Stars & Stripes

Ty hummed. “Cut my cast off.”



“You know I don’t want to do that. You’re taking advantage of the situation,” Zane grumbled, though there wasn’t any heat behind it. Would it be horrible of him to consider re-injuring Ty’s hand if it meant beating Mark and that asshole Stuart in this stupid competition?



Ty looked over his sunglasses at Zane. “Okay. But I can’t promise a win with only one hand. And what if all hell breaks loose? I’ll need both hands then.”



“Tell me now, no shit, that your hand’s okay.”



Ty laughed incredulously. “It’s broken. Of course it’s not okay.”



Zane glanced toward Mark and back. “No,” he said, setting his fingers on Ty’s cast. It was the most pitiful excuse for a cast he’d ever seen, covered with signatures, phone numbers, a knife wound, several places where Ty had tried to saw at it, and tiger bites. Dirty beyond all reason, and it didn’t smell like the most wonderful thing in the world. It was probably uncomfortable, too.



“It’s not worth it,” he said, trying to tell himself that as much as Ty. “Besides, if we win anyway, it’s that much worse for him to know he got beaten by a man with a broken hand.”



“If you say so, Quickdraw.”



Zane turned to look at him, watching him raptly as Ty took a step forward and waved a hand when they were announced as the winning team for that challenge.



As a group they moved on to the next round, Ty hummed under his breath, his elbow brushing Zane’s. Zane soon made out the Battle Hymn in the hum, and he groaned.



At the next station, a bowl of fruit sat on the table, and the same Marlin .44 Special was being reloaded. The judge began telling the shooters what they were supposed to be doing, and the instructions made it clear that Zane would be the one trying his hand at this one. The shooter would take three oranges from the bowl, toss them in the air, and shoot as many as he could before they hit the ground.



Ty leaned over to whisper in Zane’s ear. “That rifle weighs six pounds. No way I can swing it with my hand. This one’s all you, big boy.” He smacked Zane’s ass and turned to head for the crowd.



“Ty,” Zane hissed. Ty turned to look at him. “Make yourself scarce, huh? This is the perfect shot to claim a misfire into the crowd, know what I mean?”



Ty nodded, but then he sauntered over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Stuart’s teammate in the front row.



“Great,” Zane said under his breath. He headed up to the table with the other competitors. He was a good shot with a rifle, that wasn’t his concern. But he’d have preferred a practice run with this shot. He just hoped he didn’t drop the rifle.



He stopped at the table with the others, and someone bumped his shoulder. He looked up to see Mark grinning at him.



“I didn’t figure he’d be able to do this one with that cast,” Mark said. “When was the last time you fired a rifle?”



“It’s been a while.”



Mark clapped Zane’s shoulder, hard enough that Zane had to take a step to keep his balance. “Buck up, brother. Time for a lesson from the master.”



Zane glanced at Ty. This was a bad idea. He knew the game Ty was playing with their quarry, and he shouldn’t have encouraged it. Ty raised his chin and gave Zane a languid smile. He didn’t look worried.



Mark volunteered to go first. Zane couldn’t shake the tension as he waited, praying he was wrong about his brother-in-law. He knew what kind of shot Mark was. If he missed one of those oranges and it went anywhere near the crowd, it was a warning shot, loud and clear.



Mark chose three oranges from the bowl, picked up the firearm, and moved into place. When the judge blew the whistle, Mark tossed, flipped the rifle up from the crook of his arm, and took the shots, quickly pulling the lever between each one. Juice flew through the air as all three rotten oranges exploded.



Zane released a pent-up breath, but he couldn’t relax. Just because Mark had yet to make a move didn’t mean he wasn’t going to. The next two shooters hit two each, one man missed all three, and Stuart caught all three even though he tossed them a little too close to the edge of the crowd for Zane’s comfort. Then it was Zane’s turn. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at Ty, but he imagined he could feel Ty’s eyes on him.



“Nothing like taking shots at a couple fruits, huh Garrett?” Stuart hissed as he passed by him.



