The Soldier's Homecoming

by Patricia Potter

  After a few moments, she announced a town was coming up if he wanted to stop for any reason.

  “Not unless you do,” he replied.

  “If we stop, I could reach in back and get your binder.”

  He seemed to slowly relax. “I prefer the cruise director at the moment. What else is there in Raton Pass except a hat cemetery?”

  Obviously he wanted to keep the conversation inpersonal. She complied. “Ghosts.”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “Oh, great,” he said. “That’s even better than a hat cemetery. Maybe there’s even hat ghosts.”

  “I take it you’re reconciled to stopping there for lunch,” she said, enchanted by the unexpected humor that could be as wacky as her own.

  “I have to admit I have some curiosity. Find any other irresistible small towns?”

  “I’ve just started...” She paused and then continued, thinking out loud. “I haven’t even looked, and I found one, probably two. There has to be many others.”

  She realized she was getting on her soapbox. That was something she did when a new project started dancing around in her head. Ideas just started popping out. She could bore people for hours.

  “That mind of yours never stops, does it?” Travis said.

  He got her. He understood her. But she didn’t know if he accepted her. She was a tumbleweed. Was born that way. She didn’t need anyone, didn’t want to need anyone, because, in her experience, it meant being trapped. Her mother was trapped in alcohol, her sisters in bad marriages—Lenore had only recently gained her independence.

  “I hope not,” she answered.

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he observed.

  “What about you?” Jenny asked. “What are you going to do when this study is finished?”

  He shrugged. “I’m still working on that.”

  “You’re really good with Nick. Not to mention Danny. I can tell he thinks you walk on water.”

  “It’s very shallow water,” he said.

  She didn’t reply to that. The conversation had veered into a heavy direction and to questions she sensed neither of them wanted nor knew how to answer. That now familiar electricity filled the car. It had nothing to do with weather and everything to do with the attraction sparking between them.

  Jenny needed a diversion. She checked the map again. They had just passed Walsenburg. The interstate started climbing, and they were entering the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

  She stopped talking as they continued up to the pass and spied a New Mexico welcome center. Travis parked and they got out, stretched and looked at the incredible views around them. Mountains. Green forests. A royal blue lake.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jenny said in an awed voice. The rich colors captured her imagination. She could almost see wagon trains winding their way through the steep pass.

  He nodded and followed her into the center, where she grabbed all the information she could find. She noticed that his limp was more pronounced than usual and knew it was a good thing to stop.

  The town of Raton was off the interstate and seven miles or so out of the way. Without comment, Travis turned.

  Jenny was even more delighted than she’d imagined as they drove to the town center, past stores with names like Little Bear Gallery and Santa Fe Traders. There was a historical theater built in 1939 by the WPA that drew visits from the San Francisco Opera and The Three Tenors.

  They found the hat cemetery in a Western wear store. When anyone bought a new hat, they could donate their old one to the cemetery. Each hat received a name tag and some had attached histories of their prior owners.

  Jenny was enchanted, and Travis was patient. It was 1:00 p.m. before they found a barbecue restaurant and ate lunch.

  They walked back to the car. Jenny left a few purchases in the back seat and grabbed the binder. When Travis was inside, she hugged the book and said, “Thank you for indulging me.”

  “I needed to stretch my leg,” he replied. Then he added with a slight smile, “and I’ve never seen a hat cemetery before.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TRAVIS TRIED TO concentrate on the road ahead and not his passenger. It was becoming more and more difficult.

  Dammit, the truth was he was falling hard for Jenny Talbot.

  He couldn’t remember when he’d had a more pleasurable day or when he’d smiled quite so much. Jenny’s enthusiasm was contagious. She’d charmed everyone she met in Raton because, to her, everyone was the most interesting person she’d ever met.

  He understood now how she wrote such powerful stories, particularly when she wrote about innocents caught up in war.

  She connected with people in a way he’d never witnessed before. He understood why people talked to her when they wouldn’t talk to authorities or other reporters. She wasn’t just after a story. She genuinely liked and was interested in everyone.

  It was a rare quality.

  Once back in the car, she’d taken up his thick binder and appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in it. She’d abandoned her role as cruise director, especially when she realized there was but one route to take to get to where they were going. But she’d also forgotten about enjoying the scenery. Forgotten about her quest for another unique small town. She was completely engrossed in the binder.

  He kept his eyes on the road. He wanted to get past Amarillo today, but he missed her questions and observations.

  “I was surprised when I first started looking into equine therapy to find the number and variety of programs underway,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “I was, too, until I talked to Josh,” Travis admitted. “He credits his dog, Amos, with saving his sanity, and Jubal says a horse on Luke’s ranch made him realize there was a world beyond war.”

  “No one said anything about that.”

  “They wouldn’t,” Travis replied. “It’s difficult to talk about. Soldiers don’t like admitting having a hard time coping after leaving the military, even to themselves.”

  “I understand that,” she said. “I hate showing vulnerability.”

