Building A Family: CB's Construction

By Leigh Boyd

Life happens…

Bees was wounded in the war and after rehab moved to Heroes Ranch in Marksaw, Montana.  He hasn’t seen or heard from his family in 12 years.  He still loves his younger brothers and wants to see them again.  The last thing on his mind is finding his forever love.

Troy was unhappy in his job working construction.  He loved the work but the company he works for has some questionable ethics.  He works with his best friend and if not for him, he would have already moved on. 

When life gets in the way will these two be able to move beyond past hurts and find forgiveness and happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leigh Boyd
• Release date: Nov 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386564010

Book preview

Dedication

TO MY BETA READERS, Lynn, Dawn, and Amanda.  I wasn’t sure if my book was worth writing until you helped me see the story through your eyes. Bless you for your time and your patience.  Kayla, your time and effort in helping me learn was amazing.  You helped me with style and punctuation.  But, even more to learn to think about what I wanted to say.  To you I say a huge thank you, even if at times I wanted to say kiss my grits, lol.

To D.  You have been amazing.  You read my story even if you had to skim through some parts.  You have supported me and never gave up or let me give up.  I have been blessed for over 30 years to have you next to me in great happiness and great sadness.  I hope you know how very much I love you.  I look forward to the next 30 years at your side.

Chapter 1

BOBBY BEES BRANDSON was working to get the new camp set up; he was on a grader and had his ear protection on.  It was hot and dry, the diesel fumes were strong and the noise from the grader loud.  Other Seabees were working the ground he had just graded; they were leveling and preparing it for the quonsets, trailers and tents.  They were under an elevated threat level.  It's rumored that Al Qaeda was trying to get a foothold in this area.  They need this camp set up as soon as possible. 

This was a very impoverished area.  The locals were mostly women, children, or elderly and ailing.  There was a scent of despair and decay in the air.  The homes were tiny shacks made out of scraps found from destroyed buildings.  The camp would not only be here to protect but as a stepping off point for some aid.  They had some marines around but not many.  They were to watch their back and get this done.  The hair on the back of his neck was standing up and he was uneasy.  He felt like he was being watched.  The attack would come but the question was when.  Bees saw the marines doing patrols around the area, they would have a warning. 

He never heard them coming.  He was on the last pass and was about to turn towards the patrolling marines near the dilapidated village.  He knew something was wrong when his grader flew in the air and landed on its side.  He felt something wet on the side of his face and a lot of pain in his leg.  Where were his fellow Seabees?  Where were the marines?  The day got dark and he knew nothing else.

BEES COULD HEAR SOMEONE talking.  He hurt.  Bees moved his hand, or he tried to move his hand.  He gave a gut wrenching scream as pain tore through him.  He heard running.  Easy does it, handsome.  You’ve been hurt but will be just fine.  Let's see if we can help with that pain.  Bees felt the blackness claim him.  When he next woke the pain was not as fierce and he could move his hands and arms.  Slowly he opened his eyes he was in the hospital and had a huge cast on his leg.  Hello he scratched out to a burning in his throat. 

Hello, again.  How do you feel now?  A pretty young nurse asked him. 

What happened?  Bees asked his voice thick and scratchy.  Where my teammates?  Are they okay?

I don't know; right now let's worry about you, alright?  The doc will be in shortly.  Would you like a few ice chips?  The nurse reached for a cup on the bedside table.  Open up, there you go.

The ice slowly melted in his mouth and felt amazing on his sore throat.  She handed him a button and showed him how to press it for relief.  I'll be back in a little while with the doc, just rest, which is the best thing you can do to help your body heal.  Bees felt himself float away into the darkness again.

The next time he woke up, he's given broth and some juice.  Who knew something so simple could be heaven.  He was in and out that afternoon.  Around 4:00pm, the door opened and a man walked in.  Hello, Chief Brandson, I’m Rick, the counselor assigned to you.  How’re you feeling today?

Pretty rough, in a lot of pain.  Where are my teammates?

I don’t know, but I’ll try to find out.  So, Chief, you a...

Call me Bees.

Okay, Bees, you really messed up your leg.  You’re full of metal and I don’t think you’ll make back to active duty.  Are you going to be okay with that?

Well, shit.  I’m done in the service?  Now what?

Bees, do you have family that you can go to?

No, I have no family, at least none that would talk to me.  My parents threw me out when I was 17.  I have younger brothers but my parents had a restraining order against me preventing me from talking to them.  My brothers are listed as my next of kin and beneficiaries on all my military paperwork. So they may’ve been notified I was injured but I haven’t heard from anyone.  Of course I only have my parent’s information.

Well, let me figure out what our options are.  I have heard of a ranch in Montana that takes newly returned vets in for a while to help them acclimate and get settled.  I’ll try to find the info for it.  And try to find out about your teammates.  Anything else right now I can do for you, maybe in a few days sneak in some real food?

Right now I think I’m gonna crash, and talk to the doc about my leg as soon as I can.

Well, you get some sleep and rest I’ll see ya tomorrow.  Rick turned as Bees eyes slid shut.

A WEEK LATER, BEES watched as an officer walked in to his room.  Hello, Chief Brandson, I’m Lt. Gransly.  I’m here to debrief you about the attack.  How are you feeling today, are you up for this?

