20. Zeke

Chapter 20

Zeke

T hey ate a quiet supper in front of the small campfire. The sound of their spoons scraping the thin metal bowls could barely heard above the rush of wind, the low murmur of the river, and the overarching silence from the mountain peaks that loomed over the valley.

After they washed up at the river bank and tidied their small camp, Zeke took down the rifle from its holster, which hung on a paddock rail, and made sure it was properly loaded. He carried it open over his elbow as he and Cal walked around the valley, following the river, going around the temporary fencing for the mustangs, and then by the area where their own horses were snug in the paddock.

Every single horse seemed as calm as if they were on a farm in Iowa, which was a good sign. It meant there were no predators around. He smiled at the thought that the horses were protecting them, their humans, as much as the humans were protecting their horses.

He turned to share the small joke with Cal and realized that Cal wasn’t just following him, Cal was practically on his heels, and that his whole body was strung tight as a wire.

“Everything okay, Cal?” he asked, pausing as if he needed to pause, and this rather than doing what he was doing, which was making sure of Cal. Even before Cal answered, he knew Cal wasn’t okay, not really.

“Sure,” said Cal, but the lie was bald and Zeke saw right through it.

“Something got you worried?” asked Zeke, dipping his chin, checking the stock of the rifle, which did not need checking. “Is it bears? I think the horses will warn us if they smell one.”

“No, it’s—” Cal paused. He took a deep breath and seemed to be making a monumental effort to relax his shoulders, as if trying to remember what Zeke had told him. If you’re calm, they’re calm . “Last night was one thing. We were in a canyon. Inside its walls, you know?”

Zeke nodded, slowly. He knew.

“And now we’re out there.”

Cal waved at the valley, the high, flat, green space among very tall peaks.

They were a long way from home, and Zeke couldn’t deny it. But while that gave him peace, it was freaking Cal out, as it would anybody who was raised in the city and only ever knew streets of asphalt with brick buildings all around.

“It makes sense. This is all new for you,” said Zeke and, if the words surprised Cal, that told Zeke once again that someone had taught Cal to be leery of his own honesty, his own truth. Zeke longed to teach that someone a lesson, but that wouldn’t help Cal now, even if the thought of it made Zeke feel a mite better.

“You’re not alone here. I’m here. You’re a quick study, so pay attention as you have been. I’ve got this rifle, and we’re not going to encounter any trouble.” He kept his words low and even, as though talking to a newly haltered colt. “We’re here one night, maybe two, then we head back down to the valley. So take a deep breath and look around you. Do you see anything that might harm you? Or are you just feeling a little uneasy because this is all new? Either response is okay by me. Just tell me.”

“It’s all new,” said Cal, barely hesitating, which meant he was growing to trust Zeke, that he could be honest. “What if we get hurt, what if we?—”

Cal stopped with a gasp, his eyes big and blue in the growing dusk as the sun spun behind some clouds, and the shadows grew long. There was a bit of dust on his sunburned cheeks that made him lovely to look at, but Zeke restrained himself from doing this openly. That wasn’t what Cal needed.

“What if something happens?” asked Cal.

“Then we handle it,” said Zeke. “It’s good to be alert, but don’t string your nerves so tight that you don’t notice how peaceful it really is.”

There might be a bear on the other side of the river, or a mountain lion stalking them from behind the aspen trees, but those animals, while predatory, were shy and liked their own routines. They were hardly likely to have noticed the humans amidst the dashing presence of the mustangs.

“Let’s get back to camp, make some coffee, and watch the stars come out,” said Zeke.

“That sounds great,” said Cal, and Zeke was pleased to note that his shoulders relaxed a little and the expression on his narrow face, pale in the fading light, looked more at ease.

Back at camp, damp to the knees from the high mountain grasses, the scent of rain in the air, Zeke put away the rifle and covered it and the saddle it hung from with a tarp. Then he and Cal finished building the little fire and, in the warm orange and blue and white glow, Zeke made coffee and Cal divvied out the brownies.

“Should we save some?” asked Cal as he held out a hunk for Zeke, using a bit of napkin as a plate.

