DEVON PARRY, THE VET, PEELED OFF HIS LATEX gloves as he stepped out of the corral. “It doesn’t look good, Chet. He’s in a bad way.”
“Are you saying you can’t save him?” Chet looked through the rails at the ailing horse. Shiloh’s Thunder had sired some of the best foals to come out of the Leonard ranch. It would be a huge loss if he died.
“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises. We’ll know what his chances look like if he makes it through until morning.”
“He was fine yesterday.”
The vet didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Chet knew what Devon could have said. In his veterinary practice, Devon had lost horses to aneurisms, heart attacks, and toxins of one kind or another. An animal could be healthy in the morning and be dead by nightfall, and too often there wasn’t anything a vet or the owner could do to save it. That was just how it was sometimes. Still, the prognosis felt like a sucker punch to the gut. First the barn. Now this.
The crunch of tires on gravel drew his head around. Kimberly and Tara. He wasn’t in the mood for riding lessons or guests for dinner. But despite that, he felt a strange comfort at the sight of Kimberly through the car’s window. And right now, he would take any comfort he could find.
Devon said, “I’ve given him something to ease the pain, but if you need me back before morning . . .” He let his words drift into silence.
Chet gave a curt nod, then moved away from the corral as Kimberly and Tara got out of their car. “Afternoon,” he greeted them, trying to keep his concern out of his voice.
“Is something wrong with Thunder?” Tara asked. She knew the vet, of course. Chet had called Devon out to give her pinto a thorough physical examination soon after Wind Dancer had come to stay at the ranch.
Before Chet could answer her, he saw Pete exit the house and descend the steps three at a time. The kid still had it bad for Tara. If she returned his feelings, it wasn’t obvious. At least not to Chet. The good news was the brothers weren’t warring over her.
“What’d the vet say?” Pete asked as he came closer.
“Won’t know anything for a while.” Chet shook his head. “Listen, I don’t have time to give a lesson right now. Why don’t you and Tara saddle up and ride to Hazel Creek?”
“Sure thing, Dad. What horse do you want her to ride?”
Chet faced Tara. “Think you and Wind Dancer are ready to get away from the paddocks?”
Her eyes widened before she nodded.
“I think you’re ready too. Both of you.” He gave her a tight smile, letting her know that he meant his words. To Pete he added, “Keep it at a walk for today. Ride up to the creek and back. That’ll give you several changes in terrain. Be cautious at the creek. I don’t think it’ll bother Wind Dancer but you need to be sure.”
“Okay, Dad. We’ll do fine.”
The teens hurried away.
Kimberly said, “Shouldn’t she have helped Anna for a while first?”
“Not today. This is for the best.”
Her gaze went to the corral. “Is the horse dying?”
“Maybe. Probably. Doesn’t look good.”
She was silent awhile, then said, “I’m sorry, Chet.”
He had a bad feeling that if he tried to answer her, he might choke on his own emotions. He didn’t want to appear weak. Not to this woman. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about it more than a few seconds before Anna’s approach provided the much-needed diversion.
“Hello, Kimberly.”
“Hi, Anna.”
Anna embraced Kimberly, as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of the previous Sunday at church. “Didn’t Janet come?” she asked when she took a step back.
“She had some things to do this afternoon, but she’ll be here for dinner.”
“Oh, good. She’s such a delight.”
“Yes, she is.” Kimberly glanced toward the cottage. “What are we doing today?”
“Today we’re going to take photos and choose prices for the items we want to sell on eBay. Sam’s got his laptop up and running in the guesthouse for us, and I’ve got my little digital camera. So I think we’re set.”
“Well then. Let’s get started.”
Anna looked up at Chet. “You want to join us?”
“Maybe later.”
“All right. But before we list everything online, you’re going to have to give your okay.”
“I trust you, Anna.”
“I appreciate that, my boy. But I still want you to look things over.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the temple. “Whatever you want. When you need me, just give a holler.”
“KIMBERLY, I HAVE A GOOD MIND TO TAKE MY OWN sweet time with the work that’s left.” Anna tossed the words over her shoulder as she led the way into the cottage. “I’m going to miss having you spend these Saturday afternoons with me when we’re done.”
“I’ll miss it too.” Kimberly said it to be polite, then realized how very true it was. “I guess I’ll have to come up with other excuses to visit you while I’m still in Kings Meadow.”
Anna stopped midway across the small parlor and turned to face Kimberly. “You’re leaving?”
She gave a slight shrug. “Not right away. But eventually. When I find a job that will support me and Tara . . . and a horse.” Another shrug. “And that’s a long shot as things stand right now.”
Wearing a saddened expression, Anna sat at the small writing desk. She clicked on one of the laptop keys, bringing the screen to life. Kimberly joined her there.
With another press of a finger, Anna opened a photo program. “Amazing, isn’t it? Maybe you’re too young to remember a world without computers, the Internet, e-mail, digital cameras, and smartphones.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “So many of my friends in Florida refused to learn the latest technologies as they came along. They had no idea how much not knowing would cut them off from others. From children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”
“You seem to know your way around the computer.”
“I’ve always loved to learn new things. Still do.” Anna tapped her temple with an index finger. “As long as the old brain stays sharp.”
“I seem to be more interested in old things.” Kimberly caressed the top and side of the writing desk. “Like this. It’s at least a hundred years old. You can’t find anything like it today. The craftsmanship is exquisite. Priceless, really.”
“Well, we won’t have to put a price on it. It’s not for sale.” Anna smiled. “I spent many years writing letters and keeping a journal on this very desk. It belonged to Violet, Chet’s grandmother.” Her expression turned wistful. “Violet gave the desk to me on my eighteenth birthday because she said it was made for a woman’s use and the Leonard men admired horseflesh, not furniture.” She laughed softly. “Still true.”
“But you didn’t take the desk with you when you moved to Florida. Why not?”
“Because it belonged here, on this ranch, more than it belonged to me. It’s part of the history of this valley and of the Leonards.” Her eyes seemed to look beyond Kimberly and into the past. “So much history.”
“If only it could talk. It’s a shame it got buried under all of the other things that were stored in this guesthouse. I’m glad you’re going to use it again.”
“Me too.”