Read A Hero to Come Home To for Free Online Page B

and, more, he didn’t care. “My younger brother’s in school at OSU. He comes home on weekends to help out, but I do most of the work.”
    “Is he the other D ?”
    No. That would be my twin brother, who abandoned the ranch and the family because he’s a self-centered, irresponsible sonova— Breaking off before he could insult his mother, he smiled tightly. “No.”
    This time he was the one who changed the subject quickly. “What do you do at the post?”
    Clark’s smile, if that was what it was, was strained. “Train. Prepare.”
    “Are you deploying?” There had been a time when Dalton’s knowledge of things military was limited to what he’d read in books and papers and seen in movies. Marrying a soldier had changed that. It’s like we’re both learning a new language , Sandra had joked. Ranch speak and Army speak.
    That was before she’d gotten orders to Afghanistan.
    “No,” Clark said. “I’ve done four tours in the desert. I can’t go back.”
    It was hard to tell if that can’t meant “I’m not allowed to” or “I won’t.” It seemed to Dalton that one combat tour per person was plenty. Sandra had already finished one round in Iraq before he met her. She’d been assigned to a hospital, more or less out of danger. It was like a baseball game, she’d told him: long hours, even days, of tedious routine interrupted by moments of pure excitement. She’d figured Afghanistan would be the same.
    Clark pushed away from the fence, moving carefully over the ditch to the driveway, then extended his hand. “Sorry for keeping you from your work or your time off or whatever.”
    “No problem.” Dalton shook hands with him, then watched as he walked to his truck. Just before he opened the door, Dalton offered an invitation that surprised even him. “If you decide you want to give riding another shot, come back by.”
    An odd expression flashed across the other man’s face, then he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Dalton watched him leave, then shifted to lean on the fence and stare at the horses. They were beautiful, and they didn’t expect much from him: access to food and water and care when they were sick. Same with the cattle in the other pasture. It was a good thing, because he didn’t have anything else to offer.
    Was life supposed to be this hard? It hadn’t been for his parents or his grandparents, though all of them had been through some tough times. It’d been too easy for Dillon and, please God, it would stay fairly easy for Noah.
    But, damn, he wouldn’t mind sharing the grief a little. He’d just about had his fill of it.
      
     
    Tuesdays were Carly’s favorite day of the week, and not just because it meant dinner at The Three Amigos with the rest of the gang. On Mondays, the kids were always a little restless, still longing for the weekend that had just ended, and on Fridays, they were anticipating the free days to come. Wednesdays and Thursdays were average, but Tuesdays were good days.
    Tuesdays were when they visited the soldiers at the Warrior Transition Unit. Her kids were young enough to accept the injuries they saw with curiosity and concern. They weren’t yet self-conscious about hero worship, and they didn’t censor themselves. They were blunt, forthright, and open, and most of the soldiers adored being adored.
    The school bus pulled into the parking lot at one thirty, and Carly, her classroom aide, and two mothers lined up the kids at the door, then walked them out. All the children were on their best behavior, understanding that acting out could cancel the trip and leave everyone, students and soldiers, disappointed.
    The mother who sat across from Carly was new to Tallgrass and Fort Murphy. This was her eight-year-old’s third school, and both she and Mom were taking it in stride. Mom asked about restaurants and kid-friendly activities, and Carly answered as if she hadn’t spent much of her time in Tallgrass at home alone, but the woman fell quiet