Rebecca Winters: The Texas Ranger's Reward

She felt a burst of pleasure at the boy’s taking up the challenge. When Casey was about halfway to her, he hesitated. “Keep coming, Casey!” she called. “You’re doing great!”

The boy got a determined look on his face and picked up his speed. Once he reached her, she gave him a quick hug. “I’m very proud of you.”

He looked up at her and smiled. Children smiled at her every day, but for some reason she didn’t understand, Casey’s expression tugged at her emotions. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“That’s because you’re so tough!” She let go of his shoulders. “Come into my office. You’ve earned a gift of your choice. Do you need your crutches to get inside?”

Casey stared at her. “Will you hold my hand?”

“Of course.” She took his hand and they walked through the main doors to her suite. She made sure they didn’t go too fast. He was still favoring his leg, but not nearly as much as the day before.

Melissa walked him over to the treasure chest and opened it. “Take all the time you want picking out your prize. If you get tired, here’s a little stool to sit on while you look.”

He propped himself on the edge of the chest and started going through the presents. While he was occupied, she moved to her desk across the room and sat behind it. Casey’s hard-muscled father, in jeans and a dark green sport shirt, took a chair opposite her and placed the crutches on the floor next to him.

“Mr. Stillman,” she began quietly, “the doctor suggested your son’s problem was psychological, so that’s why I threw him in at the deep end of the pool yesterday. It’s clear his leg has healed and he’s able to walk just fine. Do you know any reason why his problem may have been so easily resolved? I don’t. I know I’m close to being the perfect therapist, but an overnight recovery is astonishing.”

The man’s lips quirked at her joke, but she got the impression there was something about her he didn’t like. She saw it in his wintry eyes. An odd chill went through her.

“I’ve discovered there’s a very good reason,” he answered, in a low voice so deep it resonated through her body. “But I would prefer to tell you out of his hearing.” Casey’s dad looked at her with such solemnity she took a quick breath.

“Understood. Since I’d like one more session with him, tomorrow morning, could you call me this afternoon? Say, around one? That’s when I take my lunch break, and we can talk.”

“I’ll see that Casey is otherwise occupied, then phone you.”

“Melissa?” his son called. “Can I have this Captain America toy?”

“Sure. It’s one of my favorites. The gizmo shoots little disks.”

“Awesome!”

“Did you know there’s something else I’d like you to do for me?”

“What?”

“Just use one crutch on your way out to your father’s car. Think you can do that?”

“Yes,” he said. But he was so absorbed with his new toy she doubted he’d really listened. In a few long strides, his dad, carrying both crutches, reached Casey. He fitted one under his son’s arm, then took the gift from him.

Melissa stood up. “I have one more favor to ask you, Casey.” He finally lifted his head. “Will you come to my office tomorrow without your crutches? Just leave them at home. If you do that, I’ve got another surprise for you.”

“Is it in the pirate chest?”

“I had something else in mind, but if there’s another toy you’d like in there, that’s fine.”

She could almost hear his brain working. “Will I like it a lot?”

Kids. She loved them.

“I can guarantee it.”

His eyes lit up. “Okay.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Casey.”

“Can you thank her for being so generous?” his father prodded.

“Thanks, Melissa.”

“You’re welcome.” She closed the door behind them to get ready for her next patient.

The morning seemed to pass much slower than usual. Melissa knew why. She was waiting for lunch, when Casey’s father was supposed to phone. Not once in three years had she been given a case where it was over almost before it had begun. Mr. Stillman had indicated he knew the reason for his son’s capitulation. She was eager for him to share it with her.

After her last appointment, she took a bottle of juice from her mini fridge and drank it while she typed the last patient’s follow-up notes into the computer. At five after one, the receptionist told her she was wanted on line three. She picked up the receiver.

“Melissa Dalton speaking.”

“This is Travis Stillman.”

“Thanks for calling me, Mr. Stillman. Where is Casey right now?”

“In the kitchen eating lunch with the housekeeper. He’s using her and Dexter to retrieve those disks.”

She laughed softly. “From what I saw this morning, he should be picking them up himself. In my professional opinion he has healed beautifully. So why did he cling to the crutches until you brought him to the clinic?”

“Let me give you a bit of background first. Until fifteen months ago, I was a Texas Ranger living with my wife and son in Fort Davis, Texas.”

A Texas Ranger. In Melissa’s mind, Texas Rangers were legendary, and he fitted her image of one exactly.

“On my last case,” he went on, “I went after a gang in a brutal racial slaying. I caught up with two of them, but a third one eluded me. They were known as the McClusky brothers. Soon after their capture, the third brother, Danny McClusky, murdered my wife in cold blood while she was driving home from the grocery store. It was a revenge killing. Thankfully, Casey was still at school.”

His revelation stopped her cold. “I—I can’t imagine anything so horrifying,” she stammered. “Is that killer still free?”

“Yes. He’s on the FBI’s most wanted list. They’ll get him in time.”

“How do you live with that?”

“Not so well. Two other times during my career, my wife and son were threatened. After I buried her, I decided enough was enough, and resigned from the Texas Rangers. Casey needs me too much.”

“He’s so lucky you’re still alive!” she said, before she realized how emotional she sounded. She knew what it felt like to be threatened. She’d gotten out of her marriage because of it. For both his and Casey’s sakes, she was glad Mr. Stillman had moved to Utah, away from danger.

“I have a sister,” he said, “who lives in Lone Peak Estates here in Sandy, with her husband and their two kids. Since the area’s zoned for horses, she encouraged us to move across the street from her so we could ride their horses when we wanted. After the loss of his mother, I wanted Casey to have family close by.”

“Of course,” Melissa murmured, still shocked by the tragic story. For a child to lose his mother like that was utterly heartbreaking.

“He’s had a hard time,” Mr. Stillman continued, “but we were doing better until he fell off his horse and broke his leg. It happened soon after Pioneer Day, on the twenty-fourth of July. Having the surgery frightened him and set him back emotionally. He’s been crying for his mother at night.”

“That’s only natural. Who wouldn’t? In hellish times the child in everyone cries for his or her mother.”

Melissa had wanted to cry in her mom’s arms in the months before she’d run from Russ, wanting her to make everything all right. But she’d felt too ashamed to tell her parents anything. They’d advised her to wait another year before she got married, just to be sure. But oh, no. She knew what she was doing. What a fool.

She hadn’t confided in her parents until after she’d left Russ.

Poor Casey hadn’t had his mother when he’d fallen.

“When you greeted him outside your office yesterday morning, it was like something magical happened—he responded to you without even thinking about it. I was bewildered by his reaction until we got home. That’s when I realized there’s something about you that reminds him of his mother—the way you talk, your enthusiasm, even your physical appearance. You have a vitality like hers. Put all that together and you could be her double.”