seen hundreds of injured soldiers. He’d made dozens and dozens of goodwill visits to hospitals; he’d attended many wheelchair-basketball games and races. He had nothing but respect and admiration for the men and women who turned their physical disabilities into productive lives.
But something about Rick Sudder’s injuries got to him. He didn’t even know Rick that well. It was probably all about the timing. Walt’s son was army now. Rick and Tom were only a year apart in age and had become friends. Sometimes when Walt thought about Rick coming home with one leg, he got confused in his mind and pictured Tom. He hated that. It cost him sleep. There was no logical reason for it. Tom was tucked away at West Point, working his butt off, studying day and night, not in a war zone.
He knew he was affected, that it showed on him. Vanni had asked him if he was all right and he admitted the truth—thinking about that strong and vital young man dealing with an injury like this was working on him, grieving him. Muriel had asked him what was wrong in one of their phone calls and he laid it out for her—Jack and Liz had gone to Germany to be there for Rick when he was waking up after surgery and he worried about all of them. “This war is a hellish business,” he had said. “And, Muriel, there’s always a war somewhere. That was my life’s work, staying on top of the wars. And Rick, he’s such a nice young man. So proud and dedicated. I hate to think of his suffering.”
She’d been so lovely in her response, consoling him, praising his sensitivity. But what he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He had no idea how long it would be until he could do that again.
They didn’t even talk every day. When he called her, he almost always got her voice mail; when she called him, it was usually very early or very late. Sometimes she called him while she was on the treadmill, killing two birds with one stone, and the huffing and puffing was too annoying for him to listen to.
He soldiered on. It was what he was trained to do. The bar in Virgin River was a little sparse and quiet these days, but he dropped by to see if there was any news from Jack. Sometimes he had dinner with Vanni, Paul and Abby at their house. And he tended Muriel’s horses twice a day, letting them into the corral after feeding them, mucking their stalls, brushing them down, checking their hooves.
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