The Amish Christmas Cowboy

by Jo Ann Brown

Chapter Five

  The middle-aged man who arrived at the Summerhays house an hour later introduced himself as Howard Abbott when he walked into Toby’s room after the briefest knock. He looked as fit as any man working in the saddle at J.J.’s ranch but was dressed in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt. His sneakers were orange with bright yellow swirls and green soles. He carried a box that was big enough to fit Mia in and have room left. As he set it on the floor, Toby heard a clang, though the man had carried it as if it were empty.

  “I’m here to do the physical therapy ordered by your doctor,” Howard said with a practiced smile that hinted most of his clients weren’t pleased to see him.

  Toby was. The sooner he could get on his feet, the sooner he could finish training the three horses and find a way to meet J.J. and Ned. No doubt with a plain community nearby, there were Englischers who drove Amish to distant places. He’d hire one. He’d already spent too much time at Summerhays Stables.

  And with Sarah Kuhns.

  He should be grateful Mr. Summerhays was paying for his medical care and for Sarah making sure he was fed, but gratitude meant connections to others. Those obligations he had to avoid. He’d been miserable amid his parents’ drama, so he knew getting close to people might seem like a gut idea, but it led to misery. The years since he’d gone to work on J.J.’s ranch had been the calmest of his life. His time at the Summerhays house would be brief, and he didn’t want to have regrets tugging at his heart when he left.

  “So tell me what happened,” Howard said as he moved elegant fragile-looking chairs aside to open a space on the fancy gold, white and dark red rug. With a flick of his wrist, he spread a bright blue mat into place before setting a single chair on it.

  Toby gave him an abridged explanation. When the physical therapist nodded at various times, Toby guessed Howard had gone through his hospital records. Howard pulled a computer pad out of his big bag and made notes while he asked questions about the level of Toby’s pain, when he’d last taken pain medication and where his ankle hurt most.

  The door opened as Toby was pointing to the top of his right ankle.

  Sarah stepped in. “Howard, I’m sorry I’m late.” She pushed a vagrant red-gold strand beneath her kapp.

  Howard laughed. “Mia or Ethan?”

  “Mia this time.” Sarah chuckled, her whole face glowing as stress fell away. “She claims as long as she keeps one hand on the top rail, she’s still on the fence and not in the corral.”

  The physical therapist shook his head with another laugh. “I don’t know how you keep up with those kids.”

  “I don’t. That’s why I’m late. Have you begun?”

  Toby noticed how careful she was not to glance in his direction. He needed to apologize for what he’d said earlier. Or what he hadn’t said. Not that it mattered, because, despite his denials, he’d given her the impression he blamed her for his accident.

  He didn’t, and he had to persuade her of that. He didn’t want to leave unpaid obligations behind him, and he owed Sarah a huge debt for helping him.

  “We’re just getting started,” Howard said before putting the tablet back in his bag. “Let’s get to work. First thing, Toby, is to get you up, so swing your legs over the side of the bed.” He chuckled. “This will be easier if we don’t have ‘help’ from the kids.”

  “You know them?” Toby asked as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed. He wanted their attention on his question instead of him.

  “Too well.” Howard drew the chair closer to the bed and motioned toward it. “I worked with both boys and Natalie about a year and a half ago. Two broken wrists and a broken leg when they discovered they couldn’t fly. Mia was the only one who didn’t break something, though she got pretty badly bruised. I don’t think they’ll try again.” He glanced toward Sarah. “You weren’t here then, were you?”

  “No, that was three nannies before me.”

  “They tried to fly?” Toby asked, raising his arms as Howard put a wide elastic band around Toby’s back.

  With an ease Toby envied, the physical therapist used the strap as a way to balance them as he drew Toby up onto his left leg. The motion, though he didn’t do much to help, left him light-headed.

  “Breathe slowly,” Howard said. “You’ve been sitting a long time, so you’ve got to get used to standing again. The pain meds can make you dizzy, too.”

