The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

19. Cal

Chapter 19

Cal

T hey rode along the Yellow Wolf at a brisk clip, following the narrow trail between the riverside stones as the canyon widened and narrowed, the sound of the river rising and falling, echoing against the old stone walls.

The horses seemed to sense their excitement at reaching journey’s end, their manes fluttering, ears pricked, their tails dancing gaily in the breeze from the river.

Cal had never done anything like this in his life. Excitement buoyed his heart until he felt like he was leaping over the edge of the known world just about every other minute.

The only thing that grounded him to the earth was the sight of Zeke, astride Flint, the lead to Dusty’s halter draped across his thigh from where it was wrapped around the saddle horn.

Zeke had suggested that Cal take the lead for a time, so he might get used to it, but Cal said no. It was better this way. Better to watch and learn and absorb.

He’d not been lying when he’d said that this was the very best time he’d ever had in his life, though the words felt inadequate to the reality of it. How safe he felt, even though every nerve seemed to be on alert for danger in this wide-skied place, the river rushing always, water pounding over rocks, a hard, cool breeze gusting down from the tops of the canyon every now and then.

It was Zeke who made him feel safe, with the rifle strapped to his saddle, his straight back, and broad shoulders. The way he looked, always, around him, and turned his head to check on Cal.

“Are we going too fast for you?” he asked at one point.

“No, I’m good,” said Cal, but what he’d wanted to say was I’m good. Let’s go fast. Faster. Let’s race time .

There’d be no time like this again, and when he got back to the valley, the memory would shine like jewels in the dark. Just the horses, and him, and Zeke. The wild sky above them a blazing blanket of blue. Zeke’s sturdy back ahead of him, neck tan beneath the stiff curl of dark hair, leading the way.

When Zeke and Flint led Dusty up a short rise, the canyon walls seemed to spread apart, a curtain of stone, but Cal didn’t expect what awaited them on the other side of the rise. A slope that led down a steep hill, the path cutting in switchbacks to the bottom of a green, pine-tree lined valley.

At the bottom of the valley, curling along the edges of a flat grassy area like a string of silver, was the Yellow Wolf River, winding its way down from the Continental Divide, and down the slope to the Pacific Ocean. The mountains on the far side of the valley, jagged peaks of gray, were half-misted in fog, as if there was the threat of rain from somewhere, but the water gods were holding back for now.

“This is it,” said Zeke. He was looking at a folded bit of topographical map that he held against his thigh. “Aungaupi Valley.” Lifting his head, he seemed to scan the valley, and Cal saw what he was looking for almost as fast as Zeke did. “There are the mustangs. Let me call it in before we go down and I lose cell signal.”

Cal pulled Applejack to a halt, his hands gentle on the reins, and Applejack seemed content to look over the valley while they waited, his ears pricked, his copper mane glistening in the sun. Cal thought he could hear the mustangs calling to them, high-pitched bugles of question and greeting.

“We’re here, Gabe,” said Zeke. “We’ll set the temp fence up, check the herd over, and get back to you. Any estimate on when they’ll be able to cut a path through the slide?” Zeke paused, his gaze flicking to Cal as a cool wind swept up from the valley bottom. “As fast as that?” he asked. “I’ll try reaching them by cell after we take care of the mustangs.”

Zeke clicked off the call and put the cell phone in his breast pocket.

“We’ll go slow down to the valley,” he said. “Take your time and if you get dizzy, focus between Applejack’s ears.”

Cal understood what that meant about halfway down, when the switchback created a hairpin turn and, for a wild second, Applejack’s nose and his gaze were focused directly down. But he followed Zeke’s advice and looked between Applejack’s ears and trusted his mount.

Even so, by the time they had gotten to the bottom of the valley, his skin was slick with sweat and the cool breeze was quite welcome as he stopped Applejack to take off his straw hat and wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

They rode the rest of the way along the Yellow Wolf River, where the water turned from churning over rocks into a wide glassy slide, with only a few ripples here and there to indicate where the rocks were, and the deep pools beneath them.

They let the horses stop to take a drink, then hurried to the round, metal temporary pen where the mustangs had been left for quick and easy transport by trailer that had never come. The mustangs, rangy and wild-haired, whinnied their greetings, while some dashed around the small pen as if looking for a way out.

“Normally,” said Zeke as he dismounted next to the pen and tied Flint to one of the rails. “We’d look after our mounts first, but the mustangs have been waiting. Let’s get to it.”

Cal dismounted and tied Applejack to the rail, then hurried to help Zeke pull the canvas tarp off a stack of flimsy looking poles laying near the metal pen alongside large, orange reels of plastic rope.

“How do we—?” he began to ask, but he didn’t even know the question that would help him figure out what they were about to do.

