22. Galen

Chapter 22

Galen

O n Sunday morning, a frantic call had come from Mr. and Mrs. Conners, the tenants on the farm, who said the pump on the well wasn't working, and they couldn't do their laundry.

They didn't know, or perhaps wouldn't have cared, had they known, that Sunday was Galen's day off. He'd wanted to sleep in, get in a swim, a nap, and catch a movie in the mess tent that night. And maybe get some time to process his feelings for Bede.

Privately, since the couple and their little girl were so keen to live green, Galen thought they might have taken their clothes to the crick and pounded them clean with a rock, right?

The farm was up Highway 211, just at the bend where Threemile Creek intersected with Horse Creek. Which meant he could go, take care of business, and get back to the valley before lunch.

When he got there, he could see that the door to the pump house had been left wide open.

The small shed around the pump was there to keep the wind and rain and sun out so the mechanism wouldn't rust, and so the wires wouldn't get damaged. It'd worked for years when his dad was alive.

"Gosh," said Mr. Conner when Galen explained it to him. "We saw that it was open, but we didn't think it would matter."

Ignoring his own flare of irritation, Galen discovered the trouble was that the power cord to the irrigation pump had shorted out, so maybe a rodent had nibbled on it.

It took him only twenty minutes to fix, but he'd spent an hour and a half spent driving to and from the hardware store in Chugwater, where he grabbed some lunch.

When he got back to the valley, later that afternoon, it was with a rush of gratitude as he carefully made his way down the switchbacks, in among the shadows between the tall pine trees, the air smelling brightly of the lake. Granted, they could have used some rain, but it was a beautiful day, just the same.

As he made his way to the mess tent, much of the valley was already there, taking advantage of the two standing fans that blew the air around in a casual way. The tables were set up for dinner and the amazing smells drifting out from the kitchen made Galen's belly sit up and take notice.

His eyes were drawn to Bede, who was sitting at the long table on the left side of the tent, closest to the buffet tables. Beside him, Kell, his mouth wide with a smile, was chatting a mile a minute. Marston was on Kell's other side, keeping a watchful eye, but for once, he seemed content just to be there.

At one of the other tables, Jonah and Beck, his green Army duffle bag close at hand, as if for an imminent departure right after dinner, were talking loudly. Beck's eyes were glassy. But then he'd probably been smoking pot all weekend.

Stepping into the mess tent to join the vigil before dinner, Galen did his best to make up his mind whether or not he should sit next to Bede.

Of course he could sit anywhere, but if it was near Bede, across from him, say, then they could take up their conversation from the day before. And Galen could find out how the application had gone, and did Bede have any questions? Did he need any help?

And yes, if he asked Bede that question, he should ask Toby and Owen if they needed help also—but that's not what he wanted to do. Any conversation with those two would be stodgy and dull. Except he was their team lead and shouldn't be making these kinds of judgements. Right? Yes, exactly.

Except what he wanted to do was sit with Bede.

"Hey Galen, got a minute?"

Turning to see Gabe there, Galen nodded yes and tried to focus.

"Sure, what do you need?"

Galen had to fight to keep his attention focused on what Gabe was saying, something about the riding lessons in the morning, that the three horses he'd need had been selected and would be haltered and tied in the paddock, and that if Galen needed help with the lessons, one of the team leads could step up to make sure things didn't get out of hand?—

"Or we could call Zeke down here," said Gabe, startling Galen out of his attempt to see around Gabe's shoulders at what Bede was doing.

"What?" Galen asked.

It turned out that Zeke, the Zeke, was on tap to become a team lead in the coming weeks. Which would have bothered Galen a whole lot more if his whole being wasn't zeroed in on Bede. Who, evidently, had won the raffle to be the person to select the first movie of the evening. Gordy won the raffle to select the second movie, but all Galen could do was wonder which movie Bede would pick.

Previous movie nights had produced very prison-centric movies that had been more grim than Galen cared for. All the parolees had enjoyed them, however, and would hardly be interested in Galen's taste.

Both Bede and Gordy came over, DVDs in hand, to give them to Gabe to hold until after dinner.

"Oh, The Sting ," said Gabe. "That's a good one, Bede. And yes, Gordy, Rocketman is a good choice, too. I'll keep them safe."

Before Bede went to get in line for the buffet, he shared a wink with Galen as if to say, I picked it out because I thought you'd like it . Which was funny and strange at the same time because, while he'd been sick, Galen's dad had often mentioned The Sting and that he and Galen should watch it together sometime.

Earl Parnell had passed away too quickly for that to happen, and now Bede unwittingly had brought all kinds of emotions to bear on Galen's heart. What would Bede say if Galen told him about that part of his past?

"I can manage," said Galen, his voice coming out faint as he watched Gabe stack the two DVDs on the table by the tent's opening. "I don't think we need Zeke, but I'll let you know if we do."

He did not want Zeke there for all kinds of reasons, not least of which was Galen's tragic, semi-desperate, and totally failed flirtation with Zeke.

