Vella Munn - The Return of Cord Navarro

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.