Maverick

by Irish Winters

  She continued her solitary tour to the back of the barn. The corral that had once stood there was temporarily converted to a debris field. Bits and pieces of construction material had been tossed into a burn pile. An industrial-sized garbage can looked as if it needed to be emptied of soda pop cans and fast food garbage. She walked past it to the edge of the temporary corral, intending to release the horses to the pasture, but someone had already done that. The corral stood empty, its gate flung open.

  She gazed up at the stand of aspen in the pasture. That’s where the horses liked to congregate on a hot day, in amongst the shady grove that stretched from the barn and up the hill. It was always a peaceful picture, all those noble creatures resting amidst the trees.

  That was where X and Z had kindly dug a grave with Denton’s backhoe, large enough for a favored brood mare and her foal under the trees where the rest of her horses stood now.

  It had been one helluva tough week, but China wasn’t about to sink into the depths of depression. X and Z had taken care of the burial the day after the fire, and done it without her knowledge. Z told her later she didn’t need to remember her beautiful girl in any other way than as the gorgeous animal she was when she was alive. China knew without a doubt that he was right. Still, she needed to see where Gorgeous lay in peace with her perfect foal.

  Ebony saw her first. The black stallion neighed from his pasture, along with Hex, and Aces Wild. The stallions’ friendly voices drew the others’ attention. Before long, the herd descended to the lower field. China climbed the fence to be with them. This was her way of healing, her therapy. After all was said and done, her horses renewed her strength and energy. She relied on them now.

  After a round of pats and caresses, she continued uphill to the grave. It wasn’t far, just a grassy landing notched into the hillside where the earth had been disturbed and a good friend laid to rest. The higher she climbed, the more she felt like a teacher on a fieldtrip with a class full of big kids tagging along.

  At last she stood over her favorite brood mare. She couldn’t help it. She cried. X and Z had done well. Gorgeous and China Love were laid down to rest together. A hefty flat stone was pressed into the center of the freshly mounded earth. The instant she saw the words etched into the stone, she knew the artist.

  Bye and bye we’s all go home to Him who gived us wings to fly and horses to love.

  Xavier, bless his heart, the man who most folks disregarded as a halfwit, had provided a very eloquent and fitting eulogy. China wiped her face. Somehow the words on that plain old piece of granite jerked the sorrow straight out of her. He had etched a pair of wings above the words and the date beneath. She had always thought of Gorgeous with wings. Now she was sure.

  The first time she’d seen the mare online, China had been smitten. She had travelled all the way to Vermont to inspect the year-old filly before she bought her. While she fully expected an exceptional animal, what she got was something else.

  The horse was not only an unblemished, spotless white, but she was intelligent, too. Gorgeous was the horse of China’s dreams, and she’d known right then and there, she would be taking the mare home to Wyoming, no matter the cost. It was a friendship made in heaven—and the bank.

  China lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged by the stone. Of course, that only invited a few curious horses’ noses in her face, and since the last thing she needed was a horse in her lap, she didn’t stay there for too long.

  Right on cue, Joker nudged her butt with his nose, pushing her forward a couple of feet as he made his presence known. Rascal or not, he came for a scratch behind his ears, and she obliged. For a moment, it was just China and her kids remembering their fallen companions together. She paused with one hand on Joker’s strong neck, the other on his velvet-soft nose. Her kids always calmed her and today was no different.

  Spring mornings were peaceful in Wyoming. The sky seemed extra blue and she didn’t want to leave the shady grove. Buds covered the trees and the few straggly pines in the grove showed lime green tips on all their branches where new growth sprouted. One of the horses nickered as they grazed nearby.

  Her mares Sunshine, Sugar, and Frost were wide and ready to foal any day now. That would be a challenge with the barn unfinished, but China would find a way. The thought of new foals brought a smile to her lips. Rich Williams’ offer to lend his Savannah Joy was an enticing idea. She would need another white mare, not so much to replace Gorgeous, but just to get on with the business of living.

