Montana Hearts (6 page)

“It's all right,” Sarah said. “Some letters are impossible to say without moving your lips. Like
B
and
F
and
M.
So that's when a good ventriloquist has to fool the audience just a little.”

“How?” Beth asked, showing at least a modicum of interest in process.

“You're going to learn to substitute other sounds that don't require using your lips.”

As Sarah explained what sounds to use as substitutes and gave Toby some practice sentences to work on, Kurt cleared the table and started to rinse off the dishes.

“I'll do that,” Sarah told him.

“No, I'm good. You go ahead with the kids.”

Sarah had found ventriloquism a great way to entertain sick children at the hospital. A way to help them and feel good about herself.

She'd been given a talent, a gift from God. If she could pass that on to Kurt's children, she'd feel doubly blessed.

 

After the children went to bed and Kurt holed up in his office, Sarah went to her room. Despite the fact she'd awakened early that morning, she wasn't sleepy.

Instead, a sense of restlessness plagued her, a feeling of heightened awareness of her own needs as a woman, as though she'd been given an extra dose of hormones.

Which was peculiar. As a rule her emotions remained steady with no wild mood swings. She was in control—control that seemed to be slipping.

To divert herself and her thoughts, she decided to do an internet search to find what she could about Western Region Cattle Feeding and their feed lot activities. With a little luck, she could build a strong case for Kurt to present to county and state authorities about the company's lax feed-lot practices.

Curling up on the bed with pillows propped behind her, she opened her laptop. With a few keystrokes, she found thousands of references to the company. She
narrowed her search and began methodically working her way through the websites that appeared the most informative.

She downloaded the most telling reports to a flash drive—complaints and suits filed against the company in a half-dozen Western states, photos of environmental damage caused by Western Region's practices, copies of internal emails the management had exchanged that had been provided as evidence in subsequent litigation. Finally she located the company's annual report to stockholders.

Leaning back, she rubbed her tired eyes. Kurt was right. The chances that Western Region Cattle Feeding would pollute the water table on his land were extremely high. He had to stop them.

She checked her watch. A little past ten. If he was still in his office, she'd show him all this evidence tonight and he could begin building his case to present to the county.

Taking the flash drive out of her computer, she went in search of Kurt. She found him in his office, tilted back in his desk chair, his stockinged feet propped on a drawer he'd pulled out. A newspaper lay open in his lap, and he was sound asleep, snoring lightly.

She started to back away from the door.

He opened his eyes. “Did you need something?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

His feet hit the floor. “I wasn't asleep. Just resting my eyes.”

Yeah, right, she thought, wondering if he always snored when he was awake. “This can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, come on in.” He stretched and rolled his shoulders. “What's up?”

“I was checking Western Region Cattle Feeding on the internet. I think I've come up with enough material for you to make your case to the county.”

“Really?” He sat forward, wide-awake now, and waved her into the room.

Plugging her flash drive into his computer, she brought up the files she'd found, summarizing and explaining the importance of each discovery in terms of his case. He paid close attention, nodding often, and asking probing questions as they went along.

When she'd finished, he stared at the computer screen and said, “You're an amazing woman, Sarah. It would've taken me a hundred years to ferret out all this stuff.”

She glowed in his praise. “Chalk it up to a misspent youth. I've always loved research.”

He leaned back. “All I have to do is put this stuff together in a coherent way and arrange a hearing in front of the county planning department.”

“I can help you with that, if you'd like.”

His smile made her flush with pleasure. “I'd like.”

 

When Saturday night arrived, Sarah asked Kurt and his children about going to church the following day. The looks they had exchanged and Kurt's comments spoke volumes about the distance they had put between themselves and the Lord since Zoe's death.

The next morning, Sarah got up early to make pancakes and sausages for the family, then dressed and headed into town by herself, heartsick that Kurt and his children had turned their backs on God.

As she pulled into the parking lot of Good Shepherd Community Church, the bell in the steeple played a clarion call to worship. Slipping inside, she took a seat near the back and centered her thoughts and her emotions.

The church was small, holding a maximum of a hundred and fifty worshippers seated on simple wooden pews, which were three-quarters full this morning. A pulpit made of oak stood at the front of the church. High windows marched the length of the sanctuary leading to a single stained glass window depicting the Crucifixion. Angled morning sun caught the glass, sending shards of rainbow color across the far wall.

As the last notes of the clarion call ebbed, the congregation stood and the organist struck the opening notes of a familiar hymn. The minister, an older gentleman with silver hair and the whip-thin body of a distance runner, stepped out onto the stage and held up his hands to welcome the congregation.

Peace and comfort washed over Sarah. She felt at home. As though worshipping in this sanctuary was where she belonged. Forever.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes.
She'd only be here for the summer.

She chided herself for the maudlin thought. She'd never intended to stay
forever.
Seattle was her home.

