THE MEADOW SURROUNDING the cabin was an explosion of scarlet red from all the wildflowers. With the mountain up close and knifing into the rarified atmosphere, Paula couldn’t contain her ecstasy. She turned around, trying to take it all in. “What a stunning spot! I’d live up here every second if I could.” It was the closest place to heaven she’d ever seen.
Walker had started unloading the truck. “My first memories of life began up here. This was my fort, my cave, my secret island. I was the king of my castle, lord of all I surveyed.”
And now it was his refuge. But instead of saying the words, she pulled Clay from his car seat, nuzzling his neck to get out her emotions. “As soon as we go inside, I’ll fix you a snack.” Grabbing the baby bag, she headed for the charming cabin with spruce trees growing in the front yard.
Her host was there ahead of her to open the door. It opened into the kitchen with a big picture window on the right. With red print curtains and red linoleum to bring life to the honey-colored logs, it looked the way a small mountain cabin should look—cozy and inviting.
She put the bag on the picnic-table bench, then walked through to the living room. The fireplace was on the other side of the kitchen wall. Another picture window looked out on a different section of the meadow with blue flowers. There was a well-worn red print couch and two matching chairs on either side of it.
To the left, a staircase rose to the loft. Lots of family memorabilia covered the log wall. She couldn’t wait to examine the photos. In the right corner a Dutch door led to a covered porch. Paula loved everything about the cabin, inside and out.
“Would you like me to set up the playpen in here or one of the bedrooms?”
She turned to him. “Since I’ll only put him in it to sleep, maybe the bedroom would be best where it will be a little darker.”
“What about the swing?”
“It makes a great high chair. I’ll feed him in the kitchen, then we can take it anywhere. Come on, sweetie. I know you’re hungry.”
After setting it up, she lowered Clay into it and fastened the restraint. “There.” She tied the bib around his neck. “Now what do you think?” She opened up the bag and pulled out his food. He jabbered away, eager for anything that tasted good.
Walker joined her on the bench as she was feeding Clay some cottage cheese. “What do you think he’s saying?”
“Oh, lots of things. He loves the cabin and can’t wait to climb up the stairs and pull down all those pictures, and then he wants to play with the knobs on those kitchen drawers.”
Laughter broke out of Walker, the deep rich male kind she felt to her toes. What a wonderful sound when she thought he’d lost the capacity to laugh that way.
Like a little kid who couldn’t contain his curiosity, he opened one of the plastic containers she’d brought. “Vienna sausages. I haven’t had one of these in years.”
“Take as many as you want. He’ll only eat one or two.”
To her delight, Walker ate three with obvious relish.
“Go ahead and feed him one.”
He darted her a worried glance. “Will he take it from me?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
When Walker lowered the sausage to his lips, Clay studied him for a moment and then opened his mouth and bit off the end so decisively, they both chuckled. When he’d swallowed that portion, he opened his mouth again. This time Walker pushed the sausage in farther, but it wouldn’t go all the way.
“Kind of looks like Winston Churchill with his cigar, don’t you think?” Paula quipped. By now Walker’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. She pulled the little bit out. Clay took it from her fingers and stuffed it in his mouth. In another minute, all had been consumed.
“You see?” She turned her head to smile at Walker. “Feeding him is a piece of cake. You worried for nothing.” His eyes, full of green flecks, smiled back. “Try giving him a banana.” She’d pulled one out of the bag.
Walker reached for it and peeled it partway down. He leaned over. “You want some of this?” But when he put it near his mouth, Clay made another sound and brought his hand up to grab for it. In a lightning move he broke off the exposed part and shoved it in his mouth. This time Paula thought Walker would fall off the bench with laughter.
“This kid’s tough.”
“They’re certainly not as fragile as they seem.” Soon Walker had denuded the rest of the banana and was feeding Clay piece by piece. They were making excellent progress together. When he refused the last bite, Walker popped it in his own mouth.
“Looks like I’m going to have to wipe him down.” Aware of Walker’s gaze, she pulled some wipes out of the baby bag to clean off Clay’s fingers and remove his bib. To keep her son busy, she handed him two of his favorite trucks.
While he was preoccupied, she reached inside the bag for the jade piece and put it on the table next to Walker. No way would she do the honors again.
His gaze fell to the charm. She held her breath until he’d fastened it around his neck. Relieved the moment had passed, she turned the dial that started the swing moving. “Now that Clay is enjoying himself, I meant to ask if you ever got started on your art therapy.” When he’d invited her up here, he’d had an agenda and it wasn’t to play house with her.
“There’s plenty of time to talk about that. Why don’t we take a walk outside first? There’s a family of squirrels who live in the trees out in front.”
Action. That’s what she needed. Plenty of action and space. The kitchen suddenly seemed too small with both of them in it.
“Clay will love it!” She bent over the swing to undo the restraint and pull him out so he could walk.
Walker opened the door. “Come on, little guy.” He grasped Clay’s hand and paced himself to stay with him. Her son went right to him. She followed and closed the door before taking Clay’s other hand.
