The Rebel of Copper Creek (16 page)

H
earing 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.”

A
s 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.”

“What's he doing in a place like Copper Creek?”

Griff shrugged. “That's a good question. He seems to spend most of his time making those around him miserable.”

There wasn't time to say more as the plane began its descent and came in for a smooth landing along the strip of asphalt.

Even before Griff stepped out of the plane, Casey and Ethan were running up to greet him.

“Griff. I knew it was you. I told Mama it was you.” Casey gave Griff a fierce hug before turning to his brother. “Didn't I, Efan?”

The older boy nodded and shyly stepped close enough for Griff to haul him up into his arms for a hug.

For a moment he held both boys close, wondering at the feeling of joy that poured through him.

Just then the copilot door opened. When Ethan spotted Mad, he raced around to throw his arms around the old man's waist.

“Well now, laddie, that's the warmest greeting I've had in a long time. I've missed you, too.”

Griff removed the wheelchair from the rear seat and helped Mad into it. Before he could begin to push it forward, Mad patted his lap. “Come on, lads. Hitch a ride.”

They needed no coaxing. They hopped up on his lap and gave whoops of delight as Griff wheeled them toward the barn.

The strip of asphalt ended at the entrance to the barn. Once there they paused to allow their eyes to adjust from bright sunlight to the dimmer light inside the big building.

What they saw had them staring in surprise.

In the center of the barn Stan Novak—his shaved head gleaming in the glow of overhead lights, his rail-thin body no bigger than the size of a teenage boy—sat in the saddle of a swaybacked mare that moved in a plodding circle while Juliet issued softly spoken commands.

“You're doing great, Stan. Now slow your mount. Bring her to a halt. Good. Now turn her to the left.”

The man followed her commands before shooting her a wide, gap-toothed grin. “How'm I doing, Juliet?”

“Just fine, Stan. You have Princess completely under control.”

She turned to a heavily tattooed veteran who looked like a linebacker. “How about it, Hank? Are you ready to follow Stan?”

Hank Wheeler gave a quick shake of his head. “Not today, Juliet. I'm just not ready.”

“You're never ready.” Heywood Sperry's angry bark got everyone's attention. As usual, he wore a muscle shirt to show off his toned upper body. His face was marred by a scowl.

“Mama.” Casey shouted from his perch on Mad's lap. “Look who's here with Griff. It's Grandpa Mad.”

Jimmy Gable shouted out, “Hey, Griff. I was hoping I'd get to see you again.”

Griff managed a smile and a wave to his old marine buddy.

Juliet's icy look in Griff's direction turned into a blazing smile when she spotted Mad. She hurried over. “You came.”

“You invited me, remember? I figured it was time to take you up on your invitation.”

“Oh, Mad, I'm so glad to see you.” She clasped his hand. “Will you ride when I've finished with the others?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. For now, I'll just watch.”

“What're they doing here?” Sperry's frown deepened. “I thought you were offering this service for veterans.”

Jimmy Gable's voice cut in. “I told you. Griff and I served in the marines together. He's my old captain.”

“He's not mine.” Sperry's voice was a growl of anger. “Come on, Juliet. We're paying customers, and you're wasting our time.”

Ignoring him, Juliet said to the entire group, “You know Griff Warren. Now I'd like you all to welcome Griff's grandfather, Mad MacKenzie.”

“Hey, Mad,” the voices rang out. “Welcome to the club.”

Mad smiled and nodded.

Sperry's voice rose above the others. “Just 'cause he's in a wheelchair doesn't mean he's part of the Romeos.”

“Just ignore the crabcake,” Jimmy said with a laugh. The others laughed with him.

“All right, Stan. Time for your dismount.” Juliet guided the machine to the man on horseback, lifting him easily from the saddle to his waiting wheelchair.

Then she turned to a young man whose face was as round as a basketball, his stomach protruding over the waist of his faded denims. “Okay, Billy Joe. It's your turn to get in the saddle.”

He began alternately shaking and sweating. Without warning he broke down in tears.

Juliet put an arm around his shoulders and leaned down to say, “It's all right, Billy Joe. You know you never have to do anything you're not comfortable doing. But you haven't tried since you came back this week.” She knelt in front of him. “Did you forget to take your antianxiety medicine again?”

He wiped his eyes with a rag before nodding.

“How long this time?”

He blew his nose. “I don't know. Maybe a week or more.”

“You know what happens when you don't take your prescriptions, Billy Joe.”

“Yeah.” He looked away. “I get scared.”

“But when you take them, you're not so afraid.”

“But I get spacey when I take all that medicine.”

“Which would you rather be? Scared all the time, or a little spaced-out?”

He shrugged. “I guess spacey isn't so bad.”

“That's right. So tonight, before you go to bed, be sure you take your medicine. And Billy Joe, you need to have a talk with your doctor. Okay? It isn't safe to discontinue strong medicines in the middle of treatment. Promise you'll talk to your doctor? He may even be able to find something that doesn't have so many side effects.”

He sniffed and nodded.

She patted his shoulder affectionately before turning to Jimmy Gable. “You ready, Jimmy?”

“Sure thing.” He grinned and waited while she adjusted the lift. When he was comfortably settled in the saddle, he waved to Griff. “Hey, look at me. I'm a cowboy.”

Following Juliet's instructions, he began putting the mare through her paces, having her walk in a circle, halt, turn, and walk in the opposite direction. When he'd become comfortable in the saddle, Juliet led the mare out into the sunshine and turned horse and rider into a corral. Soon the mare was moving along at a swift pace, with Jimmy smiling from ear to ear.

