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Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish
Cathy McDavid


Nine years ago Ethan Powell gave up his rodeo career, his Arizona ranch, his family—and most important, his high school sweetheart—to join the Marines.He's returned an injured hero, determined to let nothing keep him from going back to a job he loves—breaking horses. Getting back in the saddle is something he needs to do, to prove to himself he can. Breaking horses and breaking her heart again? No way! Caitlin Carmichael isn't ready to pick up where she and Ethan left off, no matter how devastating his kisses are.She isn't the same carefree risk taker she used to be. This time the two-feet-solidly-on-the-ground nurse is proceeding with caution. So what is it about Ethan and his daredevil ways that's making her long to have him as her Christmas cowboy—for now and every Christmas to come?







The return of the cowboy

Nine years ago Ethan Powell gave up his rodeo career, his Arizona ranch, his family—and most important, his high school sweetheart—to join the Marines. He’s returned an injured hero, determined to let nothing keep him from going back to a job he loves—breaking horses. Getting back in the saddle is something he needs to do, to prove to himself he can.

Breaking horses and breaking her heart again? No way! Caitlin Carmichael isn’t ready to pick up where she and Ethan left off, no matter how devastating his kisses are. She isn’t the same carefree risk taker she used to be. This time the two-feet-solidly-on-the-ground nurse is proceeding with caution. So what is it about Ethan and his daredevil ways that’s making her long to have him as her Christmas cowboy—for now and every Christmas to come?


He kept coming, straight for her.

Before she could object, he hauled her into his arms and swung her in a wide circle.

“Put me down before you hurt yourself. More. Again.”

“I did it!”

“Ethan, please!”

He released her. Except the moment her feet touched the ground, he lowered his mouth to hers, stopping a fraction of an inch shy of kissing her.

“I’ve wanted to do this for the past three days.”

Three days? Was that all?

She’d been waiting the past eight years, eleven months and twenty-one days to kiss him.


Dear Reader,

If asked, I would admit that reunion stories are one of my favorite kinds to read—which made Her Cowboy’s Christmas Wish one of my favorite kind to write. From the moment I began this book I knew Ethan Powell would be an interesting guy. How could a former rodeo bronc rider trying for a comeback after a long stint in the marines not be interesting? Only when he first appeared on the pages of Last Chance Cowboy did I realize Ethan returned from the Middle East minus the lower half of his left leg.

I wondered how his family and friends might look at him and if they’d treat him differently. I was really curious how his old high school sweetheart would react when she first saw him. While imagining that scene, Caitlin Carmichael came to life for me. She is strong, yet scared to death and not at all the person she was when she and Ethan dated those many years ago. Then again, neither is he.

Helping these two people rekindle their love, resolve their differences and find their meant-to-be happily-ever-after has been pure pleasure for me. I hope reading their story is for you, too.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

P.S. I always enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact me at www.cathymcdavid.com.


Cathy McDavid

Her Cowboy’s Christmas Wish










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


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy makes her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains where hawks fly overhead, javelina traipse across her front yard and mountain lions occasionally come calling. She embraced the country life at an early age, acquiring her first horse in eighth grade. Dozens of horses followed through the years, along with mules, an obscenely fat donkey, chickens, ducks, goats and a pot-bellied pig who had her own swimming pool. Nowadays, two spoiled dogs and two spoiled-er cats round out the McDavid pets. Cathy loves contemporary and historical ranch stories and often incorporates her own experiences into her books.

When not writing, Cathy and her family and friends spend as much time as they can at her cabin in the small town of Young. Of course, she takes her laptop with her on the chance inspiration strikes.


To my own darling Caitlin.

You were truly the most beautiful baby ever born. I’m not exactly sure when you grew up into this incredible, lovely and supersmart young woman, but it happened. And I couldn’t be any prouder. Love you forever, Mom.


Contents

Chapter One (#ub776a46f-f3be-52df-a52e-9c50376fcfc2)

Chapter Two (#ua197924b-2b03-56d2-bd73-0e206919ef92)

Chapter Three (#ubea70327-eb3c-5224-bc1a-ed3a8dd80bc0)

Chapter Four (#uef104c6d-0f71-5049-bc12-b29406cf1077)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

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 One

The big buckskin reared—at least he tried to rear. His thick, rangy body was too confined by the narrow chute, so he achieved little height. Frustrated, he pawed the ground, then backed up and banged into the panel with such force the reverberation carried down the metal railing like an electrical current.

“He’s an ornery one,” the cowboy sitting astride the fence said. “And smarter than he looks.”

Ethan Powell considered the man’s assessment of the horse he was about to ride, and decided he agreed. The buckskin was ornery and smart, and would enjoy nothing better than stomping Ethan into the ground.

Exactly the kind of saddle bronc he preferred. The kind he’d hoped to draw when he’d competed professionally. Nowadays his rodeo riding was restricted to this small, local arena and for “personal enjoyment” only. No sanctioned rodeo, or unsanctioned rodeo for that matter, would allow him to enter.

He understood. He just didn’t like it, and was determined to change the Duvall Rodeo Arena’s policies, if not the entire Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association. Before he could do that, however, he had to prove he still had what it took to go up against men who were, for the most part, younger than him and, without exception, physically whole.

“You gonna stand there all night, Powell?” the cowboy asked.

In the chute beside Ethan, the buckskin lifted his head and stared straight ahead, every muscle in his body bunched tight with anticipation.

Just like Ethan.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Shielding his eyes from the bright floodlights that lit the arena, he climbed the fence and straddled it alongside the wrangler. Then he took another few seconds to study the bronc up close.

“Good luck,” the cowboy said.

Ethan would need more than luck if he expected to ride this bad boy for eight seconds.

He’d been on plenty of unbroken and green broke horses in the last year. There was, however, a world of difference between those animals and one bred and trained to give a man the ride of his life.

Drawing a deep breath, he braced a hand on either side of the chute and lowered himself onto the buckskin’s back inch by inch. Twice he paused, waiting for the big horse to settle. Once in the saddle, he took hold of the reins and slipped his feet into the stirrups, careful to keep his toes pointed forward.

The buckskin, eager to give his rider a preview of what was to come, twisted sideways. Ethan’s left ankle was momentarily pinned between the horse’s broad body and the chute. It might have hurt if he had any feeling in his lower leg.

He didn’t and probably never would, unless medical science developed a prosthetic device with artificial nerve endings that could transmit sensation to the wearer.

When his ankle was freed and the buckskin was once again in position, Ethan slid the reins back and forth through his gloved hands until the grip felt right.

The moment the horse committed, he nodded to the wrangler manning the gate and said, “Go,” hoping like heck he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

With a loud metallic whoosh the gate slid open. Ethan tried to straighten his legs and set his spurs. He didn’t quite make it. The prosthesis he wore failed to respond as quickly as his real leg did.

The buckskin lunged out of the chute and into the arena. Only his front feet touched the ground. His hind ones were raised high above his head as he tried to kick the moon out of the sky.

Ethan didn’t have time to mark his horse, much less find his rhythm. With his weight unevenly distributed, the buckskin easily unseated him and sent him sailing through the air. Ethan barely glimpsed the ground as it came rushing up to meet him.

His shoulder absorbed the brunt of the impact, which he supposed was better than his face or prosthetic leg. That was until he moved. Pain, razor sharp and searing hot, ripped through him. He decided it was better to just lie there for a second or two longer.

Shouting, which seemed to come from far away, told him the buckskin had been safely rounded up and was probably gloating.

“Need help?”

Ethan glanced up, then away. What he’d dreaded the most had just happened.

“Nope, I’m fine,” he told the pickup man looming above him. At least the guy hadn’t gotten off his horse before offering his assistance. That would have been even more humiliating.

Ethan pushed up on one elbow, the one not throbbing, then climbed to his knees. Getting his good leg under him was a little tricky, especially given the way the world was spinning. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, with everyone likely wondering if he was going to rise under his own power and take on another bronc.

