“Leland knows how to set it up to keep the cash rolling in,” said Jasper. “But you were thinking of backing out. That still happening?”
“I’m just worried about doing right by these guys.” Gabe rubbed his jaw, and looked out over the valley, the sparkling blue lake, the pine trees through which only slices of green and cream tents could be seen. Beyond the trees, though he couldn’t see it from where he stood in front of his tent, was the jaw-dropping majesty of Guipago Ridge. “I have the best of intentions, but what if I’m not the right man for the job? What if somebody else could do a better job? Like Quint.”
“Quint is no good around ex-cons,” said Jasper, and he probably knew what he was talking about, since Ellis, his assistant, was an ex-con who had come to the ranch to do his parole. “He’s got no patience for anyone that fails to live up—I mean, don’t get me wrong, Quint’s a good guy. But Leland chose you to be the first team lead in this program, ’cause he knows you’re the only one who can start this thing off right. Right?”
“I guess so.”
“Trust yourself,” said Jasper, and Gabe could almost hear him nodding. “Do your best and you can’t go wrong. Besides,” Jasper added. “I didn’t have any training when Ellis arrived, and you do. You’ve got this. So stop doubting yourself before you’ve even begun.”
“Okay.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Gabe felt a little better, more bolstered by Jasper’s cheerful talk than he could have expected.
Besides, he would still get to work with horses, because in addition to showing ex-cons how to be lumberjacks, he’d get to teach them how to be cowboys.
When he’d come to the guest ranch at the beginning of the prior season, his experience around horses was exactly nil. But with good coaching from his fellow ranch hands, he’d come to love any part of his job where he got to be around horses, grooming, saddling, anything where he could look into their sweet, long-lashed eyes and kiss their soft noses and, quite simply, shower them with all the affection in his heart, affection that had no place else to go.
Leland Tate had purchased around two hundred horses from a rancher who’d been wiped out by last summer’s flood. The guest ranch, Farthingdale Ranch, would be able to make good use of about a quarter of that amount, and the rest would be sold to other ranches, or families, or to petting zoos, depending on their condition and training.
Which made Gabe feel pretty lucky, all things told, because he’d get that five-thousand-dollar bonus, have a promise of a job the following summer,andstill work with horses. Which might even arrive as early as next week, if he was lucky.
When he’d worked at Farthingdale Guest Ranch, he’d lived in the staff quarters tucked up against the slope of the hill, and while he’d had a room to himself, he was pretty much shoulder to shoulder with cowboys and ranch hands and cleaning staff all day long. Now he was out in the woods with the fresh air all around, the dappled sunlight coming through the trees and not a bear in sight.
Not that he was worried about bears at all, though the camp was close enough to the mountains and far enough from the edges of civilization for wildlife wandering into the camp to be a very certain prospect. He had a hatchet tucked away in his bookshelf, but that was because Jasper had given it to him as a gift to remind him of his dream to one day own a small cattle ranch.You’ll need to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to chop at the ice in those water troughs you’ll own one day, Jasper had said as Gabe had unwrapped the gift.
Gabe had been unable to say thank you enough, and he appreciated the gesture because the dream was still somewhat new, and it was nice having tangible evidence of it. For now, all he had to do was be patient while he waited for the prison van to arrive.
That was the other thing. He’d be dealing with prisoners all summer, rather than ranch hands and wranglers and guests. He knew he’d be leading ex-cons into better lives, but, really, he had no idea what he was getting into, even after the two-week training at Wyoming Correctional.
Since the prison was eighty-eight miles and an almost two-hour drive from the ranch, he had stayed at the Holiday Inn at the edge of Torrington for his training. Not only was it only five miles away from the prison, the breakfasts were excellent and the sheets were soft, and he’d somehow ended up at the end of the top floor, all on his own, a bit of peace and quiet he’d enjoyed, even though it had made him feel alone.
Would he ever get to that state where he felt neither crowded nor alone? He had no idea, but as he heard the honking coming from the tree-free area in front of the mess tent, he stood up.
This was it. Five thousand dollars and an interesting summer coming right up.
The walk from his tent to the mess tent was short, but the path hadn’t yet been cleared, so he had to wade through the tall, wild grasses and duck beneath pine trees and newly sprouted Aspen buds till he reached the tent and followed along the green canvas wall to the gravel parking lot that looked scraggly amongst the trees.
Leland Tate, the guest ranch’s foreman, was just pulling up in a silver four-door truck with coal black tires and shiny chrome bumpers. Leland tipped his finger to his hat as he saw Gabe coming over to him, then turned his attention to the white van with the prison logo on the side that was just pulling into the parking lot alongside the truck.
“Hey, Leland,” said Gabe with a nod of greeting.
“Hey there, Gabe,” said Leland in return, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his cowboy hat in preparation for the new arrivals.
Gabe could see a driver and a guard and four rough-edged guys as they tumbled out of the van. There wasn’t a handcuff in sight, not even a zip tie that had been used in an emergency. Which indicated to him that not one of the ex-cons had caused any trouble on their journey from Wyoming Correctional.
Well, that made sense, as the first batch of parolees this first week of the program, a warming-up period of sorts, had been personally vetted by Leland Tate. There wouldn’t be any guy that had been involved with violent crimes. Just some shop-lifting, pickpocketing, hubcap stealing, maybe a little breaking and entering. No injuries or deaths had been caused by these crimes, so the criminals, while not exactly tame, would be easier to handle.
Not thathandlewas the word he was supposed to use. His two-week training had taught him that much. And also that he needed to be objective about any interaction, to be alert to sudden changes in mood or tone, and to never turn his back on a parolee, at least until they’d proven themselves trustworthy.
As for now, Gabe trusted Leland, and made himself shake off a sudden ruff of nerves that settled on his shoulders. He stepped up to the van, the driver, the guard, and the four men, who were standing with sloped shoulders as if they assumed that this was the type of work camp where they’d be forced into a chain gang, forced to wear a striped prison uniform, forced to work under a blazing hot sun for days on end.
Well, none of that was going to happen, and Wyoming was chilly and a bit rainy, still, in mid-May, as if hanging on with clawed hands to the ferocity of the winter that had just passed. Too chilly for a blazing hot sun, at any rate, though give it a few days and Gabe knew from experience that it would get a lot warmer in the valley, sometimes unexpectedly.
“Hello,” said Gabe. He shook the driver’s hand and the guard’s, then took the clipboard the guard was holding out. “What’s this?” Scanning it, he realized it was a release form, handing the parolees over to the project, and releasing the prison staff of all responsibility. “Oh, that’s for him.” Gabe gestured to Leland, who put up both hands.
“I’d say these are your men,” said Leland, smoothly, shaking the guard’s hand and then the driver’s. “Who has a pen?”
It felt a bit surreal to sign the release form, though he enjoyed the weight of responsibility he felt settling around his shoulders. Leland trusted him, and Gabe was going to do his best to live up to that trust.
