The Maverick of Copper Creek (5 page)

He was surprised to see Griff holding an envelope. “Hey. Look at you. You got some mail.”

“Yeah.” Griff studied the letterhead on the legal-size envelope before slitting it open.

He read through the official letter once, then read it again before carefully folding it and placing it back in the envelope.

He stood and tucked it into his breast pocket before saying casually, “I guess I'll be taking that discharge after all.”

As he started away, Jimmy called, “You win the lottery?”

Griff paused and looked back. His eyes were dark and fathomless. Whatever he was feeling, it had been carefully banked.

“Something like that.”

 

Copper Creek, Montana

 

When Whit MacKenzie volunteered to babysit the herd on the western ridge for the night, nobody gave it much thought. Whit was known by his family and by the wranglers of the MacKenzie Ranch as a loner. He was a cowboy through and through. Whit ate, slept, and dreamed about ways to make his father's ranch bigger and more successful than any other in Montana. And because of his father's constant criticism, he'd learned early in life to put as much distance as possible between himself and the man to whom he would never measure up.

The odd thing was, even though Whit had inherited the same hair-trigger temper that plagued all the MacKenzies, he'd also been blessed with a zany sense of humor. In fact, his friends often referred to him as “Whit the wit” in the MacKenzie family.

Whit often spent weeks, even months, up in the hills, without ever feeling the need for companionship. The wranglers knew him to be tough, independent, and a free spirit. He carried a stash of books in his saddlebags, and would often curl up on a cot in the bunkhouse and read while the wranglers were passing the nights playing poker. They loved having Whit along, because they all knew that he would willingly take on the late-night hours keeping watch over the herd so that he could be alone with his thoughts.

This night, as he and his horse patrolled the perimeter of the camp, he could hear the faint bursts of laughter or swearing from the bunkhouse.

His thoughts turned to all the crazy events of the past week. His father dead. Murdered. It didn't seem real. He had the feeling that he'd ride back home in a few days and find his father seated at the table, talking and laughing with his mother and Mad, and explaining that it had all been a misunderstanding.

Then there was the fact that Ash had been contacted, and had sent word that he would be home as soon as he could make arrangements for someone to tend his ranch and herds in Wyoming. Though Whit still resented the fact that his big brother had abandoned him all those years ago, he couldn't deny that he was eager to see him again. His heart beat faster just thinking about their reunion.

And then there was the bastard. Whit liked thinking about the stranger that way. A bastard. A sneaky thief in the night, hoping to cash in on the accident of his birth.

Mason McMillan had already received word that Griff Warren was planning on paying a call on the family as soon as his discharge from the Corps was finalized.

Well, Whit had news for Griff Warren. He was free to visit and pay his respects, but after that, he'd better be prepared to head back to wherever he came from.

Whit's hand fisted the reins.

Griff Warren would learn soon enough that there was no room on the MacKenzie Ranch for someone pretending to be one of them.

A
s his truck ate up the miles, Ash MacKenzie took note of the changes in the landscape around the town of Copper Creek since he'd left. More of the once-desolate land had been claimed by small ranches. Cattle and horses shared pastures. Trucks and campers were parked beside freshly painted barns.

The town itself hadn't changed much, he thought as he rolled along Main Street. Green's Grocery looked the same, as did Reels, the small movie theater that showed movies so old they were currently playing on TV. Most folks weren't lured by the movie, but rather for the nostalgia of an old-time theater. As for the younger set, it still afforded a chance to make out in the dark. Wylie's Saloon looked just as honky-tonk as ever, and the row of little shops and stores looked the same, except for the names. It was a dusty little town, with a main street that led to a jail, a courthouse, a medical clinic, and the Copper Creek Church, with its tall spire gleaming in the late morning sunlight. There were people out walking, talking, shopping, and crossing the street, waving to neighbors.

There was nothing about Copper Creek to set it apart from every other tired little town in the West.

Yet, he'd missed it. All of it. With an ache that caught him by surprise.

If anyone had told him nine years ago that he would miss all this, he'd have called them crazy. But there it was. Despite the sad reason for his return, he was glad to be here, back where it had all begun.

Of course, it helped that he was returning without feeling like too much of a failure. He'd sold off enough of his herd, plus some equipment, to Fred Covington to pay Fred back for the taxes and the repair of the irrigation system. Fred had agreed to care for the rest of his livestock until he returned.

He would deal with the next crisis tomorrow.

Today, he would deal with the biggest loss of his life.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the blurred image of a fuzzy yellow puppy darting into the street. He had to stand on his brakes to avoid hitting the poor thing.

He was out of his truck in a flash and grabbing the wriggling little animal before it could get hit by the truck traveling in the opposite direction.

“Hey, little guy.” Kneeling, Ash was rewarded by a face-licking before a female swooped down on them and dropped to her knees in the middle of the street.

