by Tanya Hanson
She set off, her boot heels rustling the bluestem grass. “Well, I don’t want to go far. But I am surprised. Don’t you stay for the devotions?”
“Not always.” Sometimes he did, of course, but just for show. The blessing and The Lord’s Prayer didn’t mean much to him. Not after a sleazy financial adviser had nearly wiped out Pa during the dotcom frenzy. Not after Bragg. Or Daisy’s betrayal. With the swim coach, no less. And then Pa’s sudden, brutal battle with cancer. The Martins had always loved and feared the Lord, and to have Him turn on them like that had increasingly done a job on what was left of Kenn’s childhood faith.
Right now, he shrugged. Christy didn’t need to know his struggles. “We’re not a faith-based camp, as you can tell from our literature. But it seems a lot of folks just like that down-home little ritual at day’s end.” Outside of the circle of wagons, Christy leaned against a wheel and paused to look up at the stars. He wondered if she was searching for something she had lost. Or would like to find.
“I’d like to feel that way. The way I did once.” Suddenly she reached for the bandana Kenn wore at his neck and lifted it. “Sorry, but I wondered if you wore the cross. Like your brothers do.”
He never wore it, although it was safe in a dresser drawer. “Nope. Don’t want to lose it. Pa gave one to each of us when he knew he wasn’t going to make it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Although it meant nothing to him as a symbol of faith, he didn’t want to lose it, for Pa’s sake.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Kenn’s throat tightened over the words. “Cancer. Didn’t feel good one Fourth of July. Thought it was something he ate. Pancreas. He died the end of August.”
Unexpectedly, her hand left his scarf and reached for his, and her warmth scattered the cooling night air. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said again. She let go of his hand, and then her own words sounded tight. “But at least you got to say good-bye.”
“That we did.”
“Not me.” She looked away from him back to the fire pit where the small gathering held hands with heads bowed. “Daddy had never believed. I guess he had the academic’s mistrust of religion. No empirical evidence and all that.” Her feet rustled in the gravel of the trail, and her soft herbal scent tickled his nose.
Kenn shifted against the wagon. “I know. A lot of my colleagues at the public high school are like that.”
“Mom is the one who raised me a Christian. And bless his heart, Daddy always respected her views. And her raising me as one. But maybe it was retirement, leaving that ivory tower. Whatever, he dedicated himself to the Lord those last months of his life. Goodness,” She laughed a little. “I guess he felt he had to make up for all those empty years. First Community Church had nobody as active.”
Her voice grew tighter. “He was headed for the church early on Easter Sunday to set up for Sunrise Service. A drunk driver who’d been out all night drinking hit Daddy’s car head on. And that was that.”
“Oh, Christy. I am so sorry.” He tensed, unsure of what to do next. Taking a chance, he reached for her hand, its warmth making him glad he did.
“Yeah, everybody was.” She breathed in deeply and squeezed once before letting go. “But it’s never made me feel better, all those platitudes, the sympathy cards, the eulogies about him being in heaven.” She snorted. “How ‘lucky he’d found the Lord’ just in time. Lucky?”
She stamped her foot now and gave him a quick glare. “Heaven? I need him here! Even Mom’s big faith fizzled away like air out of a hole in a balloon. She’s just a shell of what she was. I guess for her it’ll take time. I know the cycles of grief, the anger, the depression. But the worst of it. The worst of it was…”
With a sob, she sagged against the side of the wagon, and Kenn gave into the instinct to put his arm around her. To comfort another suffering human being seemed basic to him. Sunday school had taught him that, at least. He didn’t feel the need to prompt her. If she needed to share her thoughts, she would find the words somehow.
Finally she gulped and met his gaze, never moving out of his arms. “The man who killed my dad was a prominent physician in town. His wife knew about his addiction but didn’t want to compromise his career or reputation. Or her status. He’s in recovery now, but my dad’s dead. She caused my father’s death as much as her husband.”
Tragedy sparkled in Christy’s eyes along with the moonlight. “If she’d stepped in, told somebody, intervened in some way, he’d still be alive.” She began to weep, and Kenn wasn’t sure what to do.
