Wounded Heroes Boxed Set

by Judith Arnold

  Before she could move out of his way, his hands were around her waist. And for a second, he'd forgotten why they were standing there in the field. He wanted to kiss her, feel his mouth cover hers and feel her explode beneath his touch.

  "I'll lift you up," he said, not giving her the chance to protest.

  "Okay. But then you'll need to find your horse."

  "That's not a problem."

  It hadn't taken a whole lot of effort to lift her. Having been in the saddle once already she knew the drill. He took the extra moment to stroke Diesel E's neck while waiting for her prompt.

  "Sassy's just a few yards to your left. I'll guide you there."

  He wanted to tell her that all he had to do was whistle and Sassy would be by his side. But that hadn't been a cue between the two of them in many months. Cody couldn't be sure that Sassy would remember the way it used to be with them.

  Regret ran strong through his veins, soaking him hard from head to foot. He'd stayed away too long. Animals were forgiving. But he'd let go of something precious that he loved, not trusting it would be there for him when he needed it the most. He hadn't been fair to either one of them.

  So Diesel E led the way and before he knew it, Sassy was standing beside him, waiting patiently for him to mount. His sunglasses hid the unbidden tears that sprung to his eyes. Thank God some things were as sure as the sunrise. Too bad his faith hadn't been.

  Within the next minute they were riding and he remembered how he loved sitting in the saddle.

  "Where are we now?"

  "Just at the edge of the road, on the flat grassy area we came in on."

  "Good."

  His lips stretched into a wide grin before he could help himself. The regret he'd felt just moments ago was replaced by something more potent. Reaching up, he pulled down his hat extra tight on his head.

  "How much distance do you figure we have until we hit the trees?"

  "Oh, a good quarter of a mile at least, I'd guess. Maybe more."

  "Enough. Perfect," he said, mostly under his breath, anticipation racing through him. "Stay here, Lyssa. I'll be right back."

  All it took was one quick kick of the stirrups against his horse's ribs, and like lightning striking quick and hot, Sassy took off. Cody and Sassy had run this stretch at least a hundred times. Many times with Cody's eyes closed. He didn't need to see where he was going now. Didn't need to gauge the distance from the house to the pool to the corral and then back again by counting steps. Here he could just fly, and he knew Sassy would take him exactly where he wanted to go.

  For the first time in eight months, with nothing to cage him, Cody flew.

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  CODY DIDN'T NEED to hide behind his sunglasses here. He didn't have to pretend. He could simply close his eyes as he had hundreds of times and see the blur of trees and wildflowers race by him while he took in their fragrant scent. The heat tore into his cotton shirt as the wind ruffling his sleeves cooled it down.

  Cody wasn't blind here on this little patch of earth. He was alive. And for the first time in a long time, he actually felt whole again. He didn't need a hand to hold, didn't need a worried eye, steady and sure, on his back to make sure he didn't wander into dangerous territory. It was just him and Sweet Sassy's Smile chasing the wind.

  Sassy slowed down as they reached the edge of the clearing. Cody knew immediately that they had come to the end of their run. Disappointment consumed him, but he immediately squashed it down. As if driving home the fact that he couldn't look back to see the distance he had just come, the sun beat down unmercifully hard on him, burning the newly cooled skin beneath his shirt.

  It would do no good to sink back into the depths of depression. Truth was, it felt too damn good to ride again. All the stubbornness in the world didn't make up for how good he had felt just a few seconds ago. Cody wasn't willing to give that up. Not just yet. He might have to accept his lot in life, but he could take the gift that God had given him and enjoy it for all it was worth.

  Finally he understood exactly what Lyssa had been trying to tell him for the past few days. It was still a bitter pill to swallow, and Cody wasn't quite sure his throat was big enough to handle it, but he was sure going to try. If he didn't, there'd never be moments like he'd just experienced. Both with Lyssa and riding Sweet Sassy's Smile. The thought of missing those moments was somehow too hard to accept.