“It’s a Gallagher smart fence,” said Zeke, as he separated the poles into longer black poles with an edge at the bottom and shorter poles with white circles on them. “You push the main posts into the ground with your boot, then you unspool the reels of rope. Then you create tension on the fence with the stay wires. The horses can see the fence, and as long as they’ve got something to eat and water to drink, they don’t tend to rush it.”

Zeke shrugged and laughed low in his throat. “It’s been a while since I installed one, but I think we can keep the mustangs safe until the handlers come.”

They pressed the black poles into the ground, all the way to the river’s edge and back, creating an area of water at the bank where the mustangs could drink. Then they made a wide circle with the black poles as Zeke walked backwards with the reel, stringing out a four-tiered fence line as he went.

Cal followed behind Zeke, tucking the stay wires into the ground, then twisting the wire guide to create the tension. Pretty soon they had a good-sized pasture where the mustangs could spread out and relax, rather than being crowded in a small, round paddock.

“You hold open the gate on that side,” said Zeke. “I’ll let them out of the paddock and into the pasture, and then you rush to shut the gate tight, okay?” The gate in question was a single thick wire, electrified by a six volt battery, and secured by a plastic handle that was bright orange. “That’ll do in a pinch, and we’ll keep our eyes on them, as well.”

Up to his boot-tops in thick green mountain grass and holding the plastic handle in two hands, Cal held his breath as Zeke lifted the metal gate to move it aside. Then, with urgent clicks of his tongue, he urged the mustangs to separate from their clump and to move into the broader swath of the paddock.

“That mare will lead the way,” said Zeke, pointing with his chin at an all over ginger colored horse with a narrow face.

How Zeke knew what the mare would do, Cal had no idea, but he watched with amazement as the mare, biting and snapping at the other horses, got the whole herd to move into the paddock with dusty trots and wind-flecked manes and tails.

A few galloped about, but most almost instantly dropped their heads and began tearing at the cool, waving grasses. A few more went down to the pool along the river’s edge and dunked their noses in the water to drink.

“A job well done, I think,” said Zeke, as if he knew how hard Cal’s heart was pounding at the sight of those mustangs, rangy with stocky necks, their manes and tails knotted and twisted as if a whole flight of fairies had been riding them in the moonlight the night before.

“Yes,” said Zeke with a nod, turning his full attention to Cal. “They’re going to be just fine. We’ll look them over in a minute, but let’s take care of this bunch first.”

They took the saddles off Flint, Dusty, and Applejack, and laid those and the blankets carefully on the top rail of the paddock. Then, slipping on halters and off bridles, they led the horses to the river for a good long drink.

The mustangs sniffed the air as the domesticated horses came close, but they must have realized they had nothing to fear from the newcomers, as they quickly went back to grazing.

Together Cal and Zeke groomed Flint, Dusty, and Applejack and set them in the paddock with the feed they had brought along and a small chunk of salt.

“We’ll get them cookies later,” said Zeke. “Let’s set up the tent, check over the mustangs, and call it in. Then we can get some lunch.”

The breeze along the river seemed to come down from the gray mountains beyond, keeping Cal cool even as he began to sweat as they set up the single tent. The single tent .

He and Zeke would be bunking together again, simply because Cal had been stupid enough to leave one tent behind. He couldn’t imagine that he’d done it on purpose.

Cal unrolled the sleeping mats inside the tent, then unrolled the two sleeping bags and yes, he faced the zipper sides toward each other, just like he had the last time, because that’s how it was done, wasn’t it?

He left a space at the bottom of the tent for their boots and clothes, made sure that the saddles and blankets were covered with a tarp where they rested on the top rung of the metal fence, then he went to help Zeke check over the mustangs.

That is, Zeke checked them over while Cal watched in admiration as Zeke moved among the wild horses as though he’d known them always, his gloved hands at his sides, his straw cowboy hat casting his face in shade. When he came alongside the fence line, he used his cell phone to make a quick call to the team at the other end of the blocked road.

“We’re all good here,” Zeke said. “The mustangs look good. Gabe says you might make it through by noon tomorrow? That’s fast.” Zeke listened a moment, smiling at Cal as he nodded. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

Zeke clicked the call closed, then gestured to the slope of hill on the far side of the river.

“Bear have spotted along the road where the slide is and on the far side of the valley,” he said to Cal. “I’ll need to keep the rifle where I can reach it.”

Coming out from the pasture, Zeke slid his cell phone into his breast pocket, took off his gloves, and tucked them into his belt.

“We have to purify river water before we can use it for cooking,” said Zeke.

Zeke took Cal to the river and showed him out to use the silicone water bag to collect water, then the tablets to purify the water. “We need to wait about half an hour or so, then the water will be ready to use.”

