Survival

Chapter 14

Really Not a Chapter at All

—These are NOT in Sequence with Story!—

(For your consideration, a couple of short interludes from my 'Outs' folder. I have thought maybe I should call them "hors d'oeuvres" to hold one until the longer chapters finish cooking…)

Late May, after Towson & Cly FBI Offer…

(Before Wedding and Hog Wrangling…)

Defending Honor

Vic had been more than surprised when Claudia had announced that she wanted to visit Wyoming.

"Why the fuck would you want to come out here?" she had asked Claudia after the revelation. It didn't really ring true. She wondered if Sean, or even her mom had asked Claudia to come out and check on her. There had to be a reason the Ultimate City Girl and consummate ditz wanted to visit Nowheresville, Wyoming besides girl talk.

"Uh, to see you, girl, why else?"

Yeah, right.

"Well, okay…not sure there's anything you'll want to do out here. We have hunting, fishing, hiking and dude ranches. I can't see you enjoying any of those."

"Duh, how about just being a tourist?"

Well, sure. So she had picked up Claudia in Sheridan earlier that day in her Absaroka county truck. The city girl was now ensconced in one of the swankier Owen Wister suites and had asked Vic to show her the town. There wasn't much town, but some magnificent Wyoming they would be driving up and through the next day. She thought ruefully that Claudia should just have visited Jackson or something and been done with it.

However, in the spirit of things, she had brought her to that ubiquitous watering hole of epicurean delights and continual soiree to wet their whistles and for chiliburgers (since Henry was working that night.) In deference to Claudia's metropolitan tastes, she had started with a whiskey sour, but as the conversation had devolved to Sean and the dissolution of her marriage, and after Claudia had downed two more drinks in quick succession, she really fucking wanted to switch to straight whiskey. However, as a county employee, as a role model, and out of a stubborn sense of right, she settled for a beer, in the hopes she would keep her shit together enough to drive Claudia home. It didn't hurt that Walt and Henry were nearby to curb her inclinations, and she definitely didn't want either of them to have to drive her, or Claudia for that matter, home.

Claudia eyed the bar nervously. "Some grizzled old dude sitting at the bar is checking me out. He's been there a while."

"What the fuck?" asked Vic, surreptitiously craning her neck that direction. "I don't see anybody like that up there."

"The one in the loose brown coat and the hat, the tall one. He's creeping me out!"

Vic felt her lips quiver and she barely suppressed a snort. The only man close to resembling Claudia's description was Walt, engaged now in earnest conversation with Henry. Yes, with the hat and coat, he could be intimidating to suspects, but this was Walt. She almost let fly another WTF but checked herself at the door.

"Oh, he's not old. Just old-er."

"No, he's old, and he's watching me."

"Claudia, stop the shit." The whole conversation was creeping her out, now.

"Old, but big. You know what they say," Claudia whispered confidentially, "big hands, big—"

"Heart?" supplied Vic. She wasn't going to let a ditz like Claudia diss Walt.

"No, you know."

"Uh, Claudia, that guy you're talking about in the brown coat? I think he's watching me, not you, because…he's my…boss."

"No! That's the sheriff? No way! Not the one you…"

Vic wondered what words Claudia had been about to say. Have a crush on? Love? Want to shack up with, or something way more vulgar…

"Yeah. Him." When she looked over, Walt had disappeared from the bar, and she took another sip of her beer. Claudia had finished her third whiskey sour, so she was pretty sure she'd be driving her Philly friend home that evening.

"Well, you used to know better than to get involved with guys older than your own dad, Vickie, at least after you got out of high school. There was that one guy with the mustache and the van…you should have learned from that."

That was another reason she hated that nickname, because Claudia used it. Gorski, Omar, and of course, Claudia…

"Claudia, he is not an old guy. Walt has amazing body strength. He does more than two twenty year olds. He carried one of our deputies, a 6'4" guy bleeding out, over his shoulder for hundreds of yards, stitched him up, and saved his life. I've seen him rappel down a cliff and rescue a woman using only two sets of handcuffs and a rope. I've seen him single-handedly haul two bodies tied up together out of a river onto the bank."

"I'm just saying you should know better."

"Know better, how so?" Her voice had gone soft. Walt had joked with her once it was her be afraid, be very afraid voice if it got to a whisper.

"Well, for obvious reasons. He's a cowboy, probably smells of horseshit, he'll die sooner, probably not so good in the bedroom, or maybe never was, unless…that's what you want…"

She said with some dignity, "I have grown to like cowboys. He smells fine." Really? They were talking about how her boss smelled? He smelled pretty damn amazing most of the time, except during that one case with the carcasses, or maybe after he got back from exhuming Miller Beck, yeah, not so much, then… She went on. "Sooner? Like in thirty instead of forty years? I'd be good with thirty."

