Blood Lines

39

›› Rafter M Ranch

›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas

›› 1646 Hours (Central Time Zone)

Even at a distance, Shel could pick out the Rafter M property lines.

There was something about the land that tied a man to it. No matter how determined a man was, he couldn’t fully escape the area where he grew up. Men Shel had met in the service who’d grown up in metropolitan areas were often marked by those environments as well. Even before Shel had joined the NCIS, he’d learned that if a man knew what to look for, he could tell a lot about where another person grew up just by watching.

He stopped the rental car a quarter mile from the turnoff to the narrow rutted road that led up to the ranch house where he’d grown up. He told himself that he was just getting out to stretch from the long drive and from all the hours spent in airplanes and airports. Given that he’d made the trip so suddenly, he hadn’t been able to secure a straight shot home. He’d also had two long layovers waiting on standby for last-minute flights.

He wore jeans, a pair of his favorite cowboy boots that were worked in and comfortable, a Texas Rangers ball cap he’d bought to knock the sun off, a brown USMC T-shirt, his pistol on his hip, and sunglasses. He’d shaved in the airport bathroom to keep himself clean-looking but also just for something to do.

Max got out of the car and put his nose to the ground. It didn’t take the dog long to find a jackrabbit lazing in the shade and avoiding the blistering heat. Max slowly closed on the rabbit, and it waited until the last minute to make its break. The rabbit exploded from the ground, kicked out at Max with its powerful back legs, and zipped across the countryside in a broken field sprint. Max tried to follow, but he had too much mass and kept overrunning his target.

In spite of the tension he felt, Shel grinned at the sight. There weren’t many things that could catch a Texas jackrabbit.

Less than a minute later, the rabbit came to a stop atop a hill in the shade of a thicket of Indian paintbrush. The bright red blossoms stood out against the dry brush. The plant was also called prairie fire, but Shel had always known it as Indian paintbrush. His mama had loved it.

For a moment he got caught up in his emotions. Losing his mama had been hard. But it hadn’t been hard just on him. Don and their daddy had suffered as well. Their daddy had never talked about it though. Shel had sometimes wondered if his father had just accepted his mama’s death as something to be expected.

Tyrel McHenry had never been a man to expect much out of life. Or at least he’d never given the appearance of being one.

Shel looked up at the bright blue sky. The cap’s bill shaded his eyes.

Did you know Daddy was a murderer, Mama? Shel asked. Did he tell you? Or did he keep that secret from you too?

He knew there was no way of knowing. His mama had kept secrets when there was a need. She’d kept a few of Shel’s. At the time he’d been grateful. She’d had to come get him out of jail once, and she’d paid a handful of speeding tickets for Shel without ever telling her husband. Things had been hard enough at home with Tyrel McHenry keeping the distance from his boys. Having those scrapes with the law would have only fanned the fire.

But even as he asked that question and got no answer, Shel understood that he didn’t know whether his daddy was a murderer. He just had Victor Gant’s voice in his head saying that. Over and over again. Those words had haunted Shel since he’d left Camp Lejeune.

How could you be raised by a man and never know enough about him? Shel wondered. In the end, though, he suspected that’s the way it always was between daddies and sons. Probably between mamas and daughters, too. Sons and daughters just assumed they knew everything, and parents didn’t reveal everything in their lives because they didn’t want to be vulnerable in the eyes of their children.

Max sidled up the hill like he was just wandering around, then made another run at the rabbit.

As trained as he was, the Labrador couldn’t give up being a dog.

Shel figured that no matter how much Marine he was, he couldn’t give up being his daddy’s son either.

After a few more minutes, he knew he couldn’t put off getting there any longer.

He called Max to him and clambered back into the SUV. Then he started the engine, put the transmission in gear, and headed back home.

›› 1706 Hours

When Shel pulled in beside his daddy’s Ford F-150 pickup, some of the tension had gone away. He was into it now, whatever happened, and adrenaline buzzed through his system.

He got out and noticed that Joanie’s minivan was parked there as well. Shel hoped Don wasn’t there. If anybody could see the shape he was in mentally, it would be Don. Shel really didn’t need that now.

Instead of going into the ranch house, Shel walked around back toward the corral and barn. It was daylight hours and after lunch, too early for dinner. No one would be inside the house.

“Hey, Uncle Shel!” an excited girl’s voice screamed. “Hey, everybody, it’s Uncle Shel!”

The five-year-old girl raced from the corner of the house in a flurry of arms and legs. She was thin and as dark-skinned as a Native American. She got her black hair from her mother, and it flowed behind her as she ran.

Shel knelt and caught her up easily. She hugged his neck so fiercely and honestly that it caused a lump to form in the back of Shel’s throat.

Gently he patted her back. “Hey, Rachel, it’s good to see you.”

