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He pulled the rifle close and mouthed the numbers. “Holy Mother of God,” he whispered. “How did you find this, Wiz? This is my rifle.” He looked at her, mouth open, eyes wide.
She smiled, eyes a little watery again, raised her phone, and snapped a picture. His eyes shone, but tears hadn’t fallen—yet. “It’s amazing what you can find on the internet, Pete. I got on some gun boards, and some Vietnam Vet boards, and put the question out there. A couple of guys helped me track it down; they’d done it before. As you said, the last guy using the weapon in Vietnam brought it back with him after the fall of Saigon, and since it was privately owned and not Army property, he got to keep it. He passed away a few years ago, and his widow sold the gun. It went through several owners and then a private collector. The collector didn’t want to sell it until I told him I was buying it for one of the original scout-snipers. Then, he said he’d sell it to me as long as I sent him a picture of you with the rifle when I gave it to you. I told him you had to agree.” She held up her phone. “You don’t mind, do you?” Pete shook his head, still staring at the rifle. She scrolled through her email, attached the picture, and sent it off to the collector and to Tom. That should make them both happy. Her heart burned, and her entire body warmed with joy. She hadn’t been this happy since the incident. Maybe never.
Pete ran his hands over the rifle and examined it minutely, checking the serial number over and over. She glanced at Tom; he wore a huge smile. He turned to her, the smile still on his face, but it had softened and changed. He mouthed “thank you” and blinked. She smiled and nodded, then turned back to Pete, sniffling. She wiped her eyes with her hands. “And Pete?”
Pete looked up at her, disbelief riding his expression. “Yeah?”
“The collector said he’d love to have a picture of you with the rifle back in ‘Nam, too, if you have one. I found one a guy in your unit had taken, but it’s pretty grainy and faded. He’d arrived in country just before you shipped out, so he figured you didn’t even know him.”
“I’ll have to look. Not too sure I’ve got one. They didn’t encourage pictures, especially with us operating illegally in Cambodia.” He stared at the rifle, practically caressing it, then worked the bolt to check the chamber. He looked up at her, blinking rapidly, and swallowed hard. “Wiz, next to my kids and grandkids, this is the most remarkable present anybody’s ever gotten me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Pete. It was fun to find, and I’ve just emailed you a list of the guys I worked with to find it, so you can connect with them yourself.” The pride and joy would carry her through a lot of dark nights.
He wiped his eyes with his hands. Tom handed them tissues and took one himself. Not many guys, especially tough cowboys, would show that kind of emotion, and she had two. She was so, so fortunate. But she couldn’t take much more. She blew her nose and returned to the tree, getting Tom’s gift. She brought it to him. “This one’s not quite so exciting or personal, but I think you’ll like it.”
Tom smiled. “I’m sure I will.” Then he unwrapped the present and laughed. He held it up so his dad could see it. Pete looked at it with a wrinkled brow.
“It’s the latest Play Station.” He grinned. “Guess Wiz got tired of me using the ‘it’s my equipment’ excuse for my poor performance.” He waggled his brows. Pete chortled.
Wiz grinned. “It’s got a year of premium service with it too.”
“Thanks, Wiz. This is a great gift.” Tom grinned back. “I doubt it will help against you, but maybe when we team up.”
“You’re welcome.” She stood. “I have a couple of things to finish up at the house. You can come whenever you’re ready.”
Tom started to get up, then sat back down. “We’ll be up in a bit. Dad will come up first, and I’ll be up after I feed the cows. It will be a bit early, but that’s okay.”
Pete laughed. “I’m sure the cows won’t mind. I’ll bring the roast up with me.” He lifted the rifle. “And Wiz? Thanks again. This is such a wonderful gift.”
“You’re welcome, Pete. It really was my pleasure.” She trotted from the room, carrying her little hat in the box and wearing the cowboy belt, threw on her coat, and got out the door. She managed to get her spikes on and reach the road before she couldn’t hold back. She bawled.
It was her best Christmas, ever.
Chapter 13
Dad was still examining the rifle in disbelief. He’d be jealous, except Wiz probably got more from the gift than Dad. He was envious of their shared connection—without a military background, such a gift wouldn’t even cross his mind. But again, Wiz needed Dad, especially since she didn’t have any other family. Tom gathered the coffee cups and cleaned up, smiling. And occasionally brushing away a tear. Such an amazing gift; not the piece of wood and metal, but the physical sign of a life-changing experience, both good and bad, along with all the work she did to find it. And the gift cemented a new relationship between the two of them.
Dad had adopted Wiz—she was family, and her love was the most important gift for both of them. She didn’t have to do anything or earn their devotion. She might not quite understand or believe it yet, but they’d keep telling her, through words and deeds. He couldn’t understand how anyone could throw away Wiz’s love. He’d give almost anything to have her love as more than a family member. His hands clenched on the sponge. It took every bit of his willpower to say “thank you” rather than “I love you.” Which was an incredible gift by itself. He hadn’t even held her hand, but he was head over heels in love with the woman. Ridiculous and wonderful, sad and a little scary, all at the same time.
He had to go slow. He wasn’t twenty or even thirty anymore, so he had some patience to go with his determination. They’d get there. He had to have faith. And if they didn’t get to a romantic relationship, he was still lucky to know her and be family for her, even if it wasn’t exactly the kind of family connection he wanted. If he was stuck as a big brother, well, that’s what he’d do. He wouldn’t let her down.
But her soft sweaters combined with her big heart made the friend-zone a difficult place to be.
Dad joined him in the kitchen, cradling the rifle like a baby. “Can you believe this? I’m holding the thing in my hand, and I have to keep looking at the serial number to make sure this isn’t some sort of strange dream. Wonder if it still shoots like it used to?”
“Why don’t you take it out back and give it a try?” Tom grinned. Wiz didn’t realize how happy her gift made him, too.
Dad’s expression held longing and uncertainty. “Not sure it’s safe after all these years.”
“I’m sure Wiz thought of that, but let me check.” Tom fired off a quick text and got an immediate answer. “You’re good to go. Says she had it checked by an expert. He said if you want to fire it a lot, you should get a fiberglass stock, but it’s fine for occasional use as it is.”
“Great. I’ll be right back.” Dad rushed out the door, Rusty on his heels. Tom finished cleaning up. A shot blasted the quiet, followed by the neigh of horses. Another rang a minute later and then a few more.
Dad tromped back in with a big grin on his face. “Works great. Action is actually a little smoother, probably all the use over the years, and it’s just as accurate as back in the day.” He shook his head, slowly. “Still can’t believe it.”
“I can’t either. Never thought of it and didn’t know it was possible. Of course, I’m sure you talk to Wiz about your military career more than with me.” Tom didn’t speak the right language, and he regretted it. But Dad had actively discouraged him from joining the military. And with everything both of them had experienced, he’d been right.
Dad frowned. “Well, sure, but it’s not for me. I’m trying to get her to talk. But a lot of what she did is very technical, or classified, and it’s pretty much all beyond me.”
