“But she’s had a stroke.”
Liar. Just because Leezel said it, didn’t make it so. That she said it should’ve made him think. He was thinking plenty now.
“So?” X asked. “Ya gonna let a little thing like a stroke stop ya from doin’ what’s right?”
Maverick glared at the ridiculous question. Well, yeah. It’s damn hard to save a woman in a wheelchair who doesn’t even know who she is, much less remember who I am.
“I’m not Rambo,” he said quietly.
X about dropped his teeth. His entire face scrunched into one big wrinkle. “Well, duh. Ya think we ain’t figured that out?”
“You guys don’t get it. I couldn’t even save him. What makes you think I can save her?” The telling word came out of his mouth as natural as if he had meant it. Him. Darrell. My brother, for God’s sake!
Z blinked once. His laser-blue eyes pierced the barricade Maverick had maintained for too long. No Oakleys hindered the view. No brim. Just crystal clarity and the damned, awful truth.
Maverick swallowed past the lump in his throat. “My brother. Darrell. He... I lost him. Helmand Valley. Taliban.” That rat bastard, Mullah Mamood.
Z pursed his lips and lowered his head. He studied the dirt between his shabby cowboy boots for a spell before he raised his chin and looked Maverick in the eye again. “You’re right, son. You ain’t Rambo. Rambo’s some made-up joke outta Hollywood, but you’re for real and you’re here.” He took a full step into Maverick’s comfort zone and stuck a steadying hand to his shoulder. “It takes a helluva man to do what ya done for your country, and I ’spect ya might be sick and tired of the rest of us chicken shits by now. I never served in Iraq and Iran, but I done some time in ’Nam. Ain’t none of it easy, is it?”
God, Maverick wanted to look away, but Z’s gentle gaze held him fast. It was as if he hadn’t seen the older man before.
“This ain’t Hollywood, and it sure as hell ain’t make-believe, Maverick Carson. This is real-world shit, and Miss China needs ya now more ’n ever. You’re the only one can do what needs getting done. Me and X is too old. This one’s on you.”
Maverick shuddered. It sounded so damned easy.
“I’m gonna tell ya what Jefferson Wolf told me the first day I showed up here on this crazy ranch of his,” Z said. “I weren’t no good with horses. No good at all, but he says to me, Zeke. There ain’t but one thing ta do when you falls off a horse. You gots to pick yer butt outta the dirt. You gots to cinch yer saddle up. You gots to climb back on that horse and kick ass. There ain’t never been a cowboy that couldn’t be throwed, but I’m here ta tell ya—there ain’t never been a horse that couldn’t be rode, neither. ‘T all depends on the heart of the cowboy.”
Z took a deep breath and stuck a finger into Maverick’s chest. “Son, you got more heart than ol’ Jefferson Wolf himself did when he set down stakes and bought his first horse. It’s time to pick yer ass up and git back in the saddle, don’t ya think?”
“But I’m no cowboy.” And my heart’s already wrecked to hell.
Liar.
X and Z waited.
Maverick swallowed hard, his throat dry as the truth he had been running from caught up with him. His conscience and this old man were right as the rain falling out of the sky. Life wasn’t easy by any measure of a good man, but he was made of better stuff. And his heart might be a little wrecked, but he had found the cure for that in sweet China’s deep, blue eyes and her love for the Wild Wolf.
He drew a deep breath. The guilt he had carried for the last couple of years had weighed him down for nothing. It was time to let it go. Grief served no good purpose. Not after all these months. Darrell wasn’t coming back, and no amount of regret would change the past.
It was time to take chances. To live again. It was also time to drop the good-ol’-boy, I’m-just-a-nobody-passing-through horseshit.
“Ya know what I think?” X was still knee-deep in fantasyland. “I think ya needs some of those ninja guys in them secret stealth helicopters. Ya know, the kind no one can hear? That ways them ninja guys could fast rope down outta the sky to the top of Miss China’s roof like I seen ’em do on TV and—”
“What you been drinking?” Z clapped his slightly demented buddy’s shoulder. “We need a real plan, not one of yer harebrained ideas.”