“But she didn’t do anything! Look at the consequences of her selfish decision. I’ll never forgive her. I’ll never forgive anybody like that!”
Another sob wrenched Christy, and she ran from him to her little tent. Heart pounding, he watched her in the rays of the flashlight until she zipped the nylon and slipped from view. Her words slammed around his brain.
But she didn’t do anything! Look at the consequences of her selfish decision. I’ll never forgive her. I’ll never forgive anybody like that!
The night air chilled him. Kenn had been somebody who hadn’t helped another in need, all because it might affect himself. He had been certain of the coach’s actions, but he’d needed his teaching job to help the ranch survive. Tony O’Neal had insinuated he’d get Kenn fired and would blackball Bragg’s chances for athletic scholarships if Kenn didn’t keep the secret. Worse, Kenn had stupidly believed the coach’s promise to stop dosing Bragg. Deep down, he’d known better, but Kenn had decided to hide his head in the sand to keep his job.
And Christy Forrest couldn’t forgive anybody like that. Kenn could never bear to have her learn his terrible secret.
3
The smell of frying bacon wafted through the chill meadow air. For a beautiful second, the morning sky overhead turned so blue Christy’s eyes hurt as she left her tent. She hadn’t cried herself to sleep after all, although she missed Daddy, missed her mother at her side on the trip, and missed the woman Mom had once been. Somehow, the sweet tunes of a soft harmonica had lulled her in the darkness.
After taking care of her personal business, she headed toward the chuck wagon where Kelley—and Kenn— busied themselves making breakfast. Seeing him, her heart thumped, despite her words yesterday during Kelley’s bout of matchmaking.
“Smells awesome,” she told them. When Kenn’s face lit up, her blood pumped more furiously than ever, and she tried to tamp it, to no avail.
“Even I agree,” Kelley said with a laugh.
“Some vegetarian you are.” Kenn teasingly slapped his sister’s arm before he flipped a rasher and gave Christy such a smile her breath stopped for a full heartbeat.
“Well, Big Benjamin was a steer, not a hog.”
Christy joined the fun. “Nonetheless, he did have eyes.”
Kelley guffawed. “Touché. Now if ya’ll excuse me, I’ve got some flapjacks to rustle up.” She left for the opposite side of the wagon. Christy could hear a spoon slap against the sides of a bowl.
“Did you sleep well?” Kenn asked softly, looking down at her from underneath his brim in that way she already liked too much.
“Yeah. That was you on the harmonica, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yep. Folks seem to like it for the first little while after the fire goes out. Feels less alone.”
Well, he’d called that one correctly. It worked. She’d felt comfort and compassion almost instantly. But whether that included a renewal of faith, she didn’t want to waste today analyzing. To lighten the moment, she smiled and recalled her dad’s stories.
“Just like cows on the trail,” she said. “You know. When cowboys played songs and sang lullabies to keep the herd from stampeding.”
“That’s right. Still do. The beeves don’t know what’s out there in the dark. Anything can spook ’em. Lighting a match. A tumbleweed rolling by in the wind.”
“Well, it isn’t dark now. And I’m ready for another sensational day.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, soft again. “Las
t night seemed to send you off in a bad way.”
She shrugged. “It all gets to me at times. But each day is a little bit better, I’d say. Maybe being here in God’s country will help chase my demons away.”
God’s country? Where had that term come from? She widened her eyes.
“Demons. That’s quite a word.” Kenn looked up at Shadow Ridge as if lost in thought. His seriousness touched her heart. Then, he slapped his thighs suddenly and brought her back to the present. “We’re bound for Old Joe’s Hole after breakfast.”
At his words, Christy realized the camp had come to life. Up, dressed, packing gear. Even the horses seemed raring to go. “Sounds like water,” she remarked.
“Yep. Nice little stream-fed lake. We’ve got canoeing, rowboats, fishing. A dock for diving. Some guests like to take a hike up the ridge. Others just hang loose on a hammock between two trees. We’ll spend the rest of the day there then head back to the ranch tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? All of a sudden the word sounded way too soon. Kenn laid a hand gently on her shoulder.