  That was why she had come up the hill in the first place. As hard as it was, she needed to close this sad chapter and get on with life. She had learned that lesson long ago from her father.

  Get up. Get back to work. Keep living.

  Movement below caught her eyes. Someone else was up. Maverick. She watched as he rounded the bunkhouse and walked purposefully toward the back of the barn. He wore his baseball cap and dark glasses as usual, and even at this distance, he was easy on the eyes. Several horses turned his way, but none of them seemed too interested until Star looked up. With a friendly nicker, the nosey horse trotted downhill.

  Star stopped at the lower fence. At first, Maverick only glanced at him, but then he walked over and scratched his ears. Maverick liked Star; she just didn’t expect him to climb the fence and slide off the top rail of the fence and onto the horse’s broad back. Neither did she expect to see him lean into Star’s neck and hug him like he did.

  She blinked. Maverick stayed there for another couple minutes before he righted himself and slid to the ground. Even then, he stayed alongside Star, as if he was talking to the animal. They looked like compadres, their heads together in secret guy-talk.

  China watched the pleasant scene. It touched her. Maverick and Star had a bond. They stood there for a moment longer until Maverick climbed the fence and walked away. Star followed along the fence as if keeping track of his friend. Maverick paused at the burn pile, pulled a few two-by-four scraps from the heap and disappeared around the bunkhouse.

  China turned back to the grave for one last word with Gorgeous.

  “See you around.”

  Beer bottles clinked together. Had to be Leezel.

  Maverick glanced over his shoulder up at her and immediately looked back down to the two-by-fours on the sawhorse, damned glad for his dark glasses. He figured she would come looking for him. She needed to know what he remembered from the night of the fire. Two could play that game. He needed something, too. The truth.

  She came up behind him and stood damned near at his back pocket and in imminent danger of his backstroke. “Whatcha doing, cowboy?”

  He rolled his neck at the unwelcome interruption. “You need to move.”

  “I do, huh?” For whatever reason, that request sparked a smile on her face. She made it difficult for a guy not to notice her. Today’s get-up consisted of extra-short shorts and a sheer top tied off at her waist. The black bra beneath the see-through top screamed her usual message. I’m easy.

  She had been extra liberal with her eye makeup again. Soap and a breath mint wouldn’t hurt her none, either. Beer never made an attractive mouthwash.

  She had a wiggly way of walking, as if every part of her was ready and available for exploitation. The shimmy in her shoulders shook the rest of her. She took another mincing step toward him in those same ridiculous, red heels she always seemed to wear. The dame was dressed to party at oh-six-hundred hours. On a ranch. A horse ranch.

  “Where’s X and Z?”

  “They went into town.”

  “They gonna be back soon?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t ask.”

  “That was real decent of you to take my daughter for another walk last night. She said you found where that mama cat hid her kittens after the fire.”

  “Yep.”

  “Kyrie likes baby kitties.”

  Maverick ignored her baby talk, another distinctly feminine trait he didn’t understand. Not all women employed it. Thank God, China d
idn’t.

  “I brought you a drink.” She stuck a bottle under his nose where he couldn’t miss it.

  He leaned away from her and resumed sawing. “No thanks.”

  “Whatcha making?” She didn’t move far.

  Although he was plenty busy and sweaty to boot, she traced a fingernail across the back of his neck and accompanied that with a soft murmur, as if that simple touch should’ve gotten him worked up. It didn’t come close. He shrugged it off and re-focused. The saw went up. The saw went down. Simple work for a Sunday morning.

  The problem with confronting Leezel about her part in the barn burning had everything to do with Kyrie. Leezel clearly didn’t want her child, so Maverick needed to be careful how he went about it. He’d seen her at work. He didn’t want retaliation for what he might say or ask misdirected back at her daughter.

  “The sheriff is questioning my old boyfriend, you know.”

  He should. Maverick wanted to question Reardon himself, only not at the police station.

