The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  Gazing over at her, Griff said, “It’s up to me to remove it.”

  “You’re lucky,” Val growled, more to herself than to him. Not everyone gets the chance to remove the burrs in their families.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT’S TIME…. GRIFF dragged in an unsteady breath and pulled into the driveway of the Tetons Ranch. Turning into the graveled parking area between the ranch house and the big red barn, Griff spotted his brother out in an arena with his endurance mustang stallion, Thor, putting the stud through its paces.

  Griff suddenly became anxious. The stupid decision years earlier weighed heavy on his shoulders as he emerged from the truck and saw Slade look in his direction. Griff couldn’t read the expression on his face because he was too far away.

  Girding himself internally, Griff looked around. He saw Shorty, the wrangler, walking a student’s endurance mount toward the barn. Lifting his hand in greeting, Shorty waved and smiled. Griff wondered whether Jordana was home or at work. She was an emergency-room physician at the local hospital. He liked her. In so many ways, he’d seen Slade’s rough demeanor tamed by her gentle smile and soft approach. Now, Griff wished she was here. In the past, Jordana had been the referee and ratcheted down the anger between the brothers.

  Today we put an end to that anger, he thought, the gravel crunching loudly beneath his boots as he approached the pipe fence corral. The morning sun had just topped the mountains to the east, the golden slats flooding silently across the rich, green valley. He halted at the closed gate.

  “I thought I’d stop over, Slade,” he called. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  Slade called out a command to Thor. Instantly, the stallion, who was on a twenty-foot longe line, skidded to a stop. He snorted, tossed his head, his attention fully on his master.

  “Yeah,” Slade called. “Give me a minute.”

  Griff stood patiently. He hadn’t called ahead. This wasn’t something he wanted to tackle with Slade over the phone. No, this had to be done in person. His stomach twisted into a painful knot. Years earlier, the doctor had warned him that the stress of Wall Street would give him ulcers if he didn’t take a step away from it. His stomach had always been his tension barometer in life. Griff knew this would be one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time. And he wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Slade led the endurance stallion to the gate.

  “What brings you over?” he asked, opening it and leading the stallion out of the corral.

  Griff fell in step beside Slade. “I wanted to find out how you and Jordana are doing.” That wasn’t a complete lie, but it was secondary. Slade gave him a questioning glance and a glare, as if sensing something else was up. His brother was very close to the earth and had his sixth sense well in place.

  Slade nodded and took off his Stetson for a moment, wiped his brow and settled it back on his head. “Let me give Thor to Shorty. I don’t really have a lot of time to spend with you.”

  Inwardly, Griff felt the gritty anger barely veiled in Slade’s tone. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  With a grimace, Slade muttered, “Barely.”

  Griff’s anxiety soared. Slade was in a crusty mood, as always. Griff had hoped his recent marriage to Jordana would dissolve the vinegar in him. To be fair, Griff acknowledged, his twin had been struggling since the age of seventeen to hold on to their family ranch. The harsh lines in Slade’s face attested to that. He was as rough and hardy as a Wyoming winter. Not much survived winters around here, but Slade had. He’d thrived in the harsh elements and challenges that life had constantly thrown at him. Maybe his apology would put them on a better footing with each other. Griff hoped so. He wanted his twin’s approval and support. But would Slade forgive him?

  Shorty took Thor, nodded to Griff and then turned the stud around and led him into the barn.

  “Let’s go inside,” Slade ordered in a gruff tone.

  Griff tried to keep his voice light. Maybe if he remained unruffled, his brother’s behavior toward him would ease. “Things going well?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Jordana just got a promotion. She’s now head of E.R. at the hospital. Got a big raise too, which helps us.”

  “Good,” Griff said. He heard relief in his brother’s voice. “Does it mean longer hours for Jordana at the hospital?”

  “Actually,” Slade replied, opening the back door to the house, “it doesn’t. She’s got a regular nine-to-five job now, five days a week.”

