The Return of Cord Navarro

Chapter 5

Cord ran his left hand down his pant leg. For one of the few times in his life, he didn’t feel comfortable in his own body.

It hurt, not just being unable to reach out and touch his son today, but facing how much he was missing of Matt’s growing up. In truth, he hated that most of all the things that couldn’t be changed in his life-be hated the holes in his heart that he didn’t fully understand. Closing his mind to the pain had always ensured his emotional survival. But life seldom felt as raw as it did today.

If they kept up this pace, they’d soon have to rest the horses. Still, although Arapaho was already dead ahead, he couldn’t make himself slow down, and Shannon hadn’t said anything about conserving her horses’ energy. Shannon, with her long legs and active life-style, shouldn’t have any trouble keeping up with him today and longer if it came to that. When he’d first seen her this morning, with her rich brown hair braided down her back, his defenses hadn’t had time to lock into place and he’d come within a breath of telling her she looked like an Indian maiden, beautiful, desirable. But she wouldn’t want to hear that from him any more than he wanted to give voice to his thoughts.

If, in spite of the damage caused by the rain, he could locate Pawnee’s prints at the base of Arapaho, he would have a purpose, a plan, a goal. He’d no longer be susceptible to distraction, something that never happened when he was on a search. It had been dark much of the time he’d been here last night, which meant he could have missed his son’s signs. The other possibility, one he hadn’t told Shannon about but she must have considered, was that Matt wasn’t anywhere near Arapaho.

Experience had taught him not to let his mind tangle in the unknown. Still, it wasn’t easy to turn his thoughts from the very personal object of his search to what might happen today. If Matt intended to explore Arapaho, he would have to abandon his horse when the trail got too steep. Although the rain would wash away many of the signs the boy made, if he stepped where the ground was level and the dirt dense, he would leave footprints. If that happened and if Cord was very, very lucky, he might overtake his son before nightfall. He wouldn’t have to go on looking at Shannon, thinking about what they’d once had and shared-and lost. They would go back to their separate lives and he’d find a way to stop thinking about the body of the woman who’d carried his children.

What if Matt was trying to hide?

There was another possibility. One he hadn’t mentioned because he’d wanted to spare Shannon any more burdens. Lost people, especially children, typically zigzagged aimlessly through the woods, making it difficult to separate a path made earlier in the day from a more recent one.

He accepted that Matt might not understand enough about wilderness survival to know how to mark his trail so he would have a guideline in case he had to backtrack. And he wasn’t sure Matt would be aware enough of his surroundings to tell if he was going in circles. From a distance, climbing a mountain seemed like a straightforward objective but, surrounded by trees or rocks, the goal could be easily lost.

He should have taught his son more about how to be at home in the wilderness, how to control his environment, instead of the other way around. He’d planned on doing that this summer. But maybe-no, it wouldn’t be too late!

Straightening, he focused on what lay around him. The trees at this altitude grew in random, healthy clumps. In some areas, the pines were so close together that sunlight never reached the ground. Given the right motivation or camouflage, any animal or human being could blend into the dense shadows and even he might not see them. Still, every fiber and nerve ending in him said that his son wasn’t nearby. His son. How he loved the words.

Classroom learning was important; he knew that. A structured setting, friends, familiar surroundings gave a child a solid foundation. That’s why Cord hadn’t asked Shannon to share custody of Matt, though he wanted his son with all his heart. With his work, he couldn’t offer Matt true stability. How could a child keep up at school if his father constantly dragged him around the country, or left him with baby-sitters?

Shannon was a good mother. A wonderful mother. He had only to look into her eyes and see into her nurturing heart to believe that. She might be able to keep a great deal from him, but not everything.

Somehow he knew there hadn’t been many men in her life since their divorce. Maybe it was in the way she conducted herself, her awareness of, or rather, her disregard for, her physical body. When she spoke of “we” it was always about her and Matt and sometimes her parents. She’d had a single male wrangler last year, a man Matt thought fascinating because he’d once been on the rodeo circuit. Matt said that the man sometimes asked Shannon to go to a movie or dinner with him but she never had. After three or four months, the wrangler had moved on, and according to Matt, Shannon had said she was glad to see him gone.

But someday a new man would walk into Shannon’s life-and into Matt’s, as well.

When that happened…

Like a well-trained tool, Cord’s mind switched to his reason for being here and what he needed to see and hear and smell and sense. He was still aware of Shannon’s presence behind him, but his attention was now fully trained on the ground. Despite the effects of rain, he could tell horses had recently been along the main trail that ringed the base of Arapaho. Whether the prints were made by Matt’s mount or by any number of vacationers, he couldn’t say.

He would put his training and instinct to use when the mountain started giving up its secrets-if it had any-to him.

