Jared walked to the mailbox, enjoying a rare weekday afternoon off. A chill permeated the air, announcing December was well underway. He smiled at the decorated yards around him. Nativities, Santas, and animated deer ruled the neighborhood this time of year. The only decoration in his yard—a light-up penguin holding a present—looked lonely. It had been an impulse buy on Black Friday, and only because Sybil had smiled when she saw it.

He lowered the mailbox door and saw a legal-sized envelope. The return address was home. His mom had made a special phone call two days ago to tell him she’d mailed him something important. She wouldn’t say what, but instructed him to call her after he’d received and read it.

Curiosity piqued, he ripped it open, there at the end of his driveway with the rest of the mail waiting to be removed. He scanned the pages, trying to make sense of the words. His blood pulsed. Had he read it correctly?

He gathered the remaining envelopes in the mailbox then went back into the house. He gripped the pages of the legal document and reread them. Again, for a third time.

How?

Needing answers, he called his mom. Once he greeted her, he jumped to the point. “The information you mailed came today.”

“Since you’re calling me, I’m assuming you read through it?” Her tone remained even, but a tinge of excitement leaked through.

He shook his head as if she could see through the phone. “Am I reading it correctly? Do I really own a two-thousand-acre ranch?

“Yes, you do.”

“But how? I thought that family land belonged to Dad’s distant cousins?” That he’d be an heir never crossed his mind.

“It did, but the last owner, Harv Scott, who was your third or fourth cousin—I’d have to sit down and write it all down to figure out the exact connection—had no children and apparently, had a falling out with other family members.” His mom’s words came in breathy spurts as she rushed the story. “Your dad spent a few summers out there as a child, and Harv made a connection with your father. That’s the only reason I can figure that he left it to him.”

“Then technically, it belongs to you, as Dad’s widow.”

“No, look at the papers closely. A legality in your father’s will grants you ownership.”

He ran a hand through his hair. The news was a lot to take in. “Do I have to do anything?”

“A few signatures on papers is all.” Mom cleared her throat, and a pregnant pause fell over the line. “A ranch would be a great place to raise a child.”

And there came the crux of the matter. He’d love to move home and raise a family on the open plains, but he wasn’t in a position to up and move. “Sybil’s here, Mom. I doubt she’d want to pack up on a whim and move across the country where she knows nobody, and I’m not leaving here if my daughter’s here.”

“I understand, and wouldn’t expect less of you. But…” He could practically see the twinkle in his mom’s eyes. “If you can convince her to marry you, it’s something to consider … and maybe she’d want to start over in a new place, and she could live with me.”

“As great as that sounds, I already asked her once to marry me, and it caused a big fight.” He sighed. “She and I have come too far to risk messing up our relationship.”

“What you just said, that’s the key, Son. You two barely knew each other the first time you asked, and you would have been marrying for the wrong reasons.” Mom stopped talking for a second, and he heard the scooting of a chair. “You have a relationship established between you now, plus she’s since become a Christian.”

“I don’t know.” He cared too much about her to send her running.

“Do you love her?”

“I…” He trailed off. Did he? The answer shined clearly before him. “Yes, I do.”

“Then trust in that love. Will you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Pray about it. The ranch is yours whether you live on it or not.”

Another thought crossed his mind. “I don’t know how to run a ranch.”

Mom laughed. “You have a G.I. Bill. Put it to use.”

If only it were as simple as she made it sound. Yet, his heart longed to move home to Weatherton, and he’d been presented a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Would God have placed it there for him if he weren’t meant to take it? “I’ll pray about it. Do I have to sign the papers within a certain timeframe?”

Her sharp intake of air whistled over the line. “Within two weeks.”

He exhaled slowly. “I can’t get off work that soon, and besides, that carries into Christmas. I promised Sybil we’d spend it together.”

“Invite her out here.”

“I doubt her doctor would approve the travel. Her blood pressure’s been rising again.”

“I’ll be praying for her.”

“Thanks.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off the start of a headache induced by information overload.

“Is there any other option to sign the paperwork?”

“No. You and the lawyer have to be present, and I doubt he’ll travel to North Carolina when he has nothing to gain from the deal.”

“And if I don’t make it in time?”

“Then the estate will be tied up in probate, and you could lose it.”

The weight of responsibility bore down on his shoulders. “I’ll talk to my boss and see what I can do, but I have to be home by Christmas. I can’t break my promise to Sybil.”

“Let me know as soon as you can.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She hung up the phone with a promise to pray for him.

His head spun with the turn his afternoon took. When he woke up this morning, never in his wildest dreams had he expected to inherit a ranch by the day’s end.

He wanted it. Wyoming dirt ran through his blood, but he’d never thought he could make a viable living there. He had a good job in North Carolina and was grateful for it. Still, it was a contract, and while he’d been told the contract would be renewable indefinitely, there wasn’t a guarantee.

The Scott homestead would require hard work, but had continuously operated since the late nineteenth century. He would check into its financial health if he went to Wyoming, but he couldn’t imagine it would be in danger of failing after so many years running.

Either way, as he’d told his mom, if Sybil wouldn’t go, he wouldn’t. He’d think about keeping the land—it belonged in the Scott family—but put in place a plan for someone else to run it. Who ran it now? He’d have to ask.