The answer was damn straight.

In a minute, after he could move his shoulder and arm without having flashes of color pulsate before his eyes.

“The first time’s the hardest,” the pickup man commented.

“So they say.”

Except this wasn’t Ethan’s first time bronc riding. It was his first time since losing his leg fifteen months ago, while serving in the Middle East. He’d loved the marines almost as much as he loved rodeoing. Now both were lost to him.

Maybe not rodeoing, he corrected himself.

Standing upright, he brushed off his jeans and readjusted his hat, which had miraculously stayed on during the fall. Then he walked to the gate, doing his best not to limp. It wasn’t easy. Another cowboy held the gate open for him and clapped him on the back as he passed. The resulting pain almost drove Ethan to his knees, but he didn’t so much as blink.

Outside the arena, he paused to catch his breath. This wasn’t going exactly as planned.

“Hey, Ethan!”

He lifted his head to see his childhood friend Clay Duvall approaching, his gait brisk as usual. Ethan and Clay had been close up until their early twenties, when Ethan’s mother had died from complications following a heart transplant, and Clay’s father had sold Ethan’s family’s land out from under them. Ethan had joined the marines and for almost eight years neither saw nor spoke to his former friend. His anger at the Duvalls had been too great.

It was Clay, however, who gave him the opportunity to realize his ambition of bronc riding again, along with a job breaking and training his rodeo stock. After a chance meeting with Clay three months ago, Ethan had realized he couldn’t hold a twenty-one-year-old kid responsible for his father’s actions, and the two had reconciled.

It had taken Ethan’s brother, Gavin, longer to get over his animosity toward Clay. But now the two were partners in a mustang stud and breeding business, with Clay owning the wild mustang stallion and Gavin the mares.

Sometimes, when the three men were together, it felt as if all those years they’d been at odds with each other had never happened.

Ethan pushed off the railing, doing his best not to wince as invisible knife blades sliced through his shoulder. “How you doing?”

“I was going to ask you the same question.” Clay grinned good-naturedly. “That was quite a fall you took.”

“I’ll survive.” Ethan rolled his shoulders. Big mistake. He sucked in air through his teeth and waited for the spasm to pass.

“What say we have the new nurse check you out?”

“Nurse?”

Clay hitched his chin in the direction of the empty announcer’s stand. “She’s here setting up the first-aid station for the jackpot.”

“I thought you were bringing in an EMT and an ambulance.”

“Too expensive. Found out I could hire a nurse for a lot less money and still meet the insurance company’s requirement for providing on-site emergency care.”

Ethan resisted. “I’m fine.” He didn’t want to be checked out. And he sure didn’t want the other cowboys seeing him head for the first-aid station.

“Come on.” Clay took a step in that direction. “We have a deal.”

They did. Clay had agreed to let Ethan practice bronc riding as long as several conditions were met, one being that he have any injury examined by a medical professional. Ethan knew what a liability he was, that his chances of hurting himself were far greater than the next cowboy’s. Clay was taking a sizable risk despite the waiver Ethan had signed.

If he didn’t comply with his friend’s conditions, there was no way on earth he’d be allowed to compete in the upcoming jackpot, much less practice for it.

Grumbling, he fell into step beside Clay, and the two of them headed toward the announcer’s stand.

“You going to be ready in time?”

“Count on it.” Ethan had until the Saturday after Thanksgiving, less than two weeks away, to last a full eight seconds on one of Clay’s broncs. That was another of the conditions Ethan had to meet in order to enter the jackpot. “I’ll be here every evening if I have to.”

The door to the small room beneath the announcer’s stand stood ajar. A minivan was backed up to it, the rear hatch open. As they neared, Ethan glimpsed plastic containers and cardboard boxes stacked inside the van and a handicap placard dangling from the rearview mirror.

Clay stopped suddenly and scratched the back of his neck, the movement tipping his cowboy hat forward over his furrowed brow.

“Something the matter?” Ethan asked.

“I was going to surprise you. Now I’m thinking that’s not such a good idea.”

“Surprise me with what?”

“My new nurse. You know her.” He smiled ruefully. “That is, you used to know her. Pretty well, in fact.”

Ethan had only a second to prepare before a young woman appeared in the doorway. She paused at the sight of him, recognition lighting her features.

Caitlin Carmichael.

She looked the same. Okay, maybe not the same, he decided on second thought. Nine years was a long time, after all. But she was as pretty as ever.

Her former long blond hair had darkened to a honey-brown and was cut in one of those no-nonsense short styles. Her clothing was equally functional—loose-fitting sweats beneath a down-filled vest. It was her green eyes, he noticed, that had changed the most. Once alive with mischief and merriment, they were now somber and guarded.

Something had happened to her during the years since they’d dated.

Was she thinking the same thing about him?

He waited for her glance to travel to his left leg. It didn’t. Either she was very good at hiding her reactions or she hadn’t heard about his injury.

“Hello, Ethan,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. “It’s good to see you.” She came forward, her hand extended. “Clay told me you were back in Mustang Valley and training horses for him.”

“For a while now.” He took her hand in his, remembering when their greetings and farewells had included a hug and a kiss. Often a long kiss.

An awkward silence followed, and he finally released her hand. “So, you’re a nurse?”

She smiled. “I suppose that’s hard to believe.”

“A little.” The mere sight of blood used to make her queasy. “I guess people change.”

“They do.” Her gaze went to his leg, answering Ethan’s earlier question. She quickly looked away.

“I work mornings at the middle school and afternoons at the new urgent-care clinic in Mustang Village,” she continued. “Have since the school year started.”

“And now for Clay, too.”

Her cheeks colored.

Why? Ethan wondered. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how her husband or boyfriend felt about her busy schedule. Then it occurred to him maybe she and Clay were seeing each other. That would explain the embarrassment.

Ethan couldn’t blame his friend. And it wasn’t as if he had any kind of claim on Caitlin himself. Not after leaving her high and dry when he’d enlisted, following his mother’s death.

“Speaking of which,” Clay interjected, “Ethan’s your first patient.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You are?”

“It’s nothing,” Ethan insisted, sending his friend—soon to be ex-friend once again if he kept this up—a warning look.

He’d hardly gotten over the shock of seeing Caitlin. No way was he ready to be examined by her.

Any choice he had in the matter was taken from him when Clay all but shoved him through the door and into the dimly lit room.

The next instant, his friend was gone, leaving Ethan alone with the woman whose heart he’d broken, and who still owned a very large piece of his.



CAITLINPULLEDAFLIMSY metal folding chair into the center of the space and indicated Ethan should sit.

Gripping the back of the chair, he tested its strength. The legs wobbled. “You sure?”

She shrugged apologetically. “I’m still setting up.” When he hesitated, she added, “There’s always the cot.”

He promptly sat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his big frame dwarfing the chair. Ethan had always been tall, some had said too tall for a bronc or bull rider. What he’d done since they last saw each other was fill out. No longer lean and lanky, he’d grown into a wall of solid muscle. She supposed his two—or was it three?—overseas tours were responsible.

The extra weight looked good on him.

Who was she kidding? He just plain looked good.

Dark eyes, jet-black hair and a five o’clock shadow that should have looked scruffy but somehow managed to be sexy. And that smile of his. It had dazzled her at age seventeen, and never stopped during the four years they’d dated.

Wait. On second thought, he hadn’t smiled yet.

He’d been pleasant and polite, but that devil-may-care charm was noticeably absent.

“I’m guessing you injured yourself?”

“My left shoulder,” he said.

“Strained it?”

“Or something.”

She stood in front of him and gently placed her hand on the afflicted area. He jerked at her touch.

“Does that hurt?”

“Some.”

She suspected her proximity was responsible for his reaction more than anything else. There was a lot of history between them, after all, much of it unresolved.

