Banner by Galesweetie



 

(Ft. Dix, New Jersey)

“What exactly did Doug say he said?” I asked Red as he readied to land at Ft. Dix.

“Luke, I’m your best friend and I love you like a brother, though God knows ya got enough, but I gotta tell you something. I’m fucking ready to kill you if you ask me that same stupid question any more. You’ve already asked me it like a dozen times and you asked Doug about three dozen! Let me land this fucking plane already and then you can go find English and ask him yourself. Jesus H. Christ I don’t know what’s gotten into you these past couple of months but I sure hope as hell hope you get it the fuck out and get back to your normal amount of crazy.”

I leaned back in my seat. Red didn’t get annoyed with me all that often but when he did, he let me know it. I’d pushed him pretty far this time, ever since Germany. I’d woken up from an incredible night with Peter to find him gone, the hotel bill paid for the entire leave, which I knew damn right well was his doing, not Uncle Sam, and some cryptic message about calling my wife. What the hell did Brenda have to do with anything? I didn’t even remember mentioning her. I called her, naturally, wondering if she could have said something to upset him, which would have been totally in character for Bren, she’s totally that kind of open mouth, insert foot type of girl. Perfect for someone like me, but Linton’s not your typical, raised under a barstool kind of guy. But Bren swore she was perfectly polite, just asked the guy who answered to have me call. So, nothing there.

Which left only the conclusion I didn’t want to consider, which was that it had been nothing special on his side. I’d been fucked and forgotten without even a good-bye kiss. For the rest of our leave I’d moped, pretty much like one of the many girls Red fooled around with and then left high and dry without a backward glance. Red pointed out the similarity once he figured out why I was so bad-tempered. Once he brought the resemblance to my attention, I alternated between being pissed off and feeling stupid, pretty much in equal measure, except – I didn’t buy it. That he didn’t care, that was. Peter wasn’t like us.

Hell, if anyone were like Red, it was Brenda. She was great fun, fantastic in bed and at six foot, two inches tall, she made a gorgeous date for me with her long legs and model body. It was in making her my wife that I showed less than my usual good judgment. I should have listened to my Mama, but a man doesn’t also think with his uppermost brain in these matters nor does he consult his mother. Mine didn’t hesitate to point out my folly on both counts in this situation when a week after marrying Brenda, I realized I had very little besides height in common with the girl. That, and the fact that she was more interested in how we looked together than anything deeper, was pretty much why our marriage was a nine day wonder and a mistake of gigantic proportions. Marriage to me did serve the purpose of enabling her to get out of the service, which she hated, and providing her with great health benefits while she got her college degree. We stayed great friends and if there ever came a time one of us cared about someone else, then a divorce would probably be a good idea, but for now, it came in handy for me. Being married saved a lot of questions back home; it wasn’t like she was the jealous type and I sure as hell wasn’t. It also helped her out financially. As my little brother Danny loved to say, it’s a win-win situation.

Peter couldn’t possibly have gotten upset thinking I was really married, could he? Of course, as far as Mama is concerned, I reminded myself uncomfortably, I really am married, priest, church, vows, the whole nine yards of silk and lace.

Fuck.

“Hey, pay attention! I’ve been cleared to land. You ready?” Red spared me a quick look. His hawk-like features wouldn’t show the concern he was feeling to anyone who didn’t know him as well as I did but he was about as worried as I’d ever seen him. Not over the landing. Hell, he could do that in total darkness with just the instruments under enemy fire on a football field size plot of land if he had to. With one hand. Seen him do it. Of course, only reason he used one hand was because his other hand was holding a tourniquet on my arm since I’d been so stupid as to get a bullet in a really bad spot, but that’s neither here nor there. Point is, Red can fly as well as he can shoot.

I would really owe him after this trip. I don’t think any of my real brothers would go as far out of their way for me as Red would. Maybe the kid. He’s a little terror. I had to smile at that thought. Red and the kid. My army of two. I turned to Red to share the thought but he was busy talking to the air traffic controller so I stayed quiet for the time being. The afternoon light coming through the large front window of the small plane we’d used to get here cast his normally stern profile in soft relief.

Hank insists that Red and I look alike. Brenda has said it too. I don’t see it myself, except in the most general of ways; we’re both ridiculously tall, black-haired and skinny. Red’s darker-skinned than I am, naturally, although I’ll grant you, I tan well for an Irishman. His eyes are darker than mine. Hell, they’re practically black they’re such a dark brown, and while you might call my nose aquiline, he’s got a nose that takes aquiline to a whole new dimension. Hawkish really is the word for it. More than any of those surface things, however, it’s Red’s toughness that you notice first about him. I don’t think I could ever have that quality in a million years. I might be able to fake it, but he’s the real thing. Growing up on a reservation, he lived in real poverty, the kind that I can’t imagine. We had it tough sometimes when I was a kid, years when the pub wasn’t making much and there seemed to be too many kids and not enough food, but those times were bountiful compared to what Red went through growing up on the reservation. Red learned survival in order to really survive, not as an exercise out of a book, the kind of theoretical survival that Peter and his type teach. Red’s taught me those skills and a lot more; he’s taught me a lot of the kinds of things he had to learn to get by, how to fight with a knife, how to fight dirty when you didn’t have anything but your fists, how to live off the land when the alternative is dying.

Of course, I’ve taught him a few things since meeting in boot camp too. A whole different kind of survival skills. How not to get into a fight every ten minutes. How to play soccer. How to talk to girls. Red was fine at picking up women. By eighteen, he could go into any bar and pick up any woman he wanted. But, talk to a nice girl? Forget it. That was sheer terror for him.

Shooting was a skill we both refined in the army and proved to be among the best at. That and languages. We both were naturally good at them, which made the military sit up and take notice. I arrived already knowing four languages, between my native Gaeltacht, the Italian I’d learned from my brother Matt’s wife, Julietta, and the German and French I’d studied in school. Red knew Cajun French, several dialects of Indian languages, and, oddly, German, which he’d picked up from a retired Jewish immigrant who’d lived near the reservation where Red had been raised by his grandfather. Both of us had tested off the charts for facility with languages, so we were put into a program to learn Arabic and Russian. Because we each also possessed what Red called the “S’s”, “size, strength and sharp-shooting,” we were the only ones in the program not sent into the diplomatic side of things. Green Beret was our destiny. It was going to be that or the SEALS. But, half our time thus far has been spent on bodyguard duty for shining lights from Congress or various top brass who like to visit hot spots. When the big shots go into some danger area on one of their “fact-finding” visits around the world, they like having a matched set of uniforms like Red and me along, looking bigger than life and mean as hell for decoration. The fact that we’re able to understand what the hell was being said is just icing on the cake. We look good in the photo ops too. Every once in a great while, we get to do something important while we’re at it. So, we practice our shooting skills and keep adding to our language repertoire while we wait for something more useful to do.

Like saving those journalists' lives. Afghanistan was going up in flames and the US was providing the matches, but no one was owning up to it. That was becoming clearer all the time and each time we took Congressmen there we hoped it would get back to the right people that something needed to be done to help the people, not just providing arms. We needed more men there to control the situation, to guard the hills and clear the land mines. Damn, it was a fucking mess and only getting worse.

I swallowed hard as I thought again of Steve kneeling in the dirt, that fucking prick pulling his hair to keep his head tipped back. Not like he had to, Steve kept his chin up proudly. No looking at the ground for him. He’d been scanning the trees, looking for me, probably. But we were off to the side. Good thing, too, better angle for shooting both of the men who had him. Steve complained later that I’d splattered brains all over him. God, I’ll never forget what that had looked like. Steve didn’t understand how I’d felt. If our positions had been reversed, he wouldn’t have had a second thought about it. He would have relished killing the son of a bitch who threatened me. Sometimes I wondered if it was in our blood. His ancestors were warriors and mine were tavern owners. But if I hinted as much to him, he’d shake his head at me. I was a warrior, he’d insist. I was just a reluctant one. Which was stupid, since this was the career I’d chosen. Killing that terrorist rebel was the only choice, so I should only be happy. I’d saved Steve and the journalists, right? There was no reason for these feelings of horror, of regret. I could never talk to Steve about this because he’d never understand, never in a million years. And crying like I’d done? My God, if Steve had seen that? No. That was something Steve would never, ever understand.

But Peter had understood. He’d helped the mission in all sorts of ways, big and little. We’d still had a fight on our hands, getting out of those mountains. The terrorists had friends, and I’d ordered Hank and Doug to guard the journalists, who’d been pretty weak from their ordeal, while Steve, Peter and I fought our way clear to the copter. It’d been Steve who took one look at me and made the call that Peter should be the one fighting with us rather than Hank or Doug. Sure, he’d hidden it under a joke like he did most of his most serious decisions, but it was the right one. Somehow, Red had known that, like himself, when the situation called for it, Linton could turn into a machine when it came to killing. Peter had been cool and efficiently deadly. He never missed with his pistols, and since we kept encountering trouble at too close of range for the rifles, he proved far more effective than Steve and me. We were good with hand guns, but he was brilliant. There was no need to check to see if there were any wounded when he shot them.

They claimed I did my share, and the journalists sang my praises back at headquarters but I sure as hell didn’t feel like I carried my weight. What they saw as stoicism was me doing all I could do not to throw up. I was on auto-pilot until we were back in Germany. I’d welcomed that fight in the pub, reveling in the chance to cut loose and feel alive again. I could have kicked myself when I saw Peter looking so lost, though, and was just about to call an end to it when the prick with the Popeye arms took that swing at his head. Hank took the guy out for us as I rushed to pick Peter up. Damn, that had been close. Another inch closer to his temple and he might not have been waking up.

So, why did he kiss me? The fooling around in the Jacuzzi, that could have been passed off as drunken messing around, but the kissing? That was something else altogether. I rather thought that’s why he did it. He wasn’t going to let me pretend it wasn’t happening. I couldn’t just sit back and get my rocks off. I had to participate, and then, damn, was it worth it. At least, I thought so. I can’t fucking forget it like I’ve forgotten almost every other person I’ve fucked in my life. Is it because he fucked me that I’m acting like some kind of girl over this? The guy fucks me to within an inch of my life and then leaves without an explanation and I need what, closure? A damn cuddle?

I twisted my mouth. Red thought I was absolutely crazy chasing the Englishman down like this. But after spending the rest of our leave trying to get the thought of him out of my mind by joining Red in screwing everything that moved, and the next couple of months trying to wear myself out and exorcize that night from my body’s memory by training until I was ready to drop, I still couldn’t forget it.

I needed to at least talk to the guy and find out what the fuck happened. So, even though he didn’t understand, Red helped me find out where Linton was, and we were able to wrangle an invitation to Ft. Dix to teach a course in survival tactics.

The experience in Afghanistan had earned us some brownie points with the brass and we were going to use that, as well as some of our accumulated leave, to take a joint leave after our Fort Dix sojourn for a much needed visit home to Pittsburgh in time for Danny’s birthday. After that, I fully expected us to ship out overseas again, so it was my last chance to see Linton and get things straightened out. I hated the idea of him leaving the states with things unsettled between us. Hell, I’d never had a girlfriend that I’d broken up with on bad terms so it seemed strange to end whatever type of connection I’d found with him on such a strange note. What I’d had with him sure as hell felt a lot closer than what I’d had with most of my girlfriends, and that included my so-called wife. The only person closer outside my family was Red.

“Well, you can unbuckle your seat-belt now. It’s good to know I can land this thing without your help,” Red’s voice broke in on my thoughts.

I looked at him sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little distracted.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it. Damn, I hope you find English and get yourself straightened out, Luke, or I’m going to have to kick some sense into you.”

I grinned. This was familiar territory. “Oh yeah? You and what army?”

“Not this one. Damn. We’re in fucking New Jersey, Irish! You are going to owe me. The whole damn state looks like a reservation.” He stooped and grabbed his duffle, ready to exit the small plane.

Certainly Fort Dix did, I had to concede, as I followed him off the plane.
 

*************************************

 

“We’re honored to have you join us, Captain O’Keefe...Lt. Redraven. Outstanding work you two did in Afghanistan, just outstanding. Hear word you’re going to get something out of it other than just some pats on the back when promotions are announced, hey? Wish I’d been there with you, wish I’d been there! Got to take a few of the bastards out, didn’t you? Outstanding!”

