When they got back to the valley, and finished up pounding nails into wood to create saddle racks and bridle hooks, he had to ignore how Kell’s hammer sounded in tandem with his own. How it was just the two of them in that shed, coordinating their efforts with a nod or a quiet touch. A team of two in the quiet shadows of the shed.
Stepping out together, they saw that Jasper was collecting his tools, and that Ellis was already in the truck, elbow hanging out of the open passenger window. Gabe was there in the sparkling sunshine, making a gesture toward the mess tent in a way Marston could only presume meant Gabe was inviting the blacksmith and his assistant to join them for dinner.
That was who Gabe was. Inviting people in, making everyone feel welcome. As he had done to Marston. Who, as he looked over at Kell, knew he’d have to be careful, or the feelings in his heart would spill out and the magic of the valley would be ruined.
As Kell looked up at him, sweat glistening on his cheeks, a bit of chaff stuck to his cheek, Marston knew his weakness, like his weakness for drink, would have to be squashed and beaten back. Otherwise, the magic would be lost.
Chapter18
Kell
Kell could not have imagined how cool it would be to work with Marston. To be around another guy all the time. Sure, he had worked around Bede, who’d looked out for him, who’d been kind, but this felt different.
Back in school, Kell had imagined kissing this boy or that, hauling out his newfound realization and taking it for a spin. Giving in to his preference for other boys, trying it on for size.
At that time, that kind of self-honesty had been so new, so overwhelming, that he’d not known how to act on it. But he had a good imagination and had used it, thinking of himself going up to that ginger-haired boy from school, the tall one, and looking up at him and saying something flirty about his delightful freckles. Or accidentally bumping into the captain of the track team, a long-legged gazelle of a boy who probably had no idea how beautiful he was, and simply saying hello.
Even when he’d been on the train with a huddle of other boys his own age, runaways all, sharing a folded burlap sack, stained with engine oil around the edges, with a perfect stranger, he’d never had the guts to do more than imagine.
Once in prison, after Bede had taken Kell under his wing, testing any boundaries, or trying on preferences, even the lightest smidgen of flirting, all of this was a huge no-no.
Bede’s advice had been meant to save Kell from getting his asshole ripped open. Kell had been all for that, so his imagination, at least about testing the waters with another guy, had gone into lockdown. It was as if he’d been frozen in time since the moment he’d left home two years before.
Now? Now, working around Marston, it was different. Not that Kell was able to even begin to exchange flirty words or looks with Marston. Marston was too tall, too broad shouldered, too inflexible-seeming to bend to a little laughter, a wink, or even a grin. No, his was a dour gaze, impenetrable, unknowing.
And yet, Kell’s draw to him was a powerful undertow, and nothing he was at all sure he wanted to resist. Besides, Marston seemed to be offering the same kind of safety that Bede had, a shadow into which Kell could step, hidden from anything trying to get at him.
Yes, he was old enough to figure out pretty quickly that the dangers in the valley were minimal. He knew that. But his two years on the road, his sixty-day stint in prison—all of this had left its mark. Was staying with him.
Being with Marston made him feel better and safer than he had in ages. Not to mention, being with Marston was probably the most fun, the mostinterestingtime he’d spent in ages.
“Left to right,” said Marston, letting Kell take over the task of spraying the inside of the shed. “Steady swings. That’s it. You’ve got it.”
Sometimes, when Kell’s dad had been trying to teach him something, Kell would have the tool taken from his hand because Dad knew better how it should be done. Not Marston. His trust that Kell would figure it out made Kell feel even more confident.
“I think we should spray the corners near the roof and the ground twice,” said Kell. He clicked off the sprayer to check in. “That’s where I’d gather if I was a wasp or a spider.”
“I agree,” said Marston with a quick nod. “We’ll give it an hour to dry, then we’ll put everything back before dinner. While we wait, let’s groom.”
Picking out a trio of horses who’d just been shod by the blacksmith, and watching Marston put halters on them with liquid ease was eye-catching, but even more fun was when Marston tucked a body brush in Kell’s hand and led him up to the first horse.
“You can use a cow hitch,” said Marston as he demonstrated the knot on a wooden rail. “At least with this bunch. Jasper’s got a calming way about him, so they’re half asleep already. Here.” Marston guided Kell’s hand, drawing the body brush along one brown horse’s neck. “Slow. Steady. One direction only. You see?”
Kell nodded, drawing on old memories of a summer camp long ago where horsemanship and riding had been part of the equation.
He might have been ten, then, and had enjoyed the experience, but when he’d come home, it had been discovered that Dad was allergic to horses. Dad hadn’t wanted to deal with the leftover horse dander on Kell’s clothes, and so subsequent summer camps had been those that focused on sports and running and archery and fire building.
When the horse snorted, half-stomping its foot, blinking at Kell with long horsey lashes and liquid brown eyes, he patted the mare’s neck. “Easy, girl. Easy,” he said.
“You’ve been around horses, then,” said Marston as he picked up another body brush and moved to the other side of the horse.
“Once,” said Kell. “Long ago.”
He wanted to tell Marston about the time at summer camp when he’d gone down to the barn after the communal dinner in the dining hall. He’d taken the nearest horse, a sweet pale gray gelding named Seesaw, and bridled him up.
Jumping on Seesaw’s back without a saddle, he’d ridden off into the woods along the dry, dusty path among the trees, a breeze in the branches, and a brilliant gold and orange sunset leading him on and on.
When he’d finally returned to the barn, in the gloom of fallen night, the camp counselors had been outraged, not able to understand what the hell he’d been thinking endangering Seesaw and himself.
