The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

11. Zeke

Chapter 11

Zeke

W hile Zeke waited at the paddock for Cal to arrive, he picked one of the horses with a green halter, Bolt, who, in spite of his name, was a calm chestnut with big hooves and kind eyes.

Zeke tied Bolt to the top rail of the wooden paddock, then went into the supply hut for a bucket of grooming tools, saddle and blanket, and set all of this up near Bolt.

He’d get Cal to show him what he knew. Then the two of them could figure out the schedule and roster for riding lessons.

But when Cal arrived, that went out the window. Not all of it, not at first, but Zeke’s knowledge of the bruises underneath Cal’s clothes was soon accompanied by the realization that Cal had huge circles beneath his eyes. Like someone had swiped them with paint.

He’d noticed this before, but now, in sunshine, it was more obvious that Cal hadn’t slept at all. Maybe that was just first-night jitters in a new place. Or maybe it was something else that had caused the sleeplessness.

If it continued, Zeke would figure out what to do about it. As for now, he needed to move Cal into his new life, and he needed to find out how much Cal knew about horses so they could both fulfill their obligations to the valley, the parolees, and Leland Tate.

“Everything all right, Cal?” asked Zeke.

“Yeah, sure,” said Cal. “I love my new boots. I feel tall now.”

“You look tall,” said Zeke, quickly taking note that even though Cal’d had a rough night, he looked tidy and ready to go in his crisp, new blue jeans and pale blue button-down shirt. The new straw cowboy hat he wore put half of his face in shadow, though Zeke could still see the sweet shine in Cal’s blue eyes.

Still, he was distracted by the memory of those bruises, and Cal’s dismissive, I’ll handle it. He was also distracted by the way Cal was looking at Bolt and the saddle and blanket, as if the setting were all new to him.

“Break those boots in slow, right? Now.” Zeke went up to Bolt and patted his sturdy brown neck. “Show me how you groom and saddle.”

He stood back, fully expecting Cal to hop right to work, that he would soon see the skill Cal had attested to in his application: Can groom and saddle, mid-level rider, with the ability to walk, trot, and canter.

The trouble was, nothing happened. Cal went up to Bolt and repeated Zeke’s action, a hearty but gentle pat to Bolt’s neck.

Bolt turned his head to sniff the newcomer, and though Cal seemed startled, he didn’t jump back or pull away. His hand on Bolt’s nose was soft, but very—yes, the only word would be timid. As timid as any greenhorn who’d never seen a horse before, let alone touched one.

Or maybe Zeke was mistaken, and Cal was just taking it slow.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “He’s a steady horse, used to being saddled.”

Still nothing.

Overhead, the sun danced in and out from the clouds, teasing rain. The cool breeze raced beneath the brim of Zeke’s cowboy hat, and the scent of sun-warmed pine needles was rich in the air.

“Um.” Cal’s voice was hesitant in the same way it had been when Zeke had asked about those bruises.

Cal went over to the saddle, lifted it from the horse blanket, and started carrying it over to Bolt. He’d never even glanced at the blanket, and the saddle was unsteady in his grip.

Two feet away from Bolt, the saddle seemed to shift in Cal’s hands, as if he was unsure how to carry it.

Zeke moved in, holding both saddle and Cal, so they didn’t dash themselves beneath Bolt’s hooves. Meanwhile, Bolt was just looking at them, ears perked forward, as if maybe he felt that after this small comedy, he’d be given a treat for being such an attentive audience.

“Hey, now,” said Zeke.

He took the saddle from Cal, fully, and looked Cal up and down, and considered.

There was more to this than met the eye. The sleepless night that had left its mark, the bruises on Cal’s skin, his lack of experience around Bolt.

He needed to figure out what was going on, and quickly, so he could help Cal adjust to the valley and so they could move forward with the riding lessons for the rest of the summer.

If he had to teach Cal from the ground up, then so be it. He just needed to find out the truth first.

