by R. C. Ryan
The same question returned to his mind time and again. What kind of man had his father been, to turn this forbidding land into his own little kingdom? If even half the stories about Bear MacKenzie were true, he’d been larger than life, tough, demanding, arrogant, and driven. A man determined to take the legacy of his own father, Mad, and grow it into the stuff of legend.
Griff pondered how much of those qualities he’d inherited from his father and grandfather. Was he driven to succeed? Was that what had kept him alive while under enemy fire? And what of the famous MacKenzie temper? As a boy, he’d always been fighting, much to his mild-mannered mother’s despair. In military school he’d learned to channel that anger into a useful tool to become a platoon leader as well as place at the top of his class by the time he’d graduated. Later, facing combat, the combination of quick temper and quick thinking had held him in good stead during the most deadly operations.
Today, knowing what to watch for as the plane’s shadow crossed from MacKenzie land to Grayson land, the change in the landscape wasn’t nearly as sudden and shocking. Instead of herds, there were small clusters of cattle spread out over barren hillsides. Instead of the occasional bunkhouse, there were a few deserted, windowless range shacks that appeared to offer shelter only to wild creatures.
As the plane circled the Grayson ranch house and barns, the neglect became even more obvious. A rusted truck was parked behind the horse barn, where several nervous mares began circling the corral at the drone of the plane’s engines.
Juliet and her two sons stepped out of the larger cow barn to watch as the little Cessna began its descent. After a smooth landing, it rolled along the asphalt strip.
By the time Griff stepped from the plane, little Casey was racing toward him. “You came back,” he cried.
“I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” He turned to call to his mother, “Look, Mama. It’s Griff. He came back.”
“I see him.” She approached more slowly, holding on to Ethan’s hand.
Griff smiled. “’Afternoon, Juliet. Hey, Ethan.” He glanced around, for the first time seeing the cluster of men in wheelchairs and on crutches inside the dimly lit barn.
He strode across the distance separating them and clapped a hand on Jimmy Gable’s back, grinning at the look of his old military buddy. Now, with that shaggy beard and faded denims, he looked nothing like the buttoned-down kid Griff had known in Afghanistan. “I take it your equipment hasn’t been repaired yet?”
Before Jimmy could shake his head, Juliet’s quick frown was answer enough. She turned to the veterans. “I guess it was too much to hope this plane was from Endicott.”
“Told you.” Stan Novak, his skinny body looking frail in an oversized sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, nodded toward the others. “Looks like another wasted day.”
Heywood Sperry spun his scooter around to give the man a withering look. “You shut that mouth. Even without riding a horse, you’re on a ranch. We did stretching exercises.” He shot a sly smile at Juliet. “But it would have been a hell of a lot better if we’d get back and arm massages.”
Juliet’s tone was controlled. “I’ve told you, Heywood, I’m not licensed as a physical therapist yet. I never completed all the classes. And I did caution you to check with me before driving the men all this way.”
His voice was a low growl of fury. “What else do we have to do but sit around all day waiting for you to call?”
“Having a pity party, Sperry?” Happy as a puppy at the sight of his old friend, Jimmy Gable was grinning as he pointed toward their bus. “I know what I want to do. Let’s get back to town. I heard there was a hot gin rummy tournament going on all day at Wylie’s.”
Sperry glared at him. “You’d rather play cards than be on a ranch?”
“And do what?” Jimmy demanded. “If we’re not going to ride horses and make like cowboys, what’s the point?”
Spurred on by his comments, the others began nodding and murmuring among themselves.
“Come on, Sperry,” one of the men called. “You dragged us out here for nothing. Now it’s time to get moving.”
As they began filing out of the barn and using the hydraulic lift to enter the bus, Heywood Sperry remained behind, staring from Juliet to Griff and back again. “What about him?” He jerked a shoulder in Griff’s direction.
Before Juliet could say a word, Griff nodded toward the pitchfork in her hand. “I guess I’m in time to help with some chores.”
She started to protest. “There’s no need. The boys and I have it under control.”
“That’s right.” Casey stood in front of Griff. “Mama’s shoveling and we’re spreading clean straw.” He pointed toward the bus. “And those men said they were our…” He turned to his mother for help with the word.
“…our audience,” she said.
“That’s a lot of work. Maybe, instead of watching, I could lend a hand, and we can have it done in half the time.”
Sperry crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care who does the ranch chores. What I’d like to know is when I can count on having that lift repaired so we can get on with the therapy we’re paying for. Why don’t you ask the cowboy here to fix the lift first?”
“That’s not fair, Heywood,” Juliet said, quick to defend Griff. “Repairing the equipment isn’t his job.”
“Neither is this ranch. Why is he sticking his nose in our business?”
Juliet looked shocked. “It’s my business, not yours. Why are you being so rude?”
He scowled at Griff. “Maybe because you’re so freaking determined to defend this guy.”
Before she could respond, little Casey began dancing up and down, staring hungrily at the Cessna, gleaming in the sunlight. “What about your airplane? You said I could sit in it.”
The muscled veteran fixed Griff with a look of fury. “Using the kid to get to his mother?”
