Montana Hearts (5 page)

“Sarah Barkley. I'm Mr. Ryder's housekeeper. Is there something—”

“Really?” The woman's voice rose on the question, and she looked Sarah up and down.

Aware of her disheveled state and the dirt streaks on her blouse, Sarah felt her cheeks warm. “Yes, ma'am.”

“No grass growing under Kurt's feet, I'll say that,” the woman said. “I'm not gone twenty-four hours and he's got a live-in housekeeper. Too bad he didn't do that for Zoe when she was alive. She worked herself to the bone around here.”

Her words sounded bitter, but Sarah tried to give her some slack. “You must be Zoe's mother, Kurt's mother-in-law. I am so very sorry for your loss.”

The woman didn't acknowledge Sarah's words of sympathy.

“I brought over a pan of lasagna so the family wouldn't starve, but I guess I needn't have bothered.”

“That's very thoughtful of you, Mrs….”

“Livingston. Grace Livingston.” She thrust the baking pan at Sarah.

She caught the aromatic scent of ground meat and oregano. “I was going to start dinner as I soon as I cleaned up. I'm sure the family will appreciate your lasagna.”

“They will if you don't cook any better than you clean.” She glanced toward the back door. “The mudroom needs to be swept every day. Kurt and the children do nothing but track in dirt and somebody needs to clean up after them. Zoe knew better than to leave dirt to be tracked farther into the house.”

Mrs. Livingston marched past Sarah into the kitchen.

Stunned by the woman's ire, Sarah tried to remember
Grace Livingston had lost her only child and was now confronted by a stranger she imagined was trying to replace that child. Which was not at all true.

Granted, Zoe might have been a better housekeeper and cook than Sarah, but she believed there was more to life than domestic chores. And she had no intention of replacing anyone.

She followed Grace into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea? It would take me just a minute to brew a pot.” She placed the lasagna on the stove top and went to the cupboard to retrieve the teapot.

“Don't bother.” Grace appeared to be examining the kitchen for any wayward spot of dirt that had escaped Sarah's notice. “Where is everyone?”

“I think Kurt's in the barn working on one of the horses. Toby isn't home from his friend's house yet, and Beth is putting away the gardening tools we'd been using.”

Without making a comment, Grace looked out the window toward the barn as though looking for evidence that Sarah had spoken the truth. Or lied.

“I'm sure they'll all be happy with your home cooking,” Sarah said. “I was going to roast a chicken that was in the freezer tonight. But that can wait until tomorrow.”

Grace turned to face Sarah. “Zoe always made Southern fried chicken, not roasted. Fried chicken is one of Kurt and the children's favorite dishes. They like it real crispy like I've always made it.”

“Yes, well…” Sarah had strict doctor's orders to watch her diet, which included avoiding fried food and limiting the amount of red meat she ate. A heart-healthy
diet. Not that she planned to explain the reason for her eating preferences to Grace.

Apparently restless, Grace edged toward the living room. Sarah wondered if the woman was going to count how many dust mites she'd missed that morning. Then she remembered she'd left the clean laundry folded on the bottom step for the children to take upstairs to their rooms. Probably forbidden in Grace's world.

“Would you like me to tell Kurt you're here?” Sarah asked.

“No need. I should be on my way. There's a meeting at church tonight that I should attend.”

“I wish you could stay for dinner. I'm sure there's plenty of lasagna for everyone, and I'll throw a Waldorf salad together.” She'd found some apples in the bottom bin of the refrigerator and raisins and nuts in the cupboard. Tomorrow she'd make a run to the grocery store to stock up on fresh veggies. And chicken breasts, if they had them.

“I'll just say hello to Kurt before I go.”

Without a goodbye, Grace strode out the back door and let the screen slam behind her.

Sarah winced. That did so not go well. She hadn't anticipated a confrontation with Zoe's mother. While she hadn't exactly expected to be welcomed into the household, she would have thought Grace would be pleased to get a break from caring for Kurt and the children.

That was obviously not the case.

 

Holding up the horse's hind leg, Kurt used a pick to clean mud from the animal's hoof. He really needed
to get the farrier out to shoe all his horses. They were overdue.

“A, E, I, O, U,” Kurt murmured under his breath, still feeling his lips move on the U. “U, U, U,” he repeated, trying to get it right.

“Where did you find that woman?” his mother-in-law demanded in a strident voice.

One more scrape of the horse's hoof, and he released the leg and stepped away.

“Hello, Grace. I didn't expect to see you today.”

“I'm sure you didn't, young man. Who is that woman?”

