from him today had left no doubt in her mind. But to hear Cord say what she’d been thinking forced yet another shiver of alarm down her spine when she was already enough on edge.
They’d been standing at the window, not talking, for no more than a minute while the sound of the wind in the trees increased. Her mind had been lost somewhere in the past; somewhere with Cord…
“Go after him?” she repeated stupidly. “You don’t even know where to look.”
“Kevin lives on Tenmile Road, doesn’t he? I’ll try to pick up Matt’s tracks from there.”
If anyone else had said that, she would have laughed. But Cord made his living finding the unfindable. In response to his question, she told him that Pawnee had shoes on his front hooves but not the rear ones because he had the bad habit of kicking at other horses. Cord nodded, told her that would help identify the gelding, and then asked which horse he could borrow.
Glad to have something to do, she stepped outside and led the way to the corral. Most afternoons there were people around, but the two college students she’d hired as wranglers were out with groups and she didn’t expect anyone to return for several hours. She shouldn’t have felt isolated and trapped-wouldn’t have if it had been anyone except Cord.
She tried to gauge the wind. Would Matt notice the wind and clouds and rethink, or would saving face with his best friend and proving himself to his father come before wisdom?
Before she could lean her weight into the warped wooden gate, Cord swung it aside and stepped into the corral. Despite her resolve not to gaze at him any more than necessary, she did just that.
When they got married, he’d still been taking on the contours of maturity, but she hadn’t known that. Back then, she’d thought him the most powerful man she’d ever met. Once her mother had asked if she felt safe around him. At first she hadn’t known what her mother was talking about, but then it sunk in. Her mother was worried that Cord might someday use his strength to get what he wanted from her. But that had never been his way.
Never.
Even now he was speaking quietly and calmly to the curious horses who’d come up for a sniff as if being surrounded by animals who weighed over half a ton was as natural as breathing. Perhaps she should have helped run interference; but for too long she couldn’t do anything except listen to him and remember how his voice had sounded as they’d made love, when the tones came from the depth of his being and words she wasn’t sure he remembered or ever acknowledged were ripped from him. When he had given her so much of himself-maybe all he had.
She desperately wanted Matt to return, not just so the knot of tension in the pit of her stomach would go away, but so that father and son would leave and she wouldn’t have to look at Cord anymore. Wouldn’t have to feel. Remember. Remember too much.
Realizing he was watching her, she snagged one of the mare’s halters and led the roan out of the corral while Cord closed the gate behind them. Strange. Without either of them having said a word, they’d managed to work together to accomplish a simple but necessary task. Too bad-
No! She wasn’t going to go down that road again. She wasn’t! After all, she couldn’t blame Cord entirely for not being who she needed. Her college psychology courses had taught her how much of an impact one’s parents had on how a person turned out. Well, Cord hadn’t had parents. He’d had Gray Cloud. Only Gray Cloud.
She’d seen a faded newspaper picture of the old Native American after he had brought a trio of lost Boy Scouts down off Breckenridge. Its quality hadn’t been particularly good, but because that was the only picture Cord had of his grandfather, she had no other way of putting a face to the man who’d shaped her ex-husband. Shaped and, in many ways, limited him emotionally.
“You’ve been letting Matt stay out after dark?” Cord asked as they headed toward the barn.
“Not beyond sleep-overs and campgrounds where I know the managers. I’m aware of how you feel about him gaining self-confidence, but I’m not ready for him to be any more independent than he already is. I’m much more comfortable playing the overprotective mother.” She couldn’t prevent sarcasm from entering her voice, then worked up a smile she hoped would blunt the edge of her words. Confrontation bad never been her strong suit; she wasn’t going to start today, with him. “You have to be around school-age boys all the time to understand that logic is not something they give a lot of thought. If it feels good at the moment, they do it and worry about the consequences later.”
Cord rubbed the heel of his hand against the mare’s forehead, saying nothing, waiting for her to speak, as he’d done too damn many times. She obliged only because she hated what was going on inside her. “Once, when he was in kindergarten, I got a call from the principal because Matt had upended another kid in the toybox. When I asked him about it, his only excuse was that it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“What happened?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Did he get into trouble?”
“No,” she admitted as they stepped inside the cool, dark barn and the smell of wood and hay and horses engulfed her. “At least, not from me. I acted pretty firm when we were in the principal’s office. Sometimes it’s easier to go along with authority figures than to get into long debates.” Working from feel and experience, she chose a bridle. “Afterward I asked Matt why he picked that particular kid. He said he’d butted in line ahead of him at the water fountain and he didn’t want him to do it again. It seemed to me that the boys were handling their problems about as maturely as a couple of five-year-olds could be expected to. I pointed out some facts, like what might have happened if there’d been anything hard or sharp in the toybox, and then let it go. The next day Matt and that kid were best buddies.”
She shrugged and even smiled a little although she wasn’t sure Cord could see. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being in this confined space with him. “I’m convinced that’s how kids grow up, by working things out on their own as much as possible.” Her smile faded and she knew her eyes were giving away what she felt inside. “He’s a good boy. Just young. Impulsive.”
“I know.”
Cord’s words stopped her. For perhaps a half second raw fear tore at her, but because as a mother she’d battled worry for her child before, she knew how to smash it into submission and concentrate on a plan, what had to be done to return that child to her. What happened to Summer had nothing to do with Matt. Nothing! Matt, like his father, was healthy and filled with a zest for life’s risks.
“It’s going to be all right, Shannon,” Cord said.
“I’ve been thinking,” she told him. “Matt’s been talking about the south end of Dillon Reservoir a lot lately, asking me how big the fish get and whether there’d be tadpoles this time of year.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You don’t know when you’ll be back, do you?” she asked, pointing to the saddle she wanted him to use.
“When I know something.”
Another wave of fear washed through her. She spoke around it. “What kind of communication system do you use? I want to know as soon as you find him.”
Lifting the saddle effortlessly, he placed it on the mare’s back. “Hand-held radios. I’ll show you how to use them.”
“Good,” she said, as if she would have it any other way.
While she waited outside the barn with the mare, Cord walked over to the Jeep. He came back carrying a powerful flashlight, the radios, a denim jacket, and a small, personalized first-aid kit. It made her feel better that he hadn’t bothered with a lot of equipment. If that was all he intended to carry, it wasn’t as if this was a real search, just a necessary, time-consuming but routine chore by an adventurous child’s tired father.
“Don’t try to hold Misty back,” she said as she turned the mare’s reins over to Cord. “Let her run herself a little. Then she’ll do everything you want her to.”
“I understand.”
Of course he did. There wasn’t a thing she had to tell him about how to conduct his business-except that the boy out there was so much a part of her that there was no separating them.
Matt was a part of Cord, too, she reminded herself as Cord handed her a radio. The unit felt solid, yet too small. This black box was all that connected her with what might happen out there. She concentrated as he showed her how to use the instrument, then stepped out of the way so he could swing into the saddle. The mare
