Love, Like Water (13 page)

“It’s okay, Josh. You’ve had a rough day.”

“Not as rough as you. I’m really sorry, Uncle Tucker.”

“No, you ain’t, not yet.” There was a note of amusement in Tucker’s voice, and for some reason that reassured Joshua. “But that’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay, Josh. You may not realize it, but I’m really glad you’re here. Maybe I ain’t been paying enough attention to you. Maybe I’m doing something wrong.” He held up a hand and Joshua, who was about to argue, fell silent. “I’m better with horses than I am with people—that’s part of the reason your ma and I fell out all those years ago. I thought she needed to come home so I could take care of her. She needed the independence I couldn’t give her. It worked out okay—you and Cathy are good kids, strong kids. But I’m ornery, and stubborn, and I want my way too much. So if I stomp on your toes, you let me know it, and I’ll back off. Just don’t….” He took a deep breath. “Just don’t walk away without talking to me.”

Tears pricked the back of Joshua’s eyes. Fuck, he hadn’t cried in years and wasn’t about to start now. “I won’t,” he promised.

Tucker took the hand without the IV in it and held it between both of his. “See you don’t,” he said roughly and squeezed.

W
HEN
Tucker came back into the waiting room a half hour later, he looked wrecked. Eli handed him his hat without a word and waited while his boss sat down in one of the chairs. Finally Tuck looked up and said, “We talked. He says he won’t do anything like this again.”

“I’m glad,” Eli said simply. “How is he feeling?”

“Groggy. Has a bad headache and eyestrain, I guess. They’re waiting for the tests on his liver and kidneys to come back, but he’s gone to sleep. Jack says he’ll probably sleep through the rest of the day and I should come back for evening visiting hours.” He looked up at Eli with bloodshot eyes. “He’s my sister’s only boy, Eli. Closest thing I have to a son of my own. And I nearly lost him. Just got my sister back, and I’da lost her, too. I owe you, son. I owe you big time.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Tuck. I’m just glad I found him, and I hope he’ll be okay. But I been thinkin’, while I was waiting here for you. Jack’s right—he probably needs a shrink. He’s probably got a lot of bullcrap in his head from that assignment of his to go along with the tattoos Jack told us about. But it’s more than that.” Eli scratched the back of his neck. “Remember Roscoe?”

“Roscoe?”

“Yeah, that rescue pony that gave us all that shit a couple years back.”

“Oh, hell, of course I remember that little bastard. I think I still got scars from him. What about him?”

All the thinking Eli had been avoiding during that hellish search for Joshua had gone gangbusters while Tucker was up with his nephew. For a while it had gone in circles, but then somehow the word “Roscoe” popped up, and gave the thoughts a focus, though he hadn’t thought of the bad-tempered little quarter horse in years. “Well, I was thinking about what a little shit he was, always biting the other horses—”

“And trainers,” Tucker interjected.

“—And trainers,” Eli agreed. “And fighting, and kicking the stalls down. And how after he’d recovered and we started to work with him, how he calmed down so much once he was tacked up. I mean, I ain’t never seen anything like the way that little shit just
stopped
the minute I picked up his bridle. It was eerie, the way he stared at that thing and stood so patient while I put it on. And how once I was in the saddle, he was as good as gold. Hell, he was one of the best cutting horses I’ve ever worked with. But the minute you turned him loose, he was that rotten little bastard of a horse again.”

“Yeah, I remember. We used to take turns with him, wearing him out so he’d be too tired to cause trouble.”

“Fact of the matter is, some animals don’t mind boredom, and some do. I expect young Joshua is one of the kind that does.”

“‘Young Joshua’—you talk like he’s a kid and you’re an old graybeard,” Tucker snorted. “He’s what, five years younger than you?”

“Something like that. But that ain’t the point. The point is that we been going about this all wrong, letting him relax and not putting him to work ’til he’s recovered. We been talking about it, but we kinda dropped the ball—it’s easier to just do and forget that he’s there. He don’t need time, Tuck. He don’t need leisure. He needs something to
do
. Give him time, and all he does is brood. That don’t do a single soul any good. You talked about how he did this and that and was the youngest and finished things early—that ain’t the kind of man who likes to sit on a porch and stare at the sky. That’s a man who needs a goal. Who needs work. And real work, not babysitting a caged cat.”

