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, although 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.