Jubal looked at him curiously. “How did you come here? Doesn’t look like your kind of place. Seem to remember you liked big cities with lots of bars.”
“The shrink at the military hospital where I was treated recommended it,” Clint said. “Dr. Payne. He was Josh Manning’s doctor at Fort Hood, and they became friends.”
Clint hesitated before continuing. “This is Josh’s cabin. He inherited it—along with a traumatized military dog—from his best buddy who died saving his life. He admits to being in pretty bad shape when he arrived with a lot of survivor’s guilt and a bad case of PTSD. All he wanted was to be left alone and wallow in grief and guilt.”
Jubal understood that. He waited for the rest of the story.
“The town mayor somehow lured him out of hermitsville. A very pretty mayor, too. Single mom to a young son. She’s a force of nature in a soft, unassuming way,” Clint said. “Sounds contradictory, but there it is. I’m sure you’ll meet them at some point.
“To make a long story short,” Clint continued, “Josh and Eve married and he moved into her ranch house. He asked Dr. Payne if he knew a vet who needed a temporary place to stay. That was me. Then Andy came through before moving in with her fiancé. She’d been a surgical nurse in a forward base. The cabin was sitting here vacant when I heard you were leaving the navy...”
“I’m not staying,” Jubal broke in. “I thought to be here just long enough for a bit of hell-raising, but I guess that’s out of the question seeing you’re the law these days.”
“The two things are not mutually exclusive,” Clint retorted. “What are your future plans?”
Jubal shrugged. “Haven’t thought much about it.”
“Haven’t wanted to, you mean,” Clint corrected. “Been there, done that.”
Jubal wanted to change the subject away from himself. “You said in the letter you had a head injury. A chopper crash?” The question was out before he could withdraw it. He usually didn’t ask personal questions because he didn’t like them directed at him. He wouldn’t have with anyone other than Clint, but since the day Clint rescued his team, they’d been like brothers.
“I did something stupid,” Clint said. “I was at Fort Hood between deployments. I’d practically rebuilt an old Corvette and wanted to try it out on a road a friend said no one used. I was going pretty fast when an old truck pulled onto the road and I had to turn suddenly to miss it. The car went into a ditch and my head hit the side of the interior. I suffered a concussion with brain trauma. I had continuing blackouts and headaches. For a while I couldn’t even drive, much less keep a pilot’s license.”
Clint said, “I haven’t had a blackout in a month and I’m hoping to get a clean bill of health from the doctor to fly again, but this time I’ll be fighting fires. We had a bad one a few months ago. Good news is I can drive. If I do feel a blackout coming on, I can turn off the highway and call a deputy. Can’t do that in the sky.”
Jubal heard the pain in his voice. It hadn’t been as easy as he tried to make it sound.
“I’ll be honest,” Clint said. “It was rough in the beginning. I wasn’t very happy about coming here until I ran into a redheaded veterinarian who almost killed me the day we met, and a mayor that duped me into teaching computers to senior citizens.”
Jubal raised one eyebrow. His mind couldn’t comprehend it. The image of daredevil pilot and woman-magnet Clint teaching elderly women the basics of computers was just too...crazy. Maybe even more crazy than being police chief.
“Don’t you miss—”
“Hell, yes. There’s still those times I hunger for a throttle in my hand, the lift of a chopper. Bringing guys back.” He paused, shrugged. “But I love my fire-breathing wife, and I like this town. We have a lot of veterans here and we help each other.”
“You’re planning to stay here, then?” Jubal asked.
Clint nodded. “Stephanie loves it here, and I have good friends, including Josh and a number of other vets. And dammit, I like my job.”
“What does a cop even do here?” Jubal asked curiously.
“We’ve been having some old-fashioned cattle and horse rustling. That’s keeping me busy now.”
“Rustling? You’re kidding.”
“Nope, but now it’s done by trucks rather than horses. There are petty robberies, too, bar fights, domestic disputes, accidents. We also assist county and state agencies if needed,” he explained. “It’s a small department of ten. Three dispatchers and seven officers, including me. Mostly, though, it’s being diplomatic.”