Major Frank Gruning punched me in the arm and gave one of those, “aren’t we all good buddies” looks. I made a non-committal noise. Nothing would kill a promotion quicker than word getting back that O’Keefe thought it was all sewn up. Red was doing his impersonation of the Indian in front of the cigar store so it was always up to me to make nice on these road trips. Of course, the silent, noble Indian was far better than the annoyed, let me show you how we used to scalp the soldiers at the Fort Indian – I’d seen him do both and knew which one was easier to handle, if those were the only two choices I was likely to get out of him. From the set of his jaw, I was pretty sure it was down to those two. Gruning was a pretty fucking annoying example of a bureaucrat, and if anyone was ever stupid enough to stick him in something like we’d encountered in Afghanistan, he’d crap his pants first, then lay down and wait for death to come find him. Wish he’d been there? In his second worst nightmare. His worst nightmare would be going three rounds with Red, I thought, looking at my buddy’s tense jaw. He was going to give himself a toothache if he kept grinding his teeth that way, I thought with a smirk. He needed to learn how to let it just flow over him, like I did. I tuned it out, like one of my brother’s lectures.

“I was glad you boys offered to come out here and give some demonstrations right when you did. We have this other guy here now, damned Englishman. The higher-ups sent him to teach some seminars on – get this – survival foraging!” Gruning snorted. It was a sound like a pig makes. Red looked over at me, his face still looking like it was carved from wood, but I could read him. He’d gone on alert, now wondering if I was the one who was going to blow up. And if he was going to bother stopping me.

I flexed my hands carefully. “Survival foraging? Is that all?” I kept my voice calm and shot Red a warning look.

“No, that’s the even funnier part. He’s supposed to teach martial arts. I haven’t scheduled that yet though. He’s all of five foot ten and maybe one fifty. What can some Brit teach my men? I have some highly trained martial arts men here, trained by the best. They don’t need some little shit from England to show them some fancy showstyle karate.”

Surprisingly, Red entered into the conversation. “This wouldn’t happen to be Major Peter Linton, would it?”

Gruning turned to him in surprise, though whether it was from him knowing the name or simply from him speaking at all, I couldn’t tell. “Yeah, that’s the name. You know him?”

Red’s black-eyed stare made the man uncomfortable, which didn’t really suit my purpose, so I intervened.

“Major Linton was a member of our squad when we went to Afghanistan. Not generally known, of course, due to his status as being on loan from British Special Forces, but he proved to be quite an aid to us in the mountains. It will be good to see him again. Col. Harris is quite an advocate of Maj. Linton’s program,” I said pleasantly. “I believe he and Maj. Linton’s commanding officer proposed it, and one of our officers went over to England to teach their troops.”

Far from taking offense at my comments, Gruning smiled warmly and slapped me on the back. “I’m sure there was a lot they could learn from one of our boys. It’s nice of you to give Linton some credit for your exploits. What did he do? You can tell me. Show some leg and distract the terrorists? Or more?” Gruning gave a filthy chuckle at that and nudged Red in the side with his elbow. Red looked down at the man like he was insane. I grabbed him before he could retaliate.

“He shot them,” I said baldly. “Can you let us know where we’ll be bunking? We need to shower and change before we meet with your commanding officer and then hopefully get some dinner?”

“Right this way. We have some guest quarters down this section for visiting officers like yourself, pretty nice, if I do say so myself. You can freshen up and change into your dress uniforms and I’ll send one of the men to escort you to the officers’ dining room. Tomorrow we’ll make a jeep available to you for your stay. Let me know if you’ll need a driver and we’ll assign someone.” He looked over inquiringly and I shook my head. Last thing either of us wanted was some kid assigned to tail after us. Though I was rather surprised someone of his rank had met us. The more I saw of him, the more I tended to think he was given this type of task to keep him out of his own commanding officer’s hair.

Gruning went on. “Later this evening, maybe you’d like to check out your buddy Linton’s debut performance. I heard word that he finally got permission from the Colonel to demonstrate his ‘moves’ to some of the men.”

Red made a growling noise. Or maybe it was me. I wasn’t quite sure at this point. By now, we’d reached our temporary quarters so I was firm about leaving Gruning at the door before he offered to fluff the pillows for us.

“We just may do that. It’ll be good to see Linton again, and of course see how your boys do against him in his demonstration.”

“Care to make a wager, Major?” Red had walked directly into the quarters we’d been given and plopped onto the bed, but now he called back over to Gruning before I could close the door on him.

“What kind of wager, Lieutenant?”

“Just a little something to add interest to the show,” Red said lazily. “I feel I owe a certain loyalty to the little guy. He did face terrorists with us...even if he did do it as a medic...so I’m bound to put a few bucks on the guy taking out a few of your men in a match. What do you say?”

Gruning’s eyes gleamed. You would have thought he was just offered a chance to get Manhattan for a few beads. “How much interest would you like added soldier?”

“Being as I’m from Louisiana, I’ve always had a fondness for twenties, seeing as how they bear the likeness of good old Stonewall Jackson, but since we’re so close to Philadelphia and all, I can lay a Benjamin on the line for good old English. You know my people, we need to follow the signs.”

Behind Gruning’s back, I rolled my eyes. The only sign Red followed when it came to gambling was the sign of a sucker in front of him. But the dickhead was pleased to think that he was getting one over on the simple “native.”

“Oh, I completely understand. We have a reservation near here, you know. Maybe you know some of the people?” Red looked at him expressionlessly. What an ass. Yeah, all Native Americans know each other–they’re probably related, too, I wanted to say, and ask if all dickheads were first cousins? Anyway he agreed to a hundred dollar bet and Red casually mentioned that he could pass on his willingness to take on any other bets the other officers wanted to place.

Red was going to clean up. Assuming there wasn’t some kind of monster martial arts master at this base, I pointed out to him once we were alone.

“No problem. If you see some huge monster type, you’ll jump in and volunteer to fight first, which will piss English off so much he’ll be able to kill anyone.”

“But he’ll be mad at me,” I pointed out.

“Yeah...that works for me too. Now go get a shower and let me grab thirty; I’m bushed. One of us flew the plane here while one of us daydreamed, remember?”

I stood under the hot water and thought about Peter. I was finally going to see him again and find out what had happened. I was torn between excitement and nervousness, but mainly excitement. I was almost completely sure that once he saw me, we’d be able to clear up whatever misunderstanding had happened and then....

I stopped soaping up and stood still, the hot water sluicing down my body. What did I expect next? Funny, I hadn’t really thought too much beyond the kind of fuzzy, misty, Peter smiling at me with understanding. Not the shampoo commercial, two figures running sappily toward each other through a field of flowers perhaps but close enough that I was glad Red wasn’t a mind reader. He’d shoot me where I stood. I almost left the shower and begged him to do it.

Stepping out of the shower, I stood dripping in the middle of the bathroom, without a clue in the world of what to do. Fuck, was I stupid sometimes. First the Brenda mess and now this. Dragging Red half-way across the country for a guy this time. It was a wonder I even had a friend left. Wrapping a towel around my middle, I padded back into the bedroom and plopped down next to Red on his bed.

He opened one eye. “You’d better not be getting my pillows all wet,” he grumbled.

“This can be my bed and you can take the other one,” I said morosely. “Red, why did we come here?”

“Aw crap, I knew this would happen. Did you use up all the hot water?” He flung an arm over his head and groaned.

“No, seriously. Why’d you let me talk you into this? Linton’s a guy, for fuck sake!”

“You just realized that? Sometimes, Irish, I gotta wonder about the education they gave you at that State College of yours. You miss too many classes playing soccer or something? Of course Linton’s a guy. The second he took a piss standing up next to me, I said to myself, guy. That’s where the white man will always be inferior to the red man, your basic gender differentiation.”

“Nice word,” I told him, impressed.

“Hank taught it to me. I think Doug’s working on it with him. That whole concept of gender differentiation shit.”

I laughed. As he intended. He leaned up on his elbow.

“You need to talk to the man, Luke. He helped you. You were a mess after what happened in the mountains and he reached you when I couldn’t. I was worried about you, man. Didn’t know what to do for you. He did. Hell, if fucking you was what it took, I would have done that even, but it wasn’t just that, was it? Which I don’t mind saying, I’m glad it wasn’t, since I have to say, I’d do a lot for you, buddy, and love you like a brother. I have no problem if that’s one of your things, but your ass just doesn’t do anything for me ”

I turned to look into his eyes soulfully. “Really? That really sucks because I love your ass,” I whispered, trying to hold back my laughter.

“You’re an ass,” he told me, in his most sincere tones, as he sat up.

“Steven, no, don’t leave me, take me now, I’m yours!” I called dramatically, stretching out on the bed in just my towel.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Of course. I was lying on one of the beds in just a towel and Steve had just taken off his shirt, since he was heading for the shower. His belt, shoes and socks were already off since he’d been napping. Talk about your compromising situations. I wondered how thick the walls were in these quarters. No sooner had Steve opened the door to a red-faced corporal who grew three shades darker at the sight of Steve’s bare chest and my naked form on the bed than it was clear that the answer was – nowhere near thick enough.

“Yes?” Red growled.

“I was, uh, um, well...”

“Spit it out, soldier! What do you want?”

I watched amused, wondering if Red was going to order the poor guy to give him twenty.

“Colonel White requests the pleasure of your company for dinner with him, I mean, that you join him at his private quarters for dinner, at 1900 hours, SIR! I mean, SIRS.” The poor sap stared at his shoes, after trying to look at Red and finding that looking straight ahead put Red’s nipples at eye level. Trouble with us tall guys. Of course, worse for women. A lot of them find their mouths at cock level.

I leaned on my elbow and interrupted before Red could demolish the poor kid.

“Please tell Colonel White that Capt. O’Keefe and Lt. Redraven accept with thanks. Will someone return to escort us to his quarters?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is your name, Corporal?” I stood up, making sure my towel was firmly in place. Best to nip any rumors firmly in the bud. I noted the young soldier’s eyes bug out as he took in my height as I came to stand next to Red, who was already dwarfing him.

“Pettigrew, sir.”

“Thank you for bringing the message, Corporal Pettigrew. I hope we didn’t startle you with our horseplay. I was teasing the lieutenant that it’s been so long since we’ve seen women he may start thinking I look good. We were dismayed to see that your base seems to be set in the middle of nowhere. Is there anyplace the men go to for some...rest and relaxation after hours?”

I gave the young soldier a patented, dimpled O’Keefe smile, the version intended to convey “hey, we’re all guys here, where can we find some babes?” Red, in keeping with his bad officer counterpart to Luke’s good officer merely grunted and left to get his shower. Still, I felt reasonably sure that it would take more of an imagination than young Pettigrew possessed to picture Red as a homosexual. I continued to chat with the kid for a few minutes, secure that I was exuding the appropriate straight guy vibes, pretty much because I was a straight guy...for the most part. Finally I got rid of him, with the assurance that we would be ready and waiting in dress uniforms to walk over to his commanding officer’s quarters at 1845 hours.

I pulled my uniform out and started to press it with the iron I found in the closet. Since I’d ticked off Red I got his uniform out to press too. It was the least I could do, I figured. Years of Catholic School uniforms before I ever saw the service made me great at taking care of a uniform. I made it through boot camp without ever getting less than highest marks for appearance no matter what the conditions in the barracks. It used to drive the others crazy, especially Red, but I’d tell them, a Marine drill Sergeant calling us to line up for inspection at five a.m. had nothing on my mama on Sunday morning when we had altar duty. One baby on her hip, another usually on the way, and two rows of kids lined up at the bottom of the stairs, boys on one side, girls on the other, and you can bet we’d better have been perfect, with every shirt pressed and spotless, every collar straight and crease crisp, the ties tied, and the shoes shining enough to see your face in them.

And woe to the older brother whose next younger brother appeared less than perfect. I first learned to muster my troops in Mama’s Sunday morning inspections. Matt and Mark often served as acolytes at the earlier service which meant that I was responsible to get John, Joey, Janie, and eventually Danny, ready for Church. Worse than monkeys they were some mornings, with Danny, Mama’s “Angel Boy”, the worst of them all. Devil Boy was more like it, I grinned as I ironed, thinking back to those old days when I’d have five shirts to get done and then have to wrestle them all into them. Danny’s clothes were so tiny compared to the rest of ours. Jamie was only three years older but he was always such a giant for his age he seemed a lot older. Even now, he’s showing every sign of being as tall as me when he’s full grown but with Matt’s bulk. But Danny’s still lagging behind, the little guy. With his ninth birthday coming up, from the last pictures I saw he looks like he’s not much bigger than Matt’s six year old Dennis. Of course, he more than makes up for it in mischief. Always has. Those Sunday mornings, he used to hide on me, make me search all over the “boy side” of the third floor of the house so I could get him dressed. I’d threaten him with every punishment under the sun, not that it did any good because he knew I’d never do anything bad to him. He was good at hiding too, but eventually he’d start giggling and I’d find him.

Of course, with Danny, you had to try anticipating what the crazy kid would do, like the last time I was home and he went and jumped from the roof of the house to our tree house, a time honored rite of passage, by himself. All well and good and I’d actually planned on him making that jump during my leave. Except, I’d planned on him making it first with me to get the feel of it and I’d planned on showing him the safety rope we always tied to the kids when they made the jump. While Matt and I were arguing whether he was ready or not, damn fool kid didn’t wait; he went and did it on his own, without a safety. Thank God Mark was watching and caught him when he reached the other side and almost slipped on the slick roof. But...he did it. At seven years old and the tiniest little thing you’d ever seen, grinning back at us all dimples and long curly hair. God, I love that kid. All spirit, no sense.

