Cowboy SEAL Healing

by Nicole Helm

  Eli didn’t mind being away from Bailey. He missed her. Worried about her. But the thought of going back to Oklahoma made his skin crawl. “You from around here?”

  Eli didn’t miss Kyle’s speculative look. He wasn’t sure he’d ever asked a personal question of any of the soldiers. He kept quiet and to himself. But...

  Hell, he’d blame the nightmare.

  “Idaho. You?”

  “Oklahoma.”

  They were both silent after that. Eli had fully told Olsen more about himself than he’d done since coming here, at least to anyone besides his therapist.

  “Thanks, man. You can—”

  Eli cut him off. “I’m fine now.” He walked into his solitary bunk without even a goodbye to Olsen. But for the first time in a long time, the aloneness felt less like escape, and more like a dark cloud he was choosing.

  Chapter Three

  Vivian left the cookies on Eli’s front porch on her way to the mess hall. She didn’t mind the early mornings. She’d grown up on a farm. Getting up at five was just par for the course.

  She preferred warmer beginnings to the day, for sure, but there was something cozy about getting into her kitchen and firing everything up. She liked the act of making it all. The act of feeding.

  She was going to need help though. For Thanksgiving and Christmas Revival had families come and stay or at least have a meal with their men. On top of that, they were also building a new bunk so they could add more former soldiers come January. Revival was thriving, and Vivian wouldn’t be able to keep up.

  Better to be proactive about it. She’d bring it up at the meeting this morning. Every two weeks she met with the other main players of Revival Ranch administration and they discussed any issues that needed to be seen to. Usually Vivian didn’t have much to add to the meetings unless they were discussing budget, but this was something she needed. And maybe it would better suit someone than ranch work, or give an opportunity to a new soldier with injuries a little more pronounced.

  Maybe it could help, and that’s what she’d come here to do.

  She filled the chafers with eggs and sausage and blueberry pancakes. She checked the coffee pots and juice carafes. The men and women of Revival began to trickle in. Some called out greetings to her as she stood in the kitchen behind the cafeteria style buffet making sure nothing ran out.

  She was filling another carafe of juice when Eli came in. He didn’t look at her or acknowledge her, so once she’d finished she went over to him.

  When she approached him at the end of the buffet line, she opened her mouth to greet him and say something about the cookies, but he held up a ziplock bag—the one she’d left on his porch—only now it was empty of cookies and the plastic was mangled like it had been ripped open. With teeth.

  “Ron Swanson ate what I can only assume are the cookies you left me.” He dropped the bag in the trash. “So, next time you want to do something nice? Do it for the goat.”

  Before Vivian could respond to that, he walked off with his tray of food and sat at a table by himself.

  All of the soldiers were different. Some chatty. Some introverted. Some had little friend groups like high school, some could talk to anyone. It was only Eli that seemed to separate himself so completely, who seemed to go out of his way to make sure no one wanted to be around him.

  She smiled at the soldiers who came up and filled their plates, but she kept her gaze on Eli. He looked at his plate. He ate. Then he deposited his cleaned plate in the receptacle and left the hall. Drake and Levi had said hi, and he’d nodded, but he hadn’t spoke a word.

  “Got any more eggs, Mz. Viv?” Drake Worthington flashed his megawatt smile at her.

  “Of course, Drake,” she muttered, reminding herself Eli Sterling was not her job. Feeding these men was. She went back into the kitchen and got a new chafer of scrambled eggs and replaced it, handing Drake a spoon to scoop some onto his plate.

  “Sterling’s not so bad, you know,” Drake said conversationally.

  “Oh, I know. I feel sorry for him. He seems so alone.”

  Drake nodded back at Levi. “We’re working on him. Don’t you worry.” His plate loaded with eggs, he winked and then sauntered back to Levi.

  Well, she supposed it wasn’t her place to worry. And it was nice there were some other soldiers trying to reach Eli’s solitary ways. It really was none of her business.

