Authors: The Sextet
metal, out came a long silver chain. Jen caught it and looped the chain
over her spread fingers. At the bottom dangled a rectangular metal tag
between two silver medallions of some sort.
“We, umm, kinda borrowed one of your old dog tags.” Wil’s grin
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took on a decidedly sheepish look.
She’d worn them on a daily basis until last year. The hospital here
at Bragg had been her last duty station.
“Borrowed, huh?” She flipped over one of the medallions.
“Michael, God’s own warrior.” The back bore yesterday’s date and
the simple inscription, “Love, Wil.” The other medallion was its twin
but for the, “Love, Trey.” She looked up at the guys.
Is this a
goodbye? Or something else?
“You can take the tag off the chain if you want, but we kinda
figured…” Wil stood up and walked over to the counter, leaning back
against it.
Jen slid off of Trey’s lap and stepped over to Wil before placing a
hand on his shoulder. “Figured what, Wil?”
“That you’d see it as…see us as…Damn it, Trey, you’re better at
this shit than I am. You tell her.”
She readied herself for the worst. “Just tell me straight out.”
“We thought you might see it as meaning how it was us, all three
of us. Together.” Trey tipped his chair back, gaze riveted on his mug.
“A keepsake to remember last night?”
“Yes, and more.” Trey brought the chair back down onto all four
feet, thumped his hands against the table, and popped up out of the
seat. “Don’t be so frigging dense, Jen.”
“I’m not, Trey.” She reached out and caught his wrist. “This is
important. Please, spell it out for me, guys.”
“This has turned into something other than a standard-issue
relationship. And we thought we’d like to see where it goes.”
“Seriously?” She looked over to where Wil stood at the sink.
“You agree?”
He nodded. “You get it, Jen. Get us. Not just what we do, but
what we are. And without all the awe and fuss.”
She felt Wil move behind her and reach around. He peeled open
her hand and took the necklace. While it dangled before her eyes. He
undid the clasp and eased it back until the medallions and dog tag lay
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against her skin. “All you have to do is tell me to fasten it.”
From across the table, Trey’s eyes met hers. “Do you dare,
Jennifer? You asked for one night. We’re offering you the chance to
discover more. Much more. Are you game to see where we can take
this?”
Without hesitation, Jen reached back and lifted her hair. “Fasten
it.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Growing up surrounded by military men, it's no wonder Annie
likes to feature them in her writing. There is just something about
those self-assurred, alpha males, and the equally strong women who
can walk beside them that makes for a wonderful story. Their
influence was a big part of her decision to serve as a Dept of Army,
Civilian Nurse where she spent 3 years living in Europe. Her circle of
friends include Army and Marine Corps Snipers, Rangers, SEALs and
Green Berets who help give her military characters the realism
readers expect.
As a part of an 18th century living history group, Annie is also a
part of an all female cannon crew. She'll shoot anything from the field
piece to her modern firearms and recently got to fire a .50 cal
military-style sniper riifle. In contrast, she is a self professed "foodie"
and would love to sit next to Paula Deen at dinner. Annie and her
husband live in central Indiana.
STUDS IN STETSONS
Niki Hayes
DEDICATION
To the ladies of The Sextet who believed in me enough to be part
of this wonderful group and who have taught me so much in such a
short time.
And to my MD friends who got me started on my writing journey.
Especially Mich and Terry and their hot writing challenges…
my eyes
are now open when I write.
Chapter 1
“Look, Samantha, if you want to keep your job, you’ll write the
article! You’ve got two weeks.” A resounding click ended the tirade.
“Nice to talk with you, too, Lou.” She glared at the phone in her
hand. “Thanks,
Lou
. You’re so right,
Lou
. A story about cowboys will be so very interesting,
Lou
. I’ll get right on it,
Lou
.
Ugh!” Falling back onto the fluffy down comforter, she closed her eyes, wondering
how she was going to pull this off.
An article about cowboys. Really?
How had she gotten to this point—writing crappy articles for
Lifestyles Today
?
Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” interrupted her self-imposed
breakdown when her cell phone rang. A glance at the caller ID
reminded her that work wasn’t the only thing in her life that sucked.
Samantha’s stomach turned as images of David, her ex-boyfriend,
doing his assistant Buffy invaded her thoughts. Hitting the silence
button, she closed her eyes as her arm fell over her pounding head.
What’s next? Locusts…frogs…plague…?
She sighed.
My life is such a
mess.
How could he even think I’d take him back?
The pain of his betrayal made her chest tighten and a knot form in her throat.
How
could he say he loves me and then do this?
Tears slid down her face as her phone rang again. She rolled onto her side, crying until the
room went silent. Wiping at her tears, she drew in a ragged breath and
reached for her phone to see who’d called. David again.
Maybe
leaving town to work on this article is a good idea after all.
With another heavy sigh, Sam stood up, walked into her office,
and sat down at her desk. For a few moments, she held her head in her
hands while her computer stirred to life. When the screen lit up with a
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picture of her and David on the Fourth of July, her stomach churned.
Running to the bathroom, she lunged for the toilet. After the spasms
of nausea passed, she fell to the floor, grabbed the towel from the rod,
and rested her head on her knees.
Tears filled her eyes again.
Bastard.
She thought back to that special weekend. They’d spent the
holiday on the Gulf Shores, hanging out on the beach and watching
the fireworks over the ocean. He’d held her in his arms, told her how
much he loved her, then made love to her like there was no tomorrow.
