The Rebel of Copper Creek (Copper Creek Cowboys)

by R. C. Ryan

  “Good morning.” She poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Brady before turning to Juliet and the boys. “It looks like a good day to be outdoors.”

  “That’s good.” Juliet glanced out the window at the sunlight spilling across the hills. “Because I’ll be outdoors all day.”

  “A busy day?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be glad for the work. I need to be busy.”

  “We all do.” Willow turned when Mad summoned them to the table.

  Soon they were passing around platters of omelets and ham, biscuits and strawberry preserves. Myrna poured milk for the boys and topped off coffee cups around the table before taking her seat beside Mad.

  Though Juliet and Griff were seated next to one another, they were careful to avoid touching. Once or twice, as their arms brushed, they quickly moved aside as though burned.

  The others were too busy eating and discussing ranch chores to notice. But Mad, sharp-eyed as always, watched them without expression.

  After breakfast, as Willow and Brady made plans to ride up to the hills, Juliet hurried across the room to Willow. “I want to thank you again for your warm hospitality, Willow. But I’ll be heading back to my ranch now.”

  Willow hugged her. “You know you’re welcome to spend every night here until Ira sends word that he’s caught Mitch.”

  “I’m grateful for your offer of sanctuary. I really appreciate it. It’s given me a real sense of security.”

  Casey and Ethan, each of them pulling a little wheeled suitcase, descended the stairs.

  Seeing them, Griff plucked a set of keys from a hook on the wall. “Come on, little wranglers. I’ll get you settled in the truck.”

  Both boys raced across the room to hug Mad and call their good-byes to everyone as they followed Griff out the door.

  Juliet thanked Mad and was rewarded by a warm hug from Myrna before trailing slowly behind the others.

  As soon as Juliet fastened her seat belt, Griff put the truck in gear and took off along the curving ribbon of driveway and out to the highway beyond.

  “Mama said one day this week she’ll let me and Efan go to Brenna’s studio and make things with clay.”

  Griff glanced at the little boy in the rearview mirror and saw the excitement dancing in his eyes. “That should be fun. What do you think you’ll make?”

  Casey shrugged. “Brenna said we should let the clay tell us what it wants to be.”

  “Talking clay?” Griff winked at the boy in the mirror, and Casey burst into laughter.

  “It doesn’t talk, but it looks like something.”

  “I hope it doesn’t look like a field of cows.” Griff pointed to a hillside black with cattle. “That might take a heap of sculpting.”

  Both boys laughed at his joke.

  For once Juliet was grateful to let the conversation flow around her, leaving her free to stare out the side window, avoiding Griff completely.

  For the entire ride, she spoke not a word. Casey was too busy chattering to notice. But Griff did. Her silence was louder than any words. Whatever they’d shared in the barn had evaporated, like the morning mist that hung over the hills and disappeared as soon as the sun warmed the earth.

  As he pulled up to her ranch, they spotted the rock-star bus. Heywood Sperry sat on his scooter in the doorway of the barn, scowling.

  Juliet climbed out without a word before helping her boys down.

  “Are you staying, Griff?” Casey called.

  Griff remained behind the wheel. “No, little wrangler. I’d better get back and get to work on those ramps for Mad.” He looked beyond Casey to see Juliet turn away quickly. But not before he caught the look of grim resignation in her eyes.

  As he drove away he kept watching in his rearview mirror, hoping she would turn and look back.

  She kept walking purposefully toward the barn and the scowling veteran, who began gesturing as she approached. She turned her back on Sperry before stepping inside the barn. And then she was out of sight.

  For Griff, the drive home was endless. And the look in Juliet’s eyes, like a wounded bird, weighed heavily on his mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hearing voices, Mad rolled his wheelchair to the doorway of the mudroom to gauge the progress of the work being done on the ramp outside the door. Whit and a handful of wranglers had joined Griff, and all of them were shirtless in the blazing sun.

