“That was a fine run, Richard. I see you’re celebrating even before you win.”
“Uh . . . yeah . . . uh . . . Anna, this is Claudia. Claudia Durst.”
“Hello, Claudia. I’m Anna McKenna.”
The girl—who looked to be Richard’s age or a little younger—tilted her chin. Defiance lit her blue eyes. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
How could a word like ma’am make Anna feel so much older than her thirty years?
“And you.” Anna’s gaze returned to Richard. “Calf roping’s about over. You’d better get back to see if anybody beat your time. I’ll finish unsaddling Rocket.”
“Okay. Thanks, Anna.” His gaze shot to the girl. “I’ll see you later.” Then he strode away. Long strides. A man’s strides.
“I’m gonna marry him someday,” Claudia announced, sounding sure, as only one her age could sound.
In her heart, Anna felt a little boy’s hand slip from her grasp.
Thirty
A TEMPORARY FLOOR HAD BEEN CONSTRUCTED NEAR the raised gazebo where the musicians played. Kimberly watched the dancers, moving in time to the melody. She’d never seen so many cowboy hats in one place in her life. Immediately she thought of Chet and the Stetsons he wore much of the time. He had a brown one for work—battered and always a bit dusty—and a crisp, clean black one for church.
And he looks just as good in one as the other.
She wondered where he’d gone when the barbecuing ended. She’d expected him to join her and the others, but he’d never shown up. Not that she missed him or anything.
Liar.
Kimberly caught a glimpse of Tara and Pete spinning by. A new song was playing, something up-tempo featuring a fabulous fiddle player. When had her daughter learned to dance like that? All that turning and dipping and slipping under arched arms and changing directions. The sound of boot heels stomping on the wooden floor filled the air, almost as if it were part of the music itself.
“I take it you like that song,” Chet said from behind her.
His words flowed over her, as smooth as warm honey. “Why do you say that?” She glanced up as he stepped around to face her.
“Because you were tapping your toes.”
“I was?”
“Yep.” He jerked his head toward the dance floor. “Care to give it a try?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never danced like that. I’d make a fool of myself.”
“With the right partner, it’s easier than it looks.”
She doubted that was true.
Chet looked toward the raised gazebo where the band played. As if on cue, the music stopped. There was silence, long enough for the musicians to turn a page. Then they started up again. Something slow and romantic sounding. “Who doesn’t like to dance to a classic Anne Murray song?” He looked back at her and held out his hand. “Could I have this dance?”
She seemed unable to resist taking it and letting him pull her up from her lawn chair. He led her to a corner of the dance floor, then drew her into position. Her right hand disappeared into his left. His right hand settled into the small of her back, his touch sending a very pleasant shiver up her spine.
“Follow my lead.” His voice was husky, and a crooked smile curved his mouth.
She swallowed as he turned her around and guided her right into the circle of other dancers. She stumbled a little, but that firm hand in the small of her back steered her as surely as a bit turned a horse. The rest of the dancers faded into the distance. There were just the two of them, moving smoothly around the floor. The singer said something about having this dance for the rest of her life, and the look in Chet’s eyes said he was asking that very same question of her.
It was unfair of him to be so wonderful. She hadn’t come to Idaho to stay in Idaho, and Chet Leonard would never leave Kings Meadow. What future could they have?
But that question was beginning to sound hollow. An excuse, not a reason.
WAS IT POSSIBLE GOD HAD FASHIONED KIMBERLY SO she would fit this perfectly in his arms?
If Chet could have his way, the song would have gone on until darkness fell and the fireworks began. But he didn’t get his way. The music ended. Couples moved off the floor. Others moved onto it, ready for the next song. Chet hoped for another slow song. He wasn’t that lucky. It was going to be a hand-clapping, boot-stomping, line-dancing tune instead.
“Come on.” He offered his elbow. “We’ll let the pros have this one.”
The look of relief in her eyes made him grin.
“Would you like something to drink? They’ve got Coke and lemonade at the high school stand over there.”
