Chapter 9 - THE LESSON AT THE LINE
Behind Miller, Mercer looked at his young Marines. The four junior infantrymen didn't hesitate. Following Miller’s lead, they immediately stood at rigid attention, snapping crisp salutes toward Sarah. Even Mercer, swallowing his pride, slowly raised his hand to his brow, paying homage to the quiet legend standing in front of them.
Sarah looked at the five uniformed men standing in formation inside the narrow shooting lane. A small, faint touch of warmth crossed her face, softening the harsh edges of her hardened posture.
"Put your hands down," Sarah said gently. "This is a public range, not a parade deck."
The Marines slowly lowered their hands, their eyes still wide with immense respect.
Sarah picked up her plastic gun case and turned to look at Mercer. She reached into her jeans pocket, pulled out the folded $100 bill, and placed it flat on the rubber counter beside his ammo box.
"Keep the money, Sergeant," Sarah said softly. "Use it to buy those young men a good meal tonight. And tell them that speed means nothing if you don't control the grip first."
Mercer looked at the $100 bill, then back at her, bowing his head in sincere gratitude. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."
"And Mercer?" Sarah added, stopping near the edge of the bay divider.
"Ma'am?"
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"Never judge a shooter by the clothes they wear at a public range," she said, her brown eyes twinkling with a faint, rare trace of dry humor. "It gets expensive."
A soft, quiet chuckle broke out among the young Marines. Mercer smiled sheepishly, nodding his head in complete agreement. "Lesson learned, Ma'am. Loud and clear."
