“It was a way of life.”
“And you got used to it, but I dunno if you liked it or not.”
“I did like it, Miss Gus. At one time I had a limousine, a driver and a penthouse.”
“Quite a fall from grace,” Gus said, giving him a sharpened look. “While Wall Street crumbled, the American people lost even more. All the money I’d placed in the stock market is gone. And no one’s come along to pay me back for those losses. There’s many people out there near retirement who have had their entire life savings wiped out. Now, they have nothing. At least,” and Gus gazed fondly around the kitchen, “we have a working ranch. A place where, even without much money, we could have a garden, raise food and get by. Most others don’t have that option.”
Guilt ate at Griff. “I was part of the problem on Wall Street,” he admitted quietly to them. “I was the head of our company at the time and I was doing business as usual. When the crash occurred, everything was pulled out from beneath me. I didn’t have two hundred bucks to my name when it was all over. I came crawling home to Slade, begging for a place to live.”
Val’s heart twinged. She saw the humility in Griff’s eyes and heard it in his deep, husky voice. “That must be very hard to live with.”
Appreciating her insight, Griff rallied and managed a thin smile. “It was. Slade and I had a pretty thorny time together. But he did help me. And I did learn a lot about ranching from him. As for what Wall Street did to the American public…well, that’s a shame I’ll carry to my grave.”
Gus nodded, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve paid a hefty price, too. But you’re right, what you and Wall Street did to Americans is a guilt you’ll carry forever. It can’t be undone. All you can do is move forward and try to be a better person than before.”
The table became very quiet and Griff could feel the heaviness of his former life weighing down on his shoulders. “I’ve committed a lot of wrongs,” he told Miss Gus. “I promised myself I’d do what I could to be a help to this country, and not be the cancer eating away at it.”
Val wanted to reach out and touch Griff’s hand. His fingers had curled into a slight fist. She saw how contrite he was. Clearly, he understood and took responsibility. He was a man who admitted his mistakes and was willing to atone for them any way he could. That made him a man of integrity. Clearing her throat, she said in a whisper, “I don’t think anyone at this table is lily-white, Griff. Each of us has made some terrible mistakes. And I guess the only thing we can do is learn and not repeat them.”
Wanting to caress her cheek, Griff forced his hands to remain where they were on the table. The forgiveness in Val’s blue eyes was like balm to his guilt-ridden soul. “Thanks, I needed to hear that. I know there are people out there who—and rightfully so—will never forgive Wall Street for what we did to them. I understand and I accept it.”
“Well,” Gus said, pushing her plate away, “you’re coming home, Griff. You’re a Wyoming man, proud and strong. Now you’re reclaiming and rediscovering your roots where you were born. And after a piece of chocolate cake, you’re off to dig postholes and string wire.”
“I’m helping him, Gus,” Val shared.
Brows shooting up, Gus said, “You are?”
“Why not? I know how to lay a fence line. And if you’re thinking of building six cabins near the lake, don’t you think he needs some help? We can finish the repairs in half the time together.”
“Oh,” Gus murmured, patting her mouth with the napkin, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Yes, you’re right.” She looked down at the watch around her wrist. “Dinner is at eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”
Grinning, Val stood up and said, “Not to worry. We wouldn’t want to miss any meals you make, Gus.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SLADE WAS WALKING between the barn and the house as Griff drove into the graveled parking area of the Tetons Ranch the next day. He turned off the ignition and climbed out. Settling his Stetson on his head, Griff lifted his hand in greeting to his twin.
“Hey, you got a minute, Slade?” His brother was six feet five inches, toned and sculpted by the hard weather of Wyoming.
Slade nodded. “Sure. Got time for a cup of coffee, or are you just passing through?”
“Yeah, I’m on my lunch hour.” His twin wasn’t the usual, cranky self he had been in the past. Since his marriage to Jordana, he’d mellowed. Maybe love tamed even the toughest of men, Griff thought as he joined Slade.
