Love, Like Water (18 page)

Eli didn’t say, and Joshua didn’t ask.

T
HEY
had nearly reached the last of the barns, around the far side of the furthest corral, where a stand of cottonwoods had been planted years ago. The creek they’d followed watered the trees before splitting into the three that kept the ranch alive through the driest years. The shade here was deeper, and the trees thick enough that one couldn’t see the ranch.

Joshua pushed Avery to a faster walk, and they came up beside Eli, who drew up, looking at Joshua curiously.

Joshua reached out and put a gloved hand on Eli’s forearm.

The foreman went motionless, gazing down at Joshua’s hand, then startled blue eyes met Joshua’s. In the shade, the pupils were big and dark. Joshua waited a second, then let his hand fall away.

Eli licked his lips, then, as slowly as if he were reaching out to touch a skittish mustang, he stripped off his glove and put his hand on Joshua’s cheek. His fingers were callused and hard, but gentle on Joshua’s skin, and Joshua closed his eyes a moment, savoring the contact. It had been so long since anyone—another man—had touched him like that. He heard Eli’s whispered “Josh….”—so soft that if the wind hadn’t been perfectly still at that instant, he wouldn’t have.

Joshua said, “Out there, in the desert. You found me. You looked for me. You said, ‘don’t do this to me.’ Didn’t you? Why did you say that?”

“You don’t ask the easy ones, do you, son?”

“I’m not your son.”

The breeze picked up, soughing in the leaves of the cottonwoods. “No,” Eli said finally. “You’re not my son.”

Turning his head, Joshua let his lips brush Eli’s palm. Eli’s voice was ragged when he spoke: “Jesus Christ, Joshua….” and jerked his hand away.

Joshua drew back his head, shifting in the saddle. “Oh,” he said numbly. “Sorry… I misread…. Never mind. Sorry.” He turned Avery’s head back toward the ranch. “I’m tired. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Joshua, wait.”

He didn’t. He kicked Avery to a lope and rode away.

E
LI
caught up with him as he rode into the big stables, and was off his horse before Joshua had gotten his feet out of his stirrups. He caught at Avery’s bridle and said in a low voice, “You are
not
running away from me again, Joshua Chastain. You and I are gonna talk—”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” Joshua hissed back.

“Bullshit. I’m the foreman. I am responsible for the safety and well-being of every damn breathing live thing on this ranch, and that includes you. And your uncle, who’s gonna be worrit and upset with me if you go running into the house like you did the day before you took off.”

Joshua slid off the horse. When he hit the ground, his knees buckled a little and Eli caught his arm. “Easy. We did a lot more riding today than you’re used to. Before you go to bed tonight, you take a long hot bath and put on some liniment. Sarafina has some.”

“He blamed you for me leaving,” Joshua said, ignoring him. He pushed Eli’s hand away.

“Yeah, he did. And he wasn’t wrong. I shouldn’ta let you go. And I ain’t letting you go now. You’re gonna sit right down there on that hay bale until I’m done tending these horses, and then we’re gonna go to the house and we’re gonna talk.” He took Joshua’s arm again and led him to the bale, pushing him gently down. “And I mean talk.”

He probably did, Joshua thought tiredly. God, he was an
idiot
. Of course Eli didn’t want him: he’d started to put some weight back on, but he was still mostly a skeleton, and a drug-addicted one, too. He was disgusting, and the only reason Eli had been so kind to him was because he felt sorry for Joshua. And because he
was
a kind man. At least he hadn’t been cruel or laughed at him, and at least Joshua’s curiosity was satisfied about his sexual preferences. He drew his legs up onto the bale and rested his cheek on his knees. He was tired, that was all. He’d been working hard since dawn and he wasn’t used to it. But this was going to be his life from now on, and that was okay. Hard work was good, and this was a good place. Not likely anyone was going to expect him to shoot anyone here.