Because he’d done it before, he easily put himself in the mind of a ten-year-old. At that age he’d already spent more than a week alone in the wilderness, soaking dew from rocks with a handkerchief and wringing the moisture into his mouth to slake his thirst. He’d eaten wild rose hips, the inner bark from pine trees, pigweed, and returned to his grandfather, not full, but not hungry, either.

Gray Cloud had praised his accomplishment and then told him he’d come within a quarter mile of a lynx den. Had Cord seen the signs? He hadn’t, but by the time he slept under an old growth pine a month later, he’d trained himself to be aware of every predator and prey for a mile around.

Matt wouldn’t be, and that worried him. The big cats and few black bears who lived around here wouldn’t bother human beings, but although he’d taught Matt that, the lesson might not have stuck. After all, the boy had sat through a long, dark, wet night with nothing to do except listen and think. Who knew what his young, fertile imagination might have come up with? Somehow he had to give Matt peace.

He straightened, his free hand automatically reaching behind to check the pack that held the two-way radio, waterproof matches, a multitool knife, his sleeping bag and mat, the first-aid kit, food. There was good thinking and bad thinking. He had to stay in his son’s head, not remember some of the things he’d seen in his years of trying to bring people back alive to where they belonged.

It was fully light now although the rain made a lie of the fact that this was June. Fog clung to the ground in a number of deep pockets, and Cord couldn’t see the tops of the tallest trees. From the looks of the clouds, he didn’t expect the drizzle to let up for several hours. By the feel of the air on his cheeks, he gauged the temperature to be about fifty degrees. Most people, if they were dry and wore a light jacket and remained active, could stay out all day in this temperature. Thankfully there wasn’t enough breeze for a wind chill to factor in, but Matt was probably at a higher elevation and maybe wet.

That was why he hadn’t worn a jacket. He wanted to experience the worst of what his son might. He felt a cool bite along the back of his neck and down his shoulders, but he was used to being exposed and had long ago stopped perceiving cold as discomfort. It wouldn’t be the same for his son.

Turning in the saddle, he spoke to Shannon. “It’s going to warm up more. Even with the rain, we’ll get at least another ten degrees. That’ll help.”

She nodded and gave him a quick smile. Still, her eyes telegraphed her concern. He wondered if she knew how transparent she was. “I can’t keep thinking,” she said. “What if his granola bars get wet? I wonder if he’ll eat them anyway.”

“He will.” He leaned forward to make it easier for his horse to climb a short hill and then explained that most people out like this wound up eating anything and everything that was remotely palatable.

“What happens when he runs out of food?”

“Then he gets hungry.”

“Then, hopefully, he’ll get serious about hustling back home.”

It was more complicated than that. Still, he held back from spelling out those complications to her. The tightness around the corners of her mouth made it clear that she knew how serious things were. Yet, she wasn’t making impossible demands on him or allowing fear to have the upper hand. He wanted to thank her for that, to compliment her self-control.

He also wanted to draw her attention to the wind’s fragrance, the messages spread by birds and insects, the rhythm of nature to her.

He didn’t ask himself why.

“What are you looking for?” Shannon asked when it seemed that Cord had been gazing around him forever.

“For patterns,” her ex-husband said, the words coming slow and soft. “My grandfather called it the spirit that moves in all things. Once I’ve found the pattern, the rhythm here, I’ll know what the spirit is telling me.”

Did Cord really think she would buy that business about patterns and spirits? Yes, she’d heard him mention such things in the past and had tried to understand what he was saying, but he talked about insight and instinct, making what he did sound like philosophy, not tracking. And, she could now admit, for too much of the time they were together, she’d been so wrapped up in her own life that she hadn’t truly listened. She-they-had been so young.

“What is the spirit that moves in all things telling you?” she asked as a gust of wind shook the nearby trees.

“That this is a people place, a part of nature that has been touched by many and changed.”

She looked around her. As far as she was concerned, they were in the wilderness. There weren’t any buildings, chimney smoke rising in the air, livestock. Yes, Arapaho had been scarred by ski trails and lifts, but there weren’t any nearby and they were idle this time of year. The trees grew so thickly here that even without the rain and ground fog, it would have been impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the trail. She felt completely isolated from the rest of the world. How could Cord say that the wilderness had been changed by mankind?

But Cord knew things, sensed things no one else did; she had no doubt of that. And when he spoke this morning, she listened to the words, the sound, the energy in him, and used those things to keep from losing her mind.

“Does being in a people place make it more difficult for you?” she asked.

“It’s going to make finding Matt take longer. His spirit is mixed in with the spirit of others.”

“Spirit? I guess that’s as good a name to give what you’re looking for as anything. Is that how your grandfather referred to-to… I don’t have a word for what you’re talking about.”

“Not many people do. Gray Cloud had a unique way of describing the wilderness, mystical almost. I’ve held on to his descriptions because that’s better than anything I could come up with.”

