The Soldier's Homecoming. Patricia Potter

much confidence. What if you’d fallen and twisted it?”

      “I didn’t.”

      Kate just shook her head. “Okay, cowboy. Let’s see you climb the stairs.”

      As the doctor warned, his foot had limited up-and-down movement, but it was still part of his body, and for that he was thankful. The stairs were just six steps up, with railings on both sides and a platform at the top. He walked haltingly to the bottom. Then she took the crutches, and he grabbed the railings.

      “Good,” she said. “The main thing now is not to get overconfident and overdo it. Until you get used to how much movement you have in that ankle and foot, you could trip.”

      They spent the rest of the hour on exercises, first for his leg and then for his hand. When they finished, he wanted to throw away the brace for good.

      “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Major. Keep your walks short for now. Use the crutches until you feel comfortable.” Kate reached into the pocket of her uniform and pulled out an envelope. “I was asked to give this to you,” she said.

      He took it gingerly and opened it. There was one sheet of paper enclosed, and it contained only a name and phone number.

      The name stopped him. Memories flooded back. He looked up. “Where did this come from?”

      “My boss gave it to me. He said it came from a psychologist at Fort Hood. An admirer, perhaps?” Kate, a lean, attractive woman in her forties, grinned at him. It was no come-on. She openly talked of her husband in a way that left no doubt she was madly in love with him.

      “Doubt that, since he was my best staff sergeant.”

      “Well, it must be important to come down this way.” She left him before he could ask more questions.

      Josh Manning.

      It had been nearly two years since Travis heard that name. Josh Manning was the best staff sergeant he’d ever had. Ironically, he was wounded one month before Travis. Manning’s injuries, in fact, were the reason Travis had been in Afghanistan to check on the Rangers who were training and working with their Afghanistan counterparts.

      He punched in the number.

      “Manning,” the former staff sergeant said in his usual no-nonsense manner.

      “How did you find me?” Travis asked without a greeting.

      “I didn’t. A psychologist at Fort Hood did. I’d heard you’d been wounded and asked him for help. It’s hell trying to get information from the army. He asked his colleagues at other hospitals. I learned you’re about to be released.”

      Why in the hell would Josh Manning track him down? No one else had. “Still cutting corners, Sergeant?” he asked.

      “I had a good instructor,” Josh retorted.

      Travis got down to business. “If you went to all that trouble, I assume you had a reason.”

      He heard Manning chuckle. It surprised him. He couldn’t remember the man even smiling much before. But then Manning surprised him even more with his next words. “Are you staying in the service? If not, I need you.”

      I need you. Hell, it was the first time in nearly two years he’d heard those words. It was especially surprising from Manning, who’d never admitted to needing anything, except maybe better equipment.

      “Not sure,” Travis replied. “I have three months’ medical leave coming. There could be a staff job available but...”

      His voice trailed off.

      “Maybe my offer will help,” Manning said.

      Travis couldn’t imagine how, but he’d never known Manning to waste time or words. Manning had been the most competent noncom who’d served under him.

      They had become friends during the ten years they had worked together, both moving up the military ladder. When they first met, Sergeant Manning was a squad leader, and Travis was a lieutenant. Travis made sure Manning stayed with him. He’d been his go-to guy in the most difficult and dangerous missions. He not only thought strategically, but his fellow soldiers would follow him to hell and back.

      Travis realized he’d been silent for more than a few seconds. “How?” he asked dubiously.

      “I remember you telling me you were a college athlete and studied sports management in Indiana. That included business, didn’t it?”

      “Some,” Travis admitted.

      “A friend of mine, a former navy SEAL—yeah, I know, strange friend for a Ranger—just bought a small ranch where I live. He’s thinking about starting a horse therapy program for vets. He’s knee deep in getting it started and needs help with the business aspects, particularly possible grants, regulations, staffing...”

      “Why me?”

      “Because I know how you cared about your men. The job needs someone who would be committed as well as having some knowledge of athletics and business.”

      It definitely sounded interesting, particularly Manning’s participation, but he wasn’t qualified. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I don’t know anything about grants.”

      “But you know about physical therapy and organization. I also remember how you used to work the system to get what you needed. You never took no for an answer. That’s what we need now.”

      “We?”

      “It’s kinda a joint effort. You have to see it for yourself to believe it,” Manning said. “It would just be temporary, and we can’t afford to pay much.”

      “In other words, you want someone cheap.”

      “More like free, except for the use of a really nice cabin, as long as you stay.”

      “You really know how to sell a job,” Travis replied. Could it be that Manning had somehow discovered that Travis had no family, no plans?

      Being a desk jockey held little appeal for him. “Where?” he asked.

      “A little town in Colorado. It’s...unusual.”

      “You living there now?”

      “About eighteen months. After I recovered, I found Amos. He’s with me now.”

      “That’s great.” Travis remembered the military dog, how the animal mourned when his handler, Manning’s best friend, died. The dog was eventually sent back stateside.

      “Call it a working vacation,” Josh said. “I have a cabin that will be all yours. It’s on a lake, next to a mountain. The town is vet-friendly.”

      “How long?”

      “A few months. We have volunteers, enthusiasm, horses. Just no expertise.”

      Travis looked around the room. Danny was still here, supporting the others.

      “You said there’s a ranch?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Any jobs available there for a young amputee?”

      “We could find something. You have a prospect?”

      “A corporal. Lost his right leg. He’s a foster kid. No family. No place to go. But he’s a damn hard worker and has encouraged everyone around here.”

      “Sounds like someone we can use,” Manning said. “We’ll figure something out.”

      “You sound...” Travis couldn’t find the right word.

      “Content? I am. I have a wife, a kid, five or six dogs—it changes by the day—two horses and a crazy cat. I’m even an innkeeper,” Manning said with a humor that was definitely new.

      “This I have to see,” Travis replied, signaling his acceptance. They discussed the