The Return of Cord Navarro

Chapter 2

Cord concentrated, not just on what Kevin was saying, but the boy’s tone, as well. His son’s friend was obviously more than a little miffed at Matt, maybe so focused on that that he was unable to remember the details of their conversation.

“Let me get this straight,” he said after Kevin had rambled on for several minutes. “Matt had brought over his gear so the two of you could spend the night at the Wagon Creek campground, but you don’t think that’s where he went. He didn’t say anything about coming back home, though, did he?” Kevin’s family lived some two miles from here, an easy horseback ride for a boy who’d been around horses most of his life.

“No. He called me a butthead. Said I didn’t know squat ’bout what you’ve been teaching him. Is it true? You’re really gonna take him wherever you go this summer, even if it’s to the top of the highest mountains in the world?”

Cord had never climbed the Alps, hadn’t so much as mentioned them to Matt as far as he knew. However, he saw no reason to say anything that would lower Kevin’s opinion of his friend any more than it already was. Besides, that wasn’t the point of this conversation.

“Kevin, I started tracking with my grandfather when I was younger than Matt is now. What I told him was, since we’re going to be together for the next three months, he’ll be as much a part of whatever I’m doing as possible.” He didn’t mention that there’d be times when Matt would have to remain at base camps while he was on particularly arduous or dangerous searches.

“Wow! Can I come? My dad-I know my dad’ll let me. And he can talk my mom-”

“Wait a minute,” Cord interrupted with a chuckle. “Let’s deal with one thing at a time. I can’t believe Matt didn’t say anything to you about his plans. Didn’t he at least hint at what he was going to do?”

“Well…”

“Well, what?” From his twice weekly phone calls with his son, he knew there was almost nothing Matt didn’t share with Kevin.

“He-is Matt’s mom still there?”

“Yes, I am,” Shannon said.

“I told Matt he was gonna get in trouble for this, but he said I didn’t know what I was talking about, that you let him do it all the time.”

“What do I let him do all the time?” Shannon asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Cord noted that she’d pressed her hands against her flat stomach, but her voice betrayed nothing of her emotions. Either that, or she had become too much of a stranger for him to know what she was feeling.

“Stay out all night.”

“When it’s something like your place, or a campground I approve of like Wagon Creek, yes,” she said. “But you’re saying he didn’t go there.”

“No,” Kevin said, and Cord felt the weight and heat of Shannon’s eyes on him.

“What did he say?” he prodded because Shannon was slow to speak. Besides, Kevin had a case of hero worship where he was concerned and this conversation might drag on forever if he didn’t exert a little pressure. “It’s very important that I know exactly what’s going on. You’re going to help me in this, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah. Sure. ’Sides, it’s not like it’s some big secret. I just don’t know why Matt didn’t tell his mom himself.”

“Tell her what?”

“That he’s going campin’ on his own-I swear I don’t know where-for a couple of nights. He said for me to tell her not to worry. He made me promise.”

Not to worry. As if Shannon could do that. He again asked Kevin if Matt had given any indication of where he might be going, but although Kevin stuttered and stammered and then was quiet for too long, the boy swore he didn’t know more than he’d already told them. Cord’s thoughts all too easily fixed on their rugged surroundings, miles and miles of wilderness that had been his childhood backyard. Although Shannon’s address was the little town of ’Frisco, there were massive mountains on all sides. It was said that Summit County, Colorado, boasted more outdoor recreational opportunities than almost anywhere in the country. The area included the Snake and Blue rivers, the Gore and Tenmile mountain ranges, Dillon Reservoir, and a history rich in gold miners and Ute Indians.

In short, there was a hell of a lot of space, most of it capable of hiding a boy bent on proving something to his best friend-and maybe his parents. Mostly his father.

“You’re sure about this?” he pressed. “Matt definitely said he’d be gone two nights?”

