by R. C. Ryan
She recalled that when she was a girl, the MacKenzies had always been the family she’d wished she had. Whenever her father got drunk and mean, she would close her eyes and pretend that she was in a room somewhere in the MacKenzie house, warm, fed, and feeling safe.
Wasn’t that exactly what they’d done for her today? They’d taken charge of the fire, her herd, and her ranch. And they’d done it all with such good humor, they’d made it feel like just another day on the range.
And that was exactly what she’d always most loved about them. From the first time she’d met them, they’d welcomed her into their home and hearts, and made her feel that it was the most natural thing in the world to make her a part of their wonderful family.
It was why she loved them so.
It was why, the minute Ash returned to Copper Creek, she’d begun to think she’d made a terrible mistake in accepting Chris’s proposal of marriage. How could she give her heart to one man, when she’d already lost it completely to the entire MacKenzie family all those years ago?
Chapter Twenty-two
With a satisfying meal under their belts, the crew returned to their task with renewed energy.
Once the planks were joined, Griff handled the intricacies of mounting the hardware to both the barn and the doors so that the two sides would open smoothly on a well-oiled track.
While he worked on the finishing touches, he sent the crew scrambling over the interior and exterior of the barn and outbuildings, looking for needed repairs. The missing rungs of the ladder leading to the hayloft were repaired, as were the chinks in the walls that needed to be filled. The tools hanging along the wall were examined and repaired, and harnesses were mended.
The tractor, which had been tested and found to be in good working order, was now parked in one corner of the barn.
By the time Brenna had finished mucking the last stall, the doors were ready to be hung. She stood back, watching as the crew strained under the task of lifting each enormous door onto the track. She held her breath while Griff tested them, not once, but twice, before giving his nod of approval.
Now her barn boasted a pair of doors that slid open on tracks, and could be pulled closed by the simple tug of a handle.
Griff pointed to the large brace hanging from a leather strap. “Throw this brace whenever you see a storm brewing. It’s just a good backup to use to secure the doors in rough weather. And then, there’s this.” He handed her a padlock and key.
Brenna was beaming. “This is just beautiful. Thank you, Griff.” She gave him a warm hug before turning to the crew. “My thanks to all of you.” She caught Vern’s hand and pointed to the interior of the barn. “And just look at all the other things they managed to do today. New rungs on the ladder. Handles on some of the tools. The tractor up and running like new.”
The old man was grinning from ear to ear before shaking Griff’s hand. “We’re beholden to you, son.” He turned to include everyone. “We’re beholden to all of you. This has been one fine day.”
The men were smiling and slapping each other on the back as they picked up their tools and loaded them into the back of MacKenzie trucks.
Whit tousled Ash’s hair. “How about you, bro? You coming home with us, or are you still watching out for the big bad wolf?” Though his words were spoken with a grin, both men understood the seriousness of Brenna’s situation.
Ash smacked his shoulder. “I think I’ll just hang here and watch for villains.”
“My money’s on you, bro.” Whit punched his arm before climbing into a truck.
Ash turned to Griff. “That’s some fine workmanship.”
“Thanks.” Griff cast a final glance at the barn door before turning toward the truck.
“And Griff?”
At Ash’s words he paused. “Yeah?”
“Thanks, bro.”
For a moment Griff was speechless. Just as quickly he recovered and managed a grin. “You’re welcome, bro.”
As he settled into the truck beside Whit, he opened the window and leaned an arm out.
They started along the gravel drive, and Whit cast a sideways glance at the man in the passenger seat.
Maybe he was making more of this than he should, but he figured they’d built more than a barn door today.
This wasn’t just about being related by blood. That had been an accident of birth. Today they’d built something much better. They’d built a bond. A tenuous one, but a bond all the same. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t resent this man as much as he’d expected to.
In fact, right now he really liked Griff Warren. If not as a brother, at least as a friend. And it would appear that the same could be said for Ash. There’d been genuine warmth in his tone when he’d called Griff Warren “bro.”
Brenna stripped off her grubby work clothes and stepped into the shower. As she worked shampoo into her hair, she felt strong hands grip her shoulders.
“Ash.” She barely managed to speak his name before he stepped under the spray and his mouth began trailing delicious kisses across the back of her neck.
Against her ear he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about this for most of the day. Just this. It’s what kept me working in the hot sun.”
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the warm spray play over her upturned face. “And here I thought you were just a workaholic.”
“I think I’m turning into a loveaholic.” He ran nibbling kisses over her face while his hands moved slowly up from her hips to cup her breasts. “And right now, I’m hoping to satisfy this terrible craving.”
She arched her neck to give him easier access. “How terrible is that craving?”
He shot her a sexy grin. “So powerful, I think I tore my shirt to shreds while I took the stairs two at a time.”
“In a hurry, cowboy?”
“I was.” He dipped his head to take what she offered. “But now, I think I’ll just take my sweet time.”
He kissed her long and slow and deep before dropping to his knees and driving her slowly mad.
Ash knocked on the door of Vern’s trailer.
