ON THE FIRST SATURDAY IN MAY, TARA SQUATTED next to her pinto, slowly applying polo wrap around the horse’s left front leg. Pete stood at the pinto’s head, holding the lunge line.
Chet observed from outside the round pen. He was pleased with the girl’s progress. Hard to believe she had little actual experience with horses prior to her move to Kings Meadow. She appeared as comfortable as Pete was. And what she didn’t know, she didn’t hesitate to ask about. He liked that trait. It showed good character and wisdom.
“I’ve decided on a name,” Tara said to Pete as she glanced up at him.
“About time. What’s it gonna be?”
“Wind Dancer.” She stood and patted the horse’s neck. “I think it fits him. Don’t you?”
Chet smiled to himself. It had taken him awhile to realize Tara hadn’t wanted to name the pinto as long as there was any chance her mother might change her mind and sell him or give him away. If Tara was naming him now, she must feel more confident about the long term.
Pete said, “Yeah. It’s a good name. I like it.”
Chet figured his youngest son would have thought Green Goo a good name if that was what Tara had decided on.
“Thanks.” She moved to the horse’s right front leg, squatted down, and began to wrap it too.
The young horse was coming along almost as well as his mistress. Better than Chet had anticipated when he’d agreed to take on his training.
Finished wrapping the right leg, Tara stood and looked over the horse’s back toward Chet. “How did I do, Mr. Leonard?”
“Good.” He nodded. “Now let’s see if you and Wind Dancer remember what to do next.”
“You heard his name. What do you think?”
“Pete’s right. It’s a good name. But it doesn’t really matter what we think. It only matters if you like it.”
“I like it.” Tara moved to take the lunge line.
Pete hesitated a moment before handing it to her. Afterward, he shoved his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans, as if not knowing what to do with his hands. A few more moments and he seemed to realize Tara was waiting for him to clear out of the round pen. His face flushed a bit as he turned away and strode toward the gate, but Chet was pretty sure the girl hadn’t noticed. Tara’s eyes were back on her horse. Wind Dancer was all that mattered to her.
“All right. Let’s go.” Chet leaned his forearms on the top rail.
Tara let out some of the line and pointed the small training whip behind Wind Dancer’s rump to urge him to move out. “Walk on.”
Chet didn’t say much over the next twenty minutes or so as he watched Tara put the horse through his paces. She lunged him counterclockwise at a walk, a trot, a slow canter, a trot again, and finally a walk to a halt. Then she turned him in a clockwise direction and repeated the exercise. She remembered to keep her voice calm but firm and didn’t fumble the commands. She remembered how to hold the lunge line and pointed with the whip only when necessary. Wind Dancer responded as if the two of them had been working together for months instead of a few weeks.
When the horse was stopped once again, Chet said, “Okay, Tara. That’s good. Give him a rub down.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Leonard.”
He opened the gate, and Tara led the pinto out of the pen and toward the barn. Pete fell in beside her. Not that Tara needed anyone’s help. By this time, she knew exactly what to do and where she would find whatever she needed.
Chet turned and started toward the house, then stopped when he saw the now familiar car coming toward him. Kimberly Welch was a little on the early side today. He waited for her to stop the car and get out.
“Afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat.
“Hello.” Her gaze went to the side of the barn where Tara was tying her horse at the rail. “How did it go today?”
Here was something else Chet had figured out. Kimberly was nervous around horses. She didn’t dislike them, and she wasn’t all-out terrified of them. At least not obviously so. But she wasn’t eager to be near them either, and that made her worry about her daughter more than most.
“Good,” he answered. “Tara’s a good student. So’s the horse.”
Kimberly’s eyes returned to him. “Ms. McKenna asked me to look at some things in the guesthouse. She wants to know if any are worth selling instead of giving away.”
“She did?” He remembered Tara saying her mother was some sort of expert with antiques, but Easter was the only time he’d heard it mentioned. He hadn’t known Anna pursued the topic with her. “Well, come with me then.”
