Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns) (4 page)

Mitch studied her. The tortured look in
her eyes, the tears that threatened to spill at any second, the arms crossed
tightly against her slim torso. He shook his head and smiled down at the
stubbornly brave woman who was trying her damnedest to keep it together for her
boy’s sake.

“I don’t know that you could ever do
anything to disappoint me, Meagan.” He approached her slowly, reached out to
smooth the furrows on her brow. “I don’t think you’ve lost your faith in God,
simply misplaced it for a bit.”

Her hand closing around his fooled him
for just a second. Had him believing she longed for his touch as much as he
longed to touch her. Instead, she pushed it gently away.

“I haven’t lost my faith, Mitchell. I
just can’t face God in
his
house right now. I talk to him, I pray and I
teach my son to do the same, but it’s on my terms, my turf, in
my
house.
What God did to me…that was a deal-breaker, you know? Hard to take. I figure,
if I’m still speaking to him and believing, he shouldn’t hold that against me.
I’m doing the best that I can right now.”

Mitch fought the urge to take her in his
arms, to give this poor woman some kind of comfort. Instead, he reassured her
the only way she’d want him to. “God doesn’t hold that against you, Meg. He
wouldn’t dare.” Her quick response—the instant raise of her blue-eyed gaze
locking with his, and the accompanying lift of the corners of her mouth in the
slightest of smiles—told him he’d succeeded.

Just as quickly, Meagan seemed to shake
it off. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s enough about me and
Chris. What about you? No high school girlfriend waiting for your call? No girl
you met while stationed in some other country? Or are you one of those men
whose mistress
was
the Marine Corp all those years?”

He threw his head back and guffawed.
“Damn, I wouldn’t call the Corp a
mistress
. More like a hard-assed task
master, always there to whip my butt into shape if I relaxed too long. But no,
there’s no woman anywhere waiting for me to call her, I can assure you of
that.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Being in the Corp? Sometimes I miss the
order. The structure. I always miss my friends, my Marine brothers. Some I’ve
known for two decades. Like Tex.”

“Some of Christopher’s closest friends
were those he went to boot camp with. Did you and this ‘Tex’ have that in
common?”

“Yep, we plowed through boot camp
together, but went our separate ways after that. It wasn’t until nine-eleven
threw us together in Iraq that I saw him again. But, I’ve seen that son of a
bitch nearly every damned day since then. He couldn’t be more of a brother to
me if we were related by blood. He lives in small town east of Beaumont.”

“Did he get out too, or is he trying for
thirty?”

“He’s out too. We decided together we’d
had enough. The corps has changed an awful lot since we enlisted, some ways
good, some not so good.” He started to sound off, but thought better of it, and
snapped his mouth shut instead. 

She nodded, let her arms drop, her
shoulders relaxed just a little. “Did you lose many friends over there?”

He nodded. “Enough.”

“How?”

“Mostly IED’s…like your Marine, some in
vehicular one’s set off with a detonator, some by sniper fire.”

“You ever been wounded?”

“A couple of times, but nothing serious.
Got shot in the ass once.” He started playing with his belt buckle. “Want to
see my scar?”

She lifted one hand in front of her face.
“That’s quite all right, Forest…Forest Gump.” Meagan smiled as she continued
her line of questioning. “So this Tex, does he have a real name?”

Mitch grinned. “Matthew Houston
Broussard. Just in case you’re wondering, he was born
before
Lee Horsley
brought the role of Matt Houston to the small screen.” Meagan’s confused look
lead him to further explanation. “You know, ‘Matt Houston’, the television
series?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Come on, it only ran from 1982 to ’85,
but I grew up watching the re-runs.”

“I was born in 1985, Mitch, and my
parents didn’t let me watch much television.”

He did the quick calculation in his
head. That put her at twenty-seven or eight, depending on her birthday. “So,
you’re twenty…”

“Twenty-seven until November 27th,” she
finished for him.

