5. Hudson
Chapter 5
Hudson
H udson waited for Ty to come back, surprised that he couldn’t fall asleep with him gone. Which probably had something to do with the fact that he’d not slept alone for five years.
Ever since his arrest, there’d always been someone there with him. In his cell. In his tent. It wasn’t that he was afraid of sleeping alone, but his body wasn’t used to it.
Hudson sat up in his cot. The rain was coming down hard, now, a wild country rain, and Ty was out in it.
All Hudson wanted to do was keep a low profile and get through his parole so he could figure out the rest of his life. He was not responsible for Ty; he knew that. Except?—
Ty was out there, on a dark, cold, rainy night.
Hudson stood up and turned on the overhead light. Ty’s yellow work boots were sitting right where he put them. Which meant he was out there barefoot, soaked to the skin.
Hudson remembered caring about people. He’d cared about his brother Roger, who turned out to be the worst asshole of all time.
He’d even started to care for Michelle, Roger’s beautiful trophy wife, who’d popped out two kids in two years and was at the root of all of Hudson’s past and current troubles.
Michelle had, from day one, taken all of Roger’s time and attention. Maybe she’d not been a gold-digger, but with her Miss Nebraska Corn Goodness award in her hand, she’d been a climber.
Not that Hudson would let her be a part of his future. Not when Roger had decided that with two kids and a beautiful wife to support, he needed tons more money, and fast. Which was when he’d come up with the idea to rob a bank. Scottsbluff State Bank in Nebraska, to be exact.
You’d be the perfect wheelman , Roger had said. I’ve never seen a driver as good as you.
I make enough money , Hudson had replied. I can give you some if you need it.
Your truck driving pays the bills, sure, said Roger. But I know you’re saving up to buy a rig so you can drive your own eighteen-wheeler. Be your own man. Wouldn’t doing this be the fastest way? You’d be helping me, too, helping me to take better care of Michelle and the kids.
It had been beyond Hudon’s ability to refuse Roger, his older brother, who’d always looked out for him, supported him when their parents had passed away, one after the other. Even when most of Roger’s time was taken up with his job at an insurance company and his wife and kids, Roger had been there for him.
As to where Roger had gotten such a wild idea, Hudson would never know. Maybe Michelle had even suggested it to him. Regardless, the bank robbery idea had taken hold of him like some kind of fever.
Then, after the first botched bank job where Hudson had driven the getaway car, while Hudson had been in jail, Roger had tried again, with a different driver, and had gotten himself shot resisting arrest.
Hudson had finally found out about what had happened to Roger. It’d been Michelle, arriving at Nebraska Correctional his second year behind bars, who told him how Roger had died. Looking a little too dolled up to be sitting at a metal picnic table in the visiting room, she’d been teary-eyed to the point where Hudson believed she missed Roger with all her heart.
The kids are at my mother’s, she’d said. But she doesn’t like it that I’m leaving them with her. I need to figure something out.
Are you asking me for money? Hudson had snapped. Do you think they let me keep the money we stole?
Roger said , she’d begun, and then she’d stopped. Roger said you kept some.
The police had searched the car, and then him. They took every bag, every dollar. He hadn’t kept any of it. He’d been the only one to go to jail, of the four men involved. Roger and the two men had denied everything, and Hudson had been left holding the bags of money.
The money he’d had in the bank for his new truck was spent on legal fees. He certainly didn’t have any money for a new widow, even if her sons were related to him by blood.
Roger lied to you, said Hudson, hating the taste of the words. If I had any of that money, I could’ve paid for a real lawyer, a good one, and not some schmuck assigned to me by the system.
Michelle had come a few more times to visit him. Once she’d brought her two boys with her, young Trevor, and older Gareth. But he’d refused to see her and pushed away the memories of the last time he’d seen those little boys.
During his last year, they’d assigned him to the Chadron County chain gang. He thought that if she did visit him, he’d be grateful for a friendly face, but she’d never come.
And now this. He’d been pushing people away because it was safer. Tidier. Less trouble for him. No connections. No kindness. Except Ty was still out in the rain.
