The Return of Cord Navarro

Chapter 8

Afternoon had become evening. The sun was setting. Although he all but had to double over, Cord continued to stare at the ground as he sought out the nuggets of information Matt had left behind. Several times in the past few minutes he’d placed his palm over a faint boot print and let his nerves absorb the silent messages.

Matt had slowed down, and there was no pattern or destination to what he was doing. Like a rabbit, the boy had hopped in one direction for a while before taking off in another. Yes, he continued to climb, but there was no efficiency, no purpose. Cord wasn’t sure whether Shannon was aware of how much crisscrossing they’d been doing. He’d explain why once it was too dark to see where he was going, so she wouldn’t have to pull the information out of him. If she sounded strong enough, he’d admit that their son was getting tired and toeing out like a fat man in his attempt to keep his body going.

What he wouldn’t tell her was that he was certain Pawnee had thrown Matt. The signs had been all too clear, a mass of churned hoof prints, at the middle of a steep slope and, in among those prints, two easily recognizable handprints and two indentations that he was convinced had been made by a pair of knees.

To him, the scenario was spelled out as clearly as if he had a video of the whole accident. Matt had tried to make Pawnee climb the hili and, panicking, Pawnee had begun bucking. Made awkward by his backpack, Matt had fallen off and landed on his bands and knees. Pawnee had run away while Matt had been left behind. Because the ground was rocky and Pawnee had done so much damage to it, it was impossible to know how long Matt had remained there before picking himself up and going on alone.

And maybe Pawnee had been startled by a rifle shot.

At least Matt hadn’t been injured enough by the fall that he couldn’t move, Cord reminded himself again. But the boy was disoriented. Lost. Were the poachers responsible? If they were…

Cord crouched low and extended a shadowed hand over a smear in the pine needles made by a toe dragging over the ground, studying not just the mark but his own hand. The last time he’d seen Matt, they’d shaken hands. Matt had seemed pleased by that, a growing-up boy wanting to say goodbye to his dad man to man.

Why hadn’t he clutched that slender yet muscled body to him? Ten wasn’t a man yet. Ten was a child. Just because he hadn’t thought of himself as one at that age didn’t mean he should subject his son to the same standards.

But he had. Somehow, unwittingly, he’d given Matt the message that it was time-past time-for him to become a man.

That’s why Matt was out here.

“Cord, please, give it up.”

For an instant, he wanted to order Shannon to be silent because he couldn’t rest until their son was safe, but she was right. He’d been going more by feel than sight for too long and if he wasn’t careful, he might talk himself into believing he’d seen something that wasn’t there. When he straightened, he felt a slight pull in the small of his back, but as he’d done many times over the years, he quickly assessed the inconsequential discomfort and dismissed it. It might be different for Matt. His fall from Pawnee might have left him bruised and sore.

“You’ve done all you can for one day,” she said softly. “Get some rest.”

“I haven’t done enough.”

“You aren’t superhuman-I’m not asking you to be. Besides, there isn’t any go left in me.”

His attention was instantly drawn to her. She stood with her legs splayed farther apart then he’d seen them all day. Her mouth was parted, and when she breathed, she straightened slightly, as if needing to increase her lung capacity. Her fingers had swollen a little and he guessed her feet felt the same way.

She hadn’t said anything about being tired before. He couldn’t remember whether they’d stopped to eat or rest today, something he’d always made part of his agenda before-before his son was the one out there.

“Shannon.” He started to lift his hands toward her. After a couple of seconds, he let them drop to his sides. “I should have paced us better. I pushed you too hard.”

“No more than you pushed yourself. All I had to do was follow your lead. You’re the one who did all the tracking. You’re incredible. So determined. So patient. I mean it. No wonder you’re in demand.”

He could have pointed out that he was used to this life-style and had trained his mind and body to accept what he required of it, but despite the deep shadows, he could see fine lines at the corners of Shannon’s eyes, the way her mouth drooped as if she was tired of holding it in place.

Still, she would keep going until she dropped if she believed it would help their son. He didn’t dare forget that.

“Rest.” His hands felt empty. He had to fight to keep from reaching for her. “I won’t do that to you again.”

“I don’t care. You have to know that.”

The world around them had already taken on its night song, cooler, freer somehow than it had during the day. Her voice had risen to blend with it. “Yes, I do,” he told her.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you?”