He jotted down notes, but his hand wrote slower than his thoughts came. When he skimmed what he’d written, he realized he’d started three columns. Pros, cons, and questions.

The cons held the fewest items listed under it.

He folded his hands on top of his head and sighed. What a day. He’d have to tell Sybil, but she wouldn’t be home from work for another three hours.

Until then, he’d make phone calls, find out what he could. The first call went to his boss who agreed to give him the next week off, but without pay. Fair enough since paid time-off didn’t come with most contract jobs. The hourly rate and per diem made up for the lack of benefits.

Next, he called the law office listed on the paperwork. The lawyer in charge was out to lunch, but his administrative assistant answered a few questions after he confirmed his identity. She emailed him financial reports, and his mouth gaped when he saw the net worth.

He wouldn’t be rich, but he’d step into a debt-free ranch with a solid bank account and a three-thousand square foot cabin with no mortgage.

If it’s Your will, Lord, please provide a way. He prayed more in depth, wishing he’d receive an instant answer.

A few minutes before he expected Sybil to leave work, he sent her a text asking if she’d stop by on her way home. Her reply came quickly. —Sure.

She didn’t ask why, and that sent happy waves through him. They’d barely been acquaintances when she’d gotten pregnant, then they slowly became friends. Now they were more, though the more wasn’t clarified. It hadn’t mattered to him before, as long as they continued moving forward.

With what he’d learned today, however, more covered a broader spectrum than he wished. He didn’t want to push her and he wouldn’t, but wanted—needed—to know where they stood. She’d come a long way, but he feared the least provocation would make the skittish kitten in her reemerge.

When she arrived, she handed him a carton of eggnog.

He accepted it with one raised brow. “Thank you?”

She laughed off his confused expression. “The school district’s milk provider gave them out to all the central office staff.”

“I’ll put it in the fridge.” And there it will stay.

Her lips twitched. “Let me take a wild guess, you’re not a fan of eggnog?”

“Not really.”

“Me either.” She broke out in a laugh. “So much for pawning it off on you.”

“The Gunns next door always make it for the holidays. If you don’t mind, I’ll drop it off to them later.”

“Go for it. I’d hate for it to be wasted.” She adjusted her purse strap that had slipped down the navy sleeve of her cardigan. “Why’d you want me to stop by?”

He suggested they have a seat. It wasn’t a standing conversation.

She sat down and propped a pillow behind her back. “That feels better. My office chair is a killer.”

“Can you take a pillow to work?”

“I have one, but it puts me at an uncomfortable angle to work.” She stretched her arms.
“Only two more months to go.”

“Brilyn will be here before we know it.”

“I can’t wait.” Her smile softened her face, and she glowed. “Most women say their pregnancies drag, but once I decided to keep her, it’s flown by for me.”

“I’m glad.” He shifted and folded his hands in his laps, changed gears. “I received some interesting information today.”

“What kind?”

“I inherited a large plot of old family land that has a ranch.”

Her features tightened. “In Wyoming?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re moving back?” she asked in a clipped tone.

“Not necessarily.”

Her entire countenance shouted that he’d have to take it easy with her.

She twisted the corner of her sweater. “What are you planning to do then?”

“Be wherever my daughter is.”

“You’d give up a ranch for Brilyn?” Her jaw loosened a smidge.

“I’ll hire someone to run it, but I can’t give up the land. It belongs in the family.” He scooted to the middle of the sofa and placed his hands on her shoulders. “But I’m not leaving you and our daughter. No matter what.”

A long breath escaped her. “I’m trying to believe you. After years of having no one care about me, it’s hard to accept.”

He raised a hand and brushed a hair from her forehead. “I love you.” When he saw the fear rise in eyes, he pressed a finger to her mouth. “You don’t have to say anything—I just wanted you to know. I’d also like us to consider and pray about an idea.”

She didn’t say anything. He got the feeling she didn’t trust herself to speak.

Lowering his hands, he locked gazes with her. “Would you think about moving to Wyoming? I’d love to raise our child in Weatherton with family nearby. My mom offered her house for you to share. Or—even better, you could live with me. As my wife.”

For a long time, she didn’t say anything. She sat there with a hand over her mouth as though truly speechless. “I…That’s…I don’t know.”

“Don’t give an answer until you pray about it. And regardless of your answer, I’ll stand by you.” He swallowed the ball in this throat. “Our daughter needs both of her parents in her life, and I intend to give her that.”

“This is a lot to take in.” She ran her fingers along her jaw. “This is what I know. My life and career are here.”

“If you decide to move, I’ll help you find a job. You could even stay home with Brilyn if you’d like.” He saw a light spring alive in her. “With the money the ranch is making, we’d be comfortable on that income.”

“When do you need to know?”

“Once you have an answer that gives you peace.” He cringed, worried about telling her the next part. “I have to make a trip out there to sign paperwork. I leave tomorrow.”

Her cheek twitched. “When will you be back?”

“In a week, which gives us a week to cram in all the Christmas fun we can.”

The muscles in her face relaxed. “Promise?”

“Promise.”