Day 2

It seemed the celebrations for the end of World War II in Europe would never end. The end was a relief for sure, but Troy and his men were ready to move on. Moving on would prove difficult, but in spite of the different places they all lived, they planned on staying in contact with each other. Troy, Hitch, and Tully were fortunate to find genuine peace in Cambridge while waiting to arrange their trips home to the States—well, Hitch and Tully had places to call home. Troy wasn't sure what he was doing.

Moffitt's father, Nicholas, had been kind enough to let the Rats use his home office to call their families. Hitch walked out into the hall after he had called his parents, a big smile on his face. "It was good to hear Mom and Dad's voices again, Sarge," he said. "They're not going to do a crazy welcome-home party, but they're still going to invite a couple people over to say 'hello.'"

"That's nice, Hitch," Troy said.

Hitch's smile faded quickly. "You… okay, Sarge?"

"I'm fine. Go tell Tully to call his mother."

Hitch's expression turned to one of concern, but he nodded and went to find Tully.

Troy leaned forward in his chair, trying not to think too hard about what was in store for him if he went back to Wyoming. He had no interest in seeing any of his blood relatives again, apart from his younger brother, David. He had refused to go to college, against his parents' wishes. Rifts split open wider and wider until Troy fled his mother's control to enlist when the US entered the war after Pearl Harbor. The family's farm went under, and his mother had convinced everyone but David that it was Troy's fault. It didn't take long for him to become numb to the nasty letters he received from relatives he hardly knew while he was fighting in Italy.

Troy's goal was to have his own ranch. It was where he felt his strengths lay. Sitting in classroom after classroom for year after year would drive him insane, and his grades upon finishing high school weren't exactly stellar. He wasn't stupid by any means, but continuing such a dull, restrictive routine wasn't for him. To have a ranch, he needed his own land, and to get that land, he needed money. At the moment, he didn't have enough to get started beyond buying the plot itself.

Knots began tightening in his stomach. When I go back to Wyoming, what am I going to do? I can get the land itself, but then what? I won't have enough for the material to build a house, or buy animals, or a vehicle, or anything. Troy let out a quiet sigh, looking down at the floor. There's always sleeping on the ground itself. It's probably what I deserve anyway. He was half-serious, half-sarcastic. After all, it's my fault my grandparents' farm got sold. Right. All my fault.

"Are you alright, Troy?" Moffitt asked.

Troy was a little confused to smell coffee around Moffitt when he approached, as the lanky Englishman usually drank tea, and lots of it. But, the cup of coffee in Moffitt's hands was intended for Troy, who took the cup without a word. "I'm… alright," Troy replied.

"You seem upset about something."

Troy looked down at the coffee in his hands. He hadn't been very open about his past with the rest of his team—his own team. His own team knew next to nothing about him. They had no idea that he was an embarrassing black sheep in his family. They had no idea that he was going to be homeless when he went to Wyoming. Hell, they didn't even know he was from Wyoming!

"Troy?" Moffitt raised an eyebrow. "We don't have to maintain the formalities of rank anymore. You can be open about things."

Troy kept looking down at the coffee, barely reacting when Moffitt sat next to him.

"You don't seem particularly happy about going home," Moffitt said.

Troy sighed. "How can I be when… when there's nothing for me to go back to?"

Moffitt was quiet. "You have no family?"

"No." Troy couldn't believe he was doing this. It felt strange to be doing, and he wondered how his men's opinions of him were going to change once all this became known. He decided to keep it simple, not go into the ugly details, even though he felt those would have to come out eventually. "I had plans to… start a ranch, before the war started. I… don't have enough money to get everything together."

"So, you need a bit of help."

Troy shook his head.

"No, it sounds like you need help. There's no shame in asking for help."

"It's fine, Moffitt." Troy didn't have the motivation to snap and close himself off, like he had done a few times while they were serving together. His tone was defeated and laced with misery. On one hand, he didn't want any help. On the other, his only remaining option was to live in the streets or the woods while working another job to build up the funds for what he truly wanted.

Moffitt sat with Troy for another few minutes before spotting Hitch and saying, "Hitch? Would you mind if we spoke somewhere in private for a bit?"

"Sure," Hitch replied. "Is Sarge okay?"

"I think I have an idea of what's bothering him, but, again, I'd like this to be private." Moffitt walked with Hitch down the hallway to the library, disappearing from Troy's view.

Tully left the office after finishing his phone call to Kentucky. He looked down at Troy, saying, "You doing okay, Sarge?"

"Fine. Why?" Troy mumbled.

"You look sad, if you'll excuse my honesty."

"I've never had a problem with you being honest, Tully."

"I know, but…" Tully shrugged. "What's bugging you, Sarge?"

"Nothing."

Tully worked the matchstick around his mouth. "Well, I'm going to be honest again and say I don't believe you."

Troy rubbed his face. "Go ask Moffitt. He said he seems to know what's wrong with me."

Tully frowned, looking unsure of what more he could say. He headed in Moffitt's direction, occasionally looking over his shoulder at Troy.

