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e setup. Better than most housing on base. But they’d all been told they could only stay a maximum of three months. Something or other to do with zoning? Brandon hadn't been listening. He hadn't planned to stay that long. As soon as he was cleared, he'd be back on a base overseas where he was needed.
Washing and dressing quickly, Brandon stepped out of the front door and was greeted by a pack of dogs. The dogs didn't bark menacingly at him. They were each curious of him. He was curious of them. They were a scraggly bunch. They looked like a pack of wounded soldiers.
There was a tiny Irish Terrier with a wheelchair attachment. A quiet Chihuahua who was missing his front leg. And a Pug with a face only a mother could love who had patches of skin missing from her back.
"They don't bite."
Brandon looked up to see two pregnant women ambling down the way. The first was a brunette who Banks had introduced as his wife. Maggie was her name. She had a friendly smile that had put Brandon immediately at ease. There had been something in the woman’s gaze that had told him that if he were ever wounded, she would be the one he’d want to turn to.
Beside her, he saw another woman he recognized. The blonde had been in the choir alongside Reegan. She had a pleasant voice, but it had a fullness to it where Reegan’s was light and airy. She’d been introduced to him as Cassie, the wife of another soldier on the ranch.
"You missed breakfast,” Maggie was saying. “So, we stopped by to bring you a muffin and some berries.”
The dogs sat obediently. Each set of eyes on the food being offered to Brandon. So, the mutts weren’t the welcome crew. They were hoping for a morsel of Brandon’s breakfast. Well, that was too bad. He was far too ravenous to share. And besides, the animals looked well cared for.
“Sgt. Chase and Private Ortega have gone for a ride,” Maggie continued. “Dr. Patel is waiting for you in his office when you're ready. It's just over that hill.”
"Thank you,” Brandon said as he took the offered food. The dogs’ gazes now swung to him, tongues lolling out of their mouths.
Maggie snapped her fingers, and the dogs all came to attention like good little soldiers. Before she turned on her heel, she called out to Brandon. “I hope we’ll see you for dinner.”
Brandon gave a noncommittal waggle of his head. Not a nod but not a shake either. The truth was, he wasn't much interested in being in a crowd right now.
Understanding lit Maggie’s brown eyes, but she didn’t press. The fact that she hadn’t pressed, the realization that she would likely give him space, and that the other soldiers and their wives would likely do the same, made Brandon curious to break bread with them. Maybe he would.
He'd been on base around military wives and families. He'd always enjoyed their company more than being back in civilian life. They understood him more. If he ever were to retire, he'd want to do it in a place like this.
Then he remembered Dylan's words. Every soldier who stayed on the ranch had to be married. That was the zoning edict Brandon had tuned out.
At dinner their first night, Brandon had given a firm shake of his head at the thought. He’d let everyone know that he would be re-enlisting in a few months, and likely re-deploying if he got the opportunity. He would enjoy his time while he was here. Marriage was not in his cards, especially not if he planned to re-enlist.
Brandon munched on the muffin and made his way over the hill. Having grown up in the city, he wasn’t used to seeing trees and mountains as far as the eye could see. He jumped at the sound of a mooing cow. He had to wait until chickens crossed the path he was on.
Once he came to the medical building, things began to look more familiar. He walked down the hall until he saw the psychologist’s name on the door. The door was open, and an unassuming, brown-skinned man sat behind a wooden desk.
Dr. Patel rose when he saw Brandon lurking in the doorway. "Corporal Lucas, it's nice to meet you."
Brandon looked down at the thin man with a smile bigger than his face. Patel clearly wasn't no nonsense like the military doctors on the base and at the VA Centers. His eyes looked patient and kind, like he had time.
That still didn't change the fact that the man was a head shrink. Sitting across from him, Brandon didn't feel comfortable under the man's gaze. He sat up straight in the plush chair, ever alert.
"I've already met with your other team members," said Dr. Patel. "I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. It’s a loss to our entire community. I knew Reece well. His family were all devoted members of my church.”
Brandon could only nod. He had no words to offer the man. He’d already botched any attempt to provide solace for Reece’s sister.
"It seems you are all still suffering from the loss.”
"It's part of the job," said Brandon. "War is dangerous. Not everyone comes back."
“Yet, when it comes to the living, sometimes they leave parts of themselves behind."
Brandon wanted to frown, but he schooled his features, waiting for the psychologist to make his speech plain.
"Sergeant Chase tells me you're having trouble sleeping."
Brandon chewed at the inside of his lip. But he soon realized that if he thought he'd wait out the doctor, he would lose that particular game of patience. Dr. Patel would be just the type of companion necessary for a stakeout.
"It's a common problem,” Brandon said. “Soldiers are often sleep deprived in our line of work. Just like doctors on call."