“What happened?” She gently probed his shoulder.

“A horse decided he didn’t much like me riding him.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he managed that with a prosthetic leg, but she refrained. Clay had warned her that Ethan didn’t appreciate reminders of his handicap, and refused to let it hold him back. Well, he’d always been competitive. First high school sports, then professional rodeo after graduation.

“Did you at least land on soft ground?”

“The arena.”

“Thank goodness.” She lifted his arm. “Tell me when it starts to hurt.”

He said nothing, even when she raised it clear over his head. The clenching of his jaw told another story. She lowered his arm, then raised it again, this time to the side.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but remained stubbornly silent.

Bending his arm at the elbow, she pressed his hand into the small of his back. “What about now?”

“Okay.” He released a long breath and shook off her grasp. “You win. It hurts.”

So he wasn’t invincible.

“You should see your doctor as soon as possible and get an X-ray,” she told him, lightly massaging his shoulder. “You might have torn a ligament or your rotator cuff.”

“I’ll be better by morning.”

He was back to being the tough guy.

“No, you’re going to be worse. Trust me.”

“I’ll take some ibuprofen.”

“Three a day, extra strength. Up to six if your stomach can tolerate it. Ice the shoulder for at least an hour tonight before you go to bed, and again in the morning. When you can’t stand the pain anymore and decide I’m right, see your doctor.”

He chuckled, and the smile she’d been missing earlier appeared, if only a shadow of the one she remembered.

“You have nothing to prove, Ethan.” She laid her palm on his good shoulder. “See a doctor.”

“You’re wrong.” He rose from the chair, either her touch or her words galvanizing him. “I do have something to prove.”

One step on his part and they were standing toe to toe.

Unable to help herself, Caitlin looked up into his face. As his gaze raked over her, lingered on her mouth, the atmosphere surrounding them went from calm to highly charged.

So much for believing the attraction had died.

She retreated on unsteady legs. All these years apart, and he still had the ability to unsettle her.

“How’s your family?” she asked. Breathing came easier with some distance between them. “Clay mentioned your brother’s getting married.”

“This spring. I suppose Clay also mentioned the two of them are partners in a stud and breeding business.”

“No.” By unspoken agreement, she and Ethan made their way to the door. “We really haven’t talked much other than about setting up the first-aid station.”

“Huh. I thought maybe you and he…”

“He and I what?”

“Had kept in touch.” Ethan stepped aside, allowing her to precede him outside.

“We did up until he got married and moved away. I had no idea he was divorced and back in town.”

“Then how did you wind up working for him?”

“He showed up at the school last Wednesday and asked me to run the first-aid station.”

“Have you been at the school long?” They stopped beside her minivan.

“You really don’t know?”

“Should I?”

“I thought maybe someone told you.”

Mustang Village was a horse-friendly residential community, built in and named after Mustang Valley, the land Ethan’s family had once owned, and where they had raised cattle for four generations. Their ranch, what was left of it, lay nestled in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains, and looked down on the village. Caitlin didn’t think much happened that the Powells didn’t know about.

She’d certainly heard about Ethan’s injury, medical discharge and return home.

“I’ve worked at the school since August,” she told him.

“That long?” he said, more to himself than her.

“Clay told me you’re breaking horses for him.”

“Trying to.” Another half smile appeared. “Some of them aren’t embracing the process.”

“If anyone can change their minds, you can.” Again she wondered how he managed such a physically demanding job. “Is your sister still living in San Francisco?”

“For five years now.”

“But she visits, right?”

“Used to. Not much the last couple years.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Sierra being gone so much is hard on Dad. He misses her. Misses Mom, too. Though he’s doing a lot better lately since Cassie came to live with us. He’s crazy about her.”

Caitlin had met Ethan’s twelve-year-old niece at the school. “I don’t imagine recovering from the death of a loved one is ever easy.”

“It’s not.”

The mention of his late mother put a damper on their conversation. It was right after Louise Powell died that Ethan had abruptly enlisted, leaving Caitlin to suffer the loss of not only a dear friend, but the love of her life.

A painful pressure built inside her chest.

Heartache.

It had been a long time since the memory of those unhappy days had caused such a profound physical reaction.

“How’s your brother?” Ethan asked. “Gavin told me about the accident.”

More pressure.

Discussing Justin was always hard for Caitlin. No matter how many obstacles he overcame and how many challenges he conquered, she could never forget that she was responsible for him being a paraplegic and having to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

“He’s graduating from Arizona State in December,” she said, focusing on the positive. “With a master’s in education.”

“Good for him.”

“We’re all very proud. Now if he can just land a job.”

“It’s a tough economy.”

“That, too.”

Great strides had been made in the last few decades when it came to equal rights for handicapped employees, but Caitlin still worried about her brother’s chances at finding decent employment.

Ethan distracted her by reaching into the back of her minivan and removing a carton of supplies.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She tried to take the box from him.

He swung it out of her reach. “Helping you unload.”

“Ethan!” She sighed with exasperation. “You’re hurt.”

“My shoulder. Not my hands.” He squeezed past her and carried his load inside.

She hurried after him.

“Where do you want this?”

Because she knew arguing with him was useless, she pointed to the folding table along the wall. “There. And don’t even think about carrying anything else in.”

He not only thought about it, he did it. She gave up and pitched in. Together, they quickly emptied the van.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” she told him when they were done.

“You were never such a worrier before.”

“It comes from being a nurse. So does being bossy.” She leveled a finger at him. “Now get yourself home and take care of that shoulder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” One corner of his mouth lifted in an amused and very compelling grin.

Caitlin’s heart fluttered. No doubt about it, the attraction hadn’t died.

With the van unloaded, there was no reason for him to remain.

“Will I see you later?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, if you’re here.”

The thought shouldn’t have appealed to her as much as it did. Ethan had hurt her. Terribly. She’d be wise to take care where he was concerned.

Even so, a sweet rush of anticipation cascaded through her.

“I’m sure Clay can do without you training his horses for a couple of days.”

“Probably.” Ethan buttoned his denim jacket. “I’m the one who can’t do without the practicing.”

“Practicing for what?”

“The jackpot.”

She stared at him blankly. “You’re not competing.”

“I am. Or I will be if I can last a full eight seconds at least once before then. Clay won’t let me enter otherwise.”

“Is that how you fell tonight? Bull riding?”

“No, saddle bronc.”

“Are you crazy?”

“A little, I suppose,” he said jokingly.

“More than a little.” She started to remind him that he had only one good leg, then stopped herself. “Bronc riding is dangerous. I really wish you’d reconsider.”

“Not a chance.” He turned to go, then paused. “I’m glad you’re home, Caitlin.”

A few minutes ago, such a statement would have elicited a breathy sigh from her, foolish though it may have been.

Not now.

He was saddle bronc riding again. With a prosthetic leg! Why didn’t he just jump off a three-story building? The results would be the same.

Caitlin had cheered Ethan on from the sidelines all those years ago. She’d also encouraged him the same way she’d encouraged her brother. Winning competitions required a certain amount of risk, after all.

She’d learned too late that taking risks came with a steep price. In her case, her brother, Justin, was the one to pay.

It would be no different for Ethan, and she refused to be there when he injured himself.

Except, as the on-site emergency medical personnel for the Duvall Rodeo Arena, she most likely would be the one to treat him.


Chapter Two

Ethan hated to admit it, but Caitlin was right. His shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. It had all night, affecting his sleep, his ability to dress himself and his mood.

What if he really had torn something? Then he wouldn’t be able to enter the jackpot, that was for sure.

The idea of going to the doctor and getting an X-ray wasn’t quite as distasteful to him as it had been the night before. Maybe he could go to the urgent-care clinic. If he was lucky, he might run into Caitlin again.

He no sooner had the thought than he dismissed it. More likely than not she was married or in a committed relationship. Of course, finding out wouldn’t be all that hard.

