Kell was practically the only customer in the store, which reminded him a little of some of the country stores he’d gone into to steal from during his journeys criss-crossing the country, only this one was clean, and thickly packed with high-end goods.
At the counter, looking at crisply folded bandanas, was a middle-aged couple, being attended to by a smiling clerk. Other than that, though, the store was empty, but the emptiness seemed to anticipate happy shoppers to come.
“Let’s show you some hats first, Kell,” said Gabe.
Maddy was right behind him, pulling down hats, too many hats, all of them of finely woven straw, all of them with interesting hat bands and different tight weaves of straw.
As he tried on some of the hats, being obliging, he felt a little strange with two pairs of eyes focused on his every move. Then again, maybe it was a little like the day before he’d started school in the ninth grade, and his parents had taken him to the local sports store for his first pair of cleats for running, as he’d been accepted to the track and field program that only ninth graders were allowed to join.
Make sure they fit, that they feel good, Kelliher, his dad had said, back in the day when expressing love for his son fit the smile on his face.
As for now, a little shaken by the staring, Kell was about to say,What the fuck do I care which hat I wear, when he realized that when he got back to the valley, he could find Marston and show him the one he’d picked out.
“Uh, this one?” he asked as he put on a pale cream-colored hat with a hat band that had a zig-zag along the top edge, and diamonds cut along the middle.
He looked at the two of them, standing there, their smiles kind, their eyes attentive, like a pair of replacement parents.
As he looked back into the mirror he saw himself there, and it was interesting to see the difference between this reflection and the ones he’d seen when he’d been hopping trains or hitching rides, getting let off at the corner of wherever street and nowhere lane. Where the mirrors in gas stations, usually dirty or simply polished metal, showed him what little remained in his road-weary face of the suburban kid he used to be.
Now he was changed once more, or, at the very least, changing once again, morphing into someone else. Gone were the chubby cheeks and bright eyed smiles, leaving a gaunt, somewhat thin face, a guarded expression, and certainly no smiles.
With his long hair smashed into his eyes by the hat, looked a whole lot like a young sidekick in a western movie, the character who was always told toGo on home,now, or who gets shot by the bad guy to show the situation was serious.
Poor Billy, the other characters would mourn over the thin black coffin that had been lowered into the dusty ground, while the camera dollied back for a wide view.He done got himself kilt an’ he ain’t never gonna take that train to see the Pacific Ocean like he wanted to.
The fact was that Kell had seen the Pacific Ocean, several times, in fact. The image of blue, blue waters stretching off the Oregon Coast, with no one on the tree-rimmed beach for miles, was in his memory as though it always had been. And became a flicker of images he played in his mind when the night got dark or the wind through the rumbling box car was too cold and too sharp. He’d played that little mind-movie quite often in prison, actually.
But now, that tape was being replaced with the sound of Wayne snoring in the bunk across from him. By the sound of the wind in the pine trees as they swayed above the tent, dropping their needles on the rain fly. Or the feeling of sitting in the mess tent beneath sun-warmed canvas, again green, stuffing his face with as much as he wanted till his belly was full, and there almost wasn’t enough room for milk.
Milk that Marston had made Wayne share with him, that he made sure there was extra of so Kell could have a glass quart all his own.
“I like this one,” he said, and Gabe pulled out a chair and Maddy got down a pile of boot boxes from the shelves so Kell could try them on at his leisure, one by one.
There were almost too many boots to choose from, all of them of rich brown leather, some with pointed toes, others with squared-off toes, all of which felt heavy and fancy on his feet, almost too fancy for him.
There was one pair he liked the feel of especially well, as the pattern didn’t shout at him and wasn’t too fussy, just some scrollwork along the sides with a green inlay design, the brown leather a low sheen, like the boots were already broken in. The toe wasn’t pointed either, like some of the others, but a little rounded.
He stood up in them and let the cuffs of his blue jeans fall to shimmy across the arch of the boot, reminding him of the moment he’d gone to pick out his tux for his ninth-grade prom with his mom, who stood behind him in the mirror and beamed at him.
On the other hand, since he was in a western movie now, maybe he’d be buried in these boots, and then in would walk the local sheriff, tall, long-legged, and serious, intent on finding who’d done poor Billy in.
“Those are the same boots Marston picked out,” said Maddy, touching her thumb to her lip, her tone reflective. “He’s got long legs, too.”
“Oh.”
Kell sat down quickly, tugging up the hems of his jeans to take another look, a closer look, fighting with himself to find a different pair of boots so it wouldn’t look like he was copying Marston. Because what would Marston think of that?
“They suit you,” said Gabe, nodding. “They’re good for riding and for dancing.”
“We don’t have dances in the valley,” said Maddy with a twitch of her gray braid as she looked up at Gabe. “Should we? Or should we invite them all up to the barn on Tuesday nights for line dancing?”
“You’re not serious,” said Gabe in a voice that was obviously meant to be heard by only Maddy.
Of course, she wasn’t serious because they were all criminals in the valley, except for the team leads, and not the sort that might be wanted up at the fancy guest ranch. Not the sort that would be wanted to mingle with rich people who could afford to stay there.
The rankle of it stiffened the back of Kell’s neck, his mouth tightening over a scowl as he stood up. The boots and hat, while they might fit and feel better than a coat from a church basement that cost a quarter, were still charity, pure and simple.
But Gabe was looking right at him, so he froze.
