A Bull Rider's Pride

Before Sheila had the chance to argue her point further, both of their pagers went off. Trauma Alert ER. “Let’s move!”

* * *

THE DANCE OF HOPE transport van pulled in front of the combined hippotherapy center and rodeo school entrance. The July sun warmed Brady’s face as he eased his legs out of the van and stepped onto the ground using the door as support. A woman with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair greeted him with a wheelchair.

“I’m Kay Langtry.” She helped him into the chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brady.”

“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to be here.”

“We promise to take good care of you during your stay. Since it’s lunchtime, why don’t I start our tour in the common dining area.”

Brady hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

Kay nodded, silently acknowledging that he didn’t need any assistance. He was sweating by the time they reached the center’s entrance. It was the first time he’d used a wheelchair outside. The experience left him craving a cold shower rather than lunch. Brady paused in the entryway. He could hear the whoops and shouts coming from the rodeo school through massive oak doors to the right. He knew those sounds well and he missed them more than anything. The rodeo was his life—his past and his future.

“Do you need a moment?” Kay crouched down beside him so they were at eye level with one another. A gesture he appreciated. He got tired of always looking up at everyone, especially when he was used to towering over most people.

“I’m good. I’m anxious to get started.” When Dr. Mangone had told him about the hippotherapy center, he’d hopped online to research it. He’d been relieved to discover it was less than an hour away from his father, son and Alice. “Visitors are allowed, right?”

“Yes, they are.” Kay stood. “As often as you’d like. Let’s grab a bite to eat and settle you in. Feel free to invite your family to join us for dinner tonight. We always have enough food around here.”

“Thank you, I think I will.”

The common dining area took Brady off guard. He’d seen photos of it online, but it had been empty then. He hadn’t been prepared for the number of children in wheelchairs or on crutches. There were some military personnel—both men and women. That he’d expected. But the children broke his heart. Children Gunner’s age.

“I know this can be unsettling at first.” Kay placed a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t ever tell anyone here that you feel sorry for them or show them any pity. You will find this to be a very grateful and determined group. Everyone has the same goal—to get out of here one day. Some will walk out, others won’t. But it’s a team effort and everybody is rooting for you.”

Brady felt his heart pound in his chest. He was used to people rooting for him...in a different arena. He’d root for every child, every person here. As much as he wanted to be in his own home, he knew this was the best place for him. He would walk and compete again.

* * *

SHEILA SLAMMED HER front door. She’d lost a patient on the operating table. It happened often in trauma surgeries. She should be used to it by now. But how did someone get used to having a person with a family and a future breathing beneath their fingertips one minute and then gone the next along with all their hopes, all their dreams?

Sheila ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. It never got easier—you just grew more desensitized to it. Today had been particularly difficult—a ten-year-old girl with her whole future ahead of her. Dead thanks to her sister who had been texting and driving. The sister had survived, but would live with the consequences for the rest of her life.

This was why Sheila was so infuriated with Brady Sawyer. Most of her patients learned something from their experience. The overweight person with two knee replacements learned they had to move and exercise more. The kid with a fractured tibia learned not to attempt a flip-over-willy-grind skateboard trick down the school handrail. What did Brady Sawyer learn? Nothing.

And yes, there was a chance he’d fully recover. A very slim one, but with the proper therapy, the chance was real. Sheila had been a longtime proponent of hippotherapy and its benefits. Growing up in Colorado, she’d lived near a facility much like Dance of Hope. Few people had known much about hippotherapy and its benefits back then. When she turned fourteen, her parents had allowed her to volunteer there. There was an orthopedic surgeon who visited the facility every week and for four years she’d watched him restore quality of life back to people who’d felt as if their world had ended. He’d inspired her to go into medicine, particularly orthopedic trauma. Now she helped save lives like Brady’s and he was all too willing to throw it away.

His attitude shouldn’t bother her, but it did. And it would continue to bother her until he was no longer her patient, and then every time she saw a bull riding event on television she’d still wonder. Sheila laughed to herself. He wasn’t her first bull rider and probably wouldn’t be her last. She lived in the heart of Hill Country where rodeos were as common as apple pie. The suburban town she’d grown up in had been a stark contrast. She’d known many equestrians, but not bull riders.

