Love Without End (3 page)

“Tomorrow would be fine. Thank you, Mr. Leonard. Thank you so very much.”

Two

H
ALFWAY BACK TO
J
ANET
’
S HOUSE
, K
IMBERLY PULLED OFF
to the side of the highway, pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, and wept. She wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint one exact reason for her tears. It was a pent-up accumulation of life and hardships, loss and disappointments, and fear. Plenty of fear.

People always talked about addicts needing to hit bottom. Kimberly wasn’t an addict, but she had definitely hit bottom. A person couldn’t sink much lower than where she was right now. Once she’d been the stay-at-home wife of a prosperous businessman and the mother of a bright and popular daughter. Now she was a financially struggling widow, unable to find employment after too many years out of the job market, and mother to a hurting, sometimes sulky teenager whom Kimberly hardly recognized as the joyful child she’d raised.

Tears spent at last, Kimberly straightened, wiped her eyes with a tissue, then looked around at the valley that was
surrounded on all sides by tall, tree-covered mountains. This valley was now home to her and Tara—thanks to Kimberly’s best friend’s generosity. Without Janet’s help, they might be living out of their car on the streets of Seattle. The memory of their narrow escape from that end made her shudder. But even so, she wasn’t as grateful as she should be.

“How did it come to this?” she whispered. The answer was, a hundred different ways. Little things, many of them, but when added together they became big and overwhelming.

Kimberly didn’t want to be here, in Idaho, in Kings Meadow. The scenery that surrounded her was beautiful. She didn’t argue with that. But it was also remote, and she hadn’t grown used to the lack of sounds, both day and night. The prevailing silence made her feel even more lost, uncertain, abandoned. She missed her beautiful home in the exclusive neighborhood. She missed the theater and the opera. She missed Puget Sound and the Pacific Ocean. She missed dining out with friends in fine restaurants. She even missed the crowded freeways.

“I miss my life.”

Perhaps if Tara weren’t so temperamental, everything wouldn’t feel this hopeless. Lately, her daughter seldom talked to Kimberly. It hurt all the more because they had been exceptionally close throughout Tara’s childhood, and after Ellis died and their finances unraveled, mother and daughter had only had each other to cling to. They’d been inseparable. But since coming to Kings Meadow things had changed between them. Sometimes Kimberly felt as if Tara blamed her for Ellis’s death.

She couldn’t help wondering how much of this was
normal behavior for an almost-sixteen-year-old girl and how much was the result of the upheaval in their lives.

With a sigh, Kimberly started the engine and pulled back onto the deserted highway. The drive to Janet’s house on the edge of Kings Meadow took another ten minutes or so. Long enough for Kimberly to feel more in control of her emotions. When she got to the house, she was relieved to see her friend’s SUV in the driveway, meaning she was home from work. Kimberly steered her car to the side of the small garage and cut the engine. A glance toward a neighboring house, located halfway up a gentle slope, found her daughter, seated on the top rail of a corral, looking at the horse inside.

I never should have let her have it.

Kimberly got out of the car and stared a short while longer at her daughter. Tara didn’t move, too mesmerized by her horse to have heard her mother’s return. Kimberly sighed, then headed for the house. Janet was stirring something on the stove when Kimberly entered through the kitchen door.

“Hey, there.” Janet set the spoon on a holder. “Did you go out to see Chet?”

Kimberly nodded. “Yes.”

“And?”

“He agreed to come look at the horse and to meet Tara. But he says he doesn’t do training anymore.”

“Don’t you worry. He’ll do it.”

“I forgot to ask what he charges. Once he knows I don’t have a job or any money to spare . . .” She let her voice trail into silence.

Janet took up the spoon and stirred some more. “Don’t
you worry. I’ve known Chet Leonard a long time. He’s got a good heart. You’ll see. We’ll work something out. I know how important this is to you and Tara.”

It would be nice to be as confident as her friend. About anything.

“Tara’s up at the Lyles’ corral,” Janet added.

“I know. I saw her when I pulled in.” Kimberly dropped her purse onto the small desk near the back entrance. “Can I help with dinner preparations?”

“Nope. Got it all under control.”

