The Horse Soldier: Beginnings Series Book 10

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Dad.”

  “Billy, go to bed.”

  “I can’t.” The Dean prodigy peered up. “You’re making too much noise.”

  Dean blinked several times. “We’re making too much noise?”

  Ellen saw it coming on Dean’s face. “Dean.”

  “No, El,” he whined. “I’ve been trying to make love to you for nearly an hour and they won’t go to sleep.”

  Billy looked confused. “What’s making love?”

  “That’s it.” Dean tossed his hands up. “Billy, get your shoes on.”

  “Dean?” Ellen questioned as she watched him grab Billy’s hand. “What are you doing?”

  “What I should have done an hour ago.” He moved down the hall. “Deal with the devil or not, I’m signing that favor slip.” He poked his head back out into the living room. “I’m gonna consummate this marriage with you yet.”

  Billy tugged Dean’s hand. “What’s consummate?”

  It was cold out. Danny was smug as he handed Dean the ‘huge’ favor slip to sign. Dean’s big romantic wedding night was not going as planned, but at least he was going to finally have Ellen alone. He cringed when he walked into his house and took off his shoes to see the living room light on. “She fell asleep,” Dean said to himself as he walked toward the bedroom. “She was drinking too much she . . .” He stopped at the bedroom door and saw the candles lit. “She read my mind.”

  Ellen finished her wine and set it on the night stand. She laid on the bed, still wearing Dean’s shirt. “Catch your breath. You were running. I heard your tennis shoes.”

  Dean inhaled deeply and let it out slowly as he walked into the bedroom. He took off his tee -shirt and tossed it across the room. “The moment I have been waiting for.”

  Ellen watched him near the bed. “Dean, we’ve made love before.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” From the foot of the bed, Dean started his slow climb to Ellen. “What I mean is . . .” His lips touched upon her bare calf then grazed to her thighs as he crept up to her. Dean ran his hands up the back of her legs to the front, bending her knee as he brought his body to Ellen’s. “For the first time ever, El, in my memory, and in my mind, I’m going to make love to you . . .” He kissed her. “As my wife.” Chuckling with almost a gloat to him, Dean pressed his body firmer to Ellen, bringing her leg around his waist. And before any other circumstance could interrupt them, Dean began to kiss her in what he was hoping would be the short preliminaries to their lovemaking.

  ^^^^

  Binghamton, Alabama

  So lost and so annoyed, Frank looked as his finger pressed up and down on the button of the old style black phone. “Nothing,” he said to Marcus as he showed him the receiver. “Dead.”

  “It was working an hour ago,” Marcus said. “You have to make that phone call.”

  “I know. It’s dead.”

  Marcus took the receiver, listened, clicked the button, and hung up. “All right.” He reached into his coat pocket. “You can use this.”

  “Thank you.” Frank took it. “Now where in the hell did I put that number?”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  There was something about the way Ellen kissed him when she had too much to drink that Dean just loved. More intense, less any inhibitions, whatever it was, he didn’t want it to stop. With his hand held under her hair and their lips still locked, Dean rolled on to his back, bringing Ellen with him.

  Ellen giggled and lifted her hair from her eyes. “I’m hungry.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right now. At this moment. You’re hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right now?”

  “Dean.” She snickered. “You keep saying that. I drank too much and if I don’t eat I’ll get sick.”

  “But right now? Can’t you wait?”

  “Dean. We made love once already. We can’t stay in this bed all night.”

  “Yeah we can. It’s our wedding night.”

  “So you’ve said. It’s getting old.” Ellen looked serious at his shocked expression. “I’m kidding.” She started to laugh.

  “So you don’t want something to eat?”

  “No I do. Just a piece of that sandwich wrap Jess made. Please.”

  “All right. Stay here.” Dean rolled over and reached down to the floor for his boxer shorts. He swung his legs out of bed, stepping in them, and pulling them up. “Don’t fall asleep.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Ellen laid her head on the pillow.

