by Robyn Carr
“Should we wait for Paige?” Kelly asked.
“Nah, she’ll be around for dessert. Cobbler—the apple crop is in. Do you get your food fresh at the restaurant?” he asked Kelly.
“We do. When possible I order most of it myself. Sometimes the head chef takes on that chore, but I like doing it. I go to the wharves myself to look at the catch.”
He grinned. “And here, we just go ahead and catch it. Or shoot it. Or get it straight from the ranchers.” He donned a mitt and lifted the pan from the stove. With a ladle, he spooned some venison chili into their bowls. Then he stood back, arms crossed over his huge chest.
Kelly stirred her chili while the others just dug in. She noticed that in addition to the kidney beans there were black beans and a smattering of corn, some scallions. The tomatoes were diced; onion minced so finely it was barely visible. She pushed a piece of venison against the side of the bowl with her spoon and it fell apart. She heard the others humming their approval, then she took her taste. Her eyes dropped closed. When she opened them, she said, “It’s not gamey.”
“It can be and most of my folks like it a little gamey, but I soak it in buttermilk—calms it down a little.”
“I’ve never heard that one before,” she said.
“Chances are you don’t deal with a lot of venison. When you live in the mountains, on the river, you eat off the land as much as possible. That’s what makes this place work. Is it any good?” he asked.
“It’s the best I’ve ever tasted,” she said with a grin.
“Tomatillo—better than tomatoes.”
“Ahhh,” she acknowledged. She never would have thought of that. “How are you fixed for fresh fruits and vegetables?”
“Most of what we grow around here is silage for the ranches. And we’ve got lots of orchards—apples and nuts. Berries of all kinds everywhere, but only in season. But everyone has a big vegetable garden. When the locals who don’t have health insurance pay the clinic for services in fresh produce, a lot of that comes over to the bar, where we feed whoever serves the town for free—the doctor, the nurse midwife—that’d be Jack’s wife—the local police. If Jack or I help out some neighbor, we get whatever’s in season or a cut of meat—beef, lamb, chicken, eggs. In the fall we fill the freezer with so much salmon from the river it keeps us at least half a year, but it’s best fresh. It all comes full circle.”
“But you get it in season?” she asked.
“Always,” he said. “Next I have some stuffed trout for you, but we have to wait a few minutes. Try the corn bread with your chili. It’s nothing special—I use package mixes when it’s the most practical.”
But the corn bread was delicious.
Next came the stuffed trout. He managed to beat the chef at the Boundary Waters lodge. He explained that the asparagus was “up” so he served that with the trout; he apologized that the fish had been frozen and wasn’t as good as fresh, but it was still so good. He took away their bowls and wineglasses, serving them a chilled Chardonnay that was outstanding.
Next came the lamb, so tender you could eat it with a spoon, and while he didn’t ordinarily serve garlic mashed with his lamb, that was one of his most popular dishes so he pulled some out of the refrigerator. Indeed, best garlic mashed Kelly had ever tasted; she detected flavors of butter, cream instead of whole milk, cream cheese, fresh garlic and parsley.
The girls were moaning, holding their stomachs, raving. Paige joined them just in time for the cobbler and some coffee. “We’re known for our coffee,” Preacher said. “Best in three counties.”
It was.
While Jillian, Penny and Jackie were visiting with Paige, Kelly was focused on Preacher. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you for this amazing demo. Can I pay for dinner? Pay for the wine at least?”
He shook his head. “It’s fun to have an expert like my stuff.”
“I’m going to do something special for you,” she said. “I don’t know quite when or how, but I’m going to come back up here. And if you’ll let me use your kitchen, I’ll share my nana’s vegetable soup and rhubarb pie.”
He leaned his big hands on the worktable and said, “Really? How much meat in your vegetable soup?”
“All straight out of the garden, but it’s thick and delicious.”
“That would be great. I can’t get it right without a side of beef. And I’ve been trying to figure out rhubarb pie for a long time.”
