Blood Lines (ncis)

by Mel Odom

  “I take it Victor Gant ain’t the forgiving type.”

  “No. He and his men made an attempt on Shel today. Shel and another one of my agents left three of the bikers dead.”

  “None of them was Victor Gant?”

  “No.”

  “That there’s a shame. Probably would have saved you some trouble.”

  “I think so too,” Will agreed. “Now here’s the interesting part. When we investigated Victor Gant’s background, we found out he was in Vietnam at the same time Tyrel McHenry was.”

  “They knew each other back then?”

  “We don’t know that for sure. But we’re confident Gant has made the tie to Shel’s father.”

  “And you’re thinking Gant and his boys might take a run at Tyrel McHenry?”

  “I have to wonder why Shel decided to take leave suddenly and go back home.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Conover said, “and I’ll guarantee it. If Gant decides to take on Tyrel McHenry, you might not have any more worries. In this county, there ain’t many that come any tougher than Tyrel McHenry. That man’s harder than a pawnbroker’s heart and rougher than tree bark.”

  Will smiled at that. “I guess Shel didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Maybe not in some ways,” Conover agreed. “But Shelton-for all them daredevil ways of his-has got a good heart. And Don? Why he’s the salt of the earth. Good people. Tyrel McHenry’s a horse of another color.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something soured inside that man,” Conover said. “That’s the best I can explain it. He’s hard and distant. Never got too close to his family. I think that’s one of the reasons Shel was such a challenge to the straight and narrow. He was just trying to earn his daddy’s respect. Or maybe get his attention.”

  Will remembered the gentle face of the young Army private that Tyrel McHenry had been.

  “Some think it was the Vietnam War that changed Tyrel McHenry,” Conover said. “Ever since he came back from there, folks who knew him said he’d changed. When he was younger, he was something of an outgoing man. A lot like Shel, I’ve been told. And he cared about people. Went out of his way to help them and get to know them a little. While his wife was alive, he was more sociable. You couldn’t exactly warm up to him, but at least he was around. Nowadays, he’s pretty much a hermit. Don’t nobody go out to the Rafter M that don’t have business there.”

  “How isolated is the ranch?” Will asked.

  “Sets off to itself, that’s a fact,” Conover said. “And Tyrel runs it pretty much by himself.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “If Victor Gant does come gunning for Tyrel, that could be a problem.” Conover paused. “Tell you what I can do. I’ll have a couple of my deputies take regular runs out that way. Maybe keep an eye on things. If something comes up, what’s the best way to get hold of you?”

  Will gave the man his cell phone number.

  “Very good, Commander. Though I hope I don’t have to use this,” Conover said.

  “Me too,” Will said.

  39

  ›› Rafter M Ranch

  ›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas

  ›› 1646 Hours (Central Time Zone)

  Even at a distance, Shel could pick out the Rafter M property lines.

  There was something about the land that tied a man to it. No matter how determined a man was, he couldn’t fully escape the area where he grew up. Men Shel had met in the service who’d grown up in metropolitan areas were often marked by those environments as well. Even before Shel had joined the NCIS, he’d learned that if a man knew what to look for, he could tell a lot about where another person grew up just by watching.

  He stopped the rental car a quarter mile from the turnoff to the narrow rutted road that led up to the ranch house where he’d grown up. He told himself that he was just getting out to stretch from the long drive and from all the hours spent in airplanes and airports. Given that he’d made the trip so suddenly, he hadn’t been able to secure a straight shot home. He’d also had two long layovers waiting on standby for last-minute flights.

  He wore jeans, a pair of his favorite cowboy boots that were worked in and comfortable, a Texas Rangers ball cap he’d bought to knock the sun off, a brown USMC T-shirt, his pistol on his hip, and sunglasses. He’d shaved in the airport bathroom to keep himself clean-looking but also just for something to do.

