The Legacy of Copper Creek (24 page)

For a moment Mad appeared too stunned to speak. He looked at the others. “Is the lad hallucinating?”

Cara turned from Juliet's arms. “No, Mad. Lance admitted it. In fact, he bragged about it.”

“But why?” Willow's face was drained of color. Her voice was little more than a shocked whisper.

“He bragged that he killed Bear and that old man in Red Rock. He boasted that he killed others because he wanted what they'd worked a lifetime to obtain—their land and the mineral rights.”

Around the clearing, there were muttered curses and passionate oaths as both the family and the authorities considered the implications.

When the crew lifted the gurney, Cara leapt to her feet to clutch Whit's hand between both of hers. With tears streaming down her face, she moved along by his side.

When they reached the copter, one of the officers turned to her. “I'm sorry, miss. You'll have to say your good-byes here. This is as far as you can go.”

She started to follow orders, but Whit's hand tightened on hers.

Seeing it, the medic glanced at the others. “Looks like our patient has a mind of his own. Our job is to heal. And I'd say this young woman is probably the best medicine of all.” He smiled at her. “I think you'd better come with us, or our patient might refuse to go without you.”

With a shy wave to the others, Cara climbed inside the police chopper, all the while holding tightly to Whit's cold hand.

As they rose into the air, creating a whirlwind of dirt and grass, those on the ground were left to comfort one another while trying to fully comprehend the enormity of what had just transpired.

After a year of questions and doubts and mistrust, Bear's killer was finally revealed. He was motivated not because of a grudge, or the famous MacKenzie temper, or a debt that was owed, but because of greed. A coward who had coveted what Bear MacKenzie had spent a lifetime earning by the sweat of his brow, simply shot him in the back and left him to die by the banks of Copper Creek.

And now that same cowardly killer had left both Whit and Myrna fighting for their lives.

M
orning, Doc.” Mad wheeled his scooter along the hall of the Copper Creek Clinic. “How are our patients doing today?”

“Fine. Day four now, and I'm amazed at how much both Myrna and Whit have improved.” The doctor paused outside a closed door. “We got your grandson up and walking yesterday. He was as wobbly as a toddler, and not happy about his weakness. But he kept on pushing himself until he didn't need any help. As for Myrna, she must have a guardian angel on her side. Two bullets and she won't have any permanent injuries, except for some stiffness in one shoulder. I have a therapist working with her. She'll be good as new in no time.”

“Poor thing.” Willow, standing alongside her father-in-law, shook her head. “She's just itching to get home.”

“She's not as bad as Whit.” Dr. Mullin chuckled softly. “I swear, if he could fly, he'd already be there. The only thing keeping him sane is having Cara at his side.”

Willow's voice lowered. “I'm worried about that girl. I know she's glued to Whit's side, but she hasn't been herself since her abduction.”

The doctor nodded. “I've noticed that, too. She's quiet and withdrawn. She seems to be carrying a heavy load of guilt.”

“What does the lass have to be guilty of?” Mad demanded. “She did everything right. Kept her head, never lost her courage, and according to Whit, was the innocent victim in all this.”

“She believes she brought all this trouble to your doorstep.”

“Bear was shot long before she came along.” Willow's lips quivered just speaking those words.

“But Evil Eyes, as she calls her abductor, shot both Myrna and Whit, and she blames herself because she believes that had she not been with your family, they would have been spared.”

“And we'd have never known about his hideous crimes.” Mad's burr thickened. “Have ye told the lass that?”

The doctor nodded. “I've tried. But she's not convinced.”

At his words, the two fell silent for a moment before he gave the news he'd been withholding. “I do believe we may be able to send your patients home within the next day or two.”

“That's the news we've been waiting for, Doc.” Mad's frown of concern disappeared and his face was wreathed in smiles. “You've made a lot of people a whole lot happier today.”

They shook hands before going their separate ways.

At dinner that night, the discussion, as usual, centered around those who were missing.

“Dr. Mullin agreed with us about Cara,” Willow said as they gathered at the big kitchen table. “He thinks she somehow feels responsible for bringing all this trouble on our family.”

“That's crazy.” Ash dropped his fork with a clatter. “If anything, she's responsible for uncovering the mystery of Pop's death. If Lance hadn't come after her to keep her from identifying him as the stranger she'd seen at Abe's ranch, we would still be in the dark about who shot Pop and why.”

