Stars & Stripes

“Don’t start,” Zane growled.



Deuce glanced between them. “Well, I’m here if you need to talk.”



“Thanks, Deuce.”



“And if you need it, I’ve got more goodies in my doctor bag.”



Ty smirked. “Deacon, go away.”



“All right, Uptight. Night, you two. Sleep well,” he added, then turned and shut the door behind him.



Ty sat on the edge of the bed again, his chest still tight. He’d always been the role model in his generation of Grady kids, and ever since he’d been old enough to understand what responsibility was, his greatest fear was that he’d let one of them down. To see the sincerity in his brother’s eyes when he’d told him he was proud of him soothed Ty’s soul in a way not many other things could.



“Your brother’s a latent stoner, isn’t he?” Zane asked fondly.



“I don’t think there’s anything latent about it.”



Zane laughed and scooted down in the bed, pulling on Ty’s arm as he went. “Come here.”



Ty lay down with him, curling around him and settling his head on Zane’s shoulder. He’d grown comfortable with the opportunities he had to do this, to lean on Zane both physically and emotionally. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with the fact that it didn’t make him weak. When Zane wrapped his arms around him, it felt right.



“I’m proud of you too, Beaumont.”



The next morning was a little tense, to say the least, but better than Ty had expected under the circumstances. Breakfast started out stilted and awkward, but Deuce kept a conversation going with Zane about motorcycles, and Ty eventually got Mara to start rambling about the plans for the Bluefield Fourth of July parade. Then they all moved to the living room with coffee and homemade sweet rolls. It was the general consensus that, with Earl’s impressive black eye and Ty’s broken hand, they could skip church.



Deuce took the seat next to Zane on the couch, so Ty sat down on the floor between their feet as the conversation strengthened on the current baseball standings. Earl and Chester both were die-hard Braves fans just like Ty, but Deuce had jumped ship and started pulling for his hometown Phillies several years back. It made for a lively discussion when Deuce started gloating.



Finally the idle talk came around to one of the many subjects Ty had been dreading.



“I do have one question for you two,” Earl said.



“Just one?” Ty asked, though his heart had started racing. He glanced furtively over his shoulder at Zane. His lover seemed relaxed, but Ty knew that Zane was a lit fuse beneath the surface. Zane shrugged.



“When you were here last, Zane, you were wearing a wedding band,” Earl said, frowning at him.



“That’s right.”



Earl looked from Zane to Ty, raising an eyebrow.



“My wife died in a car accident five years before I met Ty.”



Earl nodded, watching Zane with what might have passed for sympathy.



“And you still wore your ring? Our condolences, Zane dear, that must have been hard on you,” Mara offered.



Zane smiled. “Yes, ma’am. It was.”



Ty knew Zane would never admit how hard. Becky’s death had been the catalyst that threw Zane into both alcohol and drugs, problems he would struggle with for the rest of his life.



That, coupled with the fact that Becky’s memory was one of the most terrifying things Ty associated with Zane, made him shift uneasily on the floor. He would have liked to derail the conversation, but he couldn’t figure out how. Zane was able to talk about Becky more easily than he used to, though it was still rare, and he was definitely more comfortable with it than Ty was. For Ty, it hit on the one major insecurity he still carried with him: you couldn’t compete with a ghost any more than you could run away from one.



“Losing hits a man hard,” Chester said.



Ty closed his eyes and sighed. He was going to duct tape his grandfather’s mouth closed before this visit was over. He opened his eyes when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder: Zane’s fingers, resting there.



“Yes, it does,” Zane agreed, squeezing Ty’s shoulder once before pulling away. “Ty saved me.”



Ty stared at him, his heart racing.



He finally had to force himself to look away. He met his father’s eyes. Earl gave an apologetic tip of his chin.



