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Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King and its characters belong to WB and Shoot the Moon Productions. No infringement is intended. This is written for entertainment purposes only. Please do not redistribute or reproduce this story without my permission.

Thanks: Rita and Miss Edna, you make my stories readable by catching all my grammar and other errors.

Note: This story is part of my series of five second meetings.
A Walk in the Park


Rock Creek Park, February 1954

“Bang! Bang!”

Matthew smiled at his son as Lee rode his stick horse along the tree-lined path, shooting his cap pistol at invisible enemies hiding in the bushes. Prior to Christmas, he and Jennie had spent months trying to find one that resembled Silver, the Lone Ranger’s white horse.

Every horse they’d found had been either brown or a combination of brown and white. Matt was about ready to give up and buy the latter one. At least it was somewhat white. But he decided to try one last toy store in Georgetown first. And there, amid the brown ones, he spotted a white head. When he pulled it out, it was the right horse. He was saved. Santa would not disappoint Lee on Christmas morning after all.

Over the last six months, his four-year-old son had become obsessed with anything western. The Lone Ranger, though, was by far his favorite. They watched every episode on TV and even listened to the radio broadcasts together.

To carry out the western theme, Santa had also brought Lee a whole cowboy outfit, including a hat and a pair of cowboy boots. Jennie even made him a mask just like the one the Lone Ranger wore, and Matt had purchased a Tombstone Fanner. At first, his wife wasn’t thrilled about the cap pistol, but he told her he’d teach their son how to use it so he wouldn’t get hurt.

Matt loved the smell of the caps; the burning sulfur brought back memories of his own childhood and playing cowboys and Indians with his friends.

While going through some boxes in the attic recently, he’d found two that were stuffed with his old comic books. When he brought them downstairs, Lee helped him sort through them. He jumped up and down with excitement when he saw pictures of the Lone Ranger on a lot of the covers. Every night Matt and Jennie read him one of the comics. They’d sat on either side of his bed and taken turns reading their son to sleep.

He kept a close eye on Lee, making sure he didn’t wander off the path. To his left, a babbling brook flowed over burnished stones, drowning out all the city noise.

Rock Creek Park was one of the first places he and Jennie had explored after moving back to the D.C. area. He’d been amazed to find that such a beautiful piece of nature existed in the middle of the bustling city. When Lee was an infant, they’d brought him here, pushing him in what Jennie called his pram.

Now, whenever possible, Matthew enjoyed spending Saturday afternoons in the park with his son. It didn’t matter if there was snow on the ground or a blistering heat wave. Walking in the park every weekend had become their tradition, their father/son bonding time. This gave Jennie a chance to do whatever she wanted, without having a four-year-old under her feet. Sometimes she just sat and read. Other times, she went window-shopping or to the hairdresser. Whatever her heart desired. Occasionally, she joined them.

Two weeks ago, the ground had been covered in a blanket of snow, the air so frigid he could see his breath. Today, when they’d left Jennie sitting in her favorite chair, reading one of her mystery novels, the thermometer on their porch read a balmy fifty-five degrees.

Today Lee rode his Silver in full western-wear, including the black mask to disguise his true identity. Matt stopped as he came to a halt and slowly circled a large tree, his gun ready to shoot any bad guys lurking behind it.

“Is it safe, partner?”

“Yep. No bad guys here.”

Then Lee rode Silver to him and crooked his finger, beckoning him to come down to his level.

Matt knelt on the ground, next to his son. “What’s the matter? Are there bad guys near?” He kept his voice low.

“I see one in that bush,” Lee whispered, pointing to a large shrub by the side of the path. “You go that way, and I’ll go this way.” His gun blasting caps, he galloped around it.

A second later, a squirrel scurried out from under the shrub. Fast as a speeding bullet, it paddled across the brook and ran up the hill on the other side. He ripped off a few more shots before he laid Silver on the ground and went to inspect his target.

“We got him, Tonto Daddy.” Lee twirled his gun and tossed it into the air, then caught and holstered it. He had learned that trick in only two weeks. They were working on his fast draw now. Each day, he became quicker and quicker.

Matt smiled at the nickname his son had given him. Thankfully, Lee didn’t insist that he dress up as Tonto. At least not out in public.

“Do you think it’s time to mosey on home?”

Lee nodded and straddled his stick horse. “Me and Silver’s hungry. He needs his oats.”

“Maybe mommy can make you both some oatmeal.”

Lee leaned over and neighed into Silver’s ear. Then he pretended to listen to the horse’s response. “Silver says he don’t want his cooked.”

“Okay. Well, let’s head ’em on out.” Matt turned and started toward home.

“Giddy up.” Lee galloped around him and along the edge of the path.

They came to a curve, and Lee ran in front of him, taking the turn quickly. As Matt caught up with him, he saw a little girl skipping along beside a man who, he assumed, was her father, and knew his son would collide with her. He was busy ripping off shots at the bushes and not looking in front of him.

“Lee, watch out!” Matt yelled and hurried over to the girl and her father, who was helping her up. “I’m sorry. Are you all right? My son didn’t see you.”

“We’re fine.” He brushed the dirt off her jacket. “Aren’t we, Panda?”

The little girl didn’t say anything and hid behind her father’s legs. She didn’t seem to be hurt. Satisfied no damage had been done, Matt turned to his son. “What do you say, Lee?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He tipped his cowboy hat. “I see a varmint over there.” He whipped out his gun and fired some caps. “I got him. You’re safe from the bad guys, ma’am.”

Not a proper apology, but for a four-year-old who thought he was the Lone Ranger, it would have to do.

Matt tipped his hat. “We’ll be on our way then.”

“Hi-yo, Silver, away!” Lee yelled as he trotted down the path.


The End
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