“With all my heart.”

“Oh, Cord.” She touched him, a warm, strong hand on his cheek. Although he didn’t move, he felt himself flow into the contact. As when they’d once made love, he lost the distinctions between them.

The caress that wasn’t really one continued. He thought about her reaction to his stubble, wanted to protect her from that harshness. Wanted her to know that some things hadn’t changed about him and his body would still feel the same to her.

He was full of words. Words that wouldn’t come. All he could do was dip his head so that his cheek pressed more firmly against her hand and look into her eyes and wonder what emotions she kept hidden from him.

Maybe none. Maybe a lifetime’s worth.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

That I want to bury myself in you until there’s nothing except us. “I’m not sure I am,” he lied.

“I don’t believe you. Don’t pull back, please. It’s all right,” she insisted, and he did as she ordered. “I shouldn’t have asked. I just-Oh, Cord, I’m such an emotional mess. I guess I was hoping you could tell me how to get through this. My moods are like a roller coaster, up and down until I think I’m going to go crazy.”

“He’s all right. You’ve seen his tracks. You know-”

“Yes, I do. I’m just tired. Maybe that makes me think things I shouldn’t. Worry more than I should. I mean, look at what we’ve already accomplished.”

“Yes, we have.”

“Do you mean it?” she challenged. “I don’t want you keeping anything from me. I need you to be honest even if it’s bad. Comparing this search to others, is it coming along all right?”

“Much better than many,” he told her. If there was any way he could keep her from tapping into everything he was thinking, learning the depth and width of his concerns, he would do it. And if he couldn’t-

“That’s good.” She sighed and stared at her hand as if surprised to see it against his flesh. Stepping back, she let her arm drop to her side. With that gesture, the night seemed to lap against her and take over. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed to hear that.”

Fifteen minutes later they’d spread out their ground mats and unrolled their separate sleeping bags and Shannon had gotten out the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she’d made so many hours ago. When Cord caught the smell of peanut butter, his stomach rumbled. Despite that, he picked up the two-way radio and made contact with Shannon’s parents because he wanted to give them more details on where they were and what they’d accomplished today.

Despite the strain they couldn’t keep out of their voices, Shannon’s parents insisted that they were holding up well and were fortunately being kept busy. After telling them about finding Pawnee and having let all three horses go, he turned the radio over to Shannon. His call to the sheriff would have to come later when he was assured of privacy. In the meantime, he’d have to go on fighting himself.

By the time he’d removed his boots, she had told her parents that they could expect the horses to show up at her place sometime tomorrow and that she’d appreciate knowing as soon as they did. After ending the conversation, she handed him his dinner. “Are you tired?” she asked gently.

“Tired? I guess. I try not to think about anything except what I have to do.”

“How well do you succeed?”

“Most of the time it works.”

“But not now.” She tipped her head slightly and studied him intently. “No. You don’t have to say anything. I won’t push, not tonight. I don’t want to have to worry any more than I already am. Does that make me sound like a coward?”

“You’re doing what you have to. That’s all right.”

“Is it?” Stretching her neck, she glanced at the still-darkening sky. “Even if the temperature goes down more, I hope the clouds break up completely tonight. The moon’s just about full. If it isn’t totally dark, if he can study the moon, it might make him feel better.”

“It might.”

“But you don’t think it’s going to make much of a difference because you’ve shown him there’s nothing to fear in the night. I hope you’re right, because if you aren’t-No! I said I wasn’t going to let myself worry.” She took a small bite while he studied the shadows’ effect on her features. It was becoming harder and harder to separate her from their surroundings.

“My mother made the blackberry jelly I used in the sandwiches,” she continued. “She tried to get me to help her, but I guess I’m not as domestic as she, which isn’t saying much. What do you think of it?”

“Delicious,” he told her although he’d barely tasted what he was eating.

“And the peanut butter will stick to our ribs, not that I have to worry about putting on weight with all the exercise I got today. Listen to me. I keep rambling like-why don’t you just tell me to shut up?”

“It’s all right,” he said as he thought about the miles that separated them from the rest of the world.

“But maybe you have to listen to -

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Matt isn’t around here.”

“No, he isn’t. Just owls and coyotes and crickets and mosquitoes.” Closing her eyes, she listened for a minute. “They make quite a lullaby, don’t they? I’ve always loved it.” She sighed. “I just hope Matt sees it in the same way.”