Thinking of home reminded her it had been over a week since she’d last phoned her parents. Every night there was a message from them on her voice mail. Today she’d actually gotten off early enough to return the call.

“Hello, honey,” her mom answered on the first ring. “How’s our favorite surgeon?”

“It was a rough day. I lost a patient.” No matter how difficult her residency was, she knew she could always turn to her mother for comfort.

“Oh honey, do you want to talk about it?” Sheila heard a muffled sound and assumed her mother had covered the receiver.

“Mom, tell Daddy later, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather hear about your day.”

“Your sister had an ultrasound today—a three-dimensional one. You won’t believe how much Sophia resembles you as a baby—that’s the name they’ve chosen—did I tell you that already? Anyway, she posted the photos online. Look at them later if you get the chance. We’ll be so glad when your residency is over next summer and you move home. You’re missing your nieces and nephews growing up.”

Sheila released her ponytail and flopped onto the couch. “About that. I’ve decided to pursue the two-year orthopedic trauma fellowship at Grace General.”

“I thought you were looking into fellowships here.” Disappointment was evident in her mother’s tone.

“I know that was the plan, Mom, but this fellowship wasn’t available until recently. I like Grace General and my work here. I’m looking to make this permanent. My landlord gave me the option to apply my rent toward a down payment on this house. It’s not much but it’s more than I can afford in Colorado. Once I weed through these student loans, then maybe, but I’ve given this a lot of thought and this is what’s best for me.”

“What about settling down and starting a family? You’re not getting any younger.”

Any comfort she’d hoped for had just flown out the window. “My social life consists of my colleagues. It’s not as if I have much time or energy to go out and meet people. Besides children require much more than I’m able to give. Maybe in a few years I’ll feel differently. I don’t need a husband and kids to make me happy. I’m content with my life right now.”

At least that was the lie she told herself every night before she went to bed. Sometimes she’d roll over in the middle of the night and reach out for someone who wasn’t there. Her life severely lacked intimacy. The last hug she’d received had been from a patient after Sheila had given her good news. The last time someone other than a family member had said I love you had been her college boyfriend. And sex? She didn’t want to think about how long that had been. Okay, so it bothered her, but she’d known this career path came with sacrifices. She’d accepted it. She just didn’t exactly care for it.

“I want you to be happy, Sheila.” Her mom’s voice softened. “You need to call more often. We miss you.”

“I miss you more.”

After hearing about her father’s new car, her mother’s bridge-game gossip and more about her sister’s third pregnancy, she poured herself a glass of wine and eased into a bubble bath. She closed her eyes and Brady Sawyer immediately came to mind.

“Dammit!” She sat up so quickly she knocked her wine into the tub. “That’s lovely.” She’d touched him twice and she couldn’t erase the feeling of his hands in hers. She turned her glass upright and set it on the floor. Grabbing a pumice stone, she ran it over her palms. Why was he haunting her? That was exactly how she felt. Haunted. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And it wasn’t just today. He’d been a daily thought for two and a half months. She constantly told herself she wasn’t attracted to him. She couldn’t be. It simply wasn’t allowed and she chalked it up to curiosity about the man. But if Marissa had detected it so easily, she wondered who else had.

Brady Sawyer had left the building. With his drive and determination, he’d progress quickly at Dance of Hope and be out of her life for good. Which was for the best. So why did the thought of never seeing him again bother her?

* * *

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT the child-support payments. Focus on getting better.” Alice sat on the bed across from Brady in his Dance of Hope cottage while Gunner played with his See & Spell at the table. “You’re an amazing father and I know you want to do everything possible to make sure Gunner is provided for, and I promise you, if things get really bad I’ll let you know. We’re okay. It’s tight, but we’re managing. Your father checks in on us all the time.”

