Vella Munn - The Return of Cord Navarro

Not philosophy! Not ancient words! I need-you. And yet I’m afraid.

They should have gone camping more. If she’d made the time, Cord might have taught her how to build a shelter from branches and leaves and limbs and she’d know how to start a fire without matches.

She’d have a greater understanding of Sioux beliefs and why Cord had learned so much about them.

She might know why his simple yet eloquent words had stripped her down to nothing except emotion.

They’d been walking for nearly two hours now. The ground was steep and almost barren here, all but the hardiest of trees below them. From a distance, one would believe it easy to spot another human being, but the land was deceptive. It contained deep pockets of shade where the sun seldom touched, and rocky outcroppings impossible to see around. She felt surrounded by rocks and boulders and seldom saw the prints that guided Cord slowly but well.

She could see only his powerful shoulders and muscular legs, learn how to walk herself from the sure way he kept his footing. His eyes took in everything, his head almost constantly in motion. A few days ago she’d tried to see everything he did, but that no longer seemed important.

No longer pressed through the web of emotion that last night and this morning had left in her.

If they’d been born generations ago, he would have been an Indian scout and her a mountain woman. They’d weave their lives around the elements. They wouldn’t need much; enough food to fill their bellies, a shelter when the weather became too raw for even Cord Navarro. She’d make their clothes from deer hide and he’d create exquisite arrowheads to place on strong, straight shafts. Their friends would be other Indians or the few mountain men who traveled through their wilderness.

They’d raise their children here, make love under stars and moon.

And whether or not they used words to communicate, they’d always understand each other.

In that misty world where everything was right.

Shaken by the depth of her need, she forced herself to focus on her surroundings. The effort succeeded for maybe two minutes, then Cord extended his hand to help her over loose shale.

She stood beside him on their precarious perch, unable to remember how to work her muscles to free her hand. His shoulder was now molded to hers, a mountain of strength. They hadn’t spoken for hours. Other than pointing occasionally at wildlife or uncertain ground, he’d done nothing to make her think she was on his mind. But now, although he could have easily moved away, he didn’t. Instead, he turned her slightly so she could see what he’d been looking at. Just below them, maybe no more than two hundred feet away, a spring bubbled up from the earth. Overflow trickled downward to be lost among grass and shrubs. Between them and the spring she could see several distinct tracks-the tracks they’d been following for days.

“We’re close.”

Her heart skittered and then caught. “How…close.”

“Very. The grass he stepped on is still bent.”

Feeling weak, she slid her free arm around his waist and continued to stare at the fragile proof of their son’s existence. He held her to him and brushed his lips over her forehead. There was no imagining it; she knew she could hear his heart beating. She prayed he could hear hers, as well.

She had no words in her, nothing that could possibly express what she felt at this moment. When his breath caught as he tried to inhale, she knew the same emotion had entered him. She continued to cling, sharing in the only way she had. Their son was near; they’d soon find him; he’d feel his parents’ love.

“Do…do you want him to know?” she whispered.

“Not yet. I want to make sure he’s safe first.”

Tears built behind her eyes, but with an effort, she managed to keep them there. Cord had done the impossible, brought her to her son-their son.

“Where?”

“I can’t say for sure. From the angle of his prints, its obvious he was headed toward the spring.”

“He…he’s thinking he’ll have to follow the creek all the way to the bottom, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

A sudden sense of urgency washed over her. With all her heart, she wanted to be able to cut the bruise out of the remaining apple and feed it to Matt. She wanted to watch as Cord clutched his son to his chest.

Only two things held her back: realization that the thick brush around the little creek could accommodate a child but prove daunting to adults, and the belief that no one else in the world except Cord could possibly know what she was experiencing at this moment.

“I thought…” She shuddered. “I tried so hard not to think about it, but I couldn’t help – There’ve been times when I was terrified of what we’d find.”

“So was I.”

No. Cord wasn’t supposed to have nightmare. thoughts. Although she’d accused him of having buried his emotions so deep that he might have lost them, she needed him to be as strong and confident as her mythical Indian scout, a miracle-working machine.

“You? You were-”

What was that?

Cord started, suddenly gripping her with a strength that took her breath away.

A rifle shot!

Comprehension of what she’d heard came so close on the heels of Cord’s reaction that she couldn’t separate the two. Her blood seemed to stop in her veins; her heart skittered; her lungs screamed with the need for breath but she couldn’t remember how to accomplish that incredibly difficult task.

Another shot! A rifle blast echoing, at the same time sounding so close that if Matt hadn’t been more important than her own life, she would have dropped to the ground.

“No!” Cord’s deep scream all but shattered her senses. “Oh, God, no!”

“Cord! Wha-”

“Poachers.”

How did he know ? Cord didn’t give her half a second in which to ask. Whirling away, he plunged into the thick shrubbery. Alive with fear, she followed his lead. He was already deep in the underbrush and making more noise than she’d ever heard from him, but it wasn’t the sound that made her plow after him.

He’d begun yelling Matt’s name.

She shoved herself around a stunted evergreen and struggled to keep up with him. “Cord, stop it! You’ll scare-”

“Hunters! If they’ve shot…Matt! Matt! Stay where you are!”

Shot! Her legs weakened, but she refused to give in to the dread that instantly replaced all other emotion.

When they reached the narrow, ambling water, there were enough rocks on either side that brush had been unable to get much of a toehold on the bank. She could run without worrying that some sharp branch might slap her face; still she was unable to keep up. Foot by foot, Cord increased the distance between them. Still, the air felt alive with his fear.

“Matt! I’m here! Mom, too. Matt, please! Where are you?”

Once more she heard the horrible explosion of sound she so hated during bunting season. Cord stared over his shoulder at her; whatever he was experiencing had so altered his features, she barely recognized him.

What she saw terrified her.

“Cord?” she sobbed. “Cord, please!”

Instead of answering her insane plea, he yanked off his pack without losing stride and kept running. She jumped over it, nearly lost her footing, and struggled with her own burden. By the time she’d flung it off, Cord had disappeared.

A thousand emotions boiled up inside her-rage at whoever might have cost Matt his life, a desperate plea to give Cord the strength and speed to get to their son before it was too late. Prayers to God, to Gray Cloud’s Great Spirit.

Guided by a trail that might not have been one to any other eyes, she followed Cord. Her heart beat so rapidly that it robbed her of the breath she needed, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Nor did she waste time in cries Cord wouldn’t pay attention to and Matt might no longer be able to hear.