The preacher's voice filled the sanctuary with hope and faith. The choir, though not large, echoed the joyous message. The congregation nodded their agreement and joined in singing hymns with enough enthusiasm that Sarah didn't feel embarrassed to add her wobbly soprano voice to the mix.

When the service ended, Sarah stood to exit the pew. The woman sitting in front of her turned to greet her.

“Hello, dear, you're new here, aren't you?” In her sixties, the stranger wore large glasses with blue-tinted rims that magnified her striking lavender eyes. She extended her hand. “I'm Alexis Hoffman, the pastor's wife. Welcome to our little church.”

“Thank you.” Sarah introduced herself and said she was working for the Ryders.

“That dear man. His family has experienced a terrible loss. We pray, in time, his grief will not be so difficult to bear and he and his children will return to our little church, and to God.”

“So do I.”

Together they edged out into the aisle, joining the departing parishioners. Bonnie Sue was among them.

“Hey there, hon. I was hoping to see you this morning.” The waitress-cum-town-welcoming-committee gave her a hug. “I see you've met Alexis. This lovely lady is not only Pastor Hoffman's wife, she's also the Director of Volunteers at the hospital in Shelby. That's where we get most of our medical help unless we're terrible sick and have to go off to Great Falls.”

Excitement pinged through Sarah's chest. She hadn't thought there would be an opportunity for Susie-Q and her Dr. Zoom to volunteer at a local hospital. But why not…?

Alexis tilted her head. “Our little hospital is growing all the time. I'll have you know, we now have our very own cardiac specialist on staff. A dear young man. Very skilled. Studied at Johns Hopkins.”

Sarah took special note of that information as well,
although she sincerely hoped she wouldn't need his services.

They reached Pastor Hoffman, who was greeting his flock at the door. Alexis introduced Sarah.

“I advise you to stay clear of my wife, young lady. She's a fanatic about recruiting volunteers for the Shelby hospital. It's an article of faith for her.”

Alexis laughed and squeezed her husband's hand. “Dear, you know I try not to recruit new people when I first meet them. I wouldn't want to scare this poor young woman off.” She winked at Sarah. “The second time our paths cross, however, she'll be fair game for my rousing recruitment speech, which no one can possibly resist.”

The pastor laughed and so did Sarah, who stepped away to allow others to speak with him.

“Actually, Alexis, I would be interested in talking about volunteering. I have to get back to the ranch now, but if you're coming to the potluck tonight, perhaps we can get together.”

In dramatic fashion, Alexis slapped her hand to her chest. “Bless you, my dear. Of course I'll be there this evening. We'll have a nice chat and see where you'll fit into our little program.”

K
urt lifted his Stetson and used a bandanna to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The midday sun beat down hard, stealing the shade of the barn and making the job of unloading bales of hay from his truck all the more challenging.

He leaned against the truck's tailgate. When Zoe was alive, they used to make it a point to take Sunday off. After church, they'd ride to a natural swimming hole on a tributary of the Marias River where cottonwood trees shaded the bank and have a picnic lunch. The kids would go swimming.

Sometimes Kurt did, too.

The tug of regret and loneliness tightened his throat, and he swallowed hard. He missed those days.

Hefting the last bale of hay, he shouldered the weight and carried it into the barn. Beth was in the house, probably texting her friends. Toby had gone off to be with his buddies.

Without Sarah around, the ranch seemed exceptionally quiet. He only had the lazy buzz of flies, horses
shifting from one foot to another and a sleeping dog to keep him company.

Odd that in less than a week he could feel the absence of Sarah almost as much as he missed Zoe.

He shouldn't let himself get used to having a woman around. Not an attractive woman with a slender figure and quick smile that made her eyes light up.

No, he shouldn't let that happen. Not when she'd be leaving at the end of summer.

He heard the crunch of tires on the driveway and knew Sarah was back from church. In spite of himself, his heart picked up a beat, and he strolled as casually as he could out of the barn to welcome her home.

She got out of her car and waved. He touched the brim of his hat in return, continuing to walk toward her, toward her welcoming smile.

“How'd you like Good Shepherd Church?” he asked.

“Very nice. I had a chance to meet Pastor Hoffman and his wife. I'm going to talk to her this evening about volunteering at the Shelby hospital.”

He did a mental double take. “Volunteering?”

“Well, me and Dr. Zoom volunteering. In Seattle I try to visit pediatric patients once a week to entertain them.”

A generous thing for her to do with her time, though it didn't surprise Kurt. She had that kind of giving heart. What did surprise him was that she didn't have kids of her own. Or a husband.

That thought gave him pause. Had she ever been married? If so, what had happened?

“I'm going to go change and then I'll fix you some lunch.”

“Don't worry about me. I'll grab something myself.” Feeling awkward and strangely adolescent, he tucked his fingertips in his hip pockets. “How 'bout after you eat, I give you a riding lesson?”

