36. Bede

Chapter 36

Bede

F eeling as useless as tits on a snake, Bede hurried after Galen, who grabbed a horse from the paddock, saddled it, and flung himself astride like he was in an old-fashioned western movie and his Pa had just told him that the barn was on fire.

Bede couldn't quite feel the urgency until he was on the path along the lake, beyond where the docks and canoes were, and caught a glimpse of the shining backs of a band of horses galloping along the green and slanted hillside beyond the river. If they made it up the canyon, they'd be gone for good.

"Get back to the paddock," shouted Royce, as he pulled up his horse alongside Bede.

"What?" Bede knew he wasn't skilled enough to join the escaped horse roundup, but surely he'd be more useful here than back at the paddock.

"There's a gap in the trees that leads to the road," said Royce. His mouth was tight, as if he meant to hide his impatience. "If the horses get through there when we bring them back around, they might get hit by a passing vehicle."

The road Royce referred to wasn't a high traffic road, but Bede supposed Royce meant to cover all the bases. The just-in- case scenarios that Bede himself had considered when dealing in cocaine.

"You got it," said Bede just as Royce whistled his horse into a gallop and was off like a chestnut streak through the trees.

Bede hustled back to the paddock, opened the gate wide, and took his post, along with Gordy, watching and waiting.

It didn't take overly long before he heard the galloping hooves coming in his direction, the horses racing in an impossibly thin and fast line around the lake, their tails like black and chestnut ribbons behind them, led by Gabe, and followed up by the other team leads.

It was kind of amazing to watch good riders, true cowboys, in action as they shouted and whistled and raised a lot of dust guiding the horses around the curve of the paddock and into it. No horse even came near him or Gordy, though a cloud of dust settled over them, and the heat shimmered in the air.

Once in the paddock, all the horses whinnied and shifted, looking for an exit, perhaps, or chasing the memory of running free. Or maybe they simply wanted a treat for being so easily guided back into captivity.

It made Bede sad to think of it. One moment they'd been running free, as they'd been born to, the next moment they were contained, reined in. The way they'd been trained to be.

They were like him. He'd been free once, and then contained, and now that Galen was pissed at him, it wasn't a sure thing that he wouldn't be back in prison by the time the sun went down.

Time would tell. In the meanwhile, Bede raced to secure the paddock with the horses inside of it, but was met by Galen, who dismounted in a hurry, grim and dusty, and sexy as hell.

Galen flapped Bede's hands away as he reached out for him, but he barely looked him in the eye as he did it.

"Can we talk about this?" asked Bede, low, as he gathered up the reins of Galen's horse, now riderless.

"No, we cannot," said Galen, equally low. "I need to figure out what to do."

"I'll just take it back," said Bede. "All of it."

He knew, deep in his heart, that the seemingly easy solution wasn't quite that simple. He could be spotted taking the money back, and anyway, Galen knew about it, which, evidently, made it something that had to be dealt with rather than sweeping it under the rug.

Trust him to fall for a do-gooder. A schedule follower. A hard-working man with the face of an angel, and hair to match, along with the principles of a knight worthy of King Arthur.

Oh, yes, he had fallen all right, and the hard glance of Galen's gaze as he took the horse's reins from Bede's hands so he could tie up and unsaddle and groom the horse made his heart ache. A deep ache that lanced at him. Totally unpredictable and unbelievably sharp.

It was like losing Winston all over again. Only this man, long legged and sweet, wouldn't be sad to leave Bede behind in his wake. He might even be glad to see Bede get his comeuppance and end up once more behind bars. Where he belonged.

He'd been an idiot to imagine that drug money could so easily be placed where it might do the most good. In Galen's hands. In his bank account. Used to pay off ridiculous bills to organizations that simply did not need the pittance they would scrape from Galen's hide.

He'd been an idiot, but he'd do it again if he had to. Do anything to fix this, though it didn't seem likely that Galen would give him another chance.

