Maverick watched it leave, concerned for China and Kyra, but also concerned he had set off another maelstrom of worry. After all, he had called Mother. Now Alex knew everything.
“Sure hope Miss China won’t have ta stay in the hospital tonight.” Z ran a hand over his thinning buzz cut. He and X sat in wooden lawn chairs outside the bunkhouse while Puppy lounged in another chair, as if he were just one of the guys. A scruffy cat with a crooked tail lingered under X’s chair. One or two of the strays seemed to follow him wherever he went.
Maverick had already brushed Ebony and Star down after their ride home. They’d been fed and settled in their respective corrals for the night. Z had put together a raft of turkey sandwiches, and X brought a twenty-four pack of beer to the picnic. It hit the spot.
The roaring fire in the fire pit didn’t hurt. Neither did X strumming on his old guitar, another surprise Maverick hadn’t seen coming. The man was a gentle genius with his hands. The sounds coming from X’s fingertips off the battered and worn acoustic seemed the perfect end to the harrowing day. Maverick had dragged his guitar from beneath his bunk, but he had yet to unzip it out of its case.
“Any word from Leezel or the hospital yet?”
X looked up from his playing and shook his head. “Not likely she woulda called us anyway.” He glanced furtively at Z.
“Yeah.” Z took a big bite of his sandwich. “That’s fer sure. She don’t like us much.”
That surprised Maverick. “But I thought you guys shared the same watering hole?”
“We do,” Z answered through another gulp of his beer, “but she’s still Jefferson Wolf’s daughter.”
He said that like it meant something, but Maverick didn’t understand. “So?”
“Used to be ol’ man Wolf would run off any kid who come courting his girls.” Z stared into the dark. “He was a mean ol’ cuss. Used ta slap his girls around once in a while. Course he never hit his horses. Nosirree Bob. They was his pride and joy.”
The Wolf family story unraveled. Xavier and Zeke had no doubt seen a lot. The way Z’s face darkened as he talked gave Maverick a new insight into China. Leezel, too.
“He caught ’em playing doctor once. They was just little tykes and curious about how things worked, you know how kids are, but he hauled them inside and all we heard was crying and screaming.” Z stopped strumming and wiped his eye.
“Was there a boy involved?” Maverick couldn’t believe his ears.
“Nope. Jes’ Missy China and Missy Leezel.”
“How old were they?”
“I think Miss China was eight?” Z turned to X with that question. “Never mind. You didn’t work here back then.”
X nodded somberly. “You shoulda gone to the po-lice right then and there.”
“That’s easy for you to say, but them were different days.” Z patted his friend’s arm. “Police wouldn’t a done a thing.”
Maverick set his sandwich back on the plate, his appetite gone.
“The next time I saw ‘em, Miss China was black ’n blue, but Miss Leezel didn’t seem none too worse for wear.” Z ran his hand over his face, as if he was tired of remembering. “Course I never knew what really happened. Jefferson said she fell down the steps. Whose ta say? Maybe she did.”
“That’s jes’ like Miss China,” X interjected, “takin’ the blame so’s her little sister wouldn’t get beat none.”
Maverick’s mouth went dry. What kind of a man would hit little girls?
“Miss China’s a real nice lady,” X murmured. “She was always doing stuff like that, taking Leezel’s lickin’ for her and doing her chores.”
“Yep. Them were different days.” Z gave Puppy a gentle smack on the rump.
“Where was their mother when all this happened?” Maverick couldn’t believe a woman would’ve allowed the beating of her daughters. His mother would’ve killed anyone who touched him or his brother, including his dad. But then, his parents had never hit their sons in the first place, even though they’d probably deserved a good spanking every now and then.
X stilled his guitar strings and pointed a finger toward the gravel road. “Cemetery down yonder. Celeste died giving birth ta China and Leezel’s little sister. Golly, what’d you tell me that little gal’s name was?”
“Martha. She didn’t live but a couple hours.” Z pursed his lips, his gaze fixed to the flames in the fire pit. “That’s when life got bad ’round here, least ’til China turned old enough to handle a horse good enough to suit her daddy. Helluva horseman, but once Celeste died, he couldn’t seem to tolerate the sight of his own flesh and blood some days.”
