But it would be almost impossible to carry on his dad’s mission with the same passion. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw and blew out a long breath. As horrible as it sounded, he resented Red Dog Ranch and all that it stood for. His father had cared more about it and the foster children than anything else.
Especially more than he’d cared about Rhett.
Uncle Travis clicked his briefcase closed and stood up. He hovered near the desk, though. “A gift is only as good as what you do with it.”
Rhett stood. Crossed his arms over his chest. “A gift and a burden are two very different things.”
But Uncle Travis pressed on. “Your aunt Pearl, bless her, she never knew what to do when someone gave her something really nice.” He laid his free hand over his heart. “When I lost her and got around to cleaning out her stuff, you know what I found?”
Rhett pressed his fingertips into the solid desktop and shook his head. Once Uncle Travis got started down a rabbit trail, there was no point stopping him.
“Boxes of expensive lotions and perfumes that our kids had given her over the years.” Travis fanned out his hand as if he was showing an expansive array. “She’d just squirreled it all away. Jewelry that I’d given her and the kids had given her.” He pursed his lips. “All never worn.”
Rhett offered his uncle a sad smile. Aunt Pearl had been one of his favorite people growing up and he knew, despite her stubborn streak, Travis missed her every day. Letting the man talk would do no harm.
“Pearl grew up poor, you see,” Uncle Travis said. “I don’t know whether she was waiting for a time she deemed special enough to use those things, or if she just didn’t believe she was special enough to use them. But in the end it didn’t matter, did it? All those things, those pretty things, all of them went to waste. Unused. Rotting and tarnished or full of dust. Pearl never got to enjoy them because she didn’t believe she was worth enjoying them.”
Rhett looped a hand around the back of his neck and rocked in his boots. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Like I said—” Travis’s voice was wistful “—a gift is only as good as what you do with it.” His uncle tugged on his suit jacket and made his way toward the door. “Remember, son. ‘For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.’”
It had been a while since Rhett had cracked the book. “I know the Bible, Uncle Travis.”
He paused as he opened the door. “Ah, but do you know the heart of God in this matter? Have you sought that out, son? Because that’s more valuable than a hundred memorized Bible verses.” Uncle Travis shrugged. “Just a thought.”
After his uncle left, Rhett fought the urge to sit back down and drop his head into his hands. Fought the desire to finally lose it over his dad’s death. Fall apart once and for all. But he couldn’t do that, not now. Maybe not ever.
Way too many people were counting on him to be strong.
Rhett mentally packed up every messy emotion in his heart and shoved them into a lockbox. He pretended he was jamming them down, squishing them until they were so small and insignificant they weren’t worth thinking about. Or talking about or sharing with anyone.
No one would care about them anyway.
Then he clicked the lockbox shut and tucked it into the darkest corner of his mind to be forgotten.
* * *
Macy was going to pace a hole in the floorboards at the front of the ranch’s office. Travis Jarrett had left half an hour ago, but Rhett still hadn’t vacated his father’s office. What was taking so long?
She jerked her hair up into a ponytail.
The second—the very second—he left that office he’d have to listen to her, hear her out.
She’d make him.
Macy paused near her desk and picked up a framed photo of her and Brock Jarrett. It had been taken at last year’s spring kickoff event for Camp Firefly—the free summer camp Brock ran at Red Dog Ranch for foster kids. She traced a finger over the photo—Brock’s smile.
Macy blinked away tears.
After her father walked out of her life when she was ten years old, Brock had stepped in and filled that void. And when her mom died eight years later the Jarretts had moved her onto their property. Rhett’s dad had been family to her—Rhett had been like family to her too. Now they hardly acknowledged each other, and with Rhett’s mom fading fast, Macy couldn’t help but feel like she was losing everyone she cared about all over again.
“I’ll keep your secret,” she whispered to the image. “I promise.”
She set the picture down and absently rubbed her thumb back and forth across the raised scar on her pointer finger. A nervous habit she’d tried, unsuccessfully, to break more than once. The scar was Rhett’s fault. Six years ago, he had dropped his cell phone when they were out hiking and she’d crawled back over the large rocks on the trail to get it, disturbing a copperhead in her zest. Of course, Rhett had carried her to safety, rushed her to the hospital as her skin swelled and blistered and the pain intensified, and stayed by her side while she healed. The memory caused a rueful smile to tug at her lips. He had lost his cell phone after everything anyway.
She forced her thumb to stop moving.
The scar on her finger wasn’t the only one she blamed him for. The Do Not Cross tape coiled around her heart was all his doing too.
Macy whirled toward the door to Brock’s—no, Rhett’s—office.
Enough.
She marched toward the door and didn’t bother knocking before opening it. “We need to—” The words died on her lips. Rhett wasn’t there.
The man must have slunk out the never-used back door like the guilty dog he was.
Macy balled her fists.
They would have to face each other—have to talk at some point—and today was as good a day as any. She hadn’t been able to get a good read on Rhett with Travis there so she had held her tongue.
I’m looking into cancelling programs.
Not if Macy had anything to do with it.
She grabbed her keys, locked up the office and hoofed it out into the yard. Orange mingled with pink and gold in the sky. A slight breeze carried the chill whisper of the approaching night. The sun had dipped close to the horizon, not quite sunset yet but soon enough.
Various structures peppered the Jarrett property. The office and main buildings serving the summer camp wrapped through the front of their land, including ten camper cabins and a mess hall that was built into the side of the largest hill they owned. The barns and cattle fields took up the opposite end of their holding, and the family home rested like a gorgeous crown jewel at the end of the long driveway. Macy lived in one of the small bungalows tucked just west of the family ranch house. A handful of staff members lived on the property.
Macy passed the small corral that housed Romeo, the ranch’s attention-needy miniature donkey, and Sheep, an all-white miniature horse that belonged to Rhett’s niece, Piper. Romeo trotted beside the fence line as she walked, trying to coax an ear scratch out of her.
“Not now, buddy.” Macy didn’t break her stride. Still, his pathetic bray made her heart twist. She loved the little donkey and all of his quirks—maybe for his quirks. “I’ll bring you apples later, deal?”
Beyond their enclosure, she spotted a horse and rider picking their way through the bluebonnets blanketing the nearby field. She squinted, trying to focus on the rider. Shannon Jarrett, Rhett’s sister. Despite the fact that none of the women were related, Shannon, Cassidy and Macy had formed a tight-knit sisterhood. Especially during the last five years.
Macy