by Naomi Horton
"Look, I—" He swore wearily. "I'll give you a call."
"You do that, Jett." Kathleen walked away from him, the temperature in the room nearly subzero.
He wanted to say something to her, to tell her that he hadn't meant that crack about her being an outsider, that he'd shot his mouth off without thinking. But there was something about the set of her shoulders that made him think she probably wasn't interested in any of his excuses right now.
So he just left, figuring he'd done all the damage he could for one night. Jody hated his guts, and Kathy seemed to feel pretty much the same way. There didn't seem to be any point in hanging around.
Jody said exactly two words all the way home, and neither was one Jett wanted to hear. But he kept his own mouth shut, deciding there was nothing he could say that wouldn't just make things worse. It had stopped raining by the time they got home, and Jody got out of the truck and stormed into the house without a word, boot heels banging on hardwood, doors slamming.
Jett listened to the sounds wearily, knowing he was going to have to go up and make amends. Kathy had been right tonight. About a lot of things. Jody was growing up right in front of him, and he was missing most of it, too caught up in working ten-hour days to pay attention to anything but cattle, horses and the emptiness of his own life.
It had started right after Pam had died, he guessed. Before that, he and Jody used to go fishing nearly every weekend or play ball after school, or just sit at the kitchen table talking about things. Horses. Ranching. Rodeo. Even girls, now and again. They would rent old cowboy movies and cheer when the Indians burned the fort, read Zane Grey books out loud and wrestle in front of the fire. Jett had taught him how to saddle a horse and rope a calf and track a deer, and every summer they spent a few days camping in the mountains, just the two of them.
But Jody was too grown up for any of that now. Although Jett couldn't even remember when it had happened.
But if he wasn't careful, he thought with a chill, he was going to lose him altogether. Just like he was losing Kathy.
The Kicking Horse Ranch wouldn't tumble into ruin if Jody went to Indian Springs to test his mettle on some of the best rough stock the amateur circuit had to offer. He was good—probably better than he knew—and Kathy was right about that, too: he did deserve the chance to see how good he could be.
Billy could ride down to Butte with the stock truck and help load, and Angel could help unload at this end. And the cows and calves that had slipped through the fence up by Cougar Ridge would still be up there in a day or two. And even if a couple got picked off by a marauding bear or big cat, it would be worth it just to see Jody's eyes when he brought in the winning ride.
When Jett came down to the kitchen in the morning, Jody was already there. He gave Jett a hostile look from across the room, then downed a last swallow from the milk carton and tossed the empty container into the sink.
"We need to talk," Jett said quietly.
"No need," Jody said flatly. "I'm leavin'." He grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I thought about it all night, and I've decided. I'm goin' to live with my mother."
"What are you talking about?" Jett gave him an exasperated look.
"You ain't stoppin' me." Jody shoved the screen door open, then turned to level a defiant, angry look at Jett. "You know, it's no wonder Pam killed herself tryin' to get away from you."
Jett took a step back, feeling as though he'd been punched in the belly. And then Jody was gone. Out the door and across the yard, and before Jett could get himself moving, he heard the truck engine start with a roar.
For a split second, he didn't think anything of it. Jody had been driving the truck around the ranch for almost a year now, and Jett listened to it pull out a little numbly, still winded and half-sick with shock. Cougar Ridge. Jody would be heading up to Cougar Ridge to have a look at that damned sagging fence…
Except he hadn't said anything about fences and stray cattle. He'd said he was going to his mother's.
The reality hit Jett like another fist-blow and he swore with sudden, sharp fear and catapulted himself through the door and around to the side of the house. Jody had the truck in reverse and was backing out of the yard way too fast, tires slewing on wet leaves and grass. Jett bellowed at him to stop, then took off after his son at a dead run. But it was too late. Jody threw the truck into forward, floored the accelerator and went roaring down the lane toward the main road in a cloud of flying dust. And Jett stumbled to a stop and watched him go, heart pounding with fear. Remembering…
* * *
She'd always liked geraniums. But for some reason she'd never grown them in Baltimore. Baltimore had just never seemed like a geranium kind of place.
