The Cowboy Soldier. Roz Fox Denny

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      Dear Reader,

      My extended family is a great, eclectic mix of teachers, cops—including bike and horse patrol—retail people, kids from elementary school to college, and retired and current military. It makes for interesting, lively conversations and endless stories at our family gatherings.

      We’re also big supporters of political causes from animal rights to the homeless and nearly all veterans groups. Men and women go to war to protect home and family. Some don’t return. Some come back injured. Doctors and love help put the shattered back together. That’s what Dr. Alexa Robinson and Major Rafe Eaglefeather’s story is all about. Family, love and healing. I hope you’ll come to care for them as I have.

      Sincerely,

      Roz Denny Fox

      P.S. As always, I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at [email protected], or send letters to 7739 E. Broadway Blvd, #101, Tucson, AZ 85710-3941.

      The Cowboy Soldier

      Roz Denny Fox

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Roz Denny Fox has been a RITA^® Award finalist and has placed in a number of other contests; her books have also appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She’s happy to have received her twenty-five-book pin with Harlequin Books and is steadily working toward one for fifty books. Roz worked for a number of years as medical record technician, and then for three pediatricians. She met her husband, Denny, when he was a marine, and they currently reside in Tucson, Arizona, a military town. They have two grown daughters.

      To my husband, Denny, who has been my biggest advocate and most loyal supporter from day one.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER ONE

      ALEXA ROBINSON SPOKE SOFTLY to the frisky black three-year-old gelding she worked on a lead rope. She’d bought this horse and a mare at a recent breeder’s auction. Usually she gentled the horses she bought into smooth-gaited saddle mounts but she wouldn’t have as much time to work with these. A former customer had said he’d buy the mare for his daughter, provided Alexa could train the horse for barrel racing by the girl’s birthday in mid-December. It was now mid-October, which gave her just two months.

      Autumn in the Chihuahuan Desert was dry. Her dog pounced on cottonwood fluff blowing inside the corral. Little puffs of dust flew up from the gelding’s hooves as he danced at the end of the rope. Alexa took her eye off the border collie who stopped and perked his ears toward an aging green van that drove down her dirt road, creating larger dust plumes.

      She had few visitors, and didn’t recognize this vehicle. Her ranch was fairly remote, bordered as it was by the Chisos Mountains and the Big Bend National Park. Perhaps a previous customer had recommended her. That would be nice. If she could sell both new horses, the profit should get her through the winter.

      The gelding snorted and pulled back as the van came to a dusty stop beside the corral. A dark-haired woman emerged, directing the four children inside to get out their crayons and coloring books. Retrieving a thick manila folder, the woman shut the driver’s door and headed toward the corral.

      Assuming she was lost and needed directions, Alexa unsnapped the rope from the gelding’s halter. “May I help you?” she called, slipping out through the gate, making sure it latched securely behind her and the dog.

      “I’m Sierra Martinez,” the woman said, holding out a hand. “You’re Dr. Robinson? I’ve come to discuss my brother, Rafe Eaglefeather. He was recently medically discharged from the army,” she said, as if that clarified everything.

      Alexa’s smile vanished the instant the word doctor passed the woman’s lips. Withdrawing her gloved hand, she said, “I’m not a practicing doctor, Ms. Martinez.”

      “It’s Mrs., but please call me Sierra. Aren’t you an osteopath and an herbalist? I heard that at the feed store. And park rangers told my husband you’ve healed injured animals they’ve found in the park.”

      “Animals. Not people.” Alexa hooked her coiled rope over a fence post before she said anything more. Almost angrily she stripped off one leather glove. The wind had dislodged strands of blond hair from her ponytail and she pushed them back behind her ear.

      Creases formed between her visitor’s solemn dark eyes. “My husband, Doug, is a border patrol agent. He told me you treated a pregnant woman—an illegal who was badly dehydrated. You kept her here and cared for her until you found her husband. Doug’s partner also told me you set the broken arm of a little boy who fell during a border crossing.”

      “Those were emergencies. I had to act quickly. The nearest clinic is miles away.” Alexa bent to pat Compadre who also eyed the stranger with misgiving. “The woman had been abandoned by the scoundrel she paid to bring her to Texas. She was malnourished and frightened. The boy…he cried without making a sound. It would have been cruel to make him travel to the clinic in such pain.”

      “My brother’s a war hero,” Sierra said with passionate emphasis. “Army doctors quit on Rafe and discharged him to family. To me. Doug and I have two sets of twins under age six. We all live in a two-bedroom house. Doug’s building an addition, but it takes time. Meanwhile, Rafe’s stuck sleeping in our living room. And I’m convinced he’s being overmedicated. As for follow-up care, he’s supposed to check in at a VA center in Houston or San Antonio once a week. The one time I drove him, we sat in the waiting room for hours, and they only added Valium to his other prescriptions. I can’t make that trip weekly without putting a strain on my family. I’d hoped maybe he could stay СКАЧАТЬ