“Why?” said Zeke with a smile. “Save something so good as this? Here, sit with me.”

Sitting cross-legged on the damp ground was perhaps not sensible, but it was straightforward, and after placing the napkin and brownie on his knee, he held out a mug of black coffee with sugar for Cal to take.

When they were side by side, Zeke pushed at the fire a bit to make it die down, and together they drank their coffee and ate the last of the brownies, and watched the stars come out one by one. This high up, the stars were brilliant and bright, with Venus showing over the gray arch of mountain’s edge. One by one, other stars joined Venus in a slow, sparkly dance as the sky grew dark and darker still.

The moment was loveliness itself, a quiet peace as the stars brightened and the feelings in his chest pushed at his heart, feelings that he could not quite explain but that spun around and around as if looking for places where they could hook themselves to his soul.

It was as if those feelings had waited until he’d finally sat his ass down and let his body settle into a motionless attentiveness, waiting for the right moment to blossom into fullness. Something undiscovered had developed as he and Cal had gone off on their own, away from everyone they’d ever known. And, without the energy of people in the valley, his soul could hear its own honesty.

A connection had grown between him and Cal, unlike anything he’d felt with Betty Lou or those sturdy, easygoing waitresses, all casual flings compared to the deep-seated contentment that seemed to be edging out every other experience or notion.

What could he call what he was feeling? Connection, sure, but it was more. It was affection, and even more than that, something Zeke wasn’t quite ready to name, let alone recognize.

One thing he did know for sure was that Cal had done what Betty Lou never had, and that was stay at Zeke’s side when Zeke’s leg had acted up. Not once, but twice, now, and he’d never seemed irritated or had complained. That was true companionship, something he’d been missing until Cal came.

He watched as Cal lifted his chin, his eyes glittering with the reflection of a million stars. His glance at Zeke included a wide smile, a smear of brownie on his cheek, the lines of his face relaxed, subdued as the dusk turned to twilight.

Here, in the mountains, it was easy to focus on the smallest detail. Easier still to let the impulse take over. He licked his thumb and reached to wipe the bit of chocolate away from Cal’s cheek. To smile in response to Cal’s smile, and the fact that he hadn’t batted Zeke’s touch away. That he’d leaned into it.

What was he supposed to do with what he was feeling except to think again about Galen’s proposal, imagine what Galen had seen in Zeke, and conclude, perhaps, that Galen had been right?

Zeke had never been a man to move without thinking, but he already had and knew he shouldn’t do it again. Which meant that there was nothing he could do but think as he looked up at the stars and listened to the lone hoot of an owl, the murmur of the slow-moving river. The whisper of nighttime secrets as the wind slid between the pine needles as the last bit of warmth from the day began to fade.

Maybe he should let the feelings be what they were and heed his own advice about not rushing a young horse.

He couldn’t rush himself, either. Or Cal. Who deserved the peace of his hard-won bravery without having to deal with Zeke’s soul-felt rush into discovering that Galen might have been right about him.

“Do you think the mountain fairies will have a good ride tonight?” he asked, mostly to distract himself from his own thoughts, but also to tease Cal a little bit.

“They’ll ride for sure,” said Cal, pretending to frown as he jumped right into Zeke’s story. “They have plenty of mounts to choose from.”

Zeke laughed low in his throat, relaxing as he imagined the mustangs’ new owners, metal combs in hand, dutifully undoing the effects of magical, midnight rides.

“Do you want to build up the fire a little bit?” asked Zeke, rushed with warmth. “Or let it die down.”

“Let’s build it,” said Cal and, as he so often did, he jumped right into the task, grabbing a hunk of wood from the small pile, doing this without looking. When he raised his hand with a hiss and dropped the wood, Zeke was just about on his knees, reaching out.

“You okay?” Zeke asked. It could have been a spider that had bitten Cal, or maybe he was overreacting.

“Got a splinter.”

Cal brought the heel of his hand to his mouth as if he meant to suck the splinter out. In a cloud of impulse, Zeke pulled Cal’s hand to him, brought Cal’s palm to his mouth, and felt for the splinter with his tongue.

