He dangled there like a stupid monkey and all she did was smile. “What am I supposed to do? Hang here?”
“No. I want you to straighten up. Use your legs to stand, then try walking.”
“I can’t walk. I’ll fall on my ass.”
“No, you won’t. Just use the rope for balance.”
He took a deep breath, let go with one hand and slapped a palm farther up the rope. His legs dangled uselessly beneath him.
“Stupid.” He didn’t mean to say the word out loud, but it slipped from between his lips before he could stop it.
“There’s nothing stupid about this. I’ve seen your file. I looked at your scans. There’s no reason why you can’t regain the use of your legs. You just need to learn to trust them.”
His arms had begun to shake. He pulled himself up another notch.
“There,” she said. “Now get your legs beneath you.”
“Can’t.”
“Do it.”
He tried moving them, but as always, all he could do was swing them a little. He had no control. Just useless lumps of meat.
She leaned closer to him. “Move them.”
His heart pounded. His arms had started to hurt.
“No.”
He fell. She caught him, somehow supporting his weight, though how she did it he had no idea.
She smelled good.
“Do it again.”
“No.”
She started to let him go. He flailed his arms for the rope. Once again he found himself dangling there.
“Now move.”
“I can’t, damn it.”
His arms started to hurt all over again.
“Just try.”
“I am.”
How long he hung there, he didn’t know, but he’d be damned if he let go again. Alas, his body had other ideas. His grip began to loosen. He froze.
And fell once again into her arms.
“That’s it.” He huffed. “I’m done. Get my chair.”
Lord, she smelled good.
“I can’t reach it and still hold on to you.” She strained beneath his weight, he could tell. “Grab the rope.”
“I don’t have the strength to lift myself up.”
“Yes, you do.”
He tried moving his limbs. Surprisingly, they worked, so much so that when they kicked into action, his legs shot them both backward. Somehow, she managed to swing his body around, his butt landing heavily in his wheelchair.
“See. I told you. I can’t do it!”
“You can,” she said, stepping back and sounding as out of breath as he felt. “All you need is practice. Come on. Let’s do it again.”
“No.”
She cocked her head sideways. “No?”
He tried to keep his voice level. “It’s no use. I tried the same sort of exercises before coming here, not this one exactly, but close. Nothing’s helped. You’re wasting your time.”
She stared down at him. He wondered if she’d push the issue. She didn’t.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She bent and picked up the picnic basket. “But I won’t work with someone if they refuse to help themselves.” She slung the thing over her arm. “You have a choice to make, Mr. Anderson. Either you do the exercises I prescribe, or you go home.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t like wasting my time with half-ass efforts.”
“Half-ass?”
“So if you decide to stay, you will do exactly as I tell you to do. If you don’t, have a nice life.”
She turned away.
“Wait. That’s it? You’re just going to leave me here?”
“You know the way back to your cabin.”
She spun around and walked backward. “If you decide to stay, be at the barn tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock.”
“And if I don’t?”
She smirked again. “Like I said. Have a nice life.”
Chapter Six
He wouldn’t show. Alana had bet Cabe her best pair of boots that Trent would leave. She’d even listened for the sound of a car come to pick him up yesterday, or maybe the bus, but she hadn’t heard anything. Last night Cabe had told her Trent had hung out in his cabin all day.
“You’re going to owe me your boots,” Cabe said as he walked into the barn the next morning.
“He’s still here?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.
“Spoke to him this morning. Said he’d see you in an hour.” Cabe glanced at his watch, his face obscured by his cowboy hat for a moment. “That means you have a half hour to tack up Baylor.”
He hadn’t left.
She had no idea why she felt so relieved. Having Trent gone from the ranch would be a blessing. Less of a headache. She could prep for the influx of guests they’d get at the end of the month. But no. The stubborn cuss hadn’t left.
“I’ll be damned,” she muttered.
Rana joined them in the barn, the girl excited about hanging out with her hero again. But when Trent arrived, Alana thought if his face had been a palette, it would have been painted in angry colors. Red. Black. Sienna. They were all there as he came to a stop near the barn’s breezeway.
“Let’s get to it,” he said, not looking her in the eye.
“Mount up,” she told him.
It was Rana who helped him onto his horse, and Rana who kept him company as they all rode out. Alana hung back, observing him, wondering about the best way to help him. Such a stubborn, hardheaded man.
“Do you see that?” Cabe asked, riding up alongside her.
They’d made it to the farthest edge of pasture, the part that began to slope upward, gradually giving way to pine trees and BLM land up above. The view, as usual, was spectacular, with the snow-covered mountains in the distance and the blue sky above. It had finally warmed up.
“If you mean the way his legs are flexing, then, yes, I had noticed.”
From in front of them, they could hear Rana coaching Trent on how to control Baylor with his hips and hands, and Alana would have to admit, he did seem to be trying harder today. He’d been slowly getting the hang of it as they rode the fence line, checking on the level of grass. In the distance, the cows had spotted them, their steady mooing signaling their desire for more food, a definite sign that it was time to move them.
“His mom said scans indicate he should have more control over his lower limbs than he does.” Cabe looked thoughtfully at their only guest.
“I read that in his file, too,” Alana admitted.
Cabe glanced at her quickly.
“What?” She frowned. “I read all my patients’ files. You know that. I also know they’ve been trying to coax him to continue with therapy for months. Now that I’ve seen