She said the words as he pounded and grunted, as his face contorted with a horrible pleasure.
She closed her eyes, and thought of the trees and the air, of the last rays of the sun, and of the stars.
He kept his word, so she made the trip up the stairs and onto the porch once a week.
When the baby was a year old, she worked on the nerve to ask him if she could fix him a fine meal to repay him for his kindness. To celebrate Rory’s birthday.
If she could convince him, then show him she was obedient, she might get to the shotgun.
He came down with her evening meal, picked up the baby as always.
But this time, without a word, he carried the baby to the steps.
“Are we going outside?”
“You eat what I brought you.”
Fear made her voice sharp. “Where are you taking the baby?”
“Past time he was weaned. Time he spent more time with his father.”
“No, please, no. I’ve done everything you said. I’m his mother. I haven’t nursed him tonight. Let me—”
He paused on the steps, out of her reach. “I got a cow. He’ll get plenty of milk. You do as I say, and you’ll come up and sit outside once a week. But you don’t, you don’t.”
She fell to her knees. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Please don’t take him from me.”
“Babies grow to boys, boys to men. It’s time he knew more of his daddy.”
When the door shut, locked, she got shakily to her feet. Something snapped inside her. She could hear it, like the crack of a dry twig inside her head.
She went to the chair, sat, folded her arms, rocked. “Hush now, baby. Hush now.” And smiling, she sang a lullaby to her empty arms.
— Present Day —
More than ready to go home, Bodine stepped out into the lingering wild lights of sunset. She justified leaving earlier than usual—knowing she’d concentrate better on reports, spreadsheets, and schedules at home.
She just couldn’t shoulder more grief on top of her own without breaking down.
Then she stepped out under a sky licked and laced by reds and purples and golds, and saw Callen standing with the horses, entertaining a young couple and their deliriously delighted toddler.
“Horsie, horsie, horsie!” He chanted, bouncing on his mother’s hip, stretching out to bang his hands on Sundown’s neck.
She noted Callen confabbing in low tones with the father, then the father whispering something in the mother’s ear that had her shaking her head quickly, then biting her lip, then giving Callen a long look.
“Up to you,” Callen said. “But I can promise this one’s gentle as a lamb.”
“Come on, Kasey. He’ll be fine.” The father, already grinning, pulled out his cell phone.
“Just sitting. Just sitting,” Kasey insisted.
“You got it.” Callen swung into the saddle—a move that had the toddler clapping as if he’d performed a magic trick. “Want to come up here, partner?”
When Callen held out his arms, the little boy would have leaped straight into them. Conflicted, the mother held him up, then pressed both hands to her heart at the sight of the toddler squealing with joy in front of her.
“Horsie! I ride horsie!”
“Smile at your daddy so he can get your picture.”
“I ride horsie, Daddy!”
“You sure are, Ricky. You sure are.”
“G’up!” Ricky shouted. Sundown turned his head and looked at Callen with what Bodine could only call a grin. “G’up, horsie!” Ricky craned around, looking pleadingly at Callen. “G’up.”
“Oh God.” Kasey blew out a breath. “Maybe, just walking a few steps. Is that okay?”
“Sure is.”
“Kasey, get pictures. I’m switching to video. This is great.”
“Put your hand right here.” Callen guided the boy’s right hand, laid it on top of his own on the reins. “Say, giddyup, Sundown.”
“G’up, Thundow!”
When Sundown walked forward, the boy stopped squealing. For a moment, his sweet little face was awestruck, his eyes were filled with shocked joy. “Mama, Mama, Mama, I ride horsie!”
Callen walked Sundown in a couple slow circles while the boy bounced, grinned, and even hooted up at the sky. On the final return trip, Callen sent Bodine a quick wink.
“Gotta say adios, partner.”
“More, more, more!” Ricky insisted when Callen started to lift him out of the saddle.
“That’s enough for today, Ricky. The horsie has to go home.” As Kasey reached up, Ricky leaned away.
“You’re a real cowboy now, Ricky,” Callen said. “Real cowboys always listen to their mas. It’s the cowboy code.”
“I a cowboy.” And with some reluctance, Ricky went to his mother. “Kiss horsie.”
“Sundown likes kisses.”
Ricky planted wet kisses on Sundown’s neck, then pointed to the patient Leo. “Kiss horsie.”
“Leo likes kisses, too.” Bodine stepped up. “Some horses are shy about kissing, but not these two.”
Kasey shifted so Ricky could smack his lips on Leo’s neck.
“Ride this horsie. Please. Now. Please.”
“I have to take him home now and get him his dinner. But … Are y’all going to be here tomorrow?”
“Two more days,” the father told her.
“If you bring Ricky down to the Activity Center tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do.”
“We’ll do that. Hear that, Ricky? You’re going to see more horses tomorrow. Say thank you to Mr. Skinner,” his father instructed.
“Thank you! Thank you, cowboy. Thank you, horsie.”
“Anytime, partner.”
Bodine mounted, turned Leo around.
“Adios,” Callen said, flicking the brim of his cap as they walked the horses away.
“Adios,” Bodine echoed.
“Gotta play to the crowd.”
“I’m not even going to mention insurance, waivers, liability.”
“Good. Don’t.”
“Since I’m not, I’m going to say that’s just what I’m looking for, that interest, in having the horses around Bodine Town now and then. And why doing a little show for kids and families is going to work. I didn’t expect you to be here, with the horses.”
“I called up. Guy at the desk said you were heading out ’round five.”
“I’d arranged for transportation home. Canceled that while you were giving young Ricky the biggest moment of his life. I appreciate it. I appreciate it because it was an unexpected antidote to a horrible day.”
He took a study of her. “You got through it.”
“And I’ll get through tomorrow. I’m going to warn you, Garrett Clintok’s tried to lay some trouble at your door.”
“I already know it.”
“He twisted my words. I want you to know he twisted my words. I never said—”
“Bo.” Callen cut off the building rant with quiet. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
“I need to say it. I never said things he said I did, and it pisses me off he’d try using me, and worse, so much worse, Billy Jean to cause you trouble. I straightened it out with Sheriff Tate, but if—”