Galen had broadcast his doubts from the beginning, about the parole program, about parolees getting handouts and an easy chance at a new start. About Bede himself. And Bede had just proven him right, on all counts.

Bede helped where he could to get the recaptured horses settled with treats and fresh water, but he really only seemed in the way of more experienced hands. So with several tugs, he led Toby and Owen, who were also mostly in the way, to the mess tent for breakfast.

There, he put together a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast and sat down with that and a cup of black coffee. All of which he stared hard at for several minutes, his attention drawn to the open tent flaps of the mess tent. Waiting for Galen.

And when Galen showed up, dusty and grim, Bede waited for a sign that Galen would sit next to him in a semblance of normalcy. So that they might pretend to get along, if nothing else. So that Bede could find the crack in Galen's armor and slip in to plead his case.

But Galen sat with the other team leads for breakfast, and participated in what looked like a very somber conversation, not so much about who was responsible for the escaped horses, but more how to prevent it happening in the future. It was as if the two of them had never met.

Bede made himself eat his breakfast and participate in, or at least listen to, whatever prattle that Toby and Owen found amusing. He nearly sprained his eyeballs from rolling them so hard while at the same time watching Galen. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Galen suddenly got up, bussed his place, and marched over to where Bede, Toby, and Owen were sitting, and towered over them as they looked up.

"I need to run an errand," Galen said, his face grim, the words terse. "Can I trust you guys to groom the escaped horses today and then start raking the field?"

"Why only the horses that escaped?" asked Toby. "Why not any of the others?"

"Because." Galen took a breath, his eyes scanning the opening to the tent as if it was his dearest wish to escape the hellhole he currently found himself in, that of having to talk to ex-cons. "We need to let those horses know that this is a good place. That they'll be cared for here. That it's not a place to run away from. That staying will be worth their while."

"Sort of a horse's version of golden handcuffs, eh?" asked Bede with a small laugh, and found the echoing silence not to his liking.

Before, Galen would have joined in the joke, but now he did not. Instead, unsmiling, he stalked out of the mess tent, leaving the three members of his team somewhat leaderless.

"Guess we better get to it," said Bede, standing up, grabbing his tray. "Toby, can you get some bottled waters and put them in a small cooler, and Owen, you and I can grab and halter three horses and get started."

Of course, the two ex-housebreakers jumped to attention and did what Bede had asked of them. Of course they did, now that Galen was nowhere to be seen, and could not witness the skill with which Bede could lead men. Of course .

They were halfway through the morning when, while gently combing burrs out of the fifth horsetail that morning, it occurred to Bede that Galen might actually get it in his pretty head to take the Mom's Trip to Bermuda bins and turn them over to local law enforcement. Not realizing that in doing so, he'd be starting the engine that would eventually come and arrest Bede and send him back to prison.

Unable to stand it any longer, Bede made a vague noise about needing a break, and headed straight to Galen's tent. Standing on the wooden platform, half in, half out of the tent, he could see that the bins were gone. All three of them. It was as if they'd never even been there.

Heart jackhammering, Bede was about to turn around when he heard a gruff voice.

"What are you doing?"

When Bede turned, he saw it was Gabe, and that Gabe did not look happy.

"I was looking for Galen," said Bede, using his best I'm-innocent voice.

"Well, he's borrowed the truck and is on an errand," said Gabe. "And you shouldn't be in someone else's tent. Got it?"

With a nod, Bede stepped away from the tent flap, exhaling a long, slow breath as he considered his options.

Who knew where Galen had taken the bins and what he intended to do with them. The fact that the police hadn't already arrived was a good sign, though what the outcome of all this would be was another matter.

Should he stay or should he go? Should he remain to bravely face whatever firing squad was currently being gathered? Should he determine once and for all that however sweet the life that Galen had, it did not, would not, and should not include Bede?

