Cowboy for Keeps

by Debra Clopton

  “It’s time to stand up, Wyatt. Stand up and let’s park that scooter.”

  “You’re right.” She didn’t want to talk about her personal life and had come here for a job to escape talking and thinking about her breakup. Wyatt reminded himself that he was her work. Not her friend or her keeper. He was her client.

  And he’d do well to remember that.

  There was an uneasy tension between them. It ran just beneath the surface of their cordiality, as if she was afraid if he studied her hard enough he’d see all the way through her.

  It made her uncomfortable.

  “That’s as far as it will go,” Wyatt said on Thursday morning. It had been four days since he’d started using the walker.

  She smiled encouragement. “Don’t worry, you’re coming along great. Okay, stand and do the weights.” She watched him stand up. He was growing stronger by the day. She handed him the five-pound weights he would use to strengthen the rotator cuff and stabilize it.

  “How did you sleep last night?” she asked, watching as he held the weight in his hand, kept his arm close to his body, elbow tucked in at his side, and then swept the weight out and away from his body. She touched his elbow to make sure he kept it motionless. “That’s good.” She watched him do his repetitions. “Sleep?” she asked when he’d set the weights down and turned toward her. Weariness met her eyes as she looked up at him.

  “Rough,” he admitted. “But that’s nothing new. This thing is just uncomfortable as all get-out at night.”

  “Are you placing the pillows like I showed you?”

  “Yes, it’s helped some.” He was staring down at her, searching her eyes. It felt personal. She was so close to him that she felt the heat of his arm against hers. Her mouth went dry and her pulse quickened. This was trouble. He was her patient—racing pulses were totally off-limits. Bottomless stomachs and breathlessness were, too. She backed up—so quickly she ran into the weight rack. It wobbled and she stumbled as she reached down to steady it, but Wyatt’s hand closed securely around her arm.

  “Easy there. We don’t need you falling and hurting yourself.” His blue eyes bored into hers before dropping to her mouth. “We would be in a mess, both hobbling around here.”

  Her skin burned—of course it did—where his fingers closed around her arm. She couldn’t have formed a coherent sentence to save her life. All she could do was nod up at him.

  “You don’t sleep much yourself.” His voice was as smooth as his hand was steady. His gaze lifted back to hers.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The jogging at sunrise, that’s what.”

  She smiled tightly. “It’s something I love to do. No big deal.”

  “No big deal. You and I both know you running is a big deal for you—and impressive. You’re gone hours.”

  He’d really been watching her. The thought pleased her more than she could have known. “Why have you been paying so much attention?”

  His lips curved gently and he dipped his chin as if talking to a child. “Amanda, I pay attention because you’re alone in my pasture in the wee hours of the morning. I worry about you. I like to know you get back safely.”

  “I’m safe.” Amanda took a breath and tried to calm the butterflies rolling around in her stomach as disappointment washed over her—he was concerned because she was on his property.

  For a moment she’d thought—hold it, sister, just one minute there—what had she thought? That he was watching out of concern for her because he cared?

  The very idea sent her into a tailspin. Yes, she was attracted to Wyatt like she’d never been attracted to anyone…not even Jonathan. But she’d just been engaged—dumped didn’t matter—she’d been engaged and now she was seriously having thoughts of another man this soon after thinking she’d been in love. What kind of woman did that make her?’

  No, Wyatt was wonderful, handsome, built like a dream and deserved better than she could give him—so why was she even thinking about that? Besides, she knew now that she could never risk being rejected again. She needed to keep her head on straight and remember this was a patient/client relationship and would never be anything more.

  “You’re doing good with this exercise,” she said.

  “You’re building strength, and you should be feeling relief soon. Like I tell my kids, no matter what you do, keeping good muscle tone is the secret key.”

  “I’m not complaining.” He continued with his exercise, slowly going through different sets of exercises she’d shown him.

  “So the kids you worked with were mostly amputees like you?” Wyatt asked after a few repetitions.

  “Yes. I loved working—I mean, I used to enjoy working with the kids because they’d been through so much and it was an awesome feeling to be able to ease some of their fears of the unknown and also prepare them for life after their loss.”

  “I bet that was rewarding.” He paused and studied her.

  What did she say to that? It had been rewarding until the reality hit her that she could never have her own children. “It was. I didn’t like it when insurance coverage ran out and I had to leave before I felt like they were ready.”

  He set the weights down and eased into the cane-backed chair at the table. “Did that happen a lot?”

  She huffed with frustration. “Too often. Amputees—uninsured and insured alike—have a hard time with the expense of prosthetics. I’ve always wished I could do more. But I haven’t figured out how to do that. I could only give them as much help as I could in the time I was there and leave them with an in-depth plan of action for when I was gone. That and my phone number in case they had any questions. It seems to work fairly well.”

  “You sound really dedicated. I’m amazed you decided to move to working with adults. Sounds like those kids really need you out there showing them the way.”

