Cowboy for Keeps (7 page)

A
manda hurried out of Wyatt’s as though the house was on fire. She shouldn’t have talked about Jonathan. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone—especially Wyatt. And now she’d gone and opened up to him like that, when keeping her mouth shut would have been the better way.

Anxious, she sank into the kitchen chair of her travel trailer and felt the walls closing in on her. She’d laid her Bible beside her bed when she’d unpacked, but she hadn’t opened it. Now she reached for it, feeling an urgent need.

But, like all the other times she’d tried to read since the breakup, she couldn’t do it. It felt like there was a barrier between her and the words written on the page. Oh, she could scan them, but it was as if someone was speaking and she was inside a soundproof room, hearing nothing. She closed the book and, needing space, she went outside.

She walked to the rear of the trailer, not wanting Wyatt to see her pacing. She’d seen what looked like a low wall near the wood’s edge and she was pleasantly surprised to find an archway with an iron gate. The hinges squeaked as she pulled the gate open, and with a feeling of excitement she found stone steps leading down the hill.

How old were the wall and steps?

She could hear rushing water and she carefully followed the steps downward toward the sound. Through the trees she saw the river—it was as restless looking as she felt as it swept by in a swirling mass. At the base of the steps she found a large rock that jutted out over the water. She went to the rock and stared down at the turbulent water.

Though the water swirled and rolled, it was a peaceful place. And it was absolutely beautiful. Huge oak trees lined the banks behind her. In front of her, the rock she stood on connected to a long formation that caused the river to narrow. It was a great place. She moved down the wide rock and found a place to sit. Surely she could think here.

She’d allowed herself to cross that line, thinking about Jonathan. He’d realized there was so much more out there that he could have without her. How could she blame him when even she knew he was right? Sucking in a shaky breath, she felt a tear roll down her cheek and brushed it aside.
Dear Lord, help me get through this.
The prayer came to her, a plea more than a prayer. And all she could do was hope God would answer her.

Wyatt was on the phone when Amanda poked her head through the door the next morning. She still couldn’t believe she’d told him about Jonathan. She knew Wyatt probably hadn’t missed how upset she’d been. Or that she hadn’t turned her light off much that night…he hadn’t turned his off until early morning.

She needed work today—not conversation. One look at his face told her he was in extreme pain.

“Looks like you really need me today.” She felt for him as she headed toward the therapy room. “Let’s get you on the table and after we ease up some of that agony you’re in, we’ll work on the ligature of that hip. Then, if you’re up to it, we’ll get started on your arm.”

“Give me a minute,” he said, distracted. “I need to make another call.” He was already dialing the number when she turned back to glare at him from the doorway.

He looked worn out on top of being in pain, and she was in no mood to let things slide. “You’re hurting and you need to relax. Period.”

His expression darkened. “I said I’ll hang up in a minute. This is important.”

Amanda slammed her fists to her hips. “Right now your well-being is the most important thing in your life. And the
only
thing I’m interested in. This work you’re doing isn’t my priority. How many cases are you working on, anyway? You can’t tell me all these phone calls and all that paperwork is just one case.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at her like she’d lost it. Maybe she had, because she just kept right on going. “Are you consulting on the cases of the entire law firm? Don’t these people know you need time off to heal?”

He looked perplexed. “I’m working because I want to. And because these are my cases that have had to be borne on someone else’s shoulders. I need to see them through.”

“Well, I need to see your therapy through. So hang that phone up right now.”

He was in shock. His expression was one she’d seen on her teenage patients when she’d threatened to take away their phones. It was a combination of disbelief and irritation. “I’m not joking, Wyatt. As your physical therapist I’m telling you that you need to put your health first and get in here on this table.”

Not looking happy at all, he set the phone down and drove his wheelchair past her into the PT room.

Amanda prayed for patience as she followed him. She never expected this to be easy, and in reality she’d had far worse rebellion from some kids who took their pain and loss out on her. She’d eventually helped them and she would do the same with Wyatt. Yesterday she’d let him see her get emotional, personal. That had been a mistake.

She waited as he removed his shirt and got settled on the table. His muscles rippled as he did so, drawing her attention. The man was something—even with the fresh scars on his back. He didn’t say a word and she was fine with that. She needed to keep this strictly business. Her mind couldn’t dwell on his muscles in any way, shape or form other than the ones she was here to fix.

