Rescuing the Cowboy

By now, Summer, Nathan and even Kimberly watched in fascination.

Finally Teddy complied. At the fountain’s edge, he gingerly set the paper swan on the water. It bobbed gently and floated toward the center of the fountain.

“I want one, too.” Nathan rushed Quinn and hugged his thigh.

“You have to be good.”

“I will. I be good.”

Quinn quickly constructed a second swan. Nathan smashed its tail before launching it in the water. He didn’t appear to mind. Kimberly eagerly squeezed between the boys. Teddy remained rooted to his spot, ignoring both other children.

Summer sidled up beside Quinn. “Where did you learn to make those?”

“My sister. She was into origami for a while when we were kids. I can also make an eagle and a ring. Or, I could. Maybe not now.”

“A man of many talents.”

He liked the silky quality of her voice and the fluid grace of her movements. “I’d forgotten about it until now.”

“Memories are funny things. They can be buried for years and surface all at once. Then there are those that are never far away.”

Quinn had a lot of those kind.

By unspoken agreement, they moved to the bench, where they could keep the children in sight. It wasn’t a large bench, and only a few inches separated them. Aided by the exterior light that had come on automatically, Quinn saw a tiny jeweled stud in her right ear, appreciated her attractive profile and discerned at least three distinct shades of color in her hair, ranging from blond to gold to red.

He shouldn’t ask but he did anyway. “Is Teddy’s dad in the picture? I noticed you came to the party alone.”

“He is.” Summer shrugged. “Barely.”

“A shame.”

“I agree. Teddy was three when the doctors officially diagnosed him. By then, our quiet but seemingly happy child had almost completely withdrawn and barely spoke. Hal didn’t take the diagnosis well. Up until then, he hoped whatever was wrong with Teddy was treatable and reversible. We divorced about a year later. He was visiting every few months.” Her voice altered slightly. “He remarried this past winter. Since then, he’s been coming by every couple of weeks. I think his new wife has more to do with it than any sense of responsibility.”

Quinn chose to keep his opinion of Summer’s ex to himself.

She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I can’t believe I told you all that. We barely know each other.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”

“Teddy doesn’t seem to notice the lack of a father in his life. Truthfully, he’s been more aware of you in the last fifteen minutes than of Hal in the past year.” She stared into the distance.

Quinn wondered if she saw the same beauty and majesty he had earlier or if she took it for granted. He liked to think the former. Summer struck him as a sensitive person.

She cleared her throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“I was wrong earlier. You should accept the job. You’ll be wonderful. With the horses and the children.”

“You have good reason to be worried. I spent over two years in prison.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“To have doubts, then.”

She glanced at the children. Teddy continued to focus on the paper swans, now becoming waterlogged. The younger two had abandoned the fountain to play with a tennis ball they’d found in a bush.

“Josh and Cole told me you’re innocent. That new evidence cleared you.”

“I didn’t hurt the guy. But we did get into an altercation that night in the bar. There was some shoving. Shouting. Threats. I’d like to say he had it coming. Truthfully, I’ve had...problems with my temper in the past. Still do.”

“You’re kidding. You strike me as pretty laid-back.”

“Ah. Well, I work on it. Constantly. Prison’s good for changing a person’s perspective. Maybe the only thing it’s good for.”

“You didn’t let it destroy you, Quinn. That’s what’s important.”

She was wrong. Prison had destroyed a part of him he could never get back. The part that had fearlessly faced life.

“The guy was a jerk.” Quinn had called him far worse names when not in earshot of kids.

“What did he do that made you angry?” she asked. “Besides being a jerk. Hit on your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

She drew back. “I wasn’t serious.”

“He insulted her. And when I say insult, I’m being generous. We’d both had a lot to drink. The difference was, I’d just come off a big win while he’d lost. My friends separated us and got me out of the bar, then took me to my truck. The guy left the bar a while later and was assaulted in the parking lot. He nearly died from a brain hemorrhage and was in a coma for weeks. When he finally regained consciousness, he identified me as his assailant even though the attack happened so fast he didn’t see the guy’s face.”

“Why would he do that?”

“A blue shirt. I was wearing one. And apparently his assailant was, too.”

“Are you saying you were arrested and convicted based on the fact you were wearing a blue shirt? I don’t believe it.”

“More than a dozen people witnessed our argument in the bar.”

“But not the attack. Didn’t you have an alibi? What about your friends? Your girlfriend? Surely they vouched for you.”

“They couldn’t. After they left me at my truck, they went home or back to their hotel rooms, including Jenny. She was mad. She’d grown pretty tired of me by that point. I crawled into the backseat and went to sleep. No one saw me until the next morning.”

“What about security cameras? Weren’t there any?”

“Only one and it had been broken for months. The bar owner hadn’t gotten around to fixing it.”

She shook her head. “This sounds like a bad TV show.”

“My guilt was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt in the minds of the jurors.”