14. Galen

Chapter 14

Galen

G alen made his way to his own tent, and took off his shirt to look at it. There was a bit of blood along the collar, but nowhere else. A spray of stain remover and a good soak in cold water and the shirt would be good as new.

He put on a clean shirt before heading to the mess tent. As he stood in line at the buffet, he got a few astonished looks from Toby and Owen, and anyone who had caught sight of his red and swollen nose.

Bede was at the far end of the table where Toby and Owen sat, eating his lunch, not looking like he was enjoying it very much.

Gabe came in, Blaze on his heels, and stood in the buffet line behind Galen.

"What happened this time?" Gabe asked.

With a quick glance in Bede's direction, and a fierce desire to shield Bede from anyone's ire, Galen grabbed a tray and plate and cutlery and began helping himself to the lasagna and salad.

Clearing his voice to draw attention to himself, he said, "Damn shovel popped back and whacked me good." He even pointed to his face with a What the fuck gesture , making the moment a comical one and not one where he was out and out lying. "I lost my grip, I think."

"I see," said Gabe, with a lift to his chin and a sidelong glance in Bede's direction. "Did you ice it?" he asked. "Do you need time off?"

"No, I'm good." Galen nodded to show how good he was, though it made his head throb. His face hurt from his hairline to his mouth, but he'd be damned if he was going to complain about it. "I'll be fine."

He was planning to eat lunch with Gabe and Blaze, because it seemed the better way to distract him from his accident with Bede's elbow. But then he sat across from Bede, just the same.

"Thanks," said Bede, almost muttering it as he concentrated on the contents of his plate. Then he looked up, as if he knew Galen was on the verge of asking him why he would say thanks. "For not saying anything."

"It was an accident," Galen said. He wasn't a tattletale, never had been.

Bede's response was a slight flush on his cheeks, like it mattered to him that Galen had lied to Gabe. That it mattered to him that Galen understood that, yes, it had been an accident.

After lunch, they picked up another small chest of bottles of water and iced tea, and grabbed picks and shovels from the tool shed.

As they worked in the shade along the path in the woods, things seemed to calm down, with the members of his team following his lead and simply getting down to work.

He made sure the team took breaks every hour, kept the pace steady but not too fast, and privately he longed for the days when he took instructions rather than having to be responsible for what everyone else was doing.

"Hey," said Toby, just as Galen dug his shovel quite deep beneath a narrow patch of knapweed.

Galen lifted his head, expecting some kind of shenanigans.

"What do you need, Toby?" asked Galen, pausing.

Owen and Bede paused as well, leaning on their shovels. The pair of them, Galen had to admit, looked a little cute in their matching poses, elbows on shovels, one hip cocked, and their matching shirts and straw cowboy hats.

"What're we going to do with all this knapweed we dug up, boss?" asked Toby.

After a moment, Galen said, "That's a good question, Toby."

He already knew the answer. After Gabe assigned him and his team the task of getting rid of all the knapweed, he'd done some research. He'd already ordered plastic jugs of vinegar and Castile soap, and knew exactly how many sprayers were waiting for them in the ranch's supply shed on the other side of the hill.

And while it might be just as easy to explain this to his team, in a flash of What would Gabe do? and encouraged by Toby's curiosity, he decided to turn the question back to Toby. Back to all of his team.

"We can stop work early today and use my laptop to look it up. How does that sound?"

Toby straightened up as though Galen had pinned a merit badge on his chest for asking good questions. Owen gave him an elbow, like he was trying to keep Toby from getting uppity, but seemed pleased for Toby just the same. As for Bede, he cast a long gaze at Galen, before picking up his pickaxe and digging the point at the dry dirt, focused on his task.

Around late afternoon, Galen announced that it was quitting time, led the way storing tools in the shed, and after only a little apprehension, led his team to his own tent, where his laptop was.

As Galen went into his tent to get it, Toby and Owen scrambled onto the wooden platform to peer inside of his tent, jostling for a good view of how the boss man lived.