She got to work, focused on it and, like she had the other times when she’d given him his massage, she refrained from asking him anything about his accident. She figured if he wanted to talk about it he would. The red scars ran down his back on his left side, and there were also some on his arm and chest.

From the heating unit she took heated pads and applied them to his back and hip then covered them with warm towels.

“Just relax and let the heat loosen you up,” she said, then went to the small desk and opened his chart. One thing she was glad about was that he hadn’t pursued his line of questioning today.

She’d had a rough night after telling him about Jonathan. Sleep hadn’t helped—what little she’d had was restless. She’d awakened more tired, it seemed, than when she’d closed her eyes.

Her gaze wandered back to where Wyatt lay covered in towels with his head down staring at the floor through the hole in the table.

“Your place is beautiful,” she said, suddenly needing conversation. “I found the stone stairway yesterday evening.”

“You went down by the river?”

“Yes. It was almost like being swept back in time sitting down there. I wonder how old that stairway is?”

“At least a hundred and fifty years—like the house. I think it was all done at the same time.”

“Amazing.” When he said nothing she filled in.

“Those who passed this way over the years must have felt a sense of peace when they arrived here.” She’d felt it briefly. Very briefly.

“That’s what I always thought.”

She didn’t have anything to fill the silence with this time.

Wyatt shifted on the table. “I’ve always loved it here.”

That she’d gathered from others’ conversations. “Why did you move away?” The personal question was out before she realized it. But she was curious and she did need something to take her mind off her own troubles. Seconds clicked by as if he, too, was unsure about wanting to continue conversing.

“I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer,” he offered finally.

“Oh.” She searched for something to ask. Why had she initiated the conversation?

“Are you always so bossy?”

She was grateful for the unexpected question even if it was grunted. “My momma says yes.”

He raised his head from the table and looked at her. “I have a feeling she’s right.”

She could see it in his eyes that he was still in pain and she wasn’t sure whether he was talking to distract himself from it. But he didn’t need to be looking at her. “Put that head back down. You still have five minutes.”

He ignored her. “So what was this sorry guy’s problem?”

This was not the conversation she wanted to have. “He wasn’t sorry.”

“What?” Wyatt pushed up from the table with his good arm. “If that’s the case, then what did you do?”

She crossed to him and started hastily removing the heating pads. “Nothing. Can we not talk about this?” Why had she said that? It would only spike his curiosity further.

She pushed him down and started working on his back. “So are wild hogs the norm around here? Am I going to have to dodge them?” She hadn’t begun her early morning jogs, but knew it was time. She needed the release jogging gave her. But the wild hog incident had put a damper on that and…in actuality she just hadn’t been able to make herself get out of bed like she usually did. She knew getting back into it would help her feel better…. She just wasn’t sure about jogging alone in the pastures at the crack of dawn.

“Seth has trappers come periodically to keep them down. Most every rancher has problems with them. So you might run into them, but not likely in the daytime. Why, are you planning on starting to trap them?”

“
Hardly.
I really don’t want to have anything to do with those mean-looking things.”

“Good. They might be back during the night at some point and if so, no matter what, you need to stay inside. But you probably won’t see any during daylight hours.”

“You’re sure?” She didn’t want to specifically mention that she was going to be running early in the morning and that they scared her a little. Okay, a lot. She was a coward. She
was
running tomorrow. Pigs or no pigs, she was going to pull herself out of this state of lethargy. She knew it was all the oppressed emotions dragging her down. She’d hoped work would help, but so far nothing had helped. Not even God.

“You’re loosening up. Is the pain ebbing?” She was glad to feel him relax with each motion of her hands.

“It’s a dull ache right now.”

“You’ll be glad to know that we’re stepping it up today. We’re going to push harder and then we’ll get cracking on standing up. You’re in great shape, so that’s going to work to your advantage.” No doubt about it, Wyatt was in
excellent
shape.

“Hey!” he yelped when she hit a sore spot.

“Sorry!”
Focus, Amanda! Focus!
“I thought I had that worked out of there.”

“That’s okay.” He grunted and shifted uncomfortably. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“So are you a runner?” She asked the first thing that came to mind, venturing another personal question. When he was talking he seemed to loosen up quicker.

“Before the plane crash, I jogged every day. Plus, I worked out at the gym. It helped with my mental acuity. It’s good to know all that work wasn’t for nothing.”