She shook her head, at the same time letting go of his arm. The warmth of her touch lingered on his skin.
“Want to stroll around the park or go back to your chair?” he asked.
Her smile was tentative. “Let’s walk. I haven’t looked around much. I’ve been chatting with Anna most of the time.”
He hoped she would take his arm again as they moved away from the dancers and musicians. She didn’t. Still, as they walked, looking at the various booths, greeting friends and neighbors, he liked that others were seeing them as a couple. The worries he’d voiced to Tom had already ceased to eat at him.
I love her, Lord. I know it’s fast, but I also know it’s true. If it’s Your will, I’d sure like her to stay in Kings Meadow and become my wife.
A future together. A future with Kimberly at his side. He wanted it more than he should. He wished he could tell her right now how he felt, but it was better to wait. Not because he was unsure. He wasn’t. Not any longer. But he wanted to do everything possible to make her sure as well.
“How about a shaved ice?” He pointed to Aloha Shaved Ice, a tropical hut on wheels complete with a thatched roof, fake palm tree, and servers in grass skirts. “The profit goes to help the food bank.”
“Okay.”
“What flavor?”
She read the sign and chose raspberry. He ordered two of the same. That way our lips will be the same color when we’re done. The thought made him feel like a teenager on his first date. He grinned.
“What?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as he handed her the first paper cone filled with ice and syrup.
“Nothing. I’m feeling good tonight.” He leaned closer. “I think it’s the company I keep.”
The suspicion left her eyes, replaced by something Chet couldn’t define. Uncertainty, perhaps. Fine, Mrs. Welch. I’ll just have to make you certain.
They moved away from the shaved ice stand and through the milling crowd.
“I didn’t know this many people lived in Kings Meadow,” Kimberly said after a period of silence.
Chet glanced around. “They come from all through these mountains. Quite the personalities, some of them. You know, the ones who live in school buses parked on old logging roads. Some real storytellers among them. Like Ollie Abbott. Like Anna. The history of this area is kept alive in their stories.”
“You’re a true romantic. Aren’t you, Mr. Leonard? And not only in matters of the heart.”
He pondered her statement before answering, “Do you think so, Mrs. Welch?”
“Yes, and it suits you.”
“Thanks.” He wished he could stop, take her in his arms, and kiss her.
From the gazebo came a tapping on a microphone, followed by an announcement that the fireworks would begin in fifteen minutes. That surprised Chet. He hadn’t realized how deep the dusk had become. Maybe because wherever Kimberly was there seemed to be an abundance of light.
She was right. He was a romantic.
Thirty-one
THE FIRST RESERVATION FOR LEONARD RANCH Ultimate Adventures came in from the website the week following the Fourth of July. Kimberly recognized the names on the reservation immediately. Jeffrey and Irena Wainright. Parents of Tara’s friend Patty. The reservation was for Cabin #1 for two adults plus a canvas tent for two teenagers. That meant Patty and her little sister were coming t
oo. The family would arrive on the first of August and depart on the eighth.
Kimberly wasn’t sure how she felt about her old acquaintances spending a full week in Kings Meadow. She’d changed so much from the woman she’d once been. She was a far cry from the wife and mother the Wainrights had known years ago. What would they think of her now?
But at this precise moment, Kimberly didn’t care much about Leonard Ranch Ultimate Adventures or the Wainrights. At this moment, all she cared about was surviving the next half hour in this round pen.
Chet stood in the center of the enclosure, holding a lead rope that was attached to a tall, dark-colored mare. “Come on, Kimberly. She won’t hurt you. Come on over and meet her.”
Why did I agree to do this? It’s so big. Doesn’t he have a shorter horse I could use?
“Kimberly?”
She looked down at her boots. “I can’t seem to make my feet move.” She hated the tremble in her voice. She wanted to be brave around the horses like everybody else. Like Tara. Like Anna.
“Maybe I tried to put you in the saddle too soon.” Chet led the horse to the fence and looped the rope around a post. “Back in a bit, girl.” He patted the mare’s neck. Then he took hold of Kimberly’s elbow and steered her out of the round pen and into the new barn, straight to a stall holding a sorrel colt.