“You shouldn’t have to manage and my father shouldn’t be the one providing for you.” Brady gripped the arms of his wheelchair. He and Alice had never been a couple. They’d been best friends since childhood who happened to have spent one lonely night together that resulted in the most precious gift he could have ever received. Unfortunately, they hadn’t any romantic feelings toward each other. So far, they’d successfully raised Gunner together, yet separately. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Why do I do what? Bring your son to see you? Because he loves you and he asks about you every day.”

Brady wheeled closer to the bed so Gunner wouldn’t hear him. “And a part of you secretly wishes that by seeing me in this condition he won’t want anything to do with the rodeo.”

“There might be some truth to that.” Alice lowered her voice. “What mother doesn’t want her child to be safe? You almost died, Brady. We keep telling you that, but it hasn’t seemed to register in your brain yet. I don’t want that future for our son. You already have him mutton busting and racing around the arena on miniature horses. I’m terrified of what comes next.”

“The severity of my accident was highly unusual and you know it. I was a special circumstance.” Brady had grown tired of defending himself to Alice and his father. At first he’d been disappointed when his father told him he couldn’t make it tonight; now he was glad the two of them weren’t together to gang up on him.

“You were only special because you survived. It was never a matter of if you’d get hurt, it was when you’d get hurt. I almost lost my best friend that day, but more important, Gunner almost lost his father. I get so angry when I hear you say you need to compete again in order to support him. You’re using our son as an excuse. There are other ways to earn a living, so don’t you dare tell me it’s all for Gunner. I know better and so do you.”

“You have no idea. Before they discharged me, I had to meet with the billing department. My insurance doesn’t cover everything and if I don’t pay, believe me they will come after me for their money. Every cent I have to pay them takes away from Gunner. Working minimum wage won’t pay the bills, Alice. At least Dance of Hope didn’t cost me anything.” Brady had already promised to one day give back to the nonprofit dedicated to providing therapy to people regardless of their ability to pay.

“We both know this isn’t just about money.” Alice rested her hand on his. “You need to forgive yourself. Your mom wouldn’t want you to carry around all this guilt.”

He pulled away from her. His mother had died in her sleep while Brady and his father were away on a rodeo trip. He didn’t want to think about that day, but the memory of finding her remained fresh in his mind every time he competed. Alice was right. It was about much more than the money. He rode for his mother. He rode for his father. And now, he rode for his son.

He wheeled over to the table. “Hey, champ, it’s almost your bedtime. You and your mommy need to head home.”

“I want to stay with you,” Gunner pleaded.

Brady bit back the sob that threatened to break free. He wanted nothing more than to spend the night with his son. He missed their time together more than anything. “Daddy doesn’t live here. I’m just visiting. Once I get home, you can stay with me anytime you want.”

“Promise?” Gunner looked up at him with his big brown eyes.

He hated telling his son no. “I promise, little man. Things will be back to normal soon.”

Brady had never broken a promise to his son, and he wouldn’t start now.

* * *

THE FOLLOWING MORNING Brady awoke feeling more rested than he had in months—the ranch was dead silent at night in comparison to the constant bustle of the hospital. He’d almost been afraid to open his eyes out of fear his release had been a dream.

Over a hearty country breakfast, he reviewed the schedule Kay Langtry had given him the day before. Eager to begin his therapy, he hurriedly ate and wheeled to the main indoor hippotherapy arena.

A woman no more than an inch or two over five feet tall greeted him.

“Good morning, Brady. I’m Abby, your physical therapist.”

“Are you sure you can support my weight?” Brady asked.

“Don’t let my size fool you, and you’re going to be supporting yourself the majority of the time. I know you’re raring to get on a horse, but there are a few things we need to go over first.” Abby marched to an oversize cabinet along the wall and opened it. “Rule number one—when you’re in an arena, either indoors or out, a helmet must be worn at all times. No exceptions. No helmet, no hippotherapy.”

Brady hated helmets. It had been a heavily debated issue throughout the industry for years and he’d always been against it. That didn’t stop him from making Gunner wear one whenever he entered the ring. But considering he didn’t want to end up back in the hospital, a helmet sounded like a good idea. “Agreed.”

