The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

22. Cal

Chapter 22

Cal

T he efficiency and kindness of the handlers with the mustangs had been amazing. Both Arnie and Walt had made low clucking noises as they’d hung the metal tags around the mustangs’ necks, urging them, six at a time, into the trailer. They never rushed or pushed, and the whole process went so smoothly, it was hard to believe.

Maybe the horse cookies had soothed the mustangs’ nerves, or maybe those two cowboys had simply been good at their jobs. The task was done now, and it was only noon. Cal wasn’t surprised when Zeke said they should head on home.

I reckon we better take that smart fence down and pack up and head home to the valley.

The words churned a hole in Cal’s heart because while Farthingdale Valley was home, and the ride there would be fun. After that, when they came back to the work compound, he’d have to deal with Preston’s shit. And frankly, at that point, he’d rather get eaten by a bear. And he’d much rather just be with Zeke.

“Could we stay?” Cal asked.

He didn’t let himself beg, but tried to see Zeke’s expression beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat. All he got were the lines of that hard jaw and glimpses of Zeke’s eyebrows as he looked over the valley for a long minute.

“We’ve got another pack or two of freeze-dried meals and coffee,” Cal added. “There’s plenty of grass for the horses, and water—I’d give anything to stay one more night.” He gulped. “Please, can we stay?”

“Sure,” said Zeke, in his slow, careful way. “One more night will be fine.”

Cal wanted to jump up and give Zeke the biggest hug, but Zeke turned his face away, like he had when he’d been moved to tears by the mustangs and their coming adventure. So Cal stepped back and looked at the three horses in the confines of the metal paddock, giving Zeke his space.

“Could we let them out to graze?” asked Cal. “Instead of taking the temporary fence down right away, we can give these guys some green grass.”

“We are all out of horse cookies and feed,” said Zeke. He huffed a laugh under his breath, as if chiding himself. “Let’s do that.”

They guided the domestic horses into the pen meant for wild ones. The grass was cropped in many places, but there were still lush circles the horses could feed from, plus the open access to the pool of water at the river’s edge.

For a while they watched the contented horses go at it, then Zeke winced as he stepped back, as if stepping toward some imaginary task. But there was nothing they had to do besides purifying water for their meals, and making something to eat for lunch, and later for dinner. Beyond breaking camp in the morning, there was nothing to do.

Cal was quite sure Zeke didn’t know what to do with himself without some chore or task.

They had cups of coffee and the last of the cheese and crackers for lunch, and ate standing up while the wind blew freely across the grasses.

“You want to take another dip in the river for your leg?” Cal asked as they cleaned up from lunch.

Cal’s suggestion made Zeke look at Cal, his eyes bright.

“I could take a dip, too,” Cal said, sweet and earnest. “Ice baths are supposed to be good for you, right?”

Zeke made a sound in his throat, then worried his lip with his thumb.

“I’m fine, but I reckon there’s something fun we could do before that,” he said. “It’s like this. We might have a gallop across this lovely valley while the sun shines, then take a dip before supper, before it rains. How does that sound?”

“A gallop?” asked Cal. He couldn’t figure what Zeke was talking about.

“Bareback,” said Zeke. “Do a little exploring. Have a wander. Let the fairies know we’re still here, in case they’re looking for a midnight ride.”

“Oh,” said Cal. He quite liked the picture this painted. “I don’t know how to ride bareback, though.” He paused to laugh at himself. “I barely know how to ride with a saddle.”

“We can double up,” said Zeke. “We won’t go very far or very fast and Applejack can carry us both.”

Cal nodded, then watched, a trifle agog as Zeke ducked below the electric gate, then led a willing Applejack from the pasture and over to the paddock. There, he gave Applejack a few swipes with the brush, but it was easy to see he wanted to get to it. He took off Applejack’s halter, warmed the bit for him, then slipped on the bridle.

Looping the reins over Applejack’s neck, Zeke looked over at Cal.