She could see Walt edging his way around the back of the room behind their table, presumably from the men's room back to the bar.

Claudia's voice went to a confidential stage whisper. "No, and well…you know, you didn't reply to that, but'll probably crap out on you in bed. Old Guy Trilogy."

Vic cleared her throat, hoping Walt was focused on Henry, and not their 'girl talk.' "I don't believe I'm familiar with that." She was really trying to keep it together. It wouldn't do to punch her friend out in front of Walt, defending his honor, now would it? He might have to arrest her for assault…

"You know—old guys—can't get it up, can't keep it up, can't do it again."

"Oh, that trilogy." Her discomfort level rode up from mild to intense. She tried to ignore the bar.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Is it like that with him?"

"Um." How to say, Well, my boss hasn't even kissed me yet, but he would die for me, and I for him? In the end, she just settled on, "No." It seemed like she was doing a lot of settling tonight.

"No, you know it's not like that, or no, it hasn't happened yet?"

"Claudia, I'm barely divorced. He's old school. We're taking our time."

"But he's kissed you, right?"

"Y'know, he's my boss, and I'm not doing kiss and tell. This topic is just not appropriate."

"You've been talking about him all evening…so you get to the juicy stuff, and just clam up?"

She supposed it was true. Walt was her best friend in Durant, after all. He was mostly why she was still in Durant, after Sean had left and the divorce finalized. She worked with him most every day, and she was his shadow more often than not. She had more meals with him than anyone else in Durant. Yeah, right now, they were more or less work spouses. That might change, thought, he had told her he wanted her to stay…

"That's because we're friends, not because we're hot stuff to Philly eyes." After she said it, she realized that was the absolute truth. Maybe the rest would happen someday, or maybe not. Whichever, they were friends first, unlike Claudia, who only seemed to be trying to undermine her happiness in Durant.

"You're conflicted, Vickie," Claudia said, trying to signal Henry for another whiskey sour. "You should come back to Philly, where you fit in."

Fit in? She fit in just fine right here. It had taken her over three years to realize it, but realize it she did.

As the fourth whiskey sour arrived, Vic pocketed Claudia's keys and sighed. Yep, she'd be driving Claudia to the Owen Wister for her luxury room, and hopefully a whopping hangover.

XXX

Skip to…

A Few Days Before Chapter 1…

(After Chapter 13)

The Pasture Gate

After they finished washing up from dinner, Walt sat on the couch with a Rainier, Vic with a good red wine from Henry. She had straddled, kissed him lightly and unsnapped his shirt, but he was in his head at the moment, seemingly distracted and not really on the same wavelength. She backed off to sit on the coffee table to figure it out. Because she'd observed him for so many years, she did what she had learned to do: confront him and call him out on staying in his head.

"What's the problem?" she asked directly, not giving him an out.

He sighed. "It keeps coming back to me, that there will always be The Age Thing between us."

She tried to keep it light. "With us? You mean with me, with Horse, or both of us?"

"Well…" She thought—he had not expected that question—"both, but Horse has a lot of years left."

She gave him her own version of Horse Eye, and asked with a straight face, "And I don't?"

"You know that's not what I mean."

"So, about Horse, if she dies of, oh, colic or a cough or something, you gonna be like you were after Martha died? Spend all day in your head?"

"No," he said gruffly.

"How old is Horse, anyway?"

"Maybe ten, from her teeth. She has a lot of years left."

"So, maybe twenty more?"

"Yep, maybe."

"How many more you think you have left?"

"Me?"

"Yep, Walt Longmire, if you don't get shot Sheriffing and get to retire, how many do you figure you can give Horse?"

"I don't know. Depends, I guess. I never thought I'd outlive Martha."

She bit her lip. "There is that. Nobody for sure knows what the future has in store. But, you and Horse, you might have another twenty years together, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"You and me, thirty, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"I don't see the problem, I really don't."

"She could be gone tomorrow. I leave the pasture gate open every day for a while to see if she's ready to be free again."

"And she chooses to stay with you."

"Yep, so far."

"And what if I wanted that FBI job or something back in Philly again? I could be gone tomorrow. Would you leave the pasture gate open for me?"

A long pause. "Of course, if you decide to go, I won't stand in your way." She could hear bleakness in his voice. She moved closer again, looped her arms loosely around his neck.

"She and I both know that. It's why Horse and I are both still here." She murmured for his ear only, "and we both let you, and only you, ride us." She nipped at the same ear. "She and I have more in common than you might think." Her smile, head turned into his chest, was both private and knowing.

From where she lay draped against his unsnapped shirt, she could see the blush go right down his chest.