Tempted by the Soldier

by Patricia Potter

  When she parked the van, Shadow galloped over to the fence. She let Stryker and Sherry out, then headed to the corral to feed Shadow and the two other horses carrots. Stephanie climbed over the fence and led Shadow into the barn, saddled him and rode him back into the pasture. She leaned down and opened the gate, then closed it after they passed through.

  Shadow happily stretched into a trot, and Stryker and Sherry ran beside them. Stephanie headed toward a riding trail that bordered several other ranches on the north side of Covenant Falls and led up into the national forest. This was the freedom she loved. Her horse. Her town. Her mountains. Mark couldn’t touch her here.

  As for Clint, he was an acquaintance, and he would be gone soon, and that pesky attraction gone with him. Her life would be back to its contented normal. Safe.

  Still, she wondered how he had fared with Mrs. Aubry. The widow owned a cat and lived alone. She was timid, hesitant and reluctant to join any group. Apparently, her husband had been controlling and convinced her she couldn’t do anything well. At least that was what the daughter had told her on one of her few visits to town. The daughter had tried to get her mother to move to Florida, but Mrs. Aubry refused. She’d been born in Covenant Falls and she would die in Covenant Falls.

  Damn it, Clint Morgan would probably win her over, too.

  Stephanie lightly touched her heels to Shadow’s sides and he joyfully started to canter. This was her world, and she wasn’t going to let Mark destroy it. Or, for that matter, Clint Morgan.

  * * *

  CLINT KEPT BART with him as the time for his next appointment approached. The dog seemed content at his feet although he always kept Clint between him and any newcomer.

  Like Mrs. Aubry, Harold Stiles arrived right on the dot at the appointed time. Covenant Falls citizens obviously believed in being prompt. As he had with Mrs. Aubry, Clint asked whether Bart was a problem.

  “No, sir,” the man said. “Got a bunch of dogs myself.” Even if he hadn’t known from Bill Evans, Clint would have immediately recognized the man as a farmer. He was thin and wiry, his face dark from the sun, and Clint had felt the calluses on the man’s hand when shaking it.

  Like Mrs. Aubry, Harold approached cautiously, uncertain about seeking help from an outsider. Clint had a long history of soothing or pacifying superior officers after he, or other members of his unit, got in trouble. Hell, a farmer didn’t stand a chance.

  His newest client asked to be called Harold rather than Mr. Stiles, and Clint obliged. The farmer had been keeping all his records, sales and purchases on paper because that’s the way his father had done it. But his usual suppliers were going out of business, and he realized that he needed help to survive in the current economy.

  The man was smart and caught on quickly as Clint showed him how to find suppliers, check prices and establish accounts. Then he discussed various financial software programs that would help with bills, accounts receivable and taxes. Harold didn’t have a computer, so Clint checked out several online marketplaces for computers and found a few he thought would fit Harold’s needs.

  They visited several websites in search of the best price. Harold, Clint discovered, was no one’s fool. He knew how to pinch a penny. After Harold finally selected one, Clint offered, as he had Mrs. Aubry, to help set it up in his farmhouse. Harold, now convinced he was going to save a lot of time and money, eagerly accepted the offer.

  Clint and Bart left the community center a little after five. A number of children played in the park while two men roasted hot dogs in permanent grills. Balloons proclaimed the event a birthday. Several balloons boasted a big number six.

  Adults sat at the picnic tables talking. One of tables was heaped with gaily wrapped packages, another with buns, bowls of food and a large cake. The sound of laughter was like music.

  Bart pulled him away from the celebration, and he realized he had come to a complete stop, staring. Several of the adults waved at him, and he waved back. One of the men at the grill signaled for him to join them, and maybe he would have if Bart, shivering, had not pulled him in the opposite direction.

  Plus, Eve had told him she would be at the cabin at six. It was a fairly short walk from the community center. Too short because he would have to relinquish Bart at the end of it.

  They had just arrived at the cabin, and Bart had just gobbled down a piece of cheese when Clint heard the sound of tires on gravel. He peeked out the door and watched as Eve stepped out of the pickup. Nick, dressed in a Boy Scout uniform, hopped down from the other side of the pickup.

  With a sense of dread, Clint opened the screen door and invited the two inside. Bart wagged his tail but didn’t go over to Nick.

  “Hi, Braveheart,” the boy said. The dog stood and walked over to him, licked his fingers, then returned to Clint’s side. Nick’s face fell. He looked at his mother.

  “I’ll get his leash and things,” Clint said. “Unless you would like a soda first?”

  “That would be nice,” Eve said.

  “I only have one kind of soda,” Clint said, as Eve and Nick entered the living room. Nick sat on the edge of a chair.

  “Anything would be fine.”

  They were all stiff. All uncertain. He headed to the kitchen, Bart following. He opened three cans of soda and returned to the living room, handing one to each of his visitors and taking one for himself.

  “Mrs. Aubry called me,” Eve said. “She said you were the nicest young man and very helpful.” She tipped her head slightly in question. “She said you offered to come over to her house and set up her computer.”

  “The setup can be confusing,” he said. “It often takes an engineer to figure out the instructions. If, that is, they come with any.”

