Love, Like Water (24 page)

Eli nodded, hiding his desire to bust out laughing.

“So I guess my point is that until the world changes and redneck ranch hands learn to deal with things like this, I’d appreciate it if you guys kept it quiet. I don’t want to find out one or both of you been dragged down I-40 behind a pickup truck. You want to get frisky in public, you drive into Albuquerque or Roswell or Santa Fe, where people don’t care.”

“No problem.”

“Good. Now. I need to ask a favor.”

Eli spread his hands. “Ask—you know I’m good for it.”

“You know Josh has his appointments on Tuesdays, and I been taking him. The problem is in a coupla weeks I’m going to El Paso to a Texas Cattlemans’ Association dinner to try and get some business my way. So I was wondering if you’d mind taking Josh to Albuquerque that night.”

“No problem,” Eli repeated.

“Leave whenever you feel like it—if you two want to go out for dinner ahead of time, cut out early. I don’t care. Josh’s capable of driving himself, but for the first few weeks until he knows his way around, I want someone else to drive him. The shrink’s office is over by the university and the streets are kinda confusing over there.”

“I know the area.” Hell, some of his favorite bars were in the vicinity of UNM. “Streets are confusing in Albuquerque generally, but he’ll figure it out eventually. A few more times down there and he’ll know where he’s goin’.”

“Yeah. Here’s the address—it’s on Central, east of the university.”

Eli took the printout Tucker handed him. Yeah, he knew the area pretty well. Somehow, though, he didn’t think he’d be hanging out at his usual haunts while waiting for Josh.

Somehow, they didn’t appeal to him much anymore.

Chapter 21

“Y
OU
gonna need Joshua this morning?”

Josh looked up from his breakfast at Eli’s query, but the foreman was looking at Tucker. “Probably not. What you got in mind?”

“Time to check on the ladies of the canyon again. Thought I’d bring Josh along to see what actually gets done. Last time Manny and Billy did the collection and Josh just napped.”

“‘Ladies of the Canyon’? Wasn’t that an old Joni Mitchell song?” Joshua asked.

“Son, you are far too young to remember Joni Mitchell,” Tucker said.

“Joni Mitchell is a genius, and timeless. Besides, Mom had the album. Played it until it wore out, then bought a CD of it.”

“I was referring,” Eli said patiently, “to the mares in the box canyon.”

“I know.” Joshua shot him a grin. “And I think Uncatuck can do without me for one morning.”

“Reckon I can.”

Sarafina said, “I’ll pack you lunch while you get the gear, Eli, and Joshua saddles the horses.”

“Guess we been told,” Joshua said to Eli, who only grinned back at him. He forked in the last of his ham, chewed and swallowed, then added, “Meet you out front in ten?”

“In a hurry?” Eli chuckled. “Yeah, ten’s good. Saddle up Milagro for me, willya? Button looked to be going a bit lame on the right forefoot. I think she stepped on a stone or something. I poulticed it yesterday, but like to give it another day or so before I put her to work again.”

“Right,” Joshua said. He dumped his plate into the sink, gave Sarafina a smile, and went out to the barn and stables.

He’d started riding Rory around the last couple of days. The horse had recovered quickly from the neglect and had turned out to be a lively creature with a smooth gait and pretty manners. Yesterday Joshua had ridden him down to the mailbox and back with the cat—whom Tucker had christened “D.C.” after some Disney movie from his childhood—perched on Rory’s withers. The cat seemed to have found its place in the barn-cat hierarchy and was perfectly happy living in Rory’s stall, though it preferred the kibble the stable hands fed it to catching mice. That, apparently, was for lower-ranked felines. But it was remarkably friendly for a cat.

Rory was friendly for a horse, too, and both Tucker and Eli agreed that he was a good fit for Joshua, so whether he wanted to or not, he seemed to have acquired a horse. And his own boots and hat and gloves, from the mercantile in Miller. He’d teased Eli about getting chaps, and wearing them with just the boots and hat and gloves, and Eli’s eyes got dark and smoky. That had been fun.

