The Cowboy Soldier Read online

  “Never. You’re family. And if you think I’m shuffling you off to Alexa Robinson’s to get rid of you, that’s simply not true. I’m praying you’ll come back the old Rafe.”

  “That’ll take a miracle.”

  “Then I’ll say novenas.”

  “A novena only runs nine days. The military docs worked on me six months.”

  “Dr. Robinson is giving you one month. So I’ll do three novenas.”

  Rafe heard the screen door slam, so obviously she’d missed his shrug. Bless her heart. Sierra refused to believe he really didn’t give a damn.

  BY LATE AFTERNOON the next day, Alexa was prepared to take Sierra Martinez aside and tell her she’d made a mistake. How would it look to customers coming to see about horses or the park rangers who occasionally brought her sick animals if they found her living alone with a patient. Or even if word got around that she was treating human patients. She’d been hurt by lies and rumors once and didn’t want to go through that again.

  Alexa had her speech ready but didn’t have a chance to get a word out. Sierra hit the ground talking.“You told me Rafe had to agree to come,” she said, shoving a worn khaki duffel bag at Alexa. “He did. And here’s his stuff. This should do him for a couple of weeks. I’ll come by then and pick up his laundry and bring him fresh clothes to make it easier on you. Oh, my number’s programmed in his cell phone speed dial if you need me. I don’t think I’ve left out anything, but you never know.” She hugged the man standing next to her, then vaulted back into the van as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.

  “Wait!” Alexa frowned down at the duffel in her hands.

  “By the way,” Sierra called out, “I put his electric razor in the bottom of the bag. Oh, and his pills. Too many of those. Anti-anxiety, sedatives and something else. I hope you’ll wean him off them before long.” With a bright smile and a wave, she shut the car door and motored off.

  “Well,” Alexa drawled. “Here we are, two strangers—plus a dog.” Compadre trotted up and sniffed Rafe’s boots then snuffled his hand. “Compadre is a border collie, a stray who adopted me. Or we adopted each other. I hope you like animals. I have quite a few on this ranch.” Alexa realized she was babbling and bit down hard on her lower lip. Truthfully, she was bowled over by Rafe Eaglefeather’s good looks. She’d read his medical history last night and knew he was thirty-five to her thirty, and she’d probably read his height and weight. But statistics were nothing compared to the real man. The major was tall, raven-haired and golden-eyed, and he put Alexa in mind of a proud, wounded bird—like his namesake the eagle.

  And those eyes. She’d assumed they’d be unfocused, or even injured. Instead, he stared straight at her when she spoke, and it was downright unnerving. Could he be faking? Impossible. He’d been examined by countless doctors.

  She gave herself a little shake. They couldn’t just stand here all day.

  “Uh, let’s get you settled.” Gripping the handles of his duffel, Alexa directed him up to the house and opened the screen door with her free hand. “Your bedroom is this way.” She tugged on his arm.

  Rafe stumbled over the dog.

  “Ooh!”

  Alexa dropped the bag and managed to catch him, but he was heavier than she thought. They both almost went down.

  But the near fall proved he wasn’t faking. Nor had the man gone soft since he’d left the military. He was six feet of solid male. His deep, gravelly, “Sorry,” as he attempted to untangle himself from Alexa’s grasp sent a tingle up her arm.

  She shrugged it off. What woman wouldn’t react to such a terrific-looking guy? Sierra had made it plain she was his only family, but a man this good-looking probably had a string of girlfriends. Alexa sneaked another sidelong peek at him as she hesitantly took his elbow and guided him through the kitchen and down the hall to his room.

  “Oh, I have a paper I need signed by you. A release for treatment. I intended to read it aloud while your sister was still here so she could vouch for what it says.”

  Alexa expected him to comment. He said nothing.

  “The release sets out the terms of treatment. It’s important we both agree to them.” They’d reached his room. “This is where you’ll stay,” she said, directing him inside.

  He gave a casual shrug as they entered his room. “Give me a pen and set my hand down where I have to sign.”

  “Okay. But one thing I need to make clear is that you will relinquish all your prescription medications to me, and I’ll decide how and when to dispense them.”

