destination. There, in a cluster of trees, Buck saw a cabin with a couple of large, white-canvas tents nearby.

  “It used to be one of the ranch’s line shacks from the late 1800s.” Chet cut the engine. “Back in the days when those were needed. We did quite a bit of remodeling on the inside but tried to leave it rustic on the outside.” He pointed toward the tents. “Large families or groups spill over into those. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  It wasn’t until they’d walked closer to the cabin that Buck saw, off to the right, a covered concrete slab with some worktables, a large gas grill, a couple of ovens, and a big stovetop with six burners. A sink meant there was running water, and lights overhead meant electricity.

  Chet saw the direction of Buck’s gaze. “That’s where Grant prepares the gourmet meals for our guests. The boys and I manage to serve up a decent breakfast, but we book Grant for most lunches and all of the dinners.”

  “He likes working out here. He told me so.”

  Chet gave Buck the rest of what he called the five-cent tour, filling in with amusing stories about some of their experiences as they’d gotten Ultimate Adventures up and running. By the time they were finished and on their way back to the ranch complex, Buck knew he’d made the right decision to drive out to the Leonard place that day.

  It might turn out to be a far better summer than expected.

  HOLDING A BOX WRAPPED IN IRIDESCENT PAPER IN the crook of her left arm, Charity rang the doorbell. Her stomach churned as she waited. But before she could chicken out, the door opened, revealing a woman Charity had never met before. She didn’t have to wonder if she was Sara’s mother. There was a striking resemblance between the two.

  “Hello,” the woman said, her expression friendly. “You must be here to see Sara. I’m her mother, Irene Dover.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dover. I’m Charity Anderson.”

  Irene’s eyes widened. “You’re the famous author.”

  “Hardly famous,” Charity answered, always uncomfortable when someone said that.

  “Come in. Come in.” Irene opened the door as far as it would go. “You cannot imagine how excited I am to meet you. Sara sent me your first novel, and I’ve been hooked ever since. When will your next one be out? Will it be another book in the Lancer series?”

  Before Charity could reply, Sara called a greeting from the room at the top of the stairs. “Charity, is that you? Come on up. I’m just about to feed Eddy.”

  “It’s me. I’ll be right there.” She glanced at Irene. “Excuse me, Mrs. Dover.”

  “Go on with you. We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay.” She hurried up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

  Sara was seated in a rocking chair, the baby hidden beneath a blanket draped over Sara’s shoulder. Charity heard suckling noises as she settled onto the hope chest at the foot of the bed. Her lungs contracted at the sound.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  This was the first time Charity had been anywhere close to a newborn in ten years. She was the friend who sent flowers for the mother and a gift for the baby. She had them delivered along with a nice card. She never visited the hospital before or after a birth. She never called upon a new mother at home, never asked to hold an infant. Had she been fooling herself? Maybe she hadn’t the instincts needed to be a mother. Maybe when she thought about the future, about marriage and a family, she was kidding herself. Maybe God didn’t want her to have either of them.

  Do You, Lord?

  “Eddy nurses often,” Sara said, breaking into Charity’s thoughts.

  “Eddy, huh?”

  Sara nodded. “We named him for my dad. Edward James Faulkner Malone.”

  “That’s a mouthful.” Charity laughed softly—and felt better because of it.

  Her gaze moved to the many photos hanging on the wall behind her friend. Some were of Sara as a girl, but most were of the family she’d made with Ken. It was a good family too. A happy family.

  Sara had been twelve years old when she moved to Kings Meadow with her father and new stepmother. Sara and Terri had become inseparable in no time at all. Which meant, over time, Charity had become friends with Sara too—once she was no longer considered the pesky little sister.

  As far as Charity knew, this was the first time Sara’s mother had come to Kings Meadow to see her daughter. She’d missed Sara and Ken’s wedding for some reason and hadn’t come for the births of her first three grandchildren either. Instead, every year like clockwork, airline tickets arrived for the entire family to fly down to southern California where Irene Dover lived. Charity wondered what had made the difference this time, but she wouldn’t ask. If Sara wanted her to know, she would volunteer the information.

  “Four kids,” Charity said instead, bringing her eyes back to Sara. “Can’t believe it. Seems like only yesterday we were kids ourselves.”

  “I know. And it was only yesterday that we were kids.” Sara started the chair rocking gently. “It was good to see Terri over the Fourth. Wish she could have stayed longer.”

  “Me too.”

  “You must be glad Buck’s out of his casts. He said you did a lot for him.”

  “Not really. It didn’t take him long to learn how to cope.”

  “Hmm. Not sure I believe you.”

  “It’s true. And even when I did help, he wasn’t a demanding patient.”

  Sara tipped her head a little to one side, seeming to study Charity. “No, he isn’t the demanding sort. Always gives more than he takes. I’d love it if he’d meet somebody special to marry. I hate to see him alone all the time.”

  Charity got up from the chest and walked to the window. She pushed the curtain aside and stared down at the large backyard. It was littered with signs of children—a swing set, a sandbox, bicycles, a tree house. “He told me he doesn’t plan to marry.”

  “He’s told us the same thing. I even understand why he says it. But meeting the right woman would make all the difference in the world.”

  “From what I hear, he’s dated all of the single girls within fifty miles of Kings Meadow.”

  Sara laughed. “That’s a slight exaggeration. But yes, he’s enjoyed the company of women without any hint of settling down. Although, come to think of it, he didn’t seem to do much dating in the last year.”

  “That must explain why there wasn’t a parade of women at his house while he was laid up.” She faced her friend again. “Maybe there isn’t a right woman for him.”

  “Maybe.” Sara shrugged. “But I hope you’re wrong. He wou
ld make a great husband and father.” Her friend paused for a few moments before asking, “What about you, Charity? Anyone special in your life?”

  “No.” For an instant, she thought of Nathan. Then she pictured Buck. Nathan lived in the fast lane. Buck didn’t even know where the fast lane was. But they had one thing in common: they were both confirmed bachelors and would never be a special someone to her.

  “I think Eddy’s ready to meet you now.” Sara pulled the blanket from her shoulder, revealing the infant in her arms.

  Charity’s heart began to hammer again as she forced herself to take a couple of steps toward Sara and Eddy.

  “Do you want to hold him?”

  “No,” Charity answered immediately. She took a breath and tried to act casual. “No, I’d better not. He’s so little.” Sara’s eyes were filled with questions. To Charity’s relief, she didn’t ask them. “I’m afraid I’ll drop him,” she added quickly as she moved to stand behind the rocking chair. There, she could look down at the baby and be hidden from his mother’s inquiring gaze. “He’s beautiful, Sara.”

  “Isn’t he? Our little miracle from God.”

  Tears welled in Charity’s eyes. She wanted a miracle, too, she realized. She wanted a chance to do things right. Would God give it to her after all her sinful choices? She’d asked for forgiveness. She’d been forgiven. But did that change the consequences for what she’d done?

  And could she ever forgive herself?

  Chapter 13

  How does a woman know she’s in love?

  Charity wrote in her plot journal four days later.

  Is it just an emotion? Or is it something more, something deeper, than that? How can anyone be sure they have met the one? Is there just one? What does my heroine believe about it? Moon. June. Swoon.

  She stopped writing and stared off into space. Was she even working on her characters or plot now? Or was she writing about herself?