The Rebel of Copper Creek (17 page)

“Yes, you are. You look good up there, honey.”

“I feel good, too.”

They circled the ring a number of times before Juliet brought Princess to a halt. “Do you want to go again, or would you like to take a break?”

Reluctantly, the girl said, “Maybe I'd better get down now. But can I do this again another day?”

“You can come as often as you like,” Juliet assured her.

By the time the lift had returned her to her wheelchair, Sarah's smile was as bright as the sun. To her mother she whispered, “You know what it felt like?”

“What?” her mother asked.

“While I was in the saddle, I felt like all the other girls in my class. The ones who can walk.”

Griff rolled her wheelchair to the truck and lifted her inside before stowing her wheelchair in the back.

When Rose got behind the wheel, mother and daughter waved and called their good-byes. As they drove away, both had tears in their eyes.

Juliet turned to Mad. “Okay. It's your turn.”

He shook his head. “Lass, you have to be exhausted. You've been doing this all day now.”

“You came all this way. You can't leave without at least giving the lift a try.” She took his hand. “Are you willing?”

He nodded. “I guess, now that I've seen a little girl use it, I'd look like a coward if I didn't at least try.”

“Everybody's afraid of something.” Juliet adjusted the lift for size and weight, before fitting it to Mad.

Within minutes he was out of his wheelchair and in the saddle.

“How did that feel?”

He was grinning. “No effort at all. And no time to be afraid. I feel like one of those time-travel characters. One minute I'm wheelchair bound, the next I'm back in the saddle where I used to spend most of my time.”

“Good.” She handed him the reins. “I'm sure an old cowboy like you doesn't need me to lead your mount through her paces.”

As Princess began a slow circle, his face was wreathed in smiles.

Griff looked up at him. “How does it feel, Mad?”

The old man shook his head in wonder. “Now I know why Sarah changed so drastically. I'm not earthbound. I'm myself again. My old self. I'm a cowboy, lad. Back in the saddle, and free as the breeze.”

As he continued circling, he glanced over to see the way both Casey and Ethan were clinging to Griff's hand. And he saw something else. The way both Juliet and Griff were struggling not to stare at one another. But though they were making a valiant effort, they couldn't quite succeed. Every once in a while Juliet would dart a quick glance at her sons, clinging tightly to Griff's hands, and then at the man himself. And when she would turn away, Griff would chance a quick glance her way, with a look of pain that was so shocking, even from this distance, it was obvious what he was feeling.

Maybe he'd been wrong, Mad thought. Maybe what Griff was feeling wasn't mere lust. From what he could see, the feelings between these two appeared to be something much deeper.

Maybe he'd meddled in something that had been none of his business.

It wouldn't be the first time. And now, having rushed in like a fool where angels fear to tread, he knew he had no choice but to clean up the mess he'd made of things.

A
fter he was once again settled into his wheelchair, Mad caught Juliet's hand. “Now, finally, lass, I understand what brings people all this way just to ride a horse. 'Tis such a simple thing, but it lifts the spirits. I'd forgotten how it feels to be in the saddle, with that powerful animal beneath me, carrying me across a field.” His eyes crinkled with the memory. “The little girl, Sarah, said she felt like the other girls. The ones who can walk.” His tone softened. “I felt that way, too. Like the old Maddock MacKenzie who'd often ridden horseback clear across this land, from sunup to sundown, feeling like a king in his very own kingdom.” He gave a joyous laugh. “King of the world. That's how I felt.”

Juliet's smile matched his. “I've seen it change so many lives, Mad. I know it's a little thing, to offer someone a chance to be in the saddle. But just to be free of your wheelchair, for even a little while, is transforming.”

“It is that.” He turned to the two little boys, who stood watching and listening. “This work your mama's doing is important work, lads. Do you know that?”

At their look of surprise, Juliet laughed. “All they know is that my work causes them to spend too many hours here in the barn. If they had their way, they'd be in the house, playing with their trucks. But I refuse to let them stay alone, so far from me. So they're stuck out here until my work is finished.”

Griff looked around. “Why not set aside a play area out here for them?”

Juliet shrugged, as though the idea hadn't occurred to her.

He walked around before pointing to a corner of the barn that was far enough from the work area that it wouldn't interfere with the men or the work Juliet did. He paced it off in one direction, then another, before looking at her. “It wouldn't take much for me to build them a raised box right here in the barn where they could set up their trucks and cows and some farm buildings. Their own miniature ranch.” He turned to Casey and Ethan. “Would you boys like that?”

Their eyes went wide. “Can he, Mama? Please,” Casey pleaded.

“I'm sure Griff has better things to do with his time than build a place for you two to play.”

“It won't take much time at all.” Instead of talking to Juliet, he directed his words toward her sons. “If you boys say yes, I'll start on it tomorrow.”

“Yes. Yes.” Casey was jumping up and down, while Ethan was content to nod his head.

