The Rebel of Copper Creek (Copper Creek Cowboys)

by R. C. Ryan

  “And now?” It was Griff who asked the question they all wanted answered.

  “Life is a precious thing. When given few choices, we’ll take almost anything over death. And now—” the old man gave them a lopsided grin “—who knows? Maybe in a few years you’ll see me on TV showing folks how to cook for cowboys.”

  “You’d be good at it, Mad,” Brady said with a laugh. “You’d probably have folks lining up to learn to rope and ride just so they could eat your cooking.”

  Mad joined in the laughter. “All I know is, on days like this, I’m happy I’m still here with all of you.”

  When dinner was over, the family prepared to have dessert in the great room.

  Griff watched little Casey and Ethan draw close to Mad, who was telling Myrna to be careful loading the apple pies onto the serving cart. A serving cart he’d invented out of an old cabinet and two pairs of castors he’d found in one of the closets.

  “I spent a lot of time today slicing all those apples. They were shipped from Edie Martin’s orchard in Michigan. The best tart-sweet apples in the country.” The old man looked around at the others for emphasis. “Only fresh apples for my pies.”

  “I wouldn’t expect otherwise from you,” Willow said with a smile.

  “Exactly. So see that you treat them like gold, Myrna.” He patted his knees. “Hop aboard, lads. This train’s heading out.”

  Casey and Ethan eagerly climbed onto his lap before he turned his wheelchair toward the doorway.

  The housekeeper glared at his retreating back. But Griff noticed that she did indeed handle the pies gingerly as she placed them, along with plates and forks and a large serving knife, on the rolling cart. After loading a carafe of coffee, along with cream and sugar and enough cups and saucers for everyone, she started toward the great room.

  Griff stepped forward. “You go ahead, Myrna. I’ve got this.”

  She shot him a grateful smile. “Bless you, Griff.” She turned. “I’ll just fetch ice cream to go along with those pies.”

  In the great room, Casey and Ethan migrated toward the fireplace, where a log blazed. Sitting on comfortable floor cushions, they watched as Myrna served slices of pie and ice cream.

  “Would you lads care to try my pie?” Mad was admiring the way the delicate pastry held up under the apple slices, topped by a mound of apple-cinnamon ice cream.

  Ethan shook his head, and Casey did the same, announcing, “Efan and me just want ice cream.”

  “Ethan and I,” Juliet corrected gently.

  “You, too, Mama?”

  The others grinned at Casey’s innocent question.

  “I believe I’ll have pie with my ice cream.” She decided the time wasn’t right for a lesson on proper English.

  Griff settled himself beside Juliet on one of the big sofas. When he stretched out his long legs, his thigh brushed hers, sending a surge of warmth through his veins.

  To cover her sudden silence he said, “The medical supply company finally flew out their repairmen and spare parts, so Juliet now has her equipment up and running.”

  “About time.” Whit dug into his pie, which was topped with a triple scoop of ice cream. “So the Romeos can get back to their therapy?”

  “On top of that,” Juliet said shyly, “I got a call today from the mother of a ten-year-old girl who is interested in what I may have to offer her.”

  “Are you a trained therapist?” Willow asked.

  Juliet shook her head. “I received my training while Buddy was flying. I was about to receive my board certification when…” She paused, seeing the way her two sons were watching and listening. “I’ll need to go back and be certified, but in the meantime, I’m not legally allowed to offer physical therapy. I’m merely offering a chance for the injured to get away from their wheelchairs for a little while and ride a horse.”

  “So it’s just for fun.”

  Mad’s tone got her to look at him. “I guess it would seem that way to some people. But riding a horse truly lifts the spirits more than anything I can think of. There’s just something about sitting high in the saddle, and forgetting, for a little while, about all the things you can’t do. It’s therapy, but I don’t need to be certified to offer it.”

  “Do you ride?” Willow asked her.

  “I do, though not as well as someone like you who was born to it. But I want my boys to be comfortable in the saddle. It was something their father asked me to do for them.”

  Griff turned to Whit. “Maybe you’d like to give the boys some lessons. You’re just about the best rider I’ve ever seen.”

  Mad sat up straighter, filled with pride. “And who taught you, lad?”

  “You did, Mad.” Whit turned to the others. “I was in the saddle even before I could walk. I used to spend all my time over at Mad’s ranch, learning to ride and rope. My dad was too busy with ranch chores to have time for such things, but no matter how busy Mad was, he always had time for me.”

  While the others were finishing their dessert and enjoying second cups of coffee, Brenna moved to a small side table, where she’d set out some modeling clay.

  As she began to work it between her hands, Casey and Ethan moved closer to watch.

  “What’re you doing?” Casey asked.

  “I thought I’d make something for you. What would you like?”

  “Can you make anything?”

  She smiled. “I can try.”

  Casey glanced at his brother before saying, “Can you make a horse?”

  She worked quickly, forming a ball of dark brown clay into one shape, and adding another smaller ball for the head. She added delicate ears, a tail, before handing it over to the two boys.

  “Wow. Look, Mama.” Casey ran over to show it to his mother, and then to Griff and the others.

