The Cowboy Soldier (7 page)

Relieved to see Rafe mount the steps to the back porch, Alexa finally peered into the cage. “What kind of injuries do they have?”

“None. They just need to be bottle-fed until they grow some.”

“Don’t you have someone skilled in being a surrogate to orphaned animals?”

“Shirl Scofield up in Marathon. Here’s the real skinny, babe. Red Jones and some other guys bet me I couldn’t get you to come to the dance with me…. Only you and I know you’ve always secretly had a crush on me,” he concluded.

“Pardon?” Her mind back on Rafe, Alexa missed all but the last part of Paul’s ludicrous statement. She gaped at him, open-mouthed.

“The kits gave me an excuse to come see you, as well as get the state to pay for my gas. I said to myself, one woman can mother these little guys as easily as another. After all, it’s in a woman’s genes. What say we meet at the lodge Saturday night, seven o’clock? I’ll win enough off the guys to buy you dinner.” Paul slid out the cage with the fox kits and strode off toward the small barn where she housed the wildlife.

Alexa couldn’t believe his massive ego. She could easily see why Jill Harper, who clerked at the park general store, had ended their engagement. She’d like to kick Paul in the pants herself. Keeping step with him, she drawled sarcastically, “Gee, Paul. With kits to feed by hand three or four times a day, I can’t possibly go off for an entire evening.”

“Have your flunky feed ’em.”

“Excuse me?” Alexa, who’d darted ahead to open the barn door, stopped dead.

“The blind dude. Have him feed the kits. Unless there’s something more goin’ on between you two besides him training your horses,” Paul added snidely.

“Get lost, Paul,” Alexa said icily. “I can’t imagine what gave you the idea I treated you any differently than I treat the other rangers who drop off injured animals. A friendly wave or smile isn’t a come-on. As for Major Eaglefeather, in my presence you will be respectful of him. Leave the foxes or take them to Mrs. Scofield. Either way, I’d like you to go now.”

Paul shoved the cage at her, his eyes dark and angry. He opened his mouth to say something he would surely regret later, but Alexa angled her chin upward, and he apparently had second thoughts. Wise man. She watched him stalk back to his vehicle. What a bozo. His boss was a thirty-year veteran at this park and a true gentleman. He’d never tolerate Paul’s bad behavior and Paul must know it.

Since she had baby foxes in her care, she needed to make a run to the store for canned milk. This time she wouldn’t go to the park store, but to Study Butte. She wondered if she could talk Rafe into riding along and doing their trail ride another day.

She set the kits’ cage well away from the hissing mountain cat. She’d have to ask Carl Dobbins, the ranger who’d brought in the cat, what his plans were for the healed animal. Alexa didn’t want to let him out on the ranch where he could come back and stalk her goats, chickens or horses. A squirrel that someone had found with a broken leg was well enough to be let go, too. She didn’t mind turning him out. In fact, she’d do it now.

After locking the small barn, she took the cage to the edge of the woods and held it up as high as she could against a tree limb. Then she went back to the horse barn to collect Compadre and they circled back to the house.

“Rafe,” she called, hearing nothing when she walked in. Compadre made a beeline down the hall and nosed his way into Rafe’s room, so Alexa followed.

“There you are,” she said, concerned to find him sitting idle in the rocker in a dark room. Once again she went around opening his curtains.

“Would you mind if we cancel our afternoon ride? I need to run to the grocery store to pick up canned milk to feed those two baby foxes Paul brought.”

“Go ahead,” he said, giving a curt wave with one hand.

“Would you care to ride along?”

Rafe rocked faster. “Wouldn’t your new boyfriend love that?”

“Paul left. And for the record, he’s not my…anything. Not even a friend, which I might have considered him before today. He’s an egotistical idiot.”

“So, you’re not going to the dance with him? I can have Sierra come take me to her place for the weekend, in case you…do a sleepover.”

