Love, Like Water (34 page)

“She says that riding contracts muscle and I need to spend more time in the swimming pool at the hospital to stretch it out. Like I got the time to go wandering back and forth to Miller on a daily basis. Besides, I hate swimming.”

“You like it fine when it’s hot out.”

“Yeah, but it’s not hot anymore. We’re coming up on Thanksgiving, Tucker. It’s been damn cold these last couple nights.” Was cold now, in fact—barely in the high fifties—despite it being the middle of the afternoon.

“Should be good sleeping weather.” Tucker cocked his head at Eli, who only shrugged. Tucker knew he was having trouble sleeping, and why. But he didn’t say anything, just added, “Think we need to get up to the canyon and get the ladies back here for the winter, before we get snow.”

“Shoulda done that two weeks ago.”

“Well, two weeks ago I was still hoping that Josh woulda changed his damn fool mind and helped out. He woulda liked being in on the roundup, I think. But I can’t wait any longer. I figure tomorrow morning I’ll take a couple of the hands out there and we’ll bring ’em in. You want to come with the van for the colts? Dennis’s driving.”

“Sure. Can’t see myself riding that whole distance yet.” Eli flexed the fingers of his injured hand. He was out of a cast, but still wore a brace for the broken wrist. “Do what I can.”

“I appreciate it.”

Eli nodded, and limped into the barn, Button at his heels. The therapy was helping his leg, but it ached after a workout, and the pain ran from his hip to his foot. Walking around would help some, but there was an ice pack with his name on it back in his icebox.

He’d been hurt before during both his years with the rodeo and his years here, but never all at once like this. Sometimes it seemed he was one big ache. But it was getting better, the ache in his body.

The ache in his heart? He reckoned that was permanent.

He put Button in the crossties and groomed him, even though the horse hadn’t done more than walk around the arena a couple of times. The steady, mindless rhythm of the brushing was a comfort, something he could do without thinking. And it didn’t hurt the horse, either. Button’s head dropped drowsily as Eli ran the currycomb over his withers.

His cell phone buzzed and he dropped the comb in his hurry to grab it. He’d left probably a dozen messages and texts for Josh over the last three weeks and had gotten no answer, but hope sprang eternal or some such nonsense. The disappointment when he saw it was Jack Castellano’s number, not Joshua’s, felt like a body blow, and he considered not answering, but did anyway. “Kelly,” he said curtly.

“Hey, Eli. Jack. How are you doing?”

“Good enough, I reckon. What’s up?”

“Just wondered what you were doing Friday night. I thought I’d like to try out that new place in Old Town and wouldn’t mind the company.”

Eli didn’t know what to say. Yeah, he and Jack had had a couple nights together, but neither of them had been looking for anything more than a quick fuck. This sounded like a date or something. “You asking me out, Jack?”

The doctor laughed. “Guess I am. You interested?”

“I dunno…. I ain’t sure I’m the dating kind, Jack.”

“No commitment, Eli. To be honest, I’m sort of between relationships right now and don’t have anyone else I’d rather go with. If you want, it’ll just be dinner. You can tell me how your therapy’s going. I keep meaning to catch up with you one of the times you’re in Miller, but so far haven’t managed it. No pressure.”

“I guess so,” Eli said. He picked up the currycomb and hooked it on the nail by Button’s stall. “What time Friday?”

“Come to the hospital about five. I’ll make reservations for seven. That work for you?”

“Sure.”

After he’d hung up, he unhooked Button from the crossties, then put the horse back in his box, and wandered down towards where the third of the three creeks that watered the ranch found its end in a small, tree-shaded pool, just beyond his foreman’s cottage. The leaves of the cottonwoods that surrounded it were already falling, floating on the pool’s surface, eddied by the little tumble of water that fed the pool. Another couple of weeks and there would be frost rime on the edges; a few more and the water would be frozen ’til spring. He’d meant to bring Josh here one day, but there hadn’t been time, and now Eli appreciated that. This was one of the few of Eli’s favorite places that didn’t have a memory of Josh attached to it.

