The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

15. Cal

Chapter 15

Cal

C al’s work increased in terms of the second week. Every morning, after the horses had been taken care of and after breakfast, he’d help Zeke groom and saddle around half a dozen horses. Then the parolees would file in to the paddock, bringing with them various levels of focus and attitude.

Cal couldn’t be sure how well the riding lessons went that week, or even how he’d kept up with Zeke’s tireless energy.

It wasn’t that the parolees were cruel to the horses, more that they were careless and easily distracted. They didn’t properly tie the reins or lead to the paddock fence. They moved too quickly, laughed too loudly.

They also didn’t listen to Zeke’s patient instructions when he’d asked the class to circle their horse to the left or right, or to trot or canter.

Never once did Zeke lose his patience, though. When things got out of hand, Cal could see Zeke tug on his shirtsleeve, and then realized that Zeke was tugging on the bear scare, as if touching the circle of leather helped him keep his patience.

“Lean to the left, Owen, and don’t kick like that. All you need to do is tap your horse’s sides with your heels.”

The amount of running Cal did that week, trotting across the paddock to untangle reins or adjust a stirrup, made his legs sore.

One time, when Zeke was busy showing Toby how to properly hold the reins to his horse, Cal saw Jonah and Bede messing around, making their horses go in small circles around each other. He got up the guts to tell them to stop.

“You guys have to stop messing around,” he said, knowing his courage to speak up came from the fact that Zeke would approve of what he was doing. “If you keep being mean to the horses, you’ll be banned from lessons.”

To his surprise, Jonah and Bede stopped. Sure, they each gave him the finger, and snarled in his direction, but they stopped pulling on the reins of their horses, and returned to calming walking around the paddock until Zeke was ready to carry on the lesson.

Cal was sure that Zeke had not noticed, but Zeke had. The way Zeke tapped his finger to the brim of his cowboy hat was all the praise Cal needed.

In the afternoon, after the lessons were over, Zeke would ask Cal if he’d like a private lesson.

Cal never said no to extra time with Zeke, even though the hour of riding every day made him sore all over, and he could barely stumble to take a shower before dinner.

On Friday, Zeke dismissed the lessons early and pulled Cal aside.

“What’s up?” asked Cal, enjoying the quiet of the paddock where it was just the two of them, wiping down tack, and giving green-haltered horses their treats.

“It’s your two-week anniversary,” said Zeke.

“What does that mean?” asked Cal.

“At the end of two weeks, we celebrate your participation in the program,” said Zeke, his smile warm. “You’ve worked hard and deserve a treat.”

Looking at that smile, directed solely at him, felt like a dream. He was hot all over and wondered how he’d ever gotten to this point. And what he’d done to deserve it.

“You get a refurb phone with six months’ worth of data,” Zeke was saying as he led them both away from the paddock and into the dense shade of the trees. “So let’s get ready. We’ve got reservations at John Henton’s Tavern.”

They got ready together, at least as far as using separate showers went.

Though a few others also showed up to take showers, Cal closed his eyes and imagined that it was just him and Zeke, side by side in adjoining shower stalls. Which was foolish. Zeke was straight and pretty much Cal’s boss, and if he was nice to Cal, he was nice to everybody.

As he dried off and got dressed, taking special care to pat down his damp bear scare, it was hard to remember this wasn’t a date.

It was even harder when he showed up to the gravel parking lot and Zeke was there, freshly shaved, boots polished, blue jeans tight and faded. That handsome face was serious and then, when he saw Cal, bright with a smile.

“You ready, Cal?”

“Yeah.”

Cal liked being called Cal, and appreciated that Zeke always remembered, but this was one of those times when it would have been so heartrendingly sweet to hear Zeke say Cal’s full name. Callihan . Lingering over each bit of it as though it were precious to him.

But that was foolish. Besides, he had this time now, just the two of them as Zeke drove the truck up the switchbacks through the gloriously pine-scented shadows and up to the top of the hill, where the sun was starting to set, streaking low across the grasses that danced in the wind.

When they arrived in town, Cal knew Farthing was small, but after two weeks in the woods and fields, the small town felt like a bright and bustling metropolis. They parked on the street. There were no parking meters to put coins into, and Zeke even left the keys in the truck.

At Cal’s astonished look as they walked to the front door of the tavern, he said, “It’s Farthing.”

