Second Chance with My Bull Rider Read online

  “What does that mean?” I growled, quickly losing my patience

  “A concussion, several broken ribs, a broken tibia and fibula, and your ankle is crushed. The doc said that you tore all the ligaments in your ankle.” He ticked off on his fingers like he had repeated it several times.

  My heart pounded in my chest as the room went eerily quiet. I had been injured before. Earlier this summer, I sustained a concussion when in San Antonio, but that was child’s play compared to this. The pain radiated up my side with every breath I took causing my eyes to water.

  “Alright.” I gritted out. “How long?”

  “How long for what?”

  “How long until I can ride again?”

  He got up from the chair and moved to stare down at me. His eyebrows hooded his dark blue eyes. An unreadable expression crossed his face. He swiped a hand through his light brown hair. “Best case, six months.”

  Math was never my strong suit. Quickly, I counted the months, which was hard considering the concussion. That would put me into next year, and I would miss the Bull Riding Finals. There went the buckle I desperately wanted to win. There went all my hard work the last eleven years and the dream that I worked so hard to get.

  “That’s not acceptable.” I slurred some swear words as the pain medication caused the room to go fuzzy, and then black as I drifted off to a night of drug-induced sleep.

  An incessant beeping disturbed me from my sleep. The shuffle of feet and frenzied voices slipped through the crack in the door. The light from the main room crept into my room about two feet. It illuminated Kaleb’s form, slouched over in the armchair. I stared at the blank ceiling. Six months was a long time, and this year was going to be the year I won big as it was finally going my way, but my dreams for the championship were squashed worse than I was. The disappointment and heartache overwhelmed the physical pain in my body. I reached for the IV in my arm and with one pull I yanked it out. Blood gushed over the sheets. I grabbed the tissues and packed them into the crook of my elbow. Next, the monitors came off. A blaring noise erupted from the machines. I gingerly sat up and panted as I gathered myself.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Kaleb glowered down at me. We were both about the same size, but whereas I kept down to a lean weight, he bulked up from doing hard physical labor every day on the ranch. In the dark, he was a menacing figure to cross.

  “I am going home,” I crossed my arms.

  Muttering some curses, he said, “no you’re not. Not until the doctor releases you.” He shoved me back onto the bed and held me down until a nurse burst through the door. She assessed the situation before breaking into action and calling for back up.

  “I’m going home.” I glared at the nurses as blood dripped down my arm, hitting the floor. “I can sleep better there.” I took a chance and jutted out my chin like a child, but the night nurses were a mean group, and it didn’t faze them. A nurse grabbed each of my arms and held me in the bed. Their hands put pressure on my shoulders, pushing me deeper into the hard mattress. An older nurse came in and started to reattach the monitors. She applied a bandage to my bleeding arm.

  “Take these.” She thrust a small white cup with several pills into my good hand. “The doctor will talk to you in the morning. If you don’t take it, we will sedate you and put the IV back in.” Her black eyes drilled holes into me, daring me to refuse her. I was outnumbered and outmaneuvered, for now. With a sigh, I settled into the pillows and swallowed the medications, glaring at Kaleb. I didn’t want to be sedated. He stood back in the shadows with a smirk playing on his lips while the nurses reattached me to the monitors.

  The next morning, a tall woman in a white lab coat swept into the room, startling Kaleb who yanked his cowboy hat from his head. She glided across the floor and handed a clipboard with several sheets of paper to him, gracing him with a wide smile. “Good morning, Mr. Kisment.”

  “Good morning ma’am...I mean Doctor Finney,” Kaleb stuttered. He stared at the papers she had handed him.

  “Those are Kade’s discharges,” her eyes twinkled at him.

  He mumbled a thank you and looked at his cowboy boots. I tried to hold in my smirk. Kaleb always had women throwing themselves at him, and he never knew what to do with them. My mother said it was his heart of gold that attracted them. I snorted, breaking the moment for them.

