Love, Like Water (6 page)

Joshua raised an eyebrow. He did look better, some, Eli thought—he was still gaunt, that wouldn’t change overnight, but some of the shadows had vanished from beneath his eyes, and while those still weren’t anywhere near human, they at least weren’t
quite
as dead. They at least looked like they had a soul behind him. Probably due to Sarafina’s feeding him.

God
, Eli thought,
he’s gonna be nice looking when he gets some meat on his bones and some life in his face
. He shook himself mentally.

“Profiler?” the guy said. “Well, better that than the truth.”

“What’s the truth?”

Joshua looked at him. “Failure, mostly.”

“Failure? That’s bullshit, boy!” Tucker rarely got that incensed, and Elian didn’t remember the last time he’d flown off the handle like that. It was so unlike the soft-spoken horse trainer he knew that he recoiled in surprise. “Your mama told me they were able to put that whole damn gang behind bars and you never even had to testify because the information you got them was so solid. So don’t you go saying you’re anything like a failure around where I can hear it, you understand?”

Glancing at Joshua, Eli noted that the man’s head had gone back, his nostrils flared, and his eyes had gone flat and dead like they had been the first time he’d seen him. Just like a mustang fresh off the range might look, faced with a stranger with a rope—defiant, frightened, wary. “Tuck,” he said quietly.

His boss stopped, blinked, took a good hard look at Joshua, and deflated. “Shit,” he said softly. “Sorry, Josh.” He put out his hand, slowly, carefully.

Joshua looked at it, at him, and dropped his head forward, letting out a long sigh. When he raised his head, his eyes were tired. “It’s okay,” he said wearily. “It’s just your truth. But you gotta remember something, Uncle Tucker. The end almost never justifies the means.” With that, he got up and shambled back into the house.

“Fuck,” Tucker said. Eli was surprised. Tucker almost never swore like that.

“You okay?”

“I’ll live. Damn it. I blew that one, didn’t I?”

“He ain’t gonna be easy, Tuck.” Eli took the couple of steps up to the porch and hiked himself up onto the railing. “He’s smart and he’s tough, and he’s pretty damn bruised. You just gotta hope he’s got heart underneath all that bruising. He kinda reminds me of one of the horses we get from the ASPCA—maybe he’ll respond to the same kinda treatment.”

“He’s a man, not a horse.”

Eli shrugged. “Both animals, in the long run. You’re a smart man, boss. You’ll figure him out.”

“It would help if I knew what happened to him. What drove him to the drugs. I mean, shit, Eli, the boy I knew couldn’t ’a done that. Something must have changed him drastic.”

“Mebbe. Whatever it was, he’s dealing with it now, and that’s what matters.”

“True enough.” Tucker sighed, then said, “Another thing—speaking of Animal Cruelty….”

“Shit, we got another one?”

“One? Hell, we’ve got five. Outta Kansas. Trailer’s coming in Saturday. Three mares, two geldings. Old man died on his farm and nobody knew about it for weeks.” Tucker shook his head. “My worst nightmare. At any rate, they had to euthanize a couple of them but they think these might make it. Rod’s gonna be back out Saturday morning to meet the trailer.”

“I’ll have the guys get the small barn ready. Let’s keep them together for now, ’til they adjust.”

“That’s what I was thinkin’.”

Eli said slowly, “I had another thought….”

“What’s that?”

“Most of what they’re gonna need for the first few weeks is just tendin’. Nothing complicated. Socialization, mebbe. Someone to watch their feed so they don’t overeat, make sure they get water, aren’t pushed around by any of the other horses. Make sure they don’t get sick, or if they’re injured, that the wounds don’t fester. A babysitter.”

As one, they turned and looked at the house. “You think he can handle it?”