Red says I’m like that too, but not really. I’ve got six foot nine inches of brawn to back up my moments of insanity.

“You do my shirt too? Aww, just like the little woman,” Red smirked at me as he came out of the bathroom and saw what I was up to.

“Yeah, you gonna kiss me now as a reward?” I finished up the second shirt and tossed it over to him.

“Nah, this trip puts you so far in debt to me, Irish. You’ll be doing my shirts until you’re a five star general and I’m a...” he flashed me his irreverent grin, “good looking but low ranking buddy to a five star general.”

“Tis some hero’s fate to be unsung,” I agreed solemnly, as I headed for the bathroom. “And then there’s you.” I rushed to get in and close the door on him as he tossed his used towel at me.

“Hurry up or we’ll have that pimply faced corporal back here and if you’re not dressed, you’ll have my virile reputation back in the gutter with yours,” Red yelled through the door.

I came out, razor in hand. “I think your reputation will be safe. Give you a half hour around some women, no, ten minutes and there won’t be any questions remaining, even if there are any now, which I doubt.” I batted my lashes at him and spoke in a breathless, campy voice. “Big strong brave...soldier like you. I’ve always wondered.... Is it true what they say about Indian braves, soldier?”

Red looked skyward for patience as he tried to fix his tie. He’s as hopeless as Mark and Joey always were. I motioned for him to come over.

“What is it about whites and Indians? Either they act like they expect us to be falling down drunk at the sight of whiskey or we’re going to scalp the men and rape the women, or they’re falling over trying to make it up to us for the past five hundred years or so of raping and pillaging that’s been done to us, the ‘noble savage.’ I don’t know how you Irish feel, but being called a savage rubs me the wrong way. My grandfather was more educated and civilized than ninety-nine percent of the whites I know and he lived on the reservation all his life.”

“We Irish are savage,” I told him, patting him on the head as I finished tying his tie. “But you have a point, we resent anyone but us saying so.”

“Finish getting dressed, Captain, we have to go meet the natives. You think Linton will be at this dinner?”

“Should be, I’d think,” I told him as I pulled on my slacks. “He’s a visiting major. This is a pretty large base, but still, even if Gruning didn’t put two and two together and know we worked together with him, White should know and do the polite thing. We’re here as his guests, as is Peter. Harris arranged for us to visit and also arranged Peter’s schedule of stops. They must have had some conversation about our mission.” Quite frankly, I was rather taken aback by how rudely Gruning had spoken about Peter. Some people weren’t all that fond of foreign officers, especially British soldiers, but Gruning had been beyond insulting. Our guys were tough to impress and most of them had found Peter’s talks interesting and useful. Compared to the usual stuff we had to sit through, his were lively. I found that I was no longer as focused on how we’d left our personal situation as I was on this mystery. I really disliked army bullshit.

Soon enough, we were fetched by the nervous young Pettigrew and driven over to Colonel White’s house. Ft. Dix made the Iraqi desert look fairly vegetated, Red commented to me under his breath, wondering why New Jersey was the garden state.

“Probably because there had to have been intent for anything to grow here,” I told him, looking at all the window boxes and well planned flower beds that brightened up the dull, flat landscape. Pettigrew glanced at me, and he looked like he wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. Local boy, I surmised.

“You from around here, Corporal?” I asked.

“Yeah, down the shore, Atlantic City,” he answered, pride and a touch of belligerence in his voice.

“Atlantic City, huh? Boardwalks, rides, Miss America Pageant, swimming in the ocean, can’t beat that for an American boyhood, can you?” I said cheerfully as he pulled to a stop in front of Colonel White’s well-kept house. It looked nice. Nice, that is, for a base house. Base houses tended to look pretty much the same everywhere. There might be a few extra touches to an officer’s place, a little extra room, some more shrubs. He had a carport on the side and a nice porch on the front. Pettigrew was thawing out at my enthusiasm over his home town. Red was looking at me like I was full of shit.

“When were you ever in Atlantic City, Irish? Playing the slots on leave some time?”

“When I was in high school,” I told them, a seraphic smile on my face. “My soccer team played in a regional play-off down in South Jersey and afterward we got to go to Atlantic City for the weekend. We had a great time, playing on the beach and trying our luck on the boardwalk with the games of skill. You’ll be glad to know, Red, that I won stuffed dolls with my shooting skills. Those big pastel colored bears, damndest things you’ve ever seen. Got a half dozen of the things by the time I was done.”

Red laughed his big crackling laugh while even our young escort smiled.

“So what did you do with them, sir?”

“Well, all the cheerleaders were fussing ‘coz they each wanted one, wouldn’t you know? And that wouldn’t do, because there were eight cheerleaders and I only had six bears. So, I told them I was taking them home to my sisters, but I only had five sisters which left one bear unaccounted for and still the potential for trouble. It also left me with all these bears to take charge of on the ride home and for the rest of the evening.” We were walking up the path to the Colonel’s house.

Red’s eyes were twinkling while Pettigrew looked quite serious at my dilemma. The door to the house opened and a smiling blonde lady stood, ready to greet us. Red and I immediately stood at attention but she smilingly put us at our ease.

“None of that, boys, we’re just having a friendly dinner. Besides, I’m not the one you have to give any particular respect to! I’m just a plain old Marine wife here, Connie White, and so pleased to welcome you both to our home. We could hear your story through the open window, Captain O’Keefe – I’m right in assuming you’re Luke O’Keefe, aren’t I? I’m sure I hear a trace of Erin in your fine voice.” She held out her hand and took mine in a warm clasp as she ushered us into her home.

I gave Mrs. White my best smile as I shook her hand. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner, Mrs. White. You most certainly caught the trace of my brogue, never quite lost it. Captain Luke O’Keefe, of the Fifth Special Forces Group, and this is Lt. Steven Redraven, also of the Fifth, both of us out of Fort Campbell, Ma’am, and completely at your service.”

Steve outdid me by bowing low over her hand and kissing it; the guy’s a pig but he can appear charming. The Colonel’s wife certainly thought so, from the look of her pretty blush. She looked to be about fifty but was what my mama would call quite well-preserved. I was sunk to see that Steve was quietly looking her over. Him fooling around with a Colonel’s wife was something I did not need. At least with him focusing on Mrs. White, I didn’t have to deal with him glaring at me over the fact that we were the only ones in dress uniforms for a formal dinner; the other men were in khakis and short sleeves, no ties, while the women were in summer casual. All we could do was make the best of it; mixed signals. The gleam of amusement in Gruning's eye told me it wasn’t completely accidental.

Thing is, it doesn’t faze me being in uniform in a situation like this. First off, I look fucking great in uniform. So does Red. Second, better to be over-dressed than under-dressed in a Colonel’s house, I say. And third, payback’s a bitch, my friend, and an O’Keefe never misses a payback. So, I just smiled at Gruning and loosened my tie a bit.

“Glen will be here in a few minutes. Just a couple of last minute things to attend to, you know how it is. But come in, come in. I know you met Major Frank Gruning already. His wife, Peggy. Then we have Captain Bill Summers and Captain Terry Sanders. And of course, Sue Ellen, Captain Summers’ wife. And Linda, Terry’s new bride. This is Captain O’Keefe and Lt. Redraven, but I hope we can dispense with ranks and just be Luke and Steve and Bill, Terry, Sue Ellen, Frank and Connie. Oh, and of course, young Phillip Pettigrew, where did you get to, dear?”

Pettigrew was hiding behind me. He made a little squeak and Red pushed him forward into the room. Connie beamed at him.

“There you are! Why don’t you get some drinks ready, dear boy, while we hear how dear Luke handled all those stuffed bears down at the boardwalk? We ladies were all giggling in here as we heard him telling the story coming up the path. Now, don’t blush, Luke! We couldn’t help but listen in, that charming accent of yours caught our attention right away!”

“Yes, do tell, Capt. O’Keefe, how did you solve your dilemma?” Sue Ellen Summers raised a highly plucked eyebrow and crossed her legs. Base bitch located, I thought. She was made up to the teeth and dressed to kill for a simple dinner, although to give her credit, she was a looker. The young “bride” sitting next to her couldn’t hold a candle to her, although the fact that she looked to be about six months pregnant didn’t help. Whoever claims women “glow” when they’re in the family way must be nuts. In my experience – and that is vast – they look tired, bloated and far from their best. But hey, put a beachball size person and its waterbed under my bellybutton and I doubt I’d look all that sexy either. I gave Linda Sanders a sympathetic smile on the way to turning my attention to the bitch.

“Well, since you’re so interested, Sue Ellen...” I made a point to use her first name since she didn’t use mine, Connie gave me an approving nod as Pettigrew handed me a beer. “I’ll be glad to tell you, but first, why don’t you tell me how you would have handled the situation. You look to me like you were a cheerleader in your day. But I’m guessing football cheerleader, right, nothing so lowly as a soccer cheerleader? Bet Bill here was on the team.”

She preened like a peacock. I could feel Red shaking with suppressed laughter next to me. He knew what all we O’Keefe's thought of football players – too dumb to play soccer – but he wasn’t going to say anything. And hey, my cousins played football. My dad teased Uncle Frank about it all the time, his boys playing the American game. In any event, the comment got this cat purring like a kitten. She launched into a whole story about her glory days with the pompoms. I sat back and relaxed with my beer until forceful Connie took advantage of a brief pause to ask in a sugary sweet voice, “And that is fascinating, Sue Ellen, but didn’t Luke ask you how you would have solved his problem of six bears and only five sisters? And eight cheerleaders?”

I had to grin at the chagrin on Sue Ellen’s face. “Well, of course he should just have kept five of the bears for his sisters and given the sixth one to the cheerleader he liked best!”

“But then all the other cheerleaders would have been mad at him,” Bill objected and all the other men nodded.

“Why are all the cheerleaders mad at our visitor, what did he do?” A handsome older officer came walking in from the direction of the kitchen...and with him was Linton. He looked great, but tense. Red and I stood at once, somewhat surprised that the other men did not, but Col. White immediately told us to stand at ease.

“This is Connie’s quarters, men, and she insists on no ranks here, except hers. Having said that, I believe you both know Major Linton?” At our nods, he smiled and added, “Good, then I’m Glen and he’s Peter from here on in. Peter, I believe you’ve met everyone else? Oh, we’ve got the ladies here tonight, let me introduce you to the better halves, Peggy Gruning, Sue Ellen Summers and Linda Sanders.”

I was busy staring at Linton while trying not to. He greeted each of the women in his usual reserved manner. His smile was perhaps extra charming to the worn looking Linda Sanders, which fact didn’t escape the notice of the bitchy Sue Ellen, I surmised, from the narrowing of her icy eyes. I’d seen that same look in my sister Mary Kate’s eyes if she thought someone paid Mary Fran a little more attention than her. From then on, it would be nothing but little digs until Franny’s nerves and confidence would be totally shot. I’d get even with her though. Next date she went on, she’d find her cashmere sweater full of itching powder. Under the arms. Soon as she started to sweat, or rather, “glow” since girls didn’t sweat, Mama insisted.... I smiled at the memory.

“So, Captain...I mean, Luke, are you ever going to tell us how you got out of your dilemma with the bears?” Connie quickly told her husband and Linton my silly tale of too many, or too few, carnival prizes. Colonel White laughed as he heard some of the solutions that had been suggested, and rejected.

“Summers, I can tell you, doesn’t have any sisters, or daughters, if you're actually giving all the bears to the cheerleaders! But I can see how you won the lovely Sue Ellen. Can we assume Steve has not ventured a guess because he knows the answer?” Glen White seemed be a cheery commanding officer. He knew his men, that’s for sure.

I’d reached the same conclusion from his suggestion of having the cheerleaders compete for the bears and giving all of them away as prizes, leaving only the “two worst ones” out. I’d stayed quiet but I nodded approvingly at young Pettigrew who spoke out in protest at that being worse than only one girl getting a bear, leaving just two who didn’t.

“Well, sir, y’all can call me Red. I forget to answer to Steve. And as for these damn bears, excuse me, ladies, I don’t know for a fact what Irish here did, but I can pretty much take a stab at it, knowing how his mind works. I bet English here can too. He hasn’t known Luke all that long but he struck me as a pretty perceptive fella. What do you think, English?” Red raised his beer at Linton and winked.

I could have hugged Red right then. He was making it clear to Linton, who looked as stiff as hell with these people, that he was one of us. And whatever problem was between Peter and me, it didn’t affect Red and him. I could see some of Peter’s tension slip away, not that any of the others would even know it was there; he was too good for that. The man had what Mama called breeding. Of course, she insisted we O’Keefe's had it too but it wasn’t until I met Peter Linwood, that I knew what she meant.

