Книга - A Ranch for His Family

A Ranch for His Family
Hope Navarre


It's the second chance for this cowboyBull riding means everything to Neal Bryant. In his quest for the championships, he’s let everything else go—including Robyn Morgan, the woman he loves. Then he has a bull-riding accident that could turn his rodeo dreams to Kansas dust. It’s fitting—or maybe it’s fate—that she’s the nurse at his bedside.While recuperating on his family’s ranch Neal learns how much he’s missed. Robyn is widowed and has a son Neal can’t seem to resist…especially when he learns he’s the father. It’s a dream he never allowed himself to have. And now he needs to show Robyn he’s worth a second chance.







It’s the second chance for this cowboy

Bull riding means everything to Neal Bryant. In his quest for the championships, he’s let everything else go—including Robyn Morgan, the woman he loves. Then he has an accident that could turn his rodeo dreams to Kansas dust. It’s fitting—or maybe it’s fate—that Robyn is the nurse at his bedside.

While recuperating on his family’s ranch, Neal learns how much he’s missed. Robyn is widowed and has a son Neal can’t seem to resist…especially when he learns he’s the father. It’s a dream he never allowed himself to have. And now he needs to show Robyn he’s worth a second chance.


“Underneath that bad haircut, I was the same girl.”

Robyn paused and eyed him thoughtfully. “And underneath that eye patch, you are the same man.”

Neal was silent for a long time as he stared at the green canopy overhead. The branches swayed and dipped in the hot, dry breeze. A single leaf fluttered down, and his gaze followed it as it landed like a tiny boat on the surface of the pond. “I wonder if that’s true,” he said at last.

Robyn cupped his cheek with her hand and turned his face toward her. “I know it’s true,” she insisted gently.

She was so close. He could feel the warmth of her beside him. The wind lifted the ends of her drying hair and let it curl softly at the edge of her face. God, he had missed her. Only she could make him feel whole again.

He captured the hand on his cheek and pressed a kiss against her soft palm. She didn’t pull away. He saw her eyes widen and her lips part with surprise. He pulled her toward him until those lips touched his.


Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoy A Ranch for His Family. Neal Bryant, the hero of this book, is the only character that has popped full-blown and whole into my head while I was writing. Granted, he showed up when I was trying to write his brother’s story, but Neal has a way of making women do what he wants without really trying, so the story became Neal’s story. What can I say? I’m a pushover for a sexy cowboy.

Robyn, the only woman who can manage Neal, was much harder to create. She had to be tough, and she had to be able to put him in his place when he needed it, but she also had to understand what made him tick. I think I have succeeded in making a well-matched hero and heroine, but you get to be the judge of that.

The setting for this book was a no-brainer. I grew up on the western edge of the beautiful Flint Hills of Kansas and I have been in love with that grassy, windswept prairie since before I was old enough to know that cowboys are sexy. I hope my love of the people and the land comes through in these pages. It’s a special place. With a lot of sexy cowboys!

Enjoy the story and feel free to let me know what you thought of it. You can visit me on the web at www.hopenavarre.com (http://www.hopenavarre.com).

All the best,

Hope Navarre


A Ranch for His Family

Hope Navarre




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hope Navarre grew up surrounded by brothers, horses and cattle among the rolling hills of central Kansas. She fell in love with reading and with books at a young age. Cowboys have always been her favorite heroes. Westerns by Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour, as well as the adventures of girl detective Trixie Belden, filled the hours when Hope wasn’t riding her horses, playing softball or fishing down at the creek.

The urge to write a story of her own first appeared when she was in high school. The star-crossed lovers of her first unfinished novel remain trapped forever in the crumbling ruins of a church in war-torn Europe, but at least they are together. College, a career in nursing, marriage and motherhood put Hope’s dreams of one day writing a book on the back burner of her life until the late 1990s. With her family grown, she decided she had time to write a book. At that point, there was no holding her back. She became a member of a local writer’s group, joined the national writing organization Romance Writers of America and set out to learn as much as she could about the business of writing.

Today, Hope enjoys setting her books in her beloved Kansas and the scenic Flint Hills, where cowboys, horses and cattle remain a part of everyday life. You can visit her on the web at www.hopenavarre.com (http://www.hopenavarre.com).


This book is dedicated to my wonderful agent, Pam Hopkins.

Thanks for holding my hand all these years and for helping me find a home for my stories.


Contents

Chapter One (#u25a50abf-aa1b-5c07-9d61-2e5aa47a953d)

Chapter Two (#u66ce7f1f-b61c-5951-80f1-32dd51a4ed87)

Chapter Three (#ua2937141-5479-5237-a4fe-ce85a0a718b1)

Chapter Four (#u59ff7ead-75ad-5d75-9733-afb83647262d)

Chapter Five (#ue1543901-12e8-5a5d-8265-4cbc24c3a53d)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

“OH! THAT’S COMING off a bull the hard way, folks, and that’ll mean no score for this young cowboy.”

Neal Bryant paid scant attention to the rodeo announcer and none to the disappointed cowboy dusting himself off in front of the rodeo chutes. Instead, Neal scanned the packed bleachers rising behind the white pole fence hung with banners for Wranglers, Resistol Hats and Justin Boots, searching for one face in the milling, colorful crowd from his hometown. A face that haunted his dreams—the face of Robyn O’Connor.

It would be five years, and he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. The ache of missing her, of knowing he’d thrown away the best thing in his life, never left him.

Would Robyn’s dark hair still be short? Or would she have grown it long again? He liked it best when she had it long. He remembered the way it felt in his fingers. How he could wrap his hands in it and pull her close. He loved the way it would spill like silk across his chest when they made love.

He’d heard from his mother that Robyn had married not long after she’d left him, but that she was single again. He should be glad about that, but he wasn’t. He wanted Robyn to be happy.

His mother and Robyn’s mother were neighbors and best friends. He could’ve made a point of keeping track of her, but he’d chosen not to. On his infrequent visits home, her name was off-limits as far as he was concerned. Robyn’s life was her own now. She’d made it plain that there was no place for him in it.

He gave up looking for Robyn in the crowd. It was a stupid move coming back. He hadn’t been to a rodeo in Bluff Springs in years. He wasn’t sure why he was here now.

Maybe she didn’t come to the rodeos anymore. After rolling down the sleeves of his blue-and-white-striped shirt, he fastened the snaps and then drew on his rosin-darkened leather glove. One thing Neal knew for certain, she wouldn’t come to this rodeo if she knew he was riding.

He gave his attention back to the rodeo. The smell of dust, livestock and popcorn filled the evening air as the carnival music from the midway spilled over the arena. Another bull and rider burst from the chute beside him and began their awesome dance across the churned dirt of the arena floor. The crowd cheered wildly when the horn sounded. One of his competitors had lasted the full eight.

The announcer’s voice blared over the PA system again. “The judges’ score is eighty-five. A great ride, ladies and gentlemen. And now we have a last-minute entry, but one I know you’ll enjoy. In chute number three, a native son of these Flint Hills and currently number one in the national standings—let’s hear it for Neal Bryant, looking for eight on board Dust Devil.”

A roar of cheering and applause erupted. Tipping his hat to the crowd from the top rail of the bucking chute, Neal scanned the bleachers one last time. If she was out there, he didn’t see her. Biting back his disappointment, he turned his attention to the bull coming through the stock gate.

The announcer’s voice droned on. “A two-time runner-up at the National Finals Rodeo...”

Those words penetrated Neal’s concentration, and his jaw clenched in annoyance. Two-time runner-up was just another way of saying two-time loser. He hated losing.

This year was going to be different. He knew it in his bones. This was his year. He’d given up everything to make it to the top of his sport. Failure wasn’t an option.

As he glanced out over the stands once more, he relaxed. He’d ridden his first calf in this Bluff Springs, Kansas, arena when he was eight years old. He’d won that Little Britches go-round, and like his father before him, rodeo had gotten into his blood.

The people there were friends, neighbors and some of his biggest fans. They deserved to see a damn fine ride, and he was going to give them one.

Maybe, just maybe, the one person he wanted to see would be watching.

Neal handed his cowboy hat to one of the men working the chutes and pulled on his helmet with the attached face mask. He lowered himself into the chute. His rigging was quickly pulled tightly around the bull’s massive torso, and then the bull rope was laid snugly over the palm of his buckskin glove. Wrapping it once around the back of his hand, he laid it across his palm again and then pounded the fingers of his rosined glove down on the braided leather until he was satisfied with his grip.

The bull moved restlessly below him. The bell on the bottom of the rope clanged loudly when Dust Devil slammed his head against the gate. He was itching to get the rider off his back, and he knew which way was out.

“Old Devil here, he likes to spin to the left,” the rodeo clown said from outside the gate.

Neal recognized the man’s voice. It was Kent Daley, an experienced bullfighter. Kent had saved the hide of more than one unlucky rider, including Neal. They had traveled the same rodeo circuit for years.

“I see you’re still playing with your wife’s makeup, Kent. Aren’t you getting a little long in the tooth for this business?”

“I’ll give it up the day a bull’s hot breath on my butt doesn’t make me run fast.”

“Just keep this one off mine, okay?”

“Devil likes to spin tight. When you come off, get out of his way. He loves to stomp on folks. He’s got a mean streak a mile wide.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna come off?”

“Cocky, ain’t ya?”

“Getting bucked off is so undignified.”

“Well, when you dismount, you should remove yourself from this bovine’s vicinity with all haste.”

“That’s the plan. Thanks.”

Neal adjusted his weight until he was satisfied with his seat. He knew this bull. He’d ridden him twice before, but he had only stayed on for the full eight seconds one time. He couldn’t have hoped for a better draw, since both the bull and the rider were judged during the event. The harder a bull bucked, the higher the score his rider earned.

Dust Devil liked to take three or four big leaping bucks straight down the arena before he started into the tight spin that had earned him his name. The high jumps earned more points. A rider couldn’t win with a lazy bull under him.

“Okay, boys.” Neal was ready. He raised his hand and nodded. The gate flew open, and the massive gray bull exploded into the arena with a powerful lunge.

The bull leaped again, thrashing in midair as he tried to shake his rider. When he made a third lunge, Neal’s lips drew back in a savage smile. He had this one.

Adrenaline pumped through his body. The roaring crowd was nothing but a colorful blur at the edge of his vision as he concentrated on the animal beneath him. Devil’s massive head swung sharply to the left, and Neal shifted his weight when the bull started into his spin. He was going to ride him for sure this time. Suddenly, Dust Devil stumbled. The mammoth animal lost his footing and crashed to his knees.

Catapulted forward, Neal flew over his riding hand, twisting it tighter in the rope. Devil lurched to his feet with Neal dangling helplessly against his side.

Neal struggled to free his hand as the bull continued to buck and thrash, tossing him like a rag doll. Kent Daley darted in and began trying to loosen the bull rope. Kent’s partner dodged back and forth in front of the bull, taunting the animal to keep him from turning back on Kent as he worked. At last, Neal’s rigging slipped loose.

He fell into the dirt beneath Devil’s hooves. He tried to roll aside. A crushing blow to his ribs forced the air from his lungs as one of Dust Devil’s hooves drove up under the edge of his protective vest. Neal curled into a ball of agony. He couldn’t breathe.