Fun. It was strange to smile so much—the expression felt weird on his face after being so serious for so long. There hadn’t been much room for fun in the last few years; he’d never been able to kick back and relax the way his
compadres
in Los Peligros did. He didn’t drink much, because he needed to keep his head at all times, and until ’Chete turned him into a junkie, didn’t mess around with shit, either. He skirted so close to the edge at all times that the slightest slip would send him over, and he would be dead and his mission compromised.

The only time he’d ever relaxed was late at night—or more often, early in the morning—when he had finished his report to Robinson on the laptop he kept hidden behind a false panel in the wall behind his bed. His grandfather Chastain had taught him the rudiments of carpentry during his summer visits here as a kid, and it was a simple matter to cut out a section of wallboard to hide the laptop behind. Even if any of the others got into his apartment and found it, it would tell them nothing; he wiped the history as soon as he finished his report, and again before he shut it down and hid it once more. Because sometimes, the only relaxation, the only recreation he allowed himself was jerking off to gay porn videos. And that was something else he didn’t want the other Peligros to know about.

No, there was one exception. Once a week or so several of his “friends” went to a local club to dance and pick up girls. Or to hang around
bonchinchando
—gossiping. Joshua always went, because
bonchincheros
were an excellent source of intel. And he liked dancing to the salsa and reggaeton. He liked the rhythm, the grace of the movements, the edginess and heat of the music. ’Chete sometimes used the club as a base of operations, so he looked on their hanging out there with indulgence. It was in a neighborhood undergoing gentrification, but at one point, the Latin Kings, one of the biggest national gangs, had had their Chicago headquarters two doors down.

The Kings were gone from that barrio, and Los Peligros ruled there now, but the Kings still had a presence in the city, and ’Chete had connections with them. Of course he did. He had connections everywhere. Joshua rubbed his chin absently. He’d shaved his goatee and let his hair grow out before he’d even left rehab, and he hoped that that was enough to keep any of ’Chete’s connections from ever ID’ing him again.

Rory nickered when Joshua came into the barn. D.C. was curled up in his manger, sleeping, as usual. Joshua didn’t understand how cats slept so much and still managed to be so muscular and graceful, but cats were a mystery. D.C. opened an eye when he released the latch to the box stall, but closed it again when he realized that Joshua didn’t have any food with him.

It only took a minute to tack up Rory. Milagro, who resided in the main stable, was another thing altogether. Joshua had never ridden Milagro, who was one of the tamed mustangs, and didn’t expect he ever would. He’d seen the other trainers dealing with him—the general consensus was that he wasn’t adoptable; there was still too much of the stud in him, even after gelding. He wasn’t vicious, just spirited. The horse had an attitude; he fought the lead, he fought being put in crossties, which was the only way Joshua could saddle him, and he fought the bridle. Joshua was sweating and cursing by the time he was done. Once he was all tacked up, though, he calmed down considerably and followed Joshua and Rory quietly to the yard in front of the ranch house.

Eli was just coming out of the house; he trotted down the steps and over to Milagro, then hooked one set of the saddlebags he carried to the back of the saddle, and handed Joshua the other. While Joshua was attaching them, Eli checked Milagro’s cinch, then tightened it again. Joshua looked at him curiously, and Eli said, “He blows up when you cinch him, and the strap goes loose. A lot of horses do that—always double-check before you get on them, otherwise you and the saddle are gonna take a quick trip to horizontal-land.”

Joshua laughed. “Got it.”

“Your boy there doesn’t seem to have any bad habits,” Eli observed. “None of the ones from the Kansas rescue do. Must have been pretty well cared for before the old man died. Lot of love there.”

“Yeah,” Joshua said softly, and ran his hand down Rory’s neck. The gelding nickered and bobbed his head as if in agreement.

When he looked up, Eli was smiling at him, a softness in his eyes that made Joshua feel warm, and somehow safe, as if nothing in his past could ever haunt him again. He relished the feeling, knowing that it was an illusion, but wanting to hang onto it as long as possible. He felt… happy. The moment made him feel happy. The ranch, the beautiful early fall day, Rory, even Milagro made him feel happy. And Eli… that look in his eyes made him feel happiest of all.

