Rocky Mountain Cowboy

“Still have the occasional clumsy episode, as you can see.” He nodded toward the spilled coffee.

“We all have the occasional clumsy episode in the morning, Joe.” She picked up the two pieces of his prosthesis he had ready on the table and inspected them. “Do you want to go ahead and don this?”

He massaged antiseptic lubricant into the area and examined the cosmetic silicone glove for damage. Then he disconnected the charger from his myoelectric prosthesis, snapped together the hand and forearm and applied the device to what remained of his right arm.

He held it up for her review. “There you go. Bionic man reporting for duty.”

“Are you always this hard on yourself?” she murmured.

“I deserve to be hard on myself. I messed up. I should have asked for help, as everyone keeps reminding me. If I had, I wouldn’t have this. I’d be normal. A normal rancher.”

Her jaw sagged slightly as she stared at him. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“What’s there to say? I’m not the guy I used to be.”

“That’s not true, and believe me, normal is highly overrated.”

“Becca, I’m sure most people appreciate platitudes, but I deal in reality and I’m sorry, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stiffened. “Joe, your arm doesn’t define you.”

“Sure it does.”

“You’re wrong. You’re a person who happens to be an amputee. That integral person inside is what people imprint in their minds when they define who you are.” She stared past him. “No matter how hard something else tries to change a person’s core, it generally doesn’t change.”

“What exactly is my core, Becca?”

When she met his gaze, she reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

Joe moved from her touch.

The rebuff only seemed to make her more determined to make her point, and she leaned closer.

“You’re an intelligent, kind, godly man.”

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me with someone else? God and I haven’t been buddies for some time, and I’m not as kind as you like to think.” He shook his head. “Sometimes our mind blocks out the not-so-memorable things about people we haven’t seen in a long time. We tend to remember people in a skewed positive light. I’m not that boy from high school.”

“Trust me. I don’t have that problem. I’m cynical enough to remember everything from the past.” Becca chuckled softly. “I’m absolutely certain you haven’t changed as much as you’d like to believe.” She refused to give him eye contact; instead, she reached for her tablet, her fingers sliding across the keys on the screen once again.

“It’s been over a year since your accident. You began prosthesis fittings and training six months ago. Why didn’t you complete certification then?”

“It’s taken me a while to actually commit to the whole prosthesis thing. After the accident and a couple of surgeries and rehab and all, I’d already been going back and forth to Denver so many times for preprosthetic therapy, and interim prosthetic therapy, that my head was spinning. I admit I didn’t adhere to the usual patient guidelines.”

“You aren’t exactly the usual patient,” she said.

“Bingo.” He took a deep breath. “Dan ran the ranch and my mother helped. I needed to take that load from them as soon as possible.”

“Is your mother still living in the main house?”

“Yeah. She and my niece just left for California. They’ve gone to visit my sisters, then meet up with Dan and his wife.”

“Dan’s married?”

“Yeah. Sort of a newlywed, too. He postponed his honeymoon for me.”

“That’s a great brother.” She paused, thinking. “Family is everything, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day.”

“And faith,” she said softly, her eyes averted.

“Truthfully, I’m not sure what faith is anymore.” Joe cleared his throat. “No disrespect. I know you’ve been through a lot, and if your faith is what helped you, then good for you.”

“Good for me?” She offered a scoffing laugh. When she met his gaze, her eyes were hard and unflinching. “But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?”

He nodded. “Understood.”

“I need you to fill out this paperwork.”

Joe groaned. “More paperwork? OrthoBorne is big on it, aren’t they?” He glanced at the clock. “Could we save that for another session? I’m getting behind on my day.”

“I promise this is the last of it.”

He looked her in the eye. “You know what’s been the most difficult part of this transition?”

“What’s that?”

“Learning to write with my left hand. I’ll do anything to get out of paper shuffling.”

Becca paused. “We are in the field. I’m willing to compromise. We can skip that and go straight to shadowing. However, don’t be surprised if I come up with some unique teaching sessions while I’m shadowing you.”

“Deal.” He looked at her. “What do you mean by shadowing?”

“That means that I show up tomorrow and follow you around for a couple of days, asking you the questions. I basically need to document the tasks that make up the majority of your workday so I can create a plan of care for your specific occupational therapy.”

“I get up at four thirty, and I’m ready to start the day at five.

“Seriously?”

“Too early for you?”

“No. I meant you’re okay with me following you around from dawn to dusk for a few days?”

“I’ll do anything to avoid wasting my time—” he glanced with distaste at the paperwork “—checking little boxes and writing answers to inane questions. But five seems a little early for someone who isn’t punching a clock.”

“I understand my job, thank you. This is all about getting to know your world. So if you start your day at five, so do I, at least to start with.”

“Fair enough. I’ll meet you at the barn.” He glanced at her outfit. “You do have boots, right?”