“Yeah. He showed me his food. He’s got a lot. Neat stuff he probably wouldn’t have shared with me anyway. ’Sides, he said you weren’t going to be back for a while and he wanted to get into shape for when you needed him.”

“I understand: Being in shape’s important. But so too is letting people know where you’re going to be. I can’t believe he didn’t say anything about his destination. That’s the first rule of wilderness traveling. Kevin, I need you to think. Is it possible he was going to go to Wagon Creek on his own?”

“No way,” Kevin insisted. “He says that’s for babies. Uh, is he going to get into trouble?”

Cord didn’t answer for the simple and yet hard reason that Shannon was responsible for disciplining Matt. True, that would change once father and son were together, but right now Matt technically was living under his ex-wife’s roof, and although he and Shannon hadn’t sat down and had a heart-to-heart about shared child rearing, he’d never once questioned her competence in that department. After all, she’d grown up with parents. She, not he, knew how the roles were played out.

Although he sensed that Kevin was holding something back, Cord was unable to get the boy to reveal more than he already had. Shannon was no more successful, and after a few more minutes, she hung up the phone.

She walked over to her office chair and sank into it, staring and yet not staring at him. She opened her mouth but slowly closed it without saying a word. The mouth he’d once claimed for himself looked tight. Her hands lay on her thighs, the tips pressing into the flesh beneath her jeans. He might not know her thoughts, maybe he never had, but he could read her body language.

She was under control, barely.

Weariness hummed at the edge of his awareness, but he knew how to keep his body’s need for sleep at bay. More times than he could remember, the difference between life and death for someone he’d never met and would never see again depended on his ability to run on nerves and guts and determination. He would rest when he knew where his son-their son-was. When he could wrap his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“There’s something Kevin isn’t telling us,” he said. “Either Matt swore him to silence, or Kevin’s still mad and that’s how he plans to get back at Matt.”

“You don’t know that. Cord, you hardly know Kevin.”

No, he didn’t because he didn’t live with his son, a fact he tried to think about as seldom as possible. However, he knew how to listen and more times than not that ability made it possible for him to hear things left unsaid-like the tension and fear in Shannon’s voice, like her need for him after all these years. He didn’t want to be needed.

Through the open window, he caught the clean, clear scent of pine and snow-tainted air. He walked over to it and stared out at what he could see of his ex-wife’s world, thinking. Planning. The sky had been clear as he flew in, but that was changing. Clouds that looked like soft pillows tossed against the horizon were changing from white to gray. If they continued to darken-

“What’s the weather forecast?” he asked without turning around.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think I heard. What…”

When her voice trailed off, he waited for her to begin again and then listened as her chair squeaked softly in response to her rising. She was wearing boots, but they made almost no sound as she came toward him. He felt her just behind him, her slender body and long limbs making an undeniable impact even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“It was a good winter,” she said softly. “Enough snow to make everyone happy. There’s still some high on Breckenridge, Copper, and Keystone.”

“I know. I can smell it.”

“Can you?” She now stood beside him, not touching him. “The clouds-it might rain.”

“It might.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lift her hand and place it against the screen. Because listening, really listening, came as second nature to him, he heard her soft intake of breath. “What do we do now? What-he’s never done anything like this,” she told him. “Never gone off without telling me what he’s up to, without getting permission first. He’s responsible. Responsible and, damn it, independent. Self-confident.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Just as he’d suspected that Kevin was holding something back, he knew Shannon’s emotions were rising, expanding. He longed to return to the quiet and expendable conversations that defined their relationship these days.

“Do you really?” she repeated. “Cord, I don’t think you have any idea how hurt he was to have you put him off the way you did. He kept saying you should have taken him to Yellowstone, that he could have helped you.”

“I didn’t have time to explain anything to him. He and I didn’t even have time to talk.” Would she agree?

“I know,” she said after another of those whispering breaths of hers, a breath that had once felt as much a part of him as his own. “You had to go after that woman. I tried to explain to him that time was of the essence-he finally said he understood. But he hasn’t seen you for months. That’s what matters to him.”

