Wild Cat and the Marine Page 2

  Jackson was suddenly relieved that his explanation for being gone all night was legitimate, even if it had started as a bored impulse. “Sir, I’m sure you’ve heard about the forest fires north of Richmond?”

  Richards nodded. “It’s been very dry.”

  “I spent the night with volunteers digging a fire line to protect Cottage Grove, one of the suburbs lying in the fire’s path.”

  Captain Richards was obviously skeptical. “Very good of you, Gray. Why didn’t you say so?”

  Jackson barely managed to keep his voice even. “As you said, Captain. It was my free time.” If one of the guys hadn’t suggested the trip… If he hadn’t jumped at the chance to leave the red-brick barracks, he might have spent the evening at the NCO club and had the kind of night the captain suspected.

  “Yes, but—” The phone rang. Richards picked up the receiver. “Captain Richards here. Yes, Mrs. Alexander, he’s with me now…. Of course… Not at all.” He handed the receiver to Jackson, then stood. “Take your time, Sergeant. I’m going to walk over to Colonel Blackstone’s office.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The captain hesitated a moment. “I hope things work out okay.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  The door closed with a quiet click. Jackson looked at the receiver in his hand as if it were a grenade with the pin already pulled. If he didn’t hear the words, then it wouldn’t be true, at least for him. As long as he avoided raising the phone to his ear, he could put off finding out his father had died in the night while he was off helping strangers.

  A sudden ache wrapped around his heart. He couldn’t avoid the truth that easily. He put the phone to his ear. “I’m here.”

  “Jackson?”

  His sister’s familiar voice triggered a strong wave of homesickness, a longing for her sweet pixie face and, unexpectedly, a nostalgic picture of the farm he hated. “Yeah, Cass. How is he?”

  “Jackson, where’ve you been? I woke up your captain three times last night. This morning, I mean.”

  “Hell, Cass, what does it matter where I was?” He clutched the receiver so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Sorry. Just tell me. Is Pop dead?”

  “Not yet… I mean, no! No. He’s doing okay, the doctor said.”

  “Okay? What does that mean, exactly? How badly is he hurt? What happened?” He stood and paced as far from the desk as the phone cord allowed.

  “He’s pretty bad, Jackson. He’s banged up something terrible, but the doctor said he’d live, unless the internal bleeding started again.”

  “Cass, what happened to him?”

  “He bought a new bull from Bertha Gillis. A big, black mean bastard! Pop went out to the barn to feed him and opened his stall door to check something. We aren’t sure what. Anyway, the bull knocked him down and stomped on him. Good thing he’d been dehorned. If he hadn’t been, Pop would be dead.”

  “Oh, damn! Was he alone?”

  “Buddy Sutherland was with him. You remember Buddy, don’t you?”

  He thought hard for a moment, then the name joined a face. “Yeah. Little guy. Works odd jobs, or used to. Kinda drifts from one farm to the next.”

  “He’s been helping Pop since January. Anyway, he managed to distract the bull and get him off Pop, then Blue drove the bull into another stall. Would you believe the same dog that let Mom’s calico cat run him out of the house could take on a young bull that way? Thank goodness he was there! Then Buddy slammed the door shut and called for help.”

  “You said ‘banged up.’ What do you mean?”

  “Three ribs are broken. His shoulder is dislocated. Doctor Lind said his kidneys were bruised and a piece of his liver broke off. His knee. Other stuff, too. Can you come home?”

  His brain couldn’t take it all in. The image of his tall, work-hardened father lying in a hospital bed hit him hard. Pop could die. “Oh, Lord.”

  “Can you come?”

  Her question didn’t make sense. “Come home? Cass, I can’t. You know that.”

  “Because of the Marines? Or do you mean that blowup you two had when you left home? For crying out loud, Jackson, that’s ancient history! Pop needs you, now.”

  An awful ache in his chest made breathing difficult. “Not me. He wouldn’t want me there.”

  “Jackson, he might be dying.”

  “He wouldn’t want me, even then.” Jackson’s tightened fist threatened to crush the phone.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Has he asked for me?” He threw the challenge out, not knowing if he wanted to hear the answer.

