The Maverick of Copper Creek (23 page)

K
ate's cheerful voice over the phone assured Brenna that Noah was strong enough to be released from the clinic. While Brenna made plans to drive to town, Ash and Vern left on horseback to return the herd to her highland range.

“See that Noah brings an insulated sleeping bag, now that he has no range shack for protection,” Vern called. “The nights are still pretty cold, especially in the hills.”

Brenna nodded and waved them off before tossing one of the spare sleeping bags into the back of her truck. She let Sammy out for a quick run before closing him up in the kitchen.

On the drive to town she was distracted by thoughts of Ash. Despite the fact that he was a different man from the one who'd left in a temper all those years ago, his basic goodness hadn't changed. He was still fun to be with, silly and teasing, but with a fundamental integrity that couldn't be shaken even while he'd struggled to survive.

Maybe that was another reason they were so good together. He understood her struggles, because he'd been forced to live his own. Despite his family's wealth and success, he'd had to make it on his own.

He'd said nothing about remaining on his family ranch. Maybe he wasn't ready to make that decision yet. Maybe he was just testing the waters, to see where he fit in.

She hoped he would stay. She wished it with all her heart.

But if he decided to go, she wouldn't hold him. It might break her heart, but she would never ask him to do something he didn't have his heart set on doing. And that included staying because of her.

She'd almost settled for something less than perfect with Chris. She'd tried to convince herself that even a taste of happiness, at the expense of all she wanted, was better than none at all. Never again, she thought, clenching a fist on the steering wheel. She would never settle for less than unselfish love. And if that meant giving up the one person who mattered most in her life, so be it.

She parked in front of the clinic and hurried inside.

Kate looked up from her desk with a wide smile. “I've been waiting for you.” She rounded the desk and lowered her voice. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Of course.” Brenna followed her example, lowering her own voice, as well. “What can I do for you?”

“I don't know if you're aware of it, but Dr. Mullin and the clinic will be celebrating twenty-five years here in Copper Creek this June. I was hoping you could make a sculpture in time for the anniversary. And I'd like it to be a surprise.”

Brenna couldn't hide her pleasure. “What a fine idea. Do you have anything in mind?”

Kate rummaged through her desk drawer and produced a picture cut from a magazine. It showed a man in a white lab coat, with a stethoscope around his neck. “I'd like something like this, but with Dr. Mullin's face and body type. Think you could do it?”

“I don't see why not. I can certainly try.” Hearing the doctor approach, Brenna stuffed the picture into the pocket of her jeans and looked up with a smile.

“Brenna. Your wrangler is all set.” Dan Mullin paused to scratch his name on a document before handing it to her. “He has no sign of infection, and he claims to have no pain, so there's no need for any prescriptions to be filled.”

“It's safe for him to resume working?”

“You bet.” He nodded toward Kate. “I already told him to get dressed. You can tell him Brenna is here to drive him back.”

Minutes later Noah Perkins walked down the hall beside the doctor's assistant. In his hand he carried the crudely fashioned cane he'd made from a tree limb while up in the hills.

Dan Mullin turned. “I told Brenna that you're able to resume your chores. Do you need that cane?”

Noah shook his head. “I just thought I'd keep it for a souvenir. I'm good to go. Thanks for stitching me up.”

“A couple of those cuts were deep. Next time you have to escape out a burning building, try the door, okay?” The two shook hands before Noah followed Brenna out the door and into her waiting truck.

Brenna glanced at the man in the passenger seat. From the shaggy beard and hair, to the long-sleeved flannel shirt and worn denims, still smeared with his blood, he looked much the same as when she'd brought him to the clinic.

“I wish I'd thought to ask Kate for your clothes when you were admitted. I don't know if all that blood would have come out in the wash, but at least they'd be clean.”

He shrugged. “Cows don't mind dirty clothes.”

She smiled. “That's true.” She nodded toward the rear of the pickup. “Before Vern and Ash left to fetch the herd, Vern reminded me to bring along an insulated sleeping bag. With no shelter, you'll be glad to have it on these cold nights in the hills.”

“So Vern and Ash are already with the herd?”

She nodded. “Vern didn't want to impose on the generosity of the MacKenzies any longer than necessary.”

Noah leaned his head back, a sure indication that he was through talking. Not that Brenna minded. She was already thinking about the sculpture Kate had commissioned. She would have no problem sculpting Dan Mullin's face, or the lab coat or stethoscope, but she'd already moved beyond that. She wanted to show his love, his compassion for the people of Copper Creek. Maybe she would add a baby in one arm and have his other arm around the shoulder of a cowboy in denims, wearing a Stetson.

Her mind was working overtime, mulling all the possibilities.

By the time she arrived at her ranch, she was itching to get started.

