With all of them in the barn, and ten horses in the open area in the middle, it got quite busy. Leland lost track of Jamie. Dorothy had finished up, and another ranch hand was helping her, but he couldn’t find Jamie to tell himwell doneandthank youandI’m sorry. Though he shouldn’t sayI’m sorryagain, that might open a wound, a wound that would heal if he just left it alone.
By the time Leland was done helping where he could, he marched out of the barn. There, amidst the dappling rain, he slipped off his gloves and tipped his hat back on his head to get a better view.
Through the trees, he could see the dining hall was gearing up for dinner. Guests were wandering back to their cabins or the bunkhouse, and some were already headed up the path to the dining hall. Where, no doubt, they would gather in the shelter of the porch and watch the rain fall, and consider themselves lucky to be experiencing the beauty of nature, all in the wild.
Then they would go into the dining hall and enjoy the civilizing effects of a hot meal and good company. That didn’t mean nature wasn’t all around them, only that they were sheltered from it, and could still see its beauty and, yes, its uncertainty. Which maybe was Leland’s problem. Maybe he’d cut himself off from something he shouldn’t have—
“Boss?”
Leland turned. It was Clay, huddled in his Carhartt jacket, dark spots spotting his felt cowboy hat. He was looking at Leland somewhat askance, his eyes a little more narrow than Leland was used to seeing, and Clay’s lovable dimples were nowhere in evidence.
“Yes, Clay?” Leland asked. He took off his hat, scrubbed his hands in his hair, then put his hat back on again. Stepping off the path so folks could get by them, he asked, “What can I do for you?”
“What’s going on with you and Jamie?” Clay asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as if to show which direction Jamie had gone. Leland’s eyes traced an invisible path, and when he felt Clay looking at him extra hard, he squelched the desire to chase after Jamie.
“What do you mean, Clay?”
With anyone else, Leland might have told Clay it was none of his business, but they were friends, as far as a boss and employee could be friends. Clay treated Leland no differently than anyone else, and frankly, he treated Leland like his leads treated him, with casual respect. He was the boss, sure, but he was one of them as well. Leland liked Clay, liked his refreshing manner, his lack of interest in labels and suchlike. But he was uncomfortable with this sudden and different scrutiny.
“Days ago, he was as happy as a lark, a literal lark,” said Clay. He ran his thumbs over the lapels of his jacket, his head ducked like he was searching for words there. “And today, he’s all—wired tight, like he’s ready to leave.”
“Leave?” Leland asked, his heart speeding up. “How do you know this?”
The look Clay gave him was, frankly, as though he’d kicked him hard and then turned around looking for another victim.
“I know it,boss, because he said it,” Clay said, slowing on the word. “This morning he said,I’m leaving. And just now, he’s headed to his room to get his stuff, I guess, though how he’s going to manage walking all the way to town in the rain is anyone’s guess. Not only that, but the bus only runs every other day. He’ll be standing at the Greyhound station across from the Rusty Nail. The doors’ll be locked, and he’ll be out in weather like this. You want that?”
Leland’s weight was on the balls of his feet, as though his entire body was prepared to run, and run fast, to stop Jamie from leaving. He didn’t want him to go. Then again, Jamie was his own man, free to do as he saw fit. Which left Leland teetering, unbalanced, when Clay put his flat hand in the middle of his chest, and just pressed it there. He looked down and then up at Clay, and he’d never been more confused. It’d been years since anyone pushed him around,years.
“Everybody saw you leave the dance floor together the other night,” said Clay, and his voice was quiet for all it was so firm. “Everybody knows he was with you. What?” His eyebrows rose as Leland took a step back, his mouth opening, breath gathering, to protest. “You think when someone like you does something like that, nobody’s going to notice? We’ll you’re wrong—”
“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Leland said, thrusting his words into Clay’s stream of explanation. “So I broke it off. It’s my fault, all of it.”
“Which doesn’t excuse you acting like an asshole.” Clay thrust out his jaw at him and glared.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Leland said. It was only with Clay that he could have this conversation. With anyone else, he’d be scrambling for distance, but with Clay, it was okay to admit he’d made a mistake. “I made a mistake. I should not have come on to him. I’m the boss and he’s my employee. I’ve got standards to keep—there are policies—”
“You know, Leland,” said Clay. He tipped his head back and propped his cowboy hat off his forehead with a finger. “If you were one of those jerk bosses who screwed every greenhorn that came through those gates and then tossed them away? Sure. I’d be a whole lot more worried. But I’m not ‘cause you’re not that guy.”
“No, I’m not,” Leland said, and even as his mouth opened to say more, to explain more, Clay put up his hand to stop him.
“No, you’re not,” said Clay. “Besides, you didn’t see his face the morning after you two left the dance. He was glowing. He wasglowing. You know what I mean?”
Nodding slowly, Leland ran his thumb across his lower lip, as though he could feel the ghost-traces of Jamie’s kisses. He knew that glow, had seen it in Jamie’s eyes, had seen his whole self be taken over by it, changing him from what he was into what he could be. Happy. When Leland saw Clay watching him, he snapped his hand away and tried to settle the confused thoughts whirling in his head.
“Have you talked to him about this?” Leland asked, feeling very much like a third grader who has given a cute kid a check-yes-or-no message and very much wants to know the results of that inquiry.
“Not in so many words, I just asked himare you okayand stuff like that.” Clay shook his head and smiled at a pair of guests who walked by them. “And then he muttered something about his duffle bag. He’s a good kid, Leland, and he thinks you hang the moon, though at this moment I don’t rightly know why. Don’t fuck him up like that. Don’t be that guy. And most of all—”
Clay paused. Leland could see him gather himself like he was going to tell him the very worst, crappiest thing he could think of to say. He steeled himself in return, for he would deserve that and more.
“Take that stick out of your ass and quick,” said Clay. “You were glowing too, you know? Like I’ve never seen you. Sure you’re happy. You’re in love with working on a ranch, same as me, same as a lot of us. But you could be happy—happier, if you’d let yourself unbend, just a little bit.” Clay pinched two fingers to show him how short a distance it was between Leland’s everyday life and some imaginary one filled with hearts and flowers and kisses.
“It wouldn’t be right,” Leland said, and his hands came up, like he was floundering helplessly in layers upon layers of deep water.
“Normally, I’d say yes,” said Clay, with definitive authority. “If a guy is in a position of authority, sure. He shouldn’t take advantage. But you? You follow the rules so hard—but he’d be good for you and you’d be good for him, goodtohim. And you would never take advantage like that. Find a way. Fix it so that you can’t fire him or anything like that if it goes sour. But give yourself a damn chance, why don’t you. Just one freaking chance.”
“Why is this so important to you, Clay?” Leland asked, finally aware that Clay’s passionate rant at him might have just as much to do with himself as it did with what had happened between Leland and Jamie. “I’ve never seen you act like this, never heard you—” He stopped. Clay was fully in his rights to say anything he wanted and behave anyway he wanted. He was a man, fully grown, and Leland respected him more than he thought he would have upon meeting him. “Tell me what’s going on? How can I help?”
