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Jubal looked at him curiously. “How did you come here? Doesn’t look like your kind of place. Seem to remember you liked big cities with lots of bars.”
“The shrink at the military hospital where I was treated recommended it,” Clint said. “Dr. Payne. He was Josh Manning’s doctor at Fort Hood, and they became friends.”
Clint hesitated before continuing. “This is Josh’s cabin. He inherited it—along with a traumatized military dog—from his best buddy who died saving his life. He admits to being in pretty bad shape when he arrived with a lot of survivor’s guilt and a bad case of PTSD. All he wanted was to be left alone and wallow in grief and guilt.”
Jubal understood that. He waited for the rest of the story.
“The town mayor somehow lured him out of hermitsville. A very pretty mayor, too. Single mom to a young son. She’s a force of nature in a soft, unassuming way,” Clint said. “Sounds contradictory, but there it is. I’m sure you’ll meet them at some point.
“To make a long story short,” Clint continued, “Josh and Eve married and he moved into her ranch house. He asked Dr. Payne if he knew a vet who needed a temporary place to stay. That was me. Then Andy came through before moving in with her fiancé. She’d been a surgical nurse in a forward base. The cabin was sitting here vacant when I heard you were leaving the navy...”
“I’m not staying,” Jubal broke in. “I thought to be here just long enough for a bit of hell-raising, but I guess that’s out of the question seeing you’re the law these days.”
“The two things are not mutually exclusive,” Clint retorted. “What are your future plans?”
Jubal shrugged. “Haven’t thought much about it.”
“Haven’t wanted to, you mean,” Clint corrected. “Been there, done that.”
Jubal wanted to change the subject away from himself. “You said in the letter you had a head injury. A chopper crash?” The question was out before he could withdraw it. He usually didn’t ask personal questions because he didn’t like them directed at him. He wouldn’t have with anyone other than Clint, but since the day Clint rescued his team, they’d been like brothers.
“I did something stupid,” Clint said. “I was at Fort Hood between deployments. I’d practically rebuilt an old Corvette and wanted to try it out on a road a friend said no one used. I was going pretty fast when an old truck pulled onto the road and I had to turn suddenly to miss it. The car went into a ditch and my head hit the side of the interior. I suffered a concussion with brain trauma. I had continuing blackouts and headaches. For a while I couldn’t even drive, much less keep a pilot’s license.”
Clint said, “I haven’t had a blackout in a month and I’m hoping to get a clean bill of health from the doctor to fly again, but this time I’ll be fighting fires. We had a bad one a few months ago. Good news is I can drive. If I do feel a blackout coming on, I can turn off the highway and call a deputy. Can’t do that in the sky.”
Jubal heard the pain in his voice. It hadn’t been as easy as he tried to make it sound.
“I’ll be honest,” Clint said. “It was rough in the beginning. I wasn’t very happy about coming here until I ran into a redheaded veterinarian who almost killed me the day we met, and a mayor that duped me into teaching computers to senior citizens.”
Jubal raised one eyebrow. His mind couldn’t comprehend it. The image of daredevil pilot and woman-magnet Clint teaching elderly women the basics of computers was just too...crazy. Maybe even more crazy than being police chief.
“Don’t you miss—”
“Hell, yes. There’s still those times I hunger for a throttle in my hand, the lift of a chopper. Bringing guys back.” He paused, shrugged. “But I love my fire-breathing wife, and I like this town. We have a lot of veterans here and we help each other.”
“You’re planning to stay here, then?” Jubal asked.
Clint nodded. “Stephanie loves it here, and I have good friends, including Josh and a number of other vets. And dammit, I like my job.”
“What does a cop even do here?” Jubal asked curiously.
“We’ve been having some old-fashioned cattle and horse rustling. That’s keeping me busy now.”
“Rustling? You’re kidding.”
“Nope, but now it’s done by trucks rather than horses. There are petty robberies, too, bar fights, domestic disputes, accidents. We also assist county and state agencies if needed,” he explained. “It’s a small department of ten. Three dispatchers and seven officers, including me. Mostly, though, it’s being diplomatic.”
“And you don’t get bored?”
“I might if it weren’t for Stephanie. You don’t get bored with Stephanie. I’m working with her now to become qualified in canine search and rescue.” He seemed to notice Jubal’s dubious expression as he glanced down at Bart.
“Not with Bart,” he explained. “He doesn’t qualify. He’s too timid, although he’s getting better. Stephanie has two trained golden retrievers. I’m the one that needs qualifying, not the dogs. It’s embarrassing.” He paused, put his hand down on Bart’s head. “But Bart’s helped me a lot. More than I have him.” He paused, then added, “I know a great dog if—”
“No,” Jubal said. “I’ve been avoiding attachments all my adult life. They don’t go with what we do.”
The answer was automatic. One he’d given many times to avoid any lasting relationships, especially with women. SEALs worked in small teams and often disappeared with an hour’s notice, leaving whoever loved them not knowing where they were going, or when they might be back—if they came back at all. It was hell on marriages.
