Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Carson
If I worked faster on my Friday afternoon chores, I blamed the other hands who were also eager to head into town to spend their paychecks.
Certainly wasn’t due to my own impatience over seeing Jude.
And yes, this outing had been largely my idea, sprung from feeling a bit stir crazy on the ranch and the reminder of how much I enjoyed Jude’s company.
Working together with the rescue horses had been great.
I’d felt truly valuable and needed, part of a team again.
I’d texted Jude earlier in the day that I’d meet him in the parking area near the horse barn.
No need for the bunkhouse to know all my business.
I hurried through a shower after the last of my chores.
My hair was slightly damp under my new cowboy hat as I slid into Jude’s old truck at five-thirty on the dot.
“Hey.” I immediately buckled up, more of that hope to keep my personal life private. Didn’t really need Colt or anyone else approving of my friendship with Jude or prodding me into doing more meetings with him.
“Nice hat. Looks like someone visited the feed store.” Jude nodded at my tan cowboy hat, which I had indeed picked up on a trip into Lovelorn with Grayson for supplies. The August heat made the hat a necessity, and we had several hours left of sunlight, so I’d grabbed it after my shower.
“Thanks.” I tried to ignore the strange warmth rising up the back of my neck. I wasn’t prone to blushing, and even if I were, Jude’s offhand compliment was hardly swoonworthy. “Keeps the sun out.”
“My veterinary partner’s husband works at the feed store. Mitch,” Jude shared as he put the truck in Drive and headed toward the main road. “He and Luna are good people, even if Luna was gloating a bit too much today about me going truck shopping.”
“Could just get burgers.” I shrugged. I’d met plenty of guys as attached to their rattletrap trucks as Jude. I knew better than to try to force him to upgrade. He’d do it in his own time, and I was simply happy for the excuse to get off the ranch and see him again.
“Nah. I’m committed to truck shopping.” He bit the corner of his lip. “At least to looking.”
“Aha!” I made a knowing noise. “Already got an out.”
“I’m terrible.” Jude joined my laughter. “I know. I hate change and spending money.”
“I hear that.” I leaned back in my seat, enjoying this light banter. Everything felt easier around Jude, including speech. “I’m cheap. Base housing.”
“Even as an NCO?” Jude whistled low as I nodded.
Nearly fourteen years of service, and I’d never so much as investigated off-base housing options. What did I need more than a room and private bath for anyway? I was happy to let those with families take the better options and save my cash.
“Okay.” Jude grinned conspiratorially at me. “We might be the same kind of thrifty.”
“Yep. Miss my old truck.” I gave his dashboard a fond pat. I’d sold my most recent vehicle before my last deployment. That truck had been nearly as old as Jude’s, and I’d balked at the garage fees for storage while deployed. Never thought it might be my last vehicle.
“I bet.” Eyes soft, Jude shot me a sympathetic look as he turned toward Durango. “Is the driving restriction permanent?”
“Dunno.” I gave Jude a more honest answer than I would most. His tone had been curious but not prying, which I respected. “Hope not.”
In the months since my injury, clarity had been in short supply.
The recommendation that I not drive seemed to stem from a combination of caution around the medication I was on, continued symptoms like the sudden-onset headaches, and fears around my coordination issues.
Multiple experts, ranging from doctors to physical therapists, meant multiple answers, none of which I liked.
Jude nodded thoughtfully, undoubtedly well-versed in medical uncertainty. “Well, hopefully your team will give you the green light to try soon.”
“Maybe.” I wanted to keep my expectations low, but my yearning for Jude’s wish to be reality came through in my voice. “Reflexes getting better.”
I’d made a point to continue my occupational therapy exercises whenever I found myself alone with a few moments to spare, doing things like dropping a pen and trying to catch it, squeezing stress balls in my pocket, and completing eye-movement exercises.
“That’s awesome.” Jude’s tone was enthusiastic as opposed to patronizing. “Speaking of, I do want to have you over to game sometime. That might be good reflex practice too.”
“Gaming therapy.” My laugh came out giddier than I intended. Having someone who seemed genuinely happy for my little successes was something of a novelty and made me feel like I’d just racked heavy weights, a lightness coming over my limbs. “I’m down.”
“Good.” Jude drifted into silence before flipping the radio to the same country station I’d enjoyed on the last trip to Durango.
Outside, the evening sky was the sort of cloudless pale blue against the rugged red terrain that made a body feel grateful to live here. I appreciated how Jude didn’t demand conversation, but perversely, his easy acceptance made me more determined to engage.
“Tell me about…your truck.” I got the question out with only the barest of hesitations.
I wasn’t simply making small talk either.
I was honestly curious about Jude’s attachment to this battered green truck.
I’d learned a long time ago that nearly every beloved truck held a story, and I wanted Jude’s.
“Sarge here started out life as a secondhand purchase by an army buddy after we finished basic training together.” Jude’s storytelling ability didn’t disappoint as his rich voice took on a more animated tone.
“Private Earnest McGilchrist. Skinny kid out of Alabama. Good soldier, better friend. Never made it home from our second deployment.” Jude paused to exhale hard.
“I bought the truck off his folks. My first and only car purchase. We’ve seen some miles together. ”
“Lotta years.” I echoed his solemn tone.
It went without saying that I was sorry for the loss of his friend.
Fact of life in the service, a harsh reality no one enjoyed.
Maybe someday, I’d have the words to tell Jude about my collection of mementos.
A belt buckle. A lucky quarter. A dog-eared paperback.
A faded picture with a message scrawled on the back.
Tiny items that took up less than a pocket in my duffel bag, but each represented a friend lost too soon.
Voice thick, I patted the truck’s dash again. “Good truck. Earned its retirement.”
