Helen DePrima - Luke's Ride

The time has come for him to cowboy up...

He’s spent fifteen years at the rodeo, protecting riders when they hit the dirt. But what exactly is a bullfighter after a bull takes him down in the arena and lands him in a wheelchair? That’s what Luke Cameron’s still struggling to figure out. And if Katie Garrison, in the middle of a controversial divorce, can help him find a new kind of life...well...he’s not one to turn her down! But she’s still a married woman and her husband isn’t going to let her go without a fight. Besides, Luke may never walk again. What kind of life can he give a woman like Katie?

Luke let out a soft wolf whistle.

“Dang, girl! Why do you keep that handsome mane bundled up like an old-maid schoolmarm?”

Katie tried to gather her hair back into some order and finally settled for pulling it to hang through the back of the cap.

“My husband didn’t like me to wear it loose,” she replied. “Too casual, he said. He wanted me to cut it to look more polished.” Reflexively she rubbed the third finger on her left hand.

“Your husband sounds like a damn fool. Sorry, but that’s how it looks to me. I’m glad you stood your ground.”

“Me, too, not that it matters now.”

“Sure it does—it matters to you.” He studied her. “So...you ran away from home?”

Dear Reader,

Thanks for joining me and the Cameron family for the third novel in the Cameron’s Pride series. Luke’s Ride digs deep into the dangers cowboy bullfighters face every time the chute gate swings open and explores the true meaning of “cowboy up” both in and outside the bull-riding arena. I hope you’ll enjoy becoming better acquainted with Luke Cameron and Katie Garrison, cheering them on through their challenges and triumphs. I’d love to hear from you with comments or questions: helen@helendeprima.com.

Enjoy the ride!

Helen DePrima

Luke’s Ride

Helen DePrima

www.millsandboon.co.uk

HELEN DEPRIMA grew up on horseback on her grandfather’s farm near Louisville, Kentucky. After spending a week on a dude ranch in Colorado when she was twelve, Helen fell in love with all things Western.

She spent wonderful weeks on the same ranch during her high school summers. After graduation she headed for the University of Colorado to meet the cowboy of her dreams and live happily ever after in a home on the range. Instead she fell in love with a Jersey boy bound for vet school. She earned her degree in nursing and spent four years as a visiting nurse in northern Colorado while her husband attended Colorado State University.

After her husband graduated, they settled in New Hampshire, where Helen worked first in nursing and then rehabilitating injured and orphaned wildlife. After retirement, she turned again to earlier passions: writing and the West, particularly professional bull riding.

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To my husband, for his advice and support.

Acknowledgments

To my endlessly patient and supportive agent Stephany Evans who endures my megrims with good grace.

To Melissa Maupin, my valued First Reader for her encouragement and excellent suggestions.

To Earlene Fowler for her kindness and prayer.

Love you all!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

A HAND TOUCHED his shoulder, a gentle shake at first, then rougher. “Luke, you’re dreaming—wake up!”

He gave a last shuddering gasp and opened his eyes, still seeing the great bulk of the bull hurtling toward him, the dirt slamming up toward his face. He rubbed his eyes with both hands, trying to erase the images.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m awake.”

The hand shifted from his shoulder to his wrist as Betsy Fulton, his favorite night nurse at Hill Country Rehab, stepped from behind him to the side of his bed. Smart gal—he’d been known to strike out in the nightmare’s grip, and from the hips up he was still quick and strong as a mountain lion.

Nights were always bad. All his life, Luke Cameron had worked hard and played harder, able to sleep like a healthy animal. Now he dreaded the hours after the bustle died down in the unit and he dawdled over dessert and coffee—decaf only after 4:00 p.m.—as long as anyone would hang around to gab. Eventually the night staff would chase him to his room, citing the benefits of a normal sleep-wake cycle. Alone in his bed, he fought off sleep with its dreams of running and leaping, laughing with his fellow bullfighters in the face of danger, only to wake pinned to his bed by the weight of his useless legs.

“Damn sirens,” he said, wiping the sweat of terror from his face with a shaking hand. They didn’t freak him out in the daytime, but the banshee wail of any emergency vehicle grabbed him by the throat in his sleep.

He’d been transported by ambulance twice before during his career as a rodeo bullfighter, but he’d been out cold both times, coming to in the ER or the recovery room following surgery. This go-round, he’d been awake and aware every second—the grittiness of arena dirt between his teeth and the explosion of pain in his lower spine, trying to drag himself to safety using his elbows and then Doc Barnett’s voice asking if he could move his legs. Followed by the howl of the siren as the ambulance rushed him to the nearest trauma center.

Betsy sponged his face with a cool cloth. “I thought you might need company—a fire truck just went by. I guess you won’t be hearing sirens much when you get home.”

“Not hardly,” he said. “We’re the last spread on a dead-end road. Somebody gets hurt, we load ’em up and haul them to meet the paramedics. My dad had a heart attack a while back with a blizzard blowing in. My stepmom drove him an hour to the hospital with the roads closing down behind her. He probably wouldn’t have made it if she’d waited for help to reach them.”

Betsy flipped his pillow and filled his cup with ice water from the carafe on his nightstand. “I bet you’ll be glad to get back to the wide-open spaces.”

“You’re right about that, darlin’.” He could have gone from the hospital in Oklahoma City to a rehab facility closer to his family, but the trip from Oklahoma halfway across Texas to Austin, still immobilized in a body cast, had been grueling enough. Hill Country Rehab was Doc Barnett’s home base. Every athlete involved in professional bull riding, cowboy or bullfighter, trusted Doc to deliver the best possible result.