Texas Wild: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Book 2

by Jean Brashear

  Rissa rolled her eyes for show.

  But though she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do about Mackey, her heart felt lighter than when she’d left her bed this morning, so troubled over Mackey. She held the door for Scarlett. “Do your worst, City Girl.”

  Grinning they went back inside.

  Mackey finished his workout with his traveling weight set and got ready for his run. He’d once thought nothing of running twenty miles a day, but he’d had to start at baby pace after the fall and was only now up to three miles.

  Today he was going for more, his doc and the trainer be damned. His leg had held up better under yesterday’s post-nightmare run than he’d feared. It was only a little sore. He had a life to get back to, a career he’d sweated and slaved to make successful, and he’d awakened this morning with a restless itch to get back to it.

  Not that last night hadn’t been amazing. Off the chain great. Rissa was so crazy hot, so beautiful, so unstudied in her enthusiastic response. Her body was a feast, her delight in what they did together a decadent dessert in and of itself.

  She had a chokehold on him already. She made him wonder, made him question…

  He couldn’t afford either. He had commitments. A film waiting.

  Well, maybe waiting. He didn’t know what was taking so blasted long. He’d put in a call to the producer, Lon Waits, but he’d had to leave a message.

  He grabbed his cardio monitor, his phone and the water bottle he knew he’d need in this Texas summer heat. He finished his stretches and made his way out the door.

  But not without checking to see if Rissa had returned yet. What was she thinking now, after his nightmare? Man, he’d hoped to leave those behind. Most of the time he managed, but there was something about her that kept him off-balance.

  Something that got to him too deep.

  Doesn’t matter. Can’t matter. I’m here, then I’m gone.

  Mackey started outside, hoping to leave everything but his training behind.

  Yeah. Good luck with that, buddy.

  Just as he was reaching for the doorknob, his phone rang. He answered without looking. “Lon? What the devil is the holdup, man?”

  A different voice answered. “Well, I don’t know what this Lon’s problem is, but I’ve been working my tail off to find you a fire engine. You okay with that?”

  “Bridger. How’s it hangin’?”

  “I don’t have my panties in a twist, so I’m apparently better off than you. Who’s Lon or do I want to know? He part of your glamour boy life?”

  “Screw you.” Mackey laughed. “He’s the producer of the film I’m supposed to be second unit director on.”

  “Is that good? I didn’t think you ever accepted second place in anything.”

  “Yeah, screw you sideways, then.” His buddies on the Teams weren’t big on tender words to express the finer emotions like affection. Profanity was the more common terminology. “But just to educate the ignorant, the second unit director films all the stunts and most of the shots that don’t feature the principal actors. It’s my first opportunity to move up from stunt coordinator.”

  “Your stunts were mostly spontaneous on the Teams. Losing your edge?”

  Mackey had to laugh again. “Yeah. Like you had to start helping old ladies across the street and rescuing cats in trees.”

  Silence fell, inside it the recognition that life had changed for both of them.

  “I try not to miss it,” Bridger said quietly.

  “Yeah.” That was as much as Mackey could say. Some days he missed his life as a SEAL like a missing limb. He’d never felt more alive than back then. Never more certain his existence had purpose.

  Bridger cleared his throat. “So how is it in cowboy country?”

  “How’s life in Bubbaland?” Bridger had wound up in Tennessee, not far from where he’d grown up in rural Alabama.

  “Hot.”

  “I hear that. Texas isn’t any better. So…you got me a fire truck?”

  “I do. Found a brush truck that needed some work, but some of us got together and worked on it. Engine runs so smooth I could take it to ’Dega.”

  Mackey chuckled. Bridger Calhoun was six and a half feet tall and built like a gladiator. His fondest dream growing up had been to drive at Talladega, his home track in the NASCAR circuit, but race car drivers seldom reached even six feet. The little guys fit inside a stock car much better. Bridger started growing and didn’t stop near soon enough.

