Wounded Heroes Boxed Set

by Judith Arnold

  She waited, like Grant, for his answer.

  She saw the agony in Quinn’s eyes. Grant threw his arms around Quinn’s neck and squeezed. "Please, Quinn, please tell her you want her to stay. She’d do it, I know she would." He wiped at his tears, and Quinn reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, tenderly wiping his nose. Grant hiccupped a sob and tried once more. "Don’t you want us, Quinn?"

  Lorie watched Quinn’s face closely for his response. Sorrow blanketed his features, and the light dimmed in those beautiful eyes.

  He dropped his head, and that’s when she saw the tear fall.

  "I want you too much," he whispered. "But I’m not what you need."

  Her heart fluttering, terrified and elated at the same time, Lorie pushed the door open. They both turned to look. She crossed the room, her gaze never leaving Quinn’s. Reaching out slowly to catch that one precious tear with her fingertip, she raised it to her lips. She carried a kiss back to him and pressed it against his mouth. He gazed at her solemnly, his heart in those topaz eyes.

  "I’m with you, Grant," she said softly, still looking at Quinn. "If he wants us, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with Quinn."

  "Lorie—" his deep voice protested. "You’re a star. You’d have to give up too much."

  "There has to be some compromise."

  "I can't see one. I could live in the city, be cop again, but…"

  She'd seen the toll on him. Understood how he belonged to this land. "I've been thinking a lot about my life, the cost of it. What happened with Marsden…that's all on me. My vanity, my ambition…this isn't who I ever thought I'd be, but it took a madman to make me see it."

  "It's not all on you. He's insane. He made choices. You are a superb actress."

  "Maybe. Mostly I'm a professional pretty girl. It's what I knew, growing up." She sat down beside him. "Please don't laugh, but delivering that baby…I've never felt anything so amazing." She chuckled. "Even though I was scared stiff."

  "They're both doing fine. You should be proud."

  She looked at him. Stroked Grant's hair. "That's just it, you see. I am proud. What I do most days…it doesn't mean anything. Nobody's life depends on it, no precious child is brought into this world. At best, I provide some escape, a distraction from real life."

  She turned to face him, clasped his hand. "Being with you here, seeing how Grant has blossomed…getting to see Consuela in action, the difference she makes, with no thought to acclaim or riches…how can strutting around in makeup and fancy clothes playing pretend possibly measure up?"

  She saw hope spark in his eyes. "But—"

  "But nothing. You’re my sun and my stars, Quinn Marshall. I’d be giving up nothing. I’ve never been so happy as I’ve been here with you. The life I’ve led has had glamour, but it’s missing all the richness that I’ve found here."

  She leaned into him, longing to be part of their magic circle. She rested her head on his shoulder and stroked Grant’s dear face.

  "I want to do something important with my life. I want to be more than pretty. I can do that here with you." She pressed a kiss over his heart, then sat up. Faced him, hiding nothing.

  "Please, Quinn, ask us to stay."

  His longing blazed from his eyes, but he didn't speak.

  Grant bounced to his knees on the bed. "You want us to stay, right, Quinn? You said you want us, didn't you?"

  Quinn bundled him close. Closed his big hand over hers. "I've never wanted anything more." He kissed her fingers. "Please…stay. For the rest of your life."

  Epilogue

  * * *

  Six months later

  LORIE SAT ON the steps of the porch, hugging her secret to her, stifling the urge to laugh in delight. She saw Grant and Consuela walking down the road toward her. Grant zigzagged a path around Consuela, his usual boundless curiosity at work. Perhaps Consuela would have a few minutes to consult with her on the progress of her own herb garden.

  Happiness bubbled up inside as she contemplated the joy of telling Quinn her news. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to put her midwife training to work on herself. She hoped Consuela would do the honors.

  "Penny for your thoughts, beautiful."

  She jolted at Quinn's voice. The smile in her heart matched the one on his face as he tipped his Stetson back and unbuttoned his jacket.

