The Legacy of Copper Creek

by R. C. Ryan

“That’s right.” He turned to Cara. “What’ll you drink?”

  She eyed the beer and said, “I think ice water is fine.”

  Whit ignored the menu tucked between the salt and pepper shakers and the ketchup and mustard. “What’s the special today?”

  “Wylie’s famous gut-burning chili.”

  Whit nodded. “I’ll have that.”

  Nonie turned to Cara, who said, “I’ll have the same.”

  “I’ll give her this,” Nonie said to Whit. “She’s either crazy or very brave.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to find out.” Whit winked before she turned away.

  She returned a short time later and served them two bowls of chili and a tray of assorted cheese, chips, crackers, and onions.

  Whit added a little of each to his bowl and dug in.

  Cara did the same.

  After her first taste, she reached for the glass of water and took a big drink. “You weren’t kidding.”

  “Told you.” He looked over, spotting her watery eyes. “You going to survive?”

  “Oh yeah.” She dug in and managed to empty her bowl while Whit was already tackling his second bowl.

  “You’re really a glutton for punishment.”

  “I’ll have you know I have a superior palate.”

  “And who told you this giant lie?”

  Whit grinned. “Wylie himself.”

  “Oh. That explains it.” Cara sat back, sipping the last of her water.

  When he’d polished off his second bowl of chili, Whit drained his beer. “While you were shopping, I paid a call on our police chief, Ira Pettigrew.”

  Cara visibly tensed.

  “I thought I’d share your story with him. I know I should have asked your permission, but I figured it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  She shot him a frosty look. “Wipe that smirk off your face and tell me what Police Chief Ira Pettigrew said.”

  “That he’ll put in a call to the chief of Red Rock and make a decision whether or not to interview you.”

  She folded her hands primly on the table.

  Whit couldn’t help teasing her a bit. “Well, at least he didn’t rush over to Belle’s and put the cuffs on you for withholding information.”

  She couldn’t hold back the grin that curved the corners of her mouth. “Well, there is that.”

  He reached across the table and put his hands over hers. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

  She went very still, absorbing the tingle. Nerves? Or a sexual awareness that was beginning to sharpen each time Whit touched her? “Maybe a little.”

  He tightened his grasp on her hands. “Woman, you’re killing me.”

  Nonie swooped down on them and began piling their dishes on her empty tray. “You’re not going for a third, Whit honey?”

  “Not today.”

  She glanced pointedly at his hand over Cara’s. “Yeah, that’s what happens when a cowboy’s with a pretty girl. The heart wins out over the stomach every time.”

  She was still chuckling at her little joke as she placed the check on the table and walked away with a full tray.

  “Come on.” Whit peeled off some bills and dropped them on the table before catching Cara’s hand and leading her to the door.

  Outside, he kept her hand in his until they reached the police station.

  Inside, Chief Pettigrew looked up with a smile.

  “Chief Pettigrew, this is Cara Walton.”

  They shook hands and the chief indicated a chair. “Good timing, Whit. This just came over the fax.”

  He handed Cara a grainy black and white photo of an old man in a starched white shirt and clean denims. “According to Sheriff Todd Hack over in Red Rock, this is the most recent photo of the deceased, taken at a church picnic last summer. Is this the man you saw?”

  Cara nodded. “I only caught a glimpse of his face, but I’m sure this is the man.”

  He handed her a second photo of a young man with shaggy hair and a crooked smile. “Do you recognize this man?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “This isn’t the man you saw with Abe?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Is he the suspect in the killing?”

  “That’s right. Abe’s nephew.”

  “I guess my information isn’t important, then.”

  “That’s up to Sheriff Hack in Red Rock.” Ira placed both photos on his desk before looking at Cara. “I’ll give this information to him and see if he wants to pursue it further. If so, you may have to make the trip to Red Rock. Are you all right with that?”

