Page 7 of The Soldier and the Cowboy

“May I ask why you’re staring at me, sir?” she said, returning his frank and assessing gaze.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he said.

“If you succeed, please let me know. I’m sure my sisters and mother would be happy to hear a firsthand account,” she said, and he laughed.

“Not your dad?”

“My dad and I understand each other perfectly, sir,” she said.

“Then by all means tell me about your father,” he said, knowing instinctively she would loathe talking about herself.

“My father is a soldier first, and everything else comes after. Some people were born to be in the military, and my father is one of those people.” She tapped her temple. “It makes perfect sense, sir. The chain of command, the duty, the honor, the service, the sacrifice. It was what he was born for, why he was put on this earth. Without that,” she broke off and looked toward the pot of stew, “who is he, really?”

How would Cal feel if he didn’t have the ranch? He had played pro football for five years, and he loved football, but it never took the place of the ranch in his heart. He always knew he would come back home and take over for his father. It was in his blood, a way it never had been for his little brother. Heknew what it was to have a destiny, to have a lifelong purpose. How would he feel if it got taken away?

When he remained silent, she tore her gaze away from the stew and looked at him. “Thank you.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “For what?”

“For not telling me it’s going to be okay,” she said.

They shared a sympathetic smile of understanding. “Sometimes things aren’t okay. Instead they become a new kind of normal, a way to cope, a status quo.” His thoughts turned to Isabel then, and he could feel himself sinking.

“Weren’t you a quarterback, sir?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Someone had done her homework. “Yes.”

“I guess I was expecting a bit more inspiration, sort of a gridiron type lecture,” she said, and he laughed.

“Get it done, Bailey. Be the ball or I’ll end you.”

“You’re incredibly bad at this,” she said.

“It’s been a while, I’m out of practice,” he conceded.

When the meal was finished, Cal put away the food while Bailey did the dishes and wiped the counters. He felt a bit awkward, not certain if he was supposed to try and entertain her, but when he looked up, she had disappeared. He escaped into his office, did about an hour’s worth of work and then poured a glass of tea and went to sit on the porch. The sun had already set. It was dark and still. He blamed the darkness for the fact that it took him fifteen minutes to realize Bailey sat in the rocking chair to his right. He flinched, almost spilling his tea.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you knew I was here or not.”

“I knew,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar, sir,” she said mildly, and he smiled.

“How old are you Bailey?” he asked. She seemed incredibly young to him, but if she was a major, she had to have been in the marines a while.

“Thirty, sir.”

“I remember thirty,” he said. He and Is had been married three years then. It was the first time he brought up having children with her, the first time he heard her say she would never have them, ever. It was a fact she’d kept hidden all through the dating process. If he had known, would he still have married her? It was a question that kept him up at night, one of many.

“You can remember back that far, sir?” Bailey asked, and he laughed again.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to joke about my age, child. Besides, I’m still in my thirties.”

“Hanging on by your fingertips, sir,” she remarked, and he snickered.

“A young girl like you is bound to be bored out here,” he remarked.

“No, sir.”

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