Vengeance: Chapter 10
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Deeks shivered as his bare feet touched the cold floor of the bedroom. The thick quiet of the room closed around him as he tiptoed around the bed, leaving Kensi snoring softly, buried under the mound of blankets he'd just thrown off. Pale light filtered through the windows, barely illuminating his path as he gathered his jeans from the chair, pulling them on before fumbling for a fresh pair of socks in the dresser. He grabbed his boots and a clean shirt and soundlessly opened the door. He heard Boo whine and looked back to see the puppy watching him from Kensi's side. The puppy's tail thumped slowly, but when he motioned for her to lie down and stay, she obeyed, finally yawning before putting her head back between her paws. He closed the door behind him, hoping the puppy would go back to sleep and not wake Kensi.
He felt himself holding his breath in the cold that cloaked the dark living room. There was a hint of warmth still radiating from the fireplace, so he quickly sat down in front of it and pulled on his socks and boots, before standing to put on the warm, plaid flannel shirt Joe had loaned him. He took a moment to look around the silent room. He would be leaving the next day and he had wanted this time alone to let the feeling of the ranch settle deep inside of him. The designs on the Navajo rugs that hung on the walls stood out from the early morning shadows and the delicate, colorful beading on the old Arapaho cradleboard that hung beside the fireplace reminded him of the family stories George had been telling him after dinner over the past week. All of the keepsakes George had shared with him felt familiar now, as if they were part of his own history and he wanted to remember them and what they meant to George. His mind reached out to touch once again the man's expression of love for him last night and it drew him to look inward, marveling at the strong emotions the simple words conjured up.
He walked quietly through the kitchen, taking down the thick woolen jacket from the peg next to the door, knowing he would be thankful for the warm fleece that lined it when he made his way outside. He stopped as he reached for the door knob, turning back to take a large carrot from a basket on the counter, stuffing it into his pocket to give to Sheila when he rousted her out of her warm stall. Stepping out onto the porch, he felt the icy nip in the air and quickly slipped into his coat before striding out toward the barn. The sky was hung with low, grey clouds and he hoped for Diane's sake that they moved out before the wedding began down by the creek that afternoon. Stuffing his hands into the coat pockets, he was surprised to discover a pair of gloves, happily pulling them on before opening the barn door. The pungent smell of hay with the distinct hint of manure immediately assaulted him, making him wrinkle his nose as he stepped inside. A few lights were on and George's big, buckskin quarter horse, Honcho, popped his head out over the stall door, the white blaze on his face standing out in the muted light as he snorted softly at him. He broke off a piece of Sheila's carrot and held it out to him, listening to the sounds of the other animals as they began to move around in their stalls. He laughed in quiet recognition as he heard Sheila's telltale nicker, looking over to see her tossing her head and watching him as he made his way to her door.
"Miss me?" He said, rubbing her soft dark nose as she sought the remaining portion of the carrot.
He lifted her halter off the hook and let her out of her stall, putting it on as she finished the carrot. He picked up his battered straw cowboy hat and shoved it down over his messy blond hair before saddling her quickly, not wanting anyone to come out and disturb him. He needed this private time to say goodbye and he didn't want to be distracted by conversation. Leading the big mare out to the pasture gate, he mounted and rode her through and after shoving the gate closed, he headed toward the stand of birch trees she favored. He let the horse go where she wanted as he took in the vast openness around him, taking pleasure in the sense of freedom it brought. A gusty wind rustled the dry, dying grasses in the field, and he pulled the fleece collar tightly around his throat as he glanced up once again at the threatening clouds. The sharp, piercing cry of a Red-tail Hawk caught his attention as it glided in circles above him, pleased with himself that he recalled what kind of hawk it was and remembering how frustrated he'd become when George had tried to teach him the difference between a Red-tail Hawk and a Red-shouldered Hawk. The man's patience was extraordinary.
