The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

24. Zeke

Chapter 24

Zeke

Z eke woke up with an armful of Cal, their bodies entwined, the heat their bodies made together comfortable against the rainy damp outside the tent. He’d neglected to close the flap all the way, so there was a thin silver puddle beneath the zipper as he reached to pull it all the way up to the top and looked out.

The valley was shrouded with gray and silver. The horses were dark-streaked with rain, and the roar of the river was louder now.

They needed to get back to the other valley, Farthingdale Valley, where tasks and concerns and responsibilities awaited them. They were almost out of supplies and the mustangs were on their way to new homes. It was time to go.

“Cal,” he said gently, giving the young man in his arms a slight shake. “Time to get up now. We need to get a move on.”

As they got up and scrambled into the blue jeans they had worn for the last few days, into boots that were thankfully dry, and button-down shirts with stains that reflected the last few days’ hard work. They reached for their hats, putting them on before exiting the tent.

Cal didn’t ask if they could stay again, though Zeke saw the want in those big blue eyes.

They tied the horses to the metal paddock rails and took down the smart fence, packing it away, covering it with canvas before placing it back where they had found it. They took down the tent, washed the pot and crockery, and filled up their canteens with the last of the purified water.

By the time they were done, all of the fairy knots in the horses’ manes and tails had been washed away by the rain, and the river was foaming at its banks.

“I’m glad we only had one tent,” said Zeke as they packed the last of their gear on Dusty, gear which seemed to have increased in weight and volume.

He meant it, of course, Dusty didn’t have more to carry home than he already had. But he also meant that sharing the one tent with Cal had been different than he could have imagined. Better. Surreal, but better.

The blow job that Cal had given him had sent him into the stratosphere. Was such a thing possible? He might have been blowing it out of proportion, but he’d truly never experienced anything like the tenderness, the connection, before.

“Sorry about that,” said Cal, as he echoed Zeke’s motions and pulled on his leather gloves.

Cal said the words as if he meant them, but his sweet smile told Zeke differently. Cal wasn’t sorry at all, and neither was Zeke.

They saddled their horses, checked over the gear, and mounted with only their jean jackets and cowboy hats to protect them from the weather. Zeke led the way, allowing himself one last glance at Aungaupi Valley, now empty except for the single circle of metal paddock, there for the next roundup.

The valley would remain empty until next season, and between now and then, the winds would blow and the snow would come and ice would cover the river. The echo of pure silence would cover everything, and at night, the stars would put on a show for no one.

Zeke turned his face to the path ahead of them and took off his gloves to swipe at his eyes. Then he put his gloves back on and clucked Flint into motion.

Flint was glad to be on the move, as was Dusty, who trotted close behind. Behind Dusty, Zeke could hear Applejack’s hooves in the mud.

When they got back to the valley, all the horses would deserve a good grooming, hot mash, and horse cookies. They’d done a good job and had been responsive and attentive. Zeke could not have asked for a better time away from the valley and the ex-cons.

It was a wet ride home. They rode as fast as they could along the rising waters of the Yellow Wolf River, rain dripping from their hats and along their necks. Mud slopped up from the horses’ hooves and the sound of rushing water rose with them as they made their way out of Aungaupi Valley and into the narrow canyons.

At the halfway point where they’d camped before, they stopped to water the horses and to let them rest. They ate beef jerky and the last of the string cheese, followed by large gulps of water from their canteens.

Zeke got off to get the circulation back into his left leg and checked the tie downs on their gear on Dusty’s back.

He went over to Applejack and made sure of the horse’s cinch, and patted Cal’s thigh, out of reflex. Maybe he was saying goodbye to what they’d shared, because surely it couldn’t happen again. Surely. He had responsibilities, and Cal did, as well.

“You know we can’t do this again,” said Zeke, as carefully as he could, drawing his hands away from Cal so he wouldn’t give into his impulse to pull Cal down from his horse and tumble him in the wet grass. “It wouldn’t work.”

“I know,” said Cal, utterly solemn, his eyes as big as they could be.

Zeke got back on Flint’s back, adjusted Dusty’s lead, and clicked to get Flint to move forward.

And so they went, silent in the rain.

The rain stopped and started, stopped and started, all the way along the canyon, which meant by the time they crossed the wooden bridge beyond the willows, they were soaked through.

