Whirlwind - Janet Dailey Page 0,9

Bodacious, one of the rankest buckers of all, had injured so many riders, mostly by bucking them over his head, that he was retired early and had since been awarded the greatest recognition for a bull—the PBR Brand of Honor.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling guilt for the elements of fate that had brought Cory and Renegade together for a ride that had ended in disaster.

She shrugged off her misgivings as she pulled into the hospital parking lot and found a space for the truck. She wasn’t here to rail at fate or cast blame. She was here to offer comfort and support.

Cory and his wife, Rianne, had been Lexie’s friends and classmates all the way through school. Even in kindergarten, she couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t loved each other. They’d married young, had hard times with money and with their efforts to have a family. But with the birth of their baby boy, Rowdy, and the upswing in Cory’s rodeo career, things were finally looking good for them.

Now this.

At the reception desk, Lexie got directions to Cory’s room. “Don’t plan to stay long,” she was told at the nurses’ station. “He’s on some heavy pain medication. He needs to stay quiet.”

Something in the nurse’s tone deepened Lexie’s fears. She braced herself for the worst as she checked each room number she passed in the long hallway. She’d gone less than halfway when, at the far end, she saw a familiar figure step out of a room and close the door softly behind her—a petite woman with short, strawberry blond hair. It was Rianne.

They recognized each other at the same time. Rianne hurried toward Lexie, distress showing in her expression as she came closer. Stumbling slightly, she flung herself into Lexie’s arms. Lexie could feel her trembling.

“I’m so sorry, Rianne,” she murmured. “Is there anything I can do?”

Rianne shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re here. Cory’s with a friend right now, so I’m having a break, trying to take all this in. Come on down to the waiting area. We can talk there.”

Outside the elevators was a small space with a couch and chairs, vending machines, and a rack of well-worn magazines.

“Where’s Rowdy?” Lexie asked as they settled on the sofa. Her friend was dry-eyed, but the strain of holding back tears showed in her face.

“My mom’s got him. She took him so I could come with Cory, and we could have a little vacation after his ride.” She shook her head. “That’s how I happened to be here. Did you see it, Lexie?”

“I was right there, next to the chutes. It was my bull.”

“Oh, God. First Jack and now this.” Rianne fumbled for Lexie’s hand. Lexie reached out and clasped the tension-knotted fingers.

“How bad is it?” she asked, trying to sound positive. “Cory’s a tough guy. He’s been hurt before and bounced right back.”

Rianne shook her head. “His vest and helmet saved his life. But he’s got three crushed vertebrae in his lower back.” She took a deep, sucking breath, like a drowning person coming up for air. “He . . . can’t move his legs.”

* * *

Cory lay on his back with his head resting on a pillow. The blanket that covered his body concealed a rigid form beneath, like a brace. An IV drip was attached to one hand. A catheter bag hung by a clip on the side of the mattress.

Seated in a folding chair beside the bed, Shane knew better than to look too closely or ask the wrong questions. “That was a pretty good pounding you took tonight,” he said, making a deliberate understatement.

Cory grinned, drifting in and out of lucidity. The nurse had mentioned that he was on heavy painkillers. “That bull was a pretty rough customer. But it wasn’t his fault. If I hadn’t caught my hand . . .” His voice faded for the space of a long breath. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve been beat up before. I’ll be back on the circuit before you know it—even if I have to patch myself together with duct tape.”

“Sure you will.” Shane forced the words from his mouth and the smile on his face, knowing that both were lies. He hadn’t talked privately with Cory’s wife, but he’d seen the stricken look on her face before she left them. Something was terribly wrong.

“Did anybody tell you that your ride won first place?” he asked, changing the subject. “Eighty-six point two. That’s damn fine riding.”

“Great bucking, too. That bull racked up