“Yes, please, Peter, enlighten us. What genius of tactical planning did the young O’Keefe devise to avoid disappointing his sisters or upsetting his popularity among the cheerleaders?” Gruning posed his question in what he must have thought was a pompous English manner and then stole a look at Sue Ellen to see if she was amused. I wasn’t. If he wanted pompous, he only needed to stick with his usual mode of speech, I wanted to tell him, and my eight year old brother could do a better accent, but I bit the side of my cheek. Gruning’s poor wife looked down at her lap.

“Well, Red, we only went on that one little jaunt together,” Linton began in a pensive voice. Red and I both muffled laughs. He looked at us blandly but there was a twinkle in his eyes as the others, except for White, all looked lost. “Well, it was just one, right?”

“Quite right,” I managed to say. “A hiking holiday as I recall. But please, do go on.”

Linton’s teeth gleamed for a moment in a flash of smile before he continued, in his pleasant baritone. “Captain O’Keefe undoubtedly showed early signs of his talents in mustering troops and delegating, just as he evidenced such precocious skill in firearms that he put himself in this predicament. Clearly a man meant for a military life and early promotion.”

Red gave one of his barking laughs at that and the others had to join in. When Red laughs, you either join in or hit him, I find. Or shoot him. Sometimes all three.

Linton waited for the laughter to die down then proceeded with his analysis. “A part of this problem that has not yet been addressed is that of conveyance. He has six presumably large stuffed bears....they are large, correct?” He finally looked me in the eyes.

“Quite large, about two feet tall each,” I told him, enjoying this.

“And, dare I hope, very non-bear like in color?”

“I believe I may have mentioned to the others that they were in various pastel colors, mainly pinks and peach, and there was one in pale blue.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “With bows?”

“Large, fluffy bows.”

“I would guess that you offered to let the other members of the team carry the bears for you and watch them so you could give them to your sisters, half of whom, I believe, were as old or a good bit older than you, so well past the teddy bear stage, you fraud. I suspect that you then offered magnanimously to reward the one who performed the task the best with a bear that he could then bestow upon the cheerleader of his choice, thus making it a competition for the others. Once you let the cheerleaders know you were doing this, they, would, ah, shall we say, encourage the other boys to volunteer to carry your large, pastel, be-ribboned bears for you all day, so as to win the lady fair of their choice her very own, making you a hero to each and a cad to none.”

The group looked at him speechless for a moment until Red laughed and said, “Yep, that’s pretty much how I can see him doing it. While he strolled down the Boardwalk, hands free to eat all the funnel cake and ice cream he wanted, and flirt with all the girls, the other poor suckers would be fighting to take turns carrying his damn bears. And like as not, one or more of the bears would get lost in the fracas, and he’d be able to go home with none left to be the prize, and he’d have the cheerleaders’ sympathy while the other guys would be in the doghouse. Even if he lost more than one, he’d still have plenty for the little sisters since only three are younger than him, and of them, one of them is such a tomboy I can’t see her using a pink teddy bear for anything but target practice.”

I laughed at that image of Mary Pat, which was pretty accurate, while the others cried foul, saying they hadn’t known my sisters weren’t little. Finally Glen called for silence. He appeared amused on the surface by the whole debate, although there was a keen look in his eye as he considered the three of us outsiders. He turned back to his men.

“You’re all such children, I think you would have been snookered on that boardwalk also. Now stop your complaining. Red didn’t even offer a guess when he could have and I doubt Peter knew the sisters weren’t all young girls. It was a reasonable assumption based on the fact that there were so many! Besides, the important part to the solution isn’t how old Luke’s sisters were! Use your heads, men – I’m not saying this to you ladies, of course, I know you always use your heads and you were hampered by being too kind to show your men up. The really important part we all missed was conveying the goods! As a military officer, you always have to think of that!” Glen turned back to me, but I could see that his officers were fuming a bit over his reprimand. It had been delivered in a cheery voice but there was a hint of steel underlying his tone. Glen White hadn’t liked being bested and was well aware that the English major had seen the lesson to be learned – or taught - in my little anecdote. “How many brothers do you have, Luke? Did I read somewhere that you’re one of twelve? And please, no more of this sirring, from you two. It’s Glen.”

“I’m the fifth of thirteen, Glen, although, I’m sad to say, my youngest sister died in infancy. I have six brothers and five sisters. I’m the third son, and we range from thirty-two to almost nine. I’ll be going home to Pittsburgh for the baby of the family’s birthday after this.”

Linton looked over at me and I won my first real smile from him since seeing him again. “So, your little Danny is turning nine? He’ll be thrilled to see you.” Then his expression changed to one of polite interest. “Will your wife be able to make it home for the big celebration?”

“Bingo,” Red breathed the word, low enough that only I could hear him. I knew what he meant. All doubt as to why Linton had rushed away without a word was gone. Now I knew why he’d left, I just had to explain. If I could.

I was suddenly aware that now that I knew for certain that Peter hadn’t left because our night together didn’t mean anything to him, I had a new problem. Maybe it had meant too much to him, which was a whole different kind of problem. I liked him. A lot. I liked what we did together. A whole lot. But it wasn’t like I was looking for the type of thing that Doug and Hank had, hell, I hadn’t liked having that with a woman. Not that what I had with Brenda was anywhere near as good as what Doug and Hank have.

Or what I could have with Peter, I suspected. Still, the fact remained that unlike them, I wasn’t gay. I liked women, always had. It was just that I didn’t like the way things ended with Linton, was all. Because he’d been so great, helping me cope with the whole scene in the mountains. He was funny too, in his dry, understated way. He was smart as hell as well, brilliant really, and yet could shoot and fight with the best of us.

All that and there was the inescapable fact that the sex had been incredible too. But I wasn’t really thinking about that, I told myself, as I looked him in the eye and answered. “My wife and I have gone our separate ways, much to my mother’s dismay and Brenda’s and my mutual relief.”

“Then you are single, Luke?” Sue Ellen latched onto that tidbit.

Red’s eyes twinkled. “More or less.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What does that mean?”

“It means when he....”

I decided it was politic to cut off Red’s explanation, which would no doubt involve the use of my married status to get rid of unwanted female attentions, something that would not make me appear in a very good light to the assembled ladies or the Colonel. I didn’t care about Sue Ellen or the men, all of whom seemed like dicks, but the rest of the women were nice enough and there was never a good reason to unnecessarily annoy a superior officer.

“I really think we’ve talked about me enough tonight, Red. There must be something more interesting. What do you ladies do for entertainment out here while your men are busy on the base?”

Connie smiled at me brightly. “Well, there are quite a few shops, although the prices are not as good as we can get here. But it’s fun to go shopping in the mall in Quaker Bridge or down to Cherry Hill. We go all the way to Philadelphia sometimes; there are all sorts of sights there to see. We run bus trips there for the newcomers, so they can visit the historical sites. Peggy is in charge of those and she does a great job with it. Oh, and Red, you might be interested in this. Our ladies group goes out to the reservation and takes food and clothing....” Her voice petered out as she caught sight of her husband’s quelling look.

“Quite a lot the ladies do; we hardly ever see them at home,” he broke in smoothly.

Linton, God love him, asked a question of Peggy about the Liberty Bell, something completely innocuous that she couldn’t fail to be able to answer. A general conversation started up, with some of the men talking sports and Red making small talk with the quiet Linda Sanders.

Before I saw her and thus could have taken evasive action, Sue Ellen was across the room and settling down next to me on the sofa. Red was already on the other side and we’re big men so there wasn’t all that much room for her to squeeze in next to me but she did it, her thigh brushing up next to mine. I glanced across at her husband and he was very pointedly not looking over. Damn. Just what I needed was the base slut in heat and chasing after me. This was exactly the type of time that my wedding band came in handy, truth be told, but I’d left it off because I’d wanted to be more honest with Linton. So much for that. He wasn’t even looking over. He was being so attentive to Gruning’s plain old wife that you would have thought she was the one who was built like a beauty queen and acting hot to trot.

“So,” said beauty queen leaned closer to breathe in my ear, “you’re going to be here on the base for a few weeks, Captain Luke O’Keefe?”

“That is the plan,” I told her, wondering when in hell Connie White was going to serve dinner.

“Red? I’m glad to see you and Luke looking so healthy. I take it that rash you picked up on our mission didn’t prove too intractable?” Linton’s cool voice rose above the general buzz of conversation in the room.

“Well, mine cleared up fine after that course of antibiotics you prescribed,” Red told him, face perfectly serious, “but Luke here, he’s still having a spot of trouble here and there...not the kind of thing I can really describe in more detail in front of the ladies, as you know, but really, the damnedest thing...you might want to take a look at it later.”

“One must be careful with such things after being overseas,” Glen nodded his head wisely. “I remember once in Samoa, got the worse case of jock itch, turned out to be the rain water in the barrel had some of the local vines in it, and wouldn’t you know it was there that I broke out? Remember how long it took me to get rid of that, Connie?”

Connie blushed and avowed no desire to remember that episode. The topic did serve to remind her that she’d invited all of us to dinner and with a glance at Pettigrew, who’d been waiting patiently for her to look his way it seemed, she stood and announced that it was ready in the dining room. Linton offered her his arm, which she took with a smile. I was thankful that Sue Ellen scooted away from my supposedly diseased self – I owed Linton for that one – and turned to accept Red’s escort but he was already offering his arm to Linda Sanders. I turned toward Peggy Gruning, wondering if she would risk it, and received a shrewd look and a slight wink. I favored her with the dimpled O’Keefe smile as she took my arm. We lingered slightly behind the others as there was a general exodus for the dining room, enjoying the flounce in Sue Ellen’s step as she was forced to accept the Colonel’s arm.

“Look at her. For a second there she was afraid she’d have to take little Phil’s arm. Her own husband is busy thinking of his dinner and the other husbands have all been burned by her. Glen knows he’d hear about it from Connie if Sue Ellen had even more to throw a fit over than she already does. You have good friends in those two, don’t you?”

I looked down into the plain face. Who would have thought that Gruning would have such a smart, nice wife?

“Yes, I do, ma’am.” I smiled at her again as we were about to head into the dining room. She held me back.

“I’ll forgive you the ma’am since you gave me that smile. It must get you out of a lot of trouble,” she said tartly. Before I could say anything else, she stopped me. “No, let me speak, we only have a second or Sue Ellen will be back out here. Or my husband. You seem to be young Linton’s friend. Look out for him tonight. They have something planned for his demonstration. I heard them talking. I don’t know...it isn’t my business, but he’s a nice man. They think he’s...well, that he’s different. And the fact that he doesn’t fit their ideas of how he should be makes him a threat somehow.”

“What do you mean?” I asked even though I was pretty sure I knew. She turned and smiled as Gruning came over to the doorway.

“Did you two get lost?” He asked his question in a loud, overly jovial way, but his eyes were looking between the two of us suspiciously. The others looked up from where they were taking their seats.

“Don’t be silly, Frank. How could we get lost walking twenty feet? Luke was just trying to get me to meet him later for an assignation. But I told him no, I already had plans.” Peggy Gruning swept past her red-faced husband as the other couples chuckled at his expense.

“Shh, darling, you promised to keep it quiet,” Bill Summers joked.

“I thought tonight was my night?” Terry Sanders got in on it too, but I was glad to see him giving his wife’s hand a quick squeeze. A joke like that would have gotten one of my brother-in-law’s balls squeezed–and not in a good way–had he made such a joke in front of one of my pregnant sisters and no apologetic hand holding would have gotten him out of trouble. Of course, my sisters are mean ones.

Dinner was fairly calm after that. The food was good and plentiful, which was a relief. Red and I tend to consume a fair amount, which makes sense, I figure, given that there’s a fair amount of us to maintain. But for once, we weren’t the topic of discussion. Linton’s lack of eating was. Connie seemed to take it personally and then the men, mainly Gruning and Summers, got on his case, asking if he was dieting to keep his “girlish figure.”

Again, Red jumped in. He knew it wouldn’t look good, especially if Linton was already being given grief for being suspected of being gay, if I were to seem too attentive, since I fully intended to be damn attentive while we were here, so he was doing the interfering that I couldn’t. Plus, he hated bullies as much as I did.

He looked over at Gruning. “I seem to remember you telling us that English here was going to be doing his fighting demo later this evening?” Gruning nodded cautiously. There was just something about Red that made most people not want to mess with him. There’s a fine line between his kind of experience-honed battle readiness and insanity, and Red always looked ready to cross that line at a moment’s notice. He shamelessly used that look to his advantage, I often told him.

“Well, if the man’s gonna be fightin’ later, why the hell would he want a stomach full of food?”