“I’ve missed you, Uncle Shel.” The little girl leaned back, then leaned forward again and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I have,” Shel admitted. “But I’m here now.”

“I’m glad.”

Joshua and Isaac ran up next and threw their arms around Shel. Joshua was ten; Isaac was about to turn eight. Both of them favored Don.

Shel tousled their heads and returned their hugs. He couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. Don’s kids always had that effect on him. He didn’t know why he didn’t come around more often.

Then he saw his daddy standing at the corral with a cup of coffee in one hand. Tyrel McHenry didn’t look like a happy man. Shel knew for a fact that he didn’t like a lot of company.

Joanie, beautiful as ever, leaned against the corral. She smiled and waved at Shel.

“I’d come over,” she called out, “but I don’t think I could get through the mob.”

“Probably not,” Shel agreed. He looked back at Rachel. “So what are you doing here?”

“We came to see Grandpa’s new pony,” Rachel answered.

“It’s a colt,” Isaac said. “A pony’s a small horse. Not a newborn.” He loved words and being exact about things. Neither Don nor Joanie knew where that trait had come from.

Rachel ignored him. She did that a lot with her older brothers. “I always wanted a pony. Grandpa said I could have the baby pony.”

Isaac groaned.

“Only because you kept whining for it,” Joshua said.

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed. “She wouldn’t be quiet about it.”

“Do you want to see my pony, Uncle Shel?” Rachel’s gaze was open and innocent.

“Sure I do,” Shel answered. He shifted the girl to his hip and walked toward the corral. “Where’s your daddy?”

“Dad’s at the church,” Joshua said. “He’s counseling Bill and Mary. They’re going to be getting married at the end of the month.” He looked up at Shel. “Did he know you were coming?”

“Nope. This was a surprise.” Judging by the scowl on his daddy’s face, Shel figured Tyrel McHenry was the most surprised of them all.

“Daddy’s going to be glad to see you,” Isaac said.

“Where’s your boo-boo?” Rachel asked.

Shel looked at her, trying to comprehend what she was talking about.

“Daddy said you were hurt,” Joshua said. “Then I heard him tell Mom you were shot.”

“I was,” Shel said.

Rachel’s eyes rounded as she stared at Shel. “Oooooh, scary.”

Shel smiled at her. “I’m better now.”

“I’m glad.” Rachel hugged him again.

For a minute as he held her, Shel thought about what it might be like to have a child of his own. It wasn’t something he often considered. But the idea, as tempting as it sometimes was, scared him more than anything.

Having a marriage, even without a child involved, was a big commitment. Shel couldn’t see trying to divide his time between the military and a relationship. He often dated but never got serious. If he tried to commit to both, both would have suffered. If he chose one over the other, it wouldn’t be fair to the one that he didn’t choose.

And he loved being a Marine.

But the biggest fear was that he would be the kind of father his daddy had been. He couldn’t bear that. Somehow Don made it all work, but Shel couldn’t see himself managing to do that.

Shel caught his daddy’s eye as he reached the corral. “Hello, Daddy.”

“You’re looking fit,” Tyrel said.

“Yes, sir. I’ve been working on it.” As Shel stared at his daddy, he noted the dark circles beneath Tyrel McHenry’s eyes. Shel had never seen circles like that before, not even when his daddy had gone sleepless for days. He looked like he’d lost weight as well, and his skin held a little gray.

Shel couldn’t help thinking of men he’d brought into the NCIS office who’d had guilt working on them for months. They’d always been ready to confess just to get out from under their own personal demons.

“My phone works,” his daddy said.

“Yes, sir.” Shel suddenly felt like he was twelve again and had just gotten busted for sneaking out of the house at night. “I should have called. I apologize.”

“Nonsense,” Joanie said as she looped her arm through Shel’s. “It’s always good to see you. In fact, I know the kids love having you over, so why don’t you plan on spending at least part of your time home with us?”

That was Joanie, Shel realized. Don couldn’t have found a better woman if he’d tried. In that simple invitation, she’d given Shel and his daddy all the wiggle room they needed to get out of seeing each other any more than they had to.

“Sounds fine, Joanie,” Shel said. “Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome. I know Don would like to spend some time with you that doesn’t involve hospitals.”

“See my pony?” Rachel pointed at the young foal in the corral.

“I do,” Shel said.

“I’m going to name her Petunia,” Rachel declared.

“Petunia’s a dumb name,” Joshua said.

“It’s a girl name,” Isaac said. “That’s a boy.”

Max placed his front paws on the corral railing and barked. The colt shied away and nearly fell over his too-long legs.

“Don’t bark at Petunia, Max,” Rachel said. “She’s just a baby.”

“He,” Isaac said with a put-upon air. “He. He’s a boy.”

Shel leaned against the corral and tried to think good thoughts, but Victor Gant’s accusation about his daddy remained uppermost in his mind.