37. Galen

Chapter 37

Galen

G alen could not have prepared himself for how it felt being a criminal. Not that he was, of course, but driving from Denver to Cheyenne with the plastic bins in the truck bed made him feel he was being watched with every passing mile.

He was an upstanding citizen doing a secretive deed.

Before he grabbed the keys to the nearest truck, he'd sat in his tent and researched the most likely places to drop off the money and have it be accepted. Some places didn't like anonymous donations, which his would most surely be. Other places had a more urgent need, perhaps, and would take anonymous donations, even if they were in cash and untraceable.

Then, after more research, he found out that he needed to buy microfiber cloths to wipe down the bins with, and he needed to wear plastic gloves—at all times—so his fingerprints wouldn't be left behind.

He'd seen enough Forensic Files and Law & Order to know how it worked. Or at least kind of. You couldn't leave traces of yourself behind. That's how they found you.

But since as no one was actively watching him and seeing how pleased the various charities would be to get the money, nobody would be.

Stopping at the WalMart, he purchased the cloths and the gloves and also a pad of paper, a pen, and a box of cheap letter-sized envelopes. A cheap cowboy hat. A thin red bandana.

Stopping at the Starbucks, conveniently located inside of the WalMart, he sat at one of the small tables and wrote three letters by hand, welcoming the charities to spend the money any way that they liked. He signed each letter with a single word: Anonymous . Then he made sure to remove the tape saying Mom's Trip to Bermuda from each bin.

The charities would not know the money was from the buying and selling of drugs. And since there would be no news announcements about missing money, they could accept it freely in the spirit in which it had been given.

It was in the middle of the day when he finally dropped the money off at the LGBTQ center, the food bank and, lastly, and most carefully, the women's shelter.

Women's shelter locations were highly guarded, and the address given out to only a trusted few, outside of the women seeing shelter there. He even went so far as to ring the unremarkable doorbell on an unremarkable and totally forgettable house in a cottonwood tree lined cul-de-sac on the edge of town.

A woman answered and stared at him with hard eyes. He gestured to the bin, gave her a slight wave, and stepped back, got into his truck, and drove away. He'd done that, rather than simply leaving it there because he wanted to make sure the shelter got the money.

For the LGBTQ center and the food bank, he'd been able to stroll into the lobby of each one and, hat tucked low, bandana pulled up, he made sure nobody was paying him any attention at all, and left the bins right there in plain sight. Then he made a casual, slow exit as if he'd ended up in the wrong place and was simply making his way out again.

He supposed, as he drove back to the valley, that he might keep an eye on the news to see if anyone reported remarkably mysterious plastic bins full of money showing up anywhere. Or maybe not. He'd done what he could. The money was no longer beneath the cot in his tent, and Bede's connection with the money was now an altogether invisible and insignificant thread that nobody, nobody, nobody would be able to follow.

Bede was as safe as Galen could make him.

When he came up to the Ranchette's Stop 'n Go exit, he paused the truck long enough to throw the gloves, cloths, and stationery away in a greasy-rimmed trash can next to the pump furthest from the red and white building. Then, feeling utterly terrified and pleased at the same time, he trundled back to the valley along Highway 211, slowly, watching the sun start its decent to the west, rolling down the windows of the truck to let the warm air dry the sweat from the back of his neck as he drove.

It wasn't until he'd arrived in the valley, pulling up in the parking lot and seeing Bede standing there, that he realized what he'd done. Committed a crime so that Bede wouldn't have to. Because he loved Bede and because Bede's expression when he'd explained how the money could get him sent back to jail had terrified him.

And suddenly Bede was there, tugging Galen out of the truck, wrapping him in strong arms. Kissing him gently, whispering words of apology that Galen simply didn't need.

Oh, he needed the kisses, light and sweet and peppered all over his face, but not the apology. Bede didn't need to handle everything on his own, not anymore. And without the drug money, they could begin anew.

Galen had explained what he'd done and why. And when Bede had asked, And will you let me love you as we go along ? Galen had almost melted in his arms.

"Yes," said Galen, trying to be businesslike and failing, smiling up at Bede as the tension seemed to be lifting from his shoulders. "But first I need a shower. And then a hot meal. And from there, with my head clear, we can figure it out together."

Galen was able to grab a quick shower, with Bede impatiently waiting and not joining him because, for some reason, Gordy and Owen and Toby all decided they needed before-lunch showers, too. And while their relationship might be something that was known, there was no sense blasting it all over the place, at least not yet.

They didn't have a moment alone. While they ate together, Toby and Owen told the tale of what happened during Galen's absence.

Toby and Owen had been on the near side of the river, far below the dam that was tucked at the narrow end of Half Moon Lake. Perhaps they had been goofing off, perhaps not, but they'd come across two horses who had managed to the earlier roundup.

The pair realized that the horses might be headed along the river, east, to Highway 211, where they would be at risk of getting run over by a truck or semi.

With quick thinking, both men had stepped in front of the cantering horses, water splashing as they came up the bank, and caught them by their halters. Toby had been dragged several feet, but the fact that two men and two horses were tromping along the river bank meant that those horses could be safely guided along the side of the lake to the paddock.

"Well done," said Galen, and he meant it. "That took guts."