He returned Eli’s smile, then turned to mount up.

T
HEY
rode out in companionable silence until they were past the trees and out into the desert, then Eli drew Milagro close to Rory. The two horses touched noses and settled in walking close together on the trail. “No reason to rush,” Eli said. “It’s early yet, still cool enough, and we got all morning. I figure we’ll get to the canyon about nine thirty. That’ll give us plenty of time to do the collecting, check out the herd, and still have time for a nap before lunch.”

“A nap?” Joshua murmured wickedly.

Eli reached out and caught Rory’s bridle, drawing him to a stop beside Milagro. “A nap,” he agreed, and leaned forward so that his lips were brushing Joshua’s. “Or something.”

“Mm hmm,” Joshua agreed, and settled his mouth on Eli’s.

Eli’s hand came up and Joshua felt the worn suede of his glove against the nape of his neck, soft and supple. Joshua shuddered wantonly. “God, I want you,” he said against Eli’s lips, and put his own hand on Eli’s chest.

“Right.” Eli’s voice was ragged. “Shit. Horses first, then canoodling.”

Joshua laughed. “Canoodling? I like that. Is that what’s for lunch? Campbell’s Chicken Canoodle soup?”

“Not interested in chicken canoodling,” Eli said. “Never could figure out how that worked. Never wanted to, either. Okay. Enough of this. Shit.” He put pressure on the back of Joshua’s neck, drawing him forward into another kiss, then released him. “Canyon. Shit. I think I just forgot the way.”

Joshua’s laughter rang in the stillness of the desert.

R
ORY
wasn’t as surefooted as Avery had been. He picked his way down the switchback trail into the canyon, punctuating each step with a nervous whoof of breath. Milagro had no such problem; Eli kept him reined in tightly, or the mustang would have run the whole way down. But finally they were down, and Joshua followed Eli and Milagro along the trail past the little lagoon and waterfall, through a narrow defile, and into a broad meadow framed by the red and yellow stone of the canyon walls. “Big,” he said in surprise.

“Not really, not more than maybe a dozen square acres. Big enough to run in,” Eli said. He looked around curiously. “Oh, there they are, under those trees.”

“Well, a dozen acres is a lot.”

Eli snorted. “Shit, Josh, the ranch buildings cover purt near five acres alone. I think the Triple C is somewhere around twelve thousand acres, and that ain’t all that big for a ranch. An acre maybe sounds like a lot to a city boy like you, but it really ain’t much. Enough for these critters to run around in, though—just not enough for them to get away when we want them to go somewhere.” He nudged Milagro and they started towards the group of eight or nine horses that were standing in the shade, tails twitching away flies. A bunch of colts stood in the center of the herd, watching their approach with wide, liquid eyes.

Several of the mares looked up as the two of them approached, but only one of the horses moved, stepping out to stand between them and the herd. It stamped its foot warningly and tossed its head. “Is that the stallion?” Joshua asked in a whisper.

Eli chuckled. “Nope. We cut the studs out first thing before we put them in here. They get gelded and then we work with them first, ’cause they’re the most trouble. That’s Big Mama, the head mare. When a herd doesn’t have a stud, the top-ranked mare takes over as leader. That’s okay, Mama, we’re not here to hurt you all.” His voice dropped to a soothing singsong. “It’s okay, Mama….” He continued talking in that same soothing voice until they’d skirted all the way around the herd and were past them, towards the canyon wall.

There he dismounted, handed the reins of the mustang to Joshua, and fished out rubber gloves from the saddlebags, which he replaced his leather ones with. Armed with a handful of bags, scoop and Sharpie, he rooted about in the ankle-deep grass, picking up bits of horse poop and putting it in bags, which he then marked.

They moved to another area of the meadow and repeated the process, all the while watched by Big Mama. “We send the scat out to Rodney for testing,” Eli said as he dug out more bags and put the ones he’d collected in the bag set aside for it. “We’ll get blood tests done when we move this herd out of here for the winter in a couple of weeks. But I don’t expect to see anything either way—they look pretty healthy and the two colts that dropped this summer after the roundup are doing just fine.”