Montana Hearts

by Charlotte Carter

  Caroline was Beth’s best friend, but it didn’t sound like the girl had been in the car. That troubled Kurt. Beth not telling Grace where she was going troubled him even more.

  “An hour later,” Grace continued, “a deputy sheriff brought your daughter back home. That boy had been speeding, going close to a hundred miles an hour, the deputy said. An seventeen-year-old boy. The deputy gave him a ticket. He thought leaving a girl as young as Beth—”

  “I’m almost thirteen!”

  “—with someone so irresponsible wouldn’t be safe.”

  Kurt didn’t think so either. He knew Caroline’s big brother. The kid was too old for Beth and played too fast and loose with the rules. “Is what your grandmother said true?”

  “I didn’t know he was going to speed.”

  “But you knew he was going too fast, didn’t you?” Kurt asked.

  She made a great study of opening the soda can. “I guess.”

  “Did you ask him to slow down?”

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t’ve listened to me.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be hanging out with a boy who doesn’t care about your feelings or your safety.”

  “He was just showing off.” Her lower lip extended into a full-fledged pout.

  Anger and love, fear and frustration tangled in his chest. “I think your grandmother is right to ground you for a week. Maybe that will teach you to respect yourself enough not to allow some kid to put your life at risk. And next time, you tell Nana where you’re going and with who.”

  “You’re taking Nana’s side?” Beth shrieked, shock and dismay twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

  “You’re grounded, Beth. For a week.”

  “You can’t do this to me!” She let loose a fountain of tears that ran down her cheeks. “I hate you! I hate you both!” She whirled, racing out of the kitchen and thundering up the stairs to her room. A door slammed, shaking the house.

  Taking off his hat, Kurt slapped it against his thigh, creating a puff of dust. “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know what’s got into her lately.”

  “I don’t either, son.” She used the napkin to dab the sweat from the back of her neck. Her hair looked unkempt. She hadn’t had a color job in months, and her hair had turned mostly gray. She’d lost weight in the past year and gained a web of wrinkles that crisscrossed her face. “But I can’t take it anymore. It’s too hard being around here every day, around memories of Zoe, and that child bickering with me constantly. Every time she goes out, I have to check to make sure she isn’t wearing some outlandish outfit. I just can’t—” She broke into sobs and put her head down on the table.

  Feeling helpless, Kurt’s hands hung at his sides. His mouth worked but no sound came out, no magic words of consolation or support. Like a dry summer wind-storm, a sense of failure swept over him, sucking the life from him and his family.

  “Go on home, Grace.” His words were thick with regret, his chest hollowed out with his own grief and guilt. “Get some rest. Take some time off. I’ll try to—” He didn’t know what he’d do. He only knew that he needed help.

  In a hurry.

  Chapter Two

  In the hour since Kurt had driven away, Sarah had walked the length of Main Street, as far as the glistening white church steeple that rose at the east end of town, then back to her car. She had explored the town where Zoe Ryder had lived, the town that perhaps Sarah’s new heart already knew.

  Since her surgery she’d worked hard to gain strength and build endurance. In recent months she’d walked three or four miles several days a week and felt stronger because of the effort. She had needed that energy today to work off the adrenaline and distress that flooded her veins and her heart.

  She’d walked past buildings constructed in the early 1900s with the brick facades and actual hitching posts left over from an earlier era, making the town look like a set from an old Western movie. Kurt Ryder, with his long legs and masculine swagger, fit like a well-cast actor in this setting.

  He still fit into the scene now that horses had been replaced by battered pickups with large dogs standing guard in the beds of the trucks or tied up to the fenders.

  He wasn’t going to hire her as a housekeeper. She’d seen rejection in his golden-brown eyes and the surprised arch of his brows.

  Probably for the best, she thought as she had stood staring off into space, trying to quell her sense of failure. Admittedly, she wasn’t the greatest housekeeper in the world. Or cook, for that matter.

