Kelly put out her hand. “I’m Kelly.”

“Laura,” she said, then laughed. She held up the jar. “Obviously I’m Laura. Laura Osika.”

“I was hoping to get some late organic tomatoes,” Kelly said.

“Well, the co-op will have lots of organic vegetables, some local and some shipped in. But there’s this stand out on Rt. 199 that’s open till about five o’clock. It’s run by a commercial farmer who’s growing year round—all organic. Some of the best stuff I’ve tasted. And I’m a vegetarian. And I’m a damn good cook.”

Kelly grinned at her. “Are you, now?” Then she dug around in her big shoulder bag and produced a business card. “I’m a chef and I like your jelly. Give me five. No, give me ten. And then give me a call sometime—I’d love to talk more about selling here or at the co-op. Seems like I have nothing to do but cook.”

“Are you kidding? You’re a chef? And you want ten of my jelly?”

Kelly chuckled. “I was formerly sous chef at a five-star restaurant in San Francisco called La Touche—look for it on Google it sometime. It’s famous. I quit—the stress was too much. I’m going to have to find a new job, but for now I’m visiting my sister in Virgin River and canning everything I can pick, buy or steal.” Kelly shrugged. “It’s what I do to relax.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Oops,” Kelly said, grabbing that business card back. “I forgot—I have a new cell phone.” She dug around for a pen and scribbled a new number on the back of the card, handing it to her. “Cell reception in the mountains is spotty, but you can leave a message and I’ll get back.”

Laura was in enough shock that she hadn’t bagged those ten jars of jelly. “Have you studied all over the place?”

“Culinary institutes in Paris, Italy, Spain, U.S.A. And worked with some amazing chefs. But it takes nerves of steel—very competitive and demanding. I’d give anything to have a small restaurant that I could run my way.”

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

Kelly laughed. “Well, only because I’m not rich.”

“Damn, Kelly, you shouldn’t let a little thing like that stop you!”

“Why aren’t you mass-producing Laura’s Pepper Jelly?” Kelly asked with a lift of her brow.

Laura leaned close. “Are you kidding? I don’t want to! This is a little gold mine! Best kept secret in the west—the flea markets, farmers markets and co-ops. I work three days a week for enough stock to sell for two days and I almost always sell out and my profit is a hundred percent.”

Kelly looked at the jar—priced at $2.50. “It cost you $1.25 to produce this?”

Laura nodded and said, “That includes the cost of the jar, transportation, permits, memberships, licenses and booth.”

Kelly nodded. “Bring it up to $2.99.” Then she winked. “Better still, $3.99. You’re giving it away!”

“That’s what my husband says. I’ll give you a call this week,” Laura said, bagging up ten jars and taking twenty-five in cash from Kelly. “I think we have information to trade.”

“You bet! Now I’m off to check out the co-op and that vegetable stand.” She put out her hand. “Nice meeting you!”

Lief drove Courtney to the Jensen Veterinary Clinic and Stable even though she said she wasn’t all that interested. “That’s fine,” he said as they drove. “I’d just like you to look around, meet a couple of the instructors and horses, see if it sparks any interest for you.”

“But why?” she moaned.

“Lots of reasons, Court. Your friend Amber has animals and you seem to like being around her house—if you’re going to do any riding with her, I’d prefer it if you had some lessons first. And—I talked to one of the instructors. She said nothing helps build confidence in a teenage girl like riding, like being able to control a large animal. She, Lilly Tahoma, said that’s why she’s teaching—when she was a young girl, it was probably the most important thing she did to help her learn responsibility, trust and commitment.”

“You think riding horses is going to get me to do my homework on time?”

“No,” Lief said. “I think being allowed to hang out at Amber’s is going to get your homework done.”

She sighed heavily. “Amber’s is okay, but I don’t think we’re going riding. One of their horses is old and the other one is sometimes a problem. I like the dogs, though. And we’re agreed, I’m getting that dog. Right?”