  “That was nice of you,” she said with a satisfied smile on her face.

  He wasn’t sure how to feel. Teaching—if he could call it that—certainly wasn’t flying choppers. But the time had gone by fast, and Mrs. Aubry’s shy smile and Harold’s appreciation warmed him inside. He’d felt useful for the first time in months. “I liked her.”

  Nick put his drink down and approached Bart. The boy gave the dog a huge hug. “He’s always been so afraid,” he said. “He doesn’t seem afraid with you.”

  “We get along,” Clint said simply.

  “How did you do that?” Nick asked. “He usually doesn’t warm up to anyone. It took us months before he stopped hiding under the bed.”

  “I don’t know,” Clint replied.

  Nick regarded Braveheart sadly. “Mom thinks he wants to stay with you.”

  Clint started. “I’m not sure he knows what he wants to do. He obviously loves you.”

  “I love him, too.”

  “I know,” Clint said. That was obvious. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading, but he sensed Nick’s distress. “I’m not going to take your dog.”

  “Stephanie has a puppy she found on a road,” Nick said. “She thought we might want it. Mom says five dogs are enough.”

  “More than enough,” Eve said. “Let’s say limit.”

  “What do you think?” Clint asked Nick, now understanding what was going on.

  “I want what’s best for Braveheart,” he said in a tearful voice.

  “I don’t think I’m best for Braveheart,” Clint said. “I have no real home. No steady job. I can’t take care of him like you can.” But it would hurt like hell losing his companion. Bart didn’t care what had brought Clint to Covenant Falls or the uncertainty of his future.

  “Why don’t we leave it up to Braveheart?” Eve said. She put the soda can down and stood. So did Nick.

  “Come on, Braveheart,” the boy said. “Let’s go.” He walked to the door.

  Bart didn’t follow. He moved closer to Clint.

  Nick opened the door. Bart made a soft crying noise but
didn’t move.

  Eve put her hands on Nick’s shoulders. “Tell you what. Why don’t we leave him here a few more days, then maybe he’ll be ready to go home.”

  “No,” Clint said. “I’ll go out with you. I’m sure when he’s been home a few days, he’ll be just fine.” He’d be damned if he was going to take a dog from a boy.

  Nick’s face brightened. “Mom said you started calling him ‘Bart.’”

  “I did,” he admitted. “I just kinda shortened it.”

  “I like it,” Nick said. “I’ll call him Bart, too. He’s not so timid now. Bart is a nice, strong name.”

  Clint put the leash on Bart and walked him to the door, Eve and her son following behind. He walked him to Eve’s pickup and boosted the dog inside, then helped Nick up. As he closed the door, he saw Bart’s face, and he winced. He didn’t know dogs could have expressions, and maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he saw betrayal.

  He stepped back as Eve paused at the door on the other side and mouthed, ‘Thank you.” Then the pickup was gone, and Clint was alone.

  He went back inside. He needed a drink. A beer. Unfortunately, there was none. He compromised with another soda, grabbed his guitar, went out to the porch and strummed. He needed sound to fill the silence, the emptiness in the cabin. The emptiness in him.

  * * *

  IT WAS DUSK by the time Stephanie finished her ride. She led Shadow into the barn, unsaddled him and rubbed him down. Then she checked to make sure he had fresh water and food.

  The moment she fastened the gate to the pasture, her mind turned to tomorrow, and her stomach churned. She looked toward the house, but neither Eve’s pickup nor Josh’s Jeep were there.

  She opened the van’s door for the dogs, and they jumped inside, vying for the front seat. Stryker won this time and stuck his head out the window as she started out of the driveway. Sherry settled on the thick rug on the floor.

  She needed to get back. Lulu was in her crate, although she had food and water. And yet she didn’t want to go back to her apartment. She was still too restless, too uncertain about tomorrow’s meeting with the attorney and Mark’s wife. Just the call had revived the bad memories she’d tried to suppress.

  She drove to Maude’s, rolled the windows down and left the dogs in the van as she went into the café. It was nearly empty with only one young couple lingering over coffee. She ordered two hamburgers and iced tea to go. “Am I closing you up tonight?”

  “Heavens, no. I’ll be here at least another hour.”

  “You work too hard.”

  “I could say the same about you. You need a young man.”

  Stephanie choked out a laugh. “Like I need a third leg.”

  Maude grinned and disappeared into the kitchen. Stephanie took a seat and stared out the window. The street was empty. The lights were on in the police area of city hall, but the rest of the street was dark. It was nearly eight, and she was antsy. She decided to drive down to the lake and eat there rather than her apartment above the office.

  Maude returned with a bulging paper bag. “Here you go. I added a slice of pie I had left over. You look too thin.”

  “I love you, Maude.” She took the bill, noticed the pie wasn’t included, and added a very substantial tip. She left before Maude could protest.

  The trash cans at the park were full, the obvious remnants of a child’s birthday party. Two young couples sat on the swings, talking and holding hands. She turned her eyes away and headed for a table close to the beach. Both dogs trotted at her side.

