by Jillian Hart
The past was troubling her. Her fears were troubling her. It was hard not to forget the stalwart sheriff who’d drawn his gun that rainy night long ago and taken the blow that had been meant for her.
What was she going to do about Cameron? No, more honestly, what was she going to do about her reaction to him? Would she always see the past when she looked at him?
She thought she’d buried those memories well and deep. Yet here they were rising to the surface, haunting her on a beautiful August evening when she was safe on her horse, riding as she always did.
All that she had to be grateful for, so why couldn’t she concentrate on those things? It was as if the steel walls around her heart had been penetrated.
She would pray harder, that’s what she would do. Ask the good Lord and His angels to help her leave the past where it belonged.
So that when she looked at Cameron now, she would see the helpful lawman who’d changed her trailer’s tire, who owned Warrior, who rented stall number one-fifty-three.
Cameron was the man who’d been perceptive enough to see not the woman who’d been rushed to the hospital that long-ago stormy night but the woman she was today.
If he could do it, then so could she.
Dawn had taken command of the sky, coloring the horizon with reverent mauves and lavender tones that made the hush in the moments before dawn fill her up to the brim. Peace surrounded her from all sides—the rolling fields, the sleeping foothills and the mountains holding up the sky, touched with predawn’s light.
She couldn’t explain the feeling that washed over her like the first bold curve of light breaking over the giant Bridger Range.
With every step she made on the well-worn path between the stables and her tiny house on the knoll, she felt her life change around her and she couldn’t say why. It was as if the path ahead of her shifted.
How could that be? It looked the same to her as it always did.
The horses in their paddocks called to her in turn or watched her pass with friendly gazes. Sprite and Honeybear trailed along beside her, the board fence separating them. Jingles was waiting at the corner post, gazing curiously into the backyard, as if something had caught her interest. As if something was different on this beautiful morning.
The imprints from a man’s boots didn’t frighten her as she followed the stone walk to the porch. He’d tracked through the spray from the automated sprinklers.
On the top step, an orange furry mound was waiting for her, one eye slit to watch her approach.
If there’d been anything wrong, then the cat would have told her. He was far too calm for there to have been a burglary, uncommon in a town where most people didn’t lock their doors. No, Pounce’s attitude was more disapproving than anything.
The small self-stick note on the white frame of her screen door did surprise her. The writing was bold, straight up and down without a slope and as confident as the man who’d written it. “Kendra, I let myself into your kitchen. But when you see why, I hope you’ll forgive me. Best, Cam.”
What did that mean? What had he done? Had she forgotten something at the drive-through? Her cell phone? Her keys? She hadn’t taken more than that with her.
The instant she opened the door, she breathed in the scent of warm bacon, sausage and eggs. The sharp comforting scent of coffee. Her coffeemaker was on, still brewing.
The preheat buzzer on the oven beeped. Had she just missed him?
It was as if she could sense him in the room. The change in the atmosphere. The faint scent of his woodsy aftershave. She ought to be mad he’d just walked into her house uninvited, but how could she? He hadn’t violated her space, that wasn’t the way this felt. It felt, as she opened the oven door, like comfort.
How many mornings had she walked through the back door just like this? Exhausted from a long night sitting up with a sick horse, hers or a boarder’s, when the owner would not. Or from welcoming a new foal into the world. Or a dozen other disasters or problems that were all part of her life here.
Every time she’d stumbled into this kitchen, half-ill with exhaustion to measure out fresh grounds into her coffeemaker, she’d prayed for the same thing. That the strong black brew she was making would give her enough kick to make it through a hard morning of feeding animals and cleaning stalls and training and exercising before she could sneak a nap in one of the empty stalls or in the chair in the corner of her office.
She’d rebuilt this cottage from the foundation up, with her own hands and a ton of advice, because she’d had to—it was the only way to afford her dream. She’d measured and hammered and sanded and painted.
She’d hung the cabinets and laid the countertop. Hunted through garage-sale bargains and every relative’s attic and basement for furniture to refinish. She’d lived here for five years, almost six, and this had been her house. Never her home.
Until this morning. It felt comforting. Sheltering. Welcoming. How had Cameron done this?
The plate was heaped with a cheese omelette, glistening sausage links and crisp strips of bacon. A stack of well-buttered toast sat on a second plate. It was from one of the restaurants in town, she knew, because she’d ordered this meal many times while she’d met one sister or another in town for breakfast.
Had a man ever been so thoughtful? Kendra couldn’t believe it. That he had gone out of his way like that. He must have heard from Colleen about Willow’s long labor. Since classes started today, she assumed Cameron and Colleen had been in communication. Maybe even more.
Good. She would be glad for them. If this was the way Cameron treated his friends, then how much more wonderfully would he treat a wife? Colleen had had a lot of hard knocks in her life. She deserved a good, decent man to cherish her.
A warm silken glide around her ankles reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She had her cat demanding she feed him, and feed him now, thank-you-very-much. Her beloved horses were at the gate, less than five feet from her kitchen window. Like good old-time friends watching her through the grass, waiting for her to come be with them.