“I’ll get on and you can slip on behind me, unless—” He paused, chewing on his lower lip. “Unless you want to ride in front?”

“In front?” Cal could only imagine what that would be like, both of them astride, Zeke behind him. With their bodies positioned that close, it would be like a dream. “Sure. I’ll ride in front.”

Zeke helped Cal to get astride Applejack and, as Cal held the reins, Zeke climbed to the middle rail of the metal paddock and slipped on behind.

With his arms around Cal, Zeke took the reins. Then he scooted close, right behind Cal, his front to Cal’s back, his thighs below Cal’s thighs.

“I can’t sit too far back, or Applejack might not like it.”

“Would he buck you off?” asked Cal, the question coming out a little thin.

“He’d buck us both off in a heartbeat if he wanted to,” said Zeke with a laugh. “We won’t ask him to carry us very far, though.”

With a click, Zeke urged Applejack forward. Cal could feel just about every muscle of Zeke’s body, the tautness of his thighs, the angle of his hip. The warmth of him through his clothes. The steady way he held himself.

Cal wanted to press back and then press some more into the body behind him, but he held himself upright and enjoyed the thrill of it when Zeke clicked and Applejack trotted and then cantered.

The horse’s body beneath him signaled every movement Applejack made, or was going to make, and behind him, Zeke’s body would lean into a turn, or move forward as Applejack went a little faster. Cal felt like he was on a rocking horse, with Zeke’s arms around him, keeping him safe.

The grass rippled beneath their feet as they raced across the valley, and the sun was bright and warm on their shoulders. Overhead the clouds swirled about, threatening rain, but there was plenty of sunshine and a cool breeze rippled across the grasses as they cantered to the far edge of the valley and back again.

At one point, Zeke urged Applejack to go left, only Applejack dodged right, and Zeke flew off Applejack’s back and onto the ground with a loud gasp and a laugh.

When Cal looked down, gently tugging Applejack to a halt, he could see the sprawl of Zeke’s body in the tall grasses and the lazy way Zeke smiled up at him, as if he didn’t mind at all that he was no longer astride.

In a heartbeat, quickly looping Applejack’s leather reins over the gelding’s head, Cal was on the ground as well, looking up at the blue and white sky framed by green grass. He looked over at Zeke, his head crowned by green grass, smiling, his heart full.

Zeke smiled back, reaching out and just about curling his fingers around Cal’s as if he meant to hold Cal’s hand, to let the moment linger, and had thought better of it.

Applejack looked down at them, his red and white forelock hanging over his large brown eyes, curious as to why they were no longer on his back.

Zeke began to sit up, and Cal saw him rub his left thigh and knew that they should get back so Zeke could soak in the cold water before supper. Before sunset. Before their last night in the middle of nowhere.

Cal leaped to his feet, still holding Applejack’s reins, and held out his hand for Zeke to take. Digging his heels in for leverage, Cal leaned back so he could help Zeke stand up.

“I’ll give you a leg up and you can ride while I lead,” said Cal. It wasn’t just the distance back to camp, which was maybe a mile or so, it was the bumpy territory he was worried about. There wasn’t a fence nearby to help them both mount, and Zeke didn’t need the extra stress of walking all that way.

“I’m fine,” said Zeke, but Cal shook his head.

“I’ve got the reins,” he said, holding his hands wide as if to ask, What are you going to do about it? “I’m in charge now.”

“Yes, boss,” said Zeke with a grin that told Cal exactly what he already knew.

Zeke could insist that they both ride, or that Cal ride, while Zeke led. But he was giving in and letting Cal lead the way.

It was a heady feeling as he cupped his hands to give Zeke a leg up, and briefly his hand traced Zeke’s left thigh as if making sure of it, feeling the warmth of it, the strength. He grabbed Zeke’s hat from the damp grass, then, tipping his chin up to smile at Zeke in the bright sunshine, Cal tugged on Applejack’s reins and began the long trudge back to camp, happier than he’d ever been.

