A Soldier for Keeps (12 page)

“I wanted to see you. And now that I have—” He avoided her, staring across the lush green lawn to the orderly rows of the vegetable garden. Julie sat on a little wooden stool, thinning carrots. He gazed farther out, as if trying to find an answer on the mountain-rimmed horizon. “I can’t stay long. But maybe long enough for that horse ride you threatened me with.”

“Great. We have a green broke horse that will be a real challenge.” She could see his struggle. Was it like hers? Afraid to get close, afraid to let go? “You do like challenges, right?”

“Only when I won’t wind up in the dirt, broken and bleeding. Some battles I stay away from.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying him.

She remembered what he had said long ago.
Love is one battlefield I want to stay off of.
His words swung at her like a silent, unseen mace, obliterating the tiny hope she didn’t know was there. She set her chin, refusing to let him see it. Doing her best not to feel the cold sweep of pain washing through her. “Then you can ride Red. He’s a gentle old soul.”

“Gentle. I can handle that.” Unaware of how he’d hurt her, he flashed her a grin, the one she loved so well.
His hazel eyes flashed green and gold and the dimples dug deep into his cheeks. “I’ve got a hotel room in town for a few days. That ought to be enough to see the sights around here, don’t you think?”

“Especially if you don’t mind hanging out while I do my chores. It’s about time to start in the barn.” She bopped to her feet, but didn’t take a step, both needing to stay and to go. Retreating to the barn’s warm shade and comforting animals seemed like the perfect solution. Best to put some distance between them. She didn’t know how long she could keep her feelings buried. “If you want to hang here, I can get more cookies. Or you could take a walk around. There’s TV inside. You could take a nap. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll come with you.” He stood, grabbing the pitcher and the cookie plate. “I have some experience with barn work.”

“Some?” She grabbed the cups.

“Meaning a lot.” He held open the door. “I’m not one to sit around when there’s work to be done.”

“You’re on vacation.” The tile was cool on her feet as she padded straight to the dishwasher and loaded the cups. “I don’t expect you to pitch out stalls.”

“It’s one of my many talents.” He left the cookies on the counter and the lemonade in the fridge. “Now don’t go making jokes about my mucking-out capabilities. It’s tempting, I know.”

“I wasn’t planning on saying a word.” She grabbed her baseball cap from the peg on the wall. “I never turn down help filling the wheelbarrow.”

“Mighty sensible of you. I know what goes in that wheelbarrow.”

“Most animals are outside this time of year, so we’re
lucky.” She leaned against the door, opening it, trying her best to look everywhere but at him. Impossible. He filled the room. He filled her field of vision. She shoved open the door, stumbling onto the hot bite of cement and the day’s baking heat.

She heard his gait behind her, felt his arm take the weight of the door and she launched away from him, determined to keep whatever space she could manage between them. But he fell in line beside her. They bypassed flower beds fragrant with colorful roses. It was a dazzling day with the sky as blue as dreams and the wild grasses singing lazily in the breeze. Horses grazed in verdant fields and shade trees dappled sunlight over them as they walked together, side by side.

There was no getting away from him. He stuck by her, towering at her side. “I wish I could stay longer.”

“I understand. Alaska is waiting. It sounds fun.” She pulled the bill of her cap lower to shade her eyes. “What are you guys going to do? Sightsee?”

“Mostly. Rumor is we’re going to camp, canoe, fish for our own dinner.”

“Ah, the stuff you think is fun, but really isn’t?”

“That would be it. We’ve been planning it for the better part of a year.” They were coming up on the barn, a big red structure opening out to the horse pasture. Pogo lifted his head to nicker at Lexie, then returned to his grazing. Pierce eyed several of the large animals. One was a sorrel, red from nose to tail. “That wouldn’t happen to be Red?”

“That’s him. Anxious to ride him?” She sparkled with mischief.

“You picked out the biggest one on purpose, didn’t you?” Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

“I promise he’s the gentlest one. That’s the upside.
The downside would be that if you fall, it’s a much longer distance to the ground.” Grass whispered beneath her feet. “If you want to keep your boots nice, there’s an extra set of Uncle Bill’s boots. He won’t mind if you borrow them.”

“I just might, that way I don’t track stable muck into your aunt’s house.” He followed her into the shadowed entrance of the barn, their movements rustling in the big silent structure. The haymow overhead was nearly empty of hay, but the sweet scent of it lingered as if freshly mown. The first cut wouldn’t be brought in until after the fourth. A pair of chickadees cheeped overhead, warning the intruders of their domain.

