The You I Never Knew Part 36

"I know, I know," Cody waved a hand. "Always face and acknowledge the mare, blah blah blah."

"You got it."

"Can we use the snowmobiles?"

Sam hesitated. "All right. But they're working vehicles, not toys. So don't screw around-" He stopped. Christ, he was talking to them like an old schoolmarm. "Okay, so you're going to screw around. But be careful. Use the helmets."

"We will," Cody said.

Sam nodded to Cody's friends. "Nice to meet you, but I can't stick around. I need to shower and shave." He rubbed his jaw.

"Big date tonight?" Billy Ho asked with a sly wink.

"I guess you could say that." If you counted a hospital visit as a date.

Cody regarded him with narrow-eyed suspicion. He'd made it clear he didn't favor Sam and Mich.e.l.le getting to know each other again. Probably a natural reaction-kids raised by single mothers tended to feel threatened by any interloper-but it annoyed the h.e.l.l out of Sam.

"C'mon." Suddenly in a hurry, Cody headed into the barn. His friends trailed after him, and Sam went back to the house.

He had no idea how to judge what kind of job he'd done with Cody this week. He was a difficult kid. They weren't all like that, Sam thought as he got into the shower and raised his face to the hot needles of the spray. Take Molly Lightning, who lived down the road. Bright, athletic, good student. She had prospects. You could look at her and picture her in a good place in ten years. As for Cody, it was hard to imagine where he was headed. Sam sensed that he'd never been tested. Never been forced to the wall, because Mich.e.l.le had been so concerned about insulating him-from photographers, from hurt, from want. It wasn't her fault, but everything had come so easy to Cody that he had never learned to work for what he wanted. He maintained a sense of ent.i.tlement that bugged Sam. It was a h.e.l.l of a thing.

So far, the father-and-son bond had eluded them both. There had been moments, here and there, when something, some connection, could be felt. Sam supposed that was all he could hope for at first. Deep down, he still wondered if he wanted more, and his own hesitation bothered him. Above the hiss of the shower, he could hear the nasal whine of snowmobiles being ridden fast. Too fast. He had to force himself not to go yell at them to take it easy. They'd just blow him off anyway, he knew. These kids were like creatures from another planet. He felt awkward around them, as if he had never been that young himself.

He scrubbed himself hard and efficiently, cleaning off the remnants of a rough day. Too many patients, too much red tape, not enough time. At least when he went to see Mich.e.l.le at the hospital, it would be as a visitor, not a doctor. He was just drying off when he heard someone pounding at the door.

Pulling on a pair of jeans, he hurried downstairs.

Billy Ho stood on the back porch, his eyes wide, looking different from the go-to-h.e.l.l kid who'd climbed out of the El Camino. "Um, Cody had sort of a... problem. With the horses."

Sam was already stuffing his feet into a pair of snow boots by the door. He grabbed a parka from the mudroom and put it on over his bare, damp chest. "What kind of problem?"

"Well, the little horse-the foal-got out."

"No big deal," he said, relaxing. "She'll come back in once we put the mare up. A filly that young won't stray far from her mom."

"No, man. I mean out. Like outside the paddock. Then it kind of panicked and took off."

Sam broke into a run. Billy trotted alongside him, breathless, trying to choke out an explanation. "We were just goofing around. No one knew the horse would take off. Cody went after her."

"Where's the mare?"

"She tried to follow the foal out, but Cody put her up. She's p.i.s.sed, man-"

Sam could hear her. Frantic whinnies and stomping hooves echoed down the breezeway of the barn. He could see the snowmobile trails slashing and crisscrossing the broad slope of the meadow leading up to the woods. s.h.i.t. A filly that young would never leave her mother or the familiar terrain of the paddock unless she was truly terror-stricken. The boys had probably herded her uphill on the snowmobiles. As he put on a pair of gloves, he tried to remember what Cody was wearing. School clothes. If he got lost, he'd freeze to death in no time flat.

Sam harnessed a utility sled to one of the snowmobiles. He shot out of the yard, following a crooked line of footprints up the rise behind the barn. The panicked foal had traveled fast; he could see the stretch of its stride in the snow. Despite its young age, it could outrun Cody, especially if it was scared and lost without its mother.

The footprints disappeared into a cover of larch and fir trees. Sam drove into the woods, feeling a shower of golden larch needles rain down on him. He had to slow down to dodge the trees. Before long the density of the trees stopped him altogether. The sled behind the machine was too wide to negotiate the forest. Turning off the snowmobile and cursing through clenched teeth, he continued on foot.