“Yeah, I think it might bring him out of himself, y’know? Give him something else to think about. I’d wait ’til we see what they look like, though—if there’s any chance one won’t make it, we might want to rethink that. No sense him getting attached to an animal that doesn’t have a chance of making it—or having him
not
getting attached, if he thinks it won’t.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Tucker leaned back and stared at the porch roof. His eyes narrowed as he thought. Eli watched him and waited. Finally, without changing his regard, Tuck said, “Let’s put Ricky with him to assist. He’s interested in eventually going to vet school, and this’ll give him some practice with managing animals.” Ricky was one of Jesse’s friends and worked for them part time. “He can help out in the afternoons, give Joshua a break, and do some of the heavy lifting Joshua can’t manage yet.”

“He’s supposed to be here tomorrow afternoon. I can talk to him then.”

“Introduce him to Joshua, but don’t say anything about the project to him. I want to make sure Joshua can handle it before I give it to him.” Tucker looked worried. Eli could understand why. “I want him to work in the office, but his health is so poor I’d rather him be in better condition before I set him to a desk job. Yeah, I know that’s counter… whatever it is they’re calling it these days, we used to just say ornery—”

“Counterintuitive,” Eli supplied.

“Yeah, that. But he needs fresh air and to get some strength before I stick him in the office.”

“Can’t say as I’d argue with that. Fresh air, plenty of rest, and Sarafina’s cooking’ll make a new man outta him.”

“Hope you’re right, son,” Tucker said. “Hope you’re right.”

Chapter 5

T
HE
days settled into a slow rhythm that somehow, through its very simplicity, started to ease some of the pain. The nightmares were still bad, still waking him several times a night, but Joshua found it easier to fall back to sleep afterwards than he ever had. He slept with his window open, and the scent of dust and desert plants and Sarafina’s herb garden worked better than any of the sleeping pills they’d given him in the hospital. And the sounds: the wind, the rustle in the trees, the distant howl of a coyote or wolf—were there even any wolves left in the wild? And in the morning, the cackle of hens, the crow of a rooster, Sarafina rattling pans in the kitchen, and finally, the unmistakable noise of the hands coming in to eat.

There were a handful of employees who lived on the ranch, but most of them lived between there and Miller. Despite being the high desert, there were a surprising number of small ranches and farmsteads along the stretch of road to Miller, watered by a branch of the same Rio Galiano that kept the ranch alive. Eli had taken the time to introduce him to most of them, but Joshua had just filed the names away for future reference. They all seemed to have jobs that kept them busy; the ranch bustled from dawn ’til dusk. The ones Joshua saw the most of were Eli and Jesse, Sarafina’s son, who were always around. The others didn’t seem to have anything to do with Joshua.

He always waited until the last of them had gone before venturing out of his room. He’d stayed on the first floor—being down the hall away from the kitchen and having his own bathroom gave him a feeling of privacy he hadn’t had in a long time. It helped that, after that first day, neither his uncle nor his housekeeper came in without invitation.

Even when Sarafina wanted to dust or do laundry, she always asked his permission first. He was quick to grant it, just as he was quick to come out when the last of the hands had finished breakfast, so that he could eat and let Sarafina clean up without dragging out her morning. It was bad enough she had to fuss over him like that—he’d never had anyone wait on him like she did, and it made him uncomfortable. Just not as uncomfortable as eating with those strangers would. Sometimes he offered to help, but she always shooed him out onto the porch or into the cavernous living room.

Tucker hadn’t seemed eager to let him help either, with the ranch or with the bookkeeping. He was blunter about it than Sarafina was, telling Joshua point blank that he didn’t want him stuck in the office until he was in better health. He did promise to have something for him to do by the weekend, and in the meantime, he told Joshua, he’d have to entertain himself with reading or watching movies streamed from Tucker’s Netflix account.

He’d tried the movies, but his attention span was nonexistent, and he ended up shutting them off more often than not. He did manage to get all the way through
Brokeback Mountain
, but it was such a sad ending that he went back to bed and stared at the ceiling for hours, and couldn’t bring himself to watch anything at all after that. The books in the house were mostly about ranching, and he supposed he ought to try reading some of them, if he was going to stay here, but when he tried, the words swam in front of his eyes and he’d given up in frustration.