  Dean stopped cold in his walk out when his phone rang. “Shit. I knew I should have shut that thing off.”

  “Don’t answer it,” Ellen spoke groggily.

  “Look at you. You’re falling asleep.” Dean picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  The was a long moment of silence, a heavy breath, then Frank. “I’m alive.”

  An excitement shudder shot through Dean and with a huge grin, he gasped a shriek of excitement when he heard Frank’s voice. High pitched and emotional, Dean’s words trembled. “Oh my God.”

  “I’m alive and . . .” The was another brief silence. “And . . . Dean.” Frank spoke his name with relief. “Dean, tell everyone I’ll be home as soon as I figure . . .”

  The line went dead.

  “Frank. Frank!” Dean called into the phone.

  Ellen sprang up. “Frank?”

  Dean turned around to her showing her the phone. His breaths trembled. “Oh my God.”

  “Dean?”

  So stunned, yet his face shined with a happiness and relief. He ran his fingers through his hair. “That was Frank. El, that was Frank.” He sat on the bed and grabbed Ellen’s hand.

  “Dean, what did he say?”

  Dean swayed his head still in shock. “We got cut off. He probably said more than they wanted him to.”

  “You don’t think they did something to him, do you?”

  “No.” Dean grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes. She looked as happy and scared as he felt. “He’s the insurance that they get me . . . El.” He laid his hand on her face and smiled. “Frank sound fine. He sounded just fine.”

  ^^^^

  Binghamton, Alabama

  Frank’s eyes shifted from the pieces of the broken cell phone that laid on the floor to the barrel of the revolver that pointed at him,. Sitting in his desk chair, he then followed the gun to Marcus.

  “I knew it was an act.” Marcus kept his aim on Frank. “I can’t believe the President bought it.”

  “You hit the phone from my ear.”

  “I have a gun pointed to your face and you’re bitching about me knocking the phone from you?”

  “You think I’m scared that you’ll kill me?” Frank huffed in sarcasm.

  “Quiet.”

  “You broke the fuckin phone when I was trying to call home.” Frank kept eye contact with Marcus.

  “And you added more than you should have. Wait until the President hears about this.”

  “The President can blow me.”

  A shocking disbelief hit Marcus. “You have a lot of attitude for a man who has a gun pointed at him.”

  “And you have a lot of attitude for a man who’s seconds from death.”

  Marcus laughed. “How do you figure?”

  “Very easily.” In a fast spring from his seat, Frank swiped Marcus’ hand out of the way. He reached into his shoulder harness, pulled out his revolver, extended his hand, and fired a single shot directly into Marcus’ forehead.

  The force of the close range shot sent blood and pieces of Marcus’ head spraying out and his dead body dropped to the floor exposing a shocked Richie who stood by the door.

  “Frank.”

  “Shut up.” Frank shook his head in disgust then bent down for the phone. “Can you believe he broke the only phone that isn’t tapped? Fuck.”

  “Frank.” Richie looked at the seeping, growing pool of blood. “You can’t do this anymore, man. Someone is gonna s
tart to notice the higher ups are no longer around.”

  Frank looked so perturbed at the busted phone. “Can you believe this?”

  “Are you listening to me?” Richie stepped over Marcus’ body. “I’m not cleaning this one up. I cleaned up the Lt. Merrick thing.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Frank slammed the pieces of the phone on the desk. He walked to Marcus. “God, look at the mess.”

  “Yeah, well that’s what happens when you shoot someone in the head two feet from you.” Richie watched Frank stand in thought. “I don’t understand. If you hate George that much, why don’t you just shoot him, get it over with and we book?”

  “It’s not that easy.” Frank looked at the blood that splattered on the walls. “I wished it was. I have to lay low. I need information. Right now, I can’t take any chances because I haven’t a clue where they have Ellen.” Frank faced Richie. “And until I find out where your sister is, we have to stay right here.”

