One Summer At The Ranch. Rebecca Winters

He cleared his throat. “I understand you’re all going home tomorrow and have a great deal on your minds so I’ll make this quick.

      “As you’re well aware, a significant number of returning American veterans like yourselves have reported respiratory problems that started during deployment to Iraq and Afghanistan. The study of 2009 revealed that fourteen percent of the deployed troops reported new breathing problems, compared with ten percent among those who hadn’t deployed.

      “Though the percentage difference seems small when extrapolated for the two million troops who’ve been deployed since 2001, the survey suggested that at least 80,000 additional soldiers have developed post-deployment breathing problems.

      “There’s a fierce debate under way over just how long-lasting and severe these problems really are. We’re tracking the numbers accrued among the troops based in Southern Afghanistan since 2009, particularly the Marines.

      “After ruling out other factors, it’s apparent that the powerful dust storms, plus the fine dust from metals, toxins and burn pits used to incinerate garbage at military bases, are the potential culprits. Steps need to be taken to reduce the hazards, and I’m concerned that this exposure isn’t getting the serious review it needs.

      “Dr. Rimer has indicated you’ve all improved since you’ve been here, but we’ll continue to track your progress. He assures me that with time, most of you will overcome your coughing and shortness of breath.”

      Tell us another fairy tale, General.

      “My concern is that every one of you receives the post-deployment care you need for as long as you need it. I’m fighting for you in the congressional hearings.”

      Along with the others, Carson stood up and applauded. At least the General had bothered to come to the hospital in person and make an attempt to get at the root of the problem. Carson admired him for that. The General chatted with each of them for a few minutes, then left. With the end of the NASCAR race now missed, everyone left the lounge except Carson and his two roommates, Ross and Buck.

      They hadn’t known each other until six weeks ago, when the three of them had been flown here from their various divisions and diagnosed with acute dyspnea. But even if they were hacking, coughing and wheezing, at least they’d arrived at the hospital on their own two feet. It tore them up that some of their buddies—especially those who’d been married with families—hadn’t made it through the war.

      The behavioral psychologist who’d been working with them suggested that, once they were discharged, they should find a positive way to work through their survivor’s guilt.

      In addition to the guilt Carson already struggled with for personal reasons, he was barely functioning. During the long hours of the night when they couldn’t sleep, they’d talked about the wives and children who’d lost husbands and fathers from their own squads. If the three of them could think of a way to help those families, maybe they could forgive themselves for coming home alive.

      At one point in their nocturnal discussions, Carson threw out an idea that began to percolate and gain ground. “What if we invited the fatherless kids to my ranch for a summer vacation? The ranch has lots of outdoor activities for kids who may not have spent much time out-of-doors. We could take them fishing and camping, not to mention horseback riding and hiking.”

      Ross sat up in his bed. “All of those are good confidence builders. Heaven knows those children will have lost some confidence. How many kids are you talking about?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Do you have enough room for guests?”

      “No. We’d have to live in the ranch house, so that wouldn’t work. We’d have to put up some cabins.”

      “I could build them with your help,” Buck offered. “Construction is what I was raised to do.”

      “I’m afraid I don’t have much money.”

      Buck said, “I have a little I’ve put away.”

      “I have some, too,” Ross chimed in. “Looking down the road, we’d have to hire and pay a cook and provide maid service.”

      Encouraged, Carson said, “No matter what, we’ll have to start out small.”

      “Their moms will have to bring them.”

      “You’re right, Buck. How long should they come for?”

      “This is a bit of an experiment, so how about we try a week with one family and see how it goes?”

      “For working mothers, I think a week sounds about right,” Ross theorized. “One thing we can do is help the kids if they need to talk about death, since we’ve been through a lot of grief counseling ourselves.”

      “Good point. That’s one thing we know how to do. What ages are we talking about?”

      “I’m thinking about my nieces and nephews,” Buck murmured. “How about little guys who are really missing their dads? Like six on up to maybe ten.”

      Carson nodded. “That sounds about right. They’d be school age. Younger than six might be too young.”

      “Agreed,” they all concurred.

      Before long, enthusiasm for the project they envisioned wouldn’t let them alone. They soon found themselves plotting to turn Carson’s ranch into a dude ranch where tourists could come along with the families of fatherless children. They would establish a fund to take care of the costs. If their pilot program went well through the summer, they’d talk about keeping it open year-round.

      Their plan was a good one and sounded feasible, except for one thing. None of them had gone home yet. Anything could happen when Buck and Ross were reunited with their families. Their parents had dreams for them when their beloved sons returned to their former lives. For that reason, Carson wasn’t holding his breath—what little he had at the moment. He had to admit the inhalers were helping. When he’d first been brought in, he’d been gasping for every breath and thought each was his last.

      Of the three men, Carson was the only one who didn’t have living family. The grandfather who’d raised him had passed away five months ago of a surprise heart attack, leaving the ranch and its problems to him. Not even his grandfather’s doctor had seen it coming. Carson had flown home on emergency family leave to bury him.

      In that regard, he wouldn’t have to run their brainchild past the older man he’d abandoned when he’d entered the military. At the time he hadn’t seen it as abandonment. They’d corresponded and phoned whenever possible, but in the end Carson wasn’t there for his grandfather when the chips were down. Now it was too late to make it up to the man he’d loved.

      “Tomorrow’s the big day, guys.” Once they were all discharged from the hospital in the morning, he knew anything could happen to change his friends’ focus.

      Buck nodded. “I’ll join you before the week is out.”

      Maybe. But knowing Buck was the oldest son in a large, close-knit family who wanted and needed him back in the construction business, maybe not. “Give me a call and I’ll pick you up at the airport. What about you, Ross?”

      “Three days at the most.”

      “You think?”

      He eyed him narrowly. “I know.”

      Put like that, Carson could believe him, but his family who’d made their mark in oil for generations would have its way of pressuring the favorite son who’d made it home from the war. His politician father had long laid hopes for him set in stone. Time would tell if their master plan would get off the ground.

      “I can hear the carts arriving with our dinner. Let’s get back to the room and eat before our final session with the shrink.”

      It couldn’t come soon enough for any of them. The war had been their world for a long time. Tomorrow they’d leave it forever. But fear clutched him in