Kent dropped down beside him. “Are you hurt?”

“I can make it,” Neal gasped. He pulled his helmet off to get more air. It didn’t help.

Devil ran the second clown into the safety of the padded barrel. With a furious blow of his head, the bull sent the barrel flying. Then he turned back to the men crouched on the arena floor.

“Get me out of here,” Neal managed through clenched teeth. Dagger-sharp pain lanced through his side. He tasted blood in his mouth. Grabbing his helmet lying in the dirt beside him, he suppressed a groan as Kent shouldered him to his feet and half dragged, half carried him toward the fence. Neal couldn’t make his legs work right.

Safety loomed only a few steps away when Dust Devil bore down on them again. After letting go of Neal, Kent turned to lure the bull away. His brightly colored, baggy clothing made him a more inviting target. Neal staggered two more steps. With one hand on the fence, he glanced back to see Kent get hooked and tossed high into the air. He landed facedown in the dirt and lay still. Dust Devil whirled back for the fallen clown.

Other men and riders were racing toward them, but no one was as close as Neal was. He turned away from the fence and limped toward the crumpled figure on the arena floor. Neal drew the bull’s attention by yelling and waving his arm. The massive animal hesitated for an instant, and then charged the fallen man.

Neal threw his helmet. It hit the bull square in the face. Enraged, Dust Devil changed direction and charged him.

Neal took a step backward, turned and tried for the fence. He stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. As he glanced over his shoulder, he had a split second to wonder if he was going to die, and if Robyn would care. Then the world exploded in a brilliant, bloodred flash of pain, followed mercifully by darkness.

* * *

ROBYN MORGAN CROSSED the nearly empty hospital parking lot and inserted her key in her car door. She paused and raised her head to listen. The distant sound of a siren broke the quiet of the balmy June night. She recognized the distinctive wail of the county ambulance.

Drat! If she’d only been a minute faster getting into her car, she wouldn’t have heard it. Or, she admitted with a wry smile, if she hadn’t spent the past twenty minutes pouring over the application form for a nurse-practitioner scholarship her supervisor had given her. Twenty minutes of pure wishful thinking.

She couldn’t get over the shock of it. The accompanying letter stated that she had been recommended for a full private scholarship at the University of Colorado. The scholarships would be awarded to four candidates chosen from the names put forth by physicians practicing family medicine in Kansas, Colorado and Nebraska. The deadline for returning the application was September 1.

She had no idea who’d submitted her name, but it was flattering to know her expertise had been noted, especially since the school was one of the best in the country. But, like the carrot on a string in front of a donkey, the promise of a chance at professional advancement and a better salary dangled just out of her reach.

She couldn’t go back to school now, not with the trouble she and her mother were having with the ranch. It was tough making ends meet, and the gap widened every month. Her mom couldn’t do it alone. Robyn knew there would be expenses in going to school out of state that even a full scholarship wouldn’t cover.

Yet it was an opportunity she might never have again. There had to be some way she could make it work. She racked her tired brain for a solution but came up blank. No, she was only kidding herself. The offer was tempting in the extreme, but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Meanwhile, was she going to stay late and help with whatever the ambulance was bringing, or was she going home? She battled with her conscience as she stood in the parking lot. Her shift was over. She’d given report to the night nurse. She could go home. She should go home.

Biting her lip, she listened to the siren’s wail growing louder.

Someone else could handle the crisis for once. She was tired. She didn’t feel like rushing in to save the day.

But her mother would have put Chance to bed hours ago. He wouldn’t know his mother hadn’t come home on time. The night-shift nurse, Jane Rawlings, was a good nurse, but she was young and inexperienced. What if it was something Jane couldn’t handle?

Robyn’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Once again, her overblown sense of responsibility won out. After pulling her keys from the car door, she threw them in her purse and hurried back through the hospital door. The look of relief on Jane’s face said she’d made the right decision.

“Thank goodness. I thought you’d gone.”

Robyn dropped her purse in a drawer behind the emergency room desk. “I should have been. One of these days, I’m going to put my own life before this job. I swear I am.”

“Right. That’ll happen about twenty-four hours after you’re dead.” The skeptical comment came from Dr. Adam Cain as he strode in.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then raked his fingers through his thick blond hair. “What’s coming?”

Jane read from the notes she had taken when the call came in. “A bull rider has been injured over at the rodeo. The paramedics say the guy’s in bad shape. They’re suggesting we call for an airlift.” She read off his vital signs, as well.

Dr. Cain nodded. “All right, alert Kansas City General’s team that we are going to need them. It will take a little while to get the chopper ready.”

Startled, Robyn asked, “You’re going to call an air ambulance transfer without seeing the patient first?”

“I’m been moonlighting in this one-horse town long enough to know that your paramedics know their stuff. If they think this guy needs an airlift, I’m sure he does. Every second counts this far from a trauma center. If he looks like something we can handle, we’ll cancel the transport.”

Jane chuckled. “You’d better count again, Doc. We’ve got more than one horse in Bluff Springs.”

He grinned. “I stand corrected. In this two-hundred-and-fifty-horse town.”

Robyn smiled at him. “That’s more like it. When you first came here, I had my doubts about you. But I think you’ll make a decent country doctor after all.”

“Coming from a nurse like you, that’s high praise, indeed.” Returning her smile, he pulled off his white lab coat and draped it over the desk.

A blush heated her cheeks. She quickly turned away. Now wasn’t the time to let her growing attraction for this man get in the way. They worked well together. That was all. She shouldn’t read anything into his friendliness. Every unmarried nurse in the hospital, and half of the married ones, had a crush on the handsome resident who worked weekends in their small town. She didn’t intend to add herself to the list.

He glanced at the clock. “Does your husband mind you working late? Or is he used to it?”

“She isn’t married,” Jane piped up. Robyn shot her a quick frown, but Jane only grinned and winked. A newlywed herself, Jane made no secret of the fact she thought Robyn should be dating again.

“You’re not married?” His tone was puzzled. He glanced at her hand. “You wear a ring.”

“My husband passed away four years ago,” Robyn said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” His voice held true compassion. She liked that about him.

“Thank you.” Even after so many years, she still found it difficult to talk about Colin.

She quickly moved the conversation back to the task at hand. “I’ll check the IV supplies and make sure we have everything. Jane, you get started on the paperwork.”

When the ambulance backed up to the doors, they were ready and waiting for it.

“What do we have, gentlemen?” Dr. Cain grabbed the foot of the gurney. He guided it inside the doors and into the nearest room. Thick, blood-soaked bandages covered most of the patient’s face. A wide foam-and-plastic collar held his head and neck immobile. The front of his blue-and-white-striped shirt was covered with blood—a lot of blood. Robyn grasped his wrist to check his pulse.

The paramedic held an IV bag high in one hand. “White male, early thirties. He took a horn to the face. He has severe lacerations to the left cheek and eye. Looks bad for his eye, Doc. He was trampled, too. Labored breathing, concave left lower chest, no breath sounds on that side.”

“Fractured ribs, probably a punctured lung. Stupidest sport ever invented.” Dr. Cain snatched his stethoscope from around his neck, pulled back the patient’s shirt and listened.

Looping his stethoscope over his neck again, he said tersely, “Jane, get me a chest-tube tray. Crank up his oxygen to 15 liters. Let me hear some vital signs, people.”

Robyn was already gathering the information he wanted. She used the blood-pressure cuff the ambulance crew had wrapped around his arm. She took a reading and said, “BP is ninety over fifty. Pulse ninety, weak and thready, respiration’s thirty-eight and labored.”

Dr. Cain peeled back the dressings on the man’s face and frowned. “You’re right. I doubt we can save his eye. Keep a moist sterile dressing on this. We’ll let the surgeons in Kansas City sort it out.”

Jane wheeled a metal stand up beside them and pulled the wrappings off a sterile pack. “Here’s the chest-tube tray.”

“We need X-rays of his skull, neck, chest and abdomen.” Dr. Cain snapped out orders. “Get lab and X-ray in here now! I want a blood gas, a complete blood count and I want him typed and cross matched for a blood transfusion. Do we have a name?”

The two paramedics didn’t answer. Robyn raised the phone to her ear and punched in the number for X-ray, but she felt the men’s gazes on her. She turned toward them.

“It’s Neal Bryant,” one of them said.

The room grew dark at the edges of Robyn’s vision and seemed to tilt. The phone fell from her nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor. She groped behind her for the wall.

Dear God, it can’t be! She stared at the still, blood-soaked figure in stunned disbelief.

“Robyn? Robyn, who is he to you?” Dr. Cain’s voice seemed to come from a long way away.

“Nobody,” she whispered, wishing it were true.

“They were engaged once,” Jane said, then picked up the phone and spoke quickly. “Portable X-ray in E.R., stat.”

For a long, painful moment, Robyn’s heart seemed to freeze. Then it began to pound wildly inside her chest. She couldn’t get enough air. She drew in one deep breath, then another, and slowly her vision began to clear. “It was a long time ago.”

“Well, he’s going to be a dead nobody if we don’t get this chest tube in. Help or get out of the way.” Dr. Cain’s voice was harsh as he began to swab Neal’s chest with antiseptic.

“What?” She looked at him in confusion.

“You heard me. Help, or get out of here. I need a nurse, not a jilted sweetheart. Someone start another IV line, and get this shirt out of my way.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Robyn picked up a pair of scissors. Her hands trembled, but she managed to cut away the bloody fabric from Neal’s chest.

Neal flinched and moaned when the chest tube went in, and she grabbed the hand he raised. “Neal, can you hear me? You’re in the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”

God she hoped that was true. His hand tightened on hers, and he tried to speak. She bent close to hear his voice, which was muffled by the oxygen mask. “Robyn?”

“Yes, Neal, it’s me. You’re going to be okay.”

His grip tightened. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Want you...to know...” His voice trailed away, and his hand fell limp.

“How soon on that Air-Life flight?” Dr. Cain’s question spurred her back into action. She wrapped a tourniquet around Neal’s muscular forearm and began to prep for another IV line.

“Twenty minutes,” Jane said.

“Type and cross for two units. We’ve got a lot of blood coming out of this chest tube. Get a unit of O neg. in as fast as you can. Do you have that IV yet?”

“Yes.” Robyn slid the needle into place and taped it.

“Start Ringer’s lactate wide-open, and Robyn?”

“Yes?”

“Good job.”

She nodded. “I’d better notify his family.”

“Let Jane do it. I need you.” He held out a gloved hand and said, “Suture.”

Somehow Robyn managed to keep working, but she couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. Time seemed to move in slow motion. Where was the transport crew? How much longer before they arrived? She listened to each rattling breath Neal took and prayed he would keep breathing. The nurse in her kept functioning, snipping sutures, checking vital signs, starting blood, while another part of her watched the whole scene with a sense of disbelief.

It was the nightmare scene she had always feared when they were together.

She wasn’t surprised Neal had been seriously injured. He was a world-class bull rider. He risked injury, even death, a hundred times each year. That was part of the reason she’d walked away from him five years ago. A small part.

What did surprise her was how much she still cared.