  A reluctant silence filled the space before she spoke. “I’ve only talked to him a little bit. He’s pretty foggy with the painkillers and all. I know he wants to see you, Jackson. You’re still his son and he’s still your father.”

  Bitterness prodded the old pain. “I’ll never step foot in Engerville again. You may not remember, Cass, but I do. He told me if I left, I wouldn’t be welcome back. If he wanted me, maybe… Aw, hell, it’s ridiculous to discuss it. I’m not coming home, Cass. I can’t.”

  “Even if Pop is dying? You still won’t forgive him?”

  The accusation hurt. It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be. His answer grated against the bitter memories. “You have that backward. He’ll never forgive me…and I’m not sure I want him to, so drop it. I’m sorry, Cass. I can’t come home.”

  “No matter how much he needs you?”

  The anger in her voice shamed him. He and Cass had always been close. His hurt forced an answer he didn’t want to give, yet couldn’t hold back. “Yeah. No matter how much he needs me.”

  “In that case, I’d better hang up. They’re going to do some X rays and I want to be there to see what they find. I’m sorry for you, Jackson. Sorry you can’t forgive and forget, but our father is the one I’m worried about right now.”

  “You’ll call me if anything changes?” There was no reply. She’d already hung up. Jackson loosened his white-fisted grip on the phone and replaced the receiver.

  Engerville, North Dakota, so many miles—a lifetime—away, but the memories were here in the room with him. His big, red-haired father working beside him in the fields. The tiny high school where he’d led the basketball team to the state championship when no school as small as theirs had ever won it. And Catherine, the girl he’d taken to the senior prom. Her image came to mind with such sharpness it might have been yesterday: tall, skinny, shy, too serious. Green eyes, high cheekbones, a tendency to hide her thoughts behind a sweeping curtain of black hair and, of course, the most vivid portrait of her—moonlight pouring through the windshield of Pop’s old truck, washing all the color from her face, making her emerald eyes gleam with an intensity he’d not known she was capable of.

  Jackson shook his head, angry at himself for being tempted. No, he wasn’t going back. He’d never go back. He waited until he had the lump in his throat under control before he left the Captain’s office.

  “I COULD DELIVER THAT FEED out to your place on Saturday, Cat,” Marvin Nordstrom pointed out as he heaved the last bag of feed onto the truck bed.

  “I should have called you last week, Marvin. The feed bin is nearly empty. I’d better take it myself.”

  Marvin looked dubious. His brief glance traveled up and down her slender figure. “How will you get it unloaded?”

  “I’ll manage.” Cat didn’t have the muscles to be a rancher. She knew it and so did Marvin. The place needed a man to run it, but Cat didn’t have a man and certainly didn’t want one. She’d take care of it by herself, as she always had.

  “If you have a problem, call. I’ll have Rafe stop by when he makes his rounds Saturday and unload it for you.”

  Turning a grateful smile on the store owner, she said, “Thanks, Marvin. I’ll let you know.”

  “Don’tcha go lifting those heavy bags by yourself,” he insisted. “Just yell if you need help. See ya.” The overweight feed store owner backed away, then turned to go into his
store.

  Cat lifted the tailgate and banged it closed. The metal had taken a beating over the years and needed to be forced into place. The squeal of air brakes startled her. She looked up. Across the street, a dusty Greyhound bus rolled to a halt. She watched as the driver left his seat and, a moment later, returned to it. The bus pulled away from the curb and continued down the street, revealing a lone figure standing beside a drab green duffel.

  Her memory of him kept trying to fit over the reality. A tall man with short red hair and wide shoulders returned her stare, not the slim eighteen-year-old boy with a dazzling, wicked smile. That smile had enthralled her the first time she met him. Now, she saw the adult version as he recognized her. Its power hadn’t diminished with time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “HEY,” HE CALLED. “Cat? Wild Cat Darnell?” The tall Marine grabbed his duffel and loped across the street toward her, narrowly dodging a white Chevy tooling down the street much faster than was safe.

  Her breath caught in her throat, just as it had the first time she’d met him. “Wel— Welcome home, Jackson.”

