BY THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, TENSIONS HAD EASED between the Leonard brothers. Today, Pete had volunteered to ride with Tara up to the Gold Digger’s line shack. Chet thought that was a good sign.
Tara continued to use one of their calmest geldings for any lesson that carried her away from the ranch complex, but it wouldn’t be long until her pinto was ready for her to take beyond the enclosed paddocks. Training sessions continued to go well. Not only that. When Tara was at the ranch, she did whatever was assigned to her without complaint. And that girl could pitch manure and straw from a stall as well as any hand he’d ever employed.
The thought made Chet smile as he watched Pete and Tara ride north. He noted Tara’s posture in the saddle, the way she kept her heels down in the stirrups, and that, too, made him smile. Good job, kiddo.
He turned, his gaze sweeping past Kimberly Welch’s car, then returning to it. Kimberly was inside the guest house with Anna. This was the second weekend she’d come to help the older woman sort and organize. He suspected that, to the two of them, what they were doing was more fun than work. It was tempting to set aside his own chores to see what they were up to. What treasures would they uncover today? What stories would Anna tell at the supper table because of a jogged memory?
Still smiling to himself, he headed for the large metal building beyond the barn that served as a workshop and, in the worst part of winter, a garage. Awaiting him inside was the old John Deere tractor, the one his father had purchased in 1965, two years before Chet was born. The tractor wasn’t used for any heavy-duty work these days. Chet kept it more for sentimental reasons. He’d learned to drive steering this old piece of equipment around the fields.
At the workbench, he switched on the CD player. Josh Turner’s deep voice came through the speakers, singing “Long Black Train.” One of Chet’s favorites. He turned up the volume. Then he grabbed a wrench and a rag and went to work on the tractor. When “Me and God” started to play close to fifteen minutes later, Chet sang along, feeling a spark of joy, knowing that he and God were a team, as the lyrics said. Something he needed to keep in mind more often.
When the tune ended, in the brief silence before the next track began, he heard a soft clearing of a throat. He pulled his head back from the tractor engine to see Kimberly in the wide doorway.
She smiled slightly when their gazes met. “Sorry to intrude.”
“No problem.” Chet set the wrench aside and strode to the workbench to pause the CD. When he turned again, he found Kimberly had closed the distance between them.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“On the CD?”
She nodded.
“Josh Turner.”
“Loved his voice. Yours too.”
He liked the way the compliment made him feel. Kind of warm on the inside. Then, just as quickly, it bothered him that he’d liked it. “Thanks.”
“I never listened to country music until we moved in with Janet.” Kimberly looked around the interior of the metal building. “She doesn’t listen to anything else, so I’m starting to learn who some of the artists are. I like it more than I thought I would.” Her gaze returned to him once more.
Chet couldn’t help but ask, “What’s your favorite kind of music?”
“Classic rock.” She shrugged. “Songs my mom loved in her youth. We used to rock out together in the car when I was little.”
The notion made Chet smile again as he pulled the rag from his back pocket and wiped a spot of grease from his hands.
“Anna sent me to get you. She says it’s time for some of the boxes to go into the attic.” Returning his smile, Kimberly pretended to flex her right bicep. “I told her I could do it, but she insisted I come get you.”
“She’s right. Don’t need either of you getting hurt trying to lift heavy boxes.”
I bet you are, Mrs. Welch. He gave his hands another wipe, then dropped the rag onto the workbench. “Well, let’s get ’er done.”
They headed out of the metal shed.
When they were halfway to the cottage, Kimberly said, “I don’t see Tara anywhere.”
“She finished working with Wind Dancer, so she and Pete went for a ride. Don’t worry. I told Pete to keep track of the time. They’ll be back before you need to leave.”
“No hurry. Janet’s in Boise for the weekend, so nobody’s expecting us to be home at a certain time. Nothing more exciting awaiting us than a bowl of hot air popcorn and a DVD.”
An invitation burst from his mouth before he could reconsider it: “Why don’t the two of you stay and have supper?”
She glanced at him. “Are you sure? It seems you’re always putting yourself out for us.”