“Done.” He turned to Mad. “I'm thinking we've kept Juliet and the boys out here long enough. You ready to get home?”

Mad was grinning. “I was hoping to give Juliet a lesson on making my famous waffles, or at least a chance to taste her grilled cheese sandwiches. After all, Casey said she makes the best in the world. But I guess I'll just have to wait for another time.”

Juliet was quick to accept his challenge. “If you come back tomorrow before noon, I promise I'll make my famous grilled cheese sandwiches. And if there's time, you can teach me how to make your waffles.”

Mad turned to Griff. “How about it, lad? Are you up to flying me back tomorrow?”

“Why not? While you're enjoying lunch, I'll get busy on that play table.”

He stepped up behind Mad's wheelchair and began pushing it toward the barn door.

“Wait.” Mad held up a hand and called to the two boys, “Ready to ride, lads?”

They hopped up on his lap. Griff pushed them across the concrete floor of the barn and onto the strip of asphalt, halting only when they got to the plane.

After exchanging good-byes, Griff lifted Mad into the plane and stowed his wheelchair behind the seat. As he circled the plane to step into the pilot seat, he saw Juliet herding her sons some distance away, where they stood watching. Without a word he climbed inside.

Minutes later the little plane was airborne. Griff circled once, and tipped the wings while Mad waved to the figures on the ground. Then they headed toward home.

It wasn't lost on Mad that Juliet and Griff had barely exchanged half a dozen words in all the time they'd been together.

Mad adjusted his sunglasses and sat back, feeling tired. But it was a good tired. He felt like a man who'd climbed a mountain and was now resting at the pinnacle, observing the beauty of the scene below him. “It pains me to admit something to you, lad.”

Griff glanced over.

“I thought Buddy's widow was turning his family ranch into a spa. Now that I've experienced what she's offering, I see how wrong I was. What she's offering to those men, and that little girl—” he grinned “—and even to me, is hope. Hope for something better than just a seat on the sidelines, watching the world go by.”

“You thinking about resuming your work on the ranch, Mad?”

At his question, the old man grew silent. Finally, after long moments, he nodded. “Not as a working cowboy, mind you. But I'm thinking that with your ramps and that mechanical lift Juliet has in her barn, I could enjoy a good deal of freedom.”

“You're thinking of getting one of those lifts?”

Mad shrugged. “Who knows? I may look into it.”

Griff made a gentle turn toward the distant hills. “I have to admit, I'm surprised.”

“No more than I am, lad. This isn't what I expected when I left home today.”

“What did you expect?”

Another shrug. “I'll tell you. I thought I'd get some kind of mumbo-jumbo, feel-good lecture about how those of us confined to wheelchairs have to learn to settle for whatever we can get.” His voice lowered as he sorted through his thoughts. “I got all those lectures after my accident. And I was grateful that my son and daughter-in-law were able to take me in and make a place for me in their lives. But even in my chair, I'm me. And the me I know is an old cowboy on horseback, riding across my land, directing my wranglers, herding my cattle.”

He fell silent for a long time before saying, “That's how I met my Maddy.”

“Your wife?” Griff turned his head and studied his grandfather. “I've never heard you mention her name before.”

“That's because even after all these years, it hurts too much.” Mad stared at the land far below. “Juliet reminds me of her. When we met she was this little thing who looked so small and fragile, I thought she might break if I so much as touched her. But I was wrong, lad. There was nothing fragile about Madeline Gordon. Her parents, like mine, came over from Scotland. She was a nurse, but there were no hospitals here, so far from civilization. She traveled from town to town by horseback, tending the sick everywhere she went.”

“Sounds like a hard life for a woman.”

“Aye. And what a woman. I met her in a fierce snowstorm. I was up in the hills, tending my small herd, when spring turned into winter overnight, and the land was buried in a several feet of snow. 'Twas so high I sought refuge in a cave. By the time I'd found it I was starving and half frozen. I set about starting a fire, and then hunting for game. When I returned to the cave with a deer, Maddy was sitting by the fire, wrapped in my only blanket, with her clothes spread out around the floor of the cave, dripping water and ice, and her horse tethered in a corner of the cave, munching the grass I'd put there for my own mount.”

“Where did she come from?” Griff asked.

“Some far-flung ranch miles from the nearest settlement. She'd smelled my fire, and said it saved her life. We spent the next five days in that tiny space, talking late into the night, sleeping side by side next to the fire without ever touching, and by the time the snow had melted enough to let us return to our lives outside that cave, I knew I had to see her again.” He chuckled. “She'd warned me about her father. A fierce bear of a man who believed in his heart that no man would ever be good enough for his only daughter, who was the light of his life. But I rode for three days and nights to reach his ranch, only to learn that Maddy was off delivering a baby, miles from there. So I spent the next two days with the old man, trying to convince him that I was good enough for his angel.”

“I guess you did a good job of it.”

