“I don’t like this. You do realize, don’t you, that I’ll have to live in this trailer and eat at a diner in Dawson called The Mad Cow?”
Will laughed and Adam smiled, but he had no intentions of staying here. He’d find a way to get out of it. He pushed his hat down on his head and walked off the porch, still holding the phone.
“Billy said the chicken-fried steak was to die for.” Will the optimist.
“Billy died of a heart attack. Talk to you later.”
Jenna picked her way across the overgrown lawn. Adam Mackenzie stood next to the porch, staring at the barn and the dorm. He looked a little lost and kind of angry. Angry didn’t bother her. Neither did tantrums—she had the twins.
“Bad news?” She stopped next to him and looked up, studying his face.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He tore off a piece of fescue grass and stuck it between his teeth. “My agent thinks I should stay. This sure wasn’t where I wanted to spend my summer.”
“Really?” She looked out at land that, with a little care, could be a premium piece of property. And she thought of the kids, the ones who were so much like herself, who could come here for a week or two and forget the abuse or poverty at home. Couldn’t he see that? “It looks like a great place to me.”
“What do you see that I don’t?”
“Promise. I see kids finding a little hope and maybe the promise of a better future. I see kids escaping for a week and just being kids.”
He groaned and tossed the grass aside. “Another optimist.”
“I call it faith.”
“So does Will.” Adam had turned back to the steps that led up the porch. “But how does faith help me solve this problem? Does faith clean this place up, or finish it so that it can be used?”
“Prayer might be the place to start.”
“Right.”
She followed him up the steps, right leg always first. It was getting easier every day. Ten months ago she had wondered if anything would ever be easy again. Adam turned when he reached the top and gave her a questioning look she ignored.
“I’m sorry, it really isn’t my business.” She answered his question, pretending the look was about that, about him wanting an answer. “I just happen to believe that God can get us out of some amazingly bad situations.”
“Well let’s see if God can help us get into this trailer.”
She watched as he shoved a credit card into the door. The boys were in the yard playing with the dog. “Guys, stay right here in front of the trailer. Snakes are probably thick right now.”
“That’s another positive.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jenna followed.
He looked around, focusing on the phone and answering machine. Jenna waited by the front door, not sure what she should do. Maybe she should go home? Maybe now was the time to remove herself from his presence and this situation.
While she considered her options, he pressed the button on the answering machine. Messages played, mostly personal and a little embarrassing to overhear knowing that Billy was gone and this was his legacy. There were messages from a distraught girlfriend, creditors asking for money, and his mom wondering why he didn’t call.
Adam replayed the last message.
“Billy, this is John at the Christian Mission. I wanted to confirm that we have the third week of June reserved for fifty kids. Can you give me a call back?” The caller left a number.
Adam turned. “What’s today?”
“The sixth of June.”
He groaned and tossed his hat on a nearby table. “I can’t believe this.”
The message replayed and he scribbled the number on a piece of paper.
“What are you going to do?” Jenna sat down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.
“Cancel this camp.”
“And let those kids down?”
“I didn’t let them down, Billy did. I can’t have someone bring fifty kids to this place.”
“But…” She bit down on her bottom lip and told herself it wasn’t her business. Not the camp, not his life, none of it. She was just the mom of the kids who ran him off the road.
“Fifty kids,” he repeated, like she didn’t get it. “I don’t even know if the buildings are finished.”
He sat down on the stool next to hers and it creaked. “Obviously the bar stools aren’t one size fits all. Look, I’m not a bad guy, but this isn’t my thing. Summer camps, Oklahoma, none of this is me.”
“I know you’re not a bad guy. And you’re right, this isn’t my business. You have to make the decision that’s right for you.”
He smiled, and she liked that smile, the one that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “You’re slick, but you’re not going to work me this way.”
“I wasn’t trying.”
“Of course not.” And his smile disappeared.
“I would help you.” She hesitated, at once sorry, but not. “I mean, it wouldn’t take much to get the camp ready.”
“Don’t you work?”
“I have two boys and ten horses. That’s my work. But with the help of the community…”
She hopped down from the stool, momentarily forgetting, and she stumbled. A strong arm caught her, holding her firm until she gathered herself. Her back to him, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” He stood next to her, his hand still on her arm. Looking up, she realized that his face was close to hers, his mouth a gentle line.
“Of course I am.”
He laughed, the deep baritone filling the emptiness of the dark and shadowy trailer. “Of course you are. You waited a whole five minutes after meeting me to involve yourself in every area of my life, and I can’t get a straight answer on if you’re okay. I know a knee injury when I see one. Remember, I’ve spent a lot of years getting plowed over and pushed down.”
“It’s an old injury.” She smiled but it wasn’t easy in the face of his unexpected tenderness, the baritone of his voice soft, matching the look in his eyes. “I need to check on the boys.”
He released her. “And I need to check on the barn and the dorms to see how much more money I’m going to have to spend to make this place usable.”
“But I thought you weren’t going to run the camp.”
