Brenda Minton - Jenna's Cowboy Hero

“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.

“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 Cameron, imagine seeing you here.” Adam stood next to Jenna’s table, smiling at the two boys because it was easier than smiling at her, easier than waiting for an invitation to join them and easier than dealing with the reality that he wanted to join them.

He told himself it was just pure old loneliness, living at that trailer, not having his normal social life. He was starved for company, that’s all.

“You knew I was here. My truck’s right out front.” She smiled up at him, a mischievous look in eyes that today looked more like caramel than chocolate.

He laughed. “You got me there. I thought I’d swing in for Vera’s meat loaf and I wanted to tell you something.”

“Have a seat.” She pointed to the chair on her left.

He hesitated, but her wide eyes stared up at him, challenging him. He sat down, taking off his hat as he did. He hooked it over the back of the empty chair on the seat next to him.

The boys occupied the two chairs across the table from him. Blond hair, chocolate milk on their chins and suspicious looks in their eyes, they stared at him in something akin to wonder.

“So, what’s your news?” Jenna leaned back in her chair, hands fiddling with the paper that had come off a straw.

“You get your camp.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll be staying, at least through the end of July. My agent thinks I should stay and help get the camp running.” He wouldn’t expand on Will’s words, which had been a little harsher than what he was willing to admit to Jenna. “I called the church that left the message and told them I might be able to get something going in time, or close to it. If they can be flexible.”

Her eyes widened and he could see the smile trembling at the corners of her mouth. “I can help.”

“I thought you might.”

Vera pushed through the swinging doors of the kitchen carrying a tray of food and avoiding eye contact with him. Probably because she’d been listening in. At least she didn’t have a camera or an agenda.

Or did she have an agenda? Probably not the one he was used to. More than likely Vera had only one agenda. She had matchmaking on her mind. She had the wrong guy if that was her plan.

“Did I hear someone mention my meat loaf special?” She set down plates with burgers in front of Jenna and the boys and pulled a pen and order pad out of her pocket. “I’ve got that chocolate chess pie you like.”

“No pie tonight. If I don’t start cutting myself back, you’ll have me fifty pounds overweight when I leave Dawson.”

Vera’s brows shifted up. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re still in a hurry to get out of here?”

“Not anymore. I’m going to stay and make sure things are taken care of at the camp.”

Across from him the boys stopped eating their burgers and looked at each other. It was a look that settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach, like a warning siren on a stormy afternoon. Those two boys were up to more than seeing who could get the most ketchup on their fries.

At the moment David was winning. He had a pile of ketchup on top of two fries and he was moving it toward his open mouth. Adam held his breath, watching, wanting the kid to win, and maybe to break into that big grin he kept hidden away.

Just as David started to push the fry into his mouth, the front door to Vera’s opened. David looked up and his fry moved, dropping the ketchup. Everyone at the table groaned, including Adam.

“That isn’t the reaction I normally get when I walk into a restaurant.” The man stepping inside the door was tall, a little balding and thin. The woman behind him smiled, her gaze settling on Jenna.

“No, it’s usually the reaction you get when you tell one of your jokes on Sunday morning,” the woman teased with a wink at Jenna, punctuating the words.

“Pastor Todd, Lori, pull up another table and join us,” Jenna offered a little too quickly and Adam got it. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Adam Mackenzie at her table. He sat back, relishing that fact.

A little.

Until it got to him that she wasn’t thrilled to be sharing a table with him. Jenna cleared her throat and a foot kicked his.

“Excuse me?” He met her sparkling gaze and she nodded to Pastor Todd.

“Could you help him move that table over here, push it up against ours?”

“Oh, of course.” Adam stood up. And he remembered his manners. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met.”

“Pastor Todd Robbins.” Todd held out his hand. “My wife, and obviously better half, Lori.”

“Adam Mackenzie.”

And they acted like they didn’t know who he was. Maybe they didn’t. Not everyone watched football. He reached for the table and helped move it, pushing it into place as Jenna had directed. And Vera still watching, smiling, as if she had orchestrated it all.