He took the rubber barn boots from Lexie, and one lone calf bleated from somewhere inside the belly of the barn in one long low.

“That’s Buffy. She’s always the first—” She was drowned out by a bellow of bawling calf cries. She jammed her feet into barn boots and tugged them up. “I’m coming, babies. Hold on.”

That only brought a bigger round of moos. Unaffected, Lexie led the way to a side room, where counters sported plastic milk bottles set out to dry and a deep double-sized sink. A fifty-pound bag of milk replacer sat by the cabinets, open, with a measuring scoop handle-up in the powder mix.

“Need any help?” His question brought an instant head shake from her.

“I’ve got this down to a science.” She turned on the faucet, holding her hand under the stream, adjusting the taps for the right temperature.

“I won’t mess up your system.” He ambled next to
her and began righting the dozens of bottles on the counter. “How many calves?”

“Fifty-two. Let me guess. That’s a small number to you. Your family has a bigger spread?”

“My folks only raise a few for beef. Now my uncle, he’s got a big spread. I don’t know how many calves they have in a year, but it’s staggering.” He watched as Lexie grabbed a five-gallon bucket and dropped it into the sink. A few huge scoops of milk replacer added to water, and stirred. He’d seen it before. Knowing the routine, he began lining the bottles into the sink while she checked for any lumps and kept stirring.

Something moved in the corner of his vision. A white streak plopped onto the counter and sat with feline grace. Two blue eyes studied him as the cat began licking one pristine paw.

“Snowball, meet Pierce.” Lexie dropped the long handled spoon on the counter.

He grabbed the handle before she could. “Don’t argue. I’m not about to stand here and let you lift this. It’s heavy.”

“I do it dozens of times a day.”

“Not today.” He began pouring, careful not to spill. “Tell me whoa.”

“Whoa.” She took the partially full bottle while he filled another to the same level. “Why didn’t you write me?”

“Honest?” His pulse skidded to a rocky stop. He kept his hands steady, moving onto the next bottle. But out of the corner of his eye, he kept a careful watch on her.

“Yes, I want the whole truth.” She topped the bottle and set it on the counter. Vulnerable. It was in the wide
guilelessness of her eye. He remembered what she had told him, how hurt she’d been by love.

No miles separated them, this was face-to-face, without time and distance making it easier to keep it light. There was no computer screen to hide behind. He filled the last bottle in the sink and set the bucket on the counter.

Maybe it was time to be no-holds-barred and armor off. “I didn’t write because I was afraid to. You’ve gotten too close to me, Lexie.”

“I feel the same way,” she agreed.

“Distance is safer.” He didn’t know why he could read the emotions on her face, he’d never been able to see anyone so much. Understanding, fear, agreement, it was all right there between them.

They worked together, topping bottles, as the calves bawled soulfully.

“What are we going to do about it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He finished the last bottle in the sink, handed it to her, and their fingers brushed. The simple contact felt like a tsunami’s leading edge hitting him, obliterating him, carrying him out to sea. He pulled away and gathered half of the bottles, working methodically, keeping his emotions on hold.

“The babies are waiting.” She gathered the bottles in her arms and led the way down the far aisle, the cat trailing after her.

The words he’d spoken were between them now, a truth neither of them knew what to do with. As he followed her, he couldn’t help thinking it was like driving down an unexplored road in a Humvee and knowing in an instant before you were ready to drive over an IED. Knowing that after the boom, nothing would be whole again. You wouldn’t be whole again.

A smart man would stop if he could.

“What is all this fuss about?” Lexie’s gentle voice rose above the rustle and cries of the calves, penned two to a stall. She set the extra bottles on a nearby shelf, talking all the while.

He caught a glimpse of snowy white noses and velvet red coats between the gate rungs as the little ones stretched as far as they could toward their caretaker.

“Buffy and Button, you’re first.” She cradled the bottles, one in each arm, holding them for the calves. Hungry mouths latched on, big brown eyes watching her with adoration. “What good girls you are. Now, you boys, you wait your turn. Ladies first.”