“How’s things going?” he asked Slade as they stepped into the mud porch and stomped their dusty boots off on a woven rug.
“Couldn’t be better. How about you? How’s life at the Bar H?”
Griff followed Slade into the ranch house. “Okay. That’s why I’m here.” They went to the brightly lit kitchen. Even before Slade had been married, everything was always spit and polish. Of course, nothing had changed. “Jordana at work?”
Slade poured them coffee and brought it over to the table. “She’s pulling her daily eight hours over at the hospital,” Slade said, sitting down. “I like the fact she has work Monday through Friday. The weekends are ours.”
Griff joined him at the table. “Getting called out at all times of the day and night isn’t any fun,” he agreed. His stomach was tied in knots. He was fearful that Slade, no matter how good his mood was right now, might turn irritable. Just because they’d made peace with one another earlier didn’t mean the foundation was solid. By asking Slade’s help, he hoped his brother would continue to mend the fence between them. “It probably makes your married life less chaotic.”
Shrugging, Slade sat back in the chair. “Got that right. Jordana likes the weekends off because she can do more endurance riding and training.”
Griff picked up his mug and sipped the black, hot brew. Slade was wearing a white cowboy shirt beneath the black leather vest, the shirt sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. His jeans were dusty. “I know she wants to get more into endurance riding with you. How is Stormy coming along?” Jordana’s gray mustang mare had torn a tendon some time ago.
Slade said, “The mare is tough. But all mustangs are. She’s doing okay and is healing ahead of schedule.”
“That’s good to hear,” Griff said. “What about you? How’s things at the Bar H? I know Miss Gus was having problems getting a decent wrangler to help rebuild it until you came along.”
Griff was happy they were discussing the Bar H. “You’re right. Val, her granddaughter, is a big help to me. We were repairing fence yesterday.”
“When Gwen Garner told me about Val returning, I was really surprised. She sure went through a lot growing up here.” Shaking his head, Slade said in a low growl, “I almost got into a fight on the dock of the Horse Emporium with Buck about a year before he died.”
“Growing up in New York left a big hole of unknowns as to what happened around Jackson Hole while I was gone. I’m working at catching up.”
“Are you glad to be out here?”
“I am.” Griff cupped his hands around the mug. “Growing up in a huge city was like growing up on a different planet.”
“More like another universe.”
“Can’t argue that.” Griff was amazed at how friendly Slade was compared to their stiff connection before. “Marriage seems to be agreeing with you?” He saw Slade’s eye grow warm.
“Jordana was the missing puzzle piece in my life,” Slade answered. “I didn’t realize how alone I really was until after we married.” His voice grew husky. “I’m the luckiest cowboy in the world, Griff. I feel like I won the national lottery.”
“Well deserved,” Griff said, meaning it. “Even Andy at the Horse Emporium said you’ve changed for the better.”
Slade chuckled. “Probably true. Jordana has tamed the last cowboy in Wyoming.”
Griff set his mug
down in front of him and took a deep breath. “I came over here for a reason, Slade. Miss Gus wants six cabins built alongside the lake and it’s on my list to start gathering information on how to construct them.”
Slade brightened. “I can help you there.” He gestured out the window. “I’ve rebuilt the barn and added two houses to the place over the years.”
“I’m going to need some handholding on this, Slade. They can afford to hire a construction crew to build, but they’re looking at me to supervise the project. I’m not sure I can.”
“I’ll help you with the planning stage. That’s a good idea. Cabins at their lake will rent out to trout fishermen and tourists coming through Jackson Hole. That’s a nice, tidy sum that can be made in the long run. It will help the ranch’s bottom line.”
“That’s what we think. I need to create a list of what’s needed. She’s buying the building packages over in Cheyenne and they’ll be trucked out here.”
“Is the company who’s selling you these packages giving you everything you need to erect them?”
“They say everything we need is supplied in the price.”