The old man’s clothes were freshly laundered, and his hair was still damp from his shower when he opened the door. “Hey, Ash. Come on in.”
Ash stepped inside. Though the trailer was old, it was as neat as a pin. The bed in one corner, which also served as a sofa, was covered in a plaid quilt, with pillows at the head of the bed, and a reading light attached to the wall overhead. On a bedside table was a stack of books. On top was a dog-eared copy of the Bible.
The tiny galley kitchen boasted a small table and a chair covered in bright red, yellow, and lime-green stripes. At the window was a crisp white curtain with a valance of colorful fruit: cherries, bananas, lemons, and limes.
Ash couldn’t help smiling. “This place has a good feeling about it.”
Vern nodded. “That good feeling is home, son.” As he looked around, a softness touched all his features. “I’ve spent a lifetime wandering. I guess I’ve worked every ranch from Casper to Calgary. I never had any desire to put down roots. But since being here with Brenna, I’ve come to appreciate having a place to call my own. There’s something to be said for home.”
“Yeah.” Ash cleared the lump from his throat. “Brenna wants you to come over for supper now.”
“Are you kidding? After that lunch we had today?”
Ash chuckled. “That was hours ago. Besides, Ma and Myrna put all the leftovers in Brenna’s fridge. So we’re having another feast.” He held the door. “Come on, Vern. You know you’ve worked up an appetite for more.”
The old cowboy winked. “I may be old, but I’m not addled. I’ve never been known to turn down some of Myrna Hill’s fine cooking, son.”
They crossed the distance from the trailer to the house, where Brenna turned from the sink.
The table was as festive as any party, with the leftovers arranged on pretty platters and trays.
Vern’s face creased into
a wide smile. “Looks like somebody’s celebrating.”
Brenna blushed. “It didn’t seem right to set all this out in those aluminum pans. Mad and Myrna went to so much trouble cooking and baking, I wanted to do them justice.”
“And you did.” Ash held her chair. “Now Vern and I will just have to do our part.”
The two men exchanged grins as they helped themselves to heaping portions of everything.
While they ate a leisurely meal, they replayed the events of the day.
“How about Griff?” Ash tucked into the steaming scalloped potatoes. “That was some of the finest woodworking I’ve seen around here.”
Vern nodded in agreement. “He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.”
Brenna was beaming. “It’s a much better door than I had before.”
“And why not?” Ash winked at her. “That barn was probably new when your father bought this place thirty or more years ago.”
Brenna shook her head. “My dad never bought the ranch. I think it belonged to his father or grandfather.”
“So, the barn could be a hundred years old?”
She shrugged. “I guess it could be.” She turned to Vern. “Do you know anything about the history of this place?”
He paused to butter a roll. “Can’t say as I do. But I guess you could find out from the county offices. They keep track of such things. Speaking of the county offices…Chief Pettigrew called me. He heard about the range fire from Doc Mullin, and wanted to know why we never told him about hiring a drifter. I told him I just never thought about it, but he wanted details, so I gave him Noah’s name and vitals, like his Social Security number and his sketchy work record. Sounded to me like the chief intends to check him out.”
“Good.” Brenna passed around another platter.
The talk moved on to the repairs of the ladder, the tools, the tractor. By the time they’d run through the litany of good things that had happened over the course of a single day, they’d managed to make a huge dent in the leftovers.
Ash turned to Vern with a smile. “And you didn’t think you could eat again, after that feast at lunch.”
The old man patted his stomach. “Like I said, it’s hard to resist Myrna’s cooking.”
Brenna pointed to the array of desserts on a sideboard. “Did you leave room for a slice of her banana cream pie?”
The old cowboy shook his head. “Not right now. But I wouldn’t mind taking some back to my trailer for a snack later tonight.”
Brenna cut a generous slice and set it on a plate before covering it with plastic wrap. “How about some coffee to go with it?”
He shook his head. “I might have a beer first. And then, when I’m finished reading for the night, I’ll have this with a glass of milk.”
He turned to include Ash. “This has been one fine day. And this just guarantees it’ll be one fine night.”
As Vern let himself out, Ash poured coffee into a carafe. “Let’s take this in the parlor.”
“All right. How about dessert to go with it? Pie or brownies?”
“Save the pie for Vern. I’ll always choose chocolate over anything.”
“Brownies then.” She placed several squares on a plate and followed him to the other room, with Sammy trailing behind.
As soon as Ash got a fire started on the hearth, the puppy curled up in front of it on his favorite rag rug and was soon dozing contentedly.
Ash settled himself beside Brenna and drew her close to nuzzle her lips. “Vern was right. I’d say this guarantees it’ll be one fine night.”
“You mean with coffee, brownies, and a cozy fire?”
“Sunshine, none of those things matter. This is what matters to me.” He drew her into the circle of his arms and poured himself into the kiss.
His tenderness was her undoing. It was so easy to lose herself in exquisite pleasure as he showered her with long, deep kisses that had fireworks exploding behind her closed lids. His touches sent slivers of fire and ice coursing along her spine.
