Chapter 1
Lyric Mackenzie took a big plate of broiled steak out of the oven and set it on the breakfast table along with the platter of fried eggs. She dried her hands on the towel and took off her apron. She shouted up the stairs, “Breakfast's on the table!”
Her younger sister, Melody, came out of the bathroom under the stairs. “You don't have to yell, Lyric. We have enough of that around here without you adding to the general din.”
“I do have to yell around here,” Lyric countered. “It's the only way I can make myself heard.”
Melody took a seat at the table and tucked her cloth napkin in her lap. Their older brother, Azer, came in from outside just then, followed by Riskin Dodd. Azer resembled Lyric, with straight chestnut hair and the Mackenzie signature bright blue eyes. Riskin wore his curly black hair tussled on top. His bangs hung over his dark eyes. He stood a head taller than Azer, but he lacked his friend’s burly shoulders and broad back. Riskin inherited the Dodds’ angular frame and wiry physique, while the Mackenzies represented pure muscular power without the height.
Azer sat down next to Melody and forked a piece of steak onto his plate. Riskin went into the kitchen. He swept one hand around Lyric's back and pulled her against his chest to give her a long, luscious kiss. “Good morning, darling.”
Lyric melted into his kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and her eyes drifted closed. All of a sudden, she pushed him back and swatted him with her towel. “You men wash your hands before you come to breakfast. Didn't your mama ever teach you any manners?”
Azer threw up his hands. “Aw, come on, Lyric. You act like our mama when you talk like that. Can't you let a guy get some sustenance before you start nagging?”
“Mama may be dead and buried for ten years, but you still have to wash your hands before you eat. Let me guess. You've had your arm up to the shoulder in the back end of a cow all morning, and now you're using the same hand to butter your toast. Do you think I want to pick up a piece of bread after you've touched it? Now, get off your backside and wash your hands, or I'll put all the breakfast away in the freezer until you do. You, too, Riskin. March!”
Riskin strolled to the sink and washed his hands, but Azer complained and cursed Lyric before he obeyed. Melody smiled through it all and waited for everyone to come back to the table. Lyric sat down next to Riskin and put out her hand.
Azer went back to eating his toast until Lyric smacked him in the shoulder. “Now, we'll say a blessing.”
Azer threw himself back in his chair. “Oh, come on, Lyric. Can't you see I'm hungry?”
She knocked the toast out of his hand and grabbed his empty hand in her strong fingers. She glared at him with her teeth bared. She growled low, and her green eyes flashed fire. “For this we are about to receive, may the Lord make us TRULY grateful.”
Melody and Riskin bowed their heads until she finished and let go of Azer's hand. With the formalities out of the way, everyone fell on the food with every moving part flying. For several minutes, no one said anything until Melody looked up from her egg. “Where's Mattox?”
Azer let out a loud guffaw.
Riskin rolled his eyes. “Who knows? Who cares?”
“Isn't he supposed to go out to work with you this morning?”
“We've been out to work for over two hours and haven't seen hide nor hair of him,” Riskin replied. “I guess he needs his beauty sleep.”
Azer laughed louder than he should have. He brayed across the table, and Riskin grinned at his own joke.
Melody shook her head. “You guys shouldn't make fun of him. He's supposed to be a guest in this house.”
“He sure acts like a guest in this house, sleeping 'til noon every day and who knows what else. We never should have agreed to bring him on to work at the ranch.”
“If I remember right,” Melody remarked, “it was Papa who made the decision to take Mattox. He did Duke Farrell a favor by getting Mattox away from his own Homestead when his brother Brody took over as Alpha. He never could have stuck around, being supplanted by his younger brother.”
Lyric murmured out the side of her mouth, “We all know the circumstances, Melody. We don't need you to remind us.”
“Apparently you do need me to remind you that he doesn't slept in 'til noon every day, either,” Melody shot back. “He's done his share of the work and then some. Just because you haven't seen him this morning doesn't mean he's in bed. He would have come down to breakfast if he was.”
