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the barn for medical attention, rather than letting them graze on the sweeter, green grass of the pasture. Noah admired what his brother was doing, establishing a Rescue Ranch. If he hadn’t supported the idea, he might have resisted selling his share to Andrew last year.
    But he’d thought he’d be a career soldier. He’d never anticipated being back in Larch Valley again. Certainly not as ranch hand to his younger brother. Oh, how the mighty have fallen , he thought bitterly. Not that he held it against Andrew; his brother had been great. But it was a temporary thing, only until he adjusted and got clearance to return to duty. For now it kept him busy and in shape, two things that would speed his recovery.
    He reached out and rubbed the nose of the mare, Pixie, one of the thinnest of Andrew’s latest rescues. There was definitelysomething satisfying in having the freedom to work away all day on the ranch, with the sun and the fresh air for company. It provided as much healing as the endless rounds of therapy and doctor’s appointments. He hated the poking and prodding, the endless talking about how he’d been injured, as if they expected him to fall apart at any moment. Treating him with kid gloves. He shoved another flake of hay into the corral. He’d made a mistake, that was all. As angry as he got sometimes, he thanked God every day that he’d been the one to suffer the consequences. It had been an error but it was his error, and his consequences.
    Yet, that wasn’t what people saw. Even with Andrew and Jen, everyone saw the injury first, rather than the man.
    His mind thought back to Lily and how she’d offered to cut his meat that first night. She certainly hadn’t given him the kid-glove treatment. He’d completely surprised himself in the backyard when he’d apologized and then explained about the moodiness. It was more than he’d revealed to anyone.
    He didn’t know what was in store for him, but he’d spent enough time deployed to know that he had to keep busy and that he’d die being behind a desk somewhere. And yet the army of today tried to keep its soldiers in service. So where did that leave him? He couldn’t deny his abilities were compromised due to his handicap.
    He shoved the last of the hay into the corral. Handicap, huh. He hated that word. Handicap, cripple, amputee. He’d heard them all and didn’t accept any of them. And yet he had no alternative word to describe himself, either.
    Most of all he hated needing help. As he reached the barn, he sighed, absently rubbing the ache in his right bicep, the only part of his limb that remained. Not long ago he’d been a commander of men. From there to needing his chicken cut in pieces. He lashed out and kicked a plastic tub sitting by the tack room door.
    “Rough day?” Lily’s sweet voice had him spinning around.
    “What are you doing here?”
    Lily looked pretty again, in a white sundress with some sort of stitching that made her waist look impossibly small. The slim straps on her shoulders set off her golden skin, and the wind ruffled the hem, drawing his attention to her bare legs and feet in intricate little sandals. Her toenails were painted a pastel pink.
    “You really do need to work on your welcoming skills.”
    “You surprised me. Again. You have a habit of doing that, you know.”
    “No reason to shoot the messenger.”
    He couldn’t help it; he laughed, looking her over with appraising eyes. She was a picture of femininity, and for a few seconds, he’d responded to her as a man would when faced with a beautiful woman. He’d flirted.
    Until he saw her eyes shift.
    “You wore a T-shirt today.”
    Her words were soft. Damn, she always spoke what was on her mind, didn’t she! And just when he’d been thinking nice thoughts about her practical streak. He refused to look down at the empty place at his side, instead keeping his gaze on hers. She would have seen the stub sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.
    “It gets