WILD BLOOD

by Naomi Horton

But the words wouldn't come. He'd never needed words like that before, and now, when he needed them, they piled up in his throat like a logjam in a river, nearly ripping the breath out of him.

  "Wouldn't mean a damn thing one way or the other," he finally managed to whisper, not wanting to say that at all, but knowing she expected it.

  Needed it, even. She had to go, couldn't stay, and he had to be man enough to live with that. Man enough to give her the only thing she wanted from him. The only thing she'd ever wanted—her freedom.

  She made a soft noise, not quite a word, not anything at all, really, just a soft, hurt sound that made him glance around. Her eyes held his for a split second; then she turned and walked away, and he just stood there and watched her go, knowing if he moved so much as a hair it would only be to throw his head back and howl like a gut-shot wolf.

  * * *

  He got through the rest of the day pretty well, all considered. He went back to the hospital to tell Jody what Kathleen had said, and discovered as he tried to explain her decision to the boy that he didn't understand it himself. Jody teared up and gave him a look almost as bewildered and hurt as the one Kathleen had given him, and Jett found himself standing there awkwardly, trying to comfort Jody and himself all in the same breath and failing miserably.

  Then Jody got mad and said that if Kathleen was going back to Baltimore it must all be Jett's fault and why didn't he just go away and not come back. And when Jett said that Kathy herself would be up later to talk to him, Jody made it pretty clear he didn't want to talk to her, either.

  On top of that, the two new hands Angel had hired the day before turned out to be pretty much useless. He yelled at them a couple of times and even fired one on the spot. But then Angel came stalking over and very softly told him in a handful of short, well-chosen words that the hands were doing their jobs just fine, that no one was fired, and that if he didn't back off, someone was going to lay him out colder than a mountain trout.

  Jett shoved his face into the other man's and asked in words just as short and well-chosen who that somebody might be. Angel allowed as it might be him, and Jett sucked in a deep breath to tell him to take his best shot, when all of a sudden the fight went out of him. He mumbled something that might have been an apology and wandered off, fists clenched, feeling like he was six years old again and about ready to cry.

  He went back up to the hospital to see Jody, but Jody wasn't having any of it. He turned onto his side with his face to the wall, so all Jett got was a good look at his back, as stiff with pride and hurt as a rail fence. He stayed a few minutes, not saying much, then gave up and went home.

  Supper was a couple of stale biscuits and some leftover chicken, and he ate it right off the plate in front of the open refrigerator, then downed a couple of swallows of milk from the carton. Then he went to bed, deciding no one would mind too much if he called it a day.

  Although if he'd thought he was going to get any sleep, he'd been crazy. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her, standing there with that look on her face.

  The look that something small and vulnerable might give you after you'd kicked it in the ribs and sworn at it and told it to go away. The look that had told him he'd gotten it all wrong. That she hadn't wanted him to let her go at all. That if he'd asked—just asked—she'd be here beside him right now, tucked into the curves of his body where she belonged, and they'd be laughing quietly, belly to belly and legs all atangle, and every breath he drew would be filled with her.

  How had he got it all so wrong?

  Just like sixteen years ago, when he'd come back to Burnt River with a rodeo trophy and a hundred bucks in his jeans and had found her gone. He'd got it all wrong back then, too, thinking she didn't love him.

  If he'd gone after her back then, he'd never have lost her in the first place.

  * * *

  A bath, Kathleen thought as she unlocked the front door of her town house. She'd spent the last hour in bumper-to-bumper traffic, breathing exhaust fumes and listening to cabdrivers exchange obscenities and reading the graffiti spray-painted along the sound barriers on the freeway … and all she wanted was a bath!

  She closed the door behind her and secured the dead bolt, then kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief. She wasn't used to this. Not the traffic, the noise, the smells, the dead bolt. And especially not the high heels she'd been wearing all day. She thought wistfully of her comfortable cowboy boots. She'd tossed them into the back of her closet the day she'd gotten back from Montana—nearly two weeks ago now—and hadn't seen them since.

