About Army Green
by J. Rocci
126 pages / 24800 words
ISBN: 978-1-1-61040-040-4
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html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub
Evan Miller and Cam Jackson have run Glenhaven Farm together on behalf of
Evan's grandparents for the past couple years, giving the farm everything
they have to make it a success. But when Evan’s old commanding officer asks
for Evan’s help with the wild child of their squad, Evan and Cam don’t
hesitate to find a place for Reo at Glenhaven. Reo is a city boy with a
penchant for trouble, and he stirs up more dust than expected. Reo’s
behavior -- and Evan ignoring it -- causes Cam to confront issues he hasn't
been able to verbalize until now.
Evan has been juggling a whole set of worries, though, and they take their
toll on his health. When he ends up in the hospital, it's up to Cam and the
rest of Glenhaven to make sure he follows his doctor's orders.
Featuring the boys from the Torquere Press Single Shot “Taction.”
Sample
Oma's indignant laughter broke out as Evan entered
the mud room. Smiling, Evan hung up his ball cap next to Cam's battered
white cowboy hat and followed the sound.
"Lordy, boy, I can't turn my back on you for a second," she was berating
Cam between giggles, wiping at his face with a dish towel.
Evan tried to stifle his snicker, but Cam heard him anyway and scowled
through his own guffaws. The tall cowboy was holding batter-covered
hands away from his body, face and shirt splattered with something
chunky. He even had flecks in his soot black hair. A giant glop of
batter slowly trekked down Cam's cheek as Oma cleared his eyes, standing
up on her tippy-toes to reach his face.
"Do I even want to know?" Evan finally asked and stayed a safe distance
in the doorway.
"I'm helping," Cam announced proudly, devilish twinkle in his green
eyes. "Oma's been teaching me how to bake soda bread."
Evan cleared his throat. "You know, that works better if the mix gets in
the oven..."
"I'm experimenting with a new method. I'm gonna call it 'interpretive
mixing.' Like those dance shows Opa won't admit to watching."
"Good Lord preserve me, sweetie, your humor gets worse the longer you're
with that joker," Oma teased. Evan made a noise of protest, but she just
shooed Cam at him. "You boys get cleaned up for lunch."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now, where's that rascal you call Opa?"
"Right here, missus," Opa said, coming up behind Evan, who was still
standing in the doorway and eyeing Cam's sticky hands nervously. Cam
grinned, all evil-like, showing off the dimple in his cheek.
Evan snorted, such a sucker, and headed for the hallway. "C'mon, Butch,
I'll turn on the faucet so's I'm not scraping batter off later."
Cam followed him easily into the little half-bath under the stairs.
"This from the man who dribbles his toothpaste floor to ceiling--"
"Not my fault I'm not a morning person," Evan interrupted with the humor
of an old argument neither was ever going to win. He twisted on the
bathroom sink and grabbed one of the ornate little guest towels off the
back of the commode. "Take a knee, man."
Smirking, Cam sat on the lid of the toilet and let his hands hang in the
sink basin. "I think I'm old enough to wash my own face, dear."
Evan rolled his eyes and started scrubbing. "How'd this get in your
hair?"
Cam mumbled a response into the towel.
"Right," Evan drawled. He scrubbed a bit more, then stood back,
satisfied. He shifted in the small room, let Cam get in front of the
sink to properly wash his hands.
"So I got a call from Bobby Ostigard this morning," Evan said, breaking
the comfortable silence. Evan had invited his old CO and his family out
to Glenhaven the previous summer, and Ostie and Cam had gotten on
surprisingly well. It helped that Ostie was just plain good people and
fully expected the Hooligans to put his two teenage boys to work the
couple weeks they were here.
"Oh yeah? How's the Ostie clan?"
"They're good. Matthew got accepted to the University of Virginia with a
football scholarship." Evan shifted his weight off his bad leg, rubbing
at his thigh. "Junior's taken up marching band. Percussion."
Cam winced in sympathy, drying his hands on another towel. He looked
down at the pretty quilted ducks, one covered in bread mix. "She's gonna
kill us, ain't she?"
"Yup."
Balling up the towels, Cam turned and leaned against the sink, crossing
his arms.
"So if Ostie's good, what has you outta shape?" He asked Evan bluntly.