Tularosa - Michael McGarrity

by Michael McGarrity

  For the last week, Kerney had played tour guide to cowboy-clad real estate salesmen, trailing rich californians looking for the perfect Santa Fe hideaway. One salesman, who wore a Stetson and talked in a thick eastern accent, brought out a Hollywood couple five days in a row.

  They just loved the place. It was so rustic and western. An offer was in the hopper. His arrangement with Quinn to stay on as caretaker expired that very afternoon. It was none too soon, according to Kerney's way of thinking. He was packed and ready to go. His furniture would stay behind. None of it was worth hauling around. Except for some changes of clothes, everything else was boxed, in the truck and covered with a tarp. He sat on the front step of the cabin and looked out over the Galisteo Basin. He would miss the valley. Wherever he landed, Kerney decided he would need to be in a place just as beautiful. Doing what. God only knew.

  A trail of dust blew off the ranch road, signaling the arrival of the listing agent coming to get the keys. But it wasn't the vehicle Kerney was expecting. He stood up and waited on the porch step until the Jeep Cherokee stopped and the driver got out.

  "Hello, Captain Brannon," he said, pleasure in his voice, as Sara walked toward him. She wore boots, jeans, and a tank top.

  "It's Major Brannon," she corrected, smiling at him with her green eyes.

  "Congratulations," Kerney replied.

  "Don't be so quick with the applause," Sara replied.

  "The promotion came with a two-year assignment in Korea."

  "You'll do just fine," Kerney predicted.

  "If I don't freeze my butt off when I get there," Sara agreed, studying him for any evidence of a more personal reaction.

  "You look well," she added.

  "I'm doing okay," Kerney admitted.

  "How is Eddie?"

  "He's coming along. The doctors took the pins out of his fingers. He's started physical therapy."

  "That's good to hear," he answered. There was a brief silence.

  "I got to meet Enrique De Leon," Sara declared. Clearly, the conversation wasn't going anywhere.

  "Did you give him my regards?" he inquired.

  "As a matter of fact, I did." Kerney felt clumsy. He was killing the conversation deader than a doornail.

  "I looked for you at Sammy's funeral. I thought you might be there."

  Sara took one step toward him and stopped.

  "I wanted to go, but I couldn't get away." She waited for more. He just stared at her.

  "Passing through Santa Fe?" Kerney asked awkwardly, looking at her vehicle. The back of the four by-four was filled with gear. Sara shook her head.

  "I came to see you."

  "Really?" Surprise made Kerney's voice sound thin. He concealed it by clearing his throat. Sara took her time before replying. She decided to trust the instinct that had brought her to Santa Fe.

  "I am not a one-night stand, Kerney," she said.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile.

  "I'm not either." She laughed and tossed her head.

  "So why didn't you call?" He shook his head.

  "I guess I was too much of a coward to find out how you really felt."

  "I've been feeling rejected."

  "Don't do that."

  "I have another option to suggest."

  "Which is?"

  "A one-time offer. You've never been to Montana, have you?"

  "No. Never." A smile broke across his face.

  "I make a pretty good tour guide."

  "I could use a vacation."

  "There are certain conditions attached to this offer," Sara said, taking his hand and walking him toward the cabin.

  "What are they?"

  "I'll show you." In the bedroom, astride Kerney, Sara arched her back and smiled down at him.

  "How did you know I was leaving Santa Fe?" he asked.

  "Dale told me."

  "You saw Dale?"

  "Yes." Sara moved her hips. "Stop talking. I'm not finished with you."

  "Do I get to meet your parents?"

  "You may not get any further than this."