McKettrick's Heart (11 page)

Molly headed for the doors.

Under the outside lights she saw Keegan shove the blond man. The blond man shoved back.

“Molly?” Florence said from the cell phone.

“I'll keep you updated,” Molly replied, and hung up.

The receptionist shouldered past her. “Keegan!” she yelled. “Jesse! Behave yourselves, or I swear to God, I'll call Wyatt Terp and have
both
your asses thrown in the clink!”

J
ESSE, HIS SHOULDERS HEAVING
with exertion under his white T-shirt, slanted a grin at Keegan and sagged back against the side of his truck in the clinic parking lot. “She'll do it, you know,” he warned, cocking a thumb toward the entrance, where Carrie Johnson, the night receptionist, loomed, glowering obstinately at the pair of them, hands propped on her wide hips.

Keegan knew Jesse was right. Carrie was a woman of her word. Moreover, even though Terp was a family friend, blessed with a high tolerance for McKettrick shenanigans, the lawman would most likely be in a piss-poor mood after pulling a double shift to keep local Independence Day revelers on the straight and narrow.

“You're damn
right
I'll do it,” Carrie vowed, stomping over to them. “What's the matter with you two, anyhow? We got a real sick woman in there, and you're out here carrying on like you did back in high school!”

Keegan reddened, painfully aware that Molly Shields had been standing in the background all along, watching him make a fool of himself. He was ashamed to the core—and still spoiling for a fight.

Jesse played the diplomat, lifting both hands, palms out, in a conciliatory gesture. “Look,” Jesse said to Carrie, throwing the charm switch. “Keeg's just a little stressed out, that's all. We're cool, I promise.”

“Your promise and a quarter will buy me a phone call,” replied Carrie, who had dated Jesse while they were all seniors at Indian Rock High and therefore had good cause to doubt his word. Some of the huff went out of her, though—that was the magic of being Jesse McKettrick. When he flipped that internal switch, there was juice behind it.

“You know I was never good enough for you,” Jesse told Carrie sweetly, all big eyed and earnest.

Just hang the halo on one of his horns,
Keegan thought, fighting a rueful smile. He was still furious with Jesse for siding with the Texas McKettricks and not telling him about it, but at the same time he couldn't help admiring the bastard for his nerve.

“You're so full of bull-crap,” Carrie answered, fondly skeptical. “And you make me come out here again, either of you, you'll regret it.” With that, she turned and flounced back inside, with no idea she'd just been hoodwinked by the master.

Molly hesitated a moment, in a pool of light near the entrance to Indian Rock's only medical facility, then squared her slight shoulders and marched toward them. Stood at a little distance, looking as though she wanted to say something but couldn't quite work up the gumption to do it.

Keegan was desperate to ignore her. “Who called you?” he asked Jesse.

“Devon,” Jesse answered. “After you dropped her off at Rance's tonight and laid rubber down the driveway in a big hurry to get here, she got scared. Figured you might get killed on the way to town.”

Keegan remained aware of Molly, though he didn't let on, wishing she'd take the hint and make herself scarce, hoping she'd stay right where she was. “You can go home anytime now,” he told Jesse.

“I'm not going anyplace until I know how Psyche is,” Jesse said, leaning back against the side of his truck now, his arms folded.

“She's dying,” Keegan said flatly. “Now you know.”

Jesse set his jaw, McKettrick-style. Waited.

“I was just wondering—” Molly began. The sentence fell apart in the middle, though, and she just stood there under the cold stare Keegan turned on her, looking miserably determined to hold her ground.

“
What
were you ‘just wondering,' Ms. Shields?” he asked.

Jesse stiffened a little, no doubt in gentlemanly objection, but he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

Temporarily, anyway.

Molly stiffened her spine, raised her chin a notch. “I was—I was wondering if you're planning on going to the hospital with Psyche,” she said bravely. “She shouldn't be alone, and Lucas and Florence are at home, so I ought to get back….”