So he was a jogger just like she’d thought. “Getting in shape is never for nothing. Have you run any marathons?”

“I did the Alcatraz Iron Man Triathlon last year. That was my first venture into competitive running.”

“Your first venture!”
Amanda said in disbelief.

“You tackled a swim from Alcatraz, topped it off with biking and running for your
first
venture. I am in awe.”

“Don’t be,” he drawled, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I came in middle of the pack in my age group.”

The way he said that said it all. He’d gone out to come in first on his very first marathon race. The man had high expectations for himself. To him, middle of the pack was as bad as coming in last. It was all or nothing for Wyatt Turner.

“I’m still impressed.”

He grunted. “I’m not.”

She worked in silence for the next few minutes. He seemed content to relax and let her work.

Finally she asked him to flip to his back and she placed her fingers beneath his ankle again. “Lift, please. Good. Now, this time I’m going to rotate it. How does that feel?”

“Tight.”

“In other words, it still hurts.”

“That is correct,” he said, tense.

She smiled at the lawyerly way he’d answered. Not a yes, but:
that is correct.
“It is getting better. But during the next few weeks pushing your limits will mean pain,” she warned. “It’s the only way to gain full range of motion.”

He didn’t hesitate at that, but gave her a boyish grin. “If it takes you beating me up every day in order for me to gain back my ‘full range of motion,’ then have at it, Doc. You have my full cooperation.”

Startled by his smile, Amanda felt lighter suddenly. But
full cooperation.
She’d believe that when she saw it.

A
manda decided to drive into town during her break that afternoon and check out some of the shops. It was a beautiful Saturday and she felt a little lighter after her morning session with Wyatt. They’d made progress in more ways than one this morning. Her heart had been lifted during their conversation. She knew she made him feel some relief, also, by the time she’d left. Not just physically but mentally. That may have come strictly from the fact that he was about to start putting some weight on his hip. Forward motion for him was all he cared about. She knew the lightness in her heart that had hit her when he’d smiled at her had come from the fact that she loved to see her patients feeling better.

The memory of that boyish grin replayed across her mind all afternoon, though. Each time it did she found herself smiling. Just like she was doing now.

She parked in front of Heavenly Inspirations hair salon. The bright pink building could be seen all the way from the crossroads, a beacon for the town. The pink car sitting in front of it did the same. It was one of those Elvis Cadillacs, the kind from the 1950s with the shark-tail fenders. Who did it belong to? No telling, since there seemed to be a good amount of folks in town today.

Cars lined the street and a chattering group was heading into the diner that very minute. And at Pete’s, the feed store directly across from the salon, there were three trucks backed up. Cowboys were loading big sacks of feed into the beds. As she was standing there, she noticed a sign on the window of the salon. There was going to be a roping event at the Matlock Ranch Arena the following Saturday. Amanda was thinking that this sounded like fun when the salon door was flung open and a small woman with a head of very blond hair stepped outside.

“Hey there! I’m Lacy Matlock.” She held out her hand and smiled. Her hair was about three inches long all over her head and looked like she’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel. It was tousled this way and that way and looked really cute on the perky gal whose blue, blue eyes were twinkling with warmth. “You’re Amanda, the one working out at Wyatt’s, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Amanda shook Lacy’s hand. “How did you know?”

“Norma Sue and Esther Mae described you to me perfectly and when I saw you through the window, I knew it had to be you.”

Amanda couldn’t help smiling at the bubbly blonde. She was the kind of person who made you feel good just by being near them. She was animated with joy and energy, smiling and waving her orange-tipped fingernails about as she talked. “Should I ask how they described me or should I be afraid?”

“Oh, it’s all good. Believe me, those two liked you the minute they saw you. Which only got better when they found out you were here to take care of their boy.”

“Their boy?”

“They claim Wyatt, Cole and Seth. They
claim
all the cowboys within the seventy-mile radius around Mule Hollow, but those Turner men practically grew up at their houses. They were real close with Wyatt’s parents.”

“Oh, I see. That explains why they were so excited that I was here to take care of Wyatt.”

“Yep. They have been so worried about Wyatt. And they have been talking nonstop since you arrived. How are you doing? Are y’all getting along all right?”

How did she answer that? “We’re getting used to each other.” That was the truth.

