Healing The Forest Ranger. Leigh Bale

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СКАЧАТЬ might have reached over and hugged Kristen, but a driver pulled up behind them and blared the horn of their car. Lyn jerked her head around. Kathy Newton, a woman she’d recently met at Kristen’s school, waved at them. Returning the gesture with a plastic smile, Lyn pressed on the gas. Two blocks later, she turned the corner and parked in front of the doctor’s office before killing the motor.

      “Maybe this new doctor can help you walk straighter,” Lyn suggested. “Your old doctor highly recommended him.”

      A prosthesis specialist in such a small town was rare. Apparently this doctor was a former U.S. marine. Lyn had been told that he’d seen several of his buddies lose their limbs during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and he’d done a lot of work in the field of prosthetics. And that could be really promising for Kristen.

      “Nothing can help me walk without a limp. Everyone will always know something’s wrong with me,” Kristen said.

      The ominous words were spoken to the glass windowpane. Kristen refused to look at her, and Lyn couldn’t blame her. Since the accident, Lyn could hardly stand to face herself. She’d hoped her transfer to this small ranching town might help make a difference for both of them. The slower pace. Fewer people. The jagged mountains and open, windswept valleys covered by bleached grass and sage. They both needed time to heal. Lyn had no outward scars, but inside, the accident had disfigured her beyond recognition. She’d never be the same again.

      Neither would Kristen.

      If only there was some way Lyn could go back in time, she’d find a reason to miss their appointment to view the Appaloosa mare. Their family had been so carefree that evening. Excited to buy Kristen’s first horse. Both Lyn and Rob had been raised on a ranch, and Rob had been a regional rodeo champion during high school. They wanted to share their love of equines with their daughter. They’d discussed the idea for months. Kristen was fearless on a horse. She’d make such a great rider.

      Lyn had just picked up Rob from work and was driving the car. Kristen had been sitting between them in the front seat, all of their seat belts securely fastened. They’d been talking. Laughing. And then Lyn turned onto a narrow street with a guardrail. The grille of a semitruck filled their view, followed by the sickening thunder of the crash. No time to react. No time to move.

      Now Lyn closed her eyes tight, absorbing the memory as though it had just happened. If only she’d swerved and missed the oncoming truck. Maybe if she’d hit the brakes sooner. Or taken a different route. Anything to have changed the outcome.

      Losing Rob had stolen all the joy in their lives. That night had been the last time they’d laughed together or felt genuinely happy.

      The last time Lyn had prayed.

      Filled with gloomy thoughts, she got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to help Kristen. Again, the girl brushed aside Lyn’s hands.

      “I’ll do it myself,” the girl grumbled.

      Lyn stood back, waiting nearby in case Kristen stumbled. An ocean of hurt separated them. Lyn wondered if they’d ever be close again.

      Kristen hobbled toward the doctor’s office. With each wrenching step, the foot of her cumbersome prosthesis smacked the cement sidewalk like a club. Lyn had to keep herself from flinching at the horrible sound. She followed close by, wishing Kristen would use her wheelchair more. But the girl refused. Lyn held her arms outstretched to catch Kristen in case she fell.

      Inside the small office, Kristen plopped down onto a cushioned chair. An older man sat across from them, his denim shirt accented by a turquoise bolo tie. Twin streaks of gray marred his straight black hair. Parted in the middle, the long strands flowed past his shoulders, ornamented by a single white-and-gray feather. He held a beat-up cowboy hat in his leathery hands. Though he showed no expression on his tanned face, his intelligent black eyes gazed at them with unwavering frankness. The wide bridge of his nose and high cheekbones clarified his heritage. A proud American Indian. Probably Shoshone. Lyn knew they had a tribe here in Stokely.

      Ignoring the man’s piercing gaze, Lyn stepped over to the front counter and spoke to the receptionist. “I’m Lyn Warner. My daughter has an appointment at three-thirty.”

      “Yes, welcome. I’m Maya, and we’ve been expecting you.” The matronly woman smiled, her rosy cheeks plumping. She swept a waterfall of straight black hair away from her face before handing Lyn a clipboard with papers attached. Maya also appeared to be of Shoshone heritage. “If you’ll just fill out this information, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

      Picking up a pen, Lyn sat beside Kristen and started writing. She was vaguely aware of Maya calling to the elderly man sitting across from them. He stood quietly and went to the counter to retrieve a bottle of pills.

      “You take one of these every morning, Billie. And just so you know, I’m gonna call your wife to make sure you do. Helen will tell me if you’re on your medication or not.” Maya’s voice sounded thick with warning.

      Billie grunted a derogative reply. The pills rattled in the bottle as he shoved them into a pocket of his blue jeans. As he passed by to leave, he stared straight ahead, speaking not a single word. The epitome of dignity and cool disdain.

      Lyn dug inside her purse for her insurance card. When she finished the paperwork, she returned the clipboard to Maya.

      “Thanks. Why don’t you come on back?” Maya indicated a side door.

      Like always, Lyn stood beside Kristen as her daughter struggled to stand. Lyn’s fingers itched to help Kristen, who was determined to do it by herself whether she looked odd and stumbled or not.

      The girl braced her hands on the armrests, gained her balance, then clopped forward, her upper torso jerking back with each awkward step. Maya opened the door and stood there smiling until Kristen passed through, then led the way down a short hall to an examination room.

      Inside, Kristen sat on the only chair, a grimace of pain showing her discomfort.

      “Is it hurting you today?” Lyn asked.

      “No.” A short, curt word.

      Lyn knew better. The wound had healed, but it’d only been a year. The stump continued to pain Kristen whenever she wore her prosthesis. But the girl hated her wheelchair even more. And Lyn knew Kristen’s autonomy would diminish with the chair.

      Lyn was determined to speak with the doctor about this. The brave girl refused to show any more signs of weakness than what had been forced upon her. So daring and courageous. So determined not to quit in spite of the adversity she faced. If only this new doctor could help her somehow. If only—

      The door rattled, and the doctor entered the room. Lyn’s breath froze in her throat. The man glanced first at Kristen, then at the clipboard in his hand, but Lyn recognized him instantly. A tall, jet-eyed man with short, coal-black hair shaved high and tight like a U.S. marine. Like her, Lyn figured he was in his mid-thirties. With high, chiseled cheekbones, wide shoulders and long, solid legs. Dark and extremely handsome, in a dangerous sort of way. Except for his eyes. Fringed by thick lashes, they sparkled with gentle warmth.

      “Cade!”

      He looked up, his gaze mirroring her shock.

      No, he couldn’t be the angry rancher who thought Lyn was a threat to the mustangs. He didn’t like her, he’d made that obvious last week when he’d saved her СКАЧАТЬ