Page 1 of Trusting a Cowgirl

1

Riley

Ishouldn’t even be here. Therapy is for idiots who don’t know what they are getting into. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with my own problems. I don’t need some woman to pat me on the head and tell me she’s proud of how brave I am.

Riley scowled. His arms were folded tight across his chest as he sat in a large room with half a dozen other veterans. From what he understood about this place, everyone was required to participate in group therapy on top of one-on-one therapy. Most of them were a good fifteen to twenty years older than he was. In fact, he was the youngest guy there.

Well, what did people expect when a dead-beat father kicked his son to the curb a few months before he turned eighteen? The army had interested Riley more than anything else had, like it was his calling; he wanted to protect people and defend his country. His father just couldn’t accept that his son wanted to make something of himself. After that, the army was the only place that would offer him both a place to stay and a job until he could strike out on his own.

They didn’t make men like him anymore. These days men were jobless, helpless, and poor excuses for human beings. They knew nothing of real-world trauma, and they probably never would.

Those were the people who should be getting therapy. Not him.

The doors opened and a few people walked in. The first was an older gentleman. He was probably in his late fifties. He was followed closely by a young woman who quite possibly was under twenty. The final person was one he’d seen around here—a man who looked to be about his age.

The young woman had blonde hair that fell down her back in waves. She wore a cowboy hat and boots, which wasn’t unusual around here. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, but there was something about her that tugged at him, whispered that she was something unique.

“Mr. Scott, would you like to share anything today?”

Riley jumped and then scowled at the man who led the group meeting. From what he could tell, the man didn’t have any legitimate credentials. He was trained just like any of the other people working here. That meant he only knew how to listen. Riley hadn’t even bothered to learn the man’s name. What was the point? He was just another face in a sea of people who would never understand.

Already, he’d had the obligatory evals with his therapist. He’d done enough talking to last several lifetimes. He knew his diagnoses. There was absolutely nothing this guy could do or say to make any of it better.

“Mr. Scott, part of your agreement in coming here is to participate in group sessions.”

Riley rubbed the spot between his eye and his nose, then hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t have anything to say today.”

The air around them practically buzzed with expectation. He’d been the only one who refused to speak at these things, and it was getting to the point where he started feeling like an outcast.

It was just as well. He wasn’t here to make friends. He’d do his time and head home.

“Well, that about does it for today.” The host rose from his chair. “Thank you all for attending. We’ll have another meeting in two days. Those of you who are new here, please check in with Shane at his office to receive your therapy schedule.”

Metal folding chairs groaned and screeched against the floor. Riley winced, waiting until everyone had gotten out of their seats before standing. When he did, the meeting leader was right in front of him.

Riley let out a sigh. “Is there something you need?”

“You know the rules, Mr. Scott. You can’t have your first equine session without first participating in group.”

Riley folded his arms, his jaw tightening. “The judge only said I had to attend this group for sixteen weeks. The way I see it, I’ve already been here for two. I’m doing just fine.”

The man shook his head. “Unfortunately, that’s incorrect. The judge mandated that you have sixteen weeks ofequinetherapy. Technically, that hasn’t started yet.”

“That’s a load of bull—” He snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips tight enough that he lost feeling in them. He lowered his voice and tried again. “Nowhere in my paperwork does it designate what kind of therapy. It just says I have to come to this location to get it.”

If the man wasn’t so irritating to begin with, Riley might have felt sorry for him. The group leader shifted and flipped through some paperwork he had on a clipboard until he found what he was looking for. Spinning the board around, he jabbed his finger at a line in the document a few paragraphs above the judge’s signature.

Right there in black and white it stated, “Riley Scott has refused traditional therapy and will be required to participate in mandated equine therapy for a minimum of sixteen weeks.”

How had he missed that?

The glorified therapist dropped the clipboard to his side and offered a tight smile. “Perhaps you will share something on Thursday. I would really like to get to know you better.”

And I’d really rather shovel horse manure.

The man was far too cheery for his taste. He patted Riley on the shoulder. It was only one tap, but it sent jolts of fire down his arm and he flinched.

“One more thing.” The man, who had a nametag that readKevin, dropped his gaze down to Riley’s side. “You know the rules. No weapons at group. You’re welcome to conceal carry around the ranch and town as discussed, just not here.” He flashed Riley a smile and strode away.

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