by Julia Talbot
"Don't."
"Don't what? I didn't mean it that way, and you know it. I just... Thank you, Hank."
The kiss was clumsy, sweeter for it, and so good it made him close his eyes and just feel it. Hank allowed it for as long as he could bear before pulling away.
"We shouldn't. You shouldn't do that."
"I seen the way you look at me, Hank. I ain't blind. Ain't we pards? Don't pards do for each other?"
Lord, that boy had sweet hands, worrying open his union suit to slip inside, rough and hot and hesitant, but still there, still closing around Hank's cock and stroking. Gasping, eyes rolling like a shy-poke pony, Hank bucked, pushing against that hand, needing it like he'd never needed anything in his life.
Jasper got the rhythm, mouth open and wet on his throat, breath leaving little bursts of fog on his skin. They rocked, his hands grasping Jasper's shoulders hard enough to bruise. All he could do was hang on until Jasper hit the perfect spot, hand squeezing, thumbnail scraping just under the head of his cock and Hank lost it, just blew like a blue norther.
"Oh. Oh, Hank." Jasper looked at him like he hung the moon, eyes wide, before grunting and shaking, the smell of Jasper's come mingling with Hank's own like water mixed with whiskey.
Hank lifted one hand and stroked Jasper's sweaty hair back off his face, pressing a sweet kiss to that open mouth.
"Hush now. That's it. Just go back to sleep, Jasper."
"It was good?"
"Yeah, kid." Hank took one more kiss, memorizing the shape and feel of Jasper's lips. "Yeah, it was good."
"'Night, Hank."
"Night, Jasper," he whispered. "Sleep well."
***
Dawn just showed around the edges of the clouds when Hank crept out of the hotel room, boots in hand, wrapped in his coat to keep the spurs from jingling. Jasper'd barely moved when he got out of bed, only snuffling a little and rolling ass up, soaking up his leftover warmth. The kid hadn't so much as snorted when Hank left a roll of bills on the night table either, even when his gun belt clacked against the drawer pull.
Maybe he coulda stood it if the kid hadn't kissed him, hadn't pawed him all over in the night. Maybe if Hank hadn't liked it so much.
No way was he gonna let Jasper ruin his life, though, thinking they were pards and that a man had to do that for his pard. No way. Even if he wanted it so bad that he'd never forget the way Jasper had tasted, had felt under his hands and mouth and body.
No, sir, he'd never forget it.
"Leaving us so soon, cowboy?"
"Yessir." Hank summoned a smile, pulling a dollar out of his pocket. "My friend is staying though, for another night. Will this take care of it or him?"
"Yes, sir, it sure will."
"Then settle that up for him. He might ask you did you see me."
The little man at the desk looked at him right funny. "And what should I tell him?"
"The truth, I suppose. That I rode out this morning. Thank you kindly, sir."
Settling his hat on his head, Hank went on out to the livery to settle up there and get his nag. She seemed just as happy to get on out of town as he, so once he passed the town sign Hank gave the horse her head and let her run, getting as far away from Jasper Allbright as he could, as fast as he could.
He hadn't provisioned much, so he stopped at the trading post near a half day's ride from Seven Rivers, right on up the river. Trying not to overburden his pony, Hank bought just enough to last him to the next post, which the old widow woman at Seven Rivers told him was near halfway to Lincoln.
Lincoln sounded like a fine idea. North and west, outside of the llanos, and full on cattle country, it would no doubt afford him a job working cattle, and he doubted any of the El Paso boys would ever make it that far. Lincoln had problems all its own that some folks feared to take on.
What should have been a three to four day ride, though, turned into a nightmare on the second day. The sky opened up, pouring rain down on him, soaking him to the skin before he could even unroll his slicker. The ground, usually dry and firm beneath his mount's feet, became a quagmire, so that they slipped and slid until Hank was forced to stop for fear that his mare would break a leg, or send him flying off in an arroyo.
Huddling between his slicker and a rock, Hank nursed a smoky little fire and cursed every time water sizzled into it off the brim of his hat. That was what he got for doing the right thing, wasn't it? Misery. Pure D, unabashed misery.
How long it rained Hank had no idea. He finally let the fire go out and wrapped up until nothing but the tip of his nose stuck out, just trying to sleep and hoping that a flash flood didn't carry him away while he did.
His mare woke him, her soft muzzle nudging his cheek as she lipped across his face, looking for a treat. Groaning, he sat up, creaking like an old man and croaking like a frog when he tried to croon at the old girl, patting her nose and looking around.
The rain had washed a good bit, but his little high spot behind his rocky outcropping had protected him. Good thing, too, because now it afforded some shade, the sun just beating down. He hauled himself up, ashamed of himself for leaving a pony saddled and unfed in weather like that, because any fool could see at least a day had passed.
