The stone farmhouse sat at the highest point of the ranch, with the stables in the distance on the right, and rolling, fenced-in pastures as far as she could see. The American flag flew high on a pole in the front yard.
Growing up in the city, Chessa had never been to a real horse farm, but she had ridden horses on trail rides as a girl with the Scouts. She had always loved animals, especially horses, and had dreamed of growing up on a farm just like Little River.
Although she had traveled a lot, especially recently on her cross-country jaunts with her husband, this was by far the most gorgeous place she had ever been.
She took a deep breath, dressed once again in her sunglasses and scarf, and rang the doorbell. This is absolutely crazy, she thought. I am the enemy. What makes me think they’ll let me in the door, much less see him?
But I have to talk to him, she reasoned with herself. I have to tell him that what he’s about to do will harm a lot of people. And knowing what little I know of him, he doesn’t want to be known for stooping as low as Darren, with his mean-spiritedness and negative campaigning. He’s a good man, and he deserves to be president.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening.
A short, stout woman who appeared to be middle-aged and of Spanish descent stood glaring at Chessa, not saying a word. Must be one of the help, Chessa thought, since she knew from her research that it wasn’t Leif’s mother.
“Is Governor Mitchell home?” Chessa tried to sound nonchalant, friendly, but inside her heart was pounding.
“And may I ask who is calling and what is the nature of the call?”
How very primly Southern. Chessa held back her smile, now wanting to giggle at the absurdity of her visit, having the same uncontrollable urge she would often have as a child to laugh in church at precisely the wrong moment. You’re an adult, she admonished herself, biting the inside of her mouth.
“I’m Mrs. Richards, and I have a delivery for the governor’s horses,” Chessa said matter-of-factly, praying beyond hope that this woman did not know who she was.
“Well…” The woman hesitated for a moment. “Okay, I think he is up at the stables. Drive down that gravel road over there, you can’t miss it.” She pointed out the door to the left.
Thank you, God. Chessa said a quick prayer of thanks as she started her car and drove, followed by her Secret Service agent, down the hill along the windy path. Obviously the woman had no idea who she was.
Chessa also congratulated herself on her choice of clothing. It was an average day weather-wise for a mid-October evening in Kentucky, with temperatures ranging in the high sixties, so she had worn layers and dressed casual, again, not wanting to give away her identity until the last possible moment. She had on comfortable brown shoes, a cream-colored lightweight sweater top and dark blue jeans, and had brought along a teal green cropped jacket that matched her eyes and scarf.
Arriving in the barn, Chessa was taken off guard immediately as a stable hand—a large, muscular man who looked like a Native American Indian with black hair tied back in a ponytail and a mouth full of chewing tobacco—seemed to appear out of the dark interior of the stalls like an apparition.
He nodded at Chessa, sizing her up with his eyes. She still had not removed the scarf or sunglasses, even though she clearly didn’t need the latter, with the sun starting to fade into the dusky orange sky.
“Evening, ma’am. May I help you?” His deep, scratchy voice had a barely detectable yet undeniable tone of wariness.
“Yes, I was sent here to see Governor Mitchell.” Chessa kept her distance from the dark towering hulk.
“I’m afraid he’s not here right now.” His deep, authoritative voice filled the stall. “He went out riding, and I don’t know how long he’ll be.”
Think. Chessa realized she had to forge ahead. “I have a delivery of apples, carrots, and grain for the governor’s horses in my car that I was hoping you could unload for me. And something I must hand him myself,” she said, pulling an envelope out of her jacket. “It’s urgent.”
The big man gave her a wide, tobacco-stained grin. “Well, little lady, the only way you can do that is to ride out there and find him.” He crossed his beefy arms in front of his barrel chest, clearly satisfied that he had shut her down.
“Okay.” Chessa watched the hulk uncross his arms and open his eyes wide in surprise. “I’ve ridden before. Could you please saddle up one of the horses for me?”
