A Soldier In Conard County

Firmly but kindly put in her place. The man didn’t want anyone worrying about him. Okay then. She could manage that. She couldn’t even feel slightly offended. This was a spark of the man she’d seen at the funeral. She was glad to know he was still in there. Living around here, it was possible to get to know veterans who had a lot of trouble returning. She supposed it was unlikely that Gil wouldn’t have any problems as a result of his wounding and time at war, but she hoped they were minimal.

“You must still be missing Al,” he remarked.

“Yes. You?”

“Damn near every day. You know, even when you’re in the midst of the most dangerous situations imaginable, you don’t believe the bad stuff’s going to happen to you.”

“How could you?” she asked. “You’d be paralyzed.”

“Maybe. What I do know is that we don’t think about it until it’s shoved into our faces, like when Al was killed, and then we have to shove it back into a lockbox. Anyway, he had plans. I was supposed to come here with him and help with the family ranch. I guess I told you that.”

Gil was rambling a little, she thought, but no more than most people in casual conversation. At least he was talking.

“Al,” he said again. “Damn. Ever the optimist. He could find a reason to be happy about cold beans on a subzero night.”

That was Al. That was definitely the Al she remembered. “I take it you’re not as much of an optimist?”

“Maybe I was, too much, anyway. Doesn’t matter. Here we are.” He gave her a faint, almost apologetic smile.

“Are you going back to duty?” she dared to ask.

“Yes.”

There was a firmness to the way he said the word that again suggested a line had been drawn in the sand. “Do you have any idea when?”

“Not yet. Probably as soon as they feel I’m well enough to play desk jockey for an eight-or twelve-hour day.”

“So...you won’t be going back into the field?”

“No.” A single uncompromising word. A warning to back off.

She could have sighed, except she knew she had no right to be asking many questions. He’d wanted to come out here for some reason...and she suspected it wasn’t just to tell the family amusing stories about Al. All she’d done was offer him a bed and a few meals. He didn’t owe her anything, certainly not answers to questions he might consider to be prying.

Apparently, he must have caught something in her expression. Much as she schooled herself to keep a straight face when necessary, because her young students picked up on even the subtlest of clues, she must have just failed. He spoke.

“Sorry to be so abrupt.”

“It’s okay,” she said swiftly. “You’re not feeling well...”

“Feeling unwell has nothing to do with it. Months of arguing with my family does. I’m not retiring, much as they may want me to, and if I can get back into shape for the field I will.”

Now she wondered if getting away from his family had been his primary reason for traveling this way. “Families are harder to handle than combat missions?”

He astonished her by cracking an unexpected laugh. “Are you suggesting I turned tail?”

“I don’t believe I said that.”

For the first time she saw a spark of something in those flinty eyes. Heat? Humor? She couldn’t read it. “No, you didn’t. What time is this barbecue and what can I do to help?”

* * *

Because night fell so early in the winter, the barbecue had been planned for midday. By noon, Miri had two huge containers of potato salad in the back of her sport SUV, along with four paper bags full of hamburger buns. There’d be leftovers, but she was sure they wouldn’t go to waste.

She hesitated, wondering if she should tell Gil to follow her or invite him to ride with her. If he had his own vehicle he could leave whenever he wanted. She stood there, feeling the delightfully warm air blowing over her neck and into the open front of her jacket.

Gil addressed the question first. Apparently he wasn’t shy about organizational matters. “Want me to follow you or ride with you?”

“Will you want the freedom to take off? Because once I get there, I’m going to be there for at least a couple of hours.”

“I think that I can manage a couple of hours,” he said wryly.

“Then hop in.”

The ride out to the Baker ranch required nearly an hour of slogging over bumpy roads. Pavement had begun to buckle as usual when water had seeped into cracks and then froze. Gravel roads hadn’t been graded in a while. Miri concentrated on driving and left Gil with his own thoughts. She figured if he wanted conversation he knew how to start one.

It was nice to have her window cracked open during the drive. The ground hadn’t really started to thaw, and all the growing things were still locked into their winter naps. But the air was fresh and after a few months of mostly enjoying it for only a few minutes, Miri was glad to indulge more than she’d been able to the last few days.

The Bakers had set up a sign pointing to an elevated area of paddock for parking. Dead grasses were thick, and if the ground started melting it should drain fast enough to ensure no one got stuck in mud. A lot of cars had already arrived, and as Miri parked she got a sudden whiff of barbecue grills heating up and the unmistakable scent of smoking meat.

Betsy had pulled out all the stops. Miri guessed nearly forty people had already arrived. Folding tables groaned under offerings, and a stack of paper plates on one of the tables was held down by a snow globe paperweight. A perfect touch.

Gil helped her carry one container of potato salad, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. He didn’t appear steady on uneven ground yet. Miri grabbed the other, plus the bags of burger buns, and they made their way over to the only empty table left.

Betsy didn’t let them get far. Wearing a light jacket, she swooped in, smiling. “I’m so glad you decided to come, Gil. Al always said he was going to bring you out here. I’m just sorry you couldn’t get here sooner.”

As soon as they had deposited their offerings on the table, Betsy gave Gil a tight hug. He seemed a bit uncomfortable and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Miri cataloged that for future consideration. Walled off. Totally walled off.

Betsy took Gil with her, introducing him around. Miri smiled faintly and bent her attention toward getting the potato salad ready to serve and putting her buns with others.

Then she wandered over to join her uncle Jack, whose smoker was emitting delicious aromas. “Did you start smoking yesterday?” she asked him.

“How else do you barbecue? You doing all right with Al’s friend?”

“Gil’s a pleasant guy. Restrained.”

“Shut down, most like,” Jack answered. “I could see it in Al. Do you remember? It was like every time he came home he’d left another piece of himself behind.”

Those weren’t the memories of her cousin that Miri was trying to cherish, but she felt her stomach tighten as she acknowledged the truth of what Jack had said. War had been cutting away pieces of Al for years.

Or causing him to lock them away. “Jack? Why do they keep on doing it?”

“What do I look like? A shrink?” He lifted the lid on the huge smoker and began basting the ribs. “Almost done.” He said nothing for a few minutes. “I can only answer for Al. He felt a real sense of duty. A need to serve. And, to be brutally honest, maybe a little adrenaline addiction. Anyway, I think Al was always testing himself for some reason. I don’t know what his measuring stick was, but he seemed to me to be using one. But all that’s my guess, Miri, and it may not apply to Gil at all.”

Finished basting that side, he turned the meat with tongs and basted some more. Then he closed the smoker lid. “Not much longer. That’s almost to the point of falling off the bone.” He stepped back, hanging his tongs on a rack at the end of the smoker, and looked around. “Seems like almost everyone’s here. And Gil has found himself a place.”

Miri turned to look, too. An interesting place, she thought. The old sheriff, Nate Tate, was sitting in the group, a man who had served in the special forces in Vietnam, followed by thirty years as sheriff here. He’d been retired for nearly a decade now and didn’t look a day older. But it wasn’t just Nate Tate who made the group interesting. Gil had been found by a phalanx of vets, among them Seth Hardin and a few others who had served in special forces. Even Jess MacGregor, who’d been a combat medic, had joined them.