  She never should have told him she had planned to stay around for a couple of days. He wasn’t going to call. She’d been foolish to even consider coming here.

  There was no reason for her to stay.

  No way for her to help the family who had lost so much.

  On a weekday afternoon, no one seemed in a rush in Sweet Grass Valley. Traffic through town was light. The lush scent of sage and grass on surrounding open rangeland drifted on the air along with the smell of hay stacked in the backs of passing trucks.

  Zoe Ryder had walked down this sidewalk, past the bakery, dress shop, grocery store and the one-screen movie theater across the way, probably greeting the proprietors by their first names. She’d been a part of this community in a way that Sarah had never been a part of Seattle.

  Did the people miss her? Had Zoe left a hole in their lives as she had in those who had loved her?

  It felt strange to envy someone who was dead. But Sarah did, at some cavernous level she hadn’t realized existed in her soul.

  Please, Lord, help those who loved Zoe and miss her to find peace within Your loving embrace.

  Sarah had seen a decent-looking motel about twenty miles back in Shelby, on the highway the way she’d come. She’d stay there tonight and then head home to Seattle tomorrow.

  As she got into her car, her cell phone rang.

  She froze, momentarily paralyzed. It could be her friend who was waiting on the results of her CPA exam and handling Sarah’s accounting business while she was out of town. A simple business question she could answer.

  Or it could be…

  With a shaking hand, Sarah flipped open the phone. She didn’t recognize the number.

  Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. “Sarah Barkley,” she answered.

  “Ms. Barkley, this is Kurt Ryder. If you’re still interested in the housekeeper job, I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Yes…” Her voice caught. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, I’m still interested.”

  “Good. I think it would be best if you came here, to the ranch. Then you’d know what you’re getting into.”

  That sounded a bit ominous, as though she’d agreed to work for the local ax murderer. “I can come there.”

  She propped the phone against her shoulder and searched for a notepad and pen in her purse while he gave her directions to the ranch.

  When he finished, she closed the phone and took a deep breath. Her insides quivered with a combination of excitement and trepidation. Second thoughts assailed her like the bugs that had spattered her windshield on the highway.

  This is what she wanted. This is why she had come to Sweet Grass Valley. To help those who had given so much.

  As instructed, she took Second Street north out of town. Residences on modest lots quickly gave way to open prairie. Scattered clusters of cattle grazed on rolling hillsides and horses stood head-to-tail in pairs beneath shade trees, switching flies with their tails. A gentle breeze rippled the fields of tall grass like waves on a summer-green ocean.

  Soon she spotted her destination. She turned off the road to drive under the arched entrance of the Rocking R Ranch. In the distance, a two-story house appeared through the rising waves of heat. Several outbuildings were also visible including a large red barn and a corral. The Rocking R appeared to be a profitable enterprise.

  In front of the house, a white gazebo sat in the middle of a lawn surrounded by flower beds that had been left untended for some length of
time. Weeds had invaded the plots where rosebushes and irises had gone scraggly. Sarah suspected Zoe had kept her garden a showpiece. Since her death, the family had let the beauty wither away.

  A porch with two wicker rocking chairs and a cedar porch swing stretched the width of the house on the western side. She imagined sitting there at the end of a day, drinking iced tea and watching the sun set behind the distant mountains.

  A black-and-white dog wandered out of the barn and barked at her.

  As soon as Sarah came to a stop, the front door of the house opened. Kurt waited for her on the porch, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, his legs wide apart. The cuffs of his blue work shirt were rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular arms lightly covered in dusky hair.

  The dog had kept track of her as far as the corner of the house, where he stood guard.

  “Thanks for coming,” Kurt said as she reached the porch steps.

  “You have an amazing place here. How much of this land do you own?”

  “About all you can see plus a little bit more.” She sensed he wasn’t bragging. He was simply stating a fact.

  Sarah’s small cottage on a city lot didn’t bear comparison.

