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Synopsis
"Found love, lost treasure and ever-present danger. R.C. Ryan delivers it all with page-turning romance." -- Nora Roberts, New York Times bestselling author. A Copper Creek Cowboys Novel First love always burns hotter . . . Ash MacKenzie broke his share of hearts when he left Copper Creek all those years ago and struck out on his own. Tall, tough, and proud. That's how Brenna always remembered him, and from the looks of things, he hasn't changed much. Once, she thought he could save her-whisk her away from her rough childhood home and start fresh together. Now she knows better . . . Ash isn't planning to stick around town long. As soon as he uncovers the truth about his father's death and makes sure the family ranch is safe, he'll be back out on his own. And then he runs into Brenna Crane. It broke his heart to leave her once-a herd of stampeding horses couldn't make him do it again. But Brenna has made a new life for herself, one that doesn't include him. Now he just has to convince her to give their first love a second chance.
Release date: September 30, 2014
Publisher: Forever
Print pages: 400
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The Maverick of Copper Creek
R. C. Ryan
Prologue
MacKenzie Ranch
Copper Creek, Montana—2005
Nineteen year old Ash MacKenzie was so cold he could no longer feel his hands or feet. His clothes were frozen to his skin. He was soaked through from the spring blizzard that had sent him and the team of wranglers into the hills, hoping to save the herd trapped there. It was calving season, and every rancher knew that newborns dropped during such a storm had a diminished chance of surviving.
Brady Storm, foreman of the MacKenzie Ranch, dropped an arm around Ash’s shoulders as they made their way to the truck for the drive home.
“Your old man is going to be proud of you, Ash. Half the wranglers gave up from exhaustion or cold halfway through the night and had to head to their bunks. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
“Believe me, Brady,” the young man said between chattering teeth, “I thought about giving up hours ago. But I’ve watched Pop push his way through a lot of pain and misery over the years, and I just didn’t want to let him down.”
“No doubt about it.” Brady shook his head in admiration. “You’re Bear MacKenzie’s kid. Nobody but a MacKenzie could take that sort of beating and still be standing.”
High praise indeed. People in this part of Montana referred to Bear MacKenzie’s ranch as part of the Scottish Highlands, and Bear himself as a Highland lord, tough enough to command an army of warriors.
“What about you, Brady? You’re still here.”
The foreman grinned. “That’s different. Your old man pays me a lot of money to do this job. But you…” He shook his head again. “All I’m saying is, you’ve got what it takes.”
Ash beamed at such rare praise. Now if only his stern father would say the same. He’d tried everything he knew to get his father to notice and appreciate his efforts. By the time he was eight or nine, Ash had learned to tumble out of bed an hour before Bear got up in the morning, just to get a head start on his chores. He often stayed hours later than the wranglers, working in the barn, just to make his father proud. He took on the jobs none of the others wanted to deal with, in order to get his father’s attention. So far, all he’d received for his efforts was a litany of complaints about the things that still needed to be done.
He cranked up the heat in the truck and closed his eyes, exhausted beyond belief, but before he could fall asleep, they rounded a curve and caught sight of black smoke billowing in the dawn sky.
“What the…?” Brady swore and floored the gas pedal.
As they came to a screeching halt at the ranch, they leaped out of the truck to find one of the horse barns burned to the ground. Bear, Ash’s mom, Willow, and his younger brother, Whit, were standing in the frigid dawn, staring dazedly at the smoke and rubble. In a corral, frightened horses circled and whinnied, spooked by the oppressive smoke and flames.
On the porch, Maddock MacKenzie, Bear’s father, sat in the wheelchair he’d been confined to for the past few years, since a ranch accident had left his legs paralyzed. Nearby stood the few remaining wranglers who had stayed behind in the bunkhouse overnight.
Seeing his oldest son, Bear turned on Ash with a snarl of fury. “Where the hell have you been all night?”
“You know where I’ve been.” Startled by his father’s anger, Ash’s response was harsher than usual. “Up in the hills with the herd. When Brady spotted those storm clouds, we hightailed it up there to make sure any newborn calves weren’t caught in the blizzard.”
“And you left me without enough manpower to put out that fire.”
“How was I supposed to know the shed was going to burn, Pop? I—”
“Look at your mother’s hands. All charred and blistered because she had to lead dozens of horses through the fire to safety.”
“Are you all right, Mom?” Ash grabbed his mother’s hands. “I’m sorry—”
Bear shoved him backward with such force Ash stumbled and fell. “You leave me here with a woman and a little kid—”
“Little?” Ash picked himself up, eyes hot with fury. “Damn it, Pop, Whit’s fourteen—”
“Don’t you mouth off to me, boy.” Bear closed his hand into a fist which he stuck in his son’s face.
Brady stepped between them. “Bear, neither of us knew about the fire. We were too far away to spot any smoke. But you’d have been proud of Ash last night. He saved dozens of calves from freezing to death. Half the wranglers couldn’t take any more of that blinding blizzard, and had to retreat to the cabin. But Ash never stopped. He was still working this morning, even though he’s frozen clear through his clothes and boots. Look at him. He’s half dead with fatigue. You should be glad your son saved those calves.”
“I should be glad that I’ve got a dozen calves, while my barn burned? Is that what you’re saying, Brady?”