He unsaddled, fed and watered and hobbled his mare, and damned if his hands weren't shaking by the time he was done, and his legs too. His throat felt on fire. Lord, Lord. Wasn't he a mess and a half?
By the time he'd spread out his bedroll to dry, stretched out on the ground with rocks at each corner should the wind pick up, he felt like his head might bust, and tired as a three-day binge. Shivering like a quaking aspen, Hank curled into his slicker again and rolled right up to the base of his sheltering rocks, teeth chattering and skin clammy.
God damn it, he thought as he drifted into an uneasy doze. A man couldn't win for losing.
***
Dreams plagued him. Dreams of straw-colored hair and warm hands, a low voice murmuring to him in the night. Hank went from burning to freezing and back again, alternately shoving his coverings away and pulling them to him, cussing a blue streak and then shaking so hard he couldn't even cuss at all.
His poor mare would probably keel right over and die, he didn't get up and feed her, but Hank just couldn't get his legs under him, couldn't even get the gumption to sit up. Every time he tried something pushed him back down, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe, his head swimming so he thought he'd void his stomach, what there was in it.
The smell of coffee was what finally brought him out of it, making him figure he'd cracked it, because how could he have started a fire and made coffee, with no strength in him and most of his supplies ruined by the torrential downpour?
Hank managed to sit up, his stomach turning over once before it settled, bracing himself on arms so weak they liked to shook loose holding him up.
"You sure are a stubborn cuss, Hank."
His jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open like a flytrap as he stared. He sure had cracked something, because he would swear that was Jasper sitting there, drinking coffee from a tin cup, the little fire smoking away.
"You... I... How did you find me?"
"You left a trail a blind man could follow. Once I figured out which way you left town, it wasn't hard. Want some coffee?"
His belly clenched up tighter than a virgin's legs. "No, thank you kindly."
"Suit yourself."
"Some water would suit me, if you'll just tell me…" Levering himself, Hank tried to rise, wobbly as a newborn colt.
"Sit down, ya durned fool."
He sat, because he couldn't not. Jasper brought him a cupful of water and a piece of a biscuit. "Chew easy."
Nodding, Hank choked down the biscuit, shying away like a scared colt when Jasper touched his forehead.
"Aw, Hank, just hold still. I'm just checking the fever. I promise I won't bother you no more with my nasty self."
"I don't think you're nasty, Jasper. Just the opposite, in fact." That was the God's honest truth.
He'd always tried not to lie.
"Then why'd you run off like that, Hank?" So plaintive. And so darned hurt that Hank felt a pain in his heart.
"I don't wanna talk on it right now, all right? I will. But not now.”
"Silent Hank." Looking down at him, Jasper shook his head, stroking his hair for a minute before getting up, knees popping. "I'll let you sit with it, then. For now. I'll go tend the horses."
The biscuit was dry and tough, but Hank finished every bite, knowing he needed to keep his strength. The water, oh it was like manna from Heaven, soothing his poor throat. All the while he watched Jasper move about their little camp, such as it was, tending the ponies and fussing with this or that.
Lord knew the kid wasn't perfect. Despite the good looks he was so bowlegged he couldn't hem a hog in a ditch. He had that chipped tooth. His hands were rough from weather and work, the thumb of Jasper's right hand already sticking out at an odd angle from getting caught in a rope once. But he wasn't nasty. Oh, no siree.
Hank just couldn't fathom it. Jasper had everything a cowboy needed to make it in the world. Why was he chasing down an old man time and again?
Before long, Jasper came back and stoked the fire up a bit, checking the way the smoke went, just to make sure they weren't announcing their presence to someone who might take unkindly to it. The warmth of it soothed Hank's bones, and when Jasper took the last bit of biscuit and the water cup out of his limp hands and pushed him down, Hank went, letting sleep take him and grateful for it.
He'd think about the rest later on.
***
The sky held thousands of stars when he woke up, all twinkling on the black night, and Hank smiled a little at the fancy thought. His momma would have approved. She liked poetry.
Warm and firm, Jasper pressed up against his back, boneless with sleep, his breath fanning Hank's neck. How could anything feel so good? Surely it wasn't right for a man to enjoy things so, but for a few moments he could just not look a gift horse in the mouth and soak it up, snuggling back against the kid and watching the stars.
He felt better, the horrible weakness gone right away, and if his head still hurt and his mouth was dry, well, a man ought not tempt fate with complaining.
"We're gonna have to move camp soon, find a place with good water."
If it hadn't been for Jasper holding him around the waist he might've jumped clean out of his skin. "Jesus Christ, Jasper. I thought you was asleep."
