McKettrick's Heart (24 page)

“Keegan,” Jesse said, “it will
tear her apart.
”

His eyes burned. His throat closed. “I know,” he said.

Rance's jaw looked rock hard. “At least wait until Psyche's…”

“Dead?” Keegan finished for him.

Jesse and Rance exchanged glances.

“Look,” Jesse said more reasonably. “I know you're in a lot of pain right now. You're not thinking straight, Keeg.
Please.
Just let the dust settle a little before you stir up another hornet's nest.”

“I can't,” Keegan said.

“We could hog-tie him,” Rance suggested to Jesse—only half kidding, judging by the expression on his face. “Lock him up in a shed someplace until he comes to his senses.”

“Not a bad idea,” Jesse replied.

“Give it your best shot,” Keegan said. “Right about now I'd
love
to take somebody apart, limb by limb, and one or both of you would do just fine.”

“Fine,” Jesse said through his teeth. He plucked Keegan's desk clock out of the cardboard box, since he didn't wear a watch, and checked the time. “Behind the barn. One hour. Rance and I will flip a coin to see who gets to kick the crap out of you first.”

“You're on,” Keegan said.

Jesse banged out of the office.

Rance followed.

Keegan grinned and rolled up his sleeves.

 

M
OLLY WAS SPOONING LUNCH
into Lucas's mouth when the kitchen telephone rang. Florence, busy dropping dumpling dough into a pot of simmering chicken soup, grabbed the receiver and grumbled a hello.

Her eyes widened as she listened.

Instinctively alarmed, Molly set aside the bowl and spoon. Wiped Lucas's mouth with a napkin.

“I'll tell her,” Florence said, watching Molly. “But I don't know what she can do about it. Yes. Thank you, Myrna.” She hung up.

“What?” Molly asked, her voice trembling a little.

“Your future husband is about to tangle with his cousins behind the barn,” Florence said. “Myrna—she's Wyatt's mama, and she works at McKettrickCo, so she knows everything that goes on there—says she called her son right away, and he said it was McKettrick business, and he means to stay out of it.”

“You don't mean they're actually going to
fight?
” Molly asked, but she was remembering the night she'd rushed Psyche to the clinic. Remembering the way Jesse and Keegan had been shoving each other. If the receptionist hadn't stepped in, they would surely have come to blows.

Florence gave a grim nod. “If you want that man of yours to look halfway decent in the wedding pictures,” she said sagely, “you'd better get out there to the ranch, and waste no time doing it.”

Molly got to her feet. Sat down again. “Do they do this kind of thing often? The McKettricks, I mean?”

“When the mood strikes them,” Florence said. “They're a rowdy bunch, all things considered.”

Molly looked at Lucas. Back to Florence.

Florence tossed her the keys to her station wagon. “Go,” she said. “I'll look after the baby.”

“I've never stopped a fight before,” Molly fretted, but she was already on the move, kissing Lucas on the forehead, grabbing her purse. “What do I do when I get there? And which barn? There are at least four on the Triple M—”

“Step between them,” Florence told her. “No McKettrick's ever laid a hand on a woman in anger as far as I know. And it'll be old Angus's barn, the one at Keegan's place.”

“How can I be sure that's the right barn?” Molly asked anxiously, wrenching open the inside door to the garage.

“It's a family tradition,” Florence said. “They've been settling their differences behind that barn for generations.”

“Call Emma and Cheyenne,” Molly said as she pushed the button to roll up the outside door.

“I reckon Myrna's already done that,” Florence replied.

Molly rolled her eyes, scrambled into the station wagon, stuck the key in the ignition, started the motor and eased out onto the street, headed for the Triple M.

She was crazy to be doing this.

If the McKettricks wanted to bloody each other's noses and blacken each other's eyes, it was their own affair.

But despite this conviction, she kept driving, and once she passed the city limits, she put the pedal to the metal.

Did she even know the way to Keegan's place? She'd been there only once, before the trail ride.

Rounding a bend, she spotted a pink Volkswagen up ahead, barreling over that dusty road with its wheels barely touching the ground.

As they passed the turnoff to Jesse's place—Molly recognized the tilted blue mailbox—an Escalade shot out behind Molly and stayed right on her bumper.

The Volkswagen took a turn Molly probably would have missed, fairly flying over the ruts and potholes. Praying she was right about who was driving, Molly followed.

They rattled over the old bridge spanning the creek, the three vehicles like a convoy rushing into battle.

Keegan's house was up ahead, and there were two trucks parked at crazy angles in the yard, with Keegan's black Jag jammed between them.

The Volkswagen screeched to a stop, and Emma bolted out of it and ran toward the barn, kicking off her high-heeled shoes as she went. The Escalade almost rear-ended Molly, and then Cheyenne streaked past her on foot, dark hair flying.

Molly got out of the station wagon and dashed after them.

Jesse was just flipping a coin when Molly rounded the corner of the barn. Rance and Keegan were there, too, and none of them was wearing a shirt.

“Heads,” Rance said.

“Sorry,” Jesse replied, immediately tucking the coin into the pocket of his jeans. “It was tails.”

“Wait a second,” Rance protested. “How do I know you're telling the truth?”

Cheyenne rushed to Jesse before he could answer Rance's question, and threw herself hard against his chest. “Stop it, right now!” she cried.

Gently Jesse gripped her shoulders and moved her aside.

