Love Without End (19 page)

“One of my friends in Seattle. Patty’s parents went glamping in Ireland this spring. They stayed in a yurt, and they rode bikes all around that part of Ireland. I saw some cool pictures of what they did over there, so I looked at glamping
sites in the US. There’s no reason you couldn’t do it on your ranch. Who wouldn’t want to come stay here? It’s so pretty.”

Patty. Patty Wainright. The girl’s parents had been acquaintances of Kimberly’s and Ellis’s, although the Wainrights’ wealth had given them entry into much higher circles of society. She hadn’t known Tara was in touch with Patty again. Was that a good thing?

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be an innkeeper,” Chet said after a moment of silence.

“You wouldn’t have to be anything like an innkeeper. Besides, Mom could run it for you. She and Dad used to take trips and stay in some fancy places. She’d know how to make it work, I’ll bet, and she’s good with people.”

Kimberly felt her eyes widen. She knew plenty about what people desired in a luxury hotel. When Ellis was alive, they’d stayed in quite a few of them on their travels, both in the States and abroad. But in these mountains? In old shacks? Glamping? She was clueless. Why would anyone want to spend their vacations in a place like this?

For the peace and tranquility. For the beauty of nature. Because it’s so pretty.

Fine. Tara was right. It
was
beautiful. But that didn’t mean Kimberly wanted to be a part of this glamping nonsense.

Janet said, “Chet, I think Tara may have hit on a great idea. It could be a real moneymaker for you.”

“Sounds like a lot of extra work and frustration,” he answered.

Janet turned toward Anna. “Don’t you have a bunch of things in the guesthouse you were planning to sell? Couldn’t you use some of those items to fix up those cabins?”

“Yes. We could.”

“I’ll volunteer to help any way I can,” Janet added.

“Me too,” the three teenagers all said at once.

Anna looked at Chet at the head of the table. “It does sound rather exciting,” the elderly woman said. “You could have guests from June through hunting season every year. You should at least look into it.”

“I suppose I could do that,” he said with obvious reluctance.

Kimberly felt sorry for Chet. With all the excitement generated around the table, nobody seemed to be listening to his hesitation. But she heard it. She heard it and sympathized. Because she didn’t want to get caught up in it any more than he did.

I
T
WAS LIKE BEING SWEPT DOWNRIVER IN A STRONG
current. To Chet, the idea of renting out the old line shacks sounded outrageous. Surely it would be a way to lose money, not make it. And yet there was a tug of anticipation in his chest as he listened to everyone tossing out ideas. Everyone except Kimberly. She looked as if she too thought the idea implausible. If he was crazy enough to try this glamping thing, would Kimberly consider helping with its operation? She already had a job with the mayor. But maybe she could help him out part-time. He liked the idea of seeing her at the ranch more often. He imagined the two of them sharing his office, using the computer. He imagined shared laughter. He imagined—

He brought the thought up short. Enough with his
imagination when it came to Kimberly. Better not to go in that direction.

“Nana Anna, where’s my laptop?” Sam asked.

“Still in the guesthouse.”

“Dad, can I go get it?” His son started to rise.

Chet shook his head. “Wait until after dinner.”

“It would only take a—”

“After dinner.”

Sam grumbled something as he settled back into his chair.

Chet heard the sound of a throat clearing even as he saw the gazes of those around the table shift to the doorway behind him. He knew, without looking, that it must be Blake. The ranch hand had volunteered to keep an eye on Shiloh’s Thunder this evening. He wouldn’t have interrupted Tara’s birthday dinner unless the horse had taken a turn for the worse.

Chet set his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair. “You all finish eating. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Somber faces looked back at him. The excitement of moments before drained away. Like Chet, they all knew what must have brought Blake into the house.

Chet drew a quick breath as he turned around and followed his ranch hand through the kitchen and out the door. “Did you call the vet?” he asked as soon as they were outside.

“Yeah, I called him. He’s tending another animal on the other side of the valley, but he said he’ll come as soon as he can. I don’t think it makes much difference now.”

