it tonight; now he was glad the two of them weren’t together to gang up on him.
“You were only special because you survived. It was never a matter of if you’d get hurt, it was when you’d get hurt. I almost lost my best friend that day, but more important, Gunner almost lost his father. I get so angry when I hear you say you need to compete again in order to support him. You’re using our son as an excuse. There are other ways to earn a living, so don’t you dare tell me it’s all for Gunner. I know better and so do you.”
“You have no idea. Before they discharged me, I had to meet with the billing department. My insurance doesn’t cover everything and if I don’t pay, believe me they will come after me for their money. Every cent I have to pay them takes away from Gunner. Working minimum wage won’t pay the bills, Alice. At least Dance of Hope didn’t cost me anything.” Brady had already promised to one day give back to the nonprofit dedicated to providing therapy to people regardless of their ability to pay.
“We both know this isn’t just about money.” Alice rested her hand on his. “You need to forgive yourself. Your mom wouldn’t want you to carry around all this guilt.”
He pulled away from her. His mother had died in her sleep while Brady and his father were away on a rodeo trip. He didn’t want to think about that day, but the memory of finding her remained fresh in his mind every time he competed. Alice was right. It was about much more than the money. He rode for his mother. He rode for his father. And now, he rode for his son.
He wheeled over to the table. “Hey, champ, it’s almost your bedtime. You and your mommy need to head home.”
“I want to stay with you,” Gunner pleaded.
Brady bit back the sob that threatened to break free. He wanted nothing more than to spend the night with his son. He missed their time together more than anything. “Daddy doesn’t live here. I’m just visiting. Once I get home, you can stay with me anytime you want.”
“Promise?” Gunner looked up at him with his big brown eyes.
He hated telling his son no. “I promise, little man. Things will be back to normal soon.”
Brady had never broken a promise to his son, and he wouldn’t start now.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Brady awoke feeling more rested than he had in months—the ranch was dead silent at night in comparison to the constant bustle of the hospital. He’d almost been afraid to open his eyes out of fear his release had been a dream.
Over a hearty country breakfast, he reviewed the schedule Kay Langtry had given him the day before. Eager to begin his therapy, he hurriedly ate and wheeled to the main indoor hippotherapy arena.
A woman no more than an inch or two over five feet tall greeted him.
“Good morning, Brady. I’m Abby, your physical therapist.”
“Are you sure you can support my weight?” Brady asked.
“Don’t let my size fool you, and you’re going to be supporting yourself the majority of the time. I know you’re raring to get on a horse, but there are a few things we need to go over first.” Abby marched to an oversize cabinet along the wall and opened it. “Rule number one—when you’re in an arena, either indoors or out, a helmet must be worn at all times. No exceptions. No helmet, no hippotherapy.”
Brady hated helmets. It had been a heavily debated issue throughout the industry for years and he’d always been against it. That didn’t stop him from making Gunner wear one whenever he entered the ring. But considering he didn’t want to end up back in the hospital, a helmet sounded like a good idea. “Agreed.”
“Number two, it’s my understanding your wheelchair usage has been limited to the smooth flat surfaces inside the hospital. Dance of Hope is situated on the Bridle Dance Ranch, which is a 250,000 acre paint and cutting horse ranch. You have access to many of the trails and I assure you, they’re not smooth or flat.”
“We’re free to roam around?” Brady itched to do some exploring, especially with Gunner. They had always spent their father and son time together at rodeo events, fishing or trail riding. He’d missed that during his hospital stay.
Abby nodded. “Our goal is to get you as active as possible. The trails closest to the hippotherapy center are marked. We have all-terrain wheelchairs available, but they’re not motorized. If you push yourself out on a trail, be sure you can get yourself back. Each chair is equipped with a GPS locator in case of an emergency. And don’t worry, if you do get tired out there, we won’t leave you stranded.”
For a tiny thing, Abby had a strong presence. The complete opposite of the nurses in the hospital. They had tried to blend into their surroundings while Abby let you know who was in charge. “Can I trail ride?”
“Not alone. I promise you’ll get plenty of saddle time to the point where you’ll look forward to taking a break.”
“I’ve spent my life on horseback. I don’t think I could ever tire of it.” Brady feared the facility severely underestimated his riding abilities.
“With all due respect, your body hasn’t been through this level of trauma before, so don’t be surprised if things don’t feel the way they used to. Your injuries will limit what you can do at first. It’s also my understanding you had a punctured lung and underwent six weeks of respiratory therapy.”
Why did it always sound worse when somebody else said it? Not that he downplayed any of what had happened. It was the most painful experience of his life, but it was behind him. And that’s where he wanted to leave it. She was beginning to remind him of Dr. Lindstrom.
“It’s something your physician asked us to watch for,” Abby added.
Of course she did. “What happens if I do need further respiratory therapy? Will you send me back to the hospital?”
“Not if we don’t have to. We have other patients here that require it and we’re capable of providing you with whatever you need.” Brady wondered how long it would take to fully process that his hospital days were over. “In order to get on and off these horses, you’ll need to learn how to maneuver up and down ramps,” Abby continued. “I don’t want to push your chair any more than I have to, just as I’m sure you don’t want me pushing you. We’ll focus some of our time today on teaching you how to get around, which you’ll need regardless of how long you will or won’t be in that chair.”
Brady had woken up energized and now he felt exhausted before he’d even started. He exhaled slowly. “Where do we begin?”
Abby snickered. “If you’re worried, then I’ve done my job. I want you to be hopeful, but not overzealous. I’ve heard stories about you, Superman.” She handed him a helmet. “Try this on for size. Your therapy will be in multiple stages and we won’t force you beyond what you’re capable of handling. Where would you like your first lesson? Indoors or out?”
Brady turned his chair toward the door. “Out. I’ve been cooped up in a sterile hospital for over two months. I’m ready to get a little dusty and sweaty.”
“Come on, cowboy.”
After an hour of wheelchair exercises, Brady’s arms felt like rubber and his head was on fire thanks to his helmet. But it felt good. It