When she tried to touch him as he was touching her, he pressed her down among the cushions. Against her mouth he whispered, “Not tonight. Right now I want to go slow and easy, and take the time to taste and touch and savor. I want to just be with you. Now.”
She was helpless to do more than sigh and cling to him as he moved over her, tasting to his heart’s content. Touching her at will, and watching as her eyes glazed over with passion, and her world narrowed to him. Only him.
She felt like the most pampered woman alive.
So alive. With each touch, each kiss, her heartbeat quickened, and her blood warmed and flowed through her veins like molten lava, while her breath hitched in her throat. A throat clogged with wants and needs. And all of them focused on him.
Instead of rushing, as she’d anticipated, he treated her to a long, slow journey of love.
The work of the day was forgotten, as were her troubles. All that mattered was this man, this moment, and the pleasure they shared.
Chapter Twenty-three
The fire had burned to embers, and still Brenna and Ash remained on the sofa, alternately dozing and talking quietly. The only jarring note to the tranquil scene was Ash’s rifle in the corner of the room, beside Brenna’s, which she’d brought down from her bedroom.
Brenna sat sipping coffee, while Ash lay with his head on her lap. “I had the feeling that you were pretty impressed with Griff’s talents.” She ran her fingernails lightly along his arm and shoulder as she talked.
“Yeah. He was as good as his word. If it hadn’t been for him, all we’d have had to show for our efforts would have been a bunch of planks and a bucket of screws. But he showed us how to put it all together into a cohesive barn door.”
“It’s more than a door.” She bent down to brush a kiss on his forehead. “It’s security.”
“Yeah. I like the fact that it’s solid enough that any truck foolish enough to ram it might drive away with more damage than it could inflict.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” She sighed. “And I like the padlock. Not that I have anything valuable to worry about, but it’s a comfort to know I can keep vandals out.” Her tone lowered. Softened. “I got the impression that your feelings toward Griff were deeper than mere pride in his workmanship.”
Ash fell silent for a moment before saying, “Yeah. It’s weird, knowing his father was my father. But when I look at him, or listen to his voice, I see and hear Pop. I ought to really resent him for that. But how can I, when he’s such a good guy?”
“It’s not as though he had any choice in deciding who his father was. In fact, he never had the opportunity to know his father the way you did.”
Ash grinned up at her. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
She playfully smacked his arm. “Be serious. I know from experience what it’s like to grow up with a father who failed me on so many levels. All your father had was the famous MacKenzie temper. Which, I might add, has been inherited by his sons.”
“Guilty,” he said with a grin.
“But think about the burden Griff has carried. To never know your father? To spend a lifetime wondering who he was, and what he looked like, and what your life might have been like if only you’d had the chance to be with him…?”
“Yeah.” Ash shifted so she could run her fingernails over his back. “I know what you’re saying. At least, now that he’s living with us, and spending time with Pop’s friends, he’s getting a better picture of the man he never knew.”
“It’s so generous of your mother to open her home to him. But I’m not surprised. Look how she opened her home to me.” Her voice grew dreamy. “You know, Ash, this has been the perfect ending to a perfect day. It almost makes me believe that whoever broke in here has given up and gone away for good. If so, we can just get on with our lives.” She sighed. “Wouldn’t that be just the best?”
When he didn’t respond, she looked down at him. His eyes were closed. His breathing slow and ev
en. On his lips was a smile of pure pleasure.
Asleep.
And why not? He’d worked from sunup until sundown. And all on her behalf. He deserved whatever comfort she could offer. Even, she thought with a grin, getting his arm, shoulder, and back tickled and scratched until he’d drifted off.
He looked so peaceful in sleep.
While awake, he was all energy and motion. From riding into hill country, to nailing boards, to a water fight with his brother. But now, work and play behind him, he was as calm and still as an innocent.
And she loved him. The thought stole slowly over her, filling her heart with quiet peace, and filling her soul with instant awareness.
She loved Ash MacKenzie. She’d loved him as a little girl loves a hero, and she loved him now as a woman loves a man.
She bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
Then she shifted a pillow beneath her head and joined him in sleep.
Ash was the first to wake.
Somehow, during the night, he and Brenna had come together amid the blankets and cushions, their arms and legs entwined, bodies so close, their two hearts beat as one.
A heartbeat so strong and steady. Like Brenna, he thought with a smile. No one who knew her, and knew of her family history, would ever think her weak or fragile. She knew what needed to be done to survive, and she did it without question. Without drama.
Drama. It seemed so much a part of the fabric of his family. Hair-trigger tempers. Fast and furious fights. Raucous laughter. Outrageous teasing.
Murder.
The very word sent shock waves through his system. His father had been murdered. Shot in the back by a coward who’d hidden from view and used a long-range rifle. And the filthy coward was still walking around, free to do more damage, while Bear MacKenzie lay in a grave, ripped from his family too soon.
The coward’s identity would be uncovered. No matter how much time it took, or how much effort, he would be caught. All his secrets would be revealed. And he would pay, Ash thought. He would pay the same way Bear had paid. With his life.
