WILD BLOOD

by Naomi Horton

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

  Epilogue

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  Chapter 1

  ^ »

  Kathleen saw Jett Kendrick's son a little after three in the afternoon about sixty miles south of Burnt River, and for one mind-spinning moment she thought that she'd just gone back through time.

  Maybe it had happened when she'd come off the interstate. Maybe there had been some sort of time warp back at that last cloverleaf that had shot her sixteen years into the past and she was fifteen again and so much in love she was dizzy with it.

  Except…

  Slowly, still breathless with surprise, she eased her breath out and stared at the kid standing hunch-shouldered under the overhang by the door of the gas station café. Except time warps didn't happen in real life, she hadn't been fifteen for a decade and a half, and the kid by the café was not Jett Kendrick.

  He already had the height—and those wide Kendrick shoulders—even though he couldn't be much over fourteen. When he filled out, he was going to be the spitting image of his father, right down to the cleft in that strong, stubborn chin and the tangled cowlick of unruly black hair that no amount of cajoling or combing would ever control. It was probably the bane of his life, as it had been the bane of his father's, and had every girl in a hundred mile area dying to run her fingers through it.

  And Jett?

  Mouth and throat suddenly dry, Kathleen looked around nervously, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy's father before he saw her. That would be Jett's style, spotting her from a distance and coming up on her when she was least expecting it.

  She couldn't stop here, obviously. She'd pulled in off the main road to get gas, but she could just keep going until—

  Until she ran out of gas and had to walk the last sixty miles, she realized with a sinking heart as she stared down at the gas gauge. The needle was already below the empty mark.

  Damn. She wasn't ready for this. Wasn't ready for Jett. She took another deep breath and looked over her shoulder, unable to see a thing through the rain coursing down the rear window. Why did she feel as though she was walking into an ambush? Jett didn't know she was coming back to Burnt River. And even if he had found out, he would hardly be waiting out here in a no-name gas station on the off chance she'd come wandering in.

  Swearing at her own cowardice, she took her foot off the brake and swung her rental car alongside the nearest pump, gritting her teeth as she cut the engine. She was committed now. No quick getaways should he suddenly come looming out of the rain toward her, chiseled face grim as stone.

  In spite of herself, Kathleen had to smile. Who was she kidding? All this unresolved - anger - from - the - past baggage she was still hauling around was in her own mind, not Jett's. He'd probably forgotten about it by now. Had probably forgotten her.

  There was a sharp rap on the side window, and she jumped like a startled cat.

  "Hey, lady." A rain-blurred face peered at her. "D'ya want gas or what?"

  She closed her eyes for an instant, trying to get her heart beating somewhere near normal, and lowered the window a crack. "Fill it, please."

  The man nodded and hustled around the rear of her car, shoulders rounded against the pelting rain. She heard him fumble with the tank cap; then the pump came on with a hum, and she forced herself to relax. Just a few more minutes and she would be moving again. And Jett wouldn't even know she'd been here.

  The boy was still standing hunched in the lee of the small café, looking even wetter and more miserable than when she'd first spotted him. He was sporting a wide strip of adhesive tape across his nose, but it wasn't until she noticed the cast on his left forearm that she made the connection.

  Groaning inwardly, she looked for the other signs.

  And there they were. Lying in a heap at his feet, safely out of the rain even though it meant getting wet himself. Even at this distance she recognized the saddle and rigging, the spurs, the fringed leather chaps.

  Bronc rider. Just like his father, he was riding rodeo.

  It made her smile again, wondering why she was surprised. His grandfather was Wild Bill Kendrick, five times saddle bronc world champion. And before he'd quit rodeo to take up ranching, his father had won enough money to turn pro.

  A tap on the glass made her glance around, and she lowered the window to hand the attendant her credit card. He made a dash for the office, skating through puddles and mud, and as she watched, the kid said something to him, gesturing stiffly toward her car. The attendant just shook his head and went inside, and the boy settled back to his vigil again, hugging himself and stamping his feet, collar turned up, hat pulled low to shield his face from the blowing rain.