"Watch your mouth, Hank."
"You little wet-behind-the-ears pipsqueak. I was getting my mouth washed out with soap 'fore you were born. Don't you be telling me how to talk."
"Oh, yessir." He could feel the smile against the back of his neck, and darned if it didn't have him shivering.
"Why did you follow me, Jasper?"
"Because you're my pard. Because it ain't the same without you, Hank. And because I couldn't take your damned money. You gonna let me stay?"
He let his head droop forward, let his eyes close as he thought on it. Damn, but he was tired of fighting what he wanted more than anything in the world.
"I dunno, kid. I want to."
"Then that's that."
"It ain't that easy. You stay and I'll want…things."
Jasper nodded again, stubble rasping against Hank's skin. "I know that, you idiot."
"I can't…let me sleep on it?"
"Long as you promise to be here when I wake up."
"I promise, all right? I don't think I got the strength to get up and go right now anyway."
He just didn't. In his body or in his heart.
***
They never did make it to Lincoln. It took Hank days before he could travel more than a few hours, and he wasn't paying too close attention to where they were headed. It wasn't until they started following the railroad up to Cloudcroft that he started thinking Jasper had a plan.
The air was getting thin by the time they stopped on the fifth day, but Hank felt better than he had in a week, almost like his old self. He poked at the fire that night, watching Jasper scrub at their tin plates.
"So where are we headed?"
Jasper put his head down over his work, scrubbing harder, face going pink from something more than the fire.
"Well, I heard tell down in town about a rancher up here who needed cowboys for his high country line shacks. It'll be cold, wintering that way, but we'd be... I mean we'd have... Aw, Hell, Hank, we'd be alone the whole winter."
"Just us and the occasional stray, huh?"
"Yeah." Blue eyes flashed up at him for a moment, serious as a rattlesnake bite. "I figured it might give us time. Maybe you'd think about talking on it after a bit."
"I might at that." Chewing his lip, Hank pondered over it. Might not be a bad idea. At least up in the mountains there was no one for Jasper to get angry, and it was doubtful anyone he met there would know him from El Paso. Hell, if they did they'd be hiding from something too, and just as unlikely to speak up.
Finally, Hank nodded. "All right, kid," he said. "You got yourself a pard, for the winter at least."
"Yeah?" Bouncing up, Jasper came over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling so hard Hank saw his gums. "You won't regret it Hank. I swear."
"Probably not." He could only hope Jasper wouldn't either. Hank determined then and there to try and make it so. If they were going to do this, by damn he'd do it right. He reached up, put a hand to Jasper's cheek, holding him still for a light kiss to his lips. Those eyes widened for him before they half closed, a happy noise sounding, just for him.
"We'll make it work," he said, making it a promise. "We'll just have to."
***
The winter storm howled outside their little cabin, the snow blowing so think a man couldn't see his hand in front of his face. They couldn't even go outside to use the necessary, curtaining off a little area for the chamber pot and keeping the lid on tight.
Despite all that, and despite the fact that Hank figured his bones were too old to winter this way again, he was happy as a clam, and snug as a bug in a rug.
He sat in front of the little stove, whittling a piece of pine into the likeness of a bird, admiring the way the light from the lanterns played on Jasper's hair. They hadn't…well, they'd kissed a lot. Hooked their bedrolls together. But they hadn't...
Hank just hadn't been ready to talk on it.
Now he was.
"I thought you liked girls."
"Huh?" Jasper glanced up from the letter he worked so laboriously on for his momma back in Abilene, tongue caught between his teeth.
"When we were down in El Paso. You liked the ladies."
Such a look he got. "Aw, sure I did, Hank. They're real sweet, most of them, and they smell nice and they remind me of my sisters. What's the harm in taking a girl to a dance? You, though, you're the one I ride with. That's right special."
"Not all pards do what we, well, what I wanna do, Jasper."
"I'm not a fool, Hank. I know that. But I think more cowboys do than you imagine. Gets lonely on the trail and girls are trouble." That open face went dark, Jasper scowling. "Just look at what happened at the Oasis. All because some love-struck cowboy didn't know how to treat one."
"He didn't know how to be a man." Damned fool, getting himself killed over a few drinks and a pretty señorita. His gut still curled up on itself whenever he took to remembering it. "But don't you want a wife? Younguns?"
He got a snort, Jasper throwing up his hands, spattering ink from the dip pen he still held. "Now what would I do with babies, I ask you? I'm a drover, Hank. Wouldn't be fair to be leaving a woman alone to fend for herself half the year, now would it? Look at Annie Hobbes when old Pack Hobbes got drownt."
Hank nodded, smoothing