To Tame a Texas Cowboy

by Julie Benson

  Boots clicked on the wood floor, along with the soft tap of dog nails. Then a warm hand rested on her shoulder and a wet nose pressed against her hand. Tiny gestures of compassion. Her eyes stung as she gazed up to find Cooper beside her, tall and strong. Staring into his blue eyes filled with concern for her, the protective wall she’d built around her collapsed. Tears slipped down her cheek and sobs clogged her throat as she fought to hold them in. She was so tired of being strong, of holding it together and clinging onto the belief she could lick this. Rapids rushed around her, threatening to sweep her away. She needed a rock to cling to.

  “Bad news?”

  She nodded, and Cooper knelt beside her. He pulled her into his arms, and her sobs broke free in a rush of pain.

  *

  As Cooper held Cheyenne, something inside her broke. Tears poured out of her, soaking his T-shirt, and her body shook from the force of her pain. Her anguish tore through him, overwhelming them both as he sat on the floor holding her. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs as his head spun from nightmares of what news she could’ve received. “Is it about the surgery? Is the tumor worse?” He couldn’t bring himself to ask about cancer.

  “Can’t do surgery,” she croaked between raging sobs.

  “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” And he was. Despite his fear of what could happen to her in surgery, he wanted the best in life for her.

  Her fingers dug into his arms as she clung to him. He held her, rocking back and forth, and kissed the top of her head. Helplessness raged inside him. He hadn’t wanted Cheyenne to have surgery, but he hadn’t considered how having the option ripped away would devastate her. How much more could she take? She hadn’t broken, but she’d bent as far as she could.

  “I hate women who cry,” she said in a brittle voice minutes later after she ran out of tears. “I refuse to be weak.”

  “You’re the strongest person I know. You couldn’t be weak if you tried.”

  She lifted her head off his shoulder. “Thank you for that.”

  She crawled off his lap to sit beside him crisscross applesauce as his kindergarten teacher Mrs. Hutchison used to say. Her face and eyes splotchy red from crying, Cheyenne looked almost frail or defeated. Then she swiped her sleeve over her face and sat up tall. “Are you as glad as I am that pity party’s over?”

  He admired her courage and ability to persevere. He respected her more than anyone he’d ever met. She handled everything with grace and strength—the tumor, her mom, returning to Wishing, a new job—and here she was coping with this disappointment with the same aplomb, but that was what she did. “You’re amazing.”

  “But?”

  “No, but. Just you’re amazing.”

  “No one’s ever said that to me.”

  “That’s a damn shame, and just plain wrong.” He leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and linked his hand with hers. “Want to tell me about it?”

  She nodded and in a quiet, unsteady voice, she related what the neurosurgeon said. The longer she talked, the more vitality returned to her posture and her voice. “My first step is getting a second opinion. But it’s hard. I feel like I need a medical degree to sort this out. If I trust the wrong person—” Her words trailed off. Then her eyes widened, and a smile spread across her beautiful face. “Your parents are doctors, aren’t they?”

  He nodded.

  “They wouldn’t know of a good neurosurgeon, would they?”

  The truth is my dad’s one of the country’s best neurosurgeons.

  He had to tell her. Hell, he should’ve told her before now, despite knowing the information wouldn’t do her a damn bit of good.

  Cooper inhaled deeply, held it for a second as he tried to control his nerves, and exhaled. “I should’ve told you long before now, but,” he paused and shook his head. Why he’d kept quiet didn’t matter. “My father is a neurosurgeon in Houston.”

  “What’re you waiting for? Call him.”

  He cringed. “It’s complicated.”

  Her brows furrowed and confusion clouded her gaze. “No, it’s not. I have a brain tumor. Your father is a neurosurgeon. It’s that simple.”

  “He may be a great neurosurgeon, but he’s a complete ass, and as a father, he’s even worse.” Old insecurities he’d long ago buried bubbled up inside him, burning like acid.

  “I’m sorry you had a lousy father. Mine died. No dad’s prefect. Get over it.” Anger slipped into her voice. “I don’t care what your relationship was like. What I care about is getting an appointment with him.”