“It’s just a demonstration, now, isn’t it, Glen? Peter doesn’t really have to fight anyone, does he? He’s not a very large man, after all.” Connie turned anxious eyes to her husband. The three Marines from this base made no attempt to hide their snickers and even Glen looked amused. I was shocked to see the slight contempt in his glance as he looked over at Linton, who was sitting there with his jaw tensed, doing his best to maintain a civil expression. I willed him to look at me. Come on, English, look over. Just for a second, ignore this fool. Glen, meanwhile, was reassuring his wife.

“We’ll be careful to make sure Peter doesn’t get hurt. If any of the boys get carried away, all he has to do is tap out. That’s the signal to stop a match, am I correct, Peter?”

“Quite correct, Glen. In a jujitsu competition, that is the procedure if one wishes to be released from a hold.”

“You are taking on all comers, is that right?” Gruning’s eyes were lit with mischief. They definitely had something more planned than a simple demonstration in jujitsu.

“Well, I will limit the number to three, but yes. The squadron leaders can select the three competitors.”

“English has been undefeated at every base pretty much. Irish here was able to fight him to a draw, but he was the third, so I think it’s only fair to say he didn’t get him fresh,” Red noted calmly, building up Linton to these pricks who looked like a group of jackals. At least they were no longer forcing food on him. My own appetite was gone at this point.

“You fought Luke?” Linda Sanders spoke up, one of her few comments of the night. She was a very shy girl. Her eyes were wide. I think even I scared her a bit. I smiled at her, trying to win her over. I got a tentative smile back.

“He had me whupped but good with his tricks...I had to pull out a few sneaky moves of my own. But I heard rumors he’s been studying and learning new things. Capoeira, Peter?”

Linton relaxed a bit. “I knew it then but not well enough to demonstrate it. I’ve been fascinated by it since I spent time in Brazil. I’ve since practiced, wanting, as you say, new tricks. I don’t think it’s a style that would suit you and Red, although it would be interesting to see you try. It is fascinating to watch real experts in it, which I’m not.”

The others, besides Red, were lost, having no idea what we were talking about, and I had no desire to clue them in. I suspected Peter shared my feeling. He turned to Glen and suggested that he should be heading over to the gym that was being used for the demonstration and then thanked both Glen and Connie for the evening.

“Well, I suggest it’s time we all finish up our coffee and dessert as well. We’ll allow Peter to go ahead, so he has some time to get ready and then we’ll join him over there. The time is drawing near for the big event. Ladies, I don’t know if you’d like to watch or not. It may not be suitable....”

“We’re watching,” Connie announced, after getting a nod from Peggy Gruning. Frank tried protesting but it didn’t do him any good.

We were a fairly large group that convoyed over. I would have preferred to have gone over with Linton but didn’t see any way to arrange it easily. I’d noticed the three Ft. Dix officers conferring after Red’s revelations about Peter’s skill. They should have known already, of course, but they must not have believed it.

Red came over to me once we arrived in the large gym and we had the chance to talk privately.

“You know they have something planned against English, don’t you?” His voice was hard.

“It’s pretty plain, but yeah, Peggy Gruning warned me of as much. Why, what did you hear?”

“I can smell a skunk as much as you, and the little pregnant one was worried sick over Terry getting hurt with what they’re doing once I revealed that sweet Peter ain’t so sweet. I heard Terry telling her he ain’t fighting. They got some big ringer doing it. Plan on him going second. Summers is going third only if he has to. He was a wrestler in high school as well as a football player. State champ.”

I looked at Red admiringly. “Your ears are as good as your nose and aren’t half as big.”

He smacked me in the chest. Hard. “Come on. Gotta save your little friend, don’t we?” He looked at me.

“Our little friend, Red,” I reminded him.

He shrugged. “Same difference.”

I threw my arm over him. It really was to him. Damn, I was lucky to have Red.
“You know, Irish, he’s going to need someone to watch his back and it can’t be you,” Red warned.

“I think in here it can be,” I protested. “It’s a fight and....”

“And you go jumping in like you would for any of your men back home, it would be one thing, but here, there’s going to be talk. They don’t know you. Me, I can do crazy Indian and it won’t matter, to me and probably not to English, plus I can fuck up a truckload of women while we’re here to put any funny thoughts to bed. ” Red grinned at the pun and I winced obligingly. He went on, “I don’t think you’re willing to do that this trip, are you?”

I thought about it. Was I?

“I don’t know, haven’t seen any yet, have I?” I was stalling. He looked at me in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t do crazy as well as you but there’s a good reason for that,” I pointed out, elbowing him. He grinned back at me as we said in unison, “You’re [I’m] not crazy.”

“Seriously, what’s it going to be, Luke? You want me to go volunteer my services to English over there? You can go stand by White and try to make sure he keeps this clean, okay?”

I nodded glumly. “Okay, but make sure he knows....” I didn’t finish. What could I say?

Red rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him your love. Now you behave over on the sidelines. Don’t go acting like me, you hear?”

I had to smile at that. Imagine Red acting like the sensible one of the two of us? It also was crazy that we had to worry about our own people being the risk here. Part of the problem was that men got a little stir crazy when confined to a base too long and Linton, as a Brit, was too easily considered fair game. Plus, while he didn’t come across as effeminate by any means, his upper class ways were easily mistaken for prissy by rougher edged Americans. Hell, he was different, and sometimes that was enough to make someone a target. There had been times, years ago when we were younger, when Red had been a target for his straight black hair and dark skin and obviously Native American looks. Comments like Connie’s innocently made one tonight were made in cruel jest. They weren’t made more than once after Red’s fighting skills were unleashed. At those times, I had his back. I remembered all too well when we were the dirty Irish immigrant kid to the wealthier children in my Catholic school, and comforting my crying sister who couldn’t understand that no amount of scrubbing would ever convince such children that we weren’t dirty. I’d preferred to beat the words out of them also.

“Keep him safe, Red,” I whispered in a low voice.

“Well, I’ll keep him in one piece. Can’t make any promises about safe,” Red said, sauntering off toward the other side of the large gymnasium, where Peter stood alone.

*************************************

I warmed up as best I could. I never liked trying to do my warm-up exercises in front of an audience but that bloody dinner didn’t leave me much choice. It was bad enough having to sit through one of White’s command performances that disguised itself as a social gathering before this event, but being pierced by the green-eyed gaze of a certain mistake from my recent past as soon as I walked into the room guaranteed an especially hellish evening.

At least, I thought it did. As it turned out, Luke and Red seemed to go out of their way to ally themselves with me, not a popular move with my hosts, at least not with his men. I wasn’t sure where White stood, quite frankly. I didn’t really care, as long as he left me alone to do my job and leave. It was his officers who were proving to be somewhat of a nuisance, men who should have been past the age of hazing the new kid on the block.

Going through my stretches, I tried to work out how I’d ended up being championed by the two men I’d been determined to give the cold shoulder to. At least, I had no quarrel with Red, but he and Luke were such a team, however you treated one, you had to mete out the same treatment to the other – within limits, I amended the thought, biting back the smile as I recalled certain treatment I’d bestowed upon the one man that I’d never been tempted to share with his buddy. The problem was, Luke O’Keefe had more charm than should be legal, I decided, remembering how quickly my resolve left me when subjected to that charm, and seeing that overgrown boy in need of rescue from the bitch that was Sue Ellen Saunders.

“Somethin’ funny, English? Like how these Yanks are looking forward to whuppin’ your ass?”

I looked up...and up, into Redraven’s smirking face.

“That is a sight to bring a smile to the face and a song to the heart,” I agreed. “Are you here to give some last words of advice or the last rites? Something suitably ‘native’.” I smiled wickedly as I put emphasis on the last word.

He glowered but directed the scowl at the cluster of officers off to our left. “Nah, I left my loincloth and beads back home in Kentucky. Though folks like them tempt me to do something like that. I’ll show them noble savage. Fucking idiots and their charity to the reservations. Fuck them.” He grinned suddenly. “Can you imagine me in a loincloth?”

Actually, now that he mentioned it....I coughed and changed the subject. “What brings the two of you here? Other than entertaining the officers’ wives with tales of Luke’s adventures in high school, that is.” I continued doing leg stretches as he watched me critically but made no suggestions. I hated when people insisted they knew a better way to stretch, which was ninety-nine percent of people, I’ve found. Red was the rare one percent. Either he didn’t care how other people stretched or he had no preference as to method, I suspected the former.

“Same as you, educating the masses with our skills. Talking about Afghanistan. Lots of interest in that hellhole. Pouring money into it hand over fist. Gonna send more of us over, I expect. But, we can talk about that later. Thought I’d offer to second you, since White didn’t assign you anyone like Harris did. Luke’s having conniptions over there that you might forget to duck like you did in Germany,” he volunteered casually.

The weight in my chest that had been there since Stuttgart and which I’d been convinced was permanent, like the scar on my knee that I got from falling off my bike when I was ten, dissolved, simple as that. I sat up abruptly. I glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear. Red must have read my mind since he crouched down and gripped my feet as though helping my do crunches. He spoke in a lower voice.

“We’re here because you two idiots need to talk. I don’t need or want to hear any details of what’s going on between the two of you, but understand this, you matter to Luke, which means you matter. Got that? Luke fucked up in some way; you let him explain. Running out was stupid but we’re all stupid sometimes, even Luke, but he never means to hurt anyone’s feelings. He’s good that way. I’m going out on a limb I almost never go out on here, Linton, but my gut tells me that you left because Luke matters to you too. Am I right?”

This was completely the wrong place to be discussing this, and not even the right man for me to be admitting this to perhaps, but I found myself meeting that hard gaze and nodding. It felt as binding as any vow I’d ever made in my life.

He nodded back. “Then we take care of you. And you take care of us. Simple as that. That other thing you two have going on, you work it out or not, but in the big picture, it’s not as important, as far as I’m concerned. You can always find someone for that...someone who matters? That isn’t as easy, is it?”

I was stunned. He was right. I’d had it completely backwards. The sex had been amazing, true, but Luke and I had forged a connection in those mountains, a connection that we made even stronger when we talked that night in the hotel. How could I have been willing to throw that away over what I’d seen as a betrayal arising from a prior relationship that had nothing to do with me, nothing to do with what we shared and what had drawn us together?

Red patted me on the back...hard.

“No time to wallow in it now, English. You still have all these fuckers out for your blood. Let’s see that English bulldog spirit now. Come on, get up and make Irish proud.”

He stood and reached out a hand to hoist me up. Standing next to him, I felt fragile, which was not the best mood to take into a competition of this type, I thought ruefully. Although, on the flip side, the contrast would make my opponents tend to underestimate me as well. That’s putting a positive spin on it, Peter, I told myself.

White walked over to the microphone that Gruning had set up for him.

“Gentlemen, we’re privileged to have with us tonight, Major Peter Linton, MD., PhD, of Britain’s Special Forces. Many of you have already attended some of his lectures on medicinal plants and I am sure I don’t need to repeat for you all of the Major’s impressive qualifications, graduate of Cambridge....”

After telling the men that he didn’t need to repeat my resume, he ensured that they’d hate me even more by doing exactly that, I noted. Luke, standing next to him, grimaced at me sympathetically. Of course, it didn’t help any that he then introduced Luke and Red as good old American boys, noting Luke’s status as a former All-American in soccer and Red’s Marine sharp-shooter awards. They got cheers.

“Ignore it,” Red advised. “They’re only cheering because of you. Normally they’d be at our throats because we’re SOCOM, and we compete with them. We all have to piss on our own patch of ground. Right now they’re thumping their chests over that war of 1776, I guess. Now to one of my grandfathers, they’re squatters, and to the other, he still sees us as soldiers in the Army that fought that war of Yankee aggression. It’s all a matter of perspective. Go on now, he’s finally gotten to your cue.”

I was still grinning broadly at his commentary when I moved forward to make my opening remarks regarding the advantages of the jujitsu and capoeira styles of martial arts. I then stripped off my sparring top and invited an opponent from the assembly. Red stood a short distance away, his arms folded across his chest, his face expressionless. His menacing presence was a comfort as I waited for my first adversary. This was always the point in my presentation when I knew whether it would be an enjoyable display of mutual skill, geared towards demonstrating techniques and moves, or whether it would be a testosterone fueled battle of survival.

A nod from one of the other officers sent a leanly muscled young Asian soldier jumping up from the seated men. Interesting choice. He was about my size and similarly built, not at all the usual strategy in these fights, where the Yanks tend to reason that bigger is better. Although I had to admit, Luke, the only one to beat me, was the biggest, but he didn’t use his size to do it.

This man walked over briskly and from his formal stance, I could tell he was familiar with martial arts competition. Many of the men who chose to compete with me were skilled in martial arts; they were Marines, after all, but not all of them practiced the finer points, keeping the emphasis on the “martial” instead of the “arts” aspect of it.

