To Tame a Texas Cowboy

by Julie Benson

  Thanks for the reminder. I’d almost forgotten how important this was.

  Her chest tightened again as her heart rate spiked. Dizziness washed over her. Maybe her mother was right about peer pressure, and she should’ve stuck to a phone call. Then if Cooper said no, she could’ve come to see him.

  Great plan, but too late.

  After inhaling deeply, she prepared to launch into her pitch, but behind them in the corral, the steer bawled.

  “Stop hollerin’ at me, Bruiser,” Cooper said, but at the sound of his name, the animal complained louder. “He’s ticked because he’s hungry. Just ignore him. What can I do for you two?”

  Cheyenne swallowed hard and tried to find the right words. How was a girl supposed to talk when she could barely breathe? She opened her mouth to explain but ended up hemming and hawing instead. Tongue-tied, too? What was it about this man?

  “It’s a long story, and it’s hot out here. Could we talk inside where it’s more comfortable?” Aubrey said to cover Cheyenne’s bumbling conversation attempt.

  Cheyenne nodded. “I could use a glass of water if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “Where are my manners? Let’s head inside.”

  As Cooper stopped to dump the remaining feed for the steer, Aubrey elbowed Cheyenne in the ribs and whispered, “Make a connection with him.”

  Sure. Easy. Because they had so much in common. Ty, animals, and the weather. Great options. Deciding on the animals, Cheyenne stepped closer and blurted out, “I’m guessing since you’ve named the steer, you’re not fattening him up to sell.”

  Bruiser raised his head, eyed Cheyenne in what she swore was male irritation, and let out a pitiful wail.

  “That four letter s-word scares, Bruiser,” Cooper said.

  Cheyenne chuckled. “You don’t believe he understood what I said, do you?”

  “No, but he recognizes s-e-l-l.” Cooper scratched Bruiser behind the ear in the same affectionate way she did her horse Riley. The steer gazed almost lovingly at the cowboy.

  “Boy, did you name him wrong,” Aubrey said.

  “He was the first bull I castrated in vet school,” Cooper said, and Bruiser bawled again. “When I heard his owner planned on sending him to the slaughterhouse, I couldn’t let that happen.”

  He bought a steer to keep as a pet? “You’d make a lousy rancher.”

  “That’s for sure.” Cooper smiled, and his gaze landed on Cheyenne. She swallowed a gasp. For a second, she worried he’d see into her soul. The man had an uncanny perception. “Now, let’s get out of the heat.”

  As they walked to the house, Cheyenne fought the urge to run. When had she become so afraid? Where was the adventurous spirit that served her well in competitions? Her chin rose. She couldn’t control much in her life right now. Everyone else might see her as someone suffering from seizures because of her tumor, but she was the same person she’d always been. As long as the tumor didn’t grow too fast or become cancerous. Don’t even think about those things. Instead, focus on the key to others realizing she was still herself was for her to act that way.

  When Cooper opened the front door, a huge black, tan, and white dog jumped on him, but he snapped his fingers, pointed to the floor, and the dog obeyed. At least until he spotted Aubrey and Cheyenne. Then he alternated between sniffing them and shoving his head under their hands to be scratched. “This is Rowdy. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten his manners, too.”

  Cooper ushered them inside where Cheyenne sank onto the worn brown leather couch in the small living room with Aubrey beside her, while the tall cowboy got them water.

  “What can I do for you, two? I’ve got to admit I’m curious,” Cooper said as he sat in the leather recliner to her right.

  Cheyenne sipped her water. The cool liquid slid down her dry throat. If only it could cool her nerves, too, she’d be happy. Her hands wrapped around her glass, she cleared her throat and tried to speak. When nothing came out, she gulped down more water.

  Her brain grew fuzzy, and the dull ache behind her eyes wasn’t helping. She could do this. She considered how to start. She couldn’t blurt out, “I hear you volunteer at an agency that gets people service dogs. I need one. How about it?”

