Love Without End: A Kings Meadow Romance Page 8

  He nodded and gave his hat brim a tug, then turned and headed back toward the center of town, ready to get home, whatever had brought him to the grocery store in the first place forgotten.

  KIMBERLY RAPPED ON THE DOOR TO TARA’S ROOM, then opened it when she didn’t answer. Her daughter was lying on her stomach on the bed, holding a book out in front of her with both hands as she read.

  “Homework?” Kimberly asked.

  Tara shook her head as she turned the cover of the book so her mother could see it.

  Of course. A book about horses. What else?

  Kimberly entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I saw Mr. Leonard a little bit ago. He said to tell you the two new foals were born.”

  “They were? Both of them?” Tara sat up. “Wish I’d been there.”

  “You’ll see them tomorrow.”

  “This book has pictures of a foal being delivered.” She flipped quickly through the pages, stopping when she found what she wanted. “It says a foal will normally stand within the first hour and can trot and canter that very first day. Cool, huh?”

  “Very cool.”

  “Kinda makes me wish Wind Dancer was a mare so we could have a colt one day.”

  Kimberly reached out and pushed Tara’s dark hair back from her face. “You’d best be happy with the one horse you’ve got.” Silently she added, We couldn’t even afford him if not for Chet Leonard’s generosity.

  The thought brought his image back to mind, and her heart did a small, unexpected flutter. He was so old-school polite around her. The code of a cowboy, perhaps. And truth be told, she was beginning to find that code rather attractive.

  Eleven

  SAM’S VOICE RANG ACROSS THE BARNYARD. “HEY, DAD!”

  Chet turned his attention from Tara and the sorrel mare she was saddling. “What?”

  “You’re wanted on the phone.”

  “Who is it?”

  “He didn’t say. Just says it’s important he talk to you.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He looked at Tara. “You wait for me to get back before you mount up.”

  The girl made a soft sound of impatience, but didn’t voice her objection.

  Chet took off for the house. Once inside, he bumped his hat back on his forehead with his knuckles and picked up the handset of the kitchen telephone. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Leonard? Scott Webb here.”

  Scott Webb. A trainer from over in Payette, a town near the Idaho-Oregon border. A man looking to buy several new horses from the Leonards. “Afternoon, Mr. Webb.”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I won’t be able to make it up to see your horses tomorrow.”

  “Not a problem.” Even as he spoke, he felt a premonition that it might be a problem. “When will you be able to come?”

  “Doesn’t look like I’ll be buying any new stock this year. My wife’s got some health issues and has taken an unexpected turn for the worse. The medical expenses will have to be paid before I can consider any new horses. That could be awhile.”

  Chet sank onto a tall kitchen stool, disappointment sharp in his chest. “I’m sorry to hear your wife’s ill. Hope she makes a quick recovery.”

  “Thanks. And I’m real sorry about not getting those horses.”

  “It’s all right. Appreciate the call. And you come when you’re able. Might not have the same horses you were looking at, but there are always others.”

  After they both said good-bye, Chet punched the Off button and put the handset in its charger. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, as if trying to erase the sudden worry. He’d counted on that sale to improve his cash flow. He could usually tell, even over the phone, when someone was just looking and when they were ready to buy. The website he’d had designed by Allison Kavanagh made him even more accurate in his assessments, because folks came to the Leonard ranch already knowing what horse or horses they wanted to see. And Scott Webb had been ready to buy some prime stock.

  But no one could know the future. Illness or tragedy could strike anybody at any time. As much as he felt the loss to his bottom line, Chet wasn’t devoid of empathy for whatever the Webbs were facing.

  He started toward his office on the lower level of the house, then remembered Tara was waiting for him to continue her riding lesson. Not exactly what he wanted to do at the moment, but out the door he went. First thing he saw was Pete sitting on the corral fence, talking to Tara. He wasn’t surprised to see him there. The boy’s crush on the girl had been growing more and more obvious by the day. Anybody could see it—except Tara herself, that was. All she seemed to notice were the horses. Chet preferred it to stay that way.