“Someone like you,” Tucker said.

Eli snorted. “I ain’t got half the brains that boy has—that’s why I’m so easygoing. I’m happy on the porch when the time is right, but when it’s time to work, I’m happy then too. But I ain’t the one with the trouble hanging over his head.”

“True.” Tucker sat back, and Eli was relieved to see some of the strain leave his face.

“So, I guess we’ll head home, and you’ll come back tonight after supper?”

“That’s the plan.” Tucker stood up, put his hat on, and looked down at Eli. “Figure I’ll bring him supper—has to be better for him than hospital food. Then maybe I’ll talk to him about what my expectations are. I mean, if he’s gonna be working for me, best I know what his skills are and best he know what I want out of him, right?”

“Just like any other employee,” Eli agreed. He got to his feet and followed Tucker out of the room.

Chapter 11

“C
AN
I see him?” Eli asked.

Jack Castellano glanced up from his perusal of the clipboard and eyed the soft-sided cooler case Eli carried. “You can go in, but he’s asleep.”

“Still? It’s been two days.”

“He’ll be sleeping a lot for the next few days. His body has a lot to recover from, and he wasn’t in great shape when he walked out into that desert.”

“You didn’t give him any of that morphine stuff, did you?”

“No.” Jack gave him a level look. “We’re not stupid, Eli. We know what those scars mean. He’s not getting any opioid painkillers. I don’t expect he’ll need them. He seems to be mostly exhausted and dehydrated, and while he’ll be uncomfortable for a few days, he shouldn’t be in actual pain. As for sleeping—he’ll probably do a lot of that on his own, but if he is having trouble, we do have alternatives for that.”

“Thanks. I just… he’s kinda fragile.”

“Eli Kelly, savior of horses and ex-FBI agents.” Jack’s grin was affectionate, and he patted Eli’s arm gently. “Careful, Eli. He’s not your average mustang.”

“He’s Tuck’s nephew. Gotta keep an eye on family.”

“Mm hmm,” Jack said, and patted Eli’s arm again.

J
OSH
’
S
black hair was stark against the white pillowcase, and despite the sunburn, his face was kind of pasty. He had a couple of IVs going into him: saline, Eli supposed, for the dehydration, and maybe glucose or something to keep his blood sugar up. Eli remembered that about treatment for heatstroke, but not much else. The burn wasn’t bad enough for more than ointment, and the white streaks still lingered on his cheeks and nose. Joshua had that tawny skin that didn’t burn easily, and the sun had only been up a couple hours when Eli had found him. They’d been lucky it hadn’t reached its full, killing power before then. Bad enough as it was.

The only thing they were waiting on now was the results of the blood tests, to see if he’d been dehydrated long enough for his kidneys and liver to be affected. Joshua might as well sleep. Eli set the cooler on the bedside table, pulled up the chair beside the bed, and used a tissue from the box on the nightstand to wipe up a useless blob of ointment from the side of Josh’s nose.

Tucker had come back here as promised last night, but Josh hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of the dinner he’d brought. Tuck had said Jack had told him that was normal, that he wouldn’t have much of an appetite for a day or two, and to try again in a few days. “In a few days” seemed to be a mantra around here, as if everything that was wrong with Josh would be fixed in a few days. Eli was a patient man, always had been, but he was getting pretty damn frustrated with the “in a few days” chant. He wanted the boy well and out of here now, not in a few days.

But Jack was right about the appetite. According to Graciela, the floor nurse, Josh had barely tasted the oatmeal and Jell-O they’d served him for breakfast. Of course, oatmeal and Jell-O were a far cry from the protein-heavy breakfasts Sarafina put out, but Eli figured Josh never ate a lot of that either. That was part of Josh’s problem to begin with. Boy didn’t eat enough to keep a kitten alive.