This was nothing he imagined he might do in broad daylight, but here, in the open, wind-rushed valley, with the shadows of evening filling all the hidden pockets of air, it felt perfectly normal and right.

He found the splinter and nibbled it free with his teeth, then spat it out, a tiny sharpness against his inner lip. Then he wiped the heel of Cal’s palm with the heel of his own and patted it dry with his sleeve, giving Cal’s bear scare a tug before letting Cal go.

“Oh.” Cal’s voice rose, perhaps with Zeke’s suddenness, or the touch of Zeke’s tongue on his skin, and even as Zeke regretted the impulse, Cal patted Zeke’s knee and said, “Thanks.”

Even though it was only one word, the sound of it settled Zeke. They were high up in the mountains and the normal rules did not apply. Cal might imagine there was more behind the gesture than even Zeke was willing to admit to himself, but they didn’t need to talk about it out loud. Did they?

They did, but maybe not now, not just yet. Later, when they’d returned to the real world, far away from the high valley where everything was cool and sweet, where anything seemed possible.

Maybe he would ask Galen about it when they got back, come clean and bare his soul a little to find out the truth. In the meantime, he was just going to let it be as they watched the stars dance in and out of the clouds.

Cal yawned, and so widely that Zeke could hear the click of his jaw.

“Tired?” he asked, which was foolish, because Cal had to be, just as Zeke himself was. “We can put out the fire and turn in.”

“Sounds good,” said Cal.

They put out the fire with dirt, double checked their gear by flashlight, and checked the horses, both the domestic ones and the mustangs. Everything was set for evening, so they washed at the river, and took their boots off before getting into the tent.

They stored the boots at the bottom of the tent, their clothes they used for pillows. Clothes made lumpy pillows, but Zeke didn’t imagine he’d last more than a minute of wakefulness, and the pillow could have been made of cement for all he cared.

Maybe Cal was tired enough to feel the same, but in the small space of the tent, with only a single flashlight giving them any light, it was easy to see that Cal’s tension had risen again.

Zeke undressed to his briefs and socks and slid into his sleeping bag, leaving the zipper open. He gave Cal his privacy to do the same by focusing on Cal’s silhouette, the thin edge of his shoulders, the even thinner shadow he cast on the tent walls.

“Take a breath for me now,” said Zeke as Cal slid into his own sleeping bag.

Zeke thumbed the flashlight off and left it close to the tent’s opening so either of them could find it in the dark.

Without the flashlight, it took a minute for the ambient light of the stars and moon to make it seem quite bright, so Zeke reached to unzip the tent flaps, leaving the flexible screen in place. A bit of fresh air eased its way into the tent, and Cal sighed, and Zeke sighed with him.

“Rest easy,” he said, wishing he had better words of comfort to settle Cal.

He heard Cal take a breath, and as Cal’s head settled on his own pile of clothes, Zeke reached out and cupped the back of Cal’s neck. Something he’d done before, only this time, he pulled Cal to him quickly, tucking Cal close, Cal’s head beneath his jaw, where he could feel Cal’s breath on his neck.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

In response, Cal pushed closer, his arms coming out of his sleeping bag to circle around Zeke. But that would leave Cal too cold, so Zeke let Cal go, floundered with the zippers until both sleeping bags were open to each other, pulled Cal to him again, and tugged Cal’s sleeping bag over his shoulder.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Cal tucked himself against Zeke, circled his arms around Zeke’s waist, and finally seemed to settle, his whole body relaxing, the weight of him, the press of his skin, his warmth, all of this soaked into Zeke like a well-loved blanket.

He did not know how this was going to look in the morning, but Cal had needed comfort, so Zeke had given it to him. That wasn’t all he was feeling, but for now, it was what he was able to admit.

Perhaps in the coming days, he’d have a conversation with Galen about what he’d seen in Zeke to make him ask Zeke out, and what it was like to have feelings for another man. Along with a conversation with himself, maybe he’d be able to figure out not just how he felt about Cal, but what he wanted to do about it.