At last the outside doors slid open and the transport crew rushed in. Dressed in blue-and-white jumpsuits and carrying large red-and-white cases, they set up on the scene with practiced ease. It was a relief to step out of the way and let them take over. Within minutes, Neal had been assessed and was loaded onto their stretcher. He was quickly wheeled out the door, across the parking lot and up to the waiting helicopter.

Neal’s mother’s white Buick Regal tore into the lot as he was being lifted aboard. Ellie Bryant jumped out of her car and raced toward the chopper. The crew let her in beside him as Dr. Cain and Robyn hurried toward her. Leaning in the chopper, Ellie spoke to her son and kissed him before the crew urged her aside.

Robyn took Ellie by the shoulders and pulled her away. Covering their faces with their arms, the two women huddled together as the chopper rose into the air and clung to each other until the sound of it faded away.

Ellie used both hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’ve always been afraid of this. At least he was close to home and not a thousand miles away.”

Turning to Robyn, she asked, “Will he live?”

“He’s getting the best care possible, but it is bad.”

Dr. Cain came up and rested a hand on Ellie’s shoulder as he spoke. “Do you have someone who can drive you to Kansas City tonight? I think you should go as quickly as possible.”

“My oldest son and his wife are in Dallas. I’m fine to go by myself.”

“I’ll go with you,” Robyn surprised herself by offering.

“Are you sure?” Ellie asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. You shouldn’t drive all that way alone. Let me call Mom and make some arrangements for Chance.”

Robyn rushed back inside to make the call. She couldn’t rest until she knew that Neal would live. If he didn’t, she’d never have the chance to tell him he had a son.


CHAPTER TWO

ROBYN AND ELLIE sat quietly beside Neal’s bed in the ICU on their third day of vigil. He still hadn’t roused. Sunshine poured through the window and painted a bright band of light across the white sheets. Outside, the blue sky promised another hot summer day.

His mother rose and closed the curtain against the brightness. She pressed both hands to the small of her back and stretched. Turning to Robyn, she said, “I’m going to step out and get a bite. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.” She didn’t have much of an appetite.

“I swear the smell in this hospital makes me sick. I think I’ll run across the street to McDonald’s.”

Robyn smiled. She found the faint antiseptic smell comforting and familiar. “You don’t fool me. You just like their French fries better than the ones in the cafeteria.”

“I’m a sucker for a Big Mac, too. I won’t be gone long.”

“Take your time. His vital signs are stable. I know you could use the break.”

“Is there any way to tell how much longer he’ll be unconscious?”

“Not really.” The doctors had placed him in a medical comma to monitor the swelling in his brain. They had stopped his sedation that morning. He should have been awake by now. Robyn didn’t want to worry his mother any more than she had to.

Ellie stopped beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for staying with me, honey. Jake and Connie are flying in tonight. They will be able to spell me so you can go home. I know you miss Chance.”

“I do. I’ve never been away from him for this long.”

“I used to think that you would be my daughter-in-law one day. I never gave up hoping my hardheaded youngest would realize his mistake and come settle down with you.”

Robyn covered Ellie’s hand with her own. She avoided looking at the older woman. “Neal and I were kids when we were head over heels for each other. We mistook infatuation for love. It wasn’t meant to be.”

While her statement wasn’t a complete lie, it wasn’t the truth, either. She had been deeply in love with Neal, but he hadn’t loved her in return.

“Well, a body can still hope,” Ellie declared and then left the room.

Neal moaned softly. Robyn leaned forward to brush back a dark brown curl and laid her hand lightly on his forehead. His skin was warm to the touch but not feverish. His color was sickly pale under his deep tan. A thick bandage covered the left side of his face.

She moved her hand and laid it over his where it rested on the bed at his side. A gentle smile touched her lips as she remembered a time when they had measured their hands against each other’s. His fingers were long, straight and calloused. Her little finger curved outward, and he had laughed as he’d teased her about that.

They had laughed about so much when they were young. Her smile faded. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been in love with him.

In grade school, she had followed him around like a faithful puppy. Having grown up as neighbors, they were inseparable friends. It didn’t matter to Neal that she was a girl. She could ride and rope as good as any boy.

In high school, they’d begun to rodeo together as a team roping pair. During Neal’s senior year, their friendship had evolved into a tender teenage love affair. When he’d graduated the year before her, she’d worried constantly that he might meet someone else at college. It was during that time that he had given up roping and began riding bulls.

She’d hated it. She had known what could happen. Not long after that, he’d quit school and begun traveling the pro rodeo circuit. His father had been furious.

She had tried to wait patiently for Neal’s infrequent visits home, but in the end, she’d simply had to follow him. She’d moved into his tiny camper and set up house. Being with him had been wonderful and terrifying at the same time. She had hated watching him put himself in danger. They’d had some fine arguments about it, but he wouldn’t quit. She had tried not to let her fear and worry show. He’d loved riding, and she’d loved him. She’d been happy in spite of the rough life and hardships of being on the circuit because she’d known his heart belonged to her. All she could do was pray that he survived.

During the long months of traveling and living out of a secondhand camper, she’d dreamed of the day when they would leave the rodeo behind, settle down outside Bluff Springs and raise a family on the ranch where she’d grown up.

Then one day, she had learned a painful truth. No one woman owned his heart. Her dreams had withered and died in that instant.

Robyn sighed and let her head fall back against the chair cushion. That heartbreak belonged in the past. She had moved on with her life. A lot of things hadn’t worked out the way she’d expected them to. The ranch she had grown up on was failing now that her father was gone. If something didn’t change soon, they would have to sell. She hated the idea. She had dreamed that one day her son would raise his children there.

She had expected to marry her childhood sweetheart and live happily ever after, but Neal had broken her heart, and she’d left him. When she had discovered she had a reason to go back, her pride had kept her away and driven her to make a choice that had changed the course of her life and many others.

She gazed at Neal’s pale, still face. He would never know what that decision had cost both of them.

The small voice of her conscience whispered that she was wrong to keep her secret. What if Neal had died without knowing he had a son? Could she live with that?

She glanced at the wedding band she wore on her left hand. She had promised her husband, as he lay dying in a hospital bed very much like this one, that she would never reveal Chance wasn’t his child.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Were we wrong, Colin?”

She had been young, deeply hurt and bitter when she’d left Neal. She hadn’t discovered until weeks later that she was pregnant. Neal had never wanted children. She had refused to use a child to force him back into a relationship that he clearly didn’t want with her. She had let him have the freedom he craved. Not a day went by that she didn’t question her choice.

There was no going back, no way to undo the past. Right or wrong, she’d kept her secret.

Weariness crept into her bones. She closed her eyes to rest them. She must have fallen asleep, because she jerked awake sometime later when a hoarse voice whispered, “Where am I?”

She sat up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Hey, cowboy. It’s about time you woke up.”

“Me? You’re the one snoring.” His voice was weak, but she was so glad to hear it.

She smiled softly. “How rude of me. Do you know where you are?”

“A torture chamber?”

“Close. A hospital in Kansas City. Would you like some water?”

“Yes,” he croaked.

She picked up a white Styrofoam cup from the bedside table and held the bent straw to his lips. He sipped slowly. When he turned his face away, she put the cup down. “How do you feel?”

“Like the bull rode me for the full eight.” His voice was stronger when he answered her. His feeble joke triggered a new flood of relief. His doctors had been worried about possible brain damage.

“I think you threw him before the whistle,” she answered.

“Kent,” he said suddenly. “Kent Daley, is he okay? I saw the bull knock him down.”

“He’s fine,” she assured him. “He was out cold for a few minutes, but that’s all. The outriders managed to keep the bull off of him.”

Neal relaxed. “That’s good. He’s a decent guy.”

“He’s been here twice to see you. He’s very grateful for what you did.”

“He did the same for me.”

Neal focused on her face for a long moment. She waited until the silence became unbearable. She knew what was coming. “What?”

“How bad is it?” His voice wasn’t quite steady.

Robyn bit her lip to stop its trembling. She searched for the courage to tell him the full extent of his injuries. She dreaded the news she was going to deliver. She thought for a second about going out and finding his doctor, but she decided against it. Neal wouldn’t want an outsider with him for this.

His hand closed over hers, and he squeezed gently. “Come on, Tweety, give it to me straight. I know I can wiggle my toes, but it hurts to breathe, and my head’s on fire.”

Her heart wrenched at his use of her childhood nickname. They had been friends long before they had become lovers, long before he broke her heart. He would need a friend now.

In a calm voice, she began. “It’s bad, Neal. You have three broken ribs. One of them punctured your lung. You lost a lot of blood. Your face hurts because you also have a fractured cheekbone, a shattered eye socket and...” Her voice trailed away. She couldn’t do this.

His grip on her hand tightened. “And?”

“The bull hooked your face with his horn. The doctors couldn’t save your left eye.”

“Oh, God, no!” His anguished cry tore at her heart.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

* * *

NEAL KNEW HIS grip had to be crushing her small hand. It couldn’t be true. He didn’t want to believe her. The pain in his head intensified until he almost screamed.

Forcing himself to let go of her, he raised a trembling hand to grope at the bandages on his face. His eye was gone. He was half-blind. He wanted to tear the dressings off and prove it wasn’t true.

“Is that the worst of it?” he managed to ask.

“Yes. You will have a scar on your face, but you’ll be able to get a prosthesis as soon as it’s healed.”

“A glass eye, you mean?” Repugnance filled him. This was some kind of cruel joke. It couldn’t be happening.

No, the real joke was that she was the one to see him like this.

She leaned close and took his hand. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but your family and friends will be here for you. You will get through this.”

The pain in his head grew along with his need to lash out. He jerked away from her. “You should leave now. It’s what you do best.”

“I’m so sorry, Neal.”

“I don’t want your pity! Leave me alone.”

“Anger is a very normal reaction to such terrible news.”

How could she be so calm about the worst moment in his life? It infuriated him. It wasn’t rational to blame her, but he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t tell me what’s normal. Just get out!”

“Neal, please,” she pleaded.

“Get out!” he shouted.

The pain was making him sick. He didn’t want her to see him puke his guts up. He closed his eye and gritted his teeth. Cold beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as his stomach roiled.

The room grew quiet. Had she gone?

A feeling of panic swelled in him. He didn’t want her to go. He needed her. He had always needed her; he just didn’t know how much until she was gone.

A hand touched his face and a cool cloth was laid on his brow. “Breathe through your mouth. Take slow, deep breaths,” she said.

“I told you—”

“Shut up. I’m a nurse, and you’ll do as I say. I have a basin here if you need it.”

Damn her. She knew what he needed almost before he did.

Did she know he needed to feel her lips against his? That he wanted to hold her in his arms? Did she know that he still lay awake at night missing her warmth next to him?

No, she couldn’t know, and he’d be damned if he would tell her now. She had left him.

He heard the door open as someone came into the room, but he couldn’t see who it was. The door was on his blind side.

His blind side! Just thinking the words made him feel sicker. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. Any second he would wake up.

Robyn moved away and spoke quietly to someone. The door opened and closed again. He wanted to call her back. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted her by his side. He raised his hand, groping for her.

