Читать книгу Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 10
ОглавлениеChapter Two
Ethan hated to admit it, but Caitlin was right. His shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. It had all night, affecting his sleep, his ability to dress himself and his mood.
What if he really had torn something? Then he wouldn’t be able to enter the jackpot, that was for sure.
The idea of going to the doctor and getting an X-ray wasn’t quite as distasteful to him as it had been the night before. Maybe he could go to the urgent-care clinic. If he was lucky, he might run into Caitlin again.
He no sooner had the thought than he dismissed it. More likely than not she was married or in a committed relationship. Of course, finding out wouldn’t be all that hard.
And if she was single, then what?
He doubted she’d go out with him, not after the way he’d dumped her with hardly a word. Then there was the matter of his leg—or lack of it. Beautiful, desirable women like Caitlin Carmichael didn’t date men with missing limbs.
Gritting his teeth, he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his undershirt and tried to pull it over his head. He didn’t get far. The pain immobilized him.
The next instant a knock sounded.
“What?” he hollered, his breathing labored.
The front door opened and his brother came in. “Good morning to you, too.” He stopped midstep and eyed Ethan curiously. “Having a problem?”
Ethan muttered to himself, not pleased at having an audience.
“What did you say?”
“I hurt my shoulder last night.”
“Breaking one of Clay’s horses?”
“A bronc trying to break me.”
“Ah.” Gavin wandered toward the newly remodeled kitchen. “Any coffee?”
“There’s instant in the cupboard.”
“Instant?” He grimaced.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Ethan didn’t particularly like instant, either. But he’d discovered since living alone the last few weeks that brewing a pot of coffee was a waste when he drank only one cup.
He and Gavin and their dad had resided comfortably in the main house for over a year. When Gavin’s daughter, Cassie, moved in with them this past summer, they’d continued to get along. Soon, however, Gavin’s fiancée, Sage, and her young daughter, Isa, would be joining the family permanently, and that was a little too much closeness for Ethan.
The old bunkhouse had seemed a good solution. Converting it into an apartment was taking time, though, and living amid the chaos of construction did get tedious. But Ethan didn’t mind.
After a lifetime of cohabitating with others, including a barracks full of marines, he quite liked his solitude. No snoring, music or loud TV disturbing his sleep. No having to wait for someone to finish in the bathroom. No arguing about whose turn it was to wash the dishes or vacuum.
No one watching him put on his prosthetic leg, then turning away when he caught him staring.
“Want some?” Undeterred by the prospect of instant coffee, Gavin removed a mug from the cupboard.
“Naw. I already had my quota today.” Readying himself, Ethan raised his arms, only to hesitate.
What was wrong with him? He’d endured far worse discomfort than this. The months following his accident—a nice, gentle euphemism for losing the bottom half of his leg in an explosion—had been a daily practice in pushing the boundaries of his endurance.
It hadn’t stopped there. The first thing Ethan had done when he returned home was reveal his intentions to start training horses again, his job before enlisting. His family had tried to dissuade him, but eventually came to understand his reasons and the need that drove him.
Since no respectable cowboy wore athletic shoes when he rode, Ethan had used some of the money he’d saved during his enlistment to purchase two pairs of custom-made boots that fit his prosthesis. Within a few weeks, he was riding, and suffering a whole new kind of torturous pain. With determination, practice and continual exercise, he found the pain eventually lessened, though he still had his days.
He didn’t start breaking horses until a chance meeting with Clay Duvall. Over beers at the local bar, his old friend had listened while Ethan outlined his ambitions. Then he’d offered him a job. In addition to the arena, Clay owned and operated a rodeo stock business that specialized in bucking horses.
The idea of competing again hadn’t occurred to Ethan until he’d watched the cowboys practicing at Clay’s arena. What started as a vague longing quickly grew into a burning desire. Ethan was tired of people looking at him differently. Tired of their sympathetic smiles.
Once he started competing again, all that would change.
Ignoring the pain, he pulled on his undershirt, then walked through the partially framed living room to the freshly painted bathroom, where he removed a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.
“You need a day off to rest up?” Gavin hollered from the kitchen.
“Hell, no.”
Both Ethan and his father worked alongside Gavin. With only thirty of the family’s original six hundred acres remaining in their possession, they’d turned their ranch into a public riding stable. Many Mustang Village residents boarded their horses, took riding lessons or went on guided trail rides at Powell Ranch.
