The Kings Meadow Romance Collection

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Dad?” Sam’s voice pulled Chet’s wandering thoughts back to the present. “What do you need Pete and me to do now?”

  Chet rubbed a hand over his face before answering. “Better find the horses we turned out of the barn when the fire started. Don’t want them getting onto the highway.” He glanced west. “Last I saw them, they were running that direction.”

  Both of the boys nodded without comment, then went down the steps. Chet watched them walk to the two horses Pete and Tara had ridden earlier. Sam adjusted the stirrups, swung into the saddle, and the brothers rode away from the barnyard.

  Drawing a deep breath, Chet headed back toward the remains of the barn and the mop-up efforts.

  Anna

  1947

  IT WAS A SUNDAY AFTERNOON. ONE OF THOSE SOFT spring days, late in May, when warmth painted the valley and surrounding mountains in a golden haze. Calves and colts frolicked in the fields not far from their mothers. Kittens meowed and squeaked inside the barn, and puppies played with Richie—who would be two years old come July—in the small fenced yard on the side of the house.

  As for Anna, her attention was fully captured by Miles Stanley as he stood with Abe near one of the corrals. Why was he here? Had he come to buy a horse? Or maybe he hoped to find work on the ranch this summer. Abe had mentioned not long ago that he needed some extra help around the place. Wouldn’t it be something if Miles became the new hired hand? Her heart thrilled at the mere thought of it.

  “Go join them.” Violet reached to pick up her son, who giggled and tried to run beyond her grasp. “Invite Miles in for some coffee and cake when they’re through with whatever they’re discussing. I’m going to put Richie down for his nap.”

  Anna’s stomach twisted into a knot of nerves. It had been more than a year since Miles had come to live and work in Kings Meadow, and he still didn’t seem to know she was alive. Oh, he was polite and courteous but nothing more. If he thought anything of her, it was that she was still a child. Why couldn’t he see how much more grown-up she was than when they’d first met? She was seventeen, a young woman, and she loved him with a woman’s heart.

  She smoothed her hands over the new dress Violet had made for her. It was the latest style, inspired by a designer named Dior. She was thankful she hadn’t changed out of it after church. She’d meant to. She’d planned to go for a ride after the family had eaten their dinner and the dishes had been washed. But then Miles had arrived, and every other thought had fled her mind.

  Drawing a deep breath, she walked across the barnyard to where the two men stood. Abe noticed her first. “Anna, come over here. I was telling Miles about the horses we’ve added this spring.”

  Her cheeks flushed as Miles turned toward her. “Hello—” Should she call him Miles or Mr. Stanley? “—Miles.”

  He smiled. It was a glorious smile. Did he have any idea the effect it had on her? “Good to see you again, Anna. Been awhile.”

  Ages and ages. Even in such a small town, they managed to miss seeing each other. “Violet wants you to come inside for some coffee and cake when you’re through out here.” She wanted to groan. She sounded like a child delivering a message from her mother. But she wasn’t a child. How could she make Miles see that?

  “Sounds good.” Another smile. “Abe showed me your stallion. He’s really something.”

  Horses. She was comfortable talking about horses. “Did you come to buy one of Star’s foals?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No place to keep a horse, even if I had the money. Which I don’t.”

  Anna didn’t know what to say next. Did he want her to leave? If he didn’t say something soon, she—

  “Would you let me paint Shiloh’s Star?” he asked.

  “Paint?”

  Abe said, “Miles is an artist in his spare time. Haven’t you seen the painting he did for Emma Carter? I thought everybody in town had seen it by now.”

  Anna shook her head.

  “We’ll have to make certain you do. That’s why Miles is here today. I’ve asked him to paint a family portrait. But don’t tell Vi just yet. I want to surprise her.”

  Still looking at Anna, Miles said, “It means I’ll be spending quite a bit of time out here. Hope I won’t be a bother.”

  A bother? Never. Abe had just given Anna an even better present than he planned to give Violet.

