Hidden Blessing

“I’ll never get used to the miracle of birth. It’s the perfect expression of God’s magnificence,” Ward said, gently stroking the newborn foal.

The mare rose to her feet, and in a few minutes, Princess tried her long wobbly legs without success.

“Why don’t you get up and help her?” Shannon asked.

He shook his head. “She’ll do it herself when she’s ready. That’s the wonderful thing about letting nature have its way. Everything has perfect timing if we will just keep the faith. If we try to force things, we end up in trouble.”

A few minutes later, Princess stood on her wobbly legs. Calico moved close to her, allowing her baby to nurse.

The moving scene brought tears to Shannon’s eyes.

“I know it’s beautiful,” Ward said, his own voice husky. The moment was a precious one, and as he looked at Shannon’s rapturous expression, he knew with a strange sense of certainty there was no woman in the world with whom he’d rather share it.

LEONA KARR

A native of Colorado, Leona (Lee) Karr is the author of nearly forty books. Her favorite genres are inspirational romance and romantic suspense. Graduating from the University of Colorado with a B.A. and the University of Northern Colorado with an M.A. degree, she taught as a reading specialist until her first book was published in 1980. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list and nominated by Romantic Times for Best Romantic Saga and Best Gothic Author. She has been honored as the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer of the Year and received Colorado’s Romance Writer of the Year Award. Her books have been reprinted in more than a dozen foreign countries. She is a presenter at numerous writing conferences and has taught college courses in creative writing.

Hidden Blessing
Leona Karr

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you.

—Ezekiel 36:26

With love to Debbie, Charlotte, Kay and Vivian.

My special family, and loyal fans.

Dear Reader,

I chose to set Hidden Blessing against the backdrop of a Colorado forest fire, because it is in times of crisis that we examine our spiritual beliefs and are open to change.

The hard shell of ambition and pride that my heroine, Shannon, has placed around herself begins to crack when she finds herself a refuge in an evacuation center without any worldly possessions. The hero, Ward Dawson, is challenged to bring Shannon into a relationship with God, but like so many of us, he has come to his faith the hard way, and he suspects that Shannon is on the same path. When he tells her that growing in spiritual faith is not a sprint but a marathon, I believe that he speaks a truth for all of us.

Please enjoy the excitement, drama and tenderness in this love story. Letters of sharing are truly welcome.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you.”

Ezekiel 36:26

The last thing that Shannon Hensley expected when she rented a summer cottage near Beaver Junction, Colorado, was to be confronted with a life-threatening forest fire.

“They’re bringing in firefighters from all over,” Isabel Watkins, the owner of the town’s one grocery store, told Shannon as she quickly sacked her purchases. “This place is going to be worse than a beehive turned upside down.”

Shannon’s gray-blue eyes widened. “The report I heard said the fire was somewhere in the high country.”

“That’s us,” Isabel replied with a nod. “The fire started up on the north ridge. They don’t know if it was started by careless campers or lightning. Everyone was hoping that it would burn itself out, but the winds have spread the blaze downward.”

“But it’s still miles away, isn’t it?” Shannon asked, feeling an unbidden quiver of nervousness. She’d rented a summer cottage in a deeply wooded area about fifteen miles from this small settlement and had only been settled a short time.

“Not many miles as the crow flies. It’s unbelievable how fast a wildfire can spread,” Isabel answered, shaking her head. “They’re hoping to get a fire line set up before the flames crest Prospect Ridge. Once it jumps into those thick drifts on the downhill slopes, it could make its way into this valley.”

Great, just great! Shannon thought, and filled with all kinds of misgivings, she left the store and started driving down the two-block Main Street. She’d driven to Colorado, looking for a quiet retreat where she could try to make some sense out of the shambles of her life. She had wanted to leave all the drama and trauma behind in Los Angeles. Even now she couldn’t believe that she was jobless, friendless and facing another uphill battle to secure a prosperous future for herself.