  “Come on in. Beth’s fixing some iced tea. I wanted you to meet my kids.”

  He held the screen door open for her. As she passed him, she suddenly realized how tall Kurt was. He stood well over six feet. At five foot four, she barely came up to his chin.

  She stepped inside and caught the faint scent of lemony furniture polish.

  The Western decor was immediately obvious, maple furniture with floral print upholstery. A large fireplace made of river rocks bisected one wall, a variety of riding trophies displayed on the oak mantel. The opposite wall contained family photographs, grandparents and probably great-grandparents in old black-and-white shots, the history of the Rocking R Ranch down through the decades. In the center of the collage stood Kurt and his beautiful blonde bride, Zoe.

  With a lump in her throat, Sarah quickly looked away. Guilt burrowed like a garden gopher into her midsection, as though she were responsible for stealing Zoe’s life. Not just exercising her heart.

  Sarah struggled to regain her composure.

  Kurt introduced his son, Toby.

  She extended her hand to the boy, the resemblance to his father striking. “I guess some of those trophies are yours.”

  “Yep.” Dressed like his father in jeans and a work shirt, he shook her hand firmly. “Calf roping for ten and under.”

  “Congratulations.” She felt overdressed wearing slacks and a fussy cotton blouse when the uniform of the day seemed to favor jeans.

  “Have a seat, Ms. Barkley.” When she sat down on the chintz-covered couch, Kurt said, “How is it you happen to be in Sweet Grass Valley?”

  “I’m on vacation, taking some time off to see the countryside.” She wondered what he would say if she told him the truth. How she had ferreted out the death of his wife. And why.

  Sitting in the adjacent armchair, Kurt appeared to consider her answer. “Did you lose you job or quit?”

  She smiled, realizing he thought she was an employee of her company. “A friend is filling in for me. I do have to be back in Seattle by September first, which means I can stay here through the rest of July and most of August.” That was the date of her next doctor’s appointment. In the meantime, she took a whole phalanx of pills to keep her body from rejecting her new heart.

  Nodding, he glanced at Toby, who had plopped down on a colorful plaid pillow on the raised hearth of the fireplace. “Son, go find out what’s taking Beth so long with the tea. And have her put some of Nana’s cookies on a plate for our guest.”

  “’Kay.” He hopped to his feet. “But she’ll probably bite my head off.”

  “Just don’t start anything.”

  When Toby left the room, Sarah said, “He’s a good-looking boy.”

  A flash of pride flared in Kurt’s eyes and he smiled. “Smart like his mother.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the boy was out of sight. “When I got back from town earlier, my mother-in-law was in quite a state. She and Beth don’t get along well. Today things were so bad, Grace grounded Beth for a week, and I had to agree. I’m guessing it’s part women’s troubles and part that Grace still misses my wife, Zoe. She was Grace’s only child.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She was sorry, even while she felt guilty that Kurt’s loss had been her gain.

  “It hasn’t been easy for any of us,” he admitted. “I thought the best thing for Grace was to take some time off. That’s why I called you.”

  “I understand.”

  Beth appeared from the kitchen carrying a cherrywood tray with a pitcher of tea and two glasses. A slender, pre-pubescent girl, she had her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a tank top and jeans.

  Toby strolled in behind her, a glass of cola in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.

  Her expression sullen, Beth set the tray on the coffee table. Her eyes appeared puffy as though she’d been crying. “You want anything else?”

  “I’d like you to meet Ms. Barkley. My daughter, Beth.”

  “Hello, Beth. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, right.” She turned to her father. “Can I go now?”

  Kurt glared at his daughter. “You can stay right here and be polite for a change. I’m talking to Ms. Barkley about being our housekeeper for the rest of the summer.”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “What about Nana?”

