Once a Marine (Those Marshall Boys)

by Loree Lough

  “You know you can talk to me, about anything, right?”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said, even though the opposite was true. Both of her parents had run crying from her hospital room as she told the cops what had happened to her.

  Summer had more or less been on her own for as long as she could remember. A good thing, if she viewed it from the right perspective, because it meant she’d never need anyone.

  Her parents hadn’t been there when she lost her first tooth, or skinned her knees falling from the pink two-wheeler Santa left under her grandfather’s Christmas tree. And although she had no actual memory of it, there was photographic evidence proving that her grandparents, not her mom and dad, had taught her to walk.

  Was it irony or coincidence that it had been Zach, not her father, who’d encouraged her to take one of the most important steps of her adult life?

  Either way, Summer believed there was far more she could learn from the man who’d lived his whole life in service to others.

  *

  “LIBBY THOUGHT MAYBE you could conserve gas and ride together,” Zach’s mom was saying. “It’s nothing fancy, just biscuits and stew for a few neighbors and friends.”

  “That’ll warm their old bones,” he said.

  “I’ll just ignore that old crack,” she shot back. “But speaking of friends, Libby’s looking forward to introducing us to her new one.”

  He didn’t need to ask who that was.

  “From everything your sister said, Summer sounds delightful.” She paused. “Do me a favor?”

  “Sure.” Tucking the phone between chin and shoulder, he filed the bills he’d just paid to Valley Electric, Eagle River Water, Alpine Insurance and American Express, then picked up a pen to jot down whatever items she’d ask him to pick up on his way over.

  “Libby means well, but don’t let her push you into anything. I’d hate to see you settle, just because you’re trying to prove something. After the Martha mess, I mean.”

  He’d thought she was going to ask him to pick up a bag of ice, a tub of butter, a carton of soft drinks on his way to the ranch. How was he supposed to put the “Martha mess” in the past if they kept bringing her up?

  Zach groaned to himself. “I’m in no hurry, so don’t worry—hey, that rhymes.”

  “Yes, it does. You always did like making up rhymes.”

  It was true…and the reason she used to call him Wordsworth.

  “Summer is Libby’s friend,” he said. “I barely know her.” Also true. “So what time’s dinner on Sunday?”

  “Get here at two, and we’ll sit down at three, same as always, to give your cousins’ kids time to get in a nap before we eat. Would you be a dear and pick up some ice on the way?”

  “No problem.”

  After he hung up, Zach dialed Libby’s number.

  “Just wanted to thank you for locking me into a trip to the Double M,” he said after the beep. “Since we’re stuck going together, I’ll drive. Be ready at twelve-thirty.”

  As an afterthought, he typed Summer’s name into the Marshall Law computer files, and when her contact info popped up, he called her at home.

  Zach cleared his throat, expecting to leave a message there, too. As he waited for the machine to pick up, he recalled that his mom had described her as delightful. Summer was that, all right, and then some. If he thought he had the temperament to cope with her trauma-induced issues, he might just ask her out. Something casual, like a movie or—

  “Hi, Zach. What can I do for you?”

  Gotta love that caller ID, he thought, grinning. Gotta love that voice more.

  “Just talked with my mom. About dinner on Sunday? She said something about you and Libby and me, driving to Denver together. So how about I pick you up at around twelve-thirty?”

  “Twelve-thirty,” she echoed. “This Sunday? I, um… This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  Zach chuckled. “Sorry, guess I jumped the gun. I figured Libby had already called you.”

  The pause that followed was so long that Zach thought maybe their call had been disconnected. But then he heard her sigh, and understood. She’d lived nearly two years as a recluse. She’d committed to the classes, ventured out a time or two for lunch with her folks, a quick bite to eat with Libby the other night, but as far as he knew, she hadn’t left the house for any other reason.

  “I realize the invite is kind of last minute, so no worries if you can’t make it.”

  “Well, can I get back to you? My folks are leaving Sunday morning for a film festival in Maryland, but I’m not sure what time.”

