Daegan had learned respect for rodeo horses long ago. He had the scars and stiff joints to remind him just how dangerous a colt on a rampage could be. “Whoa, fella,” he commanded softly as he reached for Buckshot’s halter; but the horse reared high, kicking out his front legs. Steel-shod hooves sliced the air. Daegan lunged forward. Thud! Pain jolted up his arm. He sucked in his breath. “Hang on, Jon.”
The boy looked over at him for the first time, and his pale face bleached whiter for being caught in the act.
With an ear-piercing whistle, Buckshot bolted. Jon pitched forward. “Nooo—” he cried, but slammed into the dirt. “Shiiit!”
Daegan’s stomach clenched. Every bone in the kid’s body had to have been jarred loose, especially his shoulder.
Daegan leaned down and Jon tried to scramble away. He winced. “Oh, crap.”
“Are you all right?”
“Does it look like I’m all right?” Jon said angrily, tears beginning to form in his eyes.
“It looks like you were a damned fool, playin’ around with that colt.”
“You said I could ride him!”
“With me around! Damn it, Jon, you could’ve been killed!”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” When Daegan tried to touch him, Jon jerked away. “Leave me alone.”
“Believe me, I will. I just want to see if anything’s broken.”
“I’m fine,” Jon shot back.
“Your ma know you’re here?”
He tried to lift his shoulder, then sucked in his breath.
“Let me take a look at—”
“It’s okay! Just leave me alone.” The boy’s eyes, though frightened, were bright with hot defiance.
“I don’t think I can do that. Seein’ as you’re on my place—”
“So sue me.”
“I just might,” Daegan said, ignoring the throb in his arm as he studied the boy and called his bluff. “Trespassing’s against the law—”
“You said I could come over and see Roscoe anytime—and besides, you had some of my stuff!” Belligerence, bluff, and bravado all emanated from the kid in hot waves.
“That’s why you’re here?”
“Yeah.”
“And the horse—”
Jon frowned and gnawed at his lower lip. “Mom won’t let me ride.”
“Why not?”
“She thinks it’s dangerous.”
“And you just made the mistake of proving her right. Come on, let’s have a look at what damage we’ve got here.”
“I’m okay.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I said I’m okay! This isn’t a big deal.” He struggled to his feet, biting back pain, his lips pale but his eyes once again dry. “I gotta go.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“I can make it on my own.”
Daegan glanced over to Buckshot, who stood, muscles quivering, at the far corner of the paddock.
Daegan thrust his chin in the direction of the mule-headed colt. “All you had to do was ask, y’know.”
“And you would’ve let me?” Clear blue eyes stared up at him. Penetrating eyes. Sullivan eyes.
“Alone? Hell, no!”
The lips tightened into a line Jon couldn’t suspect reminded Daegan of his unwanted relatives. “See?”
“Not without me supervising.” Slapping his hat on his thigh, Daegan straightened. “I would’ve started you off with something a little tamer—like old Loco, over there. After you handled him, okay, we would’ve switched to Buckshot.
“Now, come on, I think we’d better get you home.” He offered the boy his hand. It was ignored. “I asked before—your ma know you’re over here?”
Silence. Guilty, white-lipped silence.
“Didn’t think so. My guess is she doesn’t even know you’re gone.”
“How’d you know that?” Jon asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, as if he suspected that he was in the middle of some kind of conspiracy against him.
“She home?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
The kid had a chip the size of Nebraska on his shoulder, and Daegan nearly smiled. He reminded him of himself at that age. Then that cold, unfamiliar fear settled into his stomach. “It might be best if I take you in the truck. That way if your ma’s all bent out of shape and worried sick about you, she can get mad at me instead.”
Jon hesitated. “You’d take the heat?”
“Didn’t say that. Just said it would be diffused a little. Come on, now.”
“No way.” Breath whistling past his teeth, the boy stood, then the color drained from his face, and if Daegan hadn’t been there to catch him, he would have passed out completely.
“Great.” Daegan didn’t waste any time, just carried Jon to his truck and the kid had the good sense not to resist. He grumbled a little when Daegan started up the old Ford, but then was silent as he leaned against the passenger door and stared through the grimy windshield.
The lane was filled with potholes and the truck jostled and jolted. “You forgot your stash,” he said.
“Can’t keep it at the house anyway.” Jon scooted lower in his seat. “It’d be best if Ma didn’t know what it is.”
“Figured as much.”
“You aren’t gonna tell her, are you?”
“What? About the Playboys and the booze? If I was going to say anything, I would have. I didn’t rat you out about sneaking over to my place, did I?”
“No,” Jon said suspiciously.
“And I’m not going to.”
Jon let out his breath in a rush, and Daegan realized he’d just climbed a huge hurdle toward gaining the kid’s trust. He set the emergency brake. “Your mom is home?” Daegan clarified over the frantic barking of the pup. What would he do if she wasn’t around? Take the kid to a clinic? Try and do a little first aid on the boy himself? From the looks of Jon’s scowl, that wasn’t going to happen.
“She’s here.”