After she fed the cat, she’d take three apples with her plates of food and her cup of coffee and eat on the picnic table out back. With her friends.
She wasn’t alone, see what a good life she had? And if so much was missing, the presence of a man in her kitchen, the ring of children playing in the next room, then she refused to dwell on it.
She tucked that longing away with the emptiness where her heart used to be.
Life was what you made of it, right? Her old defenses fell back into place, and her loneliness vanished when she stepped out into the brand-new light of day. She let the sun wash over her as gently as grace.
Her old pony nickered a greeting, the horses already shoving at each other, impatient for their expected apples.
Cameron enjoyed his second cup of coffee as the sun climbed out from behind the granite mountains to cast light and shadow across the roll and draw of the golden valley. If he followed the trail where the sapphire river cut into the valley to the emerald foothills, he’d face the direction where Kendra lived.
Had she found the meal he’d left warming? Was she pleased? Did she understand what he meant by it?
He sipped in the richness of his coffee and leaned against the door of his cruiser. Maybe the mornings he spent alone were numbered.
Feeling as light as those clouds skimming the blue of the sky, he whispered a prayer of hope.
Chapter Nine
“I’ve got a lesson starting in a few minutes.” Kendra left the pitcher of cold sparkling sun tea on the picnic table where her oldest sister and new baby were relaxing.
Allie, a big sister now, played with her baby doll in the shade from the maples and the lilacs. Across the fence, Honeybear was watching the little girl with wistful eyes.
“Hey, Allie.” Kendra knelt down beside her niece and held out a carrot freshly pulled from the garden. “Do you want to feed Honeybear?”
Allie stopped the important job of c
hanging her soft-bodied doll to stare at the pony with wide eyes. “No.”
“Honeybear likes you. See how he’s smiling at you?”
“No.”
“Your mommy rode him when she was your age. He loves little girls.”
The little girl wasn’t convinced. She stood unblinking, watching the pony leaning between the boards in the fence, more interested in having a little girl to adore him than in the carrot Kendra was holding.
“Here, I’ll leave this with you.” Kendra handed Allie the carrot, which she dropped.
Honeybear looked devastated.
Kendra laughed and ruffled the pony’s forelock. “Karen, why don’t you convince her? I’ve got to go.”
“Sure, after I’m done feeding Anna.” Her sister looked as beautiful as a Madonna, cradling her child, so happy she glowed.
Karen’s husband was good to her. Anyone could see that. Through years of marriage and the addition of two children, the love husband and wife shared still seemed to burn with rare luster.
Kendra hurried away and grabbed her hat from the newel-post and headed down the path to the stables before she took that thought one step further.
Ten-year-old Samantha Corey passed her in the aisle, her hair swept back in a French braid. Her cousin Hailey on her black gelding had ridden over from her land just out of town. She greeted both girls, wished them a safe ride and reminded them to stay on the three main trails.
“We’re not gonna go out that far,” Samantha assured her.
“Yeah, it’s too smoky,” Hailey added.
The northwestern wind was pulling smoke from the north, where wildfires raged at the border of Glacier National Park. An acrid haze was creeping along the Rockies, hiding their grand peaks from view.
“Everyone is waiting and ready. Lora’s with them right now. Oh, there was a last-minute addition and I’ve got Palouse saddled for you.” Pammy Pittman, one of the teenagers she employed as a summertime stable girl, handed over the reins.
“Thanks, kiddo.” Kendra took the worn leather straps. “It’s just you and me, fella. Is that all right with you?”
The gelding nickered his approval, and Kendra gave him a hug. He’d been the first horse she’d bought for her ranch. He’d been with her from the start and she loved him, this sweet old gentleman who would never be forgotten, not in her stable.
She rode through the arena gate to see five little girls, all grade-school age, sitting in anticipation atop her gentlest stable horses and big, hulking Cameron Durango in jeans and a black T-shirt that read Montana’s Finest in fading gray letters.
“Good afternoon, girls. And Sheriff. What are you doing here?”
Cameron flushed as he fidgeted on his saddle. “I’m here to take riding lessons. There’s got to be more to this than just sitting here.”
The girls giggled.
What was she going to do now? Kendra circled the riders. The horses swished their tails patiently. They’d done this too many times to count. She checked her clipboard. She spotted his name on the last line scribbled in purple ink—Colleen must have registered him. He hadn’t opted to take lessons from Colleen, and Kendra wondered about that.
“All right, kids and Sheriff, Lora is the lady that helped you mount up. She’s going to demonstrate for us today. See how she’s holding the reins?” She started to teach, her words second nature as she wove between the horses, correcting one girl’s death grip on the leather straps.
“Am I doing this right, teach?”
If Cameron could make wisecracks, so could she. “You know you are. Are you going to be my troublemaker, Sheriff?”
“Not me. Watch those girls, though. Wolves in sheep’s clothing.” The corner of his mouth curved as he tried not to chuckle.
“I know a wolf when I see one, mister.” She curled her hands over his wrist, not surprised by the heat of his skin. By the hard feel of muscle, tendon and bone. His nearness moved through her like a wave in an ocean, rippling deep to her soul.
