The Rebel of Copper Creek Read Free Page B

promising his lady love that new truck she’s been mooning over.”
    â€œNobody deserves it more,” Ash said, stonefaced.
    â€œOh, man.” Whit turned away with a mock shudder. “Now I really need a beer at Wylie’s to wash away the taste of all that sugar.”
    At that, everyone burst into gales of laughter. Even Myrna joined in as the men made ready to leave for town.
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    As the others headed outside, Mad snagged Brady’s arm.
    The foreman turned back with an arched brow. “Something wrong, Mad?”
    â€œI want your take on Griff. How’s he working out?”
    â€œEven better than I expected. Oh, he’s green. No doubt about it. But he’s a quick study. You show him what to do, he gets it done.”
    â€œSo he’s not just coasting on the fact that he’s Bear’s other son?”
    Brady chuckled. “You know how gossip spreads like a range fire on a ranch of this size. Let one person know something, all of Montana knows it the next day. So the fact that he’s Bear’s son is no secret around here. But I’ve never once seen him use it as leverage. He’s tough. This is a marine who’s seen his share of war. Now, with that life behind him, he’s ready for the next stage of his life.”
    â€œHow about Ash and Whit?” The old man’s eyes narrowed. “You see any power plays between them and this newcomer?”
    â€œNot one bit. Even though it’s been a bitter pill for them to swallow, finding out their father had another son, they’ve stepped up to it like men. I haven’t seen a trace of jealousy or animosity between them and Griff.” The foreman paused. “Bear would be proud of them, Mad. And so should you. Every time I look at Griff I see Bear.”
    As he walked away, the old man blinked hard against the sudden tears. Damned dust motes. He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose before turning his wheelchair toward his suite of rooms down the hallway.
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    Copper Creek, more than an hour’s drive from the ranch, was little more than a main street, with rows of shops and stores, a church, a school, a medical center, and a town hall connected with a jail and a courthouse. The Boxcar Inn was a real boxcar turned into the town’s favorite restaurant, and owned by a retired railroad conductor and his wife. It was no competition for Wylie’s Saloon, the official watering hole for the surrounding ranchers, who had been drinking with the owner for thirty-plus years. But the food at the Boxcar was a hundred times better than the greasy burgers at Wylie’s.
    â€œHey, Whit. Griff.” Nonie Claxton, a waitress at Wylie’s Saloon since it first opened, paused while juggling a tray holding half a dozen longnecks. She wiped stringy orange bangs from her eyes as she gave Brady Storm a long, admiring look. “How lucky can a girl get? Three sexy cowboys. Park somewhere, boys, and I’ll take your order in a minute.”
    Seeing no seats left at the bar, they grabbed a table in the middle of the smoky room. Within minutes Nonie returned and set three frosty longnecks in front of them.
    Griff nodded toward a noisy table in the corner. “Who’re the guys in uniform?”
    Nonie glanced toward the assortment of men in wheelchairs, others balancing crutches or canes across their laps. Several wore faded military fatigues. “They call themselves Romeos.”
    At Griff’s arched brow she laughed. “They’re all part of the band of veterans who spend time at the Grayson Ranch. It’s a take on the owner’s name. The widow Grayson. Her name’s Juliet. Get it? Romeos? Juliet?” She nodded toward Whit. “Your brother here could probably tell you about the place.”
    Whit shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know that much about it, except that when Buddy Grayson’s widow came back to Montana to take over the ranch,