“So,” I began as we both climbed into my SUV, the sports vehicle rocking back and forth as Frank’s comparably giant frame settled into the passenger seat next to me, “I have a question. And this may sound weird and totally out of it.”

“Shoot.”

“Where do I buy some heavy duty cleaning supplies?”

He burst out laughing.

“Stop!” I cried. “I’m serious! I’ve never really had to do this kind of thing.”

He kept laughing.

“Come on, Frank! You said you were going to help me! If I’d known you were just going to laugh at me, I wouldn’t have asked you to!”

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Asked? Sorry, Ashley, but that’s one of the worst descriptions I’ve ever heard of what you did. Requisitioned at gunpoint is more like it.”

“Oh, shut up and just tell me what store I should go to.”

He chuckled, shook his head. “Alright, what all do we need?”

“Like, everything. I have some paper towels and a vacuum.”

He whistled low. “Well, at least you got that. Hardware shop in town should have what we need. Brooms, all purpose cleaning supplies, that kind of thing.”

“Got it.” I started the car up and pulled away from the cabin, his silver Mustang disappearing in the rearview mirror as we headed back down the long, twisting driveway to the main road. “So, Frank, where’d you learn to speak Spanish like that? Back in Texas?”

“Got my basics, bare basics, like colors and that kind of thing. Like, Amarillo, the place people generously call a city that I grew up outside of, really means yellow in Spanish.”

“Yellow? That’s a weird name.”

“Not so much if you’ve been down there during the summer. Yellow grass, far as the eye could see. Makes sense to me, I reckon. Picked up some of it back home, but not enough to really get by on. Just enough to ask where the bathroom was because I’d had too much cervesa. When I got into the military, though, I was buddied up with this guy, Mendoza. He taught me a good chunk, then I picked up the rest along the way.”

We came to the end of the long driveway and pulled up a stop at the highway. “Speak any other languages?” I asked as I looked both ways.

No one was coming or going. This time of year, things were pretty much dead around here.

“Portuguese and a little Arabic. Some Farsi. Enough to get by when I was serving over in Iraq.”

I turned right, towards Enchanted Rock, gunning it to get me up to highway speed. “You were in the military?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wry, knowing smile, perfectly relaxed even though I was accelerating fast enough that my mother would have screamed in the passenger seat. “Four long years. Anything to get away from Amarillo.”

“Why not college or something?”

“How was I gonna pay? Loans?” He chuckled. “And just so I could sit at a desk for the rest of my life? No, ma’am, not the career path for me.”

I shrugged. “Well, I went to college. I guess it was fun. Partying, meeting new people, joining a sorority. I had a blast.”

“Believe me, there was plenty of partying when we were on leave. Put most college campuses to shame, I reckon, from the times I’ve been to keg parties. I dunno, I had a buddy who went to North Texas, down in a little town called Denton, and he’d tell me what he was learning about when I saw him on my couple leaves. None of it seemed worth thousands of dollars, especially when I could spend the time reading the same books while I was in the barracks at night. Way he talked made it seem like college was always just setting me up to either go to work at a university, or go to work for someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I like learning new things, but just didn’t see how it’d help me, that’s all.”

That was fair. I had no idea what college did for me, either. Of course, I didn’t do all that well. I spent more time partying and hanging out with friends than I did in class. And, just like everything else, my father had paid for it.

Geez. What had I done with those four years? Partied with the girls and slapped Frat guys when they got too handsy? Some of the girls just took the partying thing a little too far, and I was never completely down with that. Me? I’d had my college sweethearts, the guys I dated. None of them lasted after I graduated, of course.

I nodded. “Okay, I see your point,” I conceded. “What about the military? What was all that like? I’ve never really talked to anyone that signed up.”

He turned, a shocked look on his face. “Really? Never?”

“What? Is that weird?”

“Just reckoned, well, you gotta know somebody. Everybody knows somebody that’s been in, right?”

After just such a short amount of time knowing Frank, I was beginning to realize how much I’d missed out on by not knowing any of them. He was dependable, came running when he thought he was needed. I hadn’t ever known a man who’d be willing to run into a building like he had, gun drawn, looking to protect me.

For instance, if we’d been out in the woods and encountered a bear, he’d try to lead it away or wrestle it to the ground. Probably the second one.

Most of the other guys I knew? They’d probably run and try to push me to the dirt so I’d give them a head start.

I shook my head and smiled a little. “Most of my friends are like me, Frank. We all went to college. That’s what we were supposed to do.”

He snorted. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Most of the guys I knew who joined, joined up for the benefits or free college afterwards. Chance at a better life. Guess you guys didn’t really need the help.”

“So?” I pressed. “What was it like?”

“Pretty damned boring, to answer your question. Long, boring days and long, boring nights, punctuated by moments of extreme terror. Lots of sand, too, depending on where you’re stationed. Guess it wouldn’t too bad if you were in the Navy, though. For me, Iraq was dusty, sandy, and hot, and people shot at you. Most of the guys, they spoke to their families a couple times a week maybe. Got care packages from home that took six months to get there. That kind of thing.”

“What about you? Did you call back a lot?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t really have a family or a sweetheart or anything to talk to.”

“Well, what about now?” I asked.

He didn’t answer at first.

I realized as I sat there in the momentary silence that maybe he was thinking I’d asked if he had a girlfriend—a sweetheart like he said. That wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, of course!

But now that the question was out there, I kind of wanted to know the answer.

“Nope, not really. Just the guys. They’re what I got.”

“Been together long?” I asked teasingly.

He smiled. “Couple years. Peter came down and recruited me for the firm after a job down in Brazil. Sao Paulo. That’s where I picked up the Portuguese…”

After he trailed off, I glanced at him.

His eyes were focused outside the window, following a tiny cabin with a red Jeep Wrangler parked out in front as we drove by. At that moment, he turned back and saw that I had glanced at him. “One of the guys at work, that’s his Jeep.”

I realized then whose place it was. Jessica Long’s. That must have been Richard’s Wrangler, then, parked out her little place.

“Right,” I said. “That’s who I asked for the recommendation. How long have they been together?”

“About five or six months, I reckon. Seems right.”

“And they’re engaged already?” I asked. “Weird!”

He chuckled, shook his head. “People say that. But it ain’t all that strange if you know them the way I do.”

“True love, huh?” I joked.

“It’s something, alright.”

I wanted to ask him right then if he’d ever been in love, if he’d ever been hurt before. But I didn’t. It just seemed too personal a question to ask so soon after meeting him. Here it was, just barely past noon, and I’d just taken my case to him right after business opened.

“Is this what your job normally is?” I asked instead. “Driving around with young women, helping them clean up their messes?”

“Nah. Normally, it’s even less fun.”

“Whatever, Frank.”

He laughed. We fell into a comfortable silence, then, for the rest of the short drive into town.

We pulled back up Main, past the Curious Turtle with Jessica’s little Jetta out in front, and I followed Frank’s directions to the hardware store. I parked in one of the spaces at the side of the shop and we went inside.

Beside me, it was like Frank’s head was on a subtle swivel. He seemed to take everything in as we moved. Every car that moved on the street; every old, beat up truck parked beside us; every single one of the few pedestrians we passed. This wasn’t New York, or anything, but downtown Enchanted Rock still had some foot traffic.

Weirdest thing, though? As we were about to step inside, I swear he stopped and sniffed the air.

I turned and gave him a look, eyebrow raised.

“What?” he asked, innocently. “I like mountain air.”