Once a Champion. Jeannie Watt
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about it, Liv tossed and turned that night, and when she finally did fall asleep, she dreamed about searching for Beckett. She found tracks and bits of mane and tail hair clinging to branches and fence wire, but no horse. She woke up with her heart pounding.
A dream.
Even so, she got out of bed and walked over to the window looking out over the pasture and felt a wave of relief when she saw Beckett grazing near the barn. Her horse was still there. Hers. She couldn’t imagine losing him, not after everything they’d gone through. He was the reason she’d been able to stay strong against Greg, stick up for herself, let her true feelings show even if they were at odds with the people around her. It had been so very hard in the beginning....
Liv slipped out of her pajamas, folded them and put them under her pillow before she pulled on jeans and a Montana State T-shirt. After that she straightened the covers and opened the curtains all the way.
If she hadn’t tried to buy the gelding, if Greg had succeeded in forbidding it, she might now be Mrs. Gregory Malcolm, bending over backward to do whatever her husband wanted her to do. Be who he wanted her to be. During their relationship she’d had moments when she showed some backbone and argued her position, but ultimately she’d always backed down, as she’d done for her entire life—as her mother had done for her entire life—and let him have his way. Because if you made waves, people might abandon you.
The thought made her shudder.
A clattering of cutlery greeted her as she walked into the kitchen. Tim was already there, dressed and standing straighter than he’d been the day before. He put a couple more knives into a drawer, then turned.
“Coffee’s on,” he said. “I’ll be in around noon if you don’t mind getting me some lunch then.”
“Where are you going?” Liv asked.
“To salvage what I can of the hay.”
“You’re feeling better,” she said flatly. He was standing taller, but his color was still off. “And you can spend a day on the tractor.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” Initiating confrontation still did not come easily to her—even after months of post-Greg affirmations and years of practice with her patients, who often did not want to do what they had to do in order to heal—but she was so much better at it than she’d been before.
His thick black eyebrows came together. Tim was not used to being challenged. He was used to living life alone, his own way.
Tough.
“I wouldn’t be going out if I wasn’t sure. I have work to do.” He grabbed his battered cowboy hat off the table and jammed it onto his head before stalking out the back door.
Liv let out a breath and then poured herself a cup of coffee, her movements automatic, mindless. Confrontation or concern? Which had her stomach in a knot?
She heard the tractor fire up as she took her first sip from the heavy ceramic mug. She had five days at home before she started seeing patients. Five days to keep a full-time eye on her father to make sure that he really was recovering and not just blowing smoke.
* * *
MATT CALLED WILLA at 6:00 a.m. to see if she’d made it safely to her new job and to find out if she was okay with him leaving Craig alone for the day while he went to his doctor’s appointment in Bozeman. The connection was awful, cutting in and out, and Willa had been on her way out the door—in fact she was late—but no, she didn’t have a problem with Crag spending the day alone. She’d hung up before Matt could ask about what day the kid would be leaving so he could make some plans.
The drive to Bozeman took almost two hours, which gave Matt a goodly amount of time to stew about the issues in his life while his knee stiffened up. His mom had called right after Willa had hung up, inviting him to a family dinner that Sunday. Matt had said yes, even though he hated formal family dinners, and mentioned that he might be bringing a guest. His mom had instantly gone on alert, assuming he meant a woman, and he’d had to tell her no. It was a kid. He was babysitting.
There’d been a strangely awkward silence after that and Matt had quickly filled her in, wondering what had made her go so quiet. Perhaps the fear that he’d fathered a kid, just as her husband had?
Except that Matt was pretty damned certain that his mom knew nothing about Ryan. It was a total fluke that he’d found out, and only because he hadn’t been where he was supposed to be on that fateful trip to Butte fifteen years ago.
Whatever the deal was, he and Craig would be having Sunday dinner on the ranch. Craig seemed okay with it, but then the kid seemed okay—no, he seemed beyond okay—with just about everything thrown his way. Dishes, housework, living with a cousin he barely knew—nothing seemed to bother him.
Matt wished he possessed that ability, but that wasn’t how he was wired. He had issues that needed resolving and he wanted them resolved now. His knee, his career, his horse. He had goals to meet, rodeos to win.
After dealing with the doctor, he was going to have to make another move in the horse game. He’d consulted with his lawyer and legally he didn’t have a leg to stand on, but morally Liv was in no better shape.
Maybe she hadn’t been aware of what Trena had been doing when she bought Beckett, but now that she did know...well, if their positions were reversed, Matt would like to think that he’d sell the horse back to Liv.
His knee was throbbing by the time he got out of the truck in Bozeman. He idly rubbed the sore area along the side, wondering if he was going to be in a brace permanently, or only for a while. A brace would slow him down, but it beat blowing his knee out altogether. The guy he was seeing was supposed to be good and was replacing Matt’s former doctor, who’d recently retired. Matt had fully expected the new doctor to warn him against using his knee too much, as the old doctor had, but he hadn’t expected him to be so utterly adamant about it.
“If you plan to continue roping, then plan on getting another doctor.” Dr. Fletcher pulled his pen out of his pocket after examining the knee and clicked it.
“That’s a bit rash, wouldn’t you say?” Matt shifted a little, making the paper covering the examination table rip beneath him. Damn but he hated doctor’s offices.
“I just did say it,” the doctor said after making a few notes and then closing the folder. “And I meant it. If you put this knee under undue stress and strain, you risk destroying the joint.”
“What about physical therapy?”
“I’m prescribing PT, but that doesn’t mean your knee is going to ever get good enough to throw a calf.”
It wasn’t the answer Matt wanted. More than that, it wasn’t an answer he was going to accept.
“Listen to me,” the doctor said with a quiet intensity that broke into Matt’s stubborn thoughts. “I know this isn’t easy to swallow, but facts are facts. Your knee won’t last if you continue roping. You’re too young for a knee replacement, but if I did end up replacing the joint because of stupid behavior, you still won’t be able to rope because the joint won’t stand up to lateral pressure.
“I’d like to see you again in two weeks,” he said as he handed him the chart to take back to the reception desk where he’d settle his account.
“Right,” Matt said. But he didn’t plan on coming back. There were other doctors. Knee specialists. Alternative medicine. Doctors with more open minds.
Matt settled his hat on his head as he left the office ten minutes later and several hundred dollars poorer. He’d seen some of his rodeo compadres come back from rugged injuries not only to compete, but also to win.
He had every intention of doing the same.
Matt ran a few errands, then started the long drive home, keeping his thoughts as positive as possible. He was going to rope again. He was going to finish out the rodeo season. He was going to get