“Of course it does.”

After that she remained silent, still. Another woman might ricochet off the walls, running off in one direction or another in an unorganized attempt to find her child. Maybe she was waiting for him to take charge-or maybe things were still sinking in for her. Her body language told him some of what was going on inside her, but not enough. He didn’t expect anything different. After all, seven years ago he’d learned how little he understood this woman.

“He’s riding Pawnee,” she said. “I didn’t want him to. That gelding’s only three, full of energy. But I felt sorry for him so I-He could be anywhere.”

“You really believe that?” he asked as the phone rang. Two seconds after she said hello, her impassive features told him the call had nothing to do with Matt.

She didn’t seem to notice he was studying her. She wasn’t a tall woman, five foot seven to his five-eleven. She’d told him that she’d had to endure the nickname Twigs for several years because her arms and legs had been long and skinny. Her legs still went on forever, but then, he’d always loved that about her. He didn’t think she’d gained so much as a pound since their divorce; the real change in her body had come as the result of two pregnancies. When she was a few months’ pregnant with Matt, she’d pointed out-not that he’d needed her to-that she could finally put her bra to real use. Nursing Matt had kept her breasts full and firm and although they’d gone down a little when she weaned him, it hadn’t been much. The same thing had happened with Summer.

Summer. Their daughter.

Belatedly he realized that she had finished her conversation and was talking to him. He was forced to ask her to repeat herself.

“He still doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear, Cord,” she said. “You know how he was as a baby, always exploring. He’s so much like you in that respect.”

“What places does he talk about the most?” he asked as an image of his black-haired, brown-eyed son formed in his mind. It was time to become what he was, a searcher. He didn’t dare let himself be distracted, because this time it was his son out there. “Which ones fascinate him?”

“Which don’t?” She looked around her as if having to remind herself of where she was. “He loves skiing-you know that. Unfortunately, he doesn’t like taking the same run over and over again. He’s always pushing to try something new. All winter he bedevilled me to take him to Vail.” She smiled, almost. “I’ve tried to make him understand how hard it is for me to get away when I’ve got paying customers. And Vail’s too rich for my pocketbook. Here I can get discounts, thank heavens.”

“Shannon, I can send more money.”

“I know you can. You’re already more than generous. But that isn’t the point. He has to understand the value of money.” She looked down at her hands and blinked as if surprised to see that they were tightly clenched. “Places…places he could be,” she said vaguely. “He’s crazy about fishing, but that, like the skiing, has to wait until either one of his friend’s parents or I can take him.”

He knew all about Matt’s passions in life, but let Shannon continue. One thing he’d learned over the years was that giving people something to do, even if it was just talking, kept their minds off the uncontrollable. And Matt had done something his parents had no control over-something Cord had done himself when he was even younger. The difference between him and Matt was that Cord hadn’t had a mother to worry about him-only Gray Cloud, who believed his grandson could accomplish everything he set out to do.

“Skiing season’s over,” Cord noted when she ran down. “What about his fishing pole? Did he take that?”

She shook her head, then pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. She’d done her long, rust-brown hair in one of those pigtail styles that started at the top of the head, and although he knew she’d taken care with the project, she had so much hair that it was nearly impossible to control all of it.

Once, a thousand years ago, she’d let him help her and they’d laughed together at his efforts.

“He and Kevin were going horseback riding and sleeping under the stars at a family campground, not fishing,” she continued. “At least-at least, that’s what I thought they were doing. And now this. I don’t like it, Cord.” Her gaze slid from him back to the building clouds. “I want him home. That’s all.”

He didn’t say anything, not because he didn’t feel the same way but because he didn’t want to frighten her. Whirling away from him, she stalked toward her desk and picked up the phone. She began calling Matt’s other friends. She spoke quickly, matter-of-factly, concerned but not frightened, and he remembered that he’d never seen her panic.