“Number two, it’s my understanding your wheelchair usage has been limited to the smooth flat surfaces inside the hospital. Dance of Hope is situated on the Bridle Dance Ranch, which is a 250,000 acre paint and cutting horse ranch. You have access to many of the trails and I assure you, they’re not smooth or flat.”

“We’re free to roam around?” Brady itched to do some exploring, especially with Gunner. They had always spent their father and son time together at rodeo events, fishing or trail riding. He’d missed that during his hospital stay.

Abby nodded. “Our goal is to get you as active as possible. The trails closest to the hippotherapy center are marked. We have all-terrain wheelchairs available, but they’re not motorized. If you push yourself out on a trail, be sure you can get yourself back. Each chair is equipped with a GPS locator in case of an emergency. And don’t worry, if you do get tired out there, we won’t leave you stranded.”

For a tiny thing, Abby had a strong presence. The complete opposite of the nurses in the hospital. They had tried to blend into their surroundings while Abby let you know who was in charge. “Can I trail ride?”

“Not alone. I promise you’ll get plenty of saddle time to the point where you’ll look forward to taking a break.”

“I’ve spent my life on horseback. I don’t think I could ever tire of it.” Brady feared the facility severely underestimated his riding abilities.

“With all due respect, your body hasn’t been through this level of trauma before, so don’t be surprised if things don’t feel the way they used to. Your injuries will limit what you can do at first. It’s also my understanding you had a punctured lung and underwent six weeks of respiratory therapy.”

Why did it always sound worse when somebody else said it? Not that he downplayed any of what had happened. It was the most painful experience of his life, but it was behind him. And that’s where he wanted to leave it. She was beginning to remind him of Dr. Lindstrom.

“It’s something your physician asked us to watch for,” Abby added.

Of course she did. “What happens if I do need further respiratory therapy? Will you send me back to the hospital?”

“Not if we don’t have to. We have other patients here that require it and we’re capable of providing you with whatever you need.” Brady wondered how long it would take to fully process that his hospital days were over. “In order to get on and off these horses, you’ll need to learn how to maneuver up and down ramps,” Abby continued. “I don’t want to push your chair any more than I have to, just as I’m sure you don’t want me pushing you. We’ll focus some of our time today on teaching you how to get around, which you’ll need regardless of how long you will or won’t be in that chair.”

Brady had woken up energized and now he felt exhausted before he’d even started. He exhaled slowly. “Where do we begin?”

Abby snickered. “If you’re worried, then I’ve done my job. I want you to be hopeful, but not overzealous. I’ve heard stories about you, Superman.” She handed him a helmet. “Try this on for size. Your therapy will be in multiple stages and we won’t force you beyond what you’re capable of handling. Where would you like your first lesson? Indoors or out?”

Brady turned his chair toward the door. “Out. I’ve been cooped up in a sterile hospital for over two months. I’m ready to get a little dusty and sweaty.”

“Come on, cowboy.”

After an hour of wheelchair exercises, Brady’s arms felt like rubber and his head was on fire thanks to his helmet. But it felt good. It was hot, it was humid and it was pure heaven.

“Are you ready to try a horse?” Abby asked. “Or do you need a break?”

Brady shook his head. “I’ve never been more ready.”

This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. A team of six people approached him and a man named Thomas helped him up the ramp. Okay, so the ramp was more of a challenge than he had anticipated, but it didn’t matter. He was about to mount a horse. He stood slowly, using the animal for support. The platform allowed him to easily slide onto the thin fabric saddle. His body began to shake and he wasn’t sure if it was nerves, excitement, or if something was wrong. He gripped the horse’s mane, relishing the feel of the coarse hair between his fingers. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. Each horse had its own unique scent and this one smelled like iced tea. He rocked forward in the saddle and felt a sharp twinge up his spine.

His eyes flew open. “What the hell?”

“Brady, tell me what you’re feeling,” Abby said.

“A—a sharp pain in my back.” Brady sat frozen in the saddle, afraid to move.

His little team moved closer to him. “Can you lean back a bit and sit upright?” Abby asked. “We have you surrounded and I won’t let you fall.”