“You don’t know anything about horses, do you.”

The expression on Cal’s face moved from bravado to fear. There was nowhere for Cal to go. If he backed up, he’d bump into Bolt. If he moved forward, he’d tumble against Zeke.

Something had happened to this young man to make him fearful and secretive and so self-reliant he would not ask for help.

“You can tell me the truth,” said Zeke.

Zeke could just about translate the response in Cal’s blue eyes to words: You’ll get mad if I do that .

Someone had taught Cal to lie. To be fearful of falling short. To dance around, dance away, a yearling in flight that could not be caught, let alone cornered or tamed.

Silently considering, Zeke walked the saddle back to the top wooden rail of the paddock. He gave himself a minute of looking beyond the paddock to the pasture, a huge expanse that hugged the shore of Half Moon Lake and stretched beyond beneath the trees.

He could force Cal to tell him the truth. But just like with a young horse, green broke and new, you couldn’t force them to their breaking point or you’d ruin them for any rider. The same went for Cal, so he would try a different way.

“So.” Zeke turned and tipped his hat brim back, a signal that he was open and willing to listen. “Are you willing to learn if I teach you?” Zeke waited a beat and then added, “I can get you up to speed in a few days, so we can start riding lessons for the others around mid-week.”

He kept his gaze on Cal and waited.

“What about—” Cal drew a sharp breath between his teeth, his eyes searching Zeke’s face as if looking for what his reaction might be. Not what was, what might be.

Cal was living in a world of maybes and perhaps , and it seemed like he’d lived that way for a while. And maybe, at least in Cal’s mind, every step was off a sheer cliff.

“What about after that?” asked Zeke. When Cal nodded, a short nod, Zeke said, “I’ll keep teaching you. You’re smart. I’ve seen your file. Stay sharp when we’re giving a lesson and take your cues from me.”

It was opportunity and absolution all in one. From the expression on Cal’s face, the ease of the hardness of his jaw, the widening of his blue eyes, he understood it for exactly what it was. Zeke had a feeling that Cal was going to make the most of the opportunity given to him.

Beyond Cal’s seeming willingness, there lingered some shadows of doubt and fear, but Zeke would work on that in time. For now, he would begin the lesson, starting with how to tie the right kind of knot that would allow a rider to tie a horse up to a railing, but in a way that if the horse needed to pull free, it could.

“This is the first lesson, a quick-release knot,” said Zeke, watching Cal watch his hands. “It’s to tie up your horse in a way so you can easily untie him.”

He tied and untied the knot two more times, then handed the lead to the halter to Cal.

“You try.”

Cal was a fast learner, his fingers agile on the rope, going slowly at first, and then quickly. He gave Bolt a slow pet after he undid the lead and handed it back to Zeke.

“Good.” Zeke tied Bolt back up again. “Grab that bucket of grooming tools over there, and I’ll show you what’s next.”

They spent the morning going over the basics, what each grooming tool did, how to use the tool, what order to groom in, nose to tail.

All the while, as the morning turned gently to mist, they were shoulder to shoulder, focused on the task in a silence that connected them rather than separated them. And all the while, Zeke kept his gaze on Cal, on his profile, the way his long eyelashes flicked between Bolt and Zeke.

When they were finished with Bolt, Zeke showed Cal how to hold a horse cookie in the flat of his palm and give it to Bolt.

“Always guide and reward,” said Zeke. “Never punish. Never strike.”

Together they put Bolt back in the pasture. Then Zeke showed Cal how to catch a haltered horse without startling the herd. It was good to see that the horses didn’t run off, but rather gravitated toward them both, even toward Cal, who was wide-eyed to be surrounded by rain-speckled horses.

“They can hear your heartbeat from four feet away,” said Zeke, softly shouldering one animal out of Cal’s way. “If you feel safe, your heartbeat is slow. If your heartbeat is slow, horses know it’s safe. That you are safe to be around. Take deep breaths. These are good horses.”

