he hadn’t had to get creative on that front. When he’d inherited the ranch, he and Garrett had renovated the bunkhouse so that it could handle eight boys with ease. Ten would have necessitated bringing in two extra twin beds and space would have been rather limited, but it could be done.
Currently, there were seven boys living on the ranch besides Garrett and himself. His latest success story, Casey Brooks, had graduated less than a week ago. Upon his initial arrival, Casey had been one seriously messed-up, lost sixteen-year-old. His parents had gotten in contact with him because they were genuinely afraid that their son would either be killed or eventually land in prison, where heaven only knew what would happen to him.
Casey had been so tightly wound up it was a wonder he hadn’t just exploded before he ever came to The Healing Ranch.
Getting through to the inner, hidden, decent teen had required an extreme amount of patience and going not just the extra mile but the extra twenty miles. There were times when he was certain that Casey was just too far gone to reach. Those were the times that he had made himself channel Sam, recalling how his uncle had managed to get to him back when he was just like Casey.
It worked, and in the end it had all paid off. That was all he—and Garrett—were ever interested in. The final results. That made everything that had come before—the strategizing, the enduring of endless hostility and curses—all worth it. And he also kept in contact with former “graduates,” taking an interest in their lives and making sure that they remained proud of their own progress—and didn’t backslide.
So far, he hadn’t lost a single teen. He intended to keep it that way.
“Hey, you think that’s them?” Garrett asked. Shading his eyes with one hand, he pointed at something behind his brother’s back with the other.
Jackson turned around to see a beige, almost non-descript sedan that had definitely seen better days approaching from the north. The road was open, but the driver refrained from speeding, something that tempted a lot of drivers around the area, whether they were tourists or natives.
The closer the vehicle came, the dustier it appeared. Jackson recalled that his new challenge hailed from the state of Indiana. Indianapolis to be precise. And unless the Dallas airport car rental agency was dealing in really beaten-up-looking vehicles these days, his latest boarder had been driven down to Forever rather than coming in by airplane.
Interesting, Jackson thought.
* * *
RESTLESS, IMPATIENT AND WORRIED, Ryan Winter shifted in his seat for the umpteenth time even though he had decided more than several hundred miles ago that there was no such thing as a comfortable position in his sister’s beat-up, secondhand sedan.
Ryan glared out the window, sulking.
He’d always been able to get his sister to come around to his way of thinking. But the other morning, when she had told him—not asked, but told, something he was still angry about—that they were going to a place called Forever, Texas, he’d thought she was kidding. It wasn’t until she’d marched into his room and thrown some of his clothes into a suitcase, then grabbed him by the arm and all but thrown him into the car after the suitcase, that he realized she was serious.
Dead serious.
He’d tried to reason with her, then he threatened, cajoled and pleaded, going through the entire gamut of ordinarily successful avenues of getting her to change her mind. But every attempt had failed. One by one, his sister had tossed them all by the wayside. She wasn’t going to let him talk or con his way out of going to this stupid, smelly horse place, and he was furious.
He’d had all those miles to sufficiently work himself up.
He thought he knew why this was happening. Because he was the reason why her stick-in-the-mud husband had left. But just because her life was falling apart was no reason for her to take it out on him.
Making one last-ditch attempt to get her to turn the car around, Ryan said, “Look, I’m sorry about your marriage breaking up, but the way I see it, I did you a favor. John was a loser, and you’re a hell of a lot better off without him. If you’re dumping me here at this stupid prison ranch just to get even, it’s not going to work because I swear I’m taking off the first chance I get,” he added for good measure, thinking that would really get to his sister. Debi was very big on family and he was officially all she had. He felt confident that the threat of losing him would be enough to get his sister to back off about this prison ranch and give him the space he needed. “And if I do leave, you’ll never find me.”
* * *
DEBI’S HANDS TIGHTENED on the steering wheel. It had been a long drive from Indianapolis. She was hot, she was tired and she’d gotten lost half a dozen times during the trip down to this ranch. She fervently hoped this place dealt in miracles on a regular basis because she really, really needed one.
Badly.
Debi had a feeling that nothing short of a miracle was going to save her brother. And maybe even that wasn’t enough.
She spared her brother a quick glance. He always had a habit of trying to turn things around, of putting her on the defensive. Well, not this time. She couldn’t allow it.
“This isn’t about my marriage, or lack thereof, this is about you. You’re broken, Ryan, and I don’t know how to fix you.” Even saying it pained her, but it was the truth. Somehow, Ryan had lost his way and she had lost the ability to connect with him. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she needed help in both departments.
“Drop-kicking me here to this dude ranch that’s built out of horse manure sure as hell isn’t going to do it, Debs.”
She sincerely hoped that wasn’t a prophecy. “I’ve tried everything else with you and it hasn’t worked. Maybe the people who run this ranch will have better luck.”
Even as she said it, she mentally crossed her fingers. She’d been at her wits’ end and more than desperate the day after she had bailed her brother out of jail. True to his word, John had been gone when she came home with Ryan. The following morning, she’d broken down in the hospital’s fifth-floor break room. Trying to comfort her, Sheila, another nurse on the floor, told her about The Healing Ranch.
It turned out that Sheila’s cousin had a son who was well on his way to a long rap sheet and possibly life in prison. She had sent him to The Healing Ranch in a last-ditch attempt to save him from himself. According to Sheila, it had worked. Three months later, she’d gotten back the decent kid she’d always known was in there.
Debi had called the number Sheila had given her that very day. She’d had to leave a message on the answering machine, which didn’t fill her with much confidence, but that all changed when she received a call back that evening from the man who ran the place. She remembered thinking that Jackson White Eagle had a nice, calming voice. Just talking to him had made her feel that maybe it wasn’t really hopeless after all.
He hadn’t made her any lofty promises, he’d just said that he would see what could be done and invited her to come down with her brother. Debi hadn’t wanted a tour, she’d wanted to sign Ryan up right then and there, afraid that if this Jackson person had a chance to interact with her brother first, he couldn’t accept him into the program.
“You’re sure you don’t want to see the ranch and think about it first?” he had