  “You know Nana Grace isn’t as strong as she used to be,” Kurt said. “She tires easily and that makes her cranky, I know. That’s been hard on both you kids.” He gave his children a weary smile. “Since your mother’s been gone, I guess I’ve been cranky, too, and not a whole lot of fun to be around.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Beth said. “Toby and me, we understand you miss Mom, too.”

  “Yeah, I do. And so does Nana Grace. So I thought we ought to give her a break. If Ms. Barkley agrees to work for us, she could do the cooking and cleaning and chauffeur you kids for a few weeks, till school starts again. Of course you’d still have to help out with chores. She wouldn’t be your slave. More like a new member of the family.”

  Toby shrugged, and Beth said, “I don’t need a babysitter, Dad. Or a prison warden! I mean, I can cook ’n stuff. We don’t need anybody else.”

  “Wait!” Toby cried. “You can’t even fry an egg, dummy. We’d all starve. Or be poisoned! Grrrggh…” Making an inarticulate croaking sound, he stuck a finger in his mouth and flipped onto his back, his legs up in the air like a dying bug. “I’m dead! My sister—”

  “Cut it out, son,” Kurt said, trying valiantly to hold back a smile.

  Beth stuck out her tongue at her brother. “You’re such a jerk.”

  Suppressing her own smile, Sarah considered all the joy she’d missed by being an only child. Perhaps her dream of having a sister to play with would, in reality, have turned into a nightmare.

  Kurt crossed to the fireplace and helped Toby to his feet. “Get outta here, son. You, too, Beth. Go outside and play or something. And no more bickering!”

  Shrugging out of his father’s grasp, Toby headed up the stairs to the second floor.

  “You never listen to me, Dad!” Beth’s voice rose in pitch to a shriek, the volume increasing with each syllable until the entire house shuddered with her distress.

  “I don’t want anybody else around. I want my mom back!”

  Like a summer storm, a volley of tears exploded. She whirled and raced up the stairs, trying to escape herself. Escape emotions she couldn’t control.

  Tears of empathy jammed together in Sarah’s throat. Drawing a breath made her chest ache, and she pressed her palm against the pain. Against the scar that hid there.

  Beth needed so much help dealing with the loss of her mother. Dealing with the changes in her own pre-adolescent body and emotions. Needed so much love.

  Wh
o could give her that love?

  From whom could she accept that love?

  Standing at the foot of the stairs, his legs wide apart as though poised for battle, Kurt speared his fingers through his hair. His expressive features twisted into a mask of anger and confusion, his lips a straight line, his brows lowered to shadow his eyes.

  “That went well,” he muttered. His fingers rhythmically flexed and unflexed.

  “I’m sorry.” For him and for his loss. For his troubled child. Despite his anger, Sarah didn’t doubt for a moment that he loved his daughter. And his son. No one could show that depth of emotion without caring deeply for them.

  His chest expanded on a long intake of air followed by a harsh exhale. “What you see before you is a desperate man.”

  “A desperate man, who is grieving for the wife he lost and trying to deal with a menopausal mother-in-law and a hormonal adolescent.”

  His head whipped around and he blinked at Sarah. “Beth’s hormonal?”

  “She’s the right age. Have you talked to her about—”

  “No!”

  No matter how hard she tried to stop herself, a smile vaulted to Sarah’s face and she laughed at Kurt’s horrified expression.

  He sank down on the arm of the couch. “This is no laughing matter.”

  “I know. But you really should have seen your face. You had terror written all over it. In neon lights.”

  The slightest hint of a smile curved the corners of his lips. “Well, if nothing else you know what you’d be getting into if you take the job.” He scratched the day-old whiskers on his square jaw. “I need some help. The whole family does. I’d pay you a decent wage, plus room and board. I’d also understand if you turned tail and got out of here as fast as that puny car of yours would take you.”

  Oxygen seemed to escape her brain, leaving her dizzy with bells ringing in her head. Bells of excitement? Or bells of warning?

  Had the Lord placed her in the diner at just the right time this afternoon to meet Kurt? Was this the Lord’s plan?