She was proud of herself for knowing the little fellow was a sorrel. A few months ago she would have called him a light reddish-brown. Learning various terms was progress too. Right?
Chet opened the gate and the two of them went inside. He knelt on the stall floor near the colt’s head. “Come here, Kimberly,” he said softly.
She moved to his side.
“Now run your hand along his neck and back and over his rump. Get the feel of him.”
She did as he asked, noting the softness of the colt’s coat, feeling the quiver of muscles underneath his skin.
“Now kneel down beside me.”
Again, she obeyed.
“Look in his eyes. See the intelligence? Rub his muzzle. It’s like velvet.”
Chet was right. The colt’s muzzle was smooth. Pleasant to the touch.
“Now look at me, Kimberly.”
She turned her head toward Chet. He was so close she could see the shadow of a beard beneath his skin. So close she could smell the musky aftershave he wore.
“I will never ask you to do anything I don’t believe you can do,” he said, his tone and expression solemn. “That’s my promise. I’ll never put you in a dangerous situation. I’ll be right there with you every step of the way. I won’t rush you. I’ll encourage you.”
Her heart rat-a-tat-tatted in her chest, as much in response to his nearness as to what he’d said. It had been over a week since he’d kissed her in the hot springs pool, and suddenly all she could think about were his lips and—
The colt nudged her with his muzzle, pushing her sideways. Chet caught her before she could topple over in the straw. The tension broken, she laughed.
“Ready to try again?” he asked, smiling again. “Just sit in the saddle. We don’t have to let the horse move until you say it’s time.”
She drew a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. I’m ready to try again.”
FEAR OF HORSES—OR ANYTHING ELSE—DIDN’T HAVE to make sense. Chet knew that. Some people were afraid of riding a horse because they’d had a bad accident on one or they’d seen a bad accident somebody else had. But others were afraid because of the what-ifs that took place in their minds. They could create a thousand possible bad outcomes without any help at all: What if the horse throws me? What if I fall off and can’t get back on? What if the horse doesn’t like me? What if . . . He was convinced, from everything he’d been told, that Kimberly’s fears were of the latter variety.
Chet knew something else besides. God didn’t want her to carry fear around with her. So he prayed for her. Not entirely for altruistic reasons. He knew that his own happiness might depend on Kimberly overcoming her fear.
When the two of them returned to the round pen, Anna waited nearby, seated on her own horse. “Wondered where you got off to.” The old woman looked relaxed and natural up in the saddle. No fear of falling and breaking a hip. It was good for Kimberly to see that.
“Where have you been?” Chet asked Anna as he opened the gate.
“Trying to clear a few cobwebs from my head. That happens best when I’m on horseback.”
He knew the feeling. “Kimberly’s going to sit on Sunset for a bit. Mind keeping your eyes peeled for Tara and Pete? We’d hate to spoil the surprise.”
“Don’t mind at all. But I heard Pete say he was taking Tara up to see the old McHenry sluice box. If that’s where they went, they won’t be back for at least a couple more hours.”
“Sluice box?” Kimberly glanced from Anna to Chet and back again. “What’s that?”
Chet answered, “Gold miners used them all over the Boise Basin. Zeb McHenry mined these mountains around the same time my great-great-great grandfather came to this valley. But McHenry’s sluice was just a rough wooden trough. Nothing fancy like the kind miners use today.”
Kimberly looked toward the nearest mountain. “And it’s still up there after all this time?”
“Parts of it.”
“Amazing.”
He held the stirrup for her and watched as she put her foot in it, grabbed the horn, and pulled herself into the saddle. It wasn’t exactly graceful but neither was it tentative. Apparently her mind was on Tara, Pete, and Zeb McHenry’s sluice box.
“Maybe you and I can ride up there sometime,” he said.