He wondered vaguely where his gun had gone. He’d turned in his service piece before he went undercover. At the time of his arrest he’d been relieved of the one he’d had as José Rosales, and “relieved” was exactly the right word. He never wanted to see another gun again. Rifles or shotguns, yeah—they were out in the middle of the high desert and probably needed to shoot wolves and coyotes and rattlesnakes to defend the horses. He’d seen shotguns in the walnut case in Tucker’s office. Those were fine. He just never wanted to see another handgun as long as he lived.

Couldn’t exactly be an FBI agent if you were afraid of guns. Not that he was afraid, exactly. He just didn’t want to see one again.

Eli was quiet as he stripped the tack from the horses and ran a currycomb over their hides. They hadn’t been ridden hard, but it was a long ride from the canyon. Joshua watched him—the deliberate movements that looked slow but were masterpieces of efficiency, no wasted motion, no carelessness. Thanks to that efficiency he finished both more quickly than Joshua would have done one, even if he weren’t so tired, and let them both out into the corral. Then he turned to Joshua. “Ready?”

Joshua got to his feet and followed him outside.

S
WEATING
, Eli tried to keep a reasonable pace across the yard to the porch, but
he
felt like bolting. Beside him, Joshua was silent, but Eli could feel the waves of tension radiating off him.
Fuck
. What the hell was he supposed to do?

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Joshua said.

Eli stopped, and stared at him blankly. “What?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” Josh shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again. I just fucked up, is all—again. I just meant to… I don’t know. Thank you. Or something. Forget about it.”

“Jesus Christ, Josh!” Eli let his breath out on a gusty sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. Fuck, that seems to be all I can do, is upset you.” He yanked off his hat and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Joshua shrugged again, but the look in his eyes was back, the bleak emptiness Eli hadn’t seen since the first days of Josh’s stay. He felt like he’d killed something. “Josh,” he said, but the man just shook his head and walked up the steps into the house, letting the screen door bang behind him.

“Fuck,” Eli said. He took off his hat, smacked himself on the thigh with it, and went after him.

T
HE
kitchen was empty and the house silent, and Eli was grateful. At least maybe then no one would hear him yelling at Josh. And what the fuck was the matter with him that he
wanted
to yell at Josh? He didn’t yell. It wasn’t his style. No, he was the slow, patient one, the one who waited for the wild things to come to him. No good ever came of chasin’, Tuck always said. Maybe he was right this time, too.

Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe some things needed to be chased.

He knocked on Joshua’s bedroom door, but Josh didn’t answer. Taking a deep breath, Eli opened the door and walked in.

Josh, standing by the window, turned around. “What the fuck?” he said in a fury. “You get out of here, right now! Who gave you the right…?”

Eli stomped across the room, caught Joshua’s chin in his hand, and kissed him hard. “Don’t you ever,” he hissed, his fingers holding Josh still. His eyes locked on Josh’s dark and startled gaze. “Don’t you
ever
walk away from me when I ain’t done with you, Josh. I damn near lost you in the desert and I am
not
gonna lose you again, got that?”

“Who says you have me?” Josh jerked away, his hand coming up to touch his jaw where Eli had gripped him. “Who the
fuck
do you think you are?”

“You know who I am, and you know I’ve got you. Hell, I think I knew you were mine the minute you stepped off that bus. And I am not going to lose you.”

Joshua’s hand had stilled in its rubbing. He stared at Eli, his eyes wide.

Eli was pretty startled himself. Where had those words come from? Had it really been that way? If so, he hadn’t realized it. But the words—the words felt true.

Tuck knew. Eli was sure of that. He himself might not have realized it, but Tuck had seen it, had warned him about it. Warned him about Joshua.

But Joshua was
his
.

“So you tell me now,” Eli said, his voice tight and anxious. “Was it just you wanting to thank me? Because if that’s all it is, you tell me now.”

“I did want to thank you….”

For a second, Eli thought his heart had exploded. He felt pain all the way down to both sets of fingertips. Then cold washed over him. He stepped back, nodded, and turned, walking steadily out the door, out of the house, and across the yard toward home.