“I’m saying that Ash—”
“I can speak for myself.” Ash stepped around the foreman and stood toe to toe with his father, the famous MacKenzie temper in full fury. “All my life I’ve done everything I could to please you, Pop. But no matter what I did, you always picked it apart, looking for the flaws. I’ve worked harder than any wrangler on this spread. But you know what? I’m sick and tired of trying, and then getting put down by you. I’m sick and tired of butting heads with you, Pop. I’ll never be good enough for you. I’ll never live up to the mighty Highland warrior Bear MacKenzie. Well, guess what? I’m through trying. I’ve had enough.”
He turned away and stalked toward the ranch house.
Behind him, Bear MacKenzie shouted, “Don’t you walk away from me, boy. I’m not through yet.”
“Maybe you’re not. But I’m through with you. Through with trying to please you.” Ash climbed the steps of the porch.
His grandfather caught him by the wet, frozen sleeve. “Your pa doesn’t mean any of this, laddie. He picks at you because you’re the oldest, and he wants the best for you and your brother.”
“The best for me? If this is his best, Mad, I need to get as far away from him as I can before I become just like him.”
“You’re already like him, lad.” Maddock, who had always been called Mad by his family and friends, clung to the young man’s sleeve. The hint of Scottish burr always present in his speech thickened with emotion. “He just wants his lads to be able to handle every facet of ranching. If you’re going to take over this spread one day, you need to know how to do it all.”
“It’ll never be enough to please the powerful Bear MacKenzie. I’m done, Mad. Finished. I’m leaving.”
“Just like that? Where will you go, lad?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out along the way. What I know is this.” Ash snatched his arm free and plucked a parka from a hook just inside the back door. Tugging it on, he turned and headed for his battered pickup truck. Over his shoulder he shouted, “I’m done, Pop. You can find somebody else to be your whipping boy.”
“Ash.” Willow’s voice was filled with anguish. “Please don’t do this.”
At his mother’s plea, he paused and caught her hands in his. “I can’t stay. Don’t ask me to. I love you, and Pop, and Whit, and Mad, and this ranch.” His voice lowered with passion. “I love it all so much. But it’s like you always say about too many grizzly bears in the same cave. If two of them are grown males, that’s one too many. We both know it’s way past time for me to make my own way, and figure out my own life.”
“What about me?” Standing beside his mother and older brother, Whit’s lips quivered. To cover his unmanly tears, his voice was rough with fury. “What am I supposed to do without you?”
“I don’t know, Whit.” Ash clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, but the boy shook it off and stepped back out of reach.
“And Brenna?” Willow asked in nearly a whisper.
At the mention of Brenna Crane, Ash flinched as though he’d been whipped. The pain, at the thought of hurting the girl he loved more than his own life, was almost more than he could bear. “Tell her…” With a look of sorrow he realized there were no words. What could he ask his mother to say to a girl who’d lived a life of hardship from the time she’d been born, and refused to give up the hope that things would be better?
Wasn’t that one of the reasons he loved her so? Despite all that she’d been through, she had a heart and soul filled to overflowing with goodness. She was sunshine on a bleak day. Laughter that chased away tears. She lifted him up when his edgy relationship with his father got him down.
Most of all, Brenna had learned to trust him. To depend on him, even though she’d been let down so many times in her young life. He knew that she would see his leaving as a betrayal of that trust. But, he reasoned, if he truly loved her, he had no right to ask her to share his uncertain future. She’d already been through so much turmoil, he had no right to burden her with more. Brenna had a better chance here, among people who knew and loved her, than she’d have with him on his journey into uncertainty. Hell, he didn’t even know how he’d survive the next day, let alone a lifetime. What kind of man asked a woman to share that kind of misery? Brenna deserved only the best, and right now, he felt like the lowest man on the face of the earth. By cutting all ties swiftly, cleanly, he’d be doing her a favor and freeing her to find someone good, someone deserving of the tender love she was capable of sharing.
Someone good. Someone deserving of her.
Someone else?
It was too painful to contemplate. Since he’d first met Brenna, he’d pictured her in his life forever. He couldn’t imagine her with anyone else.
He would contact her, he promised himself. When he could prove to himself and to the world that he was worthy of her. When he had proven to himself that he could provide a way of life that she deserved.
Absorbing a sense of loss that had him sucking in a breath, Ash climbed into his truck, and with his family watching, stunned and silent, he drove away with nothing but the clothes on his back and less than a hundred dollars in his pocket.
He broke a lot of hearts that frigid March day, including his own.
Chapter One
Hawk’s Wing, Wyoming
Present Day
’Morning, Ash.” The fresh-faced banker looked like a high school junior, with wire-rimmed glasses and short-cropped hair. He offered a handshake before indicating the chair across from his desk.
“Jason.” Ash shook the young banker’s hand and sat, setting his wide-brimmed hat on the chair beside him.
Ash MacKenzie had thought about dressing up for this meeting but decided against it, settling instead for a quick shower and shave. He’d been up before dawn and had already completed a couple of hours of ranch chores. Right now he just wanted to get this nasty business behind him before returning home to face the rest of the day in one round after another of back-breaking work. Work that would all be in vain if he couldn’t persuade the bank to increase his loan so he could pay off his debtors, who were snapping at his heels.