  LEAVING. . .

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  September 18

  Binghamton, Alabama

  It was so quiet that the only sound in the dark hall was the clinking of the keys as Frank locked the door.

  Richie swayed his head. “I always thought there was something demented about you.”

  “Yeah.” Frank, like he was back in Beginnings, hooked the keys on his belt. “Ready? I have men to train.”

  “Why, can I ask, did you not take them out and toss them in the ditch with the other seven officers?”

  “Prisoners of war.” Frank walked fast.

  “Prisoners of war?” Richie had to really move to keep up with Frank. “How can that be? Isn’t this their camp?”

  Frank stopped walking as soon as they stepped outside. “No Richie, this is my camp now.” With his usual arrogant smirk Frank found the men waiting in the field. “I just have to work on letting them know it.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  Joe’s were the only eyes to date, with the exception of Andrea, to see the letter he held in his hand. At the early morning meeting at Robbie’s, before anyone began their day, Joe held the letter, then looked at Robbie, Henry, and Dean. “I laughed. Dean and Robbie, you laughed. I stopped laughing when I found this.” He tossed the letter on the table.

  Robbie grabbed it first and with a solemn look passed it to Dean who read it and passed it to Henry who . . . snickered.

  Joe raised his eyes to Henry.

  “Sorry.” Henry handed it back. “I told you.”

  “How the hell did you know, Henry?” Joe put the letter back.

  “I didn’t. I made it up. Boy was I right. So what does this mean, Joe?”

  “Well, I’m gonna ask her a few questions. Go from there. We’re moving into the house today, so perhaps after that is finished with, her and I will talk.”

  “Dad, how do you feel about this?” Robbie asked.

  “How am I supposed to feel?”

  “Pissed,” Henry said. “Or at the very least, really, really mad.”

  Joe looked oddly at Henry. “If Andrea is working for George, then I’ll get pissed. But aside from that, if it was just an affair, it happened before me and her and it’s none of my business, is it? That’s what makes it so delicate.”

  Dean peered up from his notes. “So how are you going to approach her with this?”

  “That I don’t know,” Joe answered. “But I do know this. The letter is a piece of evidence and it’s evidence that tells me that Andrea, my wife, the church going woman, an original, is now, without any uncertainty, a viable suspect.”

  There was an air of sadness that hit that table after Joe’s words. It was a thought no one wanted to have but unless something else appeared evidence-wise, Andrea, one of the most trusted people in Beginnings, jumped to the top of the list.

  ^^^^

  Quantico Marine Headquarters

  Stewart always considered himself a lucky man. Jeremy, though he held a high position with George, was not lucky. Jeremy always had the awful luck of delivering bad news to the President. Perhaps that was why Jeremy got shipped out to Beginnings. A prestigious spy? Yes. But also a sitting expendable duck if he was found out.

  Bearing good news, Stewart walked into George’s office for their daily morning briefing. “The engine repairs on the ship are working again. It’s looking good. She’ll be sea worthy for the voyage yet.” Stewart saw George smile as he took his seat across from him. “And I just took that call.”

  “And?” George asked.

  “Went well. No difficulties.”

  George let out a long breath. “A small problem off our hands now. Thank God. Any news on the second batch? Will we have to do the same thing?”

  Stewart shrugged. “You may want to take a ride to DC and see. I’m getting sketchy answers.”

  “I’ll do that. Now . . . preparations.”

  “Train is being loaded now.” Steward looked at his notes. “Lab equipment and such, especially the genetic material. Dr. Stevens said we must not run into any problems or we can lose what little we have.”

  “I understand that,” George said. “Did he say how the train stops will affect the specimens?”

  “As long as the train moves on schedule, we’re good.”

  “Then talk to that damn conductor because he tends to play around.”

  “I will. May I tell you something, sir?”

  “Sure.”

