Page 41 of Cowboy Don't Go

“No, Sarah,” was his curt answer.

“But—”

“I’m fine on my own.”

She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Do you remember that time when Liam was bull-riding and he got thrown so badly he broke two ribs and his clavicle? They told me he might have punctured a lung? Tom and the kids were driving cattle from the north pastures?”

Ray met her gaze. “Of course, I do.”

“You came and sat with me in that waiting room while they treated him? I was so scared,” she said, the recollection of that awful night seeping back to her. “I needed someone to tell me it would be all right. To hold my hand. Buy me some horrible hospital coffee from that vending machine. I needed not to be alone.”

“I remember,” he said, his voice soft at the memory.

“Well, it’s my turn to return the favor. I know you’re scared, Ray. You don’t have to do this alone. I am coming in with you. I’m going to listen what the doctor says in there, because it might be a lot and you won’t hear all of it. But I will. Besides, I owe you a horrible hospital coffee or three, and I always pay my debts.” She smiled at him, seeing that her words had broken through somehow.

“Still the same stubborn woman I knew,” he said softly.

“Oh, no. Much worse,” she admitted. “I’m incorrigibly hardheaded now. Or so my children claim. I generally get what I want.”

He sniffed and rubbed a hand down his handsome face as she pulled into the Marietta Hospital parking lot. “Well, then,” he said. “I hope you’ve got change for the vending machine. As I recall, it requires a good kick in the backside to cooperate.”

“I think we can dispense with violence,” she said, grinning. “Even vending machines don’t stay broken forever.”

*

By late afternoon, as Cooper and Ryan were taking turns working with their respective horses in the round pen, Cooper saw Sarah’s truck pulling down the long road to the Hard Eight. He was relieved to see his father sitting beside her in the passenger seat. Sarah had texted Shay, explaining that she’d taken Ray to the doctor in town and not to worry. That she’d bring him back as well.

Cooper couldn’t get past the feeling that there was more to this than simple courtesy. No one knew better than him that his father was in dire need of a reason to live. Maybe, just maybe Sarah could help in that department. It relieved him that despite his father’s history, no one on the ranch seemed to hold it against him. Not even Shay, at this point. Which was . . . confusing.

As confusing as what had happened between them in the mountains. That kiss had caught them both off guard, but the fact that she wanted to basically pretend it never happened had his mind spinning. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. But she’d participated fully. Maybe it was just curiosity on her part, as she said. But it sure didn’t feel that way.

Now, Cooper patted the neck of the bay gelding who had decided Cooper wasn’t the enemy. He’d had moved in for a cuddle after a long run on the lunge line in the round pen.

“And here he comes,” Cooper told Ryan as the bay settled his face against Cooper’s arm. “Thatta boy. See? His choice, not mine. He runs and runs because he’s not sure what else to do. He’s not really sure what I want from him. Or if I mean him harm. But if I just keep showing him that his running doesn’t concern me, that he can keep that up as long as he likes, then he starts to feel like maybe I’m not the threat he thought I was. Pretty soon, he decides that to join me is better than to run from me. Because apparently, I’m not going to fight him or hurt him in any way. Instead, I’m going to help him and calm him down. Give him some affection.”

“Do they all do that?” Ryan asked. “What if they’re really scared? Of everything?”

“Pretty much they will all eventually come around. Some take longer than others, but it depends on their level of trauma, I think. Or their personality. That’s where you come in as his partner. You’re there to keep him safe. Whatever they’ve been through before this, that’s trauma that sits with them. They remember it. For a lot of these horses that end up in kill pens, or the auction houses, that trauma didn’t happen just once or twice but after a lifetime of being misunderstood. Maybe they have medical issues. Hooves untended. Aches and pains that have been ignored. You’re lucky if they don’t.

“But all those things we’ll attend to,” he continued, “but first we need to earn their trust. The bond you’ll share with Kholá is special and lasting, but it’s up to you not to break it. Your horse will never break it. That’s on you. Horses are herd animals. They prefer to be bonded-up with other horses. Lacking that, people. The people who take care of them, feed and love them. There’s every bit as much love exchanged between a horse and its owner as there is with dogs or cats. They’ll walk through fire for you if they love you.”

“My friend at school doesn’t believe animals can feel emotions like that. He says animals go on instinct. Survival instinct.”

Cooper cupped the bay’s head with his arm and scratched the horse behind his ears. “You buy that?”

Ryan shook his head. “Anybody can see animals feel things. Like a mama cow who loses a calf. Or a mustang that’s separated from its herd. And anyone who thinks dogs don’t feel sadness when they’ve been dumped up in the mountains has never had one. That’s what I think.”

“Well, I’m with you on that. Hundred percent.”

“You think those puppies you and Mom found up on the mountain will make it?”

“They’ve got a shot now, at least. They were too young to be up there on their own. Lucky for them some predator up there didn’t eat them for lunch.”

Shay had taken them to the vet and had yet to return.

Ryan climbed up on the fence rail behind him and sat on the top one. “Hey, Coop?”

“Yeah?”

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