“I’m just about there,” Lief said. “You do understand that having a dog around our house is going to be a lot different than having dogs at the Hawkins farm.”

“Different how?” she asked.

“Well, on the farm, you tend to let ’em run loose and the big dogs train and look after the pups. They stay with the pack most of the time. There can’t be any running loose outside our house—he’d get lost in a second. A lost pup ends up being dinner for some bobcat or eagle. He’ll have to be watched and trained.”

“Trained to do what?” Courtney asked.

Ah, Lief thought. She’s never had a pet. How had he and Lana completely overlooked the importance of that? Because they were always working and traveling; pets hadn’t fit into their lifestyle. “To pee on the grass,” Lief said. “And to not eat the house. Puppies chew everything.”

“Do you know how to train a dog to do those things?”

“It’s been a while, but I think we’ll manage. You don’t realize it yet, how busy that puppy is going to keep you.”

“Then I don’t think there will be a lot of time left over for things like riding…”

“You don’t have to make a decision about riding,” he reminded her. “Just have a look around, talk to the trainers.”

“Since we’re in the truck headed there, I don’t see much choice,” she said.

“Good. You’re catching on.”

“Waste of time,” she muttered.

How, Lief asked himself, do I stay sane? “Keep an open mind…”

When they arrived at the stable, Lief was glad to see Annie Jensen, the vet’s wife, had a couple of teenage girls on horses in the round pen. She was standing in the center of the pen shouting and pointing while the girls practiced their dressage training. There were some cones in the pen, and the girls maneuvered their mounts around them. Their backs were straight, chins up, hands gently lifting the reins. Lief was relieved to see the girls were wearing jeans and not anything as fancy as jodhpurs. There was a truck and trailer parked outside the pen, the back open and ramp down. The girls looked too young to have driven the truck, but maybe a parent brought them and their horses and was in the barn or vet’s office. “Hang out here for a while, Courtney. I’m going to see if I can find Clay or Lilly.”

“Sure,” she said, leaning on the fence.

And as he walked away he was thinking, Oh, man, I hope this wasn’t a huge mistake.

While Courtney watched the two girls riding in the pen she had to admit to herself it looked kind of fun, but these were older girls. Fifteen or sixteen. And she was not only just fourteen, but maybe the smallest fourteen-year-old girl in her class. There was no way she was ever getting up on one of those huge animals. She thought she might fit under its chin.

“Hi. Are you Courtney?”

Courtney turned to the voice. Coming toward her was a very small woman, maybe only a few inches taller than Courtney. She was a woman, though. Her body was full and curved while Courtney’s was still straight and flat. And she was beautiful—dark hair, tan Native American skin and the most unusual bright blue eyes. She pulled off a heavy glove and stretched out her hand. “I’m Lilly Tahoma. Your dad said he was going to bring you by today.”

“Where is he?” Courtney said, looking around.

“He must be in the office. Come with me a minute—I want to show you something.” And with that, Lilly turned and walked away, expecting Courtney to follow.

She was a little reluctant. But surely these people knew what they were doing and wouldn’t let her be stomped to death by one of those huge beasts.

Lilly was way ahead of her, opening the door to a pen. She pulled on a dark horse’s halter, leading her out of the stall. Courtney kept a safe distance.

“I’d like you to meet Blue, Courtney. Her full name is Blue Rhapsody, but I call her Blue.” Lilly was stroking her nose and cheek, kissing her long muzzle. “I found her, if you can believe that. I was driving and saw her rolling around on the ground, sick. I called Doc Jensen and Clay and they took care of her, but she’d been abandoned. I was able to adopt her.”

Courtney stood back about six feet in case the horse reared and began to stomp her.

“You can come a little closer. Blue might be the gentlest, most trustworthy horse in the stable. She’s the one we always choose for a new rider.”

Courtney took a few more steps. She looked over her shoulder to see Lief in the barn door, leaning against the frame, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. She hadn’t once mentioned to him that the very idea of getting up on one of those big animals terrified her.