“There are old Russian tricks. I’ll show you if you promise not to publish a cookbook.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said.
When the four women were driving back to the Riordan cabins that night, Kelly said, “This place. It’s a diamond in the rough.”
Aiden, Sean and Luke Riordan stood outside their brother’s hospital room in the Fort Hood hospital, talking with his surgeon. Patrick, their fifth brother, would have been there, as well, but he was a Navy pilot stationed on an aircraft carrier.
Colin was almost twenty-four hours postsurgical, in a deep, drug-induced sleep to control the pain. His humerus was broken in two places, his elbow all messed up, his pelvis cracked, femur fractured and he had three broken ribs. He now had a titanium rod in his femur and screws in his elbow. Ironically, the elbow was probably the worst for pain, and would be the hardest to heal healthily.
“He’s suffered some burns—second-degree burns on his cheek, neck, shoulder and back, but the fractures concern me more right now. He was thrown hard onto his left side. All the bone injuries are on that side, burns on the right.”
Luke just stared at his feet and shook his head. Sean asked, “Any good news in here anywhere?”
The orthopedic surgeon, who had a lazy Texas drawl, said, “He’s right-handed.” It sounded like He’s raght handed. And then he grinned slightly. “Nah, I’m sort of kidding. Good news—no internal injuries that we’re aware of. He had a clean CT scan. No skull cracks, no paralysis. Barring complications, he’ll recover. Could be a slow, painful, difficult recovery, but he has an excellent chance of making a full recovery with all his limbs intact. Now I might be just a cockeyed optimist, but I think your boy could get out of this without any disabilities. If I were a bettin’ man, I’d say not so much as a limp.” Again with the grin. “I’m damn good with a titanium rod, if I do say so myself.”
“He was burned,” Sean said solemnly.
“He was pulled out of a burning Black Hawk. The extent of his scarring will take a little time to figure out, but the area affected is under twenty percent of his skin and should heal up real nice. Your boy had a head-on with a Cessna—it’s a fucking miracle we’re standing here talking about him. Don’t tell him that,” the doctor drawled. “At least not anytime soon—he’s gotta be in one piss-poor mood. He’s gonna feel like he’s been dragged behind a truck over a rock bed.”
Aiden was the first one to stick out his hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The doctor smiled and took his hand. “My pleasure, Doctor. You have my cell number. I’m not on call, but you call me if you need anything. I’m on call for this guy.”
When the surgeon walked away, the three brothers just stood in their small circle for a few moments of silence. “You two, go get something to eat,” Luke said. “I’ll sit with him in case he wakes up. Take your time—he’s drugged out of his mind. Then one of you can take a turn while I eat.”
While Sean and Aiden turned away, Luke headed back into the critical care unit. There was a chair beside the bed.
Colin’s leg was immobilized, but not in a cast; his arm was not only in a cast, but also a brace that held his elbow away from his body. There were gauze bandages stained with yellow salve and some blood covering the right side of his head down to his shoulder.
And he was out cold.
Luke reached out and touched the hand that was uninjured. Colin had been awake a couple of times since surgery, and one of those times he’d become agitated, angry, maybe hallucinating. He’d started yanking at the IV and cat
heter, trying to pull them out; it took two nurses, Luke and Aiden to control him long enough for the dope to work its way through the IV. Luke hated that he had to be heavily drugged like this, but he hated more the thought of the damage he could do if he yanked out that catheter, or if, God forbid, he managed to get out of the bed and did worse damage to his arm, leg and ribs.
When Luke touched Colin’s right hand, his one exposed eye slowly opened.
“Hey,” Luke said.
Although half of Colin’s face was bandaged, his scowl was unmistakable. When it came out, his voice was raspy, probably from the intubation during surgery. “I’m not done flying,” he said in a threatening tone.
“Fine,” Luke said. “You’re done for today. Let’s take this one day at a time.”
“I’m flying again,” Colin said, sounding as if his tongue was very thick.
“For right now the only flying you’re doing is on OxyContin. For the rest, you have to heal first.”