A sob escaped her lips as she cried harder—finally letting loose the
emotions she’d tried to hide.
When the tears finally subsided, she wasn’t sure how long she’d
been in her bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and
studied herself in the mirror. Seeing her red eyes caused anger to stir
in her belly again. “No way will I let him do this to me.” She let out a
shaky breath and turned with determination back toward her office.
Sitting down at the computer, she quickly changed the
background to a picture of her parents’ yellow Lab sniffing the Black-
eyed Susans in her mother’s garden. Then, with firm determination,
she began searching the Internet for ranches she might be able to visit
to research her story. After a few hours and several phone calls, she
found a ranch near El Paso that was willing to allow her to stay in a
guest room and interview the cowboys who worked on the property.
Sitting back in her chair, she picked up her cell phone. The
message icon flashed on the screen, daring her to read the text
messages from David.
Samantha, please call and talk to me. It’s not what you think.
“‘Course it wasn’t.” She snorted a laugh as she rolled her eyes.
She and I are just friends. I know you’re upset, but please call
me…
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“Fat chance,” she mumbled.
I realize you’re hurt, but we need to talk. I’ll be by tomorrow
afternoon.
“Ha!”
Have fun knocking—I’ll be long gone by then.
* * * *
In the morning, Sam called her mom and told her she was leaving
for an assignment. After avoiding the topic of David, she ended the
awkward conversation, loaded her SUV, and was on the road to El
Paso, hoping to put her troubles behind her.
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Chapter 2
Samantha’s head bounced in rhythm to Bon Jovi’s
Greatest Hits
as she drove down the interstate with the AC blasting to combat the
one-hundred-degree heat. She wasn’t sure what to expect at
Flannery’s Ranch. After speaking to a woman named Tammy Jo who
promised her a chance to learn about ranching and cowboy lifestyles,
she was grateful for the chance to write her article. She was even
happier about the escape from her life. Spotting her exit, she drove
down the ramp and began the long drive to the middle of nowhere.
Passing through a few small towns, she saw no tall glass buildings
and no big chain stores, only mountains off in the distance and lots of
dry, sparse land.
Spotting the tall rock wall on the south side of the road that
Tammy Jo told her to look for, Sam slowed her SUV. Another mile or
so down the road, the wall ended, allowing her to drive in. There was
decorative ironwork above the drive that connected the two sides of
the walls. “Flannery Ranch” was written in big, fancy script letters.
Continuing down the drive, the tires rumbled over a bridge made of
metal pipes.
With the buildings coming into view, Sam slowed, coming to a
stop as she took in the scene in front of her.
I think I just found the set
for the movie City Slickers.
While the large adobe hacienda in front of her appeared modern, the smaller outbuildings to the side were old
and worn-down. Wooden fencing had been set up around an old barn
while another fence, over to the side, would probably fall down with a
strong wind.
What have I gotten myself into?
Shaking her head, she punched the gas pedal and continued down
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the drive, parking in front of the main house. Hauling herself outside,
she stretched her legs and glanced around before heading inside.
* * * *
Clouds of dust rising from the road caught Greg’s attention as he
glanced up from the hoof he’d been pounding nails into as he replaced
a shoe. After a couple quick swings of the hammer, he put the horse’s
leg down and stood up. Wiping his arm across his forehead to remove
the dripping sweat, he watched the red SUV pull in front of the main
house. A woman got out and looked around, her curvy body
emphasized by her denim shorts and red tank top. Her wavy brown
hair brushed against her shoulders until she swept it back from her
face as she lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Must be the reporter,” he murmured as she disappeared into the
building. He laughed as his thoughts about her turned dirty. The gray
gelding stomped its hoof, demanding attention. Greg patted its rump.
“Hey, you didn’t see her long legs.” Smiling, he went back to work.
* * * *
Entering the main room of the hacienda, Samantha gazed
openmouthed.
Wow, this place is huge. I didn’t expect it to be so nice.
The main room was the entertainment area, which had a fireplace, big
screen TV, pool table, and plenty of seats. The exposed wood in the
ceiling and walls was a rich honey hue, and the décor had a Western
flair, with bright colors dabbled throughout.
Sam stepped into the large room and ran her hand over a soft animal print blanket draped
over a chair. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
“Just a sec…”
Sam turned toward the voice to see a plump woman with teased
auburn hair walking through the door, wiping her hands on her apron.
She appeared to be in her late forties, and Sam smiled as she
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approached.
“You must be Samantha. Pleased ta meet ya. I’m Tammy Jo
Flannery.”
“Call me Sam, please, and it’s really nice to meet you, too.” She
studied the woman closely, trying to figure out why she seemed so
familiar. “Thank you again for allowing me to stay here.”
“No worries, honey.” Tammy Jo laughed with her hands on her
hips. “With this heat, this isn’t exactly our busy season.” She
motioned for Sam to join her on the couch.
“This place is beautiful.” Sam sat down, still taking in the details.
“Thanks. When I met my husband Tommy, I was a city girl from
New Orleans.” Tammy Jo laughed as she lowered her hand to her
knee. “That’s why I said yes when ya called. I recognized the accent.”
Sam’s smile grew. “I live just outside St. Gabriel.”
“Hated seeing all the damage after Katrina—just broke my heart.”
Her expression turned somber for a moment before her smile
returned. “Anyway, Tommy and I got married and moved here. This
ranch has been in his family for generations. All my friends and
family wanted to visit and see what the ranchin’ thing was all ’bout.”