“What’s with you men all presuming things? Did you not hear a word I said? Paul’s an idiot. Do you want to ride to Study Butte, or not?” She pronounced the town’s name the way locals did:
Stewdy Butte.

“I apologize, Alexa. Study Butte, huh? I thought that town died.”

“It has around three hundred residents. A few families struggle to keep basic businesses operating. The store should have what I need. Canned milk and baby food. The foxes are cute little stinkers. Gray fox, I’m pretty sure.”

“Do you think the store carries swimsuits? I assume that’s what you wear when you visit the hot springs.”

“Well, I, uh…need to wear one now for sure,” she said, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Uh, if the store doesn’t have a suit, I can cut off your oldest pair of long pants. I have a sewing machine. It won’t take any time to zip in a hem.”

“Maybe I’ll let you do that. I know my cammo’s fit. And they’re comfortable.”

“Mineral baths are all about comfort,” Alexa said, glad to have dealt with that issue. “Then it’s settled. I’ll haul out my machine as soon as we return from the store.”

She drove with one arm propped on the window ledge, a casual hand on the steering wheel. “I grew up an only child,” she said. “My dad was an oil man. A workaholic. He could retire, but he’s branched out into wind and solar exploration. The folks still own the ranch, but they have a condo in Houston. When I was a sprout there were no close neighbors. Dad owned racehorses then. His vet lived on-site, as well as a trainer. I spent a lot of time tagging after them. It’s where I developed an interest in animals and in medicine.”

“Yet you didn’t become a vet.”

“Funny how stuff happens,” Alexa said. She didn’t really want to get into explaining the whole sordid tale about how she’d landed here. So, she launched into a new topic. “I don’t know that I can help you regain your sight, Rafe. I want to be clear. Sierra is a bit of a steamroller, as I’m sure you know. She was so determined and so positive you’ll respond to alternative healing methods that she convinced me to try.”

“And now you doubt you can help me?”

Alexa vacillated, not wanting to take away any hope Rafe might cling to. Nor did she want to build false expectations.

“You’re not saying anything,” he murmured. “I take it the answer is no.”

“In medicine you never say never, Rafe. There are always surprise outcomes. Instances that defy the odds.”

“Miracles?” Rafe leaned his head back against the headrest and languidly stroked Compadre’s spotted curls. The dog drew in his head from the window and licked Rafe’s chin.

“Unexplained cures happen, yes, in rare cases. I’ve pored over your chart endlessly. No doctor who examined you gave clear-cut reasons for you not being able to see. There’s no shrapnel in your brain. No obvious trauma to the eyes themselves or to the ocular nerves.”

“The neurologist who examined me when I first came stateside thought maybe I’d been thrown against something when the first RPG exploded in our camp and that shook up or rattled my brain. I don’t know. Much of that attack is a blur. What I do know came from doctors who treated other guys wounded that day.” Rafe shifted in his seat and turned his head.

That caused Alexa to skip to another subject, even though she would have loved to ask if he had gained any specific memories from his flashbacks. She was afraid those memories might be too painful. “We’ve arrived, Rafe. We’re at the thriving metropolis of Study Butte. I was close when I said three hundred residents. The sign as you enter town has been scratched out a few times, but now reads two hundred seventy-one.”

Rafe wrinkled his brow. “I’m trying to remember what they mined here. Not silver.”

“Cinnabar,” Alexa supplied, pulling to a stop in front of an adobe building that still had an ancient hitching post out front. “The store owner told me most outsiders who come here these days are rock hounds. They comb the mine tailings for cinnabar or other colorful pieces that can be made into jewelry. Do you want to come in the store or wait in the pickup? Compadre has to stay.”

The collie hung his head at those words, but burrowed against Rafe.

“Did you bring Dog’s leash?” Rafe felt around in his fur for a collar. “I could get out and stretch my legs with him. Is there a sidewalk, or are we in danger of being run over by a car?”