“Huh.” He turned away from her. “Wish I
was twenty-seven again.”

She scuffed her shoe on the grass. “I’m
sorry if I made you uncomfortable by asking all those questions. I’m just
realizing that maybe you didn’t want to dredge up some of those memories.”

He waved off her apology. “It’s okay. It
actually makes me feel good to talk about it. Kind of lightens the load, you
know?” He did a couple of easy chin-ups on the crossbar of the swing set then
stopped to meet her gaze.  “You sure you don’t want to lighten your own
load some, Meagan?”

The widening of her eyes told him she
knew what he meant. She didn’t even bother playing dumb, but did remain silent.

“So tell me, what the hell is going on
in that house of yours? You can trust me.”

She studied his eyes and finally gave
him a slow nod. “It all started when Buck told me ‘the sad man’ was watching
him.”

Mitch listened to her tale, fascinated
at numerous events that had taken place in such a short period of time. It made
him curious to know how she hadn’t lost her
flippin
’
mind over some of the episodes.

“One day I walked into Buck’s room to
find  Christopher’s Marine portrait frame face down. I picked it up and
checked the frame—the stand is solid, perfectly sturdy. Next time I walked in
it was laying on its back.”

“You think Buck knocked it over?”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously.
“This happened several times the afternoon
Niki
took
him to the park for me so I could study for a test. I was doing a week’s worth
of laundry at the same time, and every damn time I walked in that room the
portrait was in a different position.” She turned to him and stepped closer,
her voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “I swear, Mitch. One time I even left
it on its back as I’d found it. When I walked by the room again, it was face
down.” She raised her hands in a helpless gesture and dropped them. “I don’t
know what to do anymore. If I insist Buck sleeps with me, it’ll only make him
suspicious because I’ve tried never to do that unless he’s sick or something.
So I get up at least a couple of times a night to check on him.”

Mitch cleared his throat quietly,
thinking, a couple of times or
more
, from what he’d witnessed. “I’m
amazed you can bring yourself to stay there. Most people would have performed a
drop and smoke by now.” Her curious look had him explaining the military
terminology. “That’s what we do when we have someone injured. We call for
helo
transport. When it gets close, we drop what we’re
doing, throw lots of smoke grenades to hide the medics carrying the wounded.”

She nodded halfway through the
explanation. “The fact is, Buck doesn’t seem the slightest bit afraid. I can’t
afford to move, but if he was terrified to go to his room, I’d find a way to
get the heck out of there.” She crossed her arms again and leveled a glare at
him. “I suppose you don’t believe any of this, you not believing in spirits or
ghosts or anything.”

“You’re right, I didn’t believe…but I do
now,” he found himself admitting.

“You believe me?” she asked, eyes wide,
arms dropping to her sides, and shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I’d be a damn fool not to after what I
experienced that night.”

She dropped her head forward as she
pushed her hair out of her face with one hand. “So, uh…What exactly did
you
feel the night you went into Buck’s room?”

He hesitated, until he caught her
glancing furtively up at him through lowered lashes. “It was cold…like the
desert at night cold—cold enough to make my breath smoke. But that’s not what
got me.” He paused trying to decide how to put into words what he’d experienced
that night.

“Please. Tell me. Please, Mitch.”

He released a long, slow breath. “God,
Meg…it was the assault of odors. The smell of desert, hills of rock hard dirt
and compacted sand, and dry heat. I’ve never been able to describe the smell of
that place other than it smells like decades of decay…of a land just rusting
away.” He leveled his gaze on hers. “I smelled fighting. I smelled war. The
overpowering odor of gunpowder, overheated metal casings from used ammo, and
that distinctly metallic smell of human blood.”

He shook his head, clenched and
unclenched his jaw before continuing. “At one point, I thought that if I closed
my eyes, I would have been back there, in the heat of it. I could practically
feel the sand on my skin, the grit in my teeth, the all-encompassing grime that
accumulates on anything exposed to it. It
was
Afghanistan.”