  But she didn't want to think about Montana. Because if she thought about Montana, she thought about Jett and the son she'd left behind, and the tears still came too easily.

  Pushing the word and all it meant firmly from her mind, she pressed the replay button on her answering machine, then dropped into an easy chair. There was a message from her Aunt Leah, reminding her that she'd promised to drop by tonight, and another from someone wanting to shampoo her carpets. And one from Brice. There was always one from Brice.

  But nothing from the one person she wanted to hear from.

  She sighed and looked at the telephone, aching to call him. But calling Jody was tricky, because if she wasn't careful, she might get Jett. And she just wasn't ready for that yet.

  She couldn't even think of him without a stab of anguish, remembering the impatience in his voice as he'd told her in that succinct, plain cowboy way of his that she meant nothing to him. Which shouldn't really have surprised her, of course. Love wasn't Jett's way. She knew that from hard experience.

  But if she'd figured she was going to miss Jett, she'd had no idea—no idea at all—of how badly she was going to miss Jody.

  She'd told herself that leaving Montana was the right thing to do. She'd told herself that it was for Jody's own good, that in the long run he was the one who mattered the most. She'd told herself she'd get over the pain of not having him in her life and that now-and-again phone calls and an occasional letter would be enough. That she only needed to know he was all right. And that he hadn't—entirely—forgotten her.

  She'd told herself eight dozen things, but none of them took away the all-encompassing pain from around her heart. Even knowing he was coming out to stay with her for the month of August didn't take that pain away.

  The fact it had been his idea, that he was giving up an entire month of rodeo to be with her before school started again, meant more to her than he could ever know. But under her joy was the realization that when he went back home—back to the ranch and school and rodeo and Jett—she'd be left alone with nothing but an empty house and some memories, and the ache around her heart would cut even deeper.

  Just thinking about it made her chest pull tight and she had to take a deep breath, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to let fall. Crying didn't help. Jody and his father were part of a world that didn't include her, and there was no point in weeping for dreams that would never come true. She'd learned that sixteen years ago.

  The answering machine finished nattering at her, winding up with another call from the second—and younger—Taylor of Taylor, Taylor, Greer and Leeds. It was one of the top law firms in the city, and they were doing their best to convince her to work for them. And one day soon she was going to have to make up her mind. Except the thought of going into big-city corporate law again was about as appealing as a broken leg.

  There was a knock on her front door, and she got to her feet and padded back into the foyer. She unlocked the door, pulled it open and found her neighbor, Betsy Costano, glaring at her.

  "You didn't check," Betsy said. "You gotta check the peephole before you unlock your door! There's all sorts of weirdos around these days. You're not in Burnt Creek anymore, remember?"

  "You're right, Betsy. And it's Burnt River, not Creek."

  "Whatever. I just wanted to return your casserole dish—and thank you very much for the use of it, and yes, now you ask, the wedding went off just wonderful!" She
beamed. "My little girl, she looked like an angel! That moron she married … well, that's another story. When you have a day or two, I'll tell you all about it." She rolled her eyes expressively.

  Kathleen had to laugh. "I'm sure it will work out, Betsy."

  "It does, it doesn't … who knows? You just gotta do your best and hope if he's a moron he dies young with lots of insurance, and if he's a good man, he goes old and quick. Like my Charlie, may he rest in peace." She patted Kathleen's arm. "Here's hoping you find yourself a good one, and soon." She started to turn away, then nodded toward the street. "And speaking of weirdos, that one's been there most of the day. I'm thinking of calling the cops, but you know what they're like. Unless you got a knife sticking out of you, they're too busy."

  Kathleen glanced past Betsy to the curb. There were the usual parked cars, most of them belonging to local residents, and she had just about decided that Betsy was imagining things when she saw it. A blue and white Chevy pickup truck with a gun rack in the window, a couple of bales of hay in the back, and Montana plates.