  Beside her, Aubrey fidgeted, but Cheyenne avoided looking at her friend. All she’d see was a get-on-with-it-don’t-make-me-do-this-for-you glare. Glancing at her feet to organize her thoughts and harness her courage, Cheyenne spotted brown paws. They inched forward out from under the end table revealing a brown-and-black shepherd. The dog sat on its haunches, pressing its furry body against Cheyenne’s legs. Expressive, cinnamon-colored eyes stared at her.

  “Who’s this?”

  You’re stalling. Get to it. There wasn’t much point coming if you keep avoiding the issue.

  “Penny Lane. She landed in the shelter when her owner died. She wasn’t doing well so the shelter asked me to foster her.”

  Cheyenne ran her hand over the dog’s silky fur. “Who would do well in a shelter? They’re loud, scary places. My horse, Riley didn’t do well there either.” That was why Cheyenne picked her. She remembered telling her dad she thought Riley needed her the most.

  “That’s so sad. Not only did she lose her best friend, but her home as well,” Aubrey said.

  Cheyenne scratched Penny behind the ears and an odd connection rippled through her. She’d always felt a bond with horses, but never experienced a similar pull with other animals. Until now. Must be the similarity in their circumstances. “I guess your life’s been turned upside down, too.”

  “Which brings up why we’re here,” Aubrey said, giving Cheyenne another nudge.

  She swallowed hard and barreled forward. “The topic of service dogs came up when Aubrey and I were talking at dinner. Ty said you volunteer with Patriot Paws.”

  Cooper leaned back in his chair, obviously more at ease. “I’ve been with Patriot Paws for years. I can’t say enough about the agency. Their work enables disabled vets to regain their independence, but my volunteer work can’t be why you came to see me.”

  Disabled. The word sliced through Cheyenne. That was how people saw her. She squeezed her hands together as she resisted the urge to pick at her nails or squirm under Cooper’s intelligent gaze.

  Penny pressed harder against her. A nervous laugh threatened to bubble out of Cheyenne, but she pinched her lips together holding it in. Penny, you got Cooper to help you. How about I explain my situation, and you ask him to do the favor for me? That would be much easier.

  A pitiful, high-pitched whimper swirled around her, and the dog pawed at her hand.

  Get on with it.

  Cheyenne straightened, moving away from Penny, but couldn’t bring herself to look at Cooper for fear of what she’d see in his clear blue eyes. “Actually, Patriot Paws is why we came. You mentioned service dogs help people regain their independence.” Cheyenne paused, refusing to use that “D” word. “That’s what I’m hoping one can do for me.”

  There, she’d gotten the words out. The tightness in her chest eased some. Hopefully having scaled the mountain, the hike down would be easier. If her headache lessened, but instead it expanded, continuing to crowd out her ability to think.

  Penny pawed Cheyenne’s jeans.

  “Patriot Paws only works with vets. Are you a veteran?”

  Cheyenne shook her head, unable to form words because of the whining rattling in her ears. She blinked to clear her blurry vision, but the world stayed fuzzy. Though she tried to organize her thoughts, the words to ask for his help refused to come.

  “If you tell me what your issue is, I can put you in touch with the proper agency.”

  A simple question, but one she’d hoped to avoid. No dodging the subject now.

  Cheyenne inhaled deeply trying to ignore how her headache had spread to her temples. Weird. She hadn’t had a migraine in forever. “I suffer from seizures.”

  Cooper paled and the muscles in his jaw tightened. He gripped the chair arms so tightly
his biceps bulged. A distant look that wasn’t there before clouded his gaze. As often as she’d seen people’s attitude change once they learned about her seizures, she’d hoped Cooper’s work with Patriot Paws would keep that from happening. Other people viewing her as a person with health problems first, hurt, but Cooper’s reaction stung more. She wanted him to see her. She wanted his eyes to shine with male appreciation and interest the way they had the night they met at The Horseshoe.

  Tell him how important this is. Tell him how your mom is killing your spirit.

  She couldn’t say that. Then he’d really pity her.

  Think of it as increasing his sympathy and your odds rather than spilling your troubles all over his scuffed cowboy boots.

  Aubrey said something, but Cheyenne didn’t know what. She frowned when Penny kept pawing at her. Why wouldn’t the blasted dog leave her alone? And the whining. Cheyenne wanted to cover her ears to shut out the noise. Instead, she slid away on the couch, but Penny followed, pawing at her frantically.