  “And I wish I could get you one, but my father’s never forgiven me for defying him to become a vet, but that’s not the only problem. Unfortunately, he’s focused on his new surgical technique and its trial. Mom said he’s only seeing epilepsy patients. Because a tumor causes your seizures, you won’t qualify.”

  Cheyenne scoffed and waved a hand through the air. “If you ask him, he’ll see me.”

  Cooper laughed. The brittle sound echoed around him. Blood pounded in his ears, and his chest ached from the force of his breathing as his frustration over being unable to get through to Cheyenne grew. “Hell, the man would cross the street to avoid talking to me, but let’s say by some miracle he took my call. He doesn’t make exceptions where his work is concerned. If he’s focused on his study, nothing, especially not a request from me, will change his mind.”

  “You can’t seriously believe that. What father wouldn’t help someone if his son asked him to?” Cheyenne’s face flushed from her anger. “Why are you giving me a hard time about this?”

  He was explaining the situation poorly, handling it all wrong. Why couldn’t he make her see the futility of contacting his father? “I’m not being difficult. I’m trying to tell you the way it is. Talking to my father is pointless. Let me explain.” Cooper reached out to her, but she jerked away, refusing to look at him, instead staring straight ahead. He was losing her. Sweat trickled down his chest.

  “The only thing I want to hear is you’ll call your father.” Cheyenne’s fury filled voice rang around them. Penny scrambled under the kitchen table, while Rowdy darted behind the recliner.

  “It won’t do any good.”

  The fire in her eyes died. “I’ve been a fool. I thought we had something. I’d even started thinking Wishing could be my home base when I returned to the circuit. What a joke. You’re not the man I thought you were.”

  “What’re you saying?” he asked, his voice distant. He blinked trying to make the nightmare disappear. Why couldn’t she understand what his father was like?

  Instead of answering, Cheyenne dug into her jeans front pocket and withdrew her keys. She pulled off two and placed them on the granite counter. The rattle and jingle of the metal against stone stabbed through him, leaving him weak kneed.

  “I’m leaving, and you need to find someone else to help in the clinic. I’m done there, too. Come on, Penny.”

  *

  The next morning Cheyenne woke in her childhood bed feeling as if a sick kitten could whip her in a fight. Thankfully when Aubrey dropped her off last night, her mom hadn’t drilled her with twenty questions. Instead, she’d hugged her, said her room was just like she’d left it, and told her she was here to listen. Once in her room, Cheyenne collapsed in bed, not even bothering to undress.

  How could she have been so wrong about Cooper? She’d thought he was a man she could count on. She’d believed he was someone who’d be honest with her. She’d wondered if he was the one. That would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.

  She gotten off without giving her mom an explanation yesterday, but today she’d have to explain. What could she say? Gee, Mom, the guy I thought deserved a white horse wouldn’t even call his father to help me out. He didn’t care enough to fight for me.

  Nothing about the situation made sense. Why would a man who’d helped her get a service dog, gave her a job, and defended her to the mayor and her mom, refuse to make a simple call to his father to get her an appointm
ent? There had to be more going on. No father would refuse to speak to his son because he became a veterinarian.

  Cheyenne rubbed her throbbing temples and focused on her breathing. She’d been lucky she hadn’t suffered a seizure last night. Best not to get riled up and press her luck today. She grabbed her cell off the nightstand. Seven thirty. If she stayed in her room until her mom left for work, she’d avoid an explanation until dinner. Maybe by then she could talk about Cooper without being ripped apart.

  Later when tires crunched on gravel, Cheyenne forced herself to crawl out of bed and dress. Then she ventured into the kitchen. Her pity party had lasted long enough. She’d forget about Cooper and move on. After all, he wasn’t her first disappointing relationship.

  But you’d never been in love before.

  A numbing cold swept through Cheyenne. No. She couldn’t be in love with Cooper.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  Fine. So what if she’d fallen in love with him? She could fall right back out. Especially after what he’d done, or rather, refused to do. No way would she settle for a man who wouldn’t fight for her.

