“I can’t,” she whispered, the two-word admission carried away by the howling winds outside.
“I’ll make arrangements to have the horse cleared for travel in roughly two weeks, provided you agree to follow my instructions for his recovery and therapy.”
Shoving her hands into her pockets, she forced her spiraling thoughts to step aside, giving her whole attention to the doctor. “Two weeks?”
“At the outside, yes.” The vet glanced at Gizmo’s front foot. “Swim therapy would really help him strengthen that joint and encourage faster strengthening of the muscles and tendons that support his front end.” Dr. Harris pulled his toque off and scrubbed one hand through his short hair. The effect left him looking like he’d uncovered an irritated hedgehog.
Kenzie grinned. “I’ll have a pool installed.”
“Of course you will,” the vet said with an answering smile. “And stop laughing at my hair.”
“Can’t,” she admitted, her grin widening. “You’ve been hiding a hedgehog under your hat the entire time. It’s as if suddenly you’re not the man I thought you were.”
He gave her a mock dirty look. “My wife says the same thing.”
Kenzie couldn’t control her laughter. “Smart woman,” she said between peals.
“Get out of my barn, kid,” the older man groused good-naturedly. “I’ve got to get this guy ready to go.”
She sobered enough to add, “I’ll make sure your aftercare plan is followed to a T.”
He nodded. “Go ahead and book his flight for the first of February. I’ll have him ready by then. You ready to take this on?”
Her thoughts scattered like dandelion fuzz in the face of a hopeful child’s breath. She could get the horse home, arrange tohave his therapy taken care of and see Gizmo emerge as strong as he would ever be. But the horse wasn’t the only factor. The Covingtons would expect answers. Her dad would expect results from a partnership that didn’t exist.
And Ty? She shouldn’t have anything to worry about. She’d done what she had to do in order to ensure his wishes were carried out. Facing him would be hard, admitting she’d lied to save Gizmo even harder. But she’d do it without apologizing.
She shifted her gaze to the horse, reaching out to straighten his forelock. “I guess there isn’t any other option, is there?”
And that was the hell of it.
There wasn’t.
6
SOMEONEHADARRANGEDthe furniture to create what Ty called his “parking space” in front of the big picture window in the main house’s living room. He sat there far too often, looking out over the little bit of ranch the view afforded. To the east, he watched as one of the hired hands crested the hill on horseback, bringing in the newest group of guests from their first trail ride. The horses all looked good. Ty would have to thank Cade for making that a priority despite all his other responsibilities. Not that his brother wouldn’t have done it on his own, but Ty knew the horses were being paraded for his approval. Probably to make him feel like he was part of things. But he wasn’t. Not anymore. The cowboy never would have brought them so close to the house otherwise.
A sigh escaped him, sounding far too close to self-pity for his comfort. Provided he was careful, didn’t reinjure his neck and did all his physical therapy, his disabilities were temporary. Knowing that wasn’t enough to curb his frustrations, though. Or his fears. Never in a million years had he thought his life would end up like this. He’d been arrogant. Vain. Assumed himself invincible. Now he rode an electric wheelchair instead of his horse.
Gizmo.
The stud horse would be home today, arriving three days after Ty had. He was anxious, scared to see the horse who was more than just “an animal” to him, afraid Gizmo had suffered more than Ty had imagined. And imagine he had. He’d thoughtof Gizmo a thousand times every day. He’d created the worst-case scenarios over and over as he tried to spur his memory to recall the details of the fall. Sure, his family had discussed the accident with him, but he’d chosen not to watch the replay on the DVR. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind, least of all his own, that he’d take it hard. Still, if things had been as horrible as he imagined, the horse wouldn’t have come through with the positive reports from the vet. Andonlythe vet.
Not once had Kenzie called him. Not once had she reached out to let him know how Gizmo was recovering or talk about this mysterious agreement that had been forged between them. Pride kept him from admitting to his family that he had no recollection of the agreement. He hadn’t wanted Gizmo’s care interrupted. Selfish? Yes. That didn’t change the truth behind his choice, though.
He wasn’t stupid. There was no way he, or the ranch, could have afforded to cover the costs of the Galbreath center. So he’d kept quiet, fighting to remember what he’d agreed to. The one thing he knew? Whatever agreement they’d struck had been after the accident, because he recalled with great clarity everything that had happened before he’d gone into the arena. Ty resented her for preying on his weakness and her choice not to communicate with him. Sure, she’d been emailing Reagan as the veterinarian who’d take over Gizmo’s rehab when he came home. Reagan had relayed the messages.
But Kenzie hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t reached out tohimat all. She had to know how bad he wanted the information. She understood what this horse meant to him, probably better than anyone. She understood what losing Gizmo would do to his breeding program, tohim. Why? Because she understood him. Or so he’d thought. Seemed he’d misjudged her character. Badly.
A dust cloud rose from the road that led into the ranch from the south. A horse hauler rounded the slight bend in thedrive. The sun gleamed off its bright white-and-chrome exterior. Ty squinted. Behind the hauler came a fancy truck-and-trailer combo he didn’t recognize.
“Someone’s here,” he called through the house, doing his best to ignore the faint bitterness in his words. Before, he’d have slapped his hat on and headed out to meet the truck. Now? He’d been reduced to reporting the goings-on. Nothing more.
Heavy footsteps were followed by lighter, decidedly feminine ones. “Who is it?” his sister-in-law Reagan asked as she peered over his shoulder.
“Fancy setup,” his eldest brother and Reagan’s husband, Eli, commented. “Has to be Gizmo. I can’t imagine him arriving in anything less with a Malone arranging his travel.”
Reagan laid a hand on Ty’s shoulder and glanced back at Eli. “Says the man who lived alone in a six-thousand-square-foot house.”