There was a loud bang, and he instinctively spun around and ducked down.
“Haven’t seen you in here since you came back.”
At the sound of the voice, he realized there was no need to hide. Rowdy wasn’t the enemy. “I hadn’t planned to be in here,” he answered, straightening.
“Any reason why not?”
He could see Rowdy now, another beam of light hitting the ranch foreman as he stepped out of one of the stalls. Tucker couldn’t remember a time when Rowdy hadn’t been at the ranch. “I try not to live in the past,” he finally said.
Rowdy’s boot heels clicked as he walked toward Tucker. “The past is what brought us to who and where we are now.”
Sighing, Tucker shook his head. How could he tell this man what his recent past had been like? How could he tell him that his ready advice of long ago was one of the things that had sent him away. Rowdy was known to have a hot temper, and because Tucker had been a boy of action, not thinking, that hot temper had been directed at him more times than not.
“I’m thinking you’ve been through some things that only forgetting will bring peace.”
Tucker couldn’t answer and only nodded.
“This is a good place to do it.”
Tucker looked at Rowdy. “Not for me.”
Rowdy stared back, then shrugged. “I guess you’d know better than me about that, but as far as I know, you’re the only one who’s ever thought that way.” After another shrug, he walked away. But when he’d taken a few steps, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Family horses are down on this end,” he explained, pointing toward the big double doors he began walking toward again, “if you get the urge to ride.”
Tucker answered without thinking. “It’s been too long.”
“You never lose it, boy. You know that. But I’m not sure how good you’ll do with that thing on your knee. I guess trying is the only way to find out. ’Course your attitude could use some help, too.”
Before Tucker could think of a reply, Rowdy was gone, but not without that comment about his attitude, Tucker noted. Same old Rowdy. But Tucker wondered how the old guy knew about the knee brace.
He was pretty certain he hadn’t forgotten how to ride, even though he hadn’t been on a horse since he was eighteen. Once he’d been accepted into the Marine Corps, everything had changed for him. That’s the way he’d wanted it. A clean break. A new life.
But when he heard the whinny of one of the family horses, he couldn’t resist walking down to take a look. They were beauties. Not that he didn’t think they wouldn’t be. The O’Briens always had the best horses. They took good care of them, too.
His intention was to take a quick look, then be on his way, but when a sorrel gelding, with a white star on his nose, hung his head over the gate just as Tucker walked by, the urge to reach out and touch the animal couldn’t be resisted.
“Somebody should put names on the gate,” Tucker said, keeping his voice down. “Not that it matters.”
But his conversation with the horse ended quickly when he heard the sound of a vehicle being started, and he was jerked back to the present and the incident with his doctor.
If Paige Miles didn’t think any better of him than she’d voiced to his sister-in-law, maybe working with her on his therapy wasn’t such a good idea. He’d sensed a reticence in her since he’d first asked if she could do the therapy. He just hadn’t thought it was important.
Quickly pushing open one of the big doors, he looked to the driveway where he’d seen her car parked when he and the others had returned home for dinner. As he’d thought, it was her car starting that he’d heard. Jules was standing at the driver’s door, and he suspected Paige was still apologizing. Now was his chance, before she left, to tell her to forget about the therapy. What difference did it make? It probably wouldn’t help anyway.
As he hurried in their direction, as quick as he could with a leg held by knee brace, Jules looked up in his direction. Her frown was evident, but it didn’t stop him. It was time to get out of something he should have known was a bad idea.
“Oh, dear,” he heard Paige whisper when he reached the car.
He was ready to tell her straight out, even with Jules there, but when he saw the bright red of embarrassment spreading across Paige’s cheeks, he couldn’t do it. He did have a boxcar full of baggage. What a prize he’d turned out to be. A booby prize. It was far from what he’d planned that his life would be, all those years ago, but he was stuck with it, thanks to his own choices. But just because he had some baggage from his past, what gave her the right to think he wasn’t good enough for her? That just burned his britches and he’d tell her so.
But before he could speak, he remembered that he was doing the therapy for his son. The boy deserved more than half a man for a father. He’d begun working with the CPM the night before and following her instructions to the letter. If he quit now— No. He was going to see this through.
“Tucker, I’m really—” Paige began.
“Sorry?” he asked. “Don’t be,” he said when she nodded, her eyes filled with contrition and maybe a shimmer of tears. “As far as I’m concerned, I never heard it.”
Without waiting for a reply, he went on to the house, but behind him, he heard the two women whispering, and he detected a note of surprise in their quiet voices.
He smiled. Maybe he could learn to be a nice guy after all. It wasn’t nearly as painful as he’d thought it would be.
LOOKING AT HER WATCH, Paige wondered if Tucker had decided to write off both her and the therapy. Her face heated with shame just thinking of what she’d said about him. That he’d heard her say it only made it worse. In a way, she’d meant it to be a joke, yet it wasn’t. He did have a lot of baggage, probably even more than what she was aware of. But, she reminded herself, she wasn’t a mental health professional. She could only do what she’d been trained to do.
