Sunrise Canyon (New Americana 1)

“Everything’s fine,” Paige said, sounding very grown-up. “And I’m not alone. Tucker’s here with me.”

“Why aren’t you watching the movie?”

“I’ve seen that old movie about a hundred times. Seabiscuit always wins.” She scratched the dog behind the ears. “Where did you go with Mister Jake?”

“Just down the canyon. He’s learning to ride a horse.”

“Doesn’t he already know how?”

“He wasn’t around horses before he came here. That’s why I let him ride Dynamite.”

“I bet I could ride Dynamite, too, if I had longer legs.”

“You can ride when you’re older. I know you’ll be good at it. You already know a lot about horses.”

Paige twirled a lock of hair around her finger, suddenly pensive. “I thought Mister Jake was my friend. Why doesn’t he like me anymore?”

Kira sighed. She should’ve known this conversation would come up. “How could anybody not like a nice girl like you? Mister Jake likes you fine.”

“No, he doesn’t. Today when I brought him a cookie and some root beer, he told me to go away. He said it wasn’t good for me to be with a bum like him. I told him ‘bum’ was a bad word. Then Tucker ate the cookie, and Mister Jake made me go. It made me feel bad.”

“Oh, honey.” Kira slipped an arm around the small shoulders. Sometimes the only safe answer was the truth—or part of the truth, at least.

“There’s something you need to understand about Mister Jake,” she said. “He was in a war.”

“Like my daddy.” It wasn’t a question.

Kira’s breath caught. “Yes . . . like your daddy. And some really bad things happened to him over there—things that made him scared and angry and sad.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things like bombs blowing up, seeing people die and having his friends get shot. Mister Jake remembers all those things. Sometimes he remembers too much. When that happens, he can get upset.” Kira took a breath. Explaining post-traumatic stress disorder to an innocent child had to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

“Upset how?”

Kira sighed. “He can get really mad, or really unhappy, or he can even feel like he’s still in the war and has to fight. That’s why he doesn’t want you with him. He’s afraid he might scare you, or say bad words you shouldn’t hear.”

“But I wouldn’t be scared.

I would know it was because of the war.”

“Maybe. But he’s afraid to take that chance. So you’re to leave Mister Jake alone, because that’s what he wants. Understand?”

Her small hand lay still on the dog’s head. Tears glimmered in her eyes. Slowly she nodded. “But he still likes me, doesn’t he?”

Kira gave her a squeeze. “He likes you very much. But promise me you won’t bother him anymore. Okay?”

She hesitated. “Okay. But can I say a prayer for him? Maybe that will help him get better.”

“That would be the very nicest thing you could do.” Standing, Kira took the small hand in hers. “Let’s go on inside. It’s past your bedtime.”

As she followed Jake’s daughter into the house, Kira couldn’t help wondering whether she’d said too much. Paige was a bright little girl who’d spent her life surrounded by adults. She was mature beyond her years. Still, understanding something as complex as Jake’s condition was a lot to ask of a child.

Or maybe not. In her wise young way, Paige had taken what she’d been told and made her own truth of it.

The war had hurt Jake. She would say a prayer for him.

* * *