Loe raamatut: «The Cowboy Soldier»

He didn’t know why his face was buried in long strands of sweet-smelling hair.

A bird squawked in the background and it rattled Rafe all the more when a woman shifted out from under him, sat up and forced him to do the same. What were they doing on the ground? Dr. Robinson. God, had he attacked her?

“Are you okay?” she murmured. “You had a small flashback and fell over a feed bucket. It was my fault. I saw the bucket, but didn’t move it out of the aisle. I swear I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Her cool, seductive touch telegraphed a signal to Rafe’s body. Even though he couldn’t see the woman who hovered so close to him, he was still a man. All man.

Dear Reader,

My extended family is a great, eclectic mix of teachers, cops—including bike and horse patrol—retail people, kids from elementary school to college, and retired and current military. It makes for interesting, lively conversations and endless stories at our family gatherings.

We’re also big supporters of political causes from animal rights to the homeless and nearly all veterans groups. Men and women go to war to protect home and family. Some don’t return. Some come back injured. Doctors and love help put the shattered back together. That’s what Dr. Alexa Robinson and Major Rafe Eaglefeather’s story is all about. Family, love and healing. I hope you’ll come to care for them as I have.

Sincerely,

Roz Denny Fox

P.S. As always, I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at rdfox@cox.net, or send letters to 7739 E. Broadway Blvd, #101, Tucson, AZ 85710-3941.

The Cowboy Soldier
Roz Denny Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roz Denny Fox has been a RITA^® Award finalist and has placed in a number of other contests; her books have also appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She’s happy to have received her twenty-five-book pin with Harlequin Books and is steadily working toward one for fifty books. Roz worked for a number of years as medical record technician, and then for three pediatricians. She met her husband, Denny, when he was a marine, and they currently reside in Tucson, Arizona, a military town. They have two grown daughters.

To my husband, Denny, who has been my biggest advocate and most loyal supporter from day one.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

ALEXA ROBINSON SPOKE SOFTLY to the frisky black three-year-old gelding she worked on a lead rope. She’d bought this horse and a mare at a recent breeder’s auction. Usually she gentled the horses she bought into smooth-gaited saddle mounts but she wouldn’t have as much time to work with these. A former customer had said he’d buy the mare for his daughter, provided Alexa could train the horse for barrel racing by the girl’s birthday in mid-December. It was now mid-October, which gave her just two months.

Autumn in the Chihuahuan Desert was dry. Her dog pounced on cottonwood fluff blowing inside the corral. Little puffs of dust flew up from the gelding’s hooves as he danced at the end of the rope. Alexa took her eye off the border collie who stopped and perked his ears toward an aging green van that drove down her dirt road, creating larger dust plumes.

She had few visitors, and didn’t recognize this vehicle. Her ranch was fairly remote, bordered as it was by the Chisos Mountains and the Big Bend National Park. Perhaps a previous customer had recommended her. That would be nice. If she could sell both new horses, the profit should get her through the winter.

The gelding snorted and pulled back as the van came to a dusty stop beside the corral. A dark-haired woman emerged, directing the four children inside to get out their crayons and coloring books. Retrieving a thick manila folder, the woman shut the driver’s door and headed toward the corral.

Assuming she was lost and needed directions, Alexa unsnapped the rope from the gelding’s halter. “May I help you?” she called, slipping out through the gate, making sure it latched securely behind her and the dog.

“I’m Sierra Martinez,” the woman said, holding out a hand. “You’re Dr. Robinson? I’ve come to discuss my brother, Rafe Eaglefeather. He was recently medically discharged from the army,” she said, as if that clarified everything.

Alexa’s smile vanished the instant the word doctor passed the woman’s lips. Withdrawing her gloved hand, she said, “I’m not a practicing doctor, Ms. Martinez.”

“It’s Mrs., but please call me Sierra. Aren’t you an osteopath and an herbalist? I heard that at the feed store. And park rangers told my husband you’ve healed injured animals they’ve found in the park.”

“Animals. Not people.” Alexa hooked her coiled rope over a fence post before she said anything more. Almost angrily she stripped off one leather glove. The wind had dislodged strands of blond hair from her ponytail and she pushed them back behind her ear.

Creases formed between her visitor’s solemn dark eyes. “My husband, Doug, is a border patrol agent. He told me you treated a pregnant woman—an illegal who was badly dehydrated. You kept her here and cared for her until you found her husband. Doug’s partner also told me you set the broken arm of a little boy who fell during a border crossing.”