This young man, Private Miles Lee, bowed, and went quickly on the offensive. He was good. Very good. He also held nothing back, and it was apparent that someone must have told him he’d get bonus points if he rendered me unable to proceed to the next opponent because some of his attacks would have incapacitated someone who was not a Master.

Private Lee was not expecting a Master. I pinned him in three minutes. It wasn’t easy and he almost broke my hold but I held it the requisite time and waited for his acknowledgment. It didn’t come when it should have and I almost released him but something in his eyes told me he would attack again if I did.

“Don’t even think about it,” I said, speaking in a low voice, but loudly enough for Red’s keen ears to pick up. He was hovering a scant four feet away, ostensibly to hand me a towel when the bout was over but I suspected it was to prevent foul play. “Cheat and my friend there takes over.”

The black eyes darted over toward Red, who obliged by giving one of his maniacal grins. Lee lowered his eyes. I think the boy was ashamed, quite frankly, and I had to wonder what type of pressure had been brought to bear on him. He nodded his head and signaled his concession.

A outcry of disbelief went up as I helped Lee to his feet and he bowed, then we both bowed to each other. There was applause, the loudest coming from the section near Luke and the ladies, but it was overshadowed by a rumble of noise from the corner of the room that Lee had come from. Within seconds I saw his commanding officer marching over to White with a few of the Captains from that section. I shook hands with Lee and held him back when he tried to pull away. His eyes were still downcast.

“Why? You fought a good bout, private. But unless I’m wrong, you considered dishonoring your teachers and your skill. Care to tell me why?”

“I cannot. You fought well. I would wish to spar again, but not in this context. I am sorry. And ashamed. Please, forgive me. I was trying to please my Major and instead I have shamed him and myself.” The young face was frozen now and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get anything more out of him. A pity. I was about to let him go but White was beckoning us both over. Several officers stood next to him, red-faced. I walked over, accompanied by Red.

“Major Linton, Private Lee, excellent job, truly excellent. Just as well that you came along too, Lt. Redraven.”

I noticed that we were no longer all on first names basis and suspected I knew what was coming. My temper was about ready to explode but I kept my outward calm. I felt a large hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. Amazing how that helped, knowing I wasn’t alone. I risked a glance at Luke. He was standing slightly to White’s side and while his smiling expression would tell the casual observer that he was, if anything, slightly amused by the delegation of men who’d brought their charges to the Colonel, his eyes told the true story. He was furious.

“I’m sorry to have to bring this up, men,” White began, looking at me, “but there’s been a question raised about why Private Lee would have conceded the fight after looking at Lt. Redraven in the manner that he did. There’s some worry, unfounded, I’m sure, that he may have felt threatened by Lt. Redraven in some way and while that would be completely not the lieutenant’s fault....”

No, it would be mine, I thought. Before I could speak, however, Red did it for me.

“Well, I think it would be completely founded, sir. If the kid had cheated or anything like that, I would have had English’s back, like I would any of my men. I’m sure that’s the way it’s done around here too. So he’d have every reason to be nervous around me if he had plans to jump English after the time had elapsed for a pin and he’d been released.... Right, private?”

“Well I think that’s going a little far, Lieutenant, for all that your protectiveness is admirable,” one of the captains blustered at Red. You had to give the man points for bravery if not brains. “We don’t appreciate one of our men being threatened because you think he might have had plans you wouldn’t like.”

Luke took a step forward. “My lieutenant didn’t threaten anyone, nor did Major Linton, Captain. This is all supposed to be a friendly demonstration, at which your young private did quite well against a true martial arts master. Your charges are nonsense and everyone here knows it. I notice you haven’t asked the boy why he looked over at Lt. Redraven, or why the hell he hadn’t conceded yet, since he is certainly familiar enough with the rules for these things to know that you don’t stay pinned forever. At some point you say uncle.”

Or lick an ear, my wayward mind commented. From the look that Luke shot my way I suspect the same thought came to him since I saw the barest flicker of a wink as everyone else turned toward Lee expectantly. I half expected the boy to fall in with the wishes of his commanding officer and insist he’d been coerced into conceding, but he surprised me.

Lee looked Col. White directly in the eye, his eyes no longer directed to the floor.

“I felt no unwarranted threat from Lt. Redraven, and Major Linton gave me far more time to escape the pin than is customary. He was more than honorable and it is a...dishonorable thing to even suggest otherwise.”

He then turned to me. “I must apologize, Major Linton. I was much too aggressive in the fight. Had you not been such an excellent fighter, someone may have been hurt.” He smiled. “That someone could have been me, if you were not good enough to subdue me without force. I bow to your skill, sir.”

He did so, to the chagrin of his superiors, but charming the ladies and certainly getting back in my good graces. I bowed in return and accepted his apology. In truth, the bout took a lot out of me, I hoped there were no more like him waiting in the wings.

“Just wait,” Red predicted as we walked back to our starting point. “Luke will end up adopting the little fucker. He’ll have to, he’ll be dead meat now with his gang.”

“Does he do that often?” I asked.

Red looked at me like I just asked a stupid question. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

Looking at it from that perspective, I guessed I had.

“Holy fuck,” Red said.

I’d missed my next opponent being introduced. I swallowed as I looked at him walking over.

“My, he is a big fellow. Would you say he is taller than you?” I calmly asked.

“More or less the same, but the thing is, he’s pretty near as big across, Oh fuck, I think Luke’s gonna pass out; he’s white as a sheet.”

I would have laughed but it really wasn’t funny. Corporal Eli Blackson was a huge black man, easily three hundred and fifty pounds of what looked to be rock solid muscle on a six foot, seven frame. We shook hands and his engulfed mine. He grinned at me and I couldn’t help but smile back, his humor was infectious. He was eyeing me much the same way I was evaluating him, but with that little bit extra that was causing my gaydar to ping. I narrowed my eyes and looked Corporal Blackson over once more.

“I know, Major, I’m a lot to take in. But my orders are to take you down,” he confided, his voice a deep rumble. My God, what a voice. I wanted to ask him if he sang, but sadly, this was not a social occasion.

“Well, you’re welcome to try, Corporal, but you know the saying...the bigger they are...”

“The harder they are?” His laugh was enough to cause vibrations in the gym floor.

“Quit flirting and start fighting,” Red grumbled from behind me. “Can you take that mass? I may need to go hold Luke back? At least he doesn’t seem like he wants to kill you, just beat you fair and square.”

“I’ll win, it’ll just hurt doing it,” I turned to assure him, hoping I was right. “Go hold your Major’s hand.”

“Nah, he’d kill me if I left your side. But be careful. You could consider losing, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Perish the thought. I’m English, remember. Mad dogs and all that.”

He barked that crazy laugh, no doubt making the cocky soldiers who were planning my demise wonder what the hell was so funny.

It confused Blackson. As we circled each other, neither one wanting to take the floor position to start, he asked me, “So, what’s so funny? Got to tell you, most men I fight don’t look as calm as you.”

“We discussed my insanity. Runs in my family.”

As he laughed, I made my move, trying to take him to the floor. I failed and he got me in a hold that was like being grabbed by a vise. A huge vise with sides that were forty inches in diameter. I shocked him by breaking free and finally pulling him to the ground, a much better place to fight a man almost a foot taller with a reach that far exceeded my own. He didn’t have Luke’s surprising speed, being more typically big man slow, but he more than made up for it with staggering strength.

From that point on it became a matter of survival. If the last bout was a demonstration of offensive style and skill, this was an excellent example of using jujitsu defensively. I was using every move I knew to escape holds from which there appeared to be no escape. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, that was clear, as there was more than one time that he could have ended the fight had he simply used brute force. But in each case, it would have risked serious injury and unlike Private Lee, young Blackson wasn’t willing to go that far. Which was only fair. I could incapacitate him also, if it came down to that, but that wasn’t supposed to be the point of the bout. Had we not had an audience, and had I not been tired and with one more bout to fight, I’d have enjoyed this test of my skill more. But the officers who were sending these young men against me with orders to win at who knew what costs had turned a supposed lesson into a battlefield. It angered me.

Eventually I found myself pinned. I looked up at the sweating dark face above me, Blackson’s brown eyes worried. “Yield, sir. I don’t want to hurt you.”

His body was huge as it pressed against mine. I closed my eyes for a split second and remembered what Luke had done. I leaned forward. “Are you sure?” I whispered suggestively.

His eyes widened and his grip relaxed just enough for my purposes. I was able to move my hands to the right positions and then to the amazement of my opponent, and the awed gasps of the crowd, I lifted him into the air on my legs, held him there for a moment, balanced, then tossed him perfectly to the mat.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall...even when hard.

I took advantage of the wind being knocked out of him to quickly climb on top of him and pin him in what I knew to be a fairly unbreakable pin–on a normal sized person. If he hadn’t just hit the ground so hard he’d have been out of it fairly quickly since it was damn near impossible to get the right leverage since I couldn’t touch the ground when my arm was on his chest. I would have to research ways around this problem, I decided. Fortunately, he looked up at me, somewhat dazed, and said, “Uncle.”

“Thank God,” I gasped, rolling off him and onto the mat. This time there was louder applause. Big Blackson sat up and shook his head.

“Are you okay, son?” I asked him, concerned.

“I’m fine.” He looked up and smiled. “Just going to get a truckload of grief from Major Gruning over this. He has some funny ideas in case....”

“Corporal! Attention!” Gruning was standing over us and actually demanding the man stand at attention. The arse.

“Your man fought admirably,” I began, but was cut off.

“We all saw the fight, thank you, Major. Corporal, we will discuss your disgraceful performance and the reason for it later. Please report to quarters.”

“I must object.” It took me a moment to stand and once again I found Redraven at my back when he was needed. He must have signaled to Luke because I saw him nod and then he turned to Col. White and the two of them were heading over.

“What right do you have to object to anything I choose to do with my men?” Gruning was busy blustering away. I wondered what the observers were making of all this extra drama. I was glad this didn’t happen at each base. I wondered if it was just my lucky day or if Luke brought this type of drama in his wake?

“Let me say that was quite a maneuver, Major, quite a maneuver! Lifting a man of Corporal Blackson’s size over you like that! Outstanding! Made my heart stop. Goes to show you it isn’t the size of the man in the fight, eh? It’s the size of the fight in the man! Something my old Sergeant used to say back in boot camp. I’ll have to remind the men of that one. Good fight there, Blackson, good fight. We just can’t underestimate this British Major, can we? Now what seems to be the problem, Gruning? You look like you have your shorts in a twist? Your man did a fine job, fine job. Fought a clean fight, was glad to see he didn’t look like he was out for blood like young Lee, but he really put Linton here to the test. I think you must have used quite a few of the tricks in your book, eh, Peter?”

“Quite, Colonel White. I was just saying that I would dislike it if Corporal Blackson is disciplined as a result of his volunteering in my demonstration, which task he so ably and outstandingly performed, to which the bruises on my body will attest."

“Disciplined? Why of course not. I’m sure the lad is in line for some extra R and R at the very least, for that last toss if nothing else, right, Frank?”

I had to hand it to White. With all his good old boy chatter, he managed to get his points across. He also saw more than he tended to let on, I suspected.

“Of course,” Gruning said through gritted teeth, glaring at me. “I was just telling Blackson to see me about just that when the Major saw fit to interrupt. Perhaps if we’re done here, he can move on to his last little fight? The evening is getting away from us.”

“Good point.” White turned to the crowd. He didn’t need the microphone. He knew how to project his voice and at this point everyone was on pins and needles to hear what he was going to say. From that perspective, it was undoubtedly somewhat anticlimactic.

“Soldiers, you’ve had the treat of seeing two outstanding bouts and we thank the volunteers, Private Lee of B Company and Corp. Blackson of A Company for volunteering to put themselves into Major Linton’s capable hands.” There was a smattering of laughter. “We’re going to give the Major a few minutes to rest after his bout of heavy lifting,” More laughter. “Then we’ll be back with the lucky person who will go third.”

I was careful to keep my posture erect and my head high but it was at some cost. Every muscle was screaming in agony at this point.

Luke looked at me and his lips tightened. He placed a hand on White’s arm. “Sir, don’t you think, given that your men have seen two such outstanding displays, bouts that have really tested the Major’s skill and given ample fodder for discussion later, it really isn’t necessary for him to proceed with the third bout?”

“Oh, it would be a shame for the demonstration to end early,” Gruning protested. “I understand that every other base got three tries, and you had no compunction about taking your whack at him when he’d fought two men before you, O’Keefe.”

“Well my base didn’t send Bruce Lee and Refrigerator Perry after him,” Luke snapped.

“Nah, he ain’t the Fridge,” Redraven chimed in. “Perry’s nowhere near that big.”

I wondered what an appliance had to do with matters but decided it was another one of Luke and Red’s obscure references. At least they were giving me more time to catch my breath, which was good. The bad side of it was I could feel my muscles tightening up even as I had the thought.

