In the daylight, selling or leasing the farm was a solidly thought out plan. But at night? He was consumed by loss.
Having a moment alone helped. Being in the water helped because the water always washed him clean. Made his heart feel strong. Steadied his mind.
He swam for a bit, smooth silent strokes that cut through the black water, which curled around him as though in a loving caress. When he swam back to the dock and pulled himself up, the dock swayed beneath him, his legs rising and falling in the water as water rolled off his back and dried, and dripped in his face from his hair.
With his fingers curled around the edge of the dock, he took a deep breath.
“I should do this more often,” he told the nighttime sky. “I really should.”
What he should also do was get back to his tent and get a good night’s sleep. It would be his third day leading his small team, and he wanted to be well-rested.
As for the strange way Bede Deacon seemed the most interesting man that Galen had met in a good long while, a man who could make him laugh inside of a heartbeat, well. That was a problem for future Galen, because present Galen had no answers for him.
Chapter 11
Bede
Holding the new boots in the small space of time between hard work in the hot sunshine and a rustic meal fit for a king in hiding brought back all the memories Bede had been holding at bay for five years.
Winston would have bought him a pair of boots like the ones he held, dark blood red and soft as butter. Sophisticated. In keeping with a drug dealer image. They were boots that could have been worn in a five-star restaurant. Winston had good taste like that.
It was as if the soft yellow work boots had cracked his armor, making him swoon with delight. Making him feel pleasure at the thought of wearing them. Now, the blood red boots were the battering ram, pushing through the final breech into his locked-up heart.
He’d have to hold those memories back a while longer because Kell came tromping up the steps, alone, for once, a big smile on his face.
“I heard boot and hat day got moved up for you guys, and I came to see.”
Kell plopped down next to Bede on the cot, picking up the new straw hat and trying it on for size. It was too big, so, with a smile, he put it back down again and reached for the boots.
There was only one person living on the planet who could have done what Kell had just done, shoving his way into Bede’s space without Bede minding.
All of his feelings about Winston and the love they’d shared, now gone forever—all of this rippled through him. But he swallowed it all down as he handed the boots over to Kell. He remained focused on Kell so that he would never suspect how close Bede was to the edge that threatened him with a tumble into a dark abyss from which there was no return.
“These are nice,” said Kell, turning the leather boots this way and that in his hands. “Marston and I have matching boots.” With a laugh, he added, “Not on purpose. I just happened to pick out the same boots he had.” He arched his neck. “We’re very cute when we both wear our matching boots.”
“You’re cute anyway,” said Bede, taking the boots back, rubbing the leather with his fingers, tracing the seam where leather met sole. “My team all got matching straw hats.”
“Oh, yeah?”
A bubble of amusement, a glowing glittery thing, swirled inside of Bede at the memory of the visit to the ranch’s store, where Toby and Owen had acted more well-behaved than he’d ever seen. Where Maddy, a no-nonsense woman if ever he saw one, had treated all the parolees like they were regular guys. And where, of all things, Galen seemed to have pulled the stick out of his ass and relaxed for once.
More than that was his pleasure at the memory of all three of them picking out straw hats to match Galen’s straw hat, and the disbelief on Galen’s face, that secret flush to his cheeks as he tried to hide his pleasure.
And how fun it would be to tease Galen about the matching hats in the days to come. To see the laughter in those gray eyes.
All of this, the joy, the bubble, the anticipatory pleasure, faded as Marston appeared on the wooden platform outside the tent, taking Kell’s attention entirely.
“Dinner bell’s just about to ring,” Marston said, then, looking at Bede, asked, “You coming?”
That was Marston being polite. Which seemed to be the way things would go, now that Marston was over his jealousy of Bede.
Which didn’t make him any less protective for, hand in the small of Kell’s back, he led Kell away to the mess tent.
At the mess tent would be the most amazing food, and that wasn’t just five years of horrible prison muck served on plastic trays masquerading as food, talking, no. It was, quite simply, good and hearty and filling food, in all the best ways.
Bede should go to dinner. Pull himself away from the buttery boots and thoughts of home, a home with Winston that simply didn’t exist anymore.
Those suit you,he heard Winston’s voice say.You should wear them to dinner.
