Toby and Owen had been on the near side of the river, far below the dam that was tucked at the narrow end of Half Moon Lake. Perhaps they had been goofing off, perhaps not, but they’d come across two horses who had managed to the earlier roundup.
The pair realized that the horses might be headed along the river, east, to Highway 211, where they would be at risk of getting run over by a truck or semi.
With quick thinking, both men had stepped in front of the cantering horses, water splashing as they came up the bank, and caught them by their halters. Toby had been dragged several feet, but the fact that two men and two horses were tromping along the river bank meant that those horses could be safely guided along the side of the lake to the paddock.
“Well done,” said Galen, and he meant it. “That took guts.”
“Guts and skill,” said Owen with a wide, pleased smile.
After the meal, work resumed, fixing the wire along the pasture, raking up horse manure, jaunting off in one of the trucks, a flatbed trailer attached, to go pick up bales of freshly mown hay. After that, they of course stopped for coffee and pup cups at the Ranchette’s Stop ’n Go, and returned in time for more showers before dinner.
It was only after dinner, and after the movie night that the two of them, just Galen and Bede, ducked out of, and when they were laying naked in each other’s arms in the cot in Galen’s tent, that Galen was able to settle the thoughts in his brain, which had been flying around like hungry bats at sunset.
“Well, that’s done,” he said with a sigh.
“Giving up your life of crime?” asked Bede with a low laugh as he stroked Galen’s hair, making Galen feel like he wanted to purr.
“Maybe.” That was a joke, of course. Galen wanted nothing more to do with any of that. “I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“Me too,” said Bede, his breath whispering across Galen’s forehead. But there seemed to be a question that Galen heard, so he looked up at Bede, and saw Bede’s glance dance away, like he didn’t want to answer any questions, but would if Galen asked it of him.
“Did you ever feel bad about selling drugs to kids?” Galen asked.
“Didn’t sell ‘em to kids,” said Bede, his words a little stiff.
Galen planted a kiss along Bede’s chest, tasting the salt, sensing the low thump of Bede’s heart pick up a bit.
“I’ll rephrase that,” said Galen. “Did you ever feel bad about hurting people? Because those kinds of drugs hurt people.”
“I never thought about it that way,” said Bede with a low, almost motionless shrug. “Not till I met you. It was just a way of making money.”
“A way of making money.”
Galen felt the words on his tongue, the despair of it, the dead-end feel of it. Sure, you had to make money, to live, to pay bills, to eat. But to have that be the final destination? Made everything seem hopeless.
“But you have a different way now. If you want to help me on the farm at the end of summer.”
He could hardly believe he’d brought it up. He’d meant to wait until the end of summer, to see how it felt, to his heart, to his soul, when Bede got his certificate and there were new tires on Galen’s truck. Two simple tasks that needed to be completed.
The question he’d just posed to Bede had flung the gates of potential and possibility and future wide, wide open to an almost dizzying degree.
“I’ll help you,” said Bede, and his expression was earnest, making him look quite young. “But since we’re dirt poor, I think you should ask Leland for that loan you mentioned he wanted to give you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Galen didn’t want to think about it because the feel of that idea wasn’t as nice as the feel of Bede’s silky warm skin against his, the feel of Bede’s muscles bunching as he shifted in the cot and turned so Galen was beneath him, and he on top, their bodies a connected sprawl of sinew and warmth beneath the light cotton sheet.
“What’s that sound?” asked Bede, cocking an ear to the opening of the tent.
Galen listened and heard the faint crackle-crackle sound on the green canvas overhead as the shadows stretched long and a slight wind whisked the tent flaps about.
“That’s rain,” he said, tilting his head back so he could see into Bede’s eyes. “First of the late summer. It’s been so dry. This’ll make everything smell nice.”
“Yousmell nice,” said Bede, whispering a kiss across Galen’s mouth, lazy and slow.
“No,youdo,” said Galen with mock-fierceness. “You’re the one who smells like water feels on my skin. In the lake. Deep, deep in the lake.”
His mockery faded away as he realized the truth of it. That inhaling Bede’s scent into his lungs felt just like diving headlong into Half Moon Lake, where the water swallowed him and the silence soothed him, and the cool depths lifted all of his troubles from his shoulders and cast them away.