“Those were emergencies. I had to act quickly. The nearest clinic is miles away.” Alexa bent to pat Compadre who also eyed the stranger with misgiving. “The woman had been abandoned by the scoundrel she paid to bring her to Texas. She was malnourished and frightened. The boy…he cried without making a sound. It would have been cruel to make him travel to the clinic in such pain.”

“My brother’s a war hero,” Sierra said with passionate emphasis. “Army doctors quit on Rafe and discharged him to family. To me. Doug and I have two sets of twins under age six. We all live in a two-bedroom house. Doug’s building an addition, but it takes time. Meanwhile, Rafe’s stuck sleeping in our living room. And I’m convinced he’s being overmedicated. As for follow-up care, he’s supposed to check in at a VA center in Houston or San Antonio once a week. The one time I drove him, we sat in the waiting room for hours, and they only added Valium to his other prescriptions. I can’t make that trip weekly without putting a strain on my family. I’d hoped maybe he could stay here while you evaluate him. Maybe some natural methods can help him. Maybe they’ll make him want to get better. Please. We can pay you.”

Taken aback by the strange request and concerned that so many people knew about her, Alexa nevertheless felt sympathy for the distraught woman. “Money isn’t the issue,” she said. Although she’d been determined not to ask, she did. “Out of curiosity, what’s wrong with your brother?”

“This is his medical record. All the information you need is here,” Sierra Martinez thrust the fat manila folder she clutched into Alexa’s hands.

A quick glimpse into the official chart of Rafe Eaglefeather showed Alexa that he’d been blinded after suffering a head injury when his patrol was hit by mortar fire. He’d also been shot in the leg during the same attack. The reference to the violent injury made Alexa think about Bobby Duval, her lifelong friend. One NewYear’s Eve he wrapped his Jeep around a tree after skidding on ice. E.R. doctors stopped his internal bleeding and removed his spleen. Even after he was released from the hospital, his treatments dragged on. Bobby had grown so weary of being poked and prodded. Alexa was willing to bet that Major Eaglefeather felt the same way.

“What do you think?” Sierra asked as Alexa leafed through the chart. “I’ve also included reports by some of Rafe’s men. They said he fought hard trying to save his whole patrol. Not only was he shot and left blind, he lost his two best friends in the attack. The army gave him ribbons, medals and commendations, and the doctors gave him pills that are supposed to get him through the rest of his life. All they’re doing is making him a zombie.”

Though moved by accounts of the major’s heroism, his apparent lack of will to be healed made Alexa pass the folder back to Sierra. “I’m sorry. I’m no miracle worker.” Alexa tried to keep her voice steady, but her hands shook.

“Please. Do you have any idea how many veterans like Rafe fall through the cracks in our system? When my brother was discharged, the military doctor pulled me aside and mentioned how many commit suicide after they go home. It’s shocking. I don’t want my brother to be one of them.” Her eyes filled.

Alexa spread her hands helplessly. “His case is tragic, I agree. But he needs MDs who are trained to treat the casualties of war.”

“It’s not Rafe’s first tragedy,” Sierra said, blotting her eyes on a sleeve. “When I was sixteen and Rafe fourteen, our parents died in a highway accident. I dropped out of school, got my GED and worked two jobs so we could eat and keep Rafe in school. Our folks wanted more for him than to farm and rodeo like our dad.

“Rafe graduated,” she continued proudly. “He went to college and got a job caring for rodeo stock. Summers he rode in the circuit. He also crusaded to stiffen the rules governing the health of rodeo animals. Rafe loved horses more than winning buckles.” Her eyes cut to the horse in Alexa’s pen. “Rafe’s dream was to own a ranch like yours when he retired from the army,” she said softly.

Alexa knew Sierra was trying to play on her sympathies, but she was determined to stay strong. “How did he get from rodeos to the military, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Nine-eleven happened. Rafe and his two best friends from the rodeo joined the army. My brother was a good soldier. He pulled two tours in Iraq after basic training and was promoted several times before ending up in Afghanistan. It was the first time he and his friends landed in the same unit. Now Mike and Joey are dead, and I’m afraid Rafe wishes it’d been him instead.”

