The Rebel of Copper Creek (4 page)

“Hey. You came to see us. I was engaged in a serious poker hand with my pal Hank when you came in. Since I figured it was the medical supply guy, I wasn't paying attention. Sorry.”

“I said I'd come, so here I am.” Griff reached down to clap a hand on his friend's back.

Jimmy turned to the young woman. “This is Griff Warren. He and I served in Afghanistan together. He left shortly before me. Who'd have believed we'd run into each other here in the middle of nowhere?”

Griff smiled at the young woman. “I'm from the MacKenzie Ranch just over those hills. I guess I'm looking for your mother.”

Her head came up sharply. “My mother?”

“Jimmy said this place belongs to Juliet Grayson.”

“I'm Juliet.”

At her words he couldn't hide his surprise. “But I thought…” He swallowed and decided to try again. “Sorry. I was expecting someone—”

“—older?” She nodded. Though she was trying for sarcasm, her voice betrayed a deep pain. “I guess ‘the widow Grayson' confuses some people.” She turned away. “You've come all this way for nothing. I was just telling the Romeos that today's therapy session is cancelled. In fact, it remains cancelled until I get this lift repaired.”

Now that Griff had time to study the lift, he understood. “So this device is used to lift the men from their wheelchairs—”

“—into the saddle. Exactly. Until this machine is repaired, everything grinds to a halt.”

“And the repairs aren't handled locally?”

She shook her head. “The company is supposed to be flying the parts in from Helena. At least that's what they've been telling me for the past week. But every day they come up with another excuse to put me off. When we spotted your plane, we thought we'd finally had some good luck.”

“I'm sorry to get your hopes up and then dash them. How about your wranglers? Any of them know a little about electronics?”

She gave an expressive lift of her shoulders. “I didn't think to ask. The few wranglers left are so overworked, they can barely keep up with the day's chores as it is.” She turned to him hopefully. “I don't suppose you…?”

“Sorry. I'm pretty good with my hands. But my specialty is woodworking.” He glanced at the ceiling, considering. “Besides, this isn't something that can be done on a ladder. In order to take a look at that track, the company will need to send along a bucket lift for the repairs.”

She nodded. “I suppose you're right.”

He turned to the two little boys, who hadn't moved. “Yours?”

She beckoned them closer, and when they hurried over to stand on either side of her, she gathered them close and hugged them.

Getting down on her knees, she said, “This is Ethan and this is Casey.”

Griff followed her lead and knelt down so that his eyes were level with theirs. He turned to the older one. “Hey Ethan. How old are you?”

The boy buried his face in his mother's arm.

Jimmy Gable said in an aside, “The kid doesn't speak.”

“Efan's six.” The younger one held up six fingers. Then he held up three fingers. “And I'm free.”

Griff's smile grew at the little boy's attempt to speak clearly. “Three? And your brother is six? I bet you two are a big help to your mom.”

The younger one nodded. “Efan can pour the milk on our cereal. Mom won't let me 'cause I spill it.” He looked down for a moment while he considered his own skills. “Sometimes I feed the chickens, don't I, Mama?”

“Yes, you do. And you both do a fine job of helping.”

When she got to her feet, Griff noticed that Ethan clung tightly to her leg and refused to look up. Little Casey, on the other hand, was content to stand beside her while he studied Griff with a look of open curiosity.

Casey tipped his head back to peer up at him. “Are you a giant?”

That had Griff laughing. “No. Sorry. I'm just a man.”

The little boy pointed to the Cessna. “Is that yours?”

“It belongs to my… family.” The word still caused him such a jolt, he had to give himself a mental shake.

“My daddy flied planes,” Casey said proudly.

“Flew,” Juliet corrected.

The little boy nodded. “My daddy flew planes.”

“Did you ever get to fly with him?”

The little boy's eyes grew round with surprise. “I wasn't borned yet. But Efan got to watch, didn't you, Efan?”

