The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

4. Zeke

Chapter 4

Zeke

H e stayed at the Holiday Inn Express over on East P Street, ate plenty of good burgers and fried anything at the Bronco Grill House and Bar. And wondered what Galen, who had taken the same training, had made of the shiny floors of the prison, and the ever-present smell of orange-scented chemicals.

He also wondered if Galen ever asked why the inmates’ favorite movies to request on a Sunday night were movies always about prisons. Or prison escapes. The Great Escape . The Defiant Ones . Con Air . And, of course, The Shawshank Redemption , which played twice during Zeke’s two-week stint there.

Being a quick study, Zeke had time to think, or rather overthink, about the details of his relationship with Betty Lou. About the ways he could have avoided getting his leg busted. About Galen’s sweet face. About how his desire to have farm suppers wrangled constantly with his desire to not let any moss grow beneath his boots.

At no point during his training was he able to figure any of this out, and by the end of training, he was no wiser. What he did know, however, was that he had an obligation to Leland to do a good job of teaching ex-cons how to ride. And that, as a gentleman, it was up to him to make it easy for him and Galen to work together again.

The season before, after his flirty propositions to Zeke, Galen had made himself scarce, and that was no way for them to continue.

Galen was a good man, and Zeke would be pleased to work with him again. Zeke just needed to make sure that Galen knew that. Starting with his arrival in the valley, where brave Galen was the one to greet him when his driver dropped Zeke and his duffel bag at the edge of the pine tree-shaded parking lot.

“Hey, Zeke,” said Galen with a small wave.

“Galen,” said Zeke, putting on his best winner’s circle smile as he reached to shake Galen’s hand. “I’m mighty glad to see you.”

“You are?” Galen’s eyebrows rose, as if in astonishment. A bit of hair curled against his temple in a way that, on a woman, would be utterly fetching.

Zeke focused harder and knew that their relationship would soon get back to its former professional level—if he let it.

“I sure am,” he said. He let go of Galen’s hand and hefted the strap of his duffle bag more firmly on his shoulder. “After two weeks in the land of prisoners, it sure is nice to see a familiar face.”

“Oh,” was all Galen said, but his small smile indicated he was pleased, and the pink blush on his cheeks might have been because he was still working through his crush on Zeke.

Or not. Zeke would not let himself get prideful over this. Crushes came and went. What he was after was a good working relationship.

“This sure is pretty,” said Zeke, taking in a lungful of air that tasted spicy with pine and sweet with the coolness of the breeze.

“Let me show you around,” said Galen. “But first, we can go to your tent so you can unload that duffle.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Zeke, hefting the strap to show he was in agreement.

Galen led the way to the fifth tent along in a row of team lead tents, pointing out who lived in the other tents, and that he, Galen, was right next to Zeke. In case you need anything . This said without an ounce of flirt.

The rest of the tour was a breezy walk among the trees, along the paths to the lushly appointed facilities, to the first aid hut, and the mess tent. The stables, paddock, and field, all were well laid out. And then, lastly, the lake, a bright glassy blue, rimmed by pine trees. The lake was called Half Moon Lake, Galen told him, and it utterly took Zeke’s breath away.

“Those canoes are for us to use,” said Galen, pointing at the dock where currently four canoes were tied up, one blue, one yellow, one red, and one green. “My team loves them.” He smiled as if at some private memory. “Sometimes they get a little out of hand, but some rambunctiousness is good for morale.”

“I’m not a boat man myself,” said Zeke. “But all of this, yeah. It’s pretty. And the breeze is nice, too.”

“It’s been so hot,” said Galen. “But it looks like cooler weather is headed in, along with rain.”

“We won’t melt,” said Zeke, smiling at the memory of his great-grandma telling him this. She would say, You’re not made of sugar, you won’t melt. She meant it as a reference to the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz , though Zeke never knew whether the witch was made of sugar or whenever his great-grandma had just made up the saying.

At the end of the tour, Galen took Zeke back to his tent.

“You’ve got an hour before dinner,” he said. Then he pointed at Zeke’s cot. “There’s the folder on Callihan Tamalin. I’m sorry we didn’t get it to you sooner, but there were issues with the timing of his release. Anyway, that’s his folder.”