  “Penny, stop,” Cooper commanded, but the dog ignored him. Funny how his voice sounded distant. “It’s odd how Penny’s taken to you. At the shelter, she’d wouldn’t interact with anyone.”

  “Back to why we’re here,” Aubrey said, her voice sounding far off, too. “Cheyenne learned the wait for a dog is from one to five years.”

  “Even if I put you in touch with someone, I doubt that would change. Agencies have selection committees who evaluate applications and assign priority based on need.”

  “Couldn’t you put in a good word and convince someone to plead her case?” Aubrey asked.

  “The committee has to remain objective. Otherwise, applicants’ friends and relatives would think if they volunteered, donated enough money, or had a friend on the committee they could get their loved one bumped up on the list.”

  The conversation swirled around Cheyenne. She needed to focus, but the fog in her head expanded. Lights flashed in front of her eyes, and she smelled… burning rubber? What was going on? Penny continued scratching at her leg and whining, driving her crazy. She shooed the dog away, but she wouldn’t budge.

  “I have something in mind that could work, but it doesn’t involve an agency—”

  Disappointment cut through Cheyenne. She should’ve known Cooper couldn’t help. She rubbed her throbbing temples, hoping to ease the pain. She should leave, and reached for her purse at her feet, stood, and tried to break free of Penny who refused to stop pawing and whining at her. “I understand. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  “Well, I don’t understand,” Aubrey snapped, her back ramrod straight, her arms folded across her chest. “Cheyenne’s not one to ask for favors. She’s got too much pride. She’d rather we leave.”

  “Aubrey, stop.”

  “Cheyenne’s family to me. You and Ty are practically family, so that makes all of us like family. How can you turn your back on her? Aggies have a rule or tradition on almost everything. Surely there’s one saying you have to do whatever you can to help family.”

  “I can’t intercede with an agency, but there could be something else I could do, but right now Cheyenne needs to sit down,” Cooper began, Penny’s whining drowned out the end of what he’d said.

  She was so hot. All she wanted to do was cut her losses and hit the road. She refused to beg. She’d find another way to reassure her mom so she could move out.

  “Since Cheyenne’s diagnosis, she had to quit her job. The doctor says until her seizures are under control, barrel racing is too dangerous, and until the doctor gives her the go ahead, insurance won’t cover her during competitions,” Aubrey continued. “That means she’s unemployed. She’s moved back home with her mom.”

  “’Nough, Aubrey. This was a mistake.”

  “She won’t beg, but I will.”

  The only thing more humiliating than her begging was her best friend doing it for her. Her rigid body felt as if it would snap like a brittle twig stepped on in winter. So much for leaving with dignity. Cheyenne turned to Cooper, focusing on the A&M logo in the middle of his broad chest. The fabric rose and fell at a rapid rate. His heart raced almost as fast as hers?

  The need to escape consumed her. “I’m sorry we bothered—”

  His lips moved, but his voice sounded too garbled to understand. She pushed forward, but dizziness overwhelmed her.

  “Cheyenne, sit down.”

  She turned to Cooper. Was he the one talking? A rapid drum pounded in her head, as if a marching band set up practice there. A white haze clouded her vision. High-pitched whimpers echoed in her ears, fighting through the pain. Something pressed against her shoulders. The force shoved against her chest, sending her tumbling backward.

  Was she experiencing some weird medication side effect?

  No, she knew what this was. Why hadn’t she realized sooner? Maybe because she’d only had her first seizure two months ago?

  Please, not here in front of Aubrey. Dear Lord, not in front of Cooper.

  Then the world went black.

  Chapter Four

  Before Cooper reached Cheyenne, Penny Lane stood on her hind legs, placed her front paws on Cheyenne’s chest and shoved her onto the couch. Her actions confirmed what Cooper suspected. The pawing and whining had been the dog alerting Cheyenne of an impending seizure. Some experts insisted as much as 20 percent of dogs naturally exhibited alerting behavior with seizure patients. All someone had to do was recognize the actions for what they were the way Cooper finally had.

