“Yes. Several pairs, in fact.”
“Ranch boots. We’re not talking city girl, fancy boots.”
“Yes, ranch boots. You seem to forget that I worked on a ranch with my father practically my whole life.”
“I didn’t forget.” He paused. “But people change.”
“I’m still the same ranch girl I was twelve years ago.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Joe murmured.
“I guess we will,” Becca answered without missing a beat. She closed the cover on her tablet.
“What time does your crew arrive?”
“Nine thirty.”
“They’re late,” he observed with a glance at the big stainless-steel clock on the wall.
“I don’t want to keep you from your chores.” She began to pack up her briefcase. “I’ll wait outside for them.”
“You’re welcome to wait in the house.”
“Oh, no. I’ll wait outside.”
“Your call.” He reached for his keys, with his left hand, and fumbled. The keys clattered to the oak floor.
An awkward silence ensued as they both stared at the ground between them.
“I got ’em.” Joe scooped up the keys with his other hand and shoved them in his pocket.
“Do you mind if I give you a little impromptu lesson?” Becca asked.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“You’re using the myoelectric hand statically.”
“Pardon me?”
“Static. Like a placeholder. I’ve observed your hand mostly in the relaxed position. You have quite a few positions available. Utilize them. The more you do, the more it will be automatic. Like the lateral pinch. You could have picked up the keys that way.” She demonstrated, putting her own keys on the table. “See how much more accurate?”
He nodded. “I’ll, ah, give it a try.”
“I hope you will. Why not maximize the technology? After all, it’s yours, and the photographer will want to see you taking advantage of their product.”
Becca was right. He might not be paying for the prosthesis in cash, but he was paying for it by agreeing to OrthoBorne’s offer. And he had been pretty much ignoring the technology, thinking maybe if he did, maybe he could ignore the fact that he was an amputee.
All he’d really wanted was for life to go back to the way it was before the accident. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe his way wasn’t working. Maybe the Lord had other plans despite the fact that he’d been ignoring Him, as well.
But was he ready for what was in store?
Chapter Three (#u3d19a0ef-d253-53a5-a874-528d3db98c43)
Rebecca leaned against her Honda. She checked her watch and then focused her gaze on the main road. Late was an understatement. Joe had been gone two hours. Her stomach growled, and she wondered what the day’s special was at Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery in downtown Paradise.
Things with Joe had gone better than she expected. He wasn’t nearly as surly this morning as he’d been on Saturday at their unexpected reunion. She pushed away the worrisome thoughts that hovered nearby. This was going to work out. It had to.
That was, if the team would show up. She pulled her cell from her pocket to call the OrthoBorne offices in Denver. When she looked up, a big white pickup truck, with rooftop bar lights and the logo of the Paradise Sheriff’s Department, appeared on the road to the ranch, moving to the arched entrance. Behind it was a black SUV, kicking up a cloud of dust on the gravel road.
A police escort to the ranch?
She hurried to the drive and met the sheriff’s vehicle as it pulled up.
The uniformed officer unfolded his tall form and stepped out and placed a tan Stetson on his head. “I’m Sam Lawson.” He reached out to grasp her hand in a strong handshake. “You must be Rebecca Simpson.” His eyes were warm with welcome.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Joe mentioned you.” He nodded toward the car pulling in behind his truck. “These folks say they’re from OrthoBorne Technology in Denver. Sound right to you?”
“Yes. They’re Joe’s media team.”
“I found them driving through town. After the third pass through, I decided to take pity on them. According to the driver, they were here an hour ago, at another gate, but couldn’t find the road.”
“Thanks for bringing them here, Sheriff.”
“Better not thank me. This crew is greener than the grass, and I’m feeling guilty for delivering them to the ranch. In fact, maybe you could not mention to Joe that I brought them.”
She laughed.
“Oh, sure, you’re laughing now, but you won’t be when you figure out that I’m right.” He waved as he left.
A tall man in his midforties got out of the SUV. He shook his head and released a breath. “Gallagher Ranch, I hope.”
“It is, and I’m Rebecca Simpson.”
“Our liaison, right?”
“Yes. I’m also doing the certification.”
“Great. I’m Rod, photographer and videographer.” He stepped forward to offer a grin of relief, along with a brisk handshake.
She took his hand while returning the smile.
“Looks like we’re all in the family. OrthoBorne family, that is. Sorry we’re so late. The GPS on the rental went wacky once we hit the outskirts of town. We thought we were here once, but there was no road beyond the gate. For all I know, we were on another ranch somewhere around here.”
“No worries,” Rebecca said. “The good news is after the first time, you won’t forget your way to the ranch. It’s pretty easy. There’s only one paved road in and out of Paradise. Take it until you come to the arched entrance.” She pointed to the wrought-iron archway with the large entwined letters G and R.
“Easy. Yeah, that’s what I said until the third or fourth time we passed Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery, and I realized I was driving in circles.” He turned to the vehicle, giving a wave for the other occupants to join him. “I brought Julian, our intern, and Abigail, one of our staff copywriters.”