He heard Joshua say his name, but he ignored it.
Fine
, he thought,
I can walk away too
, but he was blind with grief and rage and disappointment. Only ten years of making that trek from ranch house to cottage, ten years of habit, got him up to his own front porch.

Hearing the footsteps behind him, though, he stopped, rested one hand on the pillar of the porch steps, and waited.

Chapter 16

T
HE
foreman’s cottage was opposite the main house at the south end of the complex, across the drive, set underneath more cottonwoods. Joshua could hear the splash of water from around the back, where the creek ran. There was a little porch, not half the size of the one on the main house, but big enough for a white rocking chair and a little wicker table. Eli was waiting on that porch, his back to Joshua, but the inside door was open, and when Joshua stepped up onto the porch Eli opened the screen door to usher him inside, where it was cool and dark.

Eli flicked on the lights, and Joshua saw that all the drapes in the little living room were closed against the day’s sunlight. There wasn’t much in the room: a battered leather sofa, a Laz-E-Boy covered in a pieced quilt, an old tube-style television. One wall of the room was bookshelves filled with paperbacks and knickknacks. It was scrupulously clean. “Sarafina cleans up for me,” Eli said, apparently reading Joshua’s mind again. “I’ve got a kitchen, but I mostly just use the fridge for beer. You want one? Or a Coke.”

“Coke, thanks.”

He followed Eli into the tiny kitchen. The walls were painted a bright sunshine yellow, and there were checked yellow and white curtains on the window. It was warmer in here, but a stand of junipers shaded the window and kept it from being too hot. Eli got a couple of insulated mugs from the freezer and poured them both Cokes. “Siddown,” he said.

Joshua sat.

Eli leaned against the counter and studied him a moment. “Fact is,” he said finally, “I’m gay. Guess you figured that out. It ain’t common knowledge—Tuck knows, and Sarafina and Jesse. But the rest of the hands don’t, and it ain’t nobody’s business. So that’s that. I’d prefer it kept quiet, but if you feel the need to go blabbing it about, go ahead. I’d rather deal with the fallout from that than have you figuring you need to get revenge or something.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua started to rise, but Eli pointed a finger at him.

“Sit. I ain’t done. Now, the way I reckon, you’re not that kind. I just wanted to get that out in the air first thing and get it over with. I don’t know you so well as I know Tuck and Sara and Jesse, so I ain’t sure how you’ll react to things.”

“Look,” Joshua said, “that’s fine. I’m not going to go outing you to a bunch of guys I don’t know any better than I know you. I don’t know why you walked away when I was in the middle of talking to you, after yelling at me for walking away from you. So let’s just stop walking and figure out what’s going on here.”

“Good idea. You first.”

“What?”

Eli waved a hand. “You started this. Out by the woods. So tell me. What do you want? A quick fuck? What?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I haven’t had sex in three years, but my life has been so fucked up, I figure that compensates. I’m not after you because you’re available—if I just wanted a quick fuck I guess I could find it someplace else. I guess Tucker’d lend me wheels if I asked.”

Rolling his eyes, Eli took a sip of Coke. “Yeah, there are a couple places in Roswell and Albuquerque and Santa Fe—those towns are big enough, and this state’s a little more laid back than Texas or Arizona, so mostly they’re as safe as any other place. Which ain’t saying much, but there are worse. Anyway, they’re bars, not clubs, and not the kind of place you’d feel home….”

“What the fuck?” Joshua said again. “Where the fuck do you think I’d feel at home? I spent three fucking years in the underbelly of Darwin Park, one of the roughest neighborhoods in Chicago, and you think I can’t handle a tough cowboy bar?”

Eli was quiet a moment. Then he said, “Sorry about that. I’ve just kinda got used to thinking of you as ‘Tuck’s nephew from Back East’, and an FBI agent. I don’t know what they do, just what I see on TV. Tuck likes that Bones show, and the agent on that mostly just investigates stuff. He rides a computer. I forget that you’ve been through shit ain’t nobody oughta go through.”