Lacy’s expression grew compassionate. “He’s been through a lot, I’m guessing he’s still having a hard time dealing with the situation. Even with the blessing of being alive, men don’t enjoy being tied down. My Clint would be like a penned-up bull if he couldn’t get out and tend to his ranch.” She patted her small rounded stomach. “And I’m sure our baby will be the same way.”

“I’m sure you are really excited about the baby even if he or she is a ball of energy.”

“Oh, yeah, that is for certain. We have wanted a baby for a long time. God finally said the timing was right and here we are, waiting for the happy day. I’m loving every minute of it.”

Amanda decided to open up a bit but didn’t feel right saying too much. “Wyatt is having a hard time. But each day he’s getting further along.”

Lacy checked her watch. “Are y’all going to try and get out some? He’s not even been to church since he was injured. We’d love to have y’all come tomorrow. Or even if Wyatt doesn’t want to get out, we’d love to see you.”

“You know, I hadn’t thought about going to church just yet, but that is actually a wonderful idea. It would get Wyatt out of the house and get him around people who care for him.” She hadn’t thought of it because she was still trying to deal with her own faith issues.

“And God will be pleased to see y’all there as much as we will be.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Lacy.” It would be good for him…and for her.

“Well, I need to run, I’ve got a color client under the dryer and her time is almost up…” She hesitated before turning back to the door. “Amanda, I normally wouldn’t say this, but you’re right, coming to church will be good for him. I think Wyatt is angry with himself and I just think he needs some peace. Connecting with God and fellowshipping with his church family will help him.”

That struck Amanda hard—almost as if Lacy had hit her with a rock, because that was exactly what was wrong with Wyatt—not to mention that
she
needed peace, too…but this was about Wyatt. She’d known something had him hiding in his work.
And
something had him moody—he just didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would normally be moody. He’d almost died and he was stuck in a wheelchair. That was enough to make anyone moody. But she was curious as to what Lacy’s thoughts were. “Why do you think that?”

Lacy shrugged. “It’s just, I was with my husband, who is a first responder on our volunteer fire department, so I was there when they pulled him out. He was barely conscious. I mean, it was a miracle that he wasn’t harmed worse. A miracle and good flying skills. He landed that plane in the middle of a horrible storm in a very bad area. It wasn’t as if he were in open pasture but rather a tree-covered spot near some of the hills we have in Texas Hill Country. God had to have had His hand on that plane. I think maybe that is what could be worrying Wyatt. He kept mumbling that he’d been stupid and arrogant—I don’t even know if he remembers that he said that. When we all got to him, he was in such bad shape. He’d lost a good bit of blood.” Lacy stopped speaking suddenly and looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to believe since I’m the town hairstylist and salons are the gossip mills of small towns, but I really don’t do this normally. It’s just I get the sense that maybe you need to know this. Come tomorrow if you can. Everyone would love to meet you. And just give me a call if you need anything.”

Amanda watched as Lacy practically flew back into her salon. She’d spent less than fifteen minutes talking and she felt as if she’d known Lacy all her life. There was something about her that made a person know she genuinely cared.

Amanda liked that. She liked feeling like she was among folks who looked out for each other. She stared down the sidewalk at the tiny town and, as she had that first day, she wondered what it would be like to just move here. Would that be considered running away from her problems?

“Tomorrow is Sunday and I thought we’d go to church,” Amanda said when they’d started their afternoon session. Once again, Wyatt had been buried in research when she’d arrived.

Now he shot her a scowl. “I’m not going to church. No way.”

So much for full cooperation—of course she’d seen that already.
“Yes way.”

He’d been okay during the therapy after she’d been firm, but he hadn’t been very talkative that afternoon. Again she wasn’t happy about his workload but had decided to hold her tongue. For now, anyway. She processed the information Lacy had given her. “When was the last time you got out of this house?”

“I haven’t left since they brought me home and I’m not going to church in that
chair.
”

So that was it. “It will do you good.”

“Forget it, Amanda.”

“Look.” She could be just as stubborn as he could be.

“This is part of therapy. Getting out and about will be good for you. You have gotten too tied to these four walls surrounding you. And way too connected to your phone.”

He glared at her, his dark brows crinkled and almost touching in the middle. “I’m not going out in that stinkin’ chair. Get it out of your head.”