  As always, with Whit leading the pack, there was plenty of teasing and laughter while they worked.

  A truck rolled up and Ash stepped out, wearing a leather tool belt.

  “Wow.” Whit slapped his brother on the back. “You look like you actually know what to do with all those tools.”

  “That’s the idea.” Ash grinned good-naturedly. “I figured I couldn’t let Griff and you get all the glory. So here I am.” He turned to Griff. “Tell me what you want me to do, oh grand and glorious leader.”

  Griff chuckled. “I’ve got most of the boards laid out. You got a nail gun?”

  Ash shook his head. “Do you happen to have a spare?”

  Griff pointed to an assortment of power tools. “Over there.”

  Soon Ash had joined the others, and the noise level of shouts and laughter reached a fever pitch.

  At midday Myrna brought out trays of ham-and-cheese sandwiches, as well as gallons of coffee and a bucket of water bottles in a nest of ice.

  The men pounced on the cold drinks, causing Myrna to return with a second tub of ice and water bottles.

  While the others took a much-needed break, Griff continued working. It was, he realized, the only way to keep his mind off Juliet, and the sadness he’d seen in her.

  As he worked, he chewed over Mad’s words. It was true that a woman like Juliet, who had already been so hurt by the loss of her husband, deserved more than a quick tumble in the hay. A mother of two sons needed to protect her reputation. It was also true that he’d been willing to go along, enjoying her company, and allowing their relationship to heat up too quickly, without giving a thought to where it might lead. But, despite what Mad thought, a quick tumble had never been his style.

  So, what was his style?

  He didn’t really know. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Until meeting Juliet, he’d never had to worry about the future. It would take care of itself. He was just enjoying the journey along the way. And the journey had included a long list of women who had enjoyed the same things he did.

  But Juliet was different. And not just because she’d lost a man she obviously loved. She was a mother of two little boys who needed, more than anything, stability in their lives. And to his way of thinking, stability meant commitment. Not a man who was in their lives for a while, and then disappeared. They needed, and deserved, a man who would remain constant in their lives.

  Was he willing to take on a lifetime with a woman and someone’s else’s sons?

  He absorbed a quick arrow to the heart.

  Someone else’s son? Wasn’t that what he’d been for a lifetime?

  He didn’t like where these thoughts were taking him.

  Annoyed, he bent to his work and struggled to block out everything except the task at hand.

  Griff stood back, admiring the progress they’d made on the ramps. With so much extra help, the work had moved along quickly, transforming from an image in his mind to the real thing.

  The ramp at the porch level was a gentle incline, so that Mad could maneuver his wheelchair without losing control on the downward spiral. But it didn’t end there. They’d already begun work on a continuation of the ramp from the house to the barn, so that a wheelchair could have a smooth run without getting mired in grass or dirt. The wooden ramp ran parallel to the driveway that led from the back porch to the barns.

  Griff gathered up all the tools and carried them to the barn, storing them carefully on a shelf. Then he headed toward the house. After a day in the hot sun, he intended to take an extralong shower before driving over to pick up Juliet and the boys
.

  He was feeling pretty proud of himself. There had been times today when he’d managed to block out all thoughts of Juliet for an hour or more. But now, with the day’s work over, her image haunted him. He couldn’t wait to see her.

  A short time later he descended the stairs.

  Whit looked up. “I bet you’re ready for an ice-cold longneck, bro.”

  “Sounds great. As soon as I get back with Juliet and the boys, I’ll join you.”

  Hearing him, Willow shook her head. “Juliet phoned to say she’ll be sleeping at her own ranch tonight.”

  Griff looked thunderstruck. “They caught Mitch?”

  “No.” Willow gave him a gentle smile. “I wish that were true. But Juliet said Jackie Turner has decided to lend a hand with the ranch chores. He said he prefers to sleep in the empty bunkhouse rather than drive back and forth from his daughter’s ranch to Juliet’s. So I guess that solves the problem of Juliet and her sons being alone and isolated, far from civilization. With Jackie in the bunkhouse, I think we’ll all breathe a little easier.”