  Eighteen

  THE DESTRUCTION OF THE LEONARDS’ BARN WAS the main topic of conversation the following morning before the service at Meadow Fellowship. Chet, Anna, and the boys weren’t present, no doubt because they were still cleaning up what the fire and firemen had left behind. Kimberly heard several men mention driving out to the Leonard ranch that afternoon to offer whatever help they could. She decided she and Tara would do the same.

  She’d had a difficult time sleeping the previous night. She’d kept seeing the look on Chet’s face before she and Tara left the ranch. Discouragement had been etched in the corners of his mouth, in the creases of his forehead. She wanted to do something to help ease his worries. He’d been kind to her and her daughter. Much more generous with his time and resources than he’d needed to be with a couple of newcomers to the area.

  When the church service came to an end, Kimberly couldn’t remember anything the pastor had shared in his sermon. It made her feel a bit guilty as she shook his hand on the way out of the sanctuary.

  Once they were in the car, Kimberly drove to the grocery store to purchase fried chicken. A large bucket of it. If Chet had a bunch of volunteers show up, he would need plenty to feed them. She also bought large containers of potato salad and coleslaw and three dozen rolls. It cost more than she could afford to spend, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like she had a lot of overhead expenses, thanks to her best friend’s generosity, as well as Chet’s.

  Neither Kimberly nor Tara needed to go home to change clothes. Jeans and boots were the norm on Sunday mornings. One of the pluses of attending a church in a community like Kings Meadow. So after a second stop, this time at the gas station, they headed up the highway to the Leonard ranch.

  The Welches were not the first to arrive. A mix of pickup trucks and automobiles was parked in the field on the left side of the lane leading to the house. Kimberly pulled into the first open space. When they walked into the barnyard, they saw men hauling charred boards from where the barn had stood yesterday morning and dumping them onto the bed of a decades-old two-ton truck.

  “Let’s take the food into the house,” Kimberly said to Tara. “Then we’ll find Chet and see how else we can help.”

  Anna was in the kitchen, preparing a pot of coffee, when they entered a couple of minutes later. The older woman didn’t look quite as drained today as she had yesterday. Kimberly was thankful for that.

  “We brought food for the volunteers.” She held up the sacks in her hands.

  Anna tried to smile, but she wasn’t very successful. “Bless you, dear.”

  “Why don’t you sit down and let me finish that?”

  “No need. It’s ready to go.” As if in proof, she punched the Brew button on the front of the coffeemaker.

  Kimberly set the food they’d brought on the counter, next to several casserole dishes covered with foil or cellophane. She hadn’t been the only person to realize the volunteers and family would need to be fed.

  Fingers jammed into the back pockets of her jeans, Tara asked, “How can we help, Ms. McKenna?”

  “I really don’t know, dear. You’ll need to ask Chet or one of the boys.”

  Tara looked at her mom. “I’m gonna see if I can find Sam or Pete.”

  “Okay. Come get me if there’s something I can do right now. Otherwise, I’ll be out in a bit.”

  Her daughter nodded before leaving the kitchen.

  Anna sank onto a chair and released a sigh.

  Kimberly wished she had words of encouragement, but her mind was blank. She wondered if she should put the food into the refrigerator or if the men outside would want to ea
t soon. Indecision held her still.

  Into the silence, Anna said, “The chief said he’s convinced it wasn’t arson that started the fire. No need for a lengthy investigation. That’s good since Chet’s determined to get up a new barn as quickly as possible. Bringing in a qualified investigator would surely take a lot of time.”

  “Arson?” Kimberly said. “I didn’t know it was even suspected.”

  “It wasn’t. But they have to consider everything at first.”

  Kimberly sat in a chair opposite Anna. “You look awfully tired. Why don’t you go lie down? I can manage the food and coffee.”

  “No, dear. But thank you.” Anna’s smile was fleeting. “I don’t think I could sleep even if I tried.”

  The kitchen door opened and Sam entered the house. “Tara said you brought fried chicken. Can I have some? I’m starved.”