Jesse thrust himself away from the side of the truck and approached. After skewering Keegan with a glance, he told Molly, “You go on back to the house. Florence and the boy might need you. Keegan and I will follow the ambulance up to Flag and make sure Psyche gets settled in okay. If anything happens, I'll let you know right away.”

To Keegan's private shame, Molly's eyes brimmed with tears. “Thanks,” she told Jesse.

Her gratitude made Keegan want to shove Jesse again. Hard.

She gave Keegan one unreadable look, then got into Florence's old station wagon, fired up all eight cylinders and drove off.

“You're a piece of work, you know that?” Jesse rasped, watching her go.

Keegan was half-again too proud to do the same, but he wanted to. Lord, he wanted to. He wanted to fill his eyes with Molly Shields, fill his heart, fill the lonely, barren places in his soul.

Fat chance.

Keegan merely scowled. He'd have trusted Jesse with his life—right up to tonight, in the park, when Cheyenne had told him Jesse was throwing in with the Texas bunch. Voting to let McKettrickCo pass into the hands of strangers.

Jesse just couldn't let it alone. “What the hell's the matter with you, Keeg? You know better than to treat a woman the way you did Molly—It's a wonder old Angus didn't rise up out of his grave, get you by the scruff and douse you in a horse trough.”

“Now you're an expert on chivalry?” Keegan snorted. “Maybe you ought to write a book.” He needed to distance himself from what was happening to Psyche, if only for a few more minutes. He'd have fought Jesse in a bare-knuckle brawl, not giving a damn whether he won or got his ass kicked, just for the brief distraction, for time enough to get his emotional bearings.

An ambulance pulled into the lot, lights whirling, no siren.

“Christ,” Keegan rasped.

Jesse laid a hand on his shoulder. “You've got to stay on this bull till the buzzer goes off, Keeg,” he said, grave and quiet. “McKettrick-tough.”

The backs of Keegan's eyes burned like acid. “McKettrick-tough,” he replied gruffly.

 

“M
ARRY HER
.”

Keegan, who'd spent the night in a Flagstaff hospital room in a chair next to Psyche's bed, sat up straight, blinking himself awake.

Psyche was watching him, looking as white as the pillows behind her head. The oxygen machine made a rhythmic
puff-puff
sound, and various monitors beeped out their dismal chorus.

For her sake, he worked up a grin. “You know,” he said, “I'd swear I heard you say—”

“Marry her,”
Psyche repeated.

“No,” Keegan said after scrounging around for a politer word and coming up dry.

“Not even if it's my last wish?”

“Come on, Psyche. Play fair.”

“Why should I? I'm dying.” She reached out, caught his hand, squeezed it with surprising strength, considering her condition. Smiled. “I'm going for broke, Keeg,” she went on, barely whispering. “My son's future is at stake. Lucas needs a mother as well as a father.”

“I don't love her,” Keegan said, figuring that ought to matter.

He should have known better. After all, he was dealing with another species: female.

“I've never seen you so stirred up.” Psyche paused, gave a small, slightly wistful smile. “When it comes to Molly, you don't know whether to turn tail and run or slam her up against the wall and kiss her senseless.”

Just then, Jesse reentered that dismal atmosphere, with the tumbling, end-over-end energy of a space capsule. He carried a cup of coffee in one hand, and he looked about as bad as Keegan felt—as if he'd been dragged backward through a knothole, as the old-timers used to say. “Much as I hate to interrupt such a fascinating conversation,” he said easily, moving languidly to Keegan's side, “Florence and Molly are here for a visit. They brought Lucas along.”

Psyche's face lit up, but the look she tossed Keegan before focusing her gaze on the doorway held a silent plea.

Molly came in first, holding Lucas in both arms.

Florence followed.

“My baby,” Psyche whispered, reaching for her child.

Keegan had to look away.

“Let's get you some coffee,” Jesse told him, and steered him out into the corridor. Herded him along it, toward the elevators.

