The Soldier's Holiday Vow (8 page)

“She's got grit,” Colleen agreed. “Speaking of which, I'm glad to see you here, too. I was worried.”

“About me? Don't be. I've had my share of falls and I've gotten back up every time.” The horse tugged on her ponytail again, and she stroked Comanche's nose. “About working in the office. You have to know I won't have the best typing speed with this cast.”

“Speed isn't everything. I hear the phone ringing. Have a good ride.”

“Thanks, Colleen.” As her boss hurried into the office to catch the call, September led her horse the rest of the way to the trailhead. The way north—to the mountain—was barricaded, but there were others to choose from. She grabbed the saddle horn, slid her toe into the stirrup and lifted herself into the saddle. The gelding stood patiently, ears pricked and scenting the wind. Yep, he was glad to be headed out, too.

She reined Comanche to the right, choosing the meadow path that looped around the grounds. The cold wind ruffled his platinum mane, and the gathering gray clouds above suggested the weathermen would soon be right. Green grass spread like emeralds for a mile, broken only by the white board fencing where horses grazed and riders practiced their pace changes. Voices from the covered arena carried faintly. Grade-school-aged girls sat astride their mounts in the beginners' class
in the far paddock, and their excitement reminded her of being a little girl on a much younger Comanche, living her dream.

She'd always felt that God had led her here. Years had slipped by, time passed by well spent with friends and riding and working hard for competitions. He had known her heart and brought her to this wonderful place where she had always been happy. Even in her darkest times after she lost her beloved Tim, this place was the best refuge to her hurting soul.

Comanche nickered at a nearby buddy, who looked up from grazing and whinnied back. They continued on at a leisurely walk. Good to be in the saddle again. She breathed in fresh country air. Robins and sparrows soared and chattered, hurrying to get their work done before the rain. Mount Rainier's beautiful glaciered peak was lost in a crown of clouds. Hawk. She wondered how he was doing, if he had reached the mountain whose glacier he intended to scale or if he was still on the road.

Her thoughts kept circling back to him. He'd been a true helper fixing the leak, and her foyer hadn't been so bright in a while. As for his kisses—

You don't have to think about them
, she reminded herself as rain pinged off her hat. She lifted her face and let the droplets bathe her. Nice and relaxing after an unsettled day. Tension eased, as if washed away by the rain, and she realized how worked up she'd been over Hawk. And why? She drew in a cleansing breath. After the benefit ride, it wasn't as if she were going to see him
again. Likely as not he would be deployed by the new year and she would have worried for nothing.

Comanche extended his neck, asking for more rein, commanding her attention. He wanted to run. Well, she was up for it. She signaled him with her knees and leaned into his gait change. He dug in with all fours, from a smooth trot to a rolling cantor. She felt stronger, as she always did, racing the wind with her best bud. Everything came clear. Hawk's kisses were nothing she needed to worry about. As lovely as they were, he wasn't dating her. He had to know love was the last thing she would ever risk again.

The ground raced by in a blur as Comanche broke into a fast gallop, and she left her troubles behind.

 

Talk about cold. Hawk drove the stake into the ground and checked the anchor rope's tension. It ought to hold in all but the highest winds. They had driven as far as they could and had barely enough daylight left to set up camp. They would ski in to the climb come morning. For now, dark had fallen and the rain had turned to snow.

“Got the fire going.” Pierce came around the corner of the tent. “Want me to break out the hot dogs or the Spam?”

“Hot dogs.” He hiked through the accumulating snow and dropped the hammer with the rest of the gear. “Any chance you got some water hot yet?”

“You're gettin' soft.” Pierce shook his head. “You should have bailed out of the Rangers when you got the chance. Don't know how you are gonna make it two more years.”

“Hey,
I'm
not about to be an old married man.” Not that he blamed Pierce one bit. Married life sounded just fine with him. Which was odd. He liked being a lone wolf. Thinking about it made him think of September, and that couldn't be a good sign, so he grabbed his collapsible cup and a tea bag and hunkered down on a rock to check on the heating water.

“Tell me more about what happened after you carried her out of the mine shaft.” Pierce broke open a package of beef franks and impaled a couple of them on a skewer before handing it over.

“There's nothing to tell. I checked on her at the hospital. I dropped by to help her out. Figured Tim would have wanted me to make sure she was okay.” He took the skewer and held it over the lively flame.

“So you did it for Tim?” Pierce nodded with understanding. “I was always deployed, never got to know September very well, but I recall she was pretty and kind. Tim was crazy about her.”

“I know.” Guilt with pinpoint accuracy. A top sniper didn't have better aim. “Being crazy about her would be easy to do.”