She was close to tears. “Oh, Sammy. I was sure you'd been killed.”

At the sound of that familiar voice, Ash sucked in a breath. It wasn't possible, and yet…

He turned and caught sight of her face. A face he'd carried in his heart all these years.

“Brenna.” The word came out in a whoosh of air.

Her eyes rounded. “Ash?”

For a moment both were rendered speechless.

Brenna swallowed, before saying in a rush, “I shouldn't be surprised that you're home. I heard about your father.” She lay a hand on his in a gesture of tenderness that was so typical of the girl he'd known in his youth. “I'm so sorry, Ash. It must have been a horrible shock for you.”

“Yeah. Thank you.” He was surprised he could get a word out. His throat had turned to dust, and he was so startled that all he could do was stare. With her hand on his there was a quick rush of heat, and then a slow trickle of ice along his spine.

Brenna Crane had always had that effect on him. She only needed to look at him with those big blue eyes, and display those dimples in a dazzling smile, and his brain turned to mush.

She'd always been a cute, pert tomboy in braces and threadbare denims. Now she was movie-star gorgeous, her long blonde hair straight and shiny, her jeans molding long, long legs, and no braces on those white, even teeth. There was the faintest scent of spring flowers that had him wanting to lean closer and breathe her in.

He felt an even stronger need to just drag her close and kiss her. There had been a time when it all would have been so easy. But that was in the past. And now, thanks to the years of silence and avoidance that stretched between them, all he could do was stare in awkward silence. To cover his reaction he handed over the wiggling puppy, and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. If this had been in the past, she would have teased him about doing that deliberately. In the past, he'd have grinned like a fool and said she knew him too well. But now, all that had once been easy and familiar between them was strained and awkward.

He pulled back has hand as though burned and stood watching as she cuddled the little guy.

The sight of it had his insides tangling as memories of her hands gliding over him had his throat going dry as dust. When the puppy began happily licking her face, he had to close his hand into a fist at his side to keep from reaching out to her.

He managed a smile. “I can't believe you're the first one I've seen since returning…”

A truck seemed to come out of nowhere, barreling around the corner and heading straight for them. Ash reacted instinctively, grabbing Brenna in a bear hug and drawing her to one side. The truck narrowly missed them, so close they could feel the rush of air as it rocketed by them.

“Damned fool.” For a moment Ash remained protectively on top of her, stunned by what had just transpired. And even more stunned by the press of her body beneath his.

When the vehicle roared off, he looked down into her face, seeing her eyes wide with shock. Her mouth was mere inches from his, her breath whispering over his cheek, and he wanted, more than anything, to taste her. To cover her lips with his and kiss her until they were both breathless.

“Ash.” At the sound of his name, he blinked and struggled up before helping Brenna to her feet. She was still holding the wriggling pup, while Ash, reluctant to break this tenuous connection, continued holding tightly to her as if to lend support.

“Well, that will teach us to hold a reunion in the middle of the street.” Her voice was soft and a little too breathy.

“Still, he had to see us here. He didn't even bother to stop and make sure we were all right.”

Brenna looked down at his hand, still holding tightly to her.

He was forced to release his hold on her. That was when he caught the glint of sunlight reflecting off the diamond on the ring finger of her left hand.

His mind went numb. For the longest time, his heart forgot to beat.

On the long drive here he'd tried to prepare himself for any number of changes. He'd even tried to picture Brenna married and with children. But the truth was, it had been an impossible image. The closer he'd come to town, the more he'd begun to allow himself to hope that she would be the same Brenna he'd left all those years ago. Sweet and generous and somehow willing to forgive him and even wait for him.

Though he'd tried to prepare himself for the worst, now that he saw that ring winking in the sunlight, mocking him, he couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. He felt his jaw clench until his teeth ached.

Seeing the direction of his gaze she flushed. “I guess you wouldn't have heard. I'm…getting married.”

“Married. Well. Con…gratulations.” The word stuck in his throat. “Who's the lucky guy?”

She nodded toward the man in suit and tie just exiting Green's Grocery with a bottle of water tipped up to his mouth.

Ash absorbed a wave of absolute fury. He hated this stranger on sight.

Adjusting his sunglasses, the man smiled at Brenna and strolled into the street. “You hitching a ride with strangers now, Bren?”

“Sammy got loose and ran before I could stop him. I'm grateful he wasn't run over. In fact, we were all nearly run over by some crazy driver who didn't even slow down. It was a close call.”

“I thought I heard the screech of tires. I guess that's what happens when you stand in the middle of the street,” the man said drily.

“Chris, this is Ash MacKenzie. Ash, my fiancé, Chris Revel.”

“Revel.” Ash studied the man through narrowed eyes.

