She slept that night lulled by the river’s song.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“AND DONE!” LUKE looked over the neat stacks of paper with pride. It had taken him three days, but he was pleased with how he’d completed his latest assignment for Mike. He had asked his dad to look over some of the items he didn’t recognize, products they didn’t use at Cameron’s Pride. Jake had also noticed omissions Mike’s clients hadn’t included, deductions they would have missed.
The ranchers’ accounts were considerably more complicated than those for the bull riders, but his knowledge of cattle operations helped. He’d never taken much interest in Cameron’s Pride’s finances other than knowing there was never quite enough ready cash; debt left by his mother’s illness had strained their resources even after her death. Just as they’d moved into the black, his father’s heart attack and losses from a freak spring blizzard had dumped them into a sea of red ink, but the last few years they had climbed back into the black.
“I didn’t think you had this in you,” Jake said. “Not that you weren’t smart enough,” he added in haste. “I’m just surprised you’d like this kind of persnickety work.”
“I guess I never sat still long enough to do something like this. And thanks for your help—I’ll have to give you a cut of my paycheck.”
“I’ll settle for a piece of pie at the Queen after we both get done at the hospital,” Jake said. “We can see how Katie’s getting along.”
Luke heart leaped at the thought of seeing Katie. He wouldn’t have suggested it, not wanting to be a nuisance, but since it was his father’s idea... And the Queen would be wrapping up the lunch service about the time he finished with his physical therapy.
Luke swung himself into the passenger seat of his father’s truck and folded his wheelchair to slide behind the seat.
“I hate needing people to drive me into town,” he said as his father climbed behind the wheel. “Maybe I should get my rig fitted with hand controls...” But that would be admitting he’d never be able to drive using the pedals. Maybe he was kidding himself, but he still believed he would walk again. His brain acknowledged the possibility, even the probability, he’d be in a wheelchair the rest of his life, but his heart refused to accept the verdict.
“I told you before it’s no bother,” Jake said. “I promised Shelby I’d get the blood work the doctor ordered, and I’ve got a shopping list for the Ranchers Exchange.”
Jake dropped Luke off at the hospital entrance. “You mind if I watch you work out? I won’t be at the lab more than a few minutes.”
“Sure, maybe I’ll get some new exercises you can help me with at home.”
Jake nodded and pulled away to park while Luke rode the elevator up to PT.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, buddy,” Doug said. “You’re going to walk today.”
Luke snorted. “What’s the punch line?”
“No joke.” Doug beckoned to a young woman wearing pants and a polo shirt, her long, dark hair in a ponytail. “Meet Dr. Anita Alvarez from Denver. She’s brought a new toy for you to try out.” He stepped back. “All yours, Dr. A.”
“Anita will do,” she said. “Your Dr. Barnett must have friends in high places. We don’t usually make house calls, but he said you’d be the perfect subject to try our newest model. You’re healthy, you’ve completely healed from your surgery and he says you’re probably the finest athlete he’s ever treated.”
“Is this one of those—” he searched his mind for the term he’d seen on the internet “—exoskeletons?”
“Far from it,” Anita said. “It’s a computerized brace system that stabilizes your knees and ankles and tells them how to move. We prefer to create a custom fit using our own measurements, but Dr. Barnett sent us detailed information, so the ones I brought should fit you. Want to give it a try?”
Excitement clogged his throat; he nodded and transferred to the exercise platform before stripping down to his gym shorts. “Okay,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’m ready.”
He closed his eyes as Anita and Doug strapped the elaborate system of pads and braces along the back of his thighs, calves and ankles. The devices were cumbersome, especially to someone whose specialty in the arena had been the ability to leap and spin on a dime. Still, they were much less confining than the heavy rig he had seen on the internet.
“Now back in your chair,” Doug said.
“Hey, I thought you said I’d be walking.”
“Not on your own, not just yet,” Anita said. “Using these will take some practice.”
Doug parked Luke’s chair at the end of the parallel bars and helped him up to support himself on stiffened arms. Luke had regained some sensation as well as the ability to swing his legs from the hip in a crude walking motion, but he collapsed when he tried to walk. He had the bruises to prove that.
“Okay,” Anita said. “Right foot forward.”
Luke took a deep breath and swung his right leg as hard as he could, pitching forward from the momentum. Doug and Anita caught him before he fell on his face.
“Not so much,” Anita said. “Just like you’d take a normal step.”
Luke tried again. To his amazement and joy, his knee bent, his ankle flexed and the braces supported his joints.
“Now bring the left foot forward.” Anita’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.
Luke nodded and matched the right leg’s movement with his left to stand squarely on both feet. He blinked away tears. His first step! He teetered like a drunk and would have fallen except for Doug and Anita supporting him.
“Deep breaths,” Anita said. “Get your balance.”
Luke obeyed, waiting until his pounding heart steadied, and then looked at her. “Another?”
“Okay. Right foot first.”
He managed five more steps to the end of the bars and then let them lower him into his wheelchair, as weak as if he were recovering from a long illness. Doug wiped the sweat from Luke’s face with a damp towel.