Daegan parked his truck, letting it idle, and the kid shoved open the door and escaped. Daegan had no choice but to follow.
The screen door flew open, and Kate, in old jeans and a green sweater, rushed onto the porch. “Houndog, hush!” Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that seemed to be falling apart, and her expression was confused, worried. “Jon? But I thought…” She glanced into the house as if her eyes had deceived her and he would appear in the doorway of the kitchen instead of in the front yard. Her eyes rested on Daegan for an uncomfortable instant before her gaze crashed full force on her son again. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”
“Fine,” the boy said, his eyes trained on Daegan, daring him to say anything.
“He was thrown from one of my horses.”
“One of your horses?” The corners of her mouth drew down and the wariness he’d witnessed the other day appeared in her eyes. “Jon?”
“I’m okay.”
“But you were supposed to be upstairs—I was in the kitchen—I didn’t hear you leave…” Again her eyes, the color of whiskey in the sunlight, pinned Daegan. “What was he doing on your horse?” There was a small, involuntary tightening of her muscles. “For that matter, why was Jon at your place?”
“I think he came over to look after the dog. You’ll have to ask him. I wasn’t at the house when he decided to see if he could tame Buckshot.”
“Buckshot?” Her eyebrows lifted a little. “Jon, what the devil’s going on here?”
“I snuck out.” He walked to the porch and leaned heavily against the rail. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. “So what?”
“So what?” She threw her hands to the heavens. “You’re already grounded because of the suspension last week and the fight and—” She cut herself off, glanced at Daegan again, and blew a few strands of sun-streaked hair from her eyes. “Look, before I go flying off the handle again, I guess I owe you an apology,” she said without much conviction. “I don’t know what he was doing at your place, but I’m sorry if he inconvenie
nced you. Thanks for rescuing him.”
“You might want to have his shoulder looked at. He landed pretty hard.”
“It’s fine!” Jon said.
“Maybe,” Daegan admitted. “Could just be bruised.”
“And he didn’t rescue me, okay?” Jon glared at his mother. His color was all wrong—the summer tan now a milky shade and his lips were bloodless. He was hurting, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Kate was having none of his martyrdom and show of false courage. “Let’s take a look.”
Eyes flashing defiantly, Jon gritted his teeth as she lifted his T-shirt and gingerly touched his skin. He sucked his breath in a hiss of pain as his back and stomach were exposed. Obviously embarrassed, Jon avoided Daegan’s eyes as his mother examined him. A dark scarlet blush climbed steadily up his neck to burn in his cheeks.
Kate frowned. “Already bruised.” Letting the T-shirt fall back, she said. “We’d better run to the clinic for a couple of X-rays. Get in the car, Jon. I’ll find my shoes and purse.”
“I don’t need X-rays,” Jon said vehemently. He scowled at Daegan as if he’d been betrayed.
“Better safe than sorry.”
“I’m okay, Mom.”
“What possessed you to go joy riding?” Turning to face Daegan, she folded her arms under her breasts. “Or was this your idea?”
“He didn’t know about it,” Jon admitted. “I was just lookin’ after Roscoe and I saw the horse and—”
“Oh, Lord, Jon, don’t you know any better? Let me grab my keys…”
“Geez, Mom, I’m not a baby!”
Her temper snapped. “Then quit acting like one. Don’t argue with me!”
“I’m not a little kid, all right?” An angry look crossed his young features, and Daegan gleaned that the war between mother and son ran deep. They might love each other, all right, but Kate was probably overprotective. The boy was trouble waiting to happen. A bad mix. Daegan knew it all too well.
It was time to leave. “I hope he’s okay,” he said, then pointed a finger at Jon’s chest. “Look, Jon, you’re welcome to come over and see the dog any time—but you might be a little careful around Buckshot.”
“He won’t be around Buckshot again.”
“It would be all right, if I was there. Let me know what the doctor says.” He touched the boy on his good shoulder, half expecting him to pull away. Instead, Jon froze, his eyes turned dark, and he stared at Daegan as if he’d never seen him before this split second.
Daegan’s insides jelled.
“Who was the guy you killed?” Jon asked, and Kate, who was already opening the screen door to the house, paused.
“I told you. No one. The closest I came was a knife fight with my cousin years ago and it was bloody. That’s how I got this…” He motioned to his ear, where the lobe was missing. “But—”
“He died.”
Shit. “I told you that before.”
“But not later, like you wanted me to think, but right then and there.”
Daegan saw the fear in Kate’s eyes and knew he had to nip this in the bud. “That’s not quite the way it happened. It was ugly. My cousin jumped me from behind.”
“Why?” Jon demanded.
Daegan shook his head. “He was mad at me. We were both young and full of piss and vinegar. He came at me with a crowbar and a knife, and by the time it was over, we were both busted up pretty bad. To tell you the truth, I was afraid I had killed him, with his knife.” Kate was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes and a piece of Daegan’s soul seemed to wither a bit. “As I said, we were both hurt pretty bad, but I made it to a phone and called the police. By the time they got there, he was dead.”