Maverick winked at Z. “Let him talk. I think he’s onto something.”
X’s eyes widened at that very slim possibility. “Ya do? Well, okie dokie then. So them ninja guys could drop outta the helicopter, only they’d be dressed in black on account a it would be nighttime, and that way no one could see ’em. They could climb real quiet-like into Miss China’s room and pick her up real careful, so she wouldn’t get hurt no more, and them two scoundrels would never know she was...”
Maverick nodded at X’s exuberance, his mind a thousand miles away where an office of highly-trained covert operators could accomplish exactly what X described.
Well, almost.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Now hold on there. You can’t go and do that!”
Maverick came running from the machine shed where he and X were still working on that cantankerous tractor. He had heard the truck pull into the yard, but thought it was a lumber truck bringing the rafters for the new barn. It wasn’t. It was a heavy truck all right. The kind that pulled a long horse trailer.
It was early next morning and Reardon was at it again. He had Joker on a lead.
“These horses belong to Miss China,” Z argued, his face red with anger. “She’s the one who bought ’em, bred ’em, and—”
“Get the hell outta my way, old man.” Reardon pushed Z back a few steps, but Z wasn’t done arguing. He didn’t come up swinging, but his clenched fists told Maverick he wanted to.
“What’s going on?” Maverick asked Z.
“He’s selling off Miss China’s horses, is what’s going on.” Z stabbed a finger in Reardon’s direction. “We gotta stop him.”
“No, I ain’t selling Miss China’s horses.” Reardon pulled Joker up the ramp. “I’m selling Miss Leezel’s horses. If yer gonna lie, at least git yer story straight, ya old fart.”
“Miss Leezel don’t even know the names of these animals,” Z declared. “They ain’t hers. They’re China’s. I done told ya that.”
“Don’t matter what names they got. They’re jes’ cash on the hoof far as I’m concerned.”
Joker ambled obediently up the ramp to the outstretched hand of another rancher, a wiry older gent with a cream-colored Stetson set evenly on his head.
“Z’s right.” Maverick stepped up to the horse trailer ramp. “Do you have a bill of sale for these animals to prove Leezel owns them?”
“And certificates of veterinary inspection, too,” Z added. “Ya can’t sell livestock without it.”
“That ain’t none a your business, Mr. Carson. Your’s either, Knudsen.” Reardon smirked at the rancher as if he was just having a problem with the help. “Hired hands don’t get a say in what their boss decides to do with his property.”
The rancher tipped the brim of his hat to Maverick, then led Joker out of sight and into the trailer. Maverick glanced at the other Percherons tied to the porch rail. Rowdy, Jinx, and one of the pregnant mares, Sugar, stood in the morning sun, all of them on their way off the Wild Wolf.
Maverick blocked Reardon as he strode down the ramp. “I’m asking you again. Z knows what he’s talking about. Do you have a bill of sale? It’s a fair question. I’m sure this gentleman wants to know whether he’s buying stolen property or not.”
The rancher stopped in his tracks and looked impatiently at Reardon.
A dark shadow passed over Tough Guy’s face. His lip lifted in a sneer, but he recovered quickly. Reardon cupped one hand to the side of his mouth and did what any reasonable rancher would do when faced with a complicated financial question. “Leezel! Git yer ass out here!”
The staccato clickety-clack of glittery red heels on bare
hardwood floors announced her arrival. She opened the screen door and walked onto the porch dressed as always. Barely.
Maverick’s heart sank at the brazen way this woman had taken over China’s home. Leezel was dressed to party in a slinky, strapless number that matched her footgear and hardly covered her backside. Her nails were the same color as her get-up. Blood red.
“Your pretty boy here’s pitching a fit.” Reardon jerked a thumb at Maverick. “He wants to know if you got a bill of sale for these nags we’re selling. You got one, don’t ya?”
Leezel looked from Reardon to Maverick, then back to Reardon. “Not yet I don’t. Damn it, Troy. You’re gonna git one a them bill-of-sale things when you get paid. Don’t you know anything?”
“No, dear.” Reardon’s voice turned stern. “That ain’t the bill of sale I’m talking about.”
