Walker: The Rodeo Legend

by Rebecca Winters

  All of it belonged to one family.…

  A mix of cowboys was coming in and out the door. Two different men gave her an assessing glance and tipped their hats to her on the way to their vehicles. “Morning, ma’am.”

  She nodded before lifting Clay in her arms. “Let’s get rid of these, shall we, little sweetheart?”

  After removing the stones from his fists, she carried him up the steps and entered the reception area of the office with its rustic fireplace. Though she’d been in here before, she was struck once again by the showy, luxurious Western interior that demonstrated John Walker’s power and wealth.

  A collection of Western landscapes and rodeo paintings all in oils dominated two walls. Beneath them was a grouping of oxblood leather couches and a huge coffee table atop a massive buffalo rug.

  While she waited to talk to the receptionist seated at the big desk on the other side of the room, she wandered toward one particular painting that had caught her eye before. The artist, whose name wasn’t familiar to her, had captured the same view of the snowcapped peaks Paula had seen after getting out of the car. However, the painting’s foreground showed a winter scene. There was no hint of the many summer greens hiding beneath the snow.

  She shivered, glad it wasn’t winter.

  Her glance darted to the wall behind the receptionist, where she saw a large oil painting of two people. She hadn’t paid that much attention before, but she did now. Her gaze narrowed on the plaque beneath it. Mark Cody 1870-1925 and Catherine Alder Cody 1880-1960.

  Alder. Brent’s folks in nearby Garland had neighbors who were Alders. Their ancestors had emigrated from Germany. This Alder woman in the painting, obviously the first matriarch of the Cody clan, had brownish-gray hair and looked liked many of the women of that early period who’d given everything to carve out a life here. Widowed, she’d lived thirty-five years longer than her husband.

  Paula couldn’t help but wonder if the same fate awaited her.

  A full black beard and moustache camouflaged a portion of Mark Cody’s strong-boned features. Probably from England or Wales—she didn’t know for sure—he was a big hulk of a man who wore a fringed buckskin jacket, reminding her more of a mountain man than a settler.

  She studied him for several minutes, intrigued by the spirit inside him. Few people had the vision to build a dynasty in this rugged country, an area once populated more by Plains Indians than the white men who began to intrude on their remarkable culture.

  Clay started to squirm. “Okay, I’ll let you get down.” She lowered him to the floor and they moved closer to the desk.

  “Good morning. Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m Paula Olsen and—”

  “That name sounds familiar,” she broke in, “but I don’t recall meeting you before.”

  “No, we didn’t meet. I was the landscape architect when the Codys built the new ranch house a few years ago.”

  “Of course. You did a wonderful job.”

  “Thank you. As a matter of fact I’ll be doing a little more work for Mrs. Cody this month. She wants me to find her a place where she can plant a garden of bulbs.”

  “She loves flowers.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  “That’s a darling little boy you’ve got.”

  Paula smiled. “I’ll keep him. In fact it’s because of him I’m here.” Without preamble she launched into her story of what had happened at the dog parade the day before. “I heard a man in the crowd say that it was John Walker’s son who intervened. I tried to run after him and thank him, but he disappeared.”

  “No wonder you’re eager to find him.”

  “The trouble is, I never met J.W.’s sons and don’t know his name.”

  “Well, it had to be Jesse or one of the twins, Dex or Dusty. At the moment they’re in Bakersfield at the rodeo stampede. What did he look like?”

  “He was lean, maybe six foot three with the same black hair as his ancestor’s in that painting behind you, but he wore it very short.”

  The woman looked puzzled. “That description would fit Walker, but it couldn’t have been him because he’s in the Marines fighting somewhere in Iraq at the moment. Was this person heartbreakingly handsome?”

  All Paula saw in her mind was a dark, brooding image of a man with secrets. But she supposed that if he ever smiled, he could be described that way. “He was attractive,” she murmured.

  “Now you’ve got me intrigued. They say everyone has a double.”