“You never let me do enough around here.”

Janet threw her a smile. “Not true. You’re a big help.”

“You should make up a chart of chores for me and Tara. We don’t want to freeload. We’re enough of a burden as it is.”

“You aren’t freeloading, and you aren’t a burden. I asked you to come. Remember?”

“I remember. But it’s still freeloading if I don’t have a job or any money of my own.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue. She supposed she should have grown used to poverty, used to needing help from others, but she hadn’t. She hated it. Hated every bit of it.

“I wouldn’t want your money even if you had some.”

“And now there’s that horse. It’s got to have food too.”

Janet set aside the spoon a second time before stepping toward Kimberly. “Stop it. You hear me?” She put a hand on each of Kimberly’s shoulders. “Stop it right now. I have a healthy savings account and no debt. If I can’t help out my best friend when she’s in need, what good is any of it?”

“But—”

“No more arguments, Kimmie. This is your home. It’s
Tara’s home. For as long as you need or want it. And I think you did the right thing, accepting that horse. It’ll be good for Tara. She’s a lot like me when I was her age. A horse will be the best kind of medicine for what ails her.”

The two women hugged. When they stepped apart, Kimberly said, “I’ve missed you so much. Have I told you that?”

“You have, but I don’t tire of hearing it.”

It was amazing, really, the depth and length of their friendship. Despite the differences in their personalities. Despite the many years they hadn’t seen each other. Friends didn’t come better than her.

Janet gave Kimberly a soft push toward the door. “Why don’t you go tell Tara dinner’s almost ready. She’ll be anxious to know what Chet said.”

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

Kimberly took her time walking up the gentle hillside. After all, she didn’t have much to tell her daughter. “Tara,” she called as she drew close to the corral. “It’s time to come in for supper.”

Tara didn’t budge, didn’t even turn her head.

“Honey. Did you hear me?”

“I heard.”

Kimberly stopped at the fence and looked through the rails at the brown and white pinto inside. “Have you decided on a name?”

“No.”

“He ought to have a name.”

“I’ll get around to it. If I get to keep him.” Tara cast a suspicious glance in her mother’s direction. “What did that trainer guy say?”

“Mr. Leonard is going to come look at the horse and meet you before he decides.”

“He won’t do it, and then you’ll make me give the horse away.”

Given their financial situation, that’s exactly what Kimberly should do. Poor people shouldn’t own pets or livestock. It wasn’t responsible. Besides, what if Kimberly finally found employment back in Seattle or in another city? What if there was no place to board a horse that they could afford or that was nearby? Any number of things could force her daughter to sell the horse or give it away. Life was full of difficulties. Full of things that were outside of a person’s control.

“Tara, please. Let’s not quarrel. I’m doing the best I can.”

With a long-suffering sigh, her daughter swung her legs over the rail and hopped to the ground. “Whatever.”

That single word was meant to be a lit match set to kindling. Tara was itching for a fight with her mother, but somehow Kimberly managed to hold her own temper, and the two of them walked in silence back to the house.

A
FTER SUPPER
, S
AM AND
P
ETE WASHED THE DISHES
while Chet and Anna took a walk, stopping first to look inside the cottage. It embarrassed Chet to see how the family had stuffed the three-room house with boxes and castaways and anything no one had known what to do with at the time. The so-called guesthouse had been Anna’s home for decades before she’d married Walter. It had to pain her that they’d let this happen to it.

But Anna simply laughed when she saw the stacks and
piles of endless clutter. “It’s a good thing you have that spare bedroom in the main house, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry. We should have tried to do something before you got here, but there wasn’t enough time.”

“Don’t worry your head about it. This looks like something I can do, a little at a time. I know a rancher always has more to accomplish than there are hours in the day.”

Years ago, Chet had wondered why Anna didn’t marry a rancher and stay in Idaho instead of marrying a businessman and moving so far away. She’d always been suited to this life. That had been clear to him even as a boy. When he’d asked her about it once, she’d answered that God liked to give her a surprise every now and then and that Walter had been the biggest surprise of all.

Which brought up another question he’d wondered now and again. “Care if I ask you something personal, Anna?”