Kathleen smiled and moved the pot of brilliant red zonal geraniums a little to the left, then stood back to check the effect. Perfect. Five front steps, five pots of geraniums.
Then she let the smile fade and pulled off her cotton gardening gloves. Who was she kidding? This wasn't going to work. All the geraniums in the world weren't going to somehow magically make everything all right.
Jett had been right last night. She was an outsider. Maybe she had no right being here at all; maybe she should just go back to Baltimore. It wasn't too late. She and Gord hadn't finalized their partnership agreement yet. And she hadn't finished the paperwork that would allow her to practice law in Montana. So maybe…
The squeal of tires on pavement jolted her back to the here and now, and she looked around as Gord's Jeep Cherokee shot up the street and into her driveway, rocking to a stop.
He got out, and all it took was one look at his face for Kathleen's heart to stop. "What—oh, God, something's happened to one of the kids!"
"Jett called The Oaks looking for you. He's been trying to get you on the phone for over an hour."
"I—I've been outside," she whispered. "W-what's happened?"
"It's Jody, Kath. He's been in an accident. I'll take you to the hospital right now."
Kathleen didn't remember the drive to the hospital, aware only of the terrified hammering of her own heart and the sound of her own voice, urging Gord to go faster, faster…
He stopped in front of the emergency entrance, and she was out of the Jeep and through the wide, swinging doors in a heartbeat. And in the next heartbeat she saw Jett, standing tall and solid as a mountain near the admitting desk, his face as grim as stone. She stumbled to a stop, trying to breathe, knowing it was bad. She couldn't go through this again, she thought numbly. She couldn't go through the pain of losing her baby again…
Jett looked around just then, as though sensing that she was there. He looked gray and worn, and he just stood there for an eternity, looking at her. Then he strode toward her, reaching for her, and she was in his arms, sobbing and terrified.
"He's all right, Kathy," he said fiercely, as though needing to hear the words himself. "He's all right. He hit his head on the steering wheel, and they figure he's got a mild concussion, so they want to keep him until tomorrow, but otherwise he's fine."
"Oh, God." She gulped tears, trying to stop shaking. "A-are you sure? Y-you're not j-just saying that, are you?"
To her relief, Jett laughed. If Jody was hurt, if he was dead, Jett wouldn't be laughing, so it must be true. Jody must be all right.
"I th-thought I'd lost him again," she whispered, clinging to Jett. If he took his arms from around her, she would land on her backside in the middle of the polished floor, so she just hung on to the front of his T-shirt for dear life.
"He's got a lump on his head the size of Wisconsin, but he's going to be fine, Kathy, I swear it."
"H-how did it happen?"
"He drove the truck into the ditch just past Clover Corners."
"Drove?" Slowly, Kathleen stepped back from Jett's sheltering embrace, his words tumbling in her mind. "He was driving the truck?" She sucked in an outraged breath. "What do you mean, he was driving the truck! He's fifteen years old, Jett! He doesn't even have his license
yet! What on earth were you thinking, letting him—"
"I didn't say he was driving it with my permission," Jett growled defensively. "We had an argument, and he grabbed the keys, and before I could stop him, he was gone."
Just like Pam. Kathleen caught the words before she said them, knowing from the expression on his face that he was thinking the same thing. "Where … was he going?" Knowing that, too.
Jett hesitated. "It doesn't matter."
"He was running away again, wasn't he? He was coming back to my place."
"That doesn't matter now, Kathy."
It did matter, Kathleen thought with a sick, cold feeling somewhere under her heart. It mattered a lot. "Can I see him?"
"Yeah." He nodded toward a corridor leading off to one side. "He's in a room just down here."
Jody grinned when he saw her, looking pale and very young against the white linen. There was a patch of gauze taped to his forehead, and Kathleen swallowed when she looked at it.
"Hi, Mom."