It wasn’t fair, but then she reminded herself that she’d never expected life to be fair. She’d fought tooth and nail for everything she’d ever gotten. Her parents had believed that looking out for number one was what life was all about and had taught their daughter well. Shannon’s focus had been on climbing the corporate ladder since college, and there had been little time in her life for anything or anyone else. She was well on her way to achieving her high goals when, almost overnight, her high-paying position was eliminated because of a corporate takeover, and she was tossed out by new management as easily as they were replacing old office furnishings with new.

Now it seemed that her hopes of spending some relaxing downtime in Colorado were threatening to go up in smoke. Maybe she should pack up her things and get out of the area. Better to forgo a month’s rent than put herself under more tension worrying about a forest fire driving her out. But where would she go? Her finances were tight at the moment, and the added expense of seeking out another retreat wasn’t something she had planned on. Besides, she told herself firmly, the fire might never get within miles of her rented place. She decided that it wouldn’t hurt to hang around for a couple of days even though this mountain valley was isolated with only one two-lane road leading from the Junction to a major highway in Elkhorn, a town about fifty miles away.

As Shannon turned onto the narrow road snaking up to her mountain cottage and other dwellings built on the slopes of Rampart Mountain, she braked to a sudden stop.

“What in the world?” She couldn’t believe it. A wooden barricade was stretched across the road, and a man wearing a cowboy hat and Western clothes moved quickly to her car window. Under different circumstances she might have appreciated his strong masculine features and the way his brown eyes reflected a smile as he waited for her to lower the window on the driver’s side. She guessed him to be somewhere in his early thirties as he gave a polite tip to his broadbrimmed Stetson and acknowledged her with a polite hello.

“What’s going on?” she asked without returning his smile. Used to big city runaround, she was ready to summon any argument necessary to avoid wasting time at a roadblock.

“We have to keep all traffic off this road,” he replied in an easy, conversational tone, holding his smile.

“Why?”

“To keep it clear for the emergency vehicles.”

That slow easy smile of his was getting on her nerves, and she resented a deep, stroking voice that undoubtedly could play havoc with most females—but not her. She wasn’t some backwoods gal who was used to taking orders from any smiling man who happened to be around, nor about to meekly accept this inconvenience without a firm protest.

“I don’t see any traffic,” she said firmly, as if that should settle the matter.

“You will in just a few minutes. The first caravan of forest fighters will be here shortly with trucks and all kinds of fire-fighting equipment. They’re going to establish a base camp just a couple of miles from here. This whole area is going to be under siege before long.”

“Does that mean the road is going to be closed indefinitely?” Shannon’s sharp mind suddenly shifted into gear. What would this mean to her? She’d been a successful businesswoman because of her ability to handle unexpected situations. With dogged determination she had always made certain that she didn’t come out the loser.

“I couldn’t say how long it will be closed. It depends upon how fast the fire moves up the other side of Prospect Mountain.” His slow, unruffled tone increased her irritation.

“I don’t see why you can’t let me drive quickly up to my place.”

“Because I have my orders not to let anyone up this road.”

“Then you’re some kind of officer?” Her skepticism was obvious in her tone as she glanced over his Western shirt as if looking for a badge.

“No, just an ordinary citizen doing my duty,” he answered smoothly. “Ward Dawson’s the name. Now if you’ll back up to that wide spot and turn around, you can wait out the road closures in town.”

She glared at him. “How long will that be?”

“Well, let’s see.” He shoved his cowboy hat back far enough for her to see shocks of cinnamon brown hair framing his nicely tanned face. “Not more than a month, I reckon.”

“A month!” She echoed, horrified. Then she saw the twinkle in his eyes and gave him a glare that told him she didn’t appreciate his humor.

Ward silently chuckled. She was a testy one, all right, and he couldn’t help kidding her a little. The California license plates on her fancy sports car had told him a lot. She was a city gal, all right, and a downright attractive one with wavy hair the color of corn silk, petite features and flashing gray-blue eyes that snapped at him. He didn’t know who she was, but she sure wasn’t going to drive anywhere up this road if he had anything to do with it.