  Why had she even let this conversation get started? Her mouth was dry as she tried to look unshaken by his words.

  “There was a lot of stress. I’ve been comfortable with the decision I made.”

  His gaze seemed to sharpen as he studied her with piercing eyes.

  “What are you not saying?”

  She stood up and glanced at her watch. The session was over. “I’m not saying anything except that you did a great job today and should be proud. You did great on your walking exercises, too. Keep it up and before you know it I’ll be handing you a cane.”

  The expression on his face told her that he wasn’t fooled by her. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, much to her relief.

  She would eventually grow more at ease talking about this. Surely the pain she felt about losing her ability to carry a child would ease. At least to where she could function and have a conversation about it.

  “My back and hip are feeling better every day, I have to admit,” Wyatt said a week later. He was practically giving himself a pep talk! She was proud of him.

  “And you are using a cane. Don’t forget that.”

  “That is correct,” he said in that way of his as he held up the cane. “Thanks to you, I’m almost a brand-new man.”

  His smile was a dazzler and sent butterflies fluttering inside Amanda. “That’s good to hear,” she croaked, trying to ignore the growing attraction and feelings toward him. “H-how about your shoulder? Start your exercise and tell me how it feels today.” She zeroed in on his shoulder and avoided his gaze. He placed his pointer finger and index finger on the wall like she’d shown him. Starting at shoulder level, he slowly walked them upward along the wall. His shoulder extension was improving incrementally.

  She watched as he did the exercise again. She still couldn’t believe the change in him since Sunday a week ago. “Good,” she said. “This time continue higher if you can.”

  He nodded and concentrated hard on extending his arm higher.

  Ever since he’d found out about her amputation, he’d been different. He worked hard, complained less and was easier to get along with. He’d told her what
she’d said had done him good. That he’d needed to hear it. But she could also tell that he felt remorse about her leg as if he felt guilty he’d complained.

  They’d been working hard. Wyatt wanted to be ready for Cole’s wedding, but it also seemed that he worked hard to please her—or maybe to make her feel better. It was almost as if he didn’t want her to feel like he was taking her for granted. Why she got that feeling she wasn’t sure—maybe it was because he’d been so careful to thank her. So careful not to complain.

  Even so, that hadn’t stopped him from trying to find out more about her. As if he wanted her to talk about Jonathan…as if he thought talking might help her. And it had almost worked several times—he was an expert at leading the conversation toward her. She could see where this uncanny ability of his would come in handy in his career choice. But she had been equally determined to not go there if at all possible. She was struggling as it was with finding her footing, and so she’d led all conversations right back to something general.

  Each time, he’d backed off with a small smile. A smile that told her he knew she was evading him. It was a challenge not to let herself spill her every troubled heartache to him.

  “You’ve been working overtime,” he said, drawing her thoughts back to the moment. “But I’ve been behaving and doing just what the doctor ordered.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up. “Yes, you have. Now let’s see you walk across the room with just this cane. Take it slow. We are pressing things a bit, but I know you can do it.”

  He started walking, his steps halting.

  “When will I stop dragging this foot?”

  “We’ll have you with a normal gait soon. But not before the wedding, I’m afraid. You’ll be able to stand and walk, but you won’t be at a hundred percent. Right now, you just concentrate on your steps. How does your back feel?”

  He made it slowly, carefully across the room and sank heavily down into the chair beside her.

  “How can that exhaust me?” he growled, his brows dipping in consternation. His shoulder rested against hers and it took all her willpower not to lean into him. Especially when he was staring at her, so close she could see the tiny light blue specks that dotted the dark blue of his eyes. Her stomach fluttered again and she breathed steady, trying to make herself get straight.

  Her defenses were down today. The emotions that she’d locked inside her heart threatened to overwhelm her suddenly. She’d dreamed of children all night long—children she would never give birth to. She’d awakened near tears and longing for comfort…all she could think about was how it would be to feel Wyatt’s arms around her. It grew harder each day she spent around him. And now this—she didn’t need to go there.

  “Talking does help, you know.”

  Amanda hadn’t meant to get lost in her thoughts. She shook her head, so tempted to talk to him that she didn’t trust herself. “Not for me. I’m sorry, Wyatt, I need to go.”

  She hurried to the door.

  “Amanda!” Wyatt’s call followed her but she didn’t look back. No, she was too intent on putting as much space between them as possible.

  As she fled the stagecoach house, the need to talk to him was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. As gruff and ill-tempered as Wyatt had been, she knew that he would listen to her with a compassionate ear.

  If she threw herself into his arms—which she might have done seconds later if she hadn’t fled the premises—he would hold her and comfort her, because that was the kind of man he was.

  Once at the trailer, she slammed the door and locked it. As if that would keep her from turning around and going back!

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart.

  She was mixed up about her entire state of mind. She needed to talk to someone. Her gaze landed on the Bible as if drawn there, like it had been the last time she’d come up with no answers. She felt a need to try reaching out to God once more. She needed to know what her purpose was. Surely He had a plan for her and all the things that she’d been through. There had to be reasons for the way her life was turning out.

