One Brave Cowboy (13 page)

“Are we doing something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” She put her arms around him. “Mark and I are both glad you're here. But I don't want you to get mixed up with Greg.”

“Too late.” He rubbed her back. “He's the one who got mixed up with me.”

“And I'm so sorry for that. If I hadn't brought you your jeans…”

“I
really
would've scared the crap out of him.” He leaned back and smiled at her. “Let's go down to the bus stop and wait for Mark.”

 

The bus was late, but the word from the school was reassuring. The group had been treated to ice cream and playtime while they waited out the storm. Like hood ornaments on his pickup, Celia and Cougar sat high above the river in the right of way on the muddy island that her turnoff had become. They didn't speak of the day's roller coaster ride. For her part, Celia put doubts aside and took pleasure in the lingering afterglow of love made with exquisite care. Blowing fresh off rain-washed prairie grass, the cool breeze toyed with her hair and soothed her head. The growing connection between her heart and that of the man at her side could only be a good thing.

At first glimpse of bright yellow, Cougar jumped down and turned to offer her a hand. “Mark won't
be hungry right away, will he? We should check on Flyboy. How's your fence out there?”

“I haven't checked.”

“Well, you've had no reason to. If the horse is gone, we'll put out an APB.”

“Really? Can you do that?”

He smiled. “We'll find him. There's no driving out there now, but I think I can borrow a horse from Logan.”

She loved that warm, reassuring smile of his. He had one for Mark when he got off the bus, and Mark gave him one right back. Celia didn't mind seeing Mark reach for Cougar's hand without a thought for where hers might be.

Vicky Long Soldier leaned around the safety pole and reported, “We had a good day.”

“Heard the Thunder Bird flew south of you,” Cougar said. “You missed a hell of a show.”

“You guys get any damage?”

“Nothing a good hired man can't fix.”

Celia gave him a look as the bus pulled away. “Hired man?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Cougar adjusted his hat as he glanced at the bulbous layers of white clouds pressing against the horizon. “I thought
remodeling contractor
might be pushin' it.”

Celia loved the way he made her laugh. She grabbed his face and pulled his head within reach of her quick, firm kiss. The surprised look on his
face delighted her even more. She looked down at her son and saw the innocent marriage of Cougar's surprise and her own delight. Life was good again.

Cougar's four-wheel drive attacked mud like an army half track. As they approached the fence, he signaled Mark in the backseat, pointed to the windshield, and then turned his hand into an airplane. The spotted mustang stood half a mile away.

Cougar got out of the pickup and loaded Mark onto his back, but once they reached the fence, the boy had other plans. He got down and started trying to pull up grass. Cougar waved off Celia's pending objection, took out a pocket knife and squatted beside Mark to lend a hand. Wheatgrass and big blue-stem with edible leaves and nodding heads—the boy knew what he wanted. He took the handful Cougar cut for him, walked to the fence and waved it like a semaphore. Ears forward, the horse trotted in their direction.

“Wow,” Celia whispered. “Oh, wow.”

Mark kept waving, and the horse kept coming. He stopped a few yards short of the fence. Mark got down on hands and knees and started ripping the grass again. Flyboy lowered his nose to the ground and took several steps closer.

“I'll be damned. If it wasn't for the fence…”

Mark looked up at Cougar. Celia held her breath. The light in her son's living eye spoke volumes.
If it wasn't for the fence.

Cougar stepped the bottom strand down and pulled the middle one up enough to allow Mark to slip through. He stood quietly, clutching his handful of grass. Flyboy hung his head and slowly closed the distance. He snuffled the boy's shoulder, nickered and sniffed the grass.

And Mark nickered back.

Mark made a sound.

Celia's mouth dropped open. She wanted to whinny or howl or crow. She wanted to squeal and squeeze and jiggety jig. She'd wanted and waited and wished, and she was about to explode.

Cougar took hold of her hand. She looked up at him, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though the slightest motion might destroy the magic. They watched the two sensitive creatures bring all their senses to bear for an E.T. moment. Mark stood quietly while Flyboy ate the grass from his hand.