A book on the native flora and fauna of New Mexico caught his eye. It was mostly pictures, with short descriptions beneath each photograph. That he could manage, especially since when he got tired, he could just close the book and pick it up again when he woke up from his nap. He didn’t have to think or remember or analyze; all he had to do was take in the information and store it for later. The ranching books all seemed to work from a supposition that the reader already knew something about ranching, so the text didn’t make sense to him, but the picture book was easy.

That was what he was reduced to: easy.

He’d never taken life easy. He’d graduated college by twenty, gone straight through the police academy and into a job with the Cincinnati PD, and when his lieutenant recommended him for the FBI, he’d not only gotten into the academy there, but ended up one of the youngest field agents in the Bureau’s history. His weird memory had helped, but so had his will and his brains. He wasn’t used to easy. He didn’t
want
easy. But his body was fighting him all the way. Not only with the weakness, the weariness. But even though he’d gone through rehab, even though the doctors and therapists had told him the need for the heroin was all psychological at this point, he still felt the need for it. Sometimes he felt like he was quivering under the skin, his muscles and tendons twitching uncontrollably like a horse trying to dislodge a fly. Sometimes his nerves buzzed all over until he thought he’d go insane from the sensation. And other times he just hurt, like an old man with arthritis.

He knew his uncle was just watching out for him, that he meant to be kind. That he really did want Joshua to rest. Joshua wished he had the energy to argue with Tucker, to
make
him put Joshua to work, but it was far too difficult. And if even
asking
to work was too much effort, maybe Tucker was right to keep Joshua resting.

But it wasn’t restful. It was
frustrating.

He’d taken to sitting on the porch in the shade most of the day, on the cushioned bench just outside the kitchen door. From there he could watch the ranch, but not interfere or get in the way, and if he closed his eyes and dozed, no one seemed to notice or comment on it. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was watching, analyzing the way the ranch worked, the way the people interacted with each other, the way they reacted to Uncle Tucker, the way they responded to the foreman. Tucker was active, working with the horses in the big main corral, striding in and out of the various ranch buildings, or leading out a group of cowboys only to return hours later herding what seemed like dozens of horses.

Eli, too, was everywhere at once, but where Tucker was in charge, larger than life, Eli was quieter, appearing instantly when called for, always there, always aware, but unobtrusive. Just steady and reliable. Joshua noticed too, that when one of the men needed something, or had a question, it was to Eli that they went. It was a good pairing, Tucker and Eli—Tucker was the leader, Eli the efficient second-in-command.

Tucker always made time to check on Joshua, to make sure he was comfortable and resting, and that he didn’t need anything. But it was Eli who would stop in passing, lean up against the bottom of the stair rail, and
talk
to Joshua, explaining what they were doing in the corral, where the men were going on their horses, what was being delivered, where the newest batch of horses were coming from. He’d watch Joshua with those patient eyes, as if calculating how much he could take in at a time, and seemed to know just when it was too much. Then he’d smile that slow smile, touch the brim of his hat, and walk away.

Joshua still felt like an outsider, but less of an unwelcome one.

He was sitting outside on the porch one morning, the picture book in his lap and his eyes closed against the relentless high desert sun, when he heard the sound of engines, louder than the ranch’s trucks and equipment, and with a strange timbre. He opened his eyes to see a big old Cadillac pulling into the yard, followed by an enormous horse trailer. The Caddy’s door opened and a man got out. He was dressed like any of the hands here, but he had a doctor’s bag in one hand. The trailer pulled up on the other side of him, and as the driver got out of the cab, several of the hands, Tucker, and Elian Kelly came out of one of the barns. The trailer driver shook Tucker’s hand, then Eli’s, and then the three of them and the guy Joshua assumed was the vet walked to the back of the trailer, unhitched the ramp that served as the back door, and eased it down to the ground.