  A cluster of honeybees and dragonflies were buzzing among the wildflowers, talking among each other in their way, singing against the backdrop of grazing cattle. He could hear this clearly as if they were right against his ear. In between the clip-clopping of horse hooves against the dry earth he heard another set of hooves charging across the field, coming closer with every second.

  What the hell was she thinking?

  Cody launched himself from Sassy's saddle and held tight to the reins. This unpredictable woman was out of her ever-loving mind! First time on a horse and she charges after him as if she'd been riding her whole life.

  He squashed the feeling of terror that seized him hard. Lyssa had no idea what she was doing, and he could offer her no help at all if she somehow fell from her horse. All it would take was for Diesel to get spooked by a snake and he'd throw her. If she hurt herself, somehow became unconscious, how the hell would he ever find her in all this . . . space?

  Cody pushed the unbidden image of Lyssa lying in the tall grass, hurt, unable to move. He didn't want to go there. It wouldn't help her and as of yet, nothing had happened.

  The sound of horse hooves slowing to a trot had him praying Lyssa was still secure in the saddle. As relief tumbled over him, Cody tried not to think about how much it must have hurt Lyssa to sit there in that saddle, her behind bouncing up and down, her feet barely in the stirrups.

  "Oh, my God, Cody! Are you all right?" she asked, her words coming out in short bursts. She was breathless, scarcely able to speak at all. As if she'd just run the length of the field instead of riding it.

  Another vision, quick as a kick to his gut, hit Cody hard, wiping away the fear he'd felt just moments ago. He could almost see the rise and fall of Lyssa's chest as she drew in each achingly strong breath.

  He pulled off his hat and dragged his hand over his face as another thought bowled him over. Lyssa was still here. Still putting up with him after all these days of him being a horse's behind. The woman had to have a mother lode of gumption. He couldn't help but admire her because of it.

  He suspected there was a bit of untamed wildness about Lyssa. Something she hadn't yet begun to explore. And nothing he could say was going to change that, not now. Not that he wanted to.

  "Good Lord, Lyssa, I was just about to ask you that very same question. What were you thinking, riding across the field that way?"

  "Me?"

  "The way you came flying across the field I figured the cavalry must have been chasing my boot heels."

  "You were the one that took off like a bullet," she challenged.

  "I'm used to that sort of thing. But you aren't. Why didn't you stay back there like I told you to?"

  "You were heading straight for the trees. I thought you were going to kill yourself. I thought you'd..." Her words trailed off as she drew in more breath.

  He couldn't believe how much he was enjoying this. She was actually afraid for him. It was kind of sweet, or would be if it didn't annoy him just a little bit too.

  "This is my turf, Lyssa. If there is one thing you don't have to be afraid of here, it's me being in the saddle. I was born here." He gestured to the length of pasture he just ridden but couldn't see. "This is as much a part of me as my fingerprints. That's never going to change, no matter what the world throws me."

  "You were riding a horse, Cody." She spoke the words as if that made all the difference in the world.

  He asked the obvious. "Your point?"

  She grunted with frustration. In his mind, he conjured up an image of her fists balled by her side and the delicate chin
he'd had the delightful opportunity to stroke jutting out just enough to show him she was ticked off.

  A sweet gust of breeze blew past him, bringing with it the scent of vanilla, her scent. When he'd been sitting close to her under the cottonwood the perfume had filled his head and made it spin. Just as it had that first day by the pond. Now it was mixed with the smell of pasture and animal sweat. But it was there, and it had the same effect it did when he'd been sitting so close to her.

  Diesel moved closer, and so did the sound of Lyssa's voice. "You mean to tell me you trust Sassy not to go charging into those woods and taking your head off with the first low branch you pass?"

  "That's right."

  She was still on the horse, he realized. He could tell by the direction of her voice, and he sensed by the slight unsteadiness of her tone that she didn't want to be there. The ride across the pasture had shaken her to the core.