Willow reached over to Brenna before glancing around the table at the others. “I think Brenna's assessment the other day was right on. Poor Cara seems to have drawn into some sort of protective shell while she helps Whit through his recovery. But I'm afraid that sooner or later she may snap if she doesn't let go of this wrongheaded belief that she is somehow responsible for luring Lance out of the shadows and into our lives.”

“Speaking of guilt…” Mad shoved aside his plate, his dinner half eaten. “Mason McMillan left a message saying he was horrified by the news of his son's crimes and hoped we could find it in our hearts to someday forgive him for his ignorance.”

“This wasn't Mason's fault.” Willow got to her feet in agitation. “That poor old man must be reeling.” She turned to Brady. “I need to phone him. Will you meet me in my office after you've finished eating?”

Brady shoved back his chair. “I don't seem to have much of an appetite lately.”

When the two disappeared down the hallway, Juliet let out a deep sigh. “We should be thrilled that a murderer has been exposed and both Whit and Myrna are recovering nicely. But in truth, we're all more nervous and jumpy than ever.”

Mad put a hand over hers. “These things take time, lass. I doubt we'll find any peace until we're all together again, whole and healthy, and ready to stand together as a family once more.”

Griff managed a smile. “What amazes me is that I spent a lifetime alone, and in the short time I've been part of this family, I've begun to accept it as my right. After the last few days, I'll never again take it for granted.” He drew his wife and two small sons into the circle of his arms before adding solemnly, “And, like Whit and Cara, I'd fight like a wounded bear if anyone tried to harm the people I love.”

Whit watched as Cara dozed in the reclining chair pulled up alongside his bed. He was grateful that she'd finally fallen asleep. In the days and nights he'd been here, she had refused to leave. And whenever he awoke from a drug-induced sleep, she'd been hovering at his side, watching for any sign of pain or trouble.

Like an avenging angel.

The thought had him smiling. He'd been so proud of the way she'd handled her ordeal. Proud of the fact that, despite what must have been a terrifying situation, she'd remained cool and ready to fight her abductor.

He'd tried to tell her how he felt, but between the bone-jarring pain and the drugs Dr. Mullin kept forcing him to take, there'd been no time.

Today, for the first time since he'd been shot, he was feeling strong enough to resist any more drugs. He intended to force himself to walk the entire length of the corridor and back to convince the doctor that he was ready to get out of this place.

Myrna, too, was anxious to leave. The old woman had insisted on being wheeled into his room yesterday to see for herself that one of her “boys” was healing. She and Cara had fallen into one another's arms and wept a river of tears. Long after Myrna had returned to her room, Cara had been inconsolable, as though, Whit thought with a frown, she'd been the one to shoot that sweet old woman.

“You're awake.” Cara's head came up sharply and she was on her feet instantly, touching a hand to Whit's forehead. “Oh, thank heaven. No more fever.”

“That's odd.” He closed a hand over hers. “If I don't have a fever, what's got me feeling so hot?” With a grin, he answered his own question. “I guess it must be the hot babe standing beside me.”

Instead of the chuckle he'd expected, she looked almost sad. “Don't joke, Whit. You need to take this more seriously. You almost died up in those hills.”

“But I didn't. Thanks to you.”

Her head snapped up as though she'd been slapped. “Thanks to me, you got shot.”

“As I recall, it was Lance who shot me, not you.”

“But it was my fault you were there. It was my fault he came to the house and shot Myrna. And my fault that old Abe Crawford was killed.”

“Hey. That's a whole lot of heavy guilt for one little woman.” He reached out and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to lean toward him. “Thanks to you, I finally know who shot my father.”

When she remained silent, he pulled her down until she was perched on the edge of his bed. “What's wrong, Cara? What's going on in that mind of yours? Talk to me, please.”

She wouldn't meet his eyes. Instead she stared at his hands, gently holding her against her will. “Lance was right. He called me a nobody whose mother was a tramp with so many men in her life she couldn't even identify which one was my father. Even though he was a stranger, Lance knew everything about me. The fact that I was homeless, drifting from job to job. He knew about Jared Billingham and had even bribed him to say I'd stolen from him.”

“Chief Pettigrew said the police detective who interviewed Billingham got him to admit the truth. He'd done everything he could to control your life and hadn't given a thought to what effect that might have on you and your future. And he's admitted to sending you those threatening texts. Now that his secret is out, he's feeling ashamed and sorry.”

She shook her head. “It doesn't matter. Everything else that evil-eyed man said about me was the truth. I'm a loser. A nobody.”

“You saved my life and exposed the coward who shot my father in the back. I'd say that's something to be proud of.”

She looked away. “Really? I finally did something right. Are you suggesting that makes up for a lifetime of wrongs?”

