“There’s always a story beneath that,” said Gabe. “He did commit the crime, and even confessed to it. But if it’s true, as you say, that beneath the surface he doesn’t really seem like a criminal, then you are the perfect person to be his team lead.”
“Me?” asked Zeke. Up at the guest ranch on the other side of the hill, he’d been a regular ranch hand. Raking manure, cleaning up tack after trail rides.
“When you gave lessons, you were always good with the green riders,” said Gabe. “You knew how to grow their confidence. That’s why Leland wants you here. Anyway, I think you’ll be good for Callihan. He’s skinny and nervous, that one, and he could use your steadying hand.”
“It’s Cal,” said Zeke, flooded with a sense of wanting to protect Cal from even the small indignity of being addressed in any other way. “He likes to be called Cal.”
“Sure thing,” said Gabe. “Good to know.”
Zeke made his way to his own tent. There, he sat on the top step and enjoyed the breeze, thick with the scent of coming rain, and waited for the call to dinner. And thought about Galen and his proposition, the way he sometimes did in quiet moments.
The proposal had come out of the blue, it seemed, but then Zeke realized that Galen had been watching him for a while. Andthat he’d been gentlemanly enough to wait until he had a private moment with Zeke before speaking his heart aloud.
Zeke’s reaction had been a polite no, and he figured that was the end of it. But the idea of it lingered.
He’d been glad when Galen had gone down to the valley, but when Leland had proposed Zeke come down to the valley, as well, to take over riding lessons, he figured he’d be a coward to refuse. After all, Galen had been a gentleman about it, and hadn’t pressed his suit like a lovesick cowhand.
Zeke had said no to going out, to the idea of more happening beyond behind that. But in spite of his earnest protestations and polite refusal because, of course, he, Zeke, was not gay, not now and never had been, he had wondered what Galen had seen in Zeke to give him the courage to speak up.
What was it about Zeke that had made Galen feel that Zeke might be interested in him?
When dinnertime rolled around, Zeke moseyed to the mess tent. He looked for Cal and found him in line behind him, eyes wide, looking for all the world like a horse who’d somehow found himself in a kill pen, rather than in the mess tent of a work camp, where the food was good, the sheets soft and clean, and the air sweet.
“Come on up, Cal,” he said, waving Cal close. Cal hesitated, but Zeke tried again and when Cal was at his side, Zeke said, “The food is very good. Don’t you worry.”
As if that had been Cal’s worry. As to what his real worry was, the one that made him stand so stiffly, looking around him as if for danger, Zeke had no idea. Though maybe it was the press of men, all unknown to him.
“You can sit with me,” said Zeke as he went down the buffet line and filled his plate high so Cal would do the same. “Then I can introduce you little by little.”
“Okay.”
Zeke knew he did not imagine that small bit of air that left Cal’s lungs as if he was grateful, but didn’t want to mention it. Cal wasn’t afraid of his surroundings, just hyper wary. Well, just like with a horse that was gently handled, that would fade in time.
Galen came and sat across from Zeke. With him was Bede Deacon.
Bede, rough with tattoos and wearing a sass-filled smile, was like a green-broke horse, full of bluster and untamed lightning. Dangerous if you weren’t on guard, probably a sweetheart in the barn.
Zeke made the introductions, keeping it quick and sweet, making sure that both Galen and Bede knew to call Cal by his preferred name. When Toby and Owen, two other members of Galen’s team, joined them, Zeke repeated the introductions.
“I want to be called Bob,” said Toby, in an attempt to be funny, but Owen elbowed him good and hard and Toby laughed it off.
Zeke had been looking down to see that Cal was eating, making sure of him. When he looked up, Galen and Bede were bumping shoulders, and Galen’s face was scrunched in a hard, silent laugh, with Bede looking on with pleasure. Then came the hand touch, Galen running his fingers along Bede’s forearm, a bare forearm, since Bede had rolled up his shirt sleeves.
The touch was too intimate, their faces too close for it to be anything else than what it was.
Zeke was not blind, and also not judgmental, as people needed to be able to live their lives. But was it right that a team lead was having an affair with one of the men on his team? Then again, the non-fraternization rule up at the guest ranch had exploded, or maybe imploded, when a young drifter had arrived looking for work.
Leland, the ranch’s manager, and Jamie, head of groundskeeping, had always been circumspect about their relationship, or so Zeke had been told, as if to pretend the rule was still in place. Then they’d relaxed into their relationship, and all bets were off.
The ranch’s blacksmith, Jasper, had shacked up with Ellis, the ex-con who’d come to work at the ranch, and had stayed. His heart, Zeke had learned, belonged to Jasper.
There were other men in relationships, as well.
A ranch hand named Clay, a jolly, sweet-faced young man, had fallen for the ranch’s accountant. Zeke didn’t know anything about the accountant, except that he really wanted to be a painter.
Brody, one of the best horsemen Zeke had ever met, had fallen for a runaway street kid, and the two of them lived a closely knit life in Brody’s room in the main lodge.
Zeke knew all of this, but nobody seemed to bat an eye, and the relationships had not seemed to disrupt work on the ranch. Maybe it was the same here in the valley?