The older boy buried his face in his mother's frayed denims.

Juliet turned to the group of men, who'd been watching and listening in silence. “I guess you all know what this means. No lift, no riding. I'm sorry. Whenever Endicott gets this up and running, I'll contact Heywood Sperry, and he'll let the rest of you know. But at least we got in a little talk about exercise and nutrition.”

As the men began moving toward the bus parked outside, they paused beside Jimmy to introduce themselves to Griff.

“Hank Wheeler.” The heavily tattooed man gave a smart salute. “Any friend of Jimmy's is welcome here.”

“Stan Novak.” Rail-thin, head shaved, the man maneuvered his wheelchair close. “Did four tours of Afghanistan. One too many,” he added as he passed with a wave of his hand.

“Billy Joe Harris” came a Southern twang. The young, bearded man had a face so round it resembled a basketball. His stomach protruded over the waist of his tattered shorts. “I saw you with Jimmy last night at Wylie's.”

“Yeah. Hey, Billy Joe.” Griff shook the man's hand.

A big man in a muscle shirt in red, white, and blue stripes started past Griff in his electric scooter until Jimmy Gable stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Hey, Sperry. Take a minute to say hi to my friend Griff Warren.”

From the waist up, the man looked like a bodybuilder, with bulging muscles in his arms, and a lean, chiseled face that might have been handsome if it weren't for his dark, glaring frown. He looked Griff up and down before dismissing him completely. “What's he doing here, Gable? He doesn't look to me like he needs therapy.”

“The captain and I served together in Afghanistan. I invited him to come here and meet my…”

The scooter rolled away before Jimmy had finished talking.

The young veteran shot an embarrassed look at Griff. “Sorry. As you can imagine, there are a lot of angry hotheads in the group.”

“No need to explain that to me. I served with guys like that. Remember?”

Jimmy chuckled. “Yeah. I'm just glad you were the one who had to deal with them and not me.” Hearing the sound of an engine roaring to life, he turned his wheelchair away and headed out of the barn. “Gotta go. It's Sperry's bus, so he gets to call the shots.”

“That's some vehicle. Had to cost a few bucks to install that hydraulic lift.”

“Not to mention the custom interior. It's like a rock star's.” Jimmy chuckled. “Rumor is that Heywood Sperry's family has millions.”

“Nothing like flaunting his wealth.”

“Hank Wheeler says Sperry should have painted some rust on the outside as a joke, so folks would feel sorry for us poor old vets.” Hearing the roar of an engine, Jimmy started rolling toward the bus. “No time to chat, Captain. Sperry's made it clear that when he says he's leaving, we'd better be aboard or we're left behind.”

Griff frowned. “That's not the way of a marine.”

“Yeah. But it's Sperry's way. I hope you'll come back another time and watch us in action, Captain.”

“I'll try, Jimmy.”

Griff stood in the barn watching as Jimmy's wheelchair was boarded onto the bus by way of the hydraulic lift. When all their wheelchairs were secured, the vehicle left in a cloud of dust.

“Can he stay for lunch, Mama?” Casey asked.

Griff turned in time to see the annoyed look on Juliet's face. “I'm sure Griff isn't interested in peanut butter and jelly.”

“Is that what we're having?” The little boy brightened. “I like peanut butter and jelly, don't you, Griff?”

Griff thought about the wonderful ranch meals he'd been enjoying since arriving at his father's home. He hadn't once had anything so simple.

If he hurried, he could join Whit and Brady Storm up in the hills for a close-up lesson on wrangling thousands of cattle on the range in the highlands.

Still, the pull of this angry young woman and her two sons was surprisingly strong. And something perverse in his nature had him enjoying the fact that he could annoy her even more.

“That's one of my favorites, Casey.” He looked at Juliet. “I'd be happy to stay and have lunch with you.”

“Well then. I guess, since you're not my repairman, I have no reason to stay here. We may as well head on up to the house.” Looking about as happy as a fox caught in a trap, she turned away and steered her sons from the barn.