As the minutes ticked by, she wondered if she would even have the chance to help. It definitely appeared that Tucker wasn’t going to show.
With a sigh, she left the darkened waiting room, where she’d been watching for Tucker, and walked to her office for her purse. She wouldn’t worry. Tucker was a grown man. If he didn’t want to carry through on the therapy, she couldn’t make him.
But as she turned and started back, ready to leave, she didn’t feel the relief she wanted to feel. Forcing her mind to the enjoyable things she could now do for the rest of the day, like taking a long soak in a bubble bath, watching a movie, maybe even reading something other than medical journals, she opened the door from the hallway and stepped into the waiting room—and collided with a large, hard body.
She let out a shriek, as a pair of strong arms held her in place. Why hadn’t she locked the door before she went to get her purse? And then she realized who it was and that there was no reason to be frightened, except of her own reaction. Looking up, she saw a pair of deep brown eyes watching her in the semidarkness.
She heard an intake of breath, but didn’t know if it was hers or his, and her heart seemed to stop beating.
“I was afraid you’d gone.”
“You’re late, Tucker,” she said, jump-starting her heart and moving back, out of his arms to a safer place. “I wasn’t sure you were coming. Not after—”
“The pickup was in use.”
She nodded, and turned for the door. “You scared me to death out there,” she said, as he followed her to the end of the hallway.
“You insulted me. I guess that makes us even.”
Her heart sank as she flipped on the lights and they entered the room at the back of the clinic. “I thought we agreed it never happened.”
When she pointed to the old examining table that had probably belonged to Doc Priller when he’d first begun his practice, Tucker moved and took a seat on it. “That’s not quite what I said. But you were right.”
Surprised, Paige looked at him and hoped he didn’t notice her gasp when she saw that he wa
s smiling. A real smile, not one of those polite ones she’d seen him offer to his family. A gorgeous smile that made him even more attractive. She silently reminded herself that he was a patient, and although she could enjoy working with a patient, getting involved in any way beyond the doctor-patient relationship was wrong. Very wrong.
“Let’s put that behind us, shall we?” she asked in her most professional voice and moved to the table where he sat.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Go ahead and take off the brace,” she told him and waited.
The afternoon had been unseasonably warm, and he wore a pair of cutoff sweatpants and a T-shirt. For a man who’d gone through what he had—nearly a year in captivity and countless time in hospitals—he was in remarkable physical condition. Muscles strained at the thin cotton of his T-shirt as he removed the brace. It wasn’t easy to ignore, but she tried.
When the brace was off, she cleared her throat and concentrated on his scarred knee. “How have you been doing with the CPM? Any problems?”
“Some pain that first day,” he answered, “but I expected it. Ice and the meds took care of it. Then lately some stiffness in the middle of the night, but I tried the ice, and it worked.”
She nodded. “That can be expected. What about the exercises?”
“I’ve been doing them faithfully.”
“Good. They help a lot. So let’s get some measurements and see how far along you are.”
“The machine read ninety degrees flexion,” Tucker told her. “Pretty good, right?”
She smiled as she used the caliper to measure the bend in his knee. “Therapy is important in this type of injury. The surgery can’t do everything.” Just in case, she checked the number again. “Seventy-five degrees.”
“But—”
“It’s good, Tucker.”
“It’s not what the machine said.”
She took a step back. “It happens. The machine’s data isn’t always completely accurate. Don’t worry about it. You’ve definitely made some good progress.”
“Not good enough.”
“Much better than I expected,” she assured him.
He moved to replace the brace. “Go ahead and say it. This isn’t working.”
“You’re not hearing everything I’m saying. Tucker, it’ll take some time. Probably not a lot, but you’re doing very well. It hasn’t even been a week since you started the CPM. Some people wouldn’t be where you are. And considering how long it’s been since your surgery, it’s wonderful progress. Don’t give up. This is going to work.”
He nodded, slowly. “All right. I’ll give it a chance.”
“Good,” she replied, relieved.
“So what’s next? More on the machine?”
“No, no more machine. I’ll see you again on Friday, so bring it in then. I want you to keep doing the exercises until then and, if you feel up to it, you might try the high school weight room. Just don’t overdo it.”
“How will I know if I’m doing that?”
“Start anything new slowly. Any sudden, sharp pain is a sign to stop immediately. We’ll see how far along you are and decide what the next step should be on Friday.”
“Okay. Same time?”
“Let’s make it for two-thirty. There’s a game on Friday, so I’ll need to be out of here early.”
Tucker stood and leaned against the exam table, crossing his arms. “Must be nice to be able to take off when you want to.”
Laughing, Paige shook her head. “Since I’m off to go to the school as the team doctor, it isn’t like I’m taking time off. Besides, I’ll make up for the missed time the following day.”
“So the clinic is open on Saturdays.”
“Half days, usually,” she answered, moving to the cabinet to return the calipers. “Sometimes all day.”
“And golf on Wednesday?”
“No,” she answered, laughing again. “No golf for me, although my dad is a golfer.”
“And a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“My dad was a bull rider.”