  Damn. How could he have been so slow on the uptake with Penny’s behavior? The dog, so distant with shelter volunteers, staff and him, had attached to Cheyenne immediately. Not only that, he should’ve connected what the pawing and whining meant the minute Cheyenne mentioned she suffered from seizures.

  He hadn’t put the pieces together because he hadn’t wanted to. Cheyenne’s seizures hit too close to home. Brought up too many memories he fought to control.

  No getting around dealing with the whole mess now.

  He glanced at the redhead on the couch, her body rigid and stiff. Though he hadn’t seen someone having a seizure in over two years, he’d never forget the signs. Adrenaline flooded his system, as he fought the overwhelming urge insisting he couldn’t deal with this again. He struggled to shove aside the memories clawing at him from the dark corner of his mind. No matter what the situation, never let your emotions overpower your logic.

  That was the key—closing off his emotions.

  Penny sat on her haunches, her back pressed against Cheyenne’s shoulder as if on guard. Clearly the dog either had uncanny natural ability or experience as a seizure dog. What were the odds that the exact situation he needed would land on his doorstep?

  Maybe fate was providing a solution to Cheyenne’s problem of needing a service dog and his investor issue.

  Cheyenne could provide the real-world data the shareholders wanted. Granted, one sample wouldn’t be considered a wealth of information on newly diagnosed individuals, but if it eased the investors’ concerns and bought them time for Tucker to retool another variation of the SeizureReader, Cooper would be thrilled.

  “Cheyenne? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Can you hear me?” Aubrey’s panicked voice sliced through Cooper’s thoughts as she moved toward her friend.

  When Penny growled, Cooper grasped Aubrey’s shoulders and pulled her back. “Cheyenne’s having a seizure, and Penny’s protecting her. Some dogs exhibit a natural ability to do that. If they do, it’s best to back off.”

  “A seizure? Oh, God, no. Call nine-one-one.” Aubrey’s voice crackled with fear as she grabbed her purse and dug inside. “Where the hell is my phone?”

  “There’s no point in calling paramedics. By the time they arrive, her seizure will be over.”

  “There has to be something we can do.”

  “We monitor her breathing.” He glanced at Cheyenne’s chest, noting its steady rise and fall, and his nervousness dialed back some. “She’s breathing fin
e, so that’s good. All we can do is let the seizure run its course.”

  “Are you sure? How do you know she’ll be fine? How do you know anything about seizures?”

  “Someone I knew suffered from them. I learned a lot.” More than he ever wanted to.

  When Olivia started having seizures and was diagnosed with epilepsy, he’d scoured the internet, reading anything he could find on the condition. He’d even talked to his father, who he hadn’t spoken to since his senior year in high school. His father, a world class neurosurgeon. A miracle worker. At least that was what his patients called him.

  But he hadn’t saved Olivia. Hadn’t even tried.

  Shoving aside those thoughts, Cooper focused on Cheyenne, noticing Penny’s chin now rested on her chest. “Thankfully, Penny eliminated the biggest risk when she pushed Cheyenne onto the couch. That kept her from hitting something when she fell.”

  “Thank goodness for her,” Aubrey said, echoing his thoughts.

  He glanced at his watch. Eight twenty-four. He braced himself for the next phase. “You need to be prepared. Cheyenne may start having convulsions. If she does, it’ll look scary, but there’s no reason to panic. It won’t last long, and she’ll be fine.”

  As if on cue, about sixty seconds after Cheyenne collapsed, her body started violently jerking with convulsions.

  “You sure she’s alright? You said it would be awful, but I never imagined.” Tears streamed down Aubrey’s face. “This is my fault. I suggested we come. She wanted to call you, but I insisted she see you in person because it would be harder for you to say no. If I’d let her handle it her way, if I hadn’t pushed her so hard, she wouldn’t be having a seizure.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. There’s no way to know. It could be she’d have suffered a seizure tonight no matter where she was. Could be all you did was change the location.” Cooper’s gaze remained glued to Cheyenne’s chest as he monitored her breathing. “Hell, it could be my fault.”

  He hadn’t been the most understanding. She’d said the word seizures and his brain pretty much shut down. He’d been more concerned about his painful memories than what his attitude could do to Cheyenne.