anywhere but here. At this point, physical therapy was looking good.
“Erin,” he said, speaking softly. “I’m not feeling too good today. Could you keep your voice down?”
“Why? Does my talking make your head hurt? Why are you sick? Do you have a cold?”
He wanted to groan. Yelling at her wasn’t an option. She might not be his kid, but he couldn’t be mean to her. It wasn’t much but right now that was the only bright spot on his otherwise tarnished character.
“Everything makes my head hurt,” he told her.
“I know what will make it better.” She put her small hands on her skinny little hips. “If you get on Bullet and ride with me I’ll be really quiet.”
“I will not be manipulated by an eight-year-old.”
She grinned. “Want to hear me scream?”
“Erin.” He growled her name in warning.
The grin widened. “Or I could sing. Come on, Mitch. Let’s go riding.”
Bouncing around on a horse was a particular brand of hell he didn’t want to experience. There was no way, he told himself. No way at all.
But he found himself looking into her eyes and seeing the hope there.
“It’ll make you feel better,” she whispered. “I promise. I won’t talk at all.” She looked at his left leg-or where it used to be. “I know you’re hurt. Fiddle told me you’d done too much. She said that your pros-y thing can hurt.”
She bit her lower lip and touched her own thigh. “I’d be scared if I lost my leg. I’d be so scared and hugs from my mom might not even help. It’s really sad.” She raised her gaze to his and he saw tears there. “I’m sorry you’re hurt now and that you got hurt before in the war.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Would it hurt you if I hugged you?”
His throat got real tight and he had to swallow. When he shook his head, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, then hung on as if she was never going to let go.
She could have been his, he thought sadly. She should have been. He and Skye were supposed to get married. They’d have a family by now. Maybe a daughter like Erin.
Instead her father was some old guy who’d stolen Skye. No, he reminded himself. It wasn’t Ray’s fault. He’d only taken what had been offered. The real villains here were Skye and Jed. And he was going to get both of them.
“Say yes,” Erin said, looking up at him. “I won’t scream or yell or sing. Just come riding with me.”
“Okay. I will.”
She jumped back and hooted with excitement, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I’ll be real quiet now.”
“That would be good.”
He walked to Bullet’s stall, then held the door open while she led out the horse. Using crutches meant Mitch couldn’t help gather equipment, but Erin knew what she was doing and quickly had the saddle pad in place. The saddle was big and heavy. She half dragged, half carried it to him. He balanced on one leg, handed her his crutches and managed to swing the saddle in place.
Ten minutes later her horse was ready, as well. Mitch led Bullet over to the mounting block and hesitated.
“I haven’t been on a horse in nearly ten years,” he muttered. “And that was with two legs.”
He also wasn’t used to getting on the right side, but without a prosthesis, he didn’t have much choice.
“You can do it,” Erin said, standing in front of Bullet and stroking his face. “I’ll hold him. But I don’t think he’ll move. He’s special.”
Trained for a cripple, Mitch thought bitterly. He leaned his crutches against a post, then hopped up the three stairs, holding on to the railing to stay upright. When he was on the mounting block he gripped the railing and half lifted, half threw his left leg over the saddle. He shifted his weight, pushed off with his right leg and found himself in the saddle.
“You did it,” Erin crowed, the sound ripping his head from the inside.
But he didn’t remind her to be quiet, mostly because it felt pretty good to be on a horse again. She passed him the reins. He urged Bullet forward and the horse moved.
Erin climbed on her horse like a little monkey and joined him as he rode outside.
The sun was bright and hot and made his head throb, but he ignored it. Bullet’s movements were familiar, making him wish he hadn’t been so stubborn about riding. This felt good. Almost normal.
“I knew you could do it,” Erin told him.
“Yes, you did and you were right.”
She grinned at him and he smiled back.
They rode toward the cattle and circled around the herd. To their right was the fencing for the chickens.
Erin pointed. “There’s a break in the fence. We need to tell Arturo so the coyotes don’t get them.”
The coyotes could have them all, he thought. Damn chickens.
“You tell him,” he grumbled.
“Don’t you like the chickens?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“This is a cattle ranch.”
“Diversification is important.”
He looked at her and laughed. “How do you know that word?”
She pressed her lips together and looked smug. “Sometimes Arturo and I talk. He’s teaching me about the ranch. He said you can’t just depend on having one thing. Like cows. You need more. So if something bad happens, you’re safe. It’s like bringing your raincoat if it looks cloudy. If you don’t, you might get wet.”
“You’re saying chickens are a raincoat?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess. Arturo said it, not me.”
“My family has run cattle on this land for nearly a hundred years. No Cassidy ever kept chickens.”
“They didn’t use computers, either, but you do.”
He glanced at her. “You’re very smart.”
“I know. And it’s not their fault they’re chickens. You shouldn’t be mad at them.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You look mad when you talk about them. They’re really good chickens. They eat coconut.”
He reined in Bullet. “What?”
“Maybe not a whole one, but part. It’s in their food.”
Coconut? “Do they get pina coladas, too?”
“I don’t know.”
He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“It’s so they don’t eat soy. You’ll have to ask Arturo. I don’t know what it all means.”
Coconut? Sure. And they were probably served dinner on silver trays, with champagne.
“Where’s your mom and dad?” Erin asked.
“They died nearly ten years ago.”
Her mouth twisted. “That’s sad.”
“Yes, it is. They liked to travel a lot. They were in Europe, taking a small plane from Italy to a resort on the Black Sea. The plane crashed.”
“Do you remember them?”
He nodded. They hadn’t been around much. His father had grown up hating the ranch, feeling he was trapped by the land and the cattle. He’d married and had Mitch, but inside he’d been waiting until
Mitch had been nearly ten when his grandfather had passed on, leaving Mitch’s parents free to travel the world. They’d been gone within a month. Arturo and Fidela had stepped into the emptiness, giving him the stability he needed.
He hadn’t missed his parents that much, although he’d found himself feeling lost when they died. Maybe it had been the realization that he had no other family. Skye had been there for him and at the time, it had been enough.
“You want to go fast?” Erin asked, looking eager.