“What can I do for you this morning, Ash?”
“I’m here to talk about extending my loan.”
The banker’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Extending the length of the payback?”
Ash gave a quick shake of his head. “I’d like to borrow more money and have it added to the back end of my original loan.”
“You already owe fifty thousand. Why would you want more?”
Ash dug out the documents and passed them across the desk. “My taxes are due, and I just put a new roof on the barn. There was a leak in the irrigation system, flooding the south pasture, and the company that installed it for the prior owner refused to admit that they were at fault. The lowest bid I could get for the repair came to more than thirty thousand.”
The young banker blew out a breath. “Wow, Ash. Looks like you got yourself a whole ton of troubles.”
Ash had learned at his father’s knee to never show fear. His tone was rock-steady. “I can handle them, Jason. I just need a quick infusion of cash, and a little time, and I’ll be operating on all cylinders again.”
The young banker looked him in the eye. “I’m not authorized to handle something like this. I’ll have to take it upstairs.”
Ash nodded, knowing that upstairs meant asking permission from Jason’s father, Jason Collier III. The Collier family owned the only bank in this tiny town, and they treated every dollar like their own.
“I’d be happy to go with you and present my case.”
“That’s not the way it’s done.” Jason pushed back from his desk and walked to the door. “I might be a while.”
“Take your time.” Ash leaned back and stretched out his long legs, crossing his feet at the ankles, watching the young man’s retreating back. Though he looked relaxed, it was only a façade. Inside, his muscles tensed as he thought about the importance of this request.
Since he’d left his family ranch all those years ago, his workload had doubled. But at least now, he was working to please nobody but himself. Though he missed his family with an ache around the heart that would never heal, he didn’t miss his father’s constantly finding fault with everything he attempted to do.
Mad might have believed that Bear just wanted the best for his sons, but to Ash’s way of thinking, it simply meant that he would never be able to please his implacable, rock-headed father, no matter how hard he worked. Now, at least, he was no longer busting his hide for someone else. If he chose to spend his life working like a dog, he had the satisfaction of doing it for himself.
Oh, he’d had years of working on other men’s ranches, while he saved every dollar and plotted and planned for his own future. But he had a good piece of land now, and a working ranch, and though his life was lonely without the comfort of family and friends, he was not only surviving but thriving.
He frowned. Not really thriving. More like just barely getting by. But at least he was doing it on his own terms. He just needed one more break, and he could be free of the dark memories of the past.
Ash’s musings were interrupted with the return of the young banker.
He made his way to his desk without looking at Ash. “I’m sorry. The bank just can’t take the risk of giving you any more money.”
Ash fought to keep his tone level. “I’ve made every payment on time. I never missed a single one. Besides, if I default, the bank holds my mortgage. The way I see it, you won’t be risking a thing.”
“We’re not in the business of owning ranch land.” Jason glanced at the documents before passing them back to Ash. “And from the looks of all this debt, you stand a very good chance of losing yours.”
“I’d stand a better chance of holding on if you’d extend my loan.”
The young man stood. “Sorry. I tried.”
“Mind if I talk to your father?”
“It was my father who said emphatically no.” Jason held the door, indicating an end to their meeting. “Unless you agree to ask your father to cosign the loan.”
And there it was, out in the open.
“You know how I feel about that.”
Jason nodded. “I know. I told my father you’ve already said you’d never ask your father to cosign.”
Without a word Ash left the bank and stalked to his truck. Once inside he turned off the radio and drove the entire distance in silence.
His father.
That was what it all came down to. Even here in Wyoming, it seemed, everyone knew Bear MacKenzie was good for the money. Hell, he could probably hand over a million dollars without even going to the bank. Petty cash for Bear MacKenzie. Chump change, he’d call it.
Ash swore. He’d rather lose the ranch and everything he’d worked for than ask his father for one red cent. It would be an admission of defeat. An admission that these past years had all been a mistake, and now he was ready to crawl home and become the good, docile son his father wanted.
His father. There was no pleasing Bear MacKenzie. Hadn’t he spent half his life trying? That part of his life was over.
Come hell or high water he’d make it on his own, or move on and start over yet again, with nothing but the clothes on his back.
MacKenzie Ranch
Bear MacKenzie stood on the banks of Copper Creek, his all-terrain-vehicle idling nearby. For the third time he glanced at the threatening storm clouds and swore loudly before walking over and turning off the ignition. The sudden silence was a shock to the system until his ears caught the lowing of cattle, the buzz of insects, the chorus of birdsong. At any other time he would have taken a moment to enjoy the serenity of his land. For as far as the eye could see, this was all his. His little slice of the Scottish Highlands, where his ancestors had ruled. His heaven on earth.
But for now, he was simply annoyed at this waste of his precious time.
He kicked at a stone, sending it spiraling into the creek. While he studied the ripples on the surface, he felt a sudden prickling sensation at the base of his skull, like cold fingers on his spine. Or eyes watching him.
Before he could turn, the sound of a gunshot broke the stillness. Liquid fire seared his veins. His legs failed him and he dropped to the ground. Blood formed a dark, sticky pool around him.
While cattle and birds and insects continued their songs, the life of one man was slowly seeping away.