  Entering the ranch house that had once been his home, Griff waxed nostalgic. Slade had never redecorated the house since their parents’ deaths. It was the same and he found it comforting. Griff knew Slade did too, or he’d have changed it a long time ago. Moving into the kitchen, Griff took off his hat and set it on the end of the rectangular pine table. Slade went to the counter and pulled down two mugs from the cabinet.

  “Sit down,” he said.

  Taking a chair, Griff felt himself winding up internally. He wasn’t sure of Slade’s reaction to what he was going to say. Slade had a terrible temper and Griff didn’t want to stir it up. His brother had a right to be angry but he hoped that anger wouldn’t appear.

  Boots thunking against the waxed pine flooring, Slade brought over two steaming cups of coffee and sat down.

  “I don’t have much time. What really brings you over here?” he demanded in a growl, sizing up Griff.

  Guarded, Griff said, “I wanted to catch you up on what was going on.”

  Slade gave him a wary look. “I hear from Andy you just got a job out at the Bar H.”

  “Yes, I did and it’s a good job.”

  “Miss Gus has probably got her whip in hand and you’re working from dusk to dawn.” Slade drank his coffee.

  Managing a slight smile, Griff said, “I like Miss Gus. She’s a typical Wyoming rancher. Too bad she broke her hip in her fall last year.”

  Frowning, Slade said, “Yes, when that happened, all the ranchers in the valley rallied around her. We all took time out to go over and help her keep the ranch going. Cheryl, her daughter, died just prior to that, so it was really hard on Miss Gus.”

  Moving the thick white ceramic mug between his hands, Griff felt a bit of Slade’s defensiveness dissolve. Griff asked, “Did you know that Gus’s granddaughter, Val Hunter, has returned? She took a hardship discharge out of the Air Force to come home and try to save the Bar H.”

  Brows rising, Slade said, “No…this must be recent.”

  “Last week.”

  “Hmm, I haven’t spoken with Gwen Garner of late. I’ll bet she knew about it. So, you’re saddled with two women over there?”

  “It’s not hard,” Griff admitted. Slade seemed less prickly. Maybe by starting out with small talk he could build up to why he had come for the visit. “They’re good people. They want to get the Bar H back on its feet.”

  Slade rocked back in the chair. “I never thought Val would ever come home again.”

  Griff gave his brother a quizzical look. “Why?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No. I’m hired help, not family.”

  Smiling thinly, Slade said, “Of course. Buck Hunter, her father, was a drunken son of a bitch. And he was a mean drunk.” Slade’s mouth turned down and he eased the chair back down on four feet. Staring at his mug, he muttered, “He was abusive. One time, his wife ended up in the hospital. I found out from Gwen Garner she suspected he was beating up Val, too. But no one could prove it. Gwen wanted to intervene, but until Cheryl or Val pressed charges or asked for help, it was all conjecture. Cheryl lied to the paramedics who took her to the hospital. She told them a horse dumped her on a rail.”

  Alarmed, Griff sat up. “I didn’t know any of this.” His mind spun with shock. Now, it made more sense to him about Val’s wariness. He was a
man. Did she distrust him because of what her father had done to her? It left a lot of questions and a bad taste in Griff’s mouth.

  “Buck was as mean as Red Downing,” Slade warned him. “Those two bastards had a lot in common, including no respect for anyone. As much as I dislike Curt Downing, you gotta feel for a kid whose father used to beat him black-and-blue. In those days, the law never did anything about it. The mind-set was it was your family and anything you did to them was none of anyone’s business.” His brows flattened.

  “Downing is mean, though.”

  “If Val was abused, how come she’s not mean, too?” Griff said, more to himself than to his brother.

  “Not everyone carries abuse forward to the next generation,” Slade replied. “Jordana told me when a child is abused, their cortisol levels remain high. Cortisol is similar to adrenaline, the flight-or-fight hormone. She said the abuse survivor either can either get violent toward others or internalize it. There’s a price to pay for that, too.”

  Rubbing his chin, Griff murmured, “Maybe, if I get an opening with Val, I’ll share the information with her. Think she’d see Jordana for help?”

