He didnât know why his face was buried in long strands of sweet-smelling hair.
A bird squawked in the background and it rattled Rafe all the more when a woman shifted out from under him, sat up and forced him to do the same. What were they doing on the ground? Dr. Robinson. God, had he attacked her?
âAre you okay?â she murmured. âYou had a small flashback and fell over a feed bucket. It was my fault. I saw the bucket, but didnât move it out of the aisle. I swear Iâll be more careful in the future.â
Her cool, seductive touch telegraphed a signal to Rafeâs body. Even though he couldnât see the woman who hovered so close to him, he was still a man. All man.
Dear Reader,
My extended family is a great, eclectic mix of teachers, copsâincluding bike and horse patrolâretail 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.
Weâre 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 donât return. Some come back injured. Doctors and love help put the shattered back together. Thatâs what Dr. Alexa Robinson and Major Rafe Eaglefeatherâs story is all about. Family, love and healing. I hope youâll 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.
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. Sheâs 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.
ALEXA ROBINSON SPOKE SOFTLY to the frisky black three-year-old gelding she worked on a lead rope. Sheâd bought this horse and a mare at a recent breederâs auction. Usually she gentled the horses she bought into smooth-gaited saddle mounts but she wouldnât have as much time to work with these. A former customer had said heâd buy the mare for his daughter, provided Alexa could train the horse for barrel racing by the girlâs 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 geldingâs 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 didnât 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 driverâs door and headed toward the corral.
Assuming she was lost and needed directions, Alexa unsnapped the rope from the geldingâs halter. âMay I help you?â she called, slipping out through the gate, making sure it latched securely behind her and the dog.
âIâm Sierra Martinez,â the woman said, holding out a hand. âYouâre Dr. Robinson? Iâve come to discuss my brother, Rafe Eaglefeather. He was recently medically discharged from the army,â she said, as if that clarified everything.
Alexaâs smile vanished the instant the word doctor passed the womanâs lips. Withdrawing her gloved hand, she said, âIâm not a practicing doctor, Ms. Martinez.â
âItâs Mrs., but please call me Sierra. Arenât you an osteopath and an herbalist? I heard that at the feed store. And park rangers told my husband youâve healed injured animals theyâve found in the park.â
âAnimals. Not people.â 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 visitorâs solemn dark eyes. âMy husband, Doug, is a border patrol agent. He told me you treated a pregnant womanâan illegal who was badly dehydrated. You kept her here and cared for her until you found her husband. Dougâs partner also told me you set the broken arm of a little boy who fell during a border crossing.â