20. Jake
Jake
Mid-afternoon saw us back at the ranch. I got out of the car and stood there, breathing deep, savoring the fresh air as though I’d been held underwater for just about too long.
Maybe Dalton felt the same way, though as I looked at him across the roof of his blue Nissan, I knew that fresh air wasn’t going to be enough. His face was drawn, eyes hooded. He didn’t quite meet my gaze as he held the door open for Xander.
Lucas hurried over from the staff building. His arms were open wide, and he grabbed Dalton in a hard hug, then held him at arm’s length. “What the hell, buddy? I got a call from the head admin. She’s packing up your things. You got fired? I told you to be firm, but Jesus.”
Dalton bowed his head, and I imagined him remembering scoldings from two older brothers who didn’t care about him.
Who saw in him only what he could do for them.
But Lucas and Dalton were friends of long standing, so Dalton didn’t stay that way for long.
He raised his head and pushed Lucas’ hands away.
“I knew there were layoffs coming. That’s what he’s going to explain it as. ”
Dalton glanced over at me, and then Lucas did as well. His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you do?” he asked me. Loudly, so anyone within earshot could hear. “Jake?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have barged in on Dalton and his boss that way.
It wasn’t how things were done in the city, probably.
What I’d intended as a gesture of care and support had cost him his job.
And in any case, not every man would want to admit to being rescued.
Needing rescue. But I’d rescue Dalton a thousand times over and take the fall for it, just so he wouldn’t have to stand there in that glass-walled room and be abused.
I opened my mouth to say what needed to be said, but Dalton was quicker than I.
“It’s not his fault,” Dalton said.
Lucas looked at me as though he’d already determined the incident had been my fault. And maybe it was.
“Didn’t care for the way he was treating him,” I said matter-of-factly.
The way I always did when talking to Lucas, even if the atmosphere was a bit of a powder keg.
“You would have done the same. Anyway.” I tipped my head at where Xander was standing, that mostly empty backpack looking more like a waterlogged plastic sack. “This here’s Xander.”
Xander, like young Dillon and Cameron and the other teens, was the reason for the renovations to the ranch, pure and simple. I’d balked at those changes from the start. I still didn’t like them, but I understood them, at least a little better now.
Lucas looked Xander over, and I knew he could see the bruises and the empty expression in Xander’s eyes. His focus shifted from Dalton to the young man.
“We’ve got a place for you in bunkhouse four,” he told Xander. “You can move in there as soon as Dalton moves his stuff to bunkhouse six. For now, I’ll introduce you to Dillon and Cameron, your new housemates. You’ll like them. They’re about your age.”
Dalton looked slightly dazed, but he didn’t argue. They might have been on the verge of a fight, but they were friends of long standing, so when Lucas came close and hugged Dalton around his shoulders, Dalton leaned into the embrace, and the tension in the air relaxed.
“It’ll all work out,” Lucas told him. “You’ve got an audit to finish, and I’ll pay you instead of you doing it for free.”
“You can’t afford me.”
“I’ll pay you what I can,” Lucas said. “And room and board while you figure everything out. For now, I’ll take Xander to meet Beau.” He gestured to Xander. “C’mon, then. Beau coordinates things for you teens. Let’s get this party started.”
As all this was going on, I felt more and more like a third wheel. Except in response to Lucas’ beckoning, Xander looked at me.
I nodded at him. I wanted to tell him it was safe to stay. That in a place like this, he didn’t need to keep watch and didn’t need to look for a chance to run away. He could leave at any time if he wanted, but the better option was to remain.
I’d been moved so many times in my lifetime.
I’d never really seen it from this vantage point before.
Always I’d been the one on the inside, nerves twitching, shoulders braced for the fallout that was sure to come.
Carrying the nearly empty garbage bag. Or carrying a box full of Christmas toys that some charity had dropped off, only to discover the items were for a kid much younger.
Or the family I was with took the gifts meant for me and gave them to their own.
Now I saw it like I was standing on a mountain, looking out over a vast landscape.