  But that didn’t seem to stop her from thinking about him as she went through her work. It took her so long to get the commercial grade dishwasher loaded, and then hand wash what was left over, she was nearly late for the meeting.

  She rushed into the main house, where Alex and Becca lived with their one-year-old and housed the administrative arm of Revival Ranch.

  Everyone was already circled around in the living room where they often met. Gabriella was in a cordoned off corner of the room with Dane babbling happily with heaps of toys.

  “Sorry I’m late. People had an appetite today.”

  “Winter will bring it out for sure,” Alex offered as Becca handed her a mug of coffee.

  “Then that underscores what I’ve been thinking about. Not to hijack the meeting with no warning, but I need help with meals. Just some basic prep work, some washing dishes. Someone to man the lines if I need to run to the bathroom or something. I know Becca and Rose have stepped in and helped before, but you all have your own things to do, or babies to tend. One or two of the guys might not hate kitchen duty.”

  “Why don’t we just hire a woman to help you?” Jack said, failing at casual.

  Vivian rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m not being sexist,” Jack sputtered. “I just mean...”

  “You want to keep the boys with the boys and the girls with the girls, so they don’t get any ideas,” Rose said, rubbing her belly. “Even though you’re all walking, talking examples of men who got ideas.”

  “You didn’t work here.”

  “No, but Alex and Becca worked together. As did Monica and Gabe. You frequented my bar enough to work with me. You’re afraid Viv’s going to fall into the same trap.”

  Jack scowled. “No.”

  “Oh, right. You’re afraid she’s too stupid to pick the right guy.”

  “Damn it, Rose.”

  Rose winked at Vivian, and Vivian tried to bite back a smile. “Are you suggesting that a woman could only work here if she has designs on a man?”

  “You know that’s not what I’m saying,” Jack growled.

  Monica cleared her throat. “Family arguments and picking on Jack aside, guys, this might be a good idea for someone specific,” Monica said. “I’ve been looking for an opportunity to throw him into some one-on-one work aside from equine therapy, but everything we’ve got on the cattle side is so team oriented. Something like this could really work for him. I think especially with a civilian—someone he thinks he’s not going to feel any camaraderie toward.”

  “Who is it?” Jack asked darkly.

  “Eli Sterling.”

  Vivian didn’t laugh. She didn’t tell Monica Eli basically hated her for whatever reason. She just nodded sagely and agreed. “I could work with Eli.” She ignored Jack’s frown and focused on Monica. On not grinning.

  “Okay. We’ll try it out,” Monica said, giving Jack a look. “Temporarily to see if it works. If it does, we’ll use KP duties for certain soldiers better suited for it. It’ll be a rotating assignment, so no one stays in the kitchen with Viv for too long. But it’s a good option for some of these men.”

  Which Jack couldn’t argue with. Thank you, Monica.

  Now Eli was going to have to get over whatever his deal with her was. Because they were going to be working together.

  *

  Eli didn’t mind therapy. He’d thought he would when he’d come here, but the equine therapy sessions offered by Revival Ranch weren’t like any therapy he’d imagined. He didn’t have to sit there and yammer on about his feelings.

  He ei
ther went for a ride, or took care of the horses, while talking to Monica. Monica Finley-Cortez was most of the guys’ therapist here. Some of the men who had horse backgrounds worked more closely with Becca Maguire, the other equine therapist on site.

  “Afternoon, Eli,” Monica greeted. She wasn’t quite what he’d expected a therapist to look like. She had blond hair and blue eyes. She was tall and always dressed in ranch wear. She had a teenage son who sometimes helped out around the ranch when school wasn’t in session. She was just like...a suburban mom dropped into a Montana cattle ranch.

  “Hey.”

  The first part of their sessions were always set up. Today, they would be brushing down the horses used to check fences this morning. Eli gathered the tools, Monica got the horses, and they didn’t speak for a good ten minutes.

  He was a champion at silence, but sometimes it felt like a contest he was in with Monica. Who would break and talk first. It always shocked the hell out of him when it was him.