Sheila stopped in amongst the birches and began grazing, the bright yellow leaves of the trees twirling in the wind as it swirled around them in the chilly grey light of dawn. The sun suddenly sliced across the field, bringing a sense of warmth that wasn't really there. Deeks dismounted and slumped down on the slightly damp clumps of tangled grass, resting his back against the soft white bark of one of the birches and letting his eyes wander over the scene before him. The barn sat solidly among the giant cottonwoods and he watched contentedly as the first wisps of smoke wafted up from the fieldstone chimney of the long, low ranch house and the distant sound of the dogs barking for their breakfast let him know people were up.
He'd never really thought of any particular house as home before, at least not one that didn't hold fear inside. He considered LA home in a general kind of way, and maybe his apartment, but he had always fantasized that a real home should be a place where your loved ones waited for you, a place you looked forward to returning to and for celebrating holidays and special occasions and when you needed comfort and understanding, a haven from the terrors the world threw at you. He'd never had that in his life, and maybe it was a childish thing to wish for, but here, in this wild place he had no business even knowing about; here he had found a home and a brother and a father and his throat constricted at that amazing realization and sudden tears clouded his eyes as he stared up at the turbulent grey clouds above him. How this had happened, he had no idea, he just wanted to sit here and savor the feeling of belonging to this place and to these people. He didn't want to move from this perfect place, a place where the fantasy in his head had become a reality and a welcomed comfort. He smiled as he saw George walking slowly out to the barn to feed the horses and his heart quickened in his chest at his good fortune to know such a man and have that man love him like a son.
"Get hold of yourself, Marty," he said out loud to himself and could not hold back the smile as he spoke. "I'm getting mushier than George."
His sudden laugh caused Sheila to take a step toward him and nuzzle his shoulder and that made him laugh even more.
"I'm a lucky man, Sheila," he said as he reached up to stroke her cheek, glad for the warmth she provided.
He sat quietly, letting the memories of his days here soak into his being until he saw George head back to the house. He saw him pause and look his way, somehow knowing just where he was, standing and watching for a moment before raising his hat in salute and then continuing on, knowing that he needed to be where he was and not questioning that need. That simple act of understanding touched him and he could feel his heart pulsing in his ears as he watched the door close behind the man he now treasured and he rose quickly to go spend as much time as he could with him before his life's work pulled him away. He stood and swung up onto Sheila's back and urged her forward, unable to keep a broad smile from lighting his face.
"Let's go home, girl."
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"It's beautiful," Kensi said as she watched the final touches being made to the arbor by the creek. It was made from the trunks of young aspen trees, their bark bright against the backdrop of yellow willow bushes that lined the bank. Its cross beams were made from smaller branches with lime green and muted gold leaves still attached and the corners were decorated with hawk feathers and long strips of buckskin dotted with small silver jingle bells that sounded whenever a gust of wind came up. The rich smell of freshly sawn pine boards that completed the floor mixed with the smell of snow in the air and Kensi wrapped her coat tightly around her as she watched Deeks and Joe tack down a large Navajo rug George had pulled out from under one of the beds. When they finished, the two men came to stand beside her and she could feel their connection as Deeks gently squeezed Joe's shoulder as he shook his head.
"Diane's gonna freeze her butt off out here, Marty," Joe said and they laughed together.
"This was her idea, buddy," Deeks said. "Too late to set up in the barn now."
"I hope the pastor reads those vows fast," Joe said. "And I hope her wedding dress is warm enough, cause we might get some early snow."
They turned as George rode up with two other men, one about George's age and the other about their own age, with long black hair that flowed freely down his back. The younger man immediately jumped from his horse and tackled Joe in a hug, laughing and finally pushing him to the ground.
"It's about time you married, Cuz," the young man said as he helped Joe up.
"You should talk, Elan," Joe said with a laugh. "How many girls are still waiting for you to ask?"
"Don't have enough horses yet," Elan laughed.
"Marty and Kensi, this is Jim Littleshield, my cousin," George said as he nodded toward the older man sitting next to him on a beautiful sorrel horse with four white stocking feet and a star-shaped mark on its face.