In the silence after the engine's rumble, he heard a sound midway between a cough and a snarl. His blood ran cold. It was the distinctive call of a mountain lion. A big cat didn't usually bother things it couldn't easily kill, but if it felt cornered or hungry enough, it might take a swipe at a young horse. Or a kid. The eerie screeching escalated, a deadly rasp that echoed through the winter woods.

Sam climbed to the top of the ridge. There, he spied a bitten-off section of snow that had crumbled down the opposite face in a small avalanche. Pressed against the curve of the scarp was Cody, waist-deep in snow, the horse floundering, its skinny legs sunk uselessly into the bank.

A livid smear of blood stained the snow.

Crouched on a bare rock above the boy and the foal was the cat. This one was big, maybe ninety pounds.

Its paw slashed out, claws extended, lips peeled back in a snarl. Cody had grabbed a branch and held it out, trying to fend off the reaching paw.

"Yah!" Sam yelled, waving his arms. "Yah, beat it, you old b.i.t.c.h!"

The cat froze and faced him with glittering eyes.

"Stay calm, Cody, and don't crouch down or turn your back, okay?" Sam called.

The boy's face was gray with terror.

"These cats like small prey," Sam said, praying the kid wouldn't panic. "Don't run, or you might trigger her instinct to attack. Keep waving the branch. You have to act aggressive."

He walked steadily toward the cougar, and his gut twisted as she swung her tawny gaze back to the boy and the horse. "Don't look it in the eye," he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

The long tail switched slowly, rhythmically, nervous as a rattlesnake. The horse fell still, its stamina gone.

"If she attacks, you fight back, Cody," Sam hollered, hurrying as fast as he dared. "You hear me, son? Fight back!"

"O-okay," Cody said, his voice thin, snow-m.u.f.fled. He brandished the branch like a sword.

The mountain lion coiled like a spring. For a sickening moment, Sam feared it would attack. A cougar always went for the head and neck. He reached the top of the bank and waved his arms, kicked up snow. The mountain lion retreated a few steps, turned, snarled. He yelled and waved his arms again, close enough now to see a string of drool drip from her mouth. Sam grabbed a chunk of ice and hurled it as hard as he could. Grumbling low in her throat, she slunk into the woods.

"Cody!" Sam half ran, half tumbled down the bank. "You okay? What's all this blood?"

The kid's bare hand kept its hold on the mane of the horse. "I'm okay. Let's get her up. She's stuck, see?" His face was dull white, his voice shaking.

"What's bleeding?" Sam demanded.

Cody held up his free hand. "Hit it on something on my way down." His chin trembled; maybe it was a shiver; Sam didn't know. "Help me, Dad."

It just seemed to slip out, the Dad part. Probably didn't mean a thing, but it had an incredibly powerful effect on Sam. "Okay, keep hold of the mane, you've got it. She's in a panic because she can't get her footing. We'll help her up the bank." Inch by inch, they pulled the foal upward. She was terrified, her eyes rolling, her hooves kicking out every which way.

"Watch the feet," Sam said through his teeth. They had no bridle, no way to control the horse except by brute strength. The minutes seemed to crawl as they struggled up to the top of the escarpment. The snow crumbled beneath them, sending them back a foot for every few feet they gained. Cody was panting, almost sobbing, when they reached the top, then staggered, pushing and pulling the horse to the snowmobile. She flailed every step of the way, twisting and snapping, hooves slashing out, impossible to contain.

"I'll hold her on the sled and you drive," Sam instructed. Using his teeth, he peeled off his gloves and tossed them to Cody. "Put those on. You'll get frostbite." He wrestled the foal onto the sled and Cody held her in place. Off they went, a smooth ride down the mountain, then into the paddock. The El Camino was gone. He wasn't surprised the kids had hightailed it at the first sign of trouble.

Sylvia had practically torn a hole in the stable door. The little one trotted inside and Sylvia was on her immediately, sniffing and licking her from stem to stern. Cody stood in the breezeway, teeth chattering, his nose bright red.

"Thanks," he said in a quiet voice.

"I'm just glad I found you."

The boy hesitated, then looked him in the eye. "I'm glad I found you, too."

And then without even thinking about it, Sam hugged him. It could have been awkward, but it wasn't. It was the most natural thing in the world to let a sudden wave of love for this boy spill out and over, to gather him in his arms in a hug that tried hard to make up for all the years of hugs he'd missed. Sam's throat felt tight as he stepped back. He didn't know if he was cut out for this. He'd never felt anything like the icy burn of terror that had ripped through him when he'd seen Cody in danger. His nerves were shot.