“Well, for hell’s sake, what do you mean then?”
Tough Guy smirked at the rancher. “Excuse me, but I’ve got to explain things to my little woman. She ain’t the smartest when it comes to high finance.” He trotted up the porch and leaned into her ear.
She frowned. She shook her head, but she got the message. If looks could kill.
“Now we’ll see who’s buying horses today,” Z muttered, but Maverick’s heart sank again. The light bulb over Leezel’s head had clicked on. Those two were clever. They might not have thought of it first, but they were quick on the uptake.
Southern Belle Leezel turned into the business-savvy rancher without missing another beat. “Oh, that bill of sale. Well, a course I’ve got one of them things from my poor, dear sister ’fore she had her stroke. She signed ’em all over to me for my birthday a while back. Wasn’t that nice of her? She always did nice things like that. You just wait a teensy, little minute. I’ll get it for you.”
Reardon had his chin out again, his lips pursed with his usual arrogance. He swaggered back to the horse trailer where the rancher who thought he had gotten a terrific deal on horseflesh stood patiently waiting. “Why don’t we git your horses loaded so you’ll be ready to git by the time she comes back?”
The rancher tipped his hat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t we wait on that bill of sale first?”
Reardon pursed his lips again, not so smug.
Maverick went to the rancher, nodding toward Joker. “Mind if I tell this one goodbye? He’s kind of a friend.”
“Go ahead.” The rancher eyed him suspiciously, but Maverick proceeded into the trailer. Joker might have been a troublemaker, but he was one of China’s favorites.
“Hey there. Easy boy.” He smoothed a gentling hand over the horse’s rump as he stepped alongside the big bay. “Don’t worry. Somehow I’m going to get you back. All of you.”
The awful thing happening on the Wild Wolf angered Maverick, but there was nothing he could do. No doubt Reardon had told Leezel to create a bogus bill of sale at that very minute to cover their tracks.
“You done in there?”
“Yes, sir.” Maverick swatted Joker’s rump and turned with an outstretched hand. “May I know your name, sir?”
He gripped Maverick’s hand. “Josh Winters. I own the Lazy Susan over in Cheyenne.”
“Ex-Marine, Corporal Maverick Carson, sir.” With an unexpected burst of pride, he let his identity roll off his tongue for the first time in a couple of years. “Third Battalion. Third Marines. Kilo Company.”
Josh Winters grabbed his hand tighter, his eyes glistening. “No kidding? The Three-Three? You wouldn’t happen to know my son, would you? Justin Winters?”
“I don’t, but I’ve been out for a while. Where’s he deployed?”
“He’s not.” The rancher wiped his face, overcome by emotion. “He’s back in Hawaii for the time being, but he was in the Nawa District over in Afghanistan. Saw a lot of crap. You ever been there?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
Josh Winters’s eyes filled with pride. “I’m proud of what you guys are doing for those people, son. If you ever get to Cheyenne, you make damned sure you stop by my house. Now promise. Justin’s mother will be so happy to meet you. She’s already adopted every Marine she’s run into so, hell, you’re already family at my house. All you’ve got to do is show up. She’ll fix a feast that’ll put meat on your bones before she’ll let you leave.”
“Thank you, sir.” Maverick heard this father’s pride loud and clear.
“You promise me?”
“I will. I promise. Can I ask why you’re buying these horses?”
“You bet.” Josh Winters nodded at Joker. “These are the best Percherons in the country. I bought a pair off Miss China last year, and I been dying to own a couple more. They’re a hobby of mine. At the bargain basement price this guy’s giving ’em away, I couldn’t say no.”
Maverick cringed. China’s horses wouldn’t last long if Leezel and Reardon weren’t asking top dollar.
She reappeared at the front door with a sheet of paper at her fingertips. “Found it,” she declared as she minced her way down the stairs and stuck the latest lie under Reardon’s nose. “See. Knew I had it all along. Just had to find it. Got them vaccination certificates, too.”
Reardon scanned the paper, as if he knew anything about selling horses, then handed it to Josh Winters.
