Ring of Fire by Susan Fox Read Free Book Online Page B

even going to get above a walk today. Eric sighed as Sally took off at a long-strided but relatively slow pace, leading the procession.
    â€œGuide Celebration in behind Pookie,” Ben instructed Eric. “I’ll ride behind you and give you some tips.”
    A babysitter. Great. At least it was a step up from a lead rein and side walkers.
    After leaving the barnyard, they followed a dirt two-track road that ran alongside a wooden fence. Eric noted his surroundings with a careful eye, trying to appreciate rather than to search for potential threats. He was a long way from Afghanistan, and even though he chafed to get back to duty, he had to admit that Caribou Crossing was a pretty place. Fields of grain rippled in the slight breeze like golden waves. A black bird with patches of red on its wings sang from a fence post.
    Ben mostly kept quiet, though he gave Eric an occasional reminder to keep his heels down and his body fluid.
    With September sunshine on Eric’s shoulders, the grain rustling, the birds trilling, it was easier to let his muscles loosen up a little. When he did, he began to understand what Sally and Ben were talking about. He could feel the thrust and roll of Celebration’s body as the horse took each step forward. Eric let his own body move with it rather than against it.
    â€œThat’s better,” Ben said, bringing his horse up beside Eric’s. “A sense of connection with your horse is critical.”
    Curious, Eric asked him about rodeo, learning that he and his horse competed with a partner in team roping and that Ben also rode saddle broncs. The man said that he and Sally were planning to set up a rodeo school, hopefully to launch the next summer. “I was happy riding the circuit,” Ben said, “until Sally and I got together. And then the idea of staying in one place with one woman sounded pretty damn fine.” He glanced over at Eric. “Are you from Caribou Crossing?”
    â€œNo.” Then, realizing he was being awfully curt, he said, “I was doing rehab in Toronto.” He’d had a whole team there: physiatrist, physiotherapist, occupational therapist, prosthetist, and others. “But I didn’t enjoy being in the city.” The noises and odors had been annoying and he’d suspected that they exacerbated his flashbacks. When he’d no longer needed all the specialists and equipment at the rehab center and had decided to take Leave Without Pay, he could’ve gone to stay with his parents in Ottawa, but his father made him feel so damned inadequate. Besides, if he lived with his parents it would be hard to conceal the flashbacks and nightmares. Eric hadn’t told his parents about his problem, knowing that his father would be the opposite of sympathetic. The Brigadier-General considered PTSD to be a mental weakness, a “mind over matter” issue, and thought the soldiers who couldn’t beat it were pussies.
    Shoving away the negative thoughts, Eric went on, “I’d reached the point where I mostly only needed a physiotherapist.” He sure wasn’t going to mention the psychologist. “That meant I didn’t have to be close to a big rehab center, and my team and I both thought a quieter country setting would be a good change.” It was cheaper, too, in terms of living expenses.
    â€œCaribou Crossing’s sure a change from Toronto,” Ben said. “Did you know someone here?”
    â€œNo, I’d never heard of the place. The physiatrist who leads my rehab team recommended it. Or, rather, recommended Monique Labelle, a physiotherapist he’d worked with for a number of years in Toronto. She moved here a few years ago.”
    Ben was nodding, smiling. “I go to Monique, too. She’s great. Did you know she used to be an Olympic figure skater?”
    â€œI didn’t.” Eric had been so focused on his own recovery that he’d never asked Monique anything about