Seven

ANNA SURVEYED THE COLLECTION OF BOXES AND odd household rejects that filled the living room of the cottage. Beyond a closed door, there was more of the same in the bedroom.

Today, she and Tara would get to work on clearing the clutter, although she was in no hurry to get the job done. She liked being part of the hustle and bustle of the family in the main house. The two teenage boys always on their way somewhere or returning from somewhere. The ranch hands eating lunch in the kitchen. Chet sitting at his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he studied the account records or a horse journal or sitting in his easy chair in the evening, visiting with Anna over a cup of decaf.

Still, this small house had been Anna’s home once upon a time, and everyone expected her to want to live in it again. Even she’d expected it. Abe and Violet had built the cottage especially for her. She’d moved into it on her twenty-first birthday and hadn’t left it until she’d married Walter thirty-three years later. And though she’d never told her husband, a piece of her heart had grieved for this little house, for this ranch, for this place all the years she was away.

A poignant smile curved her mouth as she remembered how hard it had been to say good-bye to the Leonard family all those years ago. If she hadn’t loved and adored her new husband to distraction, she never would have had the courage to venture so far away. Florida had been more than just another state. It had been another world. A flat, flat world. Glory, how she’d missed these mountains.

The creak of the screen door alerted her to Tara’s arrival. Anna turned around to see the girl and her mother in the doorway.

“Good morning,” Kimberly Welch said, stepping in behind her daughter. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long. It’s entirely my fault. I got a late start.”

Anna waved her hand in dismissal. “Didn’t mind waiting. I have nowhere to be.”

Kimberly looked around the room. “There is a lot to go through. Isn’t there?”

Quite the understatement.

“Indeed,” Anna answered.

Kimberly lowered her voice, saying to her daughter, “Don’t let Ms. McKenna do any heavy lifting.”

Anna almost announced that her hearing was excellent and she was stronger than she looked. But better not.

“Call me if you need me to come sooner,” Kimberly continued. “Otherwise, I’ll be here at three.”

“It won’t be sooner, Mom. I’m gonna get to ride today, when we’re done here.”

“You’re going to ride your horse?” Tara’s mother sounded alarmed.

“No. He’s not ready for that. I’m gonna ride one of Mr. Leonard’s saddle horses.”

“Isn’t it awfully soon for that? You’ve barely started your—”

“Mom!”

Anna turned away, pretending not to notice the sudden tension between the pair. Through the years, friends had talked about mothers and their teenage daughters, about the push and pull that happened between them. Anna didn’t pretend to understand it much. She’d spent most of her life around men and boys. There never had been much that was girlish about Anna McKenna. Except for her red hair, which she’d worn long in her younger days. She’d been more than a little vain about it—and keenly aware of the effect it had on men when she’d let it flow loose down her back.

Foolish old woman, she scolded herself. Those days are long gone. It had been eons since any man had made note of her. Except perhaps to offer an arm to help her across the street.

“Ms. McKenna?”

She turned again. Tara’s mother had left the guesthouse, and the girl was now standing a short distance away, looking at her questioningly.

“Where do we start?” Tara asked.

“How about with that stack of boxes over there?” Anna pointed. “That should keep us busy until lunchtime.”

CHET CAME OUT OF THE BARN IN TIME TO SEE Kimberly Welch walking to her car. When she noticed him, he waved and started in her direction. She waited by the driver’s side door.

“Morning,” he said, stopping on the other side of the automobile.

“Good morning.”

“Heard you got a job this week.”

“Yes.”

“Chris Russell’s a good man.” Chet removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “You’ll like working for him.”

“Mr. Russell is very nice, but the job is only temporary.”

“It’s a start.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “A start. Hopefully one that will lead to something better.” She drew in a deep breath, her slender shoulders rising and falling. “How is Tara doing?”

“All right. She’s eager to learn. Does what she’s told. This is her first day to help Anna.” He glanced toward the guesthouse.

“You’re lucky she wasn’t here at six this morning. She was so eager to get started. Too bad she isn’t as excited about cleaning her own room or doing her homework.”

Chet grinned as he met her gaze once again. “Kids.”

After a moment, she returned the smile. “Kids.”

He wondered, suddenly, what had happened to Mr. Welch. Where was he now? Had he walked out on Kimberly, the way Marsha had walked out on him? Or was Kimberly the one who did the walking? Not that it was any of his business.

“I’ll be back to pick Tara up around three.” She opened the car door. “Have her call me if she needs to leave earlier than that.”

“Will do.”

After he watched her drive away, Chet went to where his horse was tied. He stepped into the saddle and rode out to check some fences. But the pretty Mrs. Welch wasn’t soon forgotten.

ANNA AND TARA HAD BEEN SORTING THROUGH BOXES for over two hours by the time they came across a metal box filled with tax receipts. Fragile slips of paper with handwritten information filling the lines. The oldest one was dated all the way back to the twenties when George Leonard—Abe’s father—raised cattle on the land.

“My, oh my,” Anna said. “Isn’t this something?”

“What is it?” Tara peered over Anna’s shoulder.

“A tax receipt for this ranch. See that name there? George Leonard. He was Chet’s great grandfather. And it was George’s father, John, who came to this valley during the gold rush in the 1860s and started this ranch.”

“You mean the Leonards have lived on this same ranch for over a hundred years?” Tara asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Hundred and fifty years, more like.” Anna nodded. “Six generations of them, counting Sam and Pete.”

“Never heard of anybody staying in one place so long. Have you always lived here too? Are you Mr. Leonard’s grandma?”

“I spent most of my life here, but no. I’m no relation by blood. I was an orphan when I came to this ranch during World War II. Just about your age. A bit younger. Chet’s grandparents took me in and made me a part of their family. Sometimes I still can’t believe the many ways God blessed me, bringing me to this valley when I was so scared and alone.”

“Wow. Wish the Leonards would take me in. I’d give anything to live on a horse ranch like this one.”

Anna smiled at the girl, feeling a kinship with her. “They ran mostly cattle back then, but it’s been all horses for a lot of years now.”

The screen door creaked and Pete stepped through the opening. “Hey, Na—” He broke off, then continued, “Anna, Tara. Dad says for you two to come eat. Lunch is about ready to go on the table.”

“Good heavens.” Anna looked at her wristwatch. “I had no idea it was that time already. Did you, Tara?”

“No. But I am kinda hungry.”

Anna pushed herself up from the chair. “Come to think of it, so am I.”

Pete held the screen door open and waited for both Anna and Tara to pass. Then he let it swing closed. Anna didn’t look behind her, but she knew when Pete fell into step with Tara.

“How’s it going in there?” he asked.

Tara answered, “Okay.”

“You need any more help? I could lend a hand if you wanted.”

Pete has a crush, Anna thought with a smile.

If Tara noticed, too, her voice didn’t reveal it. “Nah. We’re doing all right.” She was silent a moment before adding, “Your dad’s going to let me ride today. Maybe right after lunch.”

Anna felt sorry for Pete. It would be difficult for him to compete with a horse for Tara’s attention. At least that was how it had been for Anna when she was fifteen.

It promised to be an interesting spring and summer.