by V. L. Locey
“So he can touch base with Bishop the adorable professor during the day,” Montrell added.
Would I get fired if I kicked them both out along the highway? Probably. Didn’t mean I couldn’t fantasize about it though.
***
Evenings began to take on a routine that I was thrilled with. Bishop would return to my cabin, we’d eat dinner, and then we’d head to the stables. It had taken some talking on my part, but I’d convinced him to give horses a second chance. We’d started off small, with him merely standing in the walkway as I led Tiberius past him. The horse must have thought we were mad but after a few uneventful nights of that, Bishop asked if he could reach out to pet T as he and I paraded back and forth. His tension levels began to lower the more time he was near Tiberius and the other horses, and he asked if he could brush him the next evening. Not in the stall, he was quick to point out. I stole a kiss and told him that T would love a new friend with a brush in his hand.
The brushing then led to him asking to help tack the big gelding up. All in the walkway. Which I understood. It could be intimidating to be in a small space with a big horse if you were anxious about them. We tacked him up for a few nights, me climbing up on his wide back and looking down at Bishop, who was staring up at me, his hand resting on Tiberius’s soft neck. He’d shake his head and step back. I’d take the horse out for a short ride, just an easy go around the paddocks, so that Bishop could watch.
It was a warm Friday evening, about three weeks into June, when Bishop came home from the dig, his usual enthusiasm about fossils ramped well beyond the norm.
“We have the skull ready to transport to the lab! I wish you could see it! Oh, it’s a beauty! The university is thrilled. They’re going to send out a photographer to chronicle the move. I think I’m going to write a research paper about the find as well. Perhaps it will get published in the Annual Review of Paleontology and Planetary Research!”
He wound his arms around me, pulled me from the stove and the beef cubes I was browning for a stew, and kissed me so passionately we both grew woozy.
“I’m so happy for you. When do you move it?” I asked, using my thumb to remove some dirt from his chin.
“As soon as we can get a crane out to the site to lift the casting onto a flatbed.” His hands began to wander. If not for the meat starting to smoke we’d have ended up with me over the island and his prick in my ass. Which sounded damn good. I broke free and rushed to the stove to save the beef cubes. “There’s a ton of bones yet to remove. I doubt we’ll be done before snow flies. Which means I’ll be back here next spring.” He eased up behind me as I poured some red wine and vinegar into the frying pan and began scraping the browned bits from the bottom as the wine began to bubble. He dropped a kiss to my neck. I shivered and so he did it again. “I feel like I could take on the world! Let’s go for a ride.”
“The four-wheeler isn’t fixed yet. I had to buy new tools and then order the—”
“Mm, no, on a horse.”
My gaze flew from the cubes soaking up the red wine. “Are you sure you’re ready for that big of a step?”
“Today I could do anything!” His blue eyes glimmered.
“Okay then. We’ll saddle up Jezzy and get on the saddle.”
He gave my ear a nibble then released me. I got the stew ready and into the oven on low heat, and we headed to the stables. Hand-in-hand. A few of the men were kicking around a soccer ball as we neared the large pole barn. They raised a hand and called out greetings. Not a one seemed upset or angry. Even knowing that most of the men here were accepting of LGBT people, they had to be or they’d not be working for Landon as that was requirement number one on the application, I still carried the stigma with me. The fear of being spotted, being outed, and being beaten that old queers like me would probably never fully leave behind. Bishop had no such cares, or if he did they were well hidden. Growing up in a more accepting society in a rather free-spirited state surely helped. What a difference a few decades make.
We tacked up Jezzy slowly, talking about various things that had no bearing on what we were doing as he brushed her down. I was trying to keep him as chill as possible. Once the palomino mare was saddled, I came around her with the reins. Tiberius, who was being a little nippy today, probably due to seeing me ready another horse and not him, reached out to try to bite Jezzy’s flank. We got her bridled with ease. She really was a perfect lady.
“Stop being a prick,” I told my horse. He tossed his head in reply. Bishop stood beside Jezzy his eyes wide but his aura calm. He learned quickly. “You can back out of this at any time. It’s only been a few weeks of us working on your phobia. Some folks take years to conquer their fear.”