Willow MacKenzie stopped her pacing when she spotted headlights through the rain-spattered window.
“Finally. Bear had better have a good excuse for being this late for supper.” She patted her father-in-law’s arm as she hurried past his wheelchair and through the mudroom to throw open the back door of the ranch house.
Instead of her husband, the man striding up the porch steps was Chief Ira Pettigrew, the tall, muscled head of the Copper Creek police force. A force that consisted of three men.
Ira’s great-grandfather, Ingram Pettigrew, had been a legendary hunter and trapper in Montana, and he had been a bridge between the Blackfoot tribe of Native Americans and the homesteaders who’d settled the wilderness. Keeping the peace had become a way of life for the men who followed, including Ira’s father, Inness, and now, Ira. The father of four, Ira had worked for the state police as a trained marksman before accepting the position of police chief in his hometown. Ira knew every square mile of land in his jurisdiction, and he zealously guarded the people who lived there.
Willow managed a smile, despite the tiny shiver of apprehension that threaded along her spine. “Ira. What brings you out here on a night like this?”
Instead of replying, he whipped his hat from his head and took a moment to hang it on a hook by the door, watching it drip a stream of water on the floor, before laying a hand on hers. “I’ve got some news, Willow.”
He shut the door and led her past the rows of cowboy hats, parkas, and sturdy boots, and into the kitchen. With a nod toward Maddock MacKenzie, he indicated the high-backed kitchen chair beside Mad’s wheelchair. “Sit down, please, Willow.”
She was about to protest, until she caught a glimpse of the tight, angry look on the police chief’s face. Woodenly she sat, stiff-backed, suddenly afraid.
The door was shoved open, and Whit MacKenzie and Brady Storm blew in, shaking rain from their wide-brimmed hats and hanging them on hooks before prying off their mud-caked boots and jackets.
When they spotted the police chief, both men paused.
“Hey, Ira.” Whit stepped into the kitchen ahead of Brady.
“Where’re you coming from so late?” Ira words were not so much a question as a sharp demand.
Whit frowned at the impertinence of it. “Checking the herd like always.”
“And you, Brady?”
The foreman nodded toward Whit. “With him.”
“Which pasture?”
Catching the note of tension in the chief’s voice, Whit bristled slightly. “North pasture, Ira. What’s this about?”
“It’s about my reason for this visit.” Chief Pettigrew turned his full attention on Willow.
At fifty-one she was still the tall, graceful model she’d been at Montana State, when she’d turned the head of every boy and man on campus, until Bear MacKenzie, ten years her senior and already a seasoned rancher, had claimed her for his own. From the moment he’d set eyes on her, Bear had been head-over-heels smitten, and determined to make her his wife. And who could blame him? Thirty years later she was reed-slender, with a dancer’s legs and muscles toned from years of ranch work. With that mane of fine blonde hair and green eyes, even in faded denims and a soiled cotton shirt, and without a lick of makeup, she was still the prettiest woman in town.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Willow, but Bear’s been shot.”
“Shot. My God.” She was up and darting past him when his hand whipped out, stopping her in midstride.
“Hold on, Willow.”
“No. I have to go to him. Where is he, Ira? Did you send for an ambulance?”
“No need.” He put his hands on her shoulders and very firmly pressed her back down to the chair. “Willow, honey, you have to listen to me now. There’s no easy way to tell you this. Bear’s dead.”
Time stopped. The utter silence in the room was shattering. No one spoke. No one even seemed to be breathing.
The four faces looking at the police chief revealed a range of intense emotions. Shock. Fury. Denial. And in Maddock MacKenzie’s eyes, a grief over the loss of his only son that was too deep for tears.
Except for Willow’s hiss of breath, nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They seemed frozen in disbelief.
“How?” This from Bear’s son, Whit.
“A bullet to the back.”
“Where?” Brady Storm’s hand clenched and unclenched, itching to lash out in retaliation.
“On the banks of Copper Creek. North ridge.”
“How long ago?” Maddock demanded.
“Couple of hours at least.” Ira didn’t bother to go into detail about the temperature of the body, or the tests that would be run in the medical examiner’s lab in Great Falls, or the amount of days or weeks that would be needed to determine the exact time of death. Copper Creek was too far away from the facilities afforded by big cities. Ira and his three deputies had learned to take care of their own needs. When they couldn’t, they knew how to wait. And wait. Small-town crimes in the middle of cattle country were low priority for big-city authorities.
“You said he was shot in the back.” Willow’s voice nearly broke. She swallowed and tried again. “Do you think Bear would have known the one who shot him if he’d been able to face him?”
“I won’t know anything until all the tests are concluded. My guess is that the shooter was a good distance away when the shot was fired. Probably relied on a long-range sight.”
Willow’s lips quivered and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “So this could have been done by anybody? An enemy? Even a friend?”
“Or someone who calls himself a friend.” Mad MacKenzie hadn’t just earned his nickname because it was an abbreviation of Maddock. In the blink of an eye, he morphed from grieving father to avenging angel.
Pounding his fist on the arm of his wheelchair in fury and frustration, he looked from Whit to Brady. “We’ll find the son of a bitch who did this, lads. And when we do…”
“You’ll do the right thing and let me handle it, Mad.” Ira’s voice was pure ice. “If any of you learn anything at all, you’re to call me immediately. Got that?”