  “I don’t know,” Slade said, sipping his coffee. “Bring it up to Val and see what she thinks.”

  “Well,” Griff said, a grimace crossing his mouth, “Val doesn’t exactly trust me.”

  “Maybe,” Slade said, “she’s seeing you through her abuse. It’ll be hard for her to trust any man, since it was a man that abused her. Some part of her may see her father and not you. There are a lot of wounds to be healed between an abuse survivor and their world at large.”

  “That would explain a lot of Val’s behavior toward me,” Griff said. He gave Slade a grateful look. “This really helps me understand more about her.”

  “You should talk with Jordana. She can give you tips and pointers on how to deal positively with Val.”

  Griff held Slade’s gray gaze. The small talk had made Slade less defensive. “I appreciate your help, but I should admit I came over here for a different reason.” He took a deep breath. “Slade, I owe you an apology for my behavior toward you.” Griff forced out the rest. “I was wrong not to give you that loan for the ranch.”

  Surprise flared in Slade’s eyes. He stared for a long moment at Griff, sizing him up. His mouth hardened and he dug into his brother’s eyes. “I never understood why you did it, Griff. You came from this ranch, yourself. And I’m your brother.”

  Griff sat back and absorbed his twin’s anger. “At the time you called and asked me for the loan, I’d just been promoted to the head of the derivatives department at the financial services firm.” He looked down at the table, shame flowing through him. Griff forced himself to meet Slade’s angry gaze. “The truth is, I was full of myself. I thought I was king of the world. At just a snap of my fingers, I could do or have anything I wanted. I was arrogant and stupid….”

  Slade shook his head. “And you were so full of yourself that you didn’t care what happened to our family ranch?”

  Nodding, Griff swallowed against a dry throat. His heart was pounding hard and inwardly, he felt sad. “Yes, I screwed up. I’d been gone so long from the Tetons Ranch, it no longer meant what it should have to me.”

  Slade’s eyes were a mixture of anger and grief. “You were cut off from this ranch and from me. Our aunt and uncle from New York weren’t very family oriented. They conveniently forgot about the rest of us.”

  “You’re right, they did,” Griff admitted quietly, the charge paining him. “I grew up with a focus on making money.”

  “Money is a heartless bastard at best,” Slade said in a low growl. He wrapped his hands around the mug and stared hard at Griff. “You got brainwashed. Our parents taught us better.” Slade jammed a finger down at the floor. “The land is our soul, Griff, plain and simple. There aren’t many people anymore who have a ranch, a family history and hope for the future. We were lucky and didn’t even know it.”

  “No question. I wish…I wish I could do this all over again, Slade. I wish I’d have been more mature and had less of an ego. I should have loaned you the money out of my own pocket, simply because you were family. You are my brother.” His eyes narrowed and he held Slade’s stare. “I’m sorry. I was wrong and if I had to do it all over again, I’d loan you that money in a heartbeat.”

  Nostrils flaring, Slade absorbed Griff’s sincere apology. He saw his twin was suffering badly from his choices. “It’s a little too late for that,” he ground out.

  “I know it is, and I deserve your anger. I disappointed you, Slade.” His voice rose with emotion. “I want to try and change the bad decision I made. I can’t make it up by giving you that money because I’m flat broke. In a way, maybe God paid me back for what I did to you.” Swallowing hard, Griff added in a hoarse tone, “My whole life went belly-up with the crash and the first place I thought to go was here.”

  Listening to Griff’s emotional explanation, Slade scowled. He stared down at the cup of coffee between his hands. “That’s how it always is—get in trouble and you run home for a roof over your head.”

  “Yes, I did, Slade. And thank God, you took me in even though you didn’t want to. You had more maturity, more courage, than I did. I’m grateful for your compassion.”

  Sighing loudly, Slade shook his head. “In the end, you’re my brother, Griff. I would never let you starve.”