Lyric muttered under her breath, “The guy can eat. That’s for certain.”
Riskin spoke up, “Speaking of your Papa, I went over the books last night.”
“Don't give him another thought,” Azer told him. “We've got him covered.”
“That's exactly why I'm bringing it up. Something fishy's going on.”
Azer let his fork sink onto his plate. “Don't tell me he's burned through that segregated bank account we set up for him. He can spend as much as he wants. He'll never touch the ranch's operating funds again as long as I have anything to say about it.”
“He hasn't burned through it. In fact, he hasn't touched it.”
Lyric froze with her orange juice glass touching her lips. “What did you say?”
“I checked the activity on his separate bank account,” Riskin replied. “I found the usual big spend at the Iron Bark Casino, and a huge tab at the liquor store on the corner of Park and James street. He changes his liquor store every couple of days, but the last withdrawal at the casino was four weeks ago, and the debit at the liquor store was five weeks ago.”
Lyric gasped out loud. “That's impossible.”
“If you’re right,” Melody added, “that means he hasn't gambled or drunk anything in all that time. He hasn't stayed sober that long in ten years.”
“And he hasn't gone more than a week without dumping a load of cash at the casino, either,” Riskin replied. “That's why we set up the separate bank account. I'm telling you, he's not spending any money—at least not any of the money we set aside for him. Something may have happened to him. He may be hurt—or dead.”
The girls stared at him. Then they looked at each other.
Azer chewed his steak in silent contemplation. All at once, he shook himself. He set his elbows on the table and jabbed his fork into a piece of egg. “I don't care if he is dead. He's been gone for weeks and he ain't coming back any time soon. He's been a millstone around our necks and a financial drain on this ranch for years. If he dies in the gutter in a puddle of his own puke, he'll be doing us and the rest of the world a big favor.”
“Don't say that,” Melody exclaimed. “He's our own father, even if he is a drunken gambler and a deadbeat.”
“At least we don't have to worry about him shifting in front of any humans,” Riskin added. “He never loses control of himself, no matter how drunk he gets. He can drink as much as he likes. He'll never reveal his secret to anyone.”
“Is that all you can think about?” Lyric asked. “Don't you care at all if he's alive or dead?”
Riskin shrugged. “Come on, darling. You complain about your father as much as anybody. You've said the same thing Azer just said more than once.”
“I'm not saying he's not a waste of a Bruin life. He's been out of touch with everything, not just the running of the ranch, but everything about our family and all over Bruin country. It's just kind of cruel to wish him ill, though. That's all I'm saying.”
“All I care about,” Azer chimed in, “is whether he can do any more harm to the ranch than he's already done. He can spend as much as he likes as long as he doesn't exceed his slush fund.”
“He'll never exceed it,” Riskin replied. “He's got more than he could ever possibly spend. He'll never harm the ranch or tap the profits. We made sure of that.”
“Good.” Azer bent over his plate and said no more.
Just then, the front door opened, and a big man in a rough, rawhide jacket entered the house. He swept the table with his eyes before staring down at the floor. He wore his dark brown hair long and loose over his shoulders, and his full brown beard covered his chest.
Only his clear brown eyes shone out of his face above the rough border of beard along his cheek bones. Fringe swung from his sleeves and jacket hem, and mud caked the boots below his dirty jeans cuffs. Black dirt darkened his fingernails.
The minute he walked in the door, Azer set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. He shot a mischievous grin at Riskin and hooked his arm over his chair back. “Well, look here's here. If it isn't Jeremiah Johnson.”
Lyric called over her shoulder, but didn't turn around, “Take your dirty boots off at the door, Mattox, and wash your hands. Breakfast is nearly over and getting cold.”
Mattox Farrell said nothing. He kicked his boots off at the door and went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. When he finished, he took a chair at the far end of the table, away from everyone. He served himself from the breakfast remains and started eating with his eyes fixed on his plate. He never looked up.
Azer rolled his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other. “Where ya been, handsome? Powdering your nose?”