Colin’s eye drifted shut slowly, then opened again. “I’m not being put out to pasture like you,” Colin said, his words slow and thick. “First off, I’m not done. And second, I got no pretty little mama who thinks I’m a god waiting out in that pasture for me.”
Luke chuckled. “Well, you manage to outdo me on everything else, so I imagine you’ll find yourself some pretty little mama. Hard to come up with one better than Shelby, so your days of trying to beat me might just be over.”
“I’m flying,” he said.
“Whatever,” Luke answered.
“Doctor say I’m gonna live?”
“And live pretty well—once you get better,” Luke affirmed with a nod.
“Then you can leave. Nothin’ for you to do here but watch me breathe.”
“Y’know what? After what you just went through, watching you breathe is a mighty fine pastime. But listening to you talk is wearing me out. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”
Colin swallowed and then smacked his lips. “Water,” he ordered.
“Ice chips,” Luke replied, leaning over the bed to spoon a couple of small chips in his brother’s mouth. “See? There’s things I can do. I’ll be your battle buddy.”
Colin sucked the ice hard, then swallowed. “There’s nurses for that,” he said.
“You’ve been kind of a load for these nice nurses. They’re gonna fly one in special—from Samoa. Big guy, long ponytail down his back, built like a refrigerator. You’ll like him—he’s sweet.”
“Go. Away.”
“Shut your eyes and pretend,” Luke said.
“Isn’t this bad enough? You think I need a Riordan family reunion, too?” Colin grumbled.
Luke leaned forward in the chair. “Where would you be if I was lying in some hospital bed under a pile of bandages?”
“Hopefully on a sandy beach with a big-breasted nymphomaniac.”
Luke shook his head. “You’re adorable, you know that?” He stood up and turned away.
“You leaving?” Colin called.
“I’m asking for more drugs for you. Or duct tape. Don’t go anywhere.”
Luke made his way slowly to the nursing station, but the real reason he had to turn away from Colin was because tears of relief had gathered in his eyes. It was so good to have him back; such a miracle to get a second chance with him.
All five Riordan brothers were close, some closer than others. Their connections weren’t based on their ages or their common interests so much as quirks of personality. Luke was the oldest, Colin second in age. Maybe that explained why the two of them had always butted heads. They’d always been competitive. Or maybe it was just Colin—he was the most likely to remain aloof and out of touch with all of them. But like any Riordan, if there was a celebration like a wedding or an emergency call like an accident or illness, Colin would come through. He might be last to arrive, first to leave, likeliest to pick a fight—usually with Luke—but he’d come through.
If Luke strained his memory, it seemed they started to rub each other the wrong way about the time Sean, fourth born in eight years, came along. That was about the time Colin did the most despicable thing—he shot up about three inches taller than Luke and managed to keep that advantage all through life. Luke was a respectable six feet and nicely muscled, but Colin was a six-foot-three-inch giant with big arms and long legs. Then, if that wasn’t enough of an insult, Colin made it his life’s work to do just slightly better than Luke in school and at getting girls. And the icing on the cake—Colin followed Luke into the Army, got into the Warrant Officer program and flight school and, as one could predict, outscored his older brother. Not by a lot, but still.
Luke had always had an attitude because no matter how well he could do at anything, Colin could always do just a little better. And if he wasn’t doing better, he was taller and more handsome.
Well, now Colin was broken and scarred. Luke was ashamed that it had taken this to feed his determination for a fresh start with Colin. They should be best friends—they had so much in common! Twenty years in the Army, both of them helicopter pilots, both very successful with the ladies.
Well, that was in the past for Luke, but happily so—no man could ask for more than the life he had with his young wife.
But it wasn’t in the past for Colin yet. It wasn’t necessarily over for him. The recovery ahead might be difficult, but he could get back in the Black Hawk. If his arms and legs worked, why not?
Luke faced a very nice, very patient nurse. “Any chance my brother can start having some water? Or something?”