He fixed his glare on Maddock, and the old man returned his look without a word.
Whit gave a barely perceptible nod of his head. “I hear you, Ira.”
Finally the chief turned to Brady, who mouthed the word yes grudgingly.
Satisfied, Ira turned his attention to the widow, closing a hand over hers. “Willow, I’m sorry that I can’t allow you to take possession of Bear’s body until the authorities have concluded their tests. I hope you understand.”
She blinked twice, the only si. . .
MacKenzie Ranch
Copper Creek, Montana—2005
Nineteen year old Ash MacKenzie was so cold he could no longer feel his hands or feet. His clothes were frozen to his skin. He was soaked through from the spring blizzard that had sent him and the team of wranglers into the hills, hoping to save the herd trapped there. It was calving season, and every rancher knew that newborns dropped during such a storm had a diminished chance of surviving.
Brady Storm, foreman of the MacKenzie Ranch, dropped an arm around Ash’s shoulders as they made their way to the truck for the drive home.
“Your old man is going to be proud of you, Ash. Half the wranglers gave up from exhaustion or cold halfway through the night and had to head to their bunks. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
“Believe me, Brady,” the young man said between chattering teeth, “I thought about giving up hours ago. But I’ve watched Pop push his way through a lot of pain and misery over the years, and I just didn’t want to let him down.”
“No doubt about it.” Brady shook his head in admiration. “You’re Bear MacKenzie’s kid. Nobody but a MacKenzie could take that sort of beating and still be standing.”
High praise indeed. People in this part of Montana referred to Bear MacKenzie’s ranch as part of the Scottish Highlands, and Bear himself as a Highland lord, tough enough to command an army of warriors.
“What about you, Brady? You’re still here.”
The foreman grinned. “That’s different. Your old man pays me a lot of money to do this job. But you…” He shook his head again. “All I’m saying is, you’ve got what it takes.”
Ash beamed at such rare praise. Now if only his stern father would say the same. He’d tried everything he knew to get his father to notice and appreciate his efforts. By the time he was eight or nine, Ash had learned to tumble out of bed an hour before Bear got up in the morning, just to get a head start on his chores. He often stayed hours later than the wranglers, working in the barn, just to make his father proud. He took on the jobs none of the others wanted to deal with, in order to get his father’s attention. So far, all he’d received for his efforts was a litany of complaints about the things that still needed to be done.
He cranked up the heat in the truck and closed his eyes, exhausted beyond belief, but before he could fall asleep, they rounded a curve and caught sight of black smoke billowing in the dawn sky.
“What the…?” Brady swore and floored the gas pedal.
As they came to a screeching halt at the ranch, they leaped out of the truck to find one of the horse barns burned to the ground. Bear, Ash’s mom, Willow, and his younger brother, Whit, were standing in the frigid dawn, staring dazedly at the smoke and rubble. In a corral, frightened horses circled and whinnied, spooked by the oppressive smoke and flames.
On the porch, Maddock MacKenzie, Bear’s father, sat in the wheelchair he’d been confined to for the past few years, since a ranch accident had left his legs paralyzed. Nearby stood the few remaining wranglers who had stayed behind in the bunkhouse overnight.
Seeing his oldest son, Bear turned on Ash with a snarl of fury. “Where the hell have you been all night?”
“You know where I’ve been.” Startled by his father’s anger, Ash’s response was harsher than usual. “Up in the hills with the herd. When Brady spotted those storm clouds, we hightailed it up there to make sure any newborn calves weren’t caught in the blizzard.”
“And you left me without enough manpower to put out that fire.”
“How was I supposed to know the shed was going to burn, Pop? I—”
“Look at your mother’s hands. All charred and blistered because she had to lead dozens of horses through the fire to safety.”
“Are you all right, Mom?” Ash grabbed his mother’s hands. “I’m sorry—”
Bear shoved him backward with such force Ash stumbled and fell. “You leave me here with a woman and a little kid—”
“Little?” Ash picked himself up, eyes hot with fury. “Damn it, Pop, Whit’s fourteen—”
“Don’t you mouth off to me, boy.” Bear closed his hand into a fist which he stuck in his son’s face.
Brady stepped between them. “Bear, neither of us knew about the fire. We were too far away to spot any smoke. But you’d have been proud of Ash last night. He saved dozens of calves from freezing to death. Half the wranglers couldn’t take any more of that blinding blizzard, and had to retreat to the cabin. But Ash never stopped. He was still working this morning, even though he’s frozen clear through his clothes and boots. Look at him. He’s half dead with fatigue. You should be glad your son saved those calves.”
“I should be glad that I’ve got a dozen calves, while my barn burned? Is that what you’re saying, Brady?”
“I’m saying that Ash—”
“I can speak for myself.” Ash stepped around the foreman and stood toe to toe with his father, the famous MacKenzie temper in full fury. “All my life I’ve done everything I could to please you, Pop. But no matter what I did, you always picked it apart, looking for the flaws. I’ve worked harder than any wrangler on this spread. But you know what? I’m sick and tired of trying, and then getting put down by you. I’m sick and tired of butting heads with you, Pop. I’ll never be good enough for you. I’ll never live up to the mighty Highland warrior Bear MacKenzie. Well, guess what? I’m through trying. I’ve had enough.”