In addition, they’d started the stud and breeding business last month, after capturing Prince, a wild mustang roaming the McDowell Mountains.
“Maybe you should take it easy today,” Gavin suggested, when Ethan returned to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about me.” He glowered at his brother. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Prince is off his feed. I’d like you to take a look at him before I call the vet.”
“I will. Later.”
“I was hoping you could do it first thing.”
Ethan thought his brother babied the wild mustang too much. Then again, the future of their family business relied heavily on Prince and his ability to breed. While he’d successfully mated with several mares since his capture last month, it was still far too early to determine if any pregnancies had taken, much less what kind of foals he would produce.
Gavin studied him as Ethan downed the painkiller with a glass of water. “Have you considered seeing a doctor?”
“Caitlin told me the same thing.”
That got his brother’s attention. Instead of leaving, which was Ethan’s hope, Gavin pulled out a chair at the dining table, removed his hat and made himself at home.
Great.
“You saw her?” he asked.
“Last night. She’s working for Clay, running his first-aid station.”
“Interesting.”
Gavin’s expression reminded Ethan of their father and, he supposed, himself. The Powell men all looked enough alike that most people immediately recognized them as family.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Ethan said, recalling the shock he’d felt when he first saw Caitlin. “She also works mornings at the middle school and afternoons at the urgent-care clinic.”
“Uh-huh.”
His brother was sure taking the news in stride. Then it hit him. “You knew she was back, didn’t you?”
“We met when Cassie sprained her ankle in gym class, and the school called me to come pick her up.”
“That was weeks ago. And you’re only now telling me?”
“Figured it wasn’t my place.”
Another thought occurred to Ethan. “Caitlin ask you not to tell me?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Did my name even come up?”
“We really didn’t have time to talk. She was busy, and Cassie was complaining about her ankle.”
Ethan started pacing the kitchen. Caitlin had known he’d returned to Mustang Valley and hadn’t bothered to look him up.
Did he really expect her to, after the way he’d treated her?
Probably not. Change that to hell, no.
“Look,” Gavin continued, “it just slipped my mind. I had a lot going on at the time. Capturing Prince. Starting the stud and breeding business. Sage and I getting engaged.”
“Right,” Ethan answered testily. He’d bet the entire contents of his wallet that running into Caitlin hadn’t slipped his brother’s mind. “I’m a big boy, bro. You don’t have to watch out for me.”
“Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”
Not exactly an admission, but close.
“Answer me this,” Gavin said. “What would you have done if I told you she was back in town?”
“Apologize, for one.” Which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t something he’d done last night. “And make amends…if possible.” He owed her that much.
“You going to ask her out?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Why not?”
“Even if I did, she’d turn me down flat. Besides, she’s probably married by now.”
“She isn’t.”
Ethan stopped pacing. “How do you know?”
“The subject came up.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have much time to talk to her.”
“Doesn’t take long to say, ‘Hey, you ever get married?’”
Ethan groaned.
“What are you so mad about, anyway?”
Before he could reply, another knock sounded at the door.
“What now?” He stormed over and yanked the door open.
Clay stood on the other side. “You’re in a fine mood.” Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside. “I just came from Prince’s paddock. He hasn’t touched his food.”
“We’re heading there now,” Ethan grumbled, snatching his jacket off the back of the couch where he’d left it.
“Any more of that coffee left?”
“It’s instant,” Gavin complained from his seat at the table.
Clay drew back in surprise. “Don’t you have a coffeemaker?”
Ethan glared at him. “Don’t you?”
Clay glared back. “What’s bugging you?”
“He’s mad that I didn’t tell him Caitlin was working at the school.” Gavin rose from the table.
“Can we not discuss this?” Ethan headed for the door.
“You going to invite her out?”
He ignored Clay’s question.
“I already asked him that.” Gavin went to the sink and deposited his mug. “He says no.”
Annoyed, Ethan shoved an arm into the sleeve of his jacket, then swore loudly when his entire left side seized with fresh pain.
“How’s the shoulder?” Clay asked.
“Fine.” Ethan opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
Clay came up behind him. “You don’t act like it’s fine.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“What did Caitlin say last night?”
“Ice the shoulder and take ibuprofen. I’ve done both.”
“Did she tell you to see a doctor?”
“I don’t need to see a doctor.”
“Don’t believe him.” Gavin joined them on the porch, shutting the door behind him. “He’s hurting.”
