A Ranch for His Family

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.”