“Calm down, Grace. I needed someone to take care of the house and keep an eye on the kids. It's only till school starts.”

“She's not a local girl. Who is she?”

“She's from Seattle. Just passing through.”

“She'll probably steal you blind. She surely can't clean worth a lick. The mudroom hasn't been swept and she left clothes piled on the stairs. One of the children is likely to break their neck falling over them.”

“Then they better watch where they step.” He took off his work gloves and placed them on top of the stall wall. His mother-in-law had always been kind and loving, until Zoe died. Over time, her grief had turned to anger at the whole world. He didn't know how to fix that or help her. “Come on, Grace. You know I can't take care of the chores and watch out for the kids all the time. She's only temporary.”

She sniffed. “If you say so. But I'd be careful, if I were you. She's got that look about her.”

He did a mental double take. “What look is that?”

“She's a predator, Kurt Ryder. I can see it in her eyes. She spotted a good-lookin' rancher who owns a lot of land and she's set on hooking him for herself.”

“I'll be careful,” he promised, not believing one word Grace said. The only look he saw in Sarah's blue eyes was a quiet patience with both of his children. An ability to draw them out, just as he'd been drawn in by her silly Dr. Zoom antics. When he'd spotted Sarah and Beth working together, peacefully, in the garden, he'd wanted to hug Sarah. Beth needed a woman to look up to, to talk to, and Sarah was trying to fill that role.

Kurt wasn't going to fault her for that.

Not for a minute did he think Sarah had set her cap for him.

No woman would set her cap for a struggling rancher with two kids who still couldn't forgive himself for what he'd done to his wife.

Especially not if she found out the truth.

 

With dinner over and the kitchen once again spotless—Sarah hoped—she took her cup of tea out to the porch. She leaned against the railing, watching the slow descent of the sun behind the distant mountains. Clouds that had formed during the afternoon were edged with pink that soon bled into a deeper rose. The final shards of sunlight streaked the sky in a dramatic light show.

“I never tire of watching the sunset. It's different every night.”

Sarah turned and smiled at Kurt. “It's truly beautiful. Seattle is so often overcast, it's easy to forget what a real sunset looks like.”

He joined her at the railing. “I suspect my mother-in-law gave you a hard time.”

“She didn't, not really. She was mostly surprised that I was here. I didn't take it personally.”

“I'm glad.”

“I did invite her to stay for dinner. She said she had a meeting to go to at church.”

Kurt cocked a brow at her. “Odd. I don't think Grace has gone to church since Zoe's funeral.”

If that was true, Sarah felt doubly sorry for the woman. She might have found some solace for her grief if she'd sought God's help in His house.

But Sarah wouldn't judge her. Losing a child must be the most profound loss anyone could face.

Kurt hitched his hip over the railing. “Toby's up in his room with the door shut talking to himself.”

“Oh?”

The hint of a smile curved his lips. “I think he's practicing being a ventriloquist.”

She grinned and laughed and felt warmed by Kurt's pleasure. “Good for him. That's how I learned, in front of a mirror.”

“Yeah, it is good for him.”

They remained silent, watching the play of light across the sky. The sound of horses moving in the barn drifted on the still air. A pair of swifts darted past the house in search of the last meal of the day. In the distance, a wolf howled and was answered by another.

Sarah shivered.

“Have you ever been on a ranch before?” Kurt asked.

“No, never. I'm a true city girl.” Her parents had
always been too afraid to take her far from her doctors. Not that they had a great deal of money to spend on frivolous activities like vacations or sending her to camps after paying for Sarah's medical bills.

“I used to think of this as God's country.”

“I can see why.” Glancing up at Kurt, at his rugged profile, she realized he'd used past tense. “You don't feel that way now?”

He hesitated, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “How 'bout horses? You ever been around them?”

Recognizing he'd changed the subject, she laughed uneasily. “Not a whole lot of horses where I grew up.”

“Well, I've gotta put the horses to bed. Come along and I'll introduce you.”

As they walked to the barn, Rudy stood and stretched, then fell in beside Kurt. The smell of hay and manure grew stronger with each step they took, though Sarah didn't find the scent unpleasant. If she'd been dreaming of living on a ranch, this is the way it would have smelled—of fields of grass and large animals.

It wasn't a dream she'd ever imagined. Now, in reality, it felt right to be here.

The barn had held the day's warmth, and the scent of leather in the tack room added to the bouquet of aromas that plucked at Sarah's innate connection to the earth on a much grander scale than her small cottage in Seattle.

One of the horses neighed in his stall and stomped his hoof.

