Big Sky Mountain(6)

After the merry-go-round rides—Madison had gone from the swan to an elephant to a giraffe to a regular carousel horse—the appointed hour arrived, and the crowd streamed from the midway into the outdoor arena, where the rodeo was about to start. The bleachers filled quickly, and everybody stood up when the giant flag was raised and last year’s Miss Parable County Rodeo sang “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Since the bull-riding would be the final event of the one-day rodeo, Hutch took his place in the bleachers next to Kendra, taking Madison easily onto his lap when they sat down.

A colorful opening ceremony followed the national anthem, and Madison watched, wide-eyed, as pretty local girls rode in formation, each one dressed in a fancy cowgirl outfit and carrying a huge banner. They performed a few expert maneuvers and the loving crowd cheered loudly enough to raise the big sky arching over all their heads by at least an inch.

“I want to do that someday,” Madison, having watched every move the girls and their horses made, said with more certainty than a four-year-old should have been capable of mustering up. “Can I do that when I’m bigger, Mommy?”

Kendra smiled, touched her daughter’s cheek. For all the disposable wipes Kendra had used on that little face today, it was still smudged with the remains of a cotton candy binge. “Sure you can,” she said. “When you’re older.”

“How much older?” Madison pressed.

Hutch chuckled and turned Madison’s pink cowgirl hat 360 degrees until it came to rest on the bridge of her nose. “Those girls out there,” he told her, “have been riding since they were your size, or even smaller. It takes a lot of practice to handle a horse the way they do, so you’ll want to be on Ruffles’s back as often as possible.”

Kendra gave him a look over Madison’s head and a light nudge with her elbow, but he just grinned at her.

The rodeo began and Madison was enthralled with every event that followed—except for the calf-roping. That made her cry, and even Hutch couldn’t convince her that calves weren’t being hurt or frightened. Calves were routinely roped, thrown down and tied on ranches, he’d explained, so they could be inoculated against diseases and treated for sickness or injury. Privately, though Kendra knew Hutch was right, from an intellectual standpoint anyway, she agreed with Madison; the event wasn’t her favorite, and she was glad when it was over.

They watched the sequence of competitions. The barrel racing—since all the competitors were female—cheered Madison up considerably. She wanted to know if she and Ruffles could start practicing that right away, along with flag carrying.

All too soon, it was time for the bull-riding. Hutch took his leave from them and headed for the area behind the chutes.

Like the other livestock in the rodeo, the bulls were provided by Walker Parrish’s outfit, and they looked mythically large to Kendra, milling around in the big pen on the opposite side of the arena.

Her heartbeat quickened a little as she saw Hutch join the other cowboys waiting to risk their fool necks, and her stomach, containing too much carnival food, did a slow, backward roll. Saliva flooded her mouth and she swallowed, willing herself not to throw up right there in the bleachers.

The first cowboy wore a helmet instead of a Western hat, a choice Kendra considered eminently practical, and he was thrown before the sports clock reached the three-second mark.

The second cowboy made it all the way to six seconds before the bull he was riding went into a dizzying spin, tossed the man to the sawdust and very nearly trampled him.

Madison looked on, spellbound, huddled close against Kendra’s side. Once or twice, her thumb crept into her mouth—a habit she’d long since left behind as babyish.

Another helmeted rider followed, and lasted just two and a half seconds before his bull sent him flying.

Then it was Hutch’s turn.

The whole universe seemed to recede from Kendra like an outgoing tide. There was only herself, Madison, Hutch and that bull he was already lowering himself onto over there in the chute. He wore his hat, not a helmet, and Kendra saw him laugh as he adjusted it, saw his lips move as he spoke to the gate man.

Then the gate swung open and the bull—the thing was the size of a Volkswagen, Kendra thought anxiously—plunged out into the very center of the arena, putting on a real show.

The announcer said something about Hutch’s well-known skills as a bull-rider, but to Kendra the voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away and through a narrow pipe.

The big red numbers on the arena clock flicked from one to the next.

Hutch remained on the back of that bull through a whole series of violent gyrations, and then, blessedly, the buzzer sounded and one of the pickup men rode up alongside the furious critter. Hutch, triumphant, switched smoothly to the other horse, behind the rider, and got off when they’d put just a few yards of distance between them and the bull.

Eight seconds.

Until today, Kendra had never dreamed how long eight seconds could seem.

The crowd went crazy, clapping and whistling and stomping booted feet on old floorboards in the bleachers, and the announcer prattled happily about how Hutch would be hard to beat.

Madison scrambled onto Kendra’s lap. “Is he done now?” she asked, sounding as breathless as Kendra felt.

Kendra hugged her daughter tightly. “Yes,” she said. “It’s over.”

“Good,” Madison said. “That boy-cow looks mean.”

Kendra chuckled and, to her relief, some of the tension drained away, softening her shoulders and unclenching her stomach. “I think that boy-cow is mean,” she agreed.

They watched as Hutch climbed deftly over a fence and stood, watching as the next bull and rider came hurtling out of a chute.

For Kendra, the rest of the event passed in a blur of cowboys and bulls and disconnected words booming over the loudspeakers, all of that underpinned by enthusiastic applause. She sat holding Madison a little too tightly, trying not to imagine how Hutch’s ride—or that of some other cowboy—could have turned out.

The effort was futile, and by the time Hutch and the other winners were announced and the closing ceremony began—the announcer thanked everybody for coming and reminded them to stick around, check out the goods on offer in the exhibition hall, and enjoy the carnival and, later on, the fireworks—Kendra was weak in the knees.

She and Madison met Hutch, as agreed, outside the arena gate.

Seeing him again, up close, all in one piece, Kendra felt a humiliating urge to cry and fling herself into his arms. Fortunately, she didn’t give in to that clingy, codependent compulsion.

“Congratulations,” she said mildly, stiffening her spine and lifting her chin.

But Madison was much more forthright. She marched over to Hutch, set her little hands on her hips and tipped her head back to look up at him. Her hat tumbled down her back, dangling by the string Kendra meant to snip off with scissors at the first opportunity. “I don’t like it when you ride boy-cows,” she informed him. “You could get hurt!”

Hutch smiled, crouched down to look into Madison’s pleasantly grungy face and gently tugged at one of her curls. “I’m just fine, shortstop,” he said quietly. He might have been talking to an adult, from his tone, rather than a child. He spoke firmly to Madison, but addressed her as an equal. “See?”

Madison softened, as he’d intended. “Do you ride boy-cows a lot?” she wanted to know.

“No,” he replied. “Just once a year when the rodeo rolls around.”

Madison mulled that over. Being so young, she probably didn’t have any real conception of such an extended length of time. A year, most likely, sounded a lot like forever.

Kendra, on the other hand, knew those twelve months would pass quickly. Would she and Madison be right here when it was rodeo time again, watching this man deliberately take his life in his hands? Or would Hutch have grown tired of them by then, and moved on to some other woman?

She didn’t trust herself to say a word in that moment; just stood there, frustrated and scared and wanting Hutch Carmody more than she ever had before.

What was wrong with her?

Why couldn’t she just stay away from this man, find somebody else—an insurance agent, say, or a schoolteacher, or an electrician, if she had to walk on the wild side?

Anybody but a cowboy.

Hutch rose easily from his haunches, bent and hoisted Madison into his arms.

She yawned and rested her head against his shoulder, her pink cowgirl hat bobbing between her shoulder blades.

Kendra slipped the hat off over Madison’s head and carried it for her.

“I think a certain little cowgirl could use some peace and quiet,” Hutch said, looking at Kendra over Madison’s bright tousle of hair. “What if we head out to my place for a while?” Seeing the protest brewing in Kendra’s eyes, he immediately added, “Opal’s there and the fireworks won’t start for hours.”

Kendra sighed, then gave in with a nod.

Madison clearly needed a break from all the hubbub and excitement, and so did she.

They left the fairgrounds, Madison asleep on Hutch’s shoulder and barely waking up when he unlocked the truck and set her gently in her safety seat.

“Did I miss the fireworks?” the child asked drowsily.

“Nope,” Hutch said, buckling her in. “We’re going out to the ranch to spend some time with Opal and Ruffles, but we’ll be back in plenty of time to watch the sky light up. And look—here’s your teddy bear, sitting right here waiting for you.”

Madison nodded and smiled and drifted off, her head resting against the bear’s plush pink shoulder.

Kendra, evidently relegated to sidekick status and feeling like a third wheel, went around the truck, opened the passenger door and climbed inside quickly. She didn’t want to linger, taking the chance that Hutch might goose her in the backside again, the way he had before they left her place.

A wicked little thrill zapped through her at the memory, though.

The drive to the ranch passed in silence, Madison sleeping in back, Kendra at a loss for anything to say, Hutch easy in his skin, as usual, and thinking his own thoughts.

When they pulled in at Whisper Creek, Opal was outside, taking laundry down off the clothesline. Leviticus supervised from beneath a shady tree.

She smiled and waved when she saw them, picked up her laundry basket, and started for the house.

Hutch was carrying Madison, so Kendra took the basket from Opal, after a brief, good-natured tugging match.

“That’s one worn-out little child,” Opal observed as Madison snoozed on, her small arms wrapped loosely around Hutch’s neck. “You were right to bring her away from all that dirt and noise at the rodeo.”