“Surely, you have to allow people to get back to their homes,” she insisted, not willing to accept his authority. She’d had plenty of practice confronting male superiors when they’d tried to tell her she couldn’t do something and had learned there were always ways to get around rules. “It doesn’t make sense to shut down a road when it’s the only one in the area.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, firmly. “But that’s the way it is.”

“Why all this inconvenience when the fire is miles away? If you want everyone to stay out of the way, just tell them to stay in their houses and off the roads until the firefighters are finished.” She mellowed her tone as if she was just offering a helpful suggestion. “That makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it?”

Ward searched her face, almost sure she was putting him on, but her steady gaze was clear. Didn’t she realize that it was anybody’s guess whether they could get a handle on the fire before it crested the ridge and threatened this hillside and all the scattered homes on it? The fire was moving at an alarming rate in three different directions. He was tempted to set her straight that there might not be any homes to return to if the worst scenario came to pass. He decided that frightening her wasn’t going to help anyone.

“They’re setting up some accommodations at the school gym for people evicted from their homes,” he told her with a firmness in his tone that didn’t invite any further argument. “Do you know where the high school is? You can’t miss it. It’s a redbrick building—”

“With a sign that says Beaver High School? I think I can manage to find it,” she said sarcastically. The small settlement of Beaver Junction would scarcely take up a three-block area in Los Angeles.

“Well, if you get lost you can always flag somebody down.”

Pulling her car in reverse, the woman made a quick turn and headed toward Beaver Junction.

Watching her car disappear down the narrow road, Ward let out a deep laugh. She was a fiery one, all right, might be worth getting to know if things were different. But in the developing emergency, he’d be surprised if he ever saw her again.

As Shannon drove to the Junction, she mentally rehearsed all the things she’d say to him if she ever got the chance. When she reached the high school, she saw with a sinking heart that the parking lot was nearly full. All kinds of vehicles were vying for parking spaces. She was lucky to find an end spot for her small car.

After turning off the engine, Shannon sat for several minutes, listening to a Denver radio news station giving details of the rapidly moving wildfire. She searched the sky and could see a haze of smoke beyond the front range of mountains that cupped the valley. The radio report affirmed that all mountain roads in the threatened areas were restricted to emergency vehicles.

After hearing the news broadcast, Shannon decided the irritating Ward Dawson policing the road had only been following instructions. She felt a little ashamed of her assumption that he was just some local throwing his weight around. She could even forgive him his little joke of telling her it might be a month before the road was open.

Surely, with a statewide alert, enough knowledgable firefighters would be able to put the fire out as quickly as it had begun. There was no reason to panic, she told herself. Sighing, she realized that she would just have to be patient and wait with the rest of these strangers.

Collecting her purse and bag of groceries, she left the car and followed the crowd inside the building. The Red Cross had arrived. Tables had been set up in the front hall with a cardboard sign that read, Register Here If You Are An Evacuee.

Am I? Shannon asked herself. She wasn’t sure just what the identification implied. As far as she was concerned, she was someone waiting for the road to clear so she could get back to her rented cottage.

When Shannon explained her circumstances, a pleasant, ruddy-faced woman handed her a form to fill out. “Your friends and relatives can contact us to know you’re safe,” the volunteer explained.

For the first time, Shannon felt a quiver of foreboding that the situation might not be as quickly resolved as she had assumed. She wrote her name on the form and handed it to the woman without filling it out.

The lady volunteer raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t there someone who needs to be notified about your safety?”

Shannon shook her head and walked away. Her insistence on independence and total privacy suddenly had a hollow ring to it. Even her closest former coworkers had no idea she had taken off for Colorado. She felt it was none of their business. No one would be waiting to hear from her. No friends or relatives would be inquiring after her safety.

Reluctantly, she joined the milling crowd in the gym where clusters of people were busily talking, looking out windows, trying to placate crying children or sitting silently on cots that were being set up as quickly as they were delivered.