He gazed into her eyes, knew she
believed him. “If Warren
flippin
’ Buffett had offered
me a million bucks to close my eyes in that room, I’d have turned it down.
That’s how serious that shit was for me, Meagan.”

She swallowed loudly in the ensuing
silence.

“So, it’s not just me. I’m not crazy.” A
statement, not a question.

“Hell no.”

She nodded several times. Stopped.
Nodded again before releasing a nervous laugh. “You have no idea how…
liberating
…it
feels to let someone else in on this. My God!”

“The question of the hour is what the
hell can you do about it?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I can’t exactly
call in Ghost Busters.”

“Hey, there’s always
Deep South
Paranormal.
I was watching a little bit of that on the tube last night. You
know that oldest guy used to be a technician for NASA?”

“You lost me. I’ve never seen it.”

“Seriously? That’s some funny stuff!”

“No time, remember? But
Niki
has a friend who’s supposed to come over when she gets
back from vacationing in the Bahamas.
Nik
claims
she’s a medium or
empath
or something.”

“An
empath
?”

“Someone who’s hypersensitive to
spiritual occurrences, I’d guess.”

Before Mitch could open his mouth to
speak she put up her hand to stop him.

“Don’t say it!  I know. I don’t put
much faith in people claiming to be psychics either, but it can’t hurt at this
point.”

He thought about it, realized he couldn’t
argue with her reasoning. “Can you call me when she goes? I’d really like to be
there, and not to make fun of her.” He raised a hand and slapped it over his
heart. “I promise, and when a Marine makes a promise, he keeps it.”

The bittersweet smile she sent him
nearly broke his heart.

“Unless it’s beyond his control,” she
whispered.

Mitch realized, too late, that her
Marine must have promised to return. “Meg. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mitch. I’ll call you.”

Chapter 7

Two Jarheads and a Cowgirl

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Mitch jumped at the pounding and spewed
a steady stream of curses as hot coffee spilled down the front of his bare
chest.

“Hold on!” he yelled, jumping up to wet a
paper towel and wipe his chest. Growling under his breath, he grabbed a white
tee shirt off the back of the chair and slipped it over his head.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“I’m
comin
’
dammit!” He ran one hand through his hair to smooth it down and jerked the door
open, fully prepared to chew somebody’s ass out. The sight of a pretty, young
thing, a woman in her late teens or early twenties, had him swallowing the
curse he’d worked up. She stood there, one hand on her hip, her long,
honey-brown hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and staring up at him with big,
beautiful, brown eyes.

He finally managed a feeble response.
“Oh…Um. Yes ma’am, can I help you?”

She crossed her arms, cocked her head to
one side. “It depends.”

Mitch weaved a little from one side to
the other, trying to make sure no one was hiding behind her. He sensed a
set-up, sure as shit.

“Depends on what, little lady?” Her
right brow lifted delicately, just as he caught the sparkle in her eye.

“I’m looking for a Jarhead. You happen
to know where I can find one around here?”

By the time she posed the question, he
knew who she was. Her voice, dripping with east Texas drawl, one he’d heard
every day for over a decade, had been the deadest give-a-way of all. Tex’s
sister, Haley, had been out of town for her brother’s coming home party, but he
remembered that pixie grin of hers from years earlier.

“Yes ma’am, but only if you tell me
where that no-good brother of yours is.”

Her left forefinger straightened to
point to the area off to her right as she gave him a small nod. “I’m sure I
don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Jarhead.”

As expected, Tex stepped into sight.
“What’s up, Cajun Heat? How in hell did you recognize my baby sister? You’ve
only seen her once, and that was nearly ten years ago.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve heard that
distinctive twang a lot longer than that. What’s up Tex?” He clasped the arm
Tex offered and pulled him in for a brotherly hug and good-natured slap on the
back. Mitch released him and gave his sister a good look. “This can’t be Haley.
She’s far too grown up.”