She moved back into his line of sight and his feeling of panic began to lessen. He heard the door again, and a woman’s voice said, “This will help.”

A cold sensation snaked up his arm from the IV in the back of his hand. After a few minutes, the pain and nausea began to recede.

Robyn held his other hand. “The nurse has given you something for the pain. Is that better?”

“Yes,” he admitted weakly. He grew strangely weightless. The pain slipped away, leaving him weary. There was so much he wanted to say to Robyn, only he had no idea where to start.

Her fingers caressed his face. “Sleep now. Your mother will be back soon.”

“Don’t go.” He wanted her to stay. Foolish as he knew that wish was, he didn’t want her to go.

“You’re going to be okay, Neal.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He tried to hold on to the feeling of her hand touching his face, to the scent like spring flowers she always wore, but everything began to fade. He couldn’t sleep. He fought against the drug. “Tell me why,” he begged.

“Why, what?”

“Why you left me.”

“Because you didn’t love me.”

She was wrong, so wrong, but he couldn’t form the words to tell her as the darkness closed over him.

The drugged sleep brought him no peace. Instead, it carried him into a world of foggy, half-formed nightmares where an enormous bull with bloody horns pursued him relentlessly. He awoke in near darkness with pain pounding in his head again and the taste of fear in his mouth.

He turned to search for Robyn, craving the gentleness of her touch. His hopes soared for an instant until he recognized his mother asleep in the chair beside him.

Robyn was gone. The pain he felt then had nothing to do with his injury. It was an old, familiar pain. One he knew he deserved.

Raising his hand slowly, he touched the gauze bandage on his face. He hadn’t dreamed this. His eye was gone. He would be scarred for life.

Why him? What kind of life would he have as a one-eyed freak? A sudden thought sent a new chill of fear through him.

What if he couldn’t ride again? What would he do? He couldn’t lose that. Not that.

He was Neal Bryant, soon to be a world-champion bull rider. Not a runner-up. Not a loser. He’d given up everything to make it this far. Everything, including Robyn.

His hands clenched into fists on the sheets. He would ride again. He had to.


CHAPTER THREE

“MOM, ARE YOU sure you want to go through with this?” Robyn sat behind the wheel of her battered green Ford pickup and struggled not to cry as she gazed at her mother’s face. Martha O’Connor was pale but composed as she buttoned the top button of her blue cotton blouse.

She took a deep breath and nodded once. “I don’t want to do it, but I have to. I have no other choice. The ranch is too much for me to handle now that your dad is gone. There are too many decisions to make, too much work that needs doing. This is the only way.”

“I could help more,” Robyn offered one last time. It didn’t seem right to sell the ranch that had been in their family for generations. Who would love it as much as her family had? Her great-great-grandparents had come from Ireland and settled in the green treeless hills so unlike their native land. They were hearty people. They had survived in spite of drought, prairie fires and floods and built a ranch to be proud of. She would make them proud by keeping her head up.

Her mother said, “You can’t help more. You work five and six days a week as it is. If we move into town, you’ll be able to spend more time with Chance. You won’t be driving thirty miles twice a day to get to work and back. I should have put the place up for sale two years ago when we started losing money, but I thought— Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. This drought has finished us.”

She turned pleading eyes toward Robyn. “You can make a decent living as a nurse. You don’t need to worry about outguessing the weather or gambling everything on the cattle market. You don’t need to watch your dreams wither and dry into dust. I want a stable, secure life for you and my grandson. Can you understand that?”

“Are you doing this because you think Chance won’t be able to run the ranch?”

“I’m doing this because I can’t run the ranch. This is my decision. You know it hasn’t been an easy one. To tell the truth, if we don’t sell now, we’ll lose the place anyway. I’ve borrowed as much as I can against it. If we spruce the place up and get top dollar for it, we can pay off the mortgage and afford the special schooling Chance will need.”

“That will take a lot of sprucing, Mom.”

“We’ll have to hire some help, but it can be done. I know how much you want to become a nurse practitioner. This might make that possible, or at least not as difficult. If the place brings what it is worth, you can go to school and I can have a comfortable retirement.”

Robyn reached to grip her mother’s hand. “You deserve that. I understand, honest I do. Only, can’t I feel a little sad that my childhood home is going up for sale?”

“Yes, of course you can. Just don’t start crying. If you do, I’ll never be able to go through with it.”

“I won’t cry in front of you. I promise.”

Her mother squeezed Robyn’s hand. “Good. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

Martha stepped out of the truck. “I need to do this alone. I only hope your father would understand.”

“Dad always put the family first, Mom. He’d understand. I’m sure of it. He would say it’s just a big piece of dirt. The people we love are what’s important.”

“You’re right—bless you for that.” Martha closed the truck door, smoothed the front of her navy blue skirt and squared her shoulders. Then she crossed the street and walked into the Flint Hills Real Estate office with her head up.

Robyn watched with a sinking heart as her mother entered the building. She had hoped the ranch would pass into the hands of her children one day. So much for another girlhood dream. They seemed to have all fallen by the wayside.

She pushed her short dark curls off her forehead as a trickle of sweat slipped down her temple in the rising, late-June heat. The trouble with letting go of the dreams she’d once cherished was finding something to replace them.

A white sedan pulled up to the curb two spaces down from her truck in front of the drugstore. She recognized Ellie Bryant’s car and watched Neal swing his long legs out of the passenger side. Fighting down the compulsion to rush over and help him, she studied him closely.

Weeks had passed since the accident, but he still moved stiffly. His mother came around beside him. He pointedly ignored her offered hand. Robyn was glad she hadn’t jumped out to help.

As he stood beside the car, she saw he was still pale beneath his tan, but his color was better than the last time she’d seen him. The bandages were gone, and she got her first look at the scar he would bear for the rest of his life. A crooked red line ran up from the center of his left cheek and disappeared beneath the black eye patch he wore.

She wanted to feel pity, but she couldn’t deny the truth. It wasn’t pity that sent her pulse racing. It was the sweet rush of desire he always triggered in her.

As the familiar longing swept over her, she closed her eyes to fight it. She wouldn’t fall for him again. She had more pride than that. He didn’t love her. He’d proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt five years ago.

When she had a grip on her emotions, she opened her eyes and saw a pair of teenage girls walking past the front of her truck. Their gazes were pinned on Neal and looks of admiration sprang onto their young faces. Their walks slowed and turned into prowling saunters.

He tipped his hat as they strolled past him, but something struck Robyn as odd about his move. She’d seen him do that a thousand times. What was different this time?

Then she knew. He’d used his left hand to touch the brim of his hat. Was he trying to cover the scarred side of his face?

A quick pang of compassion pushed a lump into her throat. His appearance had been drastically altered. It would be hard for anyone, but it had to be especially hard for someone as proud as Neal was.

He had always been a handsome man. Women had flocked around him. He was above-average height and lean, with a cowboy’s natural swagger. He wore his brown hair slightly long, and it curled at his shirt collar. She’d always thought his hazel eyes were his best feature, but it was his impish sense of humor she had adored.

She watched the two girls glance back at him before they turned the corner. Neal might not realize it, but the eye patch made him look dangerous and exotic. He would be the object of some teenage fantasies for many nights to come judging by the girls’ reactions. Who could blame them? He was a sexy hunk.

He started to step up on the curb, but he didn’t step high enough and stumbled. He regained his balance quickly, but he pressed his arm to his side. Had he hurt himself?

His mother rushed around the car to help as he leaned against the hood, but he shook her off. Robyn found herself out of the truck and standing beside him before she realized what she was doing. “Are you okay?”

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and his lips pressed into a tight line. “Sure. One too many beers, I guess.”

She frowned as she studied his face. “Don’t be a smart aleck. You’re having trouble judging distance because of your altered depth perception.”

“They tell me I’ll get used to it.”

“Did you hurt your ribs?” his mother asked.

“I jarred them, that’s all. I’m fine. Go and do your shopping, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Surprised by the sharp sarcasm in his voice, Robyn glanced at his mother. A look of hurt flashed across Ellie’s face, but it disappeared quickly as she pasted a smile on. She stepped away from him and let her arms fall to her sides.

“Okay. I won’t be long.” Turning away, she hurried into the drugstore. The bell over the door clanged as it closed behind her.

“I see your manners haven’t improved,” Robyn snapped.

He frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mother is only trying to help.”

“I see you haven’t changed, either,” he drawled, leaning against the car hood.

She refused to rise to his bait and kept her mouth shut. She’d said too much already.

He looked her up and down. “You still butt into other people’s business. I didn’t like you trying to tell me what to do years ago, and I don’t like it now.”

What on earth had possessed her to think he needed her help? Robyn didn’t know if she was more furious with him or with herself. “Someone needs to tell you what to do, you slow-witted stubborn oaf. You were plain mean to your mother.”

He scowled at her but didn’t reply.

Maybe it was none of her business, but he was going to get an earful. His mother didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. “Your mother watched helplessly as they loaded you on a chopper and then drove for two hundred miles, praying you would still be alive when she got to the hospital. While they were putting you back together, Humpty Dumpty, she paced the waiting room for hours, worried sick with fear. When she finally heard you would live, they told her you might have brain damage. I could barely get her to leave your bedside. She didn’t sleep for two nights straight.”

Robyn poked a finger into the top button of his shirt. “So cut her a little slack if she’s overprotective, and be kind to her. She’s been through a lot.”

Robyn wouldn’t tell him all those fears and sleepless nights were hers, as well. He wouldn’t care.

His face could have been carved from granite. “Are you finished?”

She folded her arms across her chest and clamped her jaw closed on all the other things she wanted to shout at him. “Yes.”

From behind her, she heard someone speak. “Mr. Bryant, can I have your autograph, please?”

She turned around and saw three high-school-age boys standing on the sidewalk, looking eager but uncertain.

Neal’s face softened. “Sure, I’d be glad to.”

“We saw your last ride,” the lanky one said in a rush. He wore a cowboy hat pushed back on his blond hair.

“That was so brave the way you drew the bull away from the clown when he was down.” Awe filled the second boy’s voice.

“Yeah, we could see you were hurt,” the third boy interjected. His eyes brimmed with admiration. “You could have made it to the fence, but you ran back to help him.”

“I sure hope you’ll be able to keep on riding,” the first boy added, holding out a pen and a slip of paper.

Neal took the pen and scrawled his signature on the paper. “I’ve got to give these ribs a chance to heal, but I intend to be in the National Finals come December.”

“Thank you, sir.” The boy took the paper back and stared at it in awe as they walked away. “I told you havin’ one eye wouldn’t keep him from riding,” the blond boy insisted proudly.

Robyn stared at Neal in disbelief. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

He looked at her. “What?”

“That you’ll go back to riding bulls.”

He stiffened and stood away from the car. “You bet I mean it.”

“I guess the doctors were right. You are brain damaged!” She spun on her heels and stalked off.

* * *

NEAL FELT HIS resentment fade. A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She didn’t pull any punches when it came to telling him what she thought. She hadn’t changed a bit.

He tilted his head slightly as he studied her retreating form. Well, maybe a little, but it was all for the better.