  Paula closed her eyes for a second. Maybe the receptionist was right. “That must be the explanation,” she said, yet she didn’t quite believe it. Maybe Walker Cody was back on American soil and this woman didn’t know about it yet. The man in yesterday’s crowd had sounded certain the stranger was a Cody.

  If he’d been in Iraq, then he’d seen and experienced unspeakable things. She’d gotten a tiny taste of it during her first phone call from Brent, but in subsequent calls and e-mails he’d refused to open up to her. It still hurt that he’d deliberately kept that hellish part of his life apart from her. She’d wanted to share it with him as they’d shared everything else, but it didn’t happen.

  “Sorry I couldn’t have been of more help,” said the receptionist, bringing Paula back to the present.

  “But you were. Thank you for your time.” Other people had entered the office and were waiting. “Sure.”

  After coming all this distance with Clay, Paula was disappointed not to have caught up with the man, whoever he was, but there was nothing more to be accomplished here. Right now Clay was getting restless.

  As soon as she got back to her apartment, it would be time for his lunch and afternoon nap. He would need a good one. After he woke up, she and Angie were taking the children to the park. Later on, Angie’s younger sister, Katy, was going to tend them while Paula and Angie went to an early movie, their first in ages.

  AS HE’D HOPED, WALKER only noticed a handful of people in the Markton cemetery at five in the afternoon. With his brothers and father in California, he didn’t need to worry that someone would recognize him.

  He’d been one of the pallbearers for his best friend’s funeral six years ago and knew where to find his grave on the east end. Once he’d seen him buried, Walker had wanted to put the sorrow of loss behind him and hadn’t revisited the cemetery. Later on he’d left for officers’ candidate school, so he never saw the marker.

  Coming closer to the area in question he spied a light granite stone with the outline of a rodeo rider on his horse. Troy Anderson Pearsoll, Beloved Son. Beneath Troy’s name were the dates of his birth and death.

  With tears in his eyes, Walker hunkered down and put the jar filled with baby blue eyes against the marker. A whole hillside of the wildflowers grew at the back of the cabin. They wouldn’t last long, symbolic of his friend’s life having been cut short the night of the Cody Roundup. But while he’d been alive, he’d brought color and excitement to Walker’s life.

  “What happened to you wasn’t fair,” he said, hoping Troy could hear him. He swallowed the sob in his throat. They’d been friends from elementary school on.

  A myriad of memories flooded his mind. How many times had he and Troy practiced their steer wrestling before riding their horses up to the old cabin with a girlfriend hugging their waists?

  They were crazy and cocky back then, and thought they were hot stuff. There were moments of pure joy, the kind you experienced in those teenage years when you believed you were immortal. That time would never come again. Thank heaven for those precious memories.

  “I’ve missed you, buddy.”

  “I’ve missed you, Captain Cody,” came a gentle voice behind him.

  Startled, Walker looked over his shoulder to see Troy’s mother holding a large pot of yellow mums. “Ruth!” He sprang to his feet.

  The dark blonde woman studied him with moist, loving eyes. “I looked forward to every e-mail you sent, but seeing you here is the best thing that’s happened to me i
n six years.”

  He took the flowers and placed them next to his before hugging her. She reciprocated with surprising strength. It was all he could do not to break down.

  She wiped her eyes. “When did you leave the hospital?”

  “Four days ago.”

  “So the Marines won’t be seeing you anymore?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good. You’re thinner and drawn, but somehow you’re even more handsome. Once you’re bulldogging again you’ll be better than ever.”

  If he thought it would help him get back to some kind of normal, he’d do it. Walker darted her a brief smile. “And you’re prettier than ever. How’s Leslie?”

  “You know my husband. He’s still at work and keeps busy.” Troy’s father owned the Markton Feed and Grain Store. “We both do now that Lynette’s just had her third baby. A girl this time.”