Cody was shuddering violently now. "Are you going to tell my mom?"

"Your mother's got enough to worry about." Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the house. "We need to warm you up, have a look at that hand," he said.

A minute later they sat at the kitchen table, Cody's arm propped on a towel while Sam used tweezers to clean the grit out of the cut.

"When was the last time you had a teta.n.u.s shot?" Sam asked.

"Not sure." Cody winced as the tweezers dug deeper. "I had a bunch of shots before going to camp two summers ago. Ow!"

"Sorry. Don't watch. It's making you tense up."

Cody turned his head away. "Who's Alice McPhee?" he asked, focusing on the stack of junk mail on the table. The top item was a lingerie catalog with a label bearing Alice's name.

Sam hesitated. "My ex-wife."

Cody drew breath with a hiss. "Man, I didn't know you had a wife."

"I don't."

"It's bogus not to tell me you were married before."

"I was married before."

"I mean it's bogus that you didn't tell me right off."

"Cody-"

"Does my mom know?"

"She knows." Sam tweezed a sliver of dirt from the wound. "Hey, cut me some slack. I'm new at this."

"Yeah, well, so am I," Cody muttered.

Sam wanted to take the focus off him and Alice. She represented a failure he didn't like to talk about, so he changed the subject. "So what happened?" he asked, concentrating on the deep gash.

Cody shrugged, some of that old screw-you att.i.tude slipping back into place.

"Hold still," Sam said through his teeth. "What happened?"

"We were just goofing around, man. We let the mare and the foal out into the paddock. Then we started riding snowmobiles and... the filly got out and took off. The noise confused her, and she went up the hill."

"Because you left the paddock gate open."

"Somebody did. I don't know who."

"Do you think that matters? You were in charge, Cody."

"Everything worked out okay, no harm done. Back off, man."

Sam's hand didn't falter, his gaze didn't waver as he cleaned the cut. But inside, he froze. "Everything didn't work out. A valuable filly almost died or broke a leg. Sylvia could've injured herself going ballistic in her stall. You almost got killed. What if I hadn't been around to come after you?"

"Man, you haven't been around for sixteen years, and I survived." Contempt dripped from his voice.

Sam stopped working. He set down the tweezers and regarded the sullen, defiant face so like his own-and yet so strange to him. "Well, I'm back now. And the bulls.h.i.t is over. I figured putting you in charge of the filly would be good for you. Don't prove me wrong, Cody."

"Yeah, well, maybe you are wrong about me."

Sam got out a bottle of disinfectant. "This'll sting."

"Ouch. Hey, man." Cody tensed the muscles in his arm.

"Maybe you'd better choose your friends more carefully. You could use a few more responsibilities-"

"Hey-"

"-don't interrupt. You screwed up, and there are consequences. If you thought the work around here was hard before, you-"

Cody s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand away before Sam was finished. "You're not my frigging jailer." He stood up fast, his chair legs sc.r.a.ping the floor. "What do you want with me?" he demanded.

Sam didn't have an answer for that. Did he want a kid, or was it a concept he liked better in the abstract? No matter, he told himself. The reality was, he had a kid-and a difficult one at that. He had no idea if he knew how to be a good father. He picked up a length of gauze. "Let me wrap that wound."

Cody grabbed it from him. "I'll take care of it myself." He backed away, pausing in the kitchen doorway. "I know what you want with my mom, and I can't do anything about that, but stay the h.e.l.l away from me."

Sat.u.r.day

Chapter 41.

It seemed like half the population of Missoula found some reason to stop by Gavin's room. They were timid at first, asking if he needed anything, making small talk. As the week wore on and he was moved from the SICU to a private room, their numbers increased. Nurses, aides, orderlies, residents, volunteers. The timidity fell away and then finally, on a rush of hard-won courage, they started asking for his autograph.

The mistake had been in giving out that first one, to a brown-eyed aide who looked a little like Carolyn.

"You remind me of the last woman who dumped me," he said, scrawling his signature on the back of a work-order pad. "No, on second thought, you're prettier."

She must have alerted the whole ward, maybe the whole floor, because all through the week he had to deal with furtive fans. He'd given the hospital strict instructions that the transplant was to be kept private, but strict instructions only went so far.

"They're wearing me out, Doc," he said to Maggie Kehr when she stopped in. She wore a shamrock in her lapel and a little leprechaun clinging to her scope. "You've got to let me go home and get some rest."

She smiled down at the chart she'd been writing on. "I want to keep you at least a week."