  Max got out of the car and put his nose to the ground. It didn’t take the dog long to find a jackrabbit lazing in the shade and avoiding the blistering heat. Max slowly closed on the rabbit, and it waited until the last minute to make its break. The rabbit exploded from the ground, kicked out at Max with its powerful back legs, and zipped across the countryside in a broken field sprint. Max tried to follow, but he had too much mass and kept overrunning his target.

  In spite of the tension he felt, Shel grinned at the sight. There weren’t many things that could catch a Texas jackrabbit.

  Less than a minute later, the rabbit came to a stop atop a hill in the shade of a thicket of Indian paintbrush. The bright red blossoms stood out against the dry brush. The plant was also called prairie fire, but Shel had always known it as Indian paintbrush. His mama had loved it.

  For a moment he got caught up in his emotions. Losing his mama had been hard. But it hadn’t been hard just on him. Don and their daddy had suffered as well. Their daddy had never talked about it though. Shel had sometimes wondered if his father had just accepted his mama’s death as something to be expected.

  Tyrel McHenry had never been a man to expect much out of life. Or at least he’d never given the appearance of being one.

  Shel looked up at the bright blue sky. The cap’s bill shaded his eyes.

  Did you know Daddy was a murderer, Mama? Shel asked. Did he tell you? Or did he keep that secret from you too?

  He knew there was no way of knowing. His mama had kept secrets when there was a need. She’d kept a few of Shel’s. At the time he’d been grateful. She’d had to come get him out of jail once, and she’d paid a handful of speeding tickets for Shel without ever telling her husband. Things had been hard enough at home with Tyrel McHenry keeping the distance from his boys. Having those scrapes with the law would have only fanned the fire.

  But even as he asked that question and got no answer, Shel understood that he didn’t know whether his daddy was a murderer. He just had Victor Gant’s voice in his head saying that. Over and over again. Those words had haunted Shel since he’d left Camp Lejeune.

  How could you be raised by a man and never know enough about him? Shel wondered. In the end, though, he suspected that’s the way it always was between daddies and sons. Probably between mamas and daughters, too. Sons and daughters just assumed they knew everything, and parents didn’t reveal everything in their lives because they didn’t want to be vulnerable in the eyes of their children.

  Max sidled up the hill like he was just wandering around, then made another run at the rabbit.

  As trained as he was, the Labrador couldn’t give up being a dog.

  Shel figured that no matter how much Marine he was, he couldn’t give up being his daddy’s son either.

  After a few more minutes, he knew he couldn’t put off getting there any longer.

  He called Max to him and clambered back into the SUV. Then he started the engine, put the transmission in gear, and headed back home.

  ›› 1706 Hours

  When Shel pulled in beside his daddy’s Ford F-150 pickup, some of the tension had gone away. He was into it now, whatever happened, and adrenaline buzzed through his system.

  He got out and noticed that Joanie’s minivan was parked there as well. Shel hoped Don wasn’t there. If anybody could see the shape he was in mentally, it would be Don. Shel really didn’t need that now.

  Instead of going into the ranch house, Shel walked around back toward the corral and barn. It was daylight hours and after lunch, too early for dinner.
No one would be inside the house.

  “Hey, Uncle Shel!” an excited girl’s voice screamed. “Hey, everybody, it’s Uncle Shel!”

  The five-year-old girl raced from the corner of the house in a flurry of arms and legs. She was thin and as dark-skinned as a Native American. She got her black hair from her mother, and it flowed behind her as she ran.

  Shel knelt and caught her up easily. She hugged his neck so fiercely and honestly that it caused a lump to form in the back of Shel’s throat.

  Gently he patted her back. “Hey, Rachel, it’s good to see you.”

  “I’ve missed you, Uncle Shel.” The little girl leaned back, then leaned forward again and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

  “I have,” Shel admitted. “But I’m here now.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Joshua and Isaac ran up next and threw their arms around Shel. Joshua was ten; Isaac was about to turn eight. Both of them favored Don.

  Shel tousled their heads and returned their hugs. He couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. Don’s kids always had that effect on him. He didn’t know why he didn’t come around more often.