As she passed the porch and headed toward the trail that led around the barns and into the hills, Noah lifted his head.

“Think you could spare a couple of bottles of water?”

“Oh, of course. Not a problem. I'll get them.”

She parked the truck and left it idling as she climbed the steps of the porch. When she opened the back door, she realized that Noah was right behind her.

“You startled me. There's no need to exert yourself. I can bring it out to you.”

“I can help.”

When she hesitated, he shoved her inside with such force she stumbled across the mudroom.

In the kitchen she caught hold of the edge of the table and steadied herself before turning to him with a flash of anger. “What do you think you're doing? I nearly fell.”

Sammy was halfway across the room, yapping hysterically, when he suddenly halted in midstride and cringed when Noah lifted the cane menacingly.

“Smart mutt. He remembers what the toe of my boot feels like.” No longer hunched over in pain, Noah was standing straight and tall.

“What are you saying?” Brenna was too stunned to do more than stare at him in open-mouthed surprise. But as his meaning dawned, her eyes went wide. “It was you? You broke in? You frightened my dog?”

“You're lucky I didn't kill him. All that yapping. Then he tried to bite my leg. That's when I kicked him and tossed him out the door.”

She thought of her poor, frightened puppy, hurt and wandering around in the darkness until Ash's truck's headlights had found him alongside the road. He'd probably been shamed by the fact that he hadn't been able to guard his territory.

“Why? What do you want?”

“Shut up. I'm sick and tired of you yapping just like your dog.” He pointed with his cane. “Now pick up the mutt or I swear this time I will kill him.”

She scooped Sammy into her arms and did her best to soothe his trembling response to this stranger. She could feel his poor heart thundering. It matched her own heart rate, which had gone sky-high.

She was terrified of this man. And confused. Had his injuries all been part of some elaborate scheme? That wasn't possible. Dr. Mullin would never have tolerated a hoax.

“Get in there where I can keep an eye on you.” Noah shoved her roughly ahead of him into the parlor. When he spotted her rifle leaning against the wall, he tossed aside his makeshift cane and grabbed the weapon.

Seeing the boarded-up window, he muttered a curse. “If it hadn't been for that…”

His words had her stopping in midstride. “That's where you cut yourself. Not up at the range shack.”

She could still hear the shattering of glass, and see in her mind's eye the figure fleeing across the darkened yard, leaving a trail of blood.

And then it all became perfectly clear.

“That fire up in the hills was no accident. You set it, didn't you? It was all an elaborate cover-up to get help for your wounds without anyone getting suspicious about how you got them.”

“You're too damned smart for your own good. But I'm a whole lot smarter.”

“But why…?”

“I told you to shut up.” He brought the rifle down hard on her head.

The blow had her seeing stars as she dropped to her knees. Though Sammy yelped and wriggled, she managed to hold fast to him, afraid if he broke free this man would follow up on his threat to kill him.

“Give me your cell phone,” Noah demanded.

“Wha…?” When she didn't move quickly enough he snatched it from her pocket.

“Now. Don't move,” he ordered. “Stay on the floor and face that wall.”

When she didn't turn away quickly enough he brought the rifle down again, this time across her back, sending her sprawling.

With a moan of pain she lay on the floor, desperately cuddling Sammy against her chest. As she struggled to remain conscious, she could hear the sound of something heavy being shoved across the floor. Minutes later she heard a chair creaking under Noah's weight.

If only she could see. But the pain of the blow had rendered her dizzy and half blind, with blood from the open cut in her head slowly trickling down her face.

She could hear Noah grunting and swearing as he began tearing down huge sections of the ceiling and allowing it to fall to the floor. Dust and debris fell on Brenna, coating her hair, clogging her throat.

Her eyes burned from the effort to open them in the cloud of powdery dust that rose up from the old plaster. Sammy gagged and coughed, and still she clung to him with a kind of desperation.

“Yes! It's true. That old son of a bitch didn't lie.”

She heard his muttered exclamation, and felt her heart stop.

It was obvious that this drifter had found whatever it was he'd been searching for.

Now he would no longer have any use for her.

She heard him grunt as he leaped from the chair and landed with a thud on his feet. In quick strides he was across the room and standing over her. She could hear him breathing. She could smell him, a foul, sour smell of sweat and filth and unwashed clothes.

Instead of the gunshot she'd been anticipating, he reached down and yanked her painfully to her feet.

The figure of him swam in front of her eyes and she blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision.

“You're going with me.” He shoved her ahead of him.

When she realized what he was doing, she thought about Ash and Vern, in the hills with the herd, and completely unaware of the drama being played out here. Even when they returned and found her gone, they wouldn't have a clue what had happened here, or if she'd been taken against her will.

It was tricky, keeping hold of a wriggling pup while sliding the slim bracelet from her wrist, but she managed it, and let it drop silently to the rug.