Her blue eyes rounded to the size of saucers. “Riding? As in on a…horse?” Her voice cracked.

“Sure, you've been teaching the kids ventriloquism. Now it's my turn to teach you something. Can't have you living on the Rocking R all summer without ever getting on a horse.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head, which made her blonde hair shimmer at her jawline. “No need for you to teach me to ride. Besides, I have to make a macaroni-and-ham salad for the church potluck tonight.”

She turned to go inside, and he caught her hand, her fingers slender and soft in his work-roughened palm. She halted abruptly.

“You aren't afraid, are you?”

Her head came up, a frown tugging her brows together as her eyes locked onto his. “A little, maybe. It's silly, I know.”

“Tell you what. We'll stay inside the corral. I'll walk you around on Peaches so you can get the feel for sitting on a horse. It's not scary at all. We won't leave the corral and we can stop anytime you give the word.”

Without breaking eye contact, she pursed her lips, then licked them. They glistened the lightest shade of pink in the sunlight. “You promise?”

“I promise. Scout's honor.” He held up three fingers.

“Were you ever really a Scout?”

The corners of his mouth twitched with the threat of a smile. “Nope. 4-H. But they've got the same sort of rules about honor and doing one's duty. Besides, you don't want Toby to think you're chicken.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she withdrew her hand. “All right, I'll try. But you'd better keep your promise or you'll be eating charcoal steaks the rest of the summer.”

Laughter rose up in his chest like a bubbling spring in a sun-parched prairie, refreshing and lifting his spirits.

UPS had delivered Sarah's package of jeans and boots the previous day. Now she pulled the pants on and snapped the waist closed. Definitely a snugger fit than her usual slacks. The lace-up boots made her feet look two sizes larger than usual.

“You're not vying for a beauty-queen title, so don't worry about it,” she reminded herself. Instead she was going to climb onto the back of an animal that outweighed her by eight-hundred pounds.
Terrific
.

She should've told Kurt no, thanks. But the burning intensity of his eyes, the purr of his masculine voice, and the feel of her hand in his, had made her a little dizzy. She'd agreed before she could stop herself.

Then his husky laughter had totally undone her.

Foolish woman.

Her heart beat hard against her rib cage as she walked toward Kurt, who already had Peaches saddled and ready to go in the corral. Zoe had no doubt been an excellent rider. Sarah couldn't compete with her. She had no reason to.

But she hated the thought of looking like a fool.

Kurt eyed her up and down as she reached the corral fence. His lips quirked into a half smile.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

His smile broadened. “Not a thing. Climb on over the fence and we'll get started.”

She tried to recall the last time she'd climbed a fence and remembered she'd been about ten years old. She'd followed a neighbor boy over a block wall fence. He'd jumped to the ground on the other side. She'd slipped and scraped both of her elbows and ripped her jeans. Not an auspicious beginning for fence climbing.

Gathering her courage, she climbed to the top of the corral fence, swung a leg over and teetered there for a moment awkwardly trying to get the other leg over.

At the exact instant she was about to take a header into the dirt, Kurt's big hands closed around her waist. He lifted her high above the top rung, then set her safely on the ground.

Heat flooded her face, and the warmth of his grip on her waist radiated through her midsection.

“Easy does it.” His voice was low and slightly rough.

“I've never had the fence buck anyone off. Don't want to start now.”

She swallowed hard and took a step away. “How about Peaches? How many riders has she thrown?”

“Not a one. She'll be as gentle as your own mother.”

As overprotective as her mother had always been, Sarah doubted her mother would approve of her going anywhere near a horse, much less ride one.

Maybe that's precisely why she needed to do just
that. She no longer needed or wanted the suffocating concern her mother—understandably—had lavished on her. She needed to assert her independence, savor her good health, try new things.

She looked up at Kurt, his golden-brown eyes focused steadily on her.
And take a risk?

“All right, cowboy, let's do it,” she said, her voice strangely breathless.

“Atta girl.” Taking her hand, he led her to Peaches's left side. “Give her a pat and talk to her. She likes to know who she's carrying around.”

Barely able to see over Peaches's back, Sarah petted the horse's neck. The horse's withers rippled in response. She caught the strong, though not unpleasant, smell of horse flesh. “Hi, Peaches. Remember me? I gave you a bite of apple the other day.”

Peaches turned her head and eyed Sarah, then nodded her head twice.

“See? She remembers you,” Kurt said.

“If you say so.”

As though drawn to the upcoming spectacle, Rudy came out of the barn and lay down in a shady spot to watch. Maybe a good laugh would make his doggie day.

“I'll help you mount. Grab a handful of her mane with your left hand and put your left foot in my hands. I'll boost you up. Then you swing your right foot over the saddle. Nothing to it.”