They weren’t in a suburb or a nice downtown. They were on the edge of the foothills, where wildlife roamed freely. Bears. Mountain lions. Danger lurked in the damp darkness.
He lifted the opening flap of the tent, beyond which silver-white rain came down like needles.
He’d been expecting Ty to come back ages ago. He was still out there. A stiff wind could have blown him away. How in the hell had he managed to survive what they’d both been through?
Many a stronger, more powerful man had gone into that hot box and come out a shaking mess. As for Ty? He’d come out pale with circles under his eye, sweat all over him. But he’d never complained, and he’d stepped out of there on his own two feet.
Which surely meant he could survive a rainstorm. This wasn’t Hudson’s problem. Gabe would probably eventually find out what was going on and send Ty packing for being troublesome.
But in his heart of hearts, in spite of the fact that the valley was a shock to his system, Hudson knew Gabe wouldn’t do that. That, given time—which he would be given—he’d adjust to his new life and move into a brighter future. Which meant that he was here for the duration.
Maybe his true self, the one he’d buried deep, deep down on the day he’d been sentenced to five years, was pushing to the fore. He used to be a good guy, a far cry from the angry man with bitterness that had suffused every part of him.
The good guy that he had been would already have pulled on his boots and his jacket, grabbed a flashlight. He would have already been out there, scouring the dark, damp woods for his tent mate. Rather than leaving him to suffer simply because Hudson’s soul was wounded and battered almost beyond repair.
Who was he now? He didn’t know, but it was up to him to figure it out. Besides, the code of cellmates was still true: look out for your cellmate.
So, he dragged on a pair of jeans, pulled on those boots and laced them, put on his jean jacket, and grabbed the flashlight. He left the tent light on and strode down the wooden steps into the rain.
If Ty had started in the direction of the facilities, even if he kind of knew the way, without a flashlight, he might have gotten lost. Or stumbled in his bare feet and hurt himself.
Moving more slowly, Hudson turned the beam of the flashlight to the left and to the right. Right away, he spotted a white t-shirt sprawled on the footpath. It could have been anyone’s, but Hudson knew it belonged to Ty.
It was obvious that he’d taken it off and flung it. Which meant that Ty was half-naked in the cold rain. Strike that. A little farther along were Ty’s white briefs. Which meant that he was fully naked in the cold rain.
A few more strides, and the flashlight caught a flash of pale skin at the base of a large aspen, which provided no shelter from the rain. Curled up, his arms around his knees, his face buried in them, was Ty, who must be drowning from the rain pouring from his hair.
“Ty,” said Hudson, as gently as he could. He got down, knees in the mud. If he was soaked and getting cold, then Ty must be freezing.
He laid his flashlight in the wet grass, aimed at the tree so he’d have some light to see by, and peeled off his jean jacket. He wanted Ty to wear it, but first he needed to loosen Ty’s grip on his legs. Get him to lift his head. Reassure him that rescue had come.
Was rescue what Ty’d been waiting for? Or was he simply curled up like that, hoping he’d die from exposure?
“Ty,” Hudson said again. “It’s Hudson. Sit up. Put on this jacket.”
His heart just about broke as he saw Ty struggling to do what he was asked, but his fingers seemed frozen into curled-up fists, and his hair hid his face.
Hudson cursed inwardly. When he’d been a nice guy, helping people out had come easily. He seemed to have lost his touch. He needed to do better.
“Ty.”
He laid his hand on Ty’s shoulder, gently. Pushed Ty’s hair back from his face and leaned close.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”
“Hudson?” The question came out a croak, the sound tearing at Hudson’s heart.
“Yeah, it’s me. Let’s go back to the tent now.” Hudson held his jacket out, but Ty’s shoulders hunched.
He moved closer until his muddy knees were right next to Ty’s cold, bare feet. Now he could clasp Ty’s arm and tug, just a little bit, and whisper, “I’ve got you, Ty. You’re safe now.”
