The Maverick of Copper Creek

by R. C. Ryan

  Willow’s eyes were wide and unblinking.

  Across the table, Whit and Maddock had gone as still as statues, while the foreman kept his gaze fixed on Willow’s pale face.

  “That would have been the time you broke your engagement to Bear and flew to New York about that modeling job, Willow.” Mason’s tone lowered. “At least that’s the way Bear remembered it. He said he was like a wounded grizzly, and the pretty young teacher was willing to give aid and comfort. A month or so later you were back in Montana, and back in Bear’s life. He swore to me that he never saw the teacher again, and when she left town, he didn’t have a clue that she was having a baby. His baby. Apparently she told nobody, not even her son, about the affair. She never married. But when she learned that she was dying, she wanted her son to have a chance at a real family.”

  Whit’s eyes blazed. “Are you saying you want to bring that bastard here, Mason?”

  “I’m saying that when the results of a DNA test proved her claim once and for all, your father asked me to contact this Griff Warren, to arrange an introduction, and to list him in his will as his son and legal heir. Bear thought it was the right thing to do. The letter went out weeks ago.”

  “Weeks ago.” Whit leaned forward. “Could it be that you’ve just found Pop’s killer?”

  Mason shook his head. “That thought occurred to me, too. He certainly had a motive. But I learned that Griff is currently serving with the Marine Corps in Afghanistan.” He spread his hands, palms upward. “I’m sorry to be the messenger of such painful news, especially at a time like this. But Willow, it was Bear’s intention to invite this stranger here when he returned to the States and give him the opportunity to be part of the family.”

  Willow’s voice sounded suddenly weary. “What of the mother?”

  “Dead.”

  She hissed in a breath. “And now this stranger…Griff Warren…will have to be told that his father is dead, too. Does he know yet?”

  “The Red Cross has notified him. When he responds…if he chooses to respond…I’ll let you know, of course.” Mason turned to Whit. “But there’s a good chance he’ll want nothing to do with any of you.”

  As the silence stretched out, Lance removed several documents from his briefcase. “I’ve brought copies of Bear’s amended will. He added the latest changes as soon as he learned about this…surprise.” He studied the stricken look on the pretty widow’s face. “You should know that Bear was as shocked as you at the news. But once he processed it, he was determined to do the right thing for this…son he never knew.”

  Whit was on his feet. “Are you saying my father put this bastard in his will?”

  “Whit…” Willow reached for her son’s hand, but he snatched it away.

  “Tell me.” Whit’s eyes blazed with fury. “Did he leave any part of this ranch to a stranger?”

  Lance glanced at his father before the older man nodded. “He did, Whit. He told me that he knew how painful this would be for everyone, but he figured Griff Warren was the innocent victim in all this. He said a fatherless kid probably paid a dear price for the mistakes of his parents in the past. Bear didn’t want to make things worse by denying him a future.”

  “So he just cut up the family ranch to include this stranger?”

  “The ranch was Bear’s to do with as he pleased.” Without looking at Whit, Lance passed the documents to Willow. “I’ll leave these amendments for you to read. If you have any questions, you know where to reach me.”

  The older lawyer snapped shut his briefcase and stood before offering his hand to Maddock. “Again, I wish you didn’t have to endure this pain, Mad.”

  “Thanks, Mason.”

  The lawyer shook Whit’s hand without a word before drawing Willow close for a firm hug.

  “You call me anytime, with anything you need to know. You hear?” He patted her shoulder. She nodded, as he added, “We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Behind him, his son followed with handshakes all around, then the two men headed for the door. In the back room they retrieved their hats before stepping into the rain-drenched night.

  In the kitchen, the four figures remained at the table, lost in thought, until Willow snatched up the documents and got to her feet.

  Before she could leave, Maddock reached for her hand.

  “I remember that time, when you broke the engagement and flew to New York.”

  Willow held her silence, while pain and anger warred in her eyes.

  “You were gone for over a month.”

  “Six weeks.” Her words were stiff.

  “To Bear, it seemed like a lifetime.”

  “Really?” Her voice nearly broke. “ It’s nice to know he managed to find some…comfort.”

  Maddock held her hand firmly when she tried to pull away. “Men grieve differently than women, lassie. As I recall, you went on a modeling assignment to some sun-drenched island and had yourself a fine time. ”

  “Where I worked from sunup to sundown. And when it was over, I realized it wasn’t the life I wanted. I came home. Back to Bear, who acted like a man who’d been on a starvation diet and I was a feast.”

  “You were, lass. He may have taken comfort with someone else, but you need to know this. Bear never loved anyone but you. And from the day you married him, he never even looked at another woman.”

  “How would you know, Mad? Were you with him day and night?”

  “I’m his father. I know. My son was a one-woman man. In Bear’s eyes, in his heart, the sun rose and set on you, lassie. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  She did pull free then, and strode quickly out of the room.

  The three men sat in the kitchen, listening to the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. Minutes later they heard the slamming of her bedroom door.

  And then there was only the sound of the rain streaming down the windowpanes like tears.