She doubted it was as easy as Kurt tried to make it sound. Wiping the perspiration from her palms on her jeans, she took hold of Peaches's mane and carefully placed her foot in Kurt's cupped hands. He lifted—

“Ooh!” Suddenly unbalanced, she made a grab for the saddle horn before she went flying off on the other side of the horse. Peaches danced around, her rear end sidling toward the fence.

“Whoa, Peaches,” Kurt said, his hand on the bridle.

Sarah hung on for dear life and squeezed her eyes shut.

“You're okay, Sarah. Relax while I adjust the stirrups.”

Relax?
She was sitting ten feet in the air on a moving creature that maybe didn't want her there, apple treats or not.

She opened one eye to see what Kurt was doing. “I don't think I like this.”

“You'll be fine.”

He fussed with the stirrup, then slid her foot into it and moved to the other side to do the same. She could only see the top of his cowboy hat but she sensed he was smiling. Probably trying not to laugh his head off.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Like I'm doing the splits. I think Peaches needs to go on a diet.”

He did laugh then, but it wasn't taunting laughter. More like a shared moment of amusement and not at her expense. A responding smile crept up her cheeks.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am, I am. If I'd known teaching a city girl to ride would be such fun, I would've started years ago.”

His eyes had a playful sparkle in them that made her heart tingle and a lump form in her throat. She'd had no idea riding a horse would be so…entertaining.

He handed her the reins and showed her how to hold them. “If you're going to be doing a lot of riding, we need to get you a hat and some gloves.”

Sarah didn't think that would be necessary. A trip or two around the corral would be more than enough riding for her. No sense to overdo attempting new ventures.

Somehow that thought made her sad. That and the knowledge she'd be leaving the Rocking R long before she'd learn to be a competent rider.

While she held the reins—and the saddle horn—Kurt walked beside Peaches using a lead line. “Let yourself settle into the seat. Relax. We're taking this nice and easy.”

Easy for him to say.
She was used to riding in a car, enjoying a
smooth
ride, not sitting in a swaying saddle that loosened the bones in her spine.

Meanwhile, he strolled casually along, his long legs striding with ease across the ground. Even when Peaches bumped him with her nose, as though she either wanted to be done with this exercise or be given another apple snack, he seemed unfazed. She envied him the comfort he felt in his own skin.

“When you want to turn,” he said, “all you have to do is drag the reins in the direction you want to go. Give it a try.”

They were approaching the far end of the corral so she pulled the reins to the left. Peaches reared her head and nearly ran into Kurt.

“Not so hard,” he said, reassuring the animal. “Use a gentle touch. She has a soft mouth. She's trained to respond to the lightest touch.”

“Sorry.”

They reached another turn and he said, “Try it again.”

She did, barely easing the reins to the left this time. To her surprise, Peaches responded and they headed back to their starting point.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Good job. You're getting the hang of it.”

Sarah wasn't quite that optimistic.

The next thing she knew, Kurt had unhooked the lead line. “I'll keep walking beside you, but you're in charge now.”

“Kurt, I don't think—”

“You'll be fine.”

This was so not a good idea. Particularly if she got sick to her stomach and had to throw up from a bad case of nerves. Driving the freeway from Seattle to Tacoma during rush hour was less stressful than riding a horse.

She held the reins even more tightly in her left hand, the saddle horn in her right. The horse kept plodding along. Sweat formed on her nape and trickled down her back.

Suddenly there was a commotion behind her. She half turned in the saddle as Toby came galloping up to the corral on his horse. Her foot came out of the stirrup.

“Hey, look at you, Sarah. Yahoo! You're riding Peaches.” The boy waved his hat in the air.

She tried to right herself, managing to lose the other stirrup in the process. She pulled on the reins. Peaches started to back up.

“No, don't do that!” she cried.

Kurt reached for the bridle but missed.

She yanked on the reins. “Whoa!”

Peaches reared up on her hind legs.

Sarah lost her grip and screamed. She slid off the back of the horse and landed hard on her rear end. She looked up to find Peaches staring down at her with the most puzzled expression she'd ever seen, almost as if she was asking “What are you doing down there?”

Bursting out in laughter, and thoroughly embarrassed, Sarah buried her face in her hands.

Kurt knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

Choking on a laugh, she said, “Is that how all your riding lessons end?”

He cupped her chin to lift her head. Their faces were close, his breath sweet, his lips only a few aching inches from hers.

“Definitely a first.”

He smiled, a warm smile that deepened the color of his eyes and softened his rugged features. The flutter in Sarah's stomach told her there could be more lessons ahead that might end quite differently.

 

As Sarah pulled into the church parking lot, she wished again that Kurt and his children had agreed to come to the potluck social. Kurt seemed dead set against going anywhere near a church and assured Sarah they could manage their own dinner.