  She just gaped at it, wondering how on earth she hadn't seen it when she'd come in. Covered with mud, it was pretty hard to miss amid all the glossy Beamers and other high-priced rolling stock on the street.

  Betsy looked at her sharply, then looked back at the truck. She squinted at the license plate, then looked at Kathleen again with a speculative expression. "Well, well. I think I left something on the stove." Then she was gone, grinning ferociously.

  Kathleen stood there for an undecided moment or two, then took a deep breath and walked down her front steps and across the sidewalk to the truck, still barefoot. She peeked in hesitantly, breath huffing out when she realized it was empty.

  Frowning, she turned to walk back to her door—and came face-to-face with the driver.

  Jett was leaning against the wrought-iron railing in front of her town house, a paper cup of coffee from the café down the street in his hand, one booted foot planted on the bottom step. He touched his hat. "Ma'am."

  It took Kathleen a moment to catch her breath. "What … what are you doing here?" she finally asked wonderingly.

  "It took me sixteen years, but I finally made it." He grinned, looking about eighteen again and handsome enough in the bright Baltimore sun to make her heart do cartwheels. "I'm here to take you home, Kathy."

  * * *

  Epilogue

  « ^

  The moon would be up soon. Jett looked out at the night sky with a sense of subdued wonder, thinking he'd never seen the stars quite so bright. And why had he never noticed before how close the mountains looked on a night like this, rising in ragged silhouette against a sky that wasn't black at all, but navy blue? It was as though he'd been walking around in his world only half awake, blind to so many things.

  The bathroom door opened, and he looked around. Kathleen stood in the doorway, smiling shyly at him, and he felt his breath snag on something in his chest. She looked like something heaven had sent, standing backlit with the light from the bathroom making her freshly brushed hair gleam like gold around her shoulders. She was wearing something white and lacy that left her shoulders bare and fell in an insubstantial drift to her ankles. He could see the faint outline of her body against the light, more imagined than real. But still enough to make a man's mouth go dry.

  Still smiling, she turned off the light and walked across to him in a haze of scented steam, her eyes filled with starlight.

  "My God, you are beautiful," he whispered. He reached out and ran his fingers down her cheek, then cupped her face and leaned over to kiss her very gently. "And damn, but I love you!"

  Her shy smile widened, and she held her arms out and pirouetted gracefully. "Like it? It was Sherry's idea. I told her you'd be quite happy if I turned up in your bed on our wedding night in nothing whatsoever, but she insisted that even though this isn't the first time with you, it's still special enough to warrant a fortune in silk and lace."

  "Your sister-in-law's a smart woman." He caught one of her hands and pulled her into his arms. "And it is the first time with you tonight, Kathy. The first time I'll make love to you as my wife. And I think that's pretty damn special."

  Then he pulled back to look down at her again, not entirely sure he trusted his senses. "Mrs. Kendrick." He said the word deliberately, like an incantation. If this wasn't real, if she was just another dream, this was when he would wake up.

  "Yes, Mr. Kendrick?" She laughed very softly and gazed up at him. "What can I do for you?"

  Jett laughed out loud. "I can think of half a dozen things without even tryin' hard. But there's no rush. We've got all night."

  "We've got our whole lives," she corrected gently. Then she laid her head on his shoulder and looked out the window. "It was a wonderful wedding. Thank you."

  "Well, it took us long enough to get around to it. I figured we should do it up proper." He kissed the top of her head. "I just wish I could take you on a long, long honeymoon. Somewhere hot and tropical, with palm trees. And a beach. Maybe this winter, when things quiet down."

  Kathleen looked up at him. "I don't need a honeymoon or tropical beaches or palm trees," she whispered. "I have absolutely everything I ever wanted, right here in this house."

  Jett kissed her again, taking his time. Reminding himself that this was for good now. "God, I love you!"

  Kathy gave a merry laugh. "You keep saying that."

  "I have a lot of time to make up for." He kissed her again, and then once more for good measure. "Did you see Jody today?" He grinned, his arms tightening around her. "He looked proud enough to bust. Guess it must be something, to be fifteen and finally see your parents get married."