  "I thought you wouldn’t be back from hunting until dark."

  He grinned and shrugged. "Tenderfoot city boys—what can I say?" He looked at her steadily. "Besides, I had a feeling that you needed me."

  She flew off the steps and into his arms. "I always need you." He whirled her around and she laughed aloud.

  "So what’s got those pretty blue eyes all lit up, Mrs. Marshall?"

  "A secret."

  His eyebrows rose. "A secret, eh? Hmm…it's not my birthday, and Christmas is still a ways off, so…what is it?"

  "Well, you’re the psychic. You tell me."

  He didn't frown as he once would have, more at peace these days with an ability he no longer rejected. For a moment he stood very still, then a grin spread broadly across that handsome face.

  "I think it’s gonna be a girl, and I hope she looks just like you."

  "You said you couldn’t read my mind!"

  He took her in his arms and rocked her slowly.

  "I can’t, sweet love…but thanks to you, I can dream."

  -The End-

  If you enjoyed Texas Refuge, you will also enjoy Jean Brashear’s other books in the Texas Heroes series. The Marshalls:Texas Star and Texas Danger (upcoming);The Gallaghers of Morning Star: Texas Secrets, Texas Lonely, and Texas Bad Boy; The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs: Texas Roots and Texas Wild

  THE MORE I SEE

  * * *

  By Lisa Mondello

  Copyright 2003 Lisa Mondello

  Chapter One

  * * *

  THERE WAS NOTHING extraordinary about Alyssandra Orchid McElhannon but her name. She was used to being invisible where men were concerned. Men were an unusual breed for sure. This one was no different.

  Lowering her sunglasses, she blinked as she peered at the long, lean man stretched out on the lawn chair by the pool. So this was Cody Gentry. The man that insisted she come all the way from the Houston school where she'd worked to personally train him here on the Silverado Ranch.

  At least Cody Gentry had a valid excuse not to notice her. He was blind.

  He made no move to indicate he'd heard her approach, or the soft sound of dog claws scratching on the concrete as she led her guide dog closer. No tilt of his head, no lift of his long fingers, weaved tightly together on his lap, not even a twitch of his booted feet, crossed and slightly hanging over the end of the lawn chair.

  Lyssa slid the sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose. He could be asleep, she decided. By the slump of his shoulders and the angle of his head, cocked to one side, his white straw cowboy hat tilted over his face ever so slightly, it was certainly possible. It would explain why he'd yet to have even a slight reaction to her approach.

  She knew how acute the other senses were when one was lost. She'd outfitted herself in her usual garb, a pair of well-worn blue jeans, a cool cotton button-down shirt, and a comfortable pair of sneakers. She could understand how the soft soles of her sneakers would be muffled. Lyssa wasn't the most graceful person, but she wasn't a clod. If Cody hadn't heard the sound of her footsteps, he should have at least noticed the telltale sound of Otis' paws on the walkway.

  Maybe he wasn't asleep. Maybe he was just being rude. Mike Gentry, Cody's father, had warned as much.

  It had been only a week ago that Mike Gentry first approached the Houston Guide Dog School asking for immediate help, insisting his son needed a one-on-one instructor. If only the school could send someone to the ranch, he said, it might break through the deep, impenetrable depression that had overtaken his son since a freak chemical accident had rendered him blind nearly eight months earlier. It might help him get back among the livin
g again.

  Lyssa had been in the office the day Mike Gentry strode in with deep pockets and endless arguments about why he needed someone immediately. The director had been insistent that the school offered only month-long classes to students who stayed on their campus. While what Mike was asking for his son was not unprecedented, it was usually reserved for extreme cases.

  The money Mike offered to gift the school spoke of his desperation. Right in front of Lyssa, he'd offered what amounted to enough money to service several dogs to those in need. After a failed corneal transplant, the likelihood that Cody would get his eye-sight back was slim to none. Cody needed to become functional again in his own environment, and without the aid of a guide dog, he wouldn't be able to get around.

