Almost Heaven

by Jillian Hart

  There is one thing as precious. Love between a wife and her husband. Not for me, she told herself. Not ever.

  Her life was enough. It was. She would not let her grandmother’s kindly-meant words hurt.

  “Isn’t little Anna something?” Gramma sighed. “She looks like you did, you know. That little button nose. That round darling face. That’s what your little girl will look like one day.”

  “Don’t, Gramma.” Gasping on pain, Kendra spun away, heading for the door.

  “Honey, are you all right?”

  “Sure.”

  It was only a half fib. She intended to be fine. Tucking away the raw hurt, she kept on going. Gramma needed time alone with her new great-granddaughter, and there was the supper to see to. Kendra was the self-appointed cook for the night, and she wasn’t about to let someone else take over.

  That’s the reason she told herself for hurrying from the room. It wasn’t because of the tears in her eyes. Of the sadness that haunted her through the days and into the nights of her solitary life.

  Her cell buzzed in her back pocket. She wasn’t in the mood for personal calls, but she withdrew the small handset and glanced at the screen. With her business, she was always on call, emergencies happened.

  She saw with relief that it wasn’t Colleen calling her from the riding stable. No, the name on the screen was Cameron Durango’s.

  She almost sent the call onto her voice mail, but she remembered what Gramma had told her. His wife had died. How difficult that had to be, to lose so much.

  That’s why he was calling. Why he’d helped her with the tire and took the time to talk to her in the hospital. He was looking to make a new life. To fill his empty time with new activities.

  How could she not help him? She might never know the depth of what he’d lost when he buried his wife, but she understood heartache. She understood what a future with no love and no marriage looked like.

  She answered the call. “Hi, Cameron. You must be pretty anxious to buy a horse.”

  “I guess I am.” He had a good-hearted voice, kind and resonant. “You said to give you a jingle. That maybe you could find time for me to come over. Take a look around.”

  “I’d be happy to help you out. I’ll be working all morning tomorrow, but I should have a little free time after noon.”

  “How about one? Will that work?”

  “One o’clock sounds fine. You know how to find me?”

  “Wouldn’t be much of a sheriff if I didn’t.”

  “Good.” The cool, polite tones had vanished from her alto voice, and she sounded friendly enough.

  Cameron took that as an excellent sign. “I’ll be there. I sure appreciate this, Kendra.”

  “No problem. Take care.”

  “You, too.”

  He hung up the phone, the silence of his small kitchen echoing around him. It had been a long time since he’d let hope into his heart.

  How good it felt.

  Chapter Four

  Kendra sliced open the fifty-pound grain sack with her grandfather’s Swiss Army knife, folded the blade away and tucked it safely into her jeans pocket. Sweat gathered along her forehead and trickled into her eyes.

  She blinked against the sting, swiped her forehead with the back of her forearm and hefted the awkward sack onto her shoulder.

  Was she thinking about her next riding class? Worrying about Willow’s overdue foal? Hoping no riders took off on the out-of-bounds trail and ran into a hungry wolf or mountain lion?

  No, of course not. What was she thinking about?

  Cameron. Ever since she took an early lunch break and remembered he’d be showing up in a few hours.

  Ever since she had checked her watch every few minutes, as if she was worried about missing him.

  How crazy was that? Cameron was a grown man. He was perfectly capable of finding her. It wasn’t as if she were hiding in the woods. She was in plain sight from the paddocks. Since it was a busy Saturday with tons of people around, he’d have plenty of people to ask where to find her. That is, if he even showed up.

  Stop worrying about him. She braced her feet, bent her knees and tipped the gunnysack forward. The ping and rush of falling grain sliding into the fifty-gallon drum echoed in the feed room, providing a welcome distraction. The sweet-scented dust sprinkled everywhere.

  Was it one o’clock yet? Or a few minutes after? And what was with her that she kept wondering about him? It was what Gramma had said about him. It had touched her heart and taken root. He’s starting to live his life again. It takes time getting over that kind of grief.