  He grinned at her, dropped his duffel, then gave her a bear hug. “It sure is you! I thought so, but I could hardly believe my eyes. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  Oh, but I have, Jackson. I have. Cat tried to breathe and couldn’t. He held her too tight. His arms were steel bands pressing her against a rock-hard chest. For the first time in years, a pool of heat centered in her breasts and trickled down her stomach. His embrace felt warm and familiar and, at the same time, dangerous. How had she forgotten, even for a minute the secret he must never guess? She tried to get away. He must have felt her movement. His grip loosened and, nose still jammed against his khaki shirt, she drew in warm, male-scented air. Her legs turned to water. Jackson chose that moment to release her and she stumbled.

  He caught her again. “Easy there! I didn’t mean to knock you off your feet.”

  For a single dizzying second, she ached to remain in his arms. Reason returned. She couldn’t.

  Cat stepped away from the closeness of Jackson Gray. It was difficult to appear casual as she asked the first question that came to mind. “Is someone meeting you?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “Nobody knows I’m coming. I didn’t call.” He glanced away, his fair cheeks a pinker shade than usual.

  Embarrassed, she guessed.

  “Not sure of my welcome, you know,” he muttered to the sidewalk.

  Sympathy washed over her. “Cass called me the day after the accident. She hoped you’d choose to come home.” She took a deep breath, willed the butterflies in her stomach to quiet their frantic clamor, and reluctantly decided there was no help for it. “I’ll give you a lift out to the farm.”

  He brightened. “That’s good of you, Wild Cat. Thanks.”

  “Nobody calls me Wild Cat anymore,” she observed, as calmly as if his use of her old nickname hadn’t stirred a hundred heart-stopping memories.

  He laughed. The same careless laugh that used to make her heart bump against her chest. And still did.

  “Well, I’ve never stopped thinking of you as ‘Wild Cat Darnell.’ There was a time when you’d try anything. Nothing was too outrageous. Remember that Halloween we hoisted the coach’s old Volkswagen up to the roof of the school? And draped it with crepe paper in the school colors? It rained all night and the paper broke. Colors ran over the car until it looked like it had been painted with pieces of confetti.” Jackson chuckled as he stared down at her, warm regard in his eyes.

  Remembering, Cat thought. Well, damned if she’d give him any sign that she remembered, too. She made an attempt at airy indifference. “I’ve grown up, Jackson. Didn’t you?”

  “What’s the fun in growing up? Next thing you’ll be asking me if I’ve decided to return to farming.” A snide smile spread across his angular face.

  Same old Jackson, she thought. I’ve changed. He hasn’t. Despite the rush of heat his smile caused, she took a firm grip on her emotions. “No. I won’t. I already know the answer. Let’s go. I’ve got chores to do at the ranch.”

  “Right. That’s one thing that never changes.”

  He followed her around to the driver’s side and held the door for her. One large hand hovered next to her elbow as if he would help her climb into the truck. Hurriedly, she rushed to get in by herself, knowing she’d react to his touch the same way cattle did to an electric prod.

  He must have changed a little bit, though. The old Jackson had been too carefree to think about opening a door for a woman unless his father had an eagle eye on him. She watched as Jackson loped around the truck, threw his duffel carelessly into the back and climbed into the cab with her. For a big man, he was graceful—lean-hipped, wide-shouldered, and too sexy. And totally unaware of his breathtaking attraction.

  Cat drew in a deep, calming breath. She’d been lonely too long. He endangered her peace of mind and she needed to stay far away from him.

  As he closed the door, he said, “Thanks for the lift, Cat…Catherine.”

  The cab, roomy when only she and Joey were in it, became tiny as he laid one arm along the seat back, dangerously close to her shoulder. She retreated into censure. “Since when would a neighbor not offer a ride?”

  Jackson busied himself with fastening his seat belt. “It’s been a long time, Cat. You know that. Cut me a little slack.” He glanced out the window, then back at her and changed the subject. “Tell me what’s changed since I left. Cass tries, but she doesn’t remember our group of kids. Fill me in on what’s happened to the Dragons of Engerville High.”