Muttering every rich, ripe oath he could think of, Noah shoved her ahead of him toward the kitchen and out the back door.

“Now we'll take that ride.”

“I can't see enough to drive.”

“No need. From now I'll be driving, cuz I'm in charge. See. You didn't know it, but from the beginning, I've been in charge.” He opened the passenger door and shoved her so hard she fell across the seat.

In that instant Sammy wriggled free and began running around and around the man's feet, yapping frantically.

“No, Sam…”

Her words were cut off at the sudden, loud report of a rifle shot as Noah fired at close range. The puppy's yelp died in its throat, as the little dog dropped to the ground in a heap.

“Sammy. Oh, Sammy…” She sat up, but before she could rush to him, the rifle slashed out, knocking her backward.

“That's better.” Enraged, Noah stepped over the puppy's lifeless body and slammed the passenger door before circling around and climbing into the driver's side.

He withdrew some rope from his pocket and tied Brenna's hands and ankles so tightly she cried out in pain.

“Aw. Did I hurt you?” He gave a strange, high-pitched laugh at his little joke before his voice turned into a snarl of rage. “If you say a word, I'll tape your mouth. You hear?”

She nodded, while tears ran silently down her cheeks.

He put the truck in gear, and took off with the tires spewing gravel.

Brenna stared out the side window, cursing the tears that blurred her vision. But what she could see of Sammy was nothing more than a tiny bundle of yellow fluff lying still and lifeless on the ground.

And then the truck was racing toward the highway, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

As her ranch receded from view, she thought of Ash, herding her cattle to the highlands, expecting to find Noah there to tend them.

By the time he returned, she could be hundreds of miles from here. Even if he found her bracelet, there was no way of letting him know what had happened, or where this madman was taking her.

Though she struggled through a mist of pain and sorrow, her mind, her body betrayed her. The blow to the head had left her brain fuzzy and her vision blurred.

The young woman who had always prided herself on being able to take care of herself and resolve any situation, no matter how impossible it may have seemed, was now reduced to an odd, numbing silence.

A
sh and Vern, working together in companionable silence, moved slowly behind the herd. Occasionally one of them would veer off to force an errant calf back to its mother's side, or lasso an ornery cow that wandered too far from the rest.

It was a perfect spring day. Sunny but cool enough that they were comfortable in the saddle.

Once they began the climb toward the hills above Brenna's ranch, the cattle moved along the familiar territory at a faster pace. They were soon milling about their spring range, feasting on the abundant grass that grew there.

Vern looked annoyed. “Now what's keeping that lazy drifter?”

“I'm sure he's on his way.” Ash pulled out his cell phone and punched in Brenna's number. The phone rang and rang before her message played.

“Hey, Sunshine. Vern and I are here with the herd. What's the holdup with Noah? I hope he didn't develop any complications before the clinic could release him. Call me when you get this message.”

He dropped the phone into his shirt pocket. “I'm sure we'll hear from her in a few minutes.”

Noah played Ash's message and shot a triumphant grin at Brenna. “Sounds like your boyfriend's not happy being stuck babysitting your cows. But that's all good news for me. It means he and the old geezer haven't been to the house yet, and don't know you've gone missing. We've just bought ourselves a whole lot of time.”

At his words, Brenna's heart fell to her toes. How long, she wondered, would Ash and Vern wait in the highlands before giving up and heading toward her place?

By the time they realized she was missing, she could be hundreds of miles away.

Or dead.

Noah had shown no mercy toward Sammy. Why should she expect him to treat her any differently?

“Where are you taking me?”

“You'll see when we get there.”

“But why? Why take me, when you got what you came for?”

“Maybe what I really came for is you.”

She visibly paled.

Seeing how his words affected her, he became animated, clearly enjoying the role of tormentor. “So, your old man was a drunk. A mean one. I know a thing or two about that.”

She went very still. “How do you know about my father?”

“Maybe I heard people talking.”

“Up in the hills with the cattle?”

He shot her a narrowed look. “You're too smart for your own good. If you're not careful, I'll tape that mouth. Or maybe I'll just silence you the way I did your dog.”

She refused to be cowed. “Tell me how you know about my father.”

He swore. “You're just like him. There was no shutting him up, either.”

“So you did know him. You talked with him?”

“Oh yeah. Mostly, he talked and I listened. You might say I took notes.” He chuckled at his little joke.

“Where? Where was he? How did you meet him?”

His head swiveled to study her. “I see I got your attention now.” He took his time, measuring words, parceling them out like a miser. “I met your daddy in an assisted-living place where I was working. You might say I was his…personal aide.”

“How did he look?” Her tone was nearly pleading. “Was he clean and sober?”