“Not too much longer, Mr. Riordan. That’s something we really don’t want to rush—not with the anesthesia and pain meds. He’s actually going to have his first meal pretty soon. Jell-O and broth.”
Luke grinned because the devil inside him was feeling slightly vindicated by Colin’s comeuppance. Not the injuries—he’d never smile about that. But Jell-O and broth? Sweet. Really, Colin had come in first for a long time. “He’s gonna love that.”
The nurse just shook her head and smiled. “Oh, you kids,” she said.
He went back to his brother. “Guess what, pal. You’re going to get dinner.”
“I hope it’s a steak and beer with a shot.”
“It’s Jell-O and broth,” Luke said. “Want me to request beef broth or are you okay with the chicken?”
“Can you please go away?” Colin said, turning his head. He turned back. “Aren’t you just about cleared for sex with that hot little mama you married? I mean, the kid is what? At least six weeks, right?”
“Over eight,” Luke said with a smile that was both victorious and taunting. There was another thing he’d finally gotten over on Colin—the perfect wife and a son.
“Oh, for Jesus’s sake, go home!”
“Not just yet,” Luke said. “Not until Mom gets here to take over.”
Colin’s unbandaged eye grew round for a second, then slammed shut. He groaned loudly enough to bring one of the nurses out of the nurse’s station. With a scowl, he said to Luke, “Why couldn’t I just die?”
Blue Rhapsody was shaping up to be one of the most dependable and responsive horses in Nathaniel’s stable. She was excellent with a young rider, as if she knew by the sheer weight that this was precious cargo. Yet when Lilly rode Blue, she was a little more energetic and sportive.
Blue was not officially Lilly’s yet, but nearly so. Lilly paid her board with cash and work. She had an arrangement with Annie to help with some young riders’ classes and activities in exchange for boarding costs. Lilly and Annie were planning an overnight trail ride for six eleven-year-old girls and that brought back such wonderful memories for Lilly. She always knew she loved horses and that riding brought her untold happiness, but it was with the planning of a trail ride that she recalled how much her horsemanship fed her confidence and gave her a sense of mastery.
Lilly had always been smaller than other girls her age, and her grandfather must have seen the struggle that brought her. He was the one tha
t arranged for her to start riding and helping with the horses on the ranch next door. He had never admitted to paying for this luxury, but she seemed to remember him running errands for their neighbor, delivering anything from hardware to feed, and once Lilly was grown she realized there could only be one reason for that—a barter for her riding. And giving his little granddaughter the opportunity to learn to control and manage the thousand-pound animals gave her just the boost she needed to feel taller, stronger.
As September came to an end and the weather cooled down, the sun was setting earlier in the evening. It was hard for Lilly to finish her bookkeeping at the feed store early enough to take Blue for a ride, but she never missed a day of seeing her.
One evening as she tidied up her desk across from her grandfather’s desk, he asked, “On your way to the stable, Lilly?”
She glanced at her watch, then shut down her computer. “If I hurry, I’ll be the one to feed Blue and maybe have time to exercise her just a little bit.”
“You might want to bring that Navajo around for a meal one of these days.”
“You’ve met him and you know his name,” she teased. “He doesn’t call you that Hopi.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He wants my granddaughter. He’ll be cautious. I could forbid it.”
She flashed him a grin and then chuckled. “And I could go to work for another feed store,” she taunted.
Yaz seemed to drop the teasing, at least a bit. “Has he asked to see me? To spend some time in discussions with me?”
Lilly just tilted her head to one side and smiled tenderly at Yaz. This was his old traditional way of asking if Clay would be speaking for her soon. And all that old tradition, as she’d said a hundred times, wasn’t important to her. She found it completely respectable—and it made the most sense—for a man to actually ask the woman he was interested in, considering that her acceptance really was the most important issue. But it was pointless to argue with Yaz. “I haven’t known him all that long, Grandpa.”
“It doesn’t take all that long, Lilly.” Their eyes were locked together for a long moment. “You’d better get to that stable before you miss seeing the horse that occupies so much of your brain these days.”