  When they’d properly remarked on it, he hurried back to kneel beside Brenna. “How’d you learn to do that?”

  “I’ve been doing it since I was your age. My mother bought me some modeling clay, and I discovered that I loved making things.”

  “And now she’s a famous sculptor.” Ash’s voice was filled with pride.

  “I wouldn’t say famous,” Brenna said with a laugh. “But I do love sculpting.”

  “Can you teach us?” Casey looked at his brother, who was fingering the horse with a look of reverence.

  “Why don’t you show me what you can do?” She spread out the various colored lumps of clay and watched as they began to roll them in their chubby little hands.

  Brenna stopped Ethan. “Look. What do you see in that shape?”

  He set the round ball down on the table and she pointed. “I see a bunny rabbit. See? There’s his head and one ear. Add another ear, and then a bigger ball of clay for his body, a little round tail at the end, and you’ll see a bunny, too.”

  He did as she instructed, and soon, to his delight, the form of a rabbit began to take shape.

  “Look, Casey.” She pointed to the long, thin piece of clay in his hands. “I believe I see a caterpillar.”

  “You do?”

  “Watch.” She handed him a bit of green, and showed him how to add it before holding out a small chunk of blue, a little purple. She showed him how to add yellow eyes and tiny black legs.

  When it was finished, he squealed with delight and hurried over to show his mother. While Juliet was oohing and ahhing over it, Griff sat back, watching her reaction with avid interest. When she sat back he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she reacted with surprise.

  When Casey rejoined Ethan and Brenna, Mad suddenly turned his wheelchair toward the doorway. Over his shoulder he called, “Griff, would you mind giving me a hand?”

  Griff was on his feet and hurrying over as the old man’s chair disappeared into the kitchen. “What do you need, Mad?” He paused just inside as Mad closed the door behind him.

  “Just a minute of your time, laddie.”

  Before Griff could ask, the old man fixed him with a look. “You’ve got strong f
eelings for Juliet.”

  “What makes you think—?”

  Mad held up a hand. “I’ve got eyes. I see how you look at her. You’ve been devouring her like my apple pie.”

  Griff straightened. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

  “It’s my business when she’s a guest under this roof. If that isn’t enough, she has two little boys to think about. So if you’re thinking about a quick tumble in the hay, you’d better think again, lad.”

  When Griff held his silence, Mad added, “I know what it is to be a man who’s so befuddled by a lass, he can’t think with his brain, but only with his—” he grimaced “—his other brain. But remember this, lad. If you truly care about a woman, you have to put what’s best for her above your own desire.” He paused. “That’s all I’m saying. Now why don’t you fetch that coffeemaker and see if anyone wants a last cup before bedtime?”

  He rolled away, leaving Griff alone in the kitchen with a jumble of dark, troubled thoughts.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the great room, the little table was littered with clay bunnies and worms and birds in various colors. Spurred on by Brenna’s praise, Casey and Ethan had used up almost all of the lumps of clay that she’d brought.

  Ethan stifled a yawn, while Casey rested his chin on his hands and watched as Brenna put the finishing touches on his clay cat by adding a long striped tail.

  “There now. I think we’re done for tonight.” She turned to the two boys. “But if you enjoyed this, you’re welcome to come over to my studio for some lessons.”

  “Can we, Mama?” Casey asked.

  She turned to Brenna. “I’m willing, as long as it doesn’t take you away from your work.”

  “I have plenty of time after work, and I love teaching others, especially children, the joy of creating something out of a lump of clay. Why don’t you call me and we’ll set up an hour or two when the boys can come?”

  “Thank you, Brenna. I can see how much they’ve enjoyed this. And I love knowing they’d be getting lessons from a real sculptor.”

  Brenna turned to Ash. “And now, cowboy, if you don’t take me home soon, you’ll have to carry me.”

  He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Babe, I’ll carry you any time you ask.”

  “Oh, brother.” Whit made a gagging gesture that had the others laughing. “It’s time for me to get out of here, too. Before I overdose on too much of this newlyweded bliss. Brady, how about a beer at Wylie’s?”

  “Fine. As long as it’s only one. I put in a long day, too.”

  “Want to join us?” Whit asked Griff, who shook his head.

  Juliet walked over to where her two boys were lounging amid the floor cushions. Just minutes earlier they’d been showing off their sculptures. Now, they were struggling to keep their eyes open.

  “Bedtime, boys.”

  Casey made a halfhearted attempt to argue. “But Mama…”

  She turned to Griff, who ambled over and lifted Ethan to his shoulder. “Come on, little wrangler,” he whispered. “I think you’ve had enough fun.”

  Ethan didn’t argue. Instead he wrapped his arms around Griff’s neck and snuggled close. From the look on Griff’s face, it was clear that he was enjoying the chance to snuggle the usually timid little boy.

  Juliet lifted Casey in her arms. Instead of the expected argument, he merely called, “’Night, Grandpa Mad. ’Night, everybody.”

  “Good night, lad,” Mad called as the others waved.