“We’ll be going back in a few hours,” Hutch replied. “She’s dead-set on taking in the fireworks.”

Opal chuckled warmly at that, and softly. “You put her in there on my bed,” she told Hutch, gesturing toward a doorway leading off the kitchen. “That way she’ll be able to hear our voices when she wakes up and won’t be startled to find herself in a strange place.”

Kendra followed Hutch, watched as he laid the child on Opal’s quilted bed, tenderly pulled off her new boots and draped a lightweight comforter over her.

There he goes again, acting like a daddy.

Madison stirred and then succumbed to happy exhaustion.

Back in the kitchen, Opal was pouring coffee for Hutch and Kendra, and brewing tea for herself. The counters were lined with a wide assortment of casseroles and home-baked pies.

“Somebody die?” Hutch asked, reaching toward one of the pies. Leviticus stayed close to him, plainly adoring the man.

Opal stopped what she was doing long enough to slap his hand away. “No,” she said with a sharpness that was soft at the center, “nobody died. We’re getting a new pastor—Lloyd’s decided to retire, God bless him—and he’ll be introduced to the congregation tomorrow morning.”

Kendra, who had missed the last couple of Sunday services, felt mildly chagrined that she hadn’t known such a change was in the works. She opened her mouth to comment, couldn’t think of a single thing to say and closed it again.

“You can have some of that cherry crumble over there,” Opal told Hutch, gesturing toward a pan sitting all alone on top of the stove. “I made that especially for you.”

“Yes,” Hutch said, homing in on the cherry crumble.

Kendra, meanwhile, sat down to sip from the cup of coffee Opal gave her.

“Want some of this?” Hutch asked from across the room, lifting a plate with a double helping of dessert scooped onto it.

“No, thanks,” Kendra said with a weary smile. “It looks delicious, but I’ve had way too much sugar today as it is.”

Hutch came to the table, set his plate down and sat. “You keep this up, Opal,” he teased, admiring the food, “and I might have to put you on my payroll.”

Opal laughed and waved a scoffing hand at him. “That’ll be the day,” she said. “Slade Barlow signs my paychecks. I’m only here to keep you from turning into a seedy old coot who hangs flags and blankets up for window curtains and eats every meal out of a tin can.”

Hutch laughed at the image and nearly choked on the bite he’d just taken.

Kendra, on edge since the bull-riding competition, relaxed a little and even smiled.

“Anyhow,” Opal went on, taking a place at the table to sip her tea, “I’m beginning to think there’s hope for you after all, Hutch Carmody.” She glanced at Kendra, smiled. “Yes, sir, I do think there’s hope.”

Kendra, catching the other woman’s meaning, squirmed a little. “So,” she said with a little too much spirit, “Pastor Lloyd is retiring. Will there be a party in his honor?”

Opal nodded. “Sure,” she said. “We’re planning it for tomorrow, right after church.” An odd, distant expression came into her dark eyes as she pondered, gazing past Kendra’s right shoulder and into deep space. “The new fellow,” she went on, “is a dead ringer for Morgan Freeman. Went to Harvard. And he’s single, too. A widower, like my Willie was.”

Hutch chuckled at that, but he was too busy consuming cherry crumble to make any remarks. Evidently, riding bulls took a lot out of a person, producing a desperate need for simple carbohydrates. Subtly, he slipped a bite or two to the dog.

“You’ve met him?” Kendra asked, mainly to make conversation, though she was a little intrigued by Opal’s sudden wistful mood.

Opal shook her head, and the gesture seemed to bring her back from wherever mental territory she’d wandered off to. “I saw his picture, though,” she said, and Kendra would have sworn the woman was blushing a little, her mahogany cheeks taking on a rosy glow. “I’m on the pastoral selection committee, you know.”

Hutch swallowed, drank some coffee and jammed his fork back into what remained of his cherry crumble. “You hired the man because you think he’s good-looking?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Why, Opal, a person would almost get the impression that you’re on the lookout for another husband.”

She swatted at him, trying hard not to laugh. “You hush,” she chortled, obviously embarrassed.

“I’ll dance at your wedding,” Hutch told her, still grinning.

“You and weddings,” she said, and then made a dismissive sound, conveying faux disgust, and rose to leave the table. “There’s a combination for you.” She paused, sighed, and adjusted the knot at the back of her apron. “I’ve got a lot of cooking to do,” she said, “so I’ll thank you to let me get on with it.”

Hutch finished the cherry crumble and carried his plate to the sink, where he dutifully rinsed it and set it in the dishwasher, along with the fork.

“I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air,” he said.

Again, Kendra felt that strange, surging rush of heat. Her heart struggled up into her throat and pounded there. Was he suggesting...

“It’s a beautiful day,” Opal said, careful not to look in Kendra’s direction. “Why don’t you two take a walk or a horseback ride? I’ll be glad to look after the Little Miss while you’re gone, and Leviticus will be my helper.”

Kendra might as well have been back on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the carnival, the way that room seemed to spin and dip around her.

A walk would probably be harmless, but she didn’t dare go riding with Hutch because she knew where they’d end up.

At the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

To say anything at all.

Hutch looked at her, one eyebrow slightly raised in question.

“Go ahead,” Opal told her, blissfully unaware that she, a church-going, Bible-believing woman, was propelling Kendra straight into the dark, raging heart of sin. “Madison will be just fine. Fact is, you’ll probably be back before she even wakes up from her nap.”

Five minutes later, still dazed, Kendra found herself in the barn, watching as Hutch saddled horses for both of them.

Occasionally, he glanced in her direction, but no words passed between them until he’d saddled both horses and led them out into the afternoon sunshine.

There, Hutch turned to look straight into her eyes. His expression was solemn but not sad, calm but not complacent. He’d been clean-shaven that morning, but now his caramel-colored beard was coming in.

“If you want to stay behind,” he told her, “now’s the time to say so.”

Kendra swallowed hard. Nodded.

Hutch had left his hat in the house for whatever reason, though he was still wearing the same dusty rodeo clothes as before, and he ran a hand through his hair. “You do know where we’re headed?” he persisted.

Again, Kendra swallowed and nodded. She walked over to her horse, the same one she’d ridden that other time, put a foot in the stirrup and almost sprang up into the saddle. She took the reins in hand and waited for Hutch to lead the way.

He sighed, shook his head once and finally flashed a devastating grin at her. “So be it,” he said, and they were off.

Kendra followed. It was as though there were two women sharing her body—one sensible and wary, the other reckless and wild.

At the moment, the latter was winning out.

Neither of them spoke as they crossed the range, though Hutch looked back at her once over his right shoulder, before urging his gelding onto the trail that twisted up the mountainside toward the hidden meadow.

Stop, turn around, go back, Sensible Kendra pleaded.

I want this man, countered Reckless Kendra. I want him and I need him and I don’t care if it’s wrong.

There will be consequences, warned her reasonable side.

She knew that was true, but it didn’t stop her, didn’t even slow her down.

Her mutinous body had taken over, pushing aside her fretful mind with all its dreads and worries.

The meadow was just as she remembered it, shady and secluded and, at the same time, offering a wide view of Parable and the surrounding land.

They dismounted, still without speaking, and Hutch led the horses into a patch of sweetgrass nearby, draping the reins loosely over their necks so they wouldn’t trip over them, leaving them to graze.

Kendra, meanwhile, approached the curious pile of stones.

“What’s this?” she asked when Hutch appeared beside her, their arms touching.

“A way of getting things out of my system, I guess,” he replied.

Kendra frowned, puzzled.

He turned her to face him, resting his hands lightly beneath her elbows. “Those are my regrets,” he explained, inclining his head toward the pile of stones. “Every rock represents something I’d like to change but can’t. I figured stacking them in a pile was better than carrying their counterparts around in my head.”

The statement made an odd kind of sense to Kendra, though at the moment, little else did.

Was she really here, in the secret meadow, alone with Hutch Carmody?

As if in answer, he cupped her chin in his hand, bent his head and kissed her. At first, it was just a light brush of his lips against hers, but then it deepened, grew hot and moist, and Kendra’s arms went around his neck, while his tightened around her torso, holding her close.

For Kendra, that kiss was a fiery balm, not just to her body but to her spirit, as well. She returned it fiercely, letting go of everything but the heady sensations Hutch stirred in her, the wild needs, the treacherous joy, the sweet sorrow of knowing that life is short and precious.

“I guess that’s a yes,” Hutch said with a raspy chuckle when the kiss finally ended.

Kendra laughed, and they kissed again, even more hungrily this time.

They eased downward into the thick carpet of grass without their mouths parting, did battle with their tongues, pushed and tugged at each other’s clothes.

Nearby, the horses grazed peacefully, saddle leather creaking now and then, their bridle fittings jingling as they raised and lowered their heads.

Birds swooped and sang, and tiny creatures scuttled through the grass, and Kendra gave herself up to Hutch, to his hands, his mouth, his husky whispers.

Time slipped away, just as their clothes had. The ground was soft under Kendra’s back and their only covering was the sky.

He kissed her until she was so dizzy that the arch of blue over their heads blurred whenever she opened her eyes.

He ran his lips along the side of her neck, across her collarbone, all the while caressing her breasts, one and then the other, with a gentle, calloused hand.

Kendra gasped with pleasure and arched her back, wanting him now, not later.

But the excruciatingly delicious foreplay went on—he nibbled at her, everywhere, tongued her nipples until they were pebble-hard, and finally suckled.