  The night was perfect, even if she was alone. Unlike big cities, the stars didn’t have to compete with hundreds of streetlights and neon signs, and they sparkled like jewels sprinkled across a dark blue velvet cloth.

  She loved Colorado nights. She had grown up in Pittsburgh. In a walk-up apartment in a mixed-nationality part of town where gangs dominated. There was always noise. Always danger. Always temptations for a kid desperate for love and safety.

  She sat down at a table and unwrapped the food. She divided the meat from one hamburger between the dogs and relished her own burger. She was finishing the slice of pie when she saw a figure walk down Lake Road and turn into the park. He looked very much alone, and she knew from the lanky stride that he was the man she’d been trying to avoid.

  She also knew the instant he saw her and turned in her direction. She still had most of her iced tea left. She thought about tossing all the wrappings into the bag and escaping, but that would be too obvious. She’d already decided she was never going to run again. Not to or from anyone. Tomorrow would be a test.

  Apparently, tonight would be one, too.

  Clint looked impossibly appealing. Out of place in his khakis and blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she replied softly.

  “I was out for a walk. I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

  “I don’t usually come here at night.” She must look terrible. She was in her riding clothes: worn boots, tight breeches and short-sleeved shirt. Wisps of hair had come loose from the clasp in back. No lipstick. And she smelled like horse this time.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He looked down at the two dogs, contentedly sitting next to her.

  “Say hello,” she said to the dogs. And both held out their paws to be shaken. Clint knelt and shook them. “They’re really very striking together.”

  She nodded, not sure whether she wanted to cut him off or continue the conversation. There was something about him tonight. Not cocky or clever or quirky. Instead, she saw lines in his face, loss in those dark brown eyes. Vulnerability. Uncertainty.

  “Do you mind if I join you for a few minutes?” he asked.

  She did. She didn’t. “It’s a public bench,” she replied. It was ungracious and she was immediately remorseful. “Where’s Braveheart?” she asked.

  “He went home with Nick.” The tone of his voice told her a great deal more. His sadness struck her to the core.

  “Do sit down,” she said. Bad idea.

  He visibly relaxed and sat a few inches away. Then he gave her that wry smile that was so attractive.

  “I hear you play the guitar pretty good,” she said.

  “Who told you? My neighbors? Does it bother them?”

  “They like it.”

  He shook his head. “This town has the most amazing...communication system.”

  “You mean they are remarkably nosy. No need to be diplomatic. They take great pride in the fact. For instance, I also know that Ruth Aubry thinks you walk on water. Haven’t heard from Harold Stiles, but I rather imagine I will. I heard you had a session with him. It’s very nice of you. Mrs. Aubry is a very lonely woman, and Eve said she had never heard her sound so happy.”

  He shrugged. “I liked her.”

  “Are you going to continue mentoring?”

  “I think I’ll be pretty busy with Josh’s dock starting Friday. And then, I have to start thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

  “Any ideas?” She was truly curious.

  “I was considering computer engineering.” He wasn’t amusing now, and he wasn’t facile, and she found she liked him even more. “I have a lot of university credits already. It would take maybe another year.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t really see myself in an office, but the only other thing I know is flying, and I may never be able to do that again.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “That’s another good question. My credits are at the University of Maryland. A lot of guys take online courses there. I can probably get some or most transferred to another university, but I have to wait for a new semester. I also have to apply for my
military education benefits. Right now I’m seized by indecision and I don’t much like that in myself.”

  That she understood. She remembered only too well how she’d felt when she couldn’t find a job as a vet. How would she feel if she was told she could never again work with animals? She knew. Empty. Useless.

  She had her practice, and her friendship with Eve and Josh and a few other people, but she’d consciously kept people at an emotional distance since Mark. She sensed Clint Morgan did the same except he covered it better. She also understood something else. “Eve and Nick took Bra...Bart home?”

  “They did.”

  “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, he kinda got to me.” He gave her that lopsided smile that had so intrigued her on their first meeting. “I never had a dog before. Well, I don’t have one now, but I enjoyed his company.”

  “Dogs do that to you,” she said. “Why haven’t you had one before? You seem to be so natural with them. It’s not something you can fake. They would detect it in a minute.”

  “I went to private schools until I graduated from high school, then I went directly into a special army program for helicopter pilots. I was in the service seventeen years. An army base and frequent deployments are not good for animals.”

  He was close to her. Too close. His dark eyes were expressive and the hollow sound in his voice too piercing. Contradictory images, she knew. Hollow and piercing. And yet they seemed to fit.

  She tried to look away from those eyes. Upward. The moon was big. Not quite full, but getting there. And bright, as bright as newly minted gold. The color reflected on the water and a few wandering wispy clouds gave it movement. Soft music came from a portable radio being played by one of the couples on the swing. She tried to concentrate on that, not the tall, lean and ever so attractive man sitting next to her, the man she was beginning to understand.

  That smile and ready wit hid something both painful and raw. There was a lot he wasn’t saying. Nothing about family. Nothing about his childhood except private schools. A loneliness ran strong and deep inside him. She had tamed hers. She had buried it in her practice and volunteer work. He had nothing now, and she knew exactly how that felt because after her divorce, she’d lived in that never-never land.