  Morning dawned clear and bright.

  Willow sat slumped on the edge of the king-sized bed, her mind in turmoil. It was all too much to take in. Bear dead. Shot in the back by a cowardly killer. He was never coming back. Never going to fill the room with that booming laugh, or rattle off every rich, ripe curse in a voice that could freeze a man’s blood when he’d been crossed.

  Since the moment she’d heard Ira Pettigrew say those words, she’d been unable to make sense of them. How was it possible that Bear had been murdered?

  Willow unconsciously clenched her fists. She couldn’t even imagine anyone, friend or foe, daring to threaten Bear MacKenzie, let alone any man following through with such a threat.

  You just didn’t kill a man like Bear MacKenzie.

  But someone did.

  And now, to learn that the man she’d loved and trusted more than anyone in this world had betrayed her, was almost more than she could take in. Oh, it might be true that he hadn’t cheated while they were married. But that didn’t alter the fact that he’d fathered a son with another woman. A son who might or might not decide to satisfy his curiosity about the man who’d been absent from his life, and come here to further complicate things.

  It had been such a source of pride to her that she’d been the great, the only, love of Bear MacKenzie’s life. To learn now, while grieving his sudden, shocking death, that there had been another woman, the mother of his firstborn son, was almost too painful to bear.

  Too agitated to sit, she got up, walked to the window, and stared at the tranquil morning scene spread out below. For as far as the eye could see there were hills dotted with herds of cattle. Their gentle lowing drifted through the closed windowpane. A truck was moving along the ribbon of road that led from the highway to their ranch. A tractor rolled out from behind the barn. Up on the north hill Whit was on an all-terrain vehicle, trailed by several horsemen, heading up to high country.

  It all was so deceptively peaceful. But she knew that everyone on this ranch was reeling. For that matter, everyone in the town of Copper Creek, whose life had been touched by her husband,
had to be experiencing this sick feeling in the pit of their stomachs.

  Everyone except the shooter.

  “Why, Bear?” The words were torn from her lips and the tears welled up again, spilling down her cheeks.

  It had been like this ever since she’d heard the news. This sudden, wrenching grief that had her throat raw, her heart breaking over and over, until she thought she’d go mad from the pain.

  “I can’t do this.” She paced the length of her room and back, letting the tears fall. “I don’t even know where to begin without you here. Whit thinks he can step into your shoes, Bear, but he’s wrong. He’s not ready yet. And Maddock may be wise enough, and tough enough, but his body won’t let him do what he once did.”

  She slumped back onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. Bear was dead. Though she hadn’t yet been allowed to see his body, Ira Pettigrew had said so.

  Her hands suddenly clenched. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t run this ranch alone. And certainly couldn’t handle the arrival of a stranger claiming to be her husband’s son. She had an almost overpowering desire to run and hide. She would rather be anywhere than here, dealing with the mountain of misery that had been dumped on her.

  She stared at her clenched fists and slowly opened them. She’d had a good life with Bear.

  Bear MacKenzie was the strongest, smartest man she’d ever met. He was her husband, her mentor, her protector. Her best friend.

  He’d literally ridden into her young life like an avenging angel. Her father had been a teacher and part-time rancher. Her mother had raised chickens and cooked a fine chicken dinner once a month as a fund-raiser for the Copper Creek Church. They had been standing with their daughter beside their broken-down van when the most handsome cowboy Willow had ever seen rode up on his horse and offered to help. He’d fiddled under the hood and got their van started, then followed along all the way to town to make certain they arrived safely. Then he’d stayed to enjoy her mother’s cooking and had flirted shamelessly with tall, slender Willow Martin, a sun-bronzed, blonde college junior home for the summer. By the time she returned for her senior year, she was wildly in love with her cowboy and sorely tempted to abandon her plans to go to New York and become a model. And though she gave modeling a try after graduation, she simply couldn’t stop missing the man who had stolen her heart.

  After that singular modeling assignment, she had returned to Bear’s arms. Once married, Willow had embraced ranching with an all-consuming passion.

  She blinked, struggling to put aside her gut-wrenching musings of the past and think of something positive to hold on to this day.

  She had a father-in-law and sons who would no doubt do whatever they could to ease the road that lay ahead. She had a strong, loyal foreman. And in truth, whatever doubts plagued her, she would have to find her way through the layers of grief, anger, fear, confusion, and utter despair, and uncover her strengths.

  She would deal with all of this because she had no choice. The hand had been dealt. Now, like it or not, all she could do was play the cards.

  The voices in the kitchen were muted.

  Brady was saying, “I’ve already given orders to the wranglers. Since we don’t know who shot Bear, or why, I want someone looking out for Willow at all times. Wherever she goes, one of us goes with her.”

  Mad nodded his agreement. “You’re a step ahead of me, laddie.”

  Whit’s eyes narrowed. “You think the shooter will come after Mom?”

  The foreman shrugged one powerful shoulder. “Right now I don’t know what to think. But until we know the who and why of this mess, we need to take precautions.”

