Page 61 of All We Carry Home

“Not a new saddle?”

She shook her head. “I was happy to ride bareback, as long as I was riding.”

My mind flashed back to the lavish, overflowing piles of gifts during my childhood. William had always wanted some sort of model train set, and as he got older, it evolved to a motorcycle or new car. Shine, luster.

Here, things were brilliant and gleaming in a different way. Earnest, natural, honest. I’d never latched on to any one thing or any hobby. Not until finding my place in the Army. I’d never known what to wish for.

The moment was right, the opportunity rare—I should tell her about the campaign and my plans in the coming fall. I wanted to know what she thought of the idea—going into a different kind of service.

We’d agreed to talk about the contract extension after the show in a few weeks. I wanted to know more about her. I didn’t want to face the deadline ahead.

“So where is Beacon’s Bluff?” I asked.

“It’s a two-mile ride into the ranch.”

“Have you ridden out for the sunrise lately?”

Her gaze locked on the road ahead, her voice dropping low. “I haven’t been able to since I came home. Gramps was too sick, and then after he died, everything unraveled.”

“You’ve hardly taken a moment’s rest since I arrived.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” She shifted and glanced at the side mirror as if needing a distraction. “Birkstrom Ranch doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“If you never get the chance to see another one of the sunrises you love? Would it be worth it?”

She shook her head. “Now you sound like Gramps.”

I took that as a compliment. More than anything, I wished she’d let me help. What good was my gaudy trust fund if I couldn’t invest in what mattered?

My resolve faltered. I didn’t want to mention the campaign. Not now. I didn’t want to spoil the day.

We fell into silence as the miles drifted by and the sun crept lower.

I checked the mirror on the passenger side as we pulled into the ranch. A black sedan was there, barely at the edge of my vision. I could tell instantly that they weren’t an immediate danger—they were observing her movements. They’d probably been outside the ranch for days.

The bolder they got, the less time Eva would have to save her farm.

I’d do everything I could to make sure that she and the ranch were safe from this lingering threat.

Fifteen

Eva

MAY 20

It had been another hard-fought battle against Warren, Eddie, and now Lucky, but I was relieved to go back to St. Elizabeth’s for another night shift.

Warren had been angry with me. He felt I was being too careless with my well-being, especially after Victor’s associates had shown up only two days ago.

I didn’t want to fight with them, but I found solace in my hospital shifts in a way I didn’t out on the farm. The regional hospital, though the largest in the area, was understaffed, and the recovering veterans in the ward had become like family to me.

I went down the long hallway, tying my apron behind my back as I entered the narrow room with white curtains separating a half dozen beds. The lights were low and most of the men were asleep, except for former sergeant Eaton Price, or EP, as we called him. He sat up in his bed with cards strewn over his lap, playing solitaire as he always did. He was nearly recovered after an infection from an improperly treated bullet wound to his shoulder. He was in his late thirties and sported a scruffy beard and long hair.

“Evening,” I said softly.

He looked up and smiled. “Eva.”

I picked up his chart, checking the vitals notes from earlier that day. He was on track to go home soon.