“I’m not running it. I’m going to get it ready for someone else to run. I’ll let you and my noble agent, Will, run it. Or I’ll put it up for sale.”
Jenna grabbed a tablet off the counter and the pen he had tossed down. “We’ll drive down there. I can help you make a list for what you might need.”
Because she didn’t feel like making the long walk through the brush on the overgrown trail that used to be a road. The boys were sitting on the porch steps, holding a turtle they’d found.
“Can we keep it?” Timmy poked at the turtle’s head.
“No,” she answered as she walked down the steps of the porch.
“Why not?” all three guys asked.
“Because it wouldn’t be happy in a box. It belongs here, where it can travel and find the food it likes, not the food we toss to it every day.”
The boys frowned at the turtle and then at Jenna. “We just want to keep it for a little while.”
David touched the back of the box turtle, fingers rubbing the rough shell. “I like him.”
Adam sighed and walked back into the house. He came back with a permanent marker. “Guys, there is a way you can keep an eye on this bad boy. We’ll write your names and today’s date on the bottom of his shell. When you’re out here, you can find him and see how he’s doing.”
And that’s how he became a hero to her boys. Jenna watched, a little happy and a lot threatened. She couldn’t let Adam into their lives this way.
Herself in his life, that was different. Making sure this place became a camp was important to her. It was important to kids who were living the same nightmare childhood she had lived.
It was about the camp, not about Adam “Big Mac” Mackenzi
e. She honestly didn’t need to understand his smile, or the way his eyes lit up. It had been easy, imagining his story when he’d been a football player she and the guys cheered for. Now, with him so close and his story unfolding, she didn’t want to know more.
Adam climbed back into the truck. The boys piled in with them this time because it was a short ride across a bumpy drive to the barn. He glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Jenna Cameron with her sun-streaked brown hair windblown and soft.
He wasn’t staying. He wouldn’t be pushed into this by her, or by Will. They’d have to understand that he was the last person in the world who ought to be running a camp, dealing with children, especially in Oklahoma.
As soon as he could figure out what to do with this place, who to turn it over to, he’d head back to Atlanta, back to his life. Back to what?
He sighed and she flicked her gaze from the road to him. That look took him back more than a dozen years, to pickup trucks and fishing holes, summer sun beating down on a group of kids just having a good time.
There hadn’t been many times like that in his childhood. His dad had always been pushing, always forcing him onto the practice field. He had sneaked a few moments for himself, enough to make a handful of memories that didn’t include football.
And she brought back those memories, most of which he had forgotten.
The truck stopped in front of the barn. She shot him a questioning look. “It needs a corral.”
He nodded, like he knew. A long time ago he would have noticed. The barn sat on an open lot, no fences, no arena, no corral.
“It’s probably going to need more than that.”
“Horses wouldn’t hurt.” She smiled and then reached for the door handle to get out of the truck.
He followed her, walking behind her into the shadowy interior of the barn. One side was a stable. The other side was for hay, equipment and a room for tack. It creaked in the Oklahoma wind.
She looked up, questions in her brown eyes. The boys shrieked and she glanced in their direction. They were outside, the dog next to them barking.
“Timmy, David, what are you doing?”
“Snake!” the two shrieked at the same time. And Adam noticed that they didn’t scream in fear, but in obvious boyhood delight.
“Get them.” She looked up at him, expecting him to be the one to run to the rescue of her offspring. And he didn’t think they wanted to be rescued. “Please, Adam.”
She couldn’t run to them, and she wanted to. He could see it in the tight line of pain around her mouth. Ignoring the fact that the running he wanted to do was in the direction of Atlanta, he ran to the end of the stable and gathered the boys in his arms, pulling them back from the coiled snake. A garter snake, nonpoisonous and no threat to the boys or the dog.
“It’s a garter.”
The boys wiggled to get free. He set them down, knowing that they’d go back to the snake. The reptile slithered along the side of the barn now, in search of a warm place to rest. The dog had lost interest and was sniffing a new trail.
Jenna was leaning against the barn, watching them, a soft and maternal smile turning her lips.
“Come on, guys. I think you’ve caused enough commotion for one day.” She motioned them to her side. “Mr. Mackenzie, don’t give up on the camp. I know someone would buy it, live here, raise some cows. But a camp. Not just everyone can do that.”
“Probably true, but I’m not the person who can.”
“But you have to.” She turned a little pink. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to.”
He wanted to smile. He wanted to ask how a person became so passionate about something, so willing to fight for it.
“Why does it mean so much to you?” As the words slipped out, he thought he probably didn’t want the answer.
“It isn’t about me. Not really. I think you shouldn’t give up on something that could mean so much to so many people. Including you. And, believe it or not, I think it meant a lot to Billy.”
“But it doesn’t mean that much to me. I’m not looking for good deeds to do. This was about my cousin, something he wanted to do, and something that I had the money to help him with.”
“If you didn’t believe in this when Billy proposed it to you, why did you give him the money?”