It felt so good that she cried out, offering a single, insensible, desperate plea.

Now. Every nerve, every cell in her body seemed to scream the word.

There was, however, no hurrying Hutch Carmody, when it came to lovemaking, anyway—he continued to take his time, stroking her with his hands, exploring every curve and hollow with his lips or the tip of his tongue.

Finally, he came to the core of her femininity, and touched the soft, moist curls with the heat of his breath, arousing her to an even higher pitch of need.

She begged.

He parted her, took her full into his mouth and sucked.

Glorious heat pounded through her like a drum beat, and her hips rose from the soft ground, seeking, seeking the warmth and wetness of his mouth. She felt his hands, strong, under her buttocks, holding her up so that he could drink from her like some sacred cup.

Passion and pleasure raged inside her, like a lightning storm, clamoring, climbing, driving her ever upward toward...heaven?

She shattered into blazing pieces, splintering across the sky.

Fireworks, she thought, as her body flexed and flexed again, reveling in wave after wave of satisfaction.

When he’d wrung the last throaty cry of release from her, Hutch lowered her gently to the ground. He knelt astraddle of her, breathing hard, and she was aware of him reaching for something nearby, tearing open a packet, putting on a condom.

Without a word, he poised himself to take her, waited the instant it took for her to nod and slide her hands along the muscular length of his back.

He was inside her in a single, powerful stroke, deep inside her, where all her dreams and secrets lived, and the sweet satisfaction she’d felt only moments before turned to fiery need.

She whispered his name, raised herself to him.

Once they’d attained a rhythm, he increased the pace, then slowed it, now driving into her, now withdrawing almost completely.

His control amazed her, given that she’d lost hers with the first kiss.

Soon, Kendra was flailing in the grasp of an undulating, rippling climax so intense that she thought she might actually die before it ended.

Hutch murmured to her and she saw the muscles tighten along his neck and upper arms as he plunged through the final barrier and let go, giving a low, ragged shout as he spilled himself into her.

Afterward, they lay side by side in the soft grass, still breathing hard, and a soft breeze rippled over them, like a blessing.

The sky and the tree tops, out of focus before, slowly regained their color and shape, but they blurred a little, too, because Kendra’s eyes were full of tears she couldn’t have explained.

Hutch raised himself on one elbow, looked down at her face, brushed the moisture from one of her cheeks with the side of his thumb. But he didn’t ask why she was crying and Kendra was glad, because she couldn’t have explained that the things she was feeling were so big, so ferocious and so wonderful that she wasn’t sure she could bear them.

He kissed her softly, briefly, this time offering solace, not passion.

They were silent for a long time, recovering, drawing themselves back together like the scattered pieces of a pair of jigsaw puzzles.

Kendra was the first to speak. “You brought a condom,” she observed with a little smile.

“Just the one,” Hutch replied. “Damn it.”

She laughed richly, freely, openly. For the first time in a long while, she felt whole.

Her joy was bittersweet, though, because she knew it couldn’t last.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN



KENDRA’S WELL AND thoroughly loved body thrummed with residual ecstasy as she slowly, carefully put her clothes back on, determined to come away looking as though she’d never taken them off in the first place. Hutch, wearing his jeans again and shrugging into the shirt he’d discarded earlier, grinned at her.

Things like this, she thought, were so much easier for a man.

All men had to do was tuck in their shirt and zip up their jeans and they were good to go, with nobody the wiser. She, on the other hand, probably had grass in her hair, and her French braid was coming undone. And even if she got her clothes and hair right, her eyes surely glowed and her cheeks were flushed, too—both sure signs that she’d just had the best sex of her life.

Fortunately, Madison wouldn’t pick up on the signals. But Opal might.

Hutch walked over to her, undid the braid completely, and ran splayed fingers through her hair, letting it spill down over her shoulders.

“That’s better,” he said, quietly grave. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

Kendra raised her hands, meaning to gather her hair back and replait it, having momentarily forgotten that the rubber band she’d used to secure it was lost somewhere in the grass, but Hutch stilled her, his thumbs moving in small circular caresses against her palms.

“I left the house with a braid,” she told him as her normal state of quiet agitation overtook her again, “and I’m going back with one.”

Hutch chuckled. The way he was touching her made her regret that he’d brought only one condom. With him, once had never been enough; in the old days, they’d often made love for hours at a time, falling asleep in each other’s arms and waking up to make love again. And he’d already made her want him again just by touching her and standing so close.

His body was hard and hot and unequivocally male, and she could still feel the weight of it, the power and the thrust, and her own sweet victory found in complete surrender.

“Kendra,” he said. His tone was raspy.

“What?” she all but snapped, flustered.

“Your hair looks fine the way it is. In fact, it looks more than fine.”

She was looking around for the lost rubber band by then, but in vain. “Opal will guess—”

Hutch rested his hands on either side of her face, so she couldn’t turn her head away. “Opal has already guessed,” he said, amused. “Why do you think she offered to look after Madison so we could leave the house?”

Kendra ached with embarrassment. Of course he was right—Opal was no fool and the ploy had been a pretty obvious one, too—but on the inside, she was still soaring. Besides, for all her jitters, that reckless part of her remained very much in charge. “Awkward,” she said, singsong.

Hutch laughed. “What’s awkward? Nobody’s judging us, Kendra—we’re both grown-ups, remember?”

“One of us is, anyway,” Kendra said, making a rueful face.

He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, before lowering his hands. “Let’s go,” he said, “before I throw caution to the winds and take you down again, condom or no condom.”

“I might have something to say about that, you know,” Kendra pointed out, but she couldn’t muster up any real annoyance.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, low and easy. His right index finger traipsed lightly down her cheek, along her neck and once around her breast, in a slow, heated orbit.

Electricity jolted through her, and she jumped back a step, every bit as hot and bothered as she’d been when they first tumbled into the grass. “No,” she said quickly. “It wasn’t a challenge.”

He grinned. Then he made a sweeping gesture with one arm toward the placidly waiting horses.

They each mounted up, Kendra moving quickly so he wouldn’t “help.”

When they got back to the barn, Hutch took care of the horses and sent Kendra inside to see if Madison had awakened from her nap yet.

She hadn’t.

Opal remained in the kitchen and a delicious aroma filled the air.

“All three of you need a real supper,” the older woman announced firmly. “Not more carnival food.” If she’d noticed that Kendra’s hair was no longer pulled back in its former tidy braid, she didn’t offer a comment or give any indication that she knew anything special had happened while they were out.

Kendra was fiercely grateful for that; she wasn’t ready for anyone else to know, not even Joslyn and Tara, and she told them pretty much everything.

She slipped away to the nearest powder room, washed her hands, splashed her face with cool water—her makeup was long gone but the glow made up for it—and inspected her clothes for grass stains in front of a full-length mirror.

When she came out, Madison was in the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Is it tomorrow?” she asked Kendra. “Did I miss the fireworks?”

Kendra swept her up, hugged her, and gave her a smacking kiss on one pudgy cheek. “It’s still today,” she said. “And we’re going back to town for the fireworks after supper.”

Madison looked greatly relieved, and wriggled in Kendra’s arms, wanting to stand on her own. Even at four, she had a streak of independence running through her as wide as the Big Sky River. “Good,” she said looking around the kitchen, nodding a hello at a smiling Opal. “Where’s Hutch?”

So it was “Hutch” now, and not “Mr. Carmody.”

Kendra wasn’t sure how she felt about that—or anything else, really. Her emotions were still in a jumble, impossibly tangled. She knew the regrets would set in eventually—she could feel them circling around her, slowly closing in, like wolves waiting for a campfire to die down to embers—but for now, for tonight, she was going to let things be all right, just the way they were.

“He’s in the barn,” Kendra answered.

Madison, more and more awake as the moments passed, tilted her head to one side and studied Kendra quizzically. “What happened to your hair, Mommy?”

Before Kendra could stumble out a reply, Opal came to the rescue. “I could use some help setting the table,” she told the little girl, “and I know you’re real good at that.”

Madison lit up, allowing Opal to take her over to the sink and quickly wash her small hands with a moist paper towel.

Meanwhile, Opal’s gaze met Kendra’s, full of kind understanding. The woman might as well have said, “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be all right,” her expression conveyed so much tenderness.

Hutch stepped in from outside a moment later, rolled up his shirtsleeves and went through the hand-washing ritual at the kitchen sink. Except for a certain light in his eyes, he looked like innocence personified.

After drying his hands, he took four plates down from the cupboard and set them between the knives, forks and spoons Madison had carefully arranged at each place. He might have been dealing cards, his motions were so deft.

“You ought to come to town with us,” he told Opal fifteen minutes later when they were all seated at the table, enjoying her fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy. “Take in the fireworks.”

“Thank you very much but no, sir,” Opal replied briskly. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.”

Kendra sneaked a glance at Hutch and saw that his eyes were twinkling with mischief, as well as recent satisfaction. Still feeling the occasional sweet aftershock herself, Kendra blushed again.

“I knew it,” he told Opal. “You’ve got your cap set for the new preacher.”

“I do not,” Opal said. “For all I know, he’s a rascal. You good-looking types usually are.”

He chuckled. “What do we know about this guy?” he asked. “If he comes a-courting, I need to be sure he’s on the level.”