  “I didn’t take one this morning.”

  The physical therapist frowned as he lowered Toby back to the bed. “You need to take them as the doctor told you for at least three days. If the pain gets ahead of you, it’s harder to get it under control again. Don’t try to muscle through it. Sarah?”

  She stepped forward with the pain pills and a glass of water. Howard lowered Toby to the bed, then stepped aside to let her hand Toby the pills and the glass.

  He tried to catch her eyes, but she edged away. Swallowing the pills with a hearty gulp of water, he sighed when Howard stepped forward to take the glass. Sarah wasn’t going to make it easy for him to apologize.

  Again, Howard helped him stand. When Toby swayed, the physical therapist said, “Breathe in and out, deep and slow. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

  Toby listened to Howard’s calm voice and followed his instructions. The darkness nibbling at the corner of his vision eased and the room no longer threatened to telescope into nothing. Leaning on the other man’s shoulder, he hopped to the chair on the mat.

  The urge to thank God for Howard’s help surprised him. He hadn’t felt that impulse in years. Glancing at where Sarah was setting the glass on a table, he wondered if hearing her heartfelt prayers had gotten him thinking about how long it’d been since he’d reached out to God.

  No, that was another connection he didn’t want to make.

  Toby worked on the exercises Howard had given him as the physical therapist talked with Sarah. Toby didn’t expect the motions to be so simple or so painful. A roller he needed to move with his foot made his whole right leg ache as if he’d worked for hours. He concentrated on doing the task, barely listening to Howard answer Sarah’s questions about why he’d decided on that exercise and what its purpose was. They spoke with medical jargon he couldn’t understand. He was astonished Sarah—as a plain woman—was familiar with the words.

  He stopped paying attention to them after Howard asked him to pretend to write the letters of the alphabet with his toes. It was agonizing. His ankle spasmed, and he halted the motion as Howard had told him to do if the pain got worse.

  “Sarah, will you please hold his shoulders to keep him from looking at his foot?” asked the physical therapist. “I don’t want him to get out of alignment in an attempt to do this exercise.”

  She moved to stand behind the chair. When her fingers settled on his shoulders, he fought not to react. He didn’t want her to think he was flinching because he found her touch bothersome. The light brush of her fingertips sent something more powerful—and more pleasurable—than the pain from his ankle coursing through him.

  When Howard told Toby to begin again and start “drawing” the letters, the physical therapist was interrupted by a ringing cell phone. He glanced at it, then excused himself.

  Just the opportunity Toby had been waiting for. As soon as the other man stepped out of the room, Toby looked at Sarah. “I need to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “Now isn’t the time for anything but going through these exercises,” she said in a crisp tone that contrasted with the easy gut humor she’d shown Howard.

  “I can apologize at the same time.”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

  “No?”

  “Not to me.”

  He frowned with pain as the movement tugged at the abused muscles along his ankle. He was about to retort when Howard returned.

  “You’re all the way to Q, I see,” the
physical therapist said. “Well done, Toby, but you can stop. We don’t want to overstrain your ankle. Do the exercises again this afternoon.” He looked past Toby. “Sarah, will you be here to help?”

  “Ja.”

  Toby couldn’t tell what she was feeling because there was no overt emotion in the single word.

  “Good,” Howard said. “Any questions before we get you back in bed, Toby?”

  “How soon can I go outdoors?” The words burst from him before he had a chance to think.

  Before Howard had arrived, Toby had been staring out the window, wishing he was working with Bay Boy and the other two horses, Dominion and Lou. He wanted to be certain they were being properly exercised, because he didn’t want to have to start their specialized training from the beginning again. It would add weeks to the process.

  “Outdoors?” Howard seemed surprised by the question. He paused, rubbing his chin. “You sprained your ankle yesterday, right?”

  Toby nodded. He didn’t want to chance his voice revealing how much pain he was in.

