“We’re reaching for CHA,” said Galen. “It’s so they can say they know the basics and can prove that they do. Care and feeding. Tack and grooming. How to ride. Trail ride etiquette. Maybe Leland wants to hire them?”
Another shrug from Galen, and Zeke nodded, thinking this through. He was to train to the level of being able to be hired by a high-class establishment like Farthingdale Guest Ranch, though Zeke didn’t know if the lovely ladies and gentlemen up at the ranch would like it if their main point of instruction and safety while astride a horse was an ex-con. Still, it was not his place to question the boss.
“Sounds good,” said Zeke. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Great,” said Galen. “Now, get yourself settled in and I’ll see you at dinner, okay? And it’s good to have you here.”
“It’s good to be here.” Zeke meant what he said, though it was nice to finally wave goodbye to Galen and take a seat on his cotand simply let the cool breeze wash over him as it raced through his tent.
Slowly, he picked up the manila folder. Callahan Tamalin’s name was written on the tab, which was slightly wrinkled. He smoothed the tab out between his thumb and finger and, tucking away the fact that Tamalin and Molloy were both Irish names, opened the folder to review the contents.
Callahan went by the name Cal, and he’d been a one year and seven-month resident of Wyoming Correctional. He’d been arrested and convicted of a single hacking crime, that of stealing from an elderly customer he’d connected with through work.
Cal had been arrested within a week of the hack, confessed to the crime, and had done the time. Shameful thing, stealing from an older retired fellow who’d worked hard for his money and invested wisely.
A handwritten note in the file indicated that Cal had committed no other crime. Certainly not another hacking job, even an attempted one. He’d never gotten so much as a parking ticket.
He had no sheet, as Zeke had learned to call it, at all. And, overall, the hack job had been, according to the report, deceptively easy to track down.
Strange that a guy would go straight from law-abiding citizen to internet criminal. Very strange.
There were other remarks about Cal’s single visitor, one Preston Davies, who was listed as Cal’s life partner. There was even a small photo of him in the file, a black and white one that showed a hard glitter in Preston’s pale eyes.
Preston came in every week, yelled at the front office admin, bitched at the guards, and basically bullied his way through his visits with Cal. Which made him sound unpleasant, though hopefully he wouldn’t be visiting the valley any time soon.
There were two pictures from Cal’s admissions and orientation, one from the front and one from the side. There was other information about that day, including Cal’s weight, height, and possessions, but it was the photos, especially the front-facing photo, that drew Zeke’s attention.
Cal was thin, almost fox-faced, with close shorn dark blond hair and big, dark blue eyes. Looking at the camera, his expression was like that of a horse who is terrified but doesn’t know which way to dodge, left or right.
Cal was listed as being right-handed, so Zeke guessed he’d jump to the right when cornered. Though why anyone would want to corner a guy who’d committed a single crime seemingly by accident, and who had such a sweet face and vulnerable expression, was beyond Zeke.
Zeke would get Cal to trust him and do his best to rehabilitate Cal back into the real world. Since Cal was Zeke’s main responsibility, his only team member, Zeke would train Cal up to be his right-hand man, and together they would teach the other parolees how to ride and care for a horse.
There were maybe six weeks left of pure summer, after which it would start to get cool. Which meant Zeke had about two months to fulfill his obligations to Leland and the valley program. All in all, not a bad way to earn an extra five thousand dollars. Not that Zeke needed the money, but extra cash would sure be nice to have when he finally figured out whether to settle down or to keep chasing those sunsets.
Chapter 5
Zeke
Meeting everyone in the Fresh Start Program in the mess tent at dinner wasn’t a hardship. Zeke was used to glad-handing at rodeos and stock shows, doing the meet and greet, smiling at the camera in the winner’s circle. Accepting the small, fake plastic trophy with grace and dignity, so shaking the hands of all the team leads was no problem.
Shaking the hands of the parolees was a little different, as some didn’t want to meet his eyes, and some had a grip that was too hard, as if to prove how tough they were. One tall, muscular, tattooed fellow looked at Zeke hard in the eyes, as if assessing him for some future ball-busting fight.
“And you are?” asked Zeke, unafraid.
“Bede,” said the man with a hard nod. “I hear you’re a good man with horses,” he added.
This was a bit surprising, because where did Bede hear this from? Well, maybe from one of the team leads, that’s where.
Zeke knew he shouldn’t go into any of this with a dark heart. He’d always gone by the idea that everyone’s intentions were good and that he should only change his mind when proved otherwise.
Though in Bede’s case, Bede, who looked every inch the convict who had just gotten out from behind bars and expected to go back there soon, this was hard to do.
But, just like with a scarred-hide horse, it didn’t mean the horse was mean. Just that it’d been through some mean shit.
Zeke made a mental note to stay open-minded and focused on the delicious evening meal, steak and roasted spaghetti squash drizzled with honey, home fries, and apple or cherry pie for dessert. Zeke took a slice of both and marked the meal as being very close to a farm supper.
Later, at the evening’s campfire at the fire pit by the lake’s edge, in the fine mist that had settled down, Zeke sat on a blanket-draped hay bale at the edge of the gathering.
