Love Without End (24 page)

This year, Chet took a place at one of the many propane grills lined up on the west side of the park, flipping burgers and hot dogs for the people of Kings Meadow. One grill over from him was Tom Butler. The Methodist minister had been one of the first responders when Chet’s barn caught fire, and not long after, he’d bought one of the Leonard horses. A friendship had formed between them over the past weeks, based upon mutual respect and a similar sense of humor.

Kimberly and Janet were the first customers at Chet’s grill. He felt a quickening in his chest when he saw Kimberly, and he couldn’t help noticing that when he smiled, she blushed.

Janet held a plate out toward Chet so he could drop a burger onto the bun. “So you’ll know, Anna has your blanket and chairs right next to ours.” She pointed with her free hand.

He didn’t bother to look to see what she meant. His eyes remained on Kimberly. Her blush deepened.

Man, she’s pretty.
What he wouldn’t give to kiss her again, right here, right now.

After Kimberly got her hamburger and the two women walked away, Tom said, “How are things going with you and the lovely widow?”

Chet figured by now there wasn’t anybody in Kings Meadow who didn’t know he’d taken Kimberly to a concert in Boise. More than a few might know about their visit to the hot springs last night too. Gossip rode a fast horse.

“Don’t care to tell me?” Tom prodded.

“Sorry.” He looked at his friend. “What did you say?”

Tom chuckled in reply.

Chet turned his attention to the grill, flipping hamburgers and hot dogs before they burned. A good thing too. A rush of hungry citizens, fresh from three-legged races and other games, ended their conversation. It seemed the men at the grills barely had time to breathe for the next forty-five minutes.

The afternoon was a hot one. The first thing Chet wanted when he turned off the propane and closed the cover on the grill was something cold to drink. Tom wanted the same thing, so they headed for a booth where high school kids were selling lemonade, bottled water, and Diet Cokes. Both of them ordered the latter with lots of ice. When they got their beverages, they wandered toward the creek and some available shade. A fallen tree provided a bench.

“So,” Tom said after he’d downed about half of his Diet Coke. “You were going to tell me how things are going with you and Kimberly Welch.”

“Was I?”

“Yes, you were.”

Maybe it would be good to talk to a third party about his feelings, Chet realized. Anna and his boys weren’t exactly
impartial. And he needed an outsider’s view to know if he was being a romantic fool or if this was something God could be behind.

“I am a good listener,” Tom added.

“For a Methodist.” Chet grinned. His comment was already a well-used joke between them. No matter what they were talking about, if it had to do with Tom, one of them added, “For a Methodist.”

Tom shook his head, as if exasperated.

Chet took a few more swallows of his drink. Then he looked toward the park. He couldn’t see Kimberly or the rest of the family in the crowd. “I think I might be falling in love with her,” he said at last. With a shrug, he added, “Maybe I already
am
in love with her.”

“Then I suppose that means things are going well.”

Again, he shrugged. “I’m not sure she plans to stay in Idaho. When I first met her, she seemed eager to get away from Kings Meadow as soon as possible. Last I knew, she was still hoping to find employment elsewhere.”

“And she hasn’t changed her mind?”

“Maybe.” He thought of the two of them at the hot springs. “I can’t say for certain.”

“Perhaps you should ask her outright.”

Chet turned toward Tom. “I’m afraid to ask. What if she’s unsure right now, but by asking, I force her to make a choice?”

“And she makes the wrong one. Is that what you mean?”

“Exactly.” Again Chet looked toward the park, searching the crowd for a dark ponytail poking through the back of a pink baseball cap. He didn’t see her. Nor did he see Janet, Tara, either of his sons, or Nana Anna.

“Chet, is something else troubling you?”

He turned toward Tom once again. “I guess there is.” He drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to date Kimberly just to have a female friend. I want it to go somewhere.”

“Of course.”

“But that’s when I get nervous. My wife walked out, Tom. One day she packed up and disappeared. Sure, some of it had to do with Rick’s death, but there’s got to be other reasons she threw away marriage and sons and even denied her faith the way she did. She said she no longer believed in God. She divorced me so fast I hardly knew what hit me. Maybe I’m not meant to be a husband. Maybe I’m no good at it.” He finished the last of the beverage in the plastic cup. “Is it even right, in God’s eyes, for me to want to marry again?”