Eli sat down, his back against one of the trees, and watched the leaves swirl. His leg ached, but that was nothing new. What surprised him was that his heart ached, as if his conversation with Jack had torn open sutures on a healing wound.

The thing was, he didn’t think the wound was healing. He missed Joshua as much as ever—maybe more. Not just the sex, though that was nice. But the conversations. The rides, sometimes in complete silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, but reassuring. The camaraderie of working together, of Eli teaching Joshua to regain half-forgotten skills of horsemanship, of Joshua leaning on the fence watching while Eli worked with a new arrival in the arena, or of the two of them perched there while Tucker coaxed better behavior from a troubled beast. In the few short weeks they’d been together, Joshua’s voice had become part of the music of the ranch, as much as the jingle of bridle tack or the squeak of leather or the wind in the trees and the water. Day to day, Eli had been able to ignore it while he was working—and even though he was supposed to take it easy, he’d worked as hard as he could, until he fell into bed at night and went right to exhausted, if troubled, sleep.

Was he ready to move on? Was Jack the right person to—What did they call it? Rebound?—onto? He liked Jack, always had. But Jack didn’t look at him with dark eyes lost in sadness, didn’t smile that elusive, tentative smile that wrung Eli’s heart.

Had never danced under a chilly waterfall, those dark eyes on Eli’s. Had never curled up in Eli’s bed with his head on Eli’s chest, as if Eli were strong enough to defend someone who’d proven his own strength over and over.

Yes, Joshua had killed a girl. He’d said he’d come to terms with the other killings, but Eli had had time to think about it, and he knew, just
knew
, that Josh wasn’t over the girl. Would never be over the girl. Eli didn’t know why he’d done it, but one thing he was sure of: it hadn’t been Josh’s choice. Josh hadn’t
wanted
to kill the girl. It haunted him. It was what drove those endless nightmares Josh had—because since finding out about it, they’d driven nightmares of his own.

It hadn’t taken Eli long to figure out that Joshua’s guilt and grief were what made him so fragile. Maybe that was why he’d gotten hooked on the heroin—maybe the drug kept him from feeling. He remembered his own guilt and grief when he’d had to put down an injured horse; remembered the nightmares, the self-hatred—and that had been out of kindness to a dumb animal. How much worse could it be for Joshua, who’d been put in a position where he’d had to do that to another human being—not out of kindness, but out of the cruelty of another man?

And he’d turned away from him. Rejected him.

Eli put his face in his hands.

“Nice spot to think,” Tucker said gently. Eli looked up to see him sitting down a few feet away from him on a stump from an earlier clearing. “Nice spot to talk, if you’re so inclined.”

“Just thinking.”

“Mphm,” Tucker said.

They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, for a long while. Then Tucker stretched his legs out in front of him and said, “You know, the ranch wasn’t originally named the Triple C. My grandfather renamed it after he bought it from the man that went bankrupt here. Lots of that going on in the thirties—prices for beef stock went really low. Lot of cattle ranches went out of business, and this wasn’t the best place for beeves to begin with. Originally, though, the place was called Three Creek Ranch, because of how important those three creeks are. It’s the creeks that made this spot of earth livable. When Granddad bought the ranch, he expanded it the whole length of Rio Galiano, right up to the government forest lands, just so he could control the water.” He grinned. “That box canyon was just a bonus—he didn’t have a clue that was there. But when he was following Galiano up, he found where it branched the first time, and followed that down to the canyon. Best kept secret in New Mexico, I bet.”

“It’s a good place.” Eli closed his eyes, thinking of Joshua dancing.

“Water built it. Water built this place, too. Wouldn’t be here but for that.”

“Yep.”

“Wasn’t only water, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Tucker stretched again. “Takes more than water and land to make a place like the Triple C, Eli. Takes hope, and faith, and courage, and love. Granddad took a big risk, buying a place like this to raise horses, out in the middle of nowhere, at a time when horses were being phased out by cars and rail. But he believed in his dream, and Grandma believed in him. Same with my folks. Don’t mean to get all mushy, but I’m thinking that maybe a big part of love is believing in somebody. Believing in something outside of yourself, you know?”