“Like the way he gave credit to the Great Spirit for everything,” she offered, almost without knowing she was going to say the words, words she’d never forgotten. “I remember you telling me that Gray Cloud believed that in nature everything lives in harmony. That an ant is as important as a bear.”

“And that we must see with our hearts and that the wind speaks to us and in the wilderness there is only the present.”

“The present,” she echoed. “Time, as we think of it, had no meaning for your grandfather, did it? ‘The rhythm of nature is slow, steady, and has a beat all its own. The ground itself has a heart, and if one knows how to listen, he can hear it.’”

“You remember more than I thought you did.”

She concentrated on the gentle, deep-throated question and asked herself why those lessons and more had stayed with her all these years. She wanted to tell Cord that she’d never forgotten Gray Cloud’s wisdom and had, almost instinctively, incorporated some of it into her life. But they’d come to the first steep rise in the trail. Before much longer they’d leave behind the civilization Cord still sensed. Then, hopefully, he’d be able to put his unique skills to work and find their son. He’d hear the earth’s heart and it would tell him what he needed to know. Maybe she’d be able to listen with him.

Listen to a heartbeat that didn’t exist? What was she thinking? Had fear for Matt unhinged her? Or was Cord somehow responsible?

Repositioning herself in the saddle, she wondered why she felt uncomfortable when usually she could ride all day without becoming weary. The rain hadn’t changed its gentle, almost lazy cadence, thank heavens. Because they were surrounded by trees now, she could hear the wind’s song as it eased its way through the treetops.

She and Cord hadn’t been married more than a few weeks when she first heard him speak of the sound the wind made as a ballad. Back then she’d held on to his every word, awed by his knowledge of what took place beyond roads and telephone wires. His understanding of her, at least her body, had been just as complete. He’d played her as the wind plays with the treetops and her body had sung to him.

When it went wrong between them, she’d forgotten that there were things he knew more about than any other human alive.

At least, she’d thought she’d forgotten.

Here, in his world, as she joined in his effort to find their son, too much was coming back to her.

She felt like crying, like singing. And she wished there weren’t so many years and silences between them.

Cord stopped, reining his horse gradually and gently. He straightened, seeming to lift his body fully off the mare’s back, then cocked his head to one side. The gesture was all it took for Shannon to know he wanted her to listen, as well. Gradually the sound came.

Frogs. Dozens and dozens of frogs. They sang their discordant notes with full-throated joy, proclaiming their delight at having it rain. Up until that moment she had been thinking about the creatures, and the boy, who must be seeking shelter from the drizzle.

But some, like frogs, embraced rain.

“Do you think the frogs know we’re here?” she asked.

“They know,” Cord explained. “But we don’t represent a threat to them.”

She chuckled at that. “Matt loves it when the ones who live in the pond behind our place start croaking. Sometimes, when they get going while he’s trying to fall asleep, he leans out his window and yells at them to shut up.”

“Do they?”

“For a moment. Then they start up again. He had a frog for a pet once. He brought it flies and kept water in its bucket.”

“What happened to it?”

“It died. I told him it would, but he had to see for himself the consequences of his intervention.”

When she looked at Cord, he was nodding, the movement slow and unconscious and so graceful that she felt it deep in her belly. “I’m glad you gave him the experience, although I doubt that the frog would agree. That’s how we all learn. At least, the best lessons. Not because someone tells us, but from doing something ourselves.”

“I agree,” she said, shaken by the depth and breadth of his comment. “Since then, Matt’s never wanted to control another wild animal. He doesn’t even like it when orphaned or injured animals have to be penned up until they’re ready to be re-released into their environment. I don’t think he’s ever going to hunt.”

Cord didn’t hunt. Once he’d been offered an incredible sum of money to guide some wealthy hunters with more determination than savvy, but he’d refused. He hadn’t offered her an explanation of why he’d made that decision. She hadn’t needed one because she knew he believed that no amount of money could atone for putting an end to a wild life.

Because she needed to free herself from yet another memory, she asked Cord if he knew that Matt wanted to be a search and rescue expert when he grew up. Her words turned Cord around again.

“He told me that, but I thought he might be saying it for my sake.”

“He means it.” Cord was backlit and nearly surrounded by forest. It was almost as if the trees had taken claim of him, as if he’d given them permission to do so. If she didn’t keep her eyes on him, he might slide away into nothing like morning mist when the sun hits it. “He thinks the world of you-you must know that. Of course, he tends to idealize what you do.”

Cord’s mouth tightened. “And he thinks he knows more than he does.”

He wouldn’t if you’d taught him the way Gray Cloud did you. But that was unfair. Cord had lived with Gray Cloud. Cord didn’t see enough of his son. As for whether that bothered Cord, she couldn’t, say. “Most children are like that. So dam cocky. He’ll learn from his mistakes, unfortunately-we all do.”

