Stars & Stripes

“Not when I’m the one making them.”



“How many horse jokes do you have stored up?”



“So many.”



“Christ.” Zane scrubbed one hand through his hair before turning to look down the dirt road that led up to the house and barns.



“You make me ride a horse, you get unbridled puns.”



“That’s clever, I approve.”



“Thank you.” Ty said. He realized Zane was distracted, though, so he shielded his eyes to look in the same direction.



Dust started billowing up the road. Zane turned his head toward the barn. “Dad, they’re here!” he yelled out as a truck drove into view, followed by two others.



“Who’s what now?” Ty asked.



“Dad told me while you were gone. He asked some of the family to go riding with us as well as some of the boys from the ranch.” He shifted his weight as the trucks parked around the front yard. It was a nervous habit he showed occasionally, and it made Ty anxious too.



“Who?”



“I’m not sure. If there are problems, I’ll let you know.”



“Yeah, send up a smoke signal.”



“Give me one of those cigars and I will.”



“You want one?”



“Yeah, I do.”



Ty patted his pockets like he was looking for another, then shook his head sadly. “Aw, I’m all out.”



“You’re an ass,” Zane whispered, though the words were uttered fondly.



Car doors opened and closed, and then several men ambled up to them, giving Zane hugs and handshakes.



“This is my partner, Ty Grady,” Zane said to the group of ranch hands and family. “I’m not even going to try to individually introduce you; you’ll have to do it yourselves.”



The others gave Ty sporadic greetings. He didn’t catch many of their names, but he saw Cody and Joe and nodded at them.



Ty caught wisps of the conversation as they asked Zane questions. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, looking away so no one would notice him smiling. They were asking about research and desk work. These people had no idea who or what Zane was.



“C’mon, buddy,” Joe said as he broke away from the little group and came toward Ty, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Let’s find us some horses.”



Ty muttered as he was dragged along.



“How long have you been with Z, Ty?” a ranch hand named Ronnie asked as they all walked toward the barn.



“Going on about nine or ten months now.”



“Well, you won’t know him much, then,” Ronnie said. “So we can tell you all the stories he wouldn’t want you to hear.”



Zane’s head snapped around. “Now, now, be nice.”



“Oh, yeah,” a man named Jamie said, thumping Zane’s right arm. Ty thought he’d heard that this was Zane’s only cousin. “We can share the dirt.”



“That won’t be necessary,” Ty said, voice flat. “My opinion of Zane can’t get much lower if he makes me ride a horse.”



Zane glared at him before turning to lead the way through the barn, where several horses were saddled and ready to go.



“’Bout time,” Harrison said. He and an older gentleman were already astride their horses.



“Sorry, Uncle Harrison, we were just getting reacquainted with Z,” Jamie said.



Ty gave them a distraught glance. “Is there anything I can do to get out of riding this animal?”



Harrison rode up beside him and clapped him on the back like he thought he was joking.



Zane peered at him over the back of one of the horses. “You’re the best tracker we have, Ty. We need you.”



Ty grunted and looked at the horse he’d be saddled with for the afternoon. It was a large bay gelding, which for Ty translated to “big-ass brown horse.” The horse eyed him back. They were heading out to the site of the shooting, hoping to find some clue as to what had happened. And Zane was right, as usual. They needed a tracker.



“What do you mean, he’s the best tracker?” Ronnie asked. “He’s a city boy, can’t even ride a horse.”



Zane shook his head, grinning. “You won’t be singing that same tune in a few hours. Ty can track anything, anywhere.”



Ty couldn’t help but smile. The pride in Zane’s voice filled him with emotions he didn’t normally allow himself to linger on for fear of growing overly cocky.



“Isn’t there access from the road?” Ty asked in a last-ditch effort to save his ass.



“This way’s cleaner on the crime scene.”



“Dammit.”



Zane chuckled.