“Hold on, Pepper. You'll get your treat.” From his pocket Kurt produced a quartered apple. He held out
his palm and Pepper delicately scarfed down the snack, his lips all but smacking together.

“You want to feed Peaches?” Kurt asked.

“I don't think so.” From Sarah's perspective, the horses looked gigantic. While the stalls appeared sturdy, she wasn't anxious to get close and personal with any creature that large. “I'll just watch.”

“Come on. Peaches is as gentle as a baby. She won't hurt you. Will you, girl?” The fawn-colored mare nodded in the affirmative and he rubbed the white blaze on her face.

A quiver of unease made her stomach flip. “You go ahead.”

Kurt eyed her in a way that made her stomach flip again. “I thought you said you never backed down from a challenge.”

She said that? In the future she'd have to choose her words more carefully.

Drawing a steadying breath, she took a step forward. Peaches snorted and shook her head. Sarah retreated in haste.

Kurt laughed. “Coward,” he teased in a low, seductive voice.

Her cheeks flamed. “I am not a coward.” Well, she might be when it came to horses. But that didn't count.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched over to Kurt's side and snatched the apple quarters from him. “If Peaches bites me, I'll…get back at you.”

Her hand shook as she held the apple pieces in her palm and stretched her hand toward the horse.

The soft caress of Peaches's lips on the sensitive skin
of her palm amazed Sarah. It was the lightest of kisses. As tender a touch as a mother stroking her baby.

Withdrawing her hand, Sara closed her fingers over her palm in an effort to hold on to that sweet sensation.

“There. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“I had no idea.” She gazed into Peaches's soft brown eyes, wondering if the horse was as stunned by the experience as she had been.

“I'm thinking by the end of the summer you'll be an old hand at riding a horse.”

Her head snapped around and her jaw went slack.
Riding? A horse?
Not in this lifetime.

T
he following morning, Sarah drove into Sweet Grass Valley and discovered Main Street Grocery was a world apart from any supermarket she'd shopped at in Seattle.

Still, despite the limited selection in every department, the produce was fresh and locally grown, and the meat well trimmed. Sarah loaded up her cart, including a good-looking apple pie from the bakery and some freshly baked whole-wheat rolls.

As she wheeled her cart toward the cash register, she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, hon. I didn't expect you to still be in town.”

It took Sarah a moment to recognize Bonnie Sue from the diner without her name tag on.

“I'm working for Kurt Ryder this summer. Housekeeper.”

“Is that a fact? My, my…” The woman's blue eyes gleamed with curiosity, and Sarah feared Bonnie Sue would spread the news around town as fast as a YouTube video going viral.

“It's just temporary,” Sarah assured her.

“Well, I'm glad Kurt found somebody to help out.” Bonnie Sue turned her cart toward the cash register. “Last time I saw Grace Livingston, she looked exhausted.”

The last time Sarah had seen Kurt's mother-in-law, she'd looked angry. She sincerely hoped Grace would get over her temper soon.

Bonnie Sue reached the store's one cashier first. “Hey, Angus, I want you to meet a new gal in town. She's workin' this summer for Kurt Ryder.” She turned to Sarah to make the introduction. “Well, sakes, I don't even know your name, hon.”

“Sarah. Sarah Barkley.” She produced a smile for the middle-aged gentleman. She didn't like being the center of attention.

“Welcome to Sweet Grass, Miz Barkley.” Without missing a beat, he scanned the two gallons of milk Bonnie Sue had purchased.

“Angus's daddy opened Main Street Grocery way back when. He still comes in a time or two a week to make sure Angus is doing his job right.”

Angus punched in the price for a head of lettuce. “His back's been bothering him somethin' fierce lately so he's been leaving me alone.” He flashed a grin that suggested he was pleased with the situation, if not his father's pain.

With her groceries bagged and back in her cart, Bonnie Sue said, “Come on by the diner if you've got the time. We've got strawberry shortcake this week.”

“Sounds delicious, but I think I'd better get back to the ranch.”

“Well, you drop in when you can.” She started to
push her cart away, then halted again. “Say, there's a potluck social at church this coming Sunday evening. Everybody's welcome to come. It'd give you a chance to meet some of the ladies in town.”

Sarah considered the idea for a moment. She didn't want to be pushy about it, but she would like to be part of a church fellowship while she was living at the ranch.

Finally she said, “I think I'd like that. Maybe Kurt and the children would like to come along, too.”

A peculiar expression crossed Bonnie Sue's face and she exchanged a look with Angus, who shrugged and rang up Sarah's apple pie on his register.

“That'd be real nice if they came.” Bonnie Sue's voice resonated with a dispirited note of skepticism.