It was just about dinnertime by the sounds and smells, but even as Zeke led them to the wooden paddock at the back of the compound, several men, cowboys and ex-cons both, came out to help with the horses.

Bede was there, wanting to know if they’d seen any bears, and his eyes grew wide when they told him they had. Royce wanted to know what kind of bears, and his ongoing questions made a good distraction from Zeke and Cal’s joint silence.

It was raining, but none of the men complained, and the horses were groomed and watered, given treats and pets, and everything was put away. Within the hour, Zeke and Cal were in the mess tent, wearing clean, dry clothes, standing in line for whatever was being offered in the buffet, and it was as if they’d never left.

And maybe that was true, in a way. They’d only been gone three nights. To everyone else, it’d been the blink of an eye, but to Zeke, it had been a lifetime.

Dinner was beef stew, and Zeke sat down at a long table, and laughed to himself while he ate it, but it was a sad laugh, because as bad as the stew up in that valley far away from anywhere had been, it would never taste as good as that again.

Even if he longed to go back there and live those moments over and over, he couldn’t.

After dinner there wasn’t any campfire, on account of the rain. Zeke watched Cal march off between the drops and thought about going after him. To tug on his shirtsleeve. To make the time between them linger. But maybe it was better to let him go, because it seemed he wanted to be left alone.

Which was right. Of course, it was right to nip it in the bud. To move on from what they’d shared.

Zeke had no idea how they might move forward together anyhow. The summer would soon be over, as well, and Zeke had to make plans.

There was no way he wanted to go back to Farthingdale Ranch. The work there had been satisfying, sure, but limited. There was only so much joy to be gotten out of teaching greenhorns to ride. It wasn’t for him. But if not that, then what?

Zeke waved away offers of joining movie night and stalked back to his tent. There, he shook out the blue jeans he’d left to dry, and wiped his cowboy boots with a cloth.

After those simple tasks, he sat on his cot and listened to the rain on the green canvas and just was still for a little while. He’d been in motion since he could remember, and now this quiet place could very well be where he needed to make a conscious decision about his future.

Down in New Mexico was the family farm, down south, near Cloudcroft. His grandmother used to have a herd of mules that she trained and sold. The farm had fallen unused since she passed away, the mules all gone, the fields fallow.

Maybe he could take that up again. At least he’d be his own man there. At least he’d be far away from the memories that surrounded him now. Cal in his arms. Cal’s warm mouth, the giving tenderness of those hands.

At the end of summer, Cal would probably go back to Preston and his high-tech job, and would soon forget the connection they’d shared.

It would take Zeke a lot longer than that to forget the memory of when he’d come in Cal’s mouth, almost blacking out as his head jerked back and Cal’s hands held him to the earth as he seemed to skyrocket into the night sky.

But it wasn’t just the blow job. It was the way Cal had snuggled up to him, half-sprawled on top of Zeke, nuzzling beneath his chin.

He’d never been able to tell Betty Lou how much he’d liked cuddling. Didn’t seem the cowboy way, and certainly nothing he could admit to his fellow bronc riders.

But for all that was holy, he loved the slow caress after good, hard sex. Loved the tender touch, fingers on his skin, arms around him, pulling him close. Someone to nuzzle beneath his jaw. Someone like Cal.

He stopped himself. Both of them had other lives to go back to or to move forward to. It wouldn’t do to moon after something he could not have. He could want it all he wanted, but he could not have it and that was that. It was time to return to the real world.

With a sigh, Zeke gathered his shower things, marched himself to the shower in the slight, pattering rain, and did his best to wash away all traces of his time in Aungaupi Valley. He even shaved, taking away traces of where Cal had caressed his face before kissing him gently.

With a shake of his head, Zeke focused on his reflection in the slightly steamed up mirror. He swiped at the mirror with the heel of his palm, but that only made it worse.

It was going to take time, and that was the truth of it. Time and patience. He’d also have to rein back his current tendency to allow his thoughts to wander where they shouldn’t.

In the morning, he’d be his best professional self, and make sure he communicated with Cal how things were to be. Then he and Cal could finish out the summer with dignity. Yes, dignity.

Zeke jerked his chin at his reflection and saw the sad, drawn look in his eyes. He’d recovered from getting his thigh busted up. He could recover from this. Yes, he could. And he would. Wouldn’t he?