“Time’s going too quick to please me,” he said. “I’d like to get to know you better, y’know?”
He loped off in a hurry before she could formulate anything to say. Holding a big iron griddle, Kelley made her way to the big camp stove, but paused as if she’d heard. “Kenny’s such a good guy, but he carries a load.”
“A load?”
“Something heavy in his heart. He never talks about it, but I know it is more than getting dumped by Daisy.”
“Daisy.” Christy repeated the name, remembering Kenn’s pensive look of a moment ago.
Kelley nodded. “She taught P.E. at the high school, and they were quite the thing for a while. Then…” Her voice lowered. “…she left Kenn for the swim coach. Showed up first day of school on Coach O’Neal’s arm.”
“Ouch.”
“And Kenny couldn’t let it matter. Out loud at least. Because Tony O’Neal had such a strong swim team, and Bragg was the star. He even helped Bragg get a swimming scholarship to Washington. Full ride.”
“Wow,” Christy remarked inanely, aching for Kenn’s broken heart. “But maybe he’s better off.”
“Without Daisy? Yes. But without a woman of his own. No. There’s something eating at him, worse than getting dumped way back when. He could use a strong woman with a strong faith. ”
“Well, that won’t be me if that’s what he needs.” From the corner of her eye, Christy watched Kenn build another fire and realized that one blazed right in her own heart. She needed to extinguish it fast because she liked what she saw way too much. Obviously she wasn’t the right woman for him. No matter what his sister said, tomorrow was coming way too fast.
If he needed a woman of strong faith, she had no right to encourage his interest for even a second. Her own distance from God was enough to deal with. She reached for lightheartedness and laughed at Kelley. “Now, I reckon you ought to stop matchmaking us, Cookie. I’m only here for three days.”
“Here. Help me get the pancakes started.” Kelley greased the griddle and handed Christy a spatula. “And I have a response to that.”
“To what?”
“To you being here just for three days. Think about staying on for Cowboy College.”
Hmm. For some reason, she couldn’t help being tempted. She did feel better today than yesterday, and last night’s lack of tears had surprised her. Maybe she was healing up. Maybe God was at work. Maybe she could help Kenn with the load he carried.
****
Kenn saddled Joe Montana, eager for another day’s ride, and hoped Christy would mount up at his side. He’d go slow to accommodate the aches and pains he knew still lingered. So did her words. God’s country. Same term Bragg had used. Two wounded people must still have some seeds of faith lurking somehow.
With an angry shrug, he shoved off the notion. Well, good for them.
“Hey, cowboy, just so you know. I’m thinking about Cowboy College.” Christy’s voice rang sweet in his ears over the breeze rolling down the mountains, and he paused to watch her approach. Those boots of hers almost made him crazy. If she stayed on a few more days, he’d go crazier yet.
But for now, he reached for calm and stayed in the present. “You here to saddle up your Sugarfoot?”
With a pretty frown, she patted her backside. “You betcha. I’ll cowgirl-up and make it work. So tell me more. About college.”
Like he showed her, Christy set to saddling the mare she’d ridden, and he stood watching her with a pang of pride. Obviously she had paid attention to all his directions.
He couldn’t help grinning at her. “You really serious about going?”
“Mebbe.” She used her best western movie drawl. “What kind of degrees do you offer?”
Hope raged, so he joked lightly as he handed her the reins. “Bachelors in branding. Masters in roping. PhD in mechanical bull riding.”
Her face brightened. “Like two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu?” She quoted a lyric from one of his favorite Tim McGraw songs.
“Nope. Tim’s was the real deal. And I was just kidding about the mechanical bull. We use the real deal here, too, but not on a tenderfoot like you. That’s all Rodeo College.”
Then his good spirits crashed-and-burned as he remembered her firm vow last night. She’d never forgive any kind of enabler whose lack of action had caused heartache to someone else. Her words still scorched him. With his load of guilt, he had no chance with her, Cowboy College or not. He couldn’t bear the wound to his heart when she found out. He had to settle for the now. He would make today as perfect a day in Paradise as he could. They could get in plenty of alone time at the Hole.
He didn’t let his downer show and moved to help her to the saddle, but she mounted up just fine on her own.