  “I had a nightmare last night.”

  Monica nodded. “Do you think there was a trigger?”

  She always asked things like that, and sometimes there wasn’t. The dreams or anxiety or shakes came from nowhere. She emphasized that there wasn’t always a reason.

  But she was always on the lookout for exploring triggers when there was one. She always asked the question matter-of-factly and without adding her own...theories to it. Eli was still getting used to that.

  “Didn’t eat dinner. Went to bed too early.”

  “Were you upset about something?”

  Eli shrugged restlessly. “Just frustrated.”

  “With?”

  “Some of the guys.” Not entirely true, but... Well. Whatever. He wasn’t getting into the real source of his frustration. Besides, the more she thought it was the guys, the longer he got to hold onto this spot in isolation.

  Monica nodded, spongeing down the horse in front of her. “You know, Eli, I understand your concern and vigilance, but you haven’t had a violent episode since you came here. It’s time to try to get more involved with the other soldiers. Part of the rehabilitation process is camaraderie and—”

  “No.” It wasn’t up for discussion. He knew therapy required a certain amount of give and take, and he owed that to Bailey. But he didn’t have to go putting the people around him in danger. “I’m not ready for teamwork,” he said, hopefully in terms Monica would accept.

  Monica was quiet for a few moments as they brushed the horses together. When she spoke again, Eli knew she’d chosen her words carefully.

  “You were under a considerable amount of pressure and emotional stress at home. The loss of your parents, feeling responsible for your sister and the men lost on that transport. I know the violent episode you had at home left you feeling dangerous to those around you—”

  “I was responsible. I am dangerous.”

  They worked as Monica seemed to mull that over. “It’s a very hard stance, Eli. Hard stances usually hide fear or worry. You want to be both those things, because both of those things are easier than healing. But I think you’re ready. All that’s left is for you to think you are.”

  He didn’t even pause to think. “I don’t.”

  They fell into silence again. Even after a few months, Eli couldn’t fully grasp the function of these silences in therapy. He thought it would be nonstop talking. But Monica always made it feel...different. And he couldn’t explain how or why. He couldn’t understand any of it, but he knew it had helped. She’d given him coping mechanism for the nightmares, breathing exercises for the anxiety. They’d talked through his violent episode at home—the triggers, the results, the feelings.

  But knowing that was inside of him meant knowing he—and more importantly the people around him—were never safe.

  “Well, I can’t force you to work with the men or live with the men. That has to be your decision. But I do have a new responsibility for you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve been handling the solitary chores, and you’ll be able to retain some of those, but I need to balance everything a little better, and so do you. Vivian needs help in the mess hall, and we’re adding that to the jobs you can have here.”

  “Vivian,” Eli said flatly. Why was she suddenly everywhere?

  “Yes, the cook? You’ve talked to her before, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve talked to her,” Eli muttered.“Listen. I can...work on a team, or whatever.” Because there was no way in hell he was working with Vivian.

  “That’s great progress,” Monica said, moving her horse back into its stall. “But we’ll have you do this first. We’re doing two month rotations. You get November and December. Come the new year, we’ll either put you on a cattle team or something else that best suits your needs then. But for now, you’ve got KP duty.”

  “And I don’t have a say in it?” Eli demanded. At his horse’s uncomfortable huff of breath, Eli loosened his grip on the reins and calmly led the horse into its stall.

  He met Monica in the open middle of the stables.

  “You always have a say, Eli,” she said gently, studying him with those calm blue eyes that somehow never felt judgmental. “This is your life. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll cross that bridge. But I think you can handle some vegetable chopping.”

  That was hardly what he couldn’t handle.

  “Do you have a good reason for me to give this duty to someone else?”

  A good reason. He didn’t suppose not liking Vivian Armstrong was a good reason, or smart to tell the woman who ran this place with her brother. What would be a good reason? If he could think of one, he’d make it up.

