Marston had no doubt, none at all, that Kell would pull himself hand over fist into a world of opportunity given the slightest chance, and the valley offered way more than that.
As for Marston, he was going to have to aspire to restraint on a moment-to-moment basis. His budding interest in a young man—who only a while ago had been just one among a group of parolees—would have to be put on hold. Kell deserved more than having Marston moon over him.
It was not only impractical, it was unethical. Not to mention that Marston didn’t have anything to offer. Marston was Kell’s team lead now, besides, so he was going to have to tighten his belt, keep his eyes averted, and perhaps start taking many, many cold showers.
It was way too late for a shower, so he stripped to his boxer-briefs and lay on his cot, his legs stretched out. With his hands tucked beneath his head, he looked out into the darkness outside his open tent flap, letting the cool breeze sift over his skin, letting the nighttime air soothe him all over.
Only he could not sleep and somehow, his belly still felt empty. Maybe he should sneak to the mess tent and make himself an onion sandwich. Maybe that would do the trick. As he got dressed again, he knew that food wasn’t always the answer, but sometimes it was.
Chapter17
Marston
Sunday morning brought a trio of moths, two black flies, and several mosquito bites, which ought to teach him the foolishness of leaving the screen of his tent wide open. A bear probably wouldn’t have found its way that far into the valley, not at that time of year, but the mosquitos always knew the way.
He spent the day doing laundry, tidying his tent, and finally gave into temptation and snuck a little work in, going over supplies and taking sawdust to the composting bin behind the first aid hut. Mostly, except for quick trips to the mess tent to eat, he kept to himself, gearing himself up for the coming week.
On Monday, he got up early, quickly showered and shaved as he mentally went over his tasks for the day.
By helping Gabe’s team the week prior, he was a little behind, but not by much. He had the whole summer to catch up, and he would have an extra pair of hands in the form of Kell. Who had yet to be informed of his transfer to Marston’s team.
Knowing Gabe, that would happen in a quick meeting after breakfast, nice and professional.
When Marston got back to his tent, he changed into a completely different snap-button shirt, his cleanest one, a pale blue chambray, and wondered why he was making such a fuss over himself. Kell wouldn’t care what Marston was wearing, or how close his shave, that was for sure.
Breakfast was a classic farmer’s breakfast, from the scrambled eggs to the stack of pancakes and the option of having biscuits and gravy, just to fill the corners of each and every stomach.
Marston ate his fill, keeping an eye out to make sure Kell got his fair share of fresh milk, which he seemed to enjoy with great relish. It was when breakfast was over and the cooks were cleaning up that Gabe gave Marston the nod.
His heart skipped right into his belly, but he shook himself as he went out to the platform in front of the mess tent, right on Kell’s heels.
“Hey, Kell,” said Gabe, giving the sleeve of Kell’s long-sleeved t-shirt a quick tug. “Hang on a second.”
Kell turned, his body going stiff, shoulders tensed. He looked about to run off the first chance he got, but he stayed.
“What did I do?” he asked, a hard light in his eyes as he looked between Gabe and Marston. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Actually, no,” said Gabe. “We just had some changes we needed to make, and—”
“It’s me,” said Marston. Placing his palms, both of them, flat on his chest, he directed all of Kell’s doubts upon himself, jumping in with everything he had to erase the sad look on Kell’s face. “I’ve fallen a bit behind, what with equipment arriving late, and helping with the haying last week, so I need some help. I’ve asked Gabe to transfer you to my team, if that’s okay.”
As Gabe’s eyebrows went up a bit in surprise, approval on his face, the energy of the conversation changed from swirling anxiety coming from Kell to something more gracious and gentle.
“I’d be on your team?” asked Kell.
Marston said, “If you’d like to be.”
Nodding, Gabe said, “It’s up to you.”
“Yeah.” Kell’s body relaxed, those stiff shoulders coming down.
A smile broke over Kell’s face, reminding Marston of the expression in the photo of Kell in his track uniform. Whoever had taken that photo, his mom, perhaps, or even the coach, they’d caught him at his most candid, his honest self shining.
“Yeah,” he said again. “That’d be great. When do I start?”
“Now,” said Marston, more pleased than he had anticipated, in spite of his own misgivings.
“In the pavilion?” Kell asked, and Marston wondered at Kell’s curiosity.