“You sure you’re not going to break that horse, Garrett?” Ty asked his evil partner. They were large horses, obviously good stock, but Ty couldn’t imagine anything but an elephant carrying a man of Zane’s size over long distances without just snapping in two. Zane was 6’5”, 225 pounds. Ty almost felt sorry for his horse.



Zane grinned, and his answer was pitched low. “He’s a big boy, he can take it. Can you?”



Ty clucked his tongue and narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Zane was propositioning him or insulting him. Possibly both.



Annie and Mark joined them as they were checking their supplies. They formed a formidable group: ten riders, all well-armed. The others mounted around them, but Zane held back as the rest moved away from the stables.



“You okay to mount?” he asked Ty.



“Next time you ask me that, you better be naked.” Ty gripped the pommel of the saddle with his good hand and pulled himself up in the stirrup. The animal took a few steps to the side, and Ty cussed as he held on for dear life. As soon as he was able, he pulled himself into the saddle and wrapped the reins around his palm, then slid his cast between the buttons of his shirt to keep himself from trying to use his broken hand.



He looked down at Zane and shook his head. “I want you to put ‘He didn’t want to ride the damn horse’ on my tombstone.”



“Noted,” Zane said with a grin. “You did okay.”



Ty nodded. He and his family had sometimes ridden horses along the mountain trails back home when he’d been younger. He’d been shitty at it then, too. He just hated them. Hated them as much as they hated him. And horses meant for mountain trails were small and hardy, easier to handle. Nothing like these monsters. These were American Quarter Horses, strong and stocky, built for working on ranches. This one was about sixty-four inches at his withers, where the neck met the back.



Ty looked down at the ground. “It’s getting off the damn thing that might get interesting.”



Zane patted his thigh. “You’ll do fine.” Then he moved to his own horse and swung fluidly into the saddle. Ty wasn’t afraid to admire him. “Goddamn, Zane.”



“What?”



“How is Texas making you so freaking hot?”



Zane laughed heartily. “Must be the horse smell.”



Ty grunted. Zane winked at him. “Here we go—the rocky expanse, salt flats, and rattlesnakes, dead ahead.”



Ty urged his horse to follow Zane’s. “What could I have possibly been thinking, never visiting Texas before now?”



“The stars at night are big and bright, deep in the heart of Texas,” Zane sang.



“I will knock you off that glue stick.”



Zane chuckled, then sang under his breath, “I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name . . .”



“Garrett,” Ty growled.



Zane smiled fondly. “You should sing for us. I can teach you a trail song.”



“I wouldn’t mind doing that if I were riding an ATV.” Ty shifted in the saddle. It was an odd feeling, and a precarious one, not being able to guide or hold on with both hands. But he didn’t trust his hurt fingers to have any strength in them. So he was forced to use his knees, which he thought was the way it was done anyway. Still, he was not liking it.



His horse sidestepped and snorted. “Yeah? Well, the feeling’s mutual,” Ty said loudly.



“The horse doesn’t like you because you won’t relax.”



“You know why it doesn’t like me? Because horses never like me.” Ty took his hat off and set it on the horn, then pulled a red buff out of his back pocket and fixed it onto his head, arranging it like a balaclava to protect his neck and face from the elements. Then he set his hat on top of it, pulling at the brim with the tips of his sore fingers so it would shade more of his face.



He almost lost his balance before he was able to grab the horn again. The horse tossed his head, whinnying.



“He’s laughing at me, Zane.”



“He’s not the only one.”



“Shut up.” Ty nodded at the riders ahead of them. “You want to catch up to them?”



“Yeah, we should. Jamie will rag the hell out of me if he thinks I can’t ride anymore.”



“Blame it on me,” Ty offered. He clucked his tongue at the horse and urged it into a canter.



“I blame everything on you.”



Their horses slowed as they came alongside the others, and Harrison turned to look over his shoulder at them. “You okay back there, Ty?”



“Yes, sir,” Ty said, withholding the smart-ass remark he’d been about to add. He grumbled and pushed his broken hand farther under his shirt as he fought the urge to use it.