They walked together toward the house, Chet shortening his stride to match hers.
He’d learned a few other things about the Welches, thanks to the hours he’d spent with Tara. He’d learned the girl’s father had passed away three years ago, and apparently the man had left their finances in a mess. Their house had been foreclosed. Cars repossessed. Kimberly had tried to find work, but her fine arts theater degree hadn’t helped on that front. She’d been a stay-at-home wife and mom since college, so she had no work history to make her desirable to employers. Her inability to find employment was what had finally brought them to Kings Meadow to stay with Janet. According to Tara, Kimberly would leave in a heartbeat if she found a job in the city. The latter he hadn’t needed Tara to tell him. He’d already figured it out for himself. Well, good luck to her. He couldn’t imagine himself living anywhere else, but he’d discovered it was useless to try to make anyone want to stay. His ex-wife had taught him that.
Anna stepped through the back doorway of the main house as Chet and Kimberly drew near. “Hello, Kimberly. Thank you for coming.”
“How could I refuse?” She smiled. “Tara is always telling me about something new you’ve found. She’s piqued my curiosity.”
Anna looked at Chet. “Want to join us? We’re on a treasure hunt.”
“No thanks. I’m pretty sure I’d be in the way.”
“Suit yourself.” Anna hooked arms with Kimberly. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
The two women set off for the guesthouse.
Chet had been surprised at first at the amount of time it was taking Anna to sort, keep, toss out. But then he’d realized she was in no hurry to occupy her old home. She would rather stay in the main house than have privacy in her own place. He’d thought it odd since she’d loved the cottage back before she got married. But it also pleased him, knowing she preferred to stay in the midst of his family.
While Anna might not be in any hurry to live in the cottage—if that ever happened, which he now doubted—she seemed to enjoy sorting through the collection of boxes and cast-offs, deciding what should stay and what must go. He also suspected the time she spent with Tara was valuable to the girl. And now Kimberly had been added to the mix. Perhaps time with Anna would be valuable to her too.
For some reason, that thought made him feel good.
KIMBERLY’S HEART GAVE A LITTLE SKIP WHEN SHE saw the items that Anna and Tara had set aside. Things not deemed to have any chance of reuse had been taken to the county’s refuse collection site by Sam and Pete. Things that Anna knew must stay in the Leonard family had begun taking up residence in one corner of the bedroom. The things still in question had been placed in a back corner of the living room.
The latter was where Kimberly stood now.
“See anything of value there?” Anna asked behind her.
Kimberly hardly knew where to begin as her gaze trailed over a washstand, a tarnished silver tea set and tray, a pair of Victorian table lamps, a large copper washtub, and a shoe box full of jewelry. And those were only the items easily seen.
“Should we keep any of it?” Anna asked again.
“I would. That washstand, for one. It must be at least a hundred years old. If it was sanded and stained, it would make a beautiful addition to any home. Especially if there’s an old porcelain washbowl and pitcher to go with it.”
“You’re right about its age. It belonged to Violet Leonard’s mother. Violet brought it with her when she married Chet’s grandfather.”
Kimberly looked at Anna. “You really know the history of this place, don’t you?”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“But you were away for a long time. Didn’t you say thirty years or something like that? I would think you’d have forgotten some of it.”
“Funny thing about getting older, Kimberly. The things that happened the longest ago, the people you knew when you were young, that’s what you remember best most of the time. Yesterday can get hazy. Forty or fifty or sixty years can be clear as a bell.”
Kimberly felt an unexpected ache for the grandmothers she’d never known. It would be wonderful if she could ask questions about her own family. But it was just her and Tara now, and their history had shallow roots, a tree that could be ripped up by the wind.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Anna laid a hand on Kimberly’s shoulder.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She took a step deeper into the corner, preferring to think about antiques rather than be reminded of the people and things that weren’t part of her life.