A car drove up behind them and killed the moment. Cougar ignored it, but Celia looked over her shoulder. It was brown and white with a lightbar on the roof. Her heart sank. She heard the horse retreat and felt the loss of Cougar's hand. He was stretching wire again, making a hole for Mark to climb through. Celia reached for him as soon as he crossed over. Whatever was going on, her child would not be touched by it.

The county sheriff was an older man, slightly paunchy, but he carried himself smartly, sported
a tan Stetson and wore a star affixed to his neatly pressed khaki shirt. Celia had heard him speak at a teacher's meeting, where he and the chief of tribal police had explained the nature of their separate but cooperative jurisdictions in Indian country.

“Is your name Cougar?” he asked without preamble.

“That's right.”

“First, last?”

“Both.”

The sheriff put hands to hips. “We got a call about an assault. Are you a tribal member?”

“Not here. I'm from Wind River.”

“Mrs. Banyon?” Celia nodded, and the sheriff touched his hat brim. “Sheriff Pete Harding. Can you tell me what happened here today?”

“Why don't we let Mrs. Banyon take the boy inside, and you have your talk with me, Sheriff?”

Sheriff Harding looked down at Mark and appeared to consider the suggestion. “Was the boy here when the incident happened?”

“Mark just got home from summer school,” Celia said. “Would you like to come inside?”

Celia was unsure of the protocol for an official visit from the sheriff. Should she ask to see a warrant or refuse to say anything without benefit of counsel? So far, Cougar hadn't batted an eye. But, then he'd been icily calm earlier, too, and the only thing he'd batted was Greg. Who'd deserved it.

She set Mark in front of the TV with a video game and joined Cougar and the sheriff at the kitchen table. The sheriff had opened up a metal clipboard and was filling out a form.

“My ex-husband came into my house uninvited,” Celia blurted out. Cougar looked at her, his expression unreadable. Had she spoken too soon?

“Broke in?”

“Walked in.” Celia folded her hands on the table. “The door wasn't locked. He scared me, insulted me. The very fact that he walked in was a threat.”

The sheriff flipped a page in his clipboard. “He said he was looking for his son.”

“Today wasn't his day.”

“I guess not,” the sheriff said without looking up from his previous notes. “He thought his arm was broken.”

“It wasn't,” Cougar said. “Did he file a complaint on me?”

“He complained, yeah.” Harding turned to Celia. “Do you have a restraining order against Mr. Banyon?”

“Not yet.”

“If he's threatening you, you should get one.” Back to Cougar. “He says you tried to strangle him.”

Cougar gave a humorless chortle.

“Said you knew karate or something.” Harding scanned his report and appeared to read from it.
“He's pretty sure your hands could be considered dangerous weapons.”

“Are you gonna arrest me?”

“I don't know.” The sheriff gave himself away with a hint of a smile. “Are your hands dangerous weapons?” No answer. “Army or Marines?”

“Army.”

“Were you in the Middle East?” Cougar nodded. The sheriff turned to Celia. “Is Mr. Cougar living here with you?”

“Talk to me, Sheriff. I'm Cougar. I'll answer your questions.”

“Are you living with—”

“He's working for me,” Celia said.

“Okay, so who's answering my questions?”

“I live in that camper out back.” Cougar leaned in. “You need probable cause to arrest me, so let's get to the story, Sheriff. Yes, I know how to handle an intruder without breaking any bones or scarring him for life.”

“I was in the Marines,” Harding said.

“That's not my problem.”

The sheriff stared for a moment. Finally he chuckled. Nothing uproarious, but a bit of an icebreaker.

Celia sighed.
Let's get this over with.

“I came into the living room, found Greg sitting there—scared me half to death—and I asked him to leave. He said some things, and Cougar took exception.”

“Mr. Banyon took exception to Mr. Cougar's exception,” the sheriff concluded. “Turned out Banyon had no injuries. I took his statement at the clinic.”

“So you're not going to arrest anyone,” Cougar said.