At the corral, Chet drew another breath, hoping to calm that sick sensation in his gut. Then he opened the gate and went in. The horse’s breathing was shallow, his eyes closed.
He didn’t even attempt to lift his head as Chet squatted and stroked his neck. Blake was right. It wouldn’t matter if the vet got there or not. As if in answer to Chet’s thought, Thunder made a soft sound, similar to a sigh, and then all was quiet. The stallion was gone.

Emotion tightened Chet’s throat as he stood.

Blake said, “I’ll see that he’s buried first thing in the morning.”

Chet nodded.

“I’m sorry, boss.”

“Thanks.”

Blake came to stand beside Chet. “He was a great horse.”

“Yeah. One of the best.”

“Want me to wait around until Devon gets here?”

“No, thanks.” Chet turned his back toward the dead horse. “I’ll call and tell him there’s no need to come. See you in the morning.”

Blake hesitated a moment longer, as if trying to find something more to say, then he left the corral. Chet stayed in the corral until the ranch hand had turned his truck onto the highway. Then he walked to the gate and pressed his forehead against the top rail.

God . . .

He wanted to pray but was unable to form the words.

God . . .

It wasn’t just the potential loss of stud fees that made his heart heavy, although that mattered. No, it was more than that. The death felt . . . personal. As if he’d been abandoned. Again.

God . . .

Crazy. Made no sense. He was a practical man. Ranching needed a level head and a calm outlook. Animals took sick and died or they grew old and died. Dogs. Cats. Horses. They matured and were slaughtered for food. Cattle. Hogs. Sheep. He’d seen it countless times. He would see it many more times if he lived long enough.

A sound drew his head up from the railing. Kimberly walked toward him. Seeing her, the heaviness in his chest lightened a little. One more feeling that made no sense. He opened the gate and left the corral. Kimberly stopped and waited for him to reach her.

“Thunder?” she asked softly.

“He’s gone.” Chet glanced toward the house. “Did you have cake yet?”

She shook her head. “No. The spark kind of went out of the party after you left. I guess everyone knew what was happening out here.”

“Sorry it spoiled Tara’s birthday.”

“She’s more worried about you, I think.”

From the look in her eyes he could see that the same was true of Kimberly. He wanted to hold her in his arms and draw strength from her slight frame. It was as if he’d held her before and knew how it would be. How holding her would make him feel. Alive again. He wanted to draw her close and bury his face in her long, dark hair. He wanted to breathe in the faint citrusy fragrance of her shampoo.

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, as if she’d seen the direction of his thoughts. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Nerves, he thought. Or did she hope he would kiss her?

Perhaps he would have, were it not for the untimely arrival of Devon Parry. Made Chet wish he’d had enough time to call the vet and stop him from coming. Because now he would never know what might have happened if he and Kimberly had had a little more time, just the two of them.

Twenty-three

S
UNDAY MORNING
, P
ETE TOOK
A
NNA INTO TOWN
. Sam stayed at the ranch with his dad for moral support. With a backhoe, it didn’t take long to finish the unpleasant task of burying Shiloh’s Thunder. Chet and Sam were back at the house before the rest of the family returned from church.

After washing up, Chet poured himself a cup of coffee while Sam made himself a ham sandwich. Then they both sat at the table. For a short while, there were no sounds in the kitchen other than the soft tick of the wall clock, the crunch of lettuce as Sam ate his sandwich, and an occasional slurp of coffee. Before long Chet’s thoughts turned again to Kimberly and the increasing attraction he felt for her. Common sense fled. He wanted to be with her, and it no longer mattered to him that her intention was to leave Kings Meadow.

Suddenly, Sam said, “You need to ask her out, Dad.”

“What?” He looked up, startled.

“You need to ask Mrs. Welch out on a date.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you
like
her.” Sam’s tone implied his father was rowing a boat with only one oar in the water.

“Not sure liking her is enough, Son.”

“Maybe not. But it’s a good place to start.”

Chet shook his head. “I tried dating again. Remember? It didn’t work out.”