Ignoring Sperry, Juliet pointed to her son’s dung-covered boots. “Casey Grayson, you’re not going anywhere near that plane until you’ve had a chance to clean up after your chores.”
The little boy looked so sad that Griff knelt in front of him. “How about finishing chores first? Then a tour of my plane will be our reward later. Okay, little wrangler?”
“Okay.” Casey sounded subdued.
When the men on board the bus began honking the horn and shouting for Sperry to join them, he swore and huffed out a breath before turning his scooter toward the door. Without a word he left.
Griff watched him leave before turning to Juliet. “How did you happen to hook up with them?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “I started studying therapy when Buddy was in the hospital. When I came here, I hoped to put what I’d learned to good use. Heywood Sperry contacted me out of the blue and said he’d heard that I was offering veterans an alternate form of therapy. I have to say I was surprised, since very few people had heard about me, but when he told me he had a group of veterans willing to pay a great deal of money to visit a working ranch on a regular basis, I couldn’t refuse. Especially since I remember how desperate Buddy was to get away from a hospital setting and back to his ranch. He would have given anything to be able to get therapy at a ranch, surrounded by the sights and sounds and smells he’d always known. These veterans have already given so much. They deserve whatever comfort they can get.”
He gave her an admiring look. “I guess that explains how you manage to cope with more than just their physical wounds. You’re one of them.”
“My troubles are nothing compared to theirs. They have a right to be angry. Their lives as they once knew them are gone.”
Searching on a shelf, Griff located a pair of men’s rubber boots, which he swapped for his leather boots. He helped himself to a pair of well-worn leather gloves and reached for a pitchfork hanging on a hook by the door.
By the time he was ready to work, the bus had left, with Heywood Sperry in the driver’s seat.
While Gri
ff began cleaning a stall, Casey climbed up on the wood railing to watch. “Wow. You do that a lot faster than Mama.”
“That’s because I’m bigger.”
“When I get big as you, Mama won’t ever have to work again.”
Though he didn’t say a word, Ethan climbed up beside his little brother and watched in silence.
“That’s a nice thought, Casey. And generous. But there’s nothing wrong with hard work. Everybody does it.” Griff tossed a load of dung-filled straw into a wagon.
“But Mama never stops. Isn’t that right, Efan?”
The older boy ignored him and studied Griff as he bent to his chore.
Griff finished cleaning the stall and moved on to the next, aware that the two boys had hopped down from their perch and were now spreading straw over the floor of the freshly cleaned stall.
As soon as he finished, little Casey climbed another rail and leaned his chin on his hands, watching every move Griff made.
“Did you and Mama fight yesterday?”
Griff saw Juliet’s head come up sharply in the other stall.
“No.” He bent to his work. “Why?”
The little boy shrugged. “Mama didn’t sleep last night.”
“And how would you know that?”
“I smelled coffee ’fore I fell back asleep. Whenever Mama can’t sleep, she goes downstairs and makes coffee.”
“Well, if she’s done this before, how can you think it’s my fault?”
“’Cause Mama was sad when we got up from our nap. Isn’t that right, Efan?”
His brother kicked at some straw.
“Maybe your mama was sad because the parts for her ceiling lift didn’t come. And without them, she can’t help all those vets.”
“Is that why you were sad, Mama?”
Juliet tossed a load of dung-filled straw into the wagon and frowned. “That’s as good a reason as any.”
“And you’re not mad at Griff?”
She gritted her teeth before snapping, “No.”
Griff couldn’t hold back the grin. “Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it, little wrangler?”
“Yeah.” Casey returned his smile. “Mama, can Griff stay for lunch?”
“He just got here. I’m sure he’s not hungry.”
The little boy swiveled his head. “Are you, Griff?”
“Not yet. But maybe by the time I’ve finished these chores, I’ll manage to work up an appetite.”
“Mama’s making grilled cheese. Is that okay?”
“That’s better than okay. I love grilled cheese almost as much as I do peanut butter and jelly.”
“Hear that, Mama? Griff loves grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Juliet held her tongue, though Griff could tell it cost her. That only had his smile widening as he moved on to another stall. It gave him a measure of satisfaction to know, thanks to Casey’s remarks, that Juliet had been as unnerved by yesterday’s scene as he’d been.
An hour later Juliet announced abruptly, “As long as you three have this under control, I’ll head up to the house and get lunch started.”
Griff and the two boys were so engrossed in their work, they didn’t answer.
Just as Juliet set aside her pitchfork, a voice from the doorway of the barn had her pausing.
“Well, well. Mrs. Grayson. You’re looking mighty hot and sweaty. Care to cool off down at the creek with me?”
Her voice was pure ice. “What are you doing here, Mitch?”
“Cooper sent me to pick up the stake truck and drive it up to the herd.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Funny. I don’t see any truck in here.”
His voice lowered to a seductive purr. “I figured I’d check and see how you’re doing.” He started toward her. “Hell, Cooper can wait. I’ve always got time for a damsel in distress. Especially one who’s all alone and in need of my special brand of…comfort.”
