up for it.
“Bring us some cookies, too,” Cody said as he tugged Kade down the hall.
“You know better than that,” his mother called back. “You can’t come home and load up on sweets.”
Cody huffed out a breath. “She’s the one who bakes all that stuff, then she gets mad at me if I eat too much of it. She’s kind of strict about other things, too. Maybe you can loosen her up.”
Kade almost laughed. Cody certainly had a way about him. “I don’t know about that, but I wouldn’t mind a few cookies.”
“Dad wants some cookies!” the kid shouted loud enough to rock the house. Then he lowered his voice and gave Kade a lopsided grin. “She can’t refuse now ’cause you’re a guest.”
At that mischief-making moment, Cody reminded him of Meagan when she was the same age. Kade’s sister had been full of spit and vinegar, too. Of course, that wasn’t a good comparison, not now that Meagan was a convict.
Cody’s room consisted of a platform-style bed draped with a brown quilt, a rugged dresser, a student desk, lots of cluttered shelves and a bank of windows with a view of the backyard.
“This is probably the cleanest it’s ever been,” Cody said, repeating what Bridget had mentioned earlier. “Usually I just leave my dirty clothes on the floor instead of putting them in the hamper. Sometimes I leave other stuff on the floor, too, and it drives Mom crazy when she trips over things. You should hear her go off. Grandpa used to say that Mom can curse like a sailor when she thinks no one is listening.” He plopped down on the bed. “But I put everything away since you were coming.”
Kade couldn’t have been more amused. “I appreciate you cleaning up for me. Now your mom doesn’t have to break her neck.”
“Or curse like a sailor,” Cody reminded him.
“That, too.” Kade sat in the chair at the desk, turning it around to face the bed.
Cody leaned forward and asked, “Do you like to draw?”
“Actually, I do.” Of all the questions so far, it was one of the easiest to answer. “I majored in equine science in college. But I also took some art classes, just for my own enjoyment.”
“Wow. That’s so cool. I love to draw. Mostly comic book–type stuff. I even make my own comic books. What kind of art do you do?”
“I like to sketch landscapes and wildlife and things like that. Horses, too, of course.” Kade quickly asked, “Do you think I could see some of your work?”
“Sure.” Cody bobbed up and riffled through the shelves, producing a stack of comic books he’d made.
As Kade paged through them, he was more than impressed. Cody was a fine little artist. The superheroes he created were down-home guys, fishermen and horsemen who got their powers from taking secret trips to Mars. There was even a farmer who glowed in the dark and flew around on a bullet-shaped tractor.
“These are excellent,” Kade said.
“Thanks.” The kid beamed. “I won an art contest at my school last year.”
“I’m not surprised. You could make a living at this someday.” Kade noticed that one of the comic books featured superhero Natives who lived on a space-aged reservation. “Did you know that I’m part Cheyenne?”
“Yep. Mom told me. She always wanted me to know who I was and where I came from. She was just worried that you traveled too much and wouldn’t be around like a dad should be.”
Kade supposed that this was a conversation that needed to happen, especially since Cody was a no-holds-barred type of kid. “I like being on the road and traveling for my work, but it’s not going to stop me from being your father. You’re my priority now that I know about you.”
“Mom’s dad just went away one day and never came back.”
“I know. She told me about him. But I’m never going to do that to you.”
“You better not, or Mom will kill you.”
Cody’s warning sounded quite serious. But Kade already knew it was no joking matter. “I won’t do anything to hurt either of you.”
“I trust you.” The boy drew his knees up. “But Mom isn’t going to be so easy on you. I heard girls are like that, though.”
“They can be. Or so I’ve heard, as well.” Kade wasn’t an authority on the opposite sex. “Is there a girl you like at school?”
“No.” Cody said it with disgust or embarrassment or whatever it was that was going on in his young mind. Then he asked, “Do you still like my mom?”
Now, that was a loaded question if there ever was one, but he did his best to supply a ready answer. “I still think she’s sweet and pretty. And I’m hoping that she and I will become friends again.”
“It’s taking her a long time to get our snack. But she’s probably being slow on purpose to give us time to talk.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” And talking they were. Important subjects were being bandied about. “I brought a gift for you. It’s out in my truck, but I’d rather give it to you while your mom is here, so we’ll wait for her.”
“Really? You got something for me? I can hurry Mom up. I can tell her to get cracking.”
“No, that’s okay. Let’s just—”
Too late. Cody was already at the doorway yelling, “Mom! Hurry up! Dad has a present for me!”
Kade had a lot to learn, apparently. Such as not mentioning a gift before you planned on giving it.
Bridget appeared soon enough, carrying a tray with diced apples, cheddar cheese, chocolate-chip cookies and two frosty glasses of milk. “So you told him that you brought him something?”
“Yep. And he doesn’t want to wait.”
She placed the tray on the dresser. “You should see him on Christmas morning.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Come on, you guys,” Cody said. “Let’s get this done. Otherwise I’ll be too anxious to eat the snack.”
Kade looked to Bridget for guidance, and she nodded her acquiescence. Cody had won both the cookie and the get-me-my-present battle, even with his supposedly strict mother.
“I’ll go out to my truck now,” Kade said. As he left the room, he felt Bridget and their son watching him, knowing darn well they were going to talk about him after he was gone.
* * *
Bridget sat next to Cody on the bed, and he sent her an excited smile.
“Dad is so awesome, Mom. He likes to draw and everything. He even took art classes in college. He thinks I could make a living with my comic books someday. Oh, and he promised he’d never go away and not come back. You were