J
uliet led the way to the house, with Ethan clinging tightly to her hand and Casey dancing along behind them.

Griff climbed the steps, noting the sagging porch, the dangerous gaps between some of the boards.

Inside, he felt as though he'd stepped back in time. The makeshift mudroom appeared to have been an open breezeway at one time, but it was now closed in by the addition of walls. There were a few hooks along one wall for hats and parkas; a big, stained, cast-iron sink sat in one corner, with a towel slung over the edge.

Juliet pulled off her baseball cap and shook out her damp hair.

Griff was unprepared for the spill of thick auburn tangles that tumbled halfway down her back. It changed her look from waif to woman in the blink of an eye.

She stepped to the sink and scrubbed her hands, while calling over her shoulder, “Boys, you need to wash up while I make your lunch.”

When she walked away the two boys scrambled to stand on a wooden step stool and vigorously scrub their hands. Griff followed suit. Both boys looked up as he rolled up his sleeves and began to wash and dry.

“I bet our daddy had hair on his arms like that.” Casey turned to Ethan. “Didn't he?”

Ethan shrugged and turned away. But not before taking a long, hard look at Griff's tanned, muscled arms.

Griff toweled dry and followed the boys into the kitchen. The floor was well-worn linoleum. The wooden cabinets wore many layers of peeling paint. In the middle of the big room stood a scarred wooden table and chairs. Though ancient, they appeared sturdy enough.

The two boys took their places at the table.

Griff watched Juliet lay out bread before slathering it with peanut butter and grape jelly. “I'd like to do something to help.”

Her voice betrayed her weariness. “Do you know how to make coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Coffeemaker is over there.” She pointed with her knife. “A package of coffee beans and a grinder are up in that cupboard.”

He filled the coffeemaker with water and measured freshly ground coffee into a filter. Soon the kitchen was filled with the most wonderful aroma.

He turned to the two little boys. “Milk?”

“Yes, please.” Casey answered for both of them.

He located glasses and poured before setting them down. Both boys had drained them before he could return the milk to the refrigerator.

With a grin he filled them again. “Looks like you two little wranglers are thirsty.”

“Mama, he called us wranglers,” Casey laughed, while Ethan stared hard at the table.

“Well,” Griff said with a wink, “you're living on a ranch. Isn't that what you'll be when you grow up?”

“I want to be a pilot like my daddy,” Casey announced.

“What about you, Ethan?”

At Griff's question, the little boy kept his gaze averted.

“He'll be anything 'cept a doctor.” Casey turned to his brother. “Isn't that right, Efan?”

The boy nodded and, crossing his arms on the table, buried his face in them.

“Here we are.” Juliet set a big plate of sandwiches, cut into quarters, in the middle of the table.

Griff waited until both boys had chosen one before he reached over and helped himself. While he ate he remarked, “This is just the way my mom made these.”

Casey's eyes went wide. “You had a mom?”

Griff chuckled. “Everyone has a mom.”

The little boy looked at his mother, who took her place at the table beside Griff. “How come he has a mama and you don't?”

“Because my mother died when I was in third grade,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I guess I was luckier. My mom was around while I was growing up. She died this past year.” Hearing the ping of the coffeemaker, indicating it was ready, Griff pushed away from the table and filled two cups. “Cream or sugar?”

Juliet shook her head. “Black, please.”

He carried the two cups to the table before sitting. “How about your father?”

Juliet sighed. “He died my first year in college. That's when I dropped out and started working for a cosmetic firm in a department store.”

“And my daddy bought perfume, just so he could meet her.” Casey was beaming over a story he'd apparently heard often enough to repeat.

“I don't blame your daddy.” Griff helped himself to another sandwich.

“Did you buy perfume from the lady you married?”

Griff laughed out loud. “I would, if I was married. And I definitely would if she was as pretty as your mama.”