The man looked Reardon in the eye for a long minute after he scanned the documents. He turned back to Maverick. “Sorry, son. It looks like a legitimate bill of sale to me. The health certificate looks authentic, too.”
“It ain’t!” Z offered one last argument. “It’s a dad-gummed lie! Miss China would never sell these animals. No, sir. She’s sick, that’s all. And these two are making her sicker.”
Leezel chuckled. “You ain’t nothin’ but a crazy old man, Z. Even your name is simple so you don’t forget it.”
Maverick had no choice. He stepped off the trailer without a backward glance at Joker. The big tease nickered softly from the confines of the trailer.
“I hear you, boy,” Maverick muttered to himself. “Trust me. I hear you.”
China sat in a daze.
She had always been the strong one, but now she relied on her family. For the first time in years, she was thankful for her younger sister. Leezel took care of her. Well, she tried.
China had fallen once. Slipped right out of her wheelchair and landed on the floor. Couldn’t even catch herself when it happened. That big guy, Troy, jerked her by her armpits back onto the chair. It always hurt when he touched her. He didn’t like her much, she could tell, but he was stuck with her as much as she was stuck with him.
That’s why the belt. It kept her in her place, and if she was in her place, Troy wouldn’t have to help her anymore than he wanted. A towel of a pad to sit on would’ve been nice, though. The bare plastic seat hurt her backside. She tried to find the best position, but without being able to move, her only position became the best position. Blisters wouldn’t hurt so much if she kept still.
That’s what Leezel said.
China fingered the smooth metal armrests of her shiny chrome world. She spent all of her days and nights in it. It didn’t matter that she faced the corner with barely enough space for the footrest. She wasn’t going anywhere, and she always liked the old-fashioned wallpaper in this room. Hadn’t she?
At least she wasn’t in a smelly nursing home with old women stealing her toothbrush and older men stealing her virtue. So China was thankful. Old, losing her mind, and a terrible burden on her poor sister, but thankful.
That’s what Leezel said.
Cute little Kyrie came to her once and laid her head in China’s lap. She lifted China’s hand to the top of her curly hair, almost as if she wanted to be petted. She cried. It broke China’s heart to see that baby so sad, but try as she might, she could barely make her stiff fingers muss the girl’s curly hair.
Then Troy hollered. Kyrie’s sweet face disappeared. And that was that. The little tyke wasn’t allowed to come around anymore, and China agreed.
She might have hurt her.
That’s what Leezel said.
She had been recovering from her stroke for what? A year already? The timeframe didn’t feel quite right, but who was she to argue? Some days she couldn’t open her eyes. Breathing took more and more effort. It was harder and harder to think. Days and nights blurred together. The stroke had left her weak and listless. Dizzy. Dependent.
Sounds swirled around her like the wind sometimes. Other times, long stretches of silence filled the void in her empty head. Her stomach used to gurgle, but it stopped. China was thankful for that, too. It gave Troy one less thing to be mad about. Nobody liked it when he was mad.
A small blast of cold air from somewhere in the house hit the back of her neck. China shivered. She had gotten old. Tired and old. Old and tired.
But something in the draft reminded her of... The outdoors. The sunshine. A hill. That handsome man, the one who said, “I will always be at your service, ma’am.”
I wonder what he meant by that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kyrie sat alone on the front step.
The only work Reardon had done so far was to take the mama cat and her kittens for a ride to the river. Maverick would’ve stopped him if he’d known, but he heard about it too late. X was beside himself with grief over the drowning deaths of his cats. Wouldn’t eat. Could barely talk without bawling.
After that awful news, Maverick hurried to hide Puppy in the safety of the trees by Gorgeous and China Love’s grave. It meant he had another chore every day, but caring for the friendly mutt was a small price to keep a promise to a little girl.
Two more horses stood tied to the front porch railing, China’s stallions, Ebony and Aces Wild. They weren’t as mild-mannered as the geldings and mares, though. Ebony had struck Reardon’s shoulder with a flying hoof when he’d brought them up from the pasture together. That set Aces Wild to dancing and snorting. Reardon got mad and bellowed at Leezel to get off the couch and come help for a change.
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