“Ah, I thought so.” Pierce angled his meal over the cracking fire pit. “Tim would have expected her to go on with her life and find someone again. He would want a guy to take good care of her and treat her well. If you want my opinion, I think he would be glad if that man was you. Just something to think about.”

Snow tapped on his parka and sizzled on the ring of rocks, and he gave his skewer a turn, watching the skins
blacken as the meat cooked. Pierce thought he was helping, but it hadn't removed the bullet of guilt lodged in his chest.

“Catch.” Pierce tossed a hot dog bun over the fire and smoke.

Hawk caught it in one hand, caught a second one and pulled the skewer from the heat. Dinner was served.

 

The afternoon's light rain had turned into what sounded like a monsoon by the time September finished wiping down her kitchen counters. There. The chores were done for the evening. Satisfied, she hit the start button and the dishwasher chugged to life. The marble gleamed, the cabinets shone, the appliances sparkled in the white twinkle lights she had strung around the top edge of the upper cabinets.

The phone rang. Chessie, checking up on her. She didn't have to look at caller ID as she grabbed the cordless and turned off the overhead lights. She left behind the soft glow of the twinkle lights and headed to the living room. The gas fireplace was going, chasing the winter's chill from the room. “No, I don't have my feet up, but as soon as the phone rang I headed for the couch.”

“How did you know it was me calling?”

“My big-sister radar beeped.” She stretched out on the couch and grabbed the remote. “And no, I didn't overdo it at the stables. I needed to get in some saddle time before next week's event.”

“Excuses. As if you need more time on the back of
a horse.” Beneath Chessie's tough-girl facade ran true caring. “You sound better. More like yourself.”

“It takes more than a fall into a big hole in the earth to keep me down,” she quipped, hit the mute button and began to channel-surf.

“You know I wasn't talking about that. You haven't sounded this chipper since…” She paused, as if she didn't want to cause any pain by bringing up Tim's name.

“I had a good day.” That was the simplest explanation. She didn't know why she felt better—she certainly didn't want to pin that on one man. She was not that needy or fragile; she was the kind of woman who stood on her own two feet. “How did your day at work go?”

“The same old thing. Not much changes at the library. People check out books, they bring them back.” Librarian humor. “Have you heard from Dad yet?”

They passed the next thirty minutes catching up on family news and holiday plans. In the background, September's thoughts were way too preoccupied with a certain new friend. After she said goodbye to her sister, she punched in Hawk's home number. His machine came on and his rugged baritone across the line made her smile. She left him the information he needed for the ride—just businesslike stuff. Nothing personal.

Except for the small detail that she was grinning ear to ear by the time she hung up. So what? She was looking forward to seeing the guy. They were friends. That was a prerequisite for a friendship, right?

Right, and so were those kisses. She rolled her eyes. Best not to think about the kisses.

Luckily,
Jeopardy
came on. One of her faves. She turned up the volume, calling out answers along with the contestants.

But what was at the back of her mind?

Yes. Hawk. He had taken up permanent residence in her thoughts.

T
he rain had miraculously cleared after it had been pouring for hours. It's a sign, September decided as she guided Comanche around the last corner and onto the main trail of the park. Clusters of trees waved, shedding the morning's rain with plops and plinks. A half dozen squirrels peeked out from branches and boughs to get a good look at all the activity. The local trail riders' association had a booth set up at the starting line, where she had volunteered last year.

People and horses were everywhere. She waited for a break in the line before dismounting, unwrapped General's reins from the saddle horn and led both horses to the booth.

“I'm glad to see you back in the saddle.” A friendly face smiled up at her from behind a table. Fred Adkins made a check on his clipboard. “We were all so worried when you and that little girl went missing.”

“Thanks for joining the search party.” She opened a saddlebag. She had already sent a thank-you note to the
association, for many of the members had volunteered. “It means a lot.”

“That's what friends are for. Here are your T-shirts.” He piled a small and an extra large on the table.

“And here is my donation.” She traded six cans and two boxes of mac and cheese for the shirts. “And my sponsor sheet.”

“You are phenomenal, as always. This is going to help feed a lot of hungry kids in our town.” Fred straightened his shoulders, almost as if he were trying to get her to notice him. But did it work?

Not in the slightest. She grabbed the T-shirts, thanked him again and felt the back of her neck tingle. Comanche nickered in recognition. Hawk. He ambled toward her. In his black jacket, black jeans, black boots, he looked like the Special Forces soldier he was. His gaze found hers, and her soul stirred.

Why does he affect me so strongly, Lord?
She would have loved to hear God's answer, because she didn't have a clue. The man had magnetism.

“I see you made it off the glacier okay.” She handed him one of the T-shirts.

