The Cowboy Soldier

If he wasn’t careful, he mused, making sure he had gotten his shirt on with the tag at the back, he might start imagining Dr. Robinson as a possible candidate. God, but she smelled good enough to eat. Or did he think that because he’d had his fill of medicinal smells and the acrid odor of war? When a man lived too long in rough surroundings, he lost touch with the gentler things in life. But the few times Alexa had come and gone from his room, he hadn’t missed the clean, summery scent she left in her wake.

He gave himself a hard mental shake. As far as he was concerned, the doctor was being a hard ass, and he’d better keep it at that.

ALEXA WAITED THE FULL fifteen minutes. She started down the hall, but stopped when she saw Rafe emerge from his bedroom. He walked slowly and with an odd gait because he kept one hand resting atop Compadre’s furry head.

“There you are,” she called over her shoulder as she beat a hasty retreat and waited for them in the kitchen.

“Yeah, Dog is as persistent as you are,” Rafe muttered.

“I named him Compadre. He’s more like a friend than the other animals I doctor back to health. He’s been with me almost a year. I pulled him half drowned from the Rio Grande when it flooded. I asked the park rangers to put out the word to try to find his owner, but no one came forward. He seems to like living here.”

Rafe merely grunted.

She pulled out a chair. “Here, have a seat at the kitchen table.”

Rafe grasped the chair back and awkwardly felt his way around the cushioned seat until he seemed sure enough of his bearings to sit.

Alexa picked up a teapot. “I’m pouring you some tea.”

“I prefer coffee.”

“Tea has greater healing properties. If you think of your plate as a clock, I set your mug at two o’clock. It’s quite hot, so be careful.”

Alexa anxiously watched Rafe pick up the sturdy mug and take a sip.

He promptly gagged. “What the hell? Are you trying to poison me?” Rafe set the mug down with a thump that sloshed tea over his hand. “Ow, dammit.” With a mutinous look, he raised his burned fingers to his lips.

Grabbing an ice cube out of the freezer, Alexa made him hold it on the rapidly reddening web between his thumb and forefinger. “I probably should have warned you I’d brewed tea from wood betony and basil today. It’s very therapeutic.” She purposely didn’t tell him she’d chosen those herbs to help him cope with stress. She knew from former male patients, that men shied from any suggestion they might have mental or emotional problems.

“Therapeutic or not, it tastes like shit. If I can’t have coffee, I’ll drink water.”

“But the herbs in the tea will help you…regain strength,” she finally said.

“Strength isn’t what I’m lacking. I’ve lost my sight. No damn tea is gonna help me see again. Where’s the oatmeal you said was ready? At least that should taste normal.”

At the stove, Alexa paused. She’d already stirred in a small amount of lemon balm and vervain tincture into the hot cereal, although oats alone were thought to act as a minor antidepressant. She tasted the mixture, made a face and quickly sprinkled brown sugar over the portion she’d spooned into Rafe’s bowl.

“I’ll take mine with milk—good old cow’s milk. We had goat’s milk in Afghanistan—talk about rank.”

“Uh, milk. Just a minute.” Alexa quickly removed the small pitcher of warm goat’s milk from the table and rummaged in the refrigerator for the carton of regular milk she’d bought on her last trip into town. She sniffed it to make sure it hadn’t spoiled.

“Here’s some nonfat. Sierra didn’t mention you were such a picky eater.”

“Nonfat?” he parroted. “So, I guess you’re on a diet.”

“No way.” Alexa unconsciously ran a hand down her slender hips. “Why on earth would you think that?” she asked rather huffily as she dumped milk on his oatmeal and stuck a spoon in his hand.

He hiked up one shoulder. “Sierra switched to one-percent milk after her pediatrician said too many American kids are overweight.”

“True. But in my case, nonfat has a longer shelf life. I don’t go to town often.”

Rafe ate a few bites of the cereal, then lifted his head. Alexa held her breath, waiting for him to complain about the taste of the oatmeal. Instead, he said, “It took Sierra a long time to get here once we left the highway, so your place must be really off the beaten track. What’s the story behind that?”

“The story?” Alexa scrambled for something to say. She wasn’t about to bring up Bobby, so instead, she settled on part of the truth. “My grandparents owned this ranch, so it was only logical for me to take it over. My primary occupation is gentling horses to sell to families who want a well-trained saddle horse. I think I mentioned the hot springs my grandparents discovered here. That’s another plus. My grandfather had degenerative arthritis and the springs were therapeutic for him. The area’s perfect for me because it’s so sparsely settled and the herbs that grow around here are uncontaminated. I gather native plants in my spare time.”