“I’m good.”
“What do you need before you get on that horse?”
“Prayers?”
“No.” I grabbed a riding helmet from a hook and plunked it on his head.
“You never wear a helmet,” he pointed out.
“I’m a grown-up,” I tossed out.
“Oh, don’t even go there,” he countered playfully and took Jezzy by the reins to lead her out into the corral. I held her while he scurried up the mounting block and eased his sweet ass onto the saddle. I took the reins and eyed the stirrups to make sure they were the proper length.
“You feel okay up there?” I asked as we started walking around the circular pen.
“Yeah, it’s awesome.” He smiled down at me, his fingers tight on the pommel.
“You look sexy as hell.” I ran a hand down his leg. “Jezzy is a good horse to start learning on. She’s real forgiving and has more whoa than go.”
“I like that in a woman,” he said. We made a few circles of the pen as I told him about ear, shoulder, hip, heel alignment in the saddle and how to hold the reins when he got them. We paused by the gate, the summer wind playing with Jezzy’s cream colored mane, and I passed the reins to him. “Now remember what I told you. Pick up the reins, slide down then separate, holding them between—”
“My thumb and pointer finger, thumbs up like I’m holding an ice cream cone.”
“You do listen well. Okay, so, do you want to give this a go by yourself?” I rubbed the horse’s neck and watched for any signs of stress on Bishop’s face. He appeared to be in a good frame of mine, cool and relaxed. He bobbed his head. “Okay then, what you need to do is look ahead where you want to go and stretch up tall on the saddle. Good. Nice. Now, squeeze with your butt, don’t give me that dirty smirk of yours, butt, thigh, and calf. Excellent! Now when she walks off, relax, and let her walk.”
I plodded along beside them. He looked amazing on a horse. I was incredibly proud of him for working on overcoming his fears.
“No shit I am riding a horse,” he said then grinned down at me. “And for the brakes?”
I chuckled. “Relax, engage your core again, lightly, good. Now sit back a bit. If she doesn’t stop then squeeze the reins.” Jezzy came to a gentle stop. “Well done. Give her a pat and some praise.”
“Just like I do you when I ride you?”
I grunted in reply but inclined my head. “Want to practice steering?”
When he said he did, we spent another forty minutes or so on that and then I let him ride Jezzy around the pen, climbing up to rest my ass on the top rung of the corral fencing. Kyle came ambling up, with Perry and another young man. It was obvious that the newcomer was Will Abbott. He looked just like his older brother minus the lifelines and scar on his chin from a bar fight. Will was rangy, dark-hair cut tight on the sides and with a flop on top, clad in jeans, sneakers, and a black tank top with a fluorescent pink koala on the front. He had all kinds of hoops along the shell of his ears, a ring in his nose, and a pink, yellow, and blue lizard tattoo on the side of his neck. If he were hoping to look like a punk rocker he was succeeding. Johnny Rotten would be proud.
“Looking good,” Kyle said. “Got a nice seat.”
Will rolled his eyes then walked off, phone coming out, vaping cigar
ette firing up.
“He’s just being an asshole,” Kyle growled, his jaw locking.
“He’ll come around. Hard to take a boy out of the city and drop him on a ranch,” I said from firsthand experience. “Give him time to settle.”
Perry stood at the fence, boot on the bottom rung, soft gray cowboy hat low on his brow, and watched Will intently. Bishop came walking up, stopped, and gave us a smile that was blinding.
“Dude, this is almost as exciting as sex and surfing!” he proclaimed which got a hard laugh from Kyle.
“Never been surfing,” I commented as I dropped to the ground, my boots hitting earth sending up twin clouds of fine dust.
“Someday I’ll take you to the coast and turn you onto it. For now, I think I need to get down. My ass aches.”
“We’ll work on that next.” I jogged off to get the mounting block and watched as he walked the horse into the proper place next to the block. I took the reins just in case. People tended to be nervous at times dismounting but Bishop did fine. Aside from a few deep moans when he was on his own two feet. “Now we take care of the horse.”
