The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

6. Cal

Chapter 6

Cal

W hile he’d been in prison, Cal’d had plenty of time to go over every single detail of his relationship with Preston. Every conversation. Every sly manipulation. Every touch. Every smack down.

But it was only during his time in prison that he’d been able to see everything for what it was. That Preston thought he owned Cal, pure and simple, and that any resistance on Cal’s part was an outright rebellion that needed to be squashed.

During the trip to the location of the Farthingdale Valley Fresh Start Program, Cal had been focusing on the past so hard that he only realized they were nearly there.

The driver of the white van started going down a series of switchbacks, which went along a dirt and gravel road. The edges of the van almost scraped against the tall pine trees that grew thickly along the side of the road.

Between the tree trunks, Cal saw glimmers of blue, and he didn’t know if that was a river or a lake or what, but the light hit his eyes, making him blink.

At the bottom of the switchbacks, the van trundled through a dense wood and came out on the other side to a circular parking lot made of gravel. The parking lot was surrounded by more trees, putting it in partial shadow. Which made it hard to clearly see that a man who was sitting on a large boulder, waiting in the shade.

That’s when Cal’s heart began to race. It wasn’t quite the Oh-shit-Preston’s-mad kind of race, but it picked up fast enough to make Cal’s breath catch in his throat.

“Everything all right, kid?” asked the driver as he turned off the engine and grabbed a metal clipboard from the passenger seat.

“I’m not a kid,” said Cal, because after all, he was twenty-four years old and he was not a kid.

Sure, he’d made some dumb shit mistakes, like hooking up with Preston in the first place, a move made entirely of desperation and loneliness. And sure, he’d underestimated how much his time in prison would take out of him, but?—

He took a deep breath to stop his mind from racing. He had bigger problems now, and they were in front of him, looming. Like the fact that Preston was quite able to find out that Cal could have visitors starting from the very first Sunday, not three weeks out like he’d said. And when that happened, Preston wouldn’t be simply pissed, he’d be furious .

The other, more immediate, problem was the man walking over to the van just as the driver hopped out and slid open the van door. Fresh air swirled around Cal, drying the sweat on the back of his neck.

As he got out, the places where Preston had grabbed him twinged and whined in protest. He’d have visible bruises soon, so he’d need to be aware and keep them covered. Preston never liked it when anyone asked about his treatment of Cal, and Cal had learned early on to be coy about it.

But it was hard to be coy as he took in the man, how tall and strong he seemed. How handsome he was. How his slight limp as he approached Cal seemed to tell a story of a rugged, manly past—all of which almost took Cal’s breath away.

“Hey,” said the man, his eyes glinting green from beneath his straw cowboy hat. “I’m Zeke Malloy and is this my?—”

Zeke paused and took the clipboard that the driver held out, looking it over carefully before signing it with a pen and handing it back.

“Is this my teammate?” asked Zeke, finishing up.

Cal couldn’t be sure. Maybe Zeke had been about to say Is this my prisoner or Is this my parolee , but perhaps he’d changed his mind, using a different term for who Cal was, and all for reasons known only to Zeke Malloy.

“Yes, this is—” Now the driver had to pause to check for Cal’s name on the clipboard. The driver had no idea who he was and probably didn’t care. His job had been to bring Cal to the valley, and now he was done. “Callihan Tamalin.”

“Welcome to the valley, Callihan,” said Zeke. He held out his hand for Cal to shake, like the fact that Cal was fresh from prison, the scent of chemicals and hard detergent clinging to his skin, wasn’t even a thing.

“Cal,” said Cal, wishing his voice didn’t sound so faint. “I prefer Cal.”

Back with Preston, when Cal made a preference known, that preference had been subjected to scrutiny, which usually ended in objection, which usually meant that Preston’s preferences were the order of the day. But Zeke just smiled.

“Right. I read that in your file. Cal it is,” Zeke said. He nodded, which cast his face in shadow, a shadow which, although it hid his expression for a brief second, made his eyes glint again. “And thank you, sir,” said Zeke, reaching to shake the driver’s hand, just as polite as could be. “I’ll take it from here.”

Hearing Preston say I’ll take it from here had been enough to make Cal go cold all over. He didn’t imagine that Zeke would have the same intentions as Preston seemed to always have, but he felt cold enough to shiver, which this did not go unnoticed by Zeke.

“Everything okay?” asked Zeke. “It can be cold in the shade, so let’s get moving.”

