Rocky Mountain Cowboy

“No. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t spend the night in the car. Two hours. A nap.”

Joe raised a brow.

Rebecca shrugged. “There was a huge accident on I-25 outside the Springs, and then I ran into issues with the starter when I hit Alamosa.”

“Why are you parked here?”

She nodded to the sign on the gate. “I thought this was still the main entrance to the ranch. Until I saw the sign.”

Joe grimaced as he, too, glanced at the sign.

“Do not cross this pasture unless you can do it in nine seconds, because the bull can do it in ten. Please close the gate.”

“That would be my mother’s handiwork.”

“Why not put a padlock on the gate?”

“It’s the ingress for emergency vehicles. If I put a padlock on it, then I have to remember where the key is.” He paused and looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Why are you at Gallagher Ranch?”

“Since I have to drive out here to see you anyhow, I thought I’d do a dry run. By the time I finally arrived, I was a little more tired than I realized.” She lifted a hand. “Thus the nap.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” When he suddenly straightened and raised a hand, the black horse behind him whinnied and stepped back several paces, causing the dogs to bark.

Joe laid a comforting hand on the animal and silenced the dogs again. “Let’s start over here. Did you say you’re here to see me?”

Rebecca glanced at her watch. “Yes. Our meeting is scheduled for Monday morning.”

“Things have been pretty hectic around here, but I don’t forget appointments. And I’m even less likely to have forgotten an appointment with...”

Rebecca swallowed when his words trailed off. What had he been about to say? With someone who had treated him so callously? The girl who dumped him.

Joe pulled the glove off his right hand and then tugged the matching one off his left hand using his teeth, before taking out his phone. The skin tone silicone cover of the myoelectric prosthesis made his right hand appear nearly identical to his left. She couldn’t help assess that he really didn’t use the prosthesis, apparently utilizing the device simply as a placeholder.

After fiddling with the phone for a moment, he paused and slowly met her gaze. Complete shock was reflected in his eyes. “Are you...”

“I’m the therapist who’s been assigned to complete the certification for your prosthesis.”

“You’re a therapist?”

She nodded.

“I thought they were sending someone from Denver. They told me it was someone who would help with those media people who are coming, as well.”

His voice was edged with irritation, and Rebecca held her breath and stepped back from him.

“They are. They did. I am.”

Joe Gallagher’s face looked like he’d just been struck with a cattle prod.

She crossed her arms and stated the obvious. “This is going to be a problem.”

He took off his Stetson and then slapped it back on so that it rested at the back of his head, revealing more of his jet-black hair. She could clearly see that his moss-green eyes were troubled.

“Joe?”

“I guess it better not be, because the way I see things, I don’t have much choice. Do I?”

“You tell me.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Is our history going to get in the way?”

“History? Is that the politically correct term these days?” He offered a bitter chuckle.

She studied him once again. His face was a mask, his gaze shuttered.

“No, Becca,” he finally continued. “You don’t have to worry. Even this Colorado cowboy realizes that was a long time ago. We were kids. This is business. More important, the future of Gallagher Ranch depends on me completing the requirements of my contract with OrthoBorne. I cut a deal to pay off this fourteen-karat-gold myoelectric arm.” His eyes pinned her. “And I always keep my word.”

Joe turned his head to glance out at the land, and she realized she’d been dismissed. The knowledge burned.

“So Monday, then?” she asked quietly.

“That’s fine. I’m past the main house. A bit farther up the road. Two-story log cabin.”

She nodded.

He turned to her. “When do your friends arrive?”

“They aren’t my friends.” Rebecca bristled. “I don’t even know who was contracted for this job, except that there’s a videographer and a copywriter.”

“When will they finish?”

“That is wholly dependent upon you and the weather.”

He offered a slow shake of his head that said her answer wasn’t nearly satisfactory enough. “What about certification? How long do you think that will take?”

“Once again, everything depends on you. I don’t anticipate more than four weeks reviewing your ADLs.”

He straightened, jaw tense, and his face was almost thunderous. “Four weeks! Four weeks? I have a ranch to run.”

“Joe, that’s exactly why it will take that long. In fact, knowing how a ranch runs, I asked for extra time so our sessions don’t interfere with what you have to do at the ranch or with the media crew.”

“And what’s an ADL?”

“Activities of daily living.”

He sucked in a breath but said nothing.

“Look, that doesn’t mean we can’t get everything done earlier than scheduled. I’ll accompany you on your routine chores, schedule one-on-one sessions related to your ranch work. Then I’ll assist you to incorporate the prosthesis into your daily life that isn’t ranch related.”

“Can you still ride?”