Lavender & Mistletoe (Blue Hollow Falls)

by Donna Kauffman

  His ears flicked forward and Chey had zero doubt that this horse knew exactly who she was, despite the decade since she’d last seen him. Her heart squeezed in a painful knot as she tried, and failed, not to remember, with crystal clarity, the circumstances of the last time she’d seen this horse.

  “Well, I don’t know what son-of-a-bitch let you get in such deplorable condition,” she murmured, working to keep her voice smooth, calm, and the anger tamped down deep, “but thanks to Tory, you’re going to be fine now. And for all the rest of your days, too. I’m going to see to that.” She laughed and sniffled at the same time when Buttercup nodded and snorted. “Exactly. I’m only sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

  Chey didn’t want to think about the reasons why she hadn’t known anything about Buttercup’s life once he and his first owner had left the rodeo circuit all those years ago. She’d eventually left it, too, gone her own way. She didn’t want to think about the reason for that, either.

  “You two getting reacquainted, I see.”

  Chey dashed at the dampness on her cheeks, unconcerned by the streaks of dirt left behind. She plopped her cowboy hat on her head, pulled the brim down, but kept her palm on Buttercup’s neck as she turned. She wanted the horse to know she wasn’t leaving. Not now, not ever again. She turned to face her old, dear friend, a sincere smile on her face. “We most definitely are. Thank you,” she said, those two words never more heartfelt. “For letting me know. I realize I should be better about keeping in touch—”

  Tory just laughed outright at that, and Chey knew she deserved it.

  “As I may have mentioned in my previous, oh, umpteen emails and letters, there are these marvelous inventions called cell phones for folks who hate to write,” Tory teased. “You don’t even have to actually talk to people, either. You can send these amazing things called text messages.”

  “I’ve heard about people like you,” Chey pretended to grumble, then chuckled along with her friend.

  “I have to say, I was really surprised to hear about your new venture. You mentioned you were working on a farm now but neglected to mention that you own part of it, and that it’s a lavender farm, not a horse farm.”

  “Part horse farm,” Chey corrected. “My part anyway. I’m working with rescues, giving lessons, doing some training.” She shrugged. “Pretty much the same thing I’ve been doing since I left the circuit.”

  Tory just folded her arms and tilted her head to the side, her expression telling Chey she wasn’t buying it. “Sounds like a big, new life venture to me,” she said when Chey just smiled and shook her head. “I’m happy for you, Chey. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

  Chey nodded and was relieved when Tory didn’t go any further. It had been a number of years now since she’d left that life behind. A number of years since she’d lost her father, then her brother. And yes, Tory was right, the lavender farm wasn’t just another job. It was a whole new life. One she loved more than anything she’d ever done before, except ride. It was her present, and her future, and she couldn’t be more grateful for all of it.

  Tory was the one person who really knew what Chey’s life had been before all that. Victoria Fuller was a former champion barrel racer, just as Chey was. She’d been Chey’s biggest competition on the circuit during their childhood and teen years. Where Chey was the assertive, in-your-face kind of competitor, Tory had been the darling of the circuit. Pretty, always cheerful, a friend to everyone…and a dogged competitor in the ring.

  Chey had both envied Tory and respected her, the latter winning out early on. Despite their many head-to-head battles in the ring, they’d become fast friends outside of it. Tory had seen to that.

  Chey’s brother, Cody, had been a star rodeo rider, and her father had been a well-known rodeo clown. Tory’s grandparents owned a huge spread in Wyoming and were well-known and respected horse breeders. Tory had lost both her parents when she was so young she didn’t remember them, and, as an only child, traveled with an aunt—her late mom’s sister—who competed as well. Chey knew from Tory’s letters over the years that they were all three gone now, and the ranch along with it. Tory’s life was much like Chey’s had been, prior to becoming part of her new enterprise, Lavender Blue. A bit of a vagabond life still, always working with horses, wherever that took them.