“Do we?”

“Yes,” she said without giving herself time to think. “If I hadn’t been so tied up inside myself when we separated, I would have done some things differently.”

“Like what?”

“Like-” Was she ready for this? No matter. It was too late to turn back. “Like asking you to live closer so you could be with Matt more.” Matt. That’s who she needed to think about, not what couldn’t be changed.

“You want that?”

“That’s not my decision, Cord. It’s yours.” Because trees grew close to the trail here and he had to concentrate on where he was going, she found herself speaking to his back.

“I did what I had to,” he said.

What did he mean by that? She hadn’t pushed him away, had she? “I’m surprised you didn’t go back to your grandfather’s cabin.” If he needed quiet, he’d tell her. Otherwise, talking was better than listening to what insisted on going on inside her. “Oh, I know it’s barely habitable the way it is, but it could be fixed up. It shouldn’t be that hard to get electricity to it, or phone service. Still-” She weighed the wisdom of saying anything, then plunged ahead. “I rather like it the way it is. Rugged. Primitive.”

“Hmm.”

Hmm wasn’t enough of a reply to hang a conversation on. Still, although he would probably prefer it, she didn’t feel ready to retreat into silence. “You heard from the local historic society, didn’t you? I know they’d love to buy it and turn it into some kind of landmark.”

“I talked to them.”

“And what did you tell them?” she asked, although she’d bet everything she had that she knew the answer.

“That I can’t give up the only thing that remains of the man who raised me.”

That admission, so intensely personal from an intensely private man, sent a chill through her. Fighting to keep her reaction from him, she told him that was what Matt had said his response would be.

“I’ve taken Matt there a few times,” Cord said. “What about you?”

“A few,” she acknowledged. Her thoughts spun away from their conversation and settled in the past. Cord had taken her to his grandfather’s cabin the day after she’d told him about being pregnant. A few days later he’d told her that she was the only girl he’d ever wanted to show the log walls and shake roof of the little place Gray Cloud had built. He’d admitted he’d wondered if she’d laugh at the not-quite-square sides, or if she could possibly understand why he’d been content growing up in a place without electricity.

She hadn’t laughed. Instead, she’d run her fingertips over the sleek peeled logs his grandfather had lifted into place more than fifty years ago. She’d bent, taken a deep breath, and then told him she could smell pitch and pine and hoped that the aromas would never fade. Finally she’d touched the corner of the handmade kitchen table where Gray Cloud had carved an eagle in flight. “I wish I’d known him,” she’d said. “There’s so much of him in you.”

They’d made love on the sagging old mattress Cord had always slept on, two kids still discovering the wonder and excitement and fear of sharing themselves with each other-and the consequences of surrendering to that wonder. He’d held her and pressed his hands over her full breasts, then brushed his lips against her belly. Although he said nothing, his eyes had told her that he was just beginning to grasp that his child was growing inside her.

When their lovemaking was done, he’d stood naked in front of her and it was all she could do to keep from losing herself in the sight. His long, dark hair had sheltered him somehow and those incredible eyes of his had looked both trapped and awestruck, and she’d known he couldn’t decide whether to run for freedom or stay.

In the end, he’d pulled her against him and awkwardly told her that he’d be there for her and their baby. Nothing about that afternoon had faded from her mind. She’d given up hoping it would.

Today the memories were stronger than they’d ever been.

They were giving the horses a breather and Cord was giving Shannon a brief sketch of what country he’d covered last night when his walkie-talkie squawked to life. Afraid it might be the sheriff with news he didn’t want to share with her if at all possible, he thought about moving away from her before answering, but that would only make her suspicious, only drive more of a wedge between them.

“Cord. It’s Hallem. Kevin’s father. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get in touch with you. Thank heavens, you left this receiver with Shannon’s parents.”

“That’s where you are?” he asked. “You have news?”

“Maybe. Hopefully, although I’m not sure it’s the kind of news you want to hear.”

He watched as Shannon moved closer. He read fear and determination in her eyes. “We’re both here,” he told Hallem. “What is it?”

“I’ve been grilling my son. Unfortunately for him, I know him better than he wishes I did. He was keeping something to himself and it was eating him alive, something that’s going to make things easier for you to round up that kid of yours.”

Shannon gripped his forearm with so much strength that it tore his attention from what Hallem was saying. Glancing at her, he now saw hope swimming in her eyes, hope and a giddy, unrestrained, too fragile joy.

Before he had to ask Hallem what he was talking about, Kevin’s father continued. “The boys had a fight, all right, and that’s probably why Kevin was so slow to fess up. He didn’t say so, but I know he wanted to see how much trouble Matt could get himself into because no one had a clue where he was. Unfortunately, you’ve got a lot of backtracking to do. Cord, Shannon, if we can believe Kevin, and I believe we can now, your son is determined to climb Copper Mountain.”