Maverick

by Irish Winters

  With a crooked sneer, she reached up and cut him again.

  He refused to let her go. With all his might, he clenched his bloody fingers tighter, trying desperately to hook into her hand muscle and bones—anything!—to keep her from falling.

  From out of nowhere, Rory joined him on the same narrow ledge, but there was no way he could reach her, either. Time was running out.

  The blood provided a warm, slick lubrication that defied traction. Maverick growled for all he was worth, sure as hell not going to let this woman die on his watch. Crazy or not, she was family. Whatever mental illness she had, he could get help for her.

  “You were supposed to love me,” she said, the breeze spinning her back and forth, her coat furled behind her like a cape.

  “Don’t do this,” Maverick begged. “Please. I can still save you. Try, damn it!”

  “But I left you a note.”

  “What?” He didn’t understand. Then, oh yeah. The stupid note. “You’re right, Leezel. I’m going to miss you when you’re gone. I get it now. All of us will miss you.”

  “No, you won’t. No one will. Not my sister. Not my daughter. Not even me.” She winked once, her eyes dead and flat. She jerked her arm and dead weight won. She slipped through his bloody fingers and Leezel Wolf fell.

  “No!” Maverick lunged after her, but all he could do was watch her drop, the red coat cocooned around her like a death shroud. With barely a splash, she hit the Potomac. Leezel sank below the choppy waves without a struggle.

  “God! No!” The image of her falling burned into his memory. Her eyes. Her last words—a curse he would never forget.

  Strong hands dragged him over the railing. He dropped to his knees. Adrenaline hummed in his ears along with Leezel’s poisonous promise. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.

  “I could have saved you!” he cried, his nose to the concrete and bile creeping up his throat. “Why, Leezel? Why?”

  Alex thumped his shoulder hard. Rory, too.

  But the concrete never answered.

  China and Kyrie barreled into him, both clutching his neck while he tried to zero his soul and heart on what truly mattered. While he tried to save himself from all that despair again.

  All he could see was Leezel, the bright reflection of the sun off the river at her back. The flutter of red around her as she fell. The knowledge that she had chosen poorly. There at the end, he saw the truth. She was just like him. Running scared. Beyond reach or rescue, but still afraid to die.

  I could’ve saved you. Why didn’t you let me?

  “Maverick,” China cried, but there was no comfort to be had. She and Kyrie gripped him in a stranglehold, but he could barely think.

  He wrapped his arms around them. Kyrie sobbed under his chin, and finally he heard the sad, soft lament of the women in his life. They loved him and he let their love reach into his heart. He let it wash over him and through him. He let it save him.

  He sunk his face into their hair and he took a tortured breath. China’s lips caressed his forehead, and he let her magic into his soul. His heart. There would be no more long walks across country to escape this grief. No more running away from the hard knocks of life. This time, he let the darkness go before it choked the goodness.

  He chose life.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The construction paper picture propped up on the bale of hay caught him by surprise.

  The biggest crayon person in the cowboy hat was obviously China. Any dumb jock could see that. Her hair consisted of one continuous black strand that draped from her toes over her head and down the other side of her stick body. The bright blue eyes were a giveaway, too.

  Maverick smiled to himself. He had to be the second-largest figure, because that stick person had a black baseball cap on its head and dark glasses with the stems hanging in the air next to the head where the ears might have been. If the artist had thought to draw ears.

  But the remaining two figures made him grin. For sure the black-haired, little stick girl in the pink crayon dress was Kyrie, but he could only guess which of his friends with red and brown curly hair had been drawn holding her hand. The little girl’s finger sported a black line with bright yellow rays extending from it like sparkles. All the figures’ faces were filled with red lips and big smiles.

  Hapy Fathrs Day was written proudly across the top in lovely five-year-old penmanship. He had come to the barn to muck stalls and instead he’d gotten the gift of a lifetime. His first Father’s Day gift.

  He pushed back his ball cap and dropped to the nearest bale of hay just to get a grip. Kyrie had easily resorted to calling China Mommy after they’d sat her down and explained that from now on, they were her new mommy and daddy. For whatever reason, calling Maverick Daddy didn’t come as easy. She attempted it a few times, but always resorted back to Mavwick. It didn’t matter. It would happen in due time.

