A Soldier's Pledge

She’s never lost a client, but this could be a first!

Cameron Johnson thought she’d found the perfect life as a guide and bush pilot in Canada’s Northwest Territories until one of her clients disappeared in the wilderness. Jack Parker had been searching for the dog that saved his life when he was deployed in Afghanistan—a dog his sister had helped bring stateside only to lose him along the Wolf River.

Jack’s traveling on a prosthetic leg, and after just one day, Cameron’s sure he’ll be ready to quit and climb into her canoe. Once she finds him. Well, she’s about to get a thorough lesson in stubbornness from a veteran who won’t give up...

“This smells like real cowboy coffee.”

“It’ll float a spoon,” he said.

“Just how I like it.” She took a sip. “Perfect.”

Her eyes were as dark as her hair, fringed with thick lashes. Her face was slender, cheekbones high, lips curved in a smile. In the dim confines of the tent, after that plunge in the icy river and the mighty struggle with the canoe, she should have looked like a scrawny wet rat, not a sexy fashion model.

“Why are you here?” he said, blunt and to the point.

She shook her head, took another swallow of coffee. “My boss dropped me off up at the lake so I could canoe downriver and deliver a message from your sister.” She ran the fingers of one hand through her wet, shoulder-length hair, sweeping it back from her face, and gazed at him frankly. “She’s very worried about you. I spoke with her on the phone yesterday. She told me what happened to your dog, and she feels bad about it.”

He made no comment. He had nothing to say to this girl about his dog or his sister.

His life was none of her business.

Dear Reader,

Like many fictional stories, A Soldier’s Pledge found its origins in real life. One segment of a documentary was being filmed at my workplace. The documentary was called Searching for Home: Coming Back from War, and one of the soldiers being filmed for the documentary had lost his leg while serving a tour of duty in Iraq.

I am deeply indebted to Sergeant Brandon Deaton for his personal insight into a wounded warrior’s difficult journey back from war. Any inaccuracies are my own. This story is about a fictional character, but is dedicated to all soldiers, past and present, who served and sacrificed to protect our nation, and to those who served and didn’t come home.

Nadia Nichols

A Soldier’s Pledge

Nadia Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NADIA NICHOLS went to the dogs at the age of twenty-nine and currently operates a kennel of twenty-eight Alaskan huskies. She has raced her sled dogs in northern New England and Canada, works at the family-owned Harraseeket Inn in Freeport, Maine, and is also a registered Maine Master Guide.

She began her writing career at the age of five, when she made her first sale, a short story called “The Bear,” to her mother for 25 cents. This story was such a blockbuster that her mother bought every other story she wrote, and kept her in ice-cream money throughout much of her childhood.

Now all her royalties go toward buying dog food. She lives on a remote solar-powered northern Maine homestead with her sled dogs, a Belgian draft horse named Dan, several cats, two goats and a flock of chickens. She can be reached at [email protected].

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SHE FIRST SAW him through the smoke of a forest fire. He was standing on the end of the dock where the smoke jumpers waited for the planes, backpack and rifle case resting at his feet, staring off across the river. Normally the ferry landing could be seen on the opposite shore, but with the wind out of the west, smoke roiled over the water like thick fog that glowed a dark molten red in the sunrise. Cameron took a second sip from her first cup of coffee and squinted out the window of Walt’s cluttered office.

“That him?” she asked, leaning forward until her nose almost touched the grimy, flyspecked pane. Stupid question. Who else would be standing there at dawn? Her brain was muddled from lack of sleep and three beers at the pool hall the night before.

“That’s him,” Walt said, his voice as rough as hers from breathing smoke for days on end. “Said he drove all night to get here and there’s a big storm front right behind him. Been waiting there pretty near two hours.”

“Well, he’ll have to wait a little longer, smoke’s too thick to fly. Jeez, Walt, I can’t believe you called me at oh-dark-thirty to get me down here. This was supposed to be my first day off in over two weeks.”

“Wind’s going to shift pretty quick. I listened to the forecast. You’ll be able to get him where he wants to go.”