He was grateful Clint didn’t remind him he wasn’t a SEAL anymore. Jubal still thought like one. Hell, he’d been one for twenty years. He’d learned to close the door on his emotions.
He just didn’t know how to open it again. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. He took another sip of beer only to find it nearly gone. He unwound his body from the chair. “I’m getting another beer. You want one?”
“Sure. I’m off duty.”
Jubal snorted loud enough for Clint to hear. He went inside, pulled two beers from the fridge, opened them and returned to the lounge chair after handing one to Clint. The setting sun was streaming layers of gold and crimson flames across the sky.
Clint was silent, apparently satisfied that Jubal seemed to appreciate the sunset at least.
“What else is there in Covenant Falls?” Jubal asked after several swallows of beer.
“We have a couple of great bars, including one that’s veteran-owned. We all get discounts and never get kicked out for being rowdy. There’s Monday night poker games. Horseback riding.” He glanced at Jubal. “You ride, don’t you? Didn’t you tell me you did some riding in Afghanistan?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t exactly pleasure riding. Those horses were ornery as hell.” He didn’t want to explain more, though the memory wasn’t all bad. Those horses had been ornery, all right, but he’d relished the challenge of riding over narrow mountain paths in the dark with some of the most ferocious warriors in the Middle East.
Clint stood. “I’ll go and let you get some rest. How about we hit that bar tomorrow night?”
He nodded. “I’ll probably head out the next day.”
Clint looked disappointed but nodded. “In the meantime, the fridge is loaded with food and beer. Help yourself. If you need anything, there’s a general store, grocery store and pharmacy in town. My phone numbers are next to the phone. The middle room is kind of a library. Feel free to take or add any books. Lastly, we do have internet. It’s slow but it usually works.”
Jubal stood, as well. He’d been damned unappreciative. He thrust his hand out and Clint took it in a tight grip. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise. I’d better warn you,” Clint said. “Neighbors might leave tins of cinnamon rolls or brownies on your doorstep.”
“And I have to be polite?”
Clint shrugged. “I was. Josh wasn’t. He scared the hell out of the first person who tried.”
“I think I would like Josh.”
“I know you would,” Clint said. “Get some rest, buddy. Call me if you need anything.”
Jubal watched Clint walk toward the side of the cabin before turning around the corner. He had changed. Become civilized.
Still, he was glad he came. He had done more talking this afternoon than he had since his return. But Clint was an old friend, a warrior, and the fact that he, too, was separated from the service he loved made talking easier. He was one of the few people who understood having a foundation ripped away.
He sank back down in the chair and mulled over the conversation. Three vets had occupied this cabin. All three were married or engaged or close to it. Covenant Falls was beginning to sound like a Venus fly trap. If that was what the town did to a warrior like Clint, then he—Jubal Pierce—didn’t belong there.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_99ebaff9-b1b0-5fa3-b3fa-2da8fb213a5a)
LISA REDDING WAS thinking along the same lines as she listened to Gordon and Kerry complain on the drive through Covenant Falls to their new home.
It had been a whirlwind four weeks. First came the professional problems. She couldn’t practice in Colorado or write prescriptions on her own without a Colorado medical license. She did qualify—she’d passed a nationally recognized exam, had thirty-six months of postgraduate training and numerous reference letters—but it would take the medical board sixty days or more to verify the information and check for malpractice problems.
She’d started the process immediately after returning to Chicago, and Dr. Bradley had assured her he had friends on the board and would do what he could to expedite the licensure. But there would be at least a month when he would have to be available to “supervise” and write prescriptions.
He assured her he could do that from his home, which was close to the clinic.
After that problem was managed, she told Kerry and Gordon they were moving.
“I’m not going,” Gordon announced. “I’ll bunk with someone here.”
“Think again,” she said. “In the first place, we’re moving to keep you out of juvenile detention. If you don’t go, you’ll violate your probation and go back to detention.” It had taken several weeks of heavy-duty bargaining with the juvenile court judge, caseworker and probation officer in cooperation with the Covenant Falls Police Department before Lisa received permission to take Gordon to Colorado.
Still, he would have to adhere to certain restrictions, including a curfew, no alcohol or drugs and regular school attendance. She had the impression that Chicago—and Illinois—was only too happy to shove a problem kid to another state.
“I don’t have to do what you say,” he retorted. “You aren’t even my real sister.” It was the same old comeback he always used.
“Regardless, I am your guardian and we are going,” she said, shutting him down while trying to hide the hurt she felt.
Kerry wasn’t any better. Upon hearing the news, she wailed, “You’re ruining my life. What about my friends? Just because Gordon did something dumb, I’m being punished.”
Kerry’s complaints grew even louder after she checked out Covenant Falls’s website. “It doesn’t even have a movie theater,” she whined, then went in her room and slammed the door. Woe of all woes.
Aunt Kay, though, was relieved. She’d been hoping to move in with her sister, who recently lost her husband. Now that Lisa would have the time to take care of her siblings, she could do so.