  “You can go anywhere,” the physical therapist said, “as long as you have someone with you. Have you used crutches before?”

  Again, he nodded. “I broke a couple of toes a few years ago, and I had to be on them for about three weeks.”

  “You’ll be on them longer this time, but you’ll be done with them sooner if you do your exercises.”

  “Sarah will make sure I do them.” Toby wasn’t sure if he or Sarah was more shocked at his comment. Just because Howard had asked her to check on him didn’t mean she’d be responsible for his physical therapy every day.

  His shoulders stiffened, and she drew her hands away. As before, he couldn’t guess what she was thinking without turning around and looking.

  Howard chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve been volunteered, Sarah.”

  “Mr. Summerhays asked me to help him.”

  “Okay, so I’ll need to go over a few things with you. However, first...”

  Reversing the process of getting him out of bed, Howard steered Toby onto it.

  “I don’t want you on crutches for more than a few minutes at a time until you’re accustomed to them again,” the physical therapist ordered. “A single misstep could do more damage to your ankle. You’ve twisted it badly. An additional injury could cause permanent harm.”

  “I get that.”

  “Then I hope you also understand you’re going to have to baby your ankle except when you’re doing your exercises. It needs time to heal. If you don’t give it time, it’s going to make you sorry.” A smile eased his grim expression. “That’s not a threat, by the way. It’s a fact.”

  “I know.”

  He didn’t have time to say more before Howard gathered his equipment and, with Sarah, left the room.

  Toby’s fingers curled into fists of frustration on the bed. He had been in this bedroom for a single day and already it felt like a pretty prison as everyone could come and go...except him. He leaned his head against the pillows propped behind him and glared at the ceiling. Never had he imagined eight weeks could feel like an eternity.

  * * *

  “I appreciate your help and the attention you paid today,” Howard said while Sarah walked with him to the front door.

  “I appreciate you answering my questions.”

  “Glad to explain. Most people don’t care about the details as long as they know they’re going to get better. I want you to know I wasn’t asking you to help Toby with his physical therapy. Just to remind him in case his meds make him forget. The wheelchair Mr. Summerhays ordered is on the porch. You’ve had your hands full before, but now...”

  He didn’t finish.

  He didn’t have to.

  Sarah understood what he meant. She was responsible for Toby’s physical therapy in addition to taking care of four boisterous kinder. What would Mr. Summerhays have said if she’d told him she couldn’t take on another task? Mrs. Hancock, the housekeeper, hadn’t been pleased having to agree to take an hour away from her regular duties twice each day to keep track of the youngsters so Sarah could help Toby. If Mr. Summerhays had asked the housekeeper instead...

  He wouldn’t have done that. Her boss had interviewed Sarah extensively before she was hired. He’d quizzed her about health care and first aid. She’d assumed he’d been interested about the kinder’s safety, but he must have remembered her enthusiastic responses. That was the sole reason she could imagine for why he’d put her in charge of making sure Toby improved. As with everything her boss did, it was a simple solution...for him.

  “You’d make a good physical therapist because you’re gentle but steady with the patient.” Howard pulled a business card out of his case and held it out to her. “Here’s the admissions office information for the school I attended.”

  She shook her head. “Danki, but it isn’t our way to go to college.”

  “Where did you learn enough to ask those questions, then?”

  “Reading books.”

  He arched a graying brow. “I’m impressed, Sarah.”

  “Learning is simple when it’s a subject that interests me.” She smiled, wanting to put him at ease again. To halt herself before she blurted out her dream of becoming an EMT, she went on, “Don’t ask me about long division.”

  “No worries. I hated that myself, though I find that I’m using it more often than I’d guessed when it comes to computing various stresses for my patients.”

  She gave an emoted groan, and he chuckled.

  Telling her he’d be back tomorrow afternoon, he left. She didn’t even have a moment to savor the idea of taking classes to learn more about medical care.