Zane’s knee rapped against Ty’s shoulder. When Ty looked up at Zane, Zane’s eyes were focused on him. He rested his cast on Zane’s leg and leaned against the couch, trying to come to terms with the fact that they no longer had to hide from his family. It was freeing, but it also felt like another shoe was preparing to drop somewhere.



“Well, I just have to say it, and I know it’ll embarrass you,” Mara announced, “but you two are adorable together.”



Ty heard a choked laugh from behind him as he blinked at his mother. True to form, he felt himself blushing.



Earl was smiling as he leaned back on the loveseat.



“That’s a word I would never have chosen to describe Ty,” Zane said, practically snickering.



“Well, you didn’t raise him. He was cute once. One day I’ll show you the picture books.”



“Ma, please,” Ty begged, beginning to laugh as Deuce cackled from his spot on the other end of the couch. Ty glanced at him, narrowing his eyes. “How’s Livi and the baby?”



“Oh, nicely played.”



Ty shrugged.



“Livi is as happy as she can be when she’s not puking her brains out. Her dad hates me, but her mom keeps sending us baby boutique catalogues.”



“Have you found out if it’s a boy or girl yet?” Mara asked.



Deuce shook his head.



“Are you going to?”



“Livi wants to know so we can decorate. She wants to continue the tradition of the names, though. She thinks it’s the greatest thing ever.”



“Really?” Ty blurted, and Deuce laughed and nodded.



“Is that just the boys?” Zane asked.



“Yeah, the first boys in the family get their maternal grandmother’s maiden names, the second get their paternal grandmother’s. Then it gets convoluted,” Deuce said with a smirk. “Dad’s first name is Antrim. Grandpa’s is actually Chester.”



“Fascinating,” Zane said.



“So, if you have a boy, what’s his name going to be?” Ty asked, trying to keep any opinion of the matter out of his voice.



“Rigsdale.”



“Oh God, Deacon,” Ty groaned before he could stop himself.



“I know. I’m praying for a girl.”



“Good luck with that,” Zane said half under his breath, then flinched and pulled his phone from his pocket to look at the display.



Ty cleared his throat. “Who wants some pie?” he asked as he pushed himself up off the floor.



“Yeah, me,” Zane answered as he stood and paced toward the front door, answering the call. “Hey. Everything okay?”



Ty glanced back at him as he made his way toward the kitchen. He assumed it was Zane’s sister; she was the only person Zane ever used that voice with. He slowed when Zane stopped mid-stride, hand out to open the door, shoulders snapping back. “What? Where is he?” Judging by his tone, something was very wrong. Zane listened silently, the frown on his face deepening. “And no one was with him?”



Ty watched him, pie and baby names and everything else forgotten.



“I’ll be on a plane as soon as I can. I’ll text you my flight information. Have Manuel pick me up at the airport.” Zane slid the phone back into his pocket. When he turned back to see all the Gradys watching him, he froze.



When he didn’t speak, Ty spread his hands out. “What happened?”



Zane looked at him and swallowed. “My dad’s been shot.”



“Oh my gracious,” Mara exclaimed.



“You’re going down there?”



Zane nodded.



“I’m going with you.”



“Ty.”



Earl was already heading for the kitchen. “I’ll call Jim, see if he can get one of his boys to meet you with a Sheriff’s car. Get you to the airport faster.”



Zane stared at Ty, dumbstruck and distressed. He no longer even tried to hide behind that mask he’d once used.



“I’m going with you.”



“How?” Zane asked, sounding defeated. “You can’t get off work without telling them why.”



Ty gritted his teeth, but Zane was right. He would never be given time off work for his partner’s family emergency, especially since he was already pretty far into his personal days.



Zane took a deep breath. Ty reached up to hug him, and Zane rested his forehead on Ty’s shoulder.



“It’ll be okay.”



Chapter 3



“What interest does the FBI have in this case?”