But not Bede. He merely waited at the bottom of the step as if getting to use a computer with pretty good Wi-Fi didn't impress him at all.

Except it did. That was plain to see for anyone who was looking. Bede's eyes went to the laptop that Galen carried beneath his arm, fingers curled at his sides as if to keep himself from reaching out for it. Which only made sense, as Galen had seen the inside of Wyoming Correctional's computer lab, with its five wheezing on-their-last-legs desktops and one battered Chromebook, and knew, or felt he knew, how much Bede had been missing technology.

Once in the mess tent, with pre-dinner soda and pretzels and nuts arrayed before them, it was Bede who reached out, volunteering to be lead man on research.

They all stood behind him as he sat at one of the long tables and opened the laptop. He opened up a web browser, Google Chrome, Galen was pleased to see, and entered the search terms: knapweed, destroy, dispose .

They could all read, of course, but Bede gravely gave the summary.

"We should dig it up, like we're already doing. Dispose of like regular trash, in trash bags to be taken to the dump. Spray the ground with vinegar and soap solution." Bede looked up at Galen, in a way that somehow got to him, though he couldn't explain why. "What kind of sprayer? Like a hand-held spray bottle? That'd take forever."

"Yeah," said Toby. "Forever."

"They've got hand-pump garden sprayers up at the ranch," said Galen, slowly, as if the thought was just occurring to him. "We could borrow those. Take a break from digging tomorrow, and spray instead. Then we'll get some black garbage bags from the supply hut and maybe take a trip to the dump on Friday, so those bags aren't just sitting around." He looked at his team, but they were already smiling. "How does that sound?"

Toby was practically jumping up and down, giddy with the idea of using an ordinary garden sprayer, and Galen had a moment of giddiness himself. This is working. I can do this! But then Toby bumped into Owen, and the two of them started grappling, pushing against the table, and sending pretzels flying.

He pulled Toby one direction, and thankfully Bede pulled Owen the other direction.

"You guys need to stop fighting," said Galen, as he eased his laptop away from the edge of the table.

"You and Bede fight," said Toby.

"Yeah, like all the time," Owen chimed in. "Just today, in fact."

"Well, we shouldn't have been," said Galen, just at the same time that Bede said, "We kissed and made up, so it's all good."

The laugh escaped him, and though it jarred his nose, it felt good, and his smile at Bede came without notice, and the returning smile from Bede was warm and genuine.

Distracting himself, Galen tucked his laptop under his arm like a fussy librarian with a precious book.

"I'm going to put this away," he said. "You guys are at leisure until dinner."

Quickly walking away before they could stop him, Galen practically trotted to his tent.

There, he dug for his small travel bottle of Tylenol and socked back three with a swallow of water, the last of it, from his water bottle. Maybe he should get some of that arnica-whatever-it-was, like Royce had suggested, because his forehead felt sore, like the Tylenol couldn't touch it.

Right before dinner, he scurried to the first aid hut and dug in the drawer for the tube of arnica.

After squinting at the tiny print on the label, he carefully spread some along his forehead and the bridge of his nose, and told himself he wasn't imagining the almost immediate effects. Sure, his forehead still hurt, but when he touched it, it wasn't quite as sore.

In line for the buffet in the mess tent for dinner, he scooted right up to stand behind Bede. Who, he realized, this close up and facing away, was a half a head taller than Galen and, beneath his shirt, was muscled all up and down. Not that Galen was staring.

"Hey," he said, tugging on Bede's sleeve.

Bede whirled around as though Galen was an unknown threat, but when he saw it was Galen, his stance relaxed.

"Got to be careful doing that," said Bede. At Galen's confused expression, he added, "I got all these reflexes."

"From prison or before?" asked Galen, unable to stop himself.

"My whole life," said Bede with a sigh.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Galen said.

"You weren't," said Bede. "Don't worry about it."

Dinner was a quiet affair, as the heat seemed to be getting to everybody, and there wasn't a campfire, either.

