My Front Porch Looking In
Author's Note: This is a song fic based on Lonestar's song by the same title. It takes place four years after Angela's birth. Angela's little brother, Ray, is my creation. The other characters are copyright to CBS and Top Kick productions.
The day, typical for Dallas in late summer, had been a real scorcher with temperatures soaring into the mid 90s and the heat index pushing 110 degrees. Criminal activity, possibly because of overheated tempers and fraying nerves, always seemed to increase during this weather. Walker and the other Rangers had been kept busy assisting with everything from domestic violence calls and bar brawls to bank robberies and crowd control. He'd been kicked at, charged, shot at, and one troublemaker had even managed to land blow to his head which could have been lethal if he hadn't partially deflected it. His ears were still ringing from that particular encounter.
Walker allowed himself the rare luxury of leaving the office early but he didn't relax completely until he made the final turn on the road leading to the ranch house. As he guided the dust covered Ram up the driveway, he leaned over and turned the CB off with a soft sigh. He didn't want any last minute interruptions tonight.
Alex's car wasn't at the house when he pulled up. Hmm, still at work or just getting the kids at the HOPE Center. I've got time. He hadn't had many opportunities lately --- neither of them had, really, since the arrival of their daughter and son; they were too bus being parents --- to spend time alone. Something always interrupted: small voices clamoring for stories and piggyback rides, Alex wanting to share her latest ideas for the HOPE center, or a fellow Ranger with "just a few more" questions… He remained dedicated to his job and loved his wife and kids but the constant demands upon his attention made him irritable. Walker needed time alone to clear his head and restore perspective.
He took the porch stairs two at a time, pushed aside the squeaky screen, and unlocked the front door. Once inside he let the cooler air, familiar scents, and silence envelop him. Some of the tension left his shoulders. The days when Walker could come through the front door, fling his Stetson and holster on a rack, and forget about them had ended when Angela was born. He had a new routine now. The Stetson still hung on the hat rack just inside the door, high enough to be beyond reach of a grasping toddler, but Walker's firearm went into the gun safe. He kept the ammunition clip in a place separate from the gun itself, though both were within each reach and quick access should either adult in the household need them.
Walker, remembering Alex's initial protest when he'd insisted she learn how to properly arm and fire a weapon, smirked in satisfaction. Oh, she pitched a big fit and then didn't speak to me for almost a week afterward but it was worth it. God forgive me, she's needed what she learned several times. He liked to think of his ranch as a safe place, a refuge, but the plain truth was that just about anyone who really wanted to find him could. It didn't make him happy that his life as a Texas Ranger would always make it a necessary risk they had to worry about.
He finished storing the gun away he strode toward the living room. The heels of his boots made a hollow sound against the floorboards. Alex had complained again about him wearing them in the house.
"Cordell Walker!" she'd scolded him, hands on her hips and mouth screwed up in that stubborn pout he'd always found so endearing. "I don't sweep and wax those floors so that you can scuff them up and drag muck through the house."
"Alex," Walker had responded, exasperated, "the ranch house is over one hundred years old. I've worn boots in the house since I moved here." He'd tried giving his wife a stern look to show her he meant business but it wavered when the dimple in her left cheek appeared. Alex had been frustrated with him, all right, but she was teasing him too.
"Please, Walker," she had simpered sweetly, touching his arm lightly with her fingertips, "for me?"
He'd glared at her, steely eyed and unyielding, just long enough to make Alex worry and then his face had broken into a lopsided grin. "All right, Alex," he'd laughed, sweeping her up into his arms and planting a kiss on the top of her head, "just quit bugging me about it, would you?"