  Cara glanced at Whit, who nodded. “You just let me know, Ira, and I’ll drive Cara there.”

  “Good.” The police chief shook their hands and remained standing until they were out the door and heading toward Whit’s truck.

  Once there, Whit held the door and helped her to the passenger seat before circling around to the driver’s side.

  On the drive home, he was whistling a happy tune while Cara worried the cuff of her plaid shirt. She ought to be concerned about being interviewed by the sheriff in Red Rock, but she found herself thinking instead that she was beginning to like having her hand held. It wasn’t something she’d had much experience with, but it was altogether too pleasant to ignore.

  She turned to Whit. “Do you think we’ll have to drive to Red Rock?”

  “Will you worry about it if we do?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I can only repeat what I saw. And if the sheriff there is half as nice as Chief Pettigrew, I’ll be fine with it. But I hope it’s over, and they have the guilty man in custody. Then I’ll be done with it for good.”

  “I hope so, too.” He glanced around. “What did you think of our town?”

  “It’s bigger than Minerva. And cleaner. And I enjoyed lunch at Wylie’s.” Her eyes danced. “Nonie’s a character. And she really likes you.”

  “Nonie Claxton likes every man who’s ever walked through the door of that saloon.”

  “No. She may be attracted to every man, but she really likes you. It shows.”

  “Because I’m easy to like.” He reached over and turned on the radio.

  And as the truck ate up the miles, Cara found herself relaxing in Whit’s pleasant company as they both hummed along with Willie, singing about being on the road again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Myrna waddled into the kitchen with an armload of folded laundry and breathed deeply. “I swear, Cara, something smells like heaven.”

  Cara looked up from the counter, where she was chopping vegetables for a salad. “I found a beef roast in the fridge. Since most of the meat is in that giant freezer, I thought I’d cook the roast tonight before I plan menus for the rest of the week.”

  “I can’t wait to taste it and see what you’ve done to make it smell so good.” Myrna began placing clean towels neatly into a deep drawer.

  Seeing it, Cara said, “You keep everything in such good order, Myrna. Just like my gram taught me.”

  “Did she live near you, honey?”

  Cara shook her head. “I lived with her.”

  “Where were your folks?”

  “I never knew my dad. My mother never married him. And she left me with Gram when I was a baby.”

  “Is your grandmother still living?”

  “She passed away while I was in college.”

  “I’m sorry, Cara. It’s hard to lose the people we love.”

  Cara continued working while Myrna walked away to fetch another load of laundry. As Cara chopped and sliced and diced, she couldn’t keep from comparing Myrna with her grandmother. Both women were hardworking, simple, and direct. But being simple didn’t mean being uninformed. Though Gram never judged the daughter who had chosen a honky-tonk lifestyle over motherhood, she’d urged her granddaughter to make wise choices.

  Wise choices. That mess with Jared Billingham was of her own making. She’d convinced herself that a handsome, charmi
ng, and very rich boss would have only her best interest at heart. And even when she’d recognized his controlling nature, she’d looked the other way. It was only when he’d mocked her dream that she’d been forced to face what he really was. A selfish, manipulative man concerned with his own pleasure. What had Gram always said? You have a right to your dreams, girl. But you have a duty to earn them.

  She wouldn’t soon forget that lesson again.

  If this was her second chance, or possibly her third or fourth chance, she would do it the right way. She would earn it. And not by hoping the MacKenzie family would somehow send all her troubles packing. This time, she would stand strong, and she would do the right thing, no matter what.

  As she mixed up a batch of dough and placed a tray of rolls in the oven, she caught sight of Whit and Brady strolling from the barn, laughing together, covered from head to toe in mud.

  Just the sight of Whit, so filthy and so obviously happy, had her heart doing a little dance.

  He was so strong, so sure of himself. So comfortable in his own skin. She would have labeled him a man’s man, except that Nonie’s words reminded her that he was also extremely comfortable around women of any age.