He hoped her self-control wouldn’t be tested before this was over.

I’m going after him.

Cord’s statement had been so calm and matter-of-fact that for several seconds, she hadn’t registered the seriousness of what he’d said. Cord Navarro, who maybe knew more about the wilderness and people who ventured into that wilderness than any man or woman alive, wasn’t content to wait for his son to finish his two-night solo adventure.

Shannon wasn’t, either, of course; that was a given. Learning that none of Matt’s friends had seen or heard 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.

Can you promise me that? Can you? Instead of throwing her irrational words at him, she simply nodded and watched as he worked the bit into the mare’s mouth.

“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.” If 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 flung her head high, a snort of excitement renting the wind-whipped air. Shannon felt exhilarated, momentarily blocked off from her unease simply because Cord was sitting astride a horse, looking a part of it and his surroundings.

Bring him back. That’s all, just bring him back tonight. Could he sense her thoughts? she wondered as he ran his broad-fingered hand over the mare’s taut neck. Did Cord ever try to put himself in another person’s place? She’d thought so back when he’d pressed his hands over her swollen belly and looked at her with eyes that seemed to churn with a million emotions. But he’d been gone so much the last year they’d been married, she could no longer delude herself into thinking she knew anything about him. She hadn’t understood why he’d been willing to risk losing a roof over their heads so he could be his own boss, and although he’d encouraged her, she knew he hadn’t really understood why she’d wanted to go to college-or why, after Summer’s death and the crumbling of their marriage, a formal education had no longer mattered. She didn’t believe he’d sensed her resentment and loneliness when she had to be student and parent and tenant and bill payer and a thousand other things while he was off taking care of other people.

Most of all, he hadn’t said what she’d desperately needed to hear when Summer died. She’d had to mourn alone.

“Cord? When my customers come back, I’ll ask them if they’ve seen anything. And I’ll call Wagon Creek, ask Kevin’s uncle to keep an eye out for him.”

“Good,” he said, then, without looking back at her, he cantered out of sight.

Three long hours later, during which Shannon moved through the motions of her business, Cord called. “I’m at the south end of the reservoir. He isn’t here,” he said without preliminary.

She gripped the radio, speaking slowly in an effort to keep her emotions under wraps. It was no longer afternoon; the day was moving relentlessly toward evening-darkness. “How can you be sure? The reservoir is so big.”

“I’ve been listening.”

“Listening?”

“For something that sounds different. I know the wilderness, Shannon. Its rhythms. When there’s something in it that doesn’t blend in, I know that. There’s nothing.”

Nothing. “That doesn’t tell me anything,” she told him when what she wanted was to demand he stop scaring her. “Where have you been? I kept thinking you’d call.”

“I didn’t have anything to tell you.”

Damn him, he didn’t understand, would never understand that she couldn’t live without communication. “And you thought three hours of knowing nothing wasn’t going to bother me? Never mind. Where were you?”

“I went to Kevin’s place first,” he said, then explained that he hadn’t been able to pick up Pawnee’s prints because Kevin’s sisters and several of their friends had been riding their horses all through the area. Kevin hadn’t been there to question further, prompting Cord to act on her suggestion to check the reservoir. She strained for any hint of emotion in his voice, but either it was lost in the distance between them or was lacking-probably lacking. She couldn’t stop staring at the now deeply shadowed sky.

“Shannon? I need you to think. Are there places you don’t allow him to go, somewhere that’s particularly intriguing?”

“I try not to rein him in any more than necessary. Arapaho-” No! “-maybe.”

“That’s miles from here and steep. The snow runs are for advanced skiers. There’s no reason-”

“You took him there once-he’s never forgotten that. He was so little you carried him on your back most of the way to the top. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Cord, it’s going to be dark in less than two hours. You can’t possibly get there before that.”

“I know.”

