Jenna's Cowboy Hero. Brenda Minton

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      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.”

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