“I’m sure.” And he was. More sure than he’d been of anything in quite a while.
KIMBERLY WAS ABOUT TO PASS THE LAST OF THE boxes up to Chet, who stood on a stepladder beneath the attic’s trapdoor, when Sam raced into the guesthouse with a shout.
“Fire! Dad, the barn’s on fire!”
Kimberly’s arms tightened around the box, her breath caught in her throat.
“Anna, call the Fire Department.” Chet leapt off the ladder and ran out of the house right behind Sam.
What should she do? Stay with Anna? Go with Chet and Sam?
Anna must have seen her uncertainty. “Go with them. I’m fine. I’ll make the phone calls. Don’t worry about me.”
When Kimberly got outside, she saw black smoke billowing skyward from the right side of the barn. Before she got close, two horses ran out of the barn doorway, their iron shoes clattering on the hard ground of the barnyard, one of them neighing in fright. Kimberly felt like making the same kind of shrieking sound when she saw them, though the horses came nowhere near her.
Chet and Sam came out of the barn a few moments after the horses. “Hose down the other buildings,” Chet shouted to his son. “Make sure the roof of the house is soaked.”
“What can I do?” Kimberly called as she hurried toward him.
He spun on his heel to look at her. His eyes told her how serious it was.
“How can I help?” she repeated.
“Turn the horses out of those paddocks. Get them away from the barn. Can you do that?” He motioned with his arm.
“Yes. I can do it,” she said it with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Heart thundering in her chest, she circled around the barn and slipped through the rails of the nearest paddock. The horses in the paddocks raced the fence lines, alarmed by the scent of smoke. Fear they would trample her made it hard for Kimberly to think what she should do first.
A rope. She should have a rope with her. Turning around, she spied a lead rope fastened to a halter hanging from a nearby post. She grabbed them and hurried to the gate on the north side of the paddock. The latch resisted her fumbling attempts to open it at first.
“Don’t do this to me. Open up.”
The latch slipped free, as if at her command, and she swung the gate wide. Then she turned toward the wild-eyed mare and foal, still running from one corner of the enclosure to another.
“O God, help me,” she whispered.
Kimberly circled away from the gate, angling toward the far side of the paddock. During one of Tara’s lessons, Kimberly had seen her daughter hold out her arms and talk aloud when attempting to put a halter on a horse in this same paddock. It couldn’t hurt to try the same thing. Up went her arms.
“You need to go out that gate. Go on, lady. Take your colt and go.”
The mare tossed her head and bolted for freedom, her foal following hard on her heels.
“Well. That wasn’t so bad.”
Her pulse slowed a bit as she turned toward the adjoining paddock. There were three horses in that enclosure. All big. All frightened by the fire and smoke. All running along the fence, wanting to get away from the danger. Her pulse sped back up again.
The adjoining gate was directly opposite the one she’d opened minutes before. She walked to it, resolute. Determined to accomplish the job that needed to be done and not give in to her fear. Again her fingers felt ungainly as she tried to release the latch so she could open the gate, but it wasn’t quite as difficult as before.
Gate open, she moved into the second paddock. “All right, boys. Let’s get out of here while we can. Shall we?” She opened her arms wide a second time.
One of the horses kicked out with his hind legs at another. Then the lead horse spun about and reared up. The other matched him, standing on hind legs and lashing out with his front hooves. The sounds the horses made sent terror streaking up Kimberly’s spine, but it was the sight of the third horse galloping straight toward her that caused her to turn and run. She didn’t even notice at first that the animal had sped past her and was out of the paddock.
Instinct demanded she follow the horse through the opening and keep running. Keep running until she was far, far away from anything with four legs. Especially anything big with four legs. But before she got to the gate, Anna appeared. At the sight of the older woman, Kimberly burst into tears. An instant later, she stumbled over uneven ground and fell onto her hands and knees.
“Kimberly.” Anna was at her side in no time. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” The answer came out more croak than word.
“Here. Let me help you up.”
Kimberly swiped at the tears on her cheeks before getting to her feet. “I’m all right. Thanks, Anna. I just . . . I just got frightened.”