Alexa knew all about guilt. It was the reason she lived here at the ranch her grandfather had left her instead of running her practice in Houston. She’d needed solitude. And now that solitude was being threatened by the gut-wrenching pain in Sierra Martinez’s eyes.

“What do you really know about holistic medicine?” Alexa asked abruptly.

“Our maternal grandmother was a curandera.”

“Ah, a Hispanic healer. I trained with a Chinese herbalist, but I also work with native desert plants. They have many of the same properties as those used by the Chinese.”

“My brother was a vital man once, but his spirit is dead. I believe there is a natural solution that won’t kill his self-esteem—that won’t mask who he is,” Sierra declared, biting her trembling lower lip. “I’m confident you’ll be able to help him.”

“Do you have any family or friends living near a VA facility your brother could stay with while he gets treated?” Alexa felt herself weakening and tried to guard against it.

“No.” Sierra hugged the dog-eared chart to her chest. “Since we lost our parents, it’s been Rafe and me against the world. I know it’s presumptuous to drop in on you. But he’s my brother and I can’t bear to see him like this.”

Alexa’s stomach tightened. As the only child of a busy oil tycoon, she used to long for a sibling. Her dad had had little time for her. Her mom had never understood her, and still didn’t, even though she meant well. Alexa’s compassion for people and animals came from tagging along after the veterinarian who looked after her father’s extensive stable of race horses. And from a true, unconditional friendship with tough-talking, fun-loving Bobby Duval. He’d been like a brother.

Rubbing the V between her brows, she sighed. “I’ll tell you what…if your brother agrees, and if he signs a release allowing alternative care, I’ll consent to treat him on a thirty-day trial. He can help out on my ranch in trade. If he shows no improvement after a month, or if I think he’s losing ground, I want a promise you’ll help him move somewhere closer to a VA outpatient facility.”

Sierra’s face flooded with relief, and she nodded. She gave Alexa back the thick medical file. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I know Rafe will agree. I’ll bring him tomorrow after I drop my older twins at school. I’ll pack the basics for him, but if you think of anything else he might need, you can always call me.” Without waiting for Alexa’s response, Sierra hurried to her van. Leaping in, she revved the engine and drove off amid plumes of dust so like the ones that had first caught Alexa’s eye. Alexa choked on the billowing particles and wondered what in heaven’s name she’d done.

RAFE EAGLEFEATHER STILL SAT in the same porch rocker he’d been sitting in when his sister left to run errands. He couldn’t say how long she’d been away, except that a small pile of shavings had accumulated at his feet from the piece of wood he was whittling into a pony.

He felt the breeze and heard the footsteps of his sister’s four kids as they scuttled silently past him to get into the house. That meant Sierra had stopped to collect Curt and Chloe from school. He let them go by without speaking to him. Both sets of twins had been born while he was out of the country, so they didn’t really know him. Sierra had told them their uncle Rafe was blind and couldn’t see to play games with them. Besides, that was the last thing he felt like doing.

“Hi, Rafe.” Sierra sank into the chair beside him. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. I wish you wouldn’t whittle when I’m not here.”

“Doug gave me the wood,” Rafe said, folding up his pocketknife.

“I know, but I worry you’ll cut yourself. It looks like you’ve been at this project awhile. I’ll get a broom and sweep up after I start supper.”

He bent and tried to pick up the wood curls. “I know you asked me to use a waste basket in the house, but I figured the shavings would blow away out here.”

“It’s okay. Come inside. I need to make a meat loaf.”

“You go ahead. I like being out in the fresh air.” It was the truth, Rafe thought. “If I bought a cot, I could sleep out here on the porch.”

He heard Sierra sigh.

“Oh, Rafe. I’m sorry you’re stuck on the couch. Doug’s been so busy he hasn’t had much time to work on the addition.”

“No problem, Sierra. I don’t care where I sleep.”

Rafe could sense his sister’s hesitation in the short pause that followed.

“Uh, Rafe, I need to talk to you about something,” she said at last.

Whatever it was, Rafe realized, his sister was worried that he wouldn’t like it.

“There’s a healer who lives a couple of hours away,” she continued. “A woman. She uses herbs in place of pharmaceuticals. I went to meet her and had her look at your medical report to get her opinion. She’s nice, Rafe, and lives on a ranch with horses.”

Sierra was speaking to him the way she would to her children, Rafe thought. He felt a gentle hand rest on his knee.