It wasn't any cooler on Thursday, as the sun was blazing through the trees with no clouds in sight and no wind to stir the air. Galen could finally say that he knew what being in an oven felt like. At least his team had hats to shade them, and they had the ice chest of water close at hand.

Galen made sure his team was wearing gloves, himself included, to pack up the pulled knapweed into black garbage bags. It made a nice break to do that instead of dig in the dirt, even if the edges of knapweed prickled on his skin when the sleeve of his shirt pulled up. And it was even fun to toss the bags into the back of one of the silver trucks, and to pile in.

As Galen drove up the switchbacks, doing his best to ignore the solid masculine form of Bede in the passenger seat, with the window open and his arm resting there, shirtsleeve rolled up, Toby leaned forward from the back seat.

"Do we get to stop at Starbucks?" he asked loudly in Galen's ear.

"I believe I have enough money for pup cups," he said.

He tried to hide his grin, but after Bede threw back his head and laughed out loud, blue eyes sparkling as he glanced at Galen, Galen didn't bother to hide it.

Maybe there was a way to balance being a nice guy with being a boss who kept his team on target. It did seem he was going in the right direction, but perhaps he should pull Gabe aside and have a quick chat about it, get some advice.

On the other side of the Ranchette's Stop 'n Go was where the county landfill was located.

Galen parked, and was barely out of the driver's seat before his team was up and at it, pulling black plastic bags out of the truck bed and tossing them on the pile with the other black plastic bags. With some glee, Toby and Owen sometimes threw the bags at each other, and Bede snorted with a low laugh as he picked up the fallen bags and shoved them on the pile.

Loose knapweed flew, prickly and dusty, but they made short work of the task, and were soon sweating beneath the blazing sun. And it did blaze, coming down as though ejected from a flaming torch.

There were no trees near the landfill, and again, no breeze, but his team smiled as they piled into the truck, wiping sweat manfully from their foreheads with the backs of their arms before placing their hats on their heads again. Almost in unison, as if they'd practiced for hours.

And then Toby leaned forward, grabbing Galen's headrest to pull himself up with, and in the rearview mirror, Galen could see the hopeful look in his eyes.

"And now coffee," he said, grinning as a whoop of joy bounced off the inside of the truck's cab.

Galen grinned in response, a grin he turned to share with Bede, and in that moment it felt so natural, he didn't even question it. Bede grinned back at the prospect of special coffee, or maybe at the joy of the moment, shared between the two of them.

There wasn't a Starbucks anywhere near where they were, but there was a Caribou Coffee at the Ranchette's, so, after paying the fee in the metal slot in the paybox at the landfill, which was right before the cattle guard that served as a gate, that was where Galen headed.

"We're on our best manners inside, right?" asked Galen as he parked the car and turned off the engine.

As they got out of the truck, he realized that they were all a bit grubby, and who knew whether or when a fight might break out.

But, somehow, while his team huddled in front of the glass case full of baked goods, looking up at the menu board, giggling like school kids on an impromptu outing, nothing bad happened.

And, after various mochas and one honey lavender espresso shaker were ordered, the latter by Bede, they all hurried to take sips of their drinks before sitting down at a round table in the corner of the very lovely and air-conditioned coffee shop.

Bede groaned, his hands cupped around his tall glass, almost shuddering as he swallowed.

Galen stifled the urge to ask Bede how long it had been, a not very good sexual innuendo. Besides, he knew how long it had been.

He'd read all of their files, and knew how long they'd been behind bars, and how long it'd been since any of them had done anything like what they were doing, sitting in a coffee shop to drink their overpriced, fancy, and very good coffees. Just like regular folks.

This, then, was part of the normalization process the training in Torrington had gone on about. Do normal things with them and they will become normalized to the outside world .

At the time, Galen hadn't quite understood what the trainer had been getting at. But, now, seeing the evidence in front of him, how the shoulders of all three of his men relaxed, he finally understood. And felt quite pleased to see the predicted changes taking place right before his very eyes.

