A Soldier's Journey Page 11

  “Why would the history of a small town like Covenant Falls have any interest for anyone? What do you want from me?” Al Monroe asked.

  She sat straight up in the chair. “Just what you want to tell me about Angus Monroe. What made him come here, settle here, establish a town that exists today? It had to take courage and vision.”

  “I don’t think Angus thought anything that grand,” Al said wryly.

  “That’s why he’s so interesting. He’s like so many other pioneers. They didn’t know what they were creating. They just wanted something better for their families.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true of Angus,” his descendant said. “He was an unwilling pioneer. He came to America to save his irresponsible brother, only to watch him die. He’d already severed all his ties in Scotland and sold everything there. He had nothing left in Scotland. It was either settle here or go home penniless.”

  That was already more than she’d known before. Maybe more than anyone knew. Excitement coursed through her. “Will you tell me more about him?” she asked. “I swear I won’t use anything you don’t like.”

  He looked at her for a very long moment, then he nodded.

  His phone rang. He glanced at what must be the caller identification.

  He turned to her. “Come to my house this afternoon. Five p.m.,” he said. “It’s the large brick house two blocks down Main Street.” Then he waved his hand in an obvious dismissal.

  She left, a sense of accomplishment lifting her steps. She waved at Mary on the way out.

  * * *

  ANDY DROVE HOME to be joyously greeted by Joseph. She had to admit it was much nicer than entering an empty cabin that belonged to someone else. “I missed you, too,” she told him. “But I have to support the two of us in some way.” He wagged his tail and licked her hand.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s for a walk, then have lunch.”

  They walked outside and up what she now thought of as her mountain. She talked to Joseph all the way up to the viewing point. “You should be proud of me,” she said. “I actually did something useful today.”

  Joseph barked.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I think it’s progress, too. And I’m seeing the town’s bear again this afternoon.”

  When they reached the lookout, she glanced down at the town below. She wondered whether Angus had viewed the valley below from this point. He must have explored much of the area. Now that she’d embraced the idea, he almost came alive to her.

  She was still surprised at the ease of her conversation with Al. After what had been hinted and said about him, she’d expected an ogre, but she’d enjoyed her time with him, with his direct questions. She’d suspected he was testing her and she had passed. In any event she was looking forward to talking to him again.

  Maybe she should call and ask whether she could bring Joseph. Or would that be a step too far?

  “What do you think?” she asked Joseph.

  He nudged her and moved closer in what she took as approval.

  “We should go back,” she said. She refused to call the cabin home.

  It just had to be back. It wasn’t her home and never would be. She hadn’t had a home in years. She’d always stayed in officer quarters to save money when in the States and usually shared rooms or tents overseas. The cabin was the nicest place she’d stayed.

  Which led to the future. She hadn’t wanted to think about it for months after that last day in Afghanistan. It just seemed so empty without Jared, without her team, without nursing.

  She looked down at her hand. Without the brace, the scars were only too evident, which was why she usually wore it. She hated answering questions. Somehow she hadn’t minded with Al Monroe. Maybe because, according to Eve, he’d had so many losses himself. She returned to the cabin and turned on the news beamed in from Denver.

  She quickly turned it off and searched for something happier. She had three hours before she had to meet Al again. She thought about writing out some questions but then decided against it. She would have to wing it. Maybe she would return the bound newspapers she had and pick up some more.

  “Come on, Joseph,” she said as she awkwardly picked up the large volume. In minutes, she was parked on the side of the community center. There were other cars there, as well.

  She walked up to Bill Evans. “Hi. I’m returning this. I would like to pick up another.”

  “Good. Are you coming tonight?”

  Tonight? Then she remembered the veterans’ meeting. Poker. Refreshments. Maybe sharing. She wasn’t ready to share. “I’m not sure I can attend,” she said. “I have an appointment at five.”

  She saw curiosity in his eyes but he didn’t ask any questions. “Drop in any time. You don’t have to be there exactly at seven.”

  “Thank you,” she said and changed the subject. “Do you have a picture or painting or sketch of Angus Monroe?”

  “There’s a sketch that an artist did for the Denver newspaper in 1877. Legend is they wanted a photograph but Angus refused. An artist did a quick sketch when Angus met with the governor. He’d been a strong supporter of the statehood movement and I suspect he planned to collect on it. Not money but protection of his town and the falls.”

  Another tidbit Andy filed in her head. As soon as she returned to the cabin she intended to look up the conflict over statehood.

  He led the way upstairs and unlocked the museum door. He opened the door and stood aside as Andy entered, then went to one of the cabinets. He unlocked it and took out a faded newspaper page carefully encased in plastic. A sketch was in the lower left-hand corner.

  Andy studied it. The artist was good. He’d captured the directness of eyes that seemed to stare at her. Monroe was clean shaven, and a scar ran down his right cheek. Even with the scar, or maybe because of it, the face was arresting. Not handsome but strong.

  “Interesting,” she said. “Can we get copies made?”

