Chapter Two
JJ climbed out of the passenger seat of Grady’s double cab truck and took a long look around. This wasn’t what he’d expected, but then to be honest, he hadn’t known quite what to expect.
This part of Texas, according to Grady, was prime cattle country and also good for farming. Sanctuary was, at one time, a family farm owned by Mason James’ family. Mason was a spy. Well, to be correct, a retired spy. Once he retired, he wanted to do something to help military people so he and Grady, with the help of Mason’s wife who was apparently quite wealthy, fixed up the homestead, added on, and hired a staff to start a treatment center and halfway home of sorts.
JJ wasn’t quite sure he was a good fit for such a place. He didn’t cotton to the idea of talking about what happened to him with a stranger and sure as heck didn’t want to discuss how it made him feel.
Hell, he hadn’t had a handle on how he felt since the day he’d escaped hell. He didn’t know whether to shoot himself or someone else half the time and didn’t know how to find balance.
The only thing he knew for sure is that he wasn’t going to be allowed to return to active duty until this Dr. Whitestone cleared him. He needed that to happen. Fast. If he didn’t get back into the action, he was likely to fly apart.
“Guess it’s a far cry from where you grew up in Kentucky,” Grady said as he walked around the truck to where Jasper stood.
“That it is, sir.”
“Drop the sir, JJ. We’re off duty here.”
“Are we?” JJ turned his head to look at Grady. Correction, to look up. Grady was one big man. One of the biggest SEALs Jasper had ever met. Contrary to what civilians imagined, size wasn’t a factor in becoming a SEAL, nor was it the biggest benefit. Still, it would take either someone with a death wish or just dumb as a rock to square off at Grady Judd.
Despite that, Grady was a man who generated a sense of security. Just being around him gave you the sense that everything was going to work out. He was a man who inspired trust and respect and JJ was proud to know him.
“We are,” Grady assured him. “I’m asking you to trust me on this, JJ. You want a shot at active duty, then you pass muster here. You feel me, bro?”
“I do. And I will.”
“Never had a doubt.” Grady clapped a hand on top of JJ’s shoulder. “Okay, buddy, you ready to get this show on the road?”
“As I’ll get.” JJ fetched his duffel from the back seat of the truck and accompanied Grady to the front door of the main house.
It opened before they reached the steps leading up onto the wide porch. “Hey Grady,” Mason James greeted Grady first and then looked at JJ. “Welcome, Jasper—sorry, you prefer JJ, right? Come on in.”
Half an hour later, JJ had seen the entire spread and been introduced to more people than he could remember their names. Everyone but the doctor. “Where’s Dr. Whitestone?” Mason asked the big male nurse, Dillon Barnes.
“She said to send JJ to the animal rehab compound when you’re ready to cut him loose.”
“You remember where the compound is?” Mason asked JJ.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then head on over.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That wasn’t an order,” Mason said in a kind tone.
“Yeah, actually it was. I have to pass class here if I want to get back to my unit so what you say is an order.”
“But—”
JJ could tell Mason was uncomfortable with that. “Don’t let it concern you, Mr. James. I’ve been taking orders since the day I enlisted.”
“Still, it’s not an order, but I hear what you’re saying and you’re right. You do have to pass class. I and the rest of the staff are here to help you get there, so for the time you’re here, how about you consider us part of your unit?”
“And where does the doctor fit in?”
“The leader of this unit. The one who gives the grades.”
“Then I’ll head over and see the doc. Grady? Be seeing you.”
“Indeed, you will.” Grady took JJ’s hand for a firm shake.
JJ nodded and headed in the direction of the compound they called the animal rehab. It was basically a big barn with fencing all around it and individual pens under the shelter of overhangs on two sides.
He knocked on the door, but no one answered so he walked around to the side, found a gate, and let himself into the fence that formed an outer perimeter. The pens along the side of the barn held a fawn, a wild pig, two coyotes, and on the end, a young bobcat.
Just as JJ was about to turn the corner, something small and fast blasted around the corner of the building, made a funny chatter when it almost collided with him, and then rocketed away. He turned his head to follow its trail.
An armadillo. That thought had no more than registered in his mind when someone collided into him and sent them both stumbling to stay on their feet.
“Shit! Sorry.” The woman grabbed JJ’s arm for support, righted herself, and then took off in pursuit of the armadillo. “Arny, you little shit, get back here!”
JJ didn’t quite know what to make of it. The woman was moving at a full-on run after the armadillo and it was making tracks. All of a sudden, the woman launched herself into the air and dove at the critter.
The expulsion of air on her impact was audible even to JJ. So was the curse that spilled from her lips when her hands slipped off the armadillo and it scampered away. That didn’t stop the woman. She scrambled to her feet, picked up the pace, and caught up with the armadillo enough that she could run crouched over and hands out.
It took four tries and three more falls before she successfully had the armadillo in hand. “Ah ha! Gotcha, you little varmint.”
With that, she turned and started back to the barn. She stopped when she reached JJ. “Can I help you?”
He took a step back. There was one nasty smell coming from the armadillo. “Did that thing get skunked?”