He almost told her Matt would, but decided not to because that might bring them back to the conversation they’d sidestepped a few minutes ago. “It sounds like this at your place, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Sometimes when the coyotes get going, they all but drown out the TV.”

“Do they ever give you any trouble?”

“No. Actually, I rather like them, a sentiment some of my neighbors don’t share. However, you’ll notice that I don’t keep any chickens or rabbits or anything that might appeal to them. You’ve seen wolves, haven’t you?” Although he couldn’t make out her features, he sensed that she was smiling. “I’ve always wanted to, but with foals around it’s probably a good thing there aren’t any left around here. Still, I think we’ve lost something important and basic because they’re gone.”

He told her that an Alaska fish and game employee had taken him along during a wolf population count a couple of years ago and that he’d watched a pair of adult wolves teach their young how to track and kill.

“The balance of nature,” she said when he was finished. “It seems cruel, but predators keep the population of other animals in balance with the available food. Everything works as long as man doesn’t interfere. Too bad we couldn’t bring along the makings for a steak dinner. I swear I could eat the biggest one out there.”

“Do you want more to eat? I’ve got-”

“No. No, thanks. I’d probably better see how well I digest this.” Standing, she told him she was going to make a stab at cleaning up at the creek they’d stopped near. He watched her disappear, flashlight in hand, and then waited a few more minutes before contacting Dale Vollrath at his office. After the briefest of pleasantries Dale explained that he’d been out to the ranch twice to see how Shannon’s parents were doing and had let the head of search and rescue know what was going on. So far the press hadn’t picked up on what was happening but that might not last long. “Unfortunately, when and if that happens, we’re going to be swamped by reporters. I want to work with you, not be interviewed.”

“I’ve found Matt’s trail,” Cord explained.

“You have? That’s great. I’m sure that’s a big relief to both of you.”

“Not as much as I wish.” Keeping his voice as low as he dared, he told Dale about the faint gunshots he’d heard.

“Damn!”

“Yeah, damn. Except for us, is there anyone else on this side of Copper that you know of?”

“The forest service gave me a list of a half dozen hiking groups on the east slope, but that’s not what you’re talking about, is it?”

“No,” he admitted, hating his words. “Has there been any indication that those poachers are still on Brecken-ridge?”

“I asked about that, too. In fact, trying to get a lead on them has taken most of my day. No one’s seen anything, not that that means much. We’re talking about a hell of a lot of territory. You’re sure about the sound being a shot? You said it was pretty far away.”

“I’m sure,” he said, and Dale didn’t argue the point. Instead, the sheriff promised to do some more snooping around to see if he could come up with anything.

“I’d appreciate that. And, Dale, I want to keep this between you and me.”

“In other words, you don’t want Shannon knowing. It might not be possible, you know. If something happens…”

He’d seen the result of what happens when a hunter mistakes a human for a deer and knew that that image would stay with him for a long time tonight. Shannon didn’t need to carry the same images inside her. Hadn’t she told him that she had enough to worry about as it was? Protecting her from anything more was maybe the only thing he could do for her, his only atonement.

Had Cord been talking to someone? Shannon wondered as she returned to their camping spot. She thought she’d heard the murmur of his voice, but maybe she’d only imagined it.

And maybe he’d seen more today than he’d let on and was relaying whatever it was to someone. If Cord knew something he was keeping from her, she would never forgive him. Damn it, they were supposed to be in this together! Forget his natural reserve, his closemouthed nature, his inability to communicate. Angry, she nearly confronted him and insisted he be completely truthful. Instead, she sat down and took off her boots, weariness suddenly overtaking her. Unless Matt set off a keg of dynamite, she didn’t think she could move.

At the thought of Matt, she surrendered to a sense of warmth. Fueled by the area’s gold history, her son had recently spent a day digging a four-foot-deep hole in the backyard. How could anything bad happen to a boy with dirt on his knees and blisters on his hands and excited talk about all the horses he’d buy her once he had enough gold? Cord had found Pawnee. As the light faded, he’d placed his hand on their son’s boot print. They’d find him tomorrow. Her arms would feel full again.

Arms. Hands.