  "And handsome!" She laughed. "The girls were flocking around him like they used to flock around you. If that boy figures out how irresistible he is, we're in for some rough times!"

  "Your brother looked as though he couldn't quite make up his mind whether he wanted to give you away or not—to me, anyway."

  "Are you kidding? He could hardly wait to hand me over! Gord has turned into an incorrigible romantic."

  "He seems to walk the walk. He told me Sherry's pregnant."

  "They're starting a dynasty."

  "So's my old man, obviously." Jett gave a snort of laughter. "That's what—three kids now? Not countin' me and God knows how many others I don't know about."

  "I really like his wife. And the kids are wonderful." She smiled and nestled against him. "Quite a little family you've got there, Mr. Kendrick."

  "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

  Kathleen heard something in his voice that made her look up at him. "Jett?"

  He smiled at her, dark eyes as warm as chocolate on a winter's night. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a small square of paper. "My dad gave this to me this afternoon, just after the ceremony. It was tucked into my blanket when my mother dumped me off on my grandmother that day. He said he forgot all about it until the other day." Jett gave his head a tolerant shake. "Dad never was much good at remembering stuff. But he managed to find it and figured this was a good time to give it to me. Sort of a wedding present."

  Kathleen took it almost hesitantly. The paper was yellowed and brittle, and she held her breath as she carefully unfolded it, praying it didn't fall apart in her hands.

  It was lined notepaper, obviously torn from a book, and there wasn't much written on it. Just a few blurred lines in pencil in a schoolgirl's scrawl.

  My name is Beth. I'm only fifteen and my ma and dad say I can't keep the baby on acount of he's half white and they don't want him. But I don't want no strangers raising him. When he's growd up, tell him I loved him. Take good care of my baby.

  "Oh, Jett." Tears welled in Kathleen's eyes. "Fifteen!"

  "Just a little younger than you were when Jody was born."

  "She must have loved you desperately to bring you all the way to Montana to make sure you'd be raised by family."

  "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess she did.
And this was with it." He held out his hand and dangled something from his fingers.

  Kathleen reached out curiously. It was a narrow thong of braided leather, maybe ten inches long, with a dozen multicolored glass beads inexpertly strung in the center. Kathleen took it from him and turned it in her fingers. "She made this herself." Then, smiling, she wrapped it loosely around his left wrist and knotted it securely. "I think," she said softly, "that she'd like that."

  "She feels real," Jett said, almost in a whisper. "For the first time in my life, my mother feels like a real person."

  Kathleen refolded the paper. "Your dad was right. This is a wonderful gift."

  "It made me think about that blue-eyed kid of his, for some reason. The one from the trailer park."

  "The one you punched in the nose?"

  "Yeah." He managed a flicker of a grin. "My half brother. I asked Dad about him. His name's Nick, and the baby was a girl, Karen. Dad admitted he lost track of them years ago, but the last he heard, they were living in New Mexico. Santa Fe, he thought."

  "Maybe," Kathleen said quietly, "this winter, instead of going somewhere with a beach, we could go to Santa Fe."

  "You think?" He smiled then, and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "You're something else, lady, you know that? And God, I love you!" He wrapped both arms around her and hugged her ferociously, face buried in her hair.

  Laughing, Kathleen slipped both arms around his neck. "And you know what I'd like?"

  "I know what I'd like," he growled, as though just discovering she was naked under all the silk and lacy bits. He started delicately unraveling ribbon.

  Kathleen gazed at him, unable to believe she could feel so much love and still be able to breathe. "In a while, say six months or so, what would you say to starting an addition to our own little dynasty?"

  Jett grinned slowly. "I'd like that a lot. I wasn't sure if you'd want … I mean, with your career and all. And Jody."

  "Not right away, because it's important that I spend some time alone with Jody, to get to know him and to let him know me. I think he needs that." She smiled. "But I missed all those first fifteen years with him. I want that. I want to have another baby with you, and this time be the mother I never got to be."