She looked down at him, and he knew the instant she realized where she was, what she’d done. Surprise flashed in her eyes, and then the corners of her mouth tipped upward in the smallest of smiles. Proud of her, he grinned while patting the mare’s neck. Kimberly leaned forward and did the same.
Chet wondered if that small step into the saddle represented a much bigger step toward their future.
Anna
1970
EARLY IN THE MORNING OF HER FORTIETH BIRTHDAY, Anna lay in bed in the cottage that had been built for her, staring at the ceiling and mulling over the events of her life. Later today, she knew there would be cake and presents in the main house, along with lots of hugs and laughter. But for now she was alone. Well, not completely alone. Max the cat was curled up against her hip, purring.
And the Lord was with her, His presence sweet. His presence was always sweet. Forty years had taught her that.
Forty years. She pictured herself at twenty, less wrinkled but also less wise. Some would think she was old. An old maid. Maybe she was.
She thought of Miles Stanley, the only man she’d ever loved. He’d been gone twenty-two years already, yet it seemed only a blink of time. She didn’t mourn him anymore, but she did remember him with great fondness. Sometimes she wondered how different her life would have been had they married and had children.
Thinking of children brought a different image to mind—little Chet, Richard and Claudia Leonard’s son. Chet was two and a half already and always on the go. A bundle of energy if ever there was one. Running both his mother and his Nana Anna—as he called Anna—to a frazzle most days. Oh, that child was the apple of Anna’s eye, to be sure. It saddened her that Abe hadn’t lived to meet his grandson and that Violet had known Chet only while he was still a tiny infant.
No one had been thrilled when Richard announced he was foregoing college to marry Claudia as soon as she graduated from high school. There’d been many a late-night row between Richard and his parents over that decision. Neither Abe nor Violet had thought Claudia was the right girl for their son. But in the end, they’d relented. It turned out they were wrong about the girl. All wrong.
Last December, during the televised lottery drawing for the draft, Anna had been more than a little glad that Richard had both a wife and child to keep him out of the army and away from Vietnam. Remembering it now, she said another prayer of thanks t
o God for his safety.
She reached down to scratch Max under his chin. The cat’s purring revved like a boat motor, making Anna chuckle.
Sounds from outside told her the ranch was coming awake. Claudia would be gathering eggs and feeding the chickens soon. Richard would be tending the livestock in the barn and corrals. She should rise and go help, and yet she stayed in bed, continuing to ruminate.
What would Abe think of the ranch now? In the last five years, all but a small herd of cattle had been sold off. Richard was fully committed to making the Leonard ranch one of the finest Quarter Horse ranches in the country. More brood mares had been purchased whenever there were funds to spare. A couple of studs with fine pedigrees had been added too. Of course, in her mind, none of those horses would ever be as fine as Shiloh’s Star had been or as good as his offspring were today, but she couldn’t argue with the wisdom of adding new bloodlines to the mix.
From outside her bedroom window, voices raised in song burst forth. “Happy birthday to you . . .” Perhaps calling it a song was a bit generous. The performance was decidedly off-key, more shouting than melody.
She reached for her robe and pulled it on as she left the bed and walked to the window. She brushed the curtains aside. There stood Claudia and Richard, Chet in his father’s arms, along with their one and only ranch hand, all of them bundled up against the chilly March morning.
Anna’s heart welled with thankfulness for the family God had given her. She might have been orphaned as a child. She might never have married or given birth. But she’d been given surrogate parents who’d loved her. She’d helped raise Richard, and now she was Nana Anna to that adorable child in his daddy’s arms. Life was sweet.
Even for an old maid at forty.
Thirty-two
THE LAST TWO WEEKS OF JULY PASSED IN A BLUR. Kimberly and Tara spent every spare moment at the ranch, and with each passing day, Chet’s love for Kimberly deepened. He came up with lots of errands for Tara and one or both of the boys to run, giving Kimberly at least a little time each day on the quiet mare Chet had selected as her horse. And the lessons, brief though they sometimes were, were working. Kimberly had a growing confidence around and on the mare.
The Kings Meadow Romance Collection Page 19