Although it was so dark that she couldn’t really see her hand, she held it close to her face. Despite his Ute blood, Cord needed to shave every day. Sometimes when he came back from a search, he hadn’t been near a razor for a week or more. When he walked in the door looking like that, she’d think of a bear. A powerful, fearless bear.

And then he’d pull her close to him and she’d forget everything except his body taking over hers. Bringing her to life.

Tonight her palm felt warm and alive. She pressed it against her chest, wondering if the gesture might transfer some of Cord’s essence from her hand to her heart. She needed a little of the incredible strength and competence that had saved lives.

That, and more.

Night! She had to face the night alone with him. “Wh-what are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice surprising her. She wasn’t sure hearing him speak would give her the necessary distance from her emotions, but she had to try. “At night, when you’re on a search, you must think about other searches you’ve been on.”

“Yes.”

“And is that happening tonight?”

“More than ever.” The answer came too slow.

“Tell me about it,” she prompted, although maybe she should leave this particular topic alone.

“You really want-”

“I really want to know, Cord.”

As he’d just done, he again paused before speaking. His voice deep and low, he told her about having gone after an escaped convict, an experience that had made national headlines. She remembered; the man had been armed and desperate. What he hadn’t been was wise in the ways of the wilderness. By the time Cord tracked him down, the man had lost his fight and had been grateful to have someone take him back to civilization.

“But he was still armed, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you walked right up to him?”

Cord chuckled; she’d almost forgotten what that sounded like and wanted to hear it again. “I watched him for a long time and made sure he had no fight left in him before I approached him.”

“Approached him? You’re not a cop. I don’t understand. If someone told me to go hiking off into the middle of nowhere looking for someone who’d already taken one life, I’d tell them to take a flying leap.” She shifted position slightly, groaning despite her resolve not to. “Cord, you have a child. Does your life mean that little?”

“My life means a lot to me, Shannon.” His voice was somewhere between a whisper and a growl-anger barely kept in check? “But law enforcement couldn’t touch that man because of where he was. If I didn’t go after him, he might have gotten away and later taken another life. Maybe a child’s life the next time.”

Was that why or was it because he was a man who gave up on nothing-except his marriage? “It’s like those newspaper articles say, isn’t it? You’re invincible. At least, you think of yourself that way.”

Cord didn’t say anything, and she wondered if she knew why. He’d never seen himself as anyone except a man who’d been given certain gifts and used those gifts to do a job, a sometimes desperately needed job. She shouldn’t have goaded him.

“Look,” she said. “I don’t mean to press you. Maybe I’m trying to figure out what makes you tick when I have no business doing so.”

“Yes, you do. You need to know if I can find our son.”

She felt a spark, a silent shaft of lightning coming so quickly that she almost didn’t recognize it. But in a few words, Cord had shown his ability to step inside her head. He hadn’t, she believed, been able to do that back when their marriage was dying. When they’d both given up.

“I don’t know if I want to talk to you,” she admitted. “I do know I wish with all my heart that we weren’t here, that we weren’t being forced together like this. That…that I didn’t feel so vulnerable.”

She needed to hear him say he understood, but she was wrong because he was going to retrieve their son and life would go back to normal. She also needed to snatch away her raw words and hide behind silence. Silence! That was his domain, a large part of what had destroyed them.

“Cord?” She took a breath while trying to decide whether to continue. “When I started my business, I was so scared I wouldn’t make it that I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about? Your stomach never becomes this boulder that weighs more than you can possibly carry, does it? What’s it like?” She forced the question. “To not feel fear.”

“I don’t know.”

His answer seemed to drift above them to blend with the night sky and the sounds that defined their existence. She felt both frozen and newly alive as if she’d glimpsed sunlight in the depth of a forest. “There have been times when that boulder feels larger than me.”

“Tell me, please,” she whispered when he fell silent. Please let me into that private world of yours.

“You don’t want to hear this.”

“Yes, I do. Cord, if I once made you believe I needed you to play the macho role, I’m sorry. It was dumb and immature. I shouldn’t have said what I just did. I think I know what you’re getting at-searches that seemed like they would never end, the fear you wouldn’t get to someone in time.”

“That wasn’t the worst.”

This time she couldn’t make a single sound.

“Maybe all new fathers feel the same way-I don’t know.”

“How…how did you feel?”

“Scared.”

“Scared? You?”

