by Kayn, Debra
"Everything's fine. They removed his cast, took his stitches out, and said his fracture was healing better than expected considering it's the second time he's broken that leg." Brody pushed Trace toward the elevator. "They also put on a new cast. The doctor said to tell you to keep following the schedule for his care."
"That's great news. The new cast will make his leg feel more secure, since we've got the swelling down and the old one was too loose." She fell into step behind the wheelchair and whispered to Brody, "Why's he mad?"
"He hates going to the doctor." Brody didn't bother lowering his voice.
"Shut the hell up, Brody." Trace held up his hand. "Give me the damn crutches, so I can get out of this chair."
Brody ignored him. "Wait until we get down to the front door. I don't want the nurse who brought you out to the waiting room to come after me. She looked scary."
They rode the elevator in silence. Once outside, Joan handed Trace his crutches and walked behind him to the truck in case he lost his balance in the parking lot. She shouldn't have worried though, because he'd stormed out of there and seated himself in the truck in no time.
Brody started the engine and pulled out onto the road. "Any luck finding a job?"
"No. I kind of figured there wouldn't be any openings. The Bally Clinic is a popular place, most of the people in my classes at college wanted to get hired on there." She dug in her purse, found the bottle of pain medication for Trace, and handed them over. "Here, you should take one. I've got a water bottle you can use."
Trace shook his head. "I'm fine."
"It'll make you feel better. In another hour, your leg could swell from being out of the cast while you had x-rays. No matter how much the nurses try not to move your leg, your muscles tighten up. You don't want to suffer later." She waited, but ended up putting everything back in her purse. "What scares you at the doctors? The needles? I had to get over that fear myself when I started school. It only took hours of jabbing myself and the other nurses for practice to forget about the slight pain that comes with the poke."
"Really?" Brody curled his lip and shivered. "Ugh. I thought you used cadavers or one of those fake dummies to learn on."
"Nope. We practiced on each other and the patients who walked into the free clinic at the hospital. That's what having no insurance gets you…you become pin cushions for people like me." She turned to Trace. "First time I poked someone with a needle, I passed out. No lie.
"I just don't like having people ask me questions and not minding their own business." Trace shifted in the seat. "Needles don't bother me."
The rest of the way home, they rode in semi-comfortable silence. Brody dropped her and Trace off at the front door of the ranch, and then she helped Trace lay down on the couch. She could tell he was in pain, but put on a brave front.
With a late lunch, she gave him two ibuprofen with his meal. She fingered the mark of an X over her heart. "I promise, it's not a pain pill, but it will help with any swelling."
He popped them in his mouth and washed them down with water. She returned to the kitchen to eat her own lunch. Standing in front of the window, she stared outside. There was a pool in the backyard, horses to ride, wide-open spaces in every direction she turned, and more cows than she'd ever seen in her life. It was more than most people owned, and she imagined none of the guys were ever without something to keep them occupied.
Even though she wasn't involved with all the activities around the ranch, she knew her stay would never become boring. For some reason, whenever she was near Trace her mind kept her busy.
The relationship between the men of the house fascinated her. She enjoyed talking to each one of them, but Trace took up most of her thinking time. He was mysterious and quiet, when he wasn't snapping at her and telling her to leave him alone.
Trace touched a place deep within her with his brooding manners. The sadness in his eyes and the way he struggled through the pain had her wanting to make everything better for him. She still had a lot to learn about patient care. Mainly, how not to become emotionally attached to her patient.
Her professors warned her about the possibility of overstepping her boundaries in school, and she needed to remember her place. Yet, there was something enthralling about Trace and she seemed unable to get him out of her head.
Fueled by the additional caffeine she'd drank before going back into the living room, Joan sat down in the chair across from the couch and picked up the magazine she'd yet to read fully. Trace snored lightly, and she relaxed. It was nice to see a little imperfection in a man who always seemed in control.
She turned her attention to the article she had begun reading yesterday about a rancher in Montana who'd converted his operation from commercial feed to organic. Before coming to Lakota ranch, she would've never picked up a farming magazine, much less read the stories from front to back. Knowing the guys ran their cattle on organic grass made her want to learn more. Oh Katie, if you could see me now, you'd laugh.
Katie had always been the outgoing one of them. Joan had spent her childhood quietly playing with dolls in her room, while the neighbor lady babysat. But, not Katie. She lived life at a run.
She barely remembered a time before Katie was born, even though she'd been eight years old when her mom died, leaving her and Dad responsible for taking care of a baby. Her chest tightened. Now it was just her to look after her sister, and she was failing.
Trace groaned and opened his eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"
"You needed the rest. Going to the doctors takes a lot out of anyone when they've been through what you have." She set the magazine down. "Can I get you anything?"
"Yeah. A new leg. Preferably one that hasn't been broken before." He sat up.
She grinned. "I can't do that, but I saw some ice cream in the freezer. Want some?"
