It was a relief, pure, like a fresh breeze, when Zeke came back with two plastic wrapped bandanas in his hands, both bright red with a paisley print.
Now everyone’s attention was on Zeke as he added the bandanas to the pile. Now Cal could just look at Zeke, at the handsome line of his face in profile, the attentive way he talked to Maddy, just as polite as could be. Like it was part of his cowboy code, or something.
He seemed like a good guy. Maddy liked him at any rate, and the clerk was happy to wait on him.
Cal had been able to which clerks or waitstaff had dealt with Preston before and simply didn’t want to, no matter how big a tipper Preston was. There would be arguments in hurried whispers, all for the chancenotto wait on him.
But this wasn’t like that. People liked Zeke. There were only good vibes floating in the air. A good sign.
“Are we ready?” asked Zeke, turning his attention to Cal, bright as a wide, friendly beam of light. “You want to wear your hat?” he asked. “You’re already wearing the boots.”
Before Cal could answer, before he could even imagine he might look foolish walking back into the valley looking like the cowboy he absolutely wasn’t, Zeke, quite gently, placed the cowboy hat on his head. The straw felt light, the hatband a firm grip on his head.
Zeke took the key fob out of his pocket and spun it around his forefinger, and said, “Let’s go.”
Zeke was always in motion, as though he couldn’t bear to be still. Couldn’t bear to not have fresh air swirling around him. So unlike Preston, who loved to be indoors, where the air temperature could be controlled. The air and his environment and Cal combined.
Maybe his time in the valley would be different. Maybe he would be inspired to figure a way to stay out of Preston’s reach.
He could only hope.
Chapter 8
Zeke
Zeke carried Cal’s boot box, with the new work boots inside rather than cowboy boots, while Cal carried his moccasin kit. Then they got into the silver truck, and Zeke drove them back to the compound.
He was impressed with Cal’s appreciation of the abundance of the program, and the way he now leaned out of the truck’s window to inhale the fresh air. When Cal glanced over his shoulder, it seemed as if was asking for permission to enjoy the simple pleasure. Zeke gave Cal a smile and a nod, and knew Cal would grow to trust him in time.
At Cal’s tent, deep in the woods, he helped Cal unpack and put things away. It was always good to be tidy.
It was then, close up, in the green-tinted shade of the canvas, that he noticed Cal’s exhausted expression. Sometimes, a young horse was just done being around humans, and simply needed water and feed and a bit of silence and quiet. This was one of those times for Cal.
“Hey,” said Zeke, announcing his imminent departure by stepping back. “I’ll see you at dinner. I reckon you remember the way to the mess tent?”
“Yeah,” said Cal. He hung his head for a moment, as if admiring the slightly pointed toes of his new cowboy boots. Then he lifted his head, his wide eyes the bluest Zeke had seen in a long time. The scar beneath his eye stood out, a sharp, short white line “I’m good. Thanks. See you at dinner.”
With a nod, Zeke left the tent, went down the wooden steps, and wended his way to Gabe’s tent. His intention was to report on how the first afternoon went, and add his own opinion about how well Cal might do in the valley.
Leland Tate approved all the parolees ahead of time, so they were all destined for success.
In Zeke’s mind, though, while his time interacting with convicts at Torrington Correctional had been limited during his two-week training, he’d been quick to see the traits of a true criminal. The slyness. The aggression that always showed itself eventually, no matter how carefully hidden. The intelligence oddly sharpened to commit crimes, rather than get honest work. And the overarching capacity to limit oneself by simply not following the law.
But Cal? Did not seem the type.
Zeke could tell a well-mannered horse from a bad-mannered horse by a few flicks of the ears, the shine in a horse’s eyes. The way the horse went at its feed, or how they responded to a gentle pat. There was a lot of information to be gained inside of a handful of minutes.
Cal had none of the traits of a bad-mannered horse, and all the traits of an abused one. He typically held his head down and away, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.
When Zeke moved too close or too fast, Cal shifted away. And when Zeke had raised his hand to adjust the hat on Cal’s head, Cal had jerked his head back, and didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it.
Zeke had vowed to himself to go slow, and he planned to do it. But would it make sense to tell Gabe his thoughts, that there was something strange about Cal having committed only the one crime, being perfectly law-abiding before that?
Yes, it would, and when he got to Gabe’s tent, he laid out his thoughts.
“We have the facts in the file,” said Gabe after Zeke was finished.
Gabe slipped on a clean shirt for dinner and dipped his chin as he snapped the pearl-snap buttons shut one by one.