  An angry shriek came from upstairs, and she took the steps two at a time. She couldn’t imagine what the kinder might be doing now, but she guessed she needed to put a halt to it right away.

  * * *

  Sarah knocked on Toby’s door as she balanced the tray Mrs. Beebe had made for his lunch. She took the muffled answer as an invitation to enter.

  Opening the door, she faltered as she was about to enter. Toby must have fallen asleep after his exertions, because his sun-streaked hair was tousled and his eyes were now barely open. Gone, for a moment, was the aloof man who seemed to care more about horses than people. Was that an honest expression of gratitude on his face, a hint at the real man he hid behind curt comments and cool stares?

  His face hardened. The gentler man, the one who wouldn’t be looking for someone to fault for what had happened to him, had vanished.

  “Hungry?” she asked in a cheerful tone that sounded fake to her. “Want something to eat?”

  “I’d rather have it as a picnic.”

  “What?”

  “Howard said I could go outside as long as someone went with me.”

  “True.”

  “Will you? I’d like to check the horses we delivered to make sure they’re doing okay.”

  She was astonished at how his expression altered again, and candid entreaty appeared on his guarded face. She shouldn’t have been surprised. A man who spent his whole day outdoors must be going stir-crazy stuck inside.

  “I’ll get the wheelchair.” When he grimaced and started to protest he could manage on crutches, she said, “No chair, no going outside.”

  He scowled. “I’m not one of your kids.”

  “No, they would have figured out the only way to get what they want is to cooperate.” She chuckled. “Or devised a way to distract me long enough for them to sneak outside.”

  “Is that what you think I should do? Distract you?”

  She looked away. Didn’t he know how much he beguiled her every time she was near him? The thought of putting her arm around his sturdy back again while she assisted him into the chair made her knees rubbery.

  “Eat, and I’ll get the chair.” She’d u
se any excuse to get out of the room before she couldn’t control her unsteady legs.

  By the time Sarah returned with the wheelchair, Toby had eaten half of the roast-beef sandwich and finished the potato salad. She was relieved when he asked her to hold the chair steady; then, grasping its arms, he swung himself into it. Was he aware of the sensations that rushed between them, too?

  The chair moved along the smooth floors as she wheeled him through the kitchen. Mrs. Beebe looked up from her work with a smile. On the other side of the vast room, two workmen were unpacking the new cabinets, which appeared to be a lot like the ones in place, only a few shades lighter.

  “Are they replacing the cabinets?” asked Toby.

  “Ja.”

  “They look pretty much the same.”

  “I know.” She’d taken the job at the Summerhays house, in part, to help her learn more about Englischers, but she was more confused than the day she’d started.

  A workman held the door open for them, and Sarah pushed the chair outdoors. Toby drew in a deep breath. She smiled, knowing he felt as if he’d escaped a closed box. Neither of her brothers liked being inside, either, preferring to work at their sawmill or in the fields or among the trees they planned to sell for Christmas.

  If he was surprised the house had a ramp, Toby didn’t say anything. Had he guessed the ramp had been built to allow renovation supplies to be moved more easily into the house? Or—and she suspected this was the truth—he was so eager to get out to where he could see the horses he didn’t notice anything else.

  The ground was rough, but Toby didn’t complain each time the wheelchair pitched or halted. When Mick, a stableman, rushed to help, Sarah let him push the chair. Toby peppered the man with question after question until Mick glanced at Sarah and shrugged.

  Knowing her patient wouldn’t rest until he got the answers he needed, Sarah had Mick push the chair close to the paddock fence. She went around to the gate and inside. With Mick’s help, she got a halter on the big horse and a lead rope hooked to him in less than ten minutes.

  “Howdy, Bay Boy,” called Toby.

  The horse’s ears pricked, and his head swung toward the fence. Sarah had to skip several times to keep up with him. Putting his head over the fence, he tried to reach Toby, a familiar voice and scent among the strange ones.