“Ah, he weren’t that bad,” X muttered. “He just missed Celeste. That’s all.”
“Oh yeah? Seems to me he weren’t too nice to you back then, either,” Z pointed out.
X shrugged. “I reckon he was jes’ takin’ care a his own.”
The men grew quiet, and Maverick didn’t ask more questions. Did Jefferson beat his wife, too? Was that why she had died in childbirth?
“Now there was a love story fer ya,” Z said to the flames.
“Who? Jefferson and Celeste?” Maverick asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Z dug his hands deep in his pockets and pushed his feet straight out in front of him, the orange firelight orange soft on his face. “He met her back East when he come home from ’Nam. Went ta some Percheron Horse Society meeting. Her folks didn’t like him none. They was old money, had something else in mind for their daughter ’sides fallin’ for a cowpoke from Wyoming.”
“Yeah, but you told me them kids had it bad for each other,” X interjected.
“They did. Ya see.” Z turned to look Maverick in the eye. “Jefferson and me was in ’Nam together. All the time we were fightin’ and survivin’, he kept tellin’ me about how he was gonna raise horses once his time in the Corps was over. When we got home in seventy-one, he gave me this here job. Sure enough, he started with a couple acres of nothing and a pair of bays. Look at this place now.”
Zeke Knudsen went up a few notches in Maverick’s estimation at the humble declaration that he was a Marine, too.
“But what about Celeste?” Maverick wanted the old guy to stay on track.
“Gawd.” Z blew out a long sigh. “She was a purdy girl. Jefferson left her behind on account a her folks threatened to send her off to live with her aunt if’n he kept hanging around. Paris, I think. Heck, I can’t remember.”
X shook his head very slowly. “Me neither.”
Z grumbled, “Well, a course you don’t remember. You wasn’t even here back then. You’s nothing but a whippersnapper to a guy the likes of me.”
“Ah huh,” X agreed, “but you told me this story a million times, I jes’ don’t remember all of it sometimes.”
“Guys,” Maverick interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. What happened with Celeste?”
“Why, she jes’ showed up here at the ranch one day.” Z’s eyes lit up remembering. “She done run away from home and took a train out West all by herself. I ain’t never seen Jefferson so happy. That boy was dancing on the ceilings the minute she stepped outta the cab. They got married right up there on the porch. Had a big ol’ wedding. Everyone in town showed up. Why they kicked up their heels and danced ’til the cows come home that night.”
Z settled further back in his chair. “Yep. Them was the good ol’ good days. Seemed like everything was going perfect once she got here. Never seen Jefferson happier. Never.”
“She looked jes’ like Miss China, ya know,” X offered. “You seen her picture?”
Maverick shook his head.
“Well, the next time ya decides to fix breakfast fer your lady friend, ya might take a peek at her mama’s picture. It’s hanging in her living room right where her daddy left it.”
Maverick caught the twinkle in X’s eye.
“You ain’t fooling me,” Z teased. “I seen the way you look at Miss China, and I seen the way Miss China looks at you. It’s the same way Jefferson
used ta look at Celeste, is what it is.”
“I think Miss China kinda likes you, son.” X poked a gnarly finger into Maverick’s shoulder. “Good thing ol’ Jefferson ain’t ’round no more, or you’d be hightailing it down the road with your britches full of rock salt.”
Maverick poked X right back, hoping to change the subject. “Oh, yeah? Well, how did you old ladies come to be called X and Z?”
X sniffed. “You hear that, Z? This whippersnapper done called us ladies.”
“Well, we do gossip like old Widow Green and Sister Jones.” Z slapped X’s leg with a chuckle. “Truth is, we jes’ figured if them ce-leb-rit-ees out there in Hollywood could change their names, we could, too.”
“Ha. I was hoping maybe folks might think we was rock stars and want our autographs.” X puffed up his chest, as if he were someone to be reckoned with.