“Her name is Dr. Robinson. She’s willing to work with you for a month—see if she can help you get off those antidepressants. What do you think?”

He thought that Sierra just couldn’t seem to accept that he’d be like this for the rest of his life.

“Say something, dammit!” Sierra pulled back and withdrew her hand from him.

“Say what?” Rafe asked.

“The old Rafe would tell me to stop meddling in his life. Where’s your spunk? It’s your life, your future I’m trying to save, Rafe.”

He knew his lack of response frustrated his kindhearted sister, but there was nothing he could do to change that.

“I’ll go if you want me to,” he said. “But the truth is…I couldn’t see in Houston. I can’t see here. That’s my future, Sierra.”

“No it isn’t. You’re only thirty-five. That’s why I want you to see this doctor. You have a lot of years ahead of you and I’m going to do everything I can to make them good ones.”

Rafe made no comment to that.

Sierra touched the collar of his shirt, then she kissed his cheek. “I’m going inside. Doug should be home soon. I know he’ll want to eat and try to do some framing on the addition while there’s still daylight. We’ll go to Dr. Robinson’s tomorrow after I drop Curt and Chloe off at kindergarten. I’ll see if Doug’s sister is available to watch Maris and Melina for a few hours. They’d go crazy cooped up in car seats for such a long drive.”

“They’re good kids, Sierra. I hear you tell them not to bother me but I wish you wouldn’t. This is their home. I’m the intruder.”

“Never. You’re family. And if you think I’m shuffling you off to Alexa Robinson’s to get rid of you, that’s simply not true. I’m praying you’ll come back the old Rafe.”

“That’ll take a miracle.”

“Then I’ll say novenas.”

“A novena only runs nine days. The military docs worked on me six months.”

“Dr. Robinson is giving you one month. So I’ll do three novenas.”

Rafe heard the screen door slam, so obviously she’d missed his shrug. Bless her heart. Sierra refused to believe he really didn’t give a damn.

BY LATE AFTERNOON the next day, Alexa was prepared to take Sierra Martinez aside and tell her she’d made a mistake. How would it look to customers coming to see about horses or the park rangers who occasionally brought her sick animals if they found her living alone with a patient. Or even if word got around that she was treating human patients. She’d been hurt by lies and rumors once and didn’t want to go through that again.

Alexa had her speech ready but didn’t have a chance to get a word out. Sierra hit the ground talking.

“You told me Rafe had to agree to come,” she said, shoving a worn khaki duffel bag at Alexa. “He did. And here’s his stuff. This should do him for a couple of weeks. I’ll come by then and pick up his laundry and bring him fresh clothes to make it easier on you. Oh, my number’s programmed in his cell phone speed dial if you need me. I don’t think I’ve left out anything, but you never know.” She hugged the man standing next to her, then vaulted back into the van as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Wait!” Alexa frowned down at the duffel in her hands.

“By the way,” Sierra called out, “I put his electric razor in the bottom of the bag. Oh, and his pills. Too many of those. Anti-anxiety, sedatives and something else. I hope you’ll wean him off them before long.” With a bright smile and a wave, she shut the car door and motored off.

“Well,” Alexa drawled. “Here we are, two strangers—plus a dog.” Compadre trotted up and sniffed Rafe’s boots then snuffled his hand. “Compadre is a border collie, a stray who adopted me. Or we adopted each other. I hope you like animals. I have quite a few on this ranch.” Alexa realized she was babbling and bit down hard on her lower lip. Truthfully, she was bowled over by Rafe Eaglefeather’s good looks. She’d read his medical history last night and knew he was thirty-five to her thirty, and she’d probably read his height and weight. But statistics were nothing compared to the real man. The major was tall, raven-haired and golden-eyed, and he put Alexa in mind of a proud, wounded bird—like his namesake the eagle.

And those eyes. She’d assumed they’d be unfocused, or even injured. Instead, he stared straight at her when she spoke, and it was downright unnerving. Could he be faking? Impossible. He’d been examined by countless doctors.

She gave herself a little shake. They couldn’t just stand here all day.

“Uh, let’s get you settled.” Gripping the handles of his duffel, Alexa directed him up to the house and opened the screen door with her free hand. “Your bedroom is this way.” She tugged on his arm.

Rafe stumbled over the dog.

“Ooh!”

Alexa dropped the bag and managed to catch him, but he was heavier than she thought. They both almost went down.