My heart went out to him, this new boy who had no idea what was coming his way—who had no reason to believe it was good, all good, and could stay that way from here on out.
And still he was walking right into it, brave as anything.
Dalton had just taken a step, like he was about to follow Lucas and become a part of the bustle of moving out and moving in.
I reached for his forearm and caught it. He didn’t need to be part of this with Xander; it was better for the boy to be surrounded by others whose experiences were more akin to his. And besides, I had something I needed to say.
“This is my fault,” I told Dalton, low. “I wanted you to stay on the ranch, but not like this.”
“What makes you think I’m staying?” His expression was like stone, and his eyes looked very dark. No longer a summer sunrise. No longer welcoming me with a sweet smile. “Maybe after I finish the audit, I’ll leave.”
The wind, that sweet warm breeze coming off the pine trees and smelling like spice, turned into an arctic cold front.
And I froze. That was the last thing I’d expected him to say.
All the things we shared, that we’d experienced together, hung in my mind, the smooth edges blending, each moment turning jagged.
“You’ll get another job in the city, then,” I said, like it was a foregone conclusion. The empty future that I’d been dreading was not just approaching. It was there, right in front of me, and I’d best acknowledge it.
“Maybe,” he said, the single word curt. Cut off. “Or maybe I’ll go to that property in Scottsbluff. Prime the pump, like you said. Raise hay. Cattle.”
I’d never been anywhere but Colorado. Never been anywhere but Denver and Snow Creek Ranch.
I’d seen pictures of Scottsbluff: wide, empty, lion-colored land that pushed up into bluffs and buttes, staunch soldiers against flat blue sky. The wind blew there all the time, I’d heard. The winters were hard.
Well, winters were hard everywhere. Dalton would manage. He was tough. But if he went out that way, he’d be alone. My heart didn’t want that.
“I’d go with you.” As soon as the words were out, I was short of breath, as if I’d run a very long way and still hadn’t finished the race.
Did I mean it? My mind spun around, trying to determine exactly what I did mean.
In the end, I had to tell the truth. “But I’d prefer to stay here under the stars that I know. ”
He looked at me, silent and still.
We were stuck. I couldn’t make him stay. I couldn’t make him want to stay with me. I didn’t have much to offer him, so I couldn’t do anything except look at him as he rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand. Watch perspiration slide from his temple down his cheek.
We were in the middle of a clearing. The sun was still hot overhead, and in spite of my heart being in a deep freeze, I was warm. Too warm. Neither one of us had a hat to shield us, to catch a cooling breeze.
I thought about urging him into the barn, but there were too many memories there. We’d left them behind us everywhere. In the barn. In the dining hall. In my bunkhouse. On the hillside. Along Snow Creek, beyond the guest cabins.
“There’s a short bridge this way,” I said. “Over Snow Creek. Stones to sit on. And shade.”
I wanted that expression on his face to be banished. I wanted him to be happy, and if that meant he was far away from me, so be it. The peace in his heart came before everything, even my own peace.
The kids were causing a ruckus, laughing in bunkhouse four. Lucas was walking toward the staff building. So it was just Dalton and me who knew where we went. Along the dirt road to the creek. To the bridge that was made of wood and looked to be a hundred years old.
It was in the shade, as was the bank. Dampness had soaked up from the creek into the bank, making it a little muddy.
But there were stones beneath the mix of pine trees and young cottonwoods.
Spicy-scented river willows grew in a line of sage green, pale yellow, white, like flags above the slow-flowing creek.
Dalton followed me like a zombie who didn’t quite know where he was. He’d been pretty quiet on the drive from Denver, but now he was more closed off than I’d ever seen him. Than I ever wanted to see him.
“There.” I pointed. “That’s a good one.”
“You come here a lot?” he managed to say as he sat on the biggest boulder. Flat-topped, with an edge you could dangle your legs over. “You seem to know it well.”