  “Hey there.” Whit poked his head in the doorway. “Something smells great.”

  “I bet it smells a whole lot better’n us,” Brady added with a grin.

  “Yeah.” Whit motioned to Cara. “Don’t come near us. We smell like we’ve been working in a sewer.”

  Brady laughed. “We have been.”

  “Yeah.” Whit shucked his boots, his hat, and his mud-streaked shirt before strolling shirtless through the kitchen. “If you weren’t here,” he called over his shoulder, “I’d’ve shucked these pants, too.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Thank heaven for small favors.”

  When both men had gone to their rooms, she thought again about the differences between Whit and the man who’d so badly used her.

  Though Whit was a tough cowboy, he seemed almost old-fashioned in the courteous ways he treated her.

  Jared Billingham had been willing to hurt anyone, to shatter anyone’s dreams, simply because he thought he was above them.

  Cara had no doubt that Whit MacKenzie would be willing to help anyone, no matter the cost to him, while remaining true to himself and his values.

  As she returned her attention to dinner preparations, she vowed she would never forget the difference between a spoiled child and a real man.

  By the time Whit and Brady descended the stairs, hair still glistening from their long, hot showers, the kitchen and gathering room were crowded with the entire family.

  Griff and Juliet and their boys, Ethan and Casey, had flown in with Mad, after he’d spent the day at their ranch.

  Ash and Brenna arrived with their pup, Sammy, who wriggled in excitement the minute he spotted the two little boys. They ran off, teaching him to fetch their ball, amid shrieks of delight.

  Willow returned from the barn and hugged everyone in greeting before heading up the stairs for a quick shower.

  By the time she returned, the others were gathered around the fireplace, with longnecks or glasses of wine or soda. Cara set out a fancy platter of crackers and spinach-and-avocado dip, along with a tray of cheeses.

  While they discussed the crazy weather, the number of calves being born early, and the fact that Mad could now go almost anywhere with ease since the introduction of his new scooter, Whit walked up beside Cara.

  “Looks like another big score for you, Goldilocks.”

  She glanced over to see him holding the tray and platter. Both were empty.

  “I’m glad they enjoyed it.”

  “I don’t know if enjoy is the proper description. They inhaled it.”

  She laughed at his little joke.

  “Do you have any more?”

  She shook her head. “That’s it. But I do have dinner ready, if you’d like to let everyone know.”

  Breaking through the chorus of voices, he called, “If anybody’s interested, supper is ready.”

  There was no need to announce it again. As if drawn by invisible strings, they all moved to the table, taking up their accustomed seats as the conversation continued without interruption.

  As Myrna began carrying platters of roast beef swimming in gravy and a bowl of creamy potatoes, the conversation slowed as they helped themselves.

  Cara placed a basket of hot rolls in the middle of the table, followed by a family-sized salad and individual bowls.

  Juliet tasted the salad, then looked up in surprise. “Is this dressing homemade?”

  Cara nodded.

  “Oh, I want the recipe.” Juliet put a small amount of salad on each of her boy’s plates before helping them with the beef and potatoes.

  “I love roast beast,” Casey said, to much laughter.

  “Me too.” Ethan tasted the salad. “But I think I like salad, too. Try it, Casey.”

  The younger one was about to protest, until he saw his mother’s slight shake of her head.

  He tasted, then began eating the lettuce, the tomatoes, the strips of red and yellow and orange peppers. “These are good.”

  “See what a little magic dressing can do?” Whit called to Cara.

  Casey’s eyes went wide. “You put magic in this, Cara?”

  Before she could reply, Whit said, “Casey, listen to your old uncle Whit. Women have a way of putting magic in the darndest things.”

  That had everyone grinning and had Mad looking at his grandson a bit more sharply before muttering, “I wonder what other magic Cara is capable of?”

  Cara merely ducked her head, while around her the conversation grew louder and more animated.

  “New jeans and shirt, I see.” Willow glanced across the table at Cara. “What did you think of Belle’s?”

