The Girl with the Broken Heart Read online

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Lurlene McDaniel

  Cover photograph copyright © 2018 by Alexkich/Shutterstock

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: McDaniel, Lurlene, author.

  Title: The girl with the broken heart / Lurlene McDaniel.

  Description: New York : Delacorte Press, [2018] | Summary: To escape her father’s overprotectiveness, twenty-year-old Kenzie Caine spends the summer working at a horse farm rehabilitating Tennessee walking horses, where a good deed results in a violent end to the summer and the revelation of her attractive assistant’s secrets.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017037593 (print) | LCCN 2017050687 (ebook) | ISBN 978-1-5247-1950-0 (ebook) | ISBN 978-1-5247-1948-7 (hardcover)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Heart—Diseases—Fiction. | Animal rescue—Fiction. | Animals—Treatment—Fiction. | Tennessee walking horse—Fiction. | Horses—Fiction. | Summer employment—Fiction. | Love—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.M4784172 (ebook) | LCC PZ7.M4784172 Go 2018 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  Ebook ISBN 9781524719500

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v5.4

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  Contents

  Cover

  You’ll Want to Read These Inspiring Titles By Lurlene McDaniel

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to the Rescuers…those who help and protect all God’s creatures.

  Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?

  —JOB 39:19, KING JAMES BIBLE

  A bruised reed he shall not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgement unto truth.

  —ISAIAH 42:3, KING JAMES BIBLE

  Ciana Mercer thrust open the front door of the beautiful bungalow, set far back from the main house on her Bellmeade property, and moved aside. “Come on in, Kenzie!”

  Kenzie Caine, still reeling from the stress of her sophomore-year final exams back at Vanderbilt University, stepped in to see gleaming dark hardwood floors, colorful area rugs, cream-colored walls, and what looked like brand-new furniture. “It’s beautiful! I never expected something like this. Maybe a small room, or a spot in your bunkhouse, but never an entire house!”

  “The bunkhouse?” Ciana laughed. “That’s where we put the men we hire for summer work, not proper accommodations for you, Kenzie. I’ve already revved up the AC and evicted the dust bunnies, so let me show you around.” Ciana guided her through two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a small but well-equipped kitchen, while opening blinds to allow late-morning sunlight to flood each room on the tour. Kenzie followed, a bundle of nerves about facing the summer months ahead of her.

  This was really happening. She would be in charge of bringing three Tennessee walking horses to good health before summer’s end and putting them up for adoption. Her first solo job. “I can’t wait to get busy.” She was nervous, and hoped it didn’t show.

  “Glad you’re here, but I’m surprised. I assumed you’d go home for a few days before starting.”

  Home. The very word tasted bitter to Kenzie. She’d officially completed her sophomore year that morning, packed her SUV, and driven the fifty miles to Bellmeade to avoid going home. The sunny memories of her childhood on her family’s horse farm in the rolling hills of Nashville were now smeared like mud a
cross her mind.

  In the kitchen, Ciana tapped the refrigerator door. “You’ll need to go grocery shopping, but I made a pitcher of lemonade for you. My grandmother’s recipe—delicious.”

  After a year of cafeteria food at Vanderbilt, a batch of homemade lemonade made her mouth water. “You make me feel very welcome, Mrs. Mercer.”

  “Please, none of that! I’m just Ciana.”

  Kenzie thought Ciana Beauchamp Mercer, with her cinnamon-colored eyes and hair, was beautiful. Her family name was legend in Windemere, and her friendly, welcoming smile helped ease Kenzie’s jitters. “Got it…Ciana it is.”

  Ciana walked to a set of sliding glass doors, pushed aside vertical blinds, and opened a slider. “Oh, and here’s the back porch.” They stepped into a screened-in room with an arrangement of wicker lounge furniture. “Beyond the patio is a pathway. Just follow the flagstones to those woods and pick up the footpath. It’ll lead you straight to the stable where you’ll be working.” As she talked, Ciana pointed across an expanse of green manicured lawn toward a tree line. “Next to the stable is the pasture for your horses. You have three. They came in last week. We’ll walk over in a minute for a look-see.”

