The Legacy of Copper Creek (28 page)

“Good. Good.” Fresh out of words, Ira started toward the door. Then, thinking better about it, he paused and turned. “I can't tell you how sorry I am. You've lost a good husband, son, father, and friend. And the town of Copper Creek has lost a born leader. Bear will be mourned by a lot of people.”

He plucked his hat from a hook by the back door and let himself out.

In the kitchen, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The headline in the
Copper Creek Gazette
read:

The news spread like a range fire through the tiny town of Copper Creek, Montana.

The headline and news article were read and discussed in every diner and saloon and ranch, where cowboys and their women speculated on the shooter and the motive for the killing.

And though everyone in the small town claimed to know everyone else, there was the nagging little thought that one of them just might be the vicious gunman who'd ended Bear MacKenzie's fabled life.

Willow's mount was lathered by the time horse and rider topped a ridge and the house and barns came into view. The chestnut gelding had been running full-out across the meadows ever since its rider had left the stables and given him his head. Now, sensing food and shelter, the horse's gait increased until they were fairly flying down the hill.

At the doorway to the barn Willow slid from the saddle and led her mount toward a stall. Snagging a towel from the rail, she removed the saddle and bridle and began wiping him down. After filling the trough with feed, she picked up a pitchfork and began forking dung, even though the stalls had been thoroughly cleaned earlier in the day.

She worked until her arms ached. When she could do no more, she hung the pitchfork on a hook along the wall and dropped down onto a bale of hay. Burying her face in her hands, she began sobbing. Great wrenching sobs were torn from her heart and soul.

“Hey now.” Brady Storm stepped out of a back room and crossed to her.

Without another word he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, allowing her to cry until there were no tears left.

When at last she lifted her head, he handed her a handkerchief. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes before saying, “Thanks. Sorry.” She ducked her head, avoiding his eyes. “I got your shirt all wet.”

“It's okay, Willow.”

When she continued staring at her feet he caught her chin and lifted her face until she met his steady look.

Her voice was choked. “I thought I was alone. Don't tell Mad or Whit. I never want them to see me like this.”

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. You've got a right to grieve. We're all grieving.”

“I know.” She stepped back. “But I need…” Her lips trembled and she fretted that she might break down again. “I need to be strong while we sort things out.”

He kept his hand on her arm to steady her. “You're the strongest woman I know, Willow.”

“I'm not feeling strong right now. I feel…” She looked up at him, and tears shimmered on her lashes. “I feel broken, Brady.” She turned away and hugged her arms about herself, as though trying to hold things together by the sheer strength of her will.

The foreman placed a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of tenderness, before quickly withdrawing it and lowering his hand to his side. His voice was gruff. “You stay strong, Willow. What's happened has you down on your knees. I know what it feels like to be that low, when your whole world ends. But each day, you'll find a little more of your strength. And one day, when this is behind you, you'll realize that no matter what life throws at you, nobody and nothing is going to break you.”

She turned and pinned him with a look so desolate, it tore at his heart. “What if all my strength really came from Bear? What if I never find any of my own? How do you know it will get better, Brady?”

His words were laced with pain. “Because I've been where you are now. And know this—I'll be here for you whenever you need to lean on someone until your own strength returns.”

He turned on his heel and strode from the barn in that loose, purposeful way he had.

Watching him, Willow thought about what he'd just said. It was the most he'd ever revealed about himself.

Though Brady had been in Bear's employ since she first had come here as a bride, she knew little more about him now than she had in the beginning. Whenever she'd asked, Bear had insisted that Brady's past was nobody's business. When pressed, Bear had told her that he would trust his life, and the lives of his family, to Brady Storm, and that should be good enough for all of them. He'd explained that he'd found that one-in-a-million cowboy who he believed would put their interests above his own. When she'd asked how he knew, Bear had said only that Brady'd been through more of life's trials than most men, and he had come out the other side stronger than steel forged in fire.

And now she had to face a fire of her own. She had her doubts that she would morph into a woman of steel. For now, she would settle for the courage to face one more day.

She took in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and wiped her eyes before making her way to the house.

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