  “Do you have my cell number?”

  “No. Let me grab a pen.”

  He heard the phone clunk onto the counter, the sound of rustling paper and a whole lot of whispering.

  “Why is it you can always find a pen or paper,” Summer said when she came back on the line, “but never both?”

  He could hear the smile in her voice and became vaguely aware of the similar expression on his own face. “Or you find both, but the ink’s dried up in the pen.”

  She laughed. “Exactly!”

  Zach rattled off his number and tried to think of a legitimate reason to keep her talking.

  “So I hear you and Libs got together after class on Monday.” It was a reach, but it would have to do.

  “We did. She’s quite a character, that sister of yours.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  If asked to make a short list of his flaws, small talk would make the top ten. C’mon, Summer. Don’t leave me hanging. Say something!

  “She said your parents keep horses?”

  Thank you!

  “Just a dozen or so.”

  “I haven’t been riding in more than two years.”

  “If the weather cooperates, maybe we can change that, and I’ll give you a tour of the Double M on horseback. If you can make it, that is.”

  He counted the seconds between his last comment and her next one.

  “You know, I don’t really have to be here when my folks leave. They always take a cab to the airport. I can make them a nice sendoff dinner tomorrow night. So count me in.” A nervous giggle punctuated her statement. “It’ll be a good excuse to dust off my cowboy boots.”

  She thanked him for calling and promised to be ready and waiting—outside on her front porch—at twelve-thirty sharp.

  Zach put the receiver back into its cradle and saw her name, highlighted and blinking on the Marshall Law computer monitor. After saving the file, he shut down and decided to call it a day. There was a frozen pot pie upstairs in his freezer and a cold beer in the fridge, and unless he was mistaken, a Clint Eastwood movie on cable. Something told him even before he reached the top of the staircase that he wouldn’t pay a bit of attention to the plot. He’d be too busy picturing Summer in jeans and boots, her short curls bouncing as she rode beside him on his favorite palomino, getting acquainted with his favorite place in the world…the Double M Ranch.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT HAD BEEN hard enough letting Libby talk her into spending a night at the ranch, but when Zach explained that she’d decided to drive her own car, Summer nearly lost it. “Some mix-up in her patient schedule,” he’d said. His tone told her he wasn’t buying it, and frankly, neither was she.

  Summer could blame her parents’ lunchtime revelations for the like-strangers conversation between herself and Zach, but it wasn’t their fault that she decided not to climb out of his truck while it was still parked in her driveway.

  The Colorado landscape was more breathtaking than usual, thanks to an early morning storm. When they reached the western border of the family ranch, Zach pointed out a downed tree and a line of fencing in need of repair before cows and horses bearing the Double M brand found the gap and wandered onto the highway. Fondness and pride deepened his voice, and Summer hoped he’d been serious about asking her to go riding, because she couldn’t wait to see more.

  He parked out front and left
their bags just inside the door. “Mom’s probably in the kitchen,” he said, leading the way.

  Sure enough, his mother stood at the sink, wrist deep in sudsy dishwater.

  “That crazy storm took out the power for a couple of hours,” she said over one shoulder. “Put me way behind schedule.”

  Zach kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Most everybody here is an adult. I think we can find ways to occupy ourselves until dinner’s ready.” He looked around. “Where’s Libs?”

  “In the living room, trying to beat your dad at chess.”

  “He’s trying to beat her, you mean.”

  “Hmpf. Semantics.”

  He drew Summer closer. “Mom, this is Summer Lane. Summer, Ellen Marshall.”

  After drying her hands on a flowery apron, Ellen gave Summer a light hug. “Libby tells me you love horses. There’s plenty of time for a ride, and I’m sure if you ask nicely, Mr. Semantics here will saddle one for you.” She smiled up at Zach. “Won’t you, son.”

  “Be happy to.” He winked at Summer. “And she won’t even have to ask me nicely.” Then, one hand on the small of Summer’s back, he led her to the back door. “It’s pretty cold out there. You sure you’re up for this?”