“Let’s get on to Old Joe’s Hole,” he said. “We can talk more when we get there. Wagons, ho.” He shouted to everybody else.
Atop his buckskin, Bragg waved, but his smile stabbed Kenn in the gut sure as real steel. Right now Bragg should be on top of the world, not a horse, covered in Gold Medals from Beijing. Preparing for the Olympics in London. One of People Magazine’s hottest young bachelors. Commercials. Cameos. Talk shows. Commentating. With his height, his wingspan, double joints and enormous feet, he had all the physical advantages of a legendary swimmer and had been considered the truest rival of Michael Phelps all along. Until the test results banned him for life.
And it was Kenn’s fault. He hadn’t been his brother’s keeper. With a growl, he mounted Joe Montana. Somehow Bragg had made it through college, charming his way out of doping questions, faking tests, his psychological dependence on performance-enhancing drugs as real as a heroine addict’s. By then, the loss of the scholarship would have caused the family more financial hardship. And to this day, Tony O’Neal had never atoned for his sins. Nor had Kenn.
Bragg was the one who had gotten the worst of it, though.
But all that was then. Kenn sighed. Today belonged to him and Christy. That’s all they would have. Tomorrow, he’d be busy before sunup to organize the long trip back to the ranch and once there, he’d help Scott get ready for the next wagon train while he taught Cowboy College. Whew. He caught his breath. Christy an avid pupil in his class could be his undoing. The realization smacked him in the gut like a fist.
He had to do his best to convince her not to stay.
The thought busted him up. As she smiled a smile that weakened his knees, she headed off before she could see him touch his brim. His heart pounded like a freshman’s with pleasure, and with pain.
“Hey, Kenn,” Jennie Blake called as the wagon rolled by, blonde hair bouncing under her ball cap. “Paul and I are having the best time. Wish we’d signed up for the five-day trip. The boys love everything. Been a while since they were excited about anything.”
“I teach high school. Say no more.” He chuckled at the happy parents inside the ballooning canvas, their grinning so
ns alongside, safely astride surefooted geldings.
The five-day trip. For a flash, he wished Christy had signed up for one, too. Scott generally ran the longer jaunts, but they’d been known to trade. With a sigh, he kneed Joe Montana gently and caught up to Christy.
“Hawk Creek feeds Old Joe’s Hole,” he said, although she hadn’t asked. But her smile had invited him to say something. “Cold snow melt.”
“Seems like I might need some warmth, somehow, when we get there.” Her voice was soft as her gaze.
Was she flirting with him? That made him feel like a freshman, too. It had been a long while since he’d dated anyone. Then he reminded himself. One day. This one. Then they’d both be back to their real lives.
They cantered quietly for a while, the wagons’ ponderous squeaks mixing easily with birdsong and the rushing creek. From time to time, Bragg and Pike shouted orders to the other hands. If they needed Kenn, they’d ask. The wagon master had every reason to ride ahead of the train, scouting, looking out for obstacles, shouting needed warnings. In the old days, the wagon master watched out for marauding animals, even angry tribes. But also pointed out things of beauty and interesting sites.
Besides, he wasn’t monopolizing Christy. The twins rode nearby, having caught on to riding like Velcro to a sneaker. Even still, they were newbies; Kenn watched them like a hawk.
“Dad’s taking us fishing when we get there,” P.J. announced contentedly as he reined up, while Mitchell rolled his eyes. “On a rowboat.”
“I’d rather jump off the tire swing into the lake,” Mitch complained.
Kenn laughed out loud. “You boys can do both. Plenty of time. We’ll be at the Hole until tomorrow morning.”
“Then we head back?” Mitchell’s voice was mournful.
“Yes.” Kenn and Christy spoke at the same time.
He didn’t dare glance at her, and instead, tried to forget today was their last.
****
Three hours later, Christy walked the soreness from her legs on the shore of Old Joe’s Hole. A cool breeze teased away her perspiration from the ride and the hot morning sun. She paused to take in the gorgeous scenery. Around the small lake, tall pines waved, and above the treetops, the mountains loomed in a curve for miles around the land.