Paige had heard about the O’Brien family and how Brody O’Brien had been killed on the rodeo circuit when the hoof of a bull connected with his skull. The whole family had been involved in the rodeo, even Sally O’Brien, Tucker’s Cherokee mother, and his sister, Nikki, too, when she was young. His brother, Tanner, had won the PRCA National Bronc Riding championship a few years ago, and Jules had told her about the injuries he’d endured throughout his career.
“You rode bulls, too, didn’t you?” she asked.
“For a few years, before I joined the marines.”
She was curious as to what led him to make that kind of change, but it was personal, and she wasn’t going down that path. “So I’ll see you Friday, all right?” she asked instead.
She couldn’t read his expression as he pushed away from the table and started for the door. “Two-thirty?” he asked, when he made it to the door.
“Yes.” She flipped off the light and as they exited the room she said, “I’ll go with you to the front door. And now that I’m thinking about it, why don’t you come around the back of the building then, instead of the front. The door is used by the staff only. If it isn’t unlocked, just knock and I’ll open it.”
“Okay,” he answered.
He continued to walk behind her, and she felt a little nervous, as if he might be watching her.
“One question, now that you brought up rodeo,” he said.
She looked over her shoulder to see him frowning and wondered what he was thinking. The appointment hadn’t started out well, had almost been a disaster when he’d thought he wasn’t making progress, and now he appeared disturbed about something. “What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s about…”
He seemed to be struggling, but she was quiet, not wanting to push him.
“Horses. It’s about horses,” he said. “Riding horses.”
The idea of him riding a horse with his leg and knee still weak made her cringe, especially because she guessed it was something he wanted to do. Why did he make things so difficult for her? It was as if she was destined to be his enemy, and she certainly didn’t want it to be that way.
“I think it would be better if you wait a few weeks, Tucker,” she answered honestly. “By then you should have full range of motion and there won’t be any swelling or pain. That would be best, really.”
“All right.”
They’d reached the waiting room, and she flipped the switch, bathing the hallway behind them in darkness. “I hope you’re not disappointed about the riding,” she said, as they walked together toward the main door.
He was quiet as they stepped outside onto the sidewalk. She turned and locked the door, then tugged at it to make sure all was well.
“It’s probably a good thing,” he said from behind her.
She turned to see he’d started walking toward his pickup. “Why?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he stopped at the driver’s side door of the truck. “It just is.”
She sighed as she watched him open the door and climb inside. After he started the engine and backed out on the street, she finally started for her own car. “He’s doing better,” she whispered, hoping saying so would make it so. And she hoped that on Friday she’d get to see his smile again.
“HEY, DAD!”
Standing in the yard with a cup of coffee in his hands, while he enjoyed the early morning quiet, Tucker turned to see his son coming across the yard. “Leaving already?” he asked, as Shawn approached him. “I haven’t seen Ryan yet.”
“I have to pick him up today,” Shawn explained. “His car is in the shop.”
All Tucker could do was nod. He knew that when Shawn drove, it was usually the extra pickup truck, the one he’d been using and had planned to drive to his appointment with Paige later. Now he’d have to find another way to get there, without telling anyone where he was going or why.
“Are you coming to the game
today?” Shawn asked.
Tucker realized he needed to start writing things down or keep a calendar or something. His memory wasn’t as good as it should be. “Sure,” he said, not wanting Shawn to know he’d forgotten. “What time did you say it started?”
“Four. Uncle Tanner and Jules will be there, so you can probably get a ride with them.”
“Right.” But Tucker couldn’t tell his son that wouldn’t work. His appointment was at two-thirty. Somehow he’d find a way.
“I’ll see you later then,” Shawn said, turning away, then he stopped and looked back. “Is the knee brace helping?”
Tucker opened his mouth to ask how he knew, but instead answered. “I should’ve used it earlier. I didn’t realize how much it would help.”
“Maybe you can help me warm up again before the game?” When Tucker nodded, Shawn continued to the pickup. As he drove out of the driveway, he waved to Tucker.
Tucker returned the wave and watched the pickup disappear. With the usual pang of regret, he finished his coffee and then headed back to the house. Somehow he needed to get a ride into town early enough for his appointment. Either that or walk, and he didn’t see that happening, even though he’d walked farther than that during his time in the marines.
He’d just sat down for lunch with the family when he remembered what Paige had told him about using the high school training room. He didn’t know when it might be free, but he could at least find out when he might be able to use it. If he found a ride into Desperation, and that wasn’t a sure thing.
Jules finally took her seat at the end of the table and looked down the length of it to Tanner. “Could you stop by the Chick-a-Lick while you’re in town and pick up a cherry pie and an apple pie?”
“Can’t we pick those up after the game?”
Jules shook her head. “They might be gone by then, and Darla said she’d only promise to keep them until two o’clock.”
Surprised it was so easy, Tucker saw his chance. “Mind if I ride along?”
“Sure,” Tanner answered, without looking up from his plate, “but you know you can always—” He looked up, smiled and shook his head. “I guess not today, since Shawn took it.”
The Maverick's Reward Page 7