“Please, let’s either do it or not.” I put my hand up to wipe the sweat from my head. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the floor, leaning against something solid and warm.

“Drink this,” I was commanded.

“Bloody fuck, tell me I didn’t faint.” I swallowed the water thrust at me.

“Can’t do that, I promised myself I would always tell you the truth,” the amused note in the Irish lilted voice almost was enough to make me dump the water on the speaker. Almost. The sentiment expressed made me forgive the humor since there was just enough underlying sincerity to make me want to hug the man...if there weren’t a couple hundred soldiers surrounding us, that is.

“I have to fight another fight,” I muttered.

“Over my dead body,” he said cheerfully.

“Could be arranged,” I suggested.

“Nah, Red has dibs on killing me and right now he’s getting ready to fight Saunders...can you believe that’s who they wanted you to fight third? After fighting those other two? We gave them a choice of me or Red and they took one look at me and chose him, go figure.” Luke stayed crouched by my side as we waited for the fight. White announced that Red was going to substitute in for me, over my objections. I grunted at that sop to my ego. Luke chuckled and said they knew I would have been pitching a fit had I been conscious enough to know what was going on. There was a general stir of chatter as Red stripped off his shirt. The man was lean, even more so than Luke, but what was there was muscle. He had a single large tattoo of a raven on his left shoulder, beautifully done. The bird rested upon an especially wicked looking scar that made its way down his scapula and across his back. It must have been an evil wound. The bird’s insouciant perch upon it seemed to symbolize the man’s response to whatever forces had tried to inflict such a deadly injury.

Bill Summers boldly stood opposite the Indian warrior, flexing his biceps, seemingly unafraid. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or simply dumbfounded. Bill Summers was either a lot dumber than I’d thought, or he had some kind of super powers that were not readily apparent. I didn’t call it brave to take on someone like Steven Redraven out of machismo. There’s an old Chinese proverb that says it isn’t brave to pull a tiger’s tail.

Bill Summers was a strong, fit looking man, about my age. He still retained the muscles of his ball playing years and he knew wrestling moves. He also was fighting to win, with no compunction about hurting. But he had no idea of the level of fighter he was up against. I may well have been able to fight him in my current state, but it would have hurt me and I likely would have been forced to hurt him to avoid serious injury to myself. I was too fatigued for finesse.

Redraven could have incapacitated him in under two minutes. But I was proud to see that he was using the techniques I’d taught him, and practically teaching a primer in jujitsu defensive maneuvers. In the beginning, that is.

“Like a cat with a mouse,” Luke murmured.

He was right, but it was done to a purpose. Summers was wrestling with skill, and even trying some karate moves, no holds barred, but he was having no success with the taller, stronger, faster Red who was combining his natural gifts with technique and thus giving me something to talk about in my lectures. Red could have just used his natural advantages and beaten Summers and there would have been no point to this third bout other than the male ego gratification of who beat whom. But Red was demonstrating that the same methods that enabled me to defeat Blackson were allowing him to slip away from Summers’ very different holds time after time.

The clincher came when Red allowed Summers to pin him, and the exhausted Captain was thrilled thinking he’d finally gained an advantage. Before his smirk had even settled on his face, however, it had turned to an appalled grimace as he found himself being lifted in the air on Red’s long legs. The room erupted with raucous laughter as Red flipped him once before tossing him to the mat.

I winced at the sound of the man hitting the ground. He wasn’t as large and heavy as Blackson but Red had thrown him with a lot more force.

“Serves him right,” Luke muttered. “Come on, let’s go. You need a long soak in a hot bath.”

“I need to wrap things up,” I protested.

Those green eyes stared at me hotly. “No...you don’t.”

It was astounding how quickly he got us out of that gathering. Before I knew it, he and Red had accompanied me back to my quarters, Red driving the vehicle he’d commandeered from somewhere. By the time we arrived to where I’d been assigned, I could barely move. Luke took one look at me and lifted me out of the car.

“Haven’t we already done this before?”

“But ‘you can’t remember where or when?’ Rodgers and Hart, good song, if you’re a good Major, I’ll even sing it for you,” he promised.

“You can sing?”

“Oh Christopher, don’t get him started,” Red grumbled, taking the key from me and opening the door. “You get an O’Keefe started singing and it’s like the Von Trapp family or something, next thing you know, the whole damn gang is lined up singing in foreign languages.”

“Sounds charming.” Actually, it did.

“You can find out. You’re done after this according to Harris so you can go to Pittsburgh with us. Meet the gang,” Luke offered, putting me down on the couch.

I didn’t know what to say. I put my head back and closed my eyes while I thought. I knew what I wanted to say. The silence was rather deafening, so I chanced a peek from beneath my lashes. Luke was looking anxious. He looked adorable that way. I caved. I take on...what did he call them? Bruce Lee and a refrigerator with aplomb, but let me face one boyishly charming overgrown Irishman and I crumble. Pathetic is what it is.

“I imagine I could use my leave seeing the sights of...Pittsburgh? Is there anything famous in Pittsburgh?”

“Gene Kelly was born there,” Luke happily informed me.

“And Andy Warhol,” Red added, “don’t forget him.”

“The Steelers.”

“And lots of O’Keefes.”

“Yeah, lots of them. Dozens.”

I smiled tiredly. “Thank you both for coming to my aid...and for coming here. Period. It is good to see you both again.” I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Glad to see you too,” one of them said. I was so tired I couldn’t even tell which one it was. I heard voices talking and decided that I truly had to get up and offer refreshments. In just a moment. A short while later, I heard the front door close and was conscious of feeling bereft. Which was foolish since I would see him...them...again, and I was much too tired to be sociable just then. No sooner had I told myself that than I was conscious of being lifted again.

“Time to get that hot soak, Linton...you’re getting as bad as my baby brother, needing to be carried all the time.” That lilting voice was back and I was only too happy this time to sink into the embrace. I felt the arms tighten their hold briefly.

“Hmm, not yet, I think you’ll feel a lot better if you get some heat on those muscles first. God, I’d like to...no, I’m being good. Water’s all ready, epsom salts and everything.”

I felt competent hands strip my clothes from me. I roused myself enough to help, lifting my legs on request and then my arms. I stepped into the hot water and sank down. It was heaven. I heaved a happy sigh and sank down as far as I could go and still breathe.

That warm chuckle sounded just above my head.

“Can I trust you not to drown if I go fix you some tea? I know that’s like mother’s milk to you.”

“Mmm. Tea would be good. If I drown just pour it down my throat and it will revive me. Old English survival trick. Taught to the Navy chaps instead of how to swim.”

“The hot water must be working,” he said. “Those were the first whole sentences you’ve said in an hour, I think. Tea is coming up. Speaking of which, can I say that you looked pretty good tonight, Major Linton, but, deep purple bruises aside, you look even better now.”

“Sure, go ahead and say it,” I said recklessly, waving my hand in the direction of that lovely voice. He laughed and suddenly lips were brushing over mine.

“God, I missed you, Peter. Thought about you for months...wondered why you left...kicked myself for...well, for everything...felt like ten kinds of fool.” The kiss deepened and my head was gripped by two large strong hands. I opened my eyes to face those bright green eyes.

“Tell me, was I a fool?” His voice was harsh. “Didn’t it matter to you at all? Didn’t I matter?”

“You matter,” I whispered.

The tea was forgotten as Luke pulled me from the bath soaking wet. Our kisses were forceful, both of us needing to do more than taste, to delve into the other in exploration, passing the control back and forth between us as our tongues thrust into each other in simulation of the joining we were aching to repeat. We both pulled at his clothes as we stumbled toward the bedroom.

“Wait, let me get these off,” he finally begged, as we reached my bed and we still hadn’t made much progress toward getting him naked. I sprawled on my back, legs spread and arms above my head as I watched him unbutton his shirt with shaking hands.

“Fuck, Peter. Do you know what you look like, lying there like that? I think I could come just looking at you.”

I smiled and reached down to stroke my cock lightly. Luke moaned and almost fell in his rush to pull off his socks and pants in one motion. Finally naked, gloriously so, he stood over me like a young god, his golden body so perfectly formed...so big.

“Do you want to take me?” I asked, swallowing nervously, my excitement slightly dampened by reality. He really was built on godlike proportions and while it could be wonderful to have that cock inside me, I wasn’t sure if he would know how to lessen the discomfort. Sodomy was one of those skills where enthusiasm did not make up for lack of technique when it came to topping.

Luke leaned down and kissed me. His technique left nothing to be desired there and the feel of that large body pressing against me soon made me forget any thoughts but of feeling him even closer.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispered. He thrust his hips against mine and I hardened more than I would have thought possible. “I want you to fuck me.” He thrust again and I grew harder still. I reached around and grabbed those small, muscular buttocks, perfectly formed for gripping. His cock pressed into my stomach, rolling against my cock, both slick now from a mixture of my bathwater and our pre-cum. I sucked on the juncture of his neck and collarbone and he lifted his head in pleasure.

“Oh fuck...” He moved against me faster and I slipped my fingers into the cleft of his arse, caressing along the crease, teasing the entrance. I felt him stiffen and then the hot wetness of his semen. He slid down and his mouth wrapped around me as a hand cupped my bollocks. All it took was one look at that beautiful strong face sucking blissfully at my cock and I came like a geyser.

He crawled back up to me, licking his way past his spilled seed with a mischievous look.

“Hogging it all for yourself, are you?”

“I’ll share,” he told me, then kissed me, his cum filled tongue plunging deeply into my mouth.

Lifting his head, he smiled at me ruefully. “You’re going to regret not having gotten that bath in the morning, but...that was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was good,” I assured him. “And no, I won’t regret anything in the morning.” I held his gaze to make sure my message got through. I wouldn’t regret this and I was no longer regretting our night in Germany.

His face sobered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Brenda. It truly didn’t occur to me because, well, our marriage is kind of...well...”

“A marriage of convenience?” I suggested.

He grinned. “Yeah, something like that. She remembers we’re married when it’s convenient and I let her. Other than that, we’re good friends, Bren and me. It’s not like we had a big falling out or anything. We just realized after about, oh, two weeks, that our marriage was a mistake.”

“Two weeks?” I was shocked.

“Something like that,” he nodded. “Might have been less. Nine day wonder is what Red calls it. I think nine days is pushing it, actually.”

When he explained his marriage to me more fully, it sounded like the type of arrangement my father would have loved for me to have. An attractive, compliant, female who made no demands and who could be brought out for social events when needed. Maybe I should look into such a marriage, I thought...for all of ten seconds. A beard was not for me. I could not bear the hypocrisy, although, to be fair, Luke’s situation did not seem to arise from hypocrisy so much as immaturity. And kindness.

My fatigue overtook me sooner than I liked but we promised to talk again, agreeing to be careful while at the base. Red was covering for us that night but it wouldn’t do to be seen in each other’s company too often. Reluctantly, Luke agreed to leave before anyone could be expected to be awake and likely to see him in the morning. He’d thought ahead and had his running shorts with him as well as his track shoes so all he needed to do was make it outside and take off running. From that point, he was merely out on an early morning run with no one to know from where he started.

I hated the need for such subterfuge but there was no other choice. Our careers were at stake.

*************************************
 

We made it through the rest of the visit to Fort Dix with little trouble, thankfully, although keeping Red out of fights proved a full-time job. He made it his job to respond to all of the attacks that came Peter’s way. The funny thing was that there was never a hint of trouble toward me, but somehow the rumors seemed to settle on the big guy, Blackson, as Peter’s paramour. I told him I was jealous.

“You should be. I’m a terrible size queen,” he told me on one of our last days. We were jogging around the perimeter of one of the training areas.

“What does that mean?”

Red, who was trailing behind us by a few steps, barked. Peter turned and smiled at him.

“Do you want to tell him or should I?”

“Neither. Let him live on in sweet innocence, English. It’s so cute when he’s dumb like that.”

I was busy glaring at both of them when we heard the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh. My glare shifted to command mode in an instant, pretty much as quickly as Peter and Red went from teasing to the same alert, ready for action status. As one, we changed direction and sped up to head toward the sound.

It wasn’t a pleasant sight. Four men, two on each side, had Eli Blackson held while another one was taking swings at him. I considered Red and Peter. Peter outranked me and no doubt any of those men as a Major, but being British, they might not listen to him. We could handle this as three fighters but that wasn’t the way to go, my instincts said. These men were already violating their duty, we had to set an example. I nodded to Peter and Red, my decision made. I would go forward and issue orders as a Marine Captain and Green Beret and if these renegades didn’t follow them, then we’d whup some ass.

I didn’t even question that Peter would be able to read my mind as well as Red always did.

“Release that man! Ten-shun!” I bellowed in my deepest parade ground voice.

The four men holding Blackson looked up, and reflexively started to follow my order but then looked down at their victim and hesitated. They looked back at me and then to the hitter. He turned to look at me. It was Saunders. Big surprise.