He turned away and stalked toward the ranch house.
Behind him, Bear MacKenzie shouted, “Don’t you walk away from me, boy. I’m not through yet.”
“Maybe you’re not. But I’m through with you. Through with trying to please you.” Ash climbed the steps of the porch.
His grandfather caught him by the wet, frozen sleeve. “Your pa doesn’t mean any of this, laddie. He picks at you because you’re the oldest, and he wants the best for you and your brother.”
“The best for me? If this is his best, Mad, I need to get as far away from him as I can before I become just like him.”
“You’re already like him, lad.” Maddock, who had always been called Mad by his family and friends, clung to the young man’s sleeve. The hint of Scottish burr always present in his speech thickened with emotion. “He just wants his lads to be able to handle every facet of ranching. If you’re going to take over this spread one day, you need to know how to do it all.”
“It’ll never be enough to please the powerful Bear MacKenzie. I’m done, Mad. Finished. I’m leaving.”
“Just like that? Where will you go, lad?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out along the way. What I know is this.” Ash snatched his arm free and plucked a parka from a hook just inside the back door. Tugging it on, he turned and headed for his battered pickup truck. Over his shoulder he shouted, “I’m done, Pop. You can find somebody else to be your whipping boy.”
“Ash.” Willow’s voice was filled with anguish. “Please don’t do this.”
At his mother’s plea, he paused and caught her hands in his. “I can’t stay. Don’t ask me to. I love you, and Pop, and Whit, and Mad, and this ranch.” His voice lowered with passion. “I love it all so much. But it’s like you always say about too many grizzly bears in the same cave. If two of them are grown males, that’s one too many. We both know it’s way past time for me to make my own way, and figure out my own life.”
“What about me?” Standing beside his mother and older brother, Whit’s lips quivered. To cover his unmanly tears, his voice was rough with fury. “What am I supposed to do without you?”
“I don’t know, Whit.” Ash clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, but the boy shook it off and stepped back out of reach.
“And Brenna?” Willow asked in nearly a whisper.
At the mention of Brenna Crane, Ash flinched as though he’d been whipped. The pain, at the thought of hurting the girl he loved more than his own life, was almost more than he could bear. “Tell her…” With a look of sorrow he realized there were no words. What could he ask his mother to say to a girl who’d lived a life of hardship from the time she’d been born, and refused to give up the hope that things would be better?
Wasn’t that one of the reasons he loved her so? Despite all that she’d been through, she had a heart and soul filled to overflowing with goodness. She was sunshine on a bleak day. Laughter that chased away tears. She lifted him up when his edgy relationship with his father got him down.
Most of all, Brenna had learned to trust him. To depend on him, even though she’d been let down so many times in her young life. He knew that she would see his leaving as a betrayal of that trust. But, he reasoned, if he truly loved her, he had no right to ask her to share his uncertain future. She’d already been through so much turmoil, he had no right to burden her with more. Brenna had a better chance here, among people who knew and loved her, than she’d have with him on his journey into uncertainty. Hell, he didn’t even know how he’d survive the next day, let alone a lifetime. What kind of man asked a woman to share that kind of misery? Brenna deserved only the best, and right now, he felt like the lowest man on the face of the earth. By cutting all ties swiftly, cleanly, he’d be doing her a favor and freeing her to find someone good, someone deserving of the tender love she was capable of sharing.
Someone good. Someone deserving of her.
Someone else?
It was too painful to contemplate. Since he’d first met Brenna, he’d pictured her in his life forever. He couldn’t imagine her with anyone else.
He would contact her, he promised himself. When he could prove to himself and to the world that he was worthy of her. When he had proven to himself that he could provide a way of life that she deserved.
Absorbing a sense of loss that had him sucking in a breath, Ash climbed into his truck, and with his family watching, stunned and silent, he drove away with nothing but the clothes on his back and less than a hundred dollars in his pocket.
He broke a lot of hearts that frigid March day, including his own.
Chapter One
Hawk’s Wing, Wyoming
Present Day
’Morning, Ash.” The fresh-faced banker looked like a high school junior, with wire-rimmed glasses and short-cropped hair. He offered a handshake before indicating the chair across from his desk.
“Jason.” Ash shook the young banker’s hand and sat, setting his wide-brimmed hat on the chair beside him.
Ash MacKenzie had thought about dressing up for this meeting but decided against it, settling instead for a quick shower and shave. He’d been up before dawn and had already completed a couple of hours of ranch chores. Right now he just wanted to get this nasty business behind him before returning home to face the rest of the day in one round after another of back-breaking work. Work that would all be in vain if he couldn’t persuade the bank to increase his loan so he could pay off his debtors, who were snapping at his heels.
“What can I do for you this morning, Ash?”
“I’m here to talk about extending my loan.”
The banker’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Extending the length of the payback?”
Ash gave a quick shake of his head. “I’d like to borrow more money and have it added to the back end of my original loan.”
“You already owe fifty thousand. Why would you want more?”
Ash dug out the documents and passed them across the desk. “My taxes are due, and I just put a new roof on the barn. There was a leak in the irrigation system, flooding the south pasture, and the company that installed it for the prior owner refused to admit that they were at fault. The lowest bid I could get for the repair came to more than thirty thousand.”