Zane narrowed his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait.



He settled the rifle in the crook of his arm, nodded to the judge, and chose his oranges. They gave under his fingers, enough that he almost laughed, and it helped dispel the nerves. Determined not to dwell on what he was doing as he headed toward the mark in the sand, Zane took a deep breath, exhaled, and tossed the fruit, pulling up the rifle and shooting.



Two oranges disintegrated in the air, and the third exploded just before it was about to hit the ground.



Zane blinked in shock as the crowd applauded. He handed the rifle back to the judge before walking over to Ty with a shrug.



“You sure as hell showed those oranges who was boss,” Ty said, though the pride in his voice was easy for Zane to hear.



Zane chuckled, relaxing even more. “Never mind that it’s been a few months since I even touched a rifle.”



“You’re so getting laid tonight.”



“Lucky me.”



The contests continued, each event getting more outlandish and difficult, each rife with an undercurrent of antagonism and threats. Ty had to fire a Colt revolver over his shoulder using a mirror, holding it with his left hand, to shoot the ace of spades out of a playing card. He was the only shooter to even nick the card, much less the spade, and he came in first. Zane did both knife-tossing contests, the first to hit a stationary target, the second to hit a target painted on a watermelon as it swung like a pendulum. He won both and caused quite a stir when he twirled the knife around his hand before giving it back to the judge.



With each show of their skill, Stuart looked more and more mutinous. Zane could feel in every fiber of his being that something was going to happen tonight. The only question was who would instigate it—Ty or Stuart?



As sunset encroached, Ty was left to handle the last event: the lasso.



“Goddammit, Zane, you should have let me throw the first knife!” Ty hissed when the event was revealed.



Zane couldn’t help but laugh. Ty could handle any weapon someone put in his hands and do it with competence, if not skill. A lasso was the last thing Zane had expected, but even if they came in second place in this event, they would still win the whole thing.



Ty was shaking his head, muttering under his breath as they watched Mark take his turn. Before Zane could quell the urge, he pulled his lover close to give him a very public kiss. It caused a few gasps and murmurs, and Zane could feel all those eyes on them. He didn’t care. Ty didn’t flail or tense up, and Zane felt him smiling against his lips.



“Even if we don’t win this,” Zane said, “thank you.”



Ty nodded, lingering just long enough to make Zane’s heart beat faster. Then the judge called for the last contestant to take his turn, and Ty gave Zane one last glance and a smile before stepping out into the cleared arena. There were three targets, and the closer he came to the smallest target, the higher his points. The most he could get was six, and they only needed one point to beat Mark and Jamie.



Zane laughed heartily as Ty tried to get the rope settled in his left hand. He might have been able to handle the thick, heavy rope with both hands, but with his dominant hand in a cast, it was just too much for him.



The crowd began to buzz, ripples of laughter going through it.



“If I was a rodeo clown, you’d all be gored to death,” Ty said as he finally got the rope in place.



There was more laughter, and Zane realized he was grinning from ear to ear as he watched his lover make a spectacle of himself.



When Ty got the rope going in circles over his head, Zane thought his partner might actually have paid attention when he’d tried to teach him. He had good form, and the rope was swinging like it needed to. But then Ty released the lasso too early, and the toss came sailing toward Zane and the other contestants instead of the targets.



Stuart didn’t have time to dodge it; he just stood there as the rope dropped around his shoulders and Ty pulled it tight. He stumbled forward, arms trapped at his sides as the crowd burst into raucous laughter and applause.



“Sorry!” Ty said with a wave of his hand that pulled the lasso tighter.



“What the hell are you doing!” Stuart bawled. “You fucking moron!”



Ty pulled him forward again, and Zane could only shake his head as he watched, stunned by his partner’s gall.



Ty continued to apologize profusely, making a show of being a bumbling drunken idiot, and Stuart kept up a litany of cursing and accusations as Ty inexplicably managed to wrap him up even more instead of helping him out of the ropes.



“Wow, these things are really complicated, aren’t they?” Ty said over the raucous laughter of the crowd. Stuart lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. Ty stood over him. “How do you make it let go?”