“So you—you—”
“Dear God.” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“No. I left him alive. But the police questioned me over and over again. Fortunately there was a witness who claimed he saw me run to the phone booth and another couple of men came along, two-bit thugs probably, who robbed my cousin and finished the job.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. “If I hadn’t run to call the police, maybe I could have saved him. Maybe not. Maybe that makes me guilty of murder. All I know is I’d give anything to relive that night again,” he said with conviction. “There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t wish I could change things. But I can’t. I have to accept that.”
“Jesus,” Jon whispered, whether in awe or revulsion, Daegan couldn’t tell. The boy’s threat worked and Daegan dropped his hand.
Kate’s breath whistled between her teeth. “Go inside,” she said to her boy. “And I’ve already warned you about the language.”
“Wait a minute, Mom. Didn’t you hear what he just said? O’Rourke—”
“Go inside,” she repeated. “Do it! Now.”
Jon scrambled through the front door.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, biting her lip. “Your story is—”
“Ugly.”
“Yes, and to be truthful, it scares me.” Wrapping her arms around her middle, as if protecting herself, she stared him straight in the eye. “I think it would be best, for all of us, if Jon stays here where he belongs. If he wanders your way again, please, just send him home.”
Daegan stood his ground. “It’s too bad you had to find out my deepest secret,” he said and he meant it. Telling her too much about his fight with Stuart, giving her a glimmer into his private life, was dangerous.
“So is that it? Nothing else?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “You expect something worse than me being hauled into jail for questioning in a murder?”
“No…I guess not.”
He didn’t believe her. She had trouble meeting his eyes. Now, it was her turn. “What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Any skeletons in your closet?” he asked as a lonely hawk circled overhead and the wind seemed to die for an instant. He counted out the beats of her heart in the pulse at the base of her throat while she hesitated and looked away toward the mountains to a spot only she could see.
“None that I can share,” she finally said.
“What happened to Jon’s father?”
“What?” She jerked. He had her attention now.
“How did he die?”
“An accident. Hit and run,” she said, swallowing hard. “He and my little girl were walking and they were both killed.” Her voice was the barest of whispers, and Daegan experienced the unlikely need to wrap his arms around her, to hold her and comfort her, to lie and tell her things would be better when he knew they were only going to get worse. Much worse. Instead he scowled at the ground and rammed his hands into his pockets. “Jim never even saw Jon.”
“That’s a shame. Your son’s a good boy. His father would have been proud.”
She stared at him as if he’d just said the world would come to an end in ten minutes. Her fingers fluttered nervously and she wiped them on her jeans. “Yes, well, I, um, need to get Jon to the doctor.” She started to head to the house, but stopped. “You know, sometimes Jon, he—well, he says things he shouldn’t.”
“He’s a boy. They tend to do that.” Daegan saw the questions in her eyes, and behind her, through the screen, he noticed the boy’s pale face staring at him through the mesh. “Don’t we all?”
He started to turn back to the truck.
“Mr. O’Rourke?”
“Daegan. I thought we were past that. We’re neighbors, remember?”
How could she forget? He could be a murderer. The criminal. The man who may have sired her son. His comment that Jon’s father would be proud of him nearly caused her knees to buckle. Her throat so dry she could barely speak, she said, “Daegan, right. This fight with your cousin—where did it happen?”
“Back home.”
She didn’t let up. “Which is?”
“Canada. A little town in Alberta, near Calgary. Good luck with the boy.” Daegan turned and walked back to his tired-looking
pickup and Kate watched him leave, not moving, just staring after the battered old Dodge as gravel spewed from its balding tires and the engine growled, leaving a plume of blue exhaust in its wake.
Jon let out a long, low whistle, the pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. “Did you hear that? He all but admitted it.”
“I heard,” Kate said, rubbing her arms to get rid of the goose bumps that rose on her flesh. She was suddenly cold as death. Who was Daegan O’Rourke really? Stranger, neighbor, sexy-as-all-get-out cowboy, and possibly a murderer.
The criminal.
If so, why was he here? What did he want? If he’d intended to take Jon away, he’d had ample opportunity this afternoon.
Maybe he was just an innocent cowboy with a colorful, though shady, past.
Sure. And she was the Virgin Mary.
“My friend’s still looking through some of the old documents and files, but so far we haven’t come up with much,” Laura said, sounding as if she were in the next room instead of over two thousand miles away in Boston. Kate fingered the cord and leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator. Through the window she watched as Jon, his arm in a sling, threw the tennis ball across the yard for the puppy, who merrily gave chase. “There were dozens of kids born around Jon’s birthday in the greater Boston area. I started with the date on his doctored birth certificate and went forward and backward a week, though you’re certain he was only days old when you got him.”
“Positive of it,” Kate said. “The umbilical cord stump didn’t fall off for days.”
“Okay, so I’m sorting through, trying to find out if any of the infants were born to single mothers, but my guess is that whoever doctored the certificate somehow managed to get into the computer data as well.”
“Wonderful,” Kate said sarcastically.
“I’ll keep looking.”
“Thanks.” She rubbed the top of a pumpkin she’d picked from the garden, the one chosen to be this year’s jack-o’-lantern. “What about the cowboy?”