Her boyish figure was gone. She’d put on some weight, but it only made her curves more generous. The hips filling out her Wranglers now were anything but boyish.

He pressed his lips back into a thin line. Okay, he still found her attractive; too bad for him. She’d dropped him like a hot rock and moved on with her life. He was glad she had. She deserved better. There was no point standing in the hot sun and wishing things had turned out differently.

He glanced toward the drugstore. Much as he hated to admit it, she was right about one thing. He’d been taking his frustrations and his anger out on anyone who came within range, including his mother. Everyone in his family had suffered his bouts of temper in silence, as if they were afraid to say anything. Only Robyn seemed able to treat him the way she had before the accident.

He wanted that. He wanted people to stop treating him like an invalid, to stop treating him differently.

Rubbing his hand across his jaw, he admitted the cold hard truth. He was different. The brash and reckless cowboy he’d once been was gone. A quaking coward now stood in his boots. Neal hated the man he had become.

Every time he closed his eye, he saw the huge, gray bull bearing down on him. Even in his sleep, he could feel Dust Devil’s hot breath on his neck. He’d jerk awake with his heart pounding in his chest so hard he couldn’t draw a breath.

Sometimes, he woke in the darkness afraid he had gone completely blind. He’d taken to sleeping with a night-light on like some frightened toddler.

Robyn might think he was crazy, but until he could ride again, he knew his fear would only grow. Getting back on a bull was the only way to fight it. As soon as he was healed, he would climb on a bull if it killed him. He had to. He couldn’t live knowing he’d lost his nerve.

But right now, he had another mission. As Robyn had so gently pointed out, he needed to apologize to his mother.

The bell jangled overhead as he entered the long, narrow building from the late 1800s. He moved carefully past the display cases filled with ceramic and glass figurines and local souvenirs. The smells of potpourri and scented candles surrounded him with their sweet fragrances. He crossed to the pharmacy through a wide archway and paused. Little had changed here since his boyhood days.

Above his head, globe lights and a wooden fan hung on pipes suspended from the high, pressed-tin ceiling. The blades of the fan hummed faintly over the sounds of Tim McGraw coming from a radio on the back counter. His mother stood in front of a tall counter, talking to the pharmacist behind it.

Neal turned his gaze to the unique, old-fashioned soda fountain that occupied the far corner. Five chrome bar stools covered in green vinyl lined up in front of a bar decorated with distinctive brown, rust and orange Mexican tiles. A wide brown marble counter topped the bar. Fluted glasses and silver tumblers sat in neat rows on the oak shelves that framed a large mirror behind the counter.

He sat down on the first stool. The mirror reflected a man in a black hat and eye patch. It took a second before Neal recognized himself. He tore his gaze away from the scarred cowboy and forced a smile to his lips when his mother joined him. “Remember when you used to bring us kids here for ice cream?”

“Of course I do. You loved coming here.”

“Every time we had to go to the dentist, you would bring us here afterwards. Something about that never made sense, dentist then ice cream.”

She smiled. “It was the only way I could get both of you to behave. I had to bribe you.”

“Maybe it will still work.”

Her grin widened. “Now, why didn’t I think of that? The promise of a chocolate malt used to turn you into an angel for at least an hour.”

“I’ve been pretty hard to live with lately, haven’t I?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “Now that you mention it, yes, you have.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“I know, dear. I try not to take it personally. You’ve been through a lot.”

He pushed the brim of his hat up. “Well, since you know what it takes to bribe me into being good, why don’t you tell me what you’d like?”

She rubbed her hands together like a gleeful child. “I’d love a hot-fudge sundae with extra whipped cream, extra nuts and extra cherries.”

Leaning back, he eyed her petite figure. “I had no idea you indulged in the hard stuff.”

“It’s the whipped cream that gets me. It brings back such fond memories of your father.”

He held up a hand. “I don’t think I’m old enough to hear this.”

She gave him a playful slap on his arm. “Don’t be sassy. Your father used to bring me here when we were courting. We always ordered a double hot-fudge sundae with extra whipped cream to share.”

“Whew. That’s a relief. I was imagining all kinds of kinky things.”

Her mouth dropped open. “If you weren’t so old, I’d turn you across my knee.”

“Hey, I’m an injured man, remember?”

They gave their order to the smiling young woman behind the counter and waited while she prepared it. Neal took his malt and sipped the smooth chocolate ice cream slowly. He watched with an indulgent smile while his mother savored her treat.

Setting his drink down, he stared at the metal tumbler for a moment and then scraped the thin coat of frost on the outside of it with his thumbnail. “You and Robyn seem to have remained pretty close.”

“Her mother and I are dear friends—you know that. We go way back. Did you know I was dating Frank before Martha stole him away from me?”

He looked at her in surprise. “And you’re still friends?”

“It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Because you met Dad?”

She nodded. “I went out with your father to try to make Frank jealous. I’d like to believe I would have discovered what a wonderful man your father was anyway, but somehow I don’t think that’s true. I think I would have settled for Frank, and I would have never known what real love was. Thankfully, Martha and I both ended up with the right man.”

She eyed him intently for a long moment. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you and Robyn break up?”

Neal stabbed his straw up and down in the thick malt. “She hated my riding bulls. We fought about it all the time. We were on the circuit in North Dakota when she got the call from her mother.”

“When Frank suffered a stroke?”

“Yeah. Robyn flew home and she never came back.”

“Did you try to contact her?”

“She was a big girl. She made up her own mind. I wasn’t going to beg her to come back.”

“Neal, you know that I love you. The Bryant men have very few faults, but their pride is one of them.”

Anger stirred in him. “What should I have done? Dragged her back by the hair?”

“You should have come to see her and demanded to know what was wrong.”

He couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped out. “She sure didn’t miss me much. I heard she got married a couple months later. Did she leave him, too?”

“No, Colin Morgan died six months after the wedding.”

That bit of news stunned him. He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“If I remember correctly, you told me point-blank that you never wanted to talk about her again. So I didn’t.”

Foolish pride could do that to a man. “That must have been rough for her.”

“It was so sad, but, thankfully, they had a beautiful little boy named Chance. I know that having Chance has helped her deal with her grief. Children give us hope.”

Robyn had a kid? He didn’t know that, either. Apparently, there was a lot about Robyn O’Connor Morgan he didn’t know.

His mother toyed with her spoon a moment before she said, “Robyn’s single now, and her mother says she’s not seeing anyone. Maybe you two could patch things up.”

He shook his head. “Not much chance of that. Besides, I’ll be leaving soon.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ll be leaving as soon as the doctor gives me the okay. Another four weeks at most. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do if I’m going to make it into the National Finals.”

“You’re going back to riding bulls? I don’t believe it.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at him.

“Mom, what did you think I was going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I never considered you’d be foolish enough to risk your life again. I’ve spent every day since I got that phone call giving thanks to God that you’re alive. I’m sorry you lost an eye. I’m sorry that your face is scarred, but it could have been so much worse. I thought this would be the end of your bull riding.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t quit like this.”

She stood and wiped away her tears. “I can’t bear it if you go back! I’ve already buried a husband—I don’t want to bury one of my children, too.” She turned away, then hurried out the door.

Neal stared after her, feeling ashamed and confused. Why didn’t anyone understand? He was a bull rider, for heaven’s sake. It was who he was as much as what he did. He’d been among the best of the best. If he couldn’t ride, then there wasn’t anything left for him. His gaze was drawn to the stranger in the mirror wearing his clothes.

Hell, who did he think he was kidding? The thought of trying to ride again turned his insides to jelly. He was afraid, plain and simple. And that fact scared him worse than anything. He’d never been afraid in his whole life.

He needed to ride again, needed to prove he was still the same man he’d always been and not the coward who cringed like a child in the darkness. Life like this wasn’t worth living.


CHAPTER FOUR

ROBYN SAW ELLIE Bryant was crying as she hurried out of the drugstore, and her annoyance at Neal grew by leaps and bounds. Apparently, nothing she’d said had gotten through his thick head. He followed his mother out of the store a few moments later, and they drove away.

The truck door opened and Robyn’s mother stuck her head in. “All done. What shall we do next?” Her mother’s chipper voice rang hollow.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“I can’t believe what a relief it is to have finally done this.”

“I’m glad.” She would try to be supportive for her mother’s sake.

“I need to run into the drugstore for a minute. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

“I’ve got the whole day off, so take your time. Tell you what, let’s have lunch at the Hayward House, my treat.”

“Sounds great.”

Her mother entered the store, and Robyn turned up the radio to listen to her favorite country song and hum along. A few minutes later, her cell phone rang. Frowning, she pulled her phone from her purse. She’d taken Chance to a sitter today, something she didn’t normally do. She hated leaving him with anyone but her mother. She’d given the sitter this number.

Her feeling of alarm vanished as soon as she saw the caller ID. She recognized the voice on the other end. It was the hospital operator.

“I’m glad I got you, Robyn. Dr. Cain needs you to come in right away.”

On her day off? What could be so important? “What’s going on?”

“It’s Mildred Eldrich, one of our deaf patients. She’s had a stroke. We need your help to communicate with her.”

Robyn saw her mother walk out of the drugstore. “All right, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She snapped the phone closed as her mother climbed into the truck.

“Who was that?” Martha asked.

“The hospital. Something has come up and they need me.”

Martha scowled. “Can’t they get along without you for one day? I declare, that place will suck the life out of you if you let it.”

“They need someone who can sign for a deaf patient.”

“Oh, well, that’s different. If it’s not too much trouble, can we run by the Bryant ranch on our way home?”

She shot her mother a suspicious look. “Why?”

“The pharmacist said Ellie came in to get a prescription refilled, but then she left without it. It’s for her high blood pressure. He’s afraid she’ll run out. I told him we could drop it off on our way home. I left a message on her machine so she doesn’t turn around and drive back in.”

Robyn had seen Ellie in tears as she’d left the store. It wasn’t surprising that she’d forgotten her medicine. Having Neal Bryant for a son would be more than enough to raise any sane woman’s blood pressure.

“Sure. We can drop it off after lunch.”

“Well, if you’re going to the hospital, I’m going shopping. The dress store is having a sale. Give me a call when you’re done at the hospital and I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” She opened the truck door and hopped out.

“See you then.”

A few minutes later, Robyn entered the Hill County Hospital through the front doors. After checking to find which room Mrs. Eldrich was in, Robyn made her way down the hall, pushed open the door of 106 and entered quietly.

Dr. Cain sat beside the bed of the small, elderly woman and wrote on a pad with a blue marker. He held the message up for her to read, but she pushed it away with her left hand and moaned softly. He bowed his head a moment, and then he reached out and laid his hand gently over hers. “That’s okay, Mrs. Eldrich, we can try again later.”

Robyn said, “Hello. What can I do to help?”

He glanced up and smiled as she moved to stand beside him. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Mrs. Eldrich has suffered a stroke that has paralyzed her right side. She won’t answer any of my questions and I can’t tell why. The nurse from the care home says she hasn’t had any trouble reading lips or writing until this morning.”

“Has she tried writing with her left hand?”

“She’s tried, but I can’t make out any of it.”

Robyn sat on the bed and touched the woman’s shoulder.