  And if love left her feeling as if her heart had been ripped out and stomped on by a prize bull, she wouldn’t try it again. Ever. While she was at it, she added relying on anyone other than herself to her never-do-this-again list. No, sir. She’d rely on herself. Burn her once, shame on her. Burn her twice? Ain’t happening, because no one would get close enough to try.

  She’d be fine because she refused to accept anything less. As of today, no more whining about where she was. Instead she’d focus on how to move forward.

  First step, contact Cooper’s father. Cheyenne stumbled to her desk. After booting up her laptop, she typed in Dr. Abbott Houston, Texas, neurosurgeon into the internet search bar. A few seconds later a link to Dr. Matthew Abbott’s website appeared. On his homepage, she discovered a magazine cover for The Journal of Neurosurgery, with his picture. The doctor bore a striking resemblance to Cooper. Same intelligent bright blue eyes. Same strong chin. Same shade of golden-brown hair, only this man’s was streaked with gray.

  The magazine’s headline read, Houston Doctor Develops Breakthrough Surgery to Treat Seizures. Heart hammering against her ribs, Cheyenne clicked on the article link and started reading. Dr. Matthew Abbott, world renowned Houston neurosurgeon, has developed a groundbreaking surgery allowing him to operate on previously inoperable seizure patients.

  She read further, but unfortunately the technical jargon made the article impossible to understand. Not that it mattered. The first sentence told her what she needed to know. Cooper’s father was a world-renowned neurosurgeon who operated on people other doctors claimed were inoperable.

  Her shoulders slumped and a hand pinched her heart. How could Cooper refuse to help her get an appointment with a world-renowned neurosurgeon?

  Forget him. She could handle this. She clicked on contact link, found Dr. Abbott’s phone number and called. When a woman named Marcia answered, Cheyenne asked to make an appointment.

  “Are you suffering from seizures?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the seizures caused by epilepsy?”

  “No, I have a brain tumor.”

  “I’m sorry. Dr. Abbott is only seeing epilepsy patients who qualify for his surgical study.”

  Anxiety tightened Cheyenne’s throat, but she refused to give up. Not when she’d found a doctor who’d developed a ground-breaking surgical technique. If anyone had the skills to perform her surgery, he would. He was her best hope of being rid of her seizures. Of returning to the rodeo. Of having a normal life.

  There had to be a way to get past his gatekeeper.

  Good luck since you can’t get into the study, and by the way, this is exactly what Cooper said would happen.

  Cooper. Cheyenne’s rising panic eased, allowing a bud of hope to open. He was her way past this woman and hopefully the study. Despite what he’d said, people made exceptions for family and friends all the time.

  With how you two parted, how can you claim a relationship with Cooper?

  Ignoring the nagging voice, she harnessed her courage and pressed ahead. “I’m a friend of Dr. Abbott’s son, Cooper, and he suggested I call his father for an appointment.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re not to make any exceptions.”

  Desperation flooded Cheyenne’s system, leaving her weak and on the verge of breaking. She’d come so far and knew she’d found the solution to her problems if she could get around this woman.

  “Hey, Sis, what if—” Sheridan said as she strolled into the kitchen.

  Cheyenne pointed to the phone pressed to her ear as she paced around the kitchen. “Please, take my name and number. Put a note on Dr. Abbott’s desk saying Cooper said I should call for an appointment. What harm can that do?”

  The lengthy silence gnawed at Cheyenne’s frayed nerves. She waited, afraid to push further.

  “I can’t. I need my job.” The woman’s last four words were barely audible.

  Cheyenne’s phone slipped from her sweaty hand. She scooped it up, clutching it so tight her fingers tingled. Tears of frustration and helplessness stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. “You think you’d get fired if you left a note on his desk? No boss could be that bad.”

  “The other line is ringing. I have to go.”

  Click.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tears spilled down Cheyenne’s cheek. Angry at her lack of control and the fact that calling had gone exactly as Cooper predicted, she chucked her phone across the room. It hit the kitchen cupboards with a thud, bounced off and landed with a splat on the ceramic tile.

