Chapter 7: The Man Behind the Myth

Quinn Foster was nothing like I’d imagined.

I’d pictured a grizzled old-timer with a voice like gravel and a stare that could freeze water. The real Foster was nothing like that.

Not at all.

He wore jeans and a flannel shirt, his hair a little messy, his handshake warm and firm.

Before meeting him, I’d pictured a stern, silent, bearded man. Instead, he was completely different.

He smiled easily, his eyes kind but sharp. You could tell he’d seen hard times, but hadn’t let them harden his heart.

Quinn Foster had an ordinary face, always smiling, looking honest and sincere.

He looked like the kind of guy you’d trust to fix your fence or watch your kids for an afternoon.

He was about as tall as Dad, just without the big beard.

He greeted us with a nod, then got right down to business.

After a brief greeting, he accepted my velvet pouch, opened it, and saw the letter and the lock of hair. He was stunned for a moment, then grew solemn. "Given Mr. Carter’s sincerity, I won’t let you down."

He closed the pouch with care, tucking it into his shirt pocket. His voice was steady, but his eyes told me he understood.

He nodded, visibly moved. "It’s late. You must be tired from your journey, Lila. Rest well, and we’ll talk in detail tomorrow."

He offered me a seat by the fire, but I shook my head, too tired to think.

"Of course!" I replied, returning his courtesy. "Thank you, Mr. Foster."

He smiled, then waved over one of his men to show us to our tent.

A young guy from his crew came to show us the way. Henry and I followed, stepping out into the cool night air.

The stars were bright, the air smelled of pine and woodsmoke. I took a deep breath, letting the tension drain from my shoulders.

We’d barely walked a few steps when we heard Foster’s voice from inside the tent, gentle as ever. "…Where’s the rabbit you caught?"

His tone was playful, but you could tell he expected an answer.

"It… it got away…"

That was Ryan, the boy, sounding weak.

His voice trembled, like he knew what was coming.

"I see… And you didn’t do your homework this afternoon, did you?"

Foster’s voice was still gentle, but there was a warning in it.

"Bro—" the young man’s voice was guilty and getting softer, "Don’t blame Ryan… I was the one who led him out…"

He tried to take the blame, but Foster cut him off.

Ryan cut in, "No! I was the one who begged Uncle to catch rabbits… Dad, don’t be mad at Uncle."

The little toddler, still learning to talk, echoed his brother.

"Trying to cover for each other, huh."

Foster couldn’t help but laugh, then called out, "Go fetch me my belt."

He tried to sound stern, but there was a smile in his voice.

"I tell you to study, but you run off to chase rabbits and dogs—your teacher is busy, and I’m grateful he makes time for you! And you still sneak off? Clearly you need a lesson! If I don’t teach you three rascals a lesson today, I’m not Foster!"

His words were half-threat, half-joke. The tent erupted in shouts of "Bro!" and "Dad!"

The boys pleaded for mercy, but Foster just laughed.

Henry and I both covered our mouths, laughing quietly. The more trouble, the better the show.

We exchanged a look—family was family, no matter where you went.

So much for all that bravado earlier—still got grounded.

Even the toughest men turned soft when it came to their kids. Guess some things never change.

Turns out, whether a dad or a big brother, everyone gets annoyed when their mischievous kids skip their homework.

It didn’t matter how tough you were—kids would always find a way to test your patience.

Dad was like that, and Quinn Foster was no exception.

Only, Dad couldn’t bear to punish me. Foster, on the other hand, had no problem at all.

I fell asleep that night with a smile, knowing that, in the end, family was the same everywhere.