"Guts and skill," said Owen with a wide, pleased smile.

After the meal, work resumed, fixing the wire along the pasture, raking up horse manure, jaunting off in one of the trucks, a flatbed trailer attached, to go pick up bales of freshly mown hay. After that, they of course stopped for coffee and pup cups at the Ranchette's Stop 'n Go, and returned in time for more showers before dinner.

It was only after dinner, and after the movie night that the two of them, just Galen and Bede, ducked out of, and when they were laying naked in each other's arms in the cot in Galen's tent, that Galen was able to settle the thoughts in his brain, which had been flying around like hungry bats at sunset.

"Well, that's done," he said with a sigh.

"Giving up your life of crime?" asked Bede with a low laugh as he stroked Galen's hair, making Galen feel like he wanted to purr.

"Maybe." That was a joke, of course. Galen wanted nothing more to do with any of that. "I've turned over a new leaf."

"Me too," said Bede, his breath whispering across Galen's forehead. But there seemed to be a question that Galen heard, so he looked up at Bede, and saw Bede's glance dance away, like he didn't want to answer any questions, but would if Galen asked it of him.

"Did you ever feel bad about selling drugs to kids?" Galen asked.

"Didn't sell ‘em to kids," said Bede, his words a little stiff.

Galen planted a kiss along Bede's chest, tasting the salt, sensing the low thump of Bede's heart pick up a bit.

"I'll rephrase that," said Galen. "Did you ever feel bad about hurting people? Because those kinds of drugs hurt people."

"I never thought about it that way," said Bede with a low, almost motionless shrug. "Not till I met you. It was just a way of making money."

"A way of making money."

Galen felt the words on his tongue, the despair of it, the dead-end feel of it. Sure, you had to make money, to live, to pay bills, to eat. But to have that be the final destination? Made everything seem hopeless.

"But you have a different way now. If you want to help me on the farm at the end of summer."

He could hardly believe he'd brought it up. He'd meant to wait until the end of summer, to see how it felt, to his heart, to his soul, when Bede got his certificate and there were new tires on Galen's truck. Two simple tasks that needed to be completed.

The question he'd just posed to Bede had flung the gates of potential and possibility and future wide, wide open to an almost dizzying degree.

"I'll help you," said Bede, and his expression was earnest, making him look quite young. "But since we're dirt poor, I think you should ask Leland for that loan you mentioned he wanted to give you."

"I'll think about it."

Galen didn't want to think about it because the feel of that idea wasn't as nice as the feel of Bede's silky warm skin against his, the feel of Bede's muscles bunching as he shifted in the cot and turned so Galen was beneath him, and he on top, their bodies a connected sprawl of sinew and warmth beneath the light cotton sheet.

"What's that sound?" asked Bede, cocking an ear to the opening of the tent.

Galen listened and heard the faint crackle-crackle sound on the green canvas overhead as the shadows stretched long and a slight wind whisked the tent flaps about.

"That's rain," he said, tilting his head back so he could see into Bede's eyes. "First of the late summer. It's been so dry. This'll make everything smell nice."

" You smell nice," said Bede, whispering a kiss across Galen's mouth, lazy and slow.

"No, you do," said Galen with mock-fierceness. "You're the one who smells like water feels on my skin. In the lake. Deep, deep in the lake."

His mockery faded away as he realized the truth of it. That inhaling Bede's scent into his lungs felt just like diving headlong into Half Moon Lake, where the water swallowed him and the silence soothed him, and the cool depths lifted all of his troubles from his shoulders and cast them away.

"Hey." Bede, still on top, shifted down till he could cup Galen's cheek with his warm hand. "It's all going to work out. I promise you. You're not alone. You won't be. I'll be there. I'll work hard. It'll all be great. You'll see."

"You seem so willing."

Galen paused, because his surprise at Bede's willingness felt a little unkind. Sure he'd had his doubts about all the ex-cons, but that had been in the beginning. Since then, Bede had worked hard at learning the ways of the valley, just as Galen had worked hard at overcoming his own prejudices.

Still, if they were going to continue together, it was better to be honest up front.

"When I first read your file," said Galen slowly as he looked up at Bede. "You didn't seem like the kind of guy who would work hard at anything. And yet?—"

"I've fallen in love with the valley," said Bede with a smile. He planted a kiss on the tip of Galen's nose. "With being a country boy. Plus, you were so sexy on horseback this morning, if I wasn't already in love with you, I would have fallen at your feet right then and there."

"You make me want to dream again," said Galen, whisper-low. "Like it was years ago, before my dad got sick and died, and everything was easy."

"I'll do anything, even clean up goat shit," asked Bede, totally breaking up the mood, making Galen laugh in spite of the serious twist in his chest. "Cause we're going to get goats and bunnies and chickies and kitty cats. Everything sweet. Everything."

"Oh my God." Galen pushed at Bede's chest pretending to be completely unamused, but all the while he could feel the blossom of hope and joy where for so long it had been a deep dark hole in his heart. Then he softened and curled his fingers around Bede's neck and brought him close for a long, slow kiss.

Maybe this would turn out okay. Better than okay. It would be wonderful because maybe in spite of everything he'd thought when he'd started, an ex-con was exactly the man he needed in his life.