She grabbed up her pitchfork. “You take another step and it’ll be the last you ever take.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I hope you’ve got an army to back you up.”
Griff stepped from his stall, his own pitchfork held loosely in his hand, to face a lanky, muscled cowboy in a sweat-stained shirt and faded denims. “How about a marine?”
The wrangler’s eyes went wide as he looked from Juliet to Griff.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he backed away. “Guess I’ll get that truck.” He shot her a parting sneer. “I’ll let you get back to your—” he paused and glowered at Griff for emphasis before swiveling his head toward Juliet “—chores, Mrs. Grayson, if that’s what they’re called these days.”
Griff crossed the distance to stand beside Juliet. Together they watched as the man climbed into a rusted stake truck and drove it across the hills.
Knowing two little boys were watching and listening, he said softly, “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” She set aside the pitchfork and sucked in a deep breath before starting away. “Lunch in half an hour.”
Ethan raced to catch up with her. When he caught her hand she paused to look down at him before the two of them crossed the distance from the barn to the house.
Griff returned to his work. Casey sat on the top rail of the stall.
“You know who that wrangler was, son?”
The little boy frowned. “His name is Mitch.”
“One of your mama’s wranglers?”
The boy nodded. “Uh-huh.” A moment later he added, “He has mean eyes.”
Griff stored that thought away. He hadn’t had time to see Mitch’s eyes, but his sarcastic words to Juliet left no doubt as to his intentions.
When the last stall had been cleaned, Griff hung the pitchfork on a hook and exchanged the work boots for his own. With Casey dancing along beside him, keeping up a steady stream of chatter, he made his way to the house.
They paused at the big sink in the mudroom to roll their sleeves and wash before stepping into the kitchen. The table was set with glasses of milk and a platter of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers in the center.
Juliet called over her shoulder, “Your sense of timing is amazing. Lunch is ready.”
Casey climbed up beside his brother. “Griff said he didn’t even have to look at his watch. He could smell the grilled cheese all the way to the barn.” He turned to the man, who was busy filling two mugs with coffee. “Could you really? Or were you just teasing?”
“Now what do you think, little wrangler?”
The boy’s smile lit up the room. “I think I smelled grilled cheese, too.”
“There you are.” Griff set down the two mugs and turned to Juliet. “Can I help with anything?”
“Let’s see.” She set down a plate of sandwiches cut into triangles and watched as her boys helped themselves. “Where to begin? There’s the equipment, of course, which Endicott will probably never repair. Then there’s the truck in the other barn that won’t start. A tractor that’s down. A group of wranglers who’ve been up in the hills for weeks with the herd, and will be here in the next few days expecting to be paid so they can go into town and drink away their paychecks. Is that enough?”
Griff heard the frustration in her tone and decided to keep things light. Though his heart went out to her, he knew her sons were listening to every word between them.
“More than. But I was talking about helping you with lunch.” He reached for a sandwich and bit into it before giving a sigh of satisfaction. “Looks like you didn’t need my help with these. Could there be anything better than a perfectly melted grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Did your mama make them just like this?” Casey wiped a milk mustache on his sleeve.
“She did. She knew that next to peanut butter and jelly, these were my favorites.”
Casey took another bite of his sandwich and turned to Ethan. “Griff went to army school.”
“Military school,” Griff corrected.
Juliet looked over. “Why military school?�
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“Like you, my mom was a single mom. By the time I was eleven or twelve, I was a handful. The principal at my middle school didn’t give her much choice. He suggested I might need more discipline than regular school could offer. I think what he was really saying was they didn’t want me back.”
Juliet said in a matter-of-fact tone, “So you were trouble.”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “I think maybe you’re still trouble. So, how did you take to the sudden change in your life in a tough military school?”
He shrugged. “I sorted things out. And one day I realized I could adapt, or I’d be out of options.”
“What are options?” Casey asked.
“Choices. In life we make choices.” To prove his point, Griff nibbled his sandwich. “I can eat or go hungry.” He winked and speared a slice of tomato. “I can eat my veggies, or somebody else will eat them all and I’ll have to do without.”
The little boy imitated him, helping himself to a tomato slice and several cucumber slices. “Me, too.” He turned to his mother with a look of surprise. “Hey, these are good.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks.”
The boy polished off his vegetables and helped himself to more.
As he did, Griff winked at Juliet. “Options, Casey. Now you’re sorting them out for yourself.”
“I am?” The little boy looked pleased before turning to his brother. “You should eat these. They’re really good.”
Ethan continued nibbling on his sandwich.
Casey fidgeted with energy. “You said after lunch Griff could let me sit in his airplane.” He nudged Ethan. “Want to come with us?”
The boy looked away.
To Griff, Casey said, “Efan’s afraid of airplanes, ’cause our daddy’s crashed. Isn’t that right, Mama?”
“Yes.” The single word was said softly.
“But your airplane can’t crash ’cause it’s on the ground.”
“That’s right. And that’s where it’s going to stay until you get tired of being in it.”
“I’m never getting tired.”
The little boy was so earnest, Griff had to fight to hold back the smile that tugged at his lips.