And if she was single, then what?

He doubted she’d go out with him, not after the way he’d dumped her with hardly a word. Then there was the matter of his leg—or lack of it. Beautiful, desirable women like Caitlin Carmichael didn’t date men with missing limbs.

Gritting his teeth, he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his undershirt and tried to pull it over his head. He didn’t get far. The pain immobilized him.

The next instant a knock sounded.

“What?” he hollered, his breathing labored.

The front door opened and his brother came in. “Good morning to you, too.” He stopped midstep and eyed Ethan curiously. “Having a problem?”

Ethan muttered to himself, not pleased at having an audience.

“What did you say?”

“I hurt my shoulder last night.”

“Breaking one of Clay’s horses?”

“A bronc trying to break me.”

“Ah.” Gavin wandered toward the newly remodeled kitchen. “Any coffee?”

“There’s instant in the cupboard.”

“Instant?” He grimaced.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Ethan didn’t particularly like instant, either. But he’d discovered since living alone the last few weeks that brewing a pot of coffee was a waste when he drank only one cup.

He and Gavin and their dad had resided comfortably in the main house for over a year. When Gavin’s daughter, Cassie, moved in with them this past summer, they’d continued to get along. Soon, however, Gavin’s fiancée, Sage, and her young daughter, Isa, would be joining the family permanently, and that was a little too much closeness for Ethan.

The old bunkhouse had seemed a good solution. Converting it into an apartment was taking time, though, and living amid the chaos of construction did get tedious. But Ethan didn’t mind.

After a lifetime of cohabitating with others, including a barracks full of marines, he quite liked his solitude. No snoring, music or loud TV disturbing his sleep. No having to wait for someone to finish in the bathroom. No arguing about whose turn it was to wash the dishes or vacuum.

No one watching him put on his prosthetic leg, then turning away when he caught him staring.

“Want some?” Undeterred by the prospect of instant coffee, Gavin removed a mug from the cupboard.

“Naw. I already had my quota today.” Readying himself, Ethan raised his arms, only to hesitate.

What was wrong with him? He’d endured far worse discomfort than this. The months following his accident—a nice, gentle euphemism for losing the bottom half of his leg in an explosion—had been a daily practice in pushing the boundaries of his endurance.

It hadn’t stopped there. The first thing Ethan had done when he returned home was reveal his intentions to start training horses again, his job before enlisting. His family had tried to dissuade him, but eventually came to understand his reasons and the need that drove him.

Since no respectable cowboy wore athletic shoes when he rode, Ethan had used some of the money he’d saved during his enlistment to purchase two pairs of custom-made boots that fit his prosthesis. Within a few weeks, he was riding, and suffering a whole new kind of torturous pain. With determination, practice and continual exercise, he found the pain eventually lessened, though he still had his days.

He didn’t start breaking horses until a chance meeting with Clay Duvall. Over beers at the local bar, his old friend had listened while Ethan outlined his ambitions. Then he’d offered him a job. In addition to the arena, Clay owned and operated a rodeo stock business that specialized in bucking horses.

The idea of competing again hadn’t occurred to Ethan until he’d watched the cowboys practicing at Clay’s arena. What started as a vague longing quickly grew into a burning desire. Ethan was tired of people looking at him differently. Tired of their sympathetic smiles.

Once he started competing again, all that would change.

Ignoring the pain, he pulled on his undershirt, then walked through the partially framed living room to the freshly painted bathroom, where he removed a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.

“You need a day off to rest up?” Gavin hollered from the kitchen.

“Hell, no.”

Both Ethan and his father worked alongside Gavin. With only thirty of the family’s original six hundred acres remaining in their possession, they’d turned their ranch into a public riding stable. Many Mustang Village residents boarded their horses, took riding lessons or went on guided trail rides at Powell Ranch.

In addition, they’d started the stud and breeding business last month, after capturing Prince, a wild mustang roaming the McDowell Mountains.

“Maybe you should take it easy today,” Gavin suggested, when Ethan returned to the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about me.” He glowered at his brother. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Prince is off his feed. I’d like you to take a look at him before I call the vet.”

“I will. Later.”

“I was hoping you could do it first thing.”

Ethan thought his brother babied the wild mustang too much. Then again, the future of their family business relied heavily on Prince and his ability to breed. While he’d successfully mated with several mares since his capture last month, it was still far too early to determine if any pregnancies had taken, much less what kind of foals he would produce.

Gavin studied him as Ethan downed the painkiller with a glass of water. “Have you considered seeing a doctor?”

“Caitlin told me the same thing.”

That got his brother’s attention. Instead of leaving, which was Ethan’s hope, Gavin pulled out a chair at the dining table, removed his hat and made himself at home.

Great.

“You saw her?” he asked.

“Last night. She’s working for Clay, running his first-aid station.”

“Interesting.”

Gavin’s expression reminded Ethan of their father and, he supposed, himself. The Powell men all looked enough alike that most people immediately recognized them as family.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Ethan said, recalling the shock he’d felt when he first saw Caitlin. “She also works mornings at the middle school and afternoons at the urgent-care clinic.”

“Uh-huh.”

His brother was sure taking the news in stride. Then it hit him. “You knew she was back, didn’t you?”

“We met when Cassie sprained her ankle in gym class, and the school called me to come pick her up.”

“That was weeks ago. And you’re only now telling me?”

“Figured it wasn’t my place.”

Another thought occurred to Ethan. “Caitlin ask you not to tell me?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Did my name even come up?”

“We really didn’t have time to talk. She was busy, and Cassie was complaining about her ankle.”

Ethan started pacing the kitchen. Caitlin had known he’d returned to Mustang Valley and hadn’t bothered to look him up.

Did he really expect her to, after the way he’d treated her?

Probably not. Change that to hell, no.

“Look,” Gavin continued, “it just slipped my mind. I had a lot going on at the time. Capturing Prince. Starting the stud and breeding business. Sage and I getting engaged.”

“Right,” Ethan answered testily. He’d bet the entire contents of his wallet that running into Caitlin hadn’t slipped his brother’s mind. “I’m a big boy, bro. You don’t have to watch out for me.”

“Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”

Not exactly an admission, but close.

“Answer me this,” Gavin said. “What would you have done if I told you she was back in town?”

“Apologize, for one.” Which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t something he’d done last night. “And make amends…if possible.” He owed her that much.

“You going to ask her out?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Why not?”

“Even if I did, she’d turn me down flat. Besides, she’s probably married by now.”

“She isn’t.”

Ethan stopped pacing. “How do you know?”

“The subject came up.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have much time to talk to her.”

“Doesn’t take long to say, ‘Hey, you ever get married?’”

Ethan groaned.

“What are you so mad about, anyway?”

Before he could reply, another knock sounded at the door.

“What now?” He stormed over and yanked the door open.

Clay stood on the other side. “You’re in a fine mood.” Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside. “I just came from Prince’s paddock. He hasn’t touched his food.”

“We’re heading there now,” Ethan grumbled, snatching his jacket off the back of the couch where he’d left it.

“Any more of that coffee left?”

“It’s instant,” Gavin complained from his seat at the table.

Clay drew back in surprise. “Don’t you have a coffeemaker?”

Ethan glared at him. “Don’t you?”

Clay glared back. “What’s bugging you?”

“He’s mad that I didn’t tell him Caitlin was working at the school.” Gavin rose from the table.

“Can we not discuss this?” Ethan headed for the door.

“You going to invite her out?”

He ignored Clay’s question.

“I already asked him that.” Gavin went to the sink and deposited his mug. “He says no.”

Annoyed, Ethan shoved an arm into the sleeve of his jacket, then swore loudly when his entire left side seized with fresh pain.

“How’s the shoulder?” Clay asked.

“Fine.” Ethan opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

Clay came up behind him. “You don’t act like it’s fine.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“What did Caitlin say last night?”