  His drawl was slow as molasses, and they’d often teased him that he couldn’t have been an officer even if he’d wanted to because it would take him too long to issue a command.

  His darkest secret was that he had an Einstein brain and was so well-read he made the rest of them look like halfwits.

  “So how much do I owe you for it?”

  “Me, nothing. The town of Cherokee Point, though…” He named a figure that was well below what he had told Mackey to expect to pay. “But there’s a catch.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have to be the one to bring it to you.”

  “Why’s that? I could have it shipped.”

  Bridger cleared his throat. “Because my chief says if I don’t take some vacation time, he’s putting me on suspension.”

  “Sounds harsh.”

  “Yeah, well, I…there was a bad fire.”

  “You okay, man?”

  Bridger never liked talking about his feelings any more than the rest of them. Maybe less. “Some kids died.”

  Everywhere they’d gone, Bridger was the Pied Piper. Kids came out of the woodwork and trailed him around as though his pockets were stuffed with candy.

  They often were, but that wasn’t the attraction. Mackey had never figured out exactly what happened, but Bridger really had a way with kids. They seemed to sense right away that he was the real deal, an adult who genuinely enjoyed spending time with them.

  The closest Mackey had ever seen the easygoing Bridger come to losing it was the day they’d come upon a massacre at an orphanage Bridger had taken under his wing. He’d been hit hard at the loss of the Sajadi family, as well.

  “I’m sorry, Bridge. I bet it wasn’t your fault, either.” Just as the orphanage hadn’t been, but that hadn’t stopped his buddy from going a little batshit crazy for a while.

  “Maybe.” Bridger’s tone was final. “Anyway, I’m coming for a visit. You gonna be there, or you about to bug out?”

  “I hope so.”

  “How soon?”

  “A week?” If he stayed any longer…

  “Docs cleared you?”

  “They will.” He refused to consider any other outcome.

  “Yeah, good luck with that. You didn’t do so well with the Navy docs.”

  Mackey had fought tooth and nail to be put back on the battlefront, but he’d lost. Accepting that he had to leave the Teams had been a bitter pill to swallow. He could have remained as an instructor, but that wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. He loved being in the thick of the action.

  So he’d left the only life he’d felt suited for.

  But he’d made a new life hadn’t he? “These are just pussy insurance company doctors.”

  “So…worse, is what you’re telling me. Liability issues—I got that. Same thing riding my tail right now with the department.”

  “We faced the worst of the worst, terrorists who’d kill everyone we know and love, who’d take down this whole country if they could. Ever feel the irony that now people are worrying over the state of my poor little bump on the head?”

  Bridger’s laugh was a little hollow. “Yeah. I do.”

  Another moment of silence. “So…I’ll keep you posted, but if I’m not here, Ian McLaren is who you need to talk to.” He rattled off Ian’s phone number.

  “Is there a hotel I can book?”

  Mackey chuckled. “You kidding me? The welcome mat will be rolled out for the man who’s bringing these people a way to save their homes and stores. You won’t buy a meal
while you’re here, and I bet there will be a fight over who gets to put you up.”

  “I’d rather stay at a motel.” Bridger’s tone was pained.

  “Even if there were one, you wouldn’t be paying for it. You grew up in a small town, right? You know how they work.”

  “I guess…”

  “Deal with it, dude. Anyway, you will be treated to some awesome food at Ruby’s. Get your tastebuds ready.”

  “I can always eat.”

  Mackey chuckled. Nothing had ever been more true. Bridger’s big frame seemed to need constant fueling. He’d gone without meals during missions as they all had, but he sure made up for it when food was there. By all rights, he should weigh four hundred pounds.

  “Thanks, Bridger. Seriously. I hate leaving these folks without some better options.”

  “Sounds like you really like the place.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Just passing through.” Mackey quickly brought the call to a close, then resumed stretching. Ian’s place was under five miles. He would run there instead and spread the good news.

  He glanced around again, wishing he could tell Rissa first. He choked off that impulse. The last thing he needed was to get deeper into her. He thought about her too often.