“Yeah, but they didn’t,” Z added gloomily. “Guess no one noticed our superhero per-son-as.”
Maverick smiled at the old comedians. “But your given names really are Zeke and Xavier?”
“Oh, yeah.” Z nodded earnestly. “Them’s our real names. I’m Zeke Knudsen. This here’s Xavier Albright, jes’ like Miss China told ya. She wouldn’t a lied.”
“Hey.” X studied Maverick intently for all of two seconds. “You wanna change your name? We could call you—”
Maverick waved the suggestion off. “No, thanks. I’ll stick with the one I’ve got.”
“You sure you ain’t related to Kit, though?” X squinted. “Ya kinda look like you got some cowboy blood in ya, I reckon.”
“No, sir. Only blood in me is red, white, and blue.” Damn. It felt good to remember his patriotic streak, the side of him that made him a Marine.
The flash of pride on X and Z’s faces didn’t go unnoticed. Z stretched his hand out to Maverick’s shoulder. “We’s real glad you been helpin’ Miss China around here. You’ve taken a load off her shoulders since you been here. Hope you know that.” He looked at Xavier. “You had enough for one night?”
“Nah.” X pushed himself up out of his chair and picked up his guitar. “’Fore y’all git going, I want ta show you my horse.”
Z lifted his brows at Maverick as X strolled into the bunkhouse. “I didn’t know he kept a horse in there, did you?”
He wasn’t gone long enough for Maverick to reply. X returned with a gleaming copper statue in his hand, the horse from China’s birdbath. His smile threatened to crack his face wide open. “Look it here.” He stuck the statue in Maverick’s hands. “I fixed it for Miss China, jes’ like she asked.”
Maverick took the restored figurine, surprised at the piece of artwork in his hand. It wasn’t just a horse. The copper had been molded into a fighting stallion, reared on his hind feet with his front hooves striking the air. The copper mane had been twisted into long tendrils behind him to denote action. Its long tail flowed around the feet of the animal, adding support to the base. That X used this for a birdbath took Maverick’s breath away. It belonged in an art museum.
He handled the piece carefully. “You did this?”
“Uh huh.” X nodded quickly. “I likes ta make purdy things.”
Maverick blew out a breath. Here stood a man who spent his days in the fields, either planting, plowing, or harvesting when he should’ve been in a studio.
“He’s got a gift, don’t he?” Z asked.
“Yes.” Maverick looked up at the childish pride on X’s face. “You’re a talented man.”
He scrunched his shoulders like a little kid. “Nah. I jes’ like to play with stuff.” X took the statue out of Maverick’s hands and walked over to the birdbath. Within a second, the copper stallion was back where it belonged, its wild spirit alive in the glow of the fire. He glanced over his shoulder and asked, “Does it look okay?”
“It looks real good.” Maverick nodded to emphasize his meaning. “Real damned good.”
“Well, okay then.” X yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going ta bed. Night guys.”
“Me, too.” Z followed X into the bunkhouse, leaving Maverick alone with Puppy and the cat. And his thoughts.
Chapter Twenty
Maverick threw another couple of scraps of wood on the fire. The scenario of China taking the punishment for her little sister fit her personality to a T. It also fit Leezel. They might have been little girls back then, but little sister Leezel had learned to dodge responsibility at an early age.
He grimaced at the very real way these two women faced life. China, head on; Leezel, not at all. She simply took, and because of Kyrie, China let her.
The notion that Reardon might be at the hospital with Leezel galled Maverick. She would dump Kyrie the first minute she felt overwhelmed. She might claim he couldn’t have Kyrie, but Maverick knew better. Leezel was still letting everyone else take her beatings for her, even her five-year-old daughter.
Puppy stretched and groaned in his chair, and Maverick wished someone would call from the hospital and let him know how China was doing. He wanted details. Was she sleeping it off for the night or would she be home—and when? Where was Kyrie? He didn’t care so much where Leezel was, but Kyrie should be tucked in bed by now, and someone should be reading her a story.
And China should be, well, she should be in his arms while he explored her very feminine side. He had tasted her lips—now he wanted to savor the rest of her. The light in her eyes when she’d put her hands to his bare chest had only fueled the attraction.