The stable hand continued to stare at her in disbelief, apparently unsure what to do next.
Come on, I’m wasting daylight. In exasperation, Chessa flung off her scarf and sunglasses and matched the big man’s stare. “I’m Chessa Richards, wife of Senator Darren Richards. If I don’t go give Governor Mitchell these papers tonight, there will be serious consequences. I realize I will ride at my own risk. Please….”
She let a slight helpless female quality seep into her plea and it worked. She saw that while he was obviously dumbstruck by her tenacity, he also now realized that such a slip of a woman, who was also clearly unarmed, could not possibly harm his boss.
He reclaimed his composure and his voice. “Only if I ride with you.” He then wordlessly proceeded to saddle and bridle two horses while Chessa went to talk to the Secret Service agent and inform him of her plans.
The Indian-looking man brought out the horses—a stunning Palomino gelding for Chessa and a huge black quarter horse for himself. Introducing himself only as Shiloh, he helped her hoist herself up and then mounted himself. “You’re on Sunny.” Chessa hoped her horse’s name was an indication of his personality. “This here’s Nightwatch.” He patted his horse’s neck affectionately and Chessa did the same with her horse.
Before they took off, Shiloh pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I need to call and see where he is.” Not wasting words, he talked into the phone quickly. “Yes…we’re coming out there to meet you…someone who has an urgent message for Leif…on Choctaw Ridge? We’ll see you in ten.”
Before Chessa had a chance to question him as to where they were headed or with whom he had spoken, Shiloh put his cell phone back in his jacket pocket and started walking his horse around the stables toward the open pastures, giving her little choice but to follow.
Like out of some romance novel, they came out of a clearing in the woods and rode into the sunset, the sky a never-ending canopy of color, with cirrus streaks of scarlet and tangerine cutting across vestiges of aquamarine.
Chessa took a moment to appreciate the sky God had painted, but then quickly refocused on her horse. I need to concentrate on staying on top of the ton of warm moving muscle beneath me, she realized. Their horses walked, then trotted for what seemed like a mile until they reached the end of a fenced pasture and were out on the open plain. Shiloh glanced back at Chessa, nodded, then gave his horse a quick kick of his heels. It broke into a canter.
Sunny followed the other horse’s lead and Chessa held on, gripping the horn of the Western saddle with her left hand, holding the reins and some of Sunny’s blonde mane in her right, and clamping her thighs tightly to the sides of the horse beneath her. Chessa felt exhilarated.
After a quick jaunt the horses slowed to a trot, then a walk, as they crested a grassy hill. As their horses stood still while Shiloh tried his cell phone again, Chessa looked down at the breathtaking scenery before her. A stream wound its way through the forest to their right, and woods bordered their left as far as they could see. A valley stretched down the hill before them, and then another hill sloped up from there into the horizon.
Chessa and Shiloh could see three horses and their riders sitting on the far hill, appearing as tiny silhouettes against nature’s magnificent backdrop.
Sunny and Nightwatch pricked up their ears, sensing the other horses and their riders on the far hill. Suddenly they all heard a horse whinny and a human’s shrill whistle.
In an instant, Nightwatch took off into a full gallop down the hill and into the valley below. Sunny
raced right behind him, and Chessa hunkered down, held her breath, and prayed she stayed on, gripping the saddle horn and reins together tightly with both hands, the wind whipping at her hair and tearing at her eyes.
Their horses pulled up into a trot again once they started up the hill, and then slowed to a walk. Chessa blinked and realized she had been holding her breath and nearly shutting her eyes in her razor-sharp focus on simply not falling. As the horse beneath her stopped, she caught her breath, straightened in her saddle, and looked around her.
Less than ten feet away, Leif Mitchell sat atop a roan mare and was flanked by two other men on their horses. All three were dressed similarly in cowboy hats, boots, jeans, and leather jackets. Chessa was unaware that she held her breath once more as she sat staring at Governor Leif Mitchell.
