Longmire: Frames

Chapter One…..Pictures.

Walt Longmire woke up on the couch. He'd fell asleep there last night re-reading Lonesome Dove. Allen O'Brien had been the ultimate downfall of his old sheriff and long time Lucian Connelly, but he felt the novel, one that Lucian had introduced him to, was a fitting tribute to that cranky old bastard.

He'd fallen asleep just as he reached Woodrow's long struggle to return his dead friend all the way back to the town of Lonesome Dove. He chuckled to himself; evidently, he was Woodrow and Lucian was Gus. After all, he WAS lugging Lucian as he searched for the buried treasure of Anson Hamilton. And he knew he could skip to the end and just find it, but lugging around that old Maxwell House coffee can with Lucian's ashes, retracing the old man's steps in his search gave him some peace. He could imagine the two of them heading out after the treasure if things had gone differently, if he had been so caught up in his job, If Lucian hadn't taken matters in to his own hands.

Walt rubbed his eyes between thumb and forefinger. Yes, that old man's story had ended sadly, but so had Gus's, and Woodrow's… but he'd be damned if he would end up the coward Woodrow was: afraid to even name his own child. He'd already made the decision to change when he'd grabbed Vic and pulled her over for a long kiss before they went after Malachi Strand.

Standing up, he scratched his stomach, his fingers brushing the almost healed stab wound Malachi had given him. Wandering into the bedroom for a shirt and pants, he noticed the bed was empty. No Vic, but he had an idea where she might be. Quickly dressing, he stepped out onto the porch and looked down across the yard toward the fenced in pasture where the horse stayed.

He smiled as he saw Vic down with the horse. She reached down and pulled loose some grass and held it up for the horse to graze on, then she started brushing.

Walt was happy. Over the last few weeks he'd seen a change in her, and the horse seemed to be a lot of it. Also, he knew that Vic and Cady had talked a couple of weeks back, and while neither had mentioned the subject, he was pretty sure he knew. He could tell that Vic had been crying, and Punk's face could never hide what she was feeling. She was sad when he walked in the door that afternoon.

He just stared. Vic was wearing a blue flannel shirt of his that she'd appropriated for a night shirt, and he wished he had a camera.

Camera. You have a cell phone now, the cell phone has a camera! Walt stepped inside grabbed his phone and started walking down towards Vic and the horse, poking around on the screen looking for the camera app. The cell phone still seemed to be in charge somedays, and he wondered if he was cut out for technology, and yet…

Vic had gotten up early that morning. She climbed out of bed and stretched her arms as high as she could. She grabbed the blue flannel shirt she'd stolen from Walt the first morning she'd awoken in his… no now it was THEIR bed. She hastily pulled on sweatpants and walked out into the living room. She'd missed his warmth in bed that night, but right now, looking at him sprawled on the couch, mostly finished book propped open on his chest, arm hanging downwards… she tip-toed her way back into the bedroom and snagged her phone. She silently moved back into the living room and took a picture, focusing on his peaceful No she thought to herself not peaceful…. Relaxed! It's like he's… she shook her head, she didn't have the right words. Then it hit her. Peaceful was for people who hadn't been through the things she and Walt had. Relaxed though, that was someone who'd had awesome weights in life and who'd finally either gotten rid of them or was able to…. To… able to at least put them aside and enjoy things now.

Stepping out on the porch, she saw the horse down by the fence. She started to wander across the front yard. She reached Walt's beat up Bronco and looked in the back. She reached in and grabbed the horse brush and moved on toward the horse.

She wasn't sure why the last few mornings she found herself coming down here to curry the horse. She started her new morning ritual by bending over to pluck a couple of tufts of grass, but the horse didn't mind. He was greedy and munched it all as fast as he could, then would nuzzle her hand, sometimes bump it demanding more. And the times she actually took the oats along? He was like a crack addict who'd just found the golden pipe.

"Mind you horse, I don't blame you. All that brown sugar? The smell makes ME hungry too!"

Patting the horse, she started brushing and murmuring softly. "I mean what's the big freaking deal? He could give you a name," she laughed, "I bet he had a dog named "Dog". She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment and imagined Walt calling out "Hey DOG! Come here!" and the big dumb mutt would come running.

She didn't know how long she'd been brushing and talking to the horse, but she heard a soft footstep behind her. She turned and saw Walt standing there, phone held awkwardly while he framed a pic. She turned a quarter of the way around, her left arm resting on the horse's back. Teasingly she undid two buttons at the top of her shirt.

Walt took a deep breath and fumbled for the place on his screen that would take the picture.

Vic looked around at the empty land, then hooked a finger in her pants like she was going to slide them lower. "We could take a picture for Moretti Landscaping", she hinted. "That way you'd know the quality of my work."

Walt took yet another deep breath, a habit he was starting to build around Vic lately. "I've already seen enough." He reached up to adjust a strand of her hair, curving it down along her cheek, then took another picture.