  “I loved it. She has everything I could possibly need. And things I couldn’t even think of.”

  Ash winked at his wife before asking, “Did my brother go in with you and help you pick out all those frilly feminine doodads that every woman craves?”

  “Not on your life.” Whit helped himself to more mashed potatoes. “Although I did offer. But Cara was having none of it.”

  “Belle’s is no place for a cowboy,” Cara said in defense. “I wanted a little privacy while I shopped.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Willow sipped her tea. “But next time you go to town, I may go with you. I haven’t been to Belle’s in months. I think I’m running low on”—she stared pointedly at Ash—“my feminine doodads.”

  They all laughed while Ash’s face flamed and Brenna patted his hand. “It’s all right, honey. Next time I need…my feminine doodads, I’ll take you along to carry my bags.”

  After a long, leisurely dinner, the family settled into the great room. It was as big and informal as the family that lived there, with windows looking out at a breathtaking view of rolling meadows and a sun setting behind hills dotted with cattle.

  Casey and Ethan, who had enjoyed a ride to the room on Mad’s scooter, were now sprawled on the floor in front of a blazing fire on the great stone hearth. Happily lying between them was Sammy, exhausted from play.

  While the others settled on comfortable sofas and soft easy chairs, Cara and Myrna passed around a trolley of coffee and desserts, along with longneck beer and a bottle of Mad’s favorite scotch whiskey, which he splashed liberally into his coffee.

  “We have brownies and ice cream,” Cara announced. “And fudge sauce for anyone who has room.”

  The two little boys were up and accepting bowls of brownies topped with ice cream and drizzled with warm chocolate fudge sauce.

  Watching them dig into their desserts, Juliet gave a quick shake of her head. “I don’t know where they’re putting that. I ate so much I may not eat again for a week.”

  Griff brought her hand to his lips. “You say that every day. And every morning you find room to start again.” He glanced at the boys. “As for them, I know where they put it.
No matter how much I ate as a kid, I always had room for dessert.”

  Mad patted his stomach. “I might have room for a wee taste.”

  Whit winked at Cara. “That means only a double dessert, and not a triple.”

  She handed the old man a heaping bowl and he dug into the sweet treat with relish.

  When she’d finished serving, she eased Myrna down into a chair and handed her a cup of coffee and a bowl of dessert.

  “What about you?” the old woman asked.

  “I’ll just take these things into the kitchen.” As Cara loaded plates and cups onto the trolley, Whit surprised her by taking hold of it and pushing it toward the other room.

  Cara followed him. “You don’t need to do this, Whit. You should be in there with your family. You’ve been working all day.”

  “You’ve been working, too.”

  “But I’ve been warm and dry. You’ve been freezing in that icy rain and mud.”

  He leaned close. “Know what kept me warm all day?”

  “What?” She looked up just as he bent his lips to her cheek.

  “This.” He nibbled his way to the corner of her mouth. “Just thinking about the fact that you’d be here when I finished for the day.”

  “Whit…”

  They stepped apart quickly as the door opened and Brady walked into the kitchen.

  “Ah. Here it is.” He reached for the bottle of scotch. “Mad wants one more before going to bed.”

  As Brady walked away, Whit turned to Cara, who was already pushing the trolley toward the sink.

  He stepped up beside her and leaned close. “Now, where were we?” He pressed his mouth to her temple, while his hands moved slowly along her back. “Mmm, you taste so damned good.” He ran soft, moist kisses along her cheek to the corner of her lips, nibbling, tasting, until she turned her head just enough to offer her mouth fully to him.

  “Oh yeah.” He took the kiss deep. “Now this is what I want.”

  The door opened again and they stepped apart quickly. Both wore matching looks of guilt.

  Little Casey looked from one to the other. “Mama said I could have one more scoop of ice cream.”

  Whit managed a smile. “Are you sure your mom approved?”