The young banker blew out a breath. “Wow, Ash. Looks like you got yourself a whole ton of troubles.”
Ash had learned at his father’s knee to never show fear. His tone was rock-steady. “I can handle them, Jason. I just need a quick infusion of cash, and a little time, and I’ll be operating on all cylinders again.”
The young banker looked him in the eye. “I’m not authorized to handle something like this. I’ll have to take it upstairs.”
Ash nodded, knowing that upstairs meant asking permission from Jason’s father, Jason Collier III. The Collier family owned the only bank in this tiny town, and they treated every dollar like their own.
“I’d be happy to go with you and present my case.”
“That’s not the way it’s done.” Jason pushed back from his desk and walked to the door. “I might be a while.”
“Take your time.” Ash leaned back and stretched out his long legs, crossing his feet at the ankles, watching the young man’s retreating back. Though he looked relaxed, it was only a façade. Inside, his muscles tensed as he thought about the importance of this request.
Since he’d left his family ranch all those years ago, his workload had doubled. But at least now, he was working to please nobody but himself. Though he missed his family with an ache around the heart that would never heal, he didn’t miss his father’s constantly finding fault with everything he attempted to do.
Mad might have believed that Bear just wanted the best for his sons, but to Ash’s way of thinking, it simply meant that he would never be able to please his implacable, rock-headed father, no matter how hard he worked. Now, at least, he was no longer busting his hide for someone else. If he chose to spend his life working like a dog, he had the satisfaction of doing it for himself.
Oh, he’d had years of working on other men’s ranches, while he saved every dollar and plotted and planned for his own future. But he had a good piece of land now, and a working ranch, and though his life was lonely without the comfort of family and friends, he was not only surviving but thriving.
He frowned. Not really thriving. More like just barely getting by. But at least he was doing it on his own terms. He just needed one more break, and he could be free of the dark memories of the past.
Ash’s musings were interrupted with the return of the young banker.
He made his way to his desk without looking at Ash. “I’m sorry. The bank just can’t take the risk of giving you any more money.”
Ash fought to keep his tone level. “I’ve made every payment on time. I never missed a single one. Besides, if I default, the bank holds my mortgage. The way I see it, you won’t be risking a thing.”
“We’re not in the business of owning ranch land.” Jason glanced at the documents before passing them back to Ash. “And from the looks of all this debt, you stand a very good chance of losing yours.”
“I’d stand a better chance of holding on if you’d extend my loan.”
The young man stood. “Sorry. I tried.”
“Mind if I talk to your father?”
“It was my father who said emphatically no.” Jason held the door, indicating an end to their meeting. “Unless you agree to ask your father to cosign the loan.”
And there it was, out in the open.
“You know how I feel about that.”
Jason nodded. “I know. I told my father you’ve already said you’d never ask your father to cosign.”
Without a word Ash left the bank and stalked to his truck. Once inside he turned off the radio and drove the entire distance in silence.
His father.
That was what it all came down to. Even here in Wyoming, it seemed, everyone knew Bear MacKenzie was good for the money. Hell, he could probably hand over a million dollars without even going to the bank. Petty cash for Bear MacKenzie. Chump change, he’d call it.
Ash swore. He’d rather lose the ranch and everything he’d worked for than ask his father for one red cent. It would be an admission of defeat. An admission that these past years had all been a mistake, and now he was ready to crawl home and become the good, docile son his father wanted.
His father. There was no pleasing Bear MacKenzie. Hadn’t he spent half his life trying? That part of his life was over.
Come hell or high water he’d make it on his own, or move on and start over yet again, with nothing but the clothes on his back.
MacKenzie Ranch
Bear MacKenzie stood on the banks of Copper Creek, his all-terrain-vehicle idling nearby. For the third time he glanced at the threatening storm clouds and swore loudly before walking over and turning off the ignition. The sudden silence was a shock to the system until his ears caught the lowing of cattle, the buzz of insects, the chorus of birdsong. At any other time he would have taken a moment to enjoy the serenity of his land. For as far as the eye could see, this was all his. His little slice of the Scottish Highlands, where his ancestors had ruled. His heaven on earth.
But for now, he was simply annoyed at this waste of his precious time.
He kicked at a stone, sending it spiraling into the creek. While he studied the ripples on the surface, he felt a sudden prickling sensation at the base of his skull, like cold fingers on his spine. Or eyes watching him.
Before he could turn, the sound of a gunshot broke the stillness. Liquid fire seared his veins. His legs failed him and he dropped to the ground. Blood formed a dark, sticky pool around him.
While cattle and birds and insects continued their songs, the life of one man was slowly seeping away.
Willow MacKenzie stopped her pacing when she spotted headlights through the rain-spattered window.
“Finally. Bear had better have a good excuse for being this late for supper.” She patted her father-in-law’s arm as she hurried past his wheelchair and through the mudroom to throw open the back door of the ranch house.
Instead of her husband, the man striding up the porch steps was Chief Ira Pettigrew, the tall, muscled head of the Copper Creek police force. A force that consisted of three men.