  “I see you’re awake.” She moved over to me and started to examine the bandages, listen to my lungs, and examine my eyes. She asked about my pain level, had me counting, saying my birthday, and listing off my address. “Well, Kade, you are stable this morning and the bloodwork from yesterday came back normal. You are set to go home if you follow these instructions. I have you scheduled in two days with an orthopedic surgeon in San Antonio to repair your leg.” She handed me another clipboard to sign my name and I was free to go.

  If I had to pick one word to describe the ride back home, it would be miserable. Kaleb dumped me into the passenger seat of my old Ford pickup, which wasn’t a comfortable ride on a good day. The seat was worn out and covered with a horse blanket. Half of the seat was taken up by Zip, my blue heeler, who was a little older than the truck. The shocks and struts were lacking, and it rattled as it went down the road. Every jar sent a tremor of pain across my chest and down my leg where it was propped up on the dashboard into a stretch no man should be comfortable making. My head pounded with every bump in the road.

  “You’re green, man.” Kaleb glanced over at me before fiddling with the knob on the radio. “You’re sure you’re up to the four-hour drive back home?”

  “Anything to get out of the hospital.” A shudder ran through me as we merged onto the freeway. The cold window eased some of the headache and nausea.

  “Hospitals ain’t all bad.” His words were barely more than a whisper.

  “I know, but every time I am in one, it reminds me of that day.”

  Kaleb nodded and stared straight ahead. I fought back the thoughts that were trying to break free: memories that had been suppressed for eleven years, memories that were too painful to visit, and memories that had changed my life. That day, eleven years ago. I got a call from my fiancé’s mother to go to the hospital. My beautiful Delilah was there looking so small and frail and in so much pain. And I just walked out because I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stand her misery. Our to-be-born baby died, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Bile rose in the back of my mouth as I thought about the coward I had been and the mistake I made by not being there for her. Instead, I ran. I tortured myself with life on the road, chasing buckles.

  “With all the money you win, you could own a better truck.” He chuckled like it was the best joke he had ever made. His fist pounded the steering wheel.

  “I like this truck,” I muttered against the glass. My first kiss was in this truck. We had gone out to a far pasture my senior year in high school. She was a year younger than me and only a junior. She looked so pretty in the moonlight and I was so nervous. I wrapped my hands around her and brought her close before touching my lips to hers. They were soft and tasted of strawberries that she had brought to share.

  “I know, I know. It’s the first truck you bought.” Kaleb added air quotes around the words, taking his hands from the wheel as the truck listed to the right.

  “I say that a lot?” I lifted an eyebrow at him as the dull ache in my head moved around to the front of my head.

  “Sure, do.” He hummed along with the radio. “I think it has something to do with someone we don’t talk about.” His tuneless humming and Zip’s snores filled the cab. I popped a couple more painkillers and closed my eyes. I prayed for a quick trip home with no more talking or memories of the only girl I ever loved.

  I was jarred awake as Kaleb navigated my truck down the gravel road to the Kisment family ranch, the large sign with the Rocking K swinging next to the turnoff, an arrow pointing up the road. The way was full of potholes and shoulders that dropped off. He weaved his way through them trying to
avoid the worst ones as a cloud of red dust flew behind us. I squinted out the windshield into the late afternoon sun. The grass turned a dead brown color with the only green on the landscape being clusters of cacti growing larger than a horse. The thin oak trees twisted their branches out to the side, while red cows huddled beneath the branches, looking for a respite from the sun. The calves chased each other around, ignoring the heat.

  “Have you gotten any rain?” I asked.

  “Nope, even the tanks are starting to dry up.” He dodged a large hole before straightening the wheel. “Luckily, we had a good spring to make hay, before everything burnt up.” He weaved to the left. “The well is full, so I’ve been pumping water for the cattle.”

  The cattle appeared content, chewing their cuds or sleeping in the shade as they lazily swiped at the flies buzzing around them. In the next field, several horses galloped up to the fence when the truck came into view. The chestnuts, bays, blacks, and my spotted Appaloosa, Apache, loped alongside the truck as we drove up to the gate, where Kaleb stopped with my side inches away from the metal pipe. I rolled my window down and leaned my elbows over the edge. Apache pushed the rest of the herd away as he stuck his head through the window.