“No, that’s pretty much his natural smell.”
“Oh. Well, I’m looking for Dr. Whitestone.”
“You found her. Jasper Jacks?”
JJ was more than a little surprised. He hadn’t expected to be assigned a female doctor. Not that he had anything against women. God knows, he loved women, but he wasn’t keen on the idea of telling one his deep dark secrets.
How old was she anyway? With her white hair in a ponytail, her head covered by a baseball cap, wearing sunglasses and a bandana over her face, it was impossible to determine her age.
Likewise with her shape. She wore baggy cargo pants, an equally baggy long-sleeved shirt, work gloves, and boots.
“JJ.” He gave up on trying to guess.
“I’d offer a hand, but you wouldn’t want it. Come on, let me get this stinker back in his pen and wash up and we’ll get you started.”
“You rehab armadillos?” He followed her to an empty pen.
“Would you mind?” She used her head to gesture at the door.
JJ opened it for her and she put the armadillo inside, sticking out her foot to block it as it tried to make a run for it. JJ closed the door and followed her when she turned away.
“No, we don’t rehab armadillos as a rule, but someone had run over it and almost severed its tail, so I fixed it. It’s about ready to go back into the wild and in the meantime, has done wonders on knocking down the bug population around here. I let it out into the main compound at night and it has a bug-eating orgy.”
JJ looked around as she opened the back door. The wire mesh fence would keep the thing inside well enough. “Don’t they dig?”
“They do, but why dig your way out when you have a smorgasbord where you are? I’ll cut him loose next week. He’s making people uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
She led him into what looked like an exam room and headed for the sink where she pulled off her gloves and started applying liquid soap to her hands. “Some of them carry Hansen’s disease. Leprosy.”
“Yeah, doesn’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy toward them.”
“I suppose not.” Dr. Whitestone rinsed and dried her hands and then turned from the sink. She slid her glasses off and they fell to her chest, supported by a band attached to each earpiece.
She stuck out her right hand. “Mr. Jacks, before we go any further, I’d like to thank you for your service to our country.”
JJ was shocked on several levels. First, that she’d spoken the words, second that despite her white hair, she wasn’t old at all and third, she was stunning. Not in the normal way, however.
Her brows and eyelashes were as black as coal, her eyes were a greenish blue, so light they were like gems, and her skin was more Japanese or Chinese than Caucasian. It all combined into a singularly exotic beauty that was completely devoid of artifice.
“It’s my honor to serve.” JJ finally found his tongue and took her hand.
Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman.
“And you’re eager to get back to that service.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, then find the ranch foreman, or ask Mason to introduce you. I’d like you to work on the ranch. We’ll meet twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday mornings at 9:00 a.m.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. See you tomorrow at nine, Mr. Jacks.”
“Yes, ma’am.” JJ turned and left. By the time he reached the main house, he wondered if this had been a good decision after all. She might be a knockout but Dr. Whitestone didn’t seem very interested in helping. Sounded to him like she was going to be like all the other shrinks he’d heard about. Spend a few hours a week talking and getting nothing accomplished.
He found Mason in his office. “Hey, you have a minute?”
“Sure, JJ, what can I do for you?”
“The doc said I should find the ranch foreman or get you to introduce us. She wants me to work on the ranch.”
Mason looked a bit surprised, but didn’t voice anything to that effect. “Okay, well, let’s head on down. I don’t do much on the ranching side. That’s more Grady’s forte, but I do know the people who work here.”
They left the main house and crossed the yard, headed for the ranch, which was a quarter of a mile down the road. “Have you ever worked on a ranch?” Mason asked.
“Not exactly. I grew up on a farm. We had cows, sheep, a few hogs and chickens, but nothing on a big scale.”
“Well, I guess you know a lot more than I do.”
“I know enough to get by. This is a real nice place, Mr. James.”
“Mason, please.”
“Okay, Mason. It’s a good thing you’re doing here. I get why Grady wanted to do it, but a spy? Don’t get me wrong, bro. I appreciate what you do. It’s no less dangerous than any man in the service, but you’re gearing this for people like me. Do people in your line not need rehab?”
“Maybe. But most spies who are captured don’t return home. To be honest, there aren’t many people in the world who’ve survived the kind of thing you did.”
JJ felt that familiar tightening in his chest and was relieved when Mason added. “Look, I’m not asking you to talk about it, just making a statement of fact. You not only survived, but escaped and got the intel back to your unit that led to the annihilation of a very dangerous terrorist cell. This country owes you. Hell, I owe you. Because of you, those fuckers can’t threaten my family. And that? That’s worth every dime we have in this place.”
“I appreciate that, Mason. You’re a good man. Even if you were a spook.”
Mason laughed, which made JJ feel more comfortable. “Oh, there’s Deacon.” Mason threw up his arm in a wave.
The tall, solidly built man with gray hair and a Van Dyke beard raised his hand to his hat, then peeled off his gloves and walked away from the flatbed truck loaded with bales of hay. “Mr. James.”