“Stop it,” Opal said, though she was clearly enjoying the exchange. “He’s a looker and a widower and he has a divinity degree from one of the best universities in the country, and that’s the sum total of my knowledge.”

Hutch chewed on that, and a mouthful of chicken, for a few moments, swallowed, and went right on teasing Opal. “A Harvard man,” he ruminated. “Makes me wonder why he’d want to live in a place like Parable, Montana. What’s this yahoo’s name?”

Opal glowered at Hutch, but her eyes were dancing behind the lenses of her old-fashioned glasses. “If you want to know that,” she shot back, “just come to church tomorrow and you’ll find out.”

Hutch huffed out a laugh. “The last time I was there,” he said, “all hell broke loose.”

“We go to church sometimes,” Madison put in, eager to join the banter. “Don’t we, Mommy?”

“Yes,” Kendra said.

“Are we going tomorrow?” Madison asked. “To see the new preacher from Harvard?”

She smiled. A little repentance might be in order, she thought, for me at least. “Unless you’re too tired,” she answered. “It will be very late when the fireworks get over tonight and you might need to sleep in tomorrow morning.”

“Can I ride the merry-go-round again?” the child inquired, on to the next thing, like a firefly flitting from bush to branch. “I want to see if the tiger really bucks like a boy-cow.”

Hutch grinned, reached out to tousle Madison’s hair. “We’ll have plenty of time for tiger rides,” he told her. “It’s still a couple more hours until it gets dark enough out to set off those fireworks.”

“I might be awake at midnight!” Madison marveled. No doubt there were a few storybook pumpkin-coaches going through her mind, drawn by talking mice. To a small child, Kendra reflected, midnight was a magical hour.

“You might be,” Kendra agreed, sure the little girl would be sound asleep on Hutch’s shoulder again before the grand finale.

“Wow,” Madison breathed. “Midnight is really late.”

“Yep,” Hutch said affably with only the briefest glance in Kendra’s direction, lavishing attention on his dog, instead.

Half an hour later, after Kendra had helped Opal clear the table and set the kitchen to rights—Hutch had taken Madison out to the barn to say hello to Ruffles while the cleanup was going on—the three of them were back in Hutch’s truck, headed for town.

There was still plenty of light, though shadows were slowly creeping down the mountainsides to pool in the valley where Parable rested, all lit up in Christmas tree colors for the Fourth.

The man at the entrance gate to the fairgrounds flashed a black light on the backs of their hands, and Madison was thrilled to see the stamp she’d gotten that morning reappear on her skin.

“It’s magic,” she breathed.

Kendra loved her little girl so much in that moment that she had to restrain herself from grabbing her up and hugging her tight.

They returned to the merry-go-round—like the other rides, it was doing a brisk business because there was still at least an hour to kill before the fireworks began—though Hutch remarked that half the county was probably over at the Boot Scoot Tavern, whooping it up. After waiting in line, Madison rode the tiger, this time with Hutch standing beside her and Kendra taking pictures with her cell phone each time they went by.

It all seemed so normal, though she still had that strange sense of being two people instead of just the usual one. And those two people were definitely at odds with each other.

Are you crazy? one of them demanded from a hiding place somewhere in the back of her brain. This is the same man who broke your heart. And just a few weeks ago, he abandoned his bride on their wedding day.

But this second Kendra was having none of it. She wanted to live in the moment, to enjoy the delicious fantasy of being loved and wanted for just a little while longer.

By the time everybody gathered at the edge of the field next to the rodeo grounds to watch the long-awaited fireworks show, Madison could barely keep her eyes open.

She’d had a big day, this very little girl, and despite a nap and a good supper, she was beginning to run down.

Hutch held the child in his arms and they watched as colored light spattered the dark sky, bloomed into a swelling shape of blue or green, red or gold, and gracefully fell away. Even the sparks were beautiful, a rain of shimmering fire.

Kendra realized, with a start, that she was perfectly happy, alternately watching the breathtaking spectacle in the sky and the bright reflections it cast onto the upturned faces of the people around her.

She was, in that instant, so happy that it terrified her.

It was dangerous to open her heart and her mind and her spirit to life, to a certain man, to the singular joys of being a young, healthy woman, with needs to be satisfied. Loving Madison so completely was all the risk she could bear to take—why was she pushing her luck this way? Was she greedy to want more than motherhood, more than her career?

Long before the fireworks ended and the crowds dispersed and she and Hutch and a soundly sleeping Madison were in the truck on the way to her place, Kendra had begun the lonely and singularly painful process of drawing back into herself, like a sea creature retreating into its shell.

Hutch probably sensed the change, but he didn’t say anything.

When they got to her house, he lifted Madison from the car seat and carried her into the house. Subdued, Kendra led the way to the little girl’s room, where he laid her gently on the bed and stepped back.

He left the room without a word and Kendra found herself listening hard for the sound of the front door opening and then closing behind him as she quickly undressed Madison, put her into a soft cotton nightgown and tucked her in with a kiss.

That night, it was Kendra who prayed.

“Thank You,” she whispered.

Hutch was in the kitchen when she got there, leaning idly against one of the counters with his arms folded. He’d brought the big teddy bear inside while she was looking after Madison, and set it, like a jaunty diner, in one of the chairs at the table, a gesture that touched something deep inside Kendra and left a faint bruise in its wake. Her new boots, still in their box, were there, too, filling the room with the clean scent of leather.

“Want to tell me about it?” Hutch asked quietly without preamble.

Kendra wanted to avoid his gaze, but she couldn’t seem to pull hers away. “What’s to tell?” she asked with a flippancy she didn’t really feel. “It’s been a long haul and we’re both tired, and tomorrow is another day.”

“If you think we’re going to pretend that nothing happened up there in the meadow this afternoon,” he informed her, quietly blunt, “you’re dead wrong.”

“We got—carried away,” Kendra said, trying to smile and failing.

“We made love,” Hutch said gravely. “That changes things, Kendra. At least, it does for me.”

“You said it yourself,” she said, careful to keep her voice down, in case Madison woke up and overheard things she couldn’t be expected to understand. “We’re grown-ups, not kids. We lost our heads for a little while, but now that’s behind us and—”

He crossed the room in two strides, took her gently but inescapably by her upper arms, and pressed her to the wall, held her there with the intoxicatingly hard length of his body. And then he kissed her.

It was the kind of kiss that conquers a woman, lays claim to her, body and soul.

Knowing she ought to break away, Kendra kissed him back, instead. She couldn’t help it, because the old hunger, the one she’d pushed down all this time, was rushing through her again, and it was stronger than ever.

She was blushing when Hutch drew back, released her, stepped away.

Moments later, he was gone, out the door.

She heard his truck start up, drive away.

Kendra crossed the room, turned the lock and sat down in a chair at the kitchen table across from the ludicrously large pink-and-white teddy bear Hutch had won for Madison at the carnival.

It seemed to be watching her and a bit smugly at that.

“Oh, shut up,” she told it. Then she sprang out of her chair again, marched into the bathroom and ran herself a hot bath.

There were too many feelings welling up inside her and they were too complicated to sort out. She felt frantic.

Kendra stripped, stepped into the tub, sank into the scented water.

She closed her eyes and instantly she was back in that mountain meadow, lying in the grass, with Hutch Carmody riding her as confidently as he’d ridden the bull at the rodeo and the tiger on the merry-go-round.

Kendra’s eyes popped open in alarm, and just like that, she was at home again, in her own bathtub, up to her chin in billowing bubbles.

Realistic Kendra was back on the scene, with a vengeance, while the one that had gotten her into trouble was conspicuously absent. Wasn’t that a fine how-do-you-do?

She soaked for a while, even tried to read the paperback she’d left within reach on the back of the toilet, but nothing worked.

She was all a-jangle.

Her grandmother’s voice echoed in her head.

Now you’ve done it. You’re nothing but a tramp, just like your mother.

Kendra got out of the tub, dried herself with a towel and pulled a nightgown on over her head. She padded into the kitchen, flipped on the light she’d turned off earlier and brewed herself a cup of raspberry tea.

The drink soothed her a little, but total emotional and physical exhaustion were the only reasons she slept at all that night. Her dreams were full of garish carnival rides, scary clowns dressed like cowboys and her grandmother, following her around, shaking a finger at her and repeating the same words over and over again.

You’re nothing but a tramp, just like your mother.

The next morning, Kendra woke with a pounding headache and Madison, wearing her boots and her cowgirl hat with her nightie, jumping up and down on the bed beside her.

“Get up, Mommy,” she chanted, beaming with fresh energy. “We have to go to church and look at the new preacher!”

Kendra sighed, arranged her pillows and sat up, resting against them.

“Of course we do,” she said. “And stop jumping on the bed, please.”

She didn’t want to look at what the soles of those little boots might have left behind on her formerly pristine white eyelet bedspread.

Madison leaped, agile as a gazelle, to the floor.

Her hat was askew and her eyes were wide beneath the brim.

“Get up!” she pleaded. “Please, Mommy!”

Kendra sighed again, tossed back the covers and got up. She padded into the bathroom, opened the door of the medicine cabinet and shook a couple of aspirin into her palm, swallowing them with a gulp of tap water.

Madison prattled nonstop the whole time, reliving the carnival, the rodeo, the purchase of her boots and hat and the bandannas for the dogs, and finally the fireworks.