  “Don’t have any treats this time, old boy.” I rubbed his forehead. His soft muzzle nuzzled my shoulder. “It might be a while before I can ride you.” When no food was produced, he ran back to the herd, and they galloped back out of sight. “He’s fat,” I said to Kaleb.

  “No one rides him.” The response had a bite to it. I turned to him in surprise, but he ignored me, continuing the way to the house.

  The Kisment ranch sat at the end of the road. The truck rumbled over the cattle guard into the circular drive before the house where Kaleb parked in Ma’s spot next to the door. Everything looked the same as it did when I left eleven years ago, never to come back until today. The house was a sprawling tan adobe with a rust-colored roof. The archways had hanging baskets of red geraniums. On the plank wrap-around porch, a couple of wicker chairs and a swing sat. Next to my truck, Kaleb’s truck was parked under the overhang. Except, the yard was quiet.

  “Where’s all of Ma’s chickens?” I opened the door to peer out around the yard.

  “She gave them all away before they left.” He got out and walked to my side, reaching for the wheelchair in the bed. I growled at him before reaching for my crutches from behind the seat.

  “I am not using a wheelchair.” I placed the crutch feet on the ground and contemplated how to best get out of the truck. “Where did they go?” I glanced up at Kaleb’s frowning face.

  “They’re on a mission trip to Africa, where they’ve been for over a year... Do you want help?”

  “No, I got this.” I braced the pads in my armpits and swung from the seat to the ground. A swift, piercing pain split my side as I tried to keep in a scream. The blackness played with the edges of my vision. It closed around me. Kaleb’s hands reached for me, settling me into the wheelchair. The blackness receded. I took in the smug look on his face when I glared up at him.

  “I said I got it,” I said, seething on the inside with pain and frustration.

  “Sure, you did.” He pushed my wheelchair up a makeshift ramp into the house to my bedroom. My prison for the foreseeable future.

  Chapter 3 August 9th

  Delilah

  I hurried into the barn at Happy Hearts Therapeutic Riding Stable, glancing at my watch. Forty-five minutes remained until the students showed up for their last ride of the session. Leah was in the arena setting up the obstacle course for them to complete to graduate from this session. The horse’s heads hung over their stall doors as I jogged down the barn aisle to the last stall. Penny’s little soft nose was barely visible over the stall door. She nickered at my approach.

  “Hey, girlie.” I slipped the halter over her little ears. “I’m going to make you beautiful today.” Clipping the lead rope onto her halter, I led her into the wash stall to bathe her.

  I was combing out her tail when boot heels clicked down the aisle to the wash stall.

  “Hi Delilah, it’s good to see you here early this morning,” Leah said. She leaned against the wall, crossing her long legs and arms.

  “Yep, I wanted to get her clean for Tabitha today.” I rinsed off the last of the soap from the pony.

  Leah’s lips tugged up into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “They’d love that.” She grabbed a comb and started to untangle Penny’s unruly mane. “Did you think about taking over the riding stables?”

  I nodded. Nothing else had been on my mind all week. I was on vacation and spending all my free time in the library, thinking about the children, the horses, and the riding stable. Some soul searching with my best friend, Melanie Baker, convinced me that taking over the therapeutic riding stable was where my life was headed.

  “Good. The property owners will be here, after the show today. You should meet them.” Leah set the comb down and went to visit with another volunteer.

  “Did you hear that, Penny?” I whispered in the pony’s little ear as it twitched towards me. “Maybe this will be easier than I thought.”

  The crunch of tires and slamming of doors broke the relative peace of the morning, announcing the arrival of the children.

  “Delilah! I brought apple slices for Penny!” A giant smile covered Tabitha’s face. Sarah pushed the wheelchair to a stop in front of the stall door. Penny blew out a soft nicker, straining at her lead rope trying to reach her partner in crime.

  “She’s going to love those.” I crouched in front of the chair. “I have a surprise for you too.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a tube.

  “What is it?” She asked in an awed tone.