  Cody took one step and reached out a hand. He dropped Sassy's reins so he could move in the direction he thought Diesel E was standing without spooking either animal. Moving his fingers up alongside the horse's sweaty shoulder, he met with Lyssa's thigh. His hand connected with her elbow and he gripped it tight. Without a word she slipped down into his arms. Despite the heat, he wrapped both arms around her and crushed her against his body.

  He felt it then. The strong hammer of her heart colliding against the walls of her chest was unmistakable. There was a raging storm inside Lyssa trying to burst free from its barriers. It had to have scared her to death to fly across the field the way she had. But she had done it.

  "Can you catch your breath?" he asked.

  "I was afraid for you," she said, her voice hitching.

  "Then I guess we're even."

  His words fell flat and gave him none of the satisfaction he thought they would. He didn't want to get even with Lyssa, he realized. He wanted something else. Something strong and raw, a desire he hadn't had for a very long time. He had the incredible urge to reach out and slip his fingers through her hair just as he had earlier, to touch her silky soft skin and feel her body respond to his fingers.

  God help him—the way her heart was racing now, he wanted it to race like that for him. He wanted her breathless and shaking and utterly clinging to him, not out of fear or pity, but from his kiss. He wanted her like this, wrapped in his arms so he could chase the wildness he knew was locked up inside of her. He might not be able to see her with his eyes, but he did get a clear glimpse of what Alyssandra McElhannon was all about.

  Cody swallowed hard. He couldn't see her face and he wondered what she was thinking. It still amazed him how many emotions were lost to him, how much the spoken word could be colored by the twitch of lips, the lingering blink of the eyes, the almost imperceptible dip of a gaze.

  "You can trust your horse," she said quietly. "Why can't you trust Otis?"

  "Nothing against the dog."

  "You just don't like his occupation and what it means to you."

  "Something like that."

  Her sigh was slow and weighted with emotion. "Do you always pass judgment on something before you have even given it a chance? Or is that sort of prejudice reserved only for animals?"

  "I can't help the way I feel, Lyssa."

  "But your life could be so much richer than it is now."

  "How do you feel, Lyssa?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean. How did it feel charging across that field?"

  She was silent for a second or two. Then she chuckled, low and sweet, and Cody knew she was smiling. Now that he'd had the opportunity to feel her smile, he knew what it was like. He held himself back from reaching up and cupping her cheeks so he could feel it again.

  "I don't think I've ever been more terrified in all my life."

  "What else?"

  She laughed. It was small at first, then it grew until he could feel her shoulders shaking from it, feel the rumble inside her chest.

  "It was kind of exciting. I'll give you that much."

  The wide smile that stretched across Cody's face also brought an aching to his heart.

  "A rush," he whispered.

  "Yeah."

  His voice was low when he spoke again. "If you're not feeling that incredible rush every day, then you're not really living, Lyssa. That's all I'm saying. I want that rush. I want to feel alive again."

  "Then stop being afraid to live. Get on your horse and go back to doing what you love."

  "It's not that easy. With cuttin', I need my eyes and I don't have them anymore. I can't see the cattle moving in front of me. I can't tell my horse which cow to cut from the herd or what direction to move in because I don't know which way to go. If she stops short because a cow is changing direction I'm liable to fly over her head."

  Lyssa's shoulders sagged slightly. "You're looking at things from inside the box, Cody. Jump out of the box and you are going to get your life back."

  "Is that what you did, Lyssa?"

  "This isn't about me."

  "Yes, it is. You've been there."

  She hesitated a moment. "Yes."

  "Then you're fooling yourself big-time, Lyssa. Because if this is the first time you've felt that rush since you were able to see, then you're not living at all."

  They rode back to the ranch in virtual silence. Every clip-clop of the horse's hooves grated on Lyssa's already frazzled nerves. Annoyance rose up to her throat, bitter and strong, choking her.

