Bede shoved those thoughts away. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by a pretty face. He’d held onto his emotions for the last five years while behind bars, even as he’d looked at the other cons or the guards.
One man had nice shoulders, like Winston had. Another one had long eyelashes, dark, spiky. Like Winston had. Whispers of the past, a love long gone. Chasing him through the hours and days and years like ghosts across the shiny, well-mopped floors of the corridors of Wyoming Correctional.
This guy, this jerk off, was nothing like Winston, who could tease a laugh out of Bede in a heartbeat.
Bede couldn’t remember the last time he’d even smiled, and this guy was now in charge of him, could try all he wanted and never succeed. Not that he would try. Not that Bede wanted him to.
Galen remained unsmiling and hard to read as he looked them over once more and took a long hard breath, like they wereall on his last nerve and he had no idea how he was going to make it to the end of the day.
“I’m your team lead. You work for me now.” Galen paused, looking over their shoulders at the rest of the compound, like he was searching for something he’d forgotten to do or say. “I’ll take you around, give you a tour. Show you your tents, where you’ll be staying. Then you’ll have a chunk of time to get settled, and you’ll meet me in the mess tent when the dinner bell rings. Got it?”
The three of them nodded, with Toby looking to Owen as if to make sure that was the right kind of response.
Galen took them on the tour, a stiff set to his shoulders, squinting at them as the sun speared through the trees. Like he’d forgotten his hat and, only just realizing it, was blaming them.
His voice didn’t reflect any anger, though, and seemed to stay level as he led them along paths through shimmering green forests, where the air was fresh and bright and breezy, smelling like pine and other good things.
Galen showed them the green canvas mess tent, which looked fairly ordinary, just a bunch of tables, some standing fans, and a small area that looked like it was trying to be a home office. There were books on the shelf that grabbed Bede’s attention, but Galen didn’t give them any time to pause.
Then Galen showed them the white first aid hut, and the hut where they could do their laundry.
He showed them the showers and the toilets, which were just as Kell had described them and as fancy as anything Bede had ever seen.
Then Galen took them down to a shining blue lake that just about took Bede’s breath away, in spite of himself.
The thing he’d missed while being in prison was being able to submerge his entire body in water. Prison showers wereunsettling affairs with half-ass water pressure and not enough time to relax.
He couldn’t imagine that permission would be given to go swimming, but his skin, his soul, was already aching for it because being surrounded by cool, fresh water sounded way better than just about anything else.
“This is Half Moon Lake,” said Galen, his arm stretched out, pointing, staying that way like he was posing for a statue that might be made in his likeness.
His hair lifted in the breeze, and his gaze was long, as though he wanted nothing more than to leave them behind and go for a swim, or a long walk around the lake, anywhere but where he was.
“There’s a dock down that way. Sometimes we go for a swim, like in the evenings, after work is done. We might get canoes or kayaks before the summer is over.”
Feeling a surge of interest, Bede almost let his jaw drop in astonishment at the idea that they could go swimming. That he could finally,finally, get clean all over.
There was no way he wanted anyone to know what he was feeling, so instead Bede asked, “What kind of work?”
Blinking, Galen turned to him, a furrow of a frown across his forehead, like he’d forgotten who Bede was or why he was there. With a quick sigh, he slid his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans.
“We’re mostly going to be digging up knapweed, which is a real hazard, though that may change later. Then I’ll be giving you riding lessons.” He paused, as if considering whether or not to share more with them. “There was talk of us building a few yurts on the other side of the river.”
Yurts? Was any of this for real? Bede was not a carpenter, that was for sure. Or a cowboy. He belonged in Denver, where the city streets were as familiar to him as his own skin.
“What’s a yurt?” asked Toby. Owen elbowed him. “Hey! I wanna know, is all.”
While Galen explained what a yurt was, Bede watched him.
Galen seemed patient, not at all troubled that Toby was a loser who didn’t know any better than to reveal his ignorance.
His face softened as he went into teacher mode, the way some of the aids in the prison library would. As if it was their dream to explain to a convicted felon how to use Microsoft Word.
Well, if Galen was one of those do-gooders who imagined they were one of God’s angels, sent to help sinners repent, then Bede wanted nothing to do with him. He was a sinner, through and through.
“Come up this way,” said Galen to the three of them, yanking Bede out of his reverie.
Galen took them up another path to a wooden paddock, beyond which was a long wooden shed. Beyond that was a wide space that seemed to go on forever.