The aspirin didn’t kick in for a full fifteen minutes, during which Kendra listened patiently to her daughter’s continuous chatter, nodded at appropriate intervals and chopped fresh strawberries to sprinkle over cold cereal.

“I’ll bet Daisy misses us,” Madison said, scrambling into her chair at the table and taking her spoon in hand. “Can we go get her right after church? And then can we go back to the ranch so I can ride Ruffles?”

“Whoa,” Kendra pleaded, raising both hands, palms out. “Slow down. We’ll go to church, stay after for Pastor Lloyd’s retirement party, and then drive out to Tara’s and pick up Daisy. That’s pretty much a day-full, sweetheart.”

“But what about Ruffles?” Madison pressed, on the verge of whining but not quite there. “She’ll be lonesome.”

“She won’t be lonesome,” Kendra replied patiently, forcing herself to eat a few bites of cereal. If she didn’t, her stomach would start growling in church for sure, probably during prayers. “She has all those other horses to keep her company, not to mention Leviticus.”

“But I want—”

“Madison,” Kendra broke in, kindly but firmly, “we’re coming home after we pick Daisy up, and that’s the end of it.”

Madison’s lower lip jutted out, but, being a bright child, she didn’t push the issue. Kendra didn’t believe in spankings, but she wasn’t above decreeing a time-out, and Madison hated those, because it meant sitting still and being quiet.

“You’re mean,” she said under her breath.

“A regular Simon LeGree,” Kendra agreed. “Eat your breakfast.”

* * *

THE REVEREND DOCTOR Walter G. Beaumont was a dead-ringer for Morgan Freeman, Kendra discovered when she and Madison were seated side by side in the pews later that morning, right next to Opal. He sat in a chair just behind and to the left of the main pulpit, while Pastor Lloyd delivered his farewell sermon.

It was a good message, though Kendra only heard part of it because her mind kept wandering. She hadn’t really expected Hutch to show up, but her feelings about that were mixed. She was disappointed that he wasn’t there, as well as relieved.

Pastor Lloyd seemed happy about his retirement, and after the services everybody gathered in the social hall adjoining the church for the party.

There was a lot of food—Opal wasn’t the only member of the congregation who’d been cooking up a storm, obviously—and small gifts were presented to the outgoing pastor, who eagerly introduced his replacement and said what an honor it was to have such a learned man in their midst.

Opal barely took her eyes off the Reverend Doctor Beaumont, Kendra noticed with a lot of affection and no little amusement. The man was tall, slender and graceful, beautifully dressed in a dark tailored suit, and his voice was deep and resonant, but not too loud.

He definitely wasn’t the hellfire-and-brimstone type, Kendra concluded with relief. She did wonder, though, as Hutch had at supper the night before, what could have attracted this highly educated and obviously sophisticated man to a small, mostly rural community like Parable.

The party was winding down by the time Pastor Lloyd asked Dr. Beaumont to say a few words.

He didn’t need a pulpit or a platform; his voice rolled over them like controlled thunder, quiet but forceful, even commanding.

“It’s an honor to join this fine community,” he said, revealing strikingly white teeth as he smiled, his gaze sweeping, warm, over the assemblage. “I look forward to getting to know all of you, and I look forward to the fishing, too, which I hear is mighty good around these parts.”

A twitter of laughter rippled through the friendly crowd. After church, most of the gathering would be heading back to the fairgrounds to shop in the exhibition hall and enjoy some of the carnival rides, but their affection for Pastor Lloyd, and their wish to make the new man feel welcome, kept them there.

Looking around, Kendra felt a rush of affection for these people—her people—all of them hardworking, doing their best to lead good and honest lives, glad to live in a place like Parable, where the fishing was good and the Fourth of July was a big, big deal.

This is home, Kendra thought, soothed. I was right to bring Madison here. No matter what else happens, this is where we belong.

By then, the children were getting restless—many of them had been to Sunday school and attended the main service afterward, thereby exhausting their limited supply of patience—and the crowd began to thin.

In her turn, Kendra said goodbye to Pastor Lloyd and shook hands with Dr. Beaumont, then rounded up an overexcited Madison and headed for the parking lot.

They drove out to Tara’s house, chatted with her for a few minutes, collected Daisy and headed back home.

There, Madison changed out of her Sunday school dress and into shorts, sneakers and a top, and she and Daisy dashed outside to play in the yard. Kendra, still in the simple blue sundress she’d worn to church, kicked off her dressy shoes and went to sit on the porch step, watching them.

She half hoped Hutch would show up, or simply call, and half hoped he wouldn’t.

She needed time and space so she could get some perspective, sort through what had happened up on the mountainside the day before. At the same time, she wanted him close again.

The sound of her ringing cell phone interrupted her thoughts; she slipped into the house, retrieved it from the counter where she’d left it before church, and answered, “This is Kendra Shepherd.”

“Hello, Kendra Shepherd,” said a cheerful female voice that seemed vaguely familiar. “This is Casey Elder. Walker Parrish gave me your number?”

“Yes,” Kendra said, surprised to find herself a little starstruck and right on the verge of gushing. “Hello, Ms. Elder.”

“Call me Casey,” was the perky response, “and I’ll call you Kendra. How’s that?”

Kendra smiled. “That’s fine,” she said, already liking the woman, sight unseen. “Walker tells me you’re thinking of moving to Parable.”

“That’s right,” Casey confirmed. She seemed to radiate energy, even over the telephone, which was pretty impressive, since Kendra knew the singer had been on tour with her band and probably performed the day before. “I don’t mind telling you, he makes the place sound pretty darn good.”

“It’s a great town,” Kendra said.

“I’d like to come and have a look,” Casey replied. “Would Tuesday be all right?”

“Sure,” Kendra answered, delighted. They agreed to meet at Kendra’s office at ten-thirty Tuesday morning, said their goodbyes and hung up.

She still had the cell phone in her hand when she stepped outside, smiling to find Madison and Daisy both lying side by side in the grass, on their backs. Daisy’s four feet were raised, bent at the joints.

“We’re remembering the fireworks,” Madison explained.

It being early afternoon, the sky was clear and blue and bright with sunlight.

“I see,” Kendra said.

“Daisy didn’t see them,” the little girl clarified, “but I told her all about it.”

The phone rang in Kendra’s hand just as she took her previous seat on the porch step, and a little trill of excitement went through her.

Let it be Hutch.

Don’t let it be Hutch.

“Hey,” Joslyn said. “It’s me.”

“Hey,” Kendra replied.

“How was the big date?” Joslyn asked.

Kendra bit her lower lip, considering her answer. She wanted to argue that her time with Hutch hadn’t been a date, but that would be pure denial. After all, she’d wound up making love with the man up there on the side of Big Sky Mountain.

“Fine,” she hedged.

Joslyn laughed. “Fine? There’s a lot you aren’t telling me, I’m guessing.”

Kendra sighed, but she was smiling. Even now, hours and hours after the fact, she still felt the lingering effects of several powerful releases. “And I’m not about to tell you, either,” she said. “At least, not over the phone.”

“Great,” Joslyn answered. “Why don’t you and Madison come out here for a visit and some supper? Shea and the baby will keep Madison occupied, and you can tell me everything.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Kendra said.

“Something happened,” Joslyn insisted gently.

“Yes,” Kendra admitted. “And I’m positive I’m going to regret it.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Joslyn counseled. She sounded delighted. “So you’ll come for supper?”

“Not tonight,” Kendra said. “Madison had a big day yesterday and she needs time to settle down a little.”

“I understand,” Joslyn replied. “Still up for being Trace’s godmother? Slade and I are thinking of scheduling the christening for next Sunday, after church, if the new pastor agrees.”

“Of course I’m still up for it,” Kendra said. “I’m honored.”

“Slade is asking Hutch to be Trace’s godfather,” Joslyn ventured. She was stepping lightly now, Kendra could tell. “Is that a problem for you?”

“No,” was Kendra’s reply. “And even it was, it wouldn’t be my call.”

“I might come in to the office for a few hours tomorrow,” Joslyn went on. “I’d bring Trace along, of course.”

“Of course,” Kendra agreed.

“You’re stonewalling me,” Joslyn accused, good-naturedly. “Don’t you get it, Kendra? I’m dying for information here!”

Kendra laughed. “Put your curiosity on life support,” she said. “Madison is within earshot, and anyway I’m not about to fill you in over the phone.”

Joslyn gave an exaggerated sigh. “All right, then,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Guess so,” Kendra acknowledged, still smiling. She didn’t plan on sharing any of the intimate details, but she was actually eager to discuss what had happened up there in the meadow yesterday, with her best friend anyway. Joslyn was levelheaded, nonjudgmental and totally trustworthy, and talking things over with her sounded like a good idea.

Maybe she, Kendra, could get some perspective on the situation. If indeed it was a situation. Men didn’t take the same attitude toward sex as women did—there was no implicit commitment.

Still, hadn’t Hutch said, just the night before, after that dazzling kiss against her kitchen wall, that making love had changed things?

Time would tell, Kendra thought as she said goodbye to her friend and let the phone rest in her lap while she watched her daughter and Daisy play in shafts of summer sunlight.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



GIVE THE WOMAN some space, Hutch counseled himself silently that bright Sunday afternoon, as he kept busy grooming horses in the barn, Leviticus close by. He was restless, despite his own advice, wanting to head straight for town, find Kendra and—what?