  And there it was. Not weakness but vulnerability. There was a world of difference between the two concepts, and she understood it.

  He’d watched her struggle with her shoulder, but she’d never complained or asked for help. She would have continued to try that saddle if he hadn’t stepped in. She had a lot of warrior in her, too.

  “What about you?” she asked suddenly. “Are you having a difficult time?”

  It was an intrusive question, but he was getting used to that from her. What he might resent as prying from someone else, her curiosity was as much a part of her as an arm or leg. It was an ongoing effort to understand her world and the people who lived in it.

  There was a long silence while he tried to think of an answer. “I’m not out yet.” But then he added, “But yeah, for the first time in my life, I’m not sure of my next step.”

  “You were in Iraq during the worst of it?”

  “And Afghanistan. Syria. Other places you don’t hear about. My guys were mostly advisors who worked with the host country’s military. Problem was they had damn little protection, and the forces they trained weren’t always reliable.”

  He was saying things he probably shouldn’t be saying, but his frustration from the past years had burst out.

  She seemed to understand and changed the subject. “So are you really thinking of taking a desk job, or might you stay in Covenant Falls and help with this program?”

  “No plans to stay on. This is just a temporary gig for a friend.”

  “Options?”

  “A desk job at Fort Benning. Or a medical discharge. Neither appeals to me much. But then neither does anything else. Still, I’m a hell of a lot better off than most, so I can’t complain.”

  Jenny was qui
et for a moment, and then sighed. “I really want to write stories that help. The last thing I want to do is make life more difficult for veterans who need help. I know a little about what they face.”

  More than most. He’d had doubts in the beginning, but no longer. He suspected that people talked to her because they knew instinctively that she would understand and protect them.

  “You should do something with kids,” she blurted out in an instant subject change.

  “What?”

  “You should do something with kids if you leave the army. You’re good with them. I saw that when you were with Nick.” She grinned. “You’re also patient. I’m proof of that. Anyone else would probably have bought me a one-way bus ticket back to Covenant Falls after staying so long in Raton.”

  “To my utter amazement, I enjoyed it,” he admitted.

  “Good. Does that mean we can stay in Amarillo tonight? It’s a great name, and there’s a Cadillac museum there...”

  He raised his gaze upwards. He didn’t know if she was kidding or not, and this was not the first time he was amazed at how quickly her mood changed. It was disconcerting to say the least.

  “I’ve created a monster,” he observed.

  “No,” she retorted. “You just sorta allowed it to expand.”

  He sighed. Deeply. “Whatever did I do to deserve this?” he uttered to no one in particular. “What, I fear to ask, is there to see in a Cadillac museum?”

  “Lots of Cadillacs,” Jenny replied with that smile that was so darn hard to ignore.

  “And why would we possibly want to see them?”

  “Because some are halfway buried in the ground, front first. You’re obviously out of touch with the whimsical.”

  “I admit it,” Travis said. “I sense that’s definitely not a problem with you.”

  “I hope not. It makes every day interesting. I never know what’s around the corner or the bend of the river, or, if I’m in Covenant Falls, the next rainbow.”

  “You never want to call some place home?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. I grew up in what some might call a dysfunctional house. I couldn’t wait to leave, and there was always a shining object out there in front of me. I learned to live out of a duffel bag and sometimes not even that. It’s liberating not having things to worry about.”

  “Ever get lonely?”

  “I would be lying if I said no. But then another story comes along, and I meet a new group of people.” She hesitated. Then she asked, “Were you ever married?”

  “No,” he said. “Almost, but then I was wounded.”

  “What did that have to do with anything?”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I was pretty bad when I got back. They didn’t know if they could save my leg. I’d lost two fingers, and my face...”

  “I happen to like it. It’s a very strong face,” she said. He could tell she was growing angry. Not at him, but at the unnamed woman. If Dinah had been in the car, Jenny might have unbuckled the seat belt, turned around and smacked her.

  “She’s an idiot,” Jenny continued, obviously seething.

  Damn, he would have liked to have her in his Army company. “She was a journalist,” he retorted snidely. He regretted it immediately, but it had been an automatic defense mechanism.

  “Ouch,” Jenny said. “But she’s still an idiot. Probably a terrible journalist, too.”

  He chuckled. He couldn’t remember when he’d done that so often. “What about you? Have you ever been engaged, or close to it?”

  “Nope. Never stayed in one place long enough, although I had some good buddies in the Middle East. We often teamed together. It was too dangerous to go in alone.”

  He was unaccountably jealous, which was ridiculous.

  “And,” she added, “I just always retreated when I thought I—or someone—was getting serious.”

  Her turn to provide a warning to one Travis Hammond.

  It was just as well. He needed a jolt back to reality. He was appalled that he’d actually considered staying in Amarillo and going to a Cadillac museum.

  He had a mission, such as it was, and he’d been sidetracked. It was thoroughly undisciplined on his part, but he couldn’t remember when he’d felt lighthearted or smiled so easily.

