Always On His Mind Read online

  Always On His Mind

  The Brides of Purple Heart Ranch Book 7

  Shanae Johnson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by Shanae Johnson

  Copyright © 2019, Ines Johnson. All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the author.

  * * *

  Edited by Alyssa Breck

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  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2019

  Chapter One

  He was dreaming, of that he was sure. But it was one of those dreams where he felt every sensation. The heat of the fire licked up his back as though his spine was a trail of gasoline. Sharp pebbles and debris bit at the fleshy underside of his palms and nipped at the cleft of his chin. The ear-piercing screams of women beat at his eardrum like the percussive section of a marching band in a small auditorium.

  Then came the blood. Metallic and musty. Tinged with a burning, chemical smell. The stench gripped his gut, forcing his stomach to surrender its goods.

  He felt, heard, tasted, and smelled all of it. But he saw nothing. All around him was a thick, suffocating blackness.

  He was trapped in the darkness of his mind. Though he knew he was dreaming, he could not wake up. He could not move a limb, not even his pinky finger. Everything was bound, strapped down, and held tight. There was no escape.

  His senses released their hold when voices rose around him in the darkness. He knew the urgent murmurs were not a part of the dream. The voices came from the real world.

  The words were spoken in a foreign tongue. Harsh consonants, few vowel sounds. But he understood the meanings.

  "We have to move him."

  "It's too dangerous."

  The voices were feminine, but there was steel in their tone. Whoever these women were, he knew they were very brave, strong, and capable. That knowledge would’ve made another man relax. Not him. He felt honor bound to rise to their aide.

  The urge to reach out to them was a powerful one. He felt it was his responsibility to help them complete their mission. He got the sense that that was what he did. He completed missions, got things done.

  Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything at the moment. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were open? He was still bound in darkness. On the bright side, life was slowly returning to his limbs and extremities.

  His right pinky separated from the rest of his fingers and wiggled. His head turned a fraction to the left. He took in a deep breath, feeling his chest rise high as his lungs expanded to their full capacity. And then it appeared.

  A tiny light. Smaller than a pinprick. It grew to the size of a pencil tip. Then to the size of the surface of a spoon. Until, finally, it filled his eyes.

  His eyes were definitely open now. He was awake, let loose from the dream world and his shadowy captivity. But there wasn't much to see.

  The room he was in was dark. Just not the all-encompassing dark of the dream world. There were gradations of black from ebony to charcoal to slate gray.

  His eyes were adjusting quickly now, and he began to pick apart his surroundings. There were more than two bodies standing over him. He couldn't make them out. Their heads and faces were covered in black cloth. Only their eyes were visible. But he knew they all were women.

  "You are awake,” one of them said. The language she spoke switched. It was more familiar, easier on the ears to hear. Easier on his brain to understand.

  "We will have to move him now. It is not safe if he stays."

  "It is not safe if we move him."

  "We will not have a choice much longer. They will come for him. We cannot continue to shelter him.”

  "But he saved our lives. We owe him."

  The silence was tense. He could see the worry in the posture of one woman, the one insistent on sending him away from ... wherever he was. He saw defiance in the one who spoke up.

  He opened his mouth, but only a garbled sound came out. His throat was on fire. Like a blaze burning in the dry desert.

  "We need to send him back to his own people."

  "We have already sent word. No one has come. We cannot wait any longer."

  His people? He had people? He tried to picture who he belonged to, but his mind came up blank. Just a black slate. Not absolute darkness like the dream. Not as many gradations as this darkened room.

  He tried to sit up, but a pain in his shoulder prevented it. Now that he thought of it, there was pain everywhere. He let out a strangled cry. The sound was short-lived as it burned a path through his throat and over his tongue.

  All three women went tense. Their gazes went to the far side of the room where a tiny sliver of light escaped. That was the way out. Or the way in.

  He shrank from that light. But a shard found him, landing on his bottom lip. His lips trembled under the weight of the ray.

  Inside his mind, he felt the dream world pushing at the real world. He knew he could not let that happen. He could not let the sharp heat or the blood-curdling screams enter this world.

  But the ray of light was unrelenting. It moved up his face, touching his upper lip, then his nose. He knew that if it got to his eyes, he would be in trouble. The eyes were the windows into the soul after all.

  The women moved in front of him, blocking out the light. He breathed a sigh of relief at the narrow escape. But the reprieve was short-lived. Movement sounded from the crack where the light intruded.

  The other two women stepped in front of him as well. The sight of the protective barrier in front of him kicked him into action. It should be him standing in front of them. But he couldn’t rise. The pain in his limbs prevented it.