Stuart’s friends came over to help, strong-arming Ty out of the way. He held up both hands and took a few steps back, the picture of innocence.



“You’re insane,” Zane said as soon as he drew close. Ty was grinning, his eyes sparkling in the dying sunlight as they watched Stuart struggle to get loose.



“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said, as gleeful as a schoolboy who’d just caught a frog.



“And?”



Ty looked Zane up and down, as if sizing him up, then he gave a lecherous grin. “You think we could take one of those lassos home with us?”



“Ty, focus!”



Ty grinned. “We got him.”



“You’re sure?”



“Damn sure.”



Mark and Jamie were declared the winners amidst a round of polite applause as Ty and Zane discussed it. When Zane was declared the individual winner of the event, he looked around in surprise as everyone cheered.



“Nicely done, Big Iron,” Ty said to him.



Zane looked at him suspiciously as Ty patted him on the shoulder. If Ty had made that lasso toss, he would have won.



Harrison came up to smack each of them on the back. “Well, if it ain’t Pancho and Lefty. Looks like you caught you one,” he said to Ty with a big grin. He put his arm around Zane’s shoulder. “That was a mighty fine show you put on. Boy, I had no idea you could throw a knife like that.”



Zane felt himself blushing. Ty patted him on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “I’m going to go have a discussion with the sheriff,” he said, then left Zane alone with his father.



“I guess . . . we have a lot of catching up to do,” Zane said with a hopeful smile.



“You bet your ass we do.”



“Have you talked to Mother?”



Harrison’s jaw tightened and his eyes grew harder. He nodded curtly. “If she intends to make me choose between my wife and my son, she’s got a surprise coming. I hope you and your boy decide to come down more often.” Harrison threw a pointed look at Ty, who had melted into the crowd, shaking hands, laughing with strangers. He’d been accepted for the most part, whether by his own doing or Harrison’s influence, Zane didn’t know. Zane’s mother could sign all the legal documents she wanted; it wasn’t going to pierce through Zane’s armor now.



Zane nodded, throat tightening. “I think we’ll be able to manage that.”



Harrison patted him on the cheek. “Did you catch him?”



“Ty claims he has proof enough to get the sheriff. That’s what he’s doing now.”



“Let’s hope he’s right. Why do you look worried?”



Zane took a deep breath. “We think Mark’s involved.”



Harrison inhaled sharply. “I hope you’re wrong on that one, son.”



“Me too.”



Zane remained there as his father walked away, the feeling of warmth and acceptance spreading deeper into him. His mother and their suspicions of Mark were a small blight on an otherwise bright day. He set off into the crowd to find Ty again, feeling somehow that if it weren’t for Ty, he would never have come home, and he would have drifted through life alone until it killed him. Ty had given him a new home, and then shown him he still had his old one.



He was still musing over the twists and turns of life when a commotion broke out ahead of him. He pushed through the crowd to see what was going on, and somehow he wasn’t surprised to see Ty in the thick of it. Ty stood with the sheriff and two of his deputies, facing Stuart and his three friends. Stuart was in Ty’s face as the crowd cleared for them.



“You accusing me of something, boy?” Stuart was saying as Zane came up on them.



“I’m saying I know where you got that limp,” Ty said.



Stuart puffed up his chest like he was trying for courage as he glared up at Ty. Both deputies put their hands on their firearms, ready for a show of force.



Everyone and his brother was armed, and the tension was gathering in the air.



Zane stepped forward, standing behind Ty and the sheriff. The others joined him, Cody, Mark, and Joe finding their way into the clearing. Zane put Mark to his side, not allowing his brother-in-law to be behind him.



“You think you know something about me? Go ahead and say it!” Stuart shouted.



“You’ve been poaching tigers,” Ty said, as calm as the breeze. “You’re running something out there, and you shot me in the chest with a dart that damn near killed me.”



“You got no proof. Sheriff, this is ridiculous. You gonna let this queer come in here and tell you what to do?”