“Ice the shoulder and take ibuprofen. I’ve done both.”

“Did she tell you to see a doctor?”

“I don’t need to see a doctor.”

“Don’t believe him.” Gavin joined them on the porch, shutting the door behind him. “He’s hurting.”

Ethan anchored his hat to his head as a strong gust of wind swept past them on its way down the mountain to the valley.

“See a doctor,” Clay ordered. “Until you do, and until you’re cleared, no bronc riding.”

Ethan swung around. “Dammit, Clay!”

“Sorry. That’s the rule. Same for you as everyone else.”

“The jackpot is a week and a half away. I need to practice.”

“Then I guess you’d better haul your butt to the doctor today.”



ATTHEBOTTOMOFTHELONG driveway leading from Powell Ranch to the main road, Ethan turned left. Three minutes later he reached the entrance to Mustang Village, with its large monument sign flanked by a life-size bronze statue of a rearing horse.

As he drove at a reduced speed through the equine-friendly community, he tried to remember what it had been like when there were no houses or buildings or people, only wide-open spaces and Powell cattle roaming them. He’d missed out on the construction of the community, having been in the service at the time. How hard it must have been for his father and brother to watch their family’s hundred-year-old history disappear acre by acre, replaced with roads, houses, condos and commercial buildings.

He generally avoided Mustang Village. The reminder of all they had lost was too hard on his heart.

If not for his mother’s failing health, they wouldn’t have borrowed the money from Clay’s father and used their land as collateral. If Clay’s dad had honored the agreement and not sold the land out from under them, Mustang Village would never have been built. If not for the residents of Mustang Village, Ethan’s family would be raising cattle rather than operating a riding stable.

A lot of ifs, and that wasn’t even counting the most recent one—if he hadn’t been standing where he was at the exact moment the car bomb exploded, he wouldn’t have lost his leg.

Ethan turned his thoughts away from the past when Mustang Village’s one and only retail strip center came into view.

It always struck him as odd to see hitching rails and bridle paths in a residential community. On any given weekend, there were almost as many equestrians riding about as there were pedestrians walking. Not so much during the week. Mustang Village resembled most other communities then, with school buses making runs, mothers pushing strollers, cyclists zipping along and dog lovers walking their pets.

Today, a work crew was busy stringing Christmas lights along the storefronts and hanging wreaths on lampposts. Already? Thanksgiving was still more than a week away.

A buzzer announced Ethan’s arrival at the urgent-care clinic. This was his first visit. He always drove to the VA hospital in Phoenix for his few medical needs.

Inside the crowded clinic, a receptionist greeted him with a friendly “May I help you?” and handed him a clipboard. When he was done filling out the forms, she processed his co-pay and said, “Have a seat.”

Ethan considered inquiring if Caitlin was working. But then the phone rang, followed immediately by a second line ringing. He left the receptionist to answer her calls, and sat in a chair next to a mother and her sniffling child.

He couldn’t help thinking that if the bronc hadn’t thrown him last night, he wouldn’t be here now, anxiously waiting to see his former girlfriend again. Yet another if in a long, long list of them.

Except Ethan really wouldn’t describe Caitlin as a girlfriend. She’d been much more than that to him, and he to her. Had his mother not died and he not enlisted, chances were good they’d have gotten married.

He really had to stop thinking about what might have been, or else he’d drive himself crazy.

“Ethan?”

His head snapped up when Caitlin called his name. “Yeah.”

“Right this way.”

He followed her down the corridor. Once he was weighed and his height taken, she escorted him to an examination room, where he sat on the table and she at the computer terminal.

“Why are you here today?”

Seriously? She knew darn well why. “I fell from a horse last night and hurt my shoulder,” he answered, playing along.

“What part of your shoulder?”

“You examined me.”

She gave him a very professional smile. “It’s procedure.”

He cupped his shoulder with his palm.

More questions followed, and she typed the answers into the computer. During the entire process, Caitlin treated him like any other patient, concerned, interested and like they hardly knew each other.

What did he expect? She was at work.

What did he want?

The answer was easy. To see that light in her eyes.

“The doctor will be right in to see you.” Before closing the door, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you came in today.”

He was tempted to jump to the wrong conclusion and reminded himself that her remark was medically motivated. Hadn’t she urged him last night to have his shoulder looked at?

After a brief consultation with the doctor, Ethan waited again, this time for the X-ray technician. Returning from the imaging room, he waited a third time.

The doctor’s news was good. Nothing was torn, only soft-tissue damage.

“Can I start riding again right away?” he asked.

“I recommend you take a few days off.” The man studied him over a pair of reading glasses. “A week would be better.”

“But there’s no reason I can’t ride.”

“You could sustain further injury.”

“Okay.” Ethan nodded. He had every intention of getting on a bronc tonight, and he was pretty sure the doctor knew it.

“I’m going to prescribe an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. If you aren’t better in two weeks, call for a follow-up exam or see your regular doctor.”

“Thanks.”

“You know—” the man removed his reading glasses “—if you’re really that determined to ride, you might consider physical therapy to speed your recovery.”

“Appreciate the advice, Doc.”

“The nurse will be in shortly with your prescriptions.”

Another wait, this one not long. Caitlin returned with three slips of paper in her hand. Ethan had to admit the sight of her in pale green scrubs was as surreal as seeing her in sweats. In college, she’d majored in journalism, with ambitions of being a TV reporter, and always dressed fashionably.

Admittedly, the scrubs looked cute on her, the loose material not quite hiding her very nice curves.

“Here you go.” She handed him the prescriptions. “The doctor wrote one for physical therapy as well, in case you need something for the VA.”

“I’ll probably skip PT.”

“Why? It will help.”

He stood, folded the prescriptions and placed them in his wallet. “The nearby facilities don’t take VA insurance. And I can’t afford the time off work to drive into Phoenix.”

“What if…what if I provided your physical therapy?”

“You?”

“I have some basic training. I’m not licensed, but I’ve taken several classes. For Justin. During his rehab, he’d strain his upper body muscles. And now that he’s involved in wheelchair athletics, he’s always overdoing it.”

“I can relate.”

“You two are alike when it comes to that.” Her expression softened, and suddenly she was the seventeen-year-old transfer student who’d been assigned to sit next to him in calculus class.

Ethan was caught off guard and needed a moment to collect himself. “I don’t think the VA will pay for a private physical therapist.”

“I won’t charge you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do it for free.”

“Who said anything about free?” She smiled then, really smiled, and he caught another glimpse of the confident, carefree girl he’d fallen in love with. “I was hoping we could negotiate a trade.”

She had his attention now. “I’m listening.”

She motioned him into the hall.

“I’m on the Holly Days Festival committee,” she said.

The residents of Mustang Village had put on a big community-wide event the previous Christmas. None of the Powells had attended, but they’d heard about it. From everyone.

“The committee, huh?”

“You know me.”

He did. She’d been an involved student in both high school and college. Cocaptain of the cheerleading squad, student council, National Honor Society.

“I thought the festival was strictly for residents.”

“I’m a resident,” she said brightly as they entered the reception area.

“Really?”

“I’m renting a condo. In the complex right across the street.” She nodded toward the window. “I get to walk to work every day. Well, not to the middle school. But here.”

Working and living in Mustang Village. Was that another bit of interesting information Gavin had conveniently forgotten to tell Ethan?

“The committee is hoping to try something different this year,” Caitlin went on. “The parade was fun, but more people participated than watched.”

“You saw it?”

“I did. I almost drove to the ranch, too.”

Just how often had they narrowly missed crossing paths since his return home?

“Anyway, I remembered that old farm wagon of yours and was wondering if we could decorate it and have you drive people around the park.”

“No one’s used that wagon in years.”

Her hopeful smile fell. “Well, it was just an idea.”