“Shannon, I was only eighteen when you got pregnant-when I got you pregnant. The day after you told me, I walked into the forest.” His voice trailed away, leaving her feeling as if she was alone in the dark, alone and waiting for him to rejoin her. She felt surrounded by night. “I remember thinking a thousand things, having a thousand fears,” he whispered.

“Being in the forest…” she said because she had to say something, “did that help?”

“Not for a long time. I couldn’t find the answers inside myself. Finally I asked Gray Cloud’s spirit how I was going to put food in my baby’s mouth, whether…whether I was what you needed. He didn’t answer. I learned, the hard way.”

Oh, Cord. “I wish you’d told me,” she whispered. It might have made a difference. Brought us closer.

“I didn’t know how.”

And I didn’t know how to listen. For a moment she fought the need to walk away from this conversation, the peeling away of too many self-imposed layers.

Then she stood and walked barefoot over to where she knew he was. The night had served them well, she thought as she knelt beside him. Unable to see each other, they’d said things they probably wouldn’t have if they’d had to look into each other’s eyes. Now she’d made a lie of the darkness by coming to him. Heat, enough to wash through her body, nearly distracted her, but she held on.

“If you’d confided in me…”

“You were the one having the baby. You had enough on your mind.”

“But if we’d both known what was going on inside the other, maybe it would have made a difference.”

She didn’t so much as sense him move. Still, his hands now covered hers and she felt less alone. “I’d like to believe it would have,” he said.

Despite the pain that accompanied his word and her inability to turn it into anything else, she now had a deeper understanding of Cord’s heart and mind than she’d ever had. Scared. Her wonderfully brave and masculine lover, scared. She tried to think back to when they’d faced the consequences of their too young, too innocent lovemaking, but the present-his hands engulfing hers-blocked that out.

“We can’t change what happened,” she made herself say. “I know that. But…”

He sighed; the gesture lifted his chest and shoulders, lifted her hands. She gripped with the tips of her fingers and pulled even more of his heat into her. “But-” She took a breath and went on. “We’ve done a lot of growing up, become wiser. At least, I hope we have.”

With hands and body, he pulled her around until their shoulders were pressed together. Her heart pounded; she spoke through the sound. “I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me?”

“I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about what I put you through in the beginning. The way I pressured you to take that horrible, well-paid, dead-end factory job so we would have a roof over our heads. If I’d truly understood you, I never would have done that. Of all the things for you to have to do, being in a windowless room surrounded by machinery had to be the worst.”

“I offered. You didn’t force me.”

He’d taken control of her hands. Now he pulled them near to but not touching his chest. She didn’t move away; she couldn’t remember how to move. Talking was almost more than she could concentrate on. “Maybe not in so many words, but I remember yelling at you that I wasn’t going to spend my life working at minimum wage, and even if you didn’t care about an education, I was convinced I had to get one. I wanted to prove to my parents that we were old enough to handle our own lives. I was going to go to college, without their help. When I think of the pressure-”

“You never once yelled, Shannon.”

He was confusing her. Or maybe the truth was, their tentative contact was what had her off balance. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Not the tangled and twisted words they’d spoken years ago, nor why she couldn’t think tonight. She’d come to this isolated place with its night melody of song to look for their son. She hadn’t expected to find the man she once loved.

Stripped of everything except raw emotion, she would admit that in some ways she still loved Cord Navarro.

Pulling free, she staggered away from him. She expected-wanted-him to call her back so she could tell him that it was dangerous for them to talk about the past when it should be left buried. But he didn’t, and now she wanted to throw his silence back at him. Wanted him anywhere but here with her. She knew her night would be filled with memories of their daughter’s death and his inability to cry, to feel, to share and understand.

Matt propped himself against a tree and tried to pull his jeans up so he could see his knees but his pant legs were too tight. He probably should stand and take his jeans off, but it seemed like too much of an effort.

What had gotten into Pawnee? Sure, it had been pretty steep back there, but it wasn’t as if it was the first time they’d climbed. There was a lot of shale; maybe it had felt slippery under Pawnee’s feet and that’s what had set him to bucking. Maybe Pawnee had heard something he hadn’t.

Bucking. He’d done that all right, so quick and unexpected that Matt had been flying through the air before he knew what was happening. If he hadn’t been wearing his backpack, his balance might have been better.