“Of course you were frightened. Now you wait right over there.” Anna picked up the halter and lead rope from where Kimberly had dropped them. She swung the end of the rope in a circle as she moved toward the remaining two horses. “Let’s go.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue.
And just like that, the horses obeyed, running side by side like the best of friends. Out of the paddock, through the next, and out into the pastureland beyond.
Kimberly forced herself to take a deep breath and blow it out hard. Once, then again and again. It seemed foolish to her now, allowing fear to overwhelm her.
Walking toward Kimberly, Anna looked as if she were about to say something. But the siren of the Kings Meadow VFD reached their ears first. The two women turned to see the fire truck rumbling up the drive, several pickup trucks full of volunteers following in its wake. Only then did Kimberly realize how much worse the fire had grown in the time she’d been trying to move the horses from the paddocks.
Wordlessly, Anna and Kimberly put their arms around each other. They watched as the firefighters and neighbors tried to save as much of the barn and the rest of the outbuildings as possible.
CHET FELT AS IF HE’D FOUGHT THE FIRE FOR twenty-four hours, but in truth, it hadn’t taken long for the barn and all that was in it to be destroyed. At least none of the nearby outbuildings had been lost—and no horses either. He was grateful for that mercy.
As the firefighters began to mop up, Chet turned toward the house. Kimberly and Anna were on the porch with Pete and Tara. Chet had no idea when the two teenagers had returned from their ride, but it was good to know they were home and safe. He had enough to worry about.
The barn was a complete loss. It would have to be rebuilt without delay. He couldn’t run an operation like this one without a sizable barn. Feed had been lost too. And tack. Lots of tack. Where would the money come from to replace all of that? Insurance would cover a lot but not all. Not enough. Insurance never covered enough. He would have to take out a bank loan, and that didn’t sit well with him. Chet preferred to heed the Proverb that warned, “the borrower becomes the lender’s slave.” But what choice would he have now?
Feeling the weight of it all press down on his shoulders, he walked toward the house and climbed the steps to the porch.
Anna reached out to touch his forearm. “Chet, I’m so sorry.”
Sorrow mingled with weariness in her eyes, and for the first time since her return to the ranch, Chet thought she looked her age. He patted her hand, at a loss for words.
“How did it start, Dad?”
Chet looked at his younger son and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Sam came up the steps then. His face was streaked with soot, his hair gray with ash, his expression grim. Like Chet’s own expression, he imagined. Sam glanced back to where the barn had stood. “The chief says they’ll be here until they’re sure there’s no more chance it could flare up again.”
Kimberly said, “If you’d like, Tara and I could fix sandwiches for everybody. Get something for the men to drink. They must be hungry and thirsty by now.”
“That’s a good idea, dear,” Anna added. “I’ll help too.”
The threesome went into the house, leaving Chet alone with his sons.
“It’s bad, isn’t it, Dad?” Sam said. “Money-wise, I mean.”
“You can use my college fund if you want.”
Chet laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Not a chance. You’re only a year away from graduation. You’re going to need that money . . . and a scholarship.”
“Doubt that’s going to happen.”
“You’d better make it happen.”
It was something Chet had said often to Sam, especially over the last couple of years. Not that it did a lot of good. Sam was a smart kid, but he wasn’t an enthusiastic student. He never had seen much value in the extra effort it would take to get straight A’s. He was as content with a B or a C. Pete, on the other hand, loved to learn, loved to excel at whatever he tried his hand. He enjoyed a mental challenge.
“Dad?” Sam’s voice pulled Chet’s wandering thoughts back to the present. “What do you need Pete and me to do now?”
Chet rubbed a hand over his face before answering. “Better find the horses we turned out of the barn when the fire started. Don’t want them getting onto the highway.” He glanced west. “Last I saw them, they were running that direction.”
Both of the boys nodded without comment, then went down the steps. Chet watched them walk to the two horses Pete and Tara had ridden earlier. Sam adjusted the stirrups, swung into the saddle, and the brothers rode away from the barnyard.
Drawing a deep breath, Chet headed back toward the remains of the barn and the mop-up efforts.