  And now she’d seen him unhinged.

  Hell. He’d gone on the attack, and that he’d been deep in a nightmare was no excuse. That she’d let him touch her after that was a miracle…much less let him make love to her.

  When they’d returned, she’d made a Good Samaritan offer to stay the night.

  He didn’t need her pity. Or her charity.

  He sure didn’t need this confusion. He’d wrestled half the night with the urge to pack up and go before everyone woke. He wasn’t much more settled now.

  So he took off running.

  “Wow, you look like hell,” Ian greeted. “Why are you out running in this heat?”

  “Why are you out working in it??”

  “Okay. Point taken. How’s the leg?”

  “Fine.”

  Ian only lifted one eyebrow.

  “Okay, yeah, it’s a bitch, but so what? No pain, no gain.”

  “We’re not kids anymore, Mackey. And you’re not a SEAL. No one’s going to die because you didn’t push yourself.”

  “Yes, Mom.” He took a long drink. “I have to stay in top shape.”

  “For your stunt work? Antsy to get back?”

  “Yeah.” Maybe that life didn’t measure up to his time on the Teams, but he was good at what he did. “Waiting on the green light for a film I’m going to be second unit director on.”

  “Get out. That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Next step up the ladder.”

  “And that’s the ladder you want to climb?”

  Did he? “I started out as a stuntman, then became stunt coordinator. I know I can’t keep abusing my body forever. Second unit keeps me in the action.”

  “So what’s after that? Director?”

  “Maybe.” He frowned. Or maybe his horses… He didn’t often think about the next step. He just kept his eyes peeled for opportunities. Stayed light on his feet, as he always had. Kept his options open.

  They were silent for a moment. The peace of the place settled in, the wind playing the background instrumentals, punctuated by the low of cattle, the chirping of birds. He closed his eyes for a second and just…listened. Soaked it in. “Ever get tired of this? The peace? Do you even hear it?”

  “I miss it when I can’t hear it. I don’t take any of this for granted.” He paused. “I would have left with Scarlett if she’d wanted to go back to the fame and glory in New York.” He grinned. “But I’m glad as hell she didn’t.”

  “You’re dug in deep here.”

  “I guess. Sixth generation on this land.”

  Mackey shook his head. “I can’t begin to imagine.” He breathed in the peace again. “This is really nice, but don’t you ever want to see somewhere else?”

  “All my life, but—” One shoulder lifted. “I couldn’t see any way to leave, especially once Dad had his stroke. But he and Scarlett have other ideas. She wants to show me some of the world I’ve only read about.”

  “There are a lot of amazing places out there.”

  “What’s your favorite out of everywhere you’ve been?”

  Mackey pondered. Not an easy question. “I guess there’s two, maybe three that stood out above the others. There is this temple hidden in the jungle in Cambodia…” He paused. “And a tiny village in Ireland that’s not even on the map.”

  “Ireland.” Ian’s tone was reverent. “High on my list. Family history and all.”

  “I can show you the general area.”

  “Great. But you said three.”

  Mackey smiled. “There’s this little town in the Texas Hill Country…hell of a place.”

  Ian clapped him on the shoulder. “You ever get tired of wandering, Mackey, you know we’d welcome you back. This place could use you.” A quick grin. “I wouldn’t mind seeing your ugly face more often.”

  Surprised at how appealing the idea was, Mackey nodded. “Thanks, man.” Suddenly he remembered the purpose of his visit. “Speaking of Sweetgrass, I got you a brush truck.”

  Ian’s eyes popped wide. “Got us one? How the hell did you do that? You didn’t—Mackey, those things cost a fortune, even used.”

  “I got a good deal. Buddy of mine from the Teams made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “We’ll pay you back somehow.”

  “No, you won’t. Look, I’ve got all kinds of money saved up and nowhere to spend it. But I need a favor. Bridger will be here with it in about a week. If I’m not here, will you put him up? Feed him?”

  “I’ll carry him around on a pillow if need be.” Ian laughed. “A brush truck! I’m blown away, Mackey.”

