His relaxed posture, back curved into the slightly lumpy seat, told Gabe that this was, perhaps, as relaxed as Blaze had been since his arrival, maybe even since his arrest. But until last night, Blaze hadn’t been very forthcoming about his time in prison, for which Gabe didn’t blame him.
“I’ll give you a driving lesson on the way back from Chugwater, when the truck is empty.” Gabe nodded, satisfied with this idea, the road, straight as an arrow, allowing him to rest one wrist on the steering wheel, basically driving with two fingers on one hand.
Highway 211 was dirt and gravel in some places, faded blacktop in others, making for a smooth ride sometimes, a bumpy one other times. Still, the air was sweet, and the grasses along the side of the road swept past, hypnotic and soothing.
Going along I-25 was not as soothing, as the dump truck seemed to hit its max speed at sixty, and other cars and trucks were annoyed, going around, honking. By the time they reached Whiting Gravel and Landscape, Gabe vowed to take the back road next time.
Two attendants directed them to the area where they could dump the chips, and Gabe went slowly, using the mechanism to raise the truckbed and allow the door to swing open, knowing Blaze was watching. He dumped about half the wood chips, then lowered the truckbed, ground the gears a little bit before heading out of the yard, and smiled at Blaze as they endured the bumps in the road, and shared a sigh when the road turned to blacktop.
“We’re going to miss dinner in the valley,” said Gabe, as he looked at the old-fashioned analog clock on the dashboard. “I should have thought of that, but maybe we can grab a burger in Chugwater on the way back.”
He was thinking of the Stampede Saloon, which made amazing chili burgers, and when Blaze nodded at him, mouth curving in a pleased smile, Gabe was happy enough to take I-25 south and endure the rude honks.
Along the way, he called Del and let him know they’d be absent for the meal, and if he could let Wayne know, as well. That determined, Gabe settled into the drive, turning on the radio to soft rock ’n roll, which took him back to his army days when he’d been a quartermaster and in charge of stuff like this, his own man, just doing his job.
In Chugwater, he drove to the Lone Tree Feed and Grain, just at the edge of town, beyond the Stampede Saloon. There, they made quick work of dumping the rest of the wood chips, and Gabe breathed a sigh as he pulled the truck into the wide, flat parking lot of the restaurant, parking at the edge so he’d be in nobody’s way.
“Hungry?” he asked, putting the truck in first, and thumping the parking brake with his foot.
“Yeah.”
Had anyone been looking at them as they entered the Stampede Saloon, just as twilight was falling, they might have thought the two of them were co-workers, maybe even friends. Certainly not that one of them was a parolee, still adjusting to life on the outside.
Blaze sat across from Gabe at one of the round tables near the back, amidst branding irons, dusty cowboy boots, and rust-edged wagon wheels pinned to the rough wood-paneled walls.
The tablecloths were oiled red and white check, pure homeyness that the restaurant’s customers adored, and as Gabe looked blankly at the menu, having memorized it long ago, he told himself they weren’t on a date. No, they were not.
“These chili burgers look good,” said Blaze.
“They’re known for it,” said Gabe, lifting his chin at the waitress so she would know they were ready to order. “But you can get anything you want. It’s on me.”
Blaze’s dark eyebrows rose a fraction, but if the idea of them being on a date, too, crossed his mind, he didn’t say anything. Just told the waitress what he wanted to eat and drink.
“You want extra jalapeños on those cheese fries, hon?” asked the waitress, whose name tag read Linda.
“Yes, please,” said Blaze, and when Linda left, he leaned forward, smiling broadly at Gabe, and whispered loudly, “This is my first time in a restaurant in two years.”
Low-level grief hung below those words. Blaze had spent two years behind cement walls and razor wire. Existed two years on another man’s schedule. Two years without the freedom to get a chili burger, if he wanted one.
“I’ll bet it’s still an adjustment, even after almost two weeks,” said Gabe, leaning back when Linda brought them their two iced teas and a small bowl of quartered lemons, so freshly cut he could smell the citrus in the air. “Maybe for you it was like it was for me when I got out of the army. Or maybe it’s not.”
His voice went up in a question at the end of those words, inviting Blaze to open up and tell him anything he wanted to tell him. But maybe that might feel too vulnerable, and certainly Blaze didn’t respond, but merely squished a lemon quarter between his fingers, then dumped it in his tall plastic glass.
“It’s not been so bad,” said Blaze with a shrug.
Which Gabe knew could not be true, not possibly. But he couldn’t keep digging and force Blaze to talk to him about how he really felt. That’d be cruel, unnecessary.
The sun was setting as they walked out of the restaurant after they finished dinner, and Gabe worried at the cheese stain on his shirt for a minute before reaching into his pocket for his keys.
“Here,” he said. “It’s a straight shot home, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
He was only a little nervous as he climbed into the passenger seat, buckling in as Blaze did the same. Then he walked Blaze through the steps, clutch, ignition, first gear.
The dump truck was parked so that Blaze didn’t have to back up, and though the engine shuddered a bit as Blaze tried to put it into second too soon, their departure from the parking lot, and down the road to go under the bridge toward Farthing, went without a hitch.
Beneath the low burr of the engine as the truck wended its way homeward, Gabe knew he needed to fish or cut bait. He needed to stop having thoughts about Blaze, or he needed to stop torturing himself and do something about those thoughts. Only he didn’t know whether he should, because he was obligated to look out for Blaze, not have feelings for him.
He was supposed to function as Blaze’s team lead, that and nothing more. And this in spite of the fact that his heart was full because Blaze had trusted him. That kind of trust was a treasure beyond price.