  “Sorry about the interruption,” he said when he reached the corral. “Have you got the mare ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Tara answered.

  Chet went into the corral and checked the cinch and saddle. “Good job.”

  “Hey, Dad.” Pete hopped down from the fence. “Care if I saddle up and come with you?”

  “Suppose not. We aren’t doing much today. Just getting Tara beyond the paddocks for a change. Thought we’d head up by the creek.”

  “Great. I’ll be ready in no time.” Pete left the corral and disappeared moments later into the barn.

  The boy was as good as his word, and soon they were all mounted on horses and riding away from the barnyard.

  TARA WAS NOWHERE IN SIGHT WHEN KIMBERLY arrived at the Leonard ranch a little before 5:30 on Tuesday evening. Usually, the girl was brushing her horse when Kimberly got there. But not today.

  She parked the car in the usual spot, then walked to the barn and looked inside. “Hello?” she called into the darker recesses.

  Nobody answered.

  She turned around. Chet’s black pickup truck was there. So was the truck his sons used and two more besides. She was trying to decide where to look next for her daughter—at the main house or in the guest cottage?—when two men rode into view through a copse of trees beyond some outbuildings. She didn’t recognize them. When they noticed her, they slowed their mounts from a trot to a walk. Kimberly took a couple of steps back as the horses got closer, nerves erupting in her belly.

  “Howdy,” the one with the dark hair said. “You must be Tara’s mother.”

  “Yes.”

  “Blake Buttons, ma’am. Pleased to meet you.”

  She offered a quick smile, wanting to move farther away from the large, sweaty animals but not wanting to be rude to their riders. “Hello.”

  “Me and Denny saw Tara ridin’ with Chet and Pete about an hour or so ago. Up above the north pastures there. I reckon they’re on their way back by now, but I wouldn’t expect ’em any too soon.”

  The blond-haired cowboy—Denny, she assumed—slipped from the saddle. “Might as well make yourself comfortable, ma’am.” He jerked his head toward the house. “Ms. McKenna’s inside. She’s sure to like your company.”

  “Thank you. I’ll go see her.”

  But before she could move, she saw Anna walking in their direction. The elderly woman wore jeans, boots, and a bright green western shirt. Her dyed red hair was worn in a ponytail. She looked and moved like someone thirty years her junior.

  “You must be early,” Anna said.

  “A little.”

  “While you wait, let me show you our new additions.”

  The ranch hands touched their hat brims, bid her a good day, and led their horses away.

  “Come with me.” Anna took Kimberly by the arm, a gesture of friendship rather than an older person needing help. “The foals were born on Sunday a couple of hours apart. One of them is the spitting image of Shiloh’s Star when he was a colt. The other is going to be a blue dun.”

  Kimberly didn’t bother to say she had no clue what any of that meant.

  They moved through one end of the barn and out the other. The mares and foals were in two nearby paddocks. The babies, now about forty-eight hours old, moved around on their gangly legs with surprising agility, a
lthough they didn’t go too far afield from their mothers.

  “Aren’t they the prettiest creatures God ever made?”

  The wonder and excitement in the elderly woman’s voice was so much like Tara’s that Kimberly had to smile. “Tara must have been beside herself when she saw them.”

  “She surely was.”

  “When she isn’t here at the ranch, she’s reading books from the library about horses. I wish she was as eager to learn history or geometry or English lit.”

  “Are you learning about horses along with her?”

  “A little. But I might as well ask a dumb question. What’s a blue dun?”

  Anna laughed. “Abe always said there was no such thing as a dumb question, and I agree. Basically the blue comes from a black horse with cream-colored genetics. It gives the horse a grayish coat with darker gray markings. And a dun has a dorsal stripe, which runs from withers to croup.” She pointed. “See it there?”

  Kimberly nodded.

  “Maybe you’ll think twice about those riding lessons we offered to give you. The offer still stands.”

  “I’ll pass, Anna. Thanks anyway.”

  There was a merry twinkle in Anna McKenna’s eyes. “But be warned. I intend to conspire with your daughter to change your mind.”

  Kimberly didn’t doubt for a moment that they would try. But there was no way on earth she would ever agree to it. No matter what.