Sarah was left wondering if the entire Ryder family had turned their backs on the Lord following Zoe's tragic death. Or had they never been churchgoers?

In either case, Sarah's heart ached for them, and she rubbed the scar that hid beneath her blouse. Without the Lord at her side, she never would have survived the trials brought on by her leukemia.

When Angus finished checking her groceries, she told him to put the total on Kurt's tab, as her employer had suggested.

Maybe the Lord had brought her here not simply to thank the family for their generosity but to witness to her faith, as well.

 

Sarah arrived back at the ranch to find both Beth and Toby pulling weeds in the flower bed around the gazebo.

While that was a shock, Sarah was delighted they
were both helping, apparently in peaceful coexistence. She stopped the car in the driveway and rolled down her window. “That's beginning to look great. You two are doing a good job.”

“We're keeping out of Dad's way,” Toby said.

That didn't bode well. “Are you in trouble?” she asked.

“Dad's in a really bad mood,” Beth said.

“Do you know why?” Sarah hoped it wasn't anything she had done.

“He's been on the phone all morning,” Beth volunteered.

“Mostly yelling at Ezra,” Toby added. “He's our neighbor.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the east.

Beth struggled to get the roots up on the weed she was pulling, and finally yanked them free. “He's a really old guy. I don't think Dad should be yelling at him.”

At least the problem wasn't something Sarah had done. Or, apparently, his mother-in-law. Or his children, for a change.

“Thanks for the warning. I'll tread lightly.”

Sarah parked her car near the back of the house and carried her grocery bags in through the mudroom. Kurt was on the house phone in the kitchen, pacing the room, stretching the curling cord around with him. Speaking in an agitated voice, he didn't acknowledge Sarah's arrival.

“Ezra, you had to know Western Region Cattle Feeding doesn't care if they pollute the water table as long as they're making a profit.”

He paused to listen, then said, “I know the price of
beef is down. Who doesn't know that? But if I have to keep my cows off the north section—”

Sarah placed the grocery bags on the counter and went back to the car to get the rest. When she returned, Kurt had hung up the phone.

He plowed both of his hands through his hair, making it look as though he'd just gotten up from bed. “I don't know what's gotten into that man,” he muttered more to himself than to Sarah.

“Problems?” She set the vegetables aside to be washed and began putting away the whole-wheat bread and rolls she'd purchased.

“Yeah, potentially a big problem.” Picking up cans of diced tomatoes and mushroom soup, he put them away on a pantry shelf. “My neighbor is leasing some land adjacent to mine for a cattle feed lot. The company has a bad reputation. They cut corners and don't follow state laws about polluting the land.”

“Don't they get fined or something for doing that?”

“Sometimes. But not until after the damage is done.”

She ran water over the head of lettuce then did the same for the tomatoes. “Isn't your neighbor worried they'll pollute his land, too?”

“The section he's leasing lies above mine. That means the natural drainage will bring all the contamination onto my property unless they take measures to redirect it to a holding pond. The Western Region Cattle Feeding company never spends that kind of money.” Kurt poured himself a mug of coffee, downed a gulp and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I can make you a fresh pot, if you'd like.”

“Don't bother. This suits my mood just fine.” Mug in hand, he paced across the room to the window. “The real problem is, I understand why Ezra thinks he has to do this. He's an old guy, in his eighties, and his sons have all moved away, which means he's running hardly any cattle at all. He's got to produce some kind of income or he'll lose the ranch.”

Knowing he was equally worried about his neighbor as he was anxious to protect his land pleased Sarah. His heart was in the right place. “Does sound like a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, you got that straight.”

She dried her hands on a paper towel. “What about the state or county regulatory agencies? Can't they come down hard on the cattle-feeding company? Make them obey the rules?”

“They only act after the fact. They want proof of contamination before they'll close down a feed lot.” He sat down at the kitchen table and stretched out his long legs, hooking one booted foot over the other. Deep worry lines etched his suntanned face. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “By then it's too late and the damage is done.”

That seemed strange to Sarah. She had a client in Seattle, a small businessman, who opened a car wash recently. The city planning department and building inspectors were all over him to make sure he complied with all the regulations.

“Maybe if you talked with the county people, you could alert them to the problem and ask them to enforce the rules.”

His disheartened head shake was a clear sign of his
discouraged mood. “I guess I can try. Not sure it will do any good, though.”

“If you can build a strong enough case against Western Region Cattle Feeding, based on their past performance, they'll have to listen to you and won't issue a use permit.”

Lifting his head, he eyed her skeptically. “Just how do I go about doing that?”