  His mention of the school’s team name brought memories of their high school years back with a hard focus on Jackson, the prince, and the girl who was Engerville’s blond princess. A bitter stir of jealousy replaced the heat his nearness caused. Of course, he wanted to know about Rebeka. Mutinous anger shot through her. Well, he could damn well find out from someone else. “Remember Roy Thoreson?”

  He shot her a sideways look of unexplained disgruntlement. “Sure. Your boyfriend for a while in our senior year. Editor of the school newspaper.” He hesitated, then grudgingly added, “And pretty darn good for a kid.”

  Cat downshifted at a red light and looked quickly at the man beside her. He’d matured physically in a powerful, shockingly attractive way. His beard-darkened cheeks had fascinating shadows and angles her hand itched to explore, but above the sensual lips were a pair of cold blue eyes that belonged to a man she no longer knew.

  How could this man’s eyes flash intimate warmth one moment and look right through her the next? Jackson might be two men now. A little bit of the one she remembered and the rest of him a stranger. She returned her gaze to the road ahead, determined to resist this new Jackson. “Roy’s a reporter for the Traill County Tribune, now. The Express offered him a job in Fargo, but he turned it down.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows shot up. “He actually turned down a newspaper job in Fargo to stay in this nowhere town? Is he still hanging around you or does he have another reason?”

  “Some of us like living here, Jackson,” Cat reminded him.

  Jackson’s cheeks reddened and he looked out the window. “Sorry. I have no business bad-mouthing Engerville,” he said.

  He turned back to her, his engaging smile in place again.

  “You know something? I’m so nervous about what Pop is going to say when he sees me that I really wasn’t thinking. I didn’t intend to be rude.” His lips twisted in rueful self-derision. “Why did you stay, Cat? You told me you’d be leaving, too, in the fall.”

  She glanced at him and couldn’t help smiling at the stranger beside her. Despite the foreign air about him, he was still the boy she’d spent her high school years tagging along behind. Still the boy who hated the sameness of life in a farming community. Still the only male in Traill County who made her heart beat faster. With a straight face, she said, “No big mystery. I stay for the night life.”

  He snorted with laughter
. “Are you talking about the tavern or the diner? I’m serious. Tell me.”

  Of course, she couldn’t tell him the truth, though for a split second, that’s what she wanted to do. His laughter brought back so many memories. Cat resisted the crazy impulse and shrugged. “I meant to. Things happen.”

  “I guess so, but you sure sounded like you wanted to leave as bad as I did. What happened to you?”

  Cat wondered if she had the nerve to admit she only pretended a desire to leave Engerville because that’s what he wanted. Truly, he was the only person who could have convinced her to leave the home she loved, but that was years in the past. He no longer had that power. She was indifferent to him. Touching the jade necklace around her throat as if it were a charm, she felt her stomach contract with tension.

  Five minutes alone with him and she ached to tell him. Hurriedly, she diverted his attention with the one bit of news certain to interest him. “Did you know Rebeka and her husband are looking for a summer home in Engerville?”

  “Really?”

  Cat expected more interest, or at least a smidgen of surprise, from him. “They have a winter home in Virginia,” she added. That last bit of information startled him. He hadn’t known he’d been living in the same state with Rebeka. Unwanted satisfaction warmed her. How far was Quantico from Richmond?

  His expression revealing nothing, Jackson shrugged, his broad shoulders straining the fabric of his jacket. “Very convenient. Mild winters and a cool summer home. Most people can’t afford two homes.”

  The truck drifted to the right a bit as she glanced at him. Cat corrected the truck’s path and decided she’d better keep her attention on the road, for more reasons than avoiding a traffic accident. “Burt and Rebeka can. Everybody knows how wealthy they are.”

  “Does anybody care?”

  His tone of voice said more than the words did. Cat hurried to fill the awkward space. “Without Burt’s money, our farm would have gone under six years ago.” She hadn’t intended to tell him, but his attitude irked her. Of course he cared that the girl he’d been crazy about in high school had ditched him for a rich man’s son, as Jackson had characterized him on that long-ago prom night. Cat liked Burt, though, and Jackson’s attitude couldn’t change her mind.