  Anna

  1945

  MUFFLED MOANS AWAKENED ANNA BEFORE DAWN ON the Fourth of July. Barefoot, she went to the bedroom at the opposite end of the hall and tapped on the door. “Abe?”

  The door jerked open a few moments later. Perspiration beaded Abe’s forehead, and his eyes were filled with concern.

  “Is it Violet?” Anna asked, although she knew the answer. “What can I do to help?”

  “We need Minnie York to come right away. I don’t think this baby’s going to take long, no matter what they told us to expect. Can you ride over to the York farm and get her? The telephone isn’t working. I tried about an hour ago.”

  “I’ll get dressed and go right now.” Anna spun away and ran to her room. She dressed in a hurry and tied her hair back with a ribbon without bothering to run a brush through the tangled curls. Then she was down the stairs, out the door, and into the barn where she saddled Shiloh’s Star and rode away from the yard as dawn became a pale promise in the east.

  According to what Violet had told Anna a few weeks before, Minnie York had delivered most of the babies in Kings Meadow for the last twenty years. Certainly the experienced midwife had delivered more babies than the young physician, David Chapman, who’d opened his practice in the valley this past spring. Luckily for Anna, the York farm butted up against the Leonards’ east pastureland. It didn’t take Shiloh’s Star long to carry her there.

  Almost as if she’d been anticipating Anna’s arrival, Minnie York opened the door with her leather bag already in hand. “Is it time?”

  “Yes. Hurry. Abe says the baby’s coming fast.”

  “What does he know? All he’s delivered is calves and pigs.” She closed the door behind her and strode toward her automobile. “If you get there first, tell Abe and Violet I’m on my way and to stay calm.”

  Anna turned Shiloh’s Star around, and they began the race toward home again. The young horse gave her everything he had, his long strides eating up the ground beneath them. By the time they galloped into the Leonard barnyard, the sky overhead had turned from pewter to blue. Anna tied the reins around the hitching post and ran into the house.

  Upstairs, the door to the bedroom was open. Violet’s groans filled the hallway. Looking scared to death, Abe stood beside the bed, holding his wife’s hand.

  “Abe, Mrs. York’s on her way.”

  He glanced toward the door. “Did you tell her to hurry?”

  “I did. She was getting in her car when I started back. She should be right behind me.”

  As if to prove Anna told the truth, an engine backfired below the bedroom window.

  “Go see if she needs any help,” Abe ordered, his gaze returning to his wife.

  Anna was quick to obey, but the most the midwife wanted from her were clean linens and hot water. After that, Anna had to be satisfied with sitting in the kitchen, listening as Violet strained to bring her baby into the world.

  Twelve

  ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, ANGRY VOICES DREW CHET out of the house in time to see Pete take a swing at his brother and miss. Sam was quick to retaliate. He connected with Pete’s nose, knocking him to the ground. The younger boy was back on his feet in seconds, this time using his head as a battering ram, flying straight into Sam’s midsection. Sam was thrown backward. He slammed into the side of the truck that had carried the two boys home from school not long before.

  “Sam! Pete!” Chet ran to put himself in between them. “Stop it!”

  He didn’t succeed in pulling the brothers apart until one of the hired hands, Blake Buttons, showed up to assist him. Chet got ahold of Pete. Blake dragged Sam in the opposite direction.

  Chet turned his youngest son around to face him. The boy had a bloody nose, and his right eye was starting to swell. “What’s going on?”

  “Ask him.” Pete spat the words as he jerked his head toward his brother.

  “You’re acting like a baby,” Sam returned as he fingered his split lower lip.

  With a cry of rage, Pete tried to pull free from his father’s grasp.

  Chet held on tight. “I want to know what’s going on between you two, and I want to know now!”

  Sam was the first to answer. “He’s mad, ’cause I asked Tara Welch to go with me to the prom next week and she said yes.”

  “You know I like her. You know it. You coulda asked somebody else. Any girl but Tara.”

  “So what if you like her? You aren’t her boyfriend, and you couldn’t take her to the prom anyway. You’re a sophomore. Why shouldn’t I ask her?”