“And you don’t get bored?”
“I might if it weren’t for Stephanie. You don’t get bored with Stephanie. I’m working with her now to become qualified in canine search and rescue.” He seemed to notice Jubal’s dubious expression as he glanced down at Bart.
“Not with Bart,” he explained. “He doesn’t qualify. He’s too timid, although he’s getting better. Stephanie has two trained golden retrievers. I’m the one that needs qualifying, not the dogs. It’s embarrassing.” He paused, put his hand down on Bart’s head. “But Bart’s helped me a lot. More than I have him.” He paused, then added, “I know a great dog if—”
“No,” Jubal said. “I’ve been avoiding attachments all my adult life. They don’t go with what we do.”
The answer was automatic. One he’d given many times to avoid any lasting relationships, especially with women. SEALs worked in small teams and often disappeared with an hour’s notice, leaving whoever loved them not knowing where they were going, or when they might be back—if they came back at all. It was hell on marriages.
He was grateful Clint didn’t remind him he wasn’t a SEAL anymore. Jubal still thought like one. Hell, he’d been one for twenty years. He’d learned to close the door on his emotions.
He just didn’t know how to open it again. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. He took another sip of beer only to find it nearly gone. He unwound his body from the chair. “I’m getting another beer. You want one?”
“Sure. I’m off duty.”
Jubal snorted loud enough for Clint to hear. He went inside, pulled two beers from the fridge, opened them and returned to the lounge chair after handing one to Clint. The setting sun was streaming layers of gold and crimson flames across the sky.
Clint was silent, apparently satisfied that Jubal seemed to appreciate the sunset at least.
“What else is there in Covenant Falls?” Jubal asked after several swallows of beer.
“We have a couple of great bars, including one that’s veteran-owned. We all get discounts and never get kicked out for being rowdy. There’s Monday night poker games. Horseback riding.” He glanced at Jubal. “You ride, don’t you? Didn’t you tell me you did some riding in Afghanistan?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t exactly pleasure riding. Those horses were ornery as hell.” He didn’t want to explain more, though the memory wasn’t all bad. Those horses had been ornery, all right, but he’d relished the challenge of riding over narrow mountain paths in the dark with some of the most ferocious warriors in the Middle East.
Clint stood. “I’ll go and let you get some rest. How about we hit that bar tomorrow night?”
He nodded. “I’ll probably head out the next day.”
Clint looked disappointed but nodded. “In the meantime, the fridge is loaded with food and beer. Help yourself. If you need anything, there’s a general store, grocery store and pharmacy in town. My phone numbers are next to the phone. The middle room is kind of a library. Feel free to take or add any books. Lastly, we do have internet. It’s slow but it usually works.”
Jubal stood, as well. He’d been damned unappreciative. He thrust his hand out and Clint took it in a tight grip. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise. I’d better warn you,” Clint said. “Neighbors might leave tins of cinnamon rolls or brownies on your doorstep.”
“And I have to be polite?”
Clint shrugged. “I was. Josh wasn’t. He scared the hell out of the first person who tried.”
“I think I would like Josh.”
“I know you would,” Clint said. “Get some rest, buddy. Call me if you need anything.”
Jubal watched Clint walk toward the side of the cabin before turning around the corner. He had changed. Become civilized.
Still, he was glad he came. He had done more talking this afternoon than he had since his return. But Clint was an old friend, a warrior, and the fact that he, too, was separated from the service he loved made talking easier. He was one of the few people who understood having a foundation ripped away.
He sank back down in the chair and mulled over the conversation. Three vets had occupied this cabin. All three were married or engaged or close to it. Covenant Falls was beginning to sound like a Venus fly trap. If that was what the town did to a warrior like Clint, then he—Jubal Pierce—didn’t belong there.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_99ebaff9-b1b0-5fa3-b3fa-2da8fb213a5a)