Mrs. Eldrich opened her eyes, but she seemed to have trouble focusing. Robyn began to sign, but the woman closed her eyes and tossed restlessly in the bed. Her left hand twisted the covers into a tight wad and then slowly she began shaping letters.

“What is she saying?” he asked.

“She says, ‘See half.’”

“See half of what?”

Robyn glanced at his perplexed face. “I think she means she can only see half of everything.”

Comprehension dawned on his face. “Hemiopia. No wonder she can’t read lips or my writing. She has vision only in the left half of each eye. Why didn’t I think of that? Ask her if she’s in pain. Man, I’m glad you showed up.”

They spent the next hour assessing Mrs. Eldrich. Robyn spelled the questions slowly on the woman’s hand, letting her feel each letter, and waited as she spelled her answers slowly with her left hand in return. Finally, Dr. Cain called a halt.

“Tell her to rest now. I’ll have the nurse bring her something to help her sleep.”

Together, they left the room. Out in the hall, he paused. “Thanks for coming in. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

“No problem. I was already in town. I have an idea how the rest of the staff can communicate with Mrs. Eldrich.”

“How?”

“We could use a raised alphabet board. We have one for the children to play with in the lobby. Mrs. Eldrich could feel the letters to spell words for the staff, and the staff could guide her hand to each letter to spell a reply. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it might work.”

He smiled and started down the hall. “That sounds like a great idea. You amaze me. Did they teach you to be this creative in nursing school?”

She fell into step beside him. “Sure. Don’t doctors have to take Make Do with What You’ve Got 101?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember it. I may have cut class that day.”

She grinned. “You must have missed it when you were in Basic Bad Handwriting.”

“Hey, my handwriting isn’t that bad. Is it?”

“For a doctor or for a preschooler?”

“Ouch! I don’t think I deserved that.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded.

He stopped beside the nursing station and faced her. His expression grew serious. “My handwriting may be bad, but my eyesight’s not. I know a good nurse when I see one.”

Surprised, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have you ever thought about going on with your training, maybe into advanced practice, like a family-medicine nurse practitioner?”

“Sure, someday I’d love to, but I can’t afford to go back to school anytime soon.”

The additional years of education to become a family-medicine nurse practitioner would allow her to diagnose and treat patients without the constant supervision of a physician. She would be able to perform prenatal, well-child, and adult checkups, even diagnose and manage minor traumas like suturing cuts and splinting broken bones, things she wasn’t allowed by law to do as a registered nurse. Her ability to make treatment decisions, order tests and write prescriptions would free up the physicians to concentrate on more complex diseases and conditions. An NP would be a welcome asset to a rural hospital already struggling with a shortage of doctors, but education costs money.

“Didn’t you get the application for the NP scholarships I gave to the nursing supervisor?”

“You did that?” she asked in amazement. She’d only worked with him for a few short months.

“Yes. Did you fill it out?”

She hadn’t, but she hadn’t thrown it away, either. It lay in the top drawer of her desk, tempting her with its possibilities, even though she knew she couldn’t send it. Not now, not with her family losing the ranch.

Now more than ever, they’d need a steady income until the ranch sold, and who knew how long that would take? But she wasn’t about to discuss her financial problems with him. “I like what I’m doing, and I’m needed here.”

“Think about it. You have a gift for medicine, and I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

“Thank you, but I hardly think my talent is going to waste here. You needed me today.”

He flipped open the chart. “Indeed I did. I’ll just scribble a few illegible orders here.”

She grinned. “Sorry about the handwriting crack.”

“You can make it up to me.”

“And how would I do that?”

He closed the chart and smiled at her. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

His request caught her totally off guard. Quickly, she glanced around to see who might have overheard his offer, but the nursing station was deserted. She stared at his friendly, handsome face and blurted out, “I don’t know what to say.”

His bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “How about, ‘Yes, Adam, I’d love to have dinner with you. I thought you would never ask.’”

She clasped her arms across her middle and stared at the floor. “I can’t.”

“Tomorrow night?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He was silent a long moment. When she glanced at him, his kind smile made her regret her hasty decision. “You didn’t upset me. You just surprised me.”

“You realize you are condemning me to another night of cafeteria food, don’t you?”

Her smile returned. “If that is a bid for sympathy, you’ll have to do better. The food here is excellent.”

He chuckled and put the chart back into the wire rack. “Yes, it is. The coconut-cream pie is the main reason I moonlight here. So why won’t you have dinner with me? Do you avoid doctors in general, or are you involved with someone?”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea since we have to work together. It might create a problem.”

“I see. I thought maybe you and your bull rider were trying to work things out.”

“Neal?” she asked in surprise. “What gave you that idea?”

“I saw your face when they brought him in. I’d say there are still some pretty strong feelings on your part.”

“Well, you would be wrong. That was over a long time ago,” she snapped. She refused to accept there was anything left of her former feelings for Neal except the remnants of an adolescent fantasy.

Adam held up both hands. “Whoa. I’m sorry I said anything.”

Her protest had been too sharp. She forced a smile to her stiff lips. “You need to understand that his mother and mine are best friends. They’ve been our neighbors all my life. I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard the phrase, ‘You and Neal should get back together.’ It’s kind of a sore subject with me.”

He nodded solemnly. “Gabriella Prichard.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Gabriella Prichard. That’s the woman my mother wants me to marry. I call her Crabby Gabby. Not to her face, of course. She feels the same about me. Our mothers are the best of friends. They throw us together at every opportunity. Neither of them will accept the idea that Gabby and I aren’t right for each other.”

Robyn had to laugh at his glum expression. “I know how hard that can be.”

He brightened and flashed an impish grin. “It seems you and I have quite a bit in common.”

“Maybe,” she admitted cautiously.

“If you won’t go out with me because we work together, I can always stop working here. Say the word.”

“That’s blackmail. You know we need you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, but is it effective blackmail?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. It had been a long time since a man had showed interest in her as a woman. It gave her ego a much-needed boost. She didn’t believe for a minute that it was anything more than Adam’s boredom at being stuck in a small town. So what would it hurt to go out and have a little fun? Besides, it might take her mind off a certain irritating cowboy.

“I’ll think about it,” she conceded.

* * *

NEAL STEPPED OUT of the car as soon as his mother pulled to a stop in the drive, but he made no move toward the house. Restlessness rippled through him. He didn’t want to go inside. He’d spent too much time indoors. He was going stir-crazy.

“Are you coming?” his mother asked, heading to the front door.

“I think I’ll take a walk down to the barns.”

She nodded and disappeared inside the house.

She was probably glad to get him out from underfoot. He hadn’t been the best of company. He had managed to apologize for upsetting her on the way home, but she was still dead set against his returning to the rodeo.

After crossing the ranch yard to the first of two large red barns, he stepped into the welcoming dimness. The smell of animals, hay and oiled leather mingled with the faint scent of dust. He smiled. Now he really felt like he was home. He and his brother, Jake, had practically lived in the barns.

Together, they had raised and trained some pretty good cow ponies. While Neal had drifted away to the rodeo, Jake had continued breeding quarter horses and training them for roping and cutting. His nearby ranch, the Flying JB, was renowned for producing quality stock horses.

Down the wide front aisle of the barn, four horses looked over their stalls and whinnied. Neal’s mother maintained an expansive cattle ranch with the help of a few hired men. Like nearly all Flint Hills ranchers, she still used horses to work cattle. ATVs were useful, but they couldn’t learn to read which way a calf was going to break from the herd the way a good cow pony could.

Neal stopped at the first stall. He drew a hand down the horse’s silky neck. “Think I came in here to feed you? No such luck, honey. You must be one of Jake’s.”

The sorrel mare nodded her head as if in agreement.

Neal grinned. “I thought so. He’s not the only one that can spot a good horse.”

He moved past them to where his saddle and his rigging rested on worn sawhorses at the end of the aisle. They had been cleaned and oiled by his brother, no doubt.

He checked over his bull-riding rig carefully, as much from habit as anything else, and slipped his hand into the handle. Suddenly he was trapped in the rope, dangling from the bull’s side. The room tilted as sweat broke out on his forehead.

He yanked his hand away. Taking a step back, he sucked in a heavy breath to slow his racing heart. As much as he wanted to believe it had been a moment of dizziness caused by his headache, he knew it wasn’t. It was pure and simple fear.

One of the horses whinnied again. Neal focused on the animal. Maybe a horseback ride was what he needed.

Sure. Once he got back in the saddle, a ride would blow the cobwebs from his mind.

If he could even stay upright on a horse. Sometimes he had trouble just standing.

He looked around. He was alone. Now was as good a time as any to find out if he could do it. When there wouldn’t be any witnesses if he fell off.

He saddled the mare and led her outside. Dizziness made him sway when he swung up into the saddle, but he stayed on. Once his head stopped reeling, he sat up straight. It felt good to be back on a horse, even if it did make his ribs ache.

Without a word to anyone, he turned his mount and rode out into the wide, rolling grasslands of the Flint Hills with one special destination in mind.

* * *

ROBYN MULLED OVER Adam’s surprising offer as she and her mother ate lunch at the Hayward House restaurant, but she didn’t mention it. Later, as she drove the familiar miles back to the ranch, her mother sat beside her and rambled about the things that needed doing around the ranch before it could be sold. Her monologue didn’t require a reply, so Robyn was free to let her mind drift.

If nothing else, Adam had given her self-esteem a nice lift. He not only wanted to take her out, but he was the one who’d submitted her name for the scholarship. It was nice to have her skills noticed and appreciated. He thought she was a good nurse. Well, she was, and she’d be a fine nurse practitioner, too. Someday.

At the thought, her happy mood faded. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t go after her NP now. That dream would have to wait, but she refused to accept that she wouldn’t reach it. One of her dreams had to come true.

Adam’s flattery aside, the real question remained. Should she go out with him? The prospect was tempting. He was fun to be around, very good-looking and nice...for a doctor.

She glanced at her mother. Maybe going out with Adam would prove to some people once and for all that she wasn’t waiting for Neal to drift back into her life and sweep her away.

She could do better than a bacon-brained, two-timing, stubborn, ill-tempered rodeo cowboy.

“Robyn, you missed the turnoff! We were going to stop and give Ellie her prescription, remember?” Her mother’s voice snapped Robyn back to the present.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I forgot.”

Turning the truck around on the narrow highway, she drove back and turned into the Bryants’ half-mile-long gravel lane. As they pulled into the ranch yard, she saw Ellie beside the corral, trying to catch a loose horse. The sorrel mare paced wide-eyed with her head high and trailing the reins. Her chest was bathed in lathered sweat and flecks of foam. Ellie gave up trying to catch her and hurried to the truck.

“Oh, thank goodness. You have to help me find him.”

Robyn stepped out of the truck. “Find who? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Neal. He rode out hours ago, and his horse just came in without him.”


CHAPTER FIVE

AN HOUR LATER, Robyn reined her borrowed horse to a stop and studied the ground closely. The prairie grass was dry and brittle, and the dirt was hard as brick. If Neal had ridden this way, there wasn’t any sign that she could detect. She wiped another trickle of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. What the hell had he been he thinking?