Talk to her? Make love to her again?

Instinct, as well as knowing Kendra so long and so well, warned that she might run for the hills if he came on too strong, too soon.

No, he’d contain his impatience, go slowly. He’d lost her once, and he didn’t want to risk losing her again.

He loved her—that was the only thing he was really sure of.

He was finishing up, wondering what else he could turn his hand to that would use up some more daylight, as well as personal energy, when he heard a rig pull up outside the barn. Leviticus, not much of a watchdog, gave a halfhearted woof.

Probably Opal, back from church, he thought, headed for the doorway. He was grinning a little, remembering how she’d left the house all spiffed-up that morning, flatly denying that she was out to impress the new preacher.

When he stepped out into the sunlight, though, it was Boone he saw, getting out of his squad car. Both boys tumbled out from behind the grate that separated the front seat of the cruiser from the back, grinning a howdy at Hutch.

He chuckled and gave them each a light squeeze to the shoulder—they were dressed up, and it saddened him a little, because these were probably their traveling clothes. Boone had said they’d be leaving today, but Hutch hadn’t given the matter much thought until now.

“They want to say goodbye to you before they catch the bus back to Missoula,” Boone said, looking as lame as he sounded. He was wan, and he hadn’t shaved, and Hutch would have sworn the man was wearing the same set of clothes he’d had on yesterday at the rodeo.

The taller boy, Griff, looked solemn. “We don’t want to leave,” he said. “But Dad says we have to.”

“Uncle Bob is our dad,” the smaller one, Fletch, insisted staunchly.

Hutch stole a sidelong glance at Boone’s face and saw that his friend looked as though he’d just been sucker-punched, square in the gut. He waited for Boone to correct the boy, to claim him, as it were, but he didn’t do that.

“Well,” Hutch said, holding on to his grin because it was threatening to slip away, “I hope you’ll come back for another visit real soon.”

Griff’s dark brown eyes were bright with angry sorrow as he looked up at Hutch. Something in his expression begged him to step in, change the direction of things, get Boone to see reason, to understand what he was throwing away just because he was scared.

The backs of Hutch’s own eyes stung like fire; he hated the helplessness he felt. Bottom line, it was Boone’s call whether the boys stayed or went, and he had no right to interfere—not in front of them, at least.

He’d have plenty to say to Boone in private, when he got the chance.

Boone consulted his watch. “We’d better go,” he said without looking at his sons. “You don’t want to miss the bus.”

“Yes, we do,” Griff argued. “We want to stay here with you, Dad.”

“No, we don’t,” Fletch put in, but his lower lip wobbled and his eyes glistened.

Boone sighed, and his gaze met Hutch’s. Help me out, here, will you? That was what his expression said, as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.

“You know what I think,” Hutch replied carefully, quietly. “And you can be sure we’ll discuss it later.”

Fletch wasn’t through talking, evidently. He tensed, like he was thinking about kicking Boone square in the shin, looked up at him, squinting against the sun and his whole body trembling, blurted, “You don’t want us anyway! You can’t wait to get rid of us!”

Boone went pale and, after unclenching the hinges of his jaws, he replied, “We’ve already had this discussion, Fletcher.” He paused, shook his head, tossed a grim, thanks-for-nothing look Hutch’s way. “Get in the car, both of you.”

After one last imploring look at Hutch, Griff put his hand to his little brother’s back and shoved him in the direction of the squad car.

“Damn it, Boone, this is wrong,” Hutch growled, as soon as the boys were inside the vehicle again, with the doors shut. “Sending those kids away is the same thing as saying straight out that Fletch has it right, you don’t want them.”

Boone looked at him in stricken silence and for a long time, but in the end, he didn’t answer. He just gave a curt nod of farewell, turned his back and walked away.

Hutch watched the retreating squad car until it was clean out of sight.

Then he went inside the house and, with Leviticus close on his heels, wandered uselessly from room to room, too restless to light anywhere and do anything constructive.

When he’d vented some of the steam that had been building up in him since Boone’s visit, he took a shower, put on fresh clothes and headed for town in the new truck he’d decided to go ahead and buy.

He still intended to keep his distance from Kendra, much as he wanted to walk right up to her and tell her straight out that he still loved her—had never stopped loving her—and meant to marry her if she’d have him.

But he knew all too well what she’d say—that they’d just gotten “carried away,” up there on the mountainside. That he was still on the rebound from Brylee and in no position to make any sort of long-term commitment.

He was sure she loved him—her body had told him things she wouldn’t or couldn’t put into words—but that didn’t mean she trusted him. And without trust, without respect, love just wasn’t enough, no matter how strong it was.

So he had to wait. Bide his time.

And that was going to be just about the hardest thing he’d ever done.

The carnival was shutting down when he drove by the fairgrounds a few minutes later, the rodeo arena was dark, the vendors outside the exhibition hall loading up what they hadn’t sold over the weekend.

It all made him feel lonely, as though a small, special world had opened, just for that brief time, and was now closing again. Shutting him out.

He might have gone to the Boot Scoot for a beer and maybe a game of pool, just to get his mind off things, but it was always closed on Sundays. Even the Butter Biscuit locked up and went dark once the after-church rush was over.

He turned his thoughts to Boone and the sorry situation he’d gotten himself into by letting go of his kids after Corrie died. Hutch started thinking about fear, and what it did to people. What it cost them.

It was a short leap, of course, from his friend’s worries about being able to take proper care of a couple of growing boys to the things, he, Hutch, was afraid of. One of them was commitment—he’d be staking his heart on an uncertain outcome if he got married, and if things went sour, he’d lose half his ranch in the divorce settlement. Whisper Creek was part of him, and without the whole of it, he’d be crippled on the inside.

The other thing he was afraid of was the water tower.

So he drove there, parked in the tall grass, twilight gathering around him, and looked up. The ladder dangled, rickety as ever, from the side, but something was different, too.

Shea, Slade’s teenage stepdaughter, peered down at him, white-faced, from the heights. She appeared to be alone, and a quick glance around confirmed that she had undertaken this rite of passage on her own.

“Hi, Hutch,” she called down, her voice a little shaky.

“What the hell are you doing up there, Shea?” he snapped, in no mood for small talk.

“I’m—not sure,” she replied. “You won’t tell Dad and Joslyn, will you?”

“No promises,” Hutch said. “Get down here, damn it.”

Shea’s voice wavered, and even from that distance, with her face a snow-white oval, he could see that she was crying. “I—can’t. I tried, but I’m too scared.”

Hutch felt the back of his shirt dampen with sweat, and his gut twisted itself into a hard knot. “Come on, Shea,” he went on, more gently now. “You got up there in the first place, didn’t you? That means you can get down.”

“Climbing up wasn’t scary,” she told him. “Climbing down is a whole other matter.”

Hutch swore under his breath, moved closer to the ladder. The rungs were old, some of them missing, others hanging by a single rusty nail.

He knew then what he had to do, but that didn’t mean he wanted to do it. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, because he knew if he looked from side to side, even though he was still standing flat-footed on the ground, he’d feel like he was trying to walk the perimeter of the Tilt-a-Whirl while it was spinning full-throttle.

“Okay,” he heard himself say, as if from a distance. Say, the next county. “Hang on. I’ll come up there, and we’ll climb down together.”

“All—all right,” Shea agreed.

Terror aside, the approach didn’t make a lot of sense to Hutch—Shea probably didn’t weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds, while he tipped the scales at an even one-eighty. Expecting that ladder to hold both of them at the same time was anti-logic, pure and simple.

Still, he’d been where Shea was once. He knew she was frozen with fear, knew she needed another human being within touching distance, someone to be with her, talk her down.

Just as Slade Barlow had once done for him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, sucked in a harsh breath and started up that ladder.

He kept his gaze upward, on Shea’s face as she leaned out over the edge of the flimsy catwalk, looking down at him. Her eyes were enormous and awash in tears.

“Easy now,” he said, addressing himself as much as Shea. “Just take it real easy, sweetheart. You’ll be standing on solid ground again in no time.”

“You’re going to tell my dad,” Shea fretted.

The remark lightened the moment, brought on a slight smile that loosened Hutch’s tight lips a little. His palms felt slick where he gripped the splintery side rails of that ladder, and his stomach shinnied up into the back of his throat like it meant to fight its way right out of him.

“No, I’m not going to tell your dad,” he replied evenly, still climbing. One rung, then another, and for God’s sake, don’t look down. “You are.”

“He’ll kill me,” Shea said.

Better him than a fifty-foot fall from a water tower, Hutch thought, but what he actually said was, “If I were you, I’d worry about that later.”

He was almost at the top now, and there was a certain dizzy triumph in that, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but at Shea, the closest thing he had to a niece.

“Now what?” Shea asked.

A reasonable question, Hutch reflected. “Come on out onto the ladder,” he said. “I’m right here with you.”

As if he could catch her if she fell.

The things Slade had said to him, way back when he was in Shea’s predicament and scared half out of his wits, shouldered their way into his head and tumbled right out over his tongue.

“You can do this,” he said quietly. “It’s just one step, and then another, and before you know it, we’ll both be off this thing.”

Shea hesitated, then swung a blue-jeaned leg out over the edge, found a rung with her foot, pushed on it a little to make sure it was sound.

“Easy,” Hutch said. “Slow and easy.”