  “It’s glitter paint for horses. I thought we could draw some designs on her for fun.”

  Her eyes lit up as we painted handprints, flowers, and small suns on her side. Then, Tabitha wheeled up and down the barn aisle sharing the paint with her friends. My heart felt full as giggles and smiles filled the barn from the children that barely laughed at all.

  “That was very nice,” Sarah said, taking pictures of all sides of the pony. “It hasn’t sunk in that this might be her last ride.”

  “Yeah,” I slipped the bridle over her ears. I didn’t know if I should tell her or not, but Sarah and I had gotten to be friends in the last six months. “I’m hopefully going to be taking it over...But don’t say anything to the kids until I know for sure.”

  Her eyes lit up as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “I hope it works out, and I think you’ll do great.”

  Leah clapped her hands. “Y’all, it’s time for the horse show!” A cheer went up as we trooped to the arena.

  An hour and a half later, the show wrapped up with Tabitha as the last rider. She dropped an apple into a bucket of water with a flourish. Penny stood stock still with her ears pricked forward as water splashed upon her. Cheers went up from the rest of the students, waiting on the sidelines. Tabitha fist-pumped the air. A large smile broke across her face as Sarah snapped pictures with wild abandon.

  “I did it!” She shouted before reaching down to pet the pony’s neck. The volunteers on each side of her gave her a high five. I was so proud of the little girl, almost as if she were my own. When she first arrived at Happy Hearts, Tabitha was sulky, miserable; she didn’t interact with anyone and slouched in her wheelchair. Sarah was at her wit’s end trying to brighten her little girl’s life. Now, she babbled like a high running creek and was bursting with energy. Her transformation was what kept bringing me back to volunteer. In the emergency room, the tensions were high, and things were stressful. But here in the barn, people were excited to be a part of other people’s lives. I sighed with contentment while I stroked Penny’s shiny neck under her mane.

  “You sure did, sweetie,” Leah said. She placed a string of beads around Tabitha’s neck, looping it twice, the green beads clashing with Tabitha’s purple shirt. “Excellent job...Hey kids, time for cake and
ice cream! Volunteers will untack the ponies and bring them back in for their treats.”

  We helped the children dismount and settle back into their wheelchairs, braces, or with their parents. Then, we walked the horses and ponies back to their stalls. The program was smaller than a lot of other therapeutic riding programs. There were only ten horses that the children could ride. Penny, being a Welsh pony, was the smallest. The black Percheron cross, Billy, was the largest. He carried the heavier riders. More gray hairs sprinkled throughout his black coat every year, giving him a distinguished look. Once each horse was in their stalls, we briskly removed the saddles and bridles, gave them a quick brushing, and led them back into the arena.

  Leah brought each of us a piece of cake and ice cream while we held our charges. Then, the children came around and gave each one a piece of apple or a carrot. At the end of the party, an older couple walked through the door as Tabitha was giving Penny one last hug. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she hiccupped into Penny’s mane. Penny wrapped her short, chubby neck around the little girl’s frail shoulders to rest her chin on the girl’s back. A fracture worked its way through my heart, causing my eyes to mist as I watched the pair. Sarah sniffled behind me. Her camera clicked as she shot a couple of last pictures of the two of them. Finally, Tabitha untangled her arms from Penny’s neck and wiped at her tears.

  “Are you ready to go, sweetie?” Sarah asked, leaning down to Tabitha’s level. Tabitha nodded and turned to me.

  “Are you going to take care of her?” Her little girl's voice squeaked.

  “Yes, I will,” I promised. I didn’t know the logistics yet of how I would do that, but I would. She stuck up her little pinkie and I wrapped mine around hers. “Pinkie swear,” I whispered to her before Sarah pushed her out to the parking lot.

  “Delilah, there is someone I want to introduce you to,” Leah said. She led the older couple over to me. The woman picked her feet up high and carefully set them down, trying not to get dust or horse manure on her Italian flats. Her bejeweled fingers spread out to the side to help her balance and her husband held her other hand. His suit was crisp and clean. Obviously, they didn’t spend time in the stables.