Page 8 of Destined for the Cowboy

“There wouldn’t be any of them if not for the people who keep them in the air.”

He smiled at that. While he’d never enjoyed the time he’d spent in combat zones, keeping airborne assets airborne, he’d enjoyed the work. But the years of taking orders from sometimes arrogant senior officers had worn away any desire he ever had to tell anyone what do. Even with the horses, it was not a command and obedience thing. It was, as she’d said, letting the horse know he understood.

She’d gotten that very quickly. Some people never did, and preferred to think of what he could do as some sort of magical thing. To him it was no more magical than forging and fitting a shoe properly. It was just something he knew how to do.

Their visit to the cemetery was a solemn one. It became a lot more than just saluting the man they’d read about, became more of an acknowledgment of them all as they walked the rows. He wondered if she, as he, was giving a silent thank you to all of them. He had the feeling she was.

“There’s something about a military cemetery,” she said quietly when they got back into the truck.

“I know. Three men I served with are in the one at Fort Worth.”

Why had he told her that? He never talked about that. And she was just looking at him, so oddly…

“I have no words for that kind of sacrifice. Nothing can make it easier. The only thing I can say is I’m glad you’re not among them.”

And he had no words for that.

“I’d like to go there, too,” she went on in his silence. She gave him a smile he could only call shy. “Maybe we should plan these treks together, since we keep bumping into each other like this.”

The very idea sparked a longing in him he’d never felt before. Planning ahead, for days like this, spent with her, doing things that clearly fascinated them both… He felt a sense of longing that was almost overwhelming, and once more words—coherentones, at least—failed him. But she didn’t push. Because, he was beginning to realize, Tris Carhart was not a pushy woman.

They headed for the gate to the Air Force base, in his truck because he thought the guards might recognize it from his trip here last month, to meet an old Air Force friend while he was passing through.

“It’s not the newest or cleanest,” he started to say as they got into his rather battered vehicle.

“Because you work and work hard out of it. That’s nothing to apologize for,” she said firmly. And, he had to admit, admiringly, and that gave him an odd feeling of satisfaction.

“They should recognize it or at least have heard about it,” he said as he started the engine. “I doubt they get a lot of trucks full of smithing equipment through here.”

That was when she asked, sounding merely curious, “You didn’t want to continue that work in a civilian capacity, when you got out?”

He reined in his gut reaction to the question. He’d been asked it often enough he should be used to it by now. And at least she’d sounded only curious, not critical. So his voice was level when he answered with a shake of his head and the admission, “Frankly, I like horses better than planes. And most pilots, for that matter.”

She gave him a sideways look then, and in the short glance he took he’d have sworn she was fighting not to laugh. And then she gave in and a delightful, only half-smothered snort broke through. And it made him laugh in turn, something that almost never happened.

“I get that,” she said when she was back under control. “My uncle’s a pilot, commercial, and he can be…kind of arrogant.”

“Which comes first, do you suppose?”

“The piloting or the arrogance? I think it depends on the person.”

“So some get arrogant because they became a pilot, and others become pilots because they’re already arrogant?”

This time she didn’t even try to smother the laugh. “Exactly.” The glance she gave him then was back to simply curious. “Were they all?”

“No, not all of them. Some even went out of their way to thank us personally. Not many, but some.”

“They’re the ones I’d want to know.”

And wouldn’t they just love to get to know you?

He slammed the door on that thought, and almost slammed on the physical brakes of the truck. Not because it wasn’t true—he was certain it was—but because the next sentence that formed in his mind wasI would.

But then, how could he not want to get to know her better? The little he already knew had gotten to him. Especially that she was here, that she valued and respected history as he did, and visited the places that sparked her interest, just as he did. If he didn’t know better, didn’t know that he sucked at reading women correctly, he’d definitely want to dig in and learn as much as he could about her. Spend more time with her. Maybe even—

Only reaching the gate had the power to cut off his recalcitrant thoughts. By the time they were through and headed for the relatively new monument—which he supposed anything would seem compared to Fort Sam—he’d shoved those ideas back into the cave where they needed to stay. And stay they would. They had to. If nothing else she was his boss’s sister. One of his bosses, anyway. And that was a maelstrom he wanted no part of.

Whatever this spark was that he was feeling, it needed to die a quick death, and now.

---