“Come on, Dad. That wasn’t the same thing. You were still hoping Mom would come back to us, even after the divorce was final. But she didn’t come back and she’s never going to. She’s gone for good. Now you’re ready to move on, to start over. It isn’t wrong for you to want to find somebody to love you.”

It was a bit strange, being lectured about dating and marriage and love by his son. Chet took another sip of coffee before replying, “Things are different at my age than yours.”

“Yeah, you’re right. They are different. You’re smarter. You understand more ’cause you’ve lived longer.”

If Chet was smarter, if he understood more, would his marriage have failed? Would Marsha still have abandoned him and their sons, turned her back on God, walked away and not even bothered to send birthday cards or make the occasional phone call?

“Pete and I talked about it last night, Dad. We think you oughta ask Mrs. Welch out. We like her too.”

Oh, great! Not just a lecture. His teenage sons were plotting behind his back, as well. Pushing him in a direction he wasn’t sure he wanted to go.

But that wasn’t true. He
did
want to go in that direction. He’d admitted that to himself only moments ago.

“Ask her, Dad. The worst that can happen is she’ll turn you down.”

No, there was something worse than that. She could say yes. He could lose his heart to her. And then she could leave, go back to Seattle or some other big city, like she’d said she wanted. Could he recover if he fell in love with Kimberly and then she left Kings Meadow? If he was determined to date, wouldn’t it be better to ask someone who
wanted
to stay in this valley?

Except he didn’t want to try to find another woman. He wanted Kimberly in his life.

“I’ll think about it,” he said after a lengthy silence. “Now, let’s drop it.”

Sam grinned as he took his sandwich in both hands. “Sure thing, Dad.”

“H
EY
, K
IMMIE
,” J
ANET CALLED FROM THE LIVING
room. “Come look at this.”

Seated on a chaise longue in the shade of the patio, Kimberly set aside the book she’d been reading and rose to her feet. “Coming.” She slid the screen door aside and entered the house.

“This is so cool.”

“What is?”

“This glamping stuff.” Janet looked up from her computer. “Your daughter is a genius to have thought of it.”

Kimberly grabbed a chair and drew it up to the small desk next to Janet’s chair. She leaned forward slightly as Janet pointed to different photographs on the screen. She remembered the
excitement around the Leonards’ dinner table last night. Then she remembered something else, something that had happened later, that moment when she’d seen something in Chet’s eyes. Something she hadn’t seen in a man’s eyes for several years—desire. And her response? She remembered her response too. The flutter in her belly. The breathless anticipation. What would have happened if the vet hadn’t arrived? Would Chet have kissed her? She’d wanted him to—and the wanting frightened her.

“Look at this adorable cabin,” Janet said. “It makes me think of something you might see in the Swiss Alps.”

Kimberly suddenly felt irritable. “And when were you last in the Swiss Alps?”

Her friend leaned back in the chair and turned her full attention in Kimberly’s direction. “You’re as prickly as a porcupine.”

“Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Janet released a sound of disbelief, half laugh, half snort.

“What was that for?”

“Kimmie, you might not know what’s wrong with you, but I do. You have feelings for a certain cowboy, and you’re scared spitless. I get it. You loved Ellis, but he kept things from you and left you in a mess when he died. He hurt and disappointed you. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let yourself fall in love again and be loved in return.”

Kimberly felt her face flame as her annoyance grew. She shot up from the chair and stormed to the patio, the chaise longue, and her book. How could Janet have said that to her?

The trouble with living with a best friend was that said best friend didn’t always respect a person’s private space. Janet
followed Kimberly outside and sat on the edge of a matching chaise longue. Her gaze was gentle, which Kimberly found even more irritating. “Stop running away from life.”

“I do no such thing.”

“Spare me, girlfriend. You do too. May I remind you that it was Ellis who died. Not you.”

Kimberly sucked in a breath. “Janet!”

“Okay, that was harsh. But it’s also the truth.” Her friend pointed a finger at her. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe God sent you to Kings Meadow so you could meet Chet Leonard?”

“Well, if that’s what God wanted, He could have found an easier way to do it than taking away everything I owned and leaving us alone and destitute. Couldn’t He?”