  Sheridan gasped. Her eyes wide with worry, she raced across to Cheyenne, placing a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong? Who was on the phone?”

  “What am I going to do? I thought Cooper was exaggerating when he said his dad was only seeing patients who fit his study.”

  “Huh? What’s this about Cooper’s dad?”

  Anger raging through her wiping out anything else, Cheyenne stormed around the kitchen. “It’s that woman on the phone. If I could get past her and talk to Cooper’s father, I’d get a different answer. Or if I don’t, maybe he’ll look at my records and tell me if surgery’s possible.” As Cheyenne spoke, her voice grew louder. She couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Or, if he won’t do that, maybe he’d refer me to someone I can trust. I’d settle for that. I have to talk to him, but how? There has to be—”

  “Calm down.” Sheridan grabbed Cheyenne’s hand, led her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “Sit.”

  “No, I need to move.”

  “I don’t want to deal with you having a seizure.”

  Cheyenne pointed to Penny under the table glancing at her with concerned brown eyes. “I’m fine. See? Penny says so. She’s not alerting.”

  The worry lining Sheridan’s face lessened as she pointed at the chair again. “Then sit because I need to. You’re scaring me so bad I’m afraid I’ll have a heart attack.” When Cheyenne hesitated, Sheridan added, “Please? Don’t make me call Mom.”

  Her sister’s comment, said in a surprisingly stern voice, broke through the panicked fog surrounding Cheyenne. She chuckled, and some sanity returned as she collapsed onto the chair. “Has Aubrey given you lessons on fighting dirty?”

  “Hardly. The call Mom trick came from you. How could you forget pulling that on me all the time after school?”

  “Using my own words against me is double playing dirty.” Cheyenne placed her hand over Sheridan’s and flashed her a feeble smile, despite the urge to curl up in a ball and cry. “I don’t know what to do. I’m really scared.”

  “Tell me what happened, and we’ll figure it out.”

  “You can’t tell Mom this.”

  As Cheyenne and her sister sat at the kitchen table in the house they’d grown up in, the details of what happened with Cooper gushed out of Cheyenne. When she finished, she turned to her sister
, drained and more confused than when she’d begun. “I know he can’t control whether his father talks to him, but if he won’t try, how does he know his attitude hasn’t changed?” Tears threatened to overtake her again. “I thought I meant something to him, but if he won’t even try calling his father, that tells me the truth.”

  “What if you ask Cooper again?”

  Beg? No way. “I don’t need his help. I’ll go to his dad’s office. When I’m there, how can his staff say no?” A plan in place, control surged through Cheyenne. She knew if she could plead her case in person, she could convince him to help her. “All I need is a ride to Houston. Want to be my chauffeur?”

  *

  After a lousy night’s sleep, a call from AJ woke Cooper. “Lulabelle got out yesterday and came home with a cut on her hock. That horse is driving me crazy. It didn’t look bad last night, but this morning it’s swollen and red. Can you take a look?”

  “My day’s booked, but I’ll come over before I go to the clinic,” Cooper said as he crawled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of strong coffee. He fed Rowdy and when the coffee finished brewing, he poured a cup. Rowdy glanced around the house, turned to Cooper and then whined as if asking, “What the hell did you do, and where are Cheyenne and Penny?”

  “I know, pal. I think the house feels empty, too.”

  Twenty minutes later, he walked into the barn on the small acreage AJ and Grace owned and found his friend. “I can’t believe Ty talked you into taking this mare.”

  When they visited the Bar 7 the first time in college, Lulabelle had attached herself to AJ and once he moved to Wishing, she quit eating except when AJ fed her. “I couldn’t let her waste away.”

  “She played you.”

  “Isn’t the first time a female did that.” AJ wagged a finger at the horse. “But she better stop the adventures or she’ll lose her happy home.”

  Lulabelle snorted and shook her head.

  “She’s really worried.” Cooper laughed as he moved closer. “Hey, girl. How about I check out the damage from last night?”