“This doesn’t involve you, O’Keefe. I suggest you leave now.”

“I suggest you advise your men to follow my order or I shall be reporting them all to Colonel White. As it is, he will be hearing about you. I want that Marine released right now.”

Saunders’ face got even uglier. “This man is not worthy to be a Marine. We don’t allow faggots to dishonor the corps. So why don’t you and your... friends...run along.”

“Lt. Redraven, please remove Corporal Blackson from those men. Major, will you please restrain the Captain for me.” My voice was steady.

“Certainly.” Peter stepped forward as Red moved quickly. The four men took one look at Red’s face as he walked toward them and released their hold on the big man. I went forward to catch Blackson as he sagged, unable to stand on his own. The poor guy had been beaten so badly he couldn’t even open his eyes.

“Thank you, Captain,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry this happened. I’ll make sure it’s made right,” I told him.

Meanwhile, Saunders tried taking a swing at Peter. Good, I thought, with grim satisfaction. I turned to the four men who watched, eyes wide as the British Major they’d been told was one of those worthless fairies efficiently kicked their captain’s ass.

“I expect you gentlemen to testify that your Captain swung at Major Linton first,” I sternly told them. “I also now expect you to march ahead of us to Colonel White’s office. Lt. Redraven will meet you there after he assists me in taking Corp. Blackson to the base hospital. Major Linton will meet us there after he leaves your captain with the military police, as I will be pressing charges against him. I will request a full investigation into your roles into this outrage and suggest your cooperate fully to mitigate your punishments. Now march. If any of you are missing you will be brought in by the military police. I do not take attempted murder lightly.”

There were protests and I held up a hand. “I am not delaying this man’s treatment any longer to listen to your excuses...tell it to your Colonel.”

They headed off at a brisk march, glancing back every ten feet or so. I looked at Saunders. He was unconscious. Peter must have done that pressure point trick he had. Good, I didn’t want the man listening. Made a note to have him teach me that.

“Check him out, Peter...should Red run for an ambulance?”

With Red’s help we laid Blackson down on the ground and Peter did a quick examination, as best he could with no instruments. He looked at Red gravely. “Get running, tell them it’s an emergency, possible internal bleeding, broken ribs, pulse shallow.”

Red took off.

“Damn, I wish I hadn’t wasted time talking to those dicks,” I swore. Peter sat with Blackson’s head on his lap, his hand on his pulse; he was a reassuring sight but I couldn’t help feeling to blame somehow. I’d meant to check on Lee and Blackson, make sure they were not being hassled by their squads for losing to Peter. Blackson, I knew, was especially at risk, since he had Gruning as a commanding officer.

“Not your fault, Captain Luke.” The deep voice was faint but sure. Damned if the man wasn’t trying to comfort me.

“Don’t you worry about me, Eli. You concentrate on conserving your strength, take it easy until we get the ambulance here,” I told him, taking his other hand.

“Want to transfer to your unit...want to be a Green Beret...” he whispered.

“You got it, soldier. Any man who it takes five big men to take down has Green Beret in him.”

He laughed. The big guy actually laughed, after the beating he took. Peter looked at me and smiled, his sweet smile that hardly ever saw the light of day.

“I think Red was right. You’re going to adopt this one too, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight,” I told him. “Eli here is my kind of guy. Eli, you wouldn’t happen to be Irish, would you?”

The big man rumbled in amusement then winced. Peter chastised me for making him laugh when it so obviously was not a good idea and we both told him that laughing was always a good idea. He shook his head at us as we continued to joke, ignoring the ugliness of what had just transpired.

“You’re right,” Peter announced, “you two must be related.”

*************************************

(Pittsburgh, PA)

I looked at the big homey house, as we drew up to the curb in the rental car. Red and Luke had argued over who got to drive and finally, by process of a some elaborate system of keeping score, they decided it was Luke’s turn to drive. It was never clear to me whether that was the winning position or the losing but the two of them seemed satisfied with the outcome. I was happy that they didn’t elect me driver. One never knew what they might decide.

I decided I liked the house. It reminded me a bit of an English Manor house, in that it had clearly been “added onto” when necessity dictated, and the additions were planned to favor practicality more than any particular architectural or aesthetic style.

As our arrival was noticed, people began to pour from the house. Lots of people. I’d felt awkward about coming to visit, wondering if I would be viewed askance, but Red had confirmed Luke’s assurances that in the O’Keefe household, a friend of their soldier son’s was welcome. End of story. I was doubtful but faced as we were with a long separation when I returned to my duties in England, I didn’t have the heart to deny us this time together. Plus, I was curious to see the family I’d heard so much about.

“Luke! My boy!” A large handsome man was first to reach us. Luke had jumped from the car as soon as it stopped and run around it. He was swept into a warm embrace. Several big men had followed the first man from the house, and they all lined up behind the man who was clearly Patrick O’Keefe. Red leaned back against the car and motioned for me to join him.

“It’ll take them a bit to get past all the initial hugging and kissing. They’re a lovey dovey bunch, these Irish.”

“Oh, you love us, you Injun you, give me a hug!” a tall beautiful girl came up and grabbed Red into a hug.

“Angel, let go of that soldier!” Another tall, lovely woman walked up and yanked on the first girl’s hair. “Red, don’t encourage the child. She’s barely fourteen and look at how she acts!”

“Fourteen? Christ, lock her away!” Red said fervently. He turned toward me. “English, this here’s one of the beautiful O’Keefe girls, Miss Mary Kate, and the jail bait here is Angel, but don’t let the name fool you. Ladies, this is our friend, Major Peter Linton, but I just call him English, to keep him straight from Irish over there, you see.” He winked at the girl Angel and she giggled.

Fourteen? What did they put in the food here in the Colonies? I smiled and extended my hand. Soon I found myself meeting one after another of Luke’s brothers and sisters, trying to keep them all straight in my mind. His parents were easy, of course, his mother surprisingly petite, but quite a force of nature, one suspected. I looked around in the lull after the first flurry of greetings. I’d been looking forward especially to meeting the youngest one that Luke talked about so much, his boy, Danny. I hadn’t seen him yet, although I would have expected the child to be first out the door to greet his big brother.

Luke was sharing my thought.

“Where’s my boy? Don’t tell me he’s found something better to do than come say hello to his poor old brother?” Luke looked at his mother, his words teasing but a trace of wistfulness in his voice.

Rose O’Keefe looked at her husband reproachfully. “Oo, your father had to punish the little angel for getting up to some mischief and what does he decide but to ground him in his room until three o’clock with orders that he couldn’t come out, even if you arrived, until the stroke of three. But nothing's to say you can’t go to him.” She looked at her husband defiantly.

“I would hope Luke doesn’t indulge the boy. I don’t discipline him as I did the others, so it’s little enough I can do to get him to behave, Rose. He needs to learn that when I say something, I mean it.”

There was an awkward silence amongst the gathered clan. I glanced at my watch. It was just about three. Luke cleared his throat.

“Well,” he began. Just then, there was a call from above our heads.

“Luke! Luke! Look at me!”

“Dear God in heaven,” Rose O’Keefe whispered, crossing herself.

A small child was waving from the sloped roof, some thirty, forty feet from the ground. As I watched in horror, the tiny figure ran lightly across the slates and jumped towards a tree situated next to the house. I saw that there was a treehouse located in it and an apparent landing area formed by a larger, thicker branch that came out closer to the roof than the others. From the grinning expressions on the brothers’ faces, including Luke, I gathered that this escapade was known to them, if not to their parents.

But I started running forward because in that split second, I saw something else that they hadn’t. There was a large crack running through the branch where it joined the tree. I was almost there when the crack of the branch giving way beneath the boy’s weight could be heard. I was already looking up by the time the others realized what was happening and made their own dashes toward the tree.

I reached up as Danny O’Keefe came crashing down, and I clutched him to me to protect him as I rolled in an attempt to avoid the large branch that was falling with him. I felt my right arm snapping as we hit the ground and struggled to stay conscious.

“That was cool,” a husky little voice told me. “Are you okay?”

“My God, Danny...Peter, are you okay? Fuck, look at your arm.” Luke. Should have known he’d be first. I felt him lift the boy from me, which was good because light as he was he was leaning on my broken arm.

“You are in so much trouble, young man.” Patrick O’Keefe’s heavy brogue was next.

“This isn’t the time for that, Patrick. Thank God Danny is safe and thank Peter for being so quick. Poor man is hurt. Luke, carry him inside. Danny, if you’re not hurt, you run and get some ice, quickly now. Mary Pat, call Dr. McMalley, see if he’ll come to the house. Tell him it’s for a friend of Luke’s. Matt, help Luke with the poor lad.”

“I’ve got him, Mama.”

This was becoming a bit of a habit. I shrugged Luke’s help off, insisting I could walk into the house under my own power. “My arm is broken, Luke, not my leg.”

I didn’t want a fuss made. I assured Rose that I would be fine as soon as the arm was set, and since I would have to go to the local emergency room to have that done there was no need to call out their family doctor.

“Listen to him, Mama Rose,” Red told her. “He’s a doctor along with being a star catcher and a Major. If he weren’t English he’d be practically perfect for young Mary Pat here.”

As the mood returned to the prior level of teasing that seemed to be the norm, I caught sight of young Danny peeking from around a corner. His green eyes looked huge in his small face, which was surrounded by a riot of loose black curls, which were long for a boy, and yet there was nothing feminine about him. He was a beautiful child.

He saw me watching him as I waited for the debate over how many O’Keefes would accompany me to the ER to end, and he smiled, deep dimples appearing on both sides of his mouth. I motioned for him to come over to me. He glanced quickly to make sure his father was looking elsewhere and then darted over.

“I really am sorry you got hurt...And thank you for catching me. I didn’t see the branch was broken. But, it’s really kind of a good thing I jumped today, because if one of the others had jumped, they would have fallen and it would have been hard for someone to catch one of them.”

He looked at me very seriously, his head tilted to one side as he considered the point.

I thought about it. “You may be right. I take it that this is something you boys do all the time?” I seemed to remember Luke telling me about this leap now that I thought about it. At the time I hadn’t realized how absolutely insane it was. I should have known.

“Sure. Once we’re old enough, of course.” He nodded solemnly. “The branch being broken is going to mess it up for a bit. I can jump farther but I don’t know about the others. Sometimes Joey gets a little...” he lowered his funny little husky voice to a whisper, “tipsy. It messes up a person’s balance, you know,” he nodded sagely.

“Yes, it does,” I agreed.

He appeared struck by a thought.

“You saved my life today! Red says if you save a man’s life, you own him. I now owe my life to you, Major Linton.” Danny appeared fascinated by the idea of being enslaved.

“I don’t think that is necessary. But I would be quite pleased if you would take better care of it for me, okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t own me now?” Those large green eyes looked at me hopefully.

“Nah, brat, I own you. Major Linton owns me,” a lilting voice spoke up from behind me. “And I wish you wouldn’t go around breaking my friends when I bring them home to meet you.”

Luke kneeled down and opened his arms. They were soon filled with a lively little almost nine year old.

“I’m real sorry, Luke. Dad’s really mad.” The husky voice hitched a bit but there were no tears.

“I know, brat. But guess what? You’re going to come with me and Linton here to the hospital, and get to be our helper, as your punishment. How’s that sound?” Luke smiled at me above the curly head.

“Really? That’s my punishment?” Even Danny sounded skeptical. Excited, but skeptical.

“Yep. Mama and I convinced Dad that it was only right that you should take care of Linton here since he saved your life. Oh, and no dessert. Here, at least.” Luke winked at him and the child frowned.

“I think maybe I shouldn’t get any dessert. At all. Major Linton can have mine...even if it’s chocolate cake,” he announced.

“Wow, even chocolate cake?” Luke sounded impressed.

“Yes,” the boy was firm. “But don’t you think we should get him to the hospital, Luke? He’s got a broken arm, you know.”

Luke blushed as I laughed at him. I’d taken a painkiller and was icing it but the child had a point. I suspected I’d met one O’Keefe who might not be crazy. The rest I had my doubts about, I thought, as I listened to the bickering that was going on as we slipped from the room and headed out to the car. Looking at Danny O’Keefe as he responsibly buckled my seatbelt for me before fastening his own, I had a strange sense of prescience. My eyes met Luke’s over the child’s head.

“He needs a keeper, doesn’t he?” Luke said, ruffling the boy’s curls fondly.

“I suspect he always will,” I agreed. “Good thing he’s got us.”

Luke’s smile was a replica of that double dimpled one that charmed me earlier. “Good thing.”

The next day, Luke and Red received word that they were being sent to Afghanistan as soon as their leave was over. When we said good-bye at the end of my visit to Pittsburgh, I had no idea when I would see Luke or Red again. It ended up being years...and Operation Desert Storm... before we next met.