She laughed at both Jack and the world. Being on a bike was a freedom she’d never experienced before. “This summer I’m
“Gotcha!”
Four boys materialized from between Carter’s auto parts store and the alley. Three of them grabbed Jack and his bike while the fourth-thirteen-year-old David Fitzgerald-hauled Katie off his bright red bike and set her roughly on the ground.
“You stole my bike,” David accused his sister.
Katie nearly fell to her knees, but she quickly regained her balance. “Did not. I borrowed it. I wanted to learn to ride and I couldn’t do that at the ranch.”
She stared pleadingly at the older brother who had always been so good to her. But as she took in his angry face and balled fists, she remembered that he was only kind in private. In front of his friends, he teased and tormented with no thought for her feelings.
The three remaining boys-all friends of David’s-held Jack’s arms. He tried to squirm away but couldn’t break their hold. Not only was he outnumbered, but the boys were two years older than him and bigger.
Instantly Katie saw what was going to happen. She ran to her brother and grabbed his shirtsleeve. “David, no. You can’t hurt him. He was being nice to me. He taught me how to ride a bike.”
“No Darby messes with my sister,” David said.
All the scrapes and blood hadn’t made her cry, but the sight of her new friend pinned and helpless brought tears to her eyes. “You’re a coward,” she yelled at her brother as he approached Jack. “Four against one? You can’t win a fair fight so you’re gonna be a bully?”
David turned on her. “Shut up or you’re next.”
She thrust out her chin. “I’m not scared of you, David Fitzgerald. Besides, if you’re going to beat up someone who’s held down by your friends, then of course you’re going to beat up a little girl. Dad’ll be real proud.”
Doubt flickered in David’s blue eyes. Then his gaze narrowed. “Let ’em go,” he ordered his friends.
They reluctantly did as he said.
“Run!” Katie screamed to Jack, but no one was listening.
As soon as Jack was free, David attacked. Jack came back swinging, but the other three boys joined in. Katie cried out. It only took her a couple of seconds to realize that Jack was going to get slaughtered. She dove into the pile of fists and elbows, grabbing hair where she could, biting, kicking and generally trying to help her new friend.
A sharp blow landed on the side of her head. Katie saw stars, then nothing at all. The hard ground rushed up to meet her.
The next thing she heard was her father’s voice. Finally, she thought hazily. Jack would be safe. But when she managed to open her eyes, she saw her father shaking Jack like a dog.
“Dad, no,” she yelled. “Jack didn’t start it, David did.”
Her father let go of Jack, then glared at the boy. “I don’t care who started it. The fight is finished now. You go on and get out of here. No Darby is going to mess with my family.”
Katie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Didn’t her father understand? “Daddy, he helped me. I can ride a bike now and everything.”
Jack straightened. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. Swelling nearly shut his left eye, and his hands were battered. His once clean T-shirt was smudged with dirt and torn off one shoulder. Katie was pleased to see the four older boys looked almost as bad. Her body felt sore, and she realized she could barely see out of one eye.
Her father glared at her. “Stealing your brother’s bike, riding around town with the likes of him and fighting. What is your mother going to say?”
Katie didn’t want to answer that. She forced herself to her feet. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she called as the boy limped away.
“Don’t speak to him,” her father ordered. “Darbys are dirt.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “They’re not. Jack’s my friend.”
Right there on the sidewalk, in front of David and his friends, worse, in front of Jack, her father slapped her across the face. It wasn’t a strong blow, but it stung all the same. Humiliation darkened her soul.
“We don’t bother with their kind,” her father growled. “You remember that, missy. You hear me?”
But she didn’t answer. Instead she stared after Jack and vowed that somehow, some way, she would make it up to him. Even if it took forever.
Chapter One
Jack Darby rounded the corner in time to see four large boys go after a small skinny kid. The little guy-pale, in glasses and throwing punches like a girl-stood about as much chance against his assailants as a kitten did against a wolf pack.
Some things never change, Jack thought, remembering all the fights he’d gotten in when he’d been a kid. Even so, the little guy was outnumbered and ill-equipped. Jack hurried toward the huddle.
“That’s enough,” he yelled, just as the little guy dropped to one knee.
The four bullies glanced up, saw him, then took off for the main street. Jack reached the kid still crouched on the sidewalk.
“You okay?” he asked the boy. He bent over, half-expecting blood and tears. What he got instead was a big grin.
“Did you see?” the skinny boy asked with obvious pride. “I got two of ’em. I hit one in the face.”
The boy stood and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Blood dripped from a cut on his lip, but the kid didn’t seem to notice.
Jack knew that any blows the boy had landed had been glancing, at best, but decided not to say that. No point in spoiling the moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here.”
The boy stared at it. “I’m bleeding?” His voice sounded both delighted and hopeful.
“You cut your lip.”
“Wow. Just like in the movies.” The boy took the cloth and pressed it to his mouth, then gazed at the blood. “Cool.”
“You’re pretty happy for someone who nearly got the snot kicked out of him.”
The boy nodded. “Sometimes it’s important to act like a man, even if that means taking on a losing fight.”
Jack looked at the kid. He was skinny and kind of short. He would have guessed he was maybe seven or eight, but he sounded older. Or maybe he was just an old soul, as his mother liked to say.
“You’ve learned a good lesson early,” Jack said. “But next time, try taking on less than four bigger boys. At least then you’d have a chance.”
The boy handed him back his handkerchief. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” He grinned, then winced when the movement pulled his lip. “I’m Shane Fitzgerald.”
“Jack Darby,” Jack said automatically. The boy said something else, but Jack didn’t hear it. He didn’t hear anything but the name.
Shane Fitzgerald. Katie’s son. Jack studied his blond hair and blue eyes. All the Fitzgeralds were fair-skinned and light-haired. He should have recognized him at once.
Katie’s child. Eleven years ago-the summer she’d graduated from high school-Katie had promised to love Jack forever. The nine-year-old boy in front of him was living proof that her promise had meant less than nothing.
“I guess I’d better go find my mom,” Shane was saying. “She worries about me.”
“Mothers do that,” Jack said. “Tell you what. I’ll come with you. Just in case she needs more details about the fight.”
Some of Shane’s pride disappeared. He touched his lower lip and sighed. “Moms don’t like fighting,” he confided as he turned toward Second Avenue.
“I know. I had more than my share of lectures when I was your age.”