But the near fall proved he wasn’t faking. Nor had the man gone soft since he’d left the military. He was six feet of solid male. His deep, gravelly, “Sorry,” as he attempted to untangle himself from Alexa’s grasp sent a tingle up her arm.

She shrugged it off. What woman wouldn’t react to such a terrific-looking guy? Sierra had made it plain she was his only family, but a man this good-looking probably had a string of girlfriends. Alexa sneaked another sidelong peek at him as she hesitantly took his elbow and guided him through the kitchen and down the hall to his room.

“Oh, I have a paper I need signed by you. A release for treatment. I intended to read it aloud while your sister was still here so she could vouch for what it says.”

Alexa expected him to comment. He said nothing.

“The release sets out the terms of treatment. It’s important we both agree to them.” They’d reached his room. “This is where you’ll stay,” she said, directing him inside.

He gave a casual shrug as they entered his room. “Give me a pen and set my hand down where I have to sign.”

“Okay. But one thing I need to make clear is that you will relinquish all your prescription medications to me, and I’ll decide how and when to dispense them.”

“No problem. There should be four bottles of pills in my duffel.”

She leaned down and dug them out, wincing at what she saw. “Okay, this is your bed.” Alexa shoved the pills in her pockets before placing his palm on the quilt. “There’s a three-drawer chest with a lamp next to the bed. It’ll be on your right as you’re lying down.”

She saw the slight curl of his lip at the mention of a lamp. Too bad. She was responsible for his safety while he was here.

“I know you can’t see, Major, but I’d prefer to leave a light on when you’re in here except when you’re sleeping,” she said. “It’ll help me. Now come this way. I’ll let you count the steps to the attached bath. It has a walk-in shower, a sink and commode.” When he said nothing, she counted the steps for him as she led the way. “Four steps left of the bathroom door is a closet.” The two of them made a full circuit of the room, arriving at a wicker chair that she made Rafe touch. From there she counted the steps back to his bed. “This room’s decor is red and white with some browns and golds. Nothing feminine. Western motif.”

He simply stood with his arms dangling loosely at his sides.

So that’s the way it was going to be. “I just thought you’d like to know. You don’t seem like a man who’d want to be stuck in a room with frills.”

“I told the army docs, and I told Sierra,” Rafe said, not altering his stance. “Now I’m telling you. I don’t give a rat’s ass where I spend my time. You, Sierra, the VA—the whole lot of you can do whatever you want with me.” His jaw tensed and he fisted his hands at his sides.

Compadre whined and pawed Rafe’s knee a few times.

Alexa hadn’t studied a lot of psychology, but she knew pent-up rage mixed with guilt when she saw it. Her inclination was to leave him alone to stew, but her compassion overruled the uncharitable thought.

“I’ll help you put away your clothes, then I’ll leave you alone awhile to get comfortable with your new digs.” As she spoke she pulled stuff out of the duffel and saw that he’d come with precious little. Several pair of worn fatigues, underwear and an assortment of colored T-shirts. “Where shall I put your boots?”

“What boots?” he asked.

“There’s a second set of…combat boots, I guess you call them. Like the ones you have on.” Alexa held them out so he could trace a finger over the leather.

“I have no idea what Sierra sent.” He picked up the bag and dumped the remaining contents on the bed. “What the…?” He shook a plastic bag filled with military medals, and a second one with rodeo buckles. “Useless,” he said, his voice strained.

“Why don’t I just put them in a dresser drawer. Your sister is extremely proud of you, you know. She loves you.” Alexa smiled even though Rafe couldn’t see.

“Hell! I know that.”

A reaction at last!

Just as quickly, his face became impassive again. “Do what you want with that stuff. Toss it in the trash for all I care. Where’s that damned paper you want me to sign? Let’s get it done, so I don’t take up any more of your valuable time, Doctor.”

“All right. I’ll go get the form from my office, Major. Be right back.”

“I’m no longer a major. That’s over and done with. Call me Rafe.”

Two could play this game. “If you call me Alexa. Lately my practice has consisted of a pair of young mountain lions, a great-horned owl, a family of squirrels and other assorted forest animals. I’m not used to being called by my title.”

“Sierra said you’re a healer. I thought you were a curandera like our grandmother Velasquez, but it sounds like you’re a vet.”