  Even though he was still lying down, he wanted to shout at the women to get behind him. He wanted to rise from the bed to protect them. This was all wrong. He might not know much, but he knew that was his duty; to protect.

  Before he could get any words out, the sliver of light grew. It invaded the room, spreading across the floor and taking up stations in the corners. And then they were inside.

  Large men carrying guns burst into the room. He wasn’t sure how many. They filled the entire space.

  The women gasped. But just as soon as they gasped, relief seemed to rush through the room. One woman put her hand to her chest and began chanting in that harsh language. Another sank to her knees and bowed, beginning a prayer of gratitude. The third, the one who had fiercely tried to protect him, stepped forward.

  One of the gun-toting men peered around her. He had dark hair and dark eyes. He was covered in tan clothing that looked familiar. The way the man looked him over, with relief, and gratitude and guilt, tugged at a memory in the darkness of his mind.

  "Thank God, we found you, Private Cartwright."

  Chapter Two

  "But I thought the highest worship of the Lord was love. Wouldn't that mean that if we got married, it would only prove our devotion to God?”

 
It was a good argument, thought Beth Barrett as she gazed at the young woman with a high ponytail and flowery, plastic barrettes in her hair. Too bad the voice making it was high-pitched with a nasally whine.

  Beth sat in the Youth Pastor's office. She didn't sit behind the desk. She sat just off to the side, next to the youth pastor as he attempted to counsel the young couple before them. Beth wore a placid smile on her face as the two teens put forth their argument that they be allowed to marry without their parents' consent.

  “We love each other, and we want to be together,” the young girl said.

  Her whine raised an octave on the last word. Beth winced at the dog whistle note. Luckily, she was able to cover her discomfort with a sigh she hoped would be translated as sympathetic.

  Pastor Walter Vance smiled over at her. Though Beth wasn’t sure if it was at her sigh? Or if he was appreciative of her faked compassion?

  She assumed the latter when Walter steepled his fingers and nodded at the young man and woman. Nathaniel Green, the hopeful fiancé, sat upright, holding Nathalie Brown’s hand.

  Yes, that was their names. Nat Brown and Nat Green. The similarities in their names had pushed them together all their lives. With their last names being close in the alphabet they were often seated next to or near each other in the public schools of their small town. Nat and Nat started dating just before high school and had never stopped. A romantic person might call it fate. Their parents called it too soon.

  "You know my hands are tied until you’re both eighteen," said Walter.

  “He is eighteen,” Nathalie insisted.

  “Yes, but you’re not,” Walter said patiently.

  “I’m seventeen and three months old.”

  “Plenty of time to start planning a wedding,” Beth added helpfully.

  In response, Nathalie cut her with a death glare. Beth sat back in her seat and resumed her silence. She dropped the forced smile. She rarely had to force her smiles in church. Only when, as part of her duties as the pastor’s daughter, she had to sit and listen to those who cared more about their way than what was right.

  Luckily, Walter was there to pick up the gauntlet. “Even when you reach the age of majority, don't you want your parents’ blessing?"

  "They're never going to give it to us,” said Nathaniel. “My mom wants me to go to college, get a degree, explore the world and other people.”

  “I love it here,” Nathalie was saying. “I’ve never wanted to live anywhere but here. I've never wanted to be anything but a wife and a mom. Is that so bad?"

  Natalie looked to Beth for an answer. Beth wished she disagreed with the young girl. But they had the exact same aspirations.

  Beth had her Associate’s degree, which she’d earned from courses at the local college. Unlike many of her former schoolmates, she had no desire to explore the world outside of their town. More than anything in the world, she wanted to be a wife and a mom.

  Walter gazed down at her, as though he knew the trajectory of her thoughts. He covered her left hand with his, resting his thumb on the rock he’d put there not long ago.

  “I’m a traditional woman like you, Nathalie,” Beth said.

  “Thank you,” Nathalie exclaimed as though Beth had entirely cosigned her argument.

  “But,” Beth continued. “I couldn’t imagine walking down the aisle without my father at my side. Can you?”

  Nathalie pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose like the child she still was. “But don't you believe in love? Don't you know when it's true and the only thing you want?"

  Beth did know all about that. She'd been in love since before she understood what the word meant. She'd felt the feelings the first time she'd laid eyes on the man of her dreams. She’d loved nothing more than gazing into his blue eyes.

  Walter’s smiling brown gaze settled on her, shining with admiration. Beth cleared her throat, but words failed her.

  "I mean, didn't you know that when you said yes to marrying Pastor Vance?"

  Now all eyes were on her. Vocal Natalie, silent Nathaniel, patient Walter.

  Beth was not a liar. What she was was a coward. She’d never told Reece Cartwright how she felt about him all the years of their lives. No, she’d wimped out and written him a letter confessing her feelings. He’d never responded. And then he’d gone missing.