  Chey accepted a little stab of guilt for letting the ball drop with her oldest and dearest friend. And tried like hell to ignore the even bigger stab of guilt as she leaned in close to Buttercup. Tory wasn’t the only one Chey hadn’t kept in regular touch with over the years.

  “I bet living in the Blue Ridge Mountains is something else,” Tory said wistfully. “Only been out there once, to a show in Asheville, North Carolina. Gorgeous.”

  Chey laughed and swept her arm wide. “Seriously? You live in Sedona. Possibly one of the most breathtaking places I’ve ever seen. I would never tire of this view.” The red rock mesas and jutting buttes, their striated lines showing the layers of the earth that had formed them, stretched out as far as the eye could see. All outlined by a cloudless sky of such rich blue, the stunning contrast simply filled the heart right up.

  “It certainly puts things in perspective,” Tory agreed, taking in a deep breath, then shook her head. “But an eye candy view isn’t everything.”

  “It’s certainly a good place to start.”

  Tory shared Chey’s smile, nodding, but Chey hadn’t missed that brief moment, that flicker in her friend’s beautiful brown eyes. Years had passed since they’d seen one another, but some things were timeless. And reading Tory’s every emotion as it played across her pretty face was one of them.

  “What’s going on, Tory?” Chey asked, kindly, but directly. “Trouble in this desert paradise? I know you said you weren’t able to keep Buttercup here, which was why you contacted me.” She gestured to the expansive and beautifully maintained stables they were standing in. “I’m forever grateful you did, but it doesn’t look like there’s an issue with room. Are they working you too hard? Want too much board for him? I know you’ve had nothing but kind things to say about your employers, but—” She broke off, thinking maybe it wasn’t her place to push. Not that that had ever stopped her before.

  Tory looked as if she was going to shrug off the question, but at the last second, she caught Chey’s eye, and their gazes held. Tory finally lifted a shoulder and let it drop in a helpless sort of half shrug. “The Parmenters—the owners, my bosses—are going to sell this place and move away to help out with their grandchildren. They’re selling the house, the stables, the land. All of it.” Her expression turned a bit bleak. “To developers.”

  Chey’s expression fell. “Oh no. Aw, Tory, I’m so sorry. I know how much you’ve loved working for them.” She might not have been good at keeping in touch, but Tory had. The occasional email, a hand-written letter at Christmas, Tory had kept their connection. Chey knew what was going on in her friend’s life, even if she’d given little more than a cursory overview of her own. “You know they’ll give you the most glowing reference and you have to have contacts built up.” Chey smiled. “Your email and letter-writing skills will stand you in good stead where that’s concerned.”

  Tory let out a somewhat watery laugh, then wiped the back of her hand over her cheek. “They’ve already offered to do whatever they can. They are lovely, with huge hearts, and I don’t fault them for wanting to go be with family.” She looked up and down the wide aisle and the row of roomy stalls on both sides. “One winning lottery ticket and I’d buy this place in a blink.” She chuckled and let out a shaky sigh, all at the same time.

  “You’d hate running this whole place.”

  Tory wiggled her eyebrows. “If the win was big enough, I’d hire a majordomo for all that.”

  “Ah. Solid business plan, then,” Chey said with a short grin. “My bad.”

  Tory nodded and brushed at her sleeves, as if duly accepting
her friend’s mock apology. “Have a little faith.”

  They both laughed then, but it didn’t diminish the sadness Chey saw in Tory’s eyes. Or the weariness. Chey remembered what it had felt like, to find Lavender Blue, to find a new home. A forever home. She’d been tired of traveling, tired of picking up and moving. It had been time. Maybe Tory was feeling the same way.

  On instinct, Chey reached out and took hold of Tory’s upper arm, gave it a light squeeze, and let it go. Chey wasn’t much of a toucher, so that might as well have been a bear hug coming from her, and Tory knew it. “You’re going to land on your feet. Why don’t you come east? Blue Hollow Falls will draw you right in.”

  “Lots of ranching in the Blue Ridge Mountains, is there?” she said dryly, though she’d clearly been touched by the gesture.