“That’s a great way to look at it.” Jude brightened some. “It’s been a good truck for sure. Served me well.”
“Give it an honorable discharge.” A barky laugh escaped my chest, wiggling past the tightness of loss. “Better than a lot get.”
“Truth.” Jude’s expression turned more pensive. “Glad I got out when I did.” His left eye twitched as he glanced over at me. “Sorry. That was insensitive. I know you didn’t choose your medical discharge.”
“Nah.” I waved off his concern. I’d met my share of folks like Jude who either regretted serving or who couldn’t get out fast enough. “Why’d you join up?”
“Good question. Ol’ Longmore at the recruiters’ office was damn convincing.
My dad served back in the day, so family history.
” Drumming his index finger against the steering wheel, Jude ticked off reasons.
“Dad’s parents were poor ranchers. They didn’t have vet school kind of dough.
Army got him his education, so I figured on doing the same, save him and my mom some cash.
” Jude’s gaze turned far away as if there was more to the story, but before I could prod, he straightened in his seat.
“And I was young and naive. Thought I could do some good in the world.”
“Ah.” I made a sympathetic noise. “Me too. Wanted…” I searched for the simplest way to explain my own motivation. Eighteen seemed so very long ago. “More like Colt. Less like Kane. Goals.”
“Not bad goals.” Jude slowed as traffic picked up on the outskirts of Durango. “And then you stayed in, so you must have found something worth staying for.”
“Eh. I like routine.” The joke was easier than the truth, which was that I’d had no plan B for my life.
Plan A of serving out my twenty had given me the sort of purpose that was difficult to articulate even before my TBI.
Not many would choose the army over family, over settling down, over any number of other professions or ambitions.
“Another vote for change is hard.” Jude understood me better than most. “And routine is good. I picked up some good habits in the military. Not gonna discount that. Heck, my body probably misses PT.”
“Mine too.” Chuckling, I stretched. My muscles were enjoying life as a ranch hand, but I had a ways to go before returning to my former stamina.
Jude gave me a sideways glance that lingered a hair too long. I wasn’t a total stranger to appreciative looks, but I turned my attention to the traffic and scenery out the window nonetheless.
“We’re almost to the dealership.” Jude’s voice came out a bit forced, like he had also noted the awkward moment. “They’ll try and steer me into something shiny and new, but I’d rather have used and dependable. You can help me spot potential lemons.”
“Will do.” Turning my gaze back toward him, I gave a nod, doing my best to convey that everything was back to normal, no tension here.
“And then I’ll take you up on that burger.” Jude shot me a grateful smile that made his eyes light up with twinkling flecks of gold, and I couldn’t help but grin back.
“Great.” I continued smiling as we exited the truck.
As is typical at car dealerships, several younger salespeople were clustered near the big glass doors, jockeying for whose turn it was to greet potential customers. Evidently, a young woman in a smart gray suit and low heels won out as she was the first to step forward, hand already outstretched.
“Hello there. I’m Sarah.” She greeted us each in turn. She looked somewhat like a younger version of Simone, the counselor from the support group, with angular features and long dark hair neatly tucked into a twist held up with a silver clip with a turquoise center. “You car shopping today?”
“Yep.” Jude nodded back toward his truck parked in front of the dealership. “Looking to replace that ol’ guy with something newer, but not brand new.”
“And will this be a joint purchase?” Her smile warmed further as she glanced between us, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I’m happy to let you each test drive.”
Heck. It hadn’t occurred to me at all that we might get read as a couple at the dealership. Plenty of people brought a buddy or family member car shopping, right? No big deal. I jerked my head toward Jude.
“It’s for him.”
“It’s my work truck.” Jude was equally quick with the correction. “I’m a vet over in Disappointment County. I need something that can haul a decent-sized horse trailer, plenty of tie downs in the bed, possibly a storage box, and four-wheel drive.”
“Got it.” Despite a snicker from the clump of other salespeople, Sarah’s smile never dimmed as she pulled out her phone. “I’m checking our inventory now.”
“Hey, Sarah. These boys look like they know their trucks.” A guy with thick, gelled brown hair and a slick smile stepped toward us. “You sure you don’t want me to handle this one?”
“She’s sure.” Jude glared at him until he slunk back to the others.
“Thanks.” Sarah’s tone turned grateful. “Sorry about that. I’m new here. Just finished training a couple of days ago. Hoping for my first sale.”
“We all have to start somewhere.” Jude made easy conversation as Sarah clicked around on her phone. “And darn it. I was intending to only look, but now I kind of want to give you that first sale.”
His voice was more kind than flirtatious, but Sarah blushed briefly anyway.
“Excellent.” She strode toward the parking lot, leaving us to follow. “Let’s find you a truck. Your…”
She paused to consider me, clearly still trying to figure out mine and Jude’s relationship.
“Friend.” I hoped that was true. We seemed headed in that direction at least, and it was the simplest answer.
“Great. Your friend is welcome to join us on the test drive.” She made her way to a shiny red truck, likely two or three years old, kitted out with several upgrades from the basic trim line.
“Now that’s a red truck.” Jude whistled low.
“Chevy,” I noted as I circled the truck, taking in the heavy-duty metal storage box in the bed and sprayed-in bed liner with added tie downs. Sarah had done a great job of meeting Jude’s wish list on the first try. “Looking good already.”
“I usually go for Fords,” Jude hedged.
“Drive it.” I nudged his shoulder, the same sort of shove I’d give Colt or an army buddy, but the electric zing on my palm was hardly brotherly.
“Okay, okay. One test drive.” Jude grinned at me. “What could it hurt?”
Plenty. The test drive was harmless enough, but that jolt of awareness was anything but.