Once a Champion - By Jeannie Watt Page 0,12

but he hadn’t expected him to be so utterly adamant about it.

“If you plan to continue roping, then plan on getting another doctor.” Dr. Fletcher pulled his pen out of his pocket after examining the knee and clicked it.

“That’s a bit rash, wouldn’t you say?” Matt shifted a little, making the paper covering the examination table rip beneath him. Damn but he hated doctor’s offices.

“I just did say it,” the doctor said after making a few notes and then closing the folder. “And I meant it. If you put this knee under undue stress and strain, you risk destroying the joint.”

“What about physical therapy?”

“I’m prescribing PT, but that doesn’t mean your knee is going to ever get good enough to throw a calf.”

It wasn’t the answer Matt wanted. More than that, it wasn’t an answer he was going to accept.

“Listen to me,” the doctor said with a quiet intensity that broke into Matt’s stubborn thoughts. “I know this isn’t easy to swallow, but facts are facts. Your knee won’t last if you continue roping. You’re too young for a knee replacement, but if I did end up replacing the joint because of stupid behavior, you still won’t be able to rope because the joint won’t stand up to lateral pressure.

“I’d like to see you again in two weeks,” he said as he handed him the chart to take back to the reception desk where he’d settle his account.

“Right,” Matt said. But he didn’t plan on coming back. There were other doctors. Knee specialists. Alternative medicine. Doctors with more open minds.

Matt settled his hat on his head as he left the office ten minutes later and several hundred dollars poorer. He’d seen some of his rodeo compadres come back from rugged injuries not only to compete, but also to win.

He had every intention of doing the same.

Matt ran a few errands, then started the long drive home, keeping his thoughts as positive as possible. He was going to rope again. He was going to finish out the rodeo season. He was going to get his horse back.

The rodeo arena parking lot was full when he pulled off the freeway in Dillon and Matt slowed, then drove in. It’d been over a year since he’d stopped by the Tuesday night roping to talk with the guys he’d grown up with, rodeoed and partied with. He used to hit the roping every time he was in town, but when Trena had turned his life upside down, he’d stopped going. Then, when he’d failed to qualify for the finals for the first time in seven years...well, he just hadn’t felt like socializing after that. He’d stayed home and trained, then headed to Texas to start what had been a golden season right up until his foot had hung up in the stirrup in Austin.

He parked and felt a stir of anticipation as he watched a steer leave the chute at a dead run and the horses and riders charge after it a few seconds later. The pickups and trailers parked next to the fence blocked his view, but he could see the cowboys’ loops swinging.

Okay, maybe this had been a mistake. All it did was remind him of what he couldn’t yet do. Maybe in a week, two at the most, he’d be roping from horseback, but for right now he was stuck on the ground roping the dummy for hours on end.

He needed to get out of here. He’d meet up with his friends at another time, another place. Just before he turned the key in the ignition, he was startled by a knock on the passenger window. Wes Warner waved at him through the glass and Matt put the window down.

“Should you be here?” Wes asked with a smile that barely showed under his thick mustache.

“I was just discussing that with myself,” Matt said. Wes, a former bronc rider whose career had been cut short by a car accident, was no stranger to injury or the disappointment of losing a promising career.

“Want a beer while you carry on your conversation?”

“Sure.” Craig had assured him that all was well when he’d called the house half an hour ago so one beer wouldn’t hurt.

Wes gestured with his head and Matt got out of the pickup and followed him to the tailgate of his truck, which faced away from the arena.

“Did you find your horse?” Wes asked as he pulled a longneck out of the cooler and handed it to Matt. “I heard he was

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