  Then he saw his daddy standing at the corral with a cup of coffee in one hand. Tyrel McHenry didn’t look like a happy man. Shel knew for a fact that he didn’t like a lot of company.

  Joanie, beautiful as ever, leaned against the corral. She smiled and waved at Shel.

  “I’d come over,” she called out, “but I don’t think I could get through the mob.”

  “Probably not,” Shel agreed. He looked back at Rachel. “So what are you doing here?”

  “We came to see Grandpa’s new pony,” Rachel answered.

  “It’s a colt,” Isaac said. “A pony’s a small horse. Not a newborn.” He loved words and being exact about things. Neither Don nor Joanie knew where that trait had come from.

  Rachel ignored him. She did that a lot with her older brothers. “I always wanted a pony. Grandpa said I could have the baby pony.”

  Isaac groaned.

  “Only because you kept whining for it,” Joshua said.

  “Yeah,” Isaac agreed. “She wouldn’t be quiet about it.”

  “Do you want to see my pony, Uncle Shel?” Rachel’s gaze was open and innocent.

  “Sure I do,” Shel answered. He shifted the girl to his hip and walked toward the corral. “Where’s your daddy?”

  “Dad’s at the church,” Joshua said. “He’s counseling Bill and Mary. They’re going to be getting married at the end of the month.” He looked up at Shel. “Did he know you were coming?”

  “Nope. This was a surprise.” Judging by the scowl on his daddy’s face, Shel figured Tyrel McHenry was the most surprised of them all.

  “Daddy’s going to be glad to see you,” Isaac said.

  “Where’s your boo-boo?” Rachel asked.

  Shel looked at her, trying to comprehend what she was talking about.

  “Daddy said you were hurt,” Joshua said. “Then I heard him tell Mom you were shot.”

  “I was,” Shel said.

  Rachel’s eyes rounded as she stared at Shel. “Oooooh, scary.”

  Shel smiled at her. “I’m better now.”

  “I’m glad.” Rachel hugged him again.

  For a minute as he held her, Shel thought about what it might be like to have a child of his own. It wasn’t something he often considered. But the idea, as tempting as it sometimes was, scared him more than anything.

  Having a marriage, even without a child involved, was a big commitment. Shel couldn’t see trying to divide his time between the military and a relationship. He often dated but never got serious. If he tried to commit to both, both would have suffered. If he chose one over the other, it wouldn’t be fair to the one that he didn’t choose.

  And he loved being a Marine.

  But the biggest fear was that he would be the kind of father his daddy had been. He couldn’t bear that. Somehow Don made it all work, but Shel couldn’t see himself managing to do that.

  Shel caught his daddy’s eye as he reached the corral. “Hello, Daddy.”

  “You’re looking fit,” Tyrel said.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been working on it.” As Shel stared at his daddy, he noted the dark circles beneath Tyrel McHenry’s eyes. Shel had never seen circles like that before, not even when his daddy had gone sleepless for days. He looked like he’d lost weight as well, and his skin held a little gray.

  Shel couldn’t help thinking of men he’d brought into the NCIS office who’d had guilt working on them for months. They’d always been ready to confess just to get out from under their own personal demons.

  “My phone works,” his daddy said.

  “Yes, sir.” Shel suddenly felt like he was twelve again and had just gotten busted for sneaking out of the house at night. “I should have called. I apologize.”

  “Nonsense,” Joanie said as she looped her arm through Shel’s. “It’s always good to see you. In fact, I know the kids love having you over, so why don’t you plan on spending at least part of your time home with us?”

  That was Joanie, Shel realized. Don couldn’t have found a better woman if he’d tried. In that simple invitation, she’d given Shel and his daddy all the wiggle room they needed to get out of seeing each other any more than they had to.

  “Sounds fine, Joanie,” Shel said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re always welcome. I know Don would like to spend some time with you that doesn’t involve hospitals.”