  Sympathy welled up within her. He’d lost a wife to cancer, when they’d both been so young. It reminded her that tragedy happened to everyone, even the faithful. As much as she’d been hurt, other people had lost more. Been hurt worse.

  She patted the last of the grain from the sack, grabbed the end corners and shook. Stragglers tumbled into the dusty heap and she coughed, breathing in the molasses-flavored dust.

  She saw his polished black boots first at the edge of her vision as he hesitated just inside the doorway. His boots were unfamiliar to her, black and expensive but not tooled, and not a traditional riding boot.

  That must be the reason she knew it was Cameron before she swept her gaze up the rock-solid length of his jeans, ignoring the holstered gun and pager at his belt, along the flat hard ridge of his abdomen and chest to the stony square of his jaw.

  He wore a gray T-shirt, and reflective wraparound sunglasses hid his eyes. “You are one hard woman to find.”

  “I’m not hiding. Just working. There were plenty of people to ask where I was. Didn’t anyone help you?”

  “Didn’t ask.”

  Ah, typical man. She should have known. Real men never ask for directions. No wonder she’d been worried about him finding her. She must have a sense about him, and how weird was that?

  She tossed the empty gunnysack onto the pile in the corner.

  “I’m glad to see you were brave enough to come.”

  “I’m no coward. Why, did you think I was?”

  A coward? No one in their right mind would think that. Anyone who looked at him would think he was the bravest man ever. He emanated strength and heart. “A lot of folks call, but once they get out here and see how big horses are up close and personal, they miraculously change their minds.”

  “I may be a lot of things, but I’m no coward and I’m dumb enough to be proud of it.”

  “An honest man. I like that.”

  “Since I’m being honest, I guess I’d better admit that I haven’t seen any horses up close yet. My courage has yet to be tested.”

  “Why put it off? Come with me.” She fastened the lid, locking it against field mice, and swung her Stetson from the hook on the wall. “I hope you came prepared.”

  “To ride?” The cords in his neck tensed. He stood rooted to the floor as she slid past him into the main breezeway.

  “You look a little nervous, Officer.”

  “Me? Nervous? Nope.” He squared his wide shoulders, like a soldier preparing for battle. “I face danger every day. Armed felons and criminals and gunfire. I’m not scared of a horse.”

  “I like your attitude,” she replied over her shoulder as she led the way through the main stable.

  “What attitude?”

  “Confidence. You’re going to need it.”

  His gait fell in stride with hers, easygoing but with a hint of tension. “Why do you say it like that? Like I’ve got something to fear and you’re not gonna tell me what it is.”

  “Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing to fear. Really.” She liked the crook of humor gathered in the corner of his mouth.

  It wasn’t fair to tease a little nervous, first-time rider, but Cameron looked so big and strong, like a man who couldn’t ever be scared of anything, she couldn’t resist. “You aren’t afraid of hitting the ground hard, are you?”

  “Who, me? No. Thanks to you, I’m so relaxed about this.�
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  “I’m glad I could help.” Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud—how long had it been since a man had made her laugh?—she stopped at the head of the aisle, where a long row of stalls marched through the bright sunlight from the skylights overhead to the far side of the stable.

  A few horses came to look, peering over their gates, some nickering, some scenting in the direction of the stranger. Most of the stalls were empty. The scrape of a pitchfork in the distant corner accompanied the familiar scents of fresh alfalfa and straw.

  “Sure is a nice operation you got here.” Jamming his hands in his pockets, he took his time looking around. “Clean. Nice. Who did the construction, one of the outfits in town?”

  “No. Me and my cousin Ben did. My dad helped out when he could.”

  She looked with pride at the building she’d put together with her own two hands. She’d had help, but she’d checked books out of the library and studied, and her neighbor, Mr. Brisbane, was a retired carpenter who liked giving her advice.

  “You did this? A woman of many talents. I’m impressed.”

