Page 3 of Trusting a Cowgirl

Granted, she hadn’t met all of them, and there were new ones arriving every day. There was also that guy she’d nearly trampled who had seemed a little rough around the edges. He seemed to be holding onto something and refusing to share it with anyone.

It wasn’t any wonder that he needed additional help.

She pushed open the door to the country club and glanced toward the group of veterans sitting in a circle with Kevin. He met her gaze and smiled briefly but immediately turned his attention to the group.

A quick trip down the hall toward Shane’s office and she’d be able to head out for her daily ride. Her knuckles made a staccato sound against the wood door when she knocked. Shane glanced up and smiled warmly.

“Great! Just in time. Your client finally participated in group last week—the bare minimum—but at least he opened up.”

Her eyes widened and she moved into the room. Heart beating a little faster, she took a seat and sat on the edge of the chair. “Really? So what does that mean now? Do I take him out riding and have him tell me how he feels? Has he got any training? Or do I need to start with the basics?”

Shane chuckled. “First, let’s take a breath. Mr. Scott is a little skittish when it comes to therapy. You’ll recall, he didn’t want to come in the first place. When you begin your sessions, don’t push too hard. I don’t expect he will want to open up at all. Remember, this is an introduction to traditional therapy. A lot of the vets who end up here have refused help for a long time. It’s not until they connect with an animal that they realize they need it after all.”

She nodded. “Of course. Nice and slow. Like a timid bunny.”

He grimaced. “I would suggest you don’t use that term. It might come off—poorly. These men served our country overseas and in terrible conditions. They saw things we can’t even fathom. Patience and kindness. That’s all you need to provide for now.”

Grace flushed, staring at the lines in her hands. She understood animals. That was easy. Men were a different species altogether. Her father had really done her a disservice when he’d kept her from dating during her teenage years. Now she was like a fish out of water—not that she was trying to date anyone—she just had a hard time talking to them without sounding like a bumbling idiot. She lifted her gaze, willing her blush to fade, but it wouldn’t behave. “Are you sure I’m ready?”

Shane shifted in his seat, leaning back and gazing at her with a thoughtful expression. “You’re kind-hearted. You know how to listen. And best of all, you’re the most non-threatening person I know. I think you’re going to do just fine. These therapy sessions are mostly to let the men work through their own problems. Just—listen.”

“I think I can do that.”

“You’ll have ninety-minute sessions daily. Mr. Scott is required to work with us for four months. If you can’t make a session, please notify me so I can get a substitute.”

“Of course.”

He smiled reassuringly. “Your first session will start in about a half-hour.” Shane reached for a file and flipped it open. “Looks like he’s been assigned to work with Dolly. You can show him the ropes—how to put the saddle and bridle on. If you have time afterward, go on a short trail ride.” He closed the file, then set a pair of serious eyes on her. “If at any time you don’t feel safe, you notify me right away. We’ll get you a replacement.”

That last statement caused a fresh wave of nerves to assault her. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. She had it in her mind that she would be able to prove herself. She could do this. It didn’t matter that she was on the smaller size. She had a big heart, and she could handle herself.

Grace rose from her chair and offered Shane her hand. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

He stood as well, shaking her hand firmly. “You’ll do great.”

* * *

Most of theveterans around here were older. Each of them was probably closer to her father’s age than her own. It wasn’t that she was worried about working with someone who was older. She got along well with her father and his friends.

The thing that made her nervous was having to work with someone who suffered from experiences they’d had while serving her country. She still didn’t know how she would be able to look him in the eye and tell him that he was going to be okay.

How could she say something like that?

Shane’s words were the only thing that gave her comfort. Just listen. That’s all she needed to do. Don’t focus on their trauma; focus on the symptoms of the PTSD.

Grace squared her shoulders and lengthened her stride as she headed toward the barn. Warmth swallowed her whole the second she entered the building. She rubbed her cold nose and focused on the stall where her client was supposed to be waiting for her.

No one was there.

Her brows creased and she slowed, hesitating. Had Shane told her wrong? Buster and Dolly were each in their stalls. She continued down the aisle but didn’t see any signs of someone waiting for her. Shane had to be mistaken.

Grace spun around and collided hard with someone who was much taller than her. The hat on her head tumbled to the ground and a gasp tore from her throat. Her hand flew to her chest as she looked up and met the eyes of the man before her. His familiar blue eyes pierced right through her.

She shivered.

“Callahan?” he muttered gruffly.

Grace nodded. “Mr. Riley Scott?” She peeked around him. Where had he come from? No one was in here a second ago. She swallowed hard and met his gaze again, a timid smile filling her face. “I guess I know why you didn’t have a sponsor with you last week.”

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