Page 29 of Bullets and Dandelions

Foster sat up and pressed a hand to his badly bleeding wound. “I’ve never seen anyone draw and shoot as fast as you did.”

“That’s because she’s a quick draw artist,” Tex said and examined him. “You’ll need surgery to remove the bullet.”

Two base medics hurried in.

Tex waved at them. “Over here.”

Feeling a bit lightheaded, I sat at a nearby table and noticed my napkins were now blood soaked. Great, just what I needed.

A chubby female kitchen worker rushed over to me and handed me several thick dish towels. “Looks like you could use these. Those paper napkins are the cheap kind.”

“Thanks.” I dumped the bloody napkins on the table and glanced around. Sergeant Stone was talking to General Masters, and no one was paying any attention to me. “Do you think I could I get some chocolate cake?”

The kitchen worker grinned. “Chocolate cures everything, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.”

She quickly filled a plate with chocolate cake and set it in front of me. “There you go.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” While Tex and the medics worked on Lieutenant Foster, I ate my way through the cake. Thirsty, I automatically reached for a bottle of beer that had been left on the table. Searing pain shot across my ribcage and a yelp broke from me. Damn. That hurt. A lot.

“Fuck!” Tex jumped to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hit?”

“It’s just a flesh wound.”

“That’s an awful lot of blood for just a flesh wound,” Tex countered.

The next thing I knew, he was cutting off my shirt. “Hey! This is the only shirt I have left.”

“Tough.” Tex gaped at my numerous bruises. “What the hell? Who beat you?”

“I wasn’t beaten, I fell down a mountain.”

Tex shot me a disbelieving look. “Sure, you did.” He cleaned the gash and got out his suture kit.

Sergeant Stone, General Masters, Rodriquez and Johnson crowded around me.

“Was she a prisoner of the Taliban?” General Masters wanted to know.

Stone shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Then where did she get all those bruises?”

I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “I was running from the Taliban, tripped and fell down a mountain.”

“Damn, she’s got great tits,” a soldier commented.

Rodriquez decked him. “Watch your mouth and if you look at her again, you’re gonna need some dental work.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier scrambled away.

I flinched as Tex stuck the needle from hell into me.

“I thought you could use this.” The kitchen worker placed a green tee-shirt on the table.

I smiled. In bold print across the front of the shirt was: In my defense I was left unsupervised. “Thank you. It’ll keep me from flashing everyone.”

Her gaze swept over Tex as he stitched my gash, and she visibly winced. “Want more chocolate? Or another beer?”

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