KIMBERLY HAD MANAGED TO GET OUT OF GOING TO church with Janet since arriving in Kings Meadow, but her best friend hadn’t taken no for an answer that morning. And so there she was, in a pew near the back of the sanctuary, singing a familiar worship song, Janet on her left and Tara on her right.
When Ellis was alive, the Welch family had been active members of an upscale nondenominational church near their home, and for a time after Ellis’s death, Kimberly and Tara had attended as faithfully as ever. But within months, the financial troubles had overwhelmed mother and daughter. The life insurance that should have been there wasn’t; Ellis had allowed the policy to lapse as their debt spiraled out of control. The job—and then jobs—Kimberly had hoped for hadn’t materialized. Her bank account had soon run dry. And finally their home and cars had been repossessed.
Sometimes Kimberly felt so much anger over what her husband had allowed to happen to her that she thought she would kill him if he weren’t already dead. And those feelings were always followed by a load of guilt. Ellis hadn’t been a bad man or a bad husband. He’d simply made a number of very bad decisions in the years before his death. She was certain he’d believed he had plenty of time to turn things around. Who expected to drop dead when in the prime of life?
When the music ended, the worship leader—a girl of about twenty or so—said a brief prayer. Then there was a time of greeting. Janet introduced Kimberly to so many people, and she knew she would never be able to remember their names. It wasn’t until the congregation took their seats again that she noticed Chet Leonard in a pew toward the front of the sanctuary.
Perfect. Just perfect. She’d forgotten this was his church too.
Kimberly had lain awake a good portion of the night, worrying that Chet might change his mind about Tara and her horse. She’d figured it would be better not to give him any opportunities to do that. The less he saw of her and her daughter, the better. At least for this first weekend.
Kimberly didn’t pay a lot of attention to the sermon. She didn’t mean for it to be that way. But her mind kept churning and churning. She used to come to church, eager to hear from God. Now she felt like an outsider. More alone than ever.
Am I a superficial Christian? A Christian in name only, not one in commitment?
Uncomfortable questions. She shifted in her seat and forced her thoughts back to Ellis. She would rather feel anger and guilt than explore her faith-life.
They’d had a happy marriage, she and Ellis. The only thing that had kept it from being perfect was her inability to conceive again after Tara was born. But maybe that had been for the best. It was hard enough keeping body and soul together with only her and Tara. What if there’d been more children to feed and shelter? It made her shudder thinking about it.
For how long had Ellis allowed her to spend beyond their income, never once letting on that they were in trouble? Years, probably. It made her feel so foolish. And she couldn’t blame him alone. She wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t uneducated. She had a college degree, for pity’s sake. If she’d been kept in ignorance, it had been her fault as well as Ellis’s. She’d been content to let him make all decisions in regard to their finances and insurance and budget. If she’d shown the least bit of interest, would he have been honest with her?
She would never know the answer to that question. Ellis couldn’t tell her. He’d been gone over three years, struck down by a heart attack at the age of forty. So young. Too young.
I’ll be forty in a couple of years.
The thought made her want to shudder again. Look at her. Jobless. Homeless. And almost forty. Loser with a capital L.
IT TOOK CHET AND THE BOYS LONGER THAN USUAL to leave the church that morning. There were many people who wanted to speak to Anna on her first Sunday back in Kings Meadow after thirty years. The Leonards and Anna were invited to four different homes for dinner, but Chet had to decline them all. He had a horse to load in the trailer and drive back to the ranch. Proof positive that he needed his head examined.
He’d caught a glimpse of Kimberly Welch and her daughter with Janet Dunn when the service ended. Had they come to church with Janet before that morning? He didn’t think so. He was positive he would have noticed Kimberly if she’d been there before. And she was gone by the time he and the boys and Anna made it down the center aisle. He supposed she wanted to get back to Janet’s place to be ready for him.
Chet drove his truck to Susan and Ned’s house, following a dirt road to the horse shed and corral. The Lyles were there with Kimberly, Tara, and Janet.
Anna said, “Looks like the Welcome Wagon came by.”
“Looks like.” He pulled around in a circle and backed the trailer toward the corral, leaving plenty of room in case the horse decided he didn’t want to get in without a little persuasion. When Chet cut the engine, he asked Anna, “Want to stay in the truck? Shouldn’t take long.”
“Heavens, no. I don’t want to miss this.”
Chet glanced into the backseat. “Pete, help Nana Anna to the ground.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Chet got out of the cab and walked to the corral. “Afternoon.” He nodded, taking in everyone with a sweeping gaze. “You’re ready for us, I see.” He looked at Tara. “Do you have a halter and rope?”
“Not that’s mine. There’s a halter that belongs to Mr. Lyle.”