  “Why waste time lounging around? I want to get started.”

  “Rescue horse work isn’t the typical summer job, you know. Your helper won’t be here until Friday, but until he shows, I’ll be working with you.”

  Tension knotted Kenzie’s stomach. Dr. Kaye, the veterinarian she’d worked for the previous summer and throughout her sophomore year, had taught Kenzie well, but being fully in charge of rehabbing abused and neglected horses was daunting. She’d never been a boss before either. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  Ciana waved off Kenzie’s comment. “No problem. With the horses getting four feedings a day, trust me, you’ll need my help. Our vet’s already checked the horses over and vaccinated them. Dr. Perry left his evaluation report in the stable’s tack room for you. He’ll come again next week, answer any concerns you might have.”

  Kenzie felt the heavy responsibility of such a job, but also the thrill of it. Ciana said, “Did you know Kaye and I were in the Windemere horse color guard brigade together? The guard performed precision drills before every rodeo event. I wore a lot of spangles and sparkles.” Ciana laughed at the memory. “But even back then, she was keen on becoming an equine vet.

  “When Kaye told me she was moving to North Carolina and asked if Jon and I had space for rescue work, we hesitated. But when she said she had the perfect person to handle it, we agreed to give it a trial run this summer. She gave us money for your work. Money for feed and vet bills, and for you and a helper. How could we say no?” Ciana swept her hand through the air. “Kaye spoke highly of you, Kenzie. She told me you possessed ‘extraordinary dedication and compassion.’ Kaye called you a natural healer.”

  The endorsement was flattering but only added to Kenzie’s jitters. “I’m very grateful to all of you, but I’d do the work for free, you know.” She had loved the work so much that she’d changed her major to animal husbandry and had kept her plans to herself until the previous October, when Caroline turned fourteen. Instead of attending the family party at the house, Kenzie had met her sister at a mall for lunch and a day of shopping. The memory returned in a vivid burst.

  Over salads, sweet tea, and cupcakes, Kenzie said, “I have a new direction, Caro, and I want you to be the first to know. I’m going to become a veterinarian.”

  “Really?” Caroline wrinkled her nose. “Horses are smelly.”

  “Not to me, little sister. I love the big smelly beasts. I’m changing my major.”

  Caroline recoiled in disbelief. “What will Mom and Dad say about you wanting to be a vet? It’s hard work, Kenz…and your heart—”

  Kenzie cut her off. “My heart isn’t a problem, so don’t think about it. This is what I want.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes, dragged her finger through the dark frosting on her cupcake. “You can’t stay mad at Daddy forever. He misses you…We all do.” She sucked the frosting off her finger. “Will you at least come home for Christmas? Even if it’s just for a few days?”

  “Dr. Kaye says I can work over the holidays if I want, so I might.” Caroline looked crestfallen, and Kenzie hastily added, “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

  But Kenzie hadn’t gone home for the holidays. She had stayed away until February, when her family’s world splintered apart, and she was forced home for the most difficult week of her life.

  “Doing rescue work for free. Spoken like a true horse lover,” Ciana said with a laugh, pulling Kenzie into the present.

  When Kaye had told Kenzie she’d sold her Nashville practice and was moving, Kenzie believed her rescue horse work was over and she’d be forced to go home. But now her mentor had given her a golden opportunity. “How about some of that lemonade?”

