At first Bede only noticed a twinge along the left side of his neck, a mild ache that he dismissed Monday afternoon as the team attacked a string of knapweed that straggled up the first part of the path that led along Guipago Ridge. He was able to keep up with Toby, Owen, and Galen, no problem, and even volunteered to go to the supply shed to get more vinegar for the hand-held pumps because it would give him a chance to stretch his legs.
But on the way back, lugging the five gallon drums, one in each hand, the whole length of the left side of his back started to object, as if he’d just gotten done lifting more than his usual weight in the gym.
A day’s rest might cure that, but he didn’t have a day. Plus, he could not be outshone by the pair of housebreakers, so he needed to keep up. And, especially, he did not want to whine. Whining was for quitters.
So he kept his mouth shut, all through the afternoon, and through dinner. After which, bowing out of movie night, which they were having because it was too hot for a campfire, he grabbed his stuff and took an early shower.
The facilities were empty, with only a faint breeze through the upper screened-in transoms, and the faint flicker of moth wings against the lightbulbs. Even Gordy was not there, so it was a luxury, as it gave Bede a rare moment alone.
He undressed, laying his clothes on the bench inside the last shower stall and, naked, did his best to turn and see his shoulder and back in the mirror. He sucked in a breath. His shoulder was black and blue. There were bruises down his left leg, as well, from where he’d hit the fence and then the ground.
The horse Toby’d been on, Penny, had been startled, coming too fast, and his own horse, Ripley, had freaked out. Maybe had he been a better horseman, as skilled on horseback as he was in trading cocaine for cash, he could have stayed on better. Not gone down, sprawled on his ass like a fool.
Dazed from the fall, Bede had looked up at Galen, those eyes full of concern, hands reaching for him, touching his face. Asking questions, pulling Bede out of his confusion. And then Galen’s arm had come around his shoulder, cradling him as though he were fragile, made out of bone china.
Bede almost came apart then, succumbed to the tenderness that seemed to surround him, soaked through him. It’d been a long, long time since he’d experienced such a rush of sweetness. Gentleness, those gray eyes so watchful and caring, and all the while his head had been pounding.
Galen’s concern shook him to his core. His fear of being weak raced all over the place, so he’d gotten to his feet, taken care of his horse, and held his head high. Took care of what needed to be done.
When Galen had sent them off to the mess tent for lunch, Bede had looked at Galen, who waved him away like he wanted to be alone. So Bede left him, though he very much wanted to stay, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with feeling like that.
When the three of them arrived at the mess tent, Gabe said, “You guys are sure dusty.”
Toby had opened his mouth, on the verge of blabbing about what happened, when Galen had shown up.
“It’s really dusty in the paddock,” Galen said, spreading the cloak of protection over all of them. “I do hope we get rain soon.”
Galen had not paid any special attention to Bede, or sat next to him during lunch. And in the afternoon, he almost never looked at Bede, not if he didn’t have to.
It was as if the moment of tenderness between them had brought down some sort of shield, a shield that didn’t permit any looks or touches or laughter between them.
In the shower, Bede let his muscles soak in the warmth of the water a good long while, and felt better for it, even as his mind swirled around the memory of Galen’s arm around his shoulder, that moment of closeness, Galen’s mouth close enough to kiss.
Then Gordy stomped in for one of his famously long showers. The spell was broken, so Bede turned off the water, dried off and got dressed, feeling a bit better. Heading back to his tent, he found Marston and Kell on the top step, holding hands the way young lovers did and, giving them both a smile, went inside the tent and crawled into his cot.
It was only in the morning that he remembered that he could have gone to the first aid hut and gotten some pain meds. That is, he could have done, but it didn’t feel safe to soften, and he didn’t want to be seen going there.
He made himself forget about the pain, though he felt stiff from head to toe while taking another riding lesson and grooming horses. All the while Galen seemed to be ignoring him except for business-like comments such asGood job, Bede, andAlways keep your hands light on the reins.
In the afternoon, beneath the blazing sun, they attacked the knapweed again and, looking up the hillside as he rested on hishoe, elbows akimbo, Bede ached. His shoulder was stiff, and his left leg was seizing up so badly, he wanted to throw it in and sayI quit.
Horseback riding was too dangerous and digging up weeds was too menial, especially for a drug kingpin who used to rule over his domain, dictating who could sell and who could buy. It was a whole other world from the valley and, more importantly, very different from Galen’s world. Where you did the work, and paid your bills, and kept your nose clean.
It wasn’t until Wednesday afternoon the pain was so bad that Bede was just about crying. But he didn’t want Galen to see him crying again—too much vulnerability for him, too much exposure. And while Galen had shown his own tender side, he was hardly likely to have much sympathy.
What? Your shoulder and back feel broken in three places? Walk it off, loser.
Maybe Galen wouldn’t think that. He probably wouldn’t, but Bede didn’t want to whine. So he walked it off until he couldn’t anymore, and could barely take a breath without flinching.
He figured he managed to hide it long enough, before he broke down during dinner on Wednesday, slipped out of the mess tent, and went to the first aid hut.
It was unlocked, as Galen, during the introductory tour, had said it would be. The cabinets were unlocked, the drawers, too. As Bede flipped through everything, he could see there wasn’t anything hard. No oxycodone, and certainly no cocaine, which was to be expected.
There was arnica cream and several hefty tubes of Voltaren. He swallowed three heavy duty Tylenol, dry, and stood there with both tubes in his hands, wondering whether arthritis cream would be better than regular pain cream, which one would be more potent.
Unsnapping the buttons on his shirt, he figured he would use both. But as he lay his shirt on the metal table in the middle of the room, he heard a sound behind him, turned too fast, and winced as he saw Galen standing there.
“You left the mess tent so quickly,” Galen said. “It’s cool enough for a campfire—shit,Bede. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt so badly?”