Ethan anchored his hat to his head as a strong gust of wind swept past them on its way down the mountain to the valley.
“See a doctor,” Clay ordered. “Until you do, and until you’re cleared, no bronc riding.”
Ethan swung around. “Dammit, Clay!”
“Sorry. That’s the rule. Same for you as everyone else.”
“The jackpot is a week and a half away. I need to practice.”
“Then I guess you’d better haul your butt to the doctor today.”
ATTHEBOTTOMOFTHELONG driveway leading from Powell Ranch to the main road, Ethan turned left. Three minutes later he reached the entrance to Mustang Village, with its large monument sign flanked by a life-size bronze statue of a rearing horse.
As he drove at a reduced speed through the equine-friendly community, he tried to remember what it had been like when there were no houses or buildings or people, only wide-open spaces and Powell cattle roaming them. He’d missed out on the construction of the community, having been in the service at the time. How hard it must have been for his father and brother to watch their family’s hundred-year-old history disappear acre by acre, replaced with roads, houses, condos and commercial buildings.
He generally avoided Mustang Village. The reminder of all they had lost was too hard on his heart.
If not for his mother’s failing health, they wouldn’t have borrowed the money from Clay’s father and used their land as collateral. If Clay’s dad had honored the agreement and not sold the land out from under them, Mustang Village would never have been built. If not for the residents of Mustang Village, Ethan’s family would be raising cattle rather than operating a riding stable.
A lot of ifs, and that wasn’t even counting the most recent one—if he hadn’t been standing where he was at the exact moment the car bomb exploded, he wouldn’t have lost his leg.
Ethan turned his thoughts away from the past when Mustang Village’s one and only retail strip center came into view.
It always struck him as odd to see hitching rails and bridle paths in a residential community. On any given weekend, there were almost as many equestrians riding about as there were pedestrians walking. Not so much during the week. Mustang Village resembled most other communities then, with school buses making runs, mothers pushing strollers, cyclists zipping along and dog lovers walking their pets.
Today, a work crew was busy stringing Christmas lights along the storefronts and hanging wreaths on lampposts. Already? Thanksgiving was still more than a week away.
A buzzer announced Ethan’s arrival at the urgent-care clinic. This was his first visit. He always drove to the VA hospital in Phoenix for his few medical needs.
Inside the crowded clinic, a receptionist greeted him with a friendly “May I help you?” and handed him a clipboard. When he was done filling out the forms, she processed his co-pay and said, “Have a seat.”
Ethan considered inquiring if Caitlin was working. But then the phone rang, followed immediately by a second line ringing. He left the receptionist to answer her calls, and sat in a chair next to a mother and her sniffling child.
He couldn’t help thinking that if the bronc hadn’t thrown him last night, he wouldn’t be here now, anxiously waiting to see his former girlfriend again. Yet another if in a long, long list of them.
Except Ethan really wouldn’t describe Caitlin as a girlfriend. She’d been much more than that to him, and he to her. Had his mother not died and he not enlisted, chances were good they’d have gotten married.
He really had to stop thinking about what might have been, or else he’d drive himself crazy.
“Ethan?”
His head snapped up when Caitlin called his name. “Yeah.”
“Right this way.”
He followed her down the corridor. Once he was weighed and his height taken, she escorted him to an examination room, where he sat on the table and she at the computer terminal.
“Why are you here today?”
Seriously? She knew darn well why. “I fell from a horse last night and hurt my shoulder,” he answered, playing along.
“What part of your shoulder?”
“You examined me.”
She gave him a very professional smile. “It’s procedure.”
He cupped his shoulder with his palm.
More questions followed, and she typed the answers into the computer. During the entire process, Caitlin treated him like any other patient, concerned, interested and like they hardly knew each other.
What did he expect? She was at work.
What did he want?
The answer was easy. To see that light in her eyes.
“The doctor will be right in to see you.” Before closing the door, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you came in today.”
He was tempted to jump to the wrong conclusion and reminded himself that her remark was medically motivated. Hadn’t she urged him last night to have his shoulder looked at?
After a brief consultation with the doctor, Ethan waited again, this time for the X-ray technician. Returning from the imaging room, he waited a third time.
The doctor’s news was good. Nothing was torn, only soft-tissue damage.
“Can I start riding again right away?” he asked.