Shea was on the ladder, but she clung there for a moment, looking as though she might not move again. “I’m so scared,” she whimpered.

“That’s okay,” Hutch reasoned. “Just take another step. One more, Shea.”

He moved down a few rungs to give her room.

One of them split when he stepped on it, and he almost fell, felt slivers digging into the palms of his hands and the undersides of his fingers as he held on, found his footing.

“Don’t put your weight on any one rung until you’re sure it will hold,” he told her calmly, even though he felt like a lone sock tumbling round and round in a clothes dryer. Tentatively, she took another step.

Sweat ran down over Hutch’s forehead and stung like acid in his eyes. “That’s it,” he said evenly. “You’re doing fine.”

The descent was a long one—several more rungs broke along the way, under Shea’s feet as well as Hutch’s—but they finally made it.

Hutch swayed, feeling an uncanny urge to kiss the ground.

Shea threw her arms around him. “What if you hadn’t been here?” she whispered.

He hugged her once, then stepped back to look into her tear-stained, bloodless face, taking an avuncular hold on her shoulders. “You’d have made it down on your own eventually,” he said, though he wasn’t sure that was true. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, hugging herself now, even though the evening was warm. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Thanks for showing up when you did, and for helping me.”

“Let’s get you home,” Hutch said. Since he hadn’t seen a car around, he knew the girl must have come on foot.

“Dad and Joslyn are over at Grands’ house with the baby,” she explained. “For Sunday supper.”

“We’ll head for Callie’s, then,” Hutch told her.

“Do I still have to tell them what I did?”

“Yep,” Hutch answered, opening the passenger door of the truck so she could scramble inside.

“Why?”

“Because you do,” Hutch replied when he was behind the wheel with the engine started. “Otherwise, it’s a secret and I can’t be part of that, Shea. Your dad and I have our differences of opinion now and again, but he is my brother, he loves you, and he has a right to know what you’re up to.” He made a wide turn and they bumped back out onto the dirt road that led to the water tower. “What were you thinking, anyhow, climbing up there?”

It was a rhetorical question, a conversation-starter, really. There was no good reason for pulling a stunt like that, but kids did it, year after year, decade after decade, generation after generation.

“I did it because I didn’t want to be afraid of it anymore,” Shea said.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you plan on a repeat performance,” Hutch answered, biting back a grin. Damned if the kid didn’t have a point—he wasn’t scared of it anymore, either.

“That,” Shea said with a tremulous smile, “would be overkill. Once was enough.”

“More than enough,” Hutch confirmed.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot in front of Callie Barlow’s Curly Burly Hair Salon. Slade immediately appeared in the doorway of the add-on where Callie lived.

“Tell him,” Hutch reiterated as Slade walked toward them, looking puzzled.

Shea sighed dramatically, opened her door and hopped to the ground. Hutch got out, too.

“I climbed the water tower,” Shea confessed in a breathless rush, “and then I got scared and I froze and Hutch came up to get me. Am I grounded?”

“You are so grounded,” Slade told her, cocking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate that she ought to go into the house. All the while, though, Slade was watching Hutch.

When they were alone in that dusty parking lot, Slade nodded to him. “Obliged,” he said. He, of all people, knew what climbing that damned ladder had meant for Hutch. He’d have ridden the devil’s own bull first, if that would have gotten him out of it.

They shook hands, and Hutch was reminded of the splinters he’d have to remove when he got home.

“See you,” he said, turning to get back in the truck.

“Hold on a second,” Slade said. “I’ve got something to ask you.”

Hutch turned his head. Waited.

“Joslyn and I—well—we’d like you to be Trace’s godfather, if you’re willing. The ceremony’s next Sunday, after church.”

Hutch was moved by the request, but he didn’t want it to show. “I’m willing,” he said, his voice a little huskier than usual. “But you know how it is with me and churches. Lightning might strike or the roof could fall in.”

Slade chuckled. “I’ll chance it if you will,” he said.

“I’ll be there,” Hutch told his half brother. “Just let me know what time—and promise me I won’t have to rent another tux.”

“Just dress the way you normally would,” Slade said, his grin lingering. “And Hutch?”

Hutch had the driver’s door open and he was already on the running board. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Slade told him. “For helping Shea out, I mean.”

Hutch wasn’t wearing a hat, but he tugged at the imaginary brim just the same. “Somebody did the same for me once,” he said and got into the truck.

He headed for home, feeling like a different man from the one who’d left it.

* * *

BY TUESDAY MORNING, Kendra had largely recovered her equilibrium. Discussing the Hutch situation with Joslyn the day before, here at the office, had helped a lot.

Now the storefront space buzzed with anticipatory vibes—even Daisy, who had come to work with Kendra as usual, seemed to sense it.

Sure enough, promptly at ten twenty-five, a powder-blue sports car nosed into a parking space out front and a small woman, wearing jeans, an oversize T-shirt, a baseball cap and sunglasses got out and stood waiting on the sidewalk while Walker parked his truck a few slots over.

Reaching her side, he kissed Casey lightly on the cheek, the way he might have kissed his sister, Brylee, and then held the office door open for her.

Tendrils of Casey’s legendary head of red hair were escaping from beneath the cap as she stepped inside, and an impish little smile played on her famous mouth.

She enjoyed being in disguise, that was obvious, so Kendra didn’t blurt out the first thought that popped into her head, which was, I’d have recognized you anywhere.

Walker, as if guessing Kendra’s thoughts, winked at her over the top of Casey’s head.

Recalling what he’d told her—that Casey’s two children were his, as well—Kendra’s curiosity ratcheted up a notch, but of course asking about that was out of the question. Whatever had gone on between Walker and Casey was their own business, not hers.

But she still wondered.

A lot.

She smiled and extended a hand to Casey. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Kendra.”

“Casey,” the other woman replied, shaking Kendra’s hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong for such a small person. “Glad to meet you,” came out sounding more like, Gladta meet ya, since Casey had a Southern accent.

“She thinks she’s fooling everybody,” Walker told Kendra, grinning. “This is the Casey version of low-key.”

Casey removed her sunglasses, revealing her striking green eyes and long lashes, and made a face at Walker. “Let a person have a little fun, why don’t you?” she retorted lightly. Then she spotted Daisy and went straight over to her, patting the dog’s head and talking to her as she would any friend.

Daisy was instantly besotted with Casey, as she had been when she first met Walker. Kendra took this as a good sign, since she believed dogs and other domesticated animals were excellent judges of character.

“I sure am ready to have a look at that house,” Casey announced. “I’ve been excited ever since Walker sent me the pictures.”

“We’ll take my car,” Kendra said, picking up her keys. She’d vacuumed the interior thoroughly that morning before taking Madison to preschool, and covered the backseat with an old blanket for the trip over, removing it after she’d unloaded the dog, all to prevent messing it up again.

“That’s fine,” Casey said agreeably, and they all left by the back way, since Kendra’s car was parked behind the building, and besides, she wanted to draw as little attention as possible.

Daisy wasn’t happy about being left behind and whined pitifully, trying to squeeze through the crack when Kendra went to close the door.

“Oh, let her come along with us,” Casey urged.

“She sheds,” Kendra said.

“I don’t mind,” Casey replied.

Kendra nodded and brought Daisy along, already liking Casey Elder for her down-to-earth attitude. She’d fit in well here in Parable—if she decided to stay.

Casey rode in back with Daisy, crammed into the middle because of Madison’s car seat, while Walker took the front passenger side. Kendra followed side streets to Rodeo Road, but people peered at them curiously as they passed just the same from yards and sidewalks.

Any stranger would have attracted their attention, but they might well recognize this one—even in disguise, it seemed to Kendra, Casey Elder radiated a sort of down-home confidence that marked her as somebody special.

They reached the mansion without incident and, since the work was done, there were no cleaning or painting crews around.

“Holy smokes,” Casey said in her trademark drawl, standing at the front gate and looking up. “That is some house.”

Kendra was already unlocking the front door, Daisy at her side. “You be good,” she whispered to the dog.

Inside the massive entryway, Kendra went over the house’s best features, but she sensed that Walker and Casey wanted to explore the place on their own, so she left them to it, saying she and Daisy would be on the screened-in porch in back, or in the yard.

Casey smiled and nodded, and then she and Walker set out on their self-guided tour.

Kendra went on through the middle of the sprawling house and out the back door, taking Daisy with her. She let Daisy sniff her way around the yard while she checked the flower beds—the gardeners she’d hired were doing a good job of weeding and watering—and unlocked the door to the guest cottage, so Casey could look it over when she was ready.

She picked a bouquet of zinnias in the garden, planning to put them in the center of her kitchen table over at the rental house later on, and then just stood there, looking around, waiting to feel the sadness of letting go. After all, this had been her dream house once; she’d loved it, lived in it with pride. There were a lot of happy memories, from before and after the break-up with Jeffrey—she’d played here as a child, of course, taken refuge here, and much later, Joslyn had lived in the cottage, when she’d first come back to Parable and found herself falling hard for Slade Barlow—the last man on earth Joss would have chosen. Later still, Kendra had thrown a huge party right there in the backyard, with dancing and caterers and the whole works, to welcome Tara when she’d bought the chicken farm the year before.

No sadness came over her, though.

She knew, standing there with a colorful bouquet of summer flowers in her hands, that Casey would buy this house and make it a home. She would raise her children here.

And that was all well and good.