  He lined up another length of two-by-fours according to the rough plan in his head. His project required four longs and eight shorts. Puppy size.

  “Sheriff Hammer thinks Troy’s an ars-on-ist.” Leezel was a fountain of useless trivia this morning and still trying to sound like a southern belle while she dispensed it. It wasn’t working for her. It made her sound stupid, something Maverick doubted she was. “I don’t hang out with him anymore, just so y’all know.”

  He shrugged, his usual non-answer when someone lied to his face. Who was she trying to kid? All Reardon had to do was show back up and threaten to take Kyrie, and Leezel would be all over him again. She was a follower, and he was the stupid brain that told her when to jump.

  “I used to think he was the only man in the whole world for me.” She sighed deeply. “I mean, he was exciting and a little crazy. I like that in my guys. We used to go riding on his Harley, just take off for Yellowstone or the West Coast. One time we drove all the way to Malibu before we stopped for the night.”

  Another sigh.

  The way she sighed told Maverick there was more to the story whether he wanted to hear it or not. He stacked the long lengths he had just cut aside and measured the scrap two-by-fours for the shorter ones. He needed a sheet of CDX plywood to complete the project, and maybe a couple more two-by-fours. If the lumber store was open, this project would be done by dusk and Kyrie would be one happy little girl.

  He let Leezel keep talking, let her keep thinking she had a reason to stay.

  “I really loved him, ya know?” The wistful saga continued. “We were crazy. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” She hiccupped at that last comment, as if it were too delightful to forget.

  Not for Maverick. He forgot it instantly.

  “We made love on the beach under a full moon one time.”

  Shit damn! Poke my eyes out with a sharp stick. That was the last image he needed in his head—a gnarly old dude bumping uglies with a trashy younger woman who looked like a hooker.

  He didn’t have to look up to know she was staring off into space, batting her eyes and waiting for him to ask what happened next. He didn’t. The saw went up. The saw went down.

  “Wanna know why we broke up the first time?”

  No. Hell. No.

  “I kinda got pregnant.” She actually whispered, as if the whole world didn’t know Kyrie had been born out of wedlock.

  He stifled a grunt while the saw chewed away at the black mark on the wood in quick measured bites. He enjoyed physical labor. A man could accomplish something.

  Leezel put her hand on his shoulder, and once again he had to stop the saw. She moved in close. He clenched his jaw as the endurance test continued.

  “You’re a v-e-r-y strong man.” She ran her fingernails up his neck and into his hairline, tipping his cap over his forehead and knocking his glasses off.

  Time to dance. He jerked his cap off and tucked the brim of it into his back pocket. The Oakleys went onto his shirt collar. “You always start your day with a beer?”

  She lifted the bottle to her lips and ran her tongue around the rim. “When I can get it.”

  He softened his tone and glanced at the bottle in her other hand. “It’s going to be another hot day. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  She handed the already opened bottle over. The corners of her mouth lifted into a wide smile that showed her perfectly straight and white teeth. Dental work. Acrylic nails. Dancing shoes. Yet her daughter wore rags. Yeah. This woman was selfish from the ground up.

  He parked his rear on the sawhorse, which forced her to keep standing. Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a swallow. Good on her. China knew a good beer.

  He ran the back of his other hand over his brow and looked toward the new construction. “You know what I don’t understand?”

  “What’s that, Mav?”

  Inwardly he cringed. Mav had died a long time ago, but explaining it to Leezel would only mislead her into thinking he cared.

  “I don’t understand how you could’ve slept through all the noise that night.” He took another sip and kept his eyes on the barn.

  “I use a sleep-aid,” she confided, sidling closer. “It’s real hard being a single mom. It’s a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and sometimes I just can’t fall asleep.”

  Twenty-four-hour a job, nothing. But her lie did explain her grogginess the day after.

  “Funny thing about that night.” He kept looking at the barn. “I’m almost sure I heard someone behind the barn. Thought it was you.”