  Chey laughed. “Okay, no. Not like out here, anyway. But there are plenty of horses and riders to go with them. At the moment, I’m the only game in town, where lessons and training are concerned anyway. But as you duly noted, I’m also part owner of a lavender farm and we’re in full swing this year, so my horse side gig is honestly just that.”

  “That’s truly kind of you—”

  “Don’t brush me off, now,” Chey said, a teasing note in her otherwise dead serious offer. “I’m not tossing that out there like a bone to a starving animal. You could get a job in every single state in the union. There is always an opening for someone with your skill, talent, and dedication. I’m not just offering you a chance to find work.” And as Chey spoke the words, she knew the truth of them. “I’m offering you a chance to find a home.” Not giving her friend an opening to say anything, letting the offer sink in, she went straight on. “How many of these mounts are yours?”

  “Two are mine,” Tory said. “Buttercup makes three.”

  “I’m buying him from you, so that makes two.” She lifted a hand when Tory started to argue about the buying part of that statement. “At the very least I’m paying you back what it cost to get him away from the meat grinders.”

  Tory shuddered, but simply nodded.

  “You have a trailer?”

  She nodded. “One-horse. Had a two-horse, but it fell apart and I haven’t had the chance to upgrade again. I use the Parmenters’ ranch trailer when I need—”

  Chey talked over her. “Fine. I’ll put Buttercup in yours, leave the two-horse I hauled here. When the time comes, drive it back east for me and we’ll swap back.” She eyed her friend, wouldn’t let her look away, and stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

  “Chey—”

  “You got no family. I got no family,” Chey baldly stated in a way she wouldn’t have done with anyone else. “Well, that’s not entirely true. You have the Parmenters, who I know have become more than simply employers to you. I have three close friends who are family to me now—we own and run our farm together—and a whole town filled with adopted family.” She smiled. “I’m sure you and the Parmenters will write long lovely letters to each other, and you can visit over the holidays. But in the meantime, you’re a horse trainer in need of a job. And a new home. And I just happen to have one of each I can share.”

  “You came out here for Buttercup,” Tory said, but Chey already saw the hopeful look in her eyes, and the way her shoulders had straightened a bit. Both good signs.

  “Lucky me, then,” Chey said with a smile. “Twofer.” She wiggled her still outstretched hand. “Deal?”

  “I don’t know when it will be,” Tory said. “I promised to stay until they got things completely settled here.”

  Chey just wiggled her fingers. “Stop stalling.”

  Tory rolled her eyes and Chey’s smile split into a wide grin. Now that was the Tory she’d gone up against in the ring. Tory took Chey’s hand in a grip that was unsurprisingly strong and deliberate. “If it will keep you from nagging, sure, I’ll come east and save your sorry ass from being so overwhelmed you can’t even handle a few measly mounts.” Her utterly inelegant sniffle ruined her superior tone when she added, “I don’t know how you’ve managed to get along without me all these years.”

  Tory didn’t let go of Chey’s hand and instead pulled her in for a tight hug. Chey stiffened and Tory just held on tighter. “Thank you,” she whispered in her friend’s ear. “You saved two lives today. I won’t forget this.”

  Chey relented then; hearing the choked gratitude undid something inside of her. She’d been in a place even lower than Tory’s in her life, and she knew what a kind hand meant more than most. “Good,” she said gruffly. “I hope you still feel that way after harvest.”

  Tory let Chey go, but immediately slung her arm over Chey’s shoulder as they turned to face Buttercup. “You gonna still feel that way when I farm the hell out of that lavender better than you and take all your students away?”

  Chey hooted. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? We’re not in the show ring any longer, you know.”

  “What, you think I’ve grown soft and complacent over the years? Have you?”

  Chey looked at the horse. “You hear that, Buttercup? Big words. She has no idea, does she?”

  The horse snuffled and ducked his head, as if he was agreeing with Chey. Chey and Tory both laughed. “I have a witness,” Chey said, looking at her friend and grinning. “You’re on.”