Eli balled up the tissue in one hand, and with the other, reached over to straighten the sheet over Joshua’s chest. He was so fragile. So thin. So beautiful, even with the sunburn and the ointment and the hollows under his eyes. His chin and eyebrows and nose were too strong for those frail bones; once he’d filled out, he’d be too beautiful for Eli to bear. Eli hoped that the shrink or whoever they ended up getting to help Joshua could—Eli knew what to do about broken horses, but broken men were another story. He didn’t want Joshua broken. He wanted Joshua whole and healthy, and…. Shit. He just wanted Joshua.

Where the hell had that come from? Sure he’d always thought Josh attractive, despite his obvious health issues. He thought he had a pretty, if rare, smile, beautiful eyes. But it wasn’t until the moment before Josh had fled from him in the barn, that moment when they’d stood close, hands on each other, that he’d realized he didn’t just admire Josh’s looks but felt something as well. Had Joshua seen that? Had that been what had sent Joshua fleeing into the house, and later, into the desert?

He tossed the tissue into the little trashcan and raked both hands through his hair, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head down, as if his hands in his hair were holding him in place. Damn.

“What are you doing here?” Josh’s voice was raspy and thin.

Eli schooled his features before looking up. “Sarafina sent some lunch. Figured you’d be hungry after the various varieties of cardboard they serve for breakfast here.”

“Various varieties?”

“Yup. A veritable variety of various varieties.”

The corner of Joshua’s mouth twitched, but then he closed his eyes. “Not hungry.”

“Uh-huh.” Eli unzipped the cooler and took out the thermos. He opened it and held it under Joshua’s long nose. The nostrils twitched, then flared as he breathed in the scent. Eli chuckled.

Joshua’s eyes opened. “
Sopa de salchichón
?”

Grinning, Eli unpacked the cooler bag, setting the thermos on the table alongside the stoneware soup bowls and plates. Sarafina had made enough soup to feed two people, as well as plenty of chorizo sausage and potatoes mixed with peppers and onions, which Eli dished out onto the plates. It smelled fantastic.

“Yeah, Sara called your mama and got the recipe. She figured maybe it would get your appetite going. I’m gonna raise your bed up so you can eat, okay?”

Joshua shrugged, but he was looking at the food, which Eli took as a good sign. He didn’t say anything else, so Eli said, “Tuck talked to your mama last night to let her know what was going on and that you were okay. She wanted to fly out right away but Tuck told her not to worry. He asked me to ask you if you want her to come out.”

“No. She doesn’t need to. I’m fine.”

“That’s what Tuck told her. Said you went for a walk and got lost and got a bit of heatstroke. That the hospital was only keeping you for observation on accounta you’re still poorly.”

Joshua’s lips twisted, but he said nothing, just picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl of soup on the table in front of him. “Good?” Eli asked. Joshua nodded.

T
HE
soup was good, the sausage nice and garlicky the way he liked it, and the squash and peppers not too mushy. Joshua stirred the contents of the bowl, listening to Eli talk, that soft, faintly rumbling voice that didn’t have to actually be saying anything pertinent to make Joshua feel comfortable and secure. Right now he was talking about the other trainers on the ranch, and how Uncle Tucker wanted to expand the training facilities, maybe set up a year-round school of sorts…. It didn’t matter what he was talking about, it was just nice to listen to.

He tasted the soup again, then tried a forkful of the potatoes. He wasn’t really hungry, but everything smelled like Abuela’s house. He could almost hear her in the kitchen, with the Spanish-language radio station playing softly in the background. She would have liked Eli, Joshua thought, would have been pleased with his gentle courtesy and strength. He doubted he himself would have impressed her much nowadays—weak, foolish, cowardly. His eyes stung a moment and he took a bite of chorizo to mask the sensation.

Eli was talking now about Sarafina’s Jesse, and how the school bus had broken down twenty miles from Miller—meaningless gossip, really, but the patient, easy voice, the same voice he used to talk to the horses, was so restful that Joshua didn’t care what he talked about. He could have read the phone book and Joshua would have liked it. Then he thought of something. “Is Jesse Uncle Tucker’s?”