“No worse for the wear.” He shrugged off his jacket and pulled the T-shirt over his head. “We had a great time. Challenged the ice. Roughed it like real men. Got in our bro bonding before his big day.”

“When is his wedding?”

“Two days before Christmas.” He caught the collar of her coat, helping her out of it.

Oh, his manner was so appealing. She tried to hide her
giddiness as she pulled her new T-shirt on over the March of Dimes shirt she already wore. Both horses stood obediently, although Comanche was shaking his head up and down, as if trying desperately to say something.

“I think he's saying hi.” She slid her arms into her coat sleeves, dangerously close to Hawk. He settled the garment at her shoulders. It was nice, how old-fashioned he was. “The black gelding who is politely waiting is General. He's one of the horses we rent out. Gentle as a lamb and very imposing.”

“I came prepared.” Surprising her, he hauled something out of his pocket. The horses nickered, excited by whatever he held in his hand.

“Peppermints.” She laughed. Leave it to Hawk to notice the details. “You saw me feed him one.”

He nodded, and unwrapped two candies and offered one to each horse. Comanche dove for his. General politely lipped the treat from Hawk's palm.

“And one for you.” He unwrapped a third candy and raised it to her lips.

Okay, she had never had a friend do this before, she thought as the peppermint melted on her tongue, but Hawk couldn't be anything more. They both knew it.

“Riders, welcome to our tenth annual Ride for Hunger.” A voice aided by a bullhorn rose above the sounds of the milling crowd. September recognized the president of the riding club astride his handsome bay. “What a turnout. Thanks for being here. It might be a cold day, but we're a warm-hearted bunch. I'll see you at the finish line.”

Cheers rose up from the crowd and the noise swelled
as people mounted up. September couldn't resist sneaking a peek at Hawk. Through the president's little talk, he had been rubbing General's nose. The two struck an accord, and Hawk swiftly and competently adjusted the stirrup length.

“You thought I was new at this, huh?” He swung neatly into the saddle. “My grandma kept a pony at her place. When she was alive I would visit her quite a bit. I didn't get a lot of horse time in, I was more of a tree-climbing, fort-building kind of kid, but I know enough to keep my seat.”

“You are one surprise after another.” She should have known, she thought, rolling her eyes. She eased into Comanche's saddle and gathered her reins, unable to take her gaze off the man. Was there anything Hawk couldn't do?

“I strong-armed my Ranger buddies to contribute to the cause.” With a wink, he pulled a half dozen checks from his pocket. “Do I turn them in now?”

“You can. Here, we'll take them over.” She pressed her gelding into a slow walk. She hadn't realized most of the crowd had taken off, following the course through the park. Odd. How had she not noticed?

Fred, however, was still at the stand, glad to take the offered checks. His smile dimmed when he caught sight of Hawk and didn't try to flirt.

“So, this is what you do when you aren't at the stable?” Hawk asked, after waiting until they were on their way. “You ride for benefits. Hang out with other horse enthusiasts. Make donations to the food bank.”

“Guilty. I've also been known to teach Sunday school.”

“I should have known.” His voice dipped low, amused. “I can see you leading a class. Little kids?”

“First and second graders. They are so funny and I always learn something new.” She chuckled at something she didn't share with him. Maybe she thought he wouldn't be interested in kids. She would be wrong.

“Any other hobbies?” he asked.

“With what time? Only a true horseman would understand. Comanche is my hobby. He's my life, too.” She leaned forward with a slight creak of the saddle to pat the palomino's neck. Comanche tossed his head and nickered, as if to say,
Of course. I deserve all her time.

Hard to argue with that.

“What about you? Besides the ice-climbing thing, which is nuts in my opinion—”

“That's because you don't do it,” he quipped, teasing her just to make her laugh. “A true mountaineer would understand.”

“Hey, I didn't talk down to you when I said that.”

“I know, but I couldn't resist.” Laughter felt good, almost as great as being with her again. “There's nothing like being pitted against nature and winning. Besides, at the end of a climb when you are sitting on top of that mountain, sometimes pretty precariously, you can feel very close to God.”

“That's what I like about you, Hawk. You can be funny, and you know how to be real, too.” She beamed at him.

She liked him. She said the word
like
. He sat straighter in the saddle, feeling mighty good. She had stayed on
his mind through the last handful of days on the side of the mountain and throughout the return trip home. The guilt dogging him hadn't faded one whit, but something began to outshine it—the strength of his feelings for her.

“You have to be real when you do what I do for a living.” It was that simple. “You become the job. It's something you love and feel commitment for. But you know all that. If I could have hobbies, aside from skiing and climbing, I would like to do a lot of things.”