While the horses approached each other and touched noses in familiarity, Shiloh dismounted and then held up his hand to help Chessa off of Sunny.
Meanwhile, the three men exchanged glances, and then Leif quietly came down from his mount and stood facing her, just two feet away.
Chessa’s shoulder-length hair had shaken loose from the scarf, which had fallen off along with her sunglasses during their ride, and was in wild disarray from being tossed in the wind.
She took a moment to get her “land legs” back and then peered into Leif’s piercing blue eyes. Her voice caught in her throat for a moment as she gazed at his features. Amy was right. He is gorgeous.
Leif had a slight five-o’clock shadow, which Chessa guessed was from not having shaved in a while and which made him look more ruggedly handsome than he did on camera in her opinion.
His look of amusement quickly turned to irritation as he recognized her.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was tinged with disdain, and he put his hands on his hips, standing his ground.
“I’m sorry for not telling you in advance of my visit. I’m Chessa Richards.” She extended her hand to shake his, but it was left dangling, so she awkwardly put it back in her pants pocket.
“I know who you are.” Leif’s tone remained icy. “I asked what you’re doing here.”
“I came to give you this.” Chessa pulled the envelope out of her jacket pocket. “It’s a document from RA Technologies stating the purpose of their latest stem cell research. I also brought along a carload of apples, carrots, and horse feed for your horses. I hope you consider it a peace offering. I’ve come to stop you from making a big mistake—not because I care about my husband, who’s the biggest jerk I know, but because I care about what happens to you…whether you win.”
Leif looked at her now thoroughly confused and still wary, but took the envelope from her outstretched hand and read the document, which stated that RA was doing research on the cure for Type-1 diabetes. Chessa told him she had recently found it in one of her husband’s private folders in his home office when he was sleeping off a drinking spree, and had retrieved it right before leaving for her trip to Kentucky.
“Why…?”
“Just hear me out.” Chessa cut off his question, glancing up at Shiloh, who stood a few feet away looking uncomfortable, and then up at the two men, apparently his Secret Service agents, still seated on their horses, waiting patiently for a sign from Leif on what to do next. She spoke softly so they couldn’t hear. “Can I talk to you alone?”
Leif hesitated for a minute, then gave orders to the others to ride back to the stables ahead of them and inform his parents that he would be home a little later than he had thought and would be accompanied by Mrs. Richards.
He told Chessa they would have to talk as they rode back.
After the three men rode off several paces ahead, Leif and Chessa got back on their horses and started to ride slowly back to the stables. Their horses, familiar with each other, were content to walk side by side.
Chessa boldly started the conversation, since they didn’t have much time. “First of all, I’m sorry for what my husband did to you, planting the story about your wife’s abortion.”
“Ex-wife,” Leif interjected, then said sarcastically, “Yeah, a real class act, your husband.”
“I know. I live with him. He’s worse than you know. I should have left him many times. It’s my fault the story was leaked to Amy Darlington, so if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.” She watched Leif’s expression become agitated when he heard Amy’s name spoken aloud, but he remained silent. “I know about your call to the New York Times reporter,” Chessa continued, carefully watching his face register surprise that she knew. “She told me. She’s my best friend. And while I can’t say that I blame you for wanting to seek revenge on my husband for what he did to you, I believe that it would be a really bad idea for you and for all concerned. So I’ve asked her to hold off on talking to you for now.”
Leif frowned. “Even if she doesn’t do the story, I can leak it to someone else, put it on the Internet or just run commercials about it. You can’t stop me. Your husband deserves this for what he did to me. You may have helped him leak the facts, but he took full advantage, twisting it into a nightmare.”
“You’re right. But if you get revenge you’ll just be stooping as low as Darren. And trust me—he has enough money to run ten times the amount of commercials and online ads you run to counter you. He could practically buy the news stations at this point. So he will make whatever you say look like lies anyway.”
“Why should I believe any of what you’re saying?”