  He listened to the gentle sounds of Percherons in the back pasture. Good ol’ Star hung his head over the lower half of the birthing stall door, still keeping track of the newest arrival at Wild Wolf East. The big fellow seemed more like a faithful dog than a horse. Whenever Maverick was out in the field or with the herd for any reason, the horse was sure to follow. He nickered as he stood watch.

  Crystal Love had come into the world in the wee hours of the morning. Even now her proud mama, Sunshine, kept careful guard. She was a nervous mare and this was her first foal, but Crystal Love was already nursing and rambunctious. Maverick had been there when the other mares dropped their foals, but when this particular little miss made her debut, he embarrassed himself and bawled like a baby. Despite her bay coloring, she had reminded him of another foal and another time. Another life.

  This barn held a magic all its own. This was where he hid out at times, hugged his Ovation to his chest and sang to his brother. He lifted it out of its case and let the latest remembrance roll out of his heart. He’d finally gotten the song right. Darrell had to be listening. Maybe smiling down from heaven at the latest love song Maverick had written to his kid brother.

  Heroes

  Little boys turn into heroes in imaginary ways,

  Fighting Indians and cowboys. Desperados. Jesse James.

  You were always right beside me when we’d ride out on the range,

  When we’d hear the thunder coming, we were braver than the rain.

  We’d sing one one-thousand, two one-thousand,

  Three one-thousand, four;

  Lightning crashing all around us,

  Two brave heroes off to war.

  Wyatt Earp and all his brothers,

  They had nothing on us,

  Let the thunder do its damnedest,

  We were braver than the storm.

  Little boys turn into men one day, no battle left undone,

  Fighting real no-kidding monsters. Keeping evil on the run.

  Full of righteous wrath and honor. Invincibility!

  We were brave. We were courageous being all that we could be.

  Now I look into the sky at night, a new tempest on its way,

  I can hear the thunder coming. Another war. Another day.

  But I hear your proud ‘Oo-rah’ ‘longside the Warriors on high!

  You were never one for running. I finally know why.

  I sing one one-thousand, two one-thousand,

  Three one-thousand, four;

  I’m so damned proud of you, brother,

  Still hell bent on heaven’s war.

  Give ’em hell where e’er you find ’em,

  ‘S why there’s lightning in the sky.

  You’re still brave, you’re still courageous and truly Semper Fi.

  Let the thunder do its damnedest...

  It can’t drown out Semper Fi.

  God, it felt good to remember Darrell with stars in his eyes again. Fighting the good fight. Living his dream. Saving decent folks from evil men. Maverick strummed a few more chords, resigned to live the life he had been given instead of wishing
it were different. Darrell surely understood. A man can’t ask for more than to die doing what he loved.

  “Semper Fi, baby brother,” he whispered. “Give ’em hell for me, too.”

  The barn door creaked open.

  “Is you in here?” Kyrie peeked into the dark barn tucked away in the northeast corner of the Shenandoah Valley.

  “Over here.” He waved her on in and set his guitar aside.

  She bounded onto his lap like a little kangaroo with Puppy fast on her heels. Planting a noisy kiss on his cheek, she said, “Happy Fader’s Day! Why is you cryin’?”

  He wiped his face. “Just got some dust in my eyes, that’s all.”

  She snuggled under his chin. “Do you yike my pitcher?”

  “Yes, I do. You’re quite the artist.”

  She scrunched her shoulders, suddenly shy. Her speech pathologist had made some progress with her, but Kyrie still struggled with her old habits, and he didn’t correct her. She would get there in her own good time. For now, she needed a stable life and all the assurance he and China could offer.

  “I drawed it by mysewf.”

  “It’s the best picture anyone ever made for me.” He kissed the top of her curly head.

  Her nightmares over the incident at the bridge were fewer and farther between. His, too. The memory of Leezel’s flat dead eyes still haunted him, but he had accepted there was nothing more he could’ve done.