  * * * *

  This time around, Chey did keep in touch, albeit not quite as loquaciously as her friend did. Three months had passed since Chey had successfully transported Buttercup back across the country to his new home in Blue Hollow Falls. Spring was edging toward summer in the Virginia mountains she called home.

  Chey folded her arms on the rail and propped her chin on them, watching from under the brim of her hat as Buttercup grazed contentedly in the pasture just beyond the paddock. The old gelding still had a long way to go, but he’d been slowly and steadily putting weight back on; his coat still looked pretty shabby, but it was growing back in; and his mane, though still thin and a bit stringy, had an actual luster to it now. Best of all, the gelding’s eyes, though permanently clouded with age, were alert now, and focused. Buttercup wasn’t a fully healthy horse—that would take a much longer period of time—but he was a happy horse. She’d take it.

  Her gaze shifted from the pasture to the west of the stables and fields they’d dedicated to the horses. Row after row of lavender bushes filled the landscape all the way to the horizon. They were coming to life, buds hinting at the purple hue to come, and the fields were showing signs of green. “Spring is coming. Ready or not,” she whispered, knowing it wouldn’t be long before things would be getting busy. Really, really busy.

  The sound of Foster, one of her rescues, kicking his stall door, drew her from her thoughts and she headed back inside. The old stone stables had come with the farm, as had the stone and wood farm manager’s house that was now her home. In the past two years since the four of them had taken on and launched the Lavender Blue Farm and Tea Room, both structures had undergone sweeping renovations to make them livable and functional once more, after sitting empty and abandoned for many years. Given their age, that would likely be an ongoing, lifelong chore, but one Chey happily took on.

  Vivi lived up in the big farm house, which also served as the tea room and gift shop. Hannah still had her artist’s loft over the large, detached garage, and Avery had what they teasingly referred to as her mad scientist lab set up in her apartment, located in the addition that had been built on to the farmhouse in the middle of the previous century. These days, however, both Hannah and Avery more or less lived with their “better halves” as Vivi called them.

  Chey smiled, thinking that wedding bells weren’t too far off for Hannah and Will, and she couldn’t be happier about that. They would throw one heck of a wedding right there on the farm, with the lavender and the mountains beyond as a stunning backdrop. Even though Avery and Ben hadn’t been together all that long as yet, Chey wouldn’t
be too surprised if they followed soon after. Given they were the youngest of the group and might be thinking about starting a family at some point, she doubted they’d wait too long to say their I dos. Chey reached over the stall door and gave Foster a good rub along his neck. “You’re my better half, eh, Fos?”

  The horse snorted then lowered his nose over the stall door and started rooting at Chey’s pocket. She laughed and dug out the apple she had stuffed in there earlier for this exact reason. She held it while he nibbled off a chunk. “If only men were half as easy as you. Feed ’em, water ’em, put them in at night, and give them an occasional sweet treat? I might put up with one if that were the case.”

  “Question is, would they put up with you?”

  Chey whirled around at the sound of that voice. “Tory?”

  Tory jumped into the aisle and posed with a flourish. “Surprise!”

  “Ah, yeah it is!” Chey said, completely stunned. “How is it you can talk my ear off pretty much every other day but not mention that you packed everything up and headed east?”

  “Well, I kind of took a detour.”

  Chey finished feeding the apple to Foster, then wiped her hand on her pants leg and turned toward her friend. “What detour? Don’t tell me. You found someone else’s horse on the blocks?”

  “Actually, not exactly.” Tory turned to look outside and motioned. She put her hands on her hips and gave whatever or whoever was out there “the look.” No one denied Victoria Fuller when she gave them “the look.”

  “I hate surprises,” Chey said, frowning now. Curiosity and dread filled her in equal measure, though she couldn’t have said why on the latter part. Call it a sixth sense. “Don’t let her bully you,” she called out to whomever or whatever stood outside. “In fact, run, run now.”