“That’s good news. Have the company send you the blueprints ahead of time and we’ll sit down and look at them. I can give you some guidance.”
Happiness threaded through Griff. This was the kind of relationship he’d hoped wasn’t destroyed by their past. Slade was friendly and helpful. “Sounds good. I appreciate this.
“Hey, before I leave, can I see Jordana’s mare? Miss Gus knew about Stormy and she wanted an update.”
Getting up, Slade said, “Come on, see for yourself.”
Griff followed him out of the house to the barn. Shorty was taking Thor, the medicine-hat mustang stallion, out into a lush green paddock for the day.
“Nice seein’ you, Griff,” the wrangler called as they passed one another.
“Same here, Shorty,” Griff called, lifting his hand. He admired the chestnut-and-white stallion who pranced and snorted at his leader’s side. Turning to Slade, he said, “Thor is incredible.”
Slade said, “You know, since Jordana won the Teton endurance ride on him, he’s gotten so many breedings with mares that we’re filled for the season.”
“That’s great,” Griff said, following him into the large red barn. The whinny of horses greeted them. “That’s another source of income for you.”
“Tell me about it. It’s as if marrying Jordana suddenly opened up the skies, and good fortune is raining down on me instead of crap.”
Griff appreciated his brother’s coarse description of his life. They halted at a stall in the center of the barn. Griff saw a small gray mustang inside munching contentedly on hay and recognized her as Stormy.
Slade slid the door open and clucked to the gray mare, who came willingly up to him. “You can see we have that rear leg wrapped. Jordana has a friend who is a homeopath and she came out to see her. Gave her a remedy and we’re seeing an improvement in her gait already.” Slade patted the mare, threading his fingers through the horse’s thick, black mane.
“Do you think she’ll be ready for next year’s endurance circuit?” Griff asked. Jordana was hoping to get the mare prepared starting in May, after most of the snow was off the ground.
Slade rubbed Stormy’s ears, the mare closing her eyes in appreciation. “If she continues at this rate, yes.” He patted the mare and slid the door shut, locking it. Turning, he gestured out the other end of the barn. “Jordana and I are thinking of building an indoor riding facility.”
Eyes widening, Griff said, “That’s a huge endeavor.” Indoor riding arenas were massive buildings with enough room to ride a horse when the weather was inclement. “And a lot of money.”
“I know.” Slade placed his hands on his narrow hips. “Jordana loves dressage and without an indoor arena, she can’t ride and stay in shape for way too much of the year.”
Dressage was the ultimate riding training, Griff knew. And Jordana was a champion dressage rider. “You could also use the place to break and tame Thor’s offspring. I know you like to get them green broke before you sell them.”
“Exactly,” Slade said. His dark brows fell. “But the local banker is not going to loan us one cent. He’s in bed with Downing. That little bastard purposely raised my mortgage to force me into foreclosing. It was a good thing Jordana won that ten thousand dollars in the race for us. Otherwise, I’d have gone belly-up.”
Frowning, Griff murmured, “Yeah, and at that time, I didn’t have two nickels to rub together to help you, either.”
Slade slapped him on the back. “The fact you offered any help at all was enough.”
Hearing the warmth in his brother’s voice, Griff felt the rest of his fear dissolve. “I like what we have now, Slade. I intend to be a good brother to you.
Slade grinned and removed his hand from Griff’s shoulder. “Right now, it looks like I’ll be helping you.”
“Call me when the blueprints arrive. I’ll drop by the Bar H and go over them with the three of you. Of course, Miss Gus has to okay it.”
“Oh, I think she’ll be tickled pink you’re involved. She thinks the world of you.”
“Really? Miss Gus is such a cantankerous old gal.”
Seeing the surprise in Slade’s eyes, Griff laughed. “She can be, but in her world, you’re cowboy number two, right behind her late husband, Pete.”
“Mmm, that’s a real compliment. Thanks for letting me know.”
“What about this bank? Are you going to have to go outside of Jackson Hole to find one that will loan you the money?”