It had to be close to a hundred degrees today. This summer had been the hottest and the driest she could remember. The relentless heat was sucking the life out of the countryside, and it would suck the life out of anyone foolish enough to venture into it without plenty of water.

She bit her lip as her worry intensified. Neal’s empty canteen had still been on his saddle. Unless he had another, he was without water.

The idiot! Why would he go riding in this heat when he wasn’t used to it? He’d only been out of the hospital a few short weeks. The man was in for the tongue-lashing of his life when she found him. If she found him. Half a dozen riders were spread out across the enormous ranch because no one had an idea where Neal might have gone. She had a suspicion, but it was a long shot.

She pushed the wide brim of one of Ellie’s cowboy hats back, lifted her canteen and took a quick drink, then poured some on her hand and rubbed it on her face and neck. It helped a little, but her back and shoulders were so hot it felt like someone was trying to iron her shirt with her still in it. She screwed the lid back on her canteen. She wouldn’t waste any more water trying to get cool. She might need it all.

The strong, hot breeze quickly dried the dampness on her face as it stirred the tall, drooping sunflowers beside the trail and hissed through the long brown grass around her.

Nudging the pinto forward, she rode toward a deep draw that cut a zigzag course across the prairie. She let the horse pick his way carefully down the steep trail. Decades of cattle going down to water had trod a narrow cut in the high bank. Her stirrups scraped the sides as they descended.

She turned suddenly and looked behind her. A second set of scrape marks lined the dirt just below hers. Another rider had come this way. She had guessed right. She knew now where Neal had been heading.

At the bottom of the draw, a tiny trickle of water strung together muddy puddles and filled the deep hoofprints left by thirsty cattle. Four Black Angus steers watched her warily from downstream, where they stood knee deep in the mud. Their tails swung constantly to keep away the flies that hovered over their backs. A fresh set of prints from a horse led upstream. Robyn turned to follow them. She couldn’t believe Neal was foolish enough to try to make such a long ride in his shape. He could barely walk. What would possess him to go all the way to Little Bowl Springs Canyon?

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew the answer. It had been their special place when they were young. It was where he’d first made love to her.

* * *

NEAL TRIPPED AND fell face-first onto the prairie. After a long moment, he opened his eye, and a forest of bluestem grass settled into view in front of him. Lifting his head off the ground, he spat out the dirt caked at the corner of his mouth.

Carefully, he pushed himself to his hands and knees. Agony pounded inside his skull and his ribs ached. The urge to lie back down was overwhelming.

Slowly, he sat back on his heels and forced himself to study his surroundings. He got his bearings again as he squinted at the rolling grassland broken by deep, narrow gullies and rocky canyons. He hadn’t made much progress.

This part of the ranch was virtually inaccessible except on horseback or on foot. And he was still on foot. His horse was nowhere in sight. Jake didn’t train ’em like he used to.

What had Robyn called him that morning? A stupid, stubborn oaf? He closed his eye against the bright light. She had the stupid part right. He’d ridden out without telling anyone where he was headed, and now he was going to pay for it. By his best guess, he had four more miles to stagger or crawl before he got near the ranch house. Since his horse wasn’t standing nearby, he could only hope the mare had gone back to the barn. If she hadn’t, it could be dark before anyone became worried enough to start a search.

He forced himself to stand. After a moment, the dizziness receded. He held on to his aching ribs with one arm and braced the other on his thigh. His hat lay a few feet away. He moved toward it with unsteady steps. Painfully, he bent to retrieve it and settled it on his head.

The shade it provided his scorched face was a relief he knew would be short-lived. He held up a hand to block the glare as he judged the time by the position of the sun. It was still high in the afternoon sky, which meant it would be three or four more hours before the temperature began to drop.

He had no water, no shade and little strength after spending much of the past month in bed. All in all, he was in a pretty tight spot. His biggest danger now was the risk of heatstroke.

He started walking in the direction of home. A small canyon cut a meandering course through the prairie a half mile away. Its high walls would provide him with some shade, and there was water at the bottom of it. The stagnant pools wouldn’t be drinkable, but they would help to cool him.

The source of the small stream lay a mile in the other direction, in a small gorge where a spring bubbled out of a rocky ledge. There, the water would be cold and clear as it tumbled out of the earth and fell into a series of small pools carved out of the limestone slabs. But that spring lay in the opposite direction of the ranch house.

He’d been headed there before his ignoble dismount. The spring held a special place in his heart. A place from his childhood and his youth, but he’d been a fool to try to ride that far his first time out.

He looked back across the grassy plateau behind him. To try to reach the spring now would add hours to his hike home later. He sighed and began to walk toward the canyon wall and the ranch beyond it.

He cursed the sweltering heat, his worthless horse and the rough ground littered with rocks that hid in the long dry grass and tried to trip him as he made his way toward the canyon and the promise of relief from the relentless sun. He was almost to the rim when he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.

A grunt of agony escaped him. Pain lanced through his ribs, and he struggled to catch his breath. When he did, he let loose a string of swearwords that would have singed the ears off a sailor.

In the silence that followed, he heard hoofbeats. A moment later, a horse and rider clambered up out of the canyon in front of him.

“From the sounds of it, I’d say you aren’t dead, at least.”

Neal hung his head. Thankfully, someone had found him, but why did it have to be Robyn?

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, reining her horse to a stop beside him.

He stared at the ground between his hands and wished with all his heart that she had discovered him while he was still on his feet.

“Would you believe I lost a contact?” He pushed up and sat back on his heels with his hands braced on his thighs. “I guess it doesn’t matter, it was the left one.”

He peered at her face. His brother’s gaze would have slid away from his eye patch. His mother would have grown tight-lipped and told him not to joke about it. But not Robyn. She struggled to keep a smile off her face and lost as she shook her head.

“Oh, honestly!” she declared, dismounting.

He felt his own face relax when she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Honestly? I was trying to decide whether I should jump to my feet and shout for joy that someone found me before I wound up as a set of bleached bones or to pound the ground in frustration because it was you.”

“I could ride off and pretend I never saw you.”

He studied her face so close to his own. Lord, how he loved the sparkle that shimmered in her eyes, the way the sun turned her skin a warm honey-brown, the way her lips curved when she smiled. She was still so beautiful, and he had let her slip through his fingers. He really was a fool.

“No. My pride isn’t what it used to be,” he conceded. That was the truth. He leaned forward and braced one hand on the ground as he pressed his left arm against his ribs.

“Are you hurt?” Her smile vanished, and he missed it instantly.

“No, but I hope you have some water.”

“Of course.” She jumped up, grabbed the canteen off her saddle and handed it to him. He took it gratefully and raised it to his lips.

“What happened? What on earth possessed you to try to ride all this way on a day as hot as Hades? Your mother was worried sick when your horse came in without you. She, my mother and half a dozen men are out scouring the ranch for you. You never even told anyone where you were headed. You used to have better sense.”

Neal drank his fill, then pulled off his hat and poured the water over his head and neck. “God, that feels wonderful.”

“Well, don’t waste it. It’s a long ride home,” she scolded.

He eased his hat back and handed her the canteen. “It will be a long ride if you keep harping at me. My skull hurts enough without you beating me over the head with how stupid I’ve been. Believe it or not, it did dawn on me that I overestimated my ability.”

He was oddly pleased to see the look of concern that filled her eyes.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” she asked.

“Nothing except a large bruise on my pride and a headache. My ribs are sore, but I don’t think there’s any new damage.”

She curled her fingers lightly around his wrist. His gaze was drawn to her hand. It felt cool against his hot skin, soft yet capable. Her touch had always been magic. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her breathless.

After a moment, she seemed to notice his gaze, and she jerked her hand away. “Have you been out in the sun all this time?” she asked quickly.

“Yes,” he admitted. Maybe that was what was wrong with him. He’d been in the sun too long. Or maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Why else would he be thinking about making love to her under the wide-open sky, to a woman who had left him and married another man?

She wouldn’t have married him if you had married her first.

The thought filled him with regret. His idea of a life without strings had made it easy for her to leave him.

Had it been easy?

He rubbed his forehead as the pain came pounding back. Here he was again, going over what-ifs in the hot sun. “I don’t suppose you have any aspirin?”

“I think there’s some in the first-aid kit. Let me check.” She stood and began to rummage in her bulging saddlebags.

“You’ve got a first-aid kit?” he asked in surprise.

“What can I say? I think like a nurse,” she snapped. “I tried to pack everything I thought I might need, but the ambulance wouldn’t fit. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She knelt down and handed him two aspirin. He swallowed them with another long swig from the canteen and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I thought a ride might do me some good, help loosen up my muscles, take my mind off of things.”

He studied her face. Softly, he said, “I was going up to Little Bowl Springs.”

Her gaze slid away from his. It seemed that she hadn’t forgotten their special place. “I guessed as much. How’d you lose your horse?”

“No story there,” he said bitterly. “She stumbled in a gopher hole, and I fell off.”

He closed his eye and sighed. “Can we discuss this on the way home?” The cool water had helped briefly, but his headache was back with a vengeance. He wavered on his knees. The heat seemed to be smothering him, making it hard to breathe.

ROBYN BIT HER lip as she studied Neal’s pale face. Relief at having found him made her almost giddy. Thank God he was safe. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to throw her arms around him in a heartfelt hug. It was only because she was glad he wasn’t hurt, she told herself. Not because she wanted to hold him close one more time.

She dismissed that disturbing thought. He’d been out in the sun for hours. She could plainly see he wasn’t in any shape to spend another few hours in it riding home. Little Bowl Springs was only a mile away. There was shade and plenty of water; they could rest up and ride home in the cool of the evening.

It made sense, except she had never expected to go back there again. Especially with him.

She stood up and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Ellie answered on the second ring.

“I found him,” Robyn said.

“Thank heavens!” Relief filled Ellie’s voice. “Is he all right?”

“He’s had a fall and too much sun, but he seems okay.”

“Where are you?”

“About a mile south of Little Bowl Springs.”

“We’re by the windmill in Section Three. I don’t think we can get a truck all the way up to the springs, but we can get one as far as the south side of the creek about three miles from you.”

Robyn stood aside as Neal climbed to his feet and leaned against her horse. He grabbed the saddle horn with both hands and tried to put his foot in the stirrup, but he missed. He hung on to the horn and rested his head on the tooled leather. She made up her mind.

“Look, we’re going to head up to the spring and wait until evening to start back. I need to get him out of the sun. I’ll call you before we leave there, and you can meet us at the creek crossing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m not used to this heat, either, and there’s no rush to get him home. Is Mom with you?”

“No. She’s gone to pick up Chance. She said to tell you she’ll wait for you at home.”

“Good.” That was one less worry for now. She said goodbye, folded the phone closed and stuffed it into her pocket. She gathered the reins and grabbed Neal’s arm. He tried to shrug off her hand.

“I can make it,” he growled.

“Yes, you can. If I let go, you’ll make it right back to the ground.” She paid no attention to his objections as she held his booted foot and placed it in the stirrup. Then she got behind him and shoved as he pulled himself up into the saddle.

“You never could keep your hands off my butt,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, shut up and get behind the saddle. I’m driving,” she snapped in irritation.