Ethan had no desire to participate in the Holly Days Festival. Nothing involving Mustang Village appealed to him—with the exception of Caitlin. And she appealed to him far too much for his own good.

But hadn’t he just told Gavin this morning that he wished he could make amends with Caitlin? Wagon rides at the festival wouldn’t exactly clean the slate. But it was a start, and obviously important to her.

“We could pull the wagon out of storage,” he said. “See what kind of shape it’s in.”

“Great!” Her green eyes lit up.

This was the moment Ethan had been waiting for, only her excitement was over an old wagon. Not him.

“Why don’t you come out to the ranch?”

“When?”

Ethan massaged his left shoulder. “As soon as possible. I still haven’t qualified for the jackpot next weekend.”

“What about tomorrow, say around noon? I have a two-hour break between the school and the clinic. If the wagon is usable, we’ll set up a schedule for your PT sessions.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hey, Caitlin.” The receptionist held up a manila folder.

“I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “Thank you, Ethan.”

She collected the folder and called the next person’s name.

Once again, Ethan was just another patient—and it didn’t set well with him.


Chapter Three

In days gone by, Caitlin would have driven directly to the main house at Powell Ranch and parked there. Instead, she followed the signs and went around behind the cattle barn to the designated parking area.

“It’s weird,” her brother said from beside her in the passenger seat. “The place is totally different, but not different.”

“Yeah, weird.” She opened her door and stepped out.

Memories that had hovered the last few days promptly assailed her. Most were good, gently stroking emotional chords. One wasn’t so good, and it quickly overpowered the rest.

“When was the last time you were here?” Justin asked, already maneuvering his legs into position.

“Oh, about nine years ago.”

Nine years, four months and…she mentally calculated…eighteen days. Not that she was keeping track.

She’d arrived that last evening intending to join the Powells for dinner, something she often did in the past. Even before the meal was served, Ethan took her out to the front courtyard and sprang the news on her. He’d enlisted. Signed up a week after his mother’s funeral. A rather important decision he hadn’t even bothered discussing with Caitlin.

A fresh wave of hurt and anger unbalanced her now, and she paused, holding on to the van door for support.

Guess she hadn’t moved past her and Ethan’s bitter breakup, after all.

It must be seeing the ranch again. Or seeing him again—for the third day in a row.

Enough is enough, she told herself. She could manage working with Ethan, seeing him at the clinic, administering his physical therapy. He was nothing more than her patient.

With actions honed from much practice, she removed her brother’s wheelchair from the rear of the minivan and carried it to the passenger side, where he waited.

She’d have set the wheelchair up for him, except he insisted on performing the task himself. Rather than argue, she gave in. Being independent was important to Justin, and she respected his wishes even though her instinct was to do everything for him.

After hoisting himself into the wheelchair, he and Caitlin made their way to the stables. She figured the office was as good a place as any to start looking for Ethan.

“Sure are a lot of people here,” Justin commented, rolling his wheelchair along beside her.

A half-dozen riders were gathered in the open area near the stables. Several more were in the arena, riding alone or in pairs. One enthusiastic mother clapped while her preschooler trotted a shaggy pony in circles.

“I hear it’s even busier when school lets out for the day.” Caitlin remembered when the only people on the ranch were the Powells and the cowboys who worked for them.

“I’ll wait here,” Justin said when they reached the small porch outside the office.

He could easily maneuver the three steps leading onto it, but he probably wanted to give Caitlin and Ethan some privacy.

Easing open the door, she stepped tentatively inside the office. The sight of Ethan sitting with his back to her at an old metal desk gave her a start.

Not again, she chided herself. No more going weak in the knees every time she saw him.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Hello,” then “Oh!” when the ancient chair swiveled around with a squeak.

The man wasn’t Ethan.

“Hey.” Gavin greeted her with a wide grin. “What brings you here?”

Caitlin vacillated between enormous relief and equally enormous disappointment. “I’m meeting Ethan.”

“You are?”

Obviously he hadn’t informed his family of her visit.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

“If he’s not around—”

“He’s here. Shoeing one of the horses.”

“Is it all right if I interrupt him?”

“I’m thinking he won’t mind.”

Caitlin wavered, then blurted, “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure.”

“My brother’s outside. Would you check on him for me? Without making it look like you’re checking on him?”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good. And he’s perfectly capable of handling himself in new situations.”

“But you worry.”

“Constantly.”

“Not a problem.” Gavin’s cell phone rang. “Let me take this call first.”

“Thanks.” Caitlin hurried across the office and out the door leading to the stables.

It was like stepping back in time.

The rich, familiar scents of horses and alfalfa filled her nostrils the moment she crossed the threshold. Daylight, pouring in from the large doorways on both ends of the long aisle, illuminated the interior better than any electric-powered lights could. Soft earth gave beneath her feet with each step she took. A barn cat dashed behind a barrel, then stuck its head out to peer warily at her.

Caitlin glanced around, her breath catching at the sight of Ethan not thirty feet away. He was bent over at the waist, the horse’s rear hoof braced between his knees as he used a file to trim it.

How did he do that with a prosthetic leg?

How did he do that with a bad shoulder?

Fine, he was resilient. She appreciated that quality in an individual. Admired it. But shoeing a horse while injured was just plain stupid. So was bronc riding.

She started to say something, only to close her mouth when Ethan released the horse’s hoof and straightened.

He stood tall, his blue work shirt rolled up at the sleeves and stretched taut across his muscled back. The leather chaps he wore sat low on his hips, emphasizing his athletic frame. She couldn’t remember him ever looking better. Or sexier.

When they were in high school, Caitlin had liked him best in his football uniform. Next best in the tux he’d worn to their senior prom. She’d been the envy of every girl on the cheerleading squad, and had relished the attention.

What an idiot she’d been. Shallow and silly—placing too much importance on things that didn’t matter.

Ethan turned, and she wished suddenly she was wearing nice clothes. Not an oversize hooded sweatshirt and scrubs.

“You made it.”

“I did.”

He set the file he’d been using down on a box of tools. Next, he removed his chaps and draped them over the box. “Ready to take a look at the wagon?”

“Is that Chico?” Caitlin advanced a step, then two. “Can I pet him?”

“Of course.”

“I remember him. I can’t believe he’s still around.” She stroked the old horse’s soft nose, and he snorted contentedly.

“That’s right. You and Chico are already acquainted.”

Caitlin was never much of a horse enthusiast, though she’d tried her best to share that interest with Ethan. When they did go on a ride, Chico was her mount of choice.

“He’s Isa’s horse now.”

“Isa?”

“Sage’s daughter. Gavin’s soon-to-be stepdaughter. She’s six and in love with this old guy.”

“I’m glad.” Glad the horse Caitlin remembered with such fondness was adored by a little girl and that some things around Powell Ranch hadn’t changed.

“Do you still ride?”

“No, not since Chico.” She didn’t want to admit to Ethan how much riding—or any physical activity that held risk—scared her. She hadn’t been like that before Justin’s accident. Quite the opposite.

“I’ll take you sometime.” Ethan moved closer.

Caitlin’s guard instantly went up. She continued stroking Chico’s nose in an attempt to disguise her nervousness—at Ethan’s proximity and the prospect of getting on a horse again. “We should probably take a look at the wagon. I have to get to the clinic soon.”

They left the stables. Chico, Ethan assured Caitlin, would be just fine tied to the hitching rail, and was probably already napping.

As they rounded the corner of the cattle barn, she noticed lumber stacked nearby, along with a table saw, ladder and toolboxes.

“What are you building?”

“We’re converting the old barn into a mare motel for the stud and breeding business. Clay and his men are helping us.”

Ethan took her elbow and guided her around more piles of construction material. She started to object and insist she was fine, then changed her mind. Like the other night when he’d insisted on unloading her medical supplies, it would be like arguing with a brick wall.

He led her to a corner of the barn where, behind a tower of wooden crates and beneath a canvas tarp, the wagon stood.