Yes, sir.  I’m sore and kinda groggy, but I can do this.  Sir, where are my team mates?  No one knows anything.

The LT looked down and away.  He took a heavy breath raised his eyes and replied, I’m sorry to tell you, they are all gone.  We think the only reason you made it is because they thought you were dead from the RPG that hit the grader.  A marine got a call in for help before he was killed.  What can you tell me about that day?

Bees closed his eyes and tried to recall everything from that day.  Visualizing that day he tells what he sees as if it was happening again.  I’m on the grader.  We’re preparing the ground for the base.  It didn’t need a lot of work but some.  I’ve ear protection on.  All I can hear or smell is the diesel engine of the grader.  The marines are patrolling and every time I turned towards ‘em I check their positions.  I’m facing away when the grader flipped.  The grader lands on my leg and I’m bleeding from my head.  Then nothing.

Chief, if it wasn’t for the fact you had just worked the ground and the grader landed partially on a boulder you would’ve lost your leg.  We would’ve lost you if not for the marine getting the word out.  The area needs a base for the aid but it will not get it.  It’s come to our attention that some of the locals were giving information to the insurgents.  We will not risk any more men for them.  I’m sorry you have to deal with the fallout of this.  SecNav sent the word that you will be retired with full benefits as soon as you’re out of rehab.  Again, Chief, I’m sorry.  Get better soon.  The LT looked haggard and pissed.

Bees watched as the LT walked out of his room, stunned and grief stricken.  His entire Seabee squad and the marines guarding them were gone.  The insurgents killed them all. All except for him anyway.  And with all the plates and pins and wires holding his leg together he was done in the service.  What was he going to do now?  He had another week here and then two to four months or more in rehab.  That was all covered by the military and he would not be discharged until his rehab was over. 

Rick walked into his room.  Hey, Bees.  How are you handling everything today?

Bees looked at Rick, his face red and twisted with a scowl.  What the fuck?  How am I handling everything?  Can you really stand there and ask me that?  Did you know?  And just decide not to tell me everyone was dead?  Huh, Rick, did you?  Bees picked up his tray and threw it across the room.  He couldn’t get up and hit someone. Oh no, they still had his leg up in traction.  He was stuck in this damned bed.  He screamed and thrashed around until he had to catch his breath.  He finally stilled and realized his whole damn body hurt. 

Are you done?  Can I let people in to check you over or do you still need to rant? Rick eyes softened with sympathy.  He had his arm across the door keeping out some nurses and doctors that had come running at the yelling. 

I just want to know why I was spared and not the others.  Thumper had kids and a wife, why not him?  Bees had tears running down his face.  Damn, Rick, I have no one, no one would miss me, so why me?

Bees, there is no reason that I can see.  None of you deserved what happened to you.  You were building a base to help the locals, the same locals that turned on you.  You’ve no blame.  You have to remember that, yeah?  It’ll be hard but that’s why you have me. I’ll help you through.  One day at a time.  Now, you need to be checked over to make sure you haven’t hurt something, okay?

Shit.  Fine yeah, I’m done.  Let them in.  What now?  What am I supposed to do now?  Shit I hurt.  Just then a nurse pushed a dose of meds into his IV.  His eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep still uncertain what to do.

He woke hours later; it was dark outside his windows.  He could see the city lights shining and bright.  He ached all over and noticed his leg was lying on a pillow.  It was burning with pain.  He remembered the LT telling him about his teammates and Rick talking to him then everything turned fuzzy.  The grief was like a living weight on his chest.  He just couldn’t imagine going on without the family he had found in his squad.  He felt like he didn’t deserve to live when the others hadn’t.  How was he to make his life worthy of the gift he was given?  How could he make the others proud of him when he wasn’t proud of himself?  What would he do now? 

He had some savings and wouldn't be retired until he was until done with inpatient rehab and that would just add to his savings.  And they were retiring him not just kicking him out so that was extra income but he was the type to stay busy, not sit on his ass collecting dust.  But what did he have?  His savings, sure, but not much else.  No reason enough for him to live when his teammates didn’t.  Maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t lived.  But he wasn’t a quitter.  He had made it and he was going to fight this just like he had to fight over there.  Maybe the ranch Rick had found would work for him.  But that was just an idea for down the road.  He had torture aka physical therapy to get through first.

His heart was heavy and his soul beaten down but determined to bring honor to his fallen family. He would persevere and succeed.  He would fight and win.  They deserved his best and he would bring it.  He felt a sense of purpose and right as he slipped into an exhausted sleep. 

BEES HAD BEEN SENT to an inpatient rehab after a longer hospital stay than expected because of the blasted sand.  He was irritable and low on patience.  He was in the gym and lifting hand weights to help build his upper body strength and stamina.  He was there on his own.  As long as he only used the hand weights he was allowed to workout.  He dropped a weight that landed in his lap.  He picked it up and slammed both weights back down into their rack.  He growled at the pain in his leg, swung his wheelchair around, and confronted his physical therapist, Stu, working with another wounded vet.  Goddammit, why can’t I try standing?  It should be taking this long.  I’m sick of this damnedable chair.  Just ‘cause it’s still burning and feels like I have shit running down my leg doesn’t mean anything. 

Well, fuck, didn’t he just let his mouth over run his ass.