  He glanced at her. They were slowing down as they approached Amarillo. The traffic was heavy.

  “Where now?” she asked with the road map in her hands.

  “A ranch about an hour away. It wasn’t originally on the schedule, but I checked with the owner last night, and he invited us over.”

  “Why wasn’t he on the schedule?” she asked, “particularly since it’s on the route.”

  “Time. I thought I would be driving eight hundred miles tomorrow, and this program is simpler than the others. From what I understand, it’s not a rehab program per se, but a skills experience. It teaches riding and ranch work and has a very elastic schedule for participants. Since we left today, we have time to see it. We should be there around three if you don’t mind missing lunch.”

  “Miss a meal? How awful!” Jenny said, “After the way I’ve eaten in the past few days, I could go weeks without another bite. Besides,” she added slyly, “I kinda absconded with fruit and pastries from the breakfast room.” Then she buried her head in the road map.

  Travis couldn’t help but chuckle. He knew the compulsion. His soldiers did it all the time and called it foraging. Once you’ve been very, very hungry, you become a hoarder. You take whatever you find. He imagined that she often went without food in war-torn areas.

  He handed her directions. “I think we leave the interstate soon. You’re navigator now.”

  “Okay,” she said agreeably, then added, “what can you tell me about Dr. Payne?”

  Travis was dizzy. Another lightning change of subject. It was difficult to keep up with her. Or was it a technique to disarm him? He recited what little he knew. “I’ve not met him. I only know that he treated Josh and sent both Clint and Andy to him. All three think very highly of him.”

  “Andy says he saved her sanity,” Jenny said, obviously seeking more information.

  “It’s no secret in Covenant Falls. Andy was in a forward surgical unit when an Afghan soldier whom she trusted attacked her unit during an operation. She was badly wounded, the only survivor of the team—which included her fiancé. They were to be married within a month.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said. “How terrible for her.”

  “Dr. Payne convinced her to visit a woman who trains rescue dogs to be therapy dogs. That’s where she found Joseph. Dr. Payne then put her in touch with Josh. He thought she would be a good candidate for the cabin.”

  “He was right, wasn’t he?” Jenny asked. “She’s an enthusiastic promoter of the museum and town. Covenant Falls seems to have an unusual effect on newcomers.”

  Travis caught himself. He had no idea why he was saying so much, but he was discovering why she was a good reporter. She didn’t always ask direct questions. She often just made comments that led her victims to elaborate.

  “She seems to be doing really well now,” Jenny added after failing to get an answer.

  “She is,” he agreed, ignoring the unspoken invitation to elaborate.

  “While we’re near Fort Hood, can we visit the woman who trained Andy’s dog?” she asked in another topic change.

  “Interested in one?” Travis asked.

  “No. I’m in no position to have a dog now, but it’s another aspect of healing, part of the large picture.”

  He hesitated, then replied, “If I can arrange it.”

  Jenny sensed he’d had his fill of questions. She glanced at the directions he’d given her and turned her attention to them, noting as they drove the changes in the landscape. It was a little before three when she saw the road mentioned in the d
irections Travis had given her. Twenty minutes later, he turned into a paved road lined by fences that seemed to go as far as they could see. Cattle grazed on one side, horses on the other. At the end of the long drive, they reached an attractive two-story house and three outbuildings.

  The largest outbuilding was obviously a stable. Jenny watched as a deeply-tanned middle-aged man and two younger men left the barn and headed toward them. All three wore Western hats.

  “Major Hammond?” the older man said as he held out his hand to Travis. “I’m Chet Bowen.” He looked curiously at Jenny.

  “Call me Travis. This is Jenny Talbot. She’s a reporter and is helping us with research. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

  “Happy to do it. We can’t come close to filling the need. These two young men—Jeff Reynolds and Austin O’Brian—are part of our program. I thought you might get more from them than from me.”

  Jenny gave all three her best smile, and Travis saw the immediate impact. They all took off their hats and looked gobsmacked.

  “I’ll show you around first,” Chet offered. “Then you can ask these fellows and me any questions you have. Let’s start with the bunkhouse...”

  He talked as they walked behind the house to an elongated one-story building with a wide front porch filled with rocking chairs.

  Their host opened the door to what appeared to be a gathering place. There was a kitchen area with a fridge, grill, microwave and coffee machine. There were several lounge chairs, a sofa and tables and chairs.

  “This is the common room. The room to the right is a sleeping room for our male participants. We have six bunkbeds for a total of twelve beds. We can add more. On the other side, we have a smaller room with four bunkbeds for women.”

  “No televisions?” Jenny noted.

  “Nope,” Chet said. “We don’t allow computers either. One of the important parts of the program is interaction between the veterans. They need the support of each other in addition to the acceptance they find with the horses.”

  “How long do they stay?” Travis said.

  “It varies. Our veterans have an option of participating in a resident program where they learn horsemanship and work with our cattle, or a nonresident, self-paced program that works for those with job or education commitments.”