Whit sat up and caught her chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Cara, you're the finest person I've ever known. You're fun and sweet and good.” His tone lightened. “And you're not bad-looking, either.”

When she didn't respond with a laugh as he'd hoped, he gathered her close and covered her mouth with his.

He felt her shivering response and knew she wasn't as unmoved as she tried to appear.

“Mind if I try that again?” He drew her even closer and kissed her until they were both breathless.

He drew a little away. “Okay. Your turn. Is there anything nice you'd like to say to me before I kiss you again?”

She looked as though she might cry. “Whit MacKenzie, you're the finest man I've ever known. I can't even imagine finding anyone who could come close to you. You think I saved your life, but in truth, you saved mine. And I can never repay you or your family for what I've been given. Your entire family is so good and fine. They welcomed a stranger into their home and made me feel like I belonged. For someone who's never belonged anywhere, it's the greatest gift I've ever been given. I've never known anyone like them, or you. Especially you. Even with my crazy imagination, I could have never created a finer man than you.”

“Thank you.” He touched a thumb to her lower lip. “So why does that make you so sad?”

“Because I'll—”

They both looked up as the doctor walked in, followed by his assistant.

“Good news, Whit. I know you've been chomping at the bit, so today is your lucky day. You and Myrna are both being discharged. I've already phoned your family to pick you up.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Whit shook his hand.

“When you're dressed, Kate will wheel you to the door.”

“I can walk.”

Dr. Mullin shook his head. “Protocol. You'll ride, whether you like it or not.” He beckoned to Cara. “Myrna's asking for you.”

She nodded and started to follow him to the door.

Whit caught her hand and drew her back for a long, lingering kiss.

With a sexy grin he said, “I just needed that to hold me until I can get you alone.”

She walked away without a word.

When the truck bearing Myrna, Whit, and Cara drew near the ranch house, they could see the entire family waiting on the back porch.

Brady and Willow, who'd come to fetch them home from the clinic, both started laughing.

“Prepare to be smothered in love,” Willow said.

Once they stepped out of the truck, they were mobbed.

“About time.” Ash slapped his younger brother on the back before pulling him close in a fierce bear hug. “I'm tired of handling your duties, bro. I hope you're feeling up to mucking stalls by morning.”

“I can't wait.”

Griff touched a hand to Whit's forehead. “You must be feverish. I can't imagine anybody eager to shovel manure.”

That had everyone laughing.

“Oh, Myrna.” Brenna wrapped her arms around the old woman's neck and burst into tears. “I'm so happy to have you home where you belong.”

“Not nearly as happy as I am to be here.” Myrna knelt down to welcome Casey and Ethan, who threw themselves into her outstretched arms.

Mad rolled his scooter close enough to grab his grandson's hand. “You've been missed, lad.”

Whit swallowed. “Thanks, Mad. I've missed everyone here. You'll never know how much.”

“I've made all your favorite foods to celebrate your return.” Mad was grinning. “Steak, thick and rare. My garlic mashed potatoes. And for dessert, that gooey sponge cake topped with whipped cream and berries that you always used to beg me to bake you when you were a lad.”

“Flan? You made me a flan?”

“That I did. I actually baked two of them, in case you wanted one all for yourself.”

As the others turned to go inside, Mad reached out and caught Cara's arm, forcing her to pause.

“Welcome home, lass.”

“Thank you, Mad.”

“In all the excitement, there's not been time to thank you, lass. You kept your head when all around you were losing theirs.”

She smiled. “I guess it pays to grow up in a lot of chaos.”

“Is that what made you so strong?”

She seemed surprised. “I don't see myself as strong. Incompetent, maybe. Weak, definitely. But strong? Never.”

“Then you're not looking at the young woman I'm looking at. What you did up in those hills was simply remarkable. And I'll never forget it. None of us will.” He pressed the button, engaging the scooter, and she moved along woodenly by his side.

Once in the house, the noise level was deafening. Everyone was talking at once. Every minute or so there was a fresh round of laughter as they lifted frosty longnecks in a salute and finished one another's sentences.

In an effort to blend in, Cara picked up a pair of oven mitts and began lifting pans and trays from the oven, setting sizzling steaks on a platter, and breaking apart steaming rolls before filling a linen-lined basket.

As she was about to announce that dinner was ready, she spied her cell phone on the countertop. As she scrolled through it, she discovered a voice mail. Noting the name and number, she lifted it and touched the button to listen.

When the message was completed, Cara stepped out of the room to place a call.