Ira’s great-grandfather, Ingram Pettigrew, had been a legendary hunter and trapper in Montana, and he had been a bridge between the Blackfoot tribe of Native Americans and the homesteaders who’d settled the wilderness. Keeping the peace had become a way of life for the men who followed, including Ira’s father, Inness, and now, Ira. The father of four, Ira had worked for the state police as a trained marksman before accepting the position of police chief in his hometown. Ira knew every square mile of land in his jurisdiction, and he zealously guarded the people who lived there.
Willow managed a smile, despite the tiny shiver of apprehension that threaded along her spine. “Ira. What brings you out here on a night like this?”
Instead of replying, he whipped his hat from his head and took a moment to hang it on a hook by the door, watching it drip a stream of water on the floor, before laying a hand on hers. “I’ve got some news, Willow.”
He shut the door and led her past the rows of cowboy hats, parkas, and sturdy boots, and into the kitchen. With a nod toward Maddock MacKenzie, he indicated the high-backed kitchen chair beside Mad’s wheelchair. “Sit down, please, Willow.”
She was about to protest, until she caught a glimpse of the tight, angry look on the police chief’s face. Woodenly she sat, stiff-backed, suddenly afraid.
The door was shoved open, and Whit MacKenzie and Brady Storm blew in, shaking rain from their wide-brimmed hats and hanging them on hooks before prying off their mud-caked boots and jackets.
When they spotted the police chief, both men paused.
“Hey, Ira.” Whit stepped into the kitchen ahead of Brady.
“Where’re you coming from so late?” Ira words were not so much a question as a sharp demand.
Whit frowned at the impertinence of it. “Checking the herd like always.”
“And you, Brady?”
The foreman nodded toward Whit. “With him.”
“Which pasture?”
Catching the note of tension in the chief’s voice, Whit bristled slightly. “North pasture, Ira. What’s this about?”
“It’s about my reason for this visit.” Chief Pettigrew turned his full attention on Willow.
At fifty-one she was still the tall, graceful model she’d been at Montana State, when she’d turned the head of every boy and man on campus, until Bear MacKenzie, ten years her senior and already a seasoned rancher, had claimed her for his own. From the moment he’d set eyes on her, Bear had been head-over-heels smitten, and determined to make her his wife. And who could blame him? Thirty years later she was reed-slender, with a dancer’s legs and muscles toned from years of ranch work. With that mane of fine blonde hair and green eyes, even in faded denims and a soiled cotton shirt, and without a lick of makeup, she was still the prettiest woman in town.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Willow, but Bear’s been shot.”
“Shot. My God.” She was up and darting past him when his hand whipped out, stopping her in midstride.
“Hold on, Willow.”
“No. I have to go to him. Where is he, Ira? Did you send for an ambulance?”
“No need.” He put his hands on her shoulders and very firmly pressed her back down to the chair. “Willow, honey, you have to listen to me now. There’s no easy way to tell you this. Bear’s dead.”
Time stopped. The utter silence in the room was shattering. No one spoke. No one even seemed to be breathing.
The four faces looking at the police chief revealed a range of intense emotions. Shock. Fury. Denial. And in Maddock MacKenzie’s eyes, a grief over the loss of his only son that was too deep for tears.
Except for Willow’s hiss of breath, nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They seemed frozen in disbelief.
“How?” This from Bear’s son, Whit.
“A bullet to the back.”
“Where?” Brady Storm’s hand clenched and unclenched, itching to lash out in retaliation.
“On the banks of Copper Creek. North ridge.”
“How long ago?” Maddock demanded.
“Couple of hours at least.” Ira didn’t bother to go into detail about the temperature of the body, or the tests that would be run in the medical examiner’s lab in Great Falls, or the amount of days or weeks that would be needed to determine the exact time of death. Copper Creek was too far away from the facilities afforded by big cities. Ira and his three deputies had learned to take care of their own needs. When they couldn’t, they knew how to wait. And wait. Small-town crimes in the middle of cattle country were low priority for big-city authorities.
“You said he was shot in the back.” Willow’s voice nearly broke. She swallowed and tried again. “Do you think Bear would have known the one who shot him if he’d been able to face him?”
“I won’t know anything until all the tests are concluded. My guess is that the shooter was a good distance away when the shot was fired. Probably relied on a long-range sight.”
Willow’s lips quivered and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “So this could have been done by anybody? An enemy? Even a friend?”
“Or someone who calls himself a friend.” Mad MacKenzie hadn’t just earned his nickname because it was an abbreviation of Maddock. In the blink of an eye, he morphed from grieving father to avenging angel.
Pounding his fist on the arm of his wheelchair in fury and frustration, he looked from Whit to Brady. “We’ll find the son of a bitch who did this, lads. And when we do…”
“You’ll do the right thing and let me handle it, Mad.” Ira’s voice was pure ice. “If any of you learn anything at all, you’re to call me immediately. Got that?”
He fixed his glare on Maddock, and the old man returned his look without a word.
Whit gave a barely perceptible nod of his head. “I hear you, Ira.”
Finally the chief turned to Brady, who mouthed the word yes grudgingly.
Satisfied, Ira turned his attention to the widow, closing a hand over hers. “Willow, I’m sorry that I can’t allow you to take possession of Bear’s body until the authorities have concluded their tests. I hope you understand.”
She blinked twice, the only si. . .
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The Maverick of Copper Creek
R. C. Ryan
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