Alexa had gotten out of the cab and was digging under the seat. “I always carry a spare leash. Here.” She snapped it on the dog and tucked the leather wrist loop into Rafe’s hand. “There’s no sidewalk, but if two vehicles a day drive down this street it’s probably a traffic jam. Just stick close to the side and you should be fine.”

Rafe laughed as he took a firmer grip on the leash and opened his door.

Alexa’s stomach gave a funny little jiggle. The man’s laughter turned her inside out. And the change it made to his features squeezed her heart. He smiled so rarely that a laugh was a treasure. If she never helped him in any other way, her mission from now on was to make him laugh more often.

Alexa entered the small store and passed the time of day with the owner as she filled her basket with the items she’d come for. She also bought yams that looked fresh. “They’re grown locally,” the owner said. And when she rang up the canned milk and baby food, the woman asked if Alexa had gotten married.

“Oh, no. I acquired a pair of fox babies who lost their mother.”

The jovial Hispanic woman winked. “I noticed the handsome hombre you’re with today.”

Alexa knew she turned red. “He’s just a friend,” she said, pocketing her change. On leaving the store, she realized she’d specifically not identified Rafe as her patient to Paul or this woman. Truth was, he felt more like a friend. How wise was that? she mused, fumbling the keys as she called to Rafe. She climbed in the vehicle and shook off the negative thoughts. The day was too lovely to spoil with old worries.

Back at the ranch, Alexa hummed while she unpacked her purchases. “Okay, go get the pants you want cut off,” she told Rafe. “The sewing machine is in my office. It’ll only take a minute to set it up and thread it with khaki thread.”

“Do they need hemming? Can’t we whack them off and leave them ragged?”

“Threads might unravel and clog the spring. It’s better environmentally to keep the water as pure as possible. So no sunscreen or other skin products, please.”

Rafe shrugged. “These days I use the least amount of stuff like that as I can. In Iraq, even dark as my skin is, I slathered on sunblock. In the hospital, nurses gave me vitamin E cream to rub on my wounds so they wouldn’t scar. I ran out, so I should prepare you for how bad they must look. One bullet tore out a lot of muscle and skin.”

“I saw them already, if you recall. They weren’t all that shocking, Rafe. Anyway, for me, the human body is like a canvas is to an artist,” she quipped.

Rafe looked as if he wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but all he said was, “I’ll go find those pants.”

Alexa cut the pants off above the cargo pockets. She hemmed them and passed them back to Rafe. “Go change. I’ll grab towels and meet you outside. Compadre has to stay here. My grandfather built an enclosed gazebo around the spring to keep wild animals out and it gets a bit like a steam bath inside. The minerals help cleanse the pores. Good for people, not so good for dogs.”

“Lead on,” Rafe said when he joined her on the porch a few minutes later.

They hiked the short distance to the isolated spring in silence. As they walked, Alexa cast sidelong glances at Rafe, who in spite of his scars was plenty ripped.

“How hot is the water?” he asked as they entered the enclosure. He must have been able to feel the steam and hear the bubbling water.

“The spring first comes out of the ground at around a hundred forty degrees Fahrenheit. It’s artesian fed. This pool my grandfather carved out is gravity fed and naturally cooled to approximately ninety-eight.”

She stepped in and reached for Rafe’s hand.

“Oh, there’s a seat.” He sighed as he sank slowly down until the water came up to his pecs. “It must be up to your neck,” he said, turning to Alexa.

“My shoulders. I’m not much shorter than you, Rafe.”

“And you look like Cameron Diaz,” he murmured with a smile.

“Or Gwyneth Paltrow,” she teased. “What if I look like Rosie the Riveter?”

“I probably wouldn’t care. To me you’re the woman who jump-started my life, first by letting me help you train horses and then taking me riding. And now you’re allowing me to share this slice of heaven.” He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“I told you it was nice, ye of little faith. After a soak we’ll go back to my office and I’ll give you a therapeutic deep-tissue back massage. If you like it, one day soon I’ll set you up with an herb body wrap.”

“Don’t be getting too fancy,” he warned.