“There you are.”
Kell looked up to where Gabe was putting his tray of food down, smiling at Kell and waving him over. When Kell came up to him, Gabe put a quiet hand on his shoulder, drawing him to one side.
“That bruise looks like it hurts,” he said.
“It isn’t anything,” said Kell because he didn’t want Gabe or anyone to think he was a complainer or a tattletale.
Gabe shook his head. “Marston let me know what happened, and I had a hard chat with Wayne,” he said. “That kind of behavior is unacceptable and it won’t happen again.” With a friendly smile, Gabe gave Kell a small pat and took his hand away. “Come sit here when you get your food,” he said, giving Kell a once-over look, his forehead wrinkling for a quick minute before he looked away.
Obviously Kell was meant to have changed, but he hadn’t, and now he stood out from all the other men who loomed tall in the line in front of him, all of them broad shouldered and long legged, boot-wearing cowboys and lumberjacks.
Once up at the steam tables, Kell grabbed a tray and a plate, utensils, and a napkin. Right away, his fingers noticed a difference in the weight of the plastic tray. It was heavier and there were no indents, there was just the tray.
In the line in front of him, everybody seemed to be taking what they wanted, and behind the steam tables were two guys wearing aprons and safety gloves, helping out as needed. Definitely different from prison that way, so Kell helped himself to meatloaf and mashed potatoes, ignored the Brussel sprouts, and grabbed the biggest piece of chocolate cake that he saw.
To his astonishment, when he turned around, tray in hand, there was an empty place right next to Gabe, who waved him over again. Kell went over, put his tray down, and slid into his seat, not catching anyone’s eye, just focusing on his dinner.
The meatloaf in prison had always tasted bitter and dry, but here, there was gravy on it, and bits of butter in the mashed potatoes, still melting, like real butter would. Everybody was chowing down like it was delicious food, but it was still a surprise when Kell put the first forkful in his mouth and it tasted amazing.
He hadn’t realized he’d sighed until Gabe looked at him and smiled.
“Good huh?” he asked. “All the food’s good here. We’ll put some weight on you yet.”
There wasn’t anything Kell wanted to say to that, and Bede, besides, would have advised him not to take the bait and say something like,Fuck youorFuck offor anything like that. But the food was good, and it was hot, so he concentrated on that, rushing through the meatloaf and mashed potatoes to get to the chocolate cake, which was kind of a mistake, as the meatloaf seemed stuck in his throat.
Swallowing hard, he looked along the table. In prison, once you sat down, that was it. You didn’t get to get up and wander around, or get extra napkins or even a glass of water. Here, he had no idea, so he swallowed again and pretended he didn’t see that one of the guys behind the steam table was bringing out a quart of milk and putting it in front of Wayne.
The quart was made of glass, and at the top was a layer of darker yellow, set off from the rest of the milk in a way that told Kell it was real cream. His mouth watered and he swallowed again and looked away as Wayne poured himself some milk that was so fresh the cream had risen to the top.
“Hey,” said a voice, level and low. “Why don’t you pass some of that down here, for Kell.”
Kell looked up. Sitting right across from him was Marston, and Kell had missed this fact because he’d been purposefully not focusing on any face. Marston looked at him and didn’t smile.
“This ismymilk,” said Wayne, his voice petulant. He even put a protective arm around the bottle.
“Well, you can share,” said Marston, not taking his eyes from Kell. “We’ll get the cooks to order extra tomorrow, but for now, you can share.”
Someone pushed a glass in his direction, sliding it down the table. Marston caught it, and placed it in front of Kell, then reached as Wayne sighed and passed the glass quart of milk, now half-full, down the row of men. Hand by hand, the bottle came until it reached Marston, who poured the contents into the glass.
“You like milk?” he asked as he put the now-empty glass quart down.
He didn’t smile as he asked this, as if he didn’t care about the answer. But Kell nodded, overwhelmed with the rising sense that maybe the valley was different from prison. That people were generally kind. That nobody was going to put up with Wayne’s crap.
Everything, every sensation and smell and sound, was all jumbled together. The only thing solid and calm was Marston’s gaze, and the untranslatable expression in his blue-gold eyes, as if he didn’t want to share, never wanted to share, what he was thinking.
“Yeah,” said Kell.
He coughed to clear his throat and said it again, more clearly, making it casual, anything to reflect the opposite of what he felt. Which was an explosion of desire for the milk, which he’d not had in ages, and a sense of gratitude. What if people being nice wasn’t a trick?
He longed to call Bede and talk it over with him, and there was a phone for that purpose, right inside the mess tent. He could call Bede, but maybe after dinner.
As for now, he took a bite of chocolate cake and a swallow of the fresh milk and closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation of a full belly, the flavors melting on his tongue. The sense of not being hungry, of being satisfied, which hadn’t happened to him in he didn’t know how long.
His eyes were half closed by the time dinner was over, and it was all he could manage to do to stumble to his tent, shove the boxes aside and crawl into bed, the overhead light still burning.
Wayne didn’t come back for ages, that was all Kell could figure, but when he woke up in the morning, the light was off, birds were singing in the trees through the open flaps in the tent, front and back. Wayne was already up, clumping around, getting dressed, tying on his boots. His hair was wet, like he’d gotten up earlier to take a shower.
“C’mon, new kid,” said Wayne, quite breezily, as his anger at Kell’s presence the day before had never happened. That or he’d gotten used to having Kell as his tent mate. Or maybe Gabe had chatted with Wayne about the way he’d acted, and now Wayne was making better choices and being friendly.
