Page 1 of Sweet Courage

Chapter One

“Clear the area!”

Shrill voices. Screaming. Hanson Taylor ran at a full gallop. Get away. Move. Clear the area, get everyone out.

“Clear the area!” The words tore out of him. His legs—tree stumps, both of them, heavy and wrong and not moving fast enough. Move. Had to move. Had to save everyone. Heat. Lord, so much heat pressed in from every side. Dust so thick he couldn’t pull air through it. Lungs burning. Keep moving. Water. Suddenly water everywhere. Swim. Had to swim. Arms like lead, gravity yanking at his boots, pulling him down. Ripples of water overhead. The fiery sky was dark, gray… and wrong.

“They’re attacking!” A voice, muffled, overhead somewhere.

Bursts of red and orange and yellow exploded above him like the Fourth of July. The air stank of fuel and ash and something worse. A dark shape spun between the fire and the water. Growing. Closer. Bigger. A truck. How was there a…

Kick. Move. He had to get away. Screams everywhere. The convoy, where was everyone, where had they…? The pressure built in his chest. Breathe. Long, deep breaths but nothing came. No air. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find… “Aiden!” His voice swallowed by water. Still in the water. Where? How? He should be up high, that’s what he did—not underwater. “Gideon!”

Groans. His buddies. Somewhere. He kicked out, pulled his arms through the water, the light hit his face and then the water was gone and he was running, burned grass under his boots, black smoldering holes in the earth, smoke burning his throat. Move. Stay safe. Find them.

Screams again. One louder than the others. He locked onto it and ran harder, harder than his legs should have been able to carry him, toward the sound coming from under a pile of burned wood. A structure. Had it been a house? A cabin?

The cry came again and with both hands he grabbed at splintered wood and charred beams, throwing them aside with the ease of tossing bags of feathers. He had to move faster. The screams were getting louder. One more board. Gripping the corner, he flipped it out of the way. A final scream pierced straight through him. Not Gideon. Not Aiden. Not his sergeant—a baby!

“No!”

Sucking in a deep breath, Hanson sat up straight. Surrounded by dark, he blinked. Silence embraced him. He blinked again, looking down. Soaked. His shirt was soaked. Tangled around his legs, sheets were drenched with sweat. His sweat. Swinging his legs around, he braced himself on the edge of the mattress. Where the hell was he?

Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to remember. Tried to understand. As if someone had drilled a hole in his brain and let all his memories pour out, he could not remember where he was.

A light tap on the door. “Hanson, honey, are you all right?”

Honey?

The hinges squeaked as the door inched open. “Can I get you something?”

He blinked. A woman, older but not old, concern etched on her face. But who? And then, like a light bulb in the dark, he remembered. Mrs. Sweet. Alice. He was at his sergeant’s ranch. Relief washed over him. The nightmare was just that, a senseless dream. “Sorry, yes. I’m fine, and, no. I don’t need anything.”

“You may not need anything, but how about a mug of warm honey milk? That will help you sleep.”

Sleep. At this moment the last thing he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep—or dream. Then again, the worry in the woman’s eyes made him reconsider. “That sounds…nice.”

Her frown flipped to a smile. “Good. I’ll have that ready for you in just a few minutes.” Mrs. Sweet turned on her heel.

Hanson glanced at the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. Three in the morning. Had he woken the poor woman out of a deep sleep? Damn. Shaking his head, he pushed to his feet, at least standing was now stable. One thing they’d managed to re-teach him at the hospital. It had taken months, but now, finally, he could at least stand steady on his feet, move one foot in front of the other. His legs were no longer heavy like tree stumps and did what his mind told them to do. One thing in his upside down life that was normal. If only his mind could do the same.

Under any other circumstance, this room would be a nice place for a vacation. Simple décor, not too girly, not too manly, mostly—welcoming. The attached bath made it easy for him to wash his face, brush his hair and teeth, and put on dry clothes. Staring at himself in the mirror, he looked more presentable. At least enough not to scare small children. Taking another second, he let his mind run through what little he remembered. The Sweet ranch. Ms. Alice. His sergeant, Kade, had already returned to base. Kade’s wife, whose name escaped him, lived here with his brother. Cooper? No. Carter. That seemed right, yet wrong. Carson! That was it. His brother Carson and his family.

For now, he’d done enough tug of war with his mind and his memory. Straightening to his full height, he sucked in a calming breath and moved toward the kitchen. At the doorway he paused, looking, studying, trying to paint a memory. A single light over the stove, the quiet sounds of Alice moving with purpose in the early dark, a massive table that had seen years of family meals. Set on the same table was a large steaming mug. Knowing he wouldn’t remember, he walked in and took a seat.

“When my Charlie couldn’t sleep, worrying about some problem or other, I’d make him warm honey milk. Honey has lots of healthy properties and warm milk, well…” She smiled and shrugged.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t.” She shook her head. “I always get up at this hour to start breakfast. Unlike chickens who rise and rest with the sun, a rancher’s work starts in the pitch of dark.”

“I didn’t know that.” He curled his hands around the mug before lifting it to his lips, the warmth more soothing than he’d expected. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

Her head bobbed as she tied an apron around her waist. Slowly, signs of a morning routine emerged. Clint, Alice’s husband, was first to the table. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hanson remembered that his sergeant’s father, Charlie, had died unexpectedly a few years ago. Clint was Alice’s new husband. At least Hanson thought that was right. Maybe. Kade’s brother Carson, who was apparently going to work the ranch this morning instead of his normal day job, followed shortly after. The conversation was minimal, but smiles were abundant. Happiness draped every corner of the room with a goodly dose of love and family.

It had been explained to him more than once, that for him to make any kind of additional progress recovering from his traumatic brain injury, he needed to be in a relaxed stress-free environment. An environment that matched the Sweet family ranch. Too bad the only thing all this normalcy succeeded at was reminding him how his new world was anything but normal.

“You did great, Emma.” Katherine Sutton gathered the papers on her desk.