“You think Mama's pretty?”

Ethan glared at his little brother before staring down at the table again.

Griff decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. He turned to Juliet. “Where did you grow up?”

“Chicago.” The very word had her smiling.

“You miss it.”

She shrugged. “I haven't been back in years.”

“I guess with both of your folks gone, there'd be nothing to go back to.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that. There's still the pull of the big city.” She sat back and sipped her coffee.

“Any relatives still there?”

She shook her head. “There's just me and my boys.” She gave them each an affectionate smile.

“How do you like living on a ranch?”

She thought about it for several seconds before sighing. “I haven't really given it enough time to make a judgment. The last three years have been pretty chaotic. Buddy's accident, and all the therapy, and then relocating here after…” Her words trailed off.

Griff saw the way the two boys were listening to every word, and decided to keep the conversation light. “So I guess we're all in the same boat. You're new to ranching, and so am I.”

“Is your daddy a rancher?” Casey helped himself to another sandwich.

“He was.”

“Why didn't you learn from him?”

“I didn't grow up on his ranch. I just came here a few months ago, after he died.”

“You don't have a daddy, either?”

“That's right.” He sat back and sipped his coffee.

“But it's different for you. 'Cause you're big. Isn't that right, Mama?”

Juliet nodded. “Big people can take care of themselves.”

“We're just little.” Casey slurped his milk. “We still need help with stuff. Like buttons and zippers and pouring milk.”

“Especially pouring milk,” Juliet said with a gentle smile.

“But I'm getting better. I only spilled two times this morning.” He glanced at his older brother, who was scowling at him, and said quickly, “Well, maybe free times.”

“I think you'll get the hang of it,” Griff said with another wink. “Besides, with enough cows, you can always get a refill.”

That had the little boy giggling.

Juliet set a plate of strawberries and sliced melon in the middle of the table and the boys helped themselves.

When they'd eaten their fill, they pushed away from the table. “Can we go play with our trucks?”

Juliet nodded. “For a little while. When I've finished cleaning up here we'll head upstairs to get you both ready for your naps.”

Casey glanced at Griff. “Want to see our trucks?”

“I'd love to. But first I'll help your mom with the dishes.”

“There's no need…”

He waved aside her objection. “It'll take half the time if we both work. Besides, you fed me.” He popped another strawberry in his mouth before stacking the plates and carrying them to the kitchen counter. “After that excellent PB and J, it's the least I can do.”

She nodded. “All right.”

While the two little boys raced from the room, Juliet filled the sink with hot, sudsy water and began to wash. “There are towels in that drawer.”

He followed her direction and began to dry, afterward returning the dishes to their proper cupboards.

She raised a brow. “How did you know where to store them?”

“I saw you remove them before we ate.”

“You're pretty observant.”

He shrugged. “I had no choice. Besides the fact that my mother was a stern teacher, I was a marine. You pay attention. You adapt if you want to survive.”

“Good life lessons.” Juliet sighed. “I hope I can instill some of that in my boys.”

“Give them time. They're little.”

“Yeah. I'm trying to learn patience.”

Griff laughed. “I'd bet good money that every mother says that. But especially mothers of little boys.”

“They do try my patience.”

“You strike me as a patient woman.”

He was standing so close, she could feel the heat of his body. He had a way of staring at her so directly, it was unnerving. “You mean after that scene in the barn, when I practically attacked you?”

His smile was quick and easy. And sexy as hell. “Okay. We'll forget about that. It was a natural mistake. I was talking about the fact that you want to work with a bunch of wounded vets. I'd say that takes patience.”

Another sigh, before she moved a little away, hoping to catch her breath. This man made it hard to breathe. “More than you can imagine.” She drained the water. “Want to see their trucks?”

“Sure.” He followed her through the doorway and down a hallway to a big room. Like the kitchen, the floor and furnishings looked old and worn. But with sunlight streaming in the windows, and the two little boys kneeling on the floor and moving an array of toy trucks and farm implements around the chair legs, it had a cozy feeling to it.