“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He looked out the open doors of the barn and fought the truth. Maybe he did know why. Maybe he hadn’t run as far from his roots as he’d thought.
“It’s too bad that it won’t be a camp. Come on, boys, we’re going home. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie.” She said it like she was disappointed in him, as if she had expected better from him. But she didn’t know him.
Before he could say anything, she was walking away, the boys running a little ahead of her. The dog went in another direction, chasing a scent that interested him more than the direction his family was going.
As she climbed into her truck, not looking in his direction, he felt strangely let down. A thought that took him by surprise. She wanted this camp, not for herself but for the kids it could help.
At least it meant something to her. To him, it was just another way he’d been used.
He headed back down the driveway, toward the road, because the tow truck would arrive soon and the rental car he had ordered would be delivered in an hour.
The Mad Cow Diner was starting to sound pretty good, another sign that he was nearing the end of his rope. The lifeline he had to hold on to was the reality that he could take care of what needed to be done, hand it off to someone else, and leave.
Jenna Cameron’s truck rattled down the rutted driveway, slowing as she reached the road, and then pulling onto the paved road in the direction of her house.
Chapter Three
“What’s up with you?” Vera sat down at the table across from Jenna. The Mad Cow wasn’t crowded in the afternoon and the boys were enjoying slurping up chocolate shakes.
Jenna had fallen into a stupor. The black-and-white, Holstein-spotted walls of the diner had become a little hypnotic as she’d sat there, her elbow on the black tabletop, her chin on her hand.
Vera, dark hair pulled back in a bun and a smock apron over her white T-shirt, filled Jenna’s cup and set the coffeepot down on the table.
Jenna picked up the sugar container and poured a spoonful or more into her coffee. “Why do you think something is up?”
Vera smiled as if she knew everything that was going on, and even what might happen. “Oh, honey, we all know that Adam Mackenzie crashed into your ditch the other day.”
“It wasn’t my ditch.” She stirred creamer into her coffee. “It was the ditch across from me.”
“He came in for my chicken-fried steak last night, and the night before.”
And that made him Vera’s hero. He would be Jenna’s hero if he kept Camp Hope alive. That didn’t seem too likely. Besides, she didn’t need a hero. She had two little boys who were slurping up the last of their shakes and eyeing someone else’s French fries.
“I think those boys need fries.” Vera slid out of her chair. “Don’t despair, Jenna dear. It’ll all work out.”
“I know it will, but I really want that camp.”
Vera’s brows went up in a comical arch. “You want it?”
“For kids. Can you imagine what a treat that would be for children who don’t normally get to attend camp?”
Kids like her, when she was ten or twelve, and broken, feeling like no one cared and God was a myth, meant only to keep naughty children on the straight and narrow.
She’d had a hard time with straight and narrow.
“I can imagine.” Vera’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Give it time. I don’t think he’ll ditch it. If he isn’t going to run it, someone else will.”
But would someone else run it at no cost for the kids attending, the way Adam’s cousin had planned? She wished she had the money to buy it. But wishes were vapor and her bank account was barely in the black.
“
Mom, how does a person get to be a football player on TV?”
Timmy’s question shook her from her thoughts. She smiled at him. His lips were back on his straw and Vera had left, pushing through the doors, back into the kitchen.
“Lots and lots of work,” she answered, and then pulled the cup away from him and pushed the small glass of water close. “The shake is gone, drink some water.”
“Vera’s making us some fries.” He grinned, dimples making it even cuter, even harder to resist. “She whispered that it’s ’cause we’re the best boys she knows. She’s putting cheese on them, the way we like.”
He added the last with a lilt of an accent that was meant to sound like Vera. Jenna kissed his cheek. “You’re the best boys I know, too. And we might as well order burgers, since you won’t want supper now.”
David’s eyes lit up. He pushed away the empty shake glass and sat down in the chair that he’d been perched on, sitting on his knees to better reach his glass.
“Do you think I could be a pro football player someday? I’d make a lot of money and you could have a big house in, well, somewhere.” Timmy was out of his chair, standing next to it. He didn’t like to sit still, a reality that had caused problems in school last year.
First grade was going to be rough for him, a whole day of sitting still, listening.
“I don’t need a big house and you should only play football if you love it, not because you think I want a big house.” She didn’t think Adam Mackenzie loved the sport. She wondered if he ever had.
She had asked Clint, because her brother had known Adam years ago. Clint said he really couldn’t say. Adam had seemed intent, serious, but he didn’t know if he had loved it.
Vera returned with their fries. “What else, kiddos?”
“Go ahead and bring us three burgers, Vera. We’ll let you cook for us tonight.”
Vera was all smiles. “You got it, sweetie. Three Vera specials coming up.”
The door opened, letting in heat and sounds from outside—a train in the distance and cars driving down Main Street. Vera’s eyes widened. Jenna glanced back, over her shoulder and suddenly wanted to get her order to go.
Jenna's Cowboy Hero Page 3