  “No problem. There should be four bottles of pills in my duffel.”

  She leaned down and dug them out, wincing at what she saw. “Okay, this is your bed.” Alexa shoved the pills in her pockets before placing his palm on the quilt. “There’s a three-drawer chest with a lamp next to the bed. It’ll be on your right as you’re lying down.”

  She saw the slight curl of his lip at the mention of a lamp. Too bad. She was responsible for his safety while he was here.

  “I know you can’t see, Major, but I’d prefer to leave a light on when you’re in here except when you’re sleeping,” she said. “It’ll help me. Now come this way. I’ll let you count the steps to the attached bath. It has a walk-in shower, a sink and commode.” When he said nothing, she counted the steps for him as she led the way. “Four steps left of the bathroom door is a closet.” The two of them made a full circuit of the room, arriving at a wicker chair that she made Rafe touch. From there she counted the steps back to his bed. “This room’s decor is red and white with some browns and golds. Nothing feminine. Western motif.”

  He simply stood with his arms dangling loosely at his sides.

  So that’s the way it was going to be. “I just thought you’d like to know. You don’t seem like a man who’d want to be stuck in a room with frills.”

  “I told the army docs, and I told Sierra,” Rafe said, not altering his stance. “Now I’m telling you. I don’t give a rat’s ass where I spend my time. You, Sierra, the VA—the whole lot of you can do whatever you want with me.” His jaw tensed and he fisted his hands at his sides.

  Compadre whined and pawed Rafe’s knee a few times.

  Alexa hadn’t studied a lot of psychology, but she knew pent-up rage mixed with guilt when she saw it. Her inclination was to leave him alone to stew, but her compassion overruled the uncharitable thought.

  “I’ll help you put away your clothes, then I’ll leave you alone awhile to get comfortable with your new digs.” As she spoke she pulled stuff out of the duffel and saw that he’d come with precious little. Several pair of worn fatigues, underwear and an assortment of colored T-shirts. “Where shall I put your boots?”

  “What boots?” he asked.

  “There’s a second set of…combat boots, I guess you call them. Like the ones you have on.” Alexa held them out so he could trace a finger over the leather.

  “I have no idea what Sierra sent.” He picked up the bag and dumped the remaining contents on the bed. “What the…?” He shook a plastic bag filled with military medals, and a second one with rodeo buckles. “Useless,” he said, his voice strained.

  “Why don’t I just put them in a dresser drawer. Your sister is extremely proud of you, you know. She loves you.” Alexa smiled even though Rafe couldn’t see.

  “Hell! I know that.”

  A reaction at last!

  Just as quickly, his face became impassive again. “Do what you want with that stuff. Toss it in the trash for all I care. Where’s that damned paper you want me to sign? Let’s get it done, so I don’t take up any more of your valuable time, Doctor.”

  “All right. I’ll go get the form from my office, Major. Be right back.”

  “I’m no longer a major. That’s over and done with. Call me Rafe.”

  Two could play this game. “If you call me Alexa. Lately my practice has consisted of a pair of young mountain lions, a great-horned owl, a family of squirrels and other assorted forest animals. I’m not used
to being called by my title.”

  “Sierra said you’re a healer. I thought you were a curandera like our grandmother Velasquez, but it sounds like you’re a vet.”

  “No, I’m not a vet or a curandera. I’m an osteopath, and I hold certificates in Chinese herbs and acupuncture.”

  He twisted his mouth to one side. “So you stick needles in people. Guess it can’t be any worse than what they put me through in the field hospital.”

  Alexa wasn’t sure if Rafe was trying to be funny or sarcastic. Whatever. He definitely presented a challenge—one that intrigued her.

  She headed down the hall to her office, which was located off her bedroom at the opposite end of the house. She had always liked this split floor plan. The few summers her parents had brought her here to visit her grandparents, she’d had the room Rafe now occupied. As a teen she’d pretended this whole end of the house was all her domain. Mostly, she holed up there reading biographies of female scientists who’d changed the world. At the time she wore chunky braces and round black-rimmed glasses, which explained why she didn’t read romances and dream about boys like her mother wanted her to do. Bobby was the only boy who ever really saw through her serious facade. And even he liked her best for her brain.