“It’s me, all right. How
ya
doin
’, Mitch?”

He lifted the girl and swung her around
in a circle. “Man, I can’t believe it!” He put her down and stood back. “Look
at you, girl. No
freakin
’ way can that ugly SOB have
a sister this damn good looking. Last time I saw you, you had a face full of
freckles and a mouth full of metal.”

“Yeah, and back then I wanted you to
wait for me so I could marry you. Sooner or later we all have to grow up.”

Mitch gave her a conspiratorial wink.
“Really? You still up for that? I’m not that crazy about having Tex as a
brother-in-law, but I could get past it for someone as drop dead gorgeous as
you!”

“Watch it, asshole,” Tex growled from
behind him. “No way are you
gonna
contaminate my fine
Texas bloodline with that cur lineage of yours.”

“Excuse me, but your last name is
Broussard…I think it’s already been contaminated.”

“Yeah, but that was decades ago and
we’re still
tryin
’ to breed that Crazy
Coonass
out of us,” Tex snorted.

“Every bloodline can do with a little
Cajun spice, don’t you agree, Haley?”

Haley wrinkled her nose at the two men.
“I don’t have a problem with the spice, but I do have some concerns with the
age of the pepper.”

Mitchell’s jaw dropped. “Are you
insinuating I’m too
old
for you?” He turned to stare at Tex, who stood
off to the side hooting with laughter.

Haley raised one hand. “No offense, but
if and when I settle down, it’ll be with someone a little less long in the
tooth, if you know what I mean.”

Mitch coughed several times while pulling
an imaginary dagger out of his heart. “No offense? Kind of late for that, don’t
you think? Damn girl, you act like I’m ready for a retirement facility and I’m
not even forty yet!”

She put her head back and giggled.
“Sorry, Mitch. Besides, I will
never
fall for anyone in the military. I
want a man who’s around when I need him, not on the other side of the world.”

Tex shook his head at his little sister.
“I feel sorry for the poor son of a bitch already. I think somebody’s still got
a little growing up to do.”

She flipped her ponytail with one hand
and rolled her eyes. “That’s okay, big brother. I’d rather be on the needing
end of growing up than the receiving end of growing old…like
you
guys.” She
edged by Mitch to step into his apartment. “Nice digs, Marine. Needs a woman’s
touch but it’s entirely livable and very spacious.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s so nice to have
you approve of
something
pertaining to me.” He laughed as her brown eyes
sparkled with amusement. “What brings you two to this area, anyways?”

“I’ve got a competition this afternoon.”
Haley slipped her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and spun on her boot
heels to face him. “And after that, I want my two favorite Marines to buy me my
first beer in a
reputable
club of your choosing, here in Lake Coburn. As
of 6:45 this morning I’m twenty-one!” She leaned in closer and whispered behind
her hand. “Guess whose idea it was to throw in reputable?” She nodded toward
Tex, who stood there, glowering at her.

“Well, Happy Birthday, Haley, but first
beer?” Mitch chuckled. “Excuse me, but I find that a little difficult to
believe.”

Tex approached the two of them, pushing
his sunglasses up to rest on his high and tight. “No doubt, she means her first
legal
beer. But I can’t say too much, being as I joined the Marines to
get my butt out of trouble from having too many
illegal
beers. I can
only hope she shows more good sense than her considerably wiser brother.”

“You mean older, don’t you, big
brother?”

“Yeah, well, with age, comes wisdom,
Haley girl. You might want to keep that in mind.”

“I will,
Matty
,
don’t worry. Besides, I’ve got a plan for my life that doesn’t involve DUI’s
and barfing on cops.”

Mitchell’s bellow of laughter rang out through
the room. “You hurled on a cop, Tex?”

Tex grabbed uncomfortably at the back of
his neck. “Not one of my finest moments.”

Mitch choked back the laughter. “What
the hell did he do?”

