Blessed Vows. Jillian Hart
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Doing what it took to defend his small niece, Jake lobbed the grenade-sized rock. The hunk of granite bounced off the swoop of the moose’s right antler, low enough to give him a slight bonk, but not enough to seriously hurt him. Was it enough to stop the beast?
The great animal shook his head, looking a little cross-eyed. That had to hurt.
For good measure, Jake chose a second rock, peering around the door frame to see if the animal was going to run off, regroup for a second attack or, more possibly, turn around and take his anger out on the woman with the pink furry slippers.
Ben’s unmarried sister. Part of him couldn’t help thinking, no wonder. But that wasn’t fair, because she’d obviously not been expecting him so soon. Had she been lounging after a hard workday, maybe? She wore a big shapeless T-shirt with the faded logo of a local college and baggy shorts.
It was hard to get much of a good impression. Especially with her thick chestnut hair sticking in awkward directions and some of it nearly straight up. She wielded the old broom like a martial arts expert.
One thing he had to say about her was that she was no shrinking violet. She boldly marched toward the angry moose and swatted him on the flank with the bristle end of her broom. “Shoo! Go on! You stop being demanding and greedy. I’ll feed you when it’s time and not a moment sooner.”
This animal wasn’t a pet? Jake watched as the moose shook his head again, no longer threatening. The poor guy looked contrite before he ambled off in the direction of the lawn, as if he were going to wait there for his feed.
Thank the Lord no one was hurt—including the moose. Jake straightened, dropped the rock and considered his unlikely rescuer. Rachel was not what he expected. Ben talked about his sisters a lot, and it had been clear that he was closest to Rachel.
She looked like her picture. Ben had had family pictures in his dorm during their training years and later in his duplex in the years that followed. All of Ben’s sisters were pretty. Rachel’s picture had always given him the impression of a demure and introverted young woman, an innocent and a wallflower. Not someone who bossed moose around or had a sparkle to her soul that made him keep looking.
“Uncle Jake?” a small, candy-sweet voice asked from the back seat of the Jeep. “I wanna pet the deer.”
“It’s a moose, Sally baby,” he answered without taking his gaze off of Rachel McKaslin as she held her broom like an M-4. “It’s a wild animal. We’d be smart to stay back and give it room.”
“Oh. All right.” Her sigh was a wistful sound of disappointment.
He’d been hearing that sound a lot over the past few days since he’d come to take charge of Sally. He’d been pulled off active duty in Iraq, and he was still in shock.
One day he’d been rescuing a pair of captured marines and the next day he’d been on a cargo plane to the States with the news his sister had been in an accident, had died and been buried. And he was not only the executor of her estate, but the sole remaining family that his little niece had.
The trouble was, he’d been stateside four days, and it hadn’t been time enough to settle his sister’s estate, and already his colonel wanted to know when he could get back to active duty.
And Sally…how did he comfort a grieving child? He was a rough-and-tumble Special Forces soldier. As a para-rescue jumper, or PJ, he knew how to jump out of an airplane from twenty-five thousand feet, parachute in and set up a perimeter, execute a mission without a single mishap.
He had Sally, but what was he going to do? It had him stumped.
As if he didn’t have enough on his mind, the moose was still glaring angrily at the Jeep from his field. Maybe it was the color that was making him so angry. While the animal had backed away, he hadn’t backed down. He still swung his head from side to side and pawed the ground. The Jeep was definitely in danger.
But was Rachel?
“You stay belted in, Sally.” He shut the door, leaving her safe and considered Rachel McKaslin, his best buddy’s little sister. She was out in the open and unconcerned. Did she know the threat? He stalked the good five yards separating them, keeping a close watch on that moose.
Rachel lowered her broom. “I’m sorry. I should have anticipated this. Bullwinkle does this every evening.”
“Bullwinkle?”
“It’s just what I call him. I should have fed him and the horse earlier, and you wouldn’t have been so rudely welcomed.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t your pet.”
“Not a pet, no, more like a sometimes friendly, sometimes not, wild animal who’s decided to take up residence around here and chase the horses away from his grain trough. He’s a pushy moose.”
“Pushy, huh?” Jake paced closer to protect Rachel, watching as the moose lowered his head and started to charge. Great. On a mission, Jake was prepared for every contingency. He just hadn’t thought he’d have to be on alert on a simple trip down a gravel driveway. “Want to give me that broom? It looks like he’s coming in for round two.”
“I can take care of him.”
Jake’s hand shot out and he had the broom before she could blink.
“Hey! You took my broom.”
“I did.”
“But it’s my moose. I can handle him.”
“I’m trained to serve and protect, so I might as well make myself useful.” The handle was solid hardwood. He’d excelled at hand-to-hand combat. “Rachel, stay behind me.”
“You’re a little bossy, too. It’s a moose, not war.”
“Everything’s war, pretty lady.” He timed the moose’s gait, waited until the huge ungainly creature was coming head-on and then shot out and rapped him on the nose.
Big nostrils flared, the moose skidded to a stop and shook his head.
“That smarted, didn’t it?” Jake kept the broom at the ready. “Do you need another smack?”
The moose’s eyes rolled in anger.
Uh-oh. “Maybe that wasn’t the best course of action. It works with sharks who get a little too aggressive.”
“Smacking them in the nose?”
“Yep. It works every time.”
“He’s pushy, but mostly harmless. All I need to do is get him some grain. Wait here. With you at my back to cover me with a broom, I feel perfectly safe.” She sauntered away, as if without a care in the world.
He was a soldier with fifteen years of experience spent in parts of this world few Americans saw. He’d seen evil, touched evil and battled it. Real evil. And he had the scars to prove it. Even remembering made his heart ache.