A tall, angular woman wearing a Red Cross pin spied Shannon carrying her small sack of groceries. She hurried over to her and gave Shannon a grateful smile.

“Oh, good, donated food. Here, let me take that sack to the cafeteria for you. God knows, every little bit will help. We have no idea how many will need to be fed tonight.”

Shannon readily handed over the sack and watched the woman scurry away as if she held a treasure in her hand instead of a quart of milk, three bananas, a box of crackers and a six-pack of a diet drink. The idea of feeding all these men, women and children was more than Shannon could contemplate.

All over the crowded gym, people were talking quietly together. Others were fighting back tears or sitting silently as if in a state of shock. Most of the men were wearing work clothes, as if they’d been suddenly taken off some job, and the women wore casual summer tops with their slacks or jeans. Shannon felt more out of place than ever in her pale-yellow linen dress and matching designer sandals. Several puzzled glances came her way as she headed to a corner of the gym to sit down in a folding chair.

Announcements over the school’s public address system blared in her ears, but most of the information had no relevance for her since she was unfamiliar with the names of places and people. Although she had a detached sympathy for the milling townspeople around her, she felt alien to them. As the hours passed, she decided that as soon as the roads opened to general traffic, she’d leave the area and forget about losing her three weeks rent on the mountain cottage.

Ward had forgotten all about the attractive blonde in the fancy sports car until later that evening when he brought some supplies to the high school. The place was a madhouse. Growing numbers of evacuated families from threatened and closed areas had poured into Beaver Junction all afternoon, seeking refuge at the school.

A call had gone out for cots, food and supplies, and Ward had made a quick trip to his ranch, located twenty miles up the mountain valley. He and his young ranch hand, Ted Thompson, had stripped the house of some extra cots and brought them to the school.

“You’re God’s own angel, Ward Dawson,” the preacher’s wife, Laura Cozzins, told him with a broad grin on her round face as she accepted his donations.

“That’s what my mother always used to say.” Ward nodded solemnly.

Laura laughed heartily. She was a small woman with greying short hair and a ready twinkle in her hazel eyes. “Glory, glory, we must not be thinking of the same God-loving woman. As much as your parents adored you, Ward, I don’t ever remember them calling you an angel.”

“Ah, come on, now, I wasn’t that bad.”

“No, you weren’t.” She grinned at him. “Just heading down the wrong road. It was a miracle, for sure, the way you made a U-turn when you came back to the ranch to live.” Her smile faded a little. “I know it wasn’t easy for you, but the Lord wasn’t about to cut you free.”

“Yep, He had a lasso on me, for sure,” Ward admitted, remembering how hard he’d fought, trying to follow his destructive godless path in the college town where he’d been working. Both Laura and her husband had been there for him when he’d passed through his Gethsemane three years ago. After his wife, Valerie, had died and left him with an infant daughter to raise, he’d moved with Tara to the family ranch so that his older sister, Beth, could help raise his little girl. Since then, he’d learned to live in the moment and trust divine guidance to take care of the rest.

Ward gave Laura’s plump shoulders a quick hug. “You’re the prettiest gal around. If you weren’t already taken, I’d throw my hat in the ring.”

Laughing, she gave him a playful shove. “Your sweet talking is wasted on me. Now, you and Ted get busy setting up these cots before I think of some more work to keep the two of you out of trouble.”

They had just finished that job when Ward spied the California woman sitting all by herself. Her apparent indifference to the plight of others around her was disappointing but not unfamiliar. When he’d gone off to college, he couldn’t wait to leave home. Like the prodigal son, he’d thrown off all restraints and concern about others. Living campus life to the fullest, he forgot about the firm Christian values in which he’d been raised, and when he’d married his last year in college, it had been without any consideration except that he liked Valerie more than any girl he’d met, and they had a good time together. Her death when Tara was only two had left him emotionally bankrupt, and he’d come home to find himself. He didn’t know what the emptiness in the pretty stranger’s life might be, but he recognized the sign of a soul shut off from its source of peace and happiness.