Once inside, they were quickly greeted and taken to a boot. Once Cal sat down across from Zeke, he could take in the western motif, complete with wagon wheels, red-and-white gingham curtains, and glass display boxes filled with various old-timey stuff.

“Can I have a beer?” asked Cal as he picked up the menu and began scanning it.

“Sure,” said Zeke, a little absently as he looked over the drinks menu. “You’re old enough, right?”

“Yeah,” but that hadn’t been the reason he’d asked.

Going out with Preston meant making sure what the theme of the evening was, whether they were going to pretend to be sophisticated New Yorkers and only order martinis and appetizers, or whether they were going to chow down on onion rings and get drunk on beer and shots. Preston always got to decide.

It was an old habit he didn’t need anymore, so shoving that thought away, Cal picked out what he wanted, an act that felt novel enough to be exciting, and ordered from the waitress when she came by.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger,” he said. “With extra mayo, and can I get that with cheese fries?”

“Sure thing, hon,” said the waitress. She didn’t write any of this down, which was a sign of what a pro she was. “And you, sir?”

Zeke flashed her a smile, perhaps because she called him sir, and said, “I’ll have the same. And which pilsner do you recommend?”

She gave him several suggestions, and Zeke ordered one and then Cal did, and as she left, they exchanged smiles.

“Food twins,” said Cal, which Preston always hated when he said it. Typically, Preston would call the waitress back and change his order, but Zeke merely leaned back in his seat, his shoulders relaxing.

“I like coming here,” said Zeke. “But I always forget that I do until I get here.”

In the sparkle of excitement that seemed to be all around him, Cal had to remind himself that it wasn’t a date.

Zeke was his boss. If there’d been more members on their team, there’d be a circle of parolees joining them. But it was just the two of them, so it was kind of like a date.

The food looked and smelled amazing when it arrived, and for a few moments, they ate in silence. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, Cal asked, “Do you miss bronc riding?”

Zeke stiffened a little bit, making Cal regret all of his life choices up to that minute, including asking stupid questions that weren’t welcome.

“No.” Zeke took a long swallow of his beer, his throat working over each swallow. “I thought I would.” He put the glass down and looked at Cal as though studying him. “And maybe I did at first, but I stepped away from that world so fast after the accident, so maybe it was time.”

“Time?” asked Cal.

“Watching the video, you know, of the accident, made me change my mind about it.” Zeke shook his head and chomped into an onion ring as though gathering his thoughts. “That horse looked as scared as I felt, and I realized it was just cruelty.”

Zeke looked at Cal and seemed to laugh under his breath. “Bronc riding is an old frontier tradition, right? A way of breaking in a horse quickly. But we have better training methods now and men like Buck Brannaman leading the way—he’s a horse trainer—so why put a horse through that? To prove your manhood? That’s bullshit.”

“What happened to the horse?”

“I bought him,” said Zeke. He took a sip of his beer and sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so after I got out of the hospital, I tracked him down. He wasn’t fit to ride and was just about to go into a kill pen, so I bought his rights for fifty bucks. Then I found a woman who keeps horses and lets them live out their days.”

“That was nice of you,” said Cal. “And her.”

All he could think about was it took a man like Zeke to do what he did. And that Zeke looked handsome as he thought about his past, all relaxed, his green eyes gazing at a middle distance only he could see.

“Turns out the woman is Leland Tate’s mother, which is how I got my first job up at the guest ranch. Which led me to my current job in the valley.” Zeke refocused his attention on Cal, and it was like being wrapped up in a warm cloak of protection. “There’s value in what I’m doing now,” he said. “There wasn’t then, only I couldn’t see it.”

Cal opened his mouth to say something profound, to make the moment last, the intimacy between them, but at that moment, Leland Tate showed up with a small box in his hand.

Cal recognized Leland from the Zoom interview he’d done back at Wyoming Correctional. Plus, he was hard to mistake for anyone else, and tall besides, standing out from everyone in the restaurant around him without moving a muscle.

Leland slid into the booth next to Zeke, and raised a finger at the waitress, who’d come up to the table.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” he said, pointing to Zeke’s half-drunk beer. She brought it right away, as if she’d been anticipating this very moment. Leland took a sip and sighed, and said, “I think this is one of my favorite moments.”

“Yeah?” asked Zeke, as if they were pals of long standing and not employer and employee.

“I get to sit, take a load off, and hand out free phones.” He reached across the table to hand Cal the box he’d been carrying. “There you go, Cal.”