“He was about to arrest me, and I begged
him not to. Told him I was having one last hoorah before enlisting in the Navy
the next day. You know this story. He said if I made it the Marines he wouldn’t
throw my ass in jail.”

“I know a story about a speeding ticket
and DUI. This is the first I hear about you hurling on a cop! What’d you do?
Barf on his feet and ruin a brand new pair of boots or something?”

“I’d say it was a little more serious
than that.” Haley gave a throaty chuckle.

Mitch leveled a questioning gaze on his
friend. “So, what happened?”

“Projectile…” Tex closed the gap between
himself and Mitch. “That dude was about two foot from my face. When I spewed,
it covered him…from head to toe. I’d lied like a rug about joining the Navy,
but after that little incident, I was extremely glad to join the Marines. Hell,
I’d have done anything to get out of Beaumont and away from that cop.”

“Oh man!” Mitch wiped tears of laughter
from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. “I wish I could have been around
to see that. You ever see that guy again?”

Tex laughed and nodded. “Just about
every damn time I come in. We’ve had some good laughs over it. I’ve thanked him
for forcing me to make the best decision of my life, and he’s apologized. Said
he’d always worried I’d bite the bullet in the Middle East and he’d be
responsible. Truth is, considering where I was headed he probably saved my
worthless butt.”

“You’re probably right. Now how long
will you two be in my glorious state?”

Tex hooked a thumb toward his sister.
“Annie Oakley here’s got a race tonight and tomorrow, so we’ll be heading out
on Sunday.”

Haley spun around to face her brother.
“Who the hell is Annie Oakley?”

Tex stuck his finger in her face. “Watch
your mouth.”

Haley’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking,
right? For saying the word hell?”

He flicked the tip of her nose. “Nope,
for not knowing who Annie Oakley is. You being’ a horsewoman and all, you
should know everything there is to know about her.”

“Oh please…”

“So!” Mitch interrupted the bickering
siblings. “You’ve got a horse race at Delta Downs? You betting or riding?”

Haley’s brow furrowed in a pretty,
little frown before she and Tex burst into laughter. “Not horse racing, Mitch.
Barrel racing. The only thing I race against is the clock.”

“That’s right! I heard there was a rodeo
at the coliseum this weekend. Barrels—Is that where they do that figure eight
thing in an arena?” Mitch waved his finger in a figure eight pattern in the
air.

“Three barrels, so it’s a cloverleaf
pattern.”

He nodded, pointing at her. “I was watching
some of that the other day. That stuff can get dangerous.”

“Not if the horse and rider both know
what they’re doing. Barrels are Dakota’s favorite thing to race.”

“You ride a male horse?”

“A gelding, you mean? I have, but Dakota
is short for Miss Red Dakota. She didn’t care for roping calves, and barely
tolerated poles and break-a-way. But if she sees a barrel, I have to hold her
back. My event starts at two o’clock, and I need all the support I can get.”

“I’ll be there.” Mitch nodded, wondering
if Meagan and Buck would enjoy watching something like that.

****

Mitchell watched Haley’s race, amazed at
the speed and agility of both horse and rider. Haley and her Miss Red Dakota
operated as a single unit, leaning and turning as one, building speed and slowing
to circle incredibly close to the barrels, missing them by a hair.

Tex whooped loudly when his little
sister rounded the last barrel and sped back to the starting point. “That’s
what I’m
talkin
’ about, Haley girl! That was a clean
ride and slick as a greased pig. Damn, that girl can ride, can’t she?”

“Yes sir. It looks like she’s been doing
that all her life.”

 “Close to it, I want to say she
first got on a horse at two and they’ve been her life since then. I think if
mom had let her sleep in the stables with them, she would have.”

Being that Haley was the last to ride in
her group, they didn’t have to wait long to hear she’d won that round of the
barrels competition. After rousing applause, he stood to follow Tex down the
metal steps of the bleachers.