Page 21 of All We Carry Home

“He’s worth the time.” Her eyes—those lovely, piercing, pale blue eyes—locked onto mine. “He could change the landscape of Arabian breeding in the States, especially with so few that survived the war.”

The passion in her voice sparked a fire in my core, and I held back my urge to write her a blank check. I wanted this to work, and I wanted her to be successful in taming the defiant stallion. I only wished I had more time to see this through. In three months, I’d need to return to Philadelphia to formally begin campaigning.

“You’re welcome to leave the trailer here in the driveway,” she said. “You don’t need to lug it around town.”

“I appreciate that.” I stepped toward the truck. “I’d better see about a room. What time will the training begin tomorrow?”

She smirked. “Sunrise to sunset, Captain.”

I adored the way she still called me by my former rank, but I also longed for her to see me as a peer, not as an officer from the world we’d left behind.

I unhooked the trailer, bid her farewell, and drove back down the long highway stretch into Baker.

Main Street was lined with brick buildings, the street so expansive compared to the cramped streets of Philly. Handfuls of people milled about, and kids played in the residential streets a few blocks from the center of the town.

I remembered how fondly Eva had spoken of her hometown while we were in Germany, and now I knew why. It was quaint, welcoming.

A tall, white building on the corner of Main and Washington appeared, just as Eddie and Eva had said it would. The three stories of ornate, arched windows shone golden in the setting sun.

I pulled my truck along the street to park, grabbed my duffel bag from the floor of the cab, and walked wearily into the hotel lobby. Eddie leaned against the check-in desk and conversed with the older woman behind the counter. They both turned and smiled.

“Speak of the devil,” Eddie said with a toothy grin.

Though Eva still used my former rank—as a joke, I was hoping—I was grateful the formality and decorum of the military were behind me. Eddie Moore and I had become fast friends, despite the pressures of our rank and the expectations therein.

I embraced my former sergeant. “Good to see you, Eddie.”

Eddie pulled away and motioned to the woman in her late sixties with auburn-red curls, thick black spectacles, and heavy makeup on her wrinkled skin. “I was just telling Betty that we were expecting a war hero.”

“Knock it off with that,” I growled.

Betty wore a floral sundress and had long, bright red nails. She chuckled and held out a hand. “Betty Harrison, at your service, Captain Hayes.”

“It’s Warren, please,” I said, irritated, though I smiled back. “Is there a room available?”

“Of course.” Betty flipped a page on the notebook before her. “And for how long can we keep you in our humble little town, Captain?”

“A month, to start.”

Betty made a soft scratch with a pen on the paper and then handed me a key. “Second floor, corner room for you, Captain. Bathrooms are communal on each floor. Restaurant is open until eight p.m.”

I tipped my head in thanks, and Betty beamed.

A porter appeared and took my bag to my room. Eddie led me from the dim but lushly decorated lobby and into the center area of the hotel, where dozens of tables were spread out beneath the balcony of the second floor and a glass ceiling on the third floor. The art, carved wood accents, and chandeliers all betrayed the simple, quiet town that lay beyond these walls.

Eddie sat at a table and motioned to a waiter. I slumped into a chair, my body still aching from the injuries, two-week drive, and shock of it all.

Eddie grinned. “So, how’d it go at Birkstrom Ranch?”

I restrained the urge to reach over the table and punch him in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me that Lieutenant Bryant runs the ranch?”

“Well, I didn’t know.” He chuckled. “I only made the connection with her and old Bill Birkstrom a week ago when a buddy of mine mentioned he was in the hospital and had bumped into Eva. It’s a small town, but I only knew her as the Birkstrom girl. Not a Bryant.”

“Is she his daughter’s daughter, then?” I asked, nodding my thanks to the waiter who brought us water and menus.

Eddie shook his head. “I’m not one to speculate, Captain. Bill didn’t have any biological children. He never married.”

Interesting. He was right, though. It wasn’t right to gossip about Eva or speculate further. “Where are your children? Isn’t your wife in New York?”