To get moving meant to follow Zeke around a compound that seemed endlessly expansive. The different tents and small huts seemed always to be tucked behind a group of trees, or could only be found along a shaded path that would suddenly cause them to burst into sunshine that blinded Cal.

“Bright, eh?” asked Zeke as they walked out into an area that had a circle of wooden chairs and hay bales and an enormous pit surrounded by stones. Beyond the area was the lake, flat and calm and blue, with sunlight dancing along the surface, making it bright as a diamond. “That’s Half Moon Lake,” he said. Then he said, “Here.”

With a swift move, Zeke removed the straw cowboy hat from his head and plonked it on Cal’s head. There it settled, the warmth of Zeke soaking into him.

Without his hat, Zeke’s face was revealed. His steady expression. The low smile on his mouth. The swath of tan on a hard jawline. The crows feet around his eyes, which were bright green and entirely focused on Cal.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Zeke said. “Why don’t I show you your tent, let you grab some fresh clothes for a shower? Then we’ll head up to the company store.”

“For—” Cal followed Zeke back through the shadowy woods as Zeke lightly plucked the straw hat from Cal’s head and put it back on his own. “For?” he asked again. Why did they need to go to the store?

“This is you, tent number seven.” Zeke stopped at the bottom step of a green canvas tent that sat on a platform in the middle of a small clearing. “You can see the lake from here.”

Cal turned to where Zeke was pointing, feeling as though he’d been spinning in circles for ages and was now coming to a stop.

The lake was as pretty from here as when they’d stood in the other clearing. The air smelled cool and sweet and Zeke seemed calm, but it was always the quiet ones you had to watch for.

Zeke probably had everybody fooled that he was a nice guy, and now Cal was alone with Zeke, deep in the woods, and Cal had no idea which was the way back to the parking lot. At least from there, he could find his way to the switchbacks and could follow those to get the hell out of here. Before anything bad happened.

“You okay, Cal?”

Being afraid had been a constant in his life for a long time, but did it still need to be? Cal made himself focus. Made himself say anything but what he was really feeling and thinking. “What company store?”

“We used to wait a few days before hooking guys up with cowboy boots and hats, but we realized that sooner was better than later.”

Cal blinked. He was shaking, which was a sure sign that his body had determined that it was going to hurt worse in a minute or two and that he needed to be ready.

“Let me show you around your tent,” said Zeke, though his voice was coming from far away.

Warm hands touched Cal, guiding him up the wooden steps onto the wooden platform and into the tent. Cal was instantly enveloped in a cool, canvas-scented green shade. Cal focused again on the tent, on Zeke.

There were two cots, only one of which was neatly made up, and a pair of shelves between the cots. Overhead was a single bulb light with a metal string hanging down. On the unmade cot were a series of boxes, the most obvious of which was a huge box with a picture of yellow suede work boots.

“Here’s the boots,” said Cal, pointing at the box, feeling numb with confusion.

“Those are work boots,” said Zeke, his voice echoing behind Cal. “You need cowboy boots and a hat, maybe a bandana, though there’s probably already one in one of the boxes. Hey.”

Cal felt that warm touch again as it guided him to sit on the cot. Zeke pushed boxes aside to make room for Cal, though he did loom a bit, as he remained standing.

“Take a breath.”

Zeke’s presence felt like an anchor. Cal grabbed onto that steadying, calm presence, more grateful for it than he could believe, and obediently took a breath.

Everything solidified around him. The cool shade of the tent, the breeze through the open tent flaps. The whisper of branches from the other end of the tent. The glitter of the lake beyond the trees.

“I reckon you’ve got the prettiest view here in tent number seven,” said Zeke.

I reckon .

That was something old time cowboys said in those black and white movies he and Preston used to watch. In the beginning. Before things got bad.

But that was yesterday. Today was now, and Preston was not there, so Cal looked at the blue water and the blue sky, both of which were rimmed with the dark green pine trees. Zeke, standing close in a comforting way, looked at the view, and both of them did this for a good while before Zeke looked down at Cal and smiled.

“You up for a shower? Do you remember the way?” asked Zeke. When Cal nodded, Zeke added, “Wash up and get into some clean clothes. You’ll find everything you need in those boxes. I’ll meet you at the parking lot in an hour. Will you be able to find it?”

Cal nodded again, silently, and watched Zeke go out of the tent and thought about how he, Cal, must smell pretty awful for Zeke to suggest a shower. Or maybe he was being nice and giving Cal some time alone to collect himself. To get ready for the next phase of his life. Ready for what was next, though whether that would be good or bad, he had no idea.

Zeke hadn’t hit him yet. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t.