  Once upstairs, Griff led the way down the hallway to their room. Inside he slipped Ethan’s shoes and clothes from him before glancing at Juliet, who was undressing Casey on the other bed.

  “Want me to find their pajamas in their suitcase?”

  She shook her head. “I think they’re way too tired for that. I’ll let them sleep in their briefs again.”

  He pulled the blanket up over the sleeping Ethan and watched as she did the same for Casey.

  She moved between the two beds, pressing soft kisses to both their cheeks.

  Seeing it, Griff felt a quick rush of heat before turning toward the door.

  Juliet followed him out and closed the door. A few steps away she paused outside her room and turned to him with an inviting smile. “Are you tired?”

  He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Yeah. It’s been a long day in the hot sun. I’d better turn in.”

  He saw the look of confusion in her eyes and cursed himself for what he was about to do. “I forgot how much physical labor goes into building ramps. I guess I’m out of shape.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and wished he could be touching her neck instead.

  Closing his hand into a fist at his side to keep from reaching out to her, he took a step back. “I’ll see you in the morning. ’Night.”

  Though it took all his willpower, he managed to turn away. But not before he saw the look of disappointment on her face.

  He walked purposefully to his room and pulled open the door. Once inside he kicked the door shut and strode to the window to stare at the night sky. His hands were balled into fists. His teeth were clenched so hard they ached. But that was nothing compared to the ache wrapped around his heart.

  If it hadn’t been for Mad’s tough-as-nails warning, he had no doubt he’d be in Juliet’s room right now. In her bed. Doing all the things he’d thought about doing in the barn.

  Juliet stared at the closed door of her room before crossing to slump on the edge of the bed.

  All evening, during the wonderful dinner, and that amazing dessert, she’d had a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, just thinking about the way Griff had kissed her in the barn.

  She could hear his voice whisper, This isn’t over, you know.

  It hadn’t been so much a statement as a challenge. A very tempting challenge that they would finish what they’d started when the others had given them some privacy.

  And now, he’d walked away without even a good-night kiss. As though that earlier scene had never occurred.

  What had happened between then and now?

  Had he had time to change his mind? Had he decided that it had all been a huge mistake?

  Had she said something, done something, to make him realize she wasn’t worth his time?

  Slowly, as though in a dream, she began to undress. In the beautiful bathroom, fit for a queen, she never even noticed her luxurious surroundings. Instead she went through the motions of getting ready for bed as though in a trance.

  Once in bed she lay very still, her mind awhirl with dark thoughts.

  There weren’t a lot of men willing to take on a woman with two boys. Two very different boys. One who chattered like a magpie. One who never spoke a single word. But she’d thought Griff different somehow, better somehow, from all the others. She’d seen the way he got her boys to open up. Had seen the care he lavished on them. Had it all been an act to get close to her?

  After the day she’d put in, she ought to fall instantly asleep. Instead, throughout the long night she tossed and turned as doubts and worries played through her mind.

  There was a dangerous wrangler out there somewhere bent on revenge. And the thought of him stalking her, threatening her, had given her a feeling of being alone and afraid. But Griff had offered her a sense of security.

  Maybe it was all an illusion. A false sense of security.

  Maybe she was mistaking it for something quite different.

  Some time in the early dawn, she came to the conclusion that Griff, by his baffling behavior, had actually done her a favor.

  Last night, in the barn, after a few sizzling kisses, he’d gotten to her heart. Despite all her intentions to remain faithful to Buddy’s memory, she’d been ready to open herself up to Griff and give him whatever he wanted.

  How pathetic. Was she so starved for affection that she would resort to a tumble in the hay with a man she hardly knew?

  What about what she wanted? Hadn’t she come to Montana determined
to work Buddy’s ranch and raise his sons in the same way he’d been raised? Was her love for Buddy so shallow that the first handsome cowboy to show her any affection had her forgetting all her good intentions?

  Lesson learned, she decided.

  Mitch Cord had called her the ice maiden. It was the label she had very consciously crafted, and one she intended to wear whenever she found herself alone again with Griff.

  “Look, Mama.” As before, Casey and Ethan were downstairs long before Juliet. They were kneeling at the long coffee table in the sitting area of the kitchen, enjoying glasses of foaming orange juice while moving their toy trucks around and around the top of the table, up and down the legs, and even across the rug underneath it. “Grandpa Mad said this was made from real oranges.”

  “You squeeze your own every day?” she asked.

  Across the room, where he was busy at the stove, Mad nodded. “Nothing but fresh for the MacKenzie clan, lass.” He shot her a level gaze. “How did you sleep?”

  “Fine.” She shrugged and turned away from his scrutiny.

  When Griff and Whit trooped in from the barn, they paused to wash at the big sink in the mudroom. Juliet couldn’t tear her gaze from Griff as he walked in, his muscles straining the sleeves rolled to the elbows.

  For a long moment they simply stared at each other. Then he turned and helped himself to a cup of coffee while she sipped her orange juice.

  Willow and Brady came in from the office, where they’d been going over the books. Once again, Willow was muttering her annoyance at the backlog of documents needing her attention. Her frown of concentration turned to a smile at the sight of Juliet and her sons.