The Amish Christmas Cowboy. Jo Brown Ann

was glad when she kept going. Each person who passed by, and there were a lot, glanced his way and added to his self-consciousness.

      Two hours ago, after a half-hour drive over pothole-ridden roads, he’d arrived at Glens Falls Hospital. Since then, he’d been subjected to X-rays, examinations and questions. He’d started to wonder if every member of the hospital staff had stopped in to see the useless man who couldn’t control a horse he’d trained for the past year.

      Every member of the hospital staff except a doktor.

      Finally, a short man had walked in wearing a white lab coat. He’d introduced himself as Doktor Garza before saying, “You did a real number on your ankle, Mr. Christner.”

      The words had stung like a rebuke. He’d let his attention wander, and he was paying the price.

      “How long before I can work?” Toby had asked.

      “You shouldn’t put full weight on it for eight weeks.”

      “Eight weeks?”

      Doktor Garza had sighed. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but to be honest, I haven’t seen anyone sprain an ankle quite that bad in a long time. You’re going to need to work with a physical therapist to strengthen the muscles so you don’t injure them again. If you don’t—”

      A laugh from the cubicle where Sarah had gone with a nurse intruded into his thoughts about what Doktor Garza had said before leaving to check his next patient.

      The desk was right behind where Toby now waited. He hadn’t listened to their conversation, but he sat straighter when Sarah spoke.

      “Oh, it’s no worry,” she said with another easy laugh. “I can make sure everything is taken care of. I’m used to dealing with recalcitrant kids, big and small.”

      The nurse chuckled, but Toby didn’t.

      Was Sarah referring to him? He wasn’t going to be her problem. Once he returned to Summerhays Stables, he’d be on his way. The tenuous connection between him and the pretty redhead would be broken.

      After he left there, what would he do?

      Eight weeks!

      Eight weeks of being unable to assist J.J. If his boss sent him back to Texas, he’d be as useless there. He couldn’t ride, not with the inflated boot on his right foot. He couldn’t take care of the animals, even the ones in the barns, because shoveling out a stall would be impossible on one leg.

      Toby looked up when Sarah came around the side of the cubicle, carrying a white plastic bag. She gave him a taut smile.

      “It’ll be at least forty-five minutes before someone can get here,” she said, taking a seat next to his wheelchair.

      “Have you seen my boot? My regular boot.”

      She pointed to the white bag on the chair beside her. “It’s in here with your instructions and prescriptions you’ll need to get filled. Do you want to see?”

      “No hurry. It sounds as if I won’t be wearing my boot for a few days.”

      “Are you hungry?” she asked in the gentle tone he’d heard her use with the Summerhays kids.

      He couldn’t keep from thinking about how she’d told the nurse she was accustomed to taking care of stubborn kinder. Had she cast him in that role? “Not really.”

      “Thirsty?”

      He sighed. She was determined to take care of him as if he were a Summerhays youngster. How could he fault her for lumping him in with the rambunctious kinder? He’d been rude to her from the first word he’d spoken, and she’d made every effort to be nice. He doubted he could have acted the same if their circumstances were reversed. It was long past time for him to show her a bit of gratitude. She’d ridden in the bumpy ambulance with him and waited two long hours in an uncomfortable chair while he was tended to.

      “I’m a bit thirsty,” he replied.

      “Me, too. There’s a snack shop. We’ve got plenty of time to get something before the car arrives.”

      When she stood, he almost apologized for his curt replies. She didn’t give him a chance as she handed him the plastic bag and grasped the handles of the wheelchair.

      Toby grimaced as he caught the plastic bag before it could slide off his lap. He’d thought sitting by the entrance door was the most humiliating thing he could experience, but being pushed along the hallway as if in the middle of a bizarre parade was worse. The scents of disinfectants and floor polish followed them.

      Behind him, Sarah kept up a steady monologue. He didn’t listen as they turned a corner. The slight jar sent pain surging through him.

      When she steered the chair through a door as easily as he would have sent a well-trained horse into its stall, he saw a half-dozen colored tables. A pile of cafeteria trays was stacked to his right, and three people were pushing theirs along rails as they selected food and drinks. A woman with a hairnet and apron assisted them.

      “What do you want?” Sarah asked.

      “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

      “I was going to have a cup of tea.”

      His nose wrinkled. “Make mine a cup of kaffi. Black.”

      Sarah left him by an empty table and went to get a tray. Carrying it to the far end of the rails, she spoke to the woman in the hairnet, took two blue cups and went to the cash register.

      Realization dawned on him, and when she set a cup of fragrant kaffi in front of him, he said, “Before we leave, I need to talk to someone about paying for this.”

      “This?” She looked from his cup to hers in bafflement.

      “No, the bill for the emergency room.”

      Reaching for a packet of sugar, she sprinkled it into the tea. “Don’t worry. Mr. Summerhays is taking care of it.”

      “No!” He lowered his voice when heads turned toward them. “I mean, I’m grateful, but I pay my bills.”

      “You’ll have to discuss that with Mr. Summerhays.” Her voice was unruffled as she stirred her tea and then took a sip.

      “I will. I don’t like being beholden to anyone.”

      Sarah laughed as she had while talking with the nurse. “You say that as if I’m supposed to be surprised.”

      Lowering his gaze to his kaffi, Toby said, “Sorry. I know I’m prickly.”

      “As a blackberry bush.”

      “Danki.” His lips twitched.

      “It’s okay. It’s gut to see you can smile. I won’t tell anyone and ruin your stern cowboy reputation.”

      “Stern? Is that what you think I am?” He looked at her in spite of himself.

      She was staring into her cup. “I think it’s what you want the world to believe you are. Or maybe you were going for forbidding or contrary. They look pretty much the same to me.”

      “How’s that?”

      “As if you sat on a porcupine.” When she raised her eyes, they were twinkling with amusement.

      “No, you can be certain that if I’d sat on a porcupine, folks would have heard me yelp from here to the Rio Grande.” He wasn’t sure if he should blame the pain arcing across his ankle or the drugs he’d been given to ease it for giving her such a playful retort.

      When she laughed, her eyes widened when he didn’t join in.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I know you’re feeling lousy.”

      Seizing the excuse she’d offered him, he nodded.

      They