“No, I’m not a vet or a curandera. I’m an osteopath, and I hold certificates in Chinese herbs and acupuncture.”

He twisted his mouth to one side. “So you stick needles in people. Guess it can’t be any worse than what they put me through in the field hospital.”

Alexa wasn’t sure if Rafe was trying to be funny or sarcastic. Whatever. He definitely presented a challenge—one that intrigued her.

She headed down the hall to her office, which was located off her bedroom at the opposite end of the house. She had always liked this split floor plan. The few summers her parents had brought her here to visit her grandparents, she’d had the room Rafe now occupied. As a teen she’d pretended this whole end of the house was all her domain. Mostly, she holed up there reading biographies of female scientists who’d changed the world. At the time she wore chunky braces and round black-rimmed glasses, which explained why she didn’t read romances and dream about boys like her mother wanted her to do. Bobby was the only boy who ever really saw through her serious facade. And even he liked her best for her brain.

Grabbing the release form she’d printed out the night before, she went back to Rafe’s room. He had drawn the blinds, making the room dark, and sat in the chair, petting Compadre. If dogs could smile, the collie gave a great imitation.

“Here’s the release,” she said. “It’s attached to a clipboard.” She started to read the outline of treatment but Rafe raised his hand.

“Just the part about the pills,” he said.

Alexa did as he asked and read the short statement giving her the right to wean him off his pills and instead use herbs, teas and Eastern techniques such as acupuncture with Rafe’s verbal agreement.

He took the pen and scribbled his name.

“Dinner’s at six,” she told him. “I’ll give you plenty of time to wash up. I thought I’d put a couple of steaks on the grill and make a salad with vegetables from my garden. Lettuce, if the rabbits and deer left me any, tomatoes and cucumbers.” She let the words hang, expecting his agreement and maybe a little enthusiasm or interest.

“I don’t want anything to eat.”

“Well, at least come out and learn how to navigate the rest of the house.”

“No, I prefer to stay here.”

Alexa struggled to remain patient. “Okay, suit yourself tonight. But even if you’re not hungry, there’s a hot mineral springs on the property. It’s therapeutic and you’d be amazed at how relaxed you’ll feel if you take a dip right before bedtime. I’d go with you, of course.”

He shook his head. “Not interested. I plan to turn in early.”

Alexa began to simmer. But he was the patient and she was the doctor, she reminded herself. “Tomorrow, then. We’ll get a fresh start. If Compadre makes a nuisance of himself, boot him out and shut your door.”

Hearing his name, the dog sat up, whined a few times, then laid his furry chin on Rafe’s knee. Alexa watched the man stroke the animal’s silky ears. “He’s fine,” Rafe said in a quiet voice. “I had a dog as a boy. A mongrel. We had to give him away when my parents died. Couldn’t afford to feed him. Chip. That was his name. I haven’t thought about him in years.”

He looked so vulnerable sitting there, steeped in memories of the pet he’d lost, and Alexa found her throat tightening in sympathy. Her reaction was totally at odds with the irritation she’d felt barely a minute ago. “I’ll, uh, go now, and check back later to see if you need anything. Oh, I forgot. There’s a small fridge in the closet. I wasn’t sure what drinks you liked, but I left a couple of bottles of water, a fruit juice and noncaffeinated soft drinks.”

“Beer?” He turned toward her.

“Sorry, alcohol doesn’t mix with all those high-velocity meds you already took today. But that’s something we can shoot for. Call it a carrot to wean you off those psychotropic drugs.”

“Psycho-what?”

“Sorry, doctor speak for antidepressants and the like.”

“Oh.” He sank back in the chair and closed his eyes. A sign their conversation, such as it was, had come to an end.

Alexa hurried down the hall, her mind already cataloging the herbs that might work as substitutes to help him start withdrawing from the most potent of his drugs.

After eating a salad by herself, she went into her office and pulled out the notes she’d made on Rafe’s current course of treatment. She skimmed them then sat down at the computer and searched the Internet for information on returning soldiers. A number of them came home suffering intermittent bouts of deafness from unspecified causes. But almost all cases of blindness could be traced to IED explosions that left shrapnel buried in the head. Rafe’s physical exams, including extensive X-rays and MRIs, revealed no foreign objects other than bullets in his left shoulder and thigh, both of which had been removed.

Alexa tapped a pencil to her lips. She wondered if anyone was studying the residual effects of severe concussion around the brain.