He picked up his guitar and settled on the edge of his chair, his fingers searching out chords on the frets. Holding his Ovation reminded him of better days. He let his fingers remember, too.
The Wild Wolf was peaceful tonight. Plucking at his guitar soothed and he was glad to be there. Heck, he was glad he had been on the hillside with China today, too. The look in her eyes when he’d called Mother still made him smile. She’d thought he was calling his mom instead of the very competent admin assistant he had once worked with, two entirely different women.
His thoughts drifted to his family’s farm in Ohio, and Cadence, his mother. ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling’ came naturally to the instrument in his hand. She had descended from a long line of Irishmen, but if anyone asked, she would proudly declare she was American and that’s all there was to it. She was as patriotic to her country as the day was long. While their father, Wade, was more moderate in his political persuasion, it was her steadfast allegiance that inspired her only children to join the Corps.
But the sacrifice proved too great.
Maverick thumped the top of the guitar. The music ceased. His fingers couldn’t play what his heart couldn’t feel.
When Darrell died in Afghanistan, Cadence couldn’t bear the loss. Neither could Maverick. Fortunately, he’d hooked up with two of his closest friends and had a damned good job with The TEAM. Taylor Armstrong and Gabriel Cartwright were with Darrell the day he went down. They knew what happened. That alone brought Maverick what he needed most at the time—a sense of comfort from guys who understood what Hell was really about.
But the ghost of his dead brother lingered. Sometimes he saw it in Taylor’s hooded eyes. Sometimes he heard it in Gabe’s anxiety attacks, though Gabe would never admit he had PTSD. While the brotherhood of these men was better than any therapy, Maverick needed more.
The Marine Corps Hymn came easily to his fingertips.
From the Halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli...
Alex Stewart. Hard charger. A good man to work for. USMC to his dress shoes. He had a knack for hiring the best. Some of the guys and gals on The TEAM were still recuperating from their time served. Like me. Didn’t seem to matter to Alex. He brought them together, gave them tough work to do, and inadvertently transformed them into a family in the process. Sometimes, he pushed too hard, and the sonofabitch demanded one helluva lot, but at the end of most days, Maverick felt like a decent man again. Like he’d done good for his country.
&nb
sp; First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean...
“It was a decent job,” he confided to the sleeping dog beside him. “I liked it.”
Puppy opened one bleary eye, groaned and went right back to sleep. The cat didn’t bother to do even that. Maverick let his mind wander back to that good job while his fingers strummed the age-old victory hymn. The TEAM was a security business of sorts, its employees all ex-snipers from one service or another. Taylor and Gabe had simply mentioned him to Alex, and Alex hired him, sight unseen.
At first it was the perfect hideout, a last refuge where everyone spoke the same language and understood the spoils of war like others couldn’t. Some took bodyguard assignments. Others handled local security issues for diplomats, while others opted for obligations overseas. Most of the time Maverick felt as if he were still in the military, except he made better money, rarely used his weapon and worked for a better man. Uncle Sam had nothing on Alex.
The newest addition to The TEAM proved the last straw.
Landon Truman. Liar. Cheat. Sonofabitch.
He had mis-represented himself to Alex as Maverick’s good friend. Taylor and Gabe’s, too. Truth was, the bastard had cost Maverick his fiancée, Kimberly. Maverick couldn’t tolerate the sight of Truman’s lying face one more day. It hurt too much to go home and face his mother. It hurt too much to stay. He hit the road instead.
The memory of that damned Dear John letter came back to him. It was waiting for him when he got back from his team’s failed op. The day Darrell died. Maverick had honest to God expected Kim’s sweet love to sustain him during the darkest time of his life. Not so.
Kim wrote that she still loved him, but she had found someone else. She hoped they could continue to be friends. Yeah, right. Friends with the woman he had promised his heart to? No way in hell.
The letter was tear-stained when he opened it, more so when he finished reading it. Then he shredded it into confetti and threw it into the latrine where it belonged. With all the other shit.
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