Roz Fox - The Cowboy Soldier

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.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

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.