The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

8. Zeke

Chapter 8

Zeke

Z eke carried Cal’s boot box, with the new work boots inside rather than cowboy boots, while Cal carried his moccasin kit. Then they got into the silver truck, and Zeke drove them back to the compound.

He was impressed with Cal’s appreciation of the abundance of the program, and the way he now leaned out of the truck’s window to inhale the fresh air. When Cal glanced over his shoulder, it seemed as if was asking for permission to enjoy the simple pleasure. Zeke gave Cal a smile and a nod, and knew Cal would grow to trust him in time.

At Cal’s tent, deep in the woods, he helped Cal unpack and put things away. It was always good to be tidy.

It was then, close up, in the green-tinted shade of the canvas, that he noticed Cal’s exhausted expression. Sometimes, a young horse was just done being around humans, and simply needed water and feed and a bit of silence and quiet. This was one of those times for Cal.

“Hey,” said Zeke, announcing his imminent departure by stepping back. “I’ll see you at dinner. I reckon you remember the way to the mess tent?”

“Yeah,” said Cal. He hung his head for a moment, as if admiring the slightly pointed toes of his new cowboy boots. Then he lifted his head, his wide eyes the bluest Zeke had seen in a long time. The scar beneath his eye stood out, a sharp, short white line “I’m good. Thanks. See you at dinner.”

With a nod, Zeke left the tent, went down the wooden steps, and wended his way to Gabe’s tent. His intention was to report on how the first afternoon went, and add his own opinion about how well Cal might do in the valley.

Leland Tate approved all the parolees ahead of time, so they were all destined for success.

In Zeke’s mind, though, while his time interacting with convicts at Torrington Correctional had been limited during his two-week training, he’d been quick to see the traits of a true criminal. The slyness. The aggression that always showed itself eventually, no matter how carefully hidden. The intelligence oddly sharpened to commit crimes, rather than get honest work. And the overarching capacity to limit oneself by simply not following the law.

But Cal? Did not seem the type.

Zeke could tell a well-mannered horse from a bad-mannered horse by a few flicks of the ears, the shine in a horse’s eyes. The way the horse went at its feed, or how they responded to a gentle pat. There was a lot of information to be gained inside of a handful of minutes.

Cal had none of the traits of a bad-mannered horse, and all the traits of an abused one. He typically held his head down and away, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.

When Zeke moved too close or too fast, Cal shifted away. And when Zeke had raised his hand to adjust the hat on Cal’s head, Cal had jerked his head back, and didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it.

Zeke had vowed to himself to go slow, and he planned to do it. But would it make sense to tell Gabe his thoughts, that there was something strange about Cal having committed only the one crime, being perfectly law-abiding before that?

Yes, it would, and when he got to Gabe’s tent, he laid out his thoughts.

“We have the facts in the file,” said Gabe after Zeke was finished.

Gabe slipped on a clean shirt for dinner and dipped his chin as he snapped the pearl-snap buttons shut one by one.

“There’s always a story beneath that,” said Gabe. “He did commit the crime, and even confessed to it. But if it’s true, as you say, that beneath the surface he doesn’t really seem like a criminal, then you are the perfect person to be his team lead.”

“Me?” asked Zeke. Up at the guest ranch on the other side of the hill, he’d been a regular ranch hand. Raking manure, cleaning up tack after trail rides.

“When you gave lessons, you were always good with the green riders,” said Gabe. “You knew how to grow their confidence. That’s why Leland wants you here. Anyway, I think you’ll be good for Callihan. He’s skinny and nervous, that one, and he could use your steadying hand.”

“It’s Cal,” said Zeke, flooded with a sense of wanting to protect Cal from even the small indignity of being addressed in any other way. “He likes to be called Cal.”

“Sure thing,” said Gabe. “Good to know.”

Zeke made his way to his own tent. There, he sat on the top step and enjoyed the breeze, thick with the scent of coming rain, and waited for the call to dinner. And thought about Galen and his proposition, the way he sometimes did in quiet moments.

The proposal had come out of the blue, it seemed, but then Zeke realized that Galen had been watching him for a while. And that he’d been gentlemanly enough to wait until he had a private moment with Zeke before speaking his heart aloud.

Zeke’s reaction had been a polite no, and he figured that was the end of it. But the idea of it lingered.

He’d been glad when Galen had gone down to the valley, but when Leland had proposed Zeke come down to the valley, as well, to take over riding lessons, he figured he’d be a coward to refuse. After all, Galen had been a gentleman about it, and hadn’t pressed his suit like a lovesick cowhand.

Zeke had said no to going out, to the idea of more happening beyond behind that. But in spite of his earnest protestations and polite refusal because, of course, he, Zeke, was not gay, not now and never had been, he had wondered what Galen had seen in Zeke to give him the courage to speak up.

What was it about Zeke that had made Galen feel that Zeke might be interested in him?

When dinnertime rolled around, Zeke moseyed to the mess tent. He looked for Cal and found him in line behind him, eyes wide, looking for all the world like a horse who’d somehow found himself in a kill pen, rather than in the mess tent of a work camp, where the food was good, the sheets soft and clean, and the air sweet.

“Come on up, Cal,” he said, waving Cal close. Cal hesitated, but Zeke tried again and when Cal was at his side, Zeke said, “The food is very good. Don’t you worry.”

As if that had been Cal’s worry. As to what his real worry was, the one that made him stand so stiffly, looking around him as if for danger, Zeke had no idea. Though maybe it was the press of men, all unknown to him.