“Not sure we can get much closer,” he said, stepping over a roll of rusted chicken wire.

Caitlin squeezed in behind him, acutely aware of his tall, broad frame mere inches from her.

He leaned over and lifted the tarp, revealing a wagon wheel. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the worn wood.

A memory of Ethan driving her around the ranch in the wagon suddenly surfaced, of her bouncing in the seat beside him and both of them laughing. How carefree they’d been back then.

She suddenly missed those days with a longing she hadn’t felt in years.

Stop it!

Dwelling on that period of her life would do more damage than good. She and Ethan might have renewed their acquaintance, but that was all it was, an acquaintance. All it could be. Even if she finally got past the hurt he’d caused her, he rode saddle broncs for pleasure and broke green horses for a living. Caitlin wasn’t capable of caring for someone who courted danger on a daily basis. Not after what had happened to her brother. She couldn’t live with the constant worry and fear.

“Going to need a few repairs.” Ethan wiggled a loose spoke.

Caitlin was relieved to get back on track. “And lots of cleaning.”

“Hope you have enough volunteers.”

She studied the wagon with a critical eye. “I might need more.”

“I’ve been thinking. Would it be all right if we asked for a small donation? Completely voluntary, of course. Sage, my future sister-in-law, is starting a wild-mustang sanctuary here on the ranch, and she’s having trouble obtaining funding.”

“What a good idea. I can’t imagine the festival committee having any objections.”

“That’ll make her happy.”

Caitlin brushed dirt off the wheel. “When can we get started?”

“Saturday soon enough?”

“We’ll have to be here early. I’m due at Clay’s arena after lunch.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re not riding!”

“Planning on it.”

“Your shoulder!”

“I can’t afford to miss any practices.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to ride with an injury? I’d think your reaction time would be slowed.”

“I’ll wrap it.”

As if that would fix everything. His attitude was exactly the reason they would never date again, no matter how attractive she found him. Riding broncs was bad enough. Riding broncs with an injury was idiotic.

“I’ll have a couple of the guys help me pull the wagon out,” he said.

“I recommend you supervise a couple of the guys.” She leveled a finger at him. “If you’re going to ride on Saturday, you need to rest that shoulder and let it heal.”

“Right.”

He was impossible.

“I need to get going.” She stepped over the roll of rusted chicken wire. “I don’t want to leave Justin alone too long.”

“You brought him with you?”

“He doesn’t have class on Fridays and sometimes comes by for a visit.”

“Justin drives?”

“A Honda Civic. Modified, of course.”

“And he lives with your parents?”

“No, he has an apartment near campus with a roommate.”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Ethan said, “but if the kid lives on his own and drives, don’t you think he’ll be okay alone for a few minutes?”

She sighed with exasperation…at herself. “I can’t help worrying about him. Call it big-sister-itis.”

“His accident wasn’t your fault.”

Caitlin went still, swallowed a gasp. No one other than Justin and her parents knew of her guilt and the reason for it.

How in the world had Ethan guessed?

Stupid question. He’d always been able to read her better than anyone.

She averted her face, hiding the sudden storm of emotions churning inside her. Him, this place, the memories of happier times—it was all too much.

Ethan took her elbow again, helping her navigate the narrow path through the construction material. His fingers were warm and strong and far too familiar. Any hope Caitlin had for control flew out the window.

“You weren’t at the river that day,” he said, his voice gentle with understanding. “You couldn’t possibly have been involved.”

His compassion and sympathy were her undoing.

“I encouraged him to go,” she admitted, her throat burning. “If he had stayed home, he wouldn’t have landed on that rock and damaged his spinal cord.”

“Come on. Name one senior at our school who didn’t tube down the river and jump from the cliffs the week after graduation. It was a rite of passage.”

“Justin didn’t normally disobey our parents.” As she had, she thought. “I told him he was eighteen and it was time he stopped acting like such a geek. I drove him to his friend’s house, then lied to our folks about where he was going.”

“Teenagers disobey their parents. It’s what they do.”

“Being popular was so important to me in high school. Justin was such a nerd back then. Shy and scrawny and brainy. He was practically invisible. I thought if he went tubing, he’d break out of his shell. Because of me, his life is ruined.”

They came to a stop at the entrance to the barn. Ethan released her elbow, only to drape an arm around her shoulders.

“Trust me, you weren’t the only one pressuring him to go tubing. His buddies were, too.”

It would have been nice to lay her head on Ethan’s chest as she’d done so often in the past, and let him comfort her.

She might have, if she wasn’t convinced she’d be sending him the wrong message.

Wiping her eyes, she tried to ease away from his embrace.

He’d have none of it.

“When someone’s seriously injured, like Justin, it’s pretty common for family members and friends to blame themselves. My dad and brother were the same way. Kept thinking if they’d been there for me when Mom was sick, and after she died, I wouldn’t have enlisted and been caught in that explosion. Eventually, they came to accept it was my decision to join the marines, and rotten luck I was standing where I was that day. Same with Justin.”

Caitlin looked up at Ethan. “You don’t think I was there for you when your mom died?”

At the time, she’d been so embroiled in her own misery over his abrupt departure, she hadn’t considered the reason he left was because of her. How incredibly selfish.

“What? Of course not. I was the one unable to cope with my grief, so was pushing people away.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, Caitlin. For abandoning you like that.”

“I appreciate the apology.”

“I know it’s not enough to make up for what I did to you.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He drew back at her brutal, but honest, admission.

“You’re not the only one who had to deal with traumatic events,” she said. “I did, too. And believe me, there were plenty of times after Justin’s accident when I wanted to run away and leave everything behind. But I didn’t. I stayed and dealt with my responsibilities regardless of how difficult it was. I just wish you had loved me enough to do the same.”



CAITLIN’SREMARKHIT ETHAN like a blow. How could she think he hadn’t loved her enough? The whole reason he’d left was because he had loved her too much. She deserved more than a man who was emotionally devastated, out of work and whose family was financially ruined, thanks to one man’s insatiable greed.

Before he could explain, Justin came wheeling toward them. Ethan was pleased to see the young man, even if his timing stank.

“Hey, there you are.” He pushed his wheelchair forward, meeting up with Ethan and Caitlin outside the cattle barn. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” Ethan shook his hand, which was sheathed in a worn leather glove with cutouts for his fingers.

“I was just talking to Gavin. He filled me in on all the changes round here.”

“Lots of them. Some good, some bad.”

“You miss the old days?”

No one had ever asked Ethan that. He took a moment to consider before answering. “I do sometimes. I miss the people, especially. My mom and sister.” He glanced briefly at Caitlin. If she was aware of his unspoken inclusion of her, she didn’t show it. “But all things considered, I can’t complain.”

“Me, either,” Justin said, without the slightest trace of bitterness.

Ethan’s respect for him grew by leaps and bounds. If Justin felt self-pity at losing the use of his legs, he certainly didn’t wallow in it.

“You in a hurry to leave?” Justin maneuvered his wheelchair so that he faced Caitlin. “I was hoping Ethan could show us the mustang.”

“I can’t be late for work.”

Justin checked his watch. “I thought you didn’t have to be at the clinic until two.”

“I like to arrive a little early.”

She sounded eager to go.

Ethan wanted the chance to explain his real reason for enlisting and leaving her, and was determined to find the opportunity. “It won’t take long. Prince’s stall is just behind the barn.”

Justin started wheeling in that direction. Ethan followed, as did Caitlin, her gait stiff and her steps slow.

If she so obviously didn’t want to be with him, why had she come along?

“I have to warn you,” he told Justin, “the way there’s bumpy.”

“Can’t be any worse than hiking Squaw Peak.”

“You’ve done that?”

“Five times. Four of them in my chair.” Justin beamed, his geeky smile reminding Ethan of the undersize, asthmatic kid he’d known when he and Caitlin were dating.