  Mike had assured the school that Cody was eager to work with a guide dog, but given life on the ranch, he felt that training should be conducted in the environment where the dog and handler would spend the bulk of their time.

  Lyssa found she couldn't stay quiet. There was time before the next class started. She had a dog ready and, even with the limited information Mike Gentry had offered about his son, Lyssa felt the match might work.

  Peering over at Cody now, she realized the depression Mike Gentry spoke of was much worse than he had let on.

  The desperation, the depression. Lyssa had seen it happen before. Although, since she'd lost her own eyesight at such an early age, she didn't remember feeling it herself. When she regained her sight after twenty years of living in darkness it was cause for celebration. New miracle surgery—an option that wasn't open to everyone. Yet. But Lyssa was sure that one day it would be. The advances modern science had made astounded her.

  Until that day came, she had the incredible task of trying to pull this six-foot-plus man out of his despair by showing him that life was still worth living without his vision.

  She sighed, noticing the heavy slump of his shoulders. She had her work cut out for her.

  She commanded Otis to sit and the well-trained dog heeded the command instantly. Lyssa cleared her throat. The man didn't move.

  As she suspected, he'd heard her perfectly well. He simply chose to ignore her.

  "I was told I could find Cody Gentry out here by the pool," Lyssa finally said.

  The muscles on his face twitched slightly. "Who's looking?"

  The timbre of his voice was deep, with a faintly ominous edge that reminded Lyssa of the voices she'd heard as a child when she and Kim would sneak downstairs in the middle of the night and watch old horror flicks on cable. She couldn't see the movies, she'd only heard the voices. That added to the mystery, raised the level of anticipation, sending shivers racing up her spine.

  Cody wasn't anything out of a horror movie. She ignored the swell of apprehension that had her confidence faltering.

  She knew better than to extend her hand in a normal greeting for her introduction. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and hoped her voice sounded pleasant. "I'm Alyssandra McElhannon."

  He didn't move. "What do you want?"

  "I brought Otis," she said cheerfully.

  "What's Otis?"

  "Otis is a who, not a what."

  His whole body seemed to stiffen. His voice was controlled, but edgy enough to send shivers chasing over her skin. "I'm sorry you came all the way out here like this. Apparently someone failed to give you adequate information. I'm not training cuttin' horses anymore."

  "Oh, Otis isn't a horse. He's a dog. Your guide dog. And I'm here to train the two of you to work as a team." She said the words with the pride she couldn't help but feel. Otis, like many dogs trained as seeing aids for the vision-impaired, was a lifeline to independence.

  He sat still, unaffected. It wasn't at all the reaction she'd been expecting.

  "Not interested."

  "And you would be Cody Gentry, I take it?" she asked, already knowing he was.

  "I just said I'm not interested."

  "And I heard you. My job is to make you interested."

  "Says who?"

  Confused, she said, "Mike Gentry, for one."

  He groaned audibly and straightened up in his chair. "My father sent you, huh?"

  "That's right. He didn't tell you I was coming?"

  "Did he already pay you for your troubles?"

  "Well, yes, a portion is—"

  "Then you're fired. I'll make sure you get the rest of the money you're owed by mail. I'm sorry he wasted your time."

  Lyssa's huff was slightly exaggerated. Cody was as difficult as Mike Gentry had warned, but in a totally different way than Lyssa had been prepared for.

  "In the first place, the school pays my salary and it is run entirely by donations. Second, training my dogs and students is never a waste of my time. Furthermore, you aren't the one who hired me, your father did. In fact, he asked me to stay on at the ranch until you and Otis were working well together. So, you can't fire me, no matter how much you squawk."

  He made a face that almost made her laugh. "Squawk?"

  Crossing her arms across her chest, she said, "I call it like I see it."

  "Listen, Ms. McElfen—er—McEllaf... What's your name again?"

  "McElhannon," she said slowly. "Alyssandra Orchid McElhannon. If we're going to be working together, I'd prefer to keep things informal. So you can call me Lyssa, if it's easier."