  “You tell Sheriff Hammer?” she asked, her eyes a titch brighter and sharper as she took another swig.

  “Nothing to tell. I couldn’t say for sure. Could’ve been my imagination.”

  “Probably just cats fighting. Maybe raccoons. There’s plenty of varmints around these parts.”

  “Maybe.” He took another sip, determined to draw her out. “See, here’s the thing. I thought I heard a Harley, too. I thought there might be trouble with your ex, but then I got clobbered.”

  Leezel took a step toward him, a seductive smile blossoming on her overly painted lips.

  He crossed his ankles to block her brazen attempt to stand between his legs. No. Way. In. Hell.

  “Me and Reardon took us a midnight swim up at Minter’s Creek,” she drawled. “That’s when we broke up again. He’s been cheating on me. I could see it all over his face. The man’s a real prick.”

  And you, my dear, are full of bullshit. But you do have all your bases covered.

  “I told him I don’t never want to see him again, then I come home and took my pills and went to sleep.” She pinched her lips together at the rim of her bottle. “You do believe me, don’t you, Mav?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t matter if I do or not. I’m out of here once the barn’s done.” He polished off the beer in one long pull. Let her believe what she wanted. He knew better. Leezel was as full of shit as Reardon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He didn’t watch her backside while she strutted away because that was exactly what she wanted. Instead he wiped his brow and got back to work. He’d seen enough dumbasses in his life, he didn’t need to watch this one. This little job was supposed to be a day project, not a weeklong chore.

  His stomach gurgled. Maverick finished cutting the boards to size and stacked them by the sawhorse. He couldn’t do anymore work on the project until he went to town, so he headed into the ranch house. Breakfast would be good, surprising China better.

  A man can’t surprise a woman if he has to knock, so he didn’t. He opened the front door and peered inside. Thankfully, Leezel was nowhere to be seen. Someone was moving around upstairs, but he took his chances. Nothing got a person up early in the morning like breakfast cooking. Hopefully that person would be China.

  He went quietly into the kitchen and scrubbed his hands at the sink. It took a minute to figure out the coffeemaker, but he managed to set a twelve-cup pot to drip. The smel
ls of bacon and coffee filled the house in no time at all, just as he had intended.

  He was flipping French toast on the griddle when a chair scraped behind him. Maverick turned to the littlest lady of the house. Her light blue pajamas only enhanced the color in her teary blue eyes. He set the spatula aside and knelt to her level. “Hey, there. Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but her lip stuck out so far that he knew better. He pulled a kitchen chair out from the table and Kyrie scrambled up. “You want something to drink? Orange juice?” Kids don’t drink coffee, do they?

  “Miwk, pwease.” Worry shifted over her face. She scrunched her nose. “Is that okay?”

  “You bet.” He poured her a big glass of milk and watched her take a good, long swallow. “What can I fix you for breakfast, ma’am?”

  She wiped her milk moustache off and scrunched her shoulders. “I not a ma’am.”

  “Sure you are. You’re a lady, aren’t you? That makes you a ma’am.”

  “No.” A shy giggle replaced the pout. “I a widdle girl.”

  “Then why is a little girl sad on a nice morning like this?”

  She glanced furtively toward the staircase. “Cuz I hafta be a big girl now.”

  Her lip quivered and Maverick turned to mush.

  Kyrie squeezed her eyes tight, but tears eked out beneath her lashes anyway. “I don’t wanna be a big girl.”

  Maverick made himself comfortable on the floor beside her chair, needing her to cheer up. He never could stand to see a woman cry, especially a tiny one. “Hey, there. How hard can it be? Look at me. I’m a big boy, ain’t I?”

  “Uh huh.” She nodded emphatically. “You is bigger ‘n me and Andy China and evwyone.”

  “There isn’t anything to it. You just eat your breakfast every day, and it happens.” His mind pinged for anything to make this unhappy child smile.

  “But I miss bwankie.” Again her lip turned to the cutest pout. “And I don’t wanna be a big boy.”