Cal took the box and opened it to reveal a sleek-looking cell phone. He knew it was a refurb, but it looked brand new.

Taking it out of the box, his first thought, oddly, was to call Preston to brag about the phone. Which was a stupid idea, of course it was. But since he was two weeks into the program, he only had a week before Preston was due to show up. And he still hadn’t come up with a way out of that encounter.

“Thank you, Mr. Tate,” Cal said, looking up.

“Call me Leland,” said Leland. “Mr. Tate was my father.” Then he added, “I wanted to commend you on the amazing amount of hard work you’ve given us. Zeke says you’re a natural with horses.”

“Well—” Cal paused, his brain stammering at the compliment. He was getting better with the horses, but—“A natural?”

“Yes,” said Zeke. “I can always tell. What’s more, horses can, as well. When they come up to you all on their own, that’s how you can tell.”

“I’ve got a long way to go before I’m as good as you,” said Cal, thinking that maybe it was Leland’s presence that allowed him to say what he’d been thinking out loud. That watching Zeke with the horses was its own kind of poetry.

“Aw, shucks,” said Zeke, in a way that told Cal that Zeke was uncomfortable with compliments like that. Ones said out loud in front of witnesses. “It’s only because I’ve been at it for years, I reckon.”

“You are outstanding with horses,” said Leland. Then he swallowed the last of his beer in a huge gulp, and stood up, reaching to shake Cal’s hand. “Keep up the good work, young man. And Zeke, let me know if you need anything, okay? I know you fellows like to be self-reliant, but I’m just a phone call away.”

With that, Leland left the tavern, wending his way through the tables. Cal turned his attention to Zeke.

“Did you mean it? What you said to him about me and the horses?”

“Yeah, I meant it.” Zeke nodded. “I wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”

Cal glowed and the sparkling, happy feeling settled more firmly around him. And in spite of his best efforts to make it last, the evening ended all too soon, and they drove back to the valley in the near-darkness, with twilight having come down hard and sudden.

The cool darkness was a reminder that summer would be ending in a half dozen weeks, and Cal still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do. But he didn’t want to bring it up or ask Zeke for advice. He just wanted to enjoy the last glimmer of light reflected in Zeke’s eyes and soft smile.

After they separated in the parking lot, Cal made his way to his tent, thinking he’d grab his things and take a shower. When he got there, he realized he’d been clutching the phone so hard, he’d left fingerprints on the glass. Taking his shirttail out of his jeans, he wiped the phone down, slowly.

He didn’t have anyone to call. Not anyone in the whole wide world. But maybe he could ask Zeke for his number? Just in case.

He got ready for bed, shooed the moths out of his tent, and pulled the sheets and blanket back to simply lie on the cot and stare at the ceiling of the tent. Sometimes he imagined he could see flickers of lightning, though he could hear no thunder.

In the morning, he awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Thinking that Zeke somehow already had his number, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Found you,” said Preston’s voice, the words like a slap. “I have been calling and calling. The only person I could get hold of at that stupid ranch foundation, or whatever it is, was some broad named Maddy Greenway, and I got to give me your number.”

“Preston?” Cal’s heartbeat sped up so fast he thought it would leap right out of his chest.

“You lied to me,” said Preston in that heated way he had when he was so in the right and could never be wrong. “Maddy said I could come any Sunday. I could have come two weeks ago. Well, I’m coming out this Sunday—tomorrow—and you better have your bags packed and be ready to come home.”

“Uh.”

There was nothing Cal could say to this. Not with all the oxygen sucked out of his body, and his throat so tight he couldn’t speak.

He ended the call with a press of his thumb, and stood in the middle of his tent, staring at the phone, willing his brain and all of its images of disastrous outcomes whirling and whirling to just settle down and think.

He could just leave and take nothing with him. Or he could ask Zeke. Zeke, I don’t know what to do.

With that plan in mind, he got dressed and headed to breakfast. He had his phone in his pocket and though he turned it to mute, it buzzed and vibrated as though he’d tucked a handful of angry wasps in his back pocket.

But once he saw Zeke at breakfast, Zeke’s handsome solemnness contrasted so sharply with the idea of Preston’s voice at the other end of the phone, he hardly knew what to say.

So he said nothing, all the way up to lunchtime, when he happened to take a peek at his phone and saw the texts from Preston, lined up like knives.