The Rancher's Legacy. Jessica KellerЧитать онлайн книгу.
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