“Yes. Jordana is calling around to some banks in Idaho Falls.”
“That’s a long way to drive.” Griff knew Idaho Falls, Idaho, was roughly a three-hour drive one way from Jackson Hole.
Slade shrugged. “Hey, you gotta go where the money’s at.”
As they walked across the gravel driveway, the sky was clear above them. A hawk called in the distance as Griff followed his brother back to his truck. Glancing over at Slade, he saw him in thought, his brows drawn down, mouth pursed.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Was I that obvious?”
“We’re twins. I think we share a little better communication than most others,” Griff said.
They halted at the front of the truck. “I was just thinking… Downing desperately wants to own the Bar H. Why is it so important to him?”
“He was always griping to Andy that he needed more land in order to enlarge his endurance-riding operation.”
Slade looked up and one corner of his mouth quirked. “I don’t know…my gut tells me, as usual, he’s up to no good.” And then he slid a glance to Griff. “You sure Miss Gus doesn’t have oil sitting under that ranch? It would be like him to know about it and never tell anyone in order to get the ranch at a reduced price.”
“There’s oil in Wyoming,” Griff agreed. “I haven’t heard Miss Gus say anything about it under her property. She owns the mineral rights so no one can come in and mine the land. All she’s wanting to do is put her half of Long Lake to work for them to earn some income.”
Digging the toe of his scarred cowboy boot into the red dirt, Slade grunted. “Maybe he wants the lake, then.”
“Yeah, he’d put as many condos on it as the county would allow. And when the county said stop, he’d probably slip them money to look the other way as he continued to populate it with condos. That’s how he operates. Money talks.”
“Downing has a way of staining anything he touches.” Again, Griff wondered just how many dirty dealings Downing had, and of what sort. That was the kind of information he needed about Downing. “At least Miss Gus is being conservative with a few cabins. She’s environmentally minded and six cabins isn’t going to muck up the lake.” Slade pushed the brim of h
is hat up. “Keep me in the loop as your plans move forward?”
“I will.” For a moment, Griff wanted to reach out and throw his arms around Slade. Thinking better of it, he walked around and opened the truck’s door. “Thanks for everything.”
Smiling a little, Slade pulled his hat down so it shaded his eyes once more. “Anytime.” He lifted his hand and then turned toward the barn.
Griff could see warmth in Slade’s gray eyes. Feeling hopeful, he drove the truck out of the yard and onto the road. Like Westerners in general, Griff knew that actions spoke a lot more loudly than words. Griff wanted to continue to mend the bad blood from their past. He’d have to prove himself to Slade, one day at a time. As he drove toward the highway, he felt a sudden and unexpected ache in his throat. Tears! He gulped several times, trying to swallow them back. It was impossible. The road blurred in front of him as he tried to blink them away.
For a sweet, unexpected moment, he thought of Val. He replayed the softness he’d seen in her blue eyes for that split second when he’d gently pushed a red strand of hair behind her delicate ear. It had been such a galvanizing and unexpected gesture on his part. Griff couldn’t get it—or her—out of his mind and heart.
As he drove down the long, straight road toward Jackson Hole, Griff felt the ache in his throat move down to his heart. He thought about Slade falling in love with Jordana. He could see a vulnerability taking root in his brother that had never been there before. Did real love change the other person? Complete them? Make them feel safe and secure so that they didn’t have to erect hard walls around them in order to survive?
His mind churned over the idea in regards to Val. In some ways, she was very similar to Slade: both had walls and no one was allowed to move past them to get to the real person. Slade’s had probably been created by the death of their parents and having to run a ranch from such a young age. Val’s had been beaten into place by her alcoholic father. Griff felt lucky in comparison, for his aunt and uncle had done nothing but shower him with love. He realized the differences. And he had a confidence that neither Slade nor Val possessed. His dilemma was in figuring out how to get beyond those walls to the person who hid behind them.
The Wrangler Page 17