It was like stepping into a carpet of flowers, reminding her of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, walking through the field of poppies set against an impossibly blue sky. There must have been some rain up here last night. Everything smelled so fresh. She detected an intoxicating scent in the air from the flowers.
For a little while Paula felt more alive than she’d been since before Brent had been deployed to Afghanistan.
While she was engrossed, Walker picked up Clay and moved a little closer to one of the trees where a couple of squirrels were running along the branches. Every so often they stopped and chattered. The fascinating sight held the three of them mesmerized. It wasn’t just the animals enjoying their life undisturbed in this paradise. It was as if every element of nature had aligned in perfect harmony. She found it all so beautiful, it hurt.
Walker looked over at her. Their eyes met in an unsmiling glance that quickened her body because she knew he was feeling the magic of this moment, too. Paula was afraid to breathe for fear of disturbing the tranquility enveloping them. For a few minutes there was no war anywhere, no tragedy, no sorrow, only a precious window out of time they were privileged to share.
Suddenly the sound of a truck coming up the dirt road shattered the quiet. She hadn’t seen it yet, but the squirrels didn’t like the intrusion. They screeched and vanished into the highest branches of the tree. Clay squirmed in Walker’s arms to see what was coming.
“Stay here.” He handed Clay to her. “I’ll see who it is,” he muttered with a hardened jaw. In an instant he’d turned into the forbidding stranger she’d tried to talk to outside the movie theater in Cody.
He strode down the slope. She felt sorry for the person who’d decided to pay him an unexpected visit. From her own experience she’d learned you didn’t approach Walker unless he wanted it. More fallout from the war, or had he always been an intensely private person?
Paula lowered Clay to the ground so he could walk around. She stayed with him while he stopped here and there to touch the flowers. Once or twice he rubbed his eyes, an indication he was getting ready for his nap.
&n
bsp; Before long she spied a propane truck come up over the rise and drive around the back of the cabin. Then she saw Walker heading toward her. With every step that brought him closer, her heart thumped a little harder.
“Jesse didn’t want me to run out of propane so he sent for the truck. It won’t take them long.”
“That was thoughtful of him.”
“He takes care of everybody. One day he’ll inherit the ranch. Though he’s known for his bull riding, no one will ever run the place better.”
That was high praise coming from Walker. She heard real affection there. “While I was watching the video, the announcer said all the Codys were champions. I doubt there’s another family like yours anywhere.”
His expression closed up. “Not unless they have a father like mine.”
After his comment about the monument J.W. had erected, she’d known he had issues with his father. This last statement just confirmed it.
“No, no, Clay!” She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t realized her son was ready to put one of the paintbrush stalks in his mouth. “They might look good enough to eat, but they’ll make you sick.” Paula tossed the plant away before plucking him from the ground. “It’s time for a little nap. Come on. Let’s go in.”
“What can I do to help?” Walker asked, after showing her the bedroom where he’d set up the playpen.
“If you’ll bring in the baby bag, everything I need is in it.”
“One baby bag coming up.”
She laid Clay down on the double bed and took off his boots and socks. When Walker came back in, she reached inside the bag for the little plastic mat she used to change him. Once she’d pulled off his shorts, she whipped out a new diaper and put it under him before removing the old one. Walker watched in fascination as she fastened him up and put the used diaper in a Ziploc bag.
“There you go, sweetie.” She pulled up his shorts before carrying him over to the playpen. He started to cry until she handed him his favorite blue blanket and a bottle she’d already filled with milk. “Time to go to sleep.” He went quietly, looking up at the two of them while he made noisy sounds drinking his bottle.
Walker chuckled. “Listen to him guzzle that.”
“He’s hilarious.”
“He’s one lucky boy to have a mother like you.”
Her face went warm. “Thank you, but he makes it easy.”
As they tiptoed out of the room, she heard the truck start up and drive away from the cabin. Paula headed for the kitchen to wash her hands. Walker wasn’t far behind.
“How do sloppy joes sound to you for lunch?”
“I love them.”
“Good. I bought some corn on the cob, too.”
“I don’t suppose either item was included in your K rations.”
He pulled the corn from a bag he’d brought in. “Not exactly. If you don’t mind doing the shucking, I’ll get the ground beef started.”
They made desultory conversation while they put their meal together. It was a novel experience for Paula to be working alongside a man in the kitchen again. Within twenty minutes they sat down to one of the best meals she’d ever eaten. Of course the company had everything to do with her enjoyment.
Glad to see he had an appetite, she realized the gaunt look had disappeared from his face and he’d started to pick up a tan. She thought he’d even put on weight. All that was good, except that he looked tired. After Brent had been deployed, she’d read the literature on PTSD. Returning vets had trouble getting enough sleep. That plus the scare over his sister was causing his eyelids to droop.
When they’d done the dishes, she turned to him. “That meadow out the window is calling to me. Would you mind very much if I started a painting? Maybe you could take a little nap like Clay.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” His question told her he liked the idea.