“Don’t make a fist of your hands. Relax, let the reins lie between your fingers.”
“Like this?”
“Exactly. I thought you were going to take private lessons.”
“When I called, your employee answered the phone and told me that you were all booked up for private lessons.”
“Colleen teaches, too.”
“I wanted to learn from you. They say you’re the best.” If pride swelled in his chest when he said that, at least it didn’t show.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but if you decide to admit that you’re as uncomfortable as you look in a class of kids a third of your age, then you can drop out.”
“I’m not a quitter, ma’am.”
“I’m starting to notice that.” She cast him a be-mused look, moving along to check on the others.
So what, he stood nearly two feet taller than any of his fellow students. He was staying put. Kendra was here. It was that simple.
A little awkwardness and feeling out of place was worth it. It was hard to know what would happen between him and Kendra. He’d lived in the dark for so long. Did he have a chance with her?
As if she could feel his question, Kendra glanced over her shoulder at him.
Yep, she liked him. Her look said, “I’m watching you, Sheriff.”
He remembered the good times, before Debra had been diagnosed. The cozy weekend mornings sharing the newspaper and sipping coffee. The welcoming love when he stepped through the door after a long, hard day. To live in the light of his woman’s love.
Of Kendra’s love. Was that a possibility? Could he find the strength to go through that again? The risk?
What if he didn’t? What would he have then? More mornings spent hurrying from his empty house, letting his job fill his days to cover up his loneliness? Of reading the paper alone before church on Sunday mornings?
“Are you doing all right?” Kendra’s gloved hand brushed the back of his wrist, a brief, casual touch. Her smile said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
The bottom of his heart glowed, and he had his answer.
Was it her imagination, or had the hour flown by? Kendra dismissed her class, waited to make sure each little girl had dismounted from the horses, except for the Redmond girl who had her own pony.
Cameron led his big gelding from the arena, trying to catch her eye as she chatted with one of the student’s moms and exchanged a few words with Colleen, who was moving in to teach the next class and took Palouse from her to ride.
Friendship. What could be complicated about that? While he waited on the other side of the white board rails, it was as if her soul turned to him like a flower followed the sun, seeking that undeniable brightness.
She needed to thank him. She was afraid to thank him. Why? They were friends now, right? She could walk up to him and say, Hey, thanks Cameron. That was nice of you.
Why did she hold back? Her stomach muscles knotted up and she stayed where she was, enduring a mother’s natural worry and reassuring the woman that the right training would make her child safer on the back of a horse. All the while, she felt the tangible weight of his gaze and the warmth of his presence like the sun on her face.
She knew the sound of his gait on the earth. Knew the rhythm of his breathing as he approached her, now that the students and mothers had gone and the new class was in session in the ring.
She had her sister and nieces waiting up at the house, but did she want to see them? No, she’d rather let Cameron’s shadow shiver over her. She’d rather anticipate seeing his smile.
“I have to give you credit.” She spoke before he could. “You toughed it out like a real trooper.”
“I told you that I’m no wimp. I’m looking forward to the next class.”
“You have perseverance. I have to admire you for that. You really must want to learn to ride.”
“Do you think? Did you see all those eight-year-olds?” He felt as tall as the moon. She admired him. That sure made a man feel good. �
�I think I was at the top of my class, don’t you? I outreached everyone. I’m definitely far ahead of them.”
“Are you trying to make really bad puns? I can’t believe this. Mild-mannered, reliable Sheriff Durango has the worst sense of humor in the county.”
“Not every man can be perfect.”
“Oh, as if any man can come close!”
He loved making her laugh. He stepped closer, breathed in the sweet wildflower scent of her and wondered if her skin was as silken as it looked. “Hey, I resent that. I think I did pretty good for an old man.”
“Old? Stop that. In my book, there is no such thing as old. You might want to consider private lessons. I know we can get you on the schedule somewhere.”
“With you?”
“Why me?”
“Why not you? Personally, I’m sure Colleen is a nice enough girl, but she’s not my type. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.” Oh, he wanted to give Kendra the right idea. Now that he was sure of his feelings. Of his future.
“Oh, all right. How can I deny the man who brought me breakfast?”
“You haven’t thanked me.” He sidled up close, so his elbow brushed hers briefly as he leaned his forearms on the top rail.
“I’m not in the habit of thanking men who break and enter.”
“How about if I admit my guilt. I could bribe you to forgive my transgressions. Say another DVD? Maybe a box of popcorn? I could volunteer to help you hold down the couch while you watch the movie.”
“You’re a noble man.”
“Don’t I know it. You’ll be around at sunset?”
“Show up and find out. Well, my sister’s waiting up at the house. I’ll see you later.”
“Later.”
Kendra had said yes. She’d said yes! She liked him. She thought he was funny. She thought he was a man to admire.
A fierce love filled him up until he hurt with it. How could it be so sudden, but there it was, honest and pure and true. Wasn’t love a gift from God?
It was what he always believed. All the long nights he couldn’t sleep, lonely for Debra, just lonely. All those prayers in the lonesome night, and this was his answer.