“Look, Griff,” Casey called. “I'm hauling cattle.” He opened the back end of a cattle-hauling truck to reveal a dozen or more metal cows. “Mama said these belonged to my daddy.”

Griff examined one of the metal trucks. “And probably his daddy before him. These are really old.”

“And solid, thank heaven,” Juliet added. “They'd have to be, to survive several generations of little boys.”

“Want to play?” Casey asked.

Before Griff could respond, Juliet shook her head. “Maybe another time. Right now, you and Ethan are heading upstairs for a much-needed nap.”

“Aw, Mom.”

Even though Casey was rubbing his eyes, practically asleep on the floor, he made a weak protest before following his mother to the doorway. There he turned to Griff. “Will you stay 'til I wake up, so I can watch you fly away?”

Griff glanced at Juliet, standing behind her two sons. She gave a quick shake of her head.

He managed a smile. “Sorry, little wrangler. Not today. But maybe I'll fly over again another time and let you sit in the cockpit.”

“Oh boy. Tomorrow?”

Griff was about to say no, but when he saw the pleading look in the little boy's eyes, he didn't have the heart. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

At his words, Casey made a fist pump before racing up the stairs behind his mother and brother.

Halfway up, Juliet turned. “I'll be right back. Ethan and Casey, say good-bye.”

“Bye, Griff,” Casey called for both of them. Ethan merely paused and shot a quick look at Griff before hurrying away.

Alone in the old parlor, Griff picked up one of the metal toys, an ancient tractor, and turned it over and over in his hands. Still holding it, he crossed to the fireplace to study the framed photographs on the mantel. Judging by the hair and clothing, some of them dated back a hundred years or more. Several generations of Graysons, he imagined. His interest was caught by a wedding picture of a handsome, dark-haired groom in navy dress whites, and Juliet in a lacey white gown and veil. Despite the stiff, formal pose, there was a hint of laughter dancing in their eyes.

He lifted the picture from its resting place and turned toward the window for a closer look.

“Weren't we a pair?”

The voice from the doorway had him looking up in surprise before he started toward the mantel. “Sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“It's all right. I stare at it sometimes, late at night, just to remind myself that I was ever that young and innocent.” She walked over to take it from his hand. “That was when I was silly enough to believe in happily-ever-after.” She pointed to a second picture of a beaming couple. The man's arm was around the shoulder of a very young Juliet, holding Ethan with a look of such love, it seemed to fill the entire frame. “Buddy and I had just celebrated the fact that we were having another baby. Buddy was sure it would be a girl. I told him I was just as positive it was a boy. And then… ”

She returned the photograph to its place on the mantel.

“How did he die?”

She kept her back to him. “An engine malfunction on a routine training mission. He made certain that his crew was clear. When he realized that the plane was too close to a playground full of children, he opted to stay with it and do his best to minimize the damage on the ground.”

“So he died a hero.”

“He didn't die.” She turned. “Though he lost both legs and sustained severe burns over half his body, he survived. Barely. For another seven months.”

Griff knew, by the pain in her voice, in her eyes, what that survival had cost them both. He could only imagine the pain, the turmoil, and the feeling of hopelessness and despair as she watched the man she loved suffer and die a slow, agonizing death.

Though he knew his words were inadequate, he was quick to say, “I'm sorry.”

She lowered her head, avoiding his eyes. “I don't mean to be rude, but I really need to take advantage of their nap time to get some household chores done. Then I can take them with me while I tackle the outside chores.”

“I understand.” He followed her to the door. “I hope it's okay if I fly back tomorrow and let Casey sit in the cockpit.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I gave him my word.” And Griff knew from a lifetime of experience how much a promise to a fatherless little boy could mean. Whether it was made by a compassionate teacher or a comrade-in-arms, a promise was an unbroken bond.