Desperation continued to rise, a thick, choking mass in his throat that obstructed his focus and made his heart thump in his chest. He made it all the way till the afternoon, when he finally gave up and went to the parking lot and paced in the warm shade of the pine trees, kicking up dust with his work boots.

Nobody followed him or questioned why he wasn't working. Why he was lingering at the edge of a round circle of gravel, beads of sweat along his hairline like he'd been pounding rocks rather than gently grooming a handful of horses quietly munching on hay in the shade.

Nobody was asking because there was a high level of trust in the valley, which was, he only now realized, why the program worked. In spite of all of Bede's misgivings about it. That he knew.

What Galen didn't know, didn't have any reason to know, was that by turning all that money in, he himself would be on the list of interesting people the cops might want to talk to. Granted, a pile of ill-gotten loot worth less than seventy thousand dollars might not be on the top of their lists, but it might put Galen in the bullseye of attention he most assuredly would not want.

And Bede did not want that. He'd rather go to jail himself, for years and years, then put Galen through any interrogation, no matter how gentle.

Galen should never see the inside of a room such as an interrogation room, let alone a prison cell, and it made Bede's heart pound even harder at what he would do to prevent Galen from even being asked any questions about the money.

What wouldn't he do? How far would he go?

There was nothing he wouldn't do. And he would go to the ends of the earth for Galen because?—

Because he loved him so hard it hurt.

He'd been caught in the snare of Galen's world to begin with. Soft and safe and sane. So different from the world he'd shared with Winston, whom he'd loved equally hard.

Now, in this place, almost tame by comparison, love for Galen had grown so much that his chest was tight, and given the chance would explode and enfold him, and he would never be the same. Making it so that he could never return to his old world.

He was fine with that. He didn't want to return to what once was. He only wanted Galen back safe and sound, in his arms, the money an old memory they could leave safely behind him.

The rumble of a well-tuned truck burbled through the pine trees, the slanting sun almost silver, dust motes dancing as Galen pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. A swirl of dust rose around the wheels, making the truck look like it was floating on a fine, light brown blanket.

It was with utter impatience that Bede waited for Galen to get out of the truck, and when he opened the truck's driver's door and just sat there, Bede couldn't wait a second longer. He went around the truck in quick strides and yanked Galen into his arms.

On his lips were tumbles of regret and apology, his muscles primed to hold Galen to him if he pulled back, and more sweet kisses, if Galen would only let him.

But Galen stayed still and did not pull away, a stillness to Bede's wired agitation.

"What did you do with them?" asked Bede, a quick glance in the truck's bed telling him the bins were not there. "You can't just dump them. Someone will find them and an investigation will start. Besides, your fingerprints are all over those bins and bags. The coffee cans take prints super well, you realize?—"

Galen placed a hand on Bede's chest, a light touch amidst Bede's frantic ramblings that did almost nothing to calm him.

"I wiped them down. I wore gloves the whole time," Galen said in an unperturbed way, like Bede's anxiety had nothing to do with him. Like he carted off plastic bins of drug money every day. His eyes were serene as he looked up at Bede. "I took care of it."

"What?" asked Bede, his voice as loud as gunshot in the clearing. "What do you mean, you took care of it?"

"I distributed the money in a way I thought would do the most good," said Galen, his eyes steely gray.

Bede's eyebrows rose and his arms around Galen's waist tightened.

"One bin went to the LGBTQ safe house in Cheyenne," said Galen, as calmly as if he was describing ordinary everyday errands. "One bin went to the food bank, also in Cheyenne, and one to the safe house for women in Cheyenne." Galen dipped his head, then looked up at Bede. "I cheated a little on that last one. As a man, I wouldn't typically have access to the address for such a place, but I overheard Maddy talking on the phone about donations, and just remembered it."

"All those places have cameras," said Bede, his heart beating hard.

"I wore my cowboy hat," said Galen, and now those eyes were gleaming with a small laugh. "And a red bandana kind of bundled up around my chin. Like a Wild West bandit, only in reverse."

