Sunrise Canyon (New Americana 1)

“It’s all right.” Standing, Kira brushed herself off and plucked the cactus thorn out of her jeans. “The cook should be here by now. Let’s go back and get some breakfast.”

“You go back. I need a minute.” He motioned her away. “Go!” he growled when she hesitated. “Damn it, don’t mother me! I just need to be alone.”

Kira left then, striding up the trail, her mouth fixed in a taut line. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Jake wasn’t her patient. He wasn’t even her friend. The last thing he wanted was her sympathy, let alone her help. Well, fine. If he wanted to be ignored, she’d be happy to accommodate him.

The ranch was stirring to life. Consuelo’s car was parked outside the kitchen. Paige was in the yard, tossing a stick for the dog. As Kira came through the gate, she saw Dusty on the porch, a worried look on his face.

“Is everything all right?” Kira asked.

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen Jake? He’s not in his cabin.”

“I met him on the trail. He’ll be showing up soon.” Kira mounted the steps. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea having him here. You know he’s got issues. And he doesn’t seem to want any help.”

“Did you ask him?”

“I didn’t have to.”

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, the old cowboy gazed toward the gate. “Well, now that he’s here, I can’t just throw him off the place for no reason, can I? Jake must’ve had some god-awful experiences fighting for his country. He deserves a chance—or at least some patience and understanding.”

“Fine. But he’s your rehabilitation project, not mine. I’ve got my students to worry about—and Paige.” Kira strode off toward the cabins to make sure her charges were getting ready for breakfast.

Her grandfather was a wise old man, but he was wrong about Jake. All her instincts told her, war hero or not, the man was trouble.

* * *

Jake had walked back down the trail to where he could look out over the valley. From here he could see the construction crew working on the road, their massive earthmoving machines made as small as toys by distance.

The dynamite blast had flung him back to Afghanistan and the roar of exploding mortar shells that the Taliban had fired onto their patrols. In the moment, the memory—the fear, the need to protect—had been absolutely real. And in that moment, when he’d flung Kira to the ground and held her down, he’d made a fool of himself. But it wasn’t going to happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

For a few minutes, he watched the men work, listening to the whine of their pneumatic drills as they bored into the rock. Knowing they were there, and that they’d be blasting, would help him control his reaction when it happened again.

Even so, there were no guarantees. Any sound that might be mistaken for bombs or gunfire could be enough to throw him into panic.

It was a hellish way to live. At least his body had survived in one piece. In that way, he’d been luckier than some of his buddies. But holding down the most menial job was always a problem; and the idea of an intimate, lasting relationship was a joke. What woman would stay with a man who had a way of jumping at shadows or waking up from dreams in a murderous rage?

Or trying to kill himself?

Jake had walked that dark line more than once. So far, he’d managed to stop himself before stepping over the edge. But the notion of ending the pain was still there, whispering like a seductress.

Would things be different now if his wife hadn’t died?

Remembering, he turned and moved back along the trail.

The few months he’d spent with Wendy before his first deployment had been the happiest time of his life. During his first yearlong tour of duty, she’d been his rock. They’d kept in frequent touch by Skype, her face and her voice pulling him back from the nightmare of the war and reminding him of what he had waiting on the home front.

When she’d greeted him at the airport, with their baby girl in her arms, and he’d held his family close, the horror had receded like the memory of a bad dream. Their time together had been bittersweet—fiercely tender, desperately loving, but marked by strain. The war had changed him in a way she couldn’t understand. But still, Wendy had stood by him, true blue. And when the second deployment had shaken him even more deeply than before, she’d been a call away, to anchor him to the things that were important—home, family, trust and love.

He’d been nearing the end of that second deployment, ready to come home and heal in her arms, when he’d gotten word of the accident.

Wendy’s death had shattered him. Granted leave to attend the funeral and make needed arrangements, he’d felt no attachment to any part of his home life. Even his daughter, a toddler who barely remembered him, was like a stranger. When Kira had offered to take the child, it had been all he could do to mutter a word of thanks and walk away. He’d returned to Afghanistan, finished his tour and signed up for another one. The war had become his world, and now there was nothing in this world to quiet the monsters he still carried in his head.

The ranch gate was in sight now. He could hear the sounds of morning—voices, horses and the clang of the steel triangle that signaled breakfast was ready. Jake knew he should eat, but the thought of sharing a table with Kira, Paige and seven curious teens had killed his appetite. He’d just grab coffee in the kitchen and hope Dusty could find a way to keep him busy. If he got hungry later, he could go inside and make himself a sandwich.

Coming here had been a mistake. There were too many shared memories, too many people who knew his past. And there was one little girl who’d be better off not knowing him at all.

He would stick to his work, Jake resolved, avoiding Kira and her students, avoiding Paige. As soon as he worked off his debt to the old man, he’d be out of here. And he wouldn’t waste time looking back.

* * *