  “Yeah. That’s great news.” Griff’s tone said otherwise.

  “Here, bro.” Whit handed him a beer. “Now we have two things to celebrate. Juliet’s got a ranch foreman she can trust, and that ramp outside is just about the most professional job I’ve ever seen.”

  He touched his bottle to Griff’s, and the two drank. The beer tasted bitter in Griff’s mouth.

  Over dinner, Ash and Whit, relieved to have the hard work of the day behind them, were louder and funnier than usual. Though their barbs and jokes were usually directed at one another, they were their own best audience, laughing like loons.

  Griff made a halfhearted attempt to follow along, but at some point he simply tuned them out and ate the rest of his meal in silence.

  When dinner was over, Myrna held up a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. “I baked extra, thinking Casey and Ethan would be here. Will I serve them in the great room?”

  Willow nodded. “I’d like that. And I’m sure the others are ready to kick back and relax.”

  As they shoved away from the table, Griff paused at the doorway to the mudroom. “I think I’ll pass on dessert tonight, Myrna. I’d like to get back to work.”

  “Now?” Willow couldn’t hide her surprise. “It’ll be dark soon, Griff. You’ve put in a full day already. Why not wait until morning?”

  He tried to smile, but there was a dangerous light in his eyes that said more than words. A light that reminded the entire family of Bear, when he was in one of his dark moods. “This can’t wait. I need to do it now.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “Thanks for the great dinner, Mad. Good night, everyone. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  As he strode out, an awkward silence settled over the group.

  Griff paused to wipe sweat from his eyes and studied the line of sturdy boards he’d added since supper time. His accomplishments should have given him a sense of satisfaction. Instead, he found himself cursing the darkness that had come sneaking up on him. Like it or not, he would have to quit for the night.

  With a muttered curse he began collecting his tools. He turned and nearly collided with Mad, who had rolled his wheelchair along the section of ramp already completed.

  Griff dropped a hammer and let loose with a string of rich, ripe oaths. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Obviously.” The old man fixed him with a look. “Something wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Griff picked up the tool and started away.

  “Hold on, lad.” Mad’s words weren’t so much an invitation as a command.

  Griff turned back, his eyes narrowed. “You got something to say?”

  “Maybe I do.” Mad took a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I’d know a thing or two about temper. The MacKenzies have been cursed with it for generations. So your temper doesn’t concern me as much as the why of it.”

  “Can’t a man be mad for no reason?”

  Mad shook his head. “Not in this family. With the MacKenzies there’s no gray. There’s only black and white. There’s only happy and mad. And you’re mad enough to be out here working like a dog when any other man would be sound asleep after the kind of crazy day you’ve put in. So I’ll ask you again, lad. Why?”

  Griff avoided the old man’s eyes. “What does it matter?”

  “Sometimes it helps to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Like you said. I’m cursed with a temper. Let it go.” He swung away and hauled the heavy tools to the barn.

  By the time he headed to the house, Mad was nowhere to be seen.

  It was just as well, he thought. He wasn’t in a mood to share his thoughts with anyone.

  Thoughts as dark, as gloomy, as the black, starless night.

  Thoughts that he couldn’t seem to sort out.

  Thoughts that were driving him stark raving mad.

  For the rest of the week Griff worked tirelessly on the ramp, often returning to it after supper, until darkness would drive him indoors for a few hours to sleep before waking at dawn to start again.

  For every day that Griff grew more and more moody, Mad grew more and more lighthearted as he eagerly watched the progress.

  Ash and Whit and the wranglers joined in whenever their chores permitted, studying the crude blueprints Griff had drawn for himself. By the end of the week, a series of ramps linked the house with the barns, freeing Mad to roll happily about the ranch yard, paying visits to places he’d been prohibited from reaching for years.