  Grabbing the release form she’d printed out the night before, she went back to Rafe’s room. He had drawn the blinds, making the room dark, and sat in the chair, petting Compadre. If dogs could smile, the collie gave a great imitation.

  “Here’s the release,” she said. “It’s attached to a clipboard.” She started to read the outline of treatment but Rafe raised his hand.

  “Just the part about the pills,” he said.

  Alexa did as he asked and read the short statement giving her the right to wean him off his pills and instead use herbs, teas and Eastern techniques such as acupuncture with Rafe’s verbal agreement.

  He took the pen and scribbled his name.

  “Dinner’s at six,” she told him. “I’ll give you plenty of time to wash up. I thought I’d put a couple of steaks on the grill and make a salad with vegetables from my garden. Lettuce, if the rabbits and deer left me any, tomatoes and cucumbers.” She let the words hang, expecting his agreement and maybe a little enthusiasm or interest.

  “I don’t want anything to eat.”

  “Well, at least come out and learn how to navigate the rest of the house.”

  “No, I prefer to stay here.”

  Alexa struggled to remain patient. “Okay, suit yourself tonight. But even if you’re not hungry, there’s a hot mineral springs on the property. It’s therapeutic and you’d be amazed at how relaxed you’ll feel if you take a dip right before bedtime. I’d go with you, of course.”

  He shook his head. “Not interested. I plan to turn in early.”

  Alexa began to simmer. But he was the patient and she was the doctor, she reminded herself. “Tomorrow, then. We’ll get a fresh start. If Compadre makes a nuisance of himself, boot him out and shut your door.”

  Hearing his name, the dog sat up, whined a few times, then laid his furry chin on Rafe’s knee. Alexa watched the man stroke the animal’s silky ears. “He’s fine,” Rafe said in a quiet voice. “I had a dog as a boy. A mongrel. We had to give him away when my parents died. Couldn’t afford to feed him. Chip. That was his name. I haven’t thought about him in years.”

  He looked so vulnerable sitting there, steeped in memories of the pet he’d lost, and Alexa found her throat tightening in sympathy. Her reaction was totally at odds with the irritation she’d felt barely a minute ago. “I’ll, uh, go now, and check back later to see if you need anything. Oh, I forgot. There’s a small fridge in the closet. I wasn’t sure what drinks you liked, but I left a couple of bottles of water, a fruit juice and noncaffeinated soft drinks.”

  “Beer?” He turned toward her.

  “Sorry, alcohol doesn’t mix with all those high-velocity meds you already took today. But that’s something we can shoot for. Call it a carrot to wean you off those psychotropic drugs.”

  “Psycho-what?”

  “Sorry, doctor speak for antidepressants and the like.”

  “Oh.” He sank back in the chair and closed his eyes. A sign their conversation, such as it was, had come to an end.

  Alexa hurried down the hall, her mind already cataloging the herbs that might work as substitutes to help him start withdrawing from the most potent of his drugs.

  After eating a salad by herself, she went into her office and pulled out the notes she’d made on Rafe’s current course of treatment. She skimmed them then sat down at the computer and searched the Internet for information on returning soldiers. A number of them came home suffering intermittent bouts of deafness from unspecified causes. But almost all cases of blindness could be traced to IED explosions that left shrapnel buried in the head. Rafe’s physical exams, including extensive X-rays and MRIs, revealed no foreign objects other than bullets in his left shoulder and thigh, both of which had been removed.

  Alexa tapped a pencil to her lips. She wondered if anyone was studying the residual effects of severe concussion around the brain.

  She flipped back to the detailed account of the firefight given by a young private—one of six men Rafe pulled to safety while he took and returned fire. Apparently saving half his patrol wasn’t good enough for Rafe Eaglefeather. He was the type of guy who’d feel guilty for not saving them all.

  Alexa could relate to that.