Noah gave a dry laugh. “I don't know about clean, but he was sober. He also got religion, which turned him into a real bore. There's nothing worse than a recovered drunk who's ashamed of his past and wants to spend the rest of his life converting the whole world.”

Brenna sat back, trying to imagine her father sober and religious. It was almost more than she could take in. “Did he ever…mention me?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“When didn't he? You're all he talked about. How you looked just like your mother. How she'd forgiven him before she died, and how he hoped and prayed his beautiful daughter would do the same.”

His beautiful daughter.

Brenna fell silent, trying to reconcile the image of the angry, abusive father she'd known with the man he'd apparently become in his old age.

He'd never called her beautiful. Or pretty. Or even sweet. All he'd ever hurled at her were angry, hurtful names.

Feeling full of himself, Noah managed a sly smile. “You're about to join him, you know.”

Despite her pain, her terror about the very real danger she was facing at this man's hands, she latched onto the only thing that he was willing to talk about. “You're taking me to my father? Why didn't you tell me that sooner?”

“Would it have made any difference?”

“Of course it would. I want to see him. And if you'd been honest from the beginning, you wouldn't have had to go through any of this. I'd have been happy to give you whatever you wanted, and I'd have come willingly, without being tied or forced.”

She saw an odd look come over him. Smug at first, as though he'd won the lottery. But then his eyes went hard as flint, and he looked at her in a way that had her blood turning to ice.

“The only thing I hate more than a reformed drunk is a woman who pretends she can forgive the drunk who abused her.”

“I do forgive him.” She said it simply, from the heart.

His hand shot out so quickly she didn't see it coming and slapped her hard. Her head snapped to one side, and the prints of his fingers left red welts on her cheek.

While tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, he merely laughed. “We'll see just how forgiving you really are. Before I'm through with you, you'll be cursing my name. And just for fun, I'll let you call me Daddy.”

“Okay. I've waited long enough.” Ash plucked his phone from his pocket and dialed the clinic in Copper Creek. After several rings he said, “Hey, Kate. Ash MacKenzie here. Was there a holdup on Brenna's wrangler, Noah Perkins?”

He listened, then said, “Thanks, Kate. I'll check her place.”

He turned to Vern with a frown. “Brenna and Noah left the clinic two hours ago. You stay with the herd. I'm heading to Brenna's house.”

He dug in his heels, urging his mount into a gallop. Along the way he tried her phone several times, but always got her message. By the time he came around the barn and saw no trace of Brenna's truck, he'd gone over a dozen different scenarios in his mind, and all of them too frightening to accept. Now, as he struggled to dismiss yet another vision of Brenna in harm's way, he came closer to the back porch and caught sight of Sammy lying still and small in the yard.

He vaulted out of the saddle and raced toward the puppy. The earth around his tiny body was wet with blood.

Cradling the bloodied pup in his arms, Ash sprinted up the steps, shouting Brenna's name.

The silence of the rooms mocked him.

He gently settled the still form of the pup on its bed and felt the feeble, thready pulse. Alive, but barely. He covered him with a sun-warmed afghan before walking to the parlor. He took one look at the ruined ceiling, and the piles of dust and debris, before turning away. Then he realized that Brenna's rifle was missing. As he started out of the room he caught sight of something glittering on the rug near the door.

He bent and picked it up, at the same moment punching in the police chief's number.

“Ira. Ash here.” His voice was tight as he fought to control the absolute terror rising within him. “I'm at Brenna's place. Her puppy's been shot and left for dead. Her parlor ceiling has been trashed. No sign of Brenna, her truck, her rifle, or the drifter she'd picked up at the clinic this morning. I'm certain she didn't go with him willingly.”

“Did she leave you any message?”

Ash opened his hand to stare at the delicate gold filigree. “She left me a sign. It's unmistakable.”

“All right. That's good enough for me.” The two exchanged terse words as the police chief asked the make and model of her old truck before saying, “I'll get the state police on it right away. They can have aerial observation going within the hour.”

“My family can have a plane up even sooner than that.” Ash rang off and called his brother.

In quick, staccato phrases he explained what was happening and what he needed.

Whit didn't waste time with unnecessary questions. There would be time enough later for answers. For now he said simply, “Brady and I will have the plane ready when you get here.”

“Thanks. I'm on my way.” Ash called Vern and told him what he'd found, including the near-lifeless body of Sammy. “Leave the herd and get here as fast as you can. If Noah got what he wanted from that ceiling, there was no reason to take Brenna along, unless he plans to hurt her. He shot Sammy, probably with Brenna's own rifle. I have no doubt he's capable of much more violence.”

The old cowboy heard the pain and fury in Ash's voice and said simply, “I'm heading there now. You go after her. And Ash?”

“Yeah.”

“You bring her home, son.”

“You know I will, Vern. Or die trying.”