  “Don’t know why not. The newspaper belongs to us.”

  “Good.”

  “There’s more bound volumes. Take your pick. I have to go downstairs.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  Bill left the door open when he went downstairs. She leafed through the volumes, looking for the oldest ones. Then she found a smaller volume. The Miner. They were little more than one-page sheets published in 1878.

  She read about a possible gold strike over the next mountain. Several later editions reported the shooting of a miner who had salted his claim with fool’s gold and sold the claim. The miner survived the shooting but not the hanging that followed.

  Andy glanced at her watch. Nearly four thirty. Where had the afternoon gone?

  She hurriedly replaced the volume and met Bill Evans downstairs. “I have to go,” she said.

  “Not taking anything with you?” he asked.

  “Not tonight. I’ll be back in the morning if I can’t get to the meeting tonight.”

  She hurried out the door, Joseph at her side. She was back at the cabin in five minutes. She quickly washed her face and applied lipstick. After filling Joseph’s food and water dishes, she glanced at her watch again. Ten to five.

  Joseph looked at her anxiously as she grabbed the keys to the car. “Stay,” she said. He moaned. “I won’t be long.”

  With that promise, she was out the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ANDY DROVE UP to the large period brick home precisely at 5:00 p.m.

  As she approached the porch, she wished she had brought a notebook or a recorder or something. She would have to depend on her memory if he said anything important.

  She felt a little trepidation and then realized how foolish that was.

  She’d certainly managed worse situations. She reached the door, rang the bell and was surpr
ised how quickly it was opened.

  A young Hispanic woman opened the door and smiled. “Miss Stuart, Mr. Monroe is waiting for you in his study. I’m Elena. Can I bring you coffee or tea?”

  That was positive. It meant that Al Monroe expected her to stay longer than hello, goodbye.

  “Coffee, please,” she said. “Just black.”

  “That’s the way Mr. Monroe likes it, too,” she said approvingly.

  Elena led the way through the living room, where a slight older woman sat with a book in her hands. She looked wan and thin, but there was an elegant beauty about her. She put the book down. “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello,” Andy said, “I’m Andy Stuart.”

  “I’m Sara Monroe.” She started to rise but Andy noticed she did so with difficulty.

  “Please don’t get up,” Andy said.

  Mrs. Monroe sank back into her chair. “My knees aren’t that good any longer, but I’m delighted Al asked you over.”

  “Thank you,” Andy said, noting that her knees weren’t the only thing wrong with Mrs. Monroe. Her face had an unhealthy pallor. Andy stood there, not knowing what else to say.

  Elena saved her. “This way,” she said, and Andy nodded at Mrs. Monroe and hurried along beside Elena as she led her down a hall to a large room lined with books. A large mahogany desk piled with papers dominated the room. There was a side extension that held a computer.

  This time, Al Monroe rose. “Miss Stuart,” he acknowledged. “Are you settled in the cabin?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s really very comfortable.”

  “Manning did a good job with it.”

  She nodded. That surprised her. She hadn’t expected a compliment directed at the Mannings.

  “You said you wanted to write about our town,” he said. “What do you think you know about it now?”

  She noticed the emphasis he put on think. “Not a lot,” she confessed. “I like history, and the West has always fascinated me. I have a general knowledge about its history. I found a newspaper in the library with a sketch of your ancestor. I know Angus founded the town and he helped with the statehood campaign. You must be really proud of him.”

  He grunted. A sign of displeasure?

  “Why do you think you can write a history on the town better than someone here?”

  “Because no one has,” she shot back.

  He studied her for a long moment. “I’m impressed,” he said, “and that doesn’t happen often.” He hesitated, then added, “My wife has always been interested, as well. She’s donated some items to the so-called museum, but lately...” He stopped, then added, “I guess you heard about my nephew.”

  “A little.”

  “Sara couldn’t have children. Sam became the son she couldn’t have when my sister and her husband died in an auto accident. It near killed her when he kidnapped Eve’s kid. She has a heart problem but it seems to be under control. The bigger problem is she’s lost her spirit. She stopped going to meetings she previously liked and she seldom goes out.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Maybe you could get her interested in your project. She’s a good writer. She majored in English and minored in journalism. I think her heart was with journalism, but those jobs were scarce, especially for a woman, and she turned to teaching English until we married.” He put a hand on the table and played with a letter opener shaped like a dagger. “I like your brass in barging in on me. I also appreciate the fact you’ve been in the army. It takes guts, discipline and honor.”

  So that was the reason she was asked here. He wanted to use her to help his wife. She couldn’t argue with that. His motive was more noble than hers. “Why don’t you just ask her to do it?”

  He sighed. “She would think it’s my idea—busy work.”

  “Eve could ask her,” Andy said, not wanting to get involved in something that was becoming complicated.

  “I’m afraid it would be the same problem. She would think I put Eve up to it. You’re a newcomer asking questions. I hope she will embrace that.”

  His brow furrowed as he waited for an answer.

