They needed to get back to the other valley, Farthingdale Valley, where tasks and concerns and responsibilities awaited them. They were almost out of supplies and the mustangs were on their way to new homes. It was time to go.
“Cal,” he said gently, giving the young man in his arms a slight shake. “Time to get up now. We need to get a move on.”
As they got up and scrambled into the blue jeans they had worn for the last few days, into boots that were thankfully dry, and button-down shirts with stains that reflected the last few days’ hard work. They reached for their hats, putting them on before exiting the tent.
Cal didn’t ask if they could stay again, though Zeke saw the want in those big blue eyes.
They tied the horses to the metal paddock rails and took down the smart fence, packing it away, covering it with canvas before placing it back where they had found it. They took down the tent, washed the pot and crockery, and filled up their canteens with the last of the purified water.
By the time they were done, all of the fairy knots in the horses’ manes and tails had been washed away by the rain, and the river was foaming at its banks.
“I’m glad we only had one tent,” said Zeke as they packed the last of their gear on Dusty, gear which seemed to have increased in weight and volume.
He meant it, of course, Dusty didn’t have more to carry home than he already had. But he also meant that sharing the one tent with Cal had been different than he could have imagined. Better. Surreal, but better.
The blow job that Cal had given him had sent him into the stratosphere. Was such a thing possible? He might have been blowing it out of proportion, but he’d truly never experienced anything like the tenderness, the connection, before.
“Sorry about that,” said Cal, as he echoed Zeke’s motions and pulled on his leather gloves.
Cal said the words as if he meant them, but his sweet smile told Zeke differently. Cal wasn’t sorry at all, and neither was Zeke.
They saddled their horses, checked over the gear, and mounted with only their jean jackets and cowboy hats to protect them from the weather. Zeke led the way, allowing himself one last glance at Aungaupi Valley, now empty except for the single circle of metal paddock, there for the next roundup.
The valley would remain empty until next season, and between now and then, the winds would blow and the snowwould come and ice would cover the river. The echo of pure silence would cover everything, and at night, the stars would put on a show for no one.
Zeke turned his face to the path ahead of them and took off his gloves to swipe at his eyes. Then he put his gloves back on and clucked Flint into motion.
Flint was glad to be on the move, as was Dusty, who trotted close behind. Behind Dusty, Zeke could hear Applejack’s hooves in the mud.
When they got back to the valley, all the horses would deserve a good grooming, hot mash, and horse cookies. They’d done a good job and had been responsive and attentive. Zeke could not have asked for a better time away from the valley and the ex-cons.
It was a wet ride home. They rode as fast as they could along the rising waters of the Yellow Wolf River, rain dripping from their hats and along their necks. Mud slopped up from the horses’ hooves and the sound of rushing water rose with them as they made their way out of Aungaupi Valley and into the narrow canyons.
At the halfway point where they’d camped before, they stopped to water the horses and to let them rest. They ate beef jerky and the last of the string cheese, followed by large gulps of water from their canteens.
Zeke got off to get the circulation back into his left leg and checked the tie downs on their gear on Dusty’s back.
He went over to Applejack and made sure of the horse’s cinch, and patted Cal’s thigh, out of reflex. Maybe he was saying goodbye to what they’d shared, because surely it couldn’t happen again. Surely. He had responsibilities, and Cal did, as well.
“You know we can’t do this again,” said Zeke, as carefully as he could, drawing his hands away from Cal so he wouldn’t giveinto his impulse to pull Cal down from his horse and tumble him in the wet grass. “It wouldn’t work.”
“I know,” said Cal, utterly solemn, his eyes as big as they could be.
Zeke got back on Flint’s back, adjusted Dusty’s lead, and clicked to get Flint to move forward.
And so they went, silent in the rain.
The rain stopped and started, stopped and started, all the way along the canyon, which meant by the time they crossed the wooden bridge beyond the willows, they were soaked through.
It was just about dinnertime by the sounds and smells, but even as Zeke led them to the wooden paddock at the back of the compound, several men, cowboys and ex-cons both, came out to help with the horses.
Bede was there, wanting to know if they’d seen any bears, and his eyes grew wide when they told him they had. Royce wanted to know what kind of bears, and his ongoing questions made a good distraction from Zeke and Cal’s joint silence.
It was raining, but none of the men complained, and the horses were groomed and watered, given treats and pets, and everything was put away. Within the hour, Zeke and Cal were in the mess tent, wearing clean, dry clothes, standing in line for whatever was being offered in the buffet, and it was as if they’d never left.
And maybe that was true, in a way. They’d only been gone three nights. To everyone else, it’d been the blink of an eye, but to Zeke, it had been a lifetime.
Dinner was beef stew, and Zeke sat down at a long table, and laughed to himself while he ate it, but it was a sad laugh, because as bad as the stew up in that valley far away from anywhere had been, it would never taste as good as that again.