  “Not going to censure me?” Kendra relaxed as the corner of his hard, lined, masculine mouth cinched up in a grin. “I got a lot of that when I bought this place.”

  “I remember this used to be an old homestead. Weren’t the outbuildings falling down in the fields? You really turned this place around.”

  “Thanks.” Pride shone like a soft new light.

  She’d worked hard, he realized. Sacrificed a lot of her time, her energy and her courage to build this place with her own hands. Not what a lot of women her age did. No, they were falling in love and planning weddings and enjoying all that a marriage brought. A home, maybe a new car or two, babies to welcome into the world and raise.

  He hadn’t known she’d literally built this place. It had to have been about the time Deb was diagnosed and his world fell apart. He hadn’t noticed much in the way of anything after that. Woodenly doing his job to the best of his ability and hurrying home to her, to all that mattered to him.

  Sadness crept into his heart, for Deb. For Kendra. That had to be around the time he’d handcuffed Jerrod. “Folks didn’t criticize you for doing all this, did they? This is an incredible job.”

  “Thanks.” She shrugged, turning away from him as if to hide her true emotions.

  All he saw was Kendra, as she always looked, hair tied back neatly, shimmering in the sunlight, casual but looking impeccable in faded jeans and a shirt, scuffed riding boots and a leather belt cinched at her slim waist. A small gold cross glinted in the hollow between her collarbones.

  Had she put all her heartache into this place? Working hard to forget, moving so far out of town for peace, for distance from anyone who could hurt her?

  He knew something about heartbreak.

  He could see the spread through the wide double doorway at the head of the stable. Perfect rail fencing, groomed paddocks, mellow green meadows, covered arenas, two other new stable buildings and the hint of the original brick cottage nestled behind two ancient maples.

  A massive change from what this place used to look like—a forgotten, falling-down homestead that had sat unused, except for the grazing cattle and growing hay.

  He’d always assumed she’d had the place rebuilt. She came from one of the area’s wealthier families. She could probably pull together a loan for that kind of an investment. But to have done this herself?

  He was real glad he’d chosen to go with her stable.

  She ambled away from him. Her gait wasn’t jaunty, but not slow, either. A graceful, quiet way she moved. Unconscious of her country-girl beauty. Looking so wholesome and good-hearted, she made him notice.

  What are you trying to tell me, Lord? Puzzled, Cameron followed after the lovely lady who was affecting him.

  “Come take a look,” she invited, pausing in front of a stall with a horse in it.

  The big animal made a low sound in its throat, nosing over the low gate to press its muzzle into Kendra’s waiting hand. Nuzzling against her palm, sighing at the wonder of Kendra’s caring touch. The horse closed its eyes in obvious bliss.

  “This is one of my best friends, Willow.” Kendra leaned her forehead against the horse’s, their affection for one another clear.

  As warm as sunlight and twice as dazzling, the woman before him changed. Her defenses falling, she looked better, brighter.

  That horse looked awful big. Kendra was right. He also saw the bond between woman and horse. Friendship.

  Yep. He could use some of that.

  “Oh! Stop that, Sprite!” Kendra’s reprimand was sprinkled with merriment as she whisked her ponytail out of another horse’s mouth. “Stop being jealous.”

  “Your horse, too?” He’d seen her on one that looked sort of like that when she rode to town. From the shadows in the neighboring stall, he couldn’t get a real good take on the color of the horse, except it was dark.

  “Yeah. This is my barrel horse. We took first in the state last year, but I’m not competing anymore.”

  “I read about that in the local paper. Hometown girl does good.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not so good. It’s really the horse.” She didn’t know how to say it, but she was blessed to have these horse friends in her life.

  “So, are these all your animals?” He gazed down the aisle at the other animals holding out for attention.

  “Not the rest in this aisle. This is my best rental stable. Nice big box stalls with attached corrals for them to stretch their legs during the day.”

  “Looks like you’ve got a lot of space available.”