Half an hour later, his smile began to falter.

“You're feeling tired, aren't you, Jimmy?”

At Juliet's words, he nodded. “I guess this body isn't used to all that movement.”

“No it isn't. Remember. You have to build up your muscles gradually. After all, you're using body parts that aren't routinely used. So you need to take it easy, and let me know when you're tired before you reach a point where you could start to experience pain.”

Jimmy grinned. “Feeling pain isn't so bad. At least I'm feeling something.”

A short time later he returned to the barn. The lift delivered him back to his wheelchair and he couldn't hide his sigh of relief.

From his position to one side Sperry made a sound of derision. “Crybabies. The whole pack of you.”

“I didn't see you stick it out for half an hour, Sperry.” Jimmy glanced at his companions, who nodded their agreement.

“That's 'cause we've been out of commission for so long. My muscles atrophied.”

“Like your brain,” Stan Novak shouted.

“Good one, Stan,” Billie Joe said through his tears.

“All right, gentlemen.” Juliet smiled at the circle of men. “I know this week has been a tough one, coming back after the equipment was down for so long. But I think you're all showing amazing improvement.” She clasped each man's hand. When she clasped Sperry's, he clamped his other hand over hers, holding on when she tried to step away.

“That's enough, Heywood.” With an effort she removed her hand and turned to the others. “I hope to see you all again on Monday. For now, have a safe trip back to town, and enjoy a relaxing weekend.”

As they rolled past her, each of them had something to say to her.

“Thanks, Juliet. You're the best,” Stan Novak said.

“I'm sorry I didn't take my meds, Juliet. But I'll do better next week,” Billy Joe whispered.

“I know you will, Billy Joe.”

“Thanks for all the time you give us, Juliet.” Jimmy Gable rolled past, then waved at Griff. “Will I see you in town this weekend?”

“I'll try to get there, Jimmy, but I can't promise,” Griff called.

Not to be outdone by the others, Heywood Sperry hung back, allowing the others to roll toward the bus while he caught both of Juliet's hands in his. “Next week I go first. Remember, I'm the leader of this pack.”

“If you go first one day, you have to go last the next, Heywood. That's the rule. As for being the leader, these men are all capable of leading themselves.”

His tone sharpened to a low note of barely controlled fury. “I've warned you before, Juliet. Don't ever contradict me. Understand? I started this group, and I can disband them just like that.” He snapped his fingers before turning his electric scooter away and moving toward the waiting bus.

Like the others, he rolled onto the rear platform of the bus and pushed the button for the hydraulic lift that transported the passengers inside.

Minutes later, when the bus rolled away in a cloud of dust, Mad cleared his throat. “How do you manage to stay so calm with all those hotheads?”

Juliet smiled at him. “When Buddy was in the VA hospital, most of his companions were in various stages of grief and anger. Most of the anger is directed at themselves, because they can't do what they once did.” She arched a brow. “Didn't you ever experience those feelings, Mad?”

He winked. “You bet. And still do. But you're that amazing thing we hear about, lass, but rarely see. Grace under pressure. You're the calm amidst the storm. You were grand to watch.”

They looked up as a truck came to a stop outside the barn. A woman, clearly frazzled and out of breath, stepped down and approached Juliet. “I hope I'm not too late.”

“Too late?” Juliet shot her a puzzled frown.

“I phoned you a week ago, asking if you'd allow my daughter to try riding under your care.”

“Oh, yes.” Juliet glanced toward the passenger side of the truck and could see the pale, frightened face of a young girl.

She sighed. “You didn't call back for an appointment. My group is finished, but there's always time for one more, especially since you've come so far. Do you need help getting her in here?”

Before the mother could reply, Griff was crossing to the truck. “I'll take care of it.”

From the back he removed a wheelchair. Setting it down, he opened the passenger door. While her mother watched, he gently lifted the girl to her chair.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered as she walked along beside her daughter, while Griff easily pushed the chair into the barn. “This is Sarah. She's ten.”

“Ten and a half,” Sarah corrected.

“Of course. I forgot. Ten and a half. And I'm Rose Benning.”

“Welcome Sarah and Rose. I'm Juliet, and these are my sons, Casey and Ethan, and my neighbors, Griff Warren and Mad MacKenzie.”

“MacKenzie?” Rose paused. “Was your son Bear MacKenzie?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Mad braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” He always felt himself bristling under these offers of sympathy from kind strangers.

He motioned toward Griff, hoping to deflect the attention. “Griff here is Bear's son and my grandson.”

“I thought you called him Warren—”

Before she could ask more, the old man said, “Different names, but all one family.”

“I…see.” She turned to Juliet. “If this isn't a good time…”

“The time is perfect.” Juliet explained about the lift, and what it did, before Rose cut her off.

“I'm used to carrying my daughter, and lifting her. I don't mind getting her into the saddle.”

“I'd prefer to use the lift.” Juliet showed the girl how it worked, and how it would feel as it moved her from the wheelchair to the saddle. “Would you like to try it?”

When Sarah nodded, Juliet began the process, while Rose watched from the sidelines with a worried frown.

Once in the saddle, the girl held onto the saddle horn with both hands. Juliet kept hold of the reins and began walking Princess in a circle. Gradually, as the mare kept up a steady pace, the girl's demeanor changed so completely, it was as if a switch had been turned on. From the mare's back, Sarah waved to her mother before giving a joyful laugh. “Look at me, Mom. I'm riding a horse again.”