  “I think it’s a good thing that you’re staying back here during the beginning of this all.”

  “Why is that?” George asked.

  “Gut feeling. It has a lot to do with Marcus or our lack of speaking to him in two days.”

  “Well we only told Marcus to call in if there was a problem,” George said. “Must not be a problem there.”

  “Do you suppose everything is all right in Binghamton?” Stewart questioned.

  “I know it is. It’s not in our full control now, yes. I know this. But once our scientists arrive out there and set up along with the other two ambassadors, it’ll be less a military control thing than it is now and more of the full service base that it’s intended to be. We need that. It’s close to the other side of the country.”

  “Sgt. Haynes and his men are ready for the move there, sir.”

  “That’s next. Let’s let Frank work on that training before we fill his camp up with more men,” George explained. “Then once the scientists arrive and the second half of the force out there, I’ll go. The safety factor is there. I don’t trust Dr. Hayes yet. Who knows what he’ll try with me.”

  “I completely agree,” Stewart added. “Completely. Has Dr. Morris said anymore about Frank’s amnesia?”

  “As a matter of fact, I spoke to him yesterday. He said that too much time has passed. It doesn’t look good. I wouldn’t believe this amnesia thing if I didn’t trust Dr. Morris so much.”

  “That trust worthy?” Stewart asked.

  “That and qualified. I’m eventually going to move him from general medicine into teaching once the genetically enhanced are able to learn more. I mean, that’s why Dr. Morris was chosen, to teach. After all, that’s what he did at Harvard Medical most of his life.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Very.” George leaned back and stared at the Society agenda for the next two weeks. “This is impressive. The ship, the elimination of our error, Binghamton. Yep, barring any screw ups, things just may be finally going our way.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  Robbie was in need of a haircut. That was the first thought that hit Joe as he walked to meet Robbie near the back gate. He hoped to get a short talk in with his son as they both headed back into town. He watched Robbie with a group of four security men by the back gate. A clipboard was in Robbie’s hands as he was possibly giving out new perimeter checks while Robbie prepared for his brother’s departure.

  Robbie’s blonde hair blew in the fall wind. He must have sens
ed Joe because before Joe could signal that he was waiting that twenty or so feet away, Robbie looked up, squinted from the sun, and smiled that smile that only Robbie had.

  Joe lifted his hand in return and waited for his son, watching him proudly as he filled in better than anticipated for his older brother Frank. Better than Joe would have thought. Robbie following Frank’s footsteps was nothing new to Joe. Robbie always tried to follow Frank’s footsteps, thinking his big brother always did things the best. To Joe, that was great, the connection between his sons as they grew up. They fought like mad but all of them loved each other unconditionally. There was a certain amount of curiosity in Joe to see how the three grown up boys were going to be. There also was a certain amount of fear with that curiosity, because a part of Joe knew it probably would be worse between them.

  But Joe really was proud of all of them. And he was with Robbie as he watched his son’s hands move while he explained things to his men, a knowledgeable look upon his young face. He was making decisions that were of extreme importance and Robbie always hated decisions. But he came to his decisions well. Unlike Frank, who never thought and Hal, who tended to think too much, Robbie gave half thought and half gut instincts into everything he decided to do.

  “I’m just so confused Dad.”

  Joe heard Robbie’s fifteen year old voice in his head. Decision making was what made Joe snap to that memory. And to Joe, that day on the baseball field in the ‘World Series’ of pony league ball, Robbie made his first ever real decision . . .

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Robert.” Joe sat next to him on the bench.

  “What would Frank do? I should ask Frank, huh?” Robbie sat, looking so down, his white baseball pants clean from his not playing.

  Joe turned back and looked into the bleachers to his other three sons. Hal, just out of boot camp, talked to some homely girl, Jimmy read a book, and Frank looked perturbed. Both were on leave and had come home for this game. He faced Robbie again. “Don’t ask Frank. You do this on your own.”