  China and he talked long into the night sometimes, both coming to the conclusion they weren’t responsible for their siblings decisions. Leezel had made her choices the same way Darrell had made his. They were both the youngest in the family and both hell bent on their particular missions in life. Darrell’s just happened to be a helluva lot more honorable.

  In her crazy state of mind, Leezel intended her death to hurt the people who loved her. The sad truth was that it did, for a while. Once they’d buried her alongside Jefferson, Celeste, and her baby sister in far off Wyoming, the grief turned into peace. She was finally home, and she could never hurt anyone again. Even herself.

  The proof that life had gotten better at the Wild Wolf was Kyrie. With her mother laid to rest and her sperm-donor father behind bars, she had turned into a happy girl who liked nothing more than to go to princess parties with her girlfriend, Lexie. Of course, there were other agents’ daughters to play with, too—JayJay and Faith Houston; LiLi, Song, and Miki Lennox: Jamie Maher; or Chai Yenn Tao. That was one definite plus to living and working in Virginia. Maverick’s work family became Kyrie’s extended family. Her social life expanded exponentially.

  It didn’t hurt when Reardon readily relinquished his parental rights. Maverick and China had already seen their lawyer and a judge. Kyrie finally had a real mother and a real father. Maybe not by blood, but by something a helluva lot better. By heart.

  “What’s this?” Maverick pointed at the black mark with yellow sparkles on the little girl stick figure’s finger.

  “You know. It’s a wing. Umm, I mean a r-r-ring.” She blushed with a wiggle in his arms, enunciating that difficult letter R.

  “A ring?” he teased. “And just who did you marry this time?”

  “Unca Gabe.”

  “Oh, my little Kyrie.” He kissed her forehead. “Who are you going to marry next?”

  She beamed. “I wike him.”

  “Who don’t you like?”

  “Ebryone,” she said as coyly as ever. He knew what she meant.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “Right here.” China stepped through the rear barn door leading Star. “This guy needs to leave Sunshine alone for awhile. I’m putting him in his stall. You miss me?”

  “Always.” Truer words were never spoken. “Come here, Mrs. Carson.”

  She settled Star into his stable, peeled her gloves off and joined Maverick and Kyrie on his bale of hay. Her eyes glowed at the sight of his present. “Ah. I see you found it. Kyrie could hardly wait to give it to you.”

  He couldn’t speak without getting emotional, so he smoothed the picture against his knee to keep her from seeing his watery eyes. This one little hand-drawn piece of artwork meant more than he could’ve guessed. He finally had all he had ever wanted—a happy life and a family to call his own. Funny. With China it seemed like so much more.

  She leaned back to pull a box out from behind the bales of hay. “For you,” she said as she placed it in his hands.

  Kyrie wiggled out of the way, her blue eyes lit with excitement. “Open it.”

  He grunted. He already had what he wanted. Didn’t need anything else to make him happy.

  “Go on. Open it,” Kyrie urged again, her fingers clenching and unclenching to hewp.

  He slid the lid off and grunted again. A Stetson. Brown. Teardrop crease with a braided leather band.

  Maverick doffed his ball cap and peered into it at the two faces still smiling back at him after all these miles. Both in cammies. Both surprised as hell they’d come together in the middle of godawful Afghanistan. Two brothers in arms. Two sons of their mother’s heart.

  Darrell and me.

  Only Darrell wasn’t the one who had gotten lost. Not by a long shot. It was big brother Maverick who’d forgotten how to live. Who’d forgotten how to put the past behind him. Who’d forgotten how to get back into the saddle. Damned good advice from a crusty, old cowboy named Zeke.

  Maverick hung his well-travelled cap on a nail sticking out of the nearby post. He was lucky it escaped the fire back at Wild Wolf West, but its days were done. Finally.

  With a deep breath, he lifted the Stetson out of its container and tugged it over his head. Damned thing fit like a glove.

  “Does you wike it?” Kyrie asked, her fingers folded under her chin and her brows lifted high with excitement. “Umm,” she fidgeted, blinking because she knew she hadn’t spoken correctly. “I mean do – you – like – it?”