  Perhaps Kimberly couldn’t make Anna rest for a while, but she could make sure the elderly woman didn’t have to feed the hungry. “Everyone must be starved by now.” Kimberly stood, ready to take action. “Sam, we need a table set up in the yard in the shade. If you’ll do that, I’ll bring out the food and paper plates and cups and so forth. Then we can all eat.”

  MOST OF THE VOLUNTEERS WHO’D COME TO HELP with the cleanup didn’t leave until suppertime. Amazing, the amount of work they’d accomplished.

  Chet said a prayer of thanks for his friends and neighbors as he watched the last truck roll down the driveway to the highway, a cloud of dust rising behind the tires. As he started to turn toward the house, he noticed Kimberly’s car still parked in the field. So the last of the volunteers hadn’t left after all.

  He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, feeling the grit that had collected there during the day. He was sweaty and sooty and too tired to be hungry. All he wanted now was a shower and then to fall into bed. With any luck, he would be able to sleep.

  He slowly climbed the steps to the porch, feeling like an old man. Inside, he found Anna seated at the kitchen table and Kimberly, wearing an apron, at the sink, washing a casserole dish. From the living room came the sounds of a video game.

  “Pete and Tara are playing Mario something or other,” Anna said. “Sam went up a bit ago to take a shower.”

  “That’s where I’m headed.”

  Kimberly turned from the sink, drying her hands with a towel. “Tara and I should go home.”

  Chet wanted to ask her to stay. Wanted her there more than he cared to admit. To her or to anyone. Including himself. But now was not the time to add another complication to his life. And the attraction he felt for Kimberly Welch would be just that. A complication. She’d told him outright that she had no intention of remaining in Kings Meadow, and since he had no plans to ever leave here, nothing could come of his feelings anyway.

  “Thanks, Kimberly,” he finally said. “You’ve been a great help the last couple of days.”

  “Tara and I were glad to do what we could. We’re so sorry this happened to you.”

  He nodded wordlessly, then headed for the stairs. Once inside the master bathroom, he shed his soot-covered clothes and got into the shower. Eyes closed, he stood beneath the pulsing water, turning it to the hottest temperature he could stand, and braced his hands against the tiles. The spray hit him on the top of the head. Water ran down the sides of his face.

  Replacing the barn with one of equal size and quality would be expensive. Over a hundred thousand dollars, even with some volunteer help. He had insurance, but it wouldn’t cover the entire cost of a new barn plus replacing everything else that was lost. He would need a loan for whatever the insurance didn’t cover. Cash flow. It always came down to cash flow.

  If we could just have one really great year where nothing went wrong. One without surprises. If I could just get a bit of breathing room . . .

  He felt a sudden loneliness, a strong need to be able to pour out his concerns to someone who walked beside him, day in and day out. He couldn’t do that with his sons. He couldn’t do it with Anna McKenna either. He needed a partner, a life companion. He needed . . . He wanted . . .

  Kimberly’s image came to mind. He’d only known her a couple of months, and yet his thoughts were filled with her. As if he’d been collecting mental snapshots whenever he was with her.

  She doesn’t even like horses. She’s afraid of them. I raise and sell horses. That’s what I do! That’s what I’ll always do!

  If Chet wanted to choose the most unlikely woman to fill his thoughts, Kimberly Welch was surely her. She didn’t like small towns. Didn’t want to live in Idaho. Didn’t like horses. She would be all wrong for him. Any fool could see that.

  He needed to nip this attraction in the bud. He would nip it in the bud. Now. Right now. His heart had been broken once before. Once was enough.

  Nineteen

  FOR CHET, THE NEXT TWO WEEKS WERE FILLED with insurance forms and bank loan documents and talking to contractors and suppliers. He hardly noted the end of the school year for the boys, although he was thankful for two extra pairs of hands on weekdays. He was also thankful that Anna didn’t let him forget Sam’s birthday, which he would have without her reminder. They marked the date with a cake and a few gifts, but nobody felt much like celebrating. The fire was too fresh in everyone’s minds.