“I don't want any goddamned coffee,” Keegan rasped.

Jesse's grin was wan. “Well,” he said, “I checked, but they don't serve whiskey in this place, so you're going to have to settle.”

They got into one of the elevators, rode down to the first floor in silence.

There was a franchise coffee place next to the pharmacy, and Keegan bought a cup. Jesse led the way out into a sunny courtyard, walled in stucco, with benches and trees and a fountain in the center.

Keegan gulped in the fresh air, but the peace of the place eluded him.

Jesse stood at a little distance, with one booted foot resting on the seat of a metal bench. Except for a wizened old man in a wheelchair, clutching a folded newspaper and muttering to an unseen companion, Jesse and Keegan had the space to themselves.

“Talk to me, Keeg,” Jesse said after a long time.

“Okay,” Keegan answered. “Cheyenne told me how you plan to vote tomorrow, at the big meeting. You're selling McKettrickCo right down the river. Thanks a heap.”

“So that's what's gotten under your hide,” Jesse mused, sipping his coffee.

“You might have mentioned it.”

“I didn't figure the Independence Day picnic was the place for a conversation like that.” Jesse took a few more sips of coffee, looking thoughtful. “At least I understand now why you tried to goad me into a fight in the clinic parking lot last night.”

“What did you
think
it was about?”

Jesse raised one shoulder in a brief, idle shrug, but the look in his eyes was sharp and direct. “Psyche,” he said.

Keegan sagged a little, at least inwardly. “Psyche,” he repeated.

Finishing his coffee, Jesse crumpled the cup and tossed it into a trash bin. “I'm heading back to the ranch,” he told Keegan. “You coming along? I can take you back to your car, but I'm sure you could hitch a ride with Molly and Florence if you want to stay a while.”

“Right,” Keegan scoffed quietly. “I'm sure as hell going to do that.” Devon was still at Rance's, watching the road for his car. He had to get back.

“Why do you hate her so much?” Jesse asked. “Molly, I mean.”

“I told you,” Keegan said.

The newspaper slid off the old man's lap, and Jesse bent to pick it up and give it back.

“You told Rance,” Jesse argued. “And he told me.”

“Well, then, you just answered your own question. And I
don't
hate her. I just don't trust her.”

Jesse folded his arms, rocked once on the worn heels of his cowboy boots. “Hmm,” he said. “Could be you've got a sore spot because of Shelley.”

“Oh, good—more cowboy psychology.”

“Yeah. And here's my diagnosis—you're acting like a self-righteous, judgmental asshole, Keeg. Psyche's right—you don't know whether to make love to Molly or head for the hills.” He paused, grinned again. “I know the feeling,” he said.

Keegan instantly bristled. Threw the rest of his coffee, along with the cup, into the trash. “This isn't like it was with you and Cheyenne,” he asserted.

“I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you,” Jesse said. The old man's newspaper slipped to the ground again, and Jesse retrieved it. “Nobody
ever
pissed me off the way Cheyenne did. Imagine my surprise when what I was feeling turned out to be passion.”

“Imagine,” Keegan said dryly.

A nurse came out of the hospital, wheeled the old man inside.

“I'll go get the truck,” Jesse said. “If you want to ride with me, you'd better go tell Psyche you're leaving.”

Keegan nodded. He didn't like leaving Psyche, and he wasn't too wild about the prospect of running into Molly, either. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice either way.

 

“N
O
,” M
OLLY TOLD
P
SYCHE
flatly, whispering so Florence, who was in the bathroom, wouldn't overhear. Lucas, snuggling against Psyche's side, was half-asleep and sucking his thumb. It made Molly's heart ache the way he clung to his adoptive mother, as though he knew she was slipping away. “I will
not
marry Keegan McKettrick.”

Psyche looked down at Lucas, stroked his hair lightly with a veined hand. “I could make it a condition of the adoption,” she said, instantly freezing Molly's blood.