The Soldier's Homecoming. Patricia Potter

said with a grin. “Can we stop for lunch on the way? I’m starved.” She wanted him out of the car. Face-to-face.

      “Sure. What do you like?”

      “A hamburger. A nice, big juicy one with a large plate of fries.”

      “I think I can manage that,” he said with the smallest crack of a smile. “But why do you sound as if you’ve been deprived?”

      “Long, sad tale that I’m sure would bore you.”

      “I doubt that.”

      She retreated. She wanted to know about him. He had turned the tables. She wasn’t accustomed to that.

      “If you can wait, the best burger in Colorado is in Covenant Falls,” he said. “Maude’s. I personally vouch for that.”

      “Okay. I can tolerate a growling stomach if you can.”

      “On the way, maybe you can tell me about that long, sad tale.”

      Dammit. Perhaps, if she answered, he would reveal more himself. She wanted that. More and more every moment. “Hospitals,” she said, “and a family that believes hamburgers are...well...plebeian. And before that there was Syria and a few other places that didn’t count hamburgers as part of their daily diet.”

      “How long were you in the hospital?”

      “Weeks. There were several surgeries on my right shoulder. It’s improving, but not as fast as I would like.” She didn’t want to talk about it. “What about you? Have you been to Syria?”

      She was dangling her fishing rod, hoping to catch some clues about him. Ally or obstacle? She had been thrown off by his appearance. After reading a short news story about Covenant Falls and the opening of the inn, she’d been expecting the very nice, very helpful woman she’d spoken with on the phone. That she’d been replaced by a cautious newcomer did not bode well. This was a warning flag. She felt it in her bones.

      “The government says I haven’t been,” he replied.

      “I’m aware of what the government says. What do you say?”

      “What the government says.”

      She hid a smile and changed topics. “Are you a Ranger?” she asked. She’d met a lot of them. She would bet her last dollar he was Special Forces. There was a confidence about them that was unmistakable. They were among the best and knew it.

      “Yes,” he said simply.

      “And you’re on leave?”

      “Yes.”

      He was a master at brevity. “Why are you in Covenant Falls?” she persisted.

      “Seeing a friend.”

      “One of the veterans?”

      He glanced at her. “You’re just full of questions.”

      “I’m a reporter,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Didn’t anyone warn you?”

      “Not completely.”

      His answers were frustrating. She thought from his tone he knew that and was thoroughly enjoying it. She looked out the window at the mountains looming ahead. “I find it very interesting that I’ve never heard anything about Covenant Falls, even though I lived in Denver.”

      “Maybe because the people there don’t care whether you did or not.”

      “I find that even more interesting.”

      He chuckled. It had a very nice tone to it.

      She studied the barely visible scar that turned the right corner of his mouth up slightly. It would have been a classically handsome face minus the scar. She wondered whether he minded that imperfection.

      “Tell me about the town,” she said.

      “What do you want to know?”

      “How many veterans live there?”

      “Susan didn’t tell you?” Susan had apparently told her altogether too much.

      “No. She just said there were a lot.”

      “That’s my answer, too. I don’t have numbers but it’s a small town, and small towns typically send more of their young people to the military than cities. Call it patriotism or lack of opportunity where they are. And I suppose most return to their roots after their service...”

      “How many are not native to the area?” she asked. “Susan said there were more than a few.”

      “I’ve only been here a few days,” he said. “Susan can probably help you with that more than I can.”

      He paused, then added, “Answered all your questions now?”

      She knew he was trying to frustrate her into asking fewer questions. Wasn’t working. “I’m a reporter, so the answer is no. Not even close.”

      “Can we at least have a reprieve?”

      “Five minutes,” she offered.

      “I can work with that,” he said drily.

      She bit her tongue and examined the car. Obviously a rental. It was too clean inside to be otherwise. She wanted to ask why. In four more minutes.

      Then she studied her surroundings. Since the north–south interstate ran through Pueblo, she’d driven through the city several times. It was an attractive city with numerous parks, but several miles outside the city limits, Travis turned onto a two-lane road that ran through ranch country.

      “How far is Covenant Falls?” she asked although she already knew, having done extensive research. But it was a natural enough question and she wanted to keep him talking.

      He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow and she suspected he knew what she was doing. “It’s only been two minutes,” he pointed out.

      “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

      “About an hour and a half.”

      “Are you staying at the Camel Trail Inn, too?”

      He sighed and didn’t answer.

      Now questions were busting out of her brain. She’d rarely met such an unhelpful male.

      She knew she wasn’t pretty, with her untamable hair, a complexion that burned easily and a figure that was more stick than curvy, but she was usually interested in what guys were interested in, and easily became buddies with those she met. She was rarely in one place long enough to build a romantic relationship, though, and if one started budding, she ran as though the devil was after her. Marriage was her worst nightmare. She only knew of bad ones.

      She looked at her watch. Five minutes were up.

      “Where are you staying?” she asked. As far as she knew, the town had several bed and breakfasts, the inn and nothing else.

      “A private cabin,” he said. “It belongs to a friend.”

      “Was answering that hard?”

      “I’m not particularly fond of reporters,” he said.

      “Why?”

      “The truth?”

      “Always.”

      “It’s not you, individually. It’s just that the vets here do not want publicity. One of the reasons they’ve stayed is because people here respect that. They’re no different than the pharmacist or woodworker or mechanic. They want Covenant Falls to grow because it’s a great place to live, not because they are some kind of oddity.”

      “I can respect that,” she said.

      “Can you? Aren’t you here for a story?”

      “Won’t you need publicity if you go ahead with a therapy