  “See my pony?” Rachel pointed at the young foal in the corral.

  “I do,” Shel said.

  “I’m going to name her Petunia,” Rachel declared.

  “Petunia’s a dumb name,” Joshua said.

  “It’s a girl name,” Isaac said. “That’s a boy.”

  Max placed his front paws on the corral railing and barked. The colt shied away and nearly fell over his too-long legs.

  “Don’t bark at Petunia, Max,” Rachel said. “She’s just a baby.”

  “He,” Isaac said with a put-upon air. “He. He’s a boy.”

  Shel leaned against the corral and tried to think good thoughts, but Victor Gant’s accusation about his daddy remained uppermost in his mind.

  40

  ›› Rafter M Ranch

  ›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas

  ›› 1813 Hours (Central Time Zone)

  Later, when Joanie declared it was time to go home, Shel kissed his niece and nephews good-bye and helped bundle them into the minivan. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his daddy submitting awkwardly to hugs from the children.

  Try as he might, Shel couldn’t remember a time when his daddy had held him. Even at his mama’s funeral, Tyrel had clapped him on the shoulder and told him he was strong enough to survive it. Then he’d dropped a single rose onto his wife’s casket and walked away.

  When Shel had found his daddy later, after spending the brief time to talk with his friends and friends of the family that his daddy hadn’t, his daddy had been working the livestock. Work was one thing that Tyrel McHenry did every day of his life.

  Once Joanie’s minivan was on the highway and out of sight, Tyrel turned to Shel. “Well, I got work to do. What are you gonna do?”

  “Could you use some help?”

  “Just putting up some hay in the barn. Got winter coming on. I want to be ready.” Tyrel fished a pair of work gloves from his back pocket and headed for the barn.

  “Could you use some help?” Shel asked again. He hated having to ask again.

  “I can get it done. You just go ahead and do whatever it is you come out here to do.” Tyrel kept walking.

  I came out here to talk to you, Shel thought. But he couldn’t get the words past his lips.

  “Is it all right if I stay here, Daddy?” Shel asked.

  “Whatever you want to do. You know where your room is.”

  “Yes, sir.” Shel watched his father walk to the barn and tried to let go of some
of the anger that filled him. He had questions on his heart that demanded answers. Finally he followed his daddy into the barn.

  ›› 1819 Hours

  A large flatbed truck was parked in the middle of the barn. Rectangular bales of hay were stacked all over it. Only a few bales had been moved.

  “Joanie and them kids interrupted my work,” Tyrel said as he pulled his gloves on. “’Course, I knew they was coming. They called.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll remember.”

  “Don’t cost much to be respectful,” Tyrel said, as he’d done thousands of times before, “but it costs too much if you don’t show respect.”

  “Yes, sir.” Shel took a deep breath. The barn reeked of hay, mildew, animal sweat and spoor, and leather from saddles and tack hanging on the wall. He grabbed the cords that held a bale of hay together and lifted it from the truck bed.

  “You bring any gloves?” Tyrel asked as he tossed the bale on the big stack against the barn’s back wall.

  “No, sir.”

  Tyrel scowled. “You give any thought to this trip? Or did you just light out?”

  “Just lit out,” Shel said.

  Tyrel looked at him a little more closely then. “There’s gloves in the front of the truck.”

  “Yes, sir.” Shel put his bale of hay on the stack and headed for the truck cab. He opened the door and found a pair of well-used leather gloves on the seat. He pulled them on and returned to the rear of the truck.

  Tyrel had continued working. His boots thumped across the floor.

  Shel grabbed a bale of hay in each hand and carried them to the wall.

  “Shoulder come back together all right?” his daddy asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Figured it would. You’ve always been tougher’n a boot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They worked in silence for a while. The work was hard in the heat, but it was something Shel had done for years. After the first few minutes, he was covered in sweat. His daddy was too, but he showed no signs of slowing down. He moved as effortlessly as a machine.

  “You got a reason for wearing that pistol?” his daddy asked.