"It's so fuckin' hot out there," said Toby, but when Galen gestured over his shoulder at the small table with a mom and her two young kids, his eyes widened. "Oh, sorry. It's really hot out there."

With a nod of approval at Toby, Galen drank his own white chocolate mocha, which was almost too sweet, but made a nice treat.

Across from him, Bede looked like he was about to make love to his espresso.

Galen stifled the urge to say something about it because, really, he needed to drag his mind away from the images that conjured up. Bede on his cot in his tent, making love to a nameless someone. With kisses slow and sweet, those dark eyes half-lidded.

"You sure do love those," said Galen.

"Coffee in prison is shit," said Bede, looking up. He took a long sip of his coffee and seemed to sigh, as if the caffeine had just hit his bloodstream like a bullet. "Some guys had privileges. They had coffee makers in their cells. I was not one of those people, so every time I drank that coffee in the dining hall, a little bit of me died inside."

He smiled, as if to show he was joking, even if Galen could see the truth of it in his eyes.

"This is actually too sweet for me," said Galen, lifting his paper cup, brushing his thumb through a smear of dried whipped cream. "I like?—"

He paused, realizing that not only Bede was listening quite intently, but Toby and Owen were, as well. All three of his team were leaning forward, as if what he was about to say was more interesting than anything they'd heard in days. Perhaps even years.

Which was when he remembered from his training that sharing bits of your life, your experiences, with your team, was just as important as listening to your team. So he soldiered on, even though it felt a bit strange to be the center of attention.

"I like coffee served in a diner mug. You know, those thick white china mugs?" All three of them nodded, their eyes going wide. "Somehow, when you stir in sugar from those glass canisters and stir in the half-n-half from those little plastic cups, the coffee tastes perfect. It tastes even better when someone comes around and gives you a warm up."

With a smile and a half-defensive laugh, Galen took a slug of the overly sweet white chocolate mocha, and added, "Back when I lived on the family farm, my dad and I tried to get a couple of those mugs but short of ordering them by the case?—"

"Or stealing," added Toby helpfully.

"Yes, or stealing them," said Galen, laughing again. "Yeah, we never could find any online. Maybe I'll hit up the diner in Chugwater some day and ask them to sell me a set of four."

There was no-one in the coffee shop who came around to offer Galen a warmup, but he finished his white mocha just the same, then gathered his team, and led them to the truck.

"Are we going to pick up those hand pumps next?" asked Owen as they all piled in, which was a surprise, as usually Toby seemed to be the mouthpiece of the pair.

"Yes, we are," said Galen. "Then we can break for lunch and spray this afternoon. And it's movie night tonight. Does that sound good?"

He did not have to ask for their permission or approval, but just as he'd been able to involve them in the research about what to do with the dug-up knapweed, he realized that getting their feedback engaged their attention and energy. And already the general spirit of the team seemed to be on the rise.

They drove to the ranch in the ever-growing heat, jacked up on caffeine, and laughing as they found bits of knapweed gnarled into the cotton of their shirts, the hems of their blue jeans.

At the ranch, they picked up the pumps from the supply shed, and it was a spray-fest that afternoon in the valley, as his team took turns spraying the ground and each other. They would all need showers before dinner, but what would it hurt, as the spray was only vinegar, water, and liquid Castile soap.

It was toward the end of the afternoon, when he was just about to call a halt to work, that Galen's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out to view a text message from Maddy that his books from Amazon were due to arrive later that day, and did he want to pick them up or did he want someone to bring them down to the valley?

Galen hadn't recalled clicking the box for overnight shipping, but maybe he had. Didn't matter. The main question that popped up in his mind, given his recent trend of involving members of his team, was whether he should put the books away himself, or ask Bede to do it. After all, the books had been selected by Bede.

He texted her back, saying he'd pick them up before dinner, and if she needed to close up early to just leave them on the front porch of her office.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he told himself he wasn't making a special effort just so he could see the pleased surprise on Bede's face, except that was a bald faced lie. He couldn't wait for Bede to get the books.