“MacKenzie. Of course. I heard about your father. I guess everyone in Montana has, by now.” He offered a handshake. “I'm really sorry.”

“Thanks.” Noting the suit and tie, Ash couldn't help saying, “I guess it's a safe bet that you're not a local rancher.”

“I work for the government. My temporary assignment has stretched out into a six-month stint.” He shot an admiring look at Brenna. “And for that I'm grateful.”

Ash fought to ignore the jealousy that pulsed through him. It was an emotion alien to him. But though he knew he had no right to envy this stranger, he couldn't deny what he was feeling. It was raw and deep and completely irrational, and it had him by the throat as if it were a monster.

“What is it you do for the government?”

“Collect data for the Farm Bureau.”

It was on the tip of Ash's tongue to call him a paper pusher, or something equally denigrating, until he managed to push aside his irrational anger and return to civility.

Hearing the honking of a horn, he looked over. “Unless we get out of the street, we may not get a second chance.” He turned to Brenna. “It was great seeing you.”

“You too, Ash.”

As Ash climbed into his truck, Chris Revel put a proprietary arm around Brenna's shoulders and guided her back to the sidewalk.

Ash put the truck in gear and watched in his sideview mirror as the man bent to press a kiss to Brenna's cheek before taking the puppy from her arms. Once the leash was attached, the couple continued walking with the puppy following at their feet.

They were looking into each other's eyes and smiling.

Ash felt a knife enter his heart.

And then they were out of sight.

He leaned an arm out the window, trying to focus on the reason for his return to town. But it was impossible to concentrate on anything except Brenna Crane.

His first love. His only love, if truth be told. Even though he'd left her without a word of good-bye, he'd never stopped thinking about her. And somehow, he'd always entertained the idea of coming back to find her still in love with him, and still waiting.

Another dream shattered. With his record, he thought, he ought to be good at dealing with broken dreams by now. But this one hurt so much more than the others. Hurt enough to have him mentally cursing the pain, and cursing himself for his stupidity.

He knew one thing. He'd heard from a friend passing through Wyoming years ago that Brenna had been deeply wounded when he'd left town without so much as a word to her. For a girl like Brenna, it had to have been the final straw in a life that had been one shattering disappointment after another. But though he'd wanted to write her, or call, he'd convinced himself that he had no right. Not while he'd been struggling to figure out his own future. What kind of man would ask a woman as special as Brenna to wait or, worse, to join him in what appeared to be a succession of odd jobs and no roots?

Guilt had been Ash's constant companion all these years. He was still plagued by guilt.

And now, it seemed, he needn't have worried. Brenna had finally moved on with her life.

Ash reminded himself that after the way he'd treated her, she had every right to carve out a bright future for herself. And he had no right to get in the way. Whatever feelings he had for her would have to be buried as deeply, as completely, as the feelings he had for his father.

In these past years, the loss of everyone who mattered had left him feeling adrift. The loneliness had been a physical ache around his heart that had never healed. But he'd learned that it was possible to live with a permanently broken heart.

For now, he would concentrate on repairing the rift he'd caused in his family, and easing his mother through the pain of her loss. He'd been the cause of so much pain, not only for Willow, but also for Whit, the kid brother who had been his constant shadow.

He hoped they'd be able to find their way back to what they'd once had, before all the anger and harsh words had broken them completely.

And then he would figure out what he was going to do with his life going forward, now that all the old dreams were gone forever.

Chris Revel led Brenna inside the temporary cubicle he rented behind the medical clinic before turning to her. “Coffee?” The single word was abrupt.

She managed a smile. “I thought we were going to lunch.”

He turned his back on her. “That's what I'd planned, but I got a call from Helena. I've got to get them a mountain of data before their monthly meeting tomorrow.”

“How long will it take to finish your work?”

He filled two cups from the coffeemaker on a corner cabinet and handed one to her. “Hours, if I get to it right away. Half the night, if I don't get my hide in gear. I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our dinner plans, too. I hope you haven't already shopped for those steaks.”

She sighed, struggling for patience, since his own seemed to be on a short leash. “That's all right. They'll keep. I guess working for the government is just like running a ranch. You dance to the whims of the bureaucrats while ranchers dance to the whims of Mother Nature.”

“Yeah. But frankly, I'll take steady employment and a monthly paycheck over the whims of nature any day. Like I told you, I grew up on a hardscrabble ranch in Oklahoma. The day I left for the university, I vowed to never shovel manure again. Unlike,” he added with a note of sarcasm, “the cowboy we just left back there in the street.”

Ignoring his coffee, he opened a cabinet and began collecting folders and setting them on his desk. His movements matched his terse words. After an extended silence, he turned to her, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. “So that was Ash MacKenzie.”

At her arched brow he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Small-town people like to gossip.”

“I should have guessed.” Brenna sighed with resignation. “What would you like to know?”