“I recommend you take a few days off.” The man studied him over a pair of reading glasses. “A week would be better.”
“But there’s no reason I can’t ride.”
“You could sustain further injury.”
“Okay.” Ethan nodded. He had every intention of getting on a bronc tonight, and he was pretty sure the doctor knew it.
“I’m going to prescribe an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. If you aren’t better in two weeks, call for a follow-up exam or see your regular doctor.”
“Thanks.”
“You know—” the man removed his reading glasses “—if you’re really that determined to ride, you might consider physical therapy to speed your recovery.”
“Appreciate the advice, Doc.”
“The nurse will be in shortly with your prescriptions.”
Another wait, this one not long. Caitlin returned with three slips of paper in her hand. Ethan had to admit the sight of her in pale green scrubs was as surreal as seeing her in sweats. In college, she’d majored in journalism, with ambitions of being a TV reporter, and always dressed fashionably.
Admittedly, the scrubs looked cute on her, the loose material not quite hiding her very nice curves.
“Here you go.” She handed him the prescriptions. “The doctor wrote one for physical therapy as well, in case you need something for the VA.”
“I’ll probably skip PT.”
“Why? It will help.”
He stood, folded the prescriptions and placed them in his wallet. “The nearby facilities don’t take VA insurance. And I can’t afford the time off work to drive into Phoenix.”
“What if…what if I provided your physical therapy?”
“You?”
“I have some basic training. I’m not licensed, but I’ve taken several classes. For Justin. During his rehab, he’d strain his upper body muscles. And now that he’s involved in wheelchair athletics, he’s always overdoing it.”
“I can relate.”
“You two are alike when it comes to that.” Her expression softened, and suddenly she was the seventeen-year-old transfer student who’d been assigned to sit next to him in calculus class.
Ethan was caught off guard and needed a moment to collect himself. “I don’t think the VA will pay for a private physical therapist.”
“I won’t charge you.”
He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do it for free.”
“Who said anything about free?” She smiled then, really smiled, and he caught another glimpse of the confident, carefree girl he’d fallen in love with. “I was hoping we could negotiate a trade.”
She had his attention now. “I’m listening.”
She motioned him into the hall.
“I’m on the Holly Days Festival committee,” she said.
The residents of Mustang Village had put on a big community-wide event the previous Christmas. None of the Powells had attended, but they’d heard about it. From everyone.
“The committee, huh?”
“You know me.”
He did. She’d been an involved student in both high school and college. Cocaptain of the cheerleading squad, student council, National Honor Society.
“I thought the festival was strictly for residents.”
“I’m a resident,” she said brightly as they entered the reception area.
“Really?”
“I’m renting a condo. In the complex right across the street.” She nodded toward the window. “I get to walk to work every day. Well, not to the middle school. But here.”
Working and living in Mustang Village. Was that another bit of interesting information Gavin had conveniently forgotten to tell Ethan?
“The committee is hoping to try something different this year,” Caitlin went on. “The parade was fun, but more people participated than watched.”
“You saw it?”
“I did. I almost drove to the ranch, too.”
Just how often had they narrowly missed crossing paths since his return home?
“Anyway, I remembered that old farm wagon of yours and was wondering if we could decorate it and have you drive people around the park.”
“No one’s used that wagon in years.”
Her hopeful smile fell. “Well, it was just an idea.”
Ethan had no desire to participate in the Holly Days Festival. Nothing involving Mustang Village appealed to him—with the exception of Caitlin. And she appealed to him far too much for his own good.
But hadn’t he just told Gavin this morning that he wished he could make amends with Caitlin? Wagon rides at the festival wouldn’t exactly clean the slate. But it was a start, and obviously important to her.
“We could pull the wagon out of storage,” he said. “See what kind of shape it’s in.”
“Great!” Her green eyes lit up.
This was the moment Ethan had been waiting for, only her excitement was over an old wagon. Not him.
“Why don’t you come out to the ranch?”
“When?”
Ethan massaged his left shoulder. “As soon as possible. I still haven’t qualified for the jackpot next weekend.”
“What about tomorrow, say around noon? I have a two-hour break between the school and the clinic. If the wagon is usable, we’ll set up a schedule for your PT sessions.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, Caitlin.” The receptionist held up a manila folder.
“I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “Thank you, Ethan.”
She collected the folder and called the next person’s name.
Once again, Ethan was just another patient—and it didn’t set well with him.