  “You’ll need gear and training. Bridger might be able to point you in the right direction.”

  “I’ll figure it out.” Ian peered at him. “Don’t suppose you’d like to be a firefighter? Sweetgrass could use a good man like you, Mackey, in a whole lot of ways.”

  “Sorry. No can do. But thanks, man, honestly.”

  “You’re the one we need to thank. Maybe throw a parade for.”

  Mackey chuckled. “Wait ’til Bridger gets here.” He laughed at the thought of his quiet friend in the middle of such hoopla. “He did the overhaul on it himself, with some of his buddies. He’s throwing their labor in for free.”

  “Incredible.” Ian shook his head. “I am buying you dinner, at the very least.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Ian. This town was good to me. You and your dad took me in so I could graduate here. Your dad felt more like a father than my own, for sure, and Jackson’s mom was a second mother. You and David and Jackson were friends like I’d never had. I owe this town more than I can ever repay.”

  “Then think about settling here—not now,” he said, spotting Mackey’s resistance. “But when you’re ready. With Jackson gone so long and David dead…” Ian glanced away. “It would be great to have you.”

  “I appreciate the offer.”

  “Don’t say no. And promise you’ll let me buy you dinner. I happen to know this place…”

  “If you think I’m stupid enough to turn down more of Scarlett’s and Ruby’s cooking, think again. What time?”

  They made arrangements, and Mackey left to finish his run.

  At a more sedate pace this time.

  “Rissa!” Samantha shouted from outside the pen.

  “Shh, sweetie. You know you can’t be noisy around this colt. Talk softly. I can hear you.”

  “Okay, but—” The little girl was practically dancing on her feet. “Did you hear about Mackey?”

  Rissa’s fingers tightened on the rope. She made herself loosen them. “What about him?” He’d been gone when she returned from the feed store, and she’d seen no sign of him since.

  “He bought us a fire truck!”

>   Rissa’s head whipped around. “He…what?”

  Eric charged up pell-mell, then skidded to a halt as he remembered. Taking the last three steps slowly, still his voice vibrated with eagerness, too. “He bought the town a fire truck!”

  “A…fire truck?” she echoed.

  “Yeah! There’s gonna be a party tonight at Ruby’s,” Samantha crowed. “We should go. He’s ours.”

  “Yeah,” Eric’s eyes were bright with hero worship. “We know him best. He’s a hero.”

  “It’s because he was a SEAL,” Samantha chimed in. “Just like I’m gonna be.”

  “Cannot,” Eric countered.

  “Can, too. Mackey said so!” the girl cried.

  “That’s not what he—”

  The colt side-hopped. “You two need to either pipe down or go somewhere else,” Rissa ordered. “Pay attention to what you’re doing to this horse.”

  They both subsided. “Sorry, Rissa,” Eric said.

  “Me, too,” said Samantha.

  “It’s okay. You were excited.”

  Both perked up and opened their mouths to speak.

  She shook her head. “Give me a minute to settle him down.” Then she focused on the horse, but her concentration was compromised.

  A fire truck? Seriously? How much did one of those cost?

  Not that it wasn’t needed, desperately so. Sweetgrass Springs was too far away from any real help, and more than one home had been lost because help wasn’t close enough. She knew Ian had been trying to find a way to remedy the situation, but the staggering cost of equipment was beyond the means of a little unincorporated burg like Sweetgrass. The only solution was to incorporate and assess taxes, but a move like that could very well backfire, driving the scarce population to leave altogether, unable to cope with the added expense of living here.

  Most of the businesses in Sweetgrass were barely hanging on.

  Ian and City Girl had joined forces to reverse that, and even though Rissa still couldn’t imagine who on earth would drive so far to eat a meal at Scarlett’s new place, that wasn’t her call to make. If the investors Scarlett was counting on put up the money they’d promised, Scarlett was set on opening. The locals were pinning their hopes on the venture leading the way to reviving a town that had all but dried to dust.