Chet glanced behind him. His sons and Anna stood not too far away. He performed quick introductions, then said, “Sam, get a halter and rope out of the trailer, please.”
“Sure thing, Dad.”
When Sam returned, he and Chet walked to the corral gate and went inside the enclosure. The pinto crow-hopped away from them, tossing his head, snorting his distrust.
“Easy, boy,” Chet said.
Behind him, he heard Pete ask, “What’s his name?” and Tara answer, “Doesn’t have one yet.”
There was something about the way the girl said the words that tugged at Chet’s heart. Maybe because he was used to the banter of teenage boys. Girls of that age were a puzzle to him. Whatever the cause of his sympathy, he wondered if it might cloud his better judgment in the days to come.
Chet cleared his throat and refocused his attention on the horse that had begun to settle down. That was a good sign. A little bit of patience, lots of human attention, and the gelding might turn out to be a decent horse for Tara.
“Hey there, fella. Let’s get this halter on.”
The pinto snorted as he spun away, putting as much distance between him and Chet as the corral allowed. While Sam moved in one direction, Chet circled around in another, talking all the while to the horse. The words themselves weren’t important. Only the tone he used.
The pinto eyed Chet, clearly not ready to be friends with him. But the horse had seen Sam on his other side, arms outstretched. Instinct had informed the animal of the futility of trying to escape. He bobbed his head again, snorting. The skin on his withers shuddered, as if the humans were pesky flies he wanted to be rid of.
Chet moved carefully, drawing the halter over the pinto’s muzzle. It surprised him that the horse didn’t do more to prevent the completion of the task. Perhaps there was a little bit of trust in him after all.
With the halter on and the buckle fastened, Chet led the gelding toward the gate. Sam opened it before him. The pinto held his head high, offering only slight resistance. Then they got within three or four yards of the trailer. That was when he pulled back hard, jerking Chet to a standstill.
He faced the horse, staring into his dark eyes while stroking him. “You’re gonna have to go in, boy. You might as well make up your mind now. We can do it the easy way or the hard way.”
The horse showed the whites of his eyes as he jerked his head upward again. But Chet was ready for it this time and didn’t give too much ground.
“Sam. Pete. Let’s get a rope around his rump, and we’ll give him a little encouragement.”
He and his boys had done this sort of thing many a time. They moved in a comfortable rhythm, unhurried, confident, watchful. The first touch of the rope against the pinto’s buttock caused the horse to step toward Chet and the trailer. When the rope touched him again, he kicked out with his right leg. Not that it did any good.
Little by little, they inched the gelding forward. Chet kept talking in a calm voice and hoped they wouldn’t have a real fight on their hands when he asked the horse to take that first step up into the trailer. While it wouldn’t have been a crisis—he’d dealt with much flightier horses than this one—he didn’t want to have to prove who was boss in front of Kimberly Welch. He could tell she wasn’t any too sure about this horse as it was.
God must have been smiling on Chet, because when the time came, the pinto stepped into the trailer as if it was his favorite thing to do. “Show-off,” he said softly as he tied the lead rope.
Sam was waiting to close the trailer gate when Chet stepped out. “That wasn’t so bad,” his son said.
“Nope. It went okay, all things considered.” He glanced toward the small audience of folks. “Pete, help Anna back into the truck.”
“Sure thing, Dad.”
Chet turned toward Tara. “You can ride to the ranch with us if you want.”
“Yes. Thanks.”
His gaze moved past the girl to her mother. “Is that all right with you? She can eat dinner with us, and then we’ll start laying some ground rules. She ought to be ready to leave by four o’clock or so.”
“Mr. Leonard?” Kimberly stepped close and lowered her voice. “We really must discuss how much this training will cost.”
“Let’s see how the next week goes. I’ll have a better idea by then what’s needed and how long it’ll take.”
Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “I hate being in debt to anyone. I’ve already got more of it than I can pay back in my lifetime.”
“We’ll work something out. Don’t worry about it.”
As Chet turned toward truck and trailer, Susan Lyle spoke up. “Chet, are you sure you and your family won’t join us for Sunday dinner? We’d love to have you, and you know I want to get to know Anna. You’ve spoken of her so fondly for so long.”
“Thanks, but we’ve got a roast in the oven. It’ll be done to a crisp if we don’t get back to it soon.”
Anna and Pete were already in the truck by this time. After hesitating a moment to look at her mother, Tara hurried to the pickup and slid into the center of the backseat. Sam climbed in beside her and closed the door.
“I’ll be out to the ranch at four,” Kimberly said.
Something in her tone drew Chet around one more time. “This is going to be a good thing for Tara, Mrs. Welch.” He didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to say that, but when he saw the tears well in her eyes, he knew she’d needed to hear it.
Thank you, she mouthed.
He tugged on the brim of his hat one final time before getting into the cab of the truck and starting for the ranch.