The hungry calves in the other pens bawled, begging for Lexie’s attention and a warm bottle. Light sifted down from the haymow, gracing her, and Pierce froze in the aisle, awed by this new side of her. She had been the stoic injured girl in his arms, the understanding friend he could confide in, the lovely graduate student at the symphony, the smart and fun pen pal, the sun-kissed woman riding her horse bareback through a field, and now this, the country girl bottle-feeding two calves.

It was more than his heart could take. He fell hard and so far in love with her, he would never be whole again.

T
he evening had been flawless. Uncle Bill’s barbecued bacon burgers and Aunt Julie’s potato salad and fixings had been the perfect complement to the pleasant afternoon. Followed by chocolate cream pie, cold sweet tea and a hot, lazy sunset. At the moment Lexie couldn’t ask for more.

On the patio watching the riot of purple, magenta and gold paint the horizon, she couldn’t measure her contentment. It seemed limitless. With her feet up on the ottoman, leaning back in the comfy chair cushions with Pierce at her side, she felt life couldn’t get any better. It simply couldn’t. It didn’t seem possible.

“Yep, this is the best place to be, in my opinion.” Uncle Bill pulled out a chair and took a seat, setting his glass of tea on the table. “Every now and then I get the notion to go traveling, but I never get farther than this.”

“Why would you?” Pierce agreed, the ice in his glass tinkling as he took a sip. “I’ve seen a fair part of the world and I’ve never seen anything as peaceful as those Wyoming mountains.”

“I believe you, son. I did my traveling in my Army days, and I don’t miss it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Aunt Julie piped up from the railing, where she was lighting a citronella candle. “I didn’t have any Army days. I, for one, would like to see more than my backyard.”

“Come over here and I’ll change your mind.” Bill winked and patted the chair beside him, as if knowing full well that would make his wife chuckle warmly. “Lexie, how about you? Do you want to see the world?”

“I’m not opposed to it, but I don’t feel like I have to, either.” She took a sip of tea and savored the sweetness. “Basically, I can be happy wherever I am.”

Beside her she felt Pierce’s intense scrutiny. He’d been like that since he’d fed the animals with her. First holding the bottles for the calves, the dear little things, as they butted and bawled and craved affection. He’d been an old pro at feeding grain, handling the calves with care and cleaning out their pens. He’d good-naturedly helped her feed and water the rest of the stock and horses.

What was he thinking? She stared out at the stunning sunset, where the blinding blaze of the sun slipped farther behind the mountains, but the scene no longer calmed her. Pierce wasn’t looking for serious; she knew that. But did he regret coming? Was this all too mundane for him? Was he thinking, who knew a girl could be so provincial and boring? He lived an adventurous life. Yet another reason why it would never work between them.

“I would be happy seeing Paris once in my life.” Julie winked as she pocketed the matches and tapped across the patio to her husband’s waiting arms. “Or the Great Barrier Reef. I would like to see that. I’ve always wanted to snorkel.”

“I’ll take you over to the pond then, and we can see what’s under the lily pads,” Bill teased, love warm in his voice.

“Oh, you!” Julie laughed, slipping out of his hug. “I’ve seen enough frogs. While you’re here, Pierce, you should have Lexie take you up along the creek. There’s a swimming hole not too far from here. I’ll make you two a nice picnic lunch to take along.”

“That sounds real fine, ma’am.” Pierce stretched out in the chaise beside her, appeared interested. “There’s nothing like a cool dip on a hot day. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“I’m used to trouble,” Julie assured him.

“I am, too,” Lexie spoke up, fully intending to help with any preparations. The thing was, she knew Pierce well enough to recognize the tiny crinkles around his eyes, a sign of strain.
I didn’t write because I was afraid to,
he’d said.
You’ve gotten too close to me, Lexie.

He didn’t want to be too close to her. Maybe to anyone. She had that much figured out. She didn’t want anyone too close to her, either, and look what had happened. Love blazed in her hurting heart with colors and shades she had never known before and so brightly, he was all she could see. The world faded, the birdsong and breeze silenced until there was only Pierce and dreams of him she refused to let bloom. Dreams of wedding vows, of children and happily ever after that she could not allow.

“You’re going to expect me to ride a horse to the swimming hole, aren’t you?” Pierce was saying. “This is going to be interesting.”

“Don’t you ride?” Bill asked.

The breeze gusted lazily in a hot, grass-scented puff,
and a deer with twin fawns ambled out of the field and onto the lawn, watching them with wary eyes before getting back to the business of grazing.