Zane grinned crookedly at him.



“You don’t look too happy to be here,” Cody said, leaning to catch Ty’s attention.



“I can think of at least ten things I’d rather die doing.”



Cody grinned.



“You really as good a tracker as Zane thinks?” Ronnie asked from Ty’s other side.



“I guess we’ll see.” Ty loved that Zane had bragged about his skills, but he also hated it. He would much rather be underestimated. He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. “Come on, Elmer,” he said to his horse. “Let’s find a nice prickly cactus you can toss me into.”



The group rode an hour through the flats and dry hills, admiring the scenery and talking. Zane sensed an undercurrent of tension, though. Everyone had a rifle strapped to their saddle, and Zane and Ty weren’t the only ones carrying knives and pistols.



When Harrison called a halt for a brief lunch, Zane was more relieved than he would’ve cared to admit. It had been too long since he’d ridden. He dismounted and watched Joe, Cody, and Ty bring up the rear to join them. Ty’s horse was shying to the side, and Ty was cursing emphatically. For years Zane had dreaded coming to Texas so much that he’d forgotten all the things he loved about it. Ty was somehow reminding him with every word of complaint and unfortunate accident.



He walked over and caught the reins on Ty’s horse. “You doing okay?”



Ty leaned over the horn, wincing and shaking his head.



Zane offered his hand, trying not to laugh. “Need help?”



“Kiss my ass, Garrett.”



The dust wafted up around them when Ty’s feet hit the ground. Even behind the sunglasses, Zane knew Ty was glaring at him. He would have given anything to be able to drag Ty behind a tree.



Instead, he slid his hand over Ty’s hip and into his back pocket, pulling him closer. He had to take his hat off to steal a kiss.



Ty smiled against his lips, though when he pulled away, Ty was glaring at him over the top of his sunglasses. “My ass hurts, Garrett.”



“Didn’t we have this conversation when we first met?”



“Have we had the ‘I hate you’ conversation lately? I’d like to have that one again. Real soon.”



“Play nice, boys,” Harrison said as he stopped by to take the reins.



“We’re not fighting,” Zane said.



“Yes, we are,” Ty sing-songed.



“I swear, you two . . .” Harrison pulled the soft cooler off the side of the saddle. “Here you go, son. Don’t want to forget your lunch.”



“Yeah,” Zane said darkly, eyes on Ty. “Don’t want you swooning from hunger later.”



“I’ll show you swooning.”



Harrison took the reins and led the horses away. Zane brushed against Ty’s arm, pausing to whisper, “My ass hurts, too.”



“Good.”



Zane popped him in the chest with his knuckles and kept walking, cooler dangling from his hand. At least Ty seemed in decent humor. But then, Zane had noticed that Ty was often in his best moods in the face of adversity, whether physical discomfort or outright danger. He complained, sure, but often in a way that was amusing and managed to keep up the morale of others. No wonder he had thrived on a Recon team.



As Ty strolled away, the backdrop of the Hill Country offered a glimpse of Afghanistan behind a Marine. Zane’s active imagination could see it, and it brought up questions he’d been spending the last few months trying not to ask.



Why had Ty left the Marines? He’d admitted to receiving a substantial payoff, but he hadn’t offered to explain and Zane had decided it wasn’t worth the fight to find out then. Every time he’d thought about asking since, he’d found himself thinking of Ty in his dress blues, the hint of melancholy behind his eyes when he wore them, and he let it go.



There were some sore points you just didn’t poke. Ty stayed away from Zane’s, and Zane gave him the same courtesy. He couldn’t help feeling that Ty’s secrets were darker than Ty let on.



The other guys had taken up seats on some low rocks under the shade of a copse of trees and started unpacking their lunches, and Ty wandered over to sit between Joe and Cody, making a show of being sore and stiff. Zane knew he was trying to glean more information from the ranch hands, so he let him go alone. They laughed at him as he flopped down.