The Rancher's Legacy. Jessica Keller
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I saw my baby boy.”
Shannon’s coffee mug clattered against the kitchen island’s stone countertop. She braced a hand on the counter and the other was pressed against her heart. “She mentions him—” her whispered voice broke “—all the time. I can’t...” Her shoulders trembled as she hurried out of the kitchen.
Rhett wanted to go after her, but what comfort could he really offer? The family had lost Wade when he was only nineteen years old. Nothing he would say to his sister could change the truth of what had occurred. Wade was gone and Rhett couldn’t make the anguish of losing her twin disappear.
Grief over Wade threatened to swallow Rhett in equal measure to what he felt over losing his father. Wade had stormed off spewing hurtful words at the whole family the day Rhett had cornered him, confronting Wade about every horrible thing Wade was involved in.
You know what? Don’t worry. You’ll never have to see my pathetic face again. Wade’s final words came back to bite Rhett. His brother had left the ranch and headed straight for the Gulf of Mexico and boarded a small party boat. When the boat capsized everyone on board had been too intoxicated to get off in time, to radio for help.
Wade had been right. They never got to see his face again.
Brock had blamed Rhett for Wade’s death. Rhett shouldn’t have spoken to his brother that way. Wade would still be with them if Rhett hadn’t confronted him. But Rhett had shot back that it was Brock’s fault for allowing Wade to flounder for so long, allowing him to go down a wrong path years before he drowned. For investing more into the nonprofit at the ranch than his own son.
Rhett and his dad had never completely patched the bridge between them after that. Rhett walking away from the ranch had only solidified the tension in the relationship. If given the chance, Rhett would have handled both Wade and his father differently.
There were things Rhett would take back if he could.
So many things.
But right now he could only move forward. Do better. Be present.
Rhett shifted from one foot to the other. “I believe you’re right, Mom, about Wade and Dad being together.” His voice caught on the last word and he prayed she wouldn’t notice.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked toward the lake. “Just as I thought. Still...” Her voice trailed off for a heartbeat. “I’m looking forward to when Wade comes back. I long for the day you and him are in the same room together again.”
“Mom,” Rhett said, keeping his voice even. “Wade may never come home.”
“Don’t you say something so horrible.” His mom met his gaze. “He will. My boy will.”
Before he left the house Rhett pressed a kiss to his mom’s forehead, made sure she didn’t need anything else and checked in with the nurse, Louisa. He should have headed straight to the mess hall, but his boots pointed south of there, in the direction of the little white chapel his father had built soon after he started Camp Firefly.
Rhett checked his phone. He was so used to having it on silent because the ring tones and even the vibrate setting interfered with training dogs. Most of them he trained using whistles and other noises so distractions were unwelcome. He had texts from a few of his clients who had been in the middle of sessions when his dad had passed so he’d put them on hold. They’d been patient, but training built week by week and he needed to either continue with them or send them to a new trainer, or else the dogs would lose their momentum.
Rhett made a split-second decision—offering them time slots if they were willing to come out to the ranch and refunding them if they didn’t want to drive so far. One client texted back immediately, confirming a time slot for the next day. They were eager because they already had their dog signed up for contests. Two more asked for refunds and referrals to other trainers.
As he approached the church, he noticed that someone had used large white stones to outline a path leading to the chapel’s front door. It was set up on the hill nearest to the mess hall. A wide cross had been erected on the hill years before the chapel’s creation. At the end of each camp session, his father had the kids write on rocks the last night and lay them at the foot of the cross—usually a word symbolizing something they were trusting God for.
Distantly, he wondered if they’d kept up that practice after the church had been built. Would he have to lead that ceremony this summer?
Rhett tested the door. Open. He slipped inside, slid off his hat and stooped to dodge the end of the bell rope. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting the dull brown carpeting with a brilliant prism of colors.
Do you know the heart of God in this matter? Have you sought that out, son?
Of course he hadn’t. If he sought out what God wanted...it wasn’t worth it. If the Bible was true—and Rhett believed it was—God seemed to ask for dangerous, impossible things. Rhett was trying so hard to keep himself together, he couldn’t afford dangerous faith right now.
Rhett gripped the edge of a pew. He hadn’t willingly set foot inside a church in five years. Not since learning about Wade’s death. His father’s funeral had been held in a church, but he didn’t count that time. He had entered that church out of duty, not choice.
If Rhett’s own father—his flesh and blood—hadn’t cared enough to know about his dreams and worries, he couldn’t imagine God would either. Much like Brock had been, God was busy with far more important things than Rhett and his heart. After all, God had a universe to run. Rhett’s small slice of the world hardly measured up to that. And he couldn’t blame God for not concerning Himself with what must be Rhett’s miniscule burdens in the very grand scale of human history. But it sure made Rhett want to keep his distance.
Rhett considered himself a Christian, but he certainly didn’t like to bother God.
“You may not care about me, and that’s fine.” A wash of embarrassment flooded through Rhett at the idea of talking out loud, but he pressed on. “But Shannon... Please...could You be there for Shannon? She’s been through a lot and I don’t know how to help her. And Mom, God, please. It’s hard. Seeing her that way.”
The weight of so many new responsibilities sagged onto his shoulders. His father’s death hadn’t only made the ranch his obligation, but in a very real way Rhett had become the head of the Jarrett family. A role he wasn’t sure he was cut out for. Between worrying over what his mother needed and his concerns for Shannon, he already felt stretched thin.
And then there was Macy. Macy touching his arm by the lake last night. Macy saying she was there if he needed her. Macy studying him with those large brown eyes that seemed to know everything about him. Rhett swallowed hard. Working alongside her was going to be difficult because the truth was, he missed his friend.
But he couldn’t forget that he’d offered her a job at his business and when she’d showed up on his doorstep it was to turn him down, to pick the ranch—to pick his dad—over being near him. Worse, when he had tried to usher her inside so they could talk things over she had grabbed his shirt and kissed him—a kiss he had never known he had wanted until that point but afterward had never been able to get out of his head.
Then Macy had run off.
Rhett had left messages for two weeks. Messages she hadn’t returned.
Now he had to see her every day and it was hard to forget their old friendship, the jokes they had shared over the years. That kiss.
Kodiak whimpered behind him.
Attempting to alleviate the tightness building in his chest, he blew out a long stream of air.
It didn’t help.
* * *
Macy wrapped her fingers around the mug in her hands and prayed she wasn’t making a huge mistake.
From the wide bank of windows in the mess hall, she had watched Rhett veer off the