she wanted to hang around and watch him work that was fine, but this hole needed to be patched. He walked to the previous post, placing his left foot deliberately, and reached for the coil of fence. Barb-wire was cantankerous on the best of days with two good hands, let alone his. Finding the end, he pulled, slowly unhooking each barb from the coil behind it. It was slow, tedious work and more than once his hand slipped.
Tara stood to the side watching him. One quick glance at her face was enough for him to see the pity in her eyes. And the longer she stood there staring, the more frustrated and angry he got.
“Tara, why don’t you head to the house and say hi to my mom. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Sorry, Momma . His mother would probably rather walk barefoot on hot asphalt than entertain Tara Johnson, but he didn’t know how else to get rid of her. “I’ll be home in a bit.”
Letting the coil of wire spring back, in spite of all the time he just spent unwinding it, he turned to guide her back to the truck.
“Well, I don’t--”
“Tell her we have a new calf from that black cow of hers. She was wondering about it.”
Tara’s expression brightened when she realized she could be the bearer of good news. “Okay, Chad. I’ll tell her. And you’ll be home in a little bit?”
He nodded, though he’d already begun fabricating an excuse in his head.
As she started the big truck her daddy had bought her a couple years ago and turned around, Chad wondered how he could foist her off on some other charity case. Before he’d gone to Iraq, they’d dated fairly regularly and gotten along well. When he’d come back, wounded and bandaged, she’d seen a kicked puppy needing care. It drove him nuts. She used to be an awesome girl, but now all she did was mother him and look at him with her sad eyes.
For the thousandth time he wondered if he shouldn’t just go somewhere else for a while. Get away from all the well-wishes and concerned looks. He could get physical therapy at any VA. He didn’t have to stay in Texas. His arm was healing and his prosthetic fit like a glove, giving him more freedom than he’d ever expected to have. If he put his blade prosthetic on, he could run for miles on a flat surface. Choppy ground was still difficult, but he would adapt.
As much as he appreciated Honeywell, Texas, and its residents, they still treated him like the kid he used to be. They’d given him a hero’s welcome when he’d come home, with a parade and his name on the soldier’s wall at the courthouse. But it was as if his combat experience was glossed over. To them he was still a kid who needed taking care of.
His parents were the same way. As much as he loved them, they smothered him. It had been months before they’d allowed him to do any work alone on the ranch. Once he’d gotten used to riding again, it had been easier to get away to find something that needed done.
No matter how many times he returned from chores unscathed, they still watched him as if he were going to break at any given moment.
His cell phone chirped in his pocket. Pulling it out, he smiled when he recognized the number. “First Sergeant, how the hell are you?”
Duncan chuckled at the greeting. “I’m fine, Chad. How are you doing? You get hitched yet?”
“God, no! Don’t wish that on me. There are women crawling out of the woodwork down here to try to entice the poor, wounded Marine.”
He turned and stepped over the fence roll. The horse was tied under a tree and looked content. Chad dropped down in the shade a few feet away and snatched a water bottle from the saddle bags, then allowed himself to lay back against the saddle. He twisted the cap from the bottle and quickly drank half the contents, washing away the pervasive Texas grit.
“They’d love a chance to get me to the altar.”
“You’re just too purty for your own good, Lowell.”
Chad choked out a laugh, looking at the gnarled skin of his forearm
Tara stood to the side watching him. One quick glance at her face was enough for him to see the pity in her eyes. And the longer she stood there staring, the more frustrated and angry he got.
“Tara, why don’t you head to the house and say hi to my mom. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Sorry, Momma . His mother would probably rather walk barefoot on hot asphalt than entertain Tara Johnson, but he didn’t know how else to get rid of her. “I’ll be home in a bit.”
Letting the coil of wire spring back, in spite of all the time he just spent unwinding it, he turned to guide her back to the truck.
“Well, I don’t--”
“Tell her we have a new calf from that black cow of hers. She was wondering about it.”
Tara’s expression brightened when she realized she could be the bearer of good news. “Okay, Chad. I’ll tell her. And you’ll be home in a little bit?”
He nodded, though he’d already begun fabricating an excuse in his head.
As she started the big truck her daddy had bought her a couple years ago and turned around, Chad wondered how he could foist her off on some other charity case. Before he’d gone to Iraq, they’d dated fairly regularly and gotten along well. When he’d come back, wounded and bandaged, she’d seen a kicked puppy needing care. It drove him nuts. She used to be an awesome girl, but now all she did was mother him and look at him with her sad eyes.
For the thousandth time he wondered if he shouldn’t just go somewhere else for a while. Get away from all the well-wishes and concerned looks. He could get physical therapy at any VA. He didn’t have to stay in Texas. His arm was healing and his prosthetic fit like a glove, giving him more freedom than he’d ever expected to have. If he put his blade prosthetic on, he could run for miles on a flat surface. Choppy ground was still difficult, but he would adapt.
As much as he appreciated Honeywell, Texas, and its residents, they still treated him like the kid he used to be. They’d given him a hero’s welcome when he’d come home, with a parade and his name on the soldier’s wall at the courthouse. But it was as if his combat experience was glossed over. To them he was still a kid who needed taking care of.
His parents were the same way. As much as he loved them, they smothered him. It had been months before they’d allowed him to do any work alone on the ranch. Once he’d gotten used to riding again, it had been easier to get away to find something that needed done.
No matter how many times he returned from chores unscathed, they still watched him as if he were going to break at any given moment.
His cell phone chirped in his pocket. Pulling it out, he smiled when he recognized the number. “First Sergeant, how the hell are you?”
Duncan chuckled at the greeting. “I’m fine, Chad. How are you doing? You get hitched yet?”
“God, no! Don’t wish that on me. There are women crawling out of the woodwork down here to try to entice the poor, wounded Marine.”
He turned and stepped over the fence roll. The horse was tied under a tree and looked content. Chad dropped down in the shade a few feet away and snatched a water bottle from the saddle bags, then allowed himself to lay back against the saddle. He twisted the cap from the bottle and quickly drank half the contents, washing away the pervasive Texas grit.
“They’d love a chance to get me to the altar.”
“You’re just too purty for your own good, Lowell.”
Chad choked out a laugh, looking at the gnarled skin of his forearm
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