“But my aaaaaaaaass...” he whined as he rubbed the offended cheeks with both hands.
“I’ve got just what you need for that,” I replied with a wink, flinging back what he says to me every time I make mention of a sore ass.
“You planning on smearing hemorrhoid cream all over me?” he asked as he limped along, Kyle’s chortles fading away as we made our way back to the stables.
“Just your asshole and your mouth.”
He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his for a bruising kiss.
“You love my mouth,” he whispered over my tender lips. The bastard had me there. I did love his mouth, and his cock, and the way the sun glinted off his wheat-and-honey hair. Seemed I was starting to love a lot about the man as terrifying and magnificent as that was.
Chapter Ten
Not being a religious man, I nevertheless felt a certain calling to reflection on Sunday mornings.
A week after that momentous first ride for Bishop, I lay awake on a glorious Sunday morning, the sun already up and playing coy with me. Peeking through the slatted blinds, it fell in slim strips over Bishop as he softly snored. I touched his bare shoulder, awed at how the sunlight added hues of copper and gold to his tanned flesh. And his hair...
What the sun did to his hair left me in awe. Did admiring your young lover’s flesh and locks count as spiritual?
Chores awaited me, but I felt lazy this morning. Well-loved from the night before, I was sated and sleepy. Speaking of which...
I rose up to rest on an elbow and yep, there was Bane, curled into a ball between Bishop’s long legs. My bladder and my ridiculous work ethic poked at me. I leaned down to kiss his shoulder then slunk from the bed. A quick piss, a shower, and a cup of joe later, I was ready to tend to the horses. Several of our hands had Sunday mornings off to attend church in Copper Falls. There was a small Methodist church nearby that seemed to appeal to some of the Native American workers, although the elders such as Aaron tended to keep a wide berth of most of the Christian churches for some rather obvious reasons. As I was wholly not into organized religion of any kind, I generally was happy to take on extra work so the others could tend to their spiritual needs be they in a church, a prayer rug, or seated on the warm ground thanking the planet for its blessings. Of late though, leaving my bed and the warm man in it was growing harder and harder.
Pushing away my complaints, I padded back into the bedroom to find Bishop wide awake, lying on his back, with a fat ginger cat on his chest. The sound of purring filled the room.
“Sneaking off to do chores?” Bishop asked as his hand moved down Bane’s back. The cat looked to be close to passing out in sheer joy. I could relate. Those rough, big hands had the same effect on me. “Want some help?
I sat down beside him, gave the cat a chin scratch, and then pushed my fingers into his silky hair. His lashes drifted downward as I finger-combed his hair, gently working free the small tangles from sleep and sex. Caring for him as deeply as I did, I nodded slowly, letting the tiny idea of riding out to the lone oak this morning die off.
“You wanted to go off on one of your solo rides?” I blinked. I’d not realized he’d noticed. I’d had to rearrange things a bit since he and I had become lovers. My days were now packed with work, Bishop, and more Bishop. So I’d been sneaking off after Sunday chores to spend time with her. “Are you seeing some other man?”
“What?! No, God, no,” I hurried to say. “I just...” And there I hit a brick wall inside my mind. I’d had so many years of hoarding the misery that even speaking of going to spend time with her, talking to her memory, seemed like a gross invasion. But he was in my bed now. Shit, he was in my bed, my life, and my heart now. I owed him some honesty. “It’s not that at all. Let’s saddle up the horses after chores and you can come with me.”
“I’d like that,” he softly replied. I stole a kiss and left him to shower and dress. When he joined me in the kitchen fifteen minutes later in jeans, a white tank top with a rock-n-roll Brontosaurus on the front, and boots no sandals—he was a quick learner—I handed him a mug of coffee. “Let’s pack a lunch. Do you know a romantic spot?”
I knew several but one in particular stood out. “I do. The spot that I go to visit isn’t far from the Lone Vale Cabin.”
He waggled a golden eyebrow. “A remote cabin. Sounds perfect.”