  Of course she was living, she thought. What else did Cody think she'd been doing her whole life? Her life was full. She did more now than she ever had. Sure, she didn't travel much. She didn't frequent the local bars and cowboy hangouts like Kim seemed to do since she moved away to college.

  So she'd never ridden a horse before today. So what? Lots of people had never been on horses. She'd never sky dived either, but that didn't mean one day she wouldn't. Although she had to admit taking a running leap out of a plane wasn't high on her to-do list, and probably wouldn't be for a very long time. But just because she hadn't, it didn't mean she wasn't living.

  There was a first time for everything. This was Lyssa's first day riding. She wasn't sure there'd be a second time, but at least she had tried.

  Maybe it was unfair to be annoyed with Cody. After all, their lives were so totally different. They shared a common bond of blindness, but that's pretty much where their similarities ended.

  What annoyed Lyssa most was that beneath it all, there was a grain of truth to what Cody had said. As petrified as she had been flying through that field, it had been thrilling. And that wasn't a feeling she felt very often at all.

  Okay, never. She could at least admit it to herself if she didn't have the guts to admit it to Cody. She'd never felt that rush he spoke of.

  Except with him, she realized with startling realization. Lately, it seemed that's all she felt when she was with Cody.

  Beau was in the arena when they returned. As they passed by the open door, she could hear the sounds of riled cattle moving inside and heavy hoof beats pounding on dirt.

  Cody's head turned and paused for a fraction of a second with the sound, a bittersweet smile tugging at his cheeks.

  "What is he doing?"

  "Working one of the cutting horses," said Cody.

  "Do you want to go in and watch for a while?"

  He shook his head, stiffening his posture as if he'd been unaware he'd done anything at all for her to notice.

  "I've never seen a cutting horse in action. I'm curious."

  He nodded once, coolly. "Then be my guest. I can find my way back to the house."

  "Oh, no. You are not going to hide in that room. We had a deal."

  His shoulders sagged just a little, then straightened as he nodded. "Yes, we did. And I intend to keep my word. But I didn't say anything about cuttin'."

  Okay, she'd give him that. But as soon as she showed Cody how to leash Otis and they began their first journey together in the yard, Lyssa was determined to make su
re the arena was high on the list of places they explored.

  Otis and Cody were a good match, Lyssa realized immediately. She'd worried initially because everything about this situation proved different than the usual circumstances she worked under. Normally, when a student applied for a guide dog and was accepted into the program, they attended a twenty-five day training session at the school with their chosen guide dog. At that point, the dog was with the student 24/7 while a trainer watched to make sure both dog and new handler worked well together.

  Mike Gentry's insistence that Cody needed one-on-one attention had skewed things a little. The fact that he'd failed to reveal Cody's lack of interest in working with a guide dog was disturbing, but something had changed. At least for the moment, to Lyssa's great relief.

  It wasn't unheard of to train a handler in their own environment, but for Lyssa it was a first.

  A first for many things, it seemed.

  For now, she was content to watch Cody and Otis begin their bonding as handler and guide dog. Cody was a natural. And Otis, a consummate professional. It was going to work out.

  Even if it killed her .

  * * *

  "IT WOULDN'T KILL you to walk beside me," Cody said, his voice dripping with the first bit of annoyance she'd heard in days.

  The last three days had proved less irritating than the first few she'd experienced on the ranch. She and Cody would have a morning ride and then spend the afternoon working with Otis. It was a nice compromise, and Lyssa found she was not only getting used to riding, she even found herself looking forward to it.

  There had been a major transformation in Cody since the first day they'd gone riding. Gone was the animosity that had plagued him the first few days. There were times now, when they were riding or sitting out on the porch at night talking, that Lyssa forgot her reason for being here.

  Cody hadn't, which was good. He seemed to throw himself into training with Otis, listening to her instructions ranging from dog care and basic commands, to how to correct the dog when he made a wrong choice.