It wasn't even that Zeke, the far better horseman no matter how you looked at it, would do a better job than Galen and show him up. No, it was because something had changed for him this week.

Before, it might not have mattered, but now he felt a sense of anticipation about how his team would respond to the lessons.

He knew them as individuals now, and had a better handle on things, and wouldn't be making assumptions. Plus, he really wanted to see what Bede would look like on horseback.

He did, he really did want to see that, but he shouldn't be thinking this way. In spite of the fact that, as Beck had described, many in the valley were hooking up, surely it wasn't ethical.

Feeling a bit desperate, Galen grabbed some dinner and sat next to Royce and Jonah and Beck. The lemon-herb trout, Tuscan beans, and garlic bread were amazing. The only thing missing was a nice cool beer to go with it.

Even better, when the tables were assembled for the movie, and Galen sat down at the long table in the second row, the tables now parallel to the screen, Bede suddenly plopped—there was no other word for it—right down next to him.

So. It wasn't Galen's fault that something warm and exciting arced between the two of them. Not his imagination, either, not when it was so bright and fizzing he could almost see it in the air.

Right before the movie started, just as the popcorn bowls were being passed around, Bede flashed him a bright-eyed smile and looked carefully away.

It was as if he knew how Galen's heart was racing and how he was thinking about the past. About what he and his dad had shared, and all the future laid before him that he would never get to share with his dad. And even though the screen flickered with the golden handsomeness of Robert Redford, while he watched the scene of the first con job being pulled off without a hitch, Galen's throat ached with tightness, and his eyes grew hot.

Now he was a mess, and though only the darkness knew, and the crunch of popcorn and general sounds of amusement covered the hitch in his breath, he kept still, ever so still, so Bede wouldn't know that the tears began streaking down his cheeks.

It didn't matter that he'd witnessed Bede crying out in the woods at midnight. Or that since Galen hadn't told, and never would, Bede never would, either.

It was too much. Yet to get up and leave would draw more attention than he needed just then, so he kept still and let the sadness ripple through the laughter, because maybe life was just like that. A lesson he'd started learning when his dad had first become sick, and which he was continuing to learn, a long painful lesson that would probably go on forever.

He'd not realized he was half-standing until he felt a warm grip on his forearm.

He looked down to see Bede, his eyes shining in the light from the screen.

"All right?" asked Bede.

His grip was light. Galen could have gotten free, jerked free, even, to express his anger at being touched. But it was the warmth, the weight of those fingers, that stayed him. Allowed him to take a deep breath and sit back down again.

"Chocolate," Bede said now. "Peanut M&M's and popcorn go brilliantly together. Here."

Bede quietly pulled the bowl of chocolate closer and made sure the popcorn was right there.

A bit mindlessly, Galen tried the combination. His lips tasted of salt and sweet together, and it was amazing and distracting in just the right way, a surge of sugar in his veins, with enough salt to satisfy his tongue.

"Better?" asked Bede, though it was obvious he didn't really need an answer. Too many people might hear and it would disturb those around them.

The answer was too long and too convoluted for Galen to figure it out anyhow, so he nodded, and crunched away on the popcorn, his hand cupped to his mouth, using pure will to keep his eyes focused on the projection screen.

The Sting was followed by Rocketman , and while the music was raucous rock-n-roll compared to the softness of the ragtime in The Sting , it was soothing to sink below the sound and the movement and the story, and he was able to collect himself.

When the movie was over, Galen got up to help with putting everything away, and found he was violently thirsty and that his face was tacky with salt. The lights came on, moths dancing about as if they'd been waiting all night for that moment, the hum of the standing fans mixing with the low chatter as the long tables were returned to their usual places.

"Here," said Bede.

Galen turned to find Bede there, holding out a cool bottle of water.

"You drink that," said Bede, pushing the bottle in Galen's direction.

Bede wasn't smiling. Those eyes watched him, as if waiting for Galen to take a drink. Which he did, wiping his mouth on the back of his shirt sleeve.

"Thanks," he said, wondering how it had come to this, Bede helping him, and not for the first time.

Bede was turning out to be vastly different than Galen had expected. And it wasn't just his dark, good looks, but also how his confidence mixed with vulnerability, and the way he could make Galen laugh at any moment.

When was the last time he'd laughed? And when was the last time he'd felt this way, that if he reached out he would be met with the same from Bede?

It had to be a monstrous joke that life was hurling at him. And yet—Bede's expression, focused on Galen as he handed him a bottle of water, was kind. And patient. Still. A waiting gentleness that washed over Galen like a blanket.

Well. He needed to get the hell out of the mess tent. Bede was being nice, was all. A repayment of Galen's kindness to him.

So, with a nod and a general good night, he left the cleaning up to everyone else. Going back to his own tent, he gathered his things for a shower and, along with Gordy, who was the only other person in the structure, took a long hot shower, and imagined the water was washing away all of his troubles.