“No,” Pierce answered. “Now, in case Lexie is pulling my leg, I want you two to verify that the big horse named Red is in fact tame.”

“As gentle as a kitten,” Julie assured him. “Do you know how to ride?”

“My experience is mostly in falling.”

That made everyone laugh, as he figured it might. His glass was empty, the sun was fully down, leaving a last haze of daylight that was bound to quickly drain away. He climbed to his feet. “I hate to say it, but it’s time to go.”

“I do wish you would stay with us.” Julie seemed genuinely troubled. “It would save you the cost of a hotel, and those rooms are never as comfortable as a home.”

“I’m comfortable enough.” That was one thing about deployment. You learned to appreciate the basics of life, and he had learned he didn’t need much. “Besides, I don’t want to put you folks to any trouble. Thanks again for supper. It was mighty tasty.”

“Anytime, Pierce. Don’t you forget that.”

“See you in the morning, son.” Bill stood to shake his hand. A good, firm grip, callused from a life of hard honest work. “If you want a more challenging mount, you let me know and I’ll saddle up Tasmanian for you.”

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. Good night.” He didn’t want to break away; at the same time his gut was telling him to go. Lexie may have faded into the background for a moment, but he couldn’t forget her. Her nearness affected him. The back of his neck tingled. The tangle
of emotions bound up in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

Her bare feet whispered behind him in the grass as he circled around the house. He’d done his best not to look at her directly since the barn, but he couldn’t go back and change his revelation. He couldn’t undo his affection any more than he could reverse time. When he reached the edge of the lawn, where grass gave way to gravel and his rental truck was parked in the shade of the house, he gathered his reserves before facing her.

“Julie means well.” Apology made her eyes a deeper shade of blue, and the emotion on her pretty face was unveiled, plain for him to see. “She only wants you to have a good visit, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to come tomorrow or to spend the day swimming in the creek.”

“Obligated? That’s not the word I would use.” Try lucky. Glad. Worried. The last twinges of daylight fell between them like hope, like opportunity, and in the soft light, she had never looked more beautiful. His soul ached for her. He savored the look of her long, curled eyelashes framing her perfect blue eyes, her exquisitely cut cheekbones and darling slope of her nose, her rose petal–soft mouth and the smile that curved upward in the corners.

Love, powerful and pure, thumped like a cluster bomb through his chest, driving out fear and doubt and every drop of lonesomeness. He felt whole, when he hadn’t known anything was missing until now, until this moment. He wanted to draw her into his arms and never let go.

“It was my plan to spend the day with you.” His voice sounded rough and raw, as if too much of his emotions
had made it past his armor. He straightened his shoulders, drawing up all his might. Whatever his love for her, he could not let it show. “I’ll even get on a horse. That’s saying a lot right there.”

“You’re just lucky I can fit you into my hectic, demanding schedule.” Her words were lighthearted, her grin sweet, but her eyes were veiled. As twilight crept over the land, soaking into the shadows, it hid the tiny hints of truth on her face.

But he could see deeper. He felt her vulnerability and fears as greatly as he felt his own.

“Yeah,” he joked, choosing to keep things lights, too, where they were both comfortable. “I saw those calves. Very demanding.”

“I’m glad it’s not haying season yet, or I wouldn’t be able to get away.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping out in the field.” As long as he could be with her. He would go anywhere and do anything for her. Commitment filled him, unbidden and unexpected, protective and strong. Love for her hurt with brutal force, and he took a step back, struggling to keep the safe wall of friendship firmly between them. He tugged his keys from his jeans pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”

“Any time you want. You’re the one on vacation. You shouldn’t have to be anywhere on time. Come when you can.” The breeze ruffled the dark curtain of her hair, and as twilight deepened and the first stars of the night shone in the gray sky behind her, he wanted to kiss her. More than life itself, he wanted to cradle her chin in his hands, gaze into her eyes until his soul sighed and kiss her with all the tenderness he owned.

Good thing he was smart enough to leave before he
could. His boots crunched in the gravel as he circled around the truck, but as he climbed into the cab, distance gave him no relief. Tenderness left him dizzy as he started the engine.

When he drove away, he kept sight of her in the mirror. She stood at the edge of the driveway watching him go. Framed by stars and mountains, she looked like the ideal image of a wholesome country girl in her simple T-shirt and cutoffs, but she was much more.

She was his heart.