What did it matter? Pawnee had run away and he’d landed on his hands and knees and for a few minutes had been so shook up that he hadn’t understood what had happened. Thank heavens he’d been wearing his pack. Otherwise he’d have nothing to eat tonight, not even a bed roll.

He licked the corner of his mouth but there wasn’t so much as a taste left of the soggy granola bars he’d had for dinner. Reaching out, he tried to snag his pack to see what else might be in there, but he couldn’t reach it without having to move and his knees were already stiff and getting stiffer. Besides, he had to quit eating like a pig.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the yapping coyotes, but no matter how hard he tried, it didn’t work. This was his second night out and he was nowhere near the top of Copper. In fact, he wasn’t at all sure-

But he would be in the morning. All he had to do was find a tall enough tree to climb or scramble up a boulder and then he could figure out where he was and where he needed to go.

You’ve been saying that all day. So far you haven’t-

You think it’s so darn easy, you try making sense of all these trees and rocks and hills and valleys and-

Stop it! All right, just stop it!

Feeling exhausted by the argument, he opened his eyes and tried to make out the man in the moon. He thought he saw his grinning face, not that it really mattered. What did matter was getting enough sleep that he could get to the top of the stupid mountain and back down tomorrow before his mom started looking for him.

“Is this what you usually do when you’re out on a search?”

Cord looked up from the lazy arcs and circles he was drawing in the dirt with a stick. Shannon had been walking restlessly around the campsite; at the moment she stood barefoot a few inches away. Given the end to their conversation a little while ago, he was surprised she wanted to talk.

“I do a lot of thinking, yes.”

She squatted on a rock not far from him. When she spoke, he heard an unexpected smile in her voice. “Drawing in the dirt helps you think? I stare out windows. If I’m not careful, I lose whole hours that way.”

What took hold of her and made her need to spend time within her head? Instead of asking, he told her that for him evenings on a search were spent assessing the information he’d taken in during the day, building on his knowledge of who he was looking for, mapping out tomorrow’s strategy.

“You don’t have to build on what you know about Matt.”

Didn’t he? He wasn’t sure he’d ever be done exploring his son, or that he’d ever want to. “He’s more adventurous than I gave him credit for. And he’s not afraid, at least not enough that it gets in the way of what he’s doing.”

“Not afraid?” Shannon breathed the question, and he felt her struggle to hold back tears. At least that’s what he thought she was doing. “That…that makes it easier for me.”

“I should have told you earlier.”

“I should have asked.”

“There’s something else.” He thought about telling her that he’d heard rifle shots and that there’d been poachers on the mountains earlier, because his secrets might drive a wedge between them and he hated carrying his knowledge alone. But he couldn’t bring himself to add to her burdens when she’d given him the clear message that she couldn’t take much more. Instead, he told her that Matt didn’t know where he was going.

“He’s lost?”

“Yes.”

“Lost but not scared? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do, either. I’m thinking he’s still confident that he’ll be able to get out of this with his pride intact.”

She stared at him, eyes dark with concern. For an instant her mouth trembled. Then she pressed her lips together and nodded, a brave mother accepting reality. His respect for her knew no bounds. “Does that make it easier or harder to find him?”

“Different. That’s all, just different.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“He isn’t panicking. A lot of people do when they realize they have no idea where they are.”

“Why isn’t he? It’s got to be more than dumb self-confidence.”

“He knows this country. You’ve never made it something he should fear.”

“I can’t take any credit for that. Admit it, Cord. Everything he knows about the wilderness comes from you. He’s in such a hurry to grow up. I know he needs the freedom to explore, but sometimes-sometimes he’s just a little boy.”

Little boy. It wasn’t the words so much as the way she said them that touched Cord. Needing to put his mind to something other than the image that conjured up and his unwitting role in Matt’s wanting to rush through childhood, he let his attention shift back to her. Her athletic yet feminine form easily caught and held him. He could no more fight her power than he could hold back a storm.

The silence continued. Shannon was looking at him with the night dancing in her eyes; he met her gaze, not knowing what his own eyes revealed. He felt the wilderness surround him, call in its ageless way, engulfing her, as well. They’d come here because of their mutual love for a ten-year-old boy. But this wild land could spin spells over those who listened to its song. He’d always listened. Maybe Shannon would, too, and the experience would change what they were to each other.

Did either of them want that?