“Dr. Barnett was right about you, Luke,” Anita said. “I’ve never seen anyone pick that up the first try.”
Luke grabbed her hand, too moved to speak. At last he said, “I don’t suppose you’ll let me take this rig home.”
“Not yet,” she said. “I’m guessing you’d push way too hard unsupervised and do more harm than good. I’ll stay in Durango a couple days to make sure Doug can take over. Meanwhile, you can start some new exercises to rebuild your leg muscles.”
Luke felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard.
“I wouldn’t have missed seeing that for a brand-new baler,” Jake said. “Up on your feet and walking...” He cleared his throat. “I’m sure ready for that pie at the Queen. How about you?”
Luke almost backed out. He was still shaking with emotion and fatigue, sweating like a racehorse, but his dad wanted to celebrate. And so did he, but...
“Don’t mention this at the Queen, okay? Not till I get better at it.”
“Want to surprise everybody, right? Okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I’m sure proud of you. I’ll just grab a magazine and wait for you to finish.”
“Why don’t I show you Luke’s new exercises, Mr. Cameron?” Doug said. “He’ll need help doing them at home.”
Doug led them through a few new maneuvers to stretch and strengthen Luke’s leg and back muscles. “Okay, that’s it for today,” he said. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Yes, but let me show you something I’ve been doing at home. Got a resistance band?”
Luke wheeled to a sink at the far side of the room and wrapped the wide red elastic band just above his knees. Bracing his feet against the cabinet, he grasped the edge of the sink and pulled himself to his feet. His legs shook, but he was able to remain upright for a good thirty seconds before collapsing into
his chair.
“So that’s why you did so well your first time with the braces,” Anita said.
“My brother used to be a bull rider,” Luke said. “He used that exercise after a bull fractured his pelvis. I figured it couldn’t hurt for me to try the same thing.”
Luke and his father left the hospital and arrived at the Silver Queen in time for a late lunch. Marge sat in a booth near the kitchen with papers spread across the table.
“Well, look what the cat drug in—my two favorite cowboys. Two chicken-fried steaks, Katie,” she yelled over her shoulder. “Rush order—these guys look hungry.”
Luke couldn’t see Katie, but her voice floated through the pass-through. “I can put them in the microwave to make it faster.”
Marge rolled her eyes. “You’re fired!”
“That’s how many times?”
“That girl has a sassy mouth,” Marge said. “Who would have guessed—she looks so sweet. So what brings you to town?”
“Luke’s physical therapy,” Jake said. “He...he’s doing real well.”
Marge leaned forward and patted Luke’s cheek. “Of course he is. Just a matter of time and hard work—I’m finding that out. I’m glad I got both knees fixed at the same time. I’d never have the nerve to go through this again.”
“Rehab sucks, sure enough,” Luke said.
“Now, tell me what’s going on with Lucy,” Marge said, leaning forward. “She hasn’t been back to town in a week, not that I know of.”
Jake rubbed his hand over his face. “You probably know as much as I do. Mike comes over about every evening and they sit in his rig till all hours. She’s talking about leaving early for New York so she can ‘relax’—” he sketched quotation marks in the air “—before she goes up to New Hampshire. I guess she feels like you and the Queen are in good hands now.”
“You must be plenty glad she has such a nice, safe place to live in New York. Jo’s mom is pretty brave to take her in as a tenant, swapping one daughter for another. Lucy’s quite a change after a sensible girl like Jo.”
A few minutes later, Katie pushed through the kitchen door with two platters of chicken-fried steak. She stopped short.
“Luke! And Jake. Marge didn’t say you were the hungry guys.”
She stopped close to Luke. In a previous life, he would have put his arm around a pretty girl’s waist and launched into his usual flirtation, but that didn’t feel right with Katie.
She set the plates in front of him and Jake. “Gym clothes—you must have gone to PT. How’s that progressing?”
He wanted to tell her, to share the rush of standing and moving upright under his own power. But not here, not in public.
“One step at a time,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Really? Oh, Luke.”
“Hey, still early days, but maybe one of these days I can get a late-afternoon PT slot so you can come and cheerlead.”
“I’d be honored,” she said, and he thought maybe she understood.
“Meanwhile, their food is getting cold,” Marge said. “You have got to be the dimmest waitress I ever tried to train.”
Katie gave her a sweet smile. “I’m a cook, not a waitress. And you’re lucky to have me.” She set Jake’s plate on the table.
Marge turned to Jake. “Look what you’ve stuck me with. I shouldn’t have to put up with such abuse at my age.”
“Coffee for the gentlemen, right? And I’ll get your tea, Marge.” Katie turned on her heel with a saucy flip of her apron.
Marge waited until the kitchen door swung shut behind Katie before turning to Jake. “Having that girl show up is enough to make me believe in God. I’m scared every day she’ll get tired of this lark and go back where she came from.”
“I don’t think it’s a lark for her,” Luke said. “She told me she wanted to make a fresh start, there was nothing she wanted to go back to.”