  The gas attendant sprinted back to the car, and she opened the window before he got there, taking the dripping clipboard he shoved at her. "That boy standing over there…" She nodded toward the café. "He looks familiar."

  "That's Jett Kendrick's boy, Jody."

  "He looks like his dad."

  "Spittin' image." The man looked at her with sudden respect. "You know Jett?"

  "Once. A long time ago." A lifetime and a million dreams and a broken heart ago, she felt like adding. She looked at Jody again. "He looks a little worse for wear."

  "Kid wants to be a champion rodeo pro like his grandpa. Spends all his spare time at every rodeo he can get to. Pretty good, too, from what I hear. Though it looks like he ran outta luck this weekend."

  He tore off Kathleen's copy of the credit card slip and handed it to her. "Got busted up pretty bad. His old man's gonna he raisin' hell about that arm, I can tell you. He don't want the boy wastin' his time rodeoin' when there's work to be done."

  He looked at Jody thoughtfully. "Came through here on Friday on his way to Silver Meadows, full of spit and vinegar, just enough cash in his jeans for the entry fee and a coupla hot dogs. Planned on winnin' enough to get himself a bus ticket home." He laughed and gave his head a shake. "Kinda looks like his best friend died and someone ran over his dog, don't he?"

  Kathleen had to smile. "So his dad's … not here?"

  "Nope."

  She hoped the man wouldn't see the relief on her face. "You said he has no money. Is Jett coming out to pick him up?"

  Her confidant gave a snort. "Boy'd crawl through broken glass before he'd call his daddy. Been standing there close to an hour, hopin' for a ride." His gaze turned suddenly shrewd. "His dad's spread is the Kicking Horse Ranch, about ten miles this side of Burnt River. Any chance you could give him a lift? You're headed in the right direction."

  "Oh … no. I … it…" Caught by surprise, she flailed around for a reasonable excuse. "That is, I'm not going that way. I'm … I'm turning off at Tall Pine Road

  ."

  He gave a grunt. Kathleen shoved her receipt into her handbag and turned the key in the ignition, then put the car into gear and started to pull away from the pumps.

  She had every intention of wheeling around and heading back out onto the highway, but to her annoyance she found herself pulling up in front of the café instead. A sandwich, she told herself. Knowing that Jett wasn't lurking just around the corner had taken some of the pressure off, and she was suddenly hungry. She would grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee to go and wouldn't have to stop again until she got to her father's house.

  Besides—and there was no point kidding herself about this—she was just masochistic enough to want a close look at the boy. He'd been born only a few months after she'd given birth to her baby, the same wild Kendrick blood flowing through his veins, the same wild Kendrick sire.

  Difference was, Jody was standing here tall and healthy and alive, while her baby had died minutes after he'd taken his first breath. And while she'd
lain weeping in Baltimore all those years ago, bereft and stunned with grief, Jett's new girlfriend was already pregnant.

  Kathleen fought down a jolt of automatic anger. Pulling her jacket collar tight around her throat, she pushed the car door open and sprinted for the café, catching her breath as the wind slapped a fistful of rain square in her face.

  She pretended to have trouble with the door, trying to get a good look at the boy without being too obvious about it. He had his head tucked down against the wind-lashed rain, and all she could see from under the wide rim of his Stetson hat was a strong, firm mouth that was almost but not quite Jett's.

  And then, just as she realized she was behaving like an idiot and went to step by him, he lifted his head and looked squarely at her.

  And Kathleen's heart nearly stopped on the spot.

  Jett's eyes gazed directly into hers, so heartbreakingly familiar that they took her breath away. Even half expecting it, it caught her so badly off guard that she simply gaped at him, mind wheeling and utterly blank.

  Jody smiled ruefully, obviously misinterpreting her shock. "Looks worse'n it is."