His words hit Amanda wrong. She fought down her temper. Did he not know how blessed he was? Did he think he was too good to be seen in a wheelchair? Irritated beyond words, she glared right back at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “No, you probably haven’t since you’ve been too busy feeling sorry for yourself. But there is an abundance of people who live
every
single day of their lives in wheelchairs. For them there is no hope of ever getting out of ‘that chair,’ as you so callously call it.” She shook her head and willed herself to remain calm. Irrational behavior never helped anything. “Instead of feeling sorry for themselves, they enjoy life…thankful that they have ‘that chair,’ which enables them to not be shut in. And so can you. Why do you continue to be so obstinate? Why are you being so hard on yourself?” She couldn’t jump him about being too prideful to use the chair. This went deeper than that and she knew it.

Instead of answering, he drove his chair to the window and stared out across the pasture.

“Don’t you know how fortunate you are? You came through that plane crash alive. I understand it must have been a harrowing experience, but God brought you through it. What you have wrong with you can be fixed. I’ve tried and tried to get that through to you. You are about to be on a walker. And then a cane. But this is about more than walking, isn’t it?” Instinct told her that Lacy was right. Wyatt was hiding something deeper. She could relate to that in more ways than he could imagine. Crazy as it sounded, she wished she could tell him her problem. But this was about him, not her, and it didn’t seem right.

“Why are you so angry?” She asked the question half expecting him to scoff and tell her it was none of her business. Instead he swung his chair around to face her.

“Look, I took my life for granted, all right?” He rubbed his temple as if he had a headache.

“How did you do that?” It was the only question to ask to such an observation.

“I climbed into that plane never even imagining that it would crash. When I woke—” He stopped speaking and she stilled her fingers working out a knot tightening up along his spine. “When I woke trapped inside, with the smell of gas all around me, I felt stupid. I was going to die because I’d been incompetent. That isn’t acceptable to me.”

That couldn’t be it. “You’re this angry about being stuck in this wheelchair because you feel stupid?” This seemed totally out of character for him. She hadn’t tagged him as being so shallow.

“No. Because like you just pointed out, I’m an arrogant fool.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant at all!”

“Isn’t it? It’s the truth.”

He was an overachiever. “Do you think you’re a superhero? You’re being unreasonably hard on yourself. You got in an airplane and it crashed. It happens. That’s just like me getting in my car and being involved in that car crash—I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t drink and drive.
That
would be stupid. Was stupid, irresponsible and criminal.”

He went very still. “You’re right. But even if I weren’t guilty of drinking…” His words were quiet. “I did know there was risk in taking off in that storm. All I can think about is what if I had harmed someone because I chose to fly my plane in unsafe conditions. I do corporate law for the most part, but I also handle cases every year where someone was injured from acts of neglect. It turns my stomach that I could have been in that category. At the very least I was neglectful of my own safety. My grandfather died that way. He basically made a decision to mow on a hill that any beginner would have known was too steep. But he did it anyway and his tractor rolled on top of him. All my life that’s bothered me and here I went and decided to fly my plane into a storm because I believed I could fly through anything. God and everyone else has got to be thinking I’m an idiot. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s the carelessness of it. It’s unforgivable.”

There was a lot here. Amanda searched for words. “Everything is forgivable,” she said. “I—I learned that when the drunk driver that had almost killed me came and begged me for forgiveness. I couldn’t do it at first. But then, my dad helped me realize it was what God expected of me. He forgives us so we have to forgive others. It was tough at first. But that was the first step in my recovery. I’ve helped my young patients get through some of the same pain by helping them take that step. You need to do that. You need to forgive yourself.” She walked over to stand beside him. She wanted to reach out and touch him but didn’t.

He didn’t look as if anything she’d said had made a difference. She pushed on. “You hold yourself up to too high a standard and you’re right, that is pretty arrogant on your part. I hate to say this, but you don’t have a clue what your grandfather was thinking.” Maybe she was stepping over the line here, but she felt it needed to be said. Bluntness might be the only thing that got through to him.

He didn’t say anything for a heartbeat. “You don’t hold back, do you?”

“Not very often,” she said, more gently. She wanted to help him. “I deal with people’s physical impairments every day. Many times it’s the things going on in their heads after an injury that play a role in their healing. My kids—I mean many of my patients—see counselors simultaneously. Normally, I leave this sort of thing for them.”

“I don’t know, you’re giving this thick-headed fool sound advice. At least you are stating the facts.”

“You deal in facts. I was probably out of line.”

He lifted his hand and placed it on her arm. The contact was warm.