Jodi Thomas - WM 1 by Texas Rain

any position uncomfortable. Sage treated him like a child, praising his slight progress from day to day. Teagen and Tobin were back at work, but usually one stopped by at noon for a meal with him. They must have known that between Martha’s bullying and Sage’s smothering he would have gone mad without them.
    Teagen, as always, talked of the ranch, filling Travis in on details that he really didn’t care to know. Tobin talked of horses, when he talked. At night they’d all eat in the study around Travis as if all the McMurrays had to be together to overcome his injury.
    Travis asked only once about how the bay had gotten back to the ranch. When he realized everyone thought the fairy/woman was a boy, he saw no need for other questions. It didn’t surprise him one afternoon when Tobin mentioned that one of the corral horses used by the cowhands was missing. Travis guessed who rode the animal over the bridge.
    He slept the days away and spent hours plotting what he’d say to the girl when he found her. Maybe he’d just walk up like they were old friends and question her as if they’d only been apart for a few days. Or maybe he’d demand to know why she’d walked out on him . . . not once, but twice.
    He even played with the idea of returning her kiss without saying a word to her. When his mind drifted in that direction, he reminded himself that he was still a Ranger and by right should arrest the woman for a horse thief.
    In a strange way the little thief gave him a reason to push himself each day. She’d gotten to him as no other woman ever had.
    Three weeks after the shooting, Travis tried to stand. His right leg was weak from lack of exercise, but the left wouldn’t hold any weight. Martha tried to tell him the bone might still heal, but he saw the doubt in her old gray eyes. Without asking Travis, she told one of the men to make him a crutch.
    Travis hated even looking at the thing, but finally used it simply because he hated not being mobile more than he despised the crutch.
    Once he could move about, he managed to make it to the kitchen for meals and to the porch to watch the weather. But no farther. He’d not step foot away from the house as a cripple. When he left home, it would be as a full man, or not at all.
    When he advanced to a cane, he saw it as little progress even though the rest of his family celebrated. With each step he had to pause and regain his balance. Travis was a man who’d never known fear, but now, suddenly, he was afraid of falling. Or worse, not being able to get up once he fell. The few times he had tumbled, the pain had almost knocked him out.
    Days shortened and fall settled in with cloudy mornings and evening breezes. The house grew more confining. On cool days Travis paced the porch without a coat, welcoming the discomfort like an old friend. His mood grew darker than any storm that might cross their land and the family left him to his brooding.
    One question kept shifting through his mind, polluting any other thought or plan he might have. How does a Ranger do what has to be done if he can’t ride? How can he stand and aim a rifle when he has to use one hand to hold a cane?
    Finally, when Travis had yelled at everyone in the house, his siblings ganged up on him. When he refused to join them for Sunday lunch, they filled their plates and moved to the study.
    Travis frowned as they filed in. He wasn’t in the mood for company, and from their expressions his family looked more like a war party than dinner guests. He’d never been a man to drink, but if he could have, he would be passed out on the floor. It might not make anything better to drown his troubles, but at least he could forget them for a few hours.
    Martha set a plate in front of him, but Travis wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to eat, or read, or talk, or even look out the window. It had taken him some time, but he’d finally reached the bottom of the well. He felt he could sink no lower and still be breathing. All