“It’s hard for boys at this age,” she said softly. She hadn’t freed him from her gaze. “Half little boy, half near teenager. Matt loves being around horses. When they do what he wants them to, it boosts his confidence and I’m amazed at his patience. Pawnee-”

“He’s a beautiful animal, intelligent, independent.”

“He is that, all right. But Pawnee sometimes intimidates Matt, although you could never get him to admit it. That animal’s a handful. It took Pawnee and me a while before we got our relationship nailed down. I accept Pawnee for what he is, all healthy energy. Matt isn’t old enough to understand that energy.”

Can you feel my energy? Do you know what you’re doing to me? Cord wondered. “It’ll come.”

“I know. That’s why I was willing to let them spend some time together. I just never dreamed it would turn out like this. I feel like the most neglectful mother who ever lived.”

“You aren’t! Damn it, you aren’t!”

She didn’t move. Although the night sky remained clear, he felt a storm building-a storm between the two of them.

“Thanks for saying that,” she whispered. “I needed to hear it. Matt isn’t cautious or easily intimidated.”

He hadn’t heard that proud, nonjudgmental note in her voice for so long that he’d forgotten it-or convinced himself that he had. “No, he isn’t.”

“He wants to parachute. Did he tell you that?”

“Yes.” Whose voice was that, deep and hollowed out at the same time? He could barely think. Maybe if she moved farther away-“He also wants to take a canoe down a class-five river.”

“Not yet.” She shook her head and he understood that his words had taken her away from him and back to their son. He was both grateful for the release and disappointed because, dangerous as it was, he needed more of this connection between them.

He reassured her that it would be several years before he’d take Matt down one of the country’s wild rivers. Then, needing the safety of words and yet not quite sure how to use them, he told her about exploring the John Day River in eastern Oregon and finding remnants of history in still-standing log cabins and long-discarded arrowheads.

“It sounds wonderful. Matt would love going there with you.”

“I know.” He’d dropped his stick when Shannon called his attention to it. Now he picked it up and began drawing a crude picture of one of the cabins. “After last Christmas, I know he’s ready for that.”

“Last Christmas? What happened?”

To his surprise, he found himself chuckling. “Matt informed me that he was too old for a stocking. He wanted me to be the one to tell you because he was afraid of hurting your feelings.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, either.”

“I’m tougher than that,” she told him. “A little dense when it comes to how fast Matt is growing up, but I’m not going to lose it simply because he doesn’t want a stocking anymore. Next year…” No. She refused to give in to fear. There was going to be a next year. Cord Navarro wouldn’t let her worst nightmare come true. She trusted him in that; she had to. “My mother made that stocking, you know. One of her few handmade endeavors. Maybe that’s what made telling me hard for Matt.”

“Maybe.”

Barely aware of what she was doing, she stepped closer and stared down at what he’d been drawing. Her arms dangled at her sides, fingers feeling empty. She sensed him turning toward her, should have had the wisdom to move away, but his dark eyes called out to her, pushed past the barriers and found something vulnerable.

When he took her hand in his and gently squeezed, she squeezed back. The gesture should have conveyed mutual concern for their lost son, nothing more, but she couldn’t lie to herself. This was about her and Cord, emotions unfinished, needs. Despite the danger, she allowed him to draw her hand to his mouth so he could kiss the back of her knuckles. She shuddered; maybe he did, too. Words were beyond her.

After crouching for so long, surely he needed to stretch his legs. Instead, he remained where he was and she could neither explain or comprehend why she used her free hand to draw his head against her thigh, or why he let her. For the better part of a minute, neither of them moved or spoke as she absorbed all she could of his strength and more and prayed he could draw something essential from her. Then, because she was afraid of what she might do next, she broke the contact and headed to bed.

She wanted him so badly that she had to fight herself to keep from reaching for him again. She’d gone to stand near him because she hadn’t been able to free herself from the realization that a part of her still loved him. Something about his very essence had found its way to her. Into her. Her mouth went dry and her heart hurt each time it beat. She felt so alive and sexually charged that her body seemed like hot liquid.

He could still do that to her. Melt her down with a look, a touch, soft words.

She tried to turn her attention to the seemingly impossible task of finding enough flat ground under her so that she could sleep. But her mind was too filled with memories of their lovemaking, with worries about her son.

Sleep was a long time in coming.