Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I put details together. “Oh god.”
He nodded. “They were going to rob her. I realized it when they were halfway to the Burnses’ house, so I got out of the car and went running toward them, yelling, trying to stop them. The noise I made must have woken up the Burns family because suddenly the lights were on and Clayton came racing out of the house with a hunting rifle.”
His voice was rough, like it was being poured over jagged rock. I scooted closer to him so my left arm was pressed solidly along his right one from shoulder to elbow.
“What happened then?”
“Bobby shot him,” he whispered. “Pulled a little six-shooter revolver like a sheriff in one of those Westerns and shot that kid right in the gut. And then… and then Mrs. Burns came up screaming, and he shot her too.”
Major Marian’s eyes were full, and he turned to me with a look of pleading that nearly broke my heart in two.
“Doc, it was my fault.”
“No it wasn’t,” I snapped. “No it goddamned wasn’t. Don’t you say that. Don’t you say that.”
He shook his head. “If I hadn’t yelled, or, hell, if I’d have figured the whole thing out sooner and talked them out of it, Clayton and Mrs. Burns would have been safe in their beds. Bobby and his crew could have gone in and robbed the place blind without even bothering a soul. But because of me, because of my screaming, everything was FUBAR.”
I reached my arm around him and pulled him in close to my side. “You couldn’t have known Bobby was carrying a weapon or that Clayton would come to the door to confront them. You didn’t shoot anyone.”
He looked up at me from where his head had fallen naturally to my shoulder. In the dim light of the moon, his eyes were still light denim blue. His face was still dirty and rough, but up close, I could see it was a face full of life… experience… pain. It was the kind of face I found hard to look away from. It was like the man’s face wanted to tell me stories, and I wanted to sit and listen to them.
I’d always been the kind of person to get along better with older adults than other kids, and when I looked at Major Marian, I wondered if maybe that’s what it was—my same old attraction to interacting with more mature people. Or maybe it was the feeling of being safer in his company than out of it. Either way, I knew I wanted to learn more about this interesting fellow. He was so much more than he appeared.
His eyes searched mine for judgment, and I hoped to god he didn’t find it.
“What happened next?” I asked, clearing my throat and backing off a little.
“I ran.”
Chapter 6
Weston “Major” Marian
I couldn’t believe I was telling Doc Wilde my most horrifying secret. Not only did it implicate me in a crime, but it also revealed my true nature to someone who had the power to turn me in to a surefire court-martial.
If the US Army learned about my attraction to men, I was as good as dishonorably discharged, and as many times as I’d prayed to leave Vietnam way behind, I’d never really meant it. If I no longer had a home in the army, I no longer had a home. It was that simple. I didn’t even know who the hell I was without the army.
Uncle Sam had saved me.
“What do you mean, you ran?” he asked softly.
“I mean Bobby and his friends shouted for us to get back to the car, and then the four of us hightailed it to Los Angeles as planned. I sat in the back of that car for two hours trying to hold back vomit. My ears rang with the echo of gunshots, and my entire body felt separate from my soul. When they pulled up outside of some kind of nightclub, I was too scared to defy them by pleading sick so I could stay in the car. I dutifully followed them into the club, but then I waited for them to get drunk and distracted before sneaking right out of there into the dark night of the city.”
“Did you call your folks?”
I let out a soft chuckle. Lieutenant Wilde was a small-town boy from Texas who probably thought big daddy could save you from just about anything. He’d obviously never met mine.
“No way,” I told him. “My father was a strict tyrant who would have flayed me alive. He’d told me never to come home and I believed him. Instead, I walked into an army recruitment center, lied about my age, and prayed to any god who would listen that they wouldn’t arrest me on sight.”
“I guess they didn’t,” Doc said with his crooked grin.