“Because of your strong faith in God, Governor Mitchell….”
“You can call me Leif. And what does my faith in God have to do with any of this?”
Chessa smiled. “Leif, even though I’ve never met you before, I’ve kept close tabs on you. Unlike my husband, I know that you are a good man who believes in God. I know in my heart that you’re the best man to lead our country as president. If you follow through and give this story to Amy, or try to run commercials about it, a lot of harm could come of it. Many people could lose their jobs, or worse.”
She could tell by Leif’s expression he still was unconvinced. “Not many are aware of this, but RA Technologies is coming close to finding the cure for Type 1 diabetes that they outline in that letter. So if you stand in their way, thousands of people—maybe millions—could unnecessarily suffer, and perhaps even die of diabetes. I’m sure RA and the Richards family will release the news about the potential cure if they’re attacked, and the shutdown on it that will inevitably occur if this story is released, which will make you look like the bad guy. There’s no way you would win after that.”
“Do you even know where RA is getting all of its material to do their stem cell research?” Leif smugly challenged her. “Have you heard about egg harvesting and human egg trafficking?”
“I have.”
Leif looked impressed, then perplexed.
“And I’m not saying it’s right,” Chessa countered. “In fact, I’m against all of it. But I think the best way to combat these issues is for you to get into office and then pass legislation that will work to combat it. You need to act on it, not just talk about it in campaign rhetoric that will be forgotten once the election’s over. Look, you might ruin my husband’s chances if you go forward with this story. But you’ll also destroy what’s been done so far on this cure. And you might just destroy your own chances in the long run. If the voters see you as a candidate stooping to an all-time low in negative campaigning, you may make Darren look like a hero. And God forbid he win.”
“How can you not want your own husband to win?” Leif was still wary. “You would lose becoming the First Lady of the United States, living in the White House.”
“None of that matters if it comes at the price of knowing for the rest of my life that my husband is a big fraud.”
“But you’re not sure what will happen with the electorate, or any of this, one way or the other.”
“That’s true. But if you win without engaging in this battle, you won’t have to live with the burden on
your conscience of having harmed innocent victims as a result, or worse yet, having won out of spite and revenge. You do believe in the truth of the Bible verse, ‘vengeance is mine’ sayeth the Lord, right?”
Leif slowly nodded, still eyeing her warily, not sure where her discourse was headed.
“That’s why I said earlier that I believe your faith in God will lead you to realize that what I’m saying is true. If you believe in God’s will, in God’s justice, in God’s plan, than you will leave this all in His hands.”
“Let’s say I agree not to pursue this, not to call your reporter friend again. If your husband has the temper you say he does, won’t you be at risk once he finds out that you’ve betrayed him by visiting me?”
“I’m afraid of that, yes. But I also have to leave it all up to God.” Chessa sighed and looked up to the sky, which was fading into indigo, allowing the first bright stars of the night to shine.
“Why didn’t you just leave him?” Chessa saw a look of compassion soften Leif’s features.
“I ask myself that every day. Believe me, I’ve prayed about it over and over, and I just haven’t felt it was the right thing to do. I keep praying for God’s will, and I guess secretly hoping God will change him. Meanwhile, at least I have friends who help me deal with it all.”
They arrived at the stables, which were lit up from within. Leif’s men, including Shiloh, had already taken care of their horses for the night and had retreated into the shadows.
Even though it was dark now, Chessa could make out the silhouette of a man standing a few yards from the stables. Chessa saw it was her bodyguard, standing with his arms crossed, and waved to him. She watched him nod. It was too dark to make out his expression. He’s probably mad at me, she thought. Oh well, he’ll get over it.
Horses neighed and noisily whinnied greetings to Sunny and Sally as Leif and Chessa dismounted. Chessa watched as Leif lovingly brushed the horses after removing their tack, and then gave them each half a carrot and an apple he had cut up.
The Peace Maker Page 22