  Once the ramps were completely connected, he moved easily from place to place, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. Sharing his joy, the family trailed behind Mad’s wheelchair, admiring the finished product.

  “Oh, Griff. Just look at what you’ve accomplished.” Willow placed a kiss on Griff’s cheek. “You have to feel so proud.”

  Griff ducked his head. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Great job, Griff.” Brady shook his hand.

  “You do good work, bro.” Both Ash and Whit slapped him on the back and punched his shoulder.

  He turned away, as though embarrassed by all the fuss.

  Later, after supper, they lifted a toast to Griff, who reluctantly joined them in the great room and downed his beer in quick swallows before heading up to bed, saying he needed to get some sleep.

  When he was gone, Willow turned to her sons. “Do either of you know what’s wrong with Griff? I would have thought by now he’d have resolved whatever was bothering him.”

  They shook their heads.

  She turned to her father-in-law. “Mad? Any ideas?”

  “I may have one or two.” His eyes twinkled. “But I’d like to be certain before I say.” He polished off his beer before saying, “I believe I’m ready for bed, too. I’ll say goodnight, now. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  “’Morning, lad.” Mad had parked his wheelchair beside the table and was sipping fresh orange juice when Griff stepped into the kitchen. “Looks like you and I are the only ones up so far.”

  Breakfast was already warming on the stove. Steam arose from a skillet of fried potatoes and onions, and another skillet of scrambled eggs. Bacon sizzled, and coffee perfumed the air.

  While Griff poured himself a cup of coffee, Mad watched him. “Now that your big project is complete, what’ve you got on schedule for today?”

  Griff shrugged his shoulders. He’d spent the night wondering the same thing. “Is there something you need?”

  Mad smiled. “As a matter of fact, there is.” He paused a moment. “I was hoping you might fly me to the Grayson Ranch today.”

  Griff’s frown was back. He fixed the old man with an angry stare. “Why?”

  “Do I need a reason?” The old man looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  “Yeah.” Griff’s tone was abrupt. “What’s this about, Mad?”

  “Juliet invited me to see for myself how her horse therapy is working. And since
I can now get myself to the plane and back, and since your schedule seems to be free, I think it’s the perfect time to accept her invitation.”

  Griff turned away, wondering at the way his heart rate speeded up at the mention of Juliet. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t heard a single word from her since they parted. Apparently, she hadn’t missed him any more than he’d missed her.

  “Sure. Why not?” He turned back. “When would you like to leave?”

  “Right after breakfast.”

  Griff tossed the last of his coffee down the drain. “Fine. I’ll go check out the Cessna now. Don’t hold breakfast for me. I’m not hungry.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As the little Cessna soared across the lush hills, black with cattle, and crossed over to Grayson territory, Mad gave a sudden sigh of disgust. “Old Frank Grayson must be turning over in his grave.”

  Griff pulled himself back from his thoughts. “Yeah. It’s shocking to see the difference between the properties.”

  Mad shook his head. “It’s as if someone drew a line right down the middle of the land. On one side, thick grass and herds of cattle, and on the other, barren soil and vacant hillsides.” He pointed to a dilapidated range shack. “How can Jackie Turner bear to see how far it’s fallen?”

  “I’m sure it bothers him, Mad. But how much can one man do?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’d do.” The old man stared at the land below. “For openers, I’d get rid of any wrangler unwilling to go the extra mile for me. I’d offer a bonus to anyone who offered to repair a range shack and live in it for at least six months while tending my herd.” As they circled the ranch house and barns, he added, “And I’d offer an extra bonus to anyone willing to start repairing all this.” He waved a hand. “Look at the condition of this place.”

  He pointed to the tricked-out bus, looking conspicuously out of place beside a rusted old truck. “What’s that?”

  “It belongs to Heywood Sperry. According to my pal, Jimmy, Sperry’s family is loaded.”