  “Are you kidding? Just give me a second to change.”

  Ten minutes later, they walked side by side toward the corral, where half a dozen horses trotted toward the gate. Her heart rate accelerated, imagining how it would feel to sit horseback again. When they reached the fence, a Paint ambled up.

  “This is Taffy,” he said. “She’s gentle and smart, so if you haven’t been in the saddle in a while, she’ll read your moves.”

  Summer held one hand palm up, and the horse nuzzled it. “Oh, Zach. She’s absolutely beautiful.” She took off one glove and stroked the silky mane, and the horse leaned into her hand. “Aw, you’re like a great big calico cat, aren’t you,” she said, rubbing the mare’s nose. “Did these brown blotches inspire your name?”

  Taffy nickered then bobbed her head.

  “You’re right,” Summer said over one shoulder. “She’s even smart enough to answer questions!”

  Zach opened the gate and took hold of the bridle’s cheek piece. “C’mon, girl, let’s get you saddled up. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

  He led Taffy into the barn, grabbed a saddle pad and draped it over the horse’s back. After testing each cinch, he hoisted the saddle, grabbed the cantle and gently laid it atop the pad. He connected the cinches, let down the latigo strap, tightened the breast collar and dropped the stirrups into place. And repeated the process for his own horse, a massive black stallion named Chinook.

  Summer took the reins and stood beside Taffy, hoping her damaged leg had healed enough to propel her into the saddle.

  Only one way to find out.

  She grabbed the saddle horn and slid her boot into the stirrup at the exact moment Zach gave her a helpful boost up.

  His gentle touch inspired a moment of tension and she stiffened.

  “I realize you could probably have gotten up there, all by yourself.” He pointed to her injured thigh. “Your leg has come a long way, but why push it if you don’t have to?”

  “Thanks.”

  He climbed onto Chinook’s back in one fluid movement, and chk-chked him into motion. They rode east, past weathered wood outbuildings and a row of powerful machines. Thanks to summers spent at her paternal grandfather’s farm, she could name them all. First, a red-and-yellow haybine. A bale truck and baler. A harvester. An auger for drilling fence posts, a swather to expose grass throughout the winter. Then three ATVs. And all stood tiptop and shiny in a neat row.

  “Looks like Nate’s got some fencing to repair,” Zach said, pointing north.

  And sure enough, several posts tilted precariously, and the wire between them draped atop a bed of fresh snow.

  He led Chinook along the fence line, and Taffy followed with no prodding from Summer.

  “No tracks,” he said. “That’s good. Means everybody’s where they oughta be.”

  She smiled, because unless she was imagining things, Zach’s slight drawl intensified here at the Double M. It wouldn’t bother her a bit to spend more time with him here, just so she could hear more of it.

  A bright orange Cessna flew low overhead, drawing their attention to the cloudy sky above. The right wingtip dipped, then the left.

  “That’s Earl,” he said, waving. He glanced over at Summer. “He’s a card, but I’m guessin’ Earl has single-handedly saved a couple dozen lost hikers.” Zach shook his head. “Last winter, he flew so low it nearly cost him his life, but by gum, he found that ‘gotta climb Pikes Peak’ fool from Boston.”

  Summer laughed. “By gum? What are you, ninety?”

  The lopsided grin made her heart skip a beat. “I turn thirty-five tomorrow. You can expect a big birthday cake will be part of today’s dessert lineup.”

  “I had no idea. Happy birthday!”

  Leaning forward, he patted Chinook’s neck. “Thanks,” he said then urged his horse forward.

  They rode in companionable silence for a mile or so before Zach gently brought his horse to a halt. As Summer expected, Taffy stopped, too.

  “I must’ve seen this a thousand times,” he said, leaning an elbow on the saddle horn, “but I’ll never get tired of it.”

  Summer followed his gaze to the striking vista before them, where snow-covered fields climbed the Rockies’ Front Range, majestic mountain peaks kissing the heavens.