  Just thinking about him now Beth felt a burning in her heart for what it would never have. Her inner lip burned from biting down. All eyes remained on her, waiting for her response. In times like these, she did what she always did, she turned to the Lord.

  "I'm reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:13 where it says that faith, hope, and love abide, but of those three, love is the greatest.”

  Nathalie’s face lit up once again, likely assuming that Beth was championing her cause.

  “However,” Beth continued, “just because love is the greatest thing in the world, it doesn't mean you can ignore faith and hope. It’s hard for faith to take root when you’ve planted doubts in someone’s mind and heart. Ask yourself if you’ve done that with your parents.”

  Nathaniel looked far off. Beth knew she’d reached him as he nodded while pursing his lips.

  Nathalie sighed and rolled her eyes. But she didn’t argue Beth’s point. It looked like Beth had gotten through to both of them.

  “I think you should take some time to show your parents the truth of your commitment. Let their faith in you be restored. Give it some time to grow and hope that they will come around to see the path you both wish to take. But, no, I don’t believe you can force it."

  The two would-be newlyweds looked at each other. Nathaniel lifted a brow. Nathalie lowered her lashes and gave him a barely perceptible head nod.

  Beth smiled, a real smile this time. These two were in sync. They knew each other. They would make it. They left the office hand in hand, walking at a more subdued pace toward their future.

  "Have I told you how much I am looking forward to not only marrying you but sharing my duties with you?"

  Walter brought her knuckles to his lips for a light kiss. When he gazed up at her, there was a brightness in his brown eyes, turning them more hazel than coffee. It was the bright look of love that shone from his eyes.

  Beth knew the look because she'd seen it reflected back at her many a time when she’d looked into Reece Cartwright’s clear blue eyes. She’d been only seeing her reflection. Reece had never looked at her that way. And he never would.

  For weeks, she'd mourned the loss of her first love when he’d been declared missing in action by the military. Only to find out last month that Reece might be alive. Though that had brought her relief, she was still out of sorts.

  She'd written Reece a letter three months ago; a letter confessing her love for him. He hadn't written back. He'd always written her faithfully be it over email or a handwritten note. But he'd gone silent after that revealing missive.

  He might have never received it. Military mail could be delayed, especially when soldiers were deployed. Whether he’d received it or not, she hoped more than anything that he was still alive and would soon be found.

  But for now, Beth had chosen to move on. She’d waited her whole life for Reece Cartwright to love her, and it was clear he did not.

  She turned back to Walter, who was still waiting for her response to his compliment. Beth reached out and grasped the hand of the man who reached for her. It felt good to be wanted. It felt warm. It didn't burn like rejection, or worse, silence.

  “I’m looking forward to our life together too,” she said.

  Chapter Three

  He found a Polaroid. Four people smiled back at him. All four looked alike. Two older, two younger. A family.

  The redheaded woman smiling back at him was only familiar because of her hair. There was a rosy blush to her high cheeks. Her smile was big; nearly as big as her face. Her green eyes were big and bright. She had the type of friendly face that made others feel it was safe to tell her their secrets.

  She stayed
frozen in that smile, as though someone had told her a joke. The punchline was captured forever in the celluloid. A happy moment frozen in time.

  She wasn’t alone in that moment. Next to the grinning redhead stood a gray-haired man. His eyes were big, but bushy brows took up most of the real estate. His pupils were small and beady, like a wise, old owl. But they were the clearest blue. The man had long limbs that rivaled the wingspan of an owl. He stood with one arm around the woman and the other around two other people in the frame.

  The two younger people were carbon copies. A girl and a boy. They both had flaming red hair like the woman and bright blue eyes like the man. Siblings. Twins.

  The boy possessed the face he’d seen reflected back in the mirror that morning. Reece was the man’s name. Reece was his name. Private Reece Cartwright of the United States Army.

  "How are you holding up?"

  Reece looked up from the polaroid of his family. Cpl. Brandon Lucas looked down at him with concern. Everyone Reece had encountered the past two weeks that he’d been awake looked at him with concern.

  He’d only seen the eyes of the women who had taken care of him in the cave. In just that sliver of a glimpse, and in the short amount of time he’d been conscious, he’d discerned a mountain of worry in their features. The endless stream of men and women in tan, brown, and green uniforms that had poked, prodded, and questioned him for days on end all wore pinched expressions when they regarded him.

  Corporal Lucas had always been nearby. His worry had taken time to develop. The first thing Reece had gotten from the man was an overwhelming sense of relief. But now, two weeks later, his brow was perpetually wrinkled each time he looked Reece over.