The living room had gradually changed its character over the years. The farm house initially bore the marks of long tenancy by unmarried men. Its furnishings had been sturdy and practical, devoid of the subtle feminine touches which turned a house from a place to live into a cozy sanctuary of warmth and love. Alex had begun changing that from the moment he had met her. She had encouraged him to add personal touches: the hand woven throws and blankets with their warm rich Southwestern colors; the historical memorabilia decorating the walls; a set of books, his record collection. When they'd married, Alex had coaxed him into allowing her to do some redecorating. She had replaced the antler lamps and their hide shades which she distastefully referred to as "dead animal sculpture" with mission oak and Tiffany glass. Pillows of soft materials and contrasting colors had been added to the couch. The old armchair lounge, her favorite place to curl up and read, had been reupholstered in plush russet corduroy fastened around the edges with brass studs. The afghan she'd spent the winter crocheting for him was carelessly thrown across its back.
Walker had to move aside three of Angela's stuffed animals, a picture book, and a set of brightly colored plastic keys Ray liked to chew on before he could sit down and remove his boots. He placed them neatly on the flagstone hearth beside the couch and then yanked off his socks as well. In a moment of boyish impulse, he tossed them over the back of the couch for Alex to find --- She'll be livid but it'll be worth the expression on her face --- and wriggled his toes. He didn't get to go barefoot often and enjoyed the cooling sensation against the soles of his feet. He considered his options for a moment. What the hell…she won't stay angry long and she sure is pretty when she's upset with me!
With a wild cowboy yell, Walker streaked across the living room and up the stairs shedding clothing as he went. By the time he got to their bedroom, he wore only his underwear. Those he dropped in the hamper before getting into the shower. He took longer than he normally would have, allowing the lukewarm spray to sluice over his back until the knotted muscles had relaxed. The water actually ran cold before he finally left his watery sanctuary.
Grabbing a thick fluffy bath towel off the rack, he tousled his hair dry. He inhaled appreciatively; it carried the faint scent of lilacs. Alex's doing, of course. It's her favorite scent. Walker couldn't remember when she'd started using sachets in the laundry but it seemed to him as though it had been that way forever. It's funny how something which completely changed my life could seem so natural. He grunted and finished drying himself off. White Eagle would probably have a few things to say about that. The wily medicine man was still in good health, last Walker had heard, but had acquired the peculiar habit of being gone from the Cherokee community for months at a time. The tribal Elders worried that the old man might be going senile but Walker suspected White Eagle simply wanted to see the world.
He hadn't been back to Talequah since shortly after Angela's birth. He, Alex, and the baby had made the trip back to the Cherokee Nation so Walker's friends and relatives could meet the newest addition to the family. They'd spent a week up there filing paperwork and waiting for its approval so that Angela's Certificate of Indian Blood Denomination could be issued. Maybe we ought to plan a trip up there this spring so that we can do the same for Ray-Ray.
Whenever Walker thought of his son's namesake a feeling of sorrow chased the smile from his face though his uncle had passed away years ago. Uncle Ray had, after all, taken Walker to raise as his own when no one else would. He would have loved the way things finally turned out. Walker chuckled as he remembered something his uncle had said on Alex's twenty-eighth birthday; he'd tried to throw them together almost from the moment he'd met her. 'Many babies' indeed! He wasn't certain that two children would have been his uncle's idea of "many babies" but he thought it represented a good start.
His hands unerringly located clean underwear and socks, passed over his polos, and selected one of the well worn, serviceable western shirts he so favored. His jeans hung in one side of the closet, his dress pants in the other. He could no longer wear casual clothing to work; that was yet another thing which had changed over the years. The Rangers had adopted a more professional mode of dress and as their Captain it was up to him to set an example. Walker had refused to wear a full suit but he did reluctantly exchange his jeans and shirts for business casual attire. He had to admit it helped differentiate his work life from his home life. But I still hate the damned things.
He finished dressing, collected his boots from the living room, and went back outside. He sat down on the porch steps so he could put them back on. His eyes drifted over the corrals and barns to the horizon, where the sun had already begun tinting the fence rails with molten gold. A baby moon peeked shyly over the trees.
"The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes
Now I look at my front porch and this panoramic view
I can sit and watch the fields fill up
With rays of glowing sun
Or watch the moon lay on the fences
Like that's where it was hung"
Walker remembered when his uncle had sold their small house in Talequah and bought this ranch, just after he had received his application approval to the Department of Public Safety. The old farm house had been vacant for a while and needed repairs; some of the pastures hadn't been fenced yet and the previous land owners had allowed the livestock to graze the rest of it down to bare ground.