***
Joan went into the kitchen, and Trace relaxed on the couch and took a long breath. He hadn't felt the inclination to make conversations with a woman in his life. At thirty-four years old, he'd never desired to have a relationship that lasted more than an hour or two, and never fully clothed. Being around Joan, he knew what he wanted was impossible, but it didn't stop him from imagining what it would be like to come in the house in the evenings and have her asking him how his day went.
He wasn't an easy patient for her to take care of, but she'd molded her bedside manner to appease him. She'd bolstered his confidence, while leaving him his dignity. Any doctor or hospital would be glad to have someone who adapted to any situation the way Joan had done with him.
"Here you go." She carried over a bowl and handed him a spoon. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see the name Brody on the side of the carton."
"You got into his maple nut ice cream?" he said, chuckling.
"Yep." She lifted up the spoon, stuck it in her mouth, and sucked the ice cream off the utensil. "Remember, you can't tell or I'll confess how it was your idea and you threatened to fire me if I didn't go in there and make us each a bowl."
Joan's lips were shiny from her stolen treat, and her eyes turned up at the corners, hinting at a devilish side of her that enjoyed bending the rules. She fascinated him, and he wondered what other things she would do for something bigger than a bowl of ice cream. He'd enjoy finding out how far she'd go, but he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he said.
"For what?"
"For snapping at you and being a pain in the ass."
She didn't pause in her eating, but talked around the bite in her mouth. "It's okay. I know this isn't easy for you."
"No. It's not okay." His eyes met hers. "I usually stay away from others so I don't overstep my boundaries, but it's hell when I can't walk away to be by myself."
He was the first to glance away. She understood. It wasn't his imagination or the fact that she was the only woman who'd spent time around him lately.
Joan had no way of knowing where his thoughts were taking him, but she seemed to c
onnect with him at the most basic level. He scooped another bite into his mouth. Her compassion confused him.
She knew nothing about him, yet she stayed. He'd tried to push her away, so she'd leave and forget about the job of nursing him back to health. He glanced at her and the tension eased in his shoulders. She was just too damn stubborn to take the hint that he didn't want her here.
Chapter Nine
The tall grass tickled Joan's legs as she forged her way through the field, and beyond the stables of Lakota ranch. By mutual vote, the men of the house agreed to take turns staying with Trace to give Joan a much-deserved day off. No protest came from her, she needed to think, and she couldn't do that when Trace was always there.
She didn't want the fascination she had for Trace to go any further than it already was and after three weeks, she wasn't sure if she could stop. She had enough to worry about dealing with her current financial troubles. A man would distract her from everything she needed to do.
Not that he found her interesting. The man was a rock, cold, unmoving, and stubborn.
Inhaling deeply, she groaned. Even the fresh earthy scent of the land reminded her of Trace. She opened her mouth, deciding it would be best not to breathe through her nose. This was her day, the day she had to call Katie and update her on where they were at on getting her back home.
Joan walked and walked. She didn't know where she was going. Not paying attention to the landscape or how far her steps were taking her, she continued on her stroll long after her legs grew tired.
She outran her fears, her feelings, and the loneliness of having the only person left in her life hundreds of miles away from her. And wishing she could talk to someone who'd understand what it felt like to fail someone who depended on her.
When she stopped, she found herself beside a stream. What was she going to do now that her options had blown up with her car? How could she have been so distracted with her problems that she let the vehicle insurance lapse?
She was relying on the extra money from taking care of Trace, plus the insurance money, to afford another car. After she paid her rent, utilities, and the final payment to the funeral home for her father's casket and burial, she wouldn't even be able to afford a bus ticket to bring her sister home.
Katie.
Her seventeen-year-old sister was growing up too fast. She sank down in the grass and crossed her legs. She'd failed her father, her sister, and even worse, herself. She'd promised Katie she'd only have to stay with Aunt Sharon for nine months. Only long enough for Joan to finish college and find full time employment. She knew without getting her nursing degree, she never would be able to support both of them working in town on minimum wage.
Nine months had passed, and she was no closer to keeping her word. Working for Trace gave her experience, but the job was temporary. What she needed to do is travel out of the county to the area hospitals, and apply for a permanent nursing job. Without a car, she was stuck and her promise to bring Katie back for her senior year of high school would be a lie.
Oh, Dad. I should have known you were in bad health. The signs were there. I was just too blind to see them.
John O'Hanlon's doctor had urged him to cut back on fatty foods and give up smoking. Joan brushed the tears off her cheek. Her dad had a do-it-tomorrow attitude when it came to his health, and probably thought he had more time to change a lifetime of bad habits. Who expects to die of a heart attack at fifty years old?
Her dad had put everyone else first. His family, the police station, and all his community service had taken up all his spare time. He had lived life selflessly.
She leaned to the right, removed her cell phone from her pocket, and called Katie. She couldn't let her sister build her hopes up any longer.
The ringing in her ear stopped, and she cleared her throat. "Hey sis."
"Joanie! It's about time you called. I've left text messages for you the last three days. What's going on? Are you still working for that one man? Did you find another job?"
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "I'm still doing in-house care for Trace…the one who broke his leg. I only have three more weeks here."
"That's good though, right? Oh my God, I still can't believe you're really a nurse. That is so cool. I can't wait to tell Aunt Sharon you're almost done. So, when can I come home?"