By lunchtime they’d groomed half a dozen other horses, including some that had been un-haltered, but that was an opportunity to show Cal how to put on and take off a halter.

“We’ll do some riding this afternoon,” Zeke said. “Let’s clean up for lunch and take a break.”

Zeke knew they smelled like dust and horse, but there wasn’t time for a full shower, so he took Cal with him to the facilities and washed up with him, as though it was an ordinary morning, and not one of the most pleasant that Zeke had experienced in a good long while.

“That was hard work,” said Cal as they walked to the mess tent.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Zeke. “But we need to feed you up. You’re as skinny as a cricket.”

“Too much junk food,” said Cal with a self-disparaging smile that seemed to invite Zeke to malign his eating habits.

But Zeke knew that just as he would always reward a horse for trying, even when it didn’t fully succeed, it was key for Cal as well.

“Nothing wrong with junk food,” said Zeke, though he didn’t add In moderation because he knew Cal already knew that. “I’m a fan of Snickers myself. Sometimes.” Back when he’d been riding broncs, he’d had to keep his weight to a certain limit and ate mostly protein and veggies, so Snickers had seldom been on the menu.

“Oh.”

Zeke had a feeling Cal was taking notes like he was studying Zeke, as though at the end of the week he would have to take a test and ace it or die.

It was like that at rodeos and fairs, where new bronc riders would hang around the more experienced ones and soak it all up like a sponge. You had to stay on your toes.

Cal was so on his toes he was about to spring into the rafters. So, as they got to the mess tent, Zeke paused and touched Cal’s shoulder, which brought him instantly to attention.

“It’s going to be okay,” Zeke said. “You’re a quick study. You’ll get this in no time.” He wanted to add Don’t lie to me again , but he had a feeling that Cal already knew that lying was counterproductive. Maybe he’d come to learn that there was no reason to lie in the valley, in spite of the fact that something in his past had taught him just the opposite. “Just ask along the way if you have questions.”

“Sure.”

This response of a single word hid so much, but Cal’s eyes were wide as he nodded, like he understood that what Zeke was saying was important. But also that he was worried there was a hidden agenda he’d yet to uncover.

“Let’s eat.”

Lunch was baked spaghetti lasagna, one of Zeke’s favorites. He kept a close eye on Cal, who was sitting across the table from him, to see if he was enjoying it, and he was.

Sitting at the other table were Galen and Bede, up to their usual antics, like two school kids seeing who could make the other one laugh first. Which made Zeke think of Galen’s conversation with him earlier that summer, and how Galen had wanted to go out with him.

Which always raised the question: just what had Galen seen in him to imagine that Zeke would be open to going out with another man? On a date with kisses and handholding and maybe more?

When he’d gone out with Betty Lou, she’d been sweet and feisty in bed, a pure pleasure, drawing him into being more adventurous and free with his body. But he couldn’t do any of that with another man. Could he? And why was he even thinking this way?

“How’s it going, Zeke?”

Zeke looked up at Gabe, his tray in his hands, Blaze close on his heels. He knew what Gabe was asking about, when the riding lessons for the parolees could resume.

Taking a quick glance at Cal, with an assuring nod, Zeke said, “It’s going good. We’re getting up to speed and those lessons should start later this week.”

“Excellent,” said Gabe. “We’re sure glad you’re here.”

“Glad to be here,” said Zeke, feeling a bit awkward because in spite of his own rule about not lying, he’d just done that to protect Cal. Still. Cal was looking at him, those blue eyes bright, a tidbit of a smile curling his mouth. A thank you, of sorts. And a silent, I’ll work hard, I promise .

Zeke knew he would, and the idea of it, of teaching this slender young man all the right ways, the good ways, to groom and ride and handle a horse, filled him with a sudden, intense bubble of pleasure. Such a change from the rough, dusty world of bronc riding, where the highs were short-lived, and the lows found you face down in the dirt.