With Dr. Rainey’s help, Lisa leased the family home to the doctor who was replacing her at the hospital. He had a wife who also worked at the hospital. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. She would have someone responsible taking care of the house, and the couple had a partially furnished home near the hospital.
The drive to Covenant Falls had been a nightmare. She’d rented a U-Haul trailer for what little furniture they were taking. Several of her friends helped load it while Gordon stood by, glaring.
She’d hoped that on the long drive to Covenant Falls, Kerry and Gordon might become interested in the scenery and local history. They weren’t. They ignored her every effort to point out interesting landmarks. Both her siblings were stone-faced in the backseat. Gordon played with his phone, and Kerry’s nose was stuck in a book even though it made her carsick.
At least it was an improvement over Gordon’s bitter threats to run away and stay in Chicago. Only the knowledge that he might be sent to juvenile detention had kept him with her. But his resentment was like a poisonous haze in the car.
They reached Covenant Falls at noon on the second day, after an uncomfortable night at what she considered a “Bates” motel. Lisa drove directly to their house, parking in the driveway. She stepped out of the car and onto the porch. The key was under a flowerpot as promised.
Kerry left the car and joined her, looking around with a curiosity she obviously tried to downplay.
“We have a fenced yard,” Lisa said. “Maybe we can get that dog you’ve been wanting.”
Kerry’s face lit up. “Really?”
Lisa had planned to wait until they were settled to make the peace offering, but Kerry was too far under her brother’s angry influence. “I already asked if it would be okay. I think you’re old enough now to take care of one.”
A smile touched her sister’s blue eyes. “When?”
“In the next few days. I understand there’s a dog rescue group here, and they have adoptable pets.”
“Traitor.” Gordon had left the car and approached from behind. “Bought off by a dumb dog,” he said derisively to his sister.
Lisa spun around. “I’ve had enough, Gordon. We’re here because of you. You either shape up and stop making our lives miserable, or go back to jail in Chicago. Your choice!”
He looked startled, and Kerry looked scared. Lisa immediately regretted the words. She loved Kerry. Loved both of them. They were good kids, but they’d had one blow after another with the death of their parents.
“Come inside,” she told Gordon in a softer tone. “I’m not your enemy. I know I haven’t been around much, but I’m here now and I’m going to do everything I can to help you.”
It was a plea that didn’t change Gordon’s face. He shrugged. “As if I have a choice.”
“After getting your things put away inside, why don’t you take your bike and look around?” she suggested. “There’s a lakeside park, community center and ball fields less than a mile away. There’s also a drive-in in the same area.”
“I don’t have any money,” he complained.
She gave him ten dollars when he finished bringing in his stuff. “Be back at five p.m. for dinner, okay?”
He grunted something that she took as agreement.
It was better than nothing.
She only hoped it was a start. A new beginning in a house where memories and grief weren’t in every corner.
* * *
JUBAL JERKED AWAKE a little after midnight. Plagued by smothering nightmares, he preferred sleeping outside in the comfortable lounge chair to being confined by four walls.
He was stiff, but walked down to the lake. Moonlight painted the surface silver. The water was probably ice cold, but he doubted it was any colder than the frigid Pacific where he had done his SEAL training and where he had continued to swim whenever he returned to base.
He went back to the cabin and changed into his swimming trunks. He grabbed a towel and jogged out to the lake. There was no sign of life anywhere around him, and the lake water was clear and still.
He judged the water to be five feet deep at the end of the dock. He made a shallow dive and started swimming.
The contact was like an electric shock to his body that woke all his senses. His strokes grew stronger, and the chill subsided. He swam to the other side of the lake, relishing every stroke as he skimmed through the water. The exercise stimulated him and chased the ghosts from his head as he concentrated on each stroke.
When he returned to the dock, he easily lifted himself onto the planks. He shivered now he was out of the water, and jogged back to the cabin. After a hot shower, he still felt energized from the swim.
It was time to explore his new location. He planned to stay two or three days at the most, but exploring a new territory was second nature to him. He slipped on running shorts and a T-shirt.
Jubal stepped outside and started running. His vision was not as good as it once was, but there was enough moonlight that he could see as well as most civilians could during daylight.
He ignored the pain that persisted in his joints from months of beatings and near-starvation. He tried not to think about that time. It already haunted his dreams; he wouldn’t allow it to haunt his waking hours.
He started at a slow pace, then increased his speed. He’d studied the town from the mountain and memorized the street patterns. He intended to start making an outside circle of the town, then ever smaller circles until he ended up at the park.
There were several streetlights in that area. He noticed an obvious memorial but decided to check it out later. He ran north of Main Street, past what appeared to be the prestigious area of town. Most of the homes were brick two-story structures with either wraparound or broad front porches.
Then he turned east, ran through another residential neighborhood. Smaller homes, smaller lots, but all neat and well maintained. He continued eastward past larger lots and ranch houses, most with small stables or barns. He remembered Clint telling him the mayor owned horses.
He turned back toward the south. Then saw a police car following him. He stopped. Waited. A man running in the wee hours of the morning would, most likely, raise suspicions.
The car slowed. A young man poked his head out. “Mr. Pierce?”