Uncle Ray had leaned against one of the old fence posts as his keen eyes evaluated the condition of the property. It creaked alarmingly under his weight and then practically crumbled. He jerked away, flapping comically to regain his balance, and then turned a chagrinned smile on his nephew. "It might need a bit more work than the realtor let on. We can look at other places, Washo."
His nephew had given no indication that he'd heard him; Walker knew, logically, that the place needed too much work and they could probably find other spreads in better condition. The land, however, had called to an empty place in his soul. It…needed him. "I like it, Uncle," he'd said.
"You're sure?"
He'd shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled; his mind was already planning repairs and improvements. "Well," he'd said, "it does need a lot of work, but I think we can handle it."
"I'll write the check today," his uncle had said, clapping him on the back. "Let's get back to town so we can go to the bank and start the paperwork."
They'd gotten the title to the property with all rights attached later that day and had spent the rest of the week before Walker had to report to the training academy in Austin repairing existing fencing or putting in new pasture. That weekend they'd driven back up to Talequah and brought their horses down.
"I've traveled here and everywhere
Following my job
I've seen the paintings from the air
Brushed by the hand of God
The mountains and the canyons reach from sea to shining sea
But I can't wait to get back home
To the one he made for me"
It had been the last time for a while that he'd gotten to stay at his ranch. After twenty-six rigorous weeks of training, he'd been assigned to one of the border units. Covering the required territory rarely brought him close enough to Dallas to spend time at the ranch. Uncle Ray tended it in his absence. By the time he'd applied for and been accepted into the Texas Rangers he'd seen all of Texas from the barren deserts and rugged canyons to the lush rolling hills of the Big Bend. Some of it was beautiful country but he always looked forward to the quiet solitude of his ranch.
An impatient whinny cut short his reminiscing. "I'm coming, Amigo!" he called. The sun had changed position and he judged he had perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes left in which to feed the livestock before his wife and children would be home. More whickers and snorts greeted him as he entered the barn toting a bale of hay. The big sorrel paint lipped at it as Walker set it down. He moved it out of the stallion's way. "I'm getting it as quickly as I can, no need to grab." Amigo chuffed and nudged Walker with his muzzle. He patted the horse's neck affectionately as he filled the manger, rationed out the oats, and checked the water bucket.
He and Amigo had been together a long time; this had been the horse he'd always chosen to take with him when pursuing criminals through the badlands or conducting a border patrol. Later, Amigo had been the herd stallion on Walker's ranch. He was getting old, though, and Walker now preferred to keep him in the stables with Alex's Angel, Ranger, and a few others he kept close at hand for family use. The new stallion, a black and white paint, was one of Angel's foals sired by the wild mustang stud his ward Kathy had brought with her when she came to live with Walker.
Never did get that racer out of him she was always talking about, he mused, but he's sired some dandy foals. His eyes drifted toward the hills, where the land sloped down into a grove of cottonwoods toward the creek. If he looked in just the right place, he could barely make out the stone chimney of the home in which Kathy and David Auguston lived. He and Alex had quartered off a section of the ranch and given it to them on their wedding day. Wonder if they'll be over with the kids tonight. That would be nice, haven't seen them in a while.
Walker heard the car pull up as he finished shoveling out the last stall. Alex's voice carried to him as she called instructions to the children. His heart quickened and a broad smile lit his face. He hung the pitch fork and shovel back in their place on the tack room wall and then strode back to the front porch. As he sat down in the porch swing, a slender manicured hand thrust a glass of iced tea at him. Walker took it gratefully, knowing Alex had anticipated his need. He brought the glass, beaded with condensation, to his lips and drank deeply.
"Come sit with me," he invited his wife as he set the glass down on a small table.