  Tara came out to the ranch more frequently with the arrival of summer break, but Chet rarely saw Kimberly, other than at a comfortable distance at church. Tara told him her mother had a new job, thanks to the recommendation of Christopher Russell, the insurance broker. Kimberly was now working for the mayor of Kings Meadow as his personal assistant and, according to Tara, found her new position interesting.

  Chet didn’t doubt that. Mayor Oliver Abbott was as colorful a character as he’d ever known. In his sixties, Ollie—as everybody called him—knew a thousand stories about the valley and its residents, and he loved to share them with anyone who would listen. He had a long, bushy beard and matching bushy eyebrows and crooked front teeth that showed when he smiled, which he did often. Ollie could have been the picture in the dictionary under the term mountain man. When he was in the office, he dressed up his boots and jeans with a plaid jacket he’d owned since the dawn of time—or at least since the ’70s.

  On the second Monday in June, Chet drove into town to sign a few more documents for his loan. When he was finished at the bank, he walked a block and a half east to Heather Books. He’d ordered a handbook on horsemanship to give to Tara for her birthday, which was a couple weeks after Sam’s. Chet knew they didn’t have to give the girl a gift, but he wanted to anyway. She’d been more help than bother over the past couple of months. A pleasant surprise.

  Upon entering the narrow but deep bookshop located on the main drag through town, he greeted the owner, Heather Kilmer.

  “I’ve got your order under the counter here,” she said, reaching for it.

  “I’m going to browse a bit first.”

  “Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

  He nodded before moving down the aisle on the right side of the store. Midway, he came to the history section—his favorite—and began to peruse the titles on the shelves. Not that he had much time to indulge in pleasure reading.

  He pulled a large paperback volume on the Irish off the shelf and started to read the back cover.

  “Hello, Chet.”

  He glanced left to find Kimberly standing nearby. He felt a strange catch in his chest. Did she always look this pretty? Her hair fell in dark curls over her shoulders. Her eyes looked a deeper green than usual. Probably the lighting in the store. No denying it. He’d missed seeing her, talking to her.

  “Book shopping?” she asked.

  “Just browsing.” He shelved the book in his hand. “I hear you’re working for the mayor now. How’s it going?”

  “Quite well, actually. It’s never the same from one day to the next. Mayor Abbott is nice . . . and amusing.” She smiled, her expression saying more about her new job than her words had. “T
ara says it won’t be long before the new barn starts going up.”

  “Not long. By the end of the week, maybe.”

  Kimberly glanced toward the shelves nearest her, then back to Chet. “And the guesthouse? Has Anna found any more antiques of interest?”

  “Afraid I’ve been too preoccupied to ask her. I’m not even sure Anna’s been going over there since the fire. If so, she hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

  “But Tara’s supposed to be helping her. She—”

  “Don’t worry, Kimberly. Tara’s working hard around the ranch. She’s more than paying for her lessons and Wind Dancer’s keep.”

  Relief filled her eyes.

  “You know,” Chet said, “the Leonards owe you and Tara a dinner.” He hadn’t planned to say that. The words spilled from his mouth of their own accord.

  “What?”

  “The day of the fire. You were supposed to stay and eat with us that night. Something more than those sandwiches you helped make for the volunteers.”

  “Oh.” A breathy sound, one that could mean anything. Then an expression he couldn’t quite read flitted across her face and was gone. “You don’t owe us, Chet.”

  “And the next day you brought chicken and potato salad and coleslaw to feed everybody who was helping with the mop up. We owe you two dinners.”

  She shook her head, which only made him all the more determined to make her accept his invitation.

  “Come out to the ranch on Saturday with Tara. Anna’s missed talking to you. I know that without asking. You can stay for supper. We’ll have a cake for Tara’s birthday. Bring Janet with you and it’ll be a party.”

  “You know it’s Tara’s birthday?”