Chapter One

Chapter One

D

ust kicked up the gravel as the yellow school bus pulled up the drive to the Bellflower Ranch. Though no one called this place by that name. All the residents and inhabitants had christened the sprawling land the Purple Heart Ranch due to the wounded warriors who came there to find healing both inside and out.

Sean Jeffries watched the bus as it came to a stop beside the mess hall. The hall was a converted barn where the veterans took their meals. Well, those veterans who weren’t married took their meals in the barn. The number of single men on the ranch was dwindling fast. Only two were left, and Sean was one of them.

Pretty soon there would be no single men residing on this ranch. The zoning regulation that deemed the ranch could only be inhabited by family members was due to take effect at the end of the month. When that day came, both Sean and the other last single soldier standing, Xavier Ramos, would have to hightail it off the land. It was a day Sean was not looking forward to. But there was nothing he could do about it. He had no plans to get married anytime soon, if ever.

Instead of thinking about his own fate, Sean focused on the future of the ranch. That future was stepping out of the school bus. One by one, the scraggly boys hopped off the bus. Some had wide eyes as they looked around the ranch. Others had narrowed gazes filled with suspicion. Some formed groups and stood close. A few others stood apart and solitary.

Sean didn’t blame either group of boys. It wasn’t how he’d looked his first day of basic training for the army. He’d been entirely trusting of his superiors, of his fellow soldiers, of the entire process. That trust had served him well in training. But when he’d finally gotten out into the field and right into the trenches of war, that training had failed him and nearly taken the lives of his brothers at arms.

The sun glared down at him in the afternoon sky. Sean slunk back into the shadows of the barn. Being in the spotlight, having the heat of the sun on him, brought back the nightmares of the explosion. With his eyes wide open, he saw the horrors of that day played out again.

Men working together to build a school for their community. Women offering aid to give their families a brighter future. Children running around in excitement at opportunities they would soon be receiving. And one child standing off to the side with a secret that would send it all crashing down.

Sean clenched his fists. His hands were empty of his weapon. He’d laid down his weapons after his mistake that day and hadn’t armed himself since. He also kept his distance from strangers in general, but innocent-looking children in particular.

At his side, Scar sat on her rump breathing heavily in the midday sun. The pug scratched at her skin, her nails gnawing at the missing patches of fur on her back. A couple of the other ranch dogs waited eagerly for the new humans to step off the bus, likely hoping to get new playmates. But Star was a cautious little beast. She’d been scorned one too many times by humans to trust them immediately.

The kids that came off the bus were mostly black and brown. They were all from the same inner city neighborhood. Sean’s childhood neighborhood hadn’t been so homogenous. He’d grown up in a racially and culturally diverse neighborhood; the true American Dream where people who’d come from money and people who’d bootstrapped themselves up to success lived in relative harmony. Much like the veterans who occupied the ranch and were now extending a helping hand to these boys in need.

“Welcome to the Purple Heart Ranch,” said Francisco Demonti. “You twelve have been chosen to participate in our youth program because you’re having some trouble at school. That could be trouble with grades, trouble with social interactions, trouble with authority, or all three.”

Since the ranch opened a year ago to rehabilitate wounded soldiers, this had been a dream of Fran’s and Dylan’s. Neither had been a troubled kid in their youths. Sean suspected that both meant they were subconsciously gearing these kids toward a life in the service.

Even with the scars they’d all gained, the limbs they’d sacrificed, and the friends they’d lost, Sean did not regret his time in the service. The U.S. Military had made him the man he was; a man with loyalty and honor. A man who knew that not all militaries held the same values and could make monsters out of men.

Sean also knew that it didn’t have to be a government-run army that could turn men and young boys onto the wrong path. Some streets in America were meaner than those in Syria and Afghanistan. Better these kids went into the service than get caught up in a street gang.

But the kids weren’t listening to Fran. Their attention was diverted elsewhere. Two men rode up on horses.

When they got to the gathered group of boys, Dylan swung his prosthetic leg over the horse and climbed down. Beside him, Reed Cannon also dismounted. When his feet struck the ground, he kept his prosthetic hand on the reigns to the mare.

“Man, this is a place for cripples,” he heard one kid stage whisper loud enough to be certain he was heard.

Sean hung back in the shadows with Star. The pug looked up at him with her scarred face. The dog had a face that only a mother could love. The same could be said about Sean. Sean reached down and gave the dog a scratch under her chin to reassure her. The dog lolled her tongue in ecstasy at the gesture.

Sean didn’t patronize the dog by telling her it was what was on the inside the mattered. Sean knew all too well that people judged the outside first and often didn’t make it to look at someone’s character.

“Look at the dogs,” another boy snickered and pointed.

Soldier, the three-legged Chihuahua, and Spin the wheelchair-bound Irish Terrier sat panting, waiting eagerly for the go-ahead to mingle amongst the boys and make new friends.

“Yo, man, check out Quasimodo over there,” said another of the boys. His stubby finger was pointed into the shadows at Sean.

Sean had to give the kid props. At least he knew his literature. Sean was a disfigured man lurking in the shadows. The scar on his face was a souvenir from his time in service, just like Dylan’s missing leg, Reed’s missing arm, and the shrapnel buried in Fran’s chest.

Fran whistled loud to get the kids’ attention. The boys didn’t all straighten their backs, lift their heads, and stand tall as a soldier would when called to attention. But they did quiet down and turn their gazes over to Fran.

Fran didn’t address the boys’ comments with words. Like all the soldiers on this ranch, Fran was a man of action. He would show these kids the meaning of the word respect, likely in the horse stalls.

A small smile cracked Sean’s lips at the thought of what Fran had in store for them. But as he smiled, his skin pulled and tugged and rippled uncomfortably. His scar limited his ability to express himself, which was fine since there were few people Sean wanted to show emotion to.

When he turned to head in the opposite direction of the group, he came face to face with one of the kids. The boy could have been a smaller version of himself. The kid stood back in the shadows. His shoulders were hunched to be unassuming. His body language said stay back, I’m not friendly.

“Does he bite?” the kid asked.

It took Sean a moment to realize he wasn’t asking if Sean bit. The kid was asking about the dog. Star lifted her nose and gave the kid a tentative sniff. The pug must have found the kid to be okay because she reached out her tongue and gave the kid’s hand a lick. That answered the kid’s question.

Star was entirely docile. She just looked mean because of her smooshed mug and the patches of skin missing from her back. But give the dog a scratch behind the ear, show her a bit of kindness, and she would be your devoted friend for life.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with the others?” Sean asked the boy.

The kid shrugged as he scratched Star’s ears. He opened his mouth to speak but a fit of coughs came out instead. “I have allergies.”

That didn’t sound like allergies to Sean. The cough was too deep. The kid struggled for breath as the fit overtook him.

“How long have you had that cough?” asked Sean.

The kid shrugged. “Couple weeks maybe?”

“Have you been to the doctor?”

“We can’t afford health insurance. My dad says it’ll go away once the seasons change.”

A whistle sounded from across the way. Sean, Star and the kid stood to attention at the call of Fran’s whistle. Fran motioned to the boy.

The kid sighed, clearly wanting to hang with the dog more than he wanted to go and join the other humans. He gave Star one more pat. Without so much as a nod to Sean, he turned to go to the others. But before he took his first step, another series of coughs wracked his body. Once he caught his breath, he made his way over.

Sean almost stopped him, but he let the kid go. It wasn’t his responsibility. The kid’s parent would take care of it. Or not.

Sean would never be responsible for another child, or another soul. After facing off with a child soldier back in Afghanistan, he was happy to stay away from children for the rest of his life.