  “Let me get it,” Ciana said. “You sit.” Before Kenzie could protest being waited on, Ciana disappeared inside, reappearing minutes later with frosty glasses filled with pale yellow liquid. “The weatherman’s predicting a very hot summer.” She handed a glass to Kenzie, took a chair. “Jon handles mustangs and quarter horses, but I know about the controversy boiling around Tennessee walking horses and the Big Lick. People call it a ‘thing of beauty.’ ”

  “It’s an unnatural gait caused by soring. And it isn’t a thing of beauty.” Kenzie regretted that she hadn’t always thought that way. Always a tomboy, she used to tag along to watch her father, Avery, ride his magnificent walking horse, Blaze, in competitions. And along with adoring onlookers, Kenzie had clapped and cheered at the amazing height the great black stallion would raise his front legs performing the Big Lick. Blaze and Avery won not only numerous trophies and prizes, but also national fame for the Caine horse farm. Kenzie was sixteen before she fully understood how soring—with its medieval-like gear, obnoxious chemicals, and training methods—hurt, even crippled a horse. The exaggerated high step was a horse’s attempt to escape the pain in his front legs and hooves. When Kenzie was growing up, her father had assured her, “Everybody sores a little to win, honey. No harm done.” He had lied to her. And she had believed him.

  “Kaye said you rode in competitions too.”

  “Princess Ronan and I only competed in flat-shod events that show off a walking horse’s three natural gaits. We brought home our share of ribbons and honors. Believe me, there’s no excuse for the Big Lick.” Kenzie raised her glass, took a sip. “This is yummy, not too sweet, not too tart. Just perfect.”

  “Glad you like it. Soon as we finish, we’ll walk down to the stables and I’ll show you around. When we return, I’ll help you unload your car and move in.”

  * * *

  —

  The car pulled onto the shoulder of the rural country road. The young man got out and raised the hood. He knew that passing drivers would likely think that the car had engine trouble. As he walked away, he smiled to himself, knowing that others would think its driver had gone for help. And that’s exactly the impression he wanted to give.

  In the darkness of predawn, he navigated a roadside gully, dipped under a wire fence, and jogged across the back fields of the Bellmeade property. He reached a fenced pasture, climbed over, skirted a stable, where he heard horses rustling in the stalls. He had no idea when the animals would be let out to pasture, but he knew someone would show up to do it. He had to be in place before that happened.

  As the morning sky lightened, he ducked into a wooded area, discovered a worn footpath path, a cut-through to the stable behind him. He walked the path to where the woods ended at an expanse of lawn and the backside of a tidy house with a screened porch. He already knew that this was where Kenzie Caine would be living all summer.

  He receded into clusters of blooming forsythia and redbud, and lifting a pair of binoculars from beneath his hooded sweatshi
rt, he settled in for what would be an all-day wait. Once night fell, he could leave Bellmeade undetected. A long day, but no problem. Surveillance took patience. And he was a very patient person.

  Kenzie and Ciana followed the path through the trees, toward the back part of Bellmeade, passing bushes in bloom, colorful wildflowers, and overhead trees dressed in new leaves of bright spring green. The May morning had warmed, sending up scents of fresh earth and new growth.

  “Here we are,” Ciana said, exiting the woods. “These woods isolate this stable and pasture from the main working area of the ranch, because we didn’t want the noises to be too distracting for your horses. But before we go inside, let me show you what’s around the corner.” She led Kenzie around the tree line. “A few years back, we were hit by a tornado. Jon’s been rebuilding and adding on ever since.”

  The rebuild stretched over acres of land with a barn, two smaller stables, four corrals—one holding horses milling around, stirring up dirt—training pens, a mile-long oval exercise track, and generous-sized pastures for grazing. Kenzie’s family’s horse farm was large, but Bellmeade was more diverse. “Impressive.”

  “The horses in the corral are mustangs Jon brought in from Wyoming. By September, he and his men will have the horses trained for ranch work and on the auction block.” Kenzie had heard that Jon’s horses brought top dollar.

  Ciana waved at the men in the corral, then circled back to Kenzie’s work area. Hers was a pass-through stable—open at both ends—wide enough for a horse and rider. It had six stalls, each with inside and outside locking doors, allowing horses easy access to pasture or cover in bad weather. Walking to the fenced pasture, Kenzie eyed a round pen—sometimes necessary when retraining an abused horse once it was healthy. Together, she and Ciana watched her three horses grazing—two looked gaunt and malnourished. The third, a dark brown gelding she estimated to be at least seventeen hands high, grazed alone on the other side of the pasture.