  “No, it’s Saturday. Our busiest of the week. Kids come in to spend the day with their horses.”

  “Just kids?”

  “Mostly, but about a third of my clients are adults. Lots of country girls like me, who grew up on a little land with room enough for a horse. They have to work in Bozeman where the jobs are and can’t pasture a horse in a subdivision, so they board here. It’s a good compromise.”

  “Looks like you do a good business.”

  “It’s what I love.” And what she knew. Horses were her life. She gave Sprite a snuggle before leading the way down the mostly empty aisle.

  “Meet Jingles. She’s an American quarter horse—” Kendra giggled as the horse lipped her cheek. She pulled a roll of spearmint candies out of her pocket and slipped the horse two.

  Cameron watched in amazement as the horse crunched the hard candy into pieces. “She can eat that? It won’t make her sick?”

  “Jingles has a sweet tooth, just like her owner.” Kendra stroked the mare’s golden neck. “She’s a great horse. The breed is smart, loyal and fast, has great endurance and good tempers. Can’t be beat for saddle riding.”

  “I saw a few ads for quarter horses in the paper. Sure is different seeing them up close. I remember they were pricey.”

  “They can be.” Kendra remembered how her parents had scrimped and saved to help her buy Jingles for her fourteenth birthday. She’d taken Jingles all the way to the state competitions and won, five years running, but it had been a sacrifice for her family, she remembered.

  Cameron was looking for a new hobby to fill his leisure time, not a financial drain. And the look in his dark, steady gaze when he looked at the horses was nothing short of longing. He wanted this new life so badly, she could feel it.

  He’d be awesome with a horse. It was easy to see. He had the right character—even tempered, level-headed and kind.

  He had a lot to offer a horse. And the companionship a horse could give him, why, it would help ease the lonely hours he had to be facing.

  She so wanted to find the right match for him. “I promise we’ll find something affordable. Have you figured out what you can spend?”

  He shrugged. “I’m flexible. I just don’t want to buy something fancy when I’m more of a sensible sedan sort of guy.”

  “No, not you.”

  “Okay, a fou
r-wheel drive, independent-suspension kind of man, but don’t tell anyone. That would blow my shot at winning the election.”

  “I can keep that secret…for a price.”

  “Just add it to the tab I’m about to charge up.”

  He had a nice laugh, warm and deep like summer thunder over a mountain valley. Was it her imagination, or was she relaxing around him? She wasn’t shaking and she’d forgotten to be wary.

  What was that all about? She hadn’t felt this safe being alone with a man who wasn’t a member of her family for years. She spun on her heel and led the way through the blast of an industrial air-conditioning unit.

  “C’mon back to my office,” she called over her shoulder when he didn’t follow her. “I’ve got price lists on everything you can expect to spend, from vet bills to the kind of tack you’re going to need and what it will probably cost.”

  “Wow. That sure saves me a lot of research.”

  “It’s good to know what you’re getting into. I’ve made up brochures on everything you need to think about. If you’re really going to do this, it’s a bigger commitment than most people expect.”

  “The worthwhile relationships always are.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he sound as if he was hurting? It made her remember Gramma’s words. Cancer is a hard enemy, she’d said. Was Cameron thinking about the wife he’d lost? It sounded as if he had been devoted to her, had cared for her through her illness.

  What did they say about him? That he was a rare and devoted man. She ached for his loss.

  It was a good thing he’d gotten up the courage to ask her about finding a horse. She so wanted to help him. She shouldered through her door, ignored the pile of paperwork heaped on her secondhand desk and flipped through a drawer for the right brochures. “I’ll give you my rental rates for the different horses. Rent—if you want to start riding lessons before we find your perfect mount.”

  “Wow.” He bent to study the brochure, giving her a perfect view of a cowlick at the crown of his head.

  Her stomach fluttered, and she knew it was that sense of rightness, when everything fell into place. She liked to think the work she did with her stable made a difference, however small in the world, for the people and children who came here.