  Kathleen blinked, struggling to regain her equilibrium. To her surprise, she found herself smiling back. His face was a mess, both eyes bloodshot and puffy, the skin around them already a violent shade of purple. He'd split his lower lip, too, and his smile was crooked.

  "I'd like to see the other guy."

  He gave an embarrassed shrug. "Weren't no other guy. Just a horse. I was six seconds into my best ride all day when she bucked me off. It knocked the wind outta me and I didn't get clear in time, and she stomped on me a couple times." The smile widened into a sheepish grin. "The medic said my nose is broke clean, but both my eyes'll be black for a coupla weeks."

  Without even intending to, she reached out and put her fingers under his chin, turning his face slightly and eyeing his broken nose. "It'll heal fine, but you'll have an interesting little crook in it." Just like your father's.

  He looked mildly alarmed at the prospect, and she laughed out loud. "Don't worry about it. You'll be back to your handsome self, breaking hearts from here to Billings, in no time."

  Kathleen was amused to see his cheeks color under the bruising. Not quite his father's son, then. Even at fourteen, Jett had been a ladies' man, lethally aware of the effect his dark good looks had on any female who came within range.

  There wasn't much else to say. Kathleen suddenly felt awkward, guilty about having ulterior motives in talking to him in the first place. He was just a kid, unaware of what he represented. Of the heartbreak and broken dreams he stood for.

  "Well, I hope you have better luck next time around." She smiled at him, her heart aching only a little as she thought of what it would be like to have a son like this. Of what her life might have been like if only Jett had truly loved her sixteen years ago. If … if…

  "Thanks." He grinned again, wincing a little as the split in his lip pulled. "Figure it can't get much worse."

  One last smile and she stepped past him and into the welcoming warmth of the café. He was still there when she came out a few minutes later with her coffee and a couple of sandwiches, and she gave him a polite smile as she walked resolutely by him and through the rain toward her car, telling herself she was not going to offer him a ride.

  And yet, even as she started the car, she knew she was only kidding herself. She never had been able to resist that Kendrick charm.

  She brought the car to a purring stop in front of him and rolled down the window. "The waitress says you're looking for a ride back to the Kicking Horse. I'm going right by it…" She left the sentence hanging, half hoping he would turn her down.

  But he didn't. He stared at her for a startled moment, then nodded fiercely. "Yes, ma'am!" He pulled open the rear door and tossed his saddle and gear onto the back seat, then hurried around and slid into the passenger seat, filling the car with rainwater and broad Kendrick shoulders and the scent of horses and cold mountain air.

  "Thanks a lot! I was beginnin' to wonder if I was ever going to get home."

  "I thought all you rodeo cowboys learned early on to keep a couple of dollars in the bottom of your boot to get you home?"

  He pulled off his hat and held it so rainwater sluiced onto the floor, then ran his fingers through his wet hair. "I had just enough for the entry fee. I was hopin' to—" He smiled ruefully. "Guess my dad was right again. Hope don't get the dog fed."

  "Your dad sounds like quite a philosopher." Kathleen said it lightly, checking for traffic before pulling out onto the highway. That was something new. The Jett she'd known hadn't had a thought in his head that didn't relate directly to horses, women or a good time.

  Jody rearranged his long legs under the dash and wiped his wet face with his sleeve, then settled his left arm gingerly in his lap, wincing slightly. "Oh, he's okay, I guess. He just doesn't want me riding rodeo."

  Kathleen glanced at him. "Did the doctor who set your arm give you something for the pain?"

  He nodded offhandedly. "Yeah, but it don't hurt too bad."

  The tightness around his mouth told her otherwise, and Kathleen shook her head wearily. "Save all the macho heroics to impress your favorite girl. That arm hurts like blazes, and your head feels like someone's been kicking it around the back pasture for a day or two, am I right?"

  He nodded after a moment. Gingerly.

  "There's hot coffee in that bag by your feet. And a couple of sandwiches. Dig out one of those painkillers the medic gave you and wash it down with coffee, then eat something. If you can't afford a bus ticket home, odds are you haven't eaten since last night."