"My God, what did you think you were doing?" Kathleen hugged him fiercely, dribbling tears down his neck. Mom. The word sang through her like a chorus of bells. "Don't you ever scare me like this again, you understand?"
"Sorry." He returned her hug a little awkwardly. "Scared myself, too."
"Good!"
"I asked the doc what he thought about you ridin' rodeo on Saturday," Jett said gruffly from behind her, "and he said he didn't know why not. Says you've got a head like concrete."
"You mean it? You mean I can go?"
Jett shrugged just a little too casually. "Word has it you're going to be the next Kendrick to make world champion. Can't do that if you don't get all the ridin' done you can. But the doc says he wants to have a look at you before we leave for Indian Springs, just to see that everything's okay."
"We?" Jody looked at him eagerly. "You mean you'll come and watch me ride?"
"Hell, yes." Jett pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and straddled it, reaching down to clasp one of Jody's hands in a firm victory grip. "You don't expect me to pass up the chance to watch the next up-and-coming world champion saddle bronc rider win his first big event, do you?"
"And Mom, too?"
Jett glanced around, but Kathleen wasn't there. He frowned, then nodded and gave Jody's slender shoulder a squeeze. "She'll be there, don't worry."
"Dad?" Jody flushed. "I'm real sorry about the truck. I guess I messed it up pretty bad, huh?"
"Bent the grill up some, but nothing a couple of whacks with a hammer won't fix."
"I, uh, I'm real sorry about what I said. About Pam. I—I shouldn't have said that. I was just tryin' to … to get even with you, I guess. Tryin' to say something … mean."
"Look, Jody." Jett pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, eyes closed as he tried to get the words right. This time, damn it, he was going to get the words right. "I've been … wrong. I've yelled when I should have listened. I've told you what to do instead of asking you what you wanted to do. I've been treating you like a kid while expecting you to act like a man."
"I ain't been too good at listening myself," Jody muttered.
"Maybe because I haven't been saying much worth listening to," Jett admitted quietly. "I know I'm not much good at sayin' what I feel, Jody, but I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
"You ain't gonna lose me, Dad," Jody whispered unsteadily. "Heck, I got a head like concrete, ain't I? And there ain't no horse that can kill me. So I reckon you're stuck with me for a while yet."
"Until you marry Emily Pritchard and move out to raise a whole batch of little rodeo champions."
Jody blushed right to the roots of his hair. "Heck, I ain't even kissed her yet!"
"You will," Jett said with a belly laugh. "You will!"
Kathy was gone when he came out of Jody's room. He looked around the waiting room for her and was going to head down the hall to where the vending machines were when one of the nurses called him over to the desk and pointed to the phone.
He grabbed up the receiver. "Kendrick."
"It's Patterson," Gord's voice growled in his ear. "Kathy made me drive her home. Now she's packing and saying she's moving back to Baltimore, and I figure it's all your fault. She won't listen to me, so unless you want to lose the best damn thing that ever happened to you, get over here. And make it fast. I don't think she's kidding."
* * *
"Baltimore? What the hell's so great about Baltimore?"
"You're not there, for one thing," Kathleen snapped. "Will you get out of my way!"
Jett stepped to one side so she could pull the closet door open. He was sorely tempted to slam it closed and sit her in a chair and damn well demand that she tell him what was going on, but he knew her too well for that. Jody didn't get all his obstinacy from his Kendrick side.
"I don't understand," he said finally, settling for halfway.
"In a few hours I'll be leaving, and you and Jody will have your lives back to normal. Is that easy enough to understand?"
"No," he growled. "Nothing about you is easy to understand. Never has been for as long as I've known you."
"You were right. I don't have a clue about being a mother. I've got him so confused he doesn't know if he's coming or going. You say one thing, I say another…"
"Heck, Kath, he's just testing you. And he's been playing the two of us against each other, seeing what he can get away with. That's what kids do. It doesn't have anything to do with whether you're a good mother or a bad one. It's got to do with a headstrong fifteen-year-old boy testing his limits, that's all."