“Not at all. The scarlet of the paintbrush looks like flame. I’d like to capture it with the sun at this angle. It’s been a long time since I was inspired.” It was true. “Let’s both take advantage of the quiet before my son wakes up.”
“Maybe I’ll lie down on the couch for a few minutes.”
Five hours later Paula’s mouth broke into a secret smile when she entered the cabin with Clay after their long walk and saw that Walker was still out for the count. He lay on his stomach with one arm dangling to the floor. His tall, lean body took up the couch from end to end.
He’d removed his cowboy boots. The comparison between them and Clay’s tiny ones was amusing to say the least.
For Walker to be sacked out all afternoon meant he’d let go of that nervous energy for a while and could relax. To see him get this much relief from stress brightened her day in a way she couldn’t put into words.
It was dinnertime. She didn’t want to wake him until she had to. Once Clay ate some mac and cheese, she packed up the baby bag and art supplies and set them outside the cabin door.
Next she quietly loaded the swing and playpen and took them out to the truck. Clay walked along with her. On her return to the cabin she carried him in her arms. To her surprise, she was met by a fierce-looking Walker who’d come into the kitchen in his stocking feet.
He rubbed the back of his neck in what she perceived was abject frustration. “Why did you let me sleep all day?” His attractive voice sounded an octave lower.
“Because you obviously needed it. Please don’t be upset. I’ve had one of the most relaxing days in years. This place is so beautiful I filled my sketch pad with drawings while Clay played by me.
“To be honest, ever since Brent left for Afghanistan, I haven’t been able to paint, but being up here has unlocked something inside me. It was an unexpected gift. But now that you’re up, I need to get Clay home. Do you mind?”
It was a lie, but she wasn’t above using her son as the excuse to get away from Walker. Much more time spent here and she’d never want to leave. She heard him take a deep breath. “Of course not. Have you had anything to eat since lunch?”
“I snacked on and off all afternoon.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.”
No sooner had she taken the other things to the truck and installed Clay in the car seat than Walker joined her in the cab. The tension he’d managed to let go of for part of the day seemed to be back in full force.
By the time they reached her apartment, she was glad to be home in the safety of familiar surroundings. While he brought her things in from the truck, she gave Clay a quick bath.
Once he was dressed in his jammies, she walked out to the living room with him. “Clay’s ready for bed. Say nite-nite to Walker.”
To her surprise, Clay leaped at the chance to be back in Walker’s strong arms. He kissed his face the way he did with her. Then his hands found the chain and pulled the jade piece out of the neck of his T-shirt to bite it.
“No-no, sweetie. This isn’t yours.” She had to physically remove his fingers before he tugged too hard and broke the chain. Half laughing up at Walker, she said, “Now you know why I don’t wear jewelry.”
Paula had only recently removed her wedding rings and put them away. She planned to give them to Clay one day when he’d met the right girl, but that was years and years away yet.
Walker smiled. “Lead the way to the bedroom and I’ll put him in bed.”
“Let me get his bottle first.”
To keep Brent alive in Clay’s heart, she’d put different photos of his daddy around the nursery. Some pictured her with him. Others included the three of them. She saw Walker study each of them before he put Clay down and covered him with his blue blanket. She handed him his bottle. He played with it for a minute, then started to drink.
Paula left the room ahead of Walker and discovered a drawing pad with a set of pastels sitting on the coffee table. His, of course. Full of curiosity she reached for the pad and turned back the cover.
There were two pages with swirls of co
lor. Mostly dark.
“What do you think?” came his deep voice.
“When did you do these?”
“A few days ago.”
“What I think doesn’t matter, Walker. I took a series of art classes in college. One of them covered the possible avenues to use an art degree. There was a section on art therapy. I actually considered it for a time, but I had a professor who talked me into going into landscape architecture. He said a lot of people needed help, but a lot of landscapes needed help, too.”
That brought a quick white smile to Walker’s lips. “He was right about that. As I told you before, the main ranch house would have been a disaster without the right surroundings.”
Actually the Codys’ new home was gorgeous—modern, yet its interior was all Western and decorated in superb taste. She suspected that Walker’s dislike of it had more to do with his personal hang-ups.
She studied his drawing again. “I take it you’re not thrilled about getting your emotions out through art.”
“I wouldn’t know how to begin.”
“You got a good start here.”
“I’m supposed to draw when I feel upset or restless.”
“So far you’ve said quite a bit. Black with purple on one spectrum, yellow on the other. Hell and illumination. Two polar opposites. When you go back to the cabin tonight, suppose you do another drawing that expresses how you felt while you were in the hospital recovering from that IED.
“But before you leave, I’m going to give you my set of pastels. Just a minute and I’ll get them.” She came back from the dining room with her case. “The pack of eight he started you out with doesn’t offer you the range of colors you need. He probably didn’t want to overwhelm you on your first visit.
“Remember your emotions are as varied as the colors. There are seventy-five colors in my case. If you see the right one, it could put you in touch with how you were feeling. Then you just start scribbling like mad, the way you did as a child who draws from emotion. You may find yourself scribbling on many pages.”
Walker: The Rodeo Legend Page 10