“You're wrong there, lad.” Mad chuckled at the memory. “When he asked me how I'd met his daughter, I told the truth. That I'd spent five days and nights in a cave with her. By the time Maddy got home, her father was in a terrible rage and declared me and Maddy unfit to be part of his family. When she told him that we hadn't done anything wrong, he ordered her to prove it by sending me away. And she did. I wasn't permitted to see her again for a year. If, he declared, at the end of that time we still wanted to wed, he would consider it.”

“So you survived the year apart?”

“Barely. I was in a terrible fit of temper after a year without the girl of my dreams. But when I rode up, old Grant Gordon declared that I hadn't done enough penance. He wanted us to wait another year.”

“What did you do, Mad?”

He chuckled. “I witnessed the most amazing sight. Tiny little Maddy standing up to her giant of a father and telling him that if he thought so little of her that he believed she couldn't make her own choice of a mate, he no longer had a right to order her about like a child. And then she surprised us both by saying she was leaving with me, and that if he hoped to ever meet his grandchildren, he would have to accept me as the man she'd set her cap for. She left that very minute, with nothing but the clothes on her back. We rode into the nearest town and found a preacher. The next day we were home on my poor, miserable ranch, which she promptly turned into a home.”

“Did her father ever accept you?”

Mad nodded. “About a month after we left, he rode up in a wagon, loaded with furniture and clothing that had belonged to his wife. He looked around, said it was obvious that I needed his help, and he moved into a shed on the property. He worked alongside me until the day he died. But he lived long enough to see your father born. 'Twas he who chose the name Murdock for his only grandson, since it was a family name in both our clans. But 'twas also he who chose the nickname Bear, which stuck. Never again was your father called anything but Bear. And I'll tell you, lad, Maddy's father died a happy man.” He paused before adding, “I often think how different my life would have been if Maddy had listened to her father. I'd have never known the happiness that stays with me to this day. Know this, Griff. When you meet the lass of your heart, don't let anyone or anything come between you. Not even the wisdom of an old man who thinks he knows what's right for everyone.”

As the MacKenzie Ranch came into view, Griff shifted his attention to bringing the little aircraft down for a smooth landing.

But later, as he lay alone in his bed, Mad's words come back to him.

He found himself smiling in the darkness.

That sly old man.

And then, his heart lighter than it had been for days, knowing he had the perfect excuse to see Juliet again, he began planning the play table he would build for Casey and Ethan.

If he worked it right, it could end up taking him days. And maybe, just maybe, he could atone for all the pain he'd caused her.

Alone in Bear's office, Willow sat writing checks and sorting through the various papers that littered the desktop.

Thankfully, Bear had loved his paperwork. He'd kept meticulous books. But that didn't make the job easier in Willow's eyes. She would rather do the most odious jobs around the ranch than have to tackle the dreaded paperwork.

It wasn't that she didn't understand it. She was a smart woman, and she knew about taxes, insurance, repairs necessary for the various pieces of equipment, as well as the maintenance needed on the house, barns, and outbuildings. Not a year went by without the need for a new roof, a new motor, a new tractor or cattle-hauler. But the very act of keeping ledgers irritated her.

Give her a horse and a rope, and turn her loose on the range, and she felt young and free as a girl.

Lock her up in Bear's office and order her to justify the figures in the ledgers, and she was as jumpy as a cat in a rainstorm.

She'd tried to persuade Brady to take over this necessary drudgery, but he'd argued that it wasn't his place to know the details of her financial empire. That had been the exclusive territory of Bear, and now it was hers. Period. No arguing.

Dear Brady. Though he was, first and foremost a cowboy, content with the hundreds of chores necessary to the operation of a ranch of this size, he was also the kindest man she'd ever met. He and Bear had bonded as young men, and they had shared a mutual affection and respect. Without Brady Storm's steady hand directing the wranglers, many of whom were seasonal workers who came and went on a whim, she would have been lost. And now, it was Brady's calm, reasonable demeanor that kept her going when the paperwork, the legal maze, and the million and one irritating questions surfaced, causing her to lose her confidence. On those rare occasions when she felt alone and vulnerable and was reduced to tears, it was Brady who offered her the comfort of his wise words and strong arms. He'd been sworn to secrecy, so that her family members would never know the depth of her fear or her overwhelming despair.

Her accountants in Helena were honest and efficient. They were more than up to the challenge of preparing tax statements and end-of-the-year worksheets. But they had only the figures that she gave them. The daily tallies were her responsibility. And though she hated the work, she did it because it was necessary to the operation of the ranch.

She studied the latest bank drafts until her eyes felt too heavy. She stowed them for another day, then cleared away the rest of the paperwork and strode out of the office.

Once upstairs, she felt the familiar ache of loss as she climbed into the big bed she'd shared with her beloved Bear.

Despite the tumultuous feelings that pulled and tugged, she was asleep within minutes. And in her dreams, she was riding across a meadow, and watching a man astride a big bay stallion coming toward her.