“Whoa. You had a lot more on your heart than I guessed.”

To be honest, Chet hadn’t known all of that had been worrying him until he said it. “Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve—”

“No, don’t be sorry. You need to work this through. But I doubt we’ve got enough time now to give it the study it deserves. Could we get together in the next couple of days? Somewhere quiet, just the two of us.”

“Sure. That’d be good.” Chet stood, suddenly eager to get back to the hubbub of the Independence Day crowd.

Tom got up from the log. “Before you go, let me say this. There are biblical reasons for divorce, and there are allowances for new marriages. First Corinthians 7 says, ‘Yet if the unbelieving one leaves, let him leave; the brother or the sister is not under bondage in such cases, but God has called us to peace.’ It would be good for you to remember that. You are not under bondage, and God wants you to
have peace. Perhaps knowing that will calm your troubled thoughts.”

Tom’s words were a balm to Chet. Not that he had everything worked out yet, in his head or his heart, but it was a beginning.

Anna

1960

A
NNA SAT IN THE STANDS OF THE SMALL RODEO
grounds with Abe and Violet, waiting for Richie’s turn at calf roping. Correction,
Richard’s
turn. At fifteen, he’d made it clear he detested his old nickname. Anna tried to comply, but it wasn’t easy. He’d always been Richie to her. Almost from the first moment he drew breath.

“Look, Abe.” Violet pointed at the program in her hand. “Emma Carter’s taking photographs of all of the events. We’ll have to buy some of the ones she takes of Richard.”

Abe nodded but said, “We’ll see. Might not be able to afford them. You forget how famous Miss Carter is these days.”

“No, look. She’s giving a special rate for photographs from the rodeo. We can actually have some framed Emma Carter’s on our walls of our son and his horse.”

Anna touched Violet’s wrist. “Richard’s up next.”

The boy sat astride a tall bay gelding named Rocket.
Richard had started training the horse—the last foal out of Goldie before the brood mare had passed away—for roping events a couple of years ago, and both horse and rider were shaping up to be winners. Championships would bring more notice to the Quarter Horses of the Leonard ranch. That would be a good thing. Despite all of the mares he’d added over the years and all of the yearlings and two-year-olds they’d sold in the past decade, Abe still considered the horses a side business. Anna dreamed they would become much more to him. The way they were to his son.

A calf bolted from the chute, bringing Anna’s attention back to the rodeo. Rocket—as good as his name—shot out of the box at a gallop. The lariat sailed through the air, the loop falling over the calf’s head. Before the horse could slide to a full stop, Richard vaulted from the saddle. He hit the ground running, one gloved hand sliding along the rope. In what seemed a heartbeat, Richard grabbed the calf, flipped it onto its side. With Rocket keeping a steady tension on the rope, Richard used the piggin’ string he’d carried in his mouth to tie three of the calf’s legs together. Tie complete, he put his arms into the air to stop the clock. Then he returned to Rocket, stepped into the saddle, and urged the gelding a few steps forward to relax the tension.

Anna held her breath as they waited the six seconds required. The calf struggled but didn’t get loose.

Applause went up from the spectators, and it grew louder when the announcer called out his time. Nine point eight seconds. It was the best time so far. Professional calf ropers could get the job done in seven seconds, so this was an amazing time for an amateur, especially one as young as Richard.
It showed the boy’s dedication. All those hours of practice were paying off.

Before Richard left the arena, he looked into the stands and waved at Anna and his parents, grinning from ear to ear.

“I think I’ll go down and see him,” Anna said as she stood. “Waiting until the event is over to see if his time will hold up is going to drive me crazy.”

She hurried down the steps and walked around the corrals and pens at the far end of the arena. Trucks and trailers were parked all over a field on the north side of the rodeo grounds. Horses were tied to quite a few of the trailers. Some were munching on hay. Others were being groomed by their owners. Others stood snoozing, eyes closed, tails swishing.