She swiftly inhaled. This was the most excited she'd heard Katie in a long time, since before finding their father lying dead on the bedroom floor. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Katie was too young to worry about car troubles or where the next paycheck would come from.
Katie should be going out with her friends, learning to drive, and floating around experiencing the joys of having her first boyfriend. She understood how hard it was living with Aunt Sharon, and having to move away to a strange place and from everything familiar. How could she break Katie's heart, again?
"Joan?"
"I'm here." She sat up straighter. "It won't be long now. Let me finish this job, and then Trace's doctor will probably release him to continue therapy on his own. After that, we can see about getting you back home where you belong. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"
"All right! I'm going to call Jessie and Melanie and let them know I'll be starting my senior year back at Durham High with them. Me and the besties will be back together." Katie laughed. "Thanks, Joanie. You're the best sister ever."
Joan clicked off the phone and lay down in the grass. The sobs came deep from her soul, stripping her of hope. She couldn't tell Katie the truth. It wasn't fair. She had to do something to make sure she came through for her sister. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…
***
"Dammit, where is she?" Trace sat on the edge of the couch, well out of the reach of his crutches. "She's been gone too long."
"It's Joan's day off. Give her a break. She probably wants to spend all her free time away from you for a change. If you haven't noticed, you're not real fun to be around when you can't work." Devon passed him a plate loaded with pizza that Brody brought home on his way back from the reservation.
"I'm anxious to see her. I missed talking with her the last couple of days. I never realized how a woman changes the atmosphere around this place." Devon spoke around a mouthful, swallowed, and grinned. "I think I might even ask if she wants to see a movie when she's done babysitting Trace."
"Screw you, Dev. And, that goes to both of you. You're not putting the moves on Joan." Trace set his plate down and pointed across the room. "Bring me the damn crutches. I'll look for her myself. Knowing her, she's lost out there or ran into one of the bulls."
"I think he protests too much." Devon elbowed Brody. "Go look for her, so Trace will calm down."
Brody smiled. "You don't have to ask me twice. I think I'll take Red Moon for a ride. I kinda liked the way Joan held onto me last time I got her up on a horse. Makes me feel like the warrior of my ancestors, bringing home the redhead to be my—"
"Screw you, Brody." Trace struggled to get his foot under him. "Don't. Touch. Her."
Brody left the room laughing and waved over his shoulder. "Don't wait up for me."
Trace plopped back down on the couch, grabbed a pillow, and threw it across the room. His good leg bounced in a steady rhythm with pent up frustration. He was responsible for the way Joan had grown quieter the last twenty-four hours. He'd become more inpatient and discouraged the longer it took him to get back to normal. He had a million things to do, and he couldn't do it sitting on the couch all day long. He'd slipped back to taking his frustrations out on Joan for no other reason than she made him want something different in his life, and it left him angry.
A vicious sense of possessiveness emerged in him and he fought to control himself. Brody was more than a lifetime friend. He was his brother, closer than anyone he allowed in his life. It'd been Brody, with his positive attitude, that'd dragged him kicking and screaming back to living life after...he couldn't think about that time.
He had no claim on Joan. He didn
't even want her here, hovering over him, making him do his exercises, and incorporating fun into his day. The fact that she was, and she brought out these feelings in him, made him want to run away. Yet he wanted her back home where it was safe, and he could make sure she was safe. Shit. I'm messed up.
"I talked to Joe down at the Lakota office. He wanted to know if you'd be able to have the sale sheets finished in a week or if you wanted him to hire someone else until you're back to working." Devon wiped his mouth with the napkin. "I told him I'd talk to you, but I was pretty sure you'd be able to finish in time. I haven't heard of anymore sales, have you?"
With his job as deputy brand inspector for the Lakota reservation, he had to report every horse sale. Too many people were purchasing illegal stock, and having this job meant he could protect the Lakota from allegations of illegal trading. It'd take one bad rumor, or swindle, and too many families would suffer. His people depended on the income that came from capturing wild horses, training them, and selling them across the states.
"Yeah, I'll call Joe tomorrow and check in. I should be good enough to make the trip in a week. James has one more truckload that he's transporting on the sixteenth." Trace rubbed the thigh of his broken leg.
"Do you want me to send Thunderbolt back to the reservation, and call it finished with that son-of-a-bitch?" Devon popped the top of a soda can. "He's a lost cause, and only going to end up killing someone."
A few months ago, Trace would have sent Thunderbolt to the glue factory, but before he'd busted his leg and had seen the possibilities, he believed he was making headway with the horse. The stallion had turned from mean to shy and the day of his accident, Thunderbolt had shown real signs of understanding what he was asking of him. If he could spend time with the stallion, talk to him, gain his trust, he'd have one of the strongest mounts on the ranch.
He understood pain and distrust, and he'd made it his personal ambition to heal the distrust consuming the horse. It was his own fault for busting his leg. He'd pushed too hard, before Thunderbolt was ready to accept him, and that lay heavily on his shoulders, not Thunderbolts.