Rafe scarfed down the rest of his oatmeal, and swallowed the pill she handed him before he stood. “It’s really none of my business. Your life, I mean. I shouldn’t have been so nosy.” Dropping his napkin on the table, he waved a hand in the air around him and seemed noticeably relieved when Compadre trotted up to head-butt his fingers.

“Where are you going?” Alexa asked, quickly finishing her own oatmeal. “Give me a minute to rinse our dishes and stick them in the dishwasher, then we’ll go feed my menagerie.”

“I’m going back to my room.”

She pursed her lips. “There’s a three-quarter bath off the kitchen if you need to use the facilities before we go out to the barns.”

“I don’t need the bathroom.”

“Then wait here a minute. It’s closer to the barns if we go out the back door.”

“What do you expect me to do there?” Rafe asked churlishly. “You know damned well I can’t see spit. I’ll be in my room until you call me for lunch.” He started off, Compadre at his side.

Feeling a prick of sorrow, Alexa was inclined to let him go. But to do what? There was nothing worse for him than to sit around all day with nothing to occupy his mind but the loss of his eyesight. So she forced herself to toughen her heart. “Hold it right there, Major. Horses pay the bills and put food on the table at this ranch. If you plan to eat three squares a day for the next month, you’ll pull your weight around here.”

“Did Sierra ask what your services cost? I’ll pay for my keep.”

“I don’t want your money. I want you to stop acting like an invalid.”

ANGER BOILED IN THE PIT of Rafe’s stomach at Alexa’s high-handedness. He could follow her out to the barns and fail miserably, proving his point. Or he could call Sierra to come get him and end this stupid charade. Then he thought about Sierra. How she’d placed so much faith in his coming here. He’d worried her enough already and wouldn’t add to the burden. “Okay, Doc. You win another round. We’ll try it your way today.” He swung back toward the table, but knocked over the chair where he’d been sitting, and instantly froze.

Compadre started to bark and dance around his legs, and Rafe didn’t know which way to turn. He was furious at being so clumsy, and the anger he’d already directed toward Alexa Robinson for putting him in such an untenable position doubled.

He realized she was speaking to him, calmly telling him where the fallen chair was in relation to his left foot. “If you bend your knees and put out your left hand, you’ll feel the chair back, and you can set it upright.”

Rafe followed Alexa’s instructions, shocked that she didn’t rush right over and pick up the chair for him, which was what would’ve happened with the hospital nurses or Sierra and Doug. Once he had the chair on solid footing, he felt a rare sense of accomplishment, the first he’d experienced since his injury. “Thanks,” he said gruffly, begrudgingly giving Alexa a sliver of respect. “I hate the way everyone treats me like a cripple. It’s almost worse than being sent home with a medal while buddies I should’ve saved came home in caskets.”

“The term used now is disabled, not crippled. And I have high expectations for you.” Alexa placed a couple of items in his hands. “Slip on these sunglasses and we’ll be on our way. You’ll need the gloves in the barn. Count how many steps it takes you to get to the barn from the back door. Counting steps and remembering the number puts you on the first rung of the ladder to independence, Major.”

That put her up another notch on Rafe’s judgment scale. “I recall asking you to call me Rafe. I was discharged from the army months ago.”

“Okay, but then don’t call me Doc. I’ve never been one of the seven dwarfs.”

Rafe cracked a partial smile. “You got me there.”

They exited the house with Dog, Alexa providing running commentary about the landscape.

Interest in what she was saying kept Rafe placing one foot in front of the other until she announced, “This is it. We’re at the first and smaller of my two barns. This is where I house the wildlife that park rangers find in their travels and bring to me. That started after I pulled over on the road one day to help a fawn someone had hit. The ranger dropped by to see how the fawn made out and found her well enough to return to the wild.” He felt her touch his arm. “On your left is the corral I use to train three-year-old horses I buy from an area breeder. The horse barn is eighty to a hundred steps behind this one, and sits at the edge of the woods, which is the end of my property. Next to the horse barn, I have a chicken coop and a pen for…uh, other domestic animals.”

Rafe wondered why she sounded hesitant, but decided not to ask. He took a deep breath and felt the tightness in his chest ease. “The air smells of horses and a whiff of cedar. It sorta reminds me of home. Sierra and I grew up in Terlingua, west of here.”

His words stoked memories of the carefree days when Mike, Joey and he rode bucking broncs to the buzzer all summer long. Afterward, the three of them enjoyed cold brewskies at a local bar. Whichever man walked out with the prettiest girl had to pay the tab. But, his buddies were dead. His fault. He’d been their leader, after all.