"You're complicit in my crimes," said Bede, stern and astonished all at once. "It's a crime to launder money."

"Well, I wasn't going to keep it," said Galen, again as if this was simply a conversation about donating to good causes and not a conversation about laundering drug money. "It's in a better place and it's clean now. Besides." Galen took a breath, his gaze shifting as if he was looking for something to distract himself with as he delivered a painful blow. He looked up at Bede, an almost fearful light in his eyes. "I did it for you. I did it for us. I don't know exactly what we are or where we'll end up, but I did not want to be dragging a huge chain of guilt around with us everywhere we went."

"Chain of guilt?" asked Bede, suddenly picturing chains wrapped around those plastic bins and attached to them with ankle cuffs.

"You know." Galen made vague waving gestures, then put both his palms on Bede's chest. "Link by link, and yard by yard, I wear the chains I forged in life."

"Are you—" Bede took a hard breath, his fingers tightening around Galen's biceps. "You committed a crime for me and now you're quoting A Christmas Carol at me?"

"Yes." Another dubious look from Galen. This one said, Of course, you idiot . "I don't want that for us. Do you?"

For us . Galen had said the phrase more than once and the intention in those words indicated that Galen meant to keep Bede in his life. That he wanted Bede in it.

The tightness in Bede's chest still banged against his breastbone, but began lifting, floating up as if on soft, gray wings. And the idea that they were discussing a classic tale set in the dead of winter, almost arguing about it in the middle of a clearing on a rather hot Wyoming afternoon, made the laughter bubble up inside of him. And he couldn't help it.

"But you're a criminal now," said Bede, doing his best to keep a straight face even while the growing sense of joy made him feel breathless. "I just don't know if I can consort with a criminal ." He ducked his chin, and let his hands fall to Galen's waist, his fingers curling light as a feather. "Are you sure nobody saw you? Saw what you were doing?"

"Nobody saw," said Galen, his eyes half closing when Bede gently brushed the dust from Galen's cheek with the edge of his pinkie. "Besides, if they ask, I'll say it wasn't me and you can say that I was with you all day."

"Lying to the cops already, my, my." Bede tipped close and swept a kiss across Galen's mouth, felt it curve into a smile, and smiled right back.

"I don't have a record," said Galen, stepping closer, wrapping his arms around Bede's waist. "They'll never think to ask." At Bede's astonished sound, he said, "I did a search on the internet about it. Very informative, the internet."

"Yes, that it is," said Bede, still astonished, still reeling, his heart fluttering just as hard as if he'd been on the verge of his first kiss.

He could hear sounds behind him, coming from the mess tent, and the smells of salt and grease as their dinner was being set out for them. "So, what'll we do now, boss?" he asked.

"We do what we were always going to do," said Galen as he lifted his hand from Bede's waist to sweep his hair from his face, putting it back right away. "We finish the summer. You pick up your certificate of completion, and I buy those new tires for my truck."

"What about the farm?" asked Bede and watched as Galen's expression turned serious.

"It is almost too late to rent to anyone else," said Galen, and Bede got the impression that the idea didn't bother Galen overly much. "Maybe Gabe'll let me take you guys up there to chop down weeds and fix the fence and take stock of the place. Give me some time to figure out what I want to do."

"I'd be up for that," said Bede. "And if more expensive coffee was offered, I know Toby and Owen would be up for it too."

"Yeah."

With a kiss, Bede smothered the single word that contained a sky full of doubt, and pulled Galen into his arms. Held him tight.

"We'll figure it out," he whispered into Galen's ear, a whisper in case the world might hear and disapprove. "And will you let me love you as we go along?"

The response was a tightening of Galen's arms around his waist, and a heartfelt sigh, some of the tension leaving Galen's shoulders.

Bede took that as a yes. The rest of it, they would figure out as the summer waned.