Rance did the same when Emma approached him.

Molly looked at Keegan, and her heart sank. His face was hard, his feet were set wide and his fists were clenched. He'd made up his mind to fight, and no power on earth was going to stop him.

She turned to Jesse and Rance, desperate.

Were they going to gang up on Keegan, two against one? Didn't they know this was all about Psyche, all because she was dying and he couldn't do anything to help her?

Florence's voice played in her mind.
Step between them. No McKettrick's ever laid a hand on a woman in anger, as far as I know.

Molly gulped and moved in.

Keegan didn't even look at her. But he did stretch out an arm and move her aside, much as Jesse had done with Cheyenne, and Rance with Emma.

“Keegan,” she said. “Please…”

He didn't so much as glance her way. “Not now, Molly.”

Someone took her arm; she looked around, saw that it was Cheyenne. She was glaring at Jesse as she spoke.

“If they want to act like idiots,” Cheyenne said, “let them.”

Molly was terrified. She'd never seen a fight, and she didn't want to start now.

Keegan beckoned to Jesse with both hands. “Come on, hotshot,” he said. “Throw a punch.”

Rance gave Jesse a light push. “Yeah,” he said. “Throw a punch.”

Jesse's face contorted; he whirled on Rance with a fist raised.

Rance ducked at the last second, and the fist landed squarely in the middle of Keegan's face.

Molly cried out and took a step forward; Cheyenne and Emma pulled her back.

Keegan reeled slightly, lowered his head and dived straight into Jesse's solar plexus, sending him into Rance.

The three of them landed on the ground in an angry blur.

Molly put a hand over her mouth. “They'll kill each other,” she murmured between her fingers.

“No such luck,” Cheyenne said, but there were tears standing in her eyes.

“What we need,” Emma put in, “is the riot squad.”

Meanwhile, someone grunted in fury and pain somewhere in the snarl of pigheaded men rolling around on the ground.

Molly moved in again, nudged Keegan with the toe of her shoe. “You stop it!” she cried. “Right
now!
”

Keegan looked at her in confusion, and promptly took another punch, this time in the jaw.

“You're going to look
terrible
in the wedding pictures!” Molly warned.

And suddenly Keegan started to laugh. Kneeling in the dirt, with his lower lip split open and bleeding, the man sat back on his haunches and actually
laughed.

Rance, who'd evidently been at the bottom of the dog pile, raised himself onto his elbows, looking baffled and a little suspicious, as though he suspected a trick. Jesse, rolling onto his knees as Keegan had done, threw back his head and guffawed.

He started to rise to his feet, but Cheyenne strode over, planted a foot in the middle of his chest and sent him flying backward. He caught himself on both hands and stared at his wife with an expression of such startled consternation that Keegan and Rance howled with delight.

Cheyenne was clearly not amused. “Sit there, you damn fool!” she told Jesse. “Sit there until hell freezes over!”

With that, she pivoted on one heel and stormed away.

Jesse scrambled to his feet. “Cheyenne, wait…”

“Now he's in trouble,” Rance said with a smirk.

“Like
you're
not,” Emma said huffily. “I'm going back to the shop, Rance McKettrick, where
your daughters
are. If you have a brain in that thick head of yours, you'll steer clear of me until you come up with a
very
convincing apology!”

The smirk dissolved. “Emma…”

But Emma turned away without another word and followed the trail Cheyenne had just blazed.

A car door crashed shut. An engine roared to life.

Molly moved around the barn to see what was happening.

Cheyenne was speeding away in the Escalade. Jesse was standing in her wake, staring after her.

Emma shrugged off Rance's attempt to stop her from leaving, too, got into her pink Volkswagen and nearly ran over him making a U-turn.

Rance yelled a swearword. He and Jess conferred briefly, then each of them got into a truck and drove off.

Molly went back to Keegan.

He was still catching his breath. He touched the back of one hand to his split lip, lowered it again and frowned when he saw a smear of blood on his knuckles. One of his eyes was starting to swell shut, and a small cut on his forehead oozed crimson.

“You really
are
going to look awful in the wedding pictures,” Molly said. “Let's go inside and get you cleaned up.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yeah, that's obvious.” She hooked her arm through his and ushered him toward the ranch house. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You're a grown man, for heaven's sake. What if Devon had seen this—this brawl?”

Keegan gave her a lopsided and entirely too fetching grin. “That wasn't a brawl,” he said. “It was just a tussle. We got into a dustup outside the Roadhouse once that went on for an hour. Took a fire hose to break it up.”

“An
hour.
Well, how very macho of you. You should be ever so proud of yourself!”

He balked, stopped right in his tracks.

Molly gave him a tug to get him moving again. “You need some ice on that lip.” She peered up at him. “No stitches, probably.”

Inside the house she pressed him into a chair at the end of the table. Then she bunched up some paper towels, wet them down at the sink and shoved the wad into his hands.

“Put this against your mouth, stupid,” she said. “I'll get the ice.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

Molly wrenched open drawers until she found a box of plastic storage bags. “Oh,
grow up.
”

Keegan opened his mouth, closed it again.

Molly plucked a bag out of the box, went to the refrigerator and filled it with little round cubes from the icemaker. After zipping the top of the bag closed, she crossed the room again and pressed it against Keegan's mouth.

He winced.

“Does it hurt?” Molly asked sweetly.

“Yes,” he mumbled from behind the ice bag.