“This about Josh?”

“Of course it’s about Josh. You been walking around like a zombie these past couple of weeks. Now, maybe I’m talking out my hat, but it seems to me that you ain’t just hurting from the beating. That maybe what’s really hurting ain’t your bones.”

“Fuck, Tucker.” Eli put his face back in his hands.

“Son, there ain’t nothing wrong with admitting when you’re gone over someone. God knows I know the feeling.”

That brought Eli’s head up. “What? You?”

“What, do you think I’m made of stone, son? I got feelings just like everyone else. But in my case, it don’t do no good to talk about it. The lady I care about just ain’t available.” Tucker shrugged. “I’m too old for romance, anyway. But you—you’re still young. There’s time enough for you to make mistakes. I just don’t think this one’s it.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You try calling him?”

“He doesn’t answer. I texted him, e-mailed him—nothing. So I stopped.”

“Damn fool kid,” Tucker said, and Eli knew he wasn’t referring to him. “He answers me quick enough. When did you text him last?”

“Week ago.”

“What’d’ya say?”

“Just asked him to call. Said I wanted to talk to him.”

“Well, that’s straightforward enough. Damn fool kid.”

“You got his address? Next step, I reckon, is sitting on his doorstep.”

Tucker said, “He was at a hotel, but he got an apartment. I don’t have the address yet. Soon’s I do, I’ll give it to you. I don’t know what else to do, except chew him out the next time I talk to him. You want that?”

“No.” Eli shook his head. “I think it’s between me and Josh. He wasn’t so nice when you made him come to see me in the hospital.”

“He was pulling away even then.” Tucker got up and dusted off his seat. “Near to suppertime. Best get in before Sarafina sends out the dogs. Speaking of which, after we get back from the canyon and get the mares settled, I’m driving into Miller. One of Paco’s coonhounds just dropped a litter and I figure on picking out a pair for the ranch here.”

“Good idea,” Eli said. He got up too, a little more awkwardly than Tucker, but to be fair, he’d been sitting on the ground a while. “Guess I need to wash up for supper.”

“Guess you do.” Tucker put his hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Don’t give up on Josh, son. I got the feeling we ain’t seen the last of him. I think all he needs is for you to accept him, warts and all.”

“Never saw any warts,” Eli said.

Tucker cuffed him lightly in the head. “You know what I mean. I’ll see you at supper.”

Chapter 32

T
HE
head of the Albuquerque field office, Vasquez, was skimming through Joshua’s report when Joshua entered. He looked up, smiled briefly, and gestured for Joshua to sit while he put the papers back into their folder. “You’ve submitted an intriguing proposition, Mr. Chastain.”

“It makes sense.” Joshua spread his hands out in illustration. “I have the background, the experience, and the name. All we need do is work out a story of how I came to be here instead of in prison in Ohio, and I can assure you we’d have an in. Yes, there’d probably be a few weeks of shaking in, but I can deal.”

“I won’t deny we could use someone with your… talents within the Quintana organization. Your work with Los Peligros in Chicago was exemplary—in its way. I admit my first reaction was to agree with you. However.”

Joshua clenched his fists on the end of the chair arms. “You don’t think I can handle it,” he said tightly.

“No. After reading your report, I contacted Bill Robinson in Chicago. He gave you a glowing recommendation, but he also pointed out some of the same things both your therapist here and at the rehab facility did.”

“My therapist?”

“Yes. Our budget isn’t big enough to include a staff psychologist, unlike larger cities like Chicago, so we use civilian consultants, who go through the same vetting as any other employee of the bureau. Your Dr. McBride is one of them. You signed releases permitting us to contact him, which I did this afternoon. His report tallied with your medical records from rehab. The fact that you’re still suffering from nightmares and emotional issues connected with your last assignment makes you ineligible for this one.” The man smiled ruefully. “I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news. I know you were enthusiastic about this project, but I can’t risk it.”