"And this is Elan Hand, his nephew," Joe said.
Elan got quiet and looked toward his uncle before placing a hand on Deeks' shoulder.
"Our family thanks you for Joe's life," he spoke with such formality that he seemed like a totally different person than he was just a few short minutes ago.
"You are welcome in our home anytime," Jim Littleshield said. "George has made you family so that makes you a member of ours."
"I'm honored," Deeks said softly.
"You're gonna stand out, though," Elan said with a laugh. "Not too many blond Arapahos. You ride?"
"A little," Deeks answered.
"Sheila's in love with him," Kensi said with a smile.
"That big bay mare?" Jim Littleshield asked and George nodded. "She's a sweetheart and has good bloodlines. I have one of her colts."
"Jim and Elan work the Arapaho Ranch on the Wind River Reservation," George said. "Jim's the best horse breeder I know."
"Well, Joe, I was sent out here to get you," George said. "There's some wedding things you need to tend to and the ladies are waiting for you."
"I'll be right behind you dad," Joe said as the two older men turned their horses back toward the barn. Elan leaped easily into his saddle, swinging his black horse around and urging him into a full gallop, whooping loudly as he flew past the two older men, his long dark hair streaming out behind him.
"He's gorgeous," Kensi said, watching him as he jumped his horse over the fence and raced into the barn.
She turned to see Deeks with his eyebrows raised, trying to look hurt, but also trying to suppress a laugh.
"Most Arapaho are," Joe said. "They're warriors, too. Elan was in Afghanistan the same time I was there," Joe said. "He was an Army Ranger and managed to get home in one piece. He's a good man to have on your side in a fight, man. He made dad tell him all about you, Marty. They don't accept just anyone into their family. What Jim said to you was special."
"So you're part Arapaho, Joe?" Kensi asked.
"Yeah, my dad's grandmother was Arapaho," Joe said as a grin started. "That's why I'm so handsome."
"In your dreams, dude," Deeks said as they all mounted their horses to head back.
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The sound of a softly pounded drum and a haunting melody from a wooden flute drifted over the wedding guests as they walked down to the creek. Deeks stood next to Joe as he nervously waited for the carriage bringing Diane from the house. A light snowfall had begun and Deeks was glad for the new cowboy hat George had given him and for the long tan woolen coat he now wore. Joe wore pale blue jeans and a white western shirt, covered only by a long buckskin jacket beaded with bird designs by one of his Arapaho cousins. The gathering was small and intimate, just a few close friends and family members and a few horses that some of the neighbors had ridden over. Deeks thought it was the most unusual wedding he'd ever been to and looked for Kensi sitting on one of the hay bales, locking eyes with her as she tucked a wool blanket around her legs. They smiled softly at each other until the jingling bells on the carriage horse caused them to look away.
The carriage, drawn by a white horse, stopped just at the end of the newly mown grass aisle. George stepped up to help Diane down, as her mom dealt with the flowing lace covered gown and the white brocade cape trimmed in rabbit fur that was keeping her warm. She wore a short veil, anchored by a spray of white lily-of-the-valley tucked into her swept-up red hair. There were a few chuckles by those close by at the brief glimpse of the white cowboy boots she wore, but in this weather it was practical and no one faulted her for expressing her tomboy side. She took her bouquet, a mix of white garden roses, winterberries and sprigs of cedar, from her mother and they both turned together to start down the grassy aisle. Diane paused and smiled as she caught Joe's eyes on her, his face a mix of joy and awe. People stood and clapped as she made her way to the arbor, flanked by her mother and by George. Her sister waited for her, taking the bouquet as she stepped up to Joe, who took her hands in his, both of them smiling as they turned to face their pastor.
The vows were spoken and the rings exchanged as the snow fell silently around them. Their first kiss as husband and wife was greeted by whoops from the men and the sound of jingle bells being shaken by two of her young nieces waiting to lead the way to the carriage. After Diane entered the carriage she stood and tossed her bouquet, causing Joe and all the men to laugh loudly when it was caught by his cousin, Elan Hand, who was roundly chastised by the women present for ruining the tradition.
