Patricia Davids - The Color Of Courage

Published by Steeple Hill Books TM

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To Joshua. You’re the best grandson in the world,

honey. Now get those grades up!

And to all the men and women serving

in the United States military. Please accept

my thanks and my humble gratitude.

Prologue

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 Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

“Lindsey…I need you…to do this.”

Standing beside her brother’s hospital bed, Sergeant Lindsey Mandel fought back tears. She held his hand though she knew he couldn’t feel it. “Danny, what if it doesn’t work out?”

“You’ll make it work…I know you will.” He spoke quickly because he could only talk when the ventilator keeping him alive breathed out.

She brushed her hand over his close-shaven head. He was six years older than she was, thirty-one to her twenty-five. Today, he looked decades older than when she had seen him three months ago. “Don’t give up, Danny. You can still get better.”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “Who are you…kidding?” What might have been a chuckle turned into a cough and an alarm sounded from the monitor above his bed.

Frightened, Lindsey glanced to Danny’s wife, Abigail, sitting on the other side of the bed. Behind her, the door to the room opened and a nurse in green scrubs looked in. The beeping stopped and Abigail waved the woman away. “It’s all right. He just needs to stop talking for a while.”

Admiring her sister-in-law’s calm, Lindsey willed herself to relax. Abigail rose, moved to Lindsey’s side and asked, “Why don’t we go grab a cup of coffee?”

“Good idea…. Get her…out of here…for a while.”

Abigail leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You just want us to leave so you can flirt with the cute nurses.”

“Rats…you found…me out.” He closed his eyes.

Lindsey leaned down to kiss him, too. “I’ll be back,” she promised.

He nodded, but his eyes remained closed. He looked so weary. When she turned to go, she heard him say, “I’m proud of you…First Sergeant…Mandel.”

A heavy band of emotion squeezed her heart. “I’m proud of you, too, Master Sergeant Mandel.”

“Don’t spend…your whole leave…in this hospital.”

“I’ll spend my leave anywhere I choose,” she retorted.

A fleeting smile crossed his face. “Headstrong… as ever.”

“Because you raised me that way. Stop talking and rest.”

Outside of his room, Lindsey paused as several men in uniform walked past, pushing others in wheelchairs. Everywhere she looked, the halls of Walter Reed hospital bustled with activity. Walking silently beside Abigail to a small waiting room, Lindsey waited until her sister-in-law filled two cups from the vending machine. Dressed in a pair of rumpled beige slacks and a wrinkled mauve shirt with her dark hair pulled back haphazardly into a silver clip, Abigail looked worn to the bone.

“The coffee isn’t good, but I’ve had worse.” She handed one to Lindsey.

Lindsey stirred a packet of creamer into the piping brew. “I can’t believe Danny wants me to take Dakota away. He loves that horse. He’s given up, hasn’t he?”

Initially, her brother’s will to live in spite of his injuries had helped Lindsey cope, but the unfairness of it all weighed on her.

Abigail gestured toward the red vinyl chairs lining the wall. “Why don’t we sit down. I don’t think he has given up. He’s just coming to terms with the reality of the situation. The shrapnel severed his spine. He’s a quadriplegic. After three months of therapy, he knows he isn’t going to get much better.”

“But there’s still hope.”

“The doctors think, with work, he’ll be able to breathe on his own, but he’ll never ride again. Yes, he loves that horse. That’s why he wants you to take Dakota back to Fort Riley with you.”

“Danny has lost so much already. It doesn’t seem right to take Dakota away, too.”

“Look around you, Lindsey. Most of the men and women who are patients here were wounded in action. Do you know what the majority of them say they want? To stay in the service. To get back to their units. Danny knows he can never go back, but he needs to do something positive. He feels he can do that by donating Dakota to your unit. You have no idea how excited he was when he heard about your transfer into the mounted color guard last year.”

“Danny tried to transfer into the Third Infantry a number of times. The Old Guard has a mounted unit. Why not donate Dakota to them? That way Dakota would still be in Washington, D.C., and Danny could go and see him when he’s better.”

“I thought about that, but the Old Guard only takes black, gray or white horses. Your unit takes bays.”

Brown horses with black manes and tails and minimal white markings were the traditional mounts of the Seventh Cavalry, the regiment Lindsey’s unit portrayed at Fort Riley, Kansas. Dakota wouldn’t be excluded for that reason, but less than half of the horses brought to the fort passed the intensive training requirements.

“What if he isn’t suitable for us? Then what?”

“He’s just got to be, Lindsey. Please, make this work. It would mean so much to Danny. He desperately needs something to look forward to, or else—or else I’m afraid to think about what could happen.”

Leaning forward in the saddle, Lindsey patted Dakota’s neck and tried to quell her nervousness. “This is it, boy. This is your final test. You have to get this right.”

The dark brown gelding responded by tossing his head and pulling at the reins as if to show her that he was eager to get down to business. She couldn’t help but smile.

Running a hand down her mount’s sleek, muscular neck, she found the calmness she needed. She drew a deep, cleansing breath. The cool breeze carried the smell of dust, fallen leaves and the earthy scent of horses. Looking over the fence to the hills rising just beyond the road, she saw the golden-hued stone buildings of old Fort Riley where they stood nestled between oaks, elms and sycamores bearing the first touches of fall colors. Dakota pulled impatiently at the reins again.

“Okay, I’m the one stalling,” she admitted. “I just want this so badly—for you and me, but mostly for Danny.”

Each week her brother called for updates about Dakota’s training, offering advice and pointers that she didn’t really need but accepted anyway. Today, he would be waiting impatiently for her call. She intended to give him good news.

Reaching down, she checked that her saber and rifle would slide easily out of their scabbard and boot. The reproduction models of the 1860s U.S. Cavalry equipment were spotless after her careful preparations that morning. Even the brass buttons of her blue wool cavalry jacket gleamed brightly in the late-morning sun. She was as ready as she could get.