A Cowboy's Pride. Pamela Britton

together in a way none of them could have imagined. In fact, the similarities between what had happened to them and what had happened to their new guest, Trent, gave Alana chills.

      Could they fix him like they’d fixed Rana?

      Something hissed. Alana jerked back only to realize the bus had pulled to a stop in front of the old farmhouse that had been in Trent’s family for decades—a massive three-story straight-up-and-down affair with old-fashioned sash windows and a jagged roofline meant to ward off snow. They’d built her a small single-story apartment opposite the massive lawn that stretched across the backyard. It was cozy, but comfy, and exclusively hers.

      “Here we go,” Cabe said as the door folded open.

      She leaned forward. He was the only guest arriving today. With the whir and whine of an electric motor, a ramp unfolded, and Alana caught her first glimpse of the rodeo hero inside, although she couldn’t see much. He sat slumped in his wheelchair, face in profile, the only thing that stood out clearly his off-white cowboy hat.

      “Welcome to the New Horizons Ranch,” Rana pronounced, tipping up on her toes in excitement.

      No response.

      By now, Alana’s eyes had adjusted. What she saw was a chiseled profile instantly recognizable as the one from TV. A chin so square it would do Dudley Do-Right proud, although not in a bad way. He was handsome. She had once heard someone refer to him as “hot,” thanks to his tanned skin, silver-buckle-colored eyes and dark blond hair. He had wide shoulders—not that you could see that now, not with him slumped over as he was. It looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a few days, his jaw and chin covered by at least a week’s worth of stubble. The button-down white shirt he wore under his jacket even looked rumpled.

      “Good to see you, Trent,” Cabe called out.

      No response.

      Tom hopped inside, pressed the button that Alana knew would release the chair. With the ease of someone who’d done the same thing a million times, the driver spun the seat around toward them, the longtime rodeo hero suddenly face-to-face with the small crowd that had gathered to greet him.

      “Welcome to New Horizons Ranch,” Rana repeated happily.

      Still no response.

      “Long time no see,” Cabe added softly.

      The cowboy didn’t look at them. Didn’t so much as lift his head. Not a muscle twitched.

      Tom pushed the wheelchair onto the lift. Sunlight illuminated Trent Anderson’s form. Still the same broad shoulders. The same narrow midsection. He wore a denim jacket over the white shirt and matching denim jeans, looking for all the world like the Trent from TV. It was the legs that looked different. They hung limply in front of him. And, of course, there was no horse.

      “Don’t expect much of a conversation from him,” said Tom. “He hasn’t said two words since I fetched him from the airport. Starting to think he lost his voice along with the use of his legs.”

      That got a reaction.

      “I can still walk,” Trent muttered.

      Barely, from what she’d heard. Rana had filled her in based on internet accounts. Partial paralysis of both legs from midthigh down. He’d hurt his back. There’d been talk he’d never walk again. Or ride. The fact that he had some feeling in his upper legs was a miracle, she’d been told.

      “I’ll show you to your cabin, Mr. Anderson,” Rana said, coming forward to take over for the driver.

      “Don’t touch me.”

      Both Tom and Rana leaned back.

      “I can do it myself.” His hands grabbed the wheels, spinning the aluminum frame expertly around.

      Alana took one look at Rana’s crushed face and jumped in front of the man.

      “You have no idea where you’re going.” She placed her hands on her hips and dared him to try to run her down.

      “I’ll find my way.”

      He swerved around her. She jumped ahead again.

      “You’ll stay right here while we fetch your bags.”

      For the first time, steel-gray eyes met her own. “There’s only one. Put it in my lap.”

      Put it in my lap.

      As if she was some kind of lackey or something.

      She met Cabe’s gaze, then looked over at the bus driver. They both stared at her with a mix of surprise and dismay. Tom held a small black duffel bag. She motioned for him to toss it in her direction, and when he did, immediately rebounded it into the cowboy’s lap.

      “First cabin on the left.” She stepped to the side. “Don’t let the front door hit you in the ass.”

      Three stunned faces gazed back at her, though she didn’t bother looking at Trent again. Yeah, she might have sounded harsh, but something about the man instantly drove her nuts.

      Jerk.

      Too bad she would have to put up with him for three weeks.

      She heard him set off, the wheels of his chair crunching on the gravel. Using the main road, it was a long, long way to the cabins, through the parklike area that surrounded the old ranch house, down past the trees where they thickened up, then down a small hill to the left where the road opened up and the cabins sat—eight of them—the lodge-pine dwellings to the left and the Feather River to the right. That was why Rana had offered to show him the way. Using the road, one part was pretty steep. Sure, she’d probably hoped to talk to him about roping, too. Guess that wasn’t going to happen. With any luck maybe he’d make a wrong turn and end up on somebody else’s property.

      Now, now, Alana. You need to be nice. Obviously, the guy has issues.

      Yeah, and those issues were now their problem. Great.

      “Thanks for bringing him out here,” she said to Tom, her mock smile indicating she felt anything but gratitude.

      She turned back to Trent. “Hey,” she called out to the cowboy who, surprisingly enough, stopped, though he didn’t look back. “Welcome to New Horizons Ranch.”

      She saw his fists clench and would bet her favorite bay gelding that he did so to keep from flipping her off.

      She smiled.

      He turned back just in time to catch it.

      “Thanks” was all he said before setting off again.

      “He’s never going to make it all the way down there without some help,” she heard Rana mutter.

      “I know,” Alana said.

      “He probably thinks the guest quarters are nearby,” the girl added.

      “He’ll learn otherwise soon enough,” Alana muttered.

      “Should I tell him about the footpath behind the barn?” Rana asked. “That’s a much safer route for someone in a wheelchair.”

      Alana glanced at Cabe, and when she saw the small smile alight upon his face, said, “I think we’ll let him figure things out on his own.”

      So it was that all three of them watched as the stubborn man moved farther and farther down the road, completely oblivious to the fact that there was a special trail for people with disabilities. But Alana figured if she mentioned the trail she’d probably upset him even more. She could tell he was the type of man who didn’t like the “disabled” label at all.

      “You think he’ll stay the whole three weeks?” Rana asked, and Alana noticed she had tears in her eyes. Poor girl’s feelings were hurt.

      Alana heard Cabe huff. “I think we’ll be lucky if he lasts three days.”

      Alana gave him twenty-four hours.