After he’d dropped his team off at their tents, he went back to his own tent. Sitting on his cot, then scooting back to lean against the metal headboard, he went over the files on each member of his team one more time.
The files didn’t show him anything he didn’t already know. That Toby and Owen were probably not very smart, having decided a life of breaking into other people’s houses was a good idea. And that Bede was too smart to have chosen a life of crime, yet he had.
Bede’s file mentioned a woman named Lorraine Sheffield, who was his aunt, and a Winston Ludlow, though Galen couldn’t figure out who he was. Still, it was soothing to sit and read everything, as though none of it had any connection to him at all.
However, the little bit of stillness he’d gathered to himself was completely undone because by the time dinner rolled around and he came up to the mess tent, a fight between Bede and Marston was just about to explode.
The two men were poised on the wooden platform in front of the mess tent, chest to chest, fists curled, invisible sparks jumping between them. They were on the verge of coming to blows as though they’d known each other for years and their mutual dislike was finally exposed in a cloud of rage.
Without thinking, Galen stepped between them, pushing Marston away, pressing his palms on Bede’s chest.
Encountering solid muscle beneath that white t-shirt as he looked up at Bede, his own breath started coming fast and his heart was beating so hard, he barely remembered saying,That is enoughandWhat is the problem?
Everything was on the verge of becoming a royal shitshow and every minute he expected that Gabe was going to step in and stop things.
But while several parolees were there, they only watched. As if they fully expected that Galen was man enough to handle it. That, as a team lead, it was hisdutyto handle it.
When he finally was able to find out that Marston was mad because Bede had taken it upon himself to rearrange who slept where, Marston was incensed, and as Galen looked up into that angry face, he could see the passion there, the love Marston had for Kell.
As for Bede, it was like shoving against a brick wall. Up close like that, smashed between the two men, he thought he was going to get smothered.
Yet, even as he shoved to get free, traces of Bede’s scent stayed with him, traces of energy and anger and distrust that seemed to press into his skin.
Gabe’s intervention had come late in the battle, but Galen was glad of his steady presence, though by the time Galen had calmed both men down, and a blanket of stillness settled around him, Galen thought his heart would have slowed down.
It was still thumping when he sat down with his tray of good BBQ and fixings, digging into his meal, exchanging pleasant everyday chat with Royce, even as he watched his small team out of the corner of his eye.
Feeling his sweat drying around the back of his neck and beneath his arms, he considered the fact that maybe he wasn’t cut out for being a team lead. He certainly couldn’t deal with fights breaking out every day. That wasn’t what he wanted his summer to be like.
He had to break up another fight after dinner, though the short, terse conversation among the three of them, Marston, Bede, and him, seemed to clear the air a bit more.
He could even say it was interesting watching the way Bede’s mind seemed to work, especially when Marston told him to take a shower. There was lightning in Bede’s eyes, dark eyes like hammered blue stone, as he seemed to make corner-sharp decisions about how he was going to keep the peace between him and Marston.
Both men seemed to care for Kell a great deal. Marston was in love with Kell, obviously. Who knew how Bede really felt, though he seemed to be struggling between pretending he didn’t care and admitting that he did care. A lot.He’s like a brother to me.
Well, Galen could go along with that, and maybe this was the hump he had to get over before settling into the job he’d signed up for. He just had to remind himself that just like on the farm, everything in the valley would have its own season, and that time and water could wear away stone. All he had to do was be observant enough to see how the dynamics on his team unfolded.
In the meantime, he went back to his tent after dinner, his little green canvas sanctuary, unlaced his boots, took them off,and put his feet up, head on the pillow, stretched out on his cot, while he went over the files one more time.
Nothing new popped out except that Winston Ludlow was the only member of Bede’s gang to get shot and die.
Too bad for Bede. Too bad for Winston. People who attended drug deals in unsavory back alleys kind of deserved what they got. Didn’t they?
He must have dozed off, the open folders slipping from his chest to the wood platform beneath his cot. When his eyes flew open, he realized how dark it was getting, and that he might be late for the evening’s campfire, surely one of the sweetest points of the day, at least to hear Gabe, Royce, and Marston tell it.
Hustling, he stashed the papers in his little storage shelf, then put on and laced up his work boots. Grabbing his jean jacket on his way out of his tent, he made his way through the shadowed woods to the fire pit.
There was no telling whether the night would be warm or whether the darkness would cool it down. He put the jacket down on a bale of hay and gathered up dry sticks and twigs before going to the fire pit.
There was someone already there, skillfully stacking logs. Galen recognized him as Blaze, a member of Gabe’s team.
In spite of briefly having met the other parolees in the valley on Sunday, Galen hadn’t worked much with any of them, and was surprised to see Blaze working away like an ordinary citizen. Someone who might be a decent guy. Gabe seemed to like him, and Blaze was a whiz at finding just the right shape and size of sticks for roasting marshmallows for s’mores.
“Here and here,” said Galen as he handed Blaze his hastily gathered sticks.
“This one and this, yes. But not that one.” Blaze tossed a few sticks onto the pile of logs that Gabe was just kneeling to light. “You did good, though.”
Blaze laughed, his smile wide, like he’d not just gotten let out of prison after two years behind bars. So nonchalant. Sowhateverabout it all.
