As soon as Gabe showed Kurt and Wayne how to use the chipper, he took Blaze and Tom a little way into the woods and next to the lake, where there were several picnic tables made of newly cut pieces of wood, so new, the smell of sap was sharp in the warm afternoon air.
Gabe showed them the different parts of a chainsaw, how to start it, how to hold it. Blaze paid rapt attention because Gabe had broad shoulders that strained against his flannel shirt. And he smelled nice, the sweat on the back of his neck a faint gleam, his eyes serious through the face shield of his safety helmet.
Tom settled his helmet, ear guards, and face guard, pulled on his gloves, and reached for one of the chainsaws. At Gabe’s direction, he went up to the first tree with a plastic yellow tie around the main part of the trunk and lopped it down to the stump with one swipe. Sure, the tree was old and dead and thin, but Tom did it like a natural.
Blaze tried to copy him, but by the time he was holding the chain saw, it felt heavy and unbalanced in his hands. He didn’t want to be handling such a dangerous piece of equipment, after all, and would Gabe get mad if he asked to switch places with either Wayne or Kurt?
“Let me show you a better way to hold that.”
Blaze looked up. Rather than hollering at him like a prison guard would that he was a dumb fuck and ought to know better, Gabe, of course, wanted to be helpful in that steady, serious, Gabe-like way of his.
Not that Blaze should get used to being treated with kindness, oh no. Soon would come the moment that Blaze cut down the wrong tree or sliced off the wrong branches and Voila. He’d be in the doghouse.
“Use your right hand to support it and guide it. Use your left hand to turn the brake on and off.”
Gabe placed his hands gently on Blaze’s hands, standing out of the way of the round, more deadly end of the chainsaw. Up close, he smelled like sweat and there was a leaf on the back of his neck. A small one, bright green, and Blaze had to tear his eyes away when Gabe looked at him, a steady, blue-eyed smile.
“Like that. You’ll be more in control now. Does that feel better?”
Blaze nodded, speechless, unable to reach inside of himself for any flirty patter or even a witty comeback. It felt as if pieces of a shell were starting to break apart and fall away, but with Gabe being the way he was, focusing on what Blaze needed, rather than on anything else, would it be okay to not rebuild that shell?
Tom had moved off to a series of thin, dead trees, his face all concentration, his hands steady on his chainsaw. Gabe tugged Blaze in that direction.
“Wait till he’s moved on, then make sure the area around the felled tree is clear.” Gabe used his own chainsaw to demonstrate how to use it to trim dead branches away. “Trim anything that might get caught when the log or branch falls to the ground. Then start slicing through the trunk. About twelve to eighteen inches is standard for a wood stove and a good size for fireplaces, as well. We’ll trim to size whatever Tom is cutting down, then we’ll all stop and stack so the wood can age and dry properly. Later, we’ll use the axe to split the logs into quarters. Sound good?”
Blaze nodded, gripping his chainsaw more confidently this time around. But what really sounded good, oddly, and in the middle of the low burr that he could hear through his ear protection, was Gabe’s voice.
Seriously, with a voice like he had, Gabe could read a plumbing supply catalog and Blaze would be leaning forward to learn as much as he could. The sweat on Gabe’s chest, a small bead of it, was slipping down to his t-shirt, and all Blaze wanted to do was lean in and then lean in some more. Which was stupid because no matter how nice Gabe was, he was still the man, still in charge, and he could do pretty much whatever he wanted to with any of them.
Blaze believed that, had believed it from the first moment he’d stepped foot inside of Wyoming Correctional. Only now, he wasn’t there anymore, so should he keep thinking like this?
Maybe not, especially when he was working side by side with Gabe, in tandem, copying the strokes he made with his chainsaw, standing with his left leg forward, like Gabe was. Stopping to take a drink of water when Gabe signaled they should. Being, in short, the man’s shadow. Only it wasn’t cool and lonely, it was warm and sun-drenched, and Blaze shook his head, trying to rid himself of foolish thoughts.
He did his best, but it was hard to stop focusing on Gabe like this, especially when they were pretty much alone with each other while they worked amidst the spicy smell of the pines, beneath the bowl of blue sky overhead.
Halfway through the afternoon, Gabe signaled that they should stop, even though it hadn’t felt like they’d been working very long.
“Let’s switch off, so you can get some experience with the chipper,” said Gabe, after he’d turned off his chainsaw. He pulled off his headgear, holding it against one canted hip, knee slightly bent. “That way, come dinnertime, you can tell me which one you prefer and we’ll have you doing that more than the other.”
As to which one Blaze preferred, his first instinct was to say that he preferred working on whatever Gabe was working on, which was as stupid as any other thought he’d had that day. But he flipped open his face shield, and took off his earmuffs, and followed Gabe through the woods after turning off his chainsaw and putting on the brake and placing the chainsaw back on the picnic table.
At the wood chipper, neither Wayne nor Kurt seemed very hard at work, mostly goofing around while the chipper churned at nothing. Wayne was leaning on a large stick rather than hauling it close, and Kurt, with his gloves off, was chewing on one of his thumbnails.
“We’re going to switch, guys,” said Gabe. “Kurt, turn that off and I’ll show Tom and Blaze how to turn it on, how to load it.”
Blaze stood next to Tom as they both watched Gabe turn the crank and start the engine on the wood chipper, which made loud metallic sounds, rattling around a stray branch it was still chewing on. At the other end, a lazy stream of chips of wood floated into the dump truck.
“I don’t want to switch,” said Kurt, glaring. “I like doing this.”
“It’s important you get experience on all of these tools,” said Gabe, calmly, barely looking at Kurt, pausing only briefly as he explained the parts of the chipper to Tom and Blaze, how to start and stop it, how to position the feeder. “Always,” he said, “let the feeder run a bit when you’re just starting, and also when you’re finishing up. That way, it has time to process what might still be in there and that way you won’t clog up the blades.”
When Gabe turned the chipper on again, the feeder blades gnashed at each other, and the whole of the chipper seemed to shudder into the ground. He settled ear protection on his head, and demonstrated how to load the chipper, where to stand, how to wait before pushing more limbs and branches into the blades.
When he stepped back and moved over to where the controls were along the side, Blaze stepped back, too.
Unexpectedly, he felt someone shove him from behind and fell on the flat metal part of the feeder, halfway into the intake chute. Flailing, he shoved hard against the flat metal before feeling the whoosh of air from the blades as someone turned them off, and a dense weight tackled him to the ground.
Gabe was right on top of him, blocking the sun. They were chest to chest, Gabe’s weight pressing him solidly to the earth as if he were desperately doing his best to keep Blaze from floating away on the silver-cold fright that filled his chest.