  “You wouldn’t have asked her if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Ah, grow up.”

  This time, Pete managed to jerk away from his father’s grasp, but he didn’t try to go for his brother again. Instead he stormed off toward the barn.

  Blake appeared to be hiding a smile as he relaxed his grip on Sam’s arms. He sent a questioning gaze toward his boss. Chet nodded, silently telling him he could go. Without comment, Blake returned to whatever he’d been doing before the fight broke out.

  Chet focused his attention on his eldest son. “Is that true? Did you ask Tara out just to hurt your brother?”

  “No. I thought I was doing her a favor. She’s new at school and doesn’t seem to have many friends yet.” He touched his lip again, then checked his fingertips for blood, his brows knitted together in a deep frown. “I figured she’d want to go to the prom. And like I said, it isn’t like she’s Pete’s girlfriend. They aren’t going out or anything. He’s never told her he likes her. He’s too chicken for that.”

  Chet had worried Pete might get his heart broken by Tara, this being his first serious crush, but he hadn’t figured on Sam being the reason. The brothers had squabbled before for many different reasons, but he’d never known them to go at it with fists—and certainly never over a girl. “You need to make it right with your brother, Sam.”

  “How? Do I tell Tara I can’t take her to the prom ’cause Pete’s jealous?”

  “No, that wouldn’t be fair to her. Not if she already accepted.”

  “She did.”

  Chet rubbed his chin, hoping for an idea. Nothing came to him. “I don’t know how you’ll make it up to him,” he answered at last. “But you’d better find a way.”

  “I’ll do what I can. Just don’t expect a miracle.” Sam grabbed his backpack off the ground and walked toward the house, slipping past Anna who had come outside sometime during the commotion. Chet followed a few moments later.

  “What was that about?” Anna asked when he reached her.

  “A girl.�
��

  Anna looked toward the barn. “Tara?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Her words added an extra weight to his shoulders. “Yeah.”

  WHEN KIMBERLY WALKED THROUGH THE BACK DOOR into Janet’s kitchen, Tara was waiting for her. The girl’s eyes were brilliant with excitement.

  “Mom, I got asked to the prom. It’s next weekend. I’ve gotta have a dress.” The words tumbled out of her with nary a breath. “Can we go find a dress tomorrow? Please, Mom. Please.”

  “The prom?” Her daughter hadn’t mentioned a prom before now. Tara had never shown any interest in school dances or fancy dresses. It had always been horses, horses, horses. “Who invited you?”

  “Sam Leonard.”

  Kimberly relaxed slightly as she set her purse on the small table near the door. Sam seemed a nice boy, and he came from a good family. That offered some relief. But a prom dress was another matter entirely. How could they afford one?

  Janet appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Mind if I butt in? Couldn’t help but overhear.”

  Kimberly shook her head, then nodded, desperate for any help that might be offered.

  “There’s a secondhand store in Boise that specializes in formal gowns for teens at reasonable prices. The dresses are as good as new but at a fraction of the price you’d pay in the department or specialty stores. Why don’t you two drive down tomorrow and see what you can find? Make a day of it.”

  Money for gas. Money for a dress. Could she manage it? Of course she could. She’d have to manage it. A girl’s first prom was an important milestone, and Tara deserved to go to it. She’d done without so much since her father passed away.

  Kimberly forced away any remaining negative thoughts, the kind that came to her all too easily. “All right.” She smiled. “Let’s do it. A girls’ day out. Just you and me. It’ll be fun.”

  “I’ll have to call Ms. McKenna and tell her I can’t be there tomorrow.”

  “Oh, dear. I’d forgotten that.” Kimberly frowned in thought. “Maybe I could volunteer to go with you on Sunday afternoon or one evening next week so that Ms. McKenna has double the help. We don’t want Mr. Leonard to feel as if you’re taking advantage of him or shirking your duties.” Even as the words left her mouth, intuition told her Chet Leonard wouldn’t feel that way. He would understand. Still, she added, “Your horse eats, whether you help around the ranch or not.”