Riskin snorted. “What are you talking about? Look at him. He probably hasn't taken a shower since 1980.”
“I bet he really stinks under that jacket. He never takes it off. He's been slinging cow manure in the barn for six months and never changed his clothes. He must be growing mushrooms under that jacket.”
Riskin brightened up. “Hey, I've got an idea. We could start selling mushrooms. We could harvest them from Mattox's armpits and make another cool ten million in no time. That would boost the ranch's profits.”
“What do you say, Mattox?” Azer asked. “Would you let us harvest your mushrooms for sale? That would help out the ranch a lot more than slinging cow manure.”
Mattox glanced up for a fraction of a second, but said nothing. He instantly returned his eyes to his food.
The other two waited, but when he didn't respond, Azer turned back to Riskin. “It's no wonder his brother sent him packing. Look at him. He's a wallflower. He can't even answer when someone speaks to him. He could never be an Alpha. He's too sensitive.”
Riskin leered at Mattox. “Is that true, Mattox? Are you too sensitive?” His voice rose and fell in a sickening sing-song tone. “He's shy. He's his mama's little boy. He can't handle looking a grown man in the eye when he's spoken to. He needs his nose wiped and his socks straightened.”
Azer bellowed with laughter. Even Lyric bit back a smile.
Mattox never said a word.
The smile evaporated off Azer's face, and he rounded on Mattox with bared teeth. “He's not sensitive. He's just stupid. He's too stupid to know when to speak up for himself. He's dumber than a rock.”
Lyric leaned across the table and put her face in front of Mattox's. “Is that true, Mattox? Are you too stupid and shy to answer when someone speaks to you? That's not very good manners, is it, when you're a guest at our table.”
Mattox’s eye flickered to her face. “I'm not too stupid. Just too polite.”
Lyric sat back in her seat. Azer touched her arm. “What did I tell you? He's a princess. He was probably out in the south meadow picking wildflowers. He probably keeps a flower press hidden in the barn, and he only comes out and pretends to work when one of us comes around to check up on him.”
The others snickered until Melody cut them off by slamming her fist down on the table. “Will you leave him alone? How can you be so cruel? I'm ashamed of you, too, Lyric. You should know better.”
The men laughed out loud. Lyric shrugged. “It's the only way to get him to say anything. He's too stupid even to defend himself.”
“Can't you see he's shy?” Melody asked. “What's wrong with that? I wouldn't say anything, either, if you all spoke to me that way.”
Riskin pouted his lips out and hung his hands by the wrists in front of his chest. “Oh, poor baby! He's too shy! We better wrap him up and take him home and make a little nest in a shoe box for him. We'll feed him on bottles of milk and keep him warm by the fire.”
Azer exploded with laughter. “I've got a better idea. We'll latch him onto one of the cows, and he can drink milk straight from the udder. He needs his mother to take care of him.”
Laughter rolled around the table, but Melody crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them all. She even glared at Mattox. “You guys shouldn't torment him like this. He can't defend himself. He's too quiet.”
Riskin set his fork and steak knife on his plate and wiped his mouth. “That's exactly why he needs us tormenting him. That's the only thing that's gonna snap him out of his stupor.”
Melody threw down her fork. “Well, I'm not sitting here listening to this. You're supposed to be helping him, not abusing him at every meal. If you can't behave yourselves, I won't eat with you anymore.”
She stomped out of the room and ran upstairs.
Riskin put out his hand and punched Mattox in the shoulder hard. The orange juice glass he lifted to his lips knocked in his hand. It splashed juice all down Mattox’s beard and clothes. Mattox set down his glass and set to work mopping up the mess with his napkin when Riskin called out. “Come on, Cinderella. Time to get to work.”
Riskin and Azer pushed back their chairs. Mattox was still halfway through cleaning himself up by the time they put their dirty dishes in the sink and headed for the door. Lyric carried the platters and leftovers to the kitchen counter to clean up. No one paid Mattox any further attention that morning or any other time.