"Joe looks so happy," Deeks said as he wrapped his arms around Kensi.
"She does too," Kensi answered.
"If we ever get married, this is where I want it to be," Deeks whispered in her ear.
"Deeks," Kensi's voice held a hint of warning and he could feel her tense in his arms. He felt his heart drop and he let her go and stepped away.
"I better go do best man things," he said hurriedly and walked to where he had tied Sheila, jumping into the saddle and turning her toward the house. He caught Hetty's shrewd look as he passed her, but forced himself to look away, knowing how perceptive she was. His emotions, so high during the wedding, we're now bruised by the obvious rebuke from Kensi. He wanted to kick himself for what he had let slip and he realized he should have known better. She loved him, he knew that, but a life long commitment was something she had been avoiding for some time. She liked the way things were and if that was all she could give him, he would accept it, but his heart still hurt and he couldn't deny that her reaction had saddened him.
The reception had been moved into the house and Deeks managed to avoid his partner, hanging out with Joe and Elan and the Arapaho side of the family, listening to stories about Joe as a wild teenager. He knew he was getting slightly drunk, and finally decided to step outside to clear his head.
He was amazed at the transformation the fallen snow had made to the landscape. There was a deep feeling of quiet that hung over everything. The cottonwoods' yellowing leaves looked muted against the whiteness around them, their trunks strong and masculine and stark. The weathered grey barn beckoned across the field of fresh, white snow that softened everything it covered and he walked out alone, listening to the squeaking sound his footsteps made as he made his way to it. When he entered, the familiar smell of hay and horses relaxed him and he paused, turning to look back at the house, now looking small in the vast field of snow. He hadn't spent much time in the snow, but the visual effects were stunning and cozy at the same time, the smell icy, with every sound muffled.
"Hey, Sheila," he called and the horse raised her head and stepped up to the door of her stall, stretching out her dark nose toward him. He buried his head in her neck and black mane and stood there trying to come to terms with what had happened.
"She give you any good advice yet?" George asked from behind.
"She doesn't talk much," he said, not really surprised by George's appearance.
"I believe that's a good thing," he answered. "She'd probably just babble on about carrots and wanting better feed."
That made them both laugh and Deeks turned around as George moved toward him, holding out a coat.
"Something bothering you, son?" George asked as he reached up and rubbed Sheila's ears while Deeks donned the jacket.
"That obvious?"
"To Hetty it was," he said, leaning his shoulder against the wall and looking over at him. "When I saw you come out here alone, I was pretty sure it had something to do with Kensi."
"I don't always know when to keep my mouth shut," he said.
"Think you need to be more like Sheila, then?" George asked with a laugh.
"Something like that, yeah." He walked back toward the barn door and stood staring up into the darkening clouds, the flakes of snow drifting gently down. He reached his hand out and watched as the flakes melted on his skin.
"It's beautiful, but gone in an instant," he said softly, feeling George standing behind him.
"Life is like that too, son," George said. "And so is love. Grab it and hold on to it for as long as you can."
"Life or love?" Deeks questioned.
"Both," George stepped closer until he was standing right behind his shoulder. "Don't pull away from her or you'll be sorry, Marty. Remember, love is patient."
"You just make that up?" Deeks asked, unable to stifle a soft laugh.
"It's in the Bible," George said as he put his arm around him. "You can look it up."
They headed back as the sounds of laughter floating out from the house and Deeks smiled, not surprised to hear that the tough old cowboy read scripture. It was comforting somehow to know that and it seemed to fit him. He wondered what else he would come to learn about the man over time, knowing he would be forever curious about him and determined to know more about his life and his philosophy. There were all kinds of love in the world and his love for Kensi was enduring, but out here, in the wide open plains of Wyoming, he had found a love he never expected; a father's love.
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