The four men didn't want to be out and about that evening, with all the crowds and the guarantee that they would be surrounded by happy citizens. Moffitt's parents treated them to a homecooked meal, a blend of courses that each of them had been missing—well, except for Troy, who offered no input to the menu when Nicholas asked what he liked. I should get used to not eating well anyway, Troy told himself.

It was late at night when Troy made his decision—he would go back to Wyoming, pick up his money, and find a town to stay in while he worked to get the land he wanted. He would be as frugal as possible. Having lived in the wilderness for the last few years anyway, he figured it would be no problem back home—whatever home was.

Moffitt, Hitch, and Tully kept trying to talk to him, to get more answers out of him. Both Hitch and Tully offered to let Troy stay with them, but he refused, not wanting to be a burden. Even Moffitt offered, but again, Troy refused. Within the next few days, he was on a ship headed back to the States. He was surrounded by happier people, and his temper gradually grew short. He was tired of being showered with praise and gratitude. After everything that had happened, from being tortured in North Africa, to discovering he was part of a prophecy involving Dietrich, to learning the farm was being sold and his mother turned the family against him, Troy wanted to be left alone for a long time. He especially didn't like the women throwing themselves at him while he waited for his train to Cheyenne after landing in New York. Being pushed and crowded was aggravating, and Troy was beginning to wish he had bought civilian clothes while still in Britain.

He managed to keep himself calm while boarding the train, and found a seat away from others, even other returning soldiers and officers. Some tried to get his attention, asking him where he was going, who he was returning to. His answers were "Nowhere," and "No one."

The ride was long, and Troy spent the entire time watching the varying landscapes of the country rush by. It was summer. Everything was blooming. Everything was green and pretty. They crossed through a rainstorm at one point, which shrouded the world in mist and fog. Rain trickled down the windows of the passenger car, and Troy started mentally putting plans together on how he would keep himself sheltered from the rain and snow.

When Troy arrived in Cheyenne, he was grateful for how quiet it was. There were more people out than usual, but they were more polite with him compared to when he was waiting for the train several thousand miles ago in New York. He was lost in thought, as the last time he had been here, he was waiting for a train to take him to his new life in the Army. This time, he was returning to begin another chapter in his life, and he wasn't sure how it was going to go.

He met with an older man at the bank to discuss his situation and get his account closed so he could take his money with him to wherever in the state he wanted to eventually settle. The man was sympathetic as he listened, and after Troy finished, there was a long silence before either of them spoke. The older man spoke first. "I'm guessing that the friends you made in the military are aware of what you're planning to do here."

Troy gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I will close your account and give you your check if you still wish, but a day ago, I was on the phone with your brother, who said two men you served with—I believe their names were Mark Hitchcock and Jack Moffitt—wanted to give you a very generous gift. More than enough for a down payment on land, and to start building a home for yourself, stables, fencing, paddocks, you name it."

Troy was stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Eventually, he said, "This… This isn't a joke."

"No. I can show you the numbers right now."

"That's okay. I believe it." Troy remained seated, worried that if he stood, he would faint. "They didn't have to do that."

"Would you still like that check?"

"No, thanks. I… I have an idea. I know what I'm going to do now. First, I need a map of the state."

One map and several books of old photographs later, Troy settled on going to the tiny town of Douglas, on the eastern side of Wyoming. There was a lot of open space out there, and a little bit of it would be his. It was far from where the majority of his blood family lived, and it wasn't too far from Cheyenne. He felt it would be perfect.

When Troy left the bank, he saw a familiar face with a head of reddish-blond hair standing nearby. Tully grinned before saying, "Where've I seen you before?"

For the first time in ages, Troy gave a grin of his own. "Funny. We just saw each other a few days ago. What are you doing out here?"

"Well, first, I want to know if you got Hitch and Moffitt's little present."

"I did." Troy's grin faded. "You guys… didn't have to do this. You really didn't."

"We wanted to. You kept us alive for the last three years, Sarge. You brought all us misfits together in a way nobody else could. It's our way of paying you back for everything you did, from North Africa to Europe. Everything."

A desire to tear up started choking Troy, and he tried to swallow it. "You still didn't—"

"Nope. Not gonna take any arguments from you. I'm sorry. I spent three years following your orders, but that's one I can't follow." Tully gave Troy a somber look. "None of us were going to let you be homeless. You don't deserve that. Now, I couldn't give anything financially, but I still have something that'll help you significantly. I was talking with Mama and some of my brothers, and all the menfolk in the Pettigrew family are going to be here in about a week to help you put your house up."

"Tully—"

"Nope. They'll be here. Hitch and Moffitt said they're coming, too. And Anah."

That convinced Troy to smile a little. "Great. Last thing we need is her with a hammer and nails."

"It'll be fine." Tully patted Troy's shoulder. "I know you don't like to talk much about your life growing up, but whatever happened, this is your chance to start fresh, and plant new roots. Best of all, we'll be there to help."