Ember stepped outside into the spring chill, then turned back to look at him, some combination of uncertainty and compassion swimming in those blue eyes.
“When was this?”
“Fifteen years ago. I got a job here and worked my way up—not because I have a passion for ranching someone else’s land, but because I had no other choice. And now I’ve got the boys to raise, and no land of my own to do it on.”
“What happened to your father’s ranch had nothing to do with me, you know.”
“It’s your family,” he said.
“But not me.” She met his gaze almost defiantly.
“It’s your family’s money,” he said. “And forgive me for being picky about that detail, but it amounts to the same thing. I get that you aren’t some spoiled rich girl in the deepest sense, but you’re a part of the machine, and you’re looking to take a running ranch and turn it into something completely different. There will be ripples. This will affect a lot more than you think.”
“And a good number of those ripples might be positive,” she said with a shake of her head. “Turning this place into a therapy center isn’t about me and my career. This is about something I owe to God.”
“What’s that?” he asked, softening his tone.
“I promised I’d do everything I could to strengthen families. If He helped me to get the education I needed, I’d take every penny that came from my tarnished family and put it back into building other people back up. I’m sorry this isn’t about cattle, Casey. Maybe you’d approve if I cared more about cows. But I am going to build something important here. This is about people.”
She carried on toward the truck, leaving Casey to catch up this time, and he shook his head. They’d never see eye to eye on this, but she was convinced that she was doing something good and moral. There was no one more stubborn than a do-gooder. He picked up his pace and met her at the vehicle.
“Let’s go,” he said, hopping into the driver’s side. She got in next to him, and as she buckled up her seat belt, he turned the key and snapped his own strap into place.
When they got to the house, Mr. Vern was waiting. He met them with a cordial nod and stepped back as they came into the kitchen.
“So what did you think of what you’ve seen so far?” Mr. Vern asked as Ember took off her jacket and hung it on a hook. The smell of tomato soup and toasted BLTs met them.
“It’s a beautiful area,” Ember said. “Breathtaking, really.”
“That it is,” Mr. Vern agreed. “And that’s only a tiny taste.”
The old cowboy pulled a pot of soup off the stove. Sandwiches already waited on the table, cut diagonally and stacked on a plate. Mr. Vern ladled soup into a bowl and brought it to the table, then headed back to the stove. He moved slowly, purposefully.
“Have a seat,” Mr. Vern said.
It wasn’t Casey’s place to be served by the boss, but Ember sat down in a chair and looked hungrily at the spread before them.
“Let me finish that up, sir,” Casey said.
“Nonsense. Sit down, Casey. How was your ride?”
“It was cut short,” Ember said. “There was a wolf eyeing us.”
“Linda always hated them,” Mr. Vern said, coming back to the table with the last two bowls in his hands. Some soup slopped over the side of one bowl as he placed them on the table, and Casey dropped a napkin over the spill. “Before they passed the law protecting wolves, we had a whole herd of migrating elk that moved through in the fall. We had a decent income from hunters coming to hunt on our land, and we offered a guide service. But not anymore. The herd isn’t so big anymore, and they move through fast. The wolves make sure of that.”
Ember frowned slightly, looking over at Mr. Vern with questions in her eyes. Casey’s mind wasn’t on the wolves, though. They were an old problem. He was wondering how the babies were doing. Funny how he’d started to worry about them when he was gone.
“Let’s pray,” Mr. Vern said, bowing his head. “For this food we are about to eat, make us truly thankful.”
He raised his head, nudged the plate of sandwiches toward Ember, then picked up his spoon. The older man’s hand trembled, and he put the spoon back down.
“Everything all right, sir?” Casey asked.
“Fine,” he growled, and Casey eyed him a moment longer. That was a lie, but maybe he didn’t want to talk in front of Ember. Casey nodded, then took a mouthful of soup, watching his boss from the corner of his eye. After a beat or two, Mr. Vern sighed.
“I got a call from the care home,” he said, his voice tight. “Linda had a bad morning. They couldn’t calm her down. They needed my permission to sedate her.”
“What was she upset about?” Ember asked.
“Don’t know,” Mr. Vern replied. “Something about getting dressed. She didn’t want to be touched.” He sucked in a wavering breath. “I’d have her here with me, but she kept wandering off, and the last time I found her, she was by herself in three feet of snow wearing nothing but her pajamas and holding a cookie sheet.”
Silence descended around the table.
“When we were kids, we used to sled on cookie sheets,” Mr. Vern said, then cleared his throat. “Maybe she saw the snow and in her mind... Anyway.”
Mr. Vern picked up his spoon again and took a mouthful of soup. Casey and Ember followed his lead, but Casey’s stomach no longer wanted the sustenance. He could see the pain in the older man’s eyes. And he knew that it was more than just his wife’s problems that morning. The bills