  “Good,” Monica said, as if that was that. “Five. Tomorrow. You’ll work breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Viv’s a good teacher, so she’ll tell you what to do. After the first week, Alex will determine what other chores you can fit into your schedule.” She began to gather the supplies and put them away. “We’ll keep having our sessions at two as that shouldn’t interrupt lunch clean up or dinner prep.”

  “But...” Monica waited patiently, but he had no other excuses. Maybe he’d come up with one tonight, but for right now, he was stuck. “Got it. See you tomorrow.”

  “Eli?”

  He stopped, but didn’t turn around to face her. Often whatever morsel she left him was way more insightful than he wanted anyone to be.

  “You won’t feel safe—the people around you won’t feel safe—until you start to accept that the violence you’ve experienced doesn’t define you.”

  Yeah, he didn’t want anything to do with that. So, he walked away.

  Chapter Four

  When Vivian got to the mess hall the next morning, Eli was waiting in the cold. His form was outlined by the security light in the winter dark. She supposed he was dressed for the cold, but it still made her feel bad. She frowned at him. “Didn’t Monica tell you five?”

  He looked down at his watch. “It is five.”

  “But you look like you’ve been waiting here a while.”

  “Not long.”

  She should have known military men would show up fifteen minutes early, even at five in the morning.

  She unlocked the back door and let them into the kitchen. It was a very utilitarian room, but Vivian had tried to add splashes of color. She had rainbow painted pots lining the window sill over the big sink. On the empty wall she’d hung a big photograph of the Armstrong Farm to remind her of home and where she’d come from. All her towels were floral. The plates and a lot of the appliances had to be boring white or black just for cost and efficiency sake, but anything she could add color to, she did.

  “This does not look like any mess hall kitchen I’ve ever seen,” Eli said.

  She smiled proudly. “I know. Isn’t it great? Doesn’t feel like winter in here.” She flipped on the rest of the lights, and preheated the oven. “So, first things first, do you know how to crack eggs?”

  “Sure.”

 
; “Okay, you’re in charge of egg cracking while I make the muffin batter.”

  “It’s not just that powdered stuff?”

  “Powdered eggs?” Vivian fluttered a hand to her heart in mock outrage. “That’s just insulting.”

  “It’d be easier.”

  “I didn’t come here to make easy food.”

  “Why not? You have to feed a lot of guys who don’t care much what they eat.”

  Vivian frowned as she thought it over. “Well, isn’t that what you had in the military? Just manufactured food with no heart? Stuff to suffer through?”

  “How does food have heart?”

  “It tastes good. It feels good. It reminds you of something. It can be a comfort, and hopefully some of the guys feel like someone cares about them. I can’t imagine you got a lot of that in the military.”

  Eli didn’t say anything to that. She slid him a look. If she had to describe the empty expression on his face, she’d say it was something like haunted. Or maybe purposefully trying to forget about something haunting. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see him smile. Would it soften all those hard edges? That stay-away glint that always seemed to be in his dark eyes?

  Well, they had a lot of time to work together, maybe she’d get to see it yet. “I know it doesn’t seem to work on you, but a lot of the guys appreciate it. The feeling of a home cooked meal.”

  “Some of the guys appreciate how you look.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes on him. “Thank you.” When he only scowled, she laughed. “I know, another thing that doesn’t work on you, but I can’t help the way I look. I think a friendly smile and a good meal is a comfort. And that’s what I’m offering. Now. Eggs are in the fridge. Bowl there. Crack until you can’t crack anymore.”

  He grunted but followed her instructions.

  Once she was satisfied with his egg cracking, she moved on to make her muffin batter. She collected her ingredients and the necessary utensils and got to work the way she did most mornings.

  “Do you always sing when you work like some kind of Disney Princess?” Eli asked, sounding far more irritated than charmed.

  “Sure. Work goes faster when your mind is somewhere else. Music is a great somewhere else.” She moved past him to the big pantry where she kept all the food she’d put up from Becca’s garden when she’d first arrived. She wanted to add the raspberry jam to the muffins, but had to pull out the step stool to reach the jars on the top shelf.