“I thought I was going to have a team of three or four to work with.”

Zeke strode into the tent, enjoying the slight clonk of his boots on the wooden boards of the platform the tent was on, as well as the green, canvas-scented glow that made the tent into a kind of cave. He plopped his duffle on the bed and slowly turned around, taking it all in.

“No, just the one.” As he stood at the opening of the tent, Galen tested the zipper of the tent’s rain fly, in a kind of nervous gesture, it seemed, and shrugged. “You’ll get to work with all the ex-cons during the lessons. Leland and Gabe want them up to speed by the end of the summer, so they’ll be well on their way to being certifiable.”

“AQHA certification?” asked Zeke. “Or something else?”

“We’re reaching for CHA,” said Galen. “It’s so they can say they know the basics and can prove that they do. Care and feeding. Tack and grooming. How to ride. Trail ride etiquette. Maybe Leland wants to hire them?”

Another shrug from Galen, and Zeke nodded, thinking this through. He was to train to the level of being able to be hired by a high-class establishment like Farthingdale Guest Ranch, though Zeke didn’t know if the lovely ladies and gentlemen up at the ranch would like it if their main point of instruction and safety while astride a horse was an ex-con. Still, it was not his place to question the boss.

“Sounds good,” said Zeke. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Great,” said Galen. “Now, get yourself settled in and I’ll see you at dinner, okay? And it’s good to have you here.”

“It’s good to be here.” Zeke meant what he said, though it was nice to finally wave goodbye to Galen and take a seat on his cot and simply let the cool breeze wash over him as it raced through his tent.

Slowly, he picked up the manila folder. Callahan Tamalin’s name was written on the tab, which was slightly wrinkled. He smoothed the tab out between his thumb and finger and, tucking away the fact that Tamalin and Molloy were both Irish names, opened the folder to review the contents.

Callahan went by the name Cal, and he’d been a one year and seven-month resident of Wyoming Correctional. He’d been arrested and convicted of a single hacking crime, that of stealing from an elderly customer he’d connected with through work.

Cal had been arrested within a week of the hack, confessed to the crime, and had done the time. Shameful thing, stealing from an older retired fellow who’d worked hard for his money and invested wisely.

A handwritten note in the file indicated that Cal had committed no other crime. Certainly not another hacking job, even an attempted one. He’d never gotten so much as a parking ticket.

He had no sheet, as Zeke had learned to call it, at all. And, overall, the hack job had been, according to the report, deceptively easy to track down.

Strange that a guy would go straight from law-abiding citizen to internet criminal. Very strange.

There were other remarks about Cal’s single visitor, one Preston Davies, who was listed as Cal’s life partner. There was even a small photo of him in the file, a black and white one that showed a hard glitter in Preston’s pale eyes.

Preston came in every week, yelled at the front office admin, bitched at the guards, and basically bullied his way through his visits with Cal. Which made him sound unpleasant, though hopefully he wouldn’t be visiting the valley any time soon.

There were two pictures from Cal’s admissions and orientation, one from the front and one from the side. There was other information about that day, including Cal’s weight, height, and possessions, but it was the photos, especially the front-facing photo, that drew Zeke’s attention.

Cal was thin, almost fox-faced, with close shorn dark blond hair and big, dark blue eyes. Looking at the camera, his expression was like that of a horse who is terrified but doesn’t know which way to dodge, left or right.

Cal was listed as being right-handed, so Zeke guessed he’d jump to the right when cornered. Though why anyone would want to corner a guy who’d committed a single crime seemingly by accident, and who had such a sweet face and vulnerable expression, was beyond Zeke.

Zeke would get Cal to trust him and do his best to rehabilitate Cal back into the real world. Since Cal was Zeke’s main responsibility, his only team member, Zeke would train Cal up to be his right-hand man, and together they would teach the other parolees how to ride and care for a horse.

There were maybe six weeks left of pure summer, after which it would start to get cool. Which meant Zeke had about two months to fulfill his obligations to Leland and the valley program. All in all, not a bad way to earn an extra five thousand dollars. Not that Zeke needed the money, but extra cash would sure be nice to have when he finally figured out whether to settle down or to keep chasing those sunsets.