“Pierce is a nice boy.” Aunt Julie snapped the lid closed on thick pieces of gingerbread cake the next morning. “Of course, he
is
from Wyoming.”

“That makes all the difference.” Tongue in cheek, Lexie carefully wedged the plastic container into the bulging saddle pack. “He’s only a friend.”

“I wasn’t saying any different.” Julie covered the cake pan and carried it to the counter. “You ought to invite him to church with us tomorrow.”

“I was planning on it.” Oh, she knew where her aunt was going with this, bless her. “Remember I said he was a friend?”

“I heard it loud and clear.” Her twinkling eyes said otherwise. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, honey, but I can see the truth as plain as day.”

“Truth? There is no truth.” None that counted, anyway. All the love in the world wouldn’t make Pierce stay. He had four more years in the Army, and she had a degree to finish. Just one more reason she had to keep a tight rein on her heart. “Neither of us wants anything serious.”

“Fine. Use any excuse you want, but you love the boy.”

To deny it would be a lie. Lexie grabbed a tube of sunscreen and slipped it into the pack’s outside pocket.

“I thought so. He’s in love with you, too.”

“No, that’s impossible.” She methodically hooked her sunglasses into her T-shirt’s collar. She kept her feelings very still, but a small hope heard those words and stirred. She tugged her gray Stetson from the hooks. “He’s a loner of a guy and he likes it that way.”

“Okay, fine.” Julie leaned over the sink to get a good look at the driver. “Then Mr. Lone Wolf is driving up at nine forty-three on a Saturday morning. Could mean he’s eager to see you.”

That small hope buried inside her stirred again. Quelling it, she lifted the pack and swung it onto her shoulder. “Or it could mean he’s an early riser, too, which he is. He knows I get up at four-thirty to feed the calves.”

“All right. You know best.” Julie’s wide grin said otherwise. “You kids have fun. Watch out for that cougar we’ve been having trouble with. You’ve got the two-way just in case?”

“I got it.” She grabbed it on the way out the door and hooked it into the pocket of her pack. “I’ll be back for the chores. See you then!”

“Bye, sweetie.”

Lexie shut the door, unaware of the weight of the bag or how quick she circled the house. It wasn’t as if she was anxious to see him again, really. That couldn’t be the reason her feet were carrying her through the gravel toward him. It had to be the wind at her back pushing her along, instead of her heart pulling her.

“Hey, sunshine.” Pierce strolled toward her, lowering his aviator sunglasses. He wore an olive-green
T-shirt, cutoffs, and a camouflage cap, looking like he was ready for a summer outing.

Seeing him was like peace touching her soul, like hope dawning, all her dreams coming to life. Those sensible, logical reasons why she had to resist hoping silenced. Not smart, it wasn’t logical. It was emotional.

“You look ready to hit the trail. I’ve been talking myself into it all morning.” He stopped to yank a small duffel from the bed of the truck. “I’m mentally prepared for the mission ahead.”

“You have nothing to worry about. It will be fun. Maybe not as fun as racing down the mountain shouting ‘banzai’, but fun.”

“No racing.” He grinned, looking fairly adamant about that. He hefted the saddlebag from her shoulder before she could protest. “Usually I like speed, but when I’m on the back of a horse, not so much.”

“Got it. We’ll keep it to a safe trot.”

“Hey, I know about trotting. No trotting.”

“You don’t want to bounce around in the saddle?”

“Bounce, slap, fall off. No, miss, I do not.” Chuckling, he fell in beside her, their gait in sync. “Is this an all-day mission?”

“That’s the plan, except I have to be back at four-thirty to do my chores.”

“Suits me fine. I figure we’ll come back, get the barn work done together and then the two of us can hit town. I noticed there is a street fair going on.”

“Swinging Rope Founder Days. I’ve been meaning to go.” A lock of hair tumbled down from her hat, which framed her face adorably. “There’s a rodeo tonight.”

“Yep, thought we could catch it.” Casual, that’s how he had to keep it, although that didn’t explain why
his palms had gone damp. It might be because of the heat, but more likely because being with her mattered. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

They’d reached the barn, where light filtered from the haymow where the white cat was sitting, staring regally at him. Two horses were cross-tied in the aisle, saddled and ready. Pogo lifted his head, nickering in greeting, glad to see his owner. The big animal turned to putty as he lowered his nose for Lexie’s affectionate touch.