  “That’s exciting.” If Walker could be thankful for one thing, Troy hadn’t been an only child. His parents hadn’t lost everything when they’d lost him.

  “Your parents must be overjoyed you’re back.”

  His body tautened. “They don’t know yet. I’ll call them tomorrow. Jesse’s the only one I’ve told.”

  “You always were closest to your older brother.” Her expression sobered. “Would you tell me something honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “Once a long time ago, Troy overheard his father say something to me that I’ve regretted and I’m afraid he told you.”

  He drew in a deep breath, knowing exactly what it was. “You mean the rumor he heard floating around the feed store about my dad having had an affair after he and Mom were married?”

  Her face was a study in pain. “Then Troy did tell you. Oh, Walker, I’m so sorry about that. I’ve suffered over it for years, fearing it colored your thinking about your dad.” She put her hands on his arms for a brief moment. “Neither Leslie or I would ever have said or done anything to hurt you. You always will be like another son to us.”

  “I know that, Ruth, and I’m honored by it, but I won’t lie to you. It did affect me, but only because I’ve had issues with my father from the time I took my first steps and he insisted I could ride a horse. He had and still does have this dark side to him that doesn’t allow for weakness in other people. Everything must be his way. He’s a driven man where the rodeo is concerned. All or nothing.

  “One night we had a rousing fight. I told him I didn’t want to enter a certain bulldogging event because I had plans with Amy for the Riverside High School prom. He lit into me about letting girls get me off track.

  “I was so angry, I took off riding with Troy. While I was spouting my venom for the hundredth time, poor Troy was trying to help me understand my dad’s psyche. That’s when he told me about what he’d heard. It shed a whole different light on the dynamics in my family.”

  Ruth looked stricken. “But it was only a rumor.”

  “Was it?” he fired at her.

  “You mean you’re still not sure one way or the other?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ve never discussed it with anyone, but I’ve had six years away to think about it. There’s definitely something wrong between my parents. They’re not like you and Leslie. Theirs isn’t an easy relationship even though they appear devoted to each other. Dad’s so rigid, I have to believe there’s a hidden reason.”

  “I feel terrible about this.”

  Walker put an arm around her shoulder. “Please don’t torture yourself about it anymore. I happen to know neither you or Leslie has a mean bone in your body. Troy wouldn’t like it to see you this upset over something that wasn’t anyone’s fault. Life’s too short.”

  She sniffed. “You’re right. I’m so glad I saw you. What a coincidence! After spending the afternoon with my cousin out this way, I decided now would be a good time to visit.”

  He smiled. “It was meant to be.”

  “I think so. Thank you for being here to remember him. It means the world to me. When you find a minute, please drop by the house. Leslie will be thrilled to see you.”

  “I promise I’ll come. You take care.” He kissed her cheek before he left her to commune with Troy in private.

  Walker strode toward his truck in a distinctly different frame of mind than when he’d driven down from the cabin. The thing about his father that had been festering deep in his soul for so many years had now erupted into an open wound. By no means could he ignore it.

  Before he left for the cabin, he had one more errand to run in Cody. J. J. Callahan carried cowboy hats and boots. If he was going to start steer wrestling again, he needed both. In fact he’d better begin by breaking in a pair tonight.

  “WHAT DID YOU THINK of the movie?” Angie asked as they filed out of the theater onto the street.

  “A bit cheesy.”

  “What do you mean ‘a bit’?”

  They both chuckled. “I don’t mind. It was nice to sit through something for two hours with no interruptions.”

  “Amen.”

  They had to walk down to the corner to reach Angie’s car. Before long they’d passed several storefronts. In the distance Paula glimpsed a tall, lean cowboy in a black cowboy hat coming out of Callahan’s. He was headed toward a black truck parked right outside and was obviously in a hurry. There was something about the way he moved…

  Her heart beat faster. “Mr. Cody?” she called to him. He checked his stride to glance her way. So he was home from Iraq! “Just a minute. Please—”

  She darted up to him, noting his dark blue button-down shirt and jeans. He was even taller in cowboy boots, powerful looking. His five o’clock shadow added a sensuality to the hard lines of his facial structure, yet he had a gaunt, almost forbidding appearance that intimidated her. Beneath the rim of his Stetson, his eyes looked black beneath black brows.