  Feeling weepy for no good reason, she shut down her computer and got ready for bed. She crawled under the covers, and it struck her that for the first time since she’d nursed Compadre back to health, he’d abandoned her for Rafe. Really, she didn’t mind. Dogs intuitively sensed which human needed the most attention.

  IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, Alexa heard loud shouting.

  Rafe.Bolting out of bed, she wrapped herself in her silk bathrobe and stumbled down the hall. Had he fallen on his way to the bathroom? Halfway to his room she heard Compadre whining.

  The bedroom door stood ajar and she could hear Rafe thrashing about, shouting men’s names, urging them to find cover and protect their heads. His medical file had noted episodes of post-traumatic stress flashback. Aware how violent some PTSD patients got, Alexa debated whether or not to enter his room. She had withheld his sedatives that night. Had it been a mistake?

  Still, he was under her care. She cracked the door wider. Thanks to a huge harvest moon filtering through the upper portion of one tall window, she saw Rafe sit up, shudder, and rub his forehead with the heels of his palms. Then he spoke softly to the anxious collie, who had both front paws on the bed.

  Relieved to feel her own pounding heart settle, Alexa continued to hover, unsure if she should announce her presence. The doctor in her argued yes. But she went with her feminine instincts. A macho, tough-guy like Rafe would be embarrassed to have anyone, especially a woman, witness what he would perceive as a weakness.

  As the dog quieted and settled back down on the floor beside Rafe, she withdrew and stealthily pulled the door closed behind her.

  Unfortunately, she was too keyed up to sleep. After witnessing Rafe’s flashback, she realized she needed to focus more on alleviating his stress and tension than researching old Chinese remedies for blindness, so she went to her office and started making a list of restorative therapies. Lists made order of chaotic feelings.

  But what if she got it wrong? What if her treatments made no difference, or God forbid, made Rafe worse?

  After long hours of research, Alexa felt certain that the approach she’d come up with would do him no harm.

  Around 4:00 a.m. she crawled back into bed, but her mind was filled with a new worry. Healing could happen only if the patient had the will to make it happen. And the million-dollar question was, did Rafe Eaglefeather really want to get well?

  CHAPTER TWO

  AT APPROXIMATELY SIX, after only a couple of hours of sleep, Alexa bustled about her kitchen fixing breakfast. Her mind mulled over possibl
e chores Rafe might do. From his file she knew that he’d been sedentary in the months before his discharge, and she had a feeling that Sierra wouldn’t have pushed him to exert himself. But Alexa had no intention of letting him waste his mind or that finely honed body.

  Compadre padded into the kitchen and went straight to his kibble bowl.“Hey, boy. Is your new friend up and around?” Alexa moved a pot of oatmeal to a back burner and glanced expectantly down the hall. Rafe wasn’t in sight, and she couldn’t hear the shower or other sounds of him moving about.

  Deciding she’d better check on him, she cracked open his door and saw he was still lying in bed. “Rise and shine,” she hollered. “Breakfast is ready and we have chores waiting.”

  A muffled “Go away” came from under his pillow.

  “What is the army term for get your butt out of bed, soldier? Sorry I don’t have a bugle. If you didn’t bring an alarm, I’ll give you one for tomorrow.”

  “You’re pushing your luck, Doc.” Rafe’s voice sounded raspy. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Neither did I. The animals out in the barns don’t care. They need to be fed and watered.” Alexa pushed the door wider, strode across the room and yanked off Rafe’s covers. She immediately wished she hadn’t. Rafe Eaglefeather slept in the raw.

  “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” Rafe’s head popped out from under the pillow, which he hastily jerked down to cover his privates.

  Alexa’s heart wrenched at the sight of the red scars marring the bronze flesh of Rafe’s hip. A second scar ran from his rib cage to what looked like a bullet exit wound near his collarbone, just below his right shoulder.

  She steeled herself against uttering the sympathetic retort that came automatically. She didn’t think Rafe would appreciate it.

  “The oatmeal is getting cold,” she said. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to show you the way to the kitchen. Call me if you need me.” Before she left she headed over to the window and threw open the curtains with unsteady hands.