While they waited for the water to be purified, they walked the perimeter of their camp, with Zeke carrying the rifle over his shoulder, both of them on the lookout for bears or other wildlife. But the valley was quiet, and none of the horses seemed the least bit concerned.

“That’s a good sign,” said Zeke. “We’ll do another walk as it gets dark. Let’s set up our camp, make it cozy.”

Zeke led the way, a safe distance between the tent and temporary fence, and bent to build a small fire, while Cal set up the small propane burner. They pulled out the food they’d packed, which included fresh brownies from the valley’s kitchen, as well as several packets of freeze-dried meals.

“Beef stew with potatoes?” asked Zeke. “Or would you rather Sante Fe rice with beans and chicken?” He looked at the pile and said, “I think there’s also granola with blueberries, almonds, and milk for breakfast. Enough for two dinners, two breakfasts, and two lunches.”

Cal would have eaten tree bark if he could stay in Aungaupi Valley with Zeke forever. He’d never known anything so peaceful, or maybe it was simply being there with Zeke that made him feel like he was falling in love with everything. With the mustangs. With the wild beauty of the valley. With Zeke.

But he had to be sensible, so he pointed at the packet of freeze-dried beef stew.

When the water was ready, Zeke prepared the stew. First, he boiled the water they had purified in their only pot and, when it was ready, he poured the packet of freeze-dried stew into the pot. After stirring it around, he covered the pot with the lid and turned off the burner.

“We’ll let it sit for ten minutes,” Zeke said.

It was in that ten minutes, as Cal hunkered in front of the small wood fire that Zeke had built, that he realized how hungry he was. They’d eaten a bit of beef jerky along the trail after a quick breakfast of crackers and cheese, so now his stomach rumbled and complained.

“Hang in there,” said Zeke as he lifted the lid to give the stew a stir. “Drink some water, that’ll help.”

He looked over at Cal and smiled, and everything about him was easy and relaxed. He seemed happier than Cal had ever seen him.

It was as if the wild openness of the valley had unlocked something inside of him. As if the valley was where he was meant to make his home. Which was foolish. Though Zeke was smart enough to make his living anywhere, there was not enough in the valley to sustain him for long.

“You like it up here,” said Cal, speaking his thoughts out loud because the valley knew how to keep his secrets.

“I do,” said Zeke. He seemed to consider Cal’s words as he sat on a rock and rubbed his left thigh, his gaze drifting over the mustangs and the long green grasses waving in the constant breeze. “Guess I didn’t know how much I needed to get away from Farthingdale Valley until we left.”

“Did you feel trapped there?” asked Cal as he watched Zeke lift the lid to give the stew a stir it almost certainly did not need. The freeze-dried stew needed to sit. Cal had read that on the packet himself.

“Maybe a little, even as nice as Farthingdale Valley is,” said Zeke. He shook his head, then took off his cowboy hat to card his fingers through his hair. “After the bronc fell on me, I knew I needed to make a change, only I wasn’t sure how.” He paused and then smiled at Cal. “I think the bronc made a decision for me that I didn’t know I needed to make.”

After they ate, and while the shadows in the valley grew long, they cleaned up, washing the pan and dishes and cutlery in the river, just on the other side of the smart fence, where wild mustangs came up in a group to watch them with wide and curious eyes.

When they took everything back to their tent, Cal noticed Zeke was limping, a shadow of a limp, really, and that he was wincing.

“You okay?” asked Cal. “Is it your leg again?”

“Yeah.” Zeke looked like he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t okay. “I haven’t ridden for that long in quite a while. Guess the body can’t take it like it used to. But I’m good. Maybe I’ll soak it later.”

Cal looked around and realized there wasn’t any place other than the river to soak it. He half-shivered at the thought of having to immerse his body in water that cold.

But Zeke didn’t say anything about it, and for a while they watched the mustangs grazing in the small field, and watched the puffy white clouds twist into gray sheets and lower themselves over the sharp edges of the mountains, softening them.

“Let’s get an early supper,” said Zeke. “I figure we can make some coffee after, and have brownies and watch the stars come out.”

“Okay,” said Cal. Pretty much anything Zeke wanted to do was fine by him.

“It’s going to be a busy morning, then we can head home.”

Except for that. Cal didn’t want to head home, ever. He wanted to stay in the valley with Zeke pretty much forever. It was only when he noticed that Zeke’s limp had gotten worse that he was able to drag himself from his own troubles.

“Did you bring anything for your leg?” asked Cal as they gathered a bit of wood from the riverbank for their evening’s fire.