  What are Your plans for me? There had to be a reason she was left to feel such emptiness.

  Her knees were weak as she stared at the Bible.

  She’d been reading it and searching it and nothing had helped yet. It was as if God was trying to get her attention, but she simply couldn’t find what He was trying to get her to see.

  What kind of person had she become?

  God didn’t want her to feel this way. Her mind knew this. Her heart knew this. But deep inside none of that helped.

  So why did she think Wyatt could make anything better?

  Chapter Twelve

  “You raised all of this?” Amanda asked Melody a couple of days after her meltdown. Melody had called and asked if she would like to see her vegetable garden and then go with her into town to help plan the wedding with some of the other ladies. Amanda jumped at the chance to get out of the house, though she worried it might trigger another meltdown. But she needed out and away from Wyatt. They were dancing around each other like two eighth graders at their first dance. She continued to want to find comfort in his arms, but she wasn’t kidding herself, either. She knew there was more to it than that.

  Melody smiled and pushed her purple glasses firmly into place in front of her shining violet eyes. “I can’t take all the credit. Poor Seth.” She shook her head in sympathy for him. “I worked him to death getting him to help me prepare the soil out here.”

  “It’s huge.” Amanda laughed in amazement. “This is half a football field! You could feed an army.”

  Melody put her hands on her hips and proudly surveyed her living masterpiece. “It’s only about a half acre. I still have tomatoes, though the drought has made it tough this month. August is dry anyway, but without rain it’s a chore. I had corn but now I’m doing peas and beans. Over there I’ve got watermelons and cantaloupe. And all kinds of peppers—I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with all the salsa I’m going to make.” She handed Amanda a basket. “Come on. Pick all you want. Seth and I have to go out to the other ranch the family owns on Friday and I’m not sure how much of this will still be alive when I get back. But this might be my last time for a little while to go with him since I’ll be starting back to school next week.”

  “Do you need me to do something while you’re gone?” Amanda asked, picking a tomato.

  “Well, the ranch hands are supposed to water, but I just worry that it won’t be done like I want it done.” They were walking down opposite sides of the row of tomatoes. Melody looked around a huge plant with a sheepish look on her face. “I really don’t mean that to sound rude. It’s just they are cowboys, not farmers. Even if my Seth was in charge of it I would be worried. They’re thinking about cattle.”

  Amanda plucked a plump, juicy tomato. The color was deep orange and she knew from the ones she’d eaten at Melody’s it would taste just as great as it looked. “I’ve got time on my hands during the day. I’d love to come and take care of this for you.” Boy, would she.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “I don’t know much about gardens, but I really want to do this. I’m close and there’s no need for you to make your cowboys be farmers.”

  “Is Wyatt driving you that crazy?”

  “No. Well, a little. But not in a bad way. I mean…” Amanda couldn’t blame this all on Wyatt. “I have some things on my mind. Things that happened before I came here. I really could use something to occupy my mind and hands.”

  Melody stopped picking tomatoes and real concern etched her face. “Is it something I can help with?”

  “No—”

  “Is it another man?”

  Amanda shook her head too vehemently.

  “It is,” Melody gasped, her eyes tender. “You have a boyfriend?”

  “No,” Amanda said. “I had a fiancé.” There, she’d been honest about it. What did it matter any
way? Really. She needed to move on and she saw in telling Wyatt that it was okay.

  “You were getting married. Does Wyatt know this?”

  “I told him the other day.”

  “I’m glad you were able to confide that in him. I don’t mean to pry, but how are you?”

  “I’m better than I was. I’ve struggled, but I am thankful that it ended before we said our vows.”

  “That is a blessing. You need the man God has waiting for you. I know this has to hurt, but God will send the right man—maybe sooner than you want.” She smiled sheepishly. “Who knows what the future holds? Look at the witness your life is since losing your leg. That is testimony to your strength right there.”

  Amanda went back to picking vegetables. “That’s what I want it to be.” They’d reached only halfway down the row but already her basket was overflowing with tomatoes. “I can’t carry anything else in this basket.” She laughed, staring at the abundance of those left. This garden would keep the entire town supplied. Why in the world had Melody planted so many plants? “What’s going to happen to all of these?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve invited the ladies from No Place Like Home out to pick whatever they want. That’s the women’s shelter that Dottie and Brady Cannon run. Brady is our Sheriff.”

  “I didn’t know there was a women’s shelter here.”

  “It’s been here for a couple of years. You know the candy store in town? That’s run by the ladies. Dottie teaches them candy making and how to run a business while they are at the shelter. It is really a wonderful ministry.”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “And Wyatt wouldn’t tell you this, but he does all the legal stuff for the ladies if they need it. And he does it for free.”

  “He does?” She hadn’t meant to sound so shocked. And she really wasn’t; she’d already figured out that he was a good man.