“She’s completely docile, Courtney. Especially in the barn, with me—it’s a controlled environment. Nothing here to spook her.”

“How old were you when you learned to ride?” Courtney asked.

“I’m not even real sure. Very, very small. I grew up on the Hopi reservation and my grandfather put me on a neighbor’s horse. We didn’t have horses, but the neighbors did and they taught me to ride. Then we moved and I wasn’t on a horse for years—till I was in my twenties.”

“Well,” Courtney said, keeping her voice down, “I’ve been around a horse or two, but I’ve never been on one.”

“Are you a little uncomfortable around them?” Lilly asked.

“I would say, a lot.”

“I see that as a real plus,” Lilly said. “Tell you why—you’re likely to pay close attention to safety, more so than some of these hotshots I teach who think they’re unbreakable. And you won’t have any bad habits to unlearn. You’ll get it right from the start. But the most important thing—when you develop your equestrian skills, you’re going to feel like a goddess!” Then she laughed. “Come a little closer. Here. Touch her neck, right here. And her jaw—here. Give her a stroke. Ah…. Blue, you are the queen of the stable, aren’t you?”

Courtney reached out a tentative hand. When she stroked the horse’s neck, Blue nickered softly, moving her head toward her a bit. Courtney pulled back her hand, and Lilly chuckled. “Did that surprise you, Courtney? She likes you, that’s all. That was a sweet, affectionate sound, like a kitten’s purr. Here,” she said, pulling a few carrots out of her back pocket. “Would you like to give her a carrot?”

“No. You go ahead.”

“All right, watch this. I’m going to hold it way back here and stick the skinny end in and let go the second she takes it. If I were giving her a sugar lump or something small, I’d lay it in my hand and hold it out flat—we don’t want to be involved with those big teeth!” The horse took the carrot and worked it around in her mouth. “Go ahead, Courtney. It’ll help you bond with her a little.”

“Listen…” Courtney began.

“It’s okay, Courtney. You can trust me. I’d never let anything happen to you with my horse.”

When Blue was done with the first carrot, Courtney fed her the second. And of course Blue took it happily and chewed it right up. But Courtney wasn’t that impressed. She was still afraid of this huge horse.

But she was beautiful. She gave Lilly a nudge with her muzzle and Lilly said, “Aw, you’re welcome.” Then she gave Courtney a nudge, and it almost knocked her back a foot, more out of surprise than anything. Lilly laughed. “That was a thank-you, by the way.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“My suggestion is that you spend a couple of hours with me in the stable. You can help me brush her, feed her, maybe turn her out. Talk to her, get to know her before we put a saddle on her for you. The next step would be you in the saddle and I’ll have her on a lead. You’ll be amazed how fast you get comfortable. Once you like it in the saddle, we’ll advance slowly, always at your pace.”

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Courtney said.

“Well, maybe it won’t work out for you. But if it does, it can make a girl feel so powerful to be able to handle a thousand-pound animal with the slightest press of a thigh or flick of a wrist. Plus, we love getting a group of girls together out on a trail ride. Our older kids sometimes have group trail rides—boys and girls. It’s a fun, healthy sport that promotes the kind treatment of animals and fair competition. It’s all good,” Lilly said. Then she smiled.

“I just don’t…”

Courtney’s voice trailed off at the sound of horse hooves pounding toward the barn. The back doors were open to the trail that led between fenced pastures and seemed to stretch all the way into the hills, and down that trail blazed a beautiful chestnut-colored horse with a blond mane and tail. And upon this horse, a beautiful boy. Man, for sure. He was lowered in the saddle while the horse charged at what appeared lightning speed.

Then the man rose upright and pulled back on the reins to slow the horse. The horse pranced a bit, turning sideways, then fell into a nice trot right into the stable doors. And the strong athletic young man leaped off, hanging on to the reins. He was also Native American, his cheekbones high, his skin beautifully tan, a long black braid down his back and his teeth so shockingly white that when he smiled Courtney almost wet her pants.