“Do you know who that young woman is?” he asked his eighteen-year-old ranch hand, who usually had an eye out for any attractive female who wandered into town.

“Nope.” Ted shook his curly black head. “Haven’t seen her before. She must be new around here.”

“I know she’s staying at one of those summer homes on the north ridge,” Ward offered. “She drives a fancy sports car with a California license, but that’s all I know about her.”

Ted grinned. “Well, if you’re interested, boss, there’s only one remedy for that. Go talk to her.”

Ward wasn’t sure that interested was the right word. Curious, perhaps. Responding to Ted’s knowing grin, he took up the challenge. “You know something? I think I will.”

Shannon had stayed pretty much to herself during the long hours of waiting, wandering aimlessly around the school or sitting in a corner of the gym. When she saw Ward coming in her direction, she instantly recognized him. Oh, no, she thought, silently, as he wove his way through the crowd toward her. Now that she understood the scope of the emergency, she was a little ashamed of herself for challenging his authority. Not that she was about to apologize. He’d been secretly laughing at her all the time, and she knew it.

He seemed to know just about everyone. She watched him scoop up a little girl for a quick hug, and a moment later he planted a kiss on the forehead of a grandmotherly lady. An attractive young woman dressed in western pants, a plaid shirt and cowboy boots pushed toward him and said something that made them both laugh. As Ward tweaked her chin in a playful fashion, she looked at him with a soft expression that betrayed a strong affection.

Watching them, Shannon was filled with an emotion she refused to identify as strangely akin to envy. Jerking her eyes in another direction, she scolded herself for being interested in this cowboy’s personal life.

So he had a sweetheart or wife, so what?

“Hello, again.” He greeted her with a warm familiarity as he suddenly stood in front of her. “I see you found the school all right.”

Looking into his tanned face with its high cheekbones, firm straight nose and strong jawline, she was terribly aware of how much she wanted to mend fences with him. But she was equally determined to show him she wasn’t some whimpering damsel in distress.

“It was a challenge,” she answered lightly. “But I managed not to get lost.”

“I suspect you always know where you’re going.”

“Yes, I do,” she answered. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, she wasn’t going for the bait. “I’ve heard rumors that the wind has shifted, and the roads might be opened in the morning.”

He nodded. “Could be. I guess it depends on whether things stay the same during the night.”

“And if they do?” she asked hopefully.

“Well, I reckon that they’ll give the okay for people who live in the area to pay a quick visit to their homes. Most of them didn’t have time to bring very much with them when they were ordered to vacate.” He sobered. “It’s not easy to decide what’s important when you’re under that kind of pressure.”

“Are you one of the displaced?” she asked, wondering if he was personally involved or just volunteering to police the road.

“Nope, I’m one of the lucky ones. My ranch is farther up the valley. God willing, we’ll be spared.”

When he said, we, she glanced at his ring finger. No gold band. Feminine curiosity made her wonder who the young woman was who had hugged him with such ardor.

“Have you met any of the other folks?” he asked. Something about her obvious withdrawal from everyone around her challenged Ward to do something about it. “Why don’t you let me introduce you around, Miss—”

“Shannon Hensley. Thanks, but I’ve decided to leave as soon as the main road opens, whether I can get my belongings from the rented cottage or not.” Where she would go was another question, but she knew she wanted to see the last of Beaver Junction as quickly as possible.

“And you’ll be heading back to California?”

“No. Not right away,” she said, smothering a sigh. It was ironic, really, that she was sitting in a crowded gym with a bunch of homeless people and had no idea what she should do next. She’d spent a month applying to every high-tech company on the West Coast without even getting a nibble for a new position. She’d temporarily rented her expensive beachfront apartment, left her résumé with several employment agencies and made arrangements to come to Colorado to spend some quiet time. She wasn’t about to admit to this stranger that she was without home, family or close friends. “I haven’t made up my mind exactly where I’ll go.”

