Lone Star Winter by Diana Palmer Page A

“It’s a lot more…vivid…in real life.”
    â€œWere you afraid, the first time?”
    â€œI was afraid every time,” he corrected with a level stare. “Only a fool pretends he isn’t. You learn to face the fear and deal with it, just like everyone else does.”
    â€œIt’s difficult, isn’t it?”
    â€œDifficult to watch people die, yes,” he told her. “Difficult to live with what you do, too. I remember a young boy in Africa who was fighting the rebels. He carried a carbine in his hands and ammunition belts that probably weighed more than he did, strapped around his chest. His name was Juba.” He smiled as he worked. “He had a passion for chocolate bars. We always had a few in our packs, just a taste of something sweet to remind us of civilization. One day, Juba ran ahead of us into a building the rebels had just evacuated. We hadn’t swept it for traps and he wouldn’t stop when we tried to warn him. He broke a trip wire right in the doorway and blew himself up.” His hand hesitated on the knife as he spread mayonnaise on the bread. His eyes were solemn and quiet. “He didn’t die right away,” he added grimly. “We gave him morphine from one of our medical kits. Then I sat under a silk cotton tree with him in my arms and talked to him until hedied.” His eyes fell back to his task. “He was eleven years old.”
    She winced. “That’s very young to be fighting a war.”
    â€œHe’d already lost his parents and two sisters in the cross fire,” he recalled. “He was alone in the world, except for us. We’d thrown in with the government forces. They were overwhelmed by the rebels and advertised for mercenaries. My unit went in. I started with thirty men and came back with three.” He passed her a plate with a sandwich on it and started making two more for himself. “The rebels took over the capital and formed a government of their own. It stood for two months be fore outside troops joined forces with the overthrown government, moved in and took back possession of their country. Before they did, ten thousand people were shot or blown up in the streets.”
    â€œI’m sure I wouldn’t make a good soldier, even if Harley thinks he would,” she remarked somberly.
    â€œI wanted to make enough money to retire while I was still a young man,” he mused. “I planned to come back home, buy a ranch, get married and settle down.” He finished his own sandwiches and took a sip of his iced tea. “It almost worked. But along the way, I helped a government agency get hard evidence on that drug lord Lopez,” he said, searching her eyes.“As I mentioned a while back, he had my house in Wyoming set on fire. The hitch was, my son was supposed to be rescued before the incendiary device was placed. Lopez’s henchman didn’t think one kid more or less would matter.” He traced an invisible pattern on his coffee mug. “The only consolation I had was that Lopez had the assassin eliminated for that slipup. He doesn’t kill children.”
    â€œI’m so sorry,” she murmured, watching him.
    â€œSo am I. But all the regrets in the world won’t bring back that little boy.”
    His face was harder than rock. She sketched it with her eyes. “You can help me take care of my little boy.”
    He glanced at her. “What makes you think it’s a little boy?”
    â€œWishful thinking, I guess. I love baseball and soccer and working around the ranch. I know girls can do those things, too, but I’d love a son.”
    â€œYou’d love whatever you get,” he chided.
    â€œYes. I would.” She grimaced.
    â€œWhat’s the matter.”
    â€œI don’t know.” She laughed nervously. “I have these mild cramps sometimes. I read a book about being pregnant, and it said some women have fleeting cramps