The Leonard truck and trailer came into view. Anna saw Rocket tied near the back of the trailer, the left stirrup tossed over the seat of the saddle. A few steps more and she saw Richard. Only he wasn’t alone—and he was too busy kissing a girl to see Anna’s approach.

When she was only a few steps away from them, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

Richard hopped back from the girl, flushing crimson as he spun toward Anna.

“That was a fine run, Richard. I see you’re celebrating even before you win.”

“Uh . . . yeah . . . uh . . . Anna, this is Claudia. Claudia Durst.”

“Hello, Claudia. I’m Anna McKenna.”

The girl—who looked to be Richard’s age or a little younger—tilted her chin. Defiance lit her blue eyes. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

How could a word like
ma’am
make Anna feel so much older than her thirty years?

“And you.” Anna’s gaze returned to Richard. “Calf roping’s about over. You’d better get back to see if anybody beat your time. I’ll finish unsaddling Rocket.”

“Okay. Thanks, Anna.” His gaze shot to the girl. “I’ll see you later.” Then he strode away. Long strides. A man’s strides.

“I’m gonna marry him someday,” Claudia announced, sounding sure, as only one her age could sound.

In her heart, Anna felt a little boy’s hand slip from her grasp.

Thirty

A
TEMPORARY FLOOR HAD BEEN CONSTRUCTED NEAR
the raised gazebo where the musicians played. Kimberly watched the dancers, moving in time to the melody. She’d never seen so many cowboy hats in one place in her life. Immediately she thought of Chet and the Stetsons he wore much of the time. He had a brown one for work—battered and always a bit dusty—and a crisp, clean black one for church.

And he looks just as good in one as the other.

She wondered where he’d gone when the barbecuing ended. She’d expected him to join her and the others, but he’d never shown up. Not that she missed him or anything.

Liar.

Kimberly caught a glimpse of Tara and Pete spinning by. A new song was playing, something up-tempo featuring a fabulous fiddle player. When had her daughter learned to dance like that? All that turning and dipping and slipping under arched arms and changing directions. The sound of boot heels
stomping on the wooden floor filled the air, almost as if it were part of the music itself.

“I take it you like that song,” Chet said from behind her.

His words flowed over her, as smooth as warm honey. “Why do you say that?” She glanced up as he stepped around to face her.

“Because you were tapping your toes.”

“I was?”

“Yep.” He jerked his head toward the dance floor. “Care to give it a try?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never danced like that. I’d make a fool of myself.”

“With the right partner, it’s easier than it looks.”

She doubted that was true.

Chet looked toward the raised gazebo where the band played. As if on cue, the music stopped. There was silence, long enough for the musicians to turn a page. Then they started up again. Something slow and romantic sounding. “Who doesn’t like to dance to a classic Anne Murray song?” He looked back at her and held out his hand. “Could I have this dance?”

She seemed unable to resist taking it and letting him pull her up from her lawn chair. He led her to a corner of the dance floor, then drew her into position. Her right hand disappeared into his left. His right hand settled into the small of her back, his touch sending a very pleasant shiver up her spine.

“Follow my lead.” His voice was husky, and a crooked smile curved his mouth.

She swallowed as he turned her around and guided her right into the circle of other dancers. She stumbled a little,
but that firm hand in the small of her back steered her as surely as a bit turned a horse. The rest of the dancers faded into the distance. There were just the two of them, moving smoothly around the floor. The singer said something about having this dance for the rest of her life, and the look in Chet’s eyes said he was asking that very same question of her.

It was unfair of him to be so wonderful. She hadn’t come to Idaho to stay in Idaho, and Chet Leonard would never leave Kings Meadow. What future could they have?

But that question was beginning to sound hollow. An excuse, not a reason.

W
AS IT POSSIBLE
G
OD HAD FASHIONED
K
IMBERLY SO
she would fit this perfectly in his arms?

If Chet could have his way, the song would have gone on until darkness fell and the fireworks began. But he didn’t get his way. The music ended. Couples moved off the floor. Others moved onto it, ready for the next song. Chet hoped for another slow song. He wasn’t that lucky. It was going to be a hand-clapping, boot-stomping, line-dancing tune instead.