  Andy hesitated. She knew how abrupt he could be from their first meeting. She could easily see the difference in styles between Al Monroe and Eve, and how they might clash. They both wanted what was best for Covenant Falls; they just had different ideas of what best was.

  Darn, she liked him. He was like her father: irascible but underneath that hard crust he obviously cared about his wife a great deal. “It’s just meant to be a short history,” she said. “And it’s to promote the town.”

  “I know,” he said. “As I said, I usually know what goes on here. But maybe it will get Sara interested in moving on with her life.”

  She nodded. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Andy hesitated, then plunged in. “Eve said you might have some journals written by Angus Monroe?”

  He hesitated. “Is that a deal breaker?”

  “No. They would just be very helpful.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. “In the meantime, there’s letters and news articles and other material. Sara can get you started.”

  “Is your wife a native of Covenant Falls?” she asked.

  “No. That’s one of the problems. Even after all these years, she feels like an outsider to people who live here. I suspect some of it is my fault. But, like you, she loves history and has always been more interested in Angus than I was. I always think about the present and the future.”

  He stood then. “I know it’s late notice, but could you join us for dinner?”

  When she hesitated, he added, “We’ll be finished in plenty of time for you to go to one of those meetings at the community center.”

  She must have looked surprised, because he added, “As I said, I still know everything that goes on in Covenant Falls. You might tell Eve that.”

  “I think she probably knows,” she retorted.

  “She probably does,” he agreed with a hint of a smile. “What about dinner?”

  “I would like that,” she said even as she wondered about the strange circumstances in the past four days. She’d needed something to take her mind off Afghanistan. She’d certainly found it here.

  What had Dr. Payne dropped her into?

  Al—he was Al to her now, although she wouldn’t dream of addressing him that way—accompanied her into the living room, and he helped Mrs. Monroe stand. There was obvious affection between them. He might be a bear with others, but it seemed it was of the teddy type with his wife.

  Dinner was served immediately. Pork tenderloin with a whiskey sauce, wild rice and grilled vegetables. “It’s wonderful,” Andy said after several bites.

  “Elena is a great cook,” Mrs. Monroe said politely. “Al told me you’re living in Josh Manning’s cabin. I hope you like Covenant Falls.”

  “It would be hard not to,” she said. “I really enjoy the mountain next to the cabin, and I saw the falls yesterday. It’s glorious.”

  He turned to his wife. “Miss Stuart is writing a brochure about the town. You know as much or more about our history as I do, and I’m busy right now with my accountant. Could you meet with her tomorrow, show her some of our photos and documents?”

  Mrs. Monroe’s eyes lit. A bit of color came into her cheeks. Andy knew she must have been a real beauty.

  “I would like that,” Sara Monroe replied.

  Andy suggested 2:00 p.m. the next day.

  Mrs. Monroe nodded. “That will be fine. We can have tea.”

  Andy hesitated, then asked, “I have a service dog. Would it disturb you if I brought him?”

  “No. Of course not. I would enjoy meeting him.” She cast a look at Al as if warning him n
ot to argue. There was iron in her.

  “I’m afraid I must go now,” Andy said. “But thank you for dinner.”

  “Miss Stuart has a meeting tonight,” Al explained.

  “Good,” Sara Monroe said. “I understand you’ve come back from the service, and you have no family here. Please consider us your friends.”

  Al took charge then and walked her to the door. “Thank you,” he said. He looked pleased with himself and she turned and left.

  * * *

  NATE CALLED ANDY as he left June Byars’s house Monday afternoon. He’d dropped off some lumber he would need to fix her porch the next morning. He’d hoped to take Andy and Joseph to the community center for the vet meeting. When no one answered, he tamped down the disappointment he felt. He told himself that she was probably doing just fine by herself.

  He wasn’t so sure about himself. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.

  Where was she? He worried about her. He felt she was his responsibility, or maybe that was just his excuse. Dammit.

  He reached home at six thirty, took a quick shower and put on clean clothes, then headed for the meeting. He’d made a point of making the meetings a priority both for himself and the others. Especially tonight. Most of the guys would be strangers to Andy, and news that a new vet—a woman—was in town would probably bring them all out.

  He reached the community center right at seven. Five vehicles were already there. He didn’t see Josh’s Jeep. No sign of Andy’s yellow Volkswagen, but she could easily walk from the cabin.

  The door was unlocked, and he walked through the entrance to the community room. Johnny Kay, owner of the Rusty Nail and a vet himself, had apparently brought the beer tonight. Bottles were stacked in ice in an office wastebasket. Snacks were already on the bar, including a great-looking dip and chips. He dropped five dollars in a jar for the beer and grabbed a bottle.

  Bill Evans stood in a corner, and Nate greeted the others as he made his way over to him. “Seen Andy?” he asked.

  “She was here earlier in the day and said she wasn’t sure she could come, that she had an appointment,” Bill said. “She was seen entering the Monroe house late this afternoon. That’s all I know.”