“You’re the boss.” He eased behind the saddle and spoke gently to the horse that shifted uneasily at the maneuver.

“Lean back so I can get on, or you’ll end up with my boot in your ear.” The mental image helped soothe her irritation. She swung up into the saddle, and the horse sidestepped at the extra weight. “Easy, fella,” she murmured.

Immediately, she regretted her decision to have Neal ride behind her. His arms circled her as he leaned forward and held on. His broad chest pressed against her back, and the feeling brought a quick flash of memories. Memories of the nights when he’d held her like this in the dark and made her feel so loved and cherished.

“You smell wonderful—like spring flowers,” he murmured against her hair.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t dare. Her emotions were a wild jumble of anger, guilt, longing and regret. She nudged the horse forward. A mile farther on, they descended into the winding canyon again and followed the floor of it until they rounded a sharp bend and rode into paradise.

Tall cottonwood trees filled the small box canyon. Their leaves flashed silver and green in the faint breeze that penetrated the narrow white limestone walls. A spring burst from halfway up the wall at the back of the canyon and fell softly onto stone steps. Over the centuries, the water had carved out a hollow in the stone and created a bowl where the water pooled, and then it slipped over the rim to fall into the next bowl, and then the next, until it splashed into a large pond at the foot of the cottonwoods.

Little Bowl Springs. It was a special place that belonged to a distant, happy past. It lay almost exactly the same distance from her home as from Neal’s. It had made the perfect spot for them to meet as kids and while away the long summer days. Later, when they were older, it became their special romantic rendezvous.

She drew the horse to a stop beneath the trees. “You can let go now,” she said tartly. He did and slid off over the horse’s rump. Perversely, she missed the feelings of his arms around her as soon as he let go.

Chiding herself for the fool she was, she swung her leg over the horse’s neck and dropped to the ground. After leading the pinto to the top of the canyon, she tethered him where he could crop grass and reach the water without difficulty. She began to unsaddle him. She unbuckled the girth, but before she could lift the saddle, Neal brushed her hands aside and lifted it easily.

“I can get it,” she protested.

“I don’t mind being rescued by a woman, but I draw the line at watching one work while I rest in the shade.”

His lips were pressed into a tight line; she knew it must hurt his ribs to lift the heavy rig, but she kept quiet. He carried the saddle to the foot of a tall cottonwood and propped it up as a backrest.

Pointing at it, he said, “Sit.”

She did as she was told. For now. Pulling up several handfuls of dry grass, he began to rub down the horse. Against her better judgment, she leaned back and let him do the job. He moved slowly, and his hand strayed several times to rub his brow, but he managed well enough. When he finished, he walked back to her.

She handed him the canteen, and he took a long drink. When he was finished, he sat down beside her. Neither of them said a word as they rested in the shade and let the peace of the little canyon steal over them.

At last, Neal stood and said, “I think you should strip.”

“What?” Startled, she glared at him.

He began to unbutton his shirt. “Unless you intend to swim with your clothes on.”

“I don’t intend to swim at all,” she answered primly.

“Suit yourself.” He sat down and pulled off his boots.

Then he stood, shed his shirt and hung it on a limb near his head. “I’m hot, and I’m going to get cool.”

Her gaze was drawn to his muscular body and the thick, corded muscles of his arms and shoulders as they flexed. The small scar from the chest tube was almost invisible in the sprinkling of dark hair that covered his broad chest and glinted with beads of sweat.

She watched a single droplet slip free of a curl. She followed its path as it slid over the sculpted firmness of his belly. Mesmerized, she watched as it paused for an instant at his navel and then raced down to disappear behind his hand as he slowly unbuckled the belt that rode low on his hips.

She licked her dry lips. The tiny clink of the metal snap popping open broke the spell. Her gaze flew to his face. He was watching her. The black eye patch made his expression hard to read, but she recognized the dangerous smile that barely curved his sensual mouth.

She raised her chin. “You shouldn’t get your wound wet.”

“It’s healed. My doctor gave me the okay to shower and to swim. He said I could resume...other activities, too.” His grin widened as he began slowly unzipping his jeans.

Bolting to her feet, she rushed past him. “I—I’m going to get a drink from the spring,” she managed to stutter.

“There’s still water in the canteen.”

“I want a cold drink.”

“Watch out for snakes in those rocks,” he called after her.

She paused and stared at the hillside in front of her. She hated snakes. She didn’t remember seeing any there when she was a kid. Was he trying to scare her? She glanced back at him, but he had turned to face the water.

With one easy movement, he shed his jeans, and she had a perfect view of his taut, strong legs and buttocks clad only in a pair of navy briefs. She started to call out a warning, but she pressed her lips closed and let him dive into the pool. His head and torso shot out of the water, and his whoop of surprise echoed off the high walls.

“Whooee, it’s cold!”

A smug smile of satisfaction curved her lips as she turned away. She did remember how chilly the spring-fed pool stayed, even in the heat of summer.

Listening to his shouts and splashing behind her, she climbed the rocky slope to the source of the spring. When she reached it, she scrubbed her hands vigorously under the stream of cold, clear water and then cupped them to drink. The water was as sweet and refreshing as she remembered.

She drank her fill and wiped a trickle from her chin with the hem of her shirt. Then she sat back on the stone and surveyed the oasis below her.

The horse was busy tearing up mouthfuls of green grass that grew down to the water’s edge. Neal was wading toward the deep end of the pool and splashing water at a dragonfly that hovered close to the surface beside him. The sound of the water falling over the rocks and splashing into the pool below began to soothe her frayed nerves. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

The peace of the place stole over her once more. Had it been like this when she was a kid, or had she been too busy having fun to notice? If only she could slip back in time and become that carefree child again. A rattle of stones clattered off to her right, and her eyes snapped open. Maybe he hadn’t been kidding about the snakes.

Quickly she stood and brushed off her jeans as she looked around carefully. She glanced down at the pool. The horse continued to crop grass and dragonflies skimmed the still surface of the pond, but there was no sign of Neal.

She waited a long moment for him to reappear. Where was he?

“Neal?” she called.

The horse looked up at her briefly before he dropped his head and began to graze again. She picked her way down the broken rocks surrounding the spring and surveyed the pool. Where was Neal? He couldn’t hold his breath this long, could he?

“This isn’t funny, Neal,” she yelled as she began to walk along the edge of the pond, searching its opaque depths. He had been rubbing his head earlier—what if he’d passed out in the water?

“You come out right now. I’m not coming in after you. Do you hear me?”

Still no answer. “If this is your idea of a joke, I’m going to tear you up worse than that old bull did. You answer me this minute!” she shouted.

Only silence greeted her. She sat down on the bank and quickly pulled off her boots. Then she stood and shed her jeans. A large limb from the cottonwood tree stretched out parallel to the surface of the pond. She stepped out onto it, hoping to see better. The moment she did, a hand shot out of the water, grabbed her ankle and yanked. She toppled into the water.

She came up coughing, sputtering and furious. As she pushed her bangs and some unidentified weed aside, she heard the sound of loud, familiar laughter. The same laughter that had echoed throughout her childhood. Laughter that had been missing from her life for a long time.

* * *

NEAL COULDN’T HELP but laugh, even though it hurt his ribs. He watched Robyn brush the water out of her eyes and pull a long strand of green pondweed out of her hair. Her eyes were as green as the stray weed, and they brimmed with loathing as she rose to her feet. Her wet cotton shirt held another strand of the green stuff, draped over one shoulder like a banner, and he began to laugh again.

“I can’t believe you fell for that same old trick.” His healing ribs rebelled, and he pressed his hand against them.

“I was twelve the last time you tried it. For some unknown reason, I assumed you had grown up since then.” She discovered the weeds clinging to her clothes, tore them off and threw them at him.

The wet weeds splattered in a gooey mess against his chest. “Yuck.”

“What possessed you to do this?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“You weren’t going to come in and swim,” he answered defensively as he realized his little joke had gone over badly.

“No, I wasn’t.” She began to slog toward the shore.

“I’m sorry,” he called after her.

“You are such a lamebrain. Ouch— Oh!” She fell backward into the water with a grimace of pain and grabbed her leg.

He moved toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“Cramp!” she bit out through clenched teeth, floundering into deeper water.

“Hold on—let me help. Don’t struggle.” His joke had really blown up in his face. He quickly reached her side.

“Okay, I won’t!” She surged out of the water and pushed his head under with both hands.

It was his turn to come up sputtering.

Her lilting laughter echoed across the water. “I can’t believe you fell for the old ‘I’ve got a cramp’ trick.”

“You little she-devil. You’re going to pay for that.” He squinted at her as he wiped his face.

“Have to catch me first,” she taunted, then dived in and stroked for the far bank.

He couldn’t catch her even when his ribs didn’t hurt. She’d always been the better swimmer. He was only halfway across when she pulled herself out of the water on the far bank. When his hand touched the edge, she dived over his head and surfaced in the middle of the pool.

“I’m still faster than you,” she shouted.

He swam to her side with leisurely strokes. “That may be, but I bet I can still hold my breath longer.”

“Ha! Just try.”

They moved to the shallow end for their age-old contest.

“We’ll go on the count of three. Agreed?” she asked.

“Agreed.” He bobbed beside her as she began to count.

“One, two, three!” She held her nose and dived under the water. A second later, her legs shot up into the air.

He stood beside her and admired the view of her shapely legs as she struggled to stay upside down. He’d always loved her legs. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much about her body that he didn’t like. A minute passed before her feet came down. He sank under the water and came up gasping for air a few seconds after her.

She frowned at him. “Okay, you still do that one better, but not by much.”

He grinned as he slicked back his hair. “No, not by much.”

A quick arch of her hand sent a spray of water over him. When he opened his eye, she was paddling away. He followed her slowly. Together they swam, splashed and floated in the pool for the next half hour.

Finally, Robyn called a halt. He followed as she pulled herself out of the water. She turned away quickly when he began to climb out. After sluicing off as much water as he could, he pulled his jeans on over his wet legs. The air was hot even in the shade of the trees. He knew it wouldn’t take long to dry off.

He lay down, stretched out in the soft grass and raised himself up on one elbow to watch her. She twisted the water from the front of her T-shirt as she frowned at the baggy material. God, he wanted to make love to her right that second.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll drip-dry,” she muttered.

“Why don’t you put on my shirt and hang yours up? I won’t peek,” he added.

“I’ll bet you won’t,” she replied drily, but she grabbed his shirt from the limb. He craned his neck to watch her, but she stepped behind a willow clump and foiled his view.

When she came back into sight, his chambray shirt came to the middle of her thighs, but it rode higher as she stretched to hang her wet clothes on a limb.

Sitting up, he shifted his position. If this kept up, he was going to need another dip in the cold water. Did she have any idea how sexy she looked?

She glanced his way. “Is something wrong?”

He scratched his side. “Too bad we don’t have a blanket. The grass is making me itch.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” she quipped. She crossed to the saddlebags and bent to rummage in one. She held up a folded pad of material. After shaking it open, she spread a white sheet on the grass.

“A sheet? Why would you bring a sheet?”

“In case I needed to cover your dead body.”

He arched one eyebrow. “There’s a fun thought.”





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