“You are one of those guys with a long list of things he wants to accomplish before he dies, right?”

“How did you know about the list?” He hadn't told anyone about his goals in life—except for God.

“Good guess.”

The air had turned damp, the way it did before a good rain. He breathed in fresh air, scenting the nearby sound. He could hear the lap of the waves against the rocky shore between the
clomp, clomp
of the horse's hooves.

“So, what's at the top of your list?”

“That's awfully personal, isn't it?” He wanted to keep it casual, safely away from the crater in his heart. The one that she was bound to notice and fault him for. The Lord knew it had always been his Achilles' heel, the reason he might always be alone.

“Hey, we're friends. We are supposed to be personal.”

Hard not to look at her, cute and expecting something from him, and not give it to her. He bit the bullet and admitted the truth. Easier to stare off at the blue-gray
sound ebbing against the gravel beach than to let her see his vulnerability. “A family. That's at the top of my list.”

She didn't say anything for a moment. He'd surprised her. Sure, that would surprise everyone. He cleared his throat. Since he had gone this far, he might as well say it all. “The free spirit thing is because it's easier. I don't want to make commitments.”

“Being Special Forces comes with a cost.” Her soft alto deepened with understanding. She had paid a price, too. They rode in silence for a moment, taking advantage of the calm of the water. The first drops pattered on the gray rock and the trail ahead of them. The low gray sky turned the sound pewter-gray, and the quiet reverence of the land and water felt as if God had sent the peaceful moment just for the two of them. A healing balm of sorts, to ease the memory of war and loss, of two futures without love.

“How many kids do you want?” she asked after a long while.

“I'd like at least two or three, but that wouldn't depend entirely on me.” His future wife, whoever she might be, had always been an idea, a wish unformed. Maybe because he was never certain he could let any woman close enough to want to stick with him. Now, as the path ahead turned away from the water to cut through the greenbelt of the park, he saw September's face—his future. “I've always wanted enough kids so that we feel like a family, but not too many so that I'm outgunned.”

“You want a nice balance. Understandable.”

“I want what I didn't have growing up. I'm lucky I had next-door neighbors who included me. I was almost a part of the family, I was over at their house so much. It got so that Mrs. Granger would set a place for me at the table without even asking if I wanted to stay. It was just assumed.”

“I'm glad you had them. How old were you when you lost your dad?”

“Eight.” The suddenness had been the hardest part. One morning, life was normal. A happy mom, a caring dad and he was a content kid off to catch the school bus. By day's end, that life was gone for good. Not something he wanted to talk about. That wasn't why he'd come back. That wasn't why he'd been dying to see her. He swiped rain from his eyes. “How about you?”

“Me? No, I don't want kids.” She tensed, shifting away from him.

“You don't want kids? That can't be.” The words were out before he could think them through. The moment he heard what he had said, he would have given anything to be able to turn back time and keep the thought to himself.

“Of course I want kids, except I'll never get married.” She tried to fake a smile, but there was no hiding her sadness. He could feel it on the air and in his soul.

“Maybe one day?” He gave General a little heel so he would catch up to Comanche. September didn't turn toward him. Her hair tumbled like a curtain, shielding her from his sight. Her silence hurt, and he felt his hopes slipping. “Down the road, I mean. There might come a day in the far future when you find you can love again.”

“I won't do it.” She sounded so sure—sad and sure, all at once. “Never again.”

His heart cracked right open in two equal parts, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless. He didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet. The rocking gait of the horse, the other riders up ahead, the trees singing in the rain, even the chilly damp were all memorable. A glorious day, sure, but it turned out to be one of his darkest.

 

“I'm impressed.” September gave Comanche a final rub with the towel—he was fresh, dry, warm and clean—and took a similar towel Hawk was offering her. “Not many guys would volunteer to help with the horses. You did a great job, too.”

“I even did a decent job with the hoof pick cleaner thing.”

She laughed; she couldn't help it. Happiness bubbled out of her. She gave the towels a toss into the laundry barrel and took hold of Comanche's lead. “This way, cowboy. All we have left to do is to stable them, and we're done.”

“Great. I'm starving.”

“You are always starving.” As the stops for ice cream, a hot dog and, less than an hour ago, an enormous pretzel at a kiosk near the benefit's booth attested. “I would hate to see your food budget.”

“Daunting.”

The man could make her laugh. She led the way down the main aisle. It was quiet this late in the day, the lessons done. Only the die-hard riders, considering the sounds
of horse hooves coming from the arena. It had been forever since she'd been this happy. The day felt light, the world around her hopeful and her spirit brightening. Hawk's friendship was turning out to be a true blessing.