Her voice was firm enough, but Ward could see the shadow of worry in her attractive eyes, which seemed to constantly change colours from gray to smoky blue. She was wearing a dress in a shade of yellow that brought out sun-bleached highlights in her hair, and in his opinion, her figure was as eye-catching as any pictured on the cover of a woman’s magazine. Why would such a California beauty end up alone in a place like Beaver Junction, he asked himself? He would have thought that fancy resorts in Aspen or Vail would be more her style.

“Do you need to let your family or anyone know that you’re all right?” he asked, in an obvious attempt to learn more about her personal background.

“No, there’s no one,” she replied quickly. “Since my parents died, I only have one aunt I communicate with once in a while. Thank you, but I can handle this situation nicely by myself.”

Her lovely chin jutted out at a belligerent angle, and he hid a smile. There was something of a stubborn child about her that both appealed to him and irritated him. “There’s no need to be afraid—”

“I’m not afraid.” She flared at the insinuation. “I just want to get out of this place as quickly as I can. One night cooped up here with all these people will be all I can take.”

“I see. Well, good night then,” he said politely. Her apparent indifference to the plight of others around her sparked the urge to handle her the way he would a stubborn mare. It was a good thing she wasn’t going to be around long enough for a battle of wills.

Left alone, Shannon had a moment of regret that she hadn’t kept him talking to her. Nobody else had tried to strike up a conversation with her all afternoon. She knew they were caught up in the perils of their situation, and even though she sympathized with their worries and anguish, she wasn’t up to all the commotion and crush of humanity crowded together, breathing the same air and having no privacy. The whole situation was some kind of unbelievable nightmare.

As Shannon’s eyes followed Ward’s tall figure across the gym, she saw him stop to talk to a plump, gray-haired woman. During their conversation, the woman nodded, and her gaze darted in Shannon’s direction. Shannon was positive they were talking about her.

She stiffened. What was Ward Dawson telling the woman? How dare he repeat any of their conversation? She knew then that she shouldn’t have revealed so much about her family situation and indefinite plans. Shannon began simmering. She was an outsider, and fair game for the rumor mills. She could imagine what fun the small-town gossips would have speculating about her private affairs.

Shannon braced herself when Ward left the gym, and the woman to whom he’d been talking made her way purposefully toward her. Shannon knew then that her suspicions had been right.

“Hi, I’m Laura Cozzins, the reverend’s wife,” the woman said, introducing herself in a friendly, breezy manner that matched the smile on her broad face. “Sorry I haven’t had time to say hello before now. Ward told me he’s a friend of yours and that you’d love to help us in the cafeteria. We’ll be setting out some food pretty soon now, and I’m grateful that you’ve volunteered to help.”

Volunteered to help? Shannon was speechless and utterly aghast at the number of lies Ward Dawson had squeezed into one sentence. He wasn’t a friend, nothing had been said about her helping, and she hadn’t volunteered for anything.

“Come on, dear, and I’ll show where the kitchen is.” Laura smiled at Shannon. “We’ve really got our hands full. The Red Cross ladies are doing all they can, but more displaced families are arriving all the time. Two more hands will be a great help, and God bless you for offering to help.”

Shannon managed a weak smile. Telling the preacher’s wife the truth would have been too embarrassing under the circumstances. She rose to her feet and followed the preacher’s wife into a hot, crowded kitchen.

For the next two hours, Shannon cut up a gigantic mound of potatoes for French fries, cooked them in boiling oil, then served them to a seemingly never-ending line of refugees.

She was hot, sweating and had aching muscles by the time all the stranded families had finished eating. When it was time for the volunteer help to sit down at the tables, Shannon had little appetite left. Ignoring the food that had been prepared, she searched the kitchen and found one of the bananas that had been in her confiscated grocery sack.

Like a fugitive escaping, she slipped out the kitchen door. Outside the building, a night breeze bathed her perspiring face with blessed relief. A faint glow on the far horizon marred the dark night sky, and the cool air was tinged with the odor of burned wood. As she walked around the building, eating her banana and enjoying the blessing of being alone, she prayed that the wind was blowing the fire back on itself.