Ty surprised him by saying, “My skin was so itchy I needed the rain to wash it off.”
As to what that meant, Hudson didn’t know. Only that Ty had spoken to him. Ty knew he was there. Hudson would get Ty back to the tent, dried off and in bed, and nobody would ever know what happened.
“Washing away the past, eh?” asked Hudson, as if he knew exactly what was going on in Ty’s head. He didn’t.
When Ty nodded, Hudson said, “What do you say you and me go back to the tent and dry off? And then in the morning, before breakfast, we’ll take the longest, hottest shower anybody’s ever had.”
He thought he saw Ty nodding, and took his chance, pulling Ty’s arm away, and flinging the jacket around Ty’s shoulders. The jacket was wet, but it was better than nothing.
With more urging, he got the jacket fully around Ty and then helped him up. Ty’s bare feet slipped in the mud, and he grasped at Hudson. Which was good, in a way, because it meant Ty was willing to let Hudson help him.
Ty’s feet must have felt like they’d been shoved into blocks of ice, because his steps were slow. They’d be ages getting back to the tent. They might be discovered. Or Ty might catch the cold from hell.
“I’m going to carry you,” said Hudson, deciding this. Then he amended, softening what must sound like a command. “Let me carry you.”
Ty made a muffled sound that could be counted as consent. Hudson didn’t wait to make sure. He grabbed the flashlight, and then he grabbed Ty, scooping him up as he stood.
With Ty in his arms, Hudson was struck again by how thin he was. Lifting his chin, rain batted at his face.
He shook himself and strode back down the path, hurrying, slipping in the mud once, almost dropping Ty, until he was back at the tent. He mounted the three wooden steps, entering into the calm dryness of the tent, where the overhead light still burned bright.
“Okay?” asked Hudson as he lowered Ty until he could stand. “You need to dry off. Get the mud off you, too. Where are those towels?”
In a businesslike way, Hudson helped Ty dry off, figuring that Ty’s shivering was a good sign. His body was taking care of itself.
He buffed Ty from top to bottom, noting the fading bruises on his arms and shoulders. Some on his legs. Hudson had similar bruises because the chain gang guards played no favorites. Outrage filled him and had no place to go, so he focused on taking care of Ty.
“You got sweats,” said Hudson. “Put ‘em on, and a clean t-shirt.”
“Where are the clothes I was wearing?” asked Ty, which meant that though he was doing as Hudson asked, he was still confused.
“You took ‘em off in the woods,” said Hudson. “Doesn’t matter, you have plenty more. I doubt Gabe is going to take stock of your t-shirts.”
Hudson hung up his jean jacket to dry and changed into dry clothes himself. He laid his wet jeans and t-shirt over the metal footboard of his cot to give Ty a moment to get dressed in dry clothes in private, which felt foolish, since he’d already seen him in the buff.
“Get in,” said Hudson, gesturing at Ty’s cot. When Ty was in, his head on the pillow, blond hair scattered against the white cotton, he looked wan and worn out, his energy faded, his silver-blue eyes flat.
More affected than he thought he would be, Hudson reached for more of the kindness that he’d hidden away and sat on the edge of Ty’s cot.
“Don’t do that again,” he said. “If you need to walk in the rain, buck naked, fine. Just don’t go alone. And don’t go barefoot.”
“I won’t,” said Ty.
“Promise me,” said Hudson, amazed that his vow of self-preservation, thinking only of himself, had been erased so quickly by Ty’s plight. “I’m trying to keep a low profile here and you just keep drawing attention to yourself.”
Only the day before the words would have come out angry and bitter. Now they were stern, but kind, making him feel more like the person he used to be.
“Yes, sir,” said Ty, sounding utterly meek, but a bit of color was coming back to his face. It wasn’t happenstance. He knew he was teasing Hudson. So, Hudson replied in kind.
“Hudson,” he said, giving Ty’s exposed wrist a slight pat. “Call me Hudson.”
It was scary to be so vulnerable and close. He might regret his kindness to Ty later, but for now, being with Ty was like a balm to his soul.