Alex came around and stood in front of him, hands on her hips. The shirt he'd discarded hours ago was draped over one arm and she held her mouth in a moue of annoyance. "Cordell Walker," she demanded, "you don't seriously expect me to ---"
"Come sit with me." He leaned forward, tackled her, and pulled her into his lap. "Who's in trouble now?" he inquired.
She scowled but the effect was spoiled by the mischief in her eyes. Alex scooted away into the seat beside him and punched him playfully in the arm. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"
"Hmm," he responded, taking another long swig of iced tea from the glass. "That's what everyone keeps telling me. Where are the kids?"
"There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in"
The screen door banged. Walker turned his head and saw his four year old daughter, already a mirror image of her mother with those straw blond tresses and candid blue eyes, tugging at her little brother's hand.
"C'mon, Ray-Ray," she called impatiently, "Daddy's home!"
The little boy, sporting his father's red hair but possessing his namesake's bucolic attitude, wouldn't be hurried, however. "No. Sissy wait," he insisted firmly as he bent over to pick up the sippy cup he'd dropped. His chubby little legs wobbled and he overbalanced, landing with a muffled smacking noise on his bottom. Ray's blue-grey eyes went wide in surprise and his bottom lip quivered.
"Silly," Angela said scornfully. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Colts walk better 'n you."
"I'll get him." Alex moved to rescue the toddler but Walker placed a restraining hand on her arm.
"Let it go, Alex," he said, placing a finger against her lips to quiet her protests. "Watch."
Both parents looked on, waiting to see what their independent daughter would do. As soon as she saw Ray about to cry, however, Angela stopped her scolding. She knelt and put her arms around her brother. "Okay, Ray-Ray," she told him cheerfully, "up, up!" With much scrabbling, grunting and pushing, she managed to hoist the toddler to his feet again. "All better now?" she asked, patting his curls.
Ray-Ray still looked as though a cloudburst might be imminent. He shook his sippy cup. A few drops spattered on the old floorboards. "No more milk," he declared mournfully.
"Poor little guy!" Alex whispered. She was smiling now and had forgotten about rescuing Ray. "He must have spilled it when he toppled over."
Angela's voice took on a cajoling tone. "It's supper time anyway. We can get more. Let's help Daddy milk the cows!"
Walker slapped a hand to his head in annoyance. "I was hoping they'd forget about that." As a breeder of horses, he harbored the traditional dislike of cattle but he kept a small milk herd on the property because Alex had wanted them for the kids.
"Not a chance," Alex laughed, "you know how much Ray-Ray loves his milk." She kissed him on the cheek. "You get a temporary reprieve, cowboy. I had one of the hands come by and milk them this afternoon. There's still some chilling in the refrigerator."
"Da-Da!" Ray exclaimed gleefully, thrusting his arms out toward Walker. The Ranger caught the little boy before he could do himself mischief and swung him up into a big bear hug. He giggled, clapping his hands in delight and then patting them against Walker's beard. "Milk?" he asked slyly.
"Go talk to your Mama about that," Walker laughed, passing him to Alex. "Come here, Angela, and give your old dad a hug!"
The little girl laughed as she climbed up into Walker's lap. "Oh, Daddy," she said reproachfully, "you're not old! Can we ride horses after supper?"
"Oh, I don't know. Can we, Mama?" Walker asked, his expression mimicking the earnestness of his daughter's.
"You two!" Alex got up off the porch swing, set Ray down, and grabbed his hand. "Let's talk about it after we've made supper. Coming, guys?"
"Yeah!" Angela shouted, jumping down off her father's lap. "Can I help cook?"
"Maybe," Alex said, "if you hurry inside now."
Walker was staring hard at his daughter's shoes. "They're on backwards!" he exclaimed.
"I dressed myself!" she declared proudly as she disappeared into the house.
"She insisted," Alex said over her shoulder. "I couldn't talk her out of it…what are you doing, Walker? Are you coming inside with us or not?"
"I see what beautiful is about
When I'm looking in
Not when I'm looking out"
"Memorizing a moment," her responded cryptically and joined his family inside.