I know. Why did so much of what he said frighten her? But even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer. Cord Navarro’s worth came from his ability to take away the unknown, the uncertainty; at least, that’s what the press said about him. However, he was only human-a man who couldn’t hold back the night or find one little boy who might be anywhere in the vastness she’d always loved.

Cord told her that he’d cover as much territory as he could in the daylight left to him and then do what he’d done at the reservoir-let his senses tell him whether he’d gotten any closer to their son.

Alone, she listened to the now angry wind beat itself against the side of the house and tried not to think of Cord riding into the dark, letting it engulf him, becoming part of that rugged world. The air smelled of rain. If Matt had gone to the reservoir, at least he’d be at a relatively low altitude and less likely to be caught by the unpredictable weather.

However, if he’d gotten it into his crazy head to climb Arapaho, he might even encounter snow.

Fighting frantic thoughts, Shannon prayed for her last customers to return. Finally they did. Trying to keep her voice calm, she asked if they’d seen a boy on a high-spirited pinto, but no one had. She considered calling her parents but decided against it. There was no reason, she told herself, to upset them if Cord returned with Matt. Her son was having an adventure, not lost or hurt. Why did she need to keep reminding herself of that?

Because she’d already spent too much time pacing in the house, she took the radio into the barn with her and killed time by meticulously arranging halters and bridles. She even brushed several horses who wanted nothing more than to be left alone so they could sleep. Every few seconds she willed Cord to contact her, to tell her something, anything. But he didn’t and she nearly hated him for that.

It was dark; the mercury light that lit her small spread had been on longer than she wanted to think about. It hadn’t started to rain yet, but from past experience she knew it soon would. The temperature was cold for this time of year and the blasted wind hadn’t let up. What jacket had Matt taken?

She’d gone inside and was just walking into Matt’s bedroom when she heard hoofs thudding against the hardpacked soil. Not breathing, she stepped outside.

Cord and Misty were illuminated by artificial light, their shadows fading off into the night. He rode the mare as if he’d been born on the animal’s back. He was all Native now, both timeless and primitive. She needed her anger and the hard lessons of the past, but how could she wrap those emotions around her with the sight of him consuming her?

When he was close enough that she could make out his features, he locked eyes with her. His silence said everything. She pressed her palm to her stomach and watched as he guided Misty toward the corral. He dismounted with a liquid movement and reached up to remove the saddle. He would have to speak first; she couldn’t.

He ran his hand over Misty’s neck and then turned toward her. He looked older than he had earlier today, but that might have been a trick of the unnatural light. “Nothing.”

Nothing. “You went all the way to Arapaho?”

“To this side of the base, yes.”

The knot inside her tightened. She looked up at Cord, needing and yet not wanting to see the same mood in him. But whatever he felt, he kept it to himself as he had too damn many times in the past. “What happens now?”

“We’ll have to wait until morning.”

“Morning,” she repeated, not caring that the word came out a whimper.

He nodded, then, without speaking, started toward the barn. Something about the set of his shoulders caught her attention; he was exhausted. “Go inside,” she ordered. “I’ll take care of her.”

“You don’t mind?”

“It’s the least I can do. Go.”

She remained behind long enough to feed and water the mare. Although she knew she was being foolish, she kept her senses tuned to the dark. If will alone could accomplish miracles, Matt would be coming into the light now.

When she entered the house, she noted that Cord had removed his boots and jacket. He’d slumped onto the couch and was staring, not at her, but at the rocker she’d once used to rock Matt to sleep. “I should have helped you out there,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

Unexpectedly her heart went out to him. No matter how much he shuttered his feelings inside him, he couldn’t completely disguise his body language. He leaned forward and ran his hand over the back of his neck in that gesture she had given up trying to forget.

“Darn him!” The words were out before she knew they’d been bottled inside. “Doesn’t he know what he’s doing to us?” She pressed her fingers against her mouth. “I’m sorry. That isn’t the point right now, is it?”

“No. It isn’t.”