A Bull Rider's Pride

by Amanda Renee

  “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 hou
r 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?

  “Are you checking up on me?” A slow smile spread across his face, forming a dimple in his right cheek.

  “I’m checking up on all my patients. This is part of my residency program.”

  “Residency? You’re not a doctor?”

  Sheila winced at the question. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked it, but it stung just the same. “I became a doctor the day I graduated from medical school. An orthopedic surgeon’s residency is five years. This is my final year after which I’ll become board certified. Then I’ll begin my two-year fellowship in orthopedic trauma, providing Grace General accepts me in their program.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Brady shifted in his chair. “I had no idea how the whole medical school and residency thing worked.”

  “No offense taken.” Sheila wanted to ask about his education and what he’d do if competing was no longer an option, but feared she’d already crossed the forbidden doctor-patient line. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve never felt sorer and more invigorated in my entire life.” He leaned toward her. “I feel better already. Don’t worry, Doc. I know I still have a long way to go.”

  “I noticed a difference when I pulled in. Studies have shown recovery occurs faster outside the hospital.”

  “Is that so?” There was that dimple again. He released the brake on his chair and motioned for her to follow him. “Do you have a few minutes to walk with me?”

  Sheila checked her watch. “A few. What’s on your mind?”

  Brady turned onto the paved path alongside the hippotherapy center leading them away from the crowd. “I know you think my recovery is all about me, but I need you to know that I’m not doing this for selfish reasons.”

  Sheila stopped at a b
ench and sat down. “What I do or don’t think shouldn’t affect your recovery one way or the other.”

  “Alice told me the other day that I was selfish and using our son as an excuse to compete again and—”

  “I’m sorry, who?” Sheila’s heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. It shouldn’t matter. But it did. “You have a son? And a wife?” The last question left an awful taste in her mouth.

  Brady shook his head. “I have a four-year-old son named Gunner, and Alice is his mother but we’re not married. Never have been, never will be. I’m surprised you didn’t know. They visited me at the hospital.”

  She probably would have noticed if she hadn’t gone out of her way to avoid him during his stay. “I wasn’t your physician then. I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this.”

  “You may not have been my doctor, but I noticed you. It was impossible not to. A part of me secretly hoped you had noticed me too. I get it. There are many more patients than there are doctors and we become a number.”

  “You certainly weren’t a number.” Sheila took his hand and immediately regretted it when his other hand covered hers. Unwilling to let go, she braved a look into his eyes. “I’m probably one of the few people in your life who can honestly say they’ve seen inside of you.” Sheila attempted a small bit of humor to derail the somersault of emotion cycling through her. “No patient is ever a number, at least not to me. I’m not trying to diminish who you are or your case in any way.” She rose, pulling away from him. “What am I doing?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Sheila turned to face him, squaring her shoulders. “You do understand that nothing can ever happen between the two of us. It would cost me my job and I’ve already fielded questions about you. I don’t mean to sound cold, but nobody is worth that sacrifice.”