“It’s Mason.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Deacon, this is Jasper Jacks—JJ. He’s going to be staying with us for a while and Dr. Whitestone asked if you’d put him to work. JJ, meet Deacon Johns.”
“I already know Commander Johns, sir,” JJ responded to Mason and then addressed Deacon. “We met during that joint operation in Syria. It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir.”
Deacon nodded. “I remember. Good to see you. You know your way around a ranch, son?”
“I grew up on a farm, sir.”
“Close enough. Let’s get you some gloves. You might want to reconsider that footwear. Sneakers aren’t gonna cut it.”
“I have boots. Military, not cowboy.”
“Best kind. See that you wear them tomorrow. We have breakfast at the bunkhouse at five and start work at six.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s get at it.” Deacon clapped JJ on the shoulder and looked at Mason. “Anything else, boss?”
“No, thanks, Deacon.”
“Yes, sir.” Deacon put his hand to his hat again and it dawned on JJ that his motion was very similar to that of a salute. That roused his curiosity. What was Deacon’s story?
*****
When Mason left JJ, he went in search of Etta and found her at the animal rehab center, removing stitches from a sedated coyote’s leg. “How’s it doing?” he asked.
“Ready to be returned to the wild.”
“Nothing like being cut loose to go home.”
“Amen to that.” She finally looked up at him. “Something you need, sir?”
“Stop with the sir. It’s Mason.”
“Sorry. Old habits. I’m working on it, Mason. What can I do for you?”
“Why did you want JJ assigned to ranch work?”
She paused and pinned him with a hard look, which, with the light color of her eyes, was a bit disconcerting. “Let me ask you something, Mason. Are you going to question every decision I make?”
“No, not at all. I meant no offense and am aware of your qualifications. I just wanted to understand. Look, I’m learning here, Doc, so help me out. Why the ranch? What will that accomplish?”
“Okay, but please, no more Doc. My name is Etta. And the reason I asked for him to be assigned to the ranch is twofold. First, Jasper Jacks is a SEAL and as a member of an elite military team is accustomed to a high level of physical training and fitness. From the limited information we were provided, it seems that he suffered a number of physical injuries that have primarily healed, but during convalescence, he obviously suffered a loss in strength, agility, and endurance in general physical conditioning.
“Therefore, it stands to reason that one of the primary components in his rehabilitation is to strengthen his body as well as his mind. Ranch work will help with that. Additionally, it will put him outside where he won’t feel closed in—imprisoned.”
“That makes sense. What’s the second reason?”
“Deacon. If there’s one thing Jasper Jacks will respond positively to, it’s command, and we both know that command is in Deacon’s DNA. He’s a natural leader and he sees things we can’t because he’s been in the shoes of men like JJ. He knows war and death up close and personal and he knows what it does to you in here.” She tapped the side of her head.
“In some ways, Deacon’s as much of the therapist as I am. He’ll be the light in the dark and the rock of stability that JJ will need. Calm and quiet and ready to take command if needed. And JJ may need that. He’s not like you, Mason. You were a spy and that’s a whole other universe. JJ’s a soldier. His life is one of command. Of taking orders and accomplishing directives. There may come a time when Deacon is all that stands between him and madness and I need him to start trusting Deacon as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you for explaining. It makes sense.”
“I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I just want Jasper to have the premier chance possible at a full recovery and this is the best plan I could come up with.”
“Well, you obviously gave it a lot of thought.”
“I have to. A man’s life is at stake.”
“Yes, it is and I’m grateful you took this job, Etta. We and JJ are lucky to have you here.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint. I promise I’ll give it all I have, Mason. Healing Jasper Jacks is the most important thing in my life—the only thing, and I’m one hundred percent committed to it.”
“As am I, so if you need anything from me, you know where I am.”
“Thanks, I do. And right now, I could use an extra set of hands getting this boy onto the UTV out back so I can take him home.”
“Be glad to. In fact, if you don’t mind, I’d love to ride along.”
“I’d welcome the company.”
Mason smiled and followed her instructions to get the coyote loaded into a pen that was secured on the back of the UTV. They rode along in silence and he smiled to himself. Etta Whitestone was one unusual woman. Not just her professional history, but as a person. She wasn’t given to small talk, was not a woman who appeared to care anything about artifice. She never wore makeup and kept her hair braided and most of the time had a ball cap on her head. Nor did she seem to have a need for company. Deacon Johns was the only person she ever spent time with.
Savannah and Charli had both invited her to lunch or dinner and she’d declined each time, saying once she was all settled she’d take them up on it.
He didn’t know if that was just a polite way of getting out of socializing or Etta’s professional career made it difficult for her to fit into civilian life. Or, was Savannah’s suspicion right and Etta had demons of her own to battle? From what he knew, that might be the case, but he’d never voice that out loud. Her personnel file was considered classified and he’d keep it that way.
And maybe he was way off base, but whatever the case, he wasn’t going to push it. If she wanted to make friends she would, and if not, she’d be given her space.
What mattered the most to him was Sanctuary becoming a premier center for healing and Etta Whitestone was crucial to that success.