  “Y-yesterday you didn’t stay long enough for me to thank you the way I wanted to,” she stammered like a fool. “If you hadn’t grabbed Clay when you did, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened.”

  “Neither do I,” he muttered in a deep masculine voice that reverberated to her insides. “I’m glad any injury was averted. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  Before she could take another breath, he’d climbed in the cab with unconscious male agility and started the powerful engine. In another few seconds he’d backed out and had taken off. “Whoa.”

  She turned to Angie. “Whoa is right. I realize he was in a hurry, but I’m beginning to get a complex. That’s twice now.”

  “It’s not you. Trust me,” her friend assured her, “and I meant ‘whoa’ as in, have you ever seen anyone as incredible? Drop-dead gorgeous doesn’t even come close.”

  That’s what the receptionist at the ranch office had said yesterday, but long, tall and deadly might be a better description. Unfortunately Paula was too upset by his swift dismissal to process everything. Maybe his behavior hadn’t been of a personal nature, but she’d felt very much de trop just now.

  They finished walking to Angie’s Honda and got in. With people still returning to their cars after the film, she was glad they were leaving. Somehow she couldn’t pass off the incident as nothing.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She sucked in her breath. “There’s nothing to say. I got his message. He’s been thanked and from now on, no more thanks, thank you very much.”

  “What about the gift you bought him?”

  “Absolutely not. The man made his feelings so clear I’m still reeling. I’ll put the jade away in a drawer as a gift for someone else one day.”

  “I understand.” Paula appreciated Angie not arguing with her. “You worked with J. W. Cody a few years ago. Do the two of them seem alike?”

  She stared blindly out the window. “No, but then his father was probably on his best behavior around me. I wouldn’t know what he’s really like except that he’s myopic when it comes to the rodeo. If his son takes after him, then I guess there’s
a dark, primitive side to J.W. I’d just as soon not know about.”

  “Primitive? That’s a pretty strong word.”

  “That’s how he came across to me tonight.” Yesterday he’d been a hero. Tonight he’d been…someone else, disturbing her on an elemental level that was unnerving. Was it something the war had done to him? Would Brent have come home affected in the same way? She shuddered, needing to put this whole incident out of her mind.

  The fourplex where they lived was located on the east side of Cody. They’d left the west strip, but it was fairly slow going with all the traffic. Paula was anxious to get home to her son. Right now she needed his sweet, safe, unqualified love.

  A sigh came out of Angie. “Don’t dwell on what happened tonight.”

  “I won’t. I’ve got to work up a design for the vice president of the Spurling Natural Gas Company. He wants the grounds around their headquarters relandscaped. After I put Clay to bed tonight, I’m planning to get busy on it. When I’m immersed, everything else goes out of my head.”

  “Lucky you.”

  Worried for her friend, Paula said, “Is your boss still giving you problems?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “She’s threatened by you.”

  “I know, but I need a job so I’m trying to keep a low profile. No matter what I do, it’s wrong.”

  “Then you need to find another one, Angie.”

  “Actually I’m thinking about going back to college in Laramie to finish up my nursing degree.”

  “Good for you and horrible for me.” They smiled at each other.

  “If I can get a student loan, I might do it. As you know, my sister Marla lives there and would help me out with Danice. I’m going to have to make a decision quick if I hope to start summer semester.”

  “What about Ken?”

  “I guess I didn’t tell you he’s got a new girlfriend.”

  He’d divorced Angie after getting involved with another woman. It was too pathetic. “I’m glad you’re starting to think about your life and what’s good for you. I’ll help out any way I can.”