“Beg pardon?” asked Zeke as he lifted his head and pushed his cowboy hat back to look at Cal fully. Then he shook his head. “No, I didn’t think I’d need my pills or anything, us being gone so short a time.” He smiled, as if trying to push off Cal’s worry. “Guess I was wrong.”

“You could soak it like you said.” Cal moved close. All he wanted to do was help Zeke feel better, which made such a nice change—helping someone else. Someone he cared for. “I could help you. Make sure you don’t fall in or that the river doesn’t carry you away.”

Zeke had that faint, faint blush again, pale rose against his tan as he ducked his chin, looking up at Cal the littlest bit.

Cal felt stupid for imagining that Zeke, the amazing horseman, strong and independent as hell, needed anything like Cal’s fussing and worrying.

“Before it dinner,” said Cal, pushing past his own hesitation. “Before it cramps up worse.”

“Yes, mother,” said Zeke, with a smile and a small laugh, as though to take the sting out of the words. “I’m not used to being fussed over.”

“Sorry,” said Cal. “But it’s just us up here and we need to look out for each other. Right?”

“Right.”

Cal’s chest swelled with pride that Zeke agreed with him. So, after they stoked the little campfire fire and purified more water for their freeze-dried dinner, they went down to the river.

They had only brought two kitchen towels, and those were too small to dry off with, so Cal took off his shirt, and then placed his shirt and Zeke’s on a rock to keep them dry. Then, with wide eyes, pretending he wasn’t staring, except that he was, he watched Zeke disrobe right down to the skin. First his boots and socks, jeans, and belt, and then finally he stripped off his white briefs.

Which showed Cal what maybe he’d been imagining all along, that the only non-tan part of Zeke’s body was where his briefs covered his skin. A pale area, drawn in the shape of those briefs, that made Zeke somehow more vulnerable as he balanced on his bare feet one rock, his hand on another rock, the river pulling quietly just inches below him, a dark slow passage of water.

Zeke was purely naked otherwise, and seemed unconcerned about this, though Cal’s heartbeat picked up and his breath seemed to catch in his throat at the beauty of Zeke’s nakedness, his shoulders and torso dappled by cloud-shaped sunlight and the swaying branches of pine trees overhead. His eyes flickered green in those shadows, his smile bright.

“Come stand here in case I fall in,” said Zeke, gesturing at one of the rocks. As if he had no idea that he was Cal’s unrealized dream, unrealized until that moment, to be close to Zeke and to absorb the wild energy of him, him and his nakedness, natural amidst the wildness around him.

“It’s probably fine, but I don’t know this river.”

Cal rushed close, and balanced himself on the rock where Zeke’s hand was, not staring at Zeke, or at least not anywhere that if Zeke caught him staring, he’d be totally embarrassed.

He wasn’t a prude, and he didn’t think Zeke was either, but it was more polite not to pant over Zeke’s long legs and trim hips, at the muscle that corded beneath Zeke’s tan skin, or the way veins stood out in his forearms.

“I’m just going to step in,” said Zeke and, as he did this, dipping into the cold water, grimacing, Cal realized how much his leg must be hurting him.

Moving even closer, closer than Zeke had asked him to be, Cal sat on one of the rocks and took Zeke’s hand as he dunked himself, and when Zeke looked up at him, eyes curious and questioning, Cal said, “I didn’t want you to be alone in the water.”

“Thank you,” said Zeke. Then he bobbed up and down, submerged to halfway up his chest, going in dry and coming up glistening, to just above the jut of his hips.

He did this a few times, stayed still for a good long moment or two, then shot out of the water, bare feet on the pine needle-strewn rocks, toes curling against the lichen, gripping Cal’s arm for balance.

Cal pulled both shirts close, threw one over Zeke’s shoulders, and handed the other one to him to dry off with.

“Damn, that’s cold,” said Zeke, buffing himself dry and stepping, still a little damp, into his white briefs.

“Did it help?” asked Cal. Hopefully it had, as there wasn’t any place to dash to for Tylenol or ice packs.

“Yeah,” said Zeke, half panting, half laughing.

He got dressed the rest of the way, and sat on the rocks to pull on his socks and boots, while the river flowed dark and deep, going in and out of the shadows, only inches away from them.

“Let’s settle the horses for the night and get ourselves some supper.”

“Sure,” said Cal.

He stepped back to give Zeke room to come down from the rocks and followed Zeke through the copse of trees as they went back to the tent and the half-ready fire.

He tucked the memories of Zeke’s nearness, his unabashed nakedness, the curl of damp hair on Zeke’s neck, the way his dark chest hair swirled on his neck, the glitter of water on his narrow hips, the glimpse of hair between his legs before Cal blushed hotly and looked away.

It would never come to more than him panting over an imaginary moment that between them, he was sure. But maybe he could dream a little.