“None,” Zane answered. He was sitting in the double oven that served as the sheriff’s outpost for the area ranches, fighting the urge to yank his tie off and use it to wipe away the sweat running down the center of his back. The old A/C unit in the window of the trailer wasn’t doing anything to fend off the summer temperatures of Texas.



The sheriff cocked his head, and Zane leaned forward to speak in lower tones. “Harrison Garrett is my father. I’m not here in any official capacity; I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”



“You’re one of those Garretts?” the sheriff asked, and Zane could see the man’s defenses lowering.



“That’s right.”



Zane produced his identification again. The sheriff gave it another once over, taking his time with it. He nodded and held up a thin file, then set it in front of Zane. “That’s all I got to give you.”



Zane paged through the file, distraught by the lack of information.



“I can save you some time.”



Zane glanced up at him and nodded.



“This is the fifth time your daddy’s found evidence of trespassers on the ranch. Same place every time. We don’t know what they’re doing, or why they’re doing it. There’s nothing out there.”



“Why do you think the encounter was violent this time and not ever before?” Zane asked. He pushed the file into his laptop case.



“Well, this was the first time he’d caught them in action. Before, it was always after the fact. Harrison came across them, challenged them, and they fired at him. He was hit, but managed to get away. Tied himself to the saddle in case he passed out before his horse could make it back to the big house.”



Zane couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the account. His dad was a hard man. Zane wouldn’t want to meet up with him on the open plains, that was for sure.



“What about the scene itself?”



The sheriff winced. “Not much to it. Two days from everything. Ground’s been baked harder than cement. Summer rain washed away what was left. I got some good trackers here, but there was nothing to find.”



Zane nodded. He knew a pretty good tracker himself. Maybe he could convince his boss to allow Ty to come out here and help him.



He kind of doubted it.



“And there’s nothing local going on? Nothing your guys have caught wind of?”



“Couple brawls between the ranch hands at the establishments. Couple boys with more money than they should have. Their names are in that file, but it’s nothing a little backdoor gambling won’t explain.”



Zane thanked the sheriff, shaking his hand before retreating from the stifling trailer and into the open air. The sun was blazing down, making the blacktop appear to waver. But it felt cooler out here than it had in there. He hurried to the truck, one of the ranch’s fleet, and fumbled to get the engine running before he burst into flames.



He sat in the cab, waiting for the air to kick in and ruminating over what he’d just learned. There was no rhyme or reason to it. He’d looked at a map of the area where his dad had encountered the trespassers, and it was near nothing but an old pump house. The underground river that had once fed the spring had long since changed its course, making the area just another barren corner of the massive ranch that served no purpose but as a riding trail for visitors.



Zane got the truck moving, heading back to the ranch and the guesthouse he had claimed as his while there. After a shower to wipe away the dust and massive, massive amounts of dried sweat, he settled at the kitchen table and pulled out his cell phone to check the time. Nine at night—still early enough to phone Ty without waking him.



He hadn’t been diligent with keeping in touch, and Ty had sent text messages to check on him rather than risk calling at an inopportune time.



Zane found that he couldn’t wait to hear Ty’s rumbling, easy voice in his ear. He’d been in Texas three days, and he was starting to feel almost homesick. He couldn’t recall feeling like that before, even as a child.



For the first time, he had a home he actually wanted to call home. The thought made him both ecstatic and melancholy.



He pulled up Ty’s number and hit the button. When Ty answered, it sounded almost like a pair of plastic Solo cups cartwheeling down stairs. A moment of background noise later, Ty answered with a breathless, “This is Special Agent Grady, hang up and call 911 if this is an emergency.”



Zane chuckled. Apparently, Ty hadn’t even been able to look at the display to see Zane’s name.



There were a few banging sounds and another tumble of plastic, then a muttered oath from Ty. Again, he spoke into the phone. “One second.”



In the background was a piercing shriek, then a round of raucous laughter, and another woman’s scream to top it all off. Ty, sounding far away, like he was holding the phone near his hip, shouted, “Just let me shoot it!”