Confident of her own abilities to research and build a case, she folded the paper grocery sacks neatly and smoothed them out. “On the internet.”

 

For dinner Sarah roasted the chicken she'd planned for the prior evening and served it with a zucchini casserole and apple stuffing. She knew she was serving dishes that Zoe had never prepared, and anxiety about the reaction she'd get from the family burned in her stomach. Maybe she should have gone for fried chicken and asked Grace Livingston for her recipe. That might have been a wiser choice.

Once the family was seated at the table, Sarah said a silent grace before asking Kurt to carve the chicken.

“Sure. I can carve.” He picked up the knife and fork and went to work.

“Can I have a drumstick, Dad?” Toby asked.

“You got it, son.” He sliced off a leg and thigh, put it on a plate and passed it to the boy.

Beth looked at the bird on the platter with obvious reservations. “Nana and mom always made fried chicken.”

“Yes, your grandmother mentioned that when she dropped by yesterday. I thought you might like roasted
chicken for a change of pace.” A much healthier choice than fried, in her view.

Sarah asked for a slice of white meat, and Beth did the same, leaving Kurt with the second drumstick.

“Help yourselves to the stuffing and casserole,” Sarah said. “But be careful. That dish is hot.”

Toby peered at the casserole. “This stuff looks like…” With a questioning expression, he looked up at his father.

“Try it, son. You might like it.”

Toby put a teaspoonful of the zucchini-mushroom mixture on his plate, then shoved the dish toward his sister.

She wrinkled her nose. “It smells funny.”

Pulling the dish closer, Kurt ladled a large serving onto his plate. “Looks good to me.” He forked a bite into his mouth. “Hmm, tastes good, too. What is it?”

The burning sensation in Sarah's stomach cooled. “Zucchini and mushrooms in a light cream sauce.”

“This stuff on top tastes like cheese.” He swirled his fork above the serving on his plate. “Eat up, kids. You'll like it.” He dug in again, then reached for the stuffing.

Sarah felt like she'd just passed some massive gourmet cooking test at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and smiled in relief.

The children's reaction wasn't quite as enthusiastic as Kurt's, but they did eat some of everything. Without Kurt's endorsement, Sarah was sure dinner would have been a complete flop. Kids were so reluctant to try something new.

Accepting her into the family, albeit temporarily, seemed particularly difficult for Beth.

“Beth, do you know how your mother made her fried chicken?” Sarah asked.

“Not really. Just flour and stuff.”

“Tell you what,” Sarah proposed. “If you'll get the recipe and directions from your grandmother, next time we have chicken, you and I can try to make it like your mother did.” One small piece of fried chicken wouldn't hurt her, and establishing a better connection with Beth would be a positive step.

Beth cocked her head to the side. “You think we could?”

“I think we can try.”

Staring at Sarah for a long moment, Beth finally shrugged. “Okay. I'll call Nana later.”

Quietly, Sarah exhaled the breath she'd been holding. Maybe sharing recipes with her grandmother would help ease some of the tension between them.

The apple pie for dessert was a hit with everyone.

As the others were eating their pie, Sarah said, “Toby, I understand you've been working on your ventriloquist talents.”

“You mean he's been admiring himself in the mirror all day,” Beth chided.

“That's how you learn, dweeb,” Toby countered.

“So how's it going?” Sarah asked, hoping to avert a spat between the siblings.

The boy's forehead furrowed, lowering his brows. “I think I've got it pretty good.” Concentrating, he repeated the vowel sounds she'd asked him to practice.

“Excellent!” Sarah gave him a thumbs-up.

“That's easy. I can do it without spending half the day
practicing.” Beth recited the vowel sounds controlling her lips about as well as Toby had.

“Hey, my kids have talent.” Clapping his hands, Kurt laughed. “Maybe we can get you two on TV as a ventriloquist duo and you'll make a bundle of dough.”

Beth rolled her eyes, and Sarah repressed a smile. Not a bad idea for the family to perform together. Maybe at church socials…

“Have you been practicing, Kurt? You could make it a trio,” Sarah suggested.

A horrified look crossed his face and a blush raced up his neck to stain his suntanned cheeks. “Thanks, but no, thanks. Cattle is the only audience that'll ever hear me perform.”

“You're just chicken.” Toby's accusation came with a smile.

Kurt shot the boy a mock look of censure.

“Are you ready for lesson two?” Sarah asked the boy. “Sure.”

“Okay, keep your jaw relaxed and say the whole alphabet.”

Toby frowned in concentration again and raced through the letters at breakneck speed.

Shaking a finger at the boy, Beth said, “Your lips moved. I saw 'em.”