The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming

Oh, God. And what if, somehow, it had been her fault?

Chapter Four (#ulink_e74dc7b0-30d0-5132-a61a-c977a62c7f95)

As Joe made his way through the Rocking C barn, the smell of straw and dust stirred more than his senses. He stopped for a moment, scanning the walls where the tack hung and pondering the feeling of déjà vu that settled over him.

Had he actually been here before? It seemed as though he had.

Or was it something about the ranch or the scent of feed and leather that made him feel at home?

A horse whinnied, and he continued to walk to the back of the barn, where an Appaloosa was stabled.

“Hey there,” he told the mare. “How’s it going?”

She snorted, threw back her head, then stepped closer.

He reached in to stroke her neck. He didn’t know how long he stood there, talking to the horse, striking up a friendship of sorts. Certainly long enough for Chloe to have read her letter from Dave.

He supposed he could go back into the house now, but he lingered in the barn, trying to wrap his mind around the cloak of familiarity. Too bad he wasn’t having much luck.

Behind him, boot steps sounded. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted the approach of a stocky, middle-aged cowboy.

When their eyes met, the man introduced himself. “I’m Tomas Hernandez, the ranch foreman. You must be Joe Wilcox.”

For some reason, even though he’d been assured that his identity had been confirmed, the name still didn’t seem to fit. That was probably to be expected with amnesia.

Shaking off the lingering uneasiness, Joe turned away from the horse and reached out a hand to greet the foreman.

“It’s good to see you out and about,” Hernandez said. “I heard about the accident. Sounds like you were lucky.”

Joe didn’t feel so lucky. He felt lost and out of control. But he wasn’t about to whine about it. “I suppose it could have been a whole lot worse.”

Hernandez nodded. “You’re right. You still could be laid up in the hospital.”

Or in the morgue.

Again, Joe let the reality of the thought pass. “The doctor said to take it easy, but I’m going stir-crazy. I never have been able to sit still.”

He wasn’t sure how he knew that. Maybe because he was chomping at the bit to get back to normal, whatever that might be.

“If you have any work that needs to be done,” Joe added, “just say the word. I’d like to help out any way I can.”

“Chloe said you’re still recovering and won’t be available for a while.”

So they’d talked about him. Joe couldn’t blame them, he supposed. But he didn’t like the idea of being a burden—or someone’s problem. In fact, his gut twisted at the thought, and a shadow of uneasiness draped over him once more, this time weighing him down even worse than the amnesia did.

“I figure I’ll take it easy today,” he told Hernandez. “But I’ll be ready to pitch in tomorrow.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m down a ranch hand, so there’s plenty to keep us both busy for a while.”

As the silence stretched between them, they assessed each other like two stray dogs wondering if they should be friends or foes.

Joe nodded toward the mare. “She’s a pretty horse.”

“Yes, she is. And she has good bloodlines, too. Her name’s Lola. She’s going to foal soon, so I brought her in and stabled her until her time comes.”

Joe still couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been on the ranch before. And in the barn. Did Hernandez recognize him?

“Have you worked here long?” he asked the foreman.

“About four years.” Hernandez lifted his hat, revealing a balding head. “It’ll be five this coming February.”

“I don’t suppose you recognize me,” Joe said.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“I thought maybe Dave had brought me around,” he told the foreman.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

That shot down his theory, he supposed. Maybe he’d grown up on a ranch. But where?

He scanned the barn again. So why did he have this feeling of déjà vu? Was his scattered brain playing tricks on him? Maybe. Still, Hernandez wasn’t very forthcoming.

“When did Dave join the Marines?” he asked the foreman.

“About two and a half years ago. He and his father had a big falling out over something or other. And Dave enlisted to spite him.”

“What’d they fight about?”

“Almost everything. But that last time was the worst. And I’m sure Dave was sorry about it afterward.”

“You mean joining the corps?”

“Leaving home, mostly. His father died of a heart attack shortly after Dave finished recruit training. And I think Dave blamed himself for it. Last time he was here, to attend his mother’s funeral, he told me he’d be home soon and wouldn’t ever leave again. He asked me to look out for things until he did. But he hasn’t contacted any of us in quite a while.”

No wonder Chloe was eager to read that letter.

And now Joe was even more curious than ever to know what it said. He and Dave might be buddies, but they hadn’t enlisted at the same time. According to what the sheriff had said, Joe had joined five years earlier.

He stroked his chin, felt the stubble of the beard he hadn’t shaved this morning. That shower he’d been meaning to take after he’d taken his morning pain meds was long overdue.

“Well,” he said to Hernandez, “I’m going to head back to the house. If you start making a list of chores you’d like me to do, I’ll get started on them tomorrow.”

“All right. I’ll do that.”

Joe gave Lola’s neck one last stroke, then strode toward the barn door. He hated not knowing anything about himself. And while he continued to get some fleeting thoughts about his character and things he liked or disliked, he had no idea how to cobble them together.

After entering the living room, he took a moment to survey the leather furnishings, the built-in bookshelf in the far wall, the stone fireplace with photos lining the mantel. When he noticed one of a smiling marine in uniform, he made his way to the hearth so he could take a better look.