Jamie seemed as reluctant to leave as Leland was to make him, but the wind had kicked up and it was time to go back to the ranch. They packed up the paint cans and the splattered canvas sheet, stored the paint brushes in old plastic bags so they could be used the next day, and put everything in the back of the old truck.
Just before they got in the truck’s cab, Leland to drive and Jamie to sit in the passenger side of the bench seat, they grabbed their sun-warmed t-shirts to put them on. Leland found himself pausing, with his hands on the shirt balled into fists.
“That was fun,” said Jamie. He was holding his t-shirt in his hand, and it was obvious that he didn’t intend to put it on. Leland had tomakehim put it on, because that was ranch policy. Leland had to make him because he didn’t think he could stand one more minute looking at Jamie’s skin, the slope of his side, without doing something about it. “Are we going to finish up tomorrow?”
Leland tugged on his t-shirt, looking down to realize that the cotton cloth was quite thin and left very little to the imagination. What had he been thinking when he’d changed into clothes for painting? He’d not been thinking, that’s what. Well, he needed to start.
“Actually, I’ve got other things to tend to, so I’ll probably send some hands out to finish tomorrow.” Leland shook his head, wishing it could be different but knowing that wishing never made it so. “Ranch policy,” he said, pointing to Jamie. “Put it on.”
Jamie was quick to put his t-shirt on and to get in the passenger seat, and Leland drove them back to the ranch and parked the truck near the supply barn.
“Get washed up and changed for dinner,” Leland said, not moving from where he was on the bench seat, waiting for Jamie to get out.
“Did I mess up?” Jamie asked. “Are you mad at me?”
Leland looked over at Jamie’s sad face, where the light had dimmed from his green eyes. Jamie looked to be two seconds from slinking away like a scolded hound. He had, in that moment, more in common with the drifter who’d shown up at the gate than the young man who’d raised his hand when Leland had asked for volunteers.
If he was careful. If he was careful. Maybe.
“No, I’m not mad,” Leland said, resisting the impulse to tousle Jamie’s hair, though he did reach out and touched Jamie’s bejeaned knee. “Painting just takes it out of me. And it might rain and ruin the Friday night campfire and singalong—”
He stopped because that wasn’t at all what he wanted or needed to say. It was what heshouldsay, sure, but nothing that was in his heart. Which evidently had been a deep empty well just waiting to be filled, and he with no idea that the person coming along to fill it would be Jamie.
“C’mon,” he said, reaching over to give Jamie’s knee a hearty pat. “We need to get cleaned up, and I need to check on the weather and consult with Maddy.”
“Do you need help putting the stuff away?” Jamie asked as he got out of the truck, standing on the footrest on the passenger side, his hands on the warm roof of the truck.
“No, we’ll leave it, keep it covered till tomorrow,” Leland said. “No sense unpacking and then packing again the next day. Now, go take a shower.”
With a wave Jamie was gone, leaving Leland to his confused whirl of thoughts. The best thing for those, as he well knew, was to keep busy. So he went to his office and checked on the weather report on his computer, called Maddy, signed a few delivery receipts that Clay’d left for him, any paperwork he could find. Then he headed off to his cabin, quiet and snug beneath the rustling trees as the wind blew over the top of them. It would not rain, but it was going to get cooler, which was fine.
In the shower, he washed up, not touching himself, not having little fantasies about Jamie, being strict. And felt better for it as he got dressed and headed down to the dining hall. There, he got his tray of food, Friday night ribs and cornbread, and headed over to the table where two of his leads, Quint and Brody were already in a friendly discussion about who was the better dancer.
“Depends on the dance,” Leland said as he slid his tray across the table and sat down.
“What do you mean?” asked Quint as his sharp, white teeth bit into a rib.
“Line dancing, it’s you,” Leland said to Quint. “Couple’s dance and swing dance? It’s Brody, all the way. I’ve danced with both of you and I know which one of you stepped on my toes.”
Between them they laughed and protested that it had never been them, and Leland was just relaxing into his meal when Jamie showed up at the end of the table, his tray in hand, piled with food, as it usually was.
“Can I sit with you guys?” he asked. He held his tray against his belly as if he didn’t dare lay it down without permission. Leland sat with everyone and anyone, changing it up each night, but usually he sat with his leads or with guests, never with staff. What a snob he’d become. Maybe it was time to change that.
“Sure,” Leland said. “Join us.”
Jamie sat down next to Quint, on the diagonal from Leland. He seemed quite pleased at how brave he’d been to come over, and Leland realized that while he’d segregated himself, there wasn’t any need for it.
“This is Jamie,” Leland said. “You fellows already know each other, right?”
“Hi,” said Jamie, his voice only a little shy.
Quint and Brody waved hello, then there was a long bit of silence while everybody ate, and then Leland remembered.
“Jamie needs some riding lessons,” he said. “One of you want to help me out?”
“Ranch hands need to know how to ride before applying,” said Quint. He was a rule follower too, but there was a bit of a question in his voice, because if Jamie didn’t already know how to ride, how had he gotten the job?
“It’s a favor to Bill and to me,” Leland said, enjoying a large mouthful of buttered cornbread while he let that sink in. “Maybe you can put him in with the intro lesson on Sunday, with the guests. See how he does.”
