Free The Cowboy Soldier by Roz Denny Fox Page B

fresh air.
    “It’s a lot cooler here than at your ranch,” Rafe noted. “Sierra said your place sits virtually by itself in a valley. I know it’s peaceful. One of the worst things about being in the military is that you never have a minute alone. You’re always with people. What about you, Alexa? I take it you don’t mind not having neighbors?”
    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