“You can sit with me,” said Zeke as he went down the buffet line and filled his plate high so Cal would do the same. “Then I can introduce you little by little.”

“Okay.”

Zeke knew he did not imagine that small bit of air that left Cal’s lungs as if he was grateful, but didn’t want to mention it. Cal wasn’t afraid of his surroundings, just hyper wary. Well, just like with a horse that was gently handled, that would fade in time.

Galen came and sat across from Zeke. With him was Bede Deacon.

Bede, rough with tattoos and wearing a sass-filled smile, was like a green-broke horse, full of bluster and untamed lightning. Dangerous if you weren’t on guard, probably a sweetheart in the barn.

Zeke made the introductions, keeping it quick and sweet, making sure that both Galen and Bede knew to call Cal by his preferred name. When Toby and Owen, two other members of Galen’s team, joined them, Zeke repeated the introductions.

“I want to be called Bob,” said Toby, in an attempt to be funny, but Owen elbowed him good and hard and Toby laughed it off.

Zeke had been looking down to see that Cal was eating, making sure of him. When he looked up, Galen and Bede were bumping shoulders, and Galen’s face was scrunched in a hard, silent laugh, with Bede looking on with pleasure. Then came the hand touch, Galen running his fingers along Bede’s forearm, a bare forearm, since Bede had rolled up his shirt sleeves.

The touch was too intimate, their faces too close for it to be anything else than what it was.

Zeke was not blind, and also not judgmental, as people needed to be able to live their lives. But was it right that a team lead was having an affair with one of the men on his team? Then again, the non-fraternization rule up at the guest ranch had exploded, or maybe imploded, when a young drifter had arrived looking for work.

Leland, the ranch’s manager, and Jamie, head of groundskeeping, had always been circumspect about their relationship, or so Zeke had been told, as if to pretend the rule was still in place. Then they’d relaxed into their relationship, and all bets were off.

The ranch’s blacksmith, Jasper, had shacked up with Ellis, the ex-con who’d come to work at the ranch, and had stayed. His heart, Zeke had learned, belonged to Jasper.

There were other men in relationships, as well.

A ranch hand named Clay, a jolly, sweet-faced young man, had fallen for the ranch’s accountant. Zeke didn’t know anything about the accountant, except that he really wanted to be a painter.

Brody, one of the best horsemen Zeke had ever met, had fallen for a runaway street kid, and the two of them lived a closely knit life in Brody’s room in the main lodge.

Zeke knew all of this, but nobody seemed to bat an eye, and the relationships had not seemed to disrupt work on the ranch. Maybe it was the same here in the valley?

None of this was his place to decide. Besides, Leland had already bragged about how good Galen was at taming wild convicts, making them sweet enough to seemingly eat out of his hand. In fact, all three of his team, Bede, Toby, and Owen, were eating their dinners, but their eyes, their focus, were on Galen, who was talking about the plan for the next day.

The three ex-cons were rough around the edges, but were polite and attentive as Galen talked about knapweed and trail maintenance. Like they’d been behaving this way every day of their lives.

Zeke couldn’t have imagined anything like it. Leland had been right from the start. But then, he was wise like that.

As for Cal, he’d grown a little less wary while eating his meal, as if the food helped calm him, and the fact that nothing dangerous or scary was happening around him.

“There’s a campfire tonight,” said Galen, drawing Zeke’s attention to him. “If it doesn’t rain, that is.”

“It won’t rain,” said a voice, someone passing by their table. Zeke looked up at Royce, whom he’d met before, though only briefly.

“How do you figure?” asked Bede, as if challenging Royce.

“Well, the dew point is too low, for one,” said Royce, with the air of a man who knew all about it, and was quite sure of his facts. “Maybe later in the week, we’ll get some rain.”

Close on Royce’s heels as he walked with his tray to the bussing station was Jonah.

Jonah had been arrested for dealing in ghost plates, whatever those were, and he looked about as rough and tough as Bede did. Which made it odd to see the gentle way he helped Royce with his tray, and how patiently he waited as Royce talked to one of the cooks.

Zeke looked at Cal, who was slowly working his way through a slice of banana cream pie.

“You up for the campfire?” Zeke asked. “They make s’mores, I understand.”

“Sounds good,” said Cal. He looked at Zeke, and again Zeke was struck by a pair of blue eyes, enormous in Cal’s thin face. “Should I change, or?—?”

“You’re fine as you are,” said Zeke. “Just bring your flashlight so you can make it back to your tent afterwards. It gets dark in these woods.”

“And there might be a bear,” said Bede, breaking into their two-man conversation.

“Bears don’t usually come into the valley,” said Galen, with the tone of a man who’s had to say the same thing more than once. “I keep telling you. In the fall, they come down from the high country, but until then, they’re not a risk.”

Bede did not look like he believed Galen the least little bit, and Cal was looking a tad worried, so Zeke turned his attention back to Cal.

“There’s nothing to draw them to the valley, as all the good feeding grounds are up in the mountains,” said Zeke. “And we keep our trash locked up, as well.”

“Okay.”

Cal didn’t look like he was convinced by this, but Zeke knew his worry would be curtailed when the work started. There was nothing like good hard work, honest work, to distract a man from scary unknowns for which there were no answers.

The valley was a good place, and in time, Cal would come to know that. Just the way a horse, after hours and days and weeks of patience, good feed, and time, tended to grow more calm, Cal would, as well. Zeke would make sure of it.