“Walter and I used to,” I said. “He was good to me.” That slipped out. I seldom spoke about how I felt about Walter, though Jesse had mentioned my feelings had been obvious to one and all, especially after the funeral.
It was a lot cooler in the shade. I sat on a nearby boulder and watched as Dalton’s shoulders gradually came down. A weight easing.
This was a lovely spot that I seldom came to, even if the memories were all good. But Dalton seemed to need what it could offer, so I shared it with him.
Later, after he left, I could tie all my memories of us together and bury them right here, next to the bridge. And then never come back here. Ever.
“It’s not your fault,” he said into the cool air and river-rush silence.
“What I told Lucas was the truth; there have been rumors of layoffs for a while. I just happened to get in his way today. And, like I said, you came riding up like the cavalry to protect me, and no one’s ever done that for me before.
And it’s not like I liked working there, anyway.
” He turned his head to look at me, skin dappled with sunlight and shadow.
“But do you know what it’s like to build something and have it snatched away like that? ”
“No.” I didn’t add that I’d never had anything that felt permanent. That I had built. That would drive me to despair if it were to be taken away from me.
Until now.
“I could help you,” I said, desperate to make sure he was okay. “I meant what I said. Get you set up in Scottsbluff. Help you with the barn. The pump. I’ve got strong shoulders. Strong hands. For the work.”
After that, I’d come back, tuck my memories away, and get on with my solitary life. Which was a better life than I’d imagined, back when I was growing up in those unloving homes.
“You’d do that, wouldn’t you.” A gust of wind moved branches and shadows, letting me see Dalton’s expression, serious and utterly still. “Would you do that for me? Come up to do a bunch of backbreaking work that’s of no benefit to you?”
“It’d help you,” I said. “If that’s what you want, I’d do it.”
He was silent for a good long moment. Only the sound of the river could be heard. Far off, an engine being started. Someone calling. Leaves dancing overhead. Pine boughs brushing, making a shhhhh sound, like a whisper. Many whispers gathered together, flinging themselves upon the wind.
Then he got up. Without a word, he stood up on his boulder and stepped over to mine. Mine was smaller and slanted, so if he took a step wrong, he was going to fall, and it wouldn’t be pretty. I reached out for his hands so I could help him sit next to me.
It’d be crowded, but that would be fine by me. Except he didn’t seem to want to sit on cold stone, preferring, as I could plainly see, to sit on my lap instead. Which was also fine by me.
He bowed his head and tucked himself against me, beneath my chin, inside the circle of my arms. And I held him, thinking of how Walter had told me, perhaps more than once, that only a strong man knows when to ask for help and then does that very thing.
I had never been as strong as Dalton was in that moment.
He was a man fully grown, and he’d figure out what he had to do, and then he’d do it. In the meantime, I’d hold him for as long as he needed. As long as possible.
I kissed the top of his head and let the silence of the shadows, the soft rush of the river, wash over us. It was a good place, full of good memories, and Dalton needed every bit of the energy it had to give.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Dalton said. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” He hitched a breath as he clasped my forearm. “Or this place.”
We breathed together for a little while, and then he said, “Lucas once told me that this was wild country. That it would sink its teeth into me and never let go.”
He tipped his head back to look at me, brushing his jaw along mine. A gesture of connection.
“I think it has,” he said. “I think you have. But.” He paused to lick his lips. “Will you still care for me if I leave? Forgive me for being so fucking indecisive? Will you forgive me if I hurt you?”
I wanted to kiss him, to bring pleasure to the surface rather than discuss a line in the sand about whether he would go or stay.
He shifted so he was between my thighs, one booted foot hanging off the boulder. His chest pressed to mine, and I held him tighter so he wouldn’t fall. His arms went around my neck. That’s when I got to kiss him. Sweet and deep and fast.
“Tell me you forgive me,” he whispered against my mouth.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I whispered back.
Our voices were muted in the hush of the shadows, the rush of the creek. The light, green-scented breeze moving around us like a cloak. If I never had to leave that moment, I’d be the happiest man on earth.