  “I can see why,” she whispered. “It’s breathtaking.”

  Zach nodded. “You think that’s good, just wait till you see what’s next.”

  A light snow had been falling since they left the corral, and it left a layer of white dust on the brim of his black Stetson and on the shoulders of his well-worn leather coat. Did he know how noble he looked, sitting tall in the saddle that way?

  The horses ascended a steep, snow-covered butte, stopping when they reached the top of a wide, flat batholith. Zach rested his hands on the saddle horn.

  “Feast your eyes.”

  He hadn’t exaggerated.

  “When I was a kid, I came up here when life got crazy and confusing. One look out there,” he said, forearm sweeping the panoramic view, “and all seemed right with the world.” For a moment, he fell silent. Then Summer heard him sigh. “I’ve never brought anybody up here before.”

  Why me? Summer wondered.

  “I still come up here when life gets crazy and confusing.”

  Though he was staring straight ahead, Summer could see the firm set of his jaw, the tautness of his lips. What memories, she wondered, had painted that serious, contemplative frown on his handsome face?

  “After you got home from Afghanistan, you mean?”

  He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he thumbed the Stetson to the back of his head and said, “Yeah.”

  The one-syllable word did more than confirm her question. It told her he’d carried every worry and fear, every heartache and disappointment to this perfect, pristine spot. She hoped it gave him solace, however temporary, from his troubles.

  “I could sit up here for days,” he said, “just staring at the Front Range.”

  His arm moved left to right again, this time naming the creeks and canyons, passes and peaks. His soft, smooth baritone put music to the identification of bristlecone pines and Englemann spruce. Clearly, he felt as much at home in this land as the pronghorns, moose and grizzlies, and she wondered why he’d ever left it to live elsewhere.

  Summer swiped at a traitorous tear, hoping to destroy it before Zach noticed.

  Then the hand that had introduced her to this magnificent place reached out. It surprised her that she so quickly put hers into it. Zach gave it a quick squeeze then turned her loose.

  “Got somethin’ in your eye?”

  “Guess so,” she choked out.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. This place gets to me sometimes, too.”

 
; The snow was falling in earnest now. Zach removed his left glove and reached out again, this time to brush snowflakes from her eyelashes. His thumb lingered and slowly traced the length of her scar, his green eyes blazing into hers for what seemed an eternity. Summer hoped he wouldn’t ask how she’d come by it, because she didn’t want the memory to darken the moment.

  He tapped the tip of her nose. “Silly city slicker,” he said around a teasing grin. “You should have worn a hat.”

  When he put his Stetson on her head, it all but covered her eyes.

  “Silly cowboy,” she said, returning it, “you sure do have a big head.”

  He placed it firmly back on his head. Laughing, he wheeled Chinook around, and Taffy followed suit.

  They started out slow, but Summer felt her horse’s strength and power, and sensed that the Paint wanted to run, full tilt. Leaning forward, she sat deep in the saddle and let Taffy have her way. Trees and fields whizzed by on either side, and the snowy ground blurred underneath them. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair, and didn’t even mind the icy sting as snow pelted her cheeks. Best of all, her leg didn’t hurt.

  When they reached the barn, both horses slowed automatically, no doubt anticipating a good brushing, a handful or two of flaked hay.

  Zach reached up and plucked her out of the saddle as though she weighed no more than a sack of flour. This time, Summer didn’t tense up, despite the fact that it put them face-to-face. Should she credit her surroundings, or the man himself?

  He put her down gently, then grasped both horses’ reins and led them inside.

  “When you said you could ride, I never expected that,” he admitted.

  He loosened Taffy’s belly cinch, removed the saddle and pad and draped both over a low wall inside the barn. He checked her hooves, and satisfied they were free of stones and debris, grabbed a towel.

  “Let me finish this,” Summer said, “so you can take care of Chinook.”

  He looked as if he might ask “Are you sure you know how?” Instead, he handed her the towel and got busy unsaddling the stallion.

  “Where’d you learn how to groom a horse?”