  Easier and infuriating, she knew. Just because he couldn't see her, didn't mean he couldn't hear perfectly well. In fact, she knew his hearing was much better now than it had been before he'd lost his eyesight.

  "Okay, Lyssa. I appreciate your crusade here, but you really are wasting your time. And mine, for that matter. I don't need a dog, and I don't need you. I need my eyes back. And if you can't give me that, then get out of my way! I don't want you or your dog here."

  Anger flared so strong through her whole being that Lyssa could taste its bitterness. Part of Mike Gentry's argument that Cody needed a one-on-one instructor was because of his environment. He'd warned Cody could be difficult to work with, but explained he was there on Cody's behalf and that Cody was anxious to start training as soon as possible. He had attitude, but a strong desire. The only way to show Cody exactly how infuriating he could be was to throw it back in his face, his father had told her. Fight fire with fire. That seemed to be the only way to break through Cody's despair lately.

  Lyssa couldn't argue with that. Cody had plenty of attitude. But Lyssa had underestimated the warning and now regretted it. Fight fire with fire? In her estimation, she was going to need to set off a case of C4 explosives to even make a dent.

  "Otis and I aren't going anywhere," she said calmly. "At least not for the next month."

  "A month?"

  "That's right."

  Anger simmered to a boil just beneath the surface of Cody's exterior, it seemed. His movements were quick and deliberate as he sat up straight and dropped his boots to the ground with a thud. She wanted to take a step back to shield herself from the slap of anger she was sure he was about to unleash, but she held her ground.

  Lyssa had been too young to feel the anger when she'd lost her eyesight. She learned, just as a child learns to crawl and then walk, how to live in her dark world. Learning to crawl for a child was second nature. Curiosity won over confidence every time, hands down. Get from point A to point B and it didn't matter how you got there as long as you did it.

  Learning to crawl as an adult, however, was utterly different.

  Lyssa stayed rooted in her place and silently watched Cody stumble, disoriented, trying to rise from the lounge chair. He then felt his way around the table to the back of the chair. He lifted his head and an almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaped his lips. Cody dragged in a breath of air and began walking, his body tall and proud, his hands rooted at his side instead of out in front of him as a guide.

  He must have memorized the amount of steps. Even in his stubbornness, his instinct for survival took over. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. Make it his. She wasn't going to
give him an inch, though. She suspected a single step back for Cody would feel more like a mile.

  Eight steps.

  He didn't need her here. Not right at that moment. But she gave it one more try to see if she could make a small crack in his resolve.

  "If you'd like, Otis will take you in."

  He reached the door and lifted his hands, floating them out in front of him until they made purchase with the outer wall of the house. "I told you I don't need the dog."

  "Yeah, I heard you. But counting eight steps only gets you from the chair to the house. What do you do when you're out in the fields? There aren't any chairs out there. Or is that some place you never venture anymore?"

  His whole body became rigid. But he said nothing.

  Lyssa shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms as she looked out into the green and gold pastures that rolled deep into the horizon.

  "I suppose you could count the fence posts, or even paces to the fence, but turning around would be a bear. You could end up walking all the way to the county line before you hit the other side of the ranch."

  "Your point?" he said haughtily.

  "Otis can help you get around. Help you climb out of your eight steps and make it a hundred or more."

  He dismissed her easily by turning and carefully walking through the French doors.

  She released a slow breath, felt her shoulders sag slightly. Guilt should be gnawing at her insides by now for stripping down his reality, but she had no other choice. In her experience, it was either depression in a comfortable chair for the rest of his days, or it was living again. She was determined to make sure Cody Gentry chose right.

  In the meantime, Lyssa had a few strong words for his father.

  * * *

  WHERE THE HELL was his father? And how dare he invite some snotty woman into the house to fix what couldn't be fixed, Cody fumed silently as he moved through the kitchen. A dog? What the hell was he thinking? Anyone with an ounce of sense or optical training knew that life as he knew it was over.