“Don’t mind if you ask. Whether or not I answer remains to be seen.” She smiled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you change your name to Cunningham after you married?”

She was silent a few moments, her smile fading.

“I’m sorry. None of my business. I—”

“No.” She touched his arm. “It’s not something private. And you know, if my going by McKenna had bothered Walter, I would have taken his last name. But it didn’t bother him, and changing my name wouldn’t have made me love him any more or him love me any more. Besides, I’d been a McKenna for more than fifty years before we met, and the name fit me better than any other.”

They left the cottage. Anna admired and commented
on the various outbuildings that were new to her, although a couple of those same outbuildings were far from new.

“Your Grandpa Abe would be mighty proud of what you and your father accomplished here,” Anna said as they rounded the weather-beaten barn.

“Couldn’t’ve done any of it, if not for you and Shiloh’s Star. The Leonards owe you a lot, Anna. And not just for the horses.”

She grinned. “I was paid back a hundred times over. Don’t you think otherwise, my boy.”

“Do you still ride?”

“Any chance I get, which hasn’t been often enough in recent years. Got a horse suitable for an old lady like me?”

Chet suspected Anna could ride anything he might set her on, but he let the “old lady” comment pass and pointed toward a nearby paddock. “See that mare?”

She looked in the direction indicated, then gasped as she pressed both hands to her chest. “Good heavens,” she whispered. “She looks just like him.”

“Not surprised. She’s a direct descendant of Shiloh’s Star, and every one of her foals has been a champion of one kind or another. We’re not breeding her anymore, but she’s got plenty of life still in her. She’d be a good saddle horse for you. If you want her, she’s yours.”

“Oh, Chet.” When she looked up at him, her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “What can I say? I’m overwhelmed. What’s she called?”

“Shiloh’s Princess.”

Anna laughed softly.

“There is something I’d like from you in return.”

Surprise pulled at her face.

Chet leaned his forearms on the top rail of the fence and looked at the horses grazing in lush spring grass. “The boys and I, we’ve got a good life here, and I’d say we’re happy most of the time. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I worried about Sam and Pete. There’s a fair share of hurt, deep down where it doesn’t show much, because of the way their mom left, the way she cut herself off from them entirely.”

Anna made a sound in her throat.

“I want them to have a better sense of family.” He turned toward her. “I’d like you to tell my boys your stories about this ranch and my folks and grandparents. The kind you used to tell me. I want Sam and Pete to understand and appreciate their heritage. I want them to know all the Leonards through your eyes. They don’t have anybody else who can tell them. Not like you can. They don’t know everything the Leonards did through the years to keep this ranch and make it prosper, and when I try to tell them, they think I’m giving a lecture. As much as they love horses and ranching and this valley, I’m not sure they appreciate what it would mean if we lost this place.”

“Lost it?” Anna’s eyes widened. “Are you in danger of losing the ranch?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But you know how it is. Land rich and cash poor. Times have been lean ever since the economic downturn. Seems I’m always robbing Peter to pay Paul, as they say. But we’re surviving.”

“I’m glad of that.” She released a long breath. “Your dad used to say the same thing. Land rich and cash poor.”

“I remember. Things haven’t changed since then. We get
a little ahead and something happens. Horse needs vet care. Barn needs repair. Gotta have a new tractor or a new truck or a new furnace. Always something.”

Anna placed a wrinkled hand on his forearm. “I’ll do anything I can to help. Anything at all. I’m old but I’m not helpless.”

He pulled her into the circle of his arms. “You know what, Nana Anna? God blessed the Leonards when He led you out of these mountains and into our barnyard.” He kissed the hair on the top of her head. “Don’t you ever doubt it.”

Anna

1944

A
NNA LED THE COLT INTO THE BARNYARD, STOPPING
midway between the barn and the house. Chickens clucked in a nearby coop. A horse in the corral nickered a greeting at Shiloh’s Star. Sheets hung on the clothesline flapped in a soft breeze. A dog rose from where it had been sleeping in the shade of a tree and trotted over to sniff at the newcomers. Anna was about to speak to the dog when the screen door on the house squeaked open and a man in bibbed coveralls and a blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stepped onto the porch.