“Do you want to make a complaint, Mrs. Banyon?” Sheriff Harding pulled another form from his clipboard. “I can take yours now and file them both.”

“About Greg just walking in here?”

“It's up to you. If you decide to ask for a restraining order, a record of this incident would be…” He gave her a pointed look. “It's up to you.”

She took his point. Clearly Greg had acted like a jackass when he'd reported his outrage to the sheriff. Celia knew Greg's routine better than anyone. She'd hoped to put it behind her. She'd pulled up stakes and
moved,
for pity's sake.

“Yes, I want to make a complaint,” she said with a sigh. “I want the whole incident on record.”

The sheriff slid the form across the table and laid his pen down on top of it. Celia picked it up and set about telling her side of the story. She kept it brief and purely factual, squeezing her emotions between the lines, where no one would see them. But she knew they were there. She owned them. And she was unapologetic about filing the report, the kind she'd never wanted to make because things just weren't that bad.

But neither was filing the complaint.

“There's no room at the County Inn right now,” Harding said as he slipped the new reports into his handy metal case. “You're right. If you did what Banyon accused you of, you did it well. Not a mark on him. Since he's the one trespassing, I have no cause to arrest anyone here.” He turned to Celia as he snapped his clipboard shut. “The number is 911.”

 

“I didn't handle that very well,” Celia said quietly. They sat together on the sofa. Several feet away, Mark was busy communicating with jumpy Lego figures through a joystick. “I should have called right away, the minute I walked out and found him here. I was afraid of…”

“Of what? Him? Me?” He turned on her as the truth hit him. “
For
me? Don't worry about me, Celia. You do what's right for you and Mark.”

“I was taken off guard. Blindsided, really.”

“Celia…”

“It's been quite a day.” She laid her hand on his thigh.

He covered it quickly with his as though he took exception. She almost said,
I'm not going to do anything,
but she started to pull her hand away instead.

He held fast. “If he showed up that way again, I can't promise I'd do anything different.”

“We'll call the sheriff.”

“
You'll
call the sheriff. You'll do what you need
to do. As for me…” He gave a wistful smile. “Greg was lucky.”

“He's all talk. Don't let him get to you. He's one of those people who would sue you because he broke into your house and got bitten by your dog.” She squeezed his hand. “No more fighting.”

“That wasn't a fight. All I did was shut him up and move him out.”

“I'm glad Mark wasn't here.” She leaned closer. “You heard him, right? His voice?” Cougar smiled. “That was his voice. It's been so long since I've heard it, Cougar, but I knew it would come back.
He
would come back.”

“Let him do it in his own way, his own time.”

“You said horses were part of your therapy. Did you…?”
His own way.
“I mean, were you…?”
His own time.

“I've been around horses most of my life. Thought I knew all about them. I could use them. I could get them to do what I wanted them to do. And I knew they were smart, too. People think the smartest animals are the ones you can train to be most like humans.”

“The ones who let you put diapers on them and teach them to smoke?”

He laughed. “Can you see a horse putting up with that? No.” He shook his head. “When I was in the hospital—and I was there for months—they said I needed to do something besides read and go to
the gym. I needed to connect. So I looked at what they had to offer, and there was this horse therapy. I laughed. Horse
therapy?
Okay, I could connect. I knew horses.” He smiled. “But I never realized how much they knew about me.”

She glanced at Mark. “Can you explain it to me?”

“You read the book, honey.” He grinned. “You're right about Logan. He's the master. He's the one to explain it all.” He jammed his thumb to his chest. “I know it in here. I know where Mark's been, and I think I know where he is now. You're right, Celia. He's coming back.”

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I'm so glad he wasn't here today.”

“Yeah. I am, too.”

Celia would never know how glad he was. Cougar's heart ached with it. He knew it wouldn't have made a difference who'd been there to witness his battle with himself. Banyon was no match for him. He wasn't dealing with a trained watchdog. Celia had a wildcat patrolling the premises. A good hardass could run interference for her, but she needed more than that. She needed a man, and she deserved a whole one. Cougar was on his way back, too, just like Mark was.