  “I was willing to let you lose our family ranch,” Griff reminded him in a grim voice. “I was riding a high of money, power and position. I chose it over family and home. That’s something I can’t forgive myself for.” He looked down at his hands that now bore the calluses of hard work. “I wanted to stay here and reinvent myself as a Wyoming rancher.” He placed his hands on the table and stared across at Slade. “This is something I have to do on my own and without your help. When I came here after losing everything, I began to realize just how much hard, consistent work you’d put into our ranch. And you were right—it didn’t belong to me anymore. I know in Mom and Dad’s will, they gave each of us half of the ranch.” He hung his head, the words being torn out of him. “But the truth is, Slade, I don’t deserve any part of this ranch.”

  The silence became heavy in the kitchen. Slade shoved the chair back, the sound a screech. He unwound his tall body as he stood up. Hands on hips, he walked to the kitchen counter and stared sightlessly out the window.

  Griff understood his brother’s emotions. He’d helped cause them. Griff stood and walked over to him. “I’m prepared to go to an attorney of your choice and to turn over my half of this ranch to you.”

  Slade slowly turned his head and stared at Griff. “You’d do that?”

  Heart pounding, Griff said in a steady voice, “Yes, I want to do this, Slade. It’s the only way I can prove to you I am sorry. I can’t change the past.” He motioned out the window where he could see the parking area, the red barn and, in the background, the magnificent Teton that jutted toward the blue sky. “I lost my half of this ranch when I turned you down for that loan.”

  Slade stared at him for another long moment. Finally, he said, “I’m going to take you up on your offer, Griff. It’s the right thing to do. I never thought you would give me the ranch, but I was wrong.”

  Griff gave his brother a half smile. “Life has a funny way of rearranging us. At first, when I arrived, I hated Wyoming, but I had nowhere else to go. Now, I wake up in the morning knowing I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” Griff gestured out the window. “There’s fresh air out here instead of car pollution. Sunshine, not canyons of skyscrapers that blot it out. The only place I could go to see green grass in New York was in Central Park.”

  Slade relaxed, tension bleeding out of him. “Central Park cannot compare to Wyoming,” he agreed, the edge off his tone. Again, he stared at Griff. “You really mean this? You’re willing to sign over our ranch to me
?”

  “Yes, with my heart and soul.” Griff stuck out his hand to his brother. “Out here in the West, a man’s word and a handshake is all that’s needed. Shake my hand, Slade, and the deal is done. All that’s left is for me to sign the papers whenever you want me to do it.”

  Slade clasped Griff’s proffered hand. “Okay,” he rasped, suddenly emotional. “You got a deal.”

  Tears pricked the back of Griff’s eyes. He saw tears in Slade’s, too, but he wasn’t about to point it out. His brother’s grip was firm and strong. As they released each other’s hands, Griff managed a slight smile. “This ranch is in good hands. You never wavered, Slade. You loved this place with your whole heart. You never lost sight of its importance like I did. I want to start over, Slade. I love ranching, I’ve discovered. I find a peace in doing everyday things out here in Nature. I guess I’m rediscovering myself.”

  “The prodigal son returns home.”

  “Yes, I am a prodigal son in every way,” Griff agreed. “I got lost, Slade. And I lost the morals and values I was born and raised with.”

  “Losing all that, though, brought you home,” Slade said. “And now, you’re picking up the pieces of your life.”

  They headed back to the table where Griff sipped his cooled coffee. Now, there was relief and even some peace in Slade’s expression. The wall between them had disappeared. Griff felt a tender thread of love in his heart for his estranged brother. “You’re the rudder for our family,” he told Slade. “Your moral compass, your knowing it was right to fight to keep our ranch in the family, deserve a good outcome.”

  “Well, you sure as hell have surprised me,” Slade admitted, finishing off his coffee. He walked to the kitchen counter and put his cup in the sink. “I never expected an apology from you, Griff.”

  Walking over to his brother, Griff also placed his emptied cup in the sink. “It was time, Slade. I intend on staying here the rest of my life.”

  “Really? You aren’t going back east when things pick up?”