The smile, however, was the only thing about him that was the same. Justin had acquired some serious muscle on his upper body.

“Why do you keep him so far from the other horses?” he asked, guiding his wheelchair down the rocky slope to Prince’s pen like a pro.

“He’s too wild and unpredictable.” Ethan kept his eyes trained on the ground, watching out for potholes and rocks. What would cause another person to merely stumble could send him sprawling. “And being near the mares tends to…excite him, shall we say. Better he’s off by himself.”

Where to house Prince had been an issue when they’d captured him last month. Clay solved the problem by erecting a temporary covered pen near the back pasture.

“I’ve been wanting to see Prince ever since I watched your brother on the news.”

Ethan chuckled. “You caught that, huh?”

“Are you kidding? He was all over the TV.”

The media had gotten wind of Prince’s capture; a horse living wild in a ninety-thousand-acre urban preserve was big news. Several local stations had dispatched reporters to interview Gavin. The attention had resulted in a slew of new customers, giving the Powells’ dire finances a much-needed boost.

“Watch yourself,” Ethan cautioned as they drew near. “Prince is wary of strangers. He still doesn’t like me and Gavin that much.”

Justin showed no fear and wheeled close. Caitlin reached for his wheelchair as if she wanted to pull him back. After a second, she let her hand drop, though it remained clenched in a fist.

Was it only Justin’s fall that had made her overprotective?

As they watched Prince, the stallion raised his head and stared at them. Then, tossing his jet-black mane, he trotted from one end of the pen to the other, commanding their attention.

And he got it. Ethan couldn’t wait to see the colts this magnificent horse produced.

“He’s bigger than he looked on TV.”

Ethan kept a careful eye on Justin, ready to run interference if he ventured too close to the pen. Caitlin, on the other hand, seemed content to observe from a safe distance.

“Have you ridden him yet?” It was the first she’d spoken since Justin joined them outside the barn.

“No. He’s only halter broke, and barely that.”

“But you are going to break him?” Justin asked.

“Oh, yeah. My goal is by Christmas.”

“That doesn’t give you much time.”

“You’re right. He and I are going to have to come to a new agreement soon about who’s boss.”

Prince pawed the ground impatiently, as if daring Ethan to try.

Justin grinned sheepishly. “Don’t suppose there’s a horse in that stable of yours I could ride.”

“Anytime you want, buddy.” Ethan immediately thought of old Chico. If he was trustworthy enough for a six-year-old, he’d do fine for Justin. “Give me a call. I’ll take you on a trail ride.”

Beside him, Caitlin visibly stiffened. “Justin, are you sure about that? You’ve never had an interest in riding horses before.”

“I never played sports before, either.” He slapped the arm of his wheelchair. “Turns out I’m pretty good.”

“What do you like?” Ethan asked.

“Basketball. Baseball. Swimming. I’m considering taking up track and field.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Well, I couldn’t do any of it without Caitlin’s help. She’s amazing.”

Did Caitlin pay for her brother’s athletic expenses? Ethan wondered. That would explain the three jobs and why she worked fifty to sixty hours a week.

“You’ll do fine at riding, then,” he assured him.

Caitlin removed her cell phone from her sweatshirt pocket and checked the display. “It’s getting late.”

After a last look at Prince, the three of them returned to the stables, Justin chatting enthusiastically about riding and Caitlin stubbornly silent.

When they reached her minivan, Justin hoisted himself into the front passenger seat.

“I’ll get that,” Ethan offered, and carried the wheelchair to the rear of the minivan, where Caitlin had the hatch open.

She closed it the second he’d stowed the chair. “See you Saturday.”

“What about physical therapy?” If he was keeping his end of the bargain, she needed to keep hers. “I’d like to start right away.”

“I don’t get off at the clinic until seven-thirty most nights.”

“Eight’s fine,” he said, ignoring her attempts to postpone. “If it’s not too late for you.” He rose at the crack of dawn and assumed she did, too, what with her schedule.

“No, eight’s okay.” She peered nervously at her brother, who was busy with his MP3 player. “We can start tonight.”

“Anything special I should have on hand?”

“I’ll bring my portable table. We can set up just about anywhere.”

“Okay. Drive straight to the bunkhouse and park there.”

“The bunkhouse?”

“I live there now. Moved out of the main house so Sage and Isa can move in.”

“O…kay.”

“If you don’t want to be alone with me—”

“It makes no difference,” she answered tersely.

Somehow, Ethan thought it did. He just wasn’t sure why.


Chapter Four

“Easy, boy.” Ethan held on to Prince’s lead rope, gripping it securely beneath the halter. “That’s right, there you go.” He ran his other hand down the horse’s neck, over his withers and across his back, applying just the slightest amount of pressure. Prince stood, though not quietly. He bobbed his head and swished his tail nervously.

On the ground beside Ethan lay a saddle blanket, which he hoped Prince would allow to be placed on his back. The step was a small but important one toward breaking the horse. If Caitlin arrived on time, she’d be able to watch him.

He resisted pulling out his cell phone and viewing the display. It was 8:18. He knew this because he’d checked the time four minutes ago when it was 8:14, and every few minutes before that for the last half hour. He doubted she was going to keep their physical-therapy appointment, not after the disagreement they’d had this afternoon.

“Uncle Ethan!” Cassie yelled. “What are you doing?” She and Isa came bounding toward the round pen.

The horse’s reaction to the girls’ approach was immediate. Prancing sideways, Prince tried to jerk free of Ethan’s hold…and almost succeeded.

“Relax, buddy,” Ethan soothed, his grip on the lead rope like iron. Luckily, he was using his right hand. Thanks to the way his shoulder felt tonight, his left arm was pretty much useless.

The mustang, eyes wide, stared at Cassie and Isa, who peered at him and Ethan from between the rails of the pen.

“You girls stay back, you hear me? And keep ahold of that pup. I don’t want him getting kicked.”

They complied, sort of, by retreating maybe six inches. Cassie did scoop up her puppy, Blue, a five-month-old cattle dog mix that was out of her sight only when she was at school or a friend’s house.

“Gonna ride him, Uncle Ethan?” Isa asked.

Though not officially a member of the family yet, Sage’s daughter had already started calling Ethan “uncle.” Probably because Cassie did. Isa copied the older girl’s every move.

Ethan didn’t mind. In fact, he rather enjoyed the moniker—and his role of the younger bachelor uncle who constantly set a bad example for his nieces by swearing in front of them and periodically losing his temper.

Months of counseling after the car bomb explosion had taught Ethan how to deal with his sometimes volatile and erratic emotions. Normally, he did a good job. On occasion, like earlier today, he wondered if maybe he’d quit attending counseling too soon, and should call the VA hospital for a referral. His buttons lay close to the surface and were easily pushed.

“Not tonight,” he said, answering Isa’s question. “Prince isn’t ready.”

“When will you ride him?” Cassie asked.

“Soon.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“Don’t you girls have any homework?”

“We did it already,” Isa volunteered.

“A TV show you want to watch?”

“We’re still grounded until tomorrow,” Cassie answered glumly.

“You’re lucky that’s all the punishment you got. If I’d pulled a stunt like you two did when I was a kid, Grandpa Wayne would have had me cleaning stalls every day before school and mucking out the calf pens.”

Come to think of it, those had always been his chores. Both he and Gavin had helped their father and grandfather with the cattle business from the time they were Isa’s age.

“Yeah, but if not for us, you wouldn’t have captured Prince.”

Cassie was right, even if her assessment of the situation was a mite skewed.

Last month, in an act of rebellion, she and Isa had taken off on horseback into the mountains without telling anyone where they were going. After a frantic two-hour search, they were found in the box canyon, along with Sage’s missing mare and Prince.

The wild mustang had proved difficult to capture, requiring all of Ethan’s and Gavin’s skills as cowboys. It had also been one of the most exciting moments of their lives.




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