With Applejack cantering it had taken only moments, it seemed, to reach the far end of the valley. Walking, it seemed to take hours, though Cal knew it was less than that. Even so, by the time they reached camp, and settled Applejack with his fellows, a fine, cool breeze had kicked up, and the rumbly gray cloud cover told them rain was on the way.

“I’m going to take that soak,” said Zeke. “Care to join me?”

The invitation was casually made, as though Zeke hadn’t meant to flirt with him. Cal knew this, yet his heart sped up and his body tightened.

Was it anticipation of gazing at Zeke naked and damp? Or just the whole of it, him and Zeke, here in the wilderness, making their own rules? Maybe it was a bit of both.

Cal grabbed their two kitchen towels and the washcloth he found that he’d somehow overlooked before. Following Zeke to the river, to the rocky bank just below where the horses came to drink, he hurried to catch up. He got undressed when Zeke did, as if it was an ordinary everyday thing when it felt anything but.

They lay their clothes on the rocks, and turned their boots upside-down, and Cal giggled as the horses came over to check out what they were doing.

Cal could hardly breathe as it was, but slipping into the dark, slow-moving water took away every bit of breath that he had as the cold water snatched it away.

He was only a hand’s reach away from Zeke, though, except for a cursory glance his way, Zeke was focused on his own ablutions. He dunked into the water, shot up, and then held his breath as he sank back down again, all the way up to his neck.

“It really helped last time,” Zeke said, his chin ducking into the water. “I think the cold water makes your blood rush faster, which helps with healing. Or something.”

With an underwater shrug, dark hair sticking to his temples, Zeke blinked through the dampness on his eyelashes as the river water slowly moved around his shoulders.

Cal did what Zeke did, dunking himself, shooting up, then going down for a longer soak. He didn’t think he’d last more than a heartbeat, but he lasted three full minutes, then had to get out, he was so cold.

By that time, being naked on the rocks with the cool pre-rain breeze scooting down his bare spine felt almost normal. But watching Zeke get out of the water, slowly and with care on the wet rocks, would never be anything but amazing.

Zeke was so comfortable with his own body that he didn’t hide himself as he stood there and dried off. He was tall and naked and utterly beautiful, from the top of his water-streaked dark hair, to his shoulders, the long muscles in his arms.

Cal did his best not to stare as he took one of the towels and dried himself off, but it was hard not to.

The cold water saved him from having a full on erection, but he half-turned away just in case his body decided it had a mind of its own. He could only take a deep breath when they were both fully dressed and scrambling for their boots, sitting down to put them on.

“It’s going to rain,” said Zeke. He lifted his chin to point at the gray ridge on the far side of the valley. “Thought it would have been long before this, but it’s coming for sure now.”

They heated water over the propane burner, and Zeke added their last packet of beef stew. Before it was properly cooked, however, the rain finally came, an ice cold rain, slow and steady.

They moved quickly to serve up the nearly done stew, then scooted beneath the rain fly. There, sitting crossed legged, side by side, their knees brushed as they ate their stew.

“This is horrible,” said Zeke, laughing as he shoveled in another spoonful.

Cal could barely taste the stew. It could have been mud for all he cared, Zeke’s laugh was that beautiful. At least the stew was warm, even if some of the bits of carrots were a little rubbery.

They finished eating and tucked the stove away, getting a little wet as they did this, and left the pot and crockery and cutlery out for the rain to wash.

There was no fire, no comforting orange and blue glow, no warmth. There was nothing for it but to sit in the opening of the tent, with the rain fly keeping the rain off them, and watch it come down as they listened to the river rise and growl as more water pushed through it.

“Will the horses be okay?” asked Cal. Through the rain he could see them grazing together in a clump, where the land bent close to the river.

“They’ve got the sense to move up if the river rises,” said Zeke. “But it won’t rise that much, I reckon.”

“No,” said Cal slowly, enjoying the feel of the word in his mouth. “I don’t reckon it will.”