  He hugged her into his side. “I knew what you meant, sweetheart, and yes, I do like it. I like it a lot.” He kissed her forehead. “In fact, young lady, I love it so much I’m going to keep my very first Father’s Day present inside of it. Would that be okay with you?”

  She clapped her hands, her eyes full of stars. “I hewped Mommy pick it out,” but then she scrunched her nose and said extra-carefully, “That’s a funny pah-lace to keep a pwes, umm, a pr-r-res-s-sent.”

  Her striving so hard to speak properly touched his heart. This little girl. Now his daughter. Every time he picked her up to ride on his shoulder he recalled the day he had nearly lost her, and he thanked God for the miracle that he didn’t. Kyrie deserved a chance at life.

  He folded the Maverick Carson family picture once and then again before he removed his Stetson and tucked it inside. The tables had turned. Darrell didn’t need his big brother worrying over him anymore. He was already home, safe and sound. Now it was China and Kyrie’s turn.

  “Why don’t you see if you can find those new kittens?” he asked his darling daughter. “I think I saw their mama with them before.”

  That was all the encouragement that Kyrie needed. She slid off the bale of hay and scampered away with a drawn out, “He-r-r-re kitty, kitty.”

  China leaned against his arm, her index finger under his chin, gently angling his face toward hers. “I figured it was time you had a new hat, cowboy. You’ve worn your old one out.”

  Maverick gathered her in tight against him. “I’m not a cowboy.”

  She tipped the Stetson back an inch or two. “Yes, you are. I hate to admit it, but Leezel was right. You are a cowboy. You might not say much, but when you talk, people listen. You’re fearless and brave and, oh yeah, you’re a softie.”

  Maverick shrugged. He didn’t know if it was Leezel dying the way she did, or the total commitment of this sweet woman at his side, but he had turned into a pantywaist crybaby over the past couple of months. He had so much to be thankful for. And he was, but for some reason that tough, old heart in his chest had been tenderized beyond his control.


  Maverick ran the back of his hand over his eyes, fighting for composure. Everywhere he looked was contentment and peace, even at work. No one said a thing when he showed up at the office. Alex didn’t even blink. Taylor nodded as if he’d only been gone a day. Gabe grinned. And that was that.

  China didn’t buy her horses back from Alex, either. After the bunkhouse burned and Reardon and his gang were arrested, Sheriff Hammer located the cashier’s checks on a desk inside the partially burned ranch house. Alex groused about not getting to keep the horses that he had bought fair and square, but even that was nonsense. China’s kiss on his cheek mellowed him right out.

  Another shining speck of karma had followed Maverick home. Gabe couldn’t wait to share the news. It seemed while Maverick traipsed about the countryside, Junior Agent Landon Truman, the liar who’d ruined Maverick’s engagement to his cheating fiancée, Kim, came up against the granite wall who’d built The TEAM.

  Alex.

  It seemed Landon neglected to mention the single civilian injury he had caused during a risky op inside the Republic of Chile. Big mistake.

  Everyone knew Alex’s hard line on collateral damage, but covering it up? Bigger mistake. After a butt chewing most of Alexandria had to have heard, Alex handed Landon his walking papers and told him to get his ass out of there.

  Whether out of loyalty or sheer stupidity, Junior Agent Lisa Channing, the woman Landon had cheated with while he was married to Kim, quit The TEAM and followed him out the door. Guess Lisa had to learn the hard way. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Good riddance.

  Despite Leezel’s curse, life at Wild Wolf East was damned good. The birth of Crystal Love proved it. It didn’t hurt when Kyrie bounced into Maverick and China’s bed early in the morning just because she was glad to see them, either.

  He wiped his eyes, damn it. Not able to get a grip.

  “X and Z are flying in today.” China leaned into his shoulder, her hand gentle on his chest. She eased a couple fingers between two snaps on his western shirt, and he was glad for the touch of her fingertips on his bare chest. China could calm him like no other woman on earth. Just waking up next to her every morning centered him for the day. Playing with her delicious body before breakfast didn’t hurt, either.