  “I agree.” Mad clenched a fist on the arm of his wheelchair. “If there’s a grudge against Bear, what better way to pay it back than to kill the woman he loved, too?”

  “But why? What would be the point of killing Mom now? With Pop gone, it’s too late to hurt him.”

  “For all we know, the whole family could be targeted.” Brady stared into Whit’s stormy eyes.

  Mad nodded his agreement. “Just to be safe, whenever you’re off the ranch, I think you should travel with one of the wranglers, lad.”

  “You want me to have a babysitter?”

  Mad placed a hand on his grandson’s arm. “Think of it as the buddy system. Whenever you went swimming in Copper Creek as a lad, I always told you to take along Ash or one of the wranglers, just in case.”

  “I was six, Mad. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “It’s just a precaution.” Brady lowered his voice, hoping Willow didn’t choose that moment to come downstairs and catch them conspiring. “But especially where your mother is concerned, I don’t want her alone until this matter is resolved.”

  When Whit gave a slight nod of his head, both men breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was just another minor bump in a week that had seen one major crisis after another.

  They were all bracing for whatever might happen next.

  Chapter Three

  Ash trudged across the field separating his land from his nearest neighbor’s. He could have driven his truck, but he figured the walk over and back would help him do some heavy thinking.

  Old Fred Covington had been making noises about wanting Ash’s ranch ever since he’d learned that Ash’s bid at the county auction had been higher than his. It had been an uphill battle, but Ash had finally managed to break through the old man’s icy wall until they were now, if not friendly, at least neighborly.

  It hadn’t been easy for Ash to request this meeting with Fred Covington and openly admit to his financial problems with the bank.

  “Ash.” Fred stuck out his hand.

  “Fred. Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  The old man glanced up at the layers of clouds rolling in from the north. “Afraid I can’t give you much time. Got to see to my herd. What’s this about?”

  As briefly as possible Ash told him about his meeting with the banker, and the disastrous outcome.

  His words were met with narrowed eyes and a tightening of the lips, a sure indication that the stern-faced neighbor was about to gloat and offer him a lowball figure to take the land and buildings off his hands.

  In truth, Ash was prepared to accept whatever offer was made. He’d run out of options.

  The old man spat a wad of tobacco. “I could have told you what you’d get from the Colliers. Father and son are both more concerned about squeezing every drop of blood they can from the hardworking ranchers around here than they are with lending a hand when it’s needed.” Fred pursed his lips, considering. “How much do you need to get that irrigation system repaired?”

  Ash shrugged, trying his best to hold onto his dignity. “They’re asking thirty grand.”

  “Thirty.” Fred shoved back his hat to scratch his head. “Then I figure they’ll probably take ten up front, and ask for the rest in payments.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s what I’m figuring, too.”

  “And your taxes?”

  “I thought I’d be able to cover them, but everything started piling up.”

  “Yeah. That’s a rancher’s reality.” The old man stared off into space before turning to meet Ash’s eyes. “All right. Come on up to the house. I’ll write a check for the irrigation company and the bank.” He started away.

  Ash was choking on the lump in his throat. “You…” He swallowed and tried again. “You’ll have yourself some fine land for the price of taxes and an irrigation system.”

  Fred stopped dead in his tracks and turned. “Is that what you think? That I’m hoping to take over your place?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Fred Covington gave him a long, assessing look. “Since you took over this place, I’ve been talking with some other ranchers in the area. They tell me you were one of their best workers, and you’ve been saving every dollar you earned to buy this ranch. That right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I figured you’d just asked your dad
dy to buy you a place of your own, but I’ve heard you haven’t taken one red cent from your pa.” When Ash held his silence he said, “This land was built by men like my granddaddy. I like a man who lives by a cowboy’s rugged code of independence. That’s why I’m offering you a loan so you can hold on to what you’ve earned by the sweat of your brow.”

  As his words sank in, Ash’s eyes rounded. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back.”

  Fred’s lips curved. “I figure you’re good for the money. And if you don’t pay me back, son, I know where you live.”

  Ash swallowed. Had this dour old man actually made a joke?

  He followed Fred to the house and stood awkwardly in the kitchen. Minutes later Fred returned, holding out a check.

  The old man was smiling. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall at the bank tomorrow when the Colliers, father and son, see this. The stingy bastards.”

  Ash’s smile came slowly, before it bloomed on his lips, in his eyes. He accepted the check and shook Fred Covington’s work-worn hand. “I’ll never forget this, Fred. I…I was prepared to let it all go and start again.”

  “That’s what I like about you, son. You remind me of myself at your age.” His voice lowered. “I started over a number of times before it all began working for me. But once it did, I never took it for granted. I appreciated everything I had. And still do, truth be told.”

  Ash studied the old man with new respect. “How many times did you have to start over before you got it right?”

  “Half a dozen, at least. But I tell you what, son. If it weren’t for the love of my good woman, I’d still be trying to figure things out.” He looked at Ash with those dark, piercing eyes. “You listen to me. If you find yourself a good woman, you make damned sure you never let her get away.”