Chapter Four

      They’d been on the trail almost three hours. Jack pushed his ball cap to the back of his head and pulled off his sunglasses to peer at the clear azure sky. The July sun’s merciless rays mocked him.

      He shifted in the saddle, to no avail. His backside still ached and his T-shirt clung to his damp skin. Who went on a trail ride in one-hundred-degree weather? The humidity made the air so thick that he could taste it each time he opened his mouth.

      From the bits of conversation that drifted back from the front of the line of horses and riders, everyone else seemed to be in good spirits.

      Yeah, this was definitely an acquired taste. Jack took a swig of water and positioned Grace so the horse trotted behind the chuck wagon.

      Covered with waterproof canvas and led by two horses, the wagon looked like an old-fashioned movie prop. More important was that it was large enough to hide Jack from inquisitive eyes as he peered at his banned electronic device.

      Grace offered a snuffle and snort, shaking her head back and forth as though in warning when he slid his phone from his pocket and checked for reception.

      No signal.

      Again.

      He had to admit that it irked him that so far Lucy Maxwell had been right about everything. From his blisters to the cell reception.

      At the back of the wagon, the right canvas flap flew open and Dub Lewis stuck his head out, a huge toothless grin on his freckled face.

      “Hi, Mr. Jack!” he called.

      “Hey, isn’t that dangerous?” Jack returned. “You might fall out of there.”

      “I have a seat belt on.”

      “Yeah, well, be careful.”

      “I will.”

      “You better,” Jack grumbled.

      The smile on Dub’s face widened as he continued to chatter. “You’ve got Grace. Can I ride her?”

      “Maybe.” Jack offered a begrudging smile at the kid’s enthusiasm.

      “Did you know that we’re having carrot cake later?”

      “Oh, yeah?”

      Dub nodded, eyes rounding.

      “It’s Auggie’s birthday,” a familiar female voice said from behind Jack. The soft thud of horse hooves and the jingle of tack told him she was approaching on his right.

      Lucy. Jack slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

      “Who is Auggie?” he asked, turning slightly in the saddle.

      Seated confidently on a black mare, in Levi’s and her red ranch logo T-shirt, Lucy was all smiles today. She held the reins with soft chamois gloves and nodded up ahead, where a dozen or so boys wearing riding helmets bounced gently in the saddle, along with the rhythmic motion of their horses.

      “See the tall boy with the black helmet? The one on the chestnut mare? Near the end?”

      Jack nodded.

      “This is the first time in his life he’s ever celebrated his birthday.”

      “What do you mean?” Jack said, hoping her words weren’t literal.

      “Exactly that.”

      “How is that possible?”

      “Neglect and abuse situations. We see it more often than you want to know.” She shrugged. “But today he’s already had a birthday breakfast and opened presents before we started the trail ride. Plus, our cook for the trip has brought along a cake and a few surprises.”

      “That doesn’t sound like roughing it to me.”

      “Aw, come on, Jack. Lighten up, would you? It’s a birthday. We consider them part of creating family traditions for our kids.”

      “Traditions?” he muttered.

      “Sure. Things you probably take for granted, like holidays and special celebrations, and yes, birthdays.”

      “What about you?” he asked.

      “What about me?”

      “Did you have traditions growing up?”

      “Things became a little blurry once we lost my parents.” Lucy pulled a foot from the stirrup, showing off one of the hand-tooled red leather boots. “See these boots?”

      “Yeah, they’re hard to miss.”

      “I asked for red boots for my birthday one year when I was a foster. I wanted them so badly. Of course, I didn’t get them. But the biological daughter of my foster parents did. For no reason. It wasn’t her birthday, and she hadn’t asked for them.”

      Lucy smiled and glanced down at the boot with pride, carefully placing her foot back in the stirrup. “I bought myself these boots. Every single time I put them on I am reminded of why I do this job. It’s because every kid deserves red boots for their birthday.”

      Jack did his best to keep what he was feeling from showing on his face. Lucy Maxwell wouldn’t want to be pitied. He flashed back to his last birthday with his brother. Blowing out candles and opening presents.

      Bicycles. They’d both wanted bicycles, as badly as Lucy had wanted her boots.

      He swallowed hard. They’d gotten them, too. Daniel’s bicycle was still somewhere at his aunt’s house. Before he could dwell on the thought, the flap of the wagon popped open once more.

      Dub stuck his head outside to flash them a smile and disappeared again.

      “Is that safe?” Jack gestured toward the wagon. “Seems to me he could go bouncing around.”

      “The wagon was specially made for the ranch, and not only does it have an authentic flour cupboard and a cooking shelf on the outside, but it was also fitted with four seats that have full seat belts. It’s very safe.”

      “Once again, I’m impressed. Where did it come from?”

      “Donated by a local carpenter.”

      “Is Dub the only one riding inside of there?”

      “Yes. He’s the only child under ten on this trip.”

      “Was that in my honor? Because he’s my buddy?”

      “You flatter yourself.” She tipped the brim of her straw Stetson lower against the sun. “Dub’s entire ranch family is on