“I sure hope you’re right. I might even consider—”
Katie returned balancing a heavy tray—coffee for Jake and Luke, a pink teapot with a matching cup for Marge, and two slices of peach pie. She set everything on the table and pulled up a chair. She and Marge exchanged grins as they waited for the men to finish their steaks and start on the pie.
Jake took a bite and sighed with satisfaction. “I’m sure glad you’re up to making this pie again, Marge.”
“Katie’s making them now,” Marge said. “And we’re adding chicken pie to the menu next week.”
“And then maybe pork pie,” Katie said.
“Pushy little twerp,” Marge said and struggled to her feet using a cane. “Better change the sign, Katie—it’s closing time.”
“I’ll do it,” Jake said. “I have to pull the truck up out front.” He flipped the sign to Closed on his way out.
“Ladies’ room for me,” Marge said and thumped her way toward the back of the restaurant, leaving Luke and Katie alone.
“Truly, Luke,” Katie said. “Rehab is going well? You really want me to watch?”
“Not just yet,” he said. “I’ll tell you when.” He took her hand. “So you’re staying around awhile?”
“Until Marge kicks me out. She loves to snipe at me, but just in fun, of course.”
“Of course.” Marge sometimes had trouble keeping help.
He heard the thump of Marge’s cane. “If you’re not busy on Sunday, how about coming out to the ranch for dinner?” he said. “Around noon or earlier if you like. We could ride out afterward and check the new calves.”
“I’d love to,” she said.
A horn honked outside the Queen.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KATIE STOOD AT the door and waved to Jake as Luke opened the truck’s door and swung into the passenger’s seat using the overhead grab bar. He gave her a thumbs-up as Jake pulled away from the curb.
Marge was gathering her papers together when Katie went back inside. “Roger brought me the cash,” she said. “I’ll drop the deposit off on my way home.” She stuck the bank bag into her purse, a rumpled black leather satchel the size of a trekker’s backpack. “If you don’t have plans on Sunday, would you like to go through some trunks in my attic? I’ve got no idea what we might find. They were up there when I bought the house, and I’ve never taken time to root through them.”
“Sounds like fun, but Luke just invited me to the ranch for Sunday dinner and riding. Could we do it another time?”
“I don’t reckon it’s urgent, considering they’ve been up there at least twenty years. Go to the ranch and help Luke to take his mind off his problems. We’ll rummage on another day.”
A decision Katie had been incubating since she first met the Camerons hardened into resolve. She had postponed action long enough. She climbed the stairs to her apartment, scrolled through the directory on her phone and hit Send.
When she got through to her attorney, she said without preamble, “Mr. Foster, those papers I signed? Start the process.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, and then he said, “You sound different, Kathryn. I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“I am different, Mr. Foster. I’ve got a job I love and new friends who’ve never heard of Brad and his fancy connections. How quickly can you file the papers and what else do I have to do? Will I need to come back to Connecticut to finalize the divorce?”
“It depends,” he said and went on to spell out a confusing muddle of options and conditions. One fact came through loud and clear—she’d been smart to withdraw money when she had. She hadn’t known what regulations might apply, but once Mr. Foster filed on her behalf, neither she nor Brad could withdraw from an account as she had done. She’d spent almost none of the money, but she had no intention of returning it.
“Just make it quick and clean,” she said. “I don�
��t want anything from him, not alimony or the house.”
“He’s a wealthy man, Kathryn—you’re entitled to a generous settlement.”
“He worked hard for what he’s got—let him keep it. I’m doing fine on my own.”
She could hear his sigh. “If you say so. I’ll have more documents for you to sign. Where can I send them?”
She thought for a moment. “Would a post office box do?”
“Of course. Do you have one?”
“Not yet, but I’ll take care of that tomorrow and get back to you.”
“You’ve made a good start, so we should be able to settle this quickly,” he said. “You left the marital home nearly a month ago, and that will be considered part of the separation period.”
Only a month? Driving away from Brad’s house seemed a lifetime ago. She had a hard time even picturing it, as if she had never lived there. She hadn’t been allowed to put her stamp on it; even the plantings had been designed by a landscape architect to complement the elegant facade. She would have loved a vegetable garden, but those were frowned upon by the neighborhood association.
“I’ll call you tomorrow with the address,” she said.
She spent the rest of the afternoon baking a pie to take to Cameron’s Pride, using a recipe her mother had found in an old Yankee magazine. Even though Sunday was a few days off, the pie would keep.
She probably should have gone to rent a post office box and set up a bank account this afternoon, but baking soothed her nerves after her call to Mr. Foster. She hadn’t understood half of what he told her but came away with the impression that the divorce should go smoothly if Brad didn’t contest it. Until she blocked them, his emails had begged, then demanded she return. She had no idea what his current state of mind might be. Over the past few years he had become a stranger to her.
When Katie left work Friday afternoon, the wind was gusting down from the mountains, still one moment and whipping her hair around her face the next. The temperature still felt spring-like by the time she arranged for a post office box and set up a bank account, but a milky overcast blurred the sun. People on the street scanned the sky and then shook their heads.
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