Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish. Cathy Mcdavid

distance.

       “Have you ridden him yet?” It was the first she’d spoken since Justin joined them outside the barn.

       “No. He’s only halter broke, and barely that.”

       “But you are going to break him?” Justin asked.

       “Oh, yeah. My goal is by Christmas.”

       “That doesn’t give you much time.”

       “You’re right. He and I are going to have to come to a new agreement soon about who’s boss.”

       Prince pawed the ground impatiently, as if daring Ethan to try.

       Justin grinned sheepishly. “Don’t suppose there’s a horse in that stable of yours I could ride.”

       “Anytime you want, buddy.” Ethan immediately thought of old Chico. If he was trustworthy enough for a six-year-old, he’d do fine for Justin. “Give me a call. I’ll take you on a trail ride.”

       Beside him, Caitlin visibly stiffened. “Justin, are you sure about that? You’ve never had an interest in riding horses before.”

       “I never played sports before, either.” He slapped the arm of his wheelchair. “Turns out I’m pretty good.”

       “What do you like?” Ethan asked.

       “Basketball. Baseball. Swimming. I’m considering taking up track and field.”

       “I’m impressed.”

       “Well, I couldn’t do any of it without Caitlin’s help. She’s amazing.”

       Did Caitlin pay for her brother’s athletic expenses? Ethan wondered. That would explain the three jobs and why she worked fifty to sixty hours a week.

       “You’ll do fine at riding, then,” he assured him.

       Caitlin removed her cell phone from her sweatshirt pocket and checked the display. “It’s getting late.”

       After a last look at Prince, the three of them returned to the stables, Justin chatting enthusiastically about riding and Caitlin stubbornly silent.

       When they reached her minivan, Justin hoisted himself into the front passenger seat.

       “I’ll get that,” Ethan offered, and carried the wheelchair to the rear of the minivan, where Caitlin had the hatch open.

       She closed it the second he’d stowed the chair. “See you Saturday.”

       “What about physical therapy?” If he was keeping his end of the bargain, she needed to keep hers. “I’d like to start right away.”

       “I don’t get off at the clinic until seven-thirty most nights.”

       “Eight’s fine,” he said, ignoring her attempts to postpone. “If it’s not too late for you.” He rose at the crack of dawn and assumed she did, too, what with her schedule.

       “No, eight’s okay.” She peered nervously at her brother, who was busy with his MP3 player. “We can start tonight.”

       “Anything special I should have on hand?”

       “I’ll bring my portable table. We can set up just about anywhere.”

       “Okay. Drive straight to the bunkhouse and park there.”

       “The bunkhouse?”

       “I live there now. Moved out of the main house so Sage and Isa can move in.”

       “O…kay.”

       “If you don’t want to be alone with me—”

       “It makes no difference,” she answered tersely.

       Somehow, Ethan thought it did. He just wasn’t sure why.