We made some sandwiches, grabbed some apples and a few bottles of water, and set off for the stables. The morning was joyous, the air full of birdsong and insects warming, the soft whicker of horses, and the sight of the Tetons touching the yellow-pink sky. The work went faster than I would have liked, and soon we had Jezzy and Tiberius tacked up.
Since Bishop was new to riding, I stayed at his side and we kept the horses at a slow pace. Neither of the steeds seemed to mind the laid-back pace. Bishop picked up the chitchat as we rode along, perhaps knowing in that way that lovers did, that I might draw back into myself. So, the more he talked the more I had to stay engaged. Such a smart man.
The wildflowers were alive with bees, the soft pink and purple petals brushing our boots and the horses’ bellies. The sun was warming the planet and the winds rolled and raced down the slopes of the mountains. I had to work to keep my hat on my head. Coming up over a sloping hill, I slowed Tiberius then came to a stop. There, down below, alone in the middle of a pasture that ran on for a few hundred acres, was the solitary oak. It was old, bent, and looked like some sort of pagan tree spirit. When the cattle were on this pasture, they loafed in the shade.
Bishop stopped beside me, giving the palomino mare a pat or two. “Is this where you come?”
I nodded, the wind impishly tugging at my hat. “Yeah, it’s a sacred spot.”
“Oh yeah? Is that what Perry’s grandfather told you?” He’d heard of Aaron from Perry and me but had yet to meet the man.
“Well, no, although it has to be a magical tree of some sort to have survived alone out here for as long as it has.”
“That’s legit.” I smiled at the Cali speak that fell out of him from time to time. He tried so hard to sound like the professor he was but every so often the surfer boi appeared.
We rode down in silence then dismounted by the base of the tree. The funnel-shaped green-gray leaves overhead clung tenaciously to their branches as the wind whipped around us. I slid down to the thick grasses then took the reins of both horses. Bishop dismounted sloppily, but he’d get it. That was his first time getting down off a horse without a block. I let the reins fall to the ground then walked around to the back of the tree. There stood the cross with a hundred rainbow hair ribbons tied to it. The ribbons fluttered about.
I knelt beside the cross and tied on a new yellow one. Bishop sat down beside me, with his legs folded into a lotus that I could no way recreate. Instead, I dropped to my ass, my legs out in front of me then removed my hat. I placed it on my
lap, the wind cooling my sweaty scalp, and spent several minutes in silent conversation with her. Bishop never barged in or asked questions. He did wiggle closer so that his hip was tight to mine.
“I come here to talk to Kailey,” I confessed.
“Tell me about her, if you want.”
A small blue butterfly winged by his path totally dependent on the rowdy Western wind.
“She was the most pleasant child, even as a baby. Which was good because Devon and I had no clue what we were doing,” I said with a soft chuckle. “Sure, we’d read all the books but books are not a live baby.” I fingered the brim of my hat as I stared at the ribbons dancing in the sun. “She laughed all the time and was so bright! Inquisitive, just full of questions. She loved puppies and ladybugs. Her room had a ladybug theme. And she had beautiful dark hair and eyes, like mine, not that I’m saying my hair and eyes are beautiful because—”
“No, they are. I can tell she brought you great joy. What happened?” He let his head fall to my shoulder. I closed my eyes, inhaled Wyoming wind and coconut, and found the strength to somehow go on.
“She started complaining about her head hurting right after her third birthday. We asked our pediatrician about it but she assured us that it was nothing unusual. So we took her home. Then she quickly developed some coordination issues, behavioral changes. Then she had a seizure. This all took place within a month or so. When Kailey had the seizure, they did some tests to see if she might be epileptic and did a routine CT scan. That was when they discovered the tumor. It was at the back of her skull.” I tapped my own head to show him. “Medulloblastoma it’s called. The tumor had spread through parts of her brain and into her spinal cord. Surgery was discussed, but the neurosurgeon advised against it as the tumor removal would take so much of her brain functions away. So we took her home and stayed with her twenty-four-seven until she died three months later.”
I swiped at the tear sneaking down my cheek. Bishop gathered me into his side, his head resting against mine.
