His Strength to Stand

Chapter One A cool breeze blew into the window. The tendrils of fresh valley air brushed through the room, ruffling the pages of a calendar that hung on the wall. When the pages settled down, the fourth day on the calendar was circled with a big, red O. May the Fourth. The fourth—or rather, the force—certainly was with Paul Hanson today, his favorite day of the year. Paul loved everything Star Wars, including the franchise’s true hero—his namesake Han Solo. It wasn’t Luke who got the girl in the end. It was Han who scored the beautiful and highly capable Leia. Luke had been born a hero. Meanwhile, Han’s character arced from outlaw to rebel alliance. So really, who took an actual hero’s journey? Outside the window, Paul saw his best friend Luke Jackson—and no, the irony wasn’t lost on either of them that they had become best friends in spite of their names. Luke had his wife wrapped up in a tight embrace and was going in for the kiss. Paul played voyeur for perhaps a second longer than was proper. Finding a love of his own was next on his agenda, now that he had his health in order. He’d had faith that his body would heal, and it had. The same faith told him that love was just around the corner for him. Turning back to the calendar, Paul noted that the circle he’d drawn wasn’t a perfect O. The ending point didn’t touch the starting point. It more so overlapped it. Also, the bottom half of the O was heavier than the top, as though the ink had gotten tired halfway into its journey. Still, the shape did its duty. It marked the important date. His final day here at the Purple Heart Ranch. The rehabilitation ranch for wounded soldiers had been a haven for Paul. He’d come to the ranch with reluctance. But one look at the wide-open spaces, and Paul had felt like he’d come home. True, Montana was as far away from home as he could get. He was a Florida boy, born and bred. Being landlocked in the middle of the country without the ocean in sight should’ve made him feel claustrophobic. Instead, it had the opposite effect on him. He’d felt free. The horseback riding had been his favorite. When he sat atop a horse, not a single pain from his battle injuries bothered him. He and the horse became one, and Paul could fly again. He’d fallen so in love with the horses that he’d signed on to be a ranch hand at the Vance Ranch next door. Which meant this move would be over and done with in an hour, and he could get on with the rest of his life tending to the small stable of horses at the cattle ranch. It was the perfect job for him. He could be out of doors. He could work with horses. And he could be independent. Bonus, there was even a creek that bordered the property. So, if he pretended really hard, he could almost, kinda, sorta imagine he was back home on the Florida coast. The horses next door needed him. Most of the people on that ranch were focused on the cattle, which was how the ranch made its money. But Paul would be there solely for the horses. It was going to feel good to be needed. To be a leader again. Paul bent down to pick up a moving box. He hadn’t come here with much, so it was only filled with a few game boards. Board games were his second favorite pastime. “Hey! Drop it.” With a sigh, Paul straightened and held up his hands. He turned with his hands up and his mouth turned down. Luke stood in the doorway like a hovering mother. “It’s only three months after your surgery,” Luke henpecked. “You’re not supposed to lift heavy objects.” “I’ve been cleared for weeks,” Paul said, trying to rein in his patience. He knew his best friend meant well, but the man could nag worse than his mother. “It’s a ten-pound box.” “This is at least twenty-five pounds,” Luke said, easily hefting the box filled with cardboard and plastic game pieces. “The other guys are coming to get the rest.” Paul opened his mouth to argue, but the room filled with other soldiers from the ranch. It was too many against one, so he clammed up. At least on Vance Ranch, he wouldn’t be treated with kid gloves. They only knew the basics of his injury and had only known him since his recovery. “You sure you don’t want to stay?” asked Dylan Banks, the founder of the Purple Heart ranch and one of its permanent residents. “I can’t pay the price tag,” said Paul. The other guys laughed. Any veteran's stay at the rehabilitation ranch was free. At least for the first three months. After that, the price tag to stay at the ranch wasn’t monetary. It was matrimonial. Paul liked the ladies. And they liked him back. But he had yet to meet his Leia. Dating hadn’t been at the top of his daily to-do lists. Not with the chronic pain from his injuries. Paul had had every intention of powering through the daily pain until the day he literally could take it no more. That day three months ago, the pain had hit him so hard that he’d passed out cold. When he’d woken up, the doctors and his best friend insisted the damage wasn’t something a horse ride or prayer could fix. Surgery was his only option. Three months post-op and the pain had lessened. But in truth, it was still there most days. It was manageable if he popped a couple of aspirin in the morning. And sometimes again in the late afternoon. At night, he often cheated on NyQuil with a steaming mug of chamomile tea, but Paul suspected they knew about each other and talked while he slept peacefully. Well, mostly peacefully. Except when he woke up in the middle of the night with twinges of pain. “You could always come and stay with me and Elaine,” said Luke. “Nah, I’m good.” Paul had said those words after Luke had rescued him from an explosion. He’d said them a few times after that life-altering incident. Each time he’d uttered the words, they’d been a lie. Luke had already packed and moved out a week ago, when he’d married Elaine Reynolds, the town librarian, after only two months of dating. The couple had offered Paul a place in their brownstone in town. Paul had declined. It was a step shy of moving back in with his parents. “I don’t know if you realized this or not, but I am a grown man,” Paul said. “I don’t need you to babysit me, buddy.” Luke had probably saved Paul’s life back in the military. Right before the explosion detonated, Luke had thrown his body over Paul’s. The problem was, there had been a metal pipe on the ground that had made contact with Paul’s low back. That’s when the pain had started. It’s also when Luke morphed into a helicopter mom, hovering over Paul like he was taking the SATs. His friends had his cabin on the ranch cleared out in twenty minutes. That’s how long it took to pack up his life. Paul took a step to the door. His hands were empty, but there was a sensation growing in his low back. The twinge was a familiar sensation. He knew that the pain would pass if he gave it a moment. It always did. Except this time, it didn’t. With all the contents of his medicine cabinet packed into one of the boxes, Paul realized he wouldn’t be able to get to a couple of aspirin in time to tame the pain. As though it knew it wouldn’t meet any resistance, the ache grew into agony. The agony burst into a burn. And then it all went away. Surprised at the quick surrender, Paul tried to take a second step forward. But it felt as though his legs had gone out under him. They hadn’t. But all the feeling had. The next thing Paul knew, he was crashing to the ground. He heard shouts coming toward him. Luke’s voice boomed over him the same way it had when the bomb went off back in the war zone. And then everything went black.