Their Convenient Amish Marriage (Pinecraft Homecomings Book 2) Read online

  I started five months of chemo and God, in all His mercy, saw me through that scary period of my life. What a privilege it was to pray for others as they were fighting the good fight. The chemo made me sick, but I didn’t lose all my hair. Somehow, that seemed so important at the time. The chemo also gave me “chemo brain,” which kept me from writing for ages. I just couldn’t concentrate and not writing didn’t make me happy. I longed to be back in Pinecraft, finishing Verity and Leviticus’s story.

  As you can see by the book in your hand, I did finish their story, and am so thrilled to say I’m in the middle of book three of the Pinecraft Homecomings series. I’m still dealing with brain fog at times. I can tell you there’s no one more miserable than a writer who can’t think clearly enough to plot and write.

  To God be all the glory as He heals me! To my editors, I say a heartfelt thank you and God bless you for your prayers and patience. Not having a deadline helped take away some of the stress. For all my family who prayed for me, to the people on Facebook who kept me in constant prayer, I say, thank you! My body scans are coming back clean.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed the romance between Leviticus and Verity. Please keep an eye open for my final book in the Pinecraft Homecomings series. It’s slow going, but God in His mercy, is allowing me to continue with life and my love of writing. Thank you all for being faithful readers of my work.

  Believe in His mercy, for He is faithful,

  Cheryl Williford

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  The Rancher’s Legacy

  by Jessica Keller

  Chapter One

  “I don’t know why you’re here.” Rhett Jarrett rested his elbows on the large desk. It was too large—too grand—and he’d never look right behind it. Never be able to fill the spot his dad had. “I mean, other than it’s always nice to see you. But you know where I stand on this.”

  Uncle Travis pushed more papers across the desktop. “With time, maybe you’ll see his reasoning.”

  Rhett opened a drawer and slid the papers unceremoniously inside. Rereading the will wouldn’t suddenly make him appreciate the choices his father had made. All it would serve to do was remind Rhett his dad had found a way to control him after the grave.

  Late afternoon sunshine poured through the wide windows filling the west-facing wall of the office. March had begun unseasonably warm, even by Texas standards.

  Upon entering the office a few minutes ago, Rhett had immediately cracked a few of the windows in an attempt to banish the musty odor of too many papers and books collecting dust in one cramped place. No doubt the wood paneling lining the lower half of the walls hadn’t helped his mood either. It only seemed to add to the dark heaviness that had settled on Rhett’s life since his dad’s sudden passing. Unsaid words, missed opportunities and apologies that would never happen weighed him down.

  No amount of fresh air would clear his chest of those things.

  Air gusted in, carrying with it the smells of the horses in the nearest enclosure and the cattle in the pastures beyond. They mingled with the scents of Texas Indian paintbrush, bluebonnets and red poppies. Wildflowers quilted the fields on either side of the long driveway leading to his family’s property. Spring at the ranch had always been his favorite time of year. He liked the physical parts of the ranch—the animals, the fields, the work.

  Just not all the other aspects of Red Dog Ranch.

  Not the parts his dad had cared about.

  “Uncle Travis, listen. I—” Rhett started.

  The door to the office clicked open and Macy Howell appeared in the doorway. With her hand resting on the knob, she hesitated for a few seconds. Her long, black hair swayed from her abrupt stop.

  Rhett had known he would see his dad’s office assistant sooner or later, but after the last few years of carefully visiting Red Dog Ranch only when he had been assured she was busy or away from the property...it was startling to see her so soon his first day in the office.

  Macy adjusted the armful of files she clutched. Her gaze hit the floor like a dropped quarter. “I didn’t realize you were busy. Should I come back later?”

  But Macy casting down her eyes didn’t compute for Rhett. Growing up, she’d been the girl who would spit at a wildfire and dare it to come closer. She’d hauled hay bales in the field at the same pace as Rhett and his brothers had.

  When Rhett had scooped Macy into his arms after she’d been bitten by a copperhead, she had told him not to worry because the pit viper had barely kissed her. Even in that sort of pain, she’d been focused on being tough and making others feel better.

  The Macy Howell he knew didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away.

  She especially didn’t look down.

  The back of Rhett’s neck prickled in a way that made him want to scrub at it. He fought the urge to ask her what was wrong. But they’d stopped asking each other prying questions three years ago. One kiss had changed everything.

  Ruined everything.

  And he shouldn’t care.

  Didn’t care.

  He dug his fingers into his knees.

  Kodiak, Rhett’s seventy-pound Chesapeake Bay retriever, lifted her giant head and sniffed in Macy’s direction. The dog lazily looked back at Rhett as if to ask if this person was a threat.

  Oh, she was.

  With a gaze that could melt his resolve and her bright smile, Macy definitely was.

  Satisfied that Rhett hadn’t given a command, Kodiak let out a loud harrumph and laid her head back down. Her front paws stretched so the tips dipped into a spear of sunlight.

  Despite Macy seeming to act out of character, the sight of her standing there in jeans and a flannel over a blue T-shirt still hit Rhett with the force of a double-strength energy drink spiked with strong coffee. She had a pencil tucked behind her ear. She looked like...like the best friend she’d once been. Like the person he used to be able to count on.

  Like someone who hadn’t rejected him.

  Looks could be deceiving.

  Uncle Travis’s bushy gray eyebrows rose as if to ask, “Are you going to answer her, or what?”

  Rhett cleared his throat, but it felt as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of summer soil that had baked in the Texas sun for weeks on end. Gritty and dry. “What do you need?”

  “These are the files for the teens with internships starting this weekend. You should probably look them over. Know something about each one before you have to train them.” She stepped into the room holding the pile of file jackets like a peace offering. “Brock always did.”