  He gave her a sidelong look. Then, finally, he managed a sheepish smile. "The waitress back there snuck me a piece of apple pie when the owner wasn't lookin'."

  "Then eat," she said more gently.

  He toyed with the idea for a minute or two as though he didn't care one way or the other, trying to play it cool, trying not to let on how hungry he was. But then his stomach got the better of him, and he pulled out one of the sandwiches and downed it like a young wolf.

  Then, too tired and hurt to even pretend to tough it out, he dug the bottle of painkillers out of the pocket of his jeans and struggled to open it, hampered by the cast and child-proof cap. Not saying anything, Kathleen reached across and took it from him. She snapped the cap off and handed it back to him, and he downed two without being told again.

  "Finish that other sandwich if you want," she said after a few minutes. "I thought I was hungry, but I'm not."

  "Are you sure?" He looked at the bag hopefully.

  "Positive." Laughing, she looked at him. "My name's Kathleen—" She caught herself just in time. There was probably no need to lie, but still… Heaven knew what Jett had told his son about her father. About her.

  "Pleased to meet you." Nothing wrong with his manners. "I'm Jody. Jody Kendrick."

  "Yeah, I know. You look just like your father."

  "You know my dad?"

  "A long time ago," she said lightly, not daring to look at him. "Before you were born."

  "You're not from around here." He was looking at her curiously, undoubtedly trying to fit her into the community he knew. Into his father's life.

  Not anymore, she nearly said. Instead she just shook her head, concentrating on her driving. She wanted to ask him a thousand questions but didn't dare. One or two, maybe, but more than that and he would start wondering who she was, what she wanted, why she was so curious about his father.

  For that matter, she wasn't sure herself. It wasn't as though she wanted anything to do with Jett. He'd poisoned any feelings she'd had for him a long time ago.

  She smiled humorlessly, staring through the rain at the wet pavement glistening ahead of them. While she'd been banished to her aunt and uncle's in Baltimore, fifteen and pregnant and still foolish enough to think he loved her, Jett had lost no time getting himself invited into Pam's bed.

  And here she was, sixteen years later, K
athleen taunted herself, driving back into Burnt River with their son beside her, trying to pretend she didn't care.

  Jody dozed off finally, long legs akimbo, head at an awkward angle, clearly exhausted and worn out by pain and disappointment. Kathleen found herself glancing at him again and again, thinking of the first time she'd met Jett.

  He'd been older than Jody, but not by much, and was already being touted as one of the best up-and-coming saddle bronc riders around. She and a couple of friends had gone to the local amateur rodeo for lack of anything better to do one Saturday afternoon, and there had been Jett, tall and rangy and handsome as sin.

  He'd won every event they'd thrown at him and was loving the attention, carrying himself with the natural arrogance of a sixteen-year-old who hadn't met anything yet he couldn't ride. He was still calling himself Jett Walking Tall back then, half-blooded Sioux and proud of it, a beaded choker around his throat, raven hair long and loose except for one strand he'd braided with a buckskin thong and a single eagle feather.

  She'd sat there mesmerized in the dust and heat, unable to take her eyes off him. Other riders came and went, but she barely saw them, eyes on the milling crowd of cowboys and handlers down by the chutes, rewarded now and again by a glimpse of him.

  And then, much later, she'd walked to the concession stand for a soft drink, and there he'd been, leaning indolently against the counter as though waiting for her, six-feet-plus of more trouble than any girl needed.

  Except he'd barely even noticed her that day. He'd turned his head to look at her when she'd walked up and had let his eyes drift over her speculatively. Then he must have realized how young she was and turned back to finish his conversation with the giggling girl at the counter.

  Miffed, Kathleen had ignored him pointedly a few minutes later when he'd said something about the sunburn across her cheeks. He'd laughed at her, a low, husky sound that even back then had made her toes curl, and there had been something taunting and even a little dangerous in his eyes.