The Surgeon and the Cowgirl. Heidi Hormel

as she tried to put off creditors until the payments came in. The problem was that the payments weren’t covering all of the expenses now, and her savings were nearly gone.

      “Each of the volunteers and paid staff go through extensive training,” she told Payson. “The mounts have all been donated. We test each one before any child is allowed on. You can see that each rider has a helmet and helpers. It’s very safe. The movement of the horse forces them to—”

      “What conditions do you treat?” he asked, interrupting her.

      He was a “donor” she reminded herself, and explained the current program and her hopes for expansion. After another five minutes of observation, he suggested that they move on. She took him to the outdoor facilities and to a small room where the children and their caregivers regularly met to speak with the two other therapeutic riding instructors, both of whom were certified. She had help from a couple of part-timers to care for the stock and everyone else volunteered their time and expertise to help the children. She took him into the horse barn. It was empty except for a cat and flies that buzzed lazily in the air.

      “The older riders are expected to help care for the horses,” Jessie said.

      “Free labor, huh?”

      “No, Payson, the children, especially the teens, need that kind of responsibility. They don’t have a lot of confidence in their own abilities. Caring for the horses shows them that they have a lot more going on than they think.”

      “Plus a rider always takes care of her own horse,” he said, nodding a little as he repeated the words she’d told him often enough.

      “Yep. There’s that, too. It’s also a chance for the kids to really bond with the horses. It’s an important part of the therapy.”

      The tour was over, and they were standing in the aisle of the barn. Even with the sun streaming in through the stalls, it was dim, the concrete floor keeping the space cool. Jessie couldn’t see Payson’s expression, but his stance was taut. She shifted to give her knee a rest.

      He took her arm and said, “That’s it. You’re going to let me look at that knee.”

      She started to pull away but his fingers tightened. Her arm tingled where he touched her skin. “It’s fine, Payson.”

      “It is not fine. You were limping the last time I was here, and you’re still limping.”

      “I have an appointment for next week.”

      “No, you don’t. You’re lying. You turned your head,” he said.

      Darn it. How could she have forgotten that he knew her better than anyone else?

      “You’re a kid doctor. I’m an adult,” she said.

      “A knee is a knee. Do we have to go through this again? I wanted to look at it the last time I was here.”

      “I said no then, too. You don’t owe me anything, Payson.”

      “Who said anything about owing you?” he asked. “I’m trying to fulfill my duty as a physician.”

      * * *

      PAYSON GRITTED HIS TEETH. Why did Jessie have to make things so hard? She had this idea that if she didn’t do things herself, people would never respect her. So, here they were glaring at each other. The way she favored her leg, it must be excruciating.

      When they’d been married, she’d often ridden with something pulled or strained. Jessie was used to being hurt and not showing it. He remembered her eyes shining with tears more than once and her fighting to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. The code of the rodeo, she’d told him. “You don’t let people see you cry no matter how much you hurt.” It was all about respect. That was what was driving her to limp around on a knee that needed rest and attention.

      He glanced at his watch. He was already late for his consult, and he tried to ignore the hitch in his stomach from the same tug of war that had strained their marriage: patients or Jessie. With more heat than he intended, he said, “You need to have that checked out.”

      “I will if it doesn’t get any better.”

      He followed her from the barn, his concern as a physician fighting with his intense arousal as he watched her tall, lithe body shift under her just-tight-enough clothing. In the old days, even when he’d been exhausted during his surgical residency, following her around like this would have made him hot enough to not care about schedules or exams. He would have dragged her into one of the stalls and...

      Why would he remember any of their marriage fondly? Sure, it had been amazing when their problems could be solved by a little time together in bed. When they had to deal with the real problems, grown-up problems, everything fell apart.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten. I’ll be done with rounds by then,” he said as he got into his Range Rover.

      “I’ll have the releases you requested ready and the therapy plans, too. ’Bye,” she said and turned without another word.

      He jammed the SUV into Drive and gravel spit from his tires.

      * * *

      AS HELEN, HIS office manager, laid out the medication and instruments he requested, she said, “A doctor who makes house calls? Wait till I tell your other patients, they’ll be lining up.”

      “Thank you,” Payson said, giving her an aggravated look.

      “Oooh, the Dr. Mac evil eye. I’m so scared,” she said and laughed. “Based on what’s being said in the halls, I’m guessing this has to do with Jessie?” Her voice had gone from joking to aggravated.

      “The grapevine is pretty quick,” Payson said. He was irked that he and Jessie were being discussed, but it was a hospital. There was no way to stop the rumors. He needed to stay focused on his final goal: becoming director of pediatrics. It had been made clear to him that moving up at the hospital now depended on the success of the program. He and his team were expected to bring Hope’s Ride into compliance with the hospital’s goals and policies.

      “It’s a practical thing,” he explained to Helen. “She’s got to be at a hundred percent if I want to get her program integrated with ours.” He saw Helen start to open her mouth and he looked at her from beneath slightly lowered brows. That one gesture had been known to quiet children in a full tantrum. “She injured her knee saving Alex Suarez. Even you have to agree that examining her is the least I can do as a doctor. I’m sure she doesn’t have very good insurance. Plus, I need to speak with her about the hospital’s requirements.”

      “I would guess that there are hundreds of doctors in the greater Phoenix area who would treat her,” Helen said. She straightened the stacks of paper on his desk, her mouth tight and disapproving. Payson imagined it was how a mother would look when her child had acted up. His own mother had always let the nanny or school take care of it when Payson or his brother misbehaved.

      “I’ve got to finish up,” Helen said. “My son has a lacrosse game this afternoon.”

      When she left, Payson focused on the consult he’d just had and the endless paperwork for his other patients. He knew that, as director of pediatrics, most of his day would be filled with paperwork like this. That was the downside. As he’d told Helen again and again, he could be more effective in helping care for children as director. What he would never admit was that by becoming an administrator and sacrificing what he really loved—performing surgery—he might finally make up for not being able to save the one small life that had mattered more to him than any other.

      * * *

      JESSIE SAT STIFFLY in her office chair as Payson pressed and poked her knee. She’d only agreed to let him check the joint after he’d refused to continue the evaluation of Hope’s Ride until she let him examine her. She wanted to squirm away but felt stupid because he didn’t seem affected by nearly lying in her lap as he prodded the knee. Her skin prickled with awareness and she ground her teeth against the moan...of pain.