There was that phrase again, only he wished it was Dr. Lindstrom saying it instead of Abby. Yesterday her support had given him more strength than he realized he needed. He slowly rotated his hips backward and straightened his spine. No pain. “I’m good. It went away.”

“Remember what I told you earlier,” Abby said. “Your body’s been through a lot and you need to give it a chance to reacclimate itself. That’s why we’re here. Ready for a walk around the arena?”

Brady gripped the handles on either side of the saddle. He instinctively searched for stirrups but there were none. He attempted to squeeze his thighs tighter around the horse’s body as if he were riding bareback, only to realize he didn’t have the strength. A hippotherapy team member closely flanked either side of him, while two people followed and two led the horse. He’d never felt more secure and more terrified at the same time.

The horse walked slowly around the outdoor arena. He’d never noticed the similarity between a horse’s gait and a human’s before. He’d read about it, but he hadn’t fully understood it until now. As the horse’s hips rose on one side, so did his own, forcing him to contract his core muscles.

Brady knew he had a goofy smile plastered across his face, but he didn’t care. Today was the beginning of the rest of his life.

Chapter Three

It was the Fourth of July and Sheila had to work, just as she had every year of her residency. The only difference—she’d spend her afternoon at Dance of Hope and she’d see Brady Sawyer. The man hadn’t been far from her mind since she’d discharged him four days earlier. She had tried to convince herself it was strictly out of concern for her patient, but even she didn’t believe that story. He’d gotten under her skin in the most impossible way. She couldn’t act on her attraction to him and she couldn’t shake it either.

Sometimes an attraction to a patient was inevitable. But the feeling always disappeared as quickly as it came. Brady Sawyer had been out of sight for days, yet she found herself more excited than she should be to see him today. Marissa hadn’t uttered another word about him. Then again, Sheila hadn’t given her much of a chance. The busier she stayed, the sooner she’d forget about Brady.

By the time she pulled into Dance of Hope’s parking lot, it was early afternoon. A small crowd had gathered near the Ride ’em High! Rodeo School outdoor arena. The summer students were competing in an informal exhibition and there was Brady Sawyer, standing at the fence watching the action.

Sheila had never understood why they’d built the rodeo school adjacent to the hippotherapy center. It just seemed to scream “look at me” to the hippotherapy patients. And then she looked at Brady hugging the fence rail—the poster child for “this could happen to you.”

She redirected her attention to the patient files on the passenger seat. Flipping through them, she scanned the notes from last week’s visit, then gathered her things and exited the car. Her focus immediately landed on Brady. Today he exuded pure masculinity, clad in faded denim jeans that managed to hug him in all the right places and a formfitting white T-shirt. Good heavens. She shouldn’t care what the man wore. The fact that he’d been standing since she’d parked five minutes earlier should be her primary focus. His strength and stamina had clearly increased in a matter of days.

Sheila approached him. “You’re not getting any ideas, are you?” Sheila asked. He turned toward her, almost toppling over. She knew better than to sneak up on him, but she had warned him she’d be watching.

“Dr. Lindstrom. This is a surprise.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you the rules?” Sheila detected the scent of Proraso aftershave. She knew the eucalyptus and menthol fragrance well. One of her fellow residents wore the same brand. She’d never cared much for it, but Brady’s unique body chemistry transformed the fragrance from mildly annoying to downright tempting. “Everybody’s on a first-name basis here. Please call me Sheila.”

She noticed Brady’s legs beginning to shake, but held her tongue. His chair was directly behind him and he’d use it when he was ready.

“You look nice.” His admission caught her off guard, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He eased into his chair and looked up at her, exposing more of his chiseled features to the sun. “I like you out of uniform with your hair down.”

“Thank you.” Sheila had almost forgotten that she’d changed before heading to the ranch. Scrubs were never worn outside the hospital. She’d chosen her best fitting jeans, lacy white top and red cowboy boots this morning after convincing herself it was patriotic and conveyed a professional yet casual appearance for her rounds at Dance of Hope. In reality, she chose the outfit because she knew she looked damn good in it and she wanted Brady to notice her. She had succeeded...now what?