"You make it sound so simple."
"Remember when you were fifteen?" His eyes held hers. "Seems to me you tested a few limits back then yourself."
He was relieved when she actually smiled, her eyes warmed with sudden memories. "For the first time in my life, I think I can actually feel some sympathy for my dad."
And for a moment he thought she'd changed her mind.
Then, "Tell Jody I'll stop by later to say goodbye."
"You still haven't told me why you're going."
"Because I can't stay here. I left Burnt River too many years ago. I just … don't belong anymore."
"You didn't seem to feel this way a couple of days ago."
"Things change."
"It's because of me, isn't it?"
Jett didn't think she was going to answer him. He could see her shoulders stiffen, then she shrugged carelessly. "Partly. You and I seem to be like fire and gasoline, Jett." She smiled at him. "I thought you'd be glad to see the end of me."
"And what about Jody? He still half believes you abandoned him once. How do you think he's going to take it this time?"
"I'll tell Jody the truth. That I love him, but that I can't stay. I'll explain that it doesn't have anything to do with him."
"Yeah, right. He'll believe that." He gave a snort and wheeled away from her, raking his fingers through his hair. This wasn't what he wanted, he thought despairingly. Damn it, this wasn't what he wanted at all!
"I can't stay, Jett." Kathleen's voice was soft, and he realized she'd come up behind him. She was standing there now, looking troubled and sad. "It's been staring me in the face for over a week. I've just been trying to ignore it. But this accident of Jody's…" She shook her head. "He could have killed himself, Jett. Because of me. Because I interfered." She lifted her head and looked up at him miserably. "You've been right all along. I can't just turn up in your lives fifteen years too late and think I have some say in things."
"Kathleen, this isn't—"
"If I stay, I'll destroy everything between the two of you. He'll wind up hating you, and he'll wind up hating me, too. And on top of that, you'll wind up hating me. And I … I love you both too much to let that happen."
Jett could have sworn he felt the earth tumble to a stop then and there. "Both?"
"Jody."
"You said both."
"I—" She looked away quickly. "Both."
&
nbsp; Jett drew a deep, slow breath, waiting for his heart to start beating again. "You never said anything about … that."
"About loving you?" She smiled as she said it and looked up at him. "You can't even say the word, can you?"
"I can say it," he muttered stubbornly.
To his surprise, she just laughed. "Yeah, you probably can, at that. Love's a pretty easy word to use when you don't mean it."
He was thinking about that, trying to figure out what she meant, when she smiled again. "I've loved you since that day I saw you at the Indian Springs rodeo when I was fourteen. I think I knew right then that you were going to break my heart one day."
"Kathy…"
"Don't look so scared, Jett. I'm not trying to back you into a corner." She grinned. "Besides, I don't regret a thing. Every minute I had with you was worth the broken heart."
Then she turned and started putting things into the suitcase again as though nothing she'd said made any kind of difference. Jett stood there watching her, his mind gone as blank as a stone wall. Trying to grasp what she'd said. What it meant.
"I'd like to stay in touch," she said suddenly, her voice oddly rough. "I'd like to know h-how he's doing. Now and then."
Jett cut her a hard look, but she had her face turned away. "Why?" he finally growled. "Why bother with even that much? Seems to me if you were really interested in him, you'd stay."
She swallowed, and he saw her struggle to draw in a breath. "And how would you feel about that?" she asked after a moment, her voice just a whisper. "If I stayed?"
He wanted to tell her exactly what it would mean. He wanted to tell her that he couldn't sleep nights for thinking of her, thinking of what it would be like to have her in his life. Permanently, this time. Her and Jody and him. He wanted to tell her that he'd spent the last sixteen years wanting no one but her, with a hole inside him the size of the Rocky Mountains that only seeing her again had started to fill. He wanted to tell her that if she left again, it wouldn't kill him—not quite—but it might as well, because there wouldn't be much left to live for.
He wanted to tell her ten thousand things, all of which sounded like I love you.