  Brock Jarrett, also known as his father.

  Rhett’s shoulders stiffened. “There’s no one else set up to train them? Dad did it all?”

  “I don’t think Brock had made plans in case...”
Uncle Travis’s voice drifted away.

  In case he died suddenly.

  In case a trip to the library became his last trip.

  In case one uninsured teenager sending a text while driving changed the Jarrett family forever.

  Macy took another step into the room. “He usually spent the first few days with them, yes. They each get assigned to a staff member, but Brock did the bulk of the mentoring.”

  Rhett shook his head. “Someone else can do it.”

  Kodiak groaned and lifted her head, alerted to trouble by his change in tone.

  Macy’s wide brown eyes searched his. “Rhett.” She whispered his name and, for a reason he didn’t want to explore, it made his gut hurt. “Please.”

  Rhett let his gaze land on the painting of longhorns instead of Macy. Meeting her pleading eyes made his resolve shaky and that was the last thing he wanted. His mom had painted the picture years ago, before her mind had begun to fail her. She’d proudly given it to Brock as a Valentine’s day gift.

  Thinking of his mom made Rhett sit a little straighter. Her well-being depended on how he ran this ranch now. The will clearly stated Rhett was to take care of her and provide stable jobs for his sister, Shannon; Cassidy, the girlfriend of his deceased brother, Wade; Wade’s daughter, Piper; and his brother, Boone, and his family. With Boone off at seminary with his wife and daughter, at least that responsibility was off Rhett’s list. But the others stood.

  However, so did the will’s ironclad wording about the ranch continuing to serve foster kids. If Rhett put a stop to the foster programs at Red Dog Ranch, the will stated he would have to forfeit his inheritance. It was continue his dad’s work or get none of it.

  “Leave them on the table.” Rhett jerked his chin toward a small side table near the office door.

  Macy did, but she stayed in the doorway. “We need to talk about the spring kickoff event and the Easter egg hunt.”

  “Put those thoughts on hold. I’m looking into cancelling programs,” Rhett said as he turned back to his uncle. “Which means you and I need to keep talking.”

  Macy’s eyes narrowed for a second. She was biting her tongue. Years of knowing her made that clear, but she backed out of the room and closed the door.

  As Rhett waited for his uncle to say something, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over an etching near the bottom right edge of the desktop. His dad had made him muck stalls alone for two weeks straight after Rhett had carved the indentation. At all of seven or eight years old, it had been quite a chore.

  Uncle Travis offered a tight smile. “She’s the perfect one to work with to help you meet the terms of the will. You see that, don’t you?”

  Rhett pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Of course he saw that.

  It was half the problem.

  Macy had always put the foster programs before everything else, just like Brock had. Before the moneymaking aspects of the ranch, before family, before friendships. She had a passion and knowledge Rhett lacked, but working alongside her would be difficult; between losing his dad, dealing with family drama and being forced to put his business on hold to deal with Red Dog Ranch, Rhett was already past his ears in difficult. He needed to start making hard decisions and taking action to mitigate losses and stress.

  Keeping a wide berth from Macy was one significant way to limit stress.

  “As executor, don’t you have the power to change the stipulations?”

  His uncle’s shoulders drooped with a sigh. “We’ve been over this.”

  And they had.

  Many times.

  As executor, Travis’s job was to make certain all of Brock Jarrett’s wishes were carried out to the letter. And Rhett’s father had left many...letters. Red Dog Ranch had been willed to Rhett in full—the land and his father’s vast accounts. But there were conditions.

  If Rhett rejected the position of director, then they were supposed to sell the land and donate the money from the sale to a charity Brock had stipulated. Even in death his dad had placed continuation of the programs offered at the ranch before his family’s long-term well-being. The only other option allowed in the will was for the property to pass to Boone, but Boone had been emphatic about refusing the inheritance. He wanted to finish seminary. He had a plan that didn’t involve the ranch and no one could fault Boone for putting God first.

  Well, Rhett refused to remove his mom from her home, from the land she loved. Even at the expense of his own happiness. His father had effectively tied his hands, making him the bad guy if he backed out.

  Rhett lifted his chin. He wasn’t backing out. He would take care of his family’s future, would succeed in a way his father never had.

  Kodiak made a small sound in her sleep, drawing Rhett’s attention for a heartbeat.

  He had placed his business, Straight Arrow Retrievers, on hold after getting the call that his father had passed away. But “on hold” might quickly become “closed forever.” A burning sensation settled in Rhett’s chest.

  It was too much to manage. Too much to juggle. There was no way he could keep his business, the ranch and the foster programs all running successfully. One of them had to go.

  His jaw hardened. “I’m going to find a loophole out of the foster programs at the ranch.”

  Uncle Travis frowned. “Even if you could—and I’m fairly certain you can’t—talk like that would have broken your dad’s heart.”

  “He knew how I felt about everything when he chose this for me,” Rhett said.

  While Red Dog Ranch had always functioned as a working cattle ranch, it also existed as a place that served children in the foster system. When Rhett was young, they had started hosting large parties for foster kids throughout Texas Hill Country for every major holiday. That had morphed into weekend programs that taught horseback riding and other life skills. The final addition had been building a summer camp on the property that was free for foster children to attend.

  The summer camp had been Brock’s pride and joy. It had seemed as if he lived all year for the weeks the ranch swelled with hundreds of kids. His father had poured his time and energy into every single one of the kids. Often as kids aged out of the foster care system, Brock had offered them positions on his property.

  Rhett cared about kids who didn’t have a home.

  He did.

  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?