This house had been Jeffrey’s, really—he’d been the one to pay for it, to furnish and maintain it, even after they were divorced. Now it was going to change hands, and the money from the sale would go into a trust fund for Madison, Jeffrey’s child, as it should.

Kendra felt a lot of peace in those moments, thinking about all the changes that had taken place in her life since she’d first seen this house, as a lost little girl, hungry to belong somewhere, to be wanted and welcome.

And she had been welcome here, with Opal and Joslyn and Joslyn’s laughing, generous mother.

But she wasn’t that unwanted child anymore. She was a grown woman, whole and strong, with a daughter of her own to love and bring up to the best of her ability. She liked her life, liked who she’d become, knew for sure and at long last that she’d be happy from now on, with or without Hutch Carmody, because she’d decided to be.

It was time to leave her fears and doubts behind and go forward, expecting good things to happen, knowing she could cope with the bad ones.

After half an hour or so, Casey and Walker joined her in the yard.

Casey was beaming. “It’s perfect,” she told Kendra, bending to stroke Daisy’s gleaming golden head when the dog approached, wagging her tail. “Where do I sign?”

Kendra glanced at Walker, then looked at Casey again. “Don’t you want to think about it for a while?” she asked. As many houses as she’d sold over the course of her career, she’d never had an instant offer like this one.

“Heck, no,” Casey replied exuberantly. “It’s just what I want. Why wait?”

That was it.

There was no haggling, no having the place inspected, no anything.

Casey signed a contract when they got back to the office, wrote an enormous deposit check to show good faith and announced that the sooner the deal closed, the better, because she wanted to get her children settled in Parable before school started.

Kendra promised to speed things along in every way she could.

After Walker and Casey were gone, she jumped up and down in the middle of the office and whooped for joy, causing Daisy to slink under a desk and peer out at her with wary eyes.

That made her laugh, and she spoke soothingly to the dog until she came out of her hiding place.

Presently, Kendra gave up on the whole idea of working—there wasn’t much to do, anyway—and, after locking Casey’s mongo check away in a desk drawer, she summoned Daisy, locked up and returned to her car.

The zinnias she’d picked at the mansion rested on the passenger seat, a damp paper towel wrapped around their stems, reminding Kendra of the fireworks on Saturday night, colorful flowers blooming in the sky and melting away in dancing sparks.

She drove to the Pioneer Cemetery, parked, picked up the zinnias and, leaving Daisy in the car with a window rolled down so she’d have plenty of air, walked along the rows of graves until she came to her grandmother’s final resting place.

Eudora Shepherd, the simple stone read, and the dates of her birth and death were inscribed beneath it. No husband was buried nearby, no family members at all.

Her grandmother had been alone in the world, for all intents and purposes.

Kendra crouched and laid the zinnias gently at the base of the dusty headstone.

“You did the best you could,” she said very softly, as the breeze played in her hair. “It must have been hard, taking in a child at your age, with money always running short and trouble coming at you from every direction, but you let me stay with you when Mom left, and that was what was important. You fed and clothed me and kept a roof over my head, and I’m grateful for that, Grandma. I’m really, truly grateful.”

Kendra stood up straight again, her eyes dry, her heart quiet.

At long last, she’d truly let go, stopped wishing the past could be different. All that really mattered, she realized, was now, what she did, what she thought, what she felt now.

She said goodbye to her grandmother, to all the things that had been and shouldn’t have, and all the things that should have been, but weren’t. She said goodbye to Jeffrey, and goodbye to the reckless boy Hutch had been when she first fell in love with him.

And “hello” to the man he had become.

She was in no rush, though. Things would unfold as they were supposed to, and she was open to that.

* * *

HUTCH SADDLED REMINGTON and rode up to the mountainside alone that morning after assigning the ranch crew to various tasks for the day.

He dismounted, left the horse to graze and walked toward the rock pile, pausing briefly in the place where he and Kendra had made love the previous Saturday afternoon.

He smiled. It had been good—their lovemaking—because it had been right. Not to mention, long overdue, from his viewpoint, anyway.

He went on to the stone monument he’d built in fury, in pain, in frustration, lifted up one of the heavier stones, and set it on the ground.

“It’s over, old man,” he told his dead father, though only the birds and the breeze and his favorite horse were around to hear. “I’m through hating you for not being who I needed you to be. You were who you were. I don’t mind saying, though, that I want to be a different kind of man. If Kendra agrees, I mean to make her my wife. I’ll love her until the day I die, and maybe after that, too, and I’ll love that little girl of hers like she’s my own.”

Hutch began to feel a little foolish then, talking to a dead man, and anyway he’d said what he wanted to say.

One by one, he tossed aside the rocks that made up that pile and finally stood on level ground.





CHAPTER NINETEEN



HUTCH DIDN’T SEE Kendra again until the day of little Trace Carmody Barlow’s christening, when he showed up at the church in a pair of slacks, a white shirt and a lightweight sports jacket with a secret tucked into one pocket for later.

Most of the congregation had stayed on after the regular service for the special ceremony, and Hutch was mildly uncomfortable, stealing the occasional anxious glance at the ceiling, willing it to hold.

The new pastor, Dr. Beaumont, opened with a prayer.

Hutch bowed his head, like everybody else, but his eyes were partway open the whole time, drinking in the sight of Kendra standing next to him and wearing a green dress made of some soft fabric that looked supple to the touch.

When the prayer was over, Kendra opened her eyes, caught him looking at her and smiled slightly.

Dr. Beaumont took the baby boy gently from Joslyn’s arms, holding him securely and baptizing him with a sprinkle of water, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Promises were made all around.

There was another prayer; Slade was holding the infant now, looking as though he might just bust open with love and pride. His resemblance to the old man was stronger than ever, except, Hutch noticed with a slight jolt, for the quiet self-assurance in his eyes. That was the difference—Slade was fine with being Slade, taking life as it came, but their father had seen it as a battle instead, something to survive and overcome, and the effort of doing all that had used up all he had to give.

The formal part of the christening ended and the small but enthusiastic crowd was dispersing. Now, there would be a celebration picnic on the grounds of the Pioneer Cemetery.

Hutch went over there ahead of time and wound up standing at the foot of his dad’s grave.

There was nothing to resolve, really; he’d made peace with John Carmody, once and for all, by taking down that monument up at the meadow, rock by rock.

Resentment by resentment, hurt by hurt.

All that was gone now, scattered, just like the stones.

Still, it seemed right to pause and silently pay his respects, because in spite of it all, he’d loved his father, known all along on some level that the old man had given what he had in him to give.

Folks started arriving right away, filling the picnic tables with food, kids running around, playing, adults talking and laughing in the shade of the trees.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hutch saw Slade heading in his direction. He’d taken off his suit jacket, Slade had, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up.

He came to stand beside Hutch.

“You doing all right?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I’m just fine,” Hutch answered honestly. “How about you?”

“Never better,” Slade replied. “I’ve got everything a man could ask for and more.”

Hutch looked down at the fancy headstone, bearing their father’s name, along with the dates of his birth and death. It was hard to believe that a man’s whole life could fit between two sets of words and numbers like that, symbolically or not, but there it was.

John Carmody had been born, lived his life and died.

And behind a single dash, chiseled in stone, was the whole story, much of which they’d never know.

“He should have acknowledged you sooner, Slade,” Hutch said without looking at his brother. “Treated you better.”

Slade considered that for a few moments. “He gave me life. Maybe that was all he could manage. And he knew Callie would raise me right.”

Hutch merely sighed.

Slade rested a hand on his shoulder. “There’s a party going on over there under the trees,” he reminded Hutch. “How about joining in?”

Hutch lifted his head, grinned when he saw Madison running toward him in a polka-dot dress, her arms open wide.

He scooped her up when she reached him, carried her as he walked alongside Slade. She chattered in his ear the whole way, going on about how she’d missed him and Mommy had, too, and saying she wanted to ride Ruffles again so she’d be ready to carry a flag at the rodeo and compete in the barrel racing when she was bigger.

Kendra, seeing them, broke away from the gathering.

Madison, spotting Shea nearby, squirmed in Hutch’s arms and he set her down. She ran toward the older girl with barely a glance at Kendra, and Shea greeted the little girl with a bright smile and a giggle.

Hutch and Kendra, meanwhile, stood a few feet apart, the grass rippling all around them like a low tide, just looking at each other.

Figuring that he’d put this conversation off long enough already, Hutch cleared his throat and moved in closer, cupping her elbows in his hands. She smelled of lavender soap and sunshine, and her eyes were as clear and green as sea glass.

“I love you, Kendra,” he said, on a swell of emotion that made the words come out sounding hoarse. “Maybe it’s too soon to say it—hell, maybe it’s too late, I don’t know—but it’s true.” He reached into his coat pocket, brought out the small velvet box, opened it with a motion of his thumb. His great-grandmother’s engagement ring was inside—a simple but elegant concoction of diamonds and rubies. After Joslyn had done a little detective work so it would fit Kendra, he’d had it sized, cleaned and polished at the jeweler’s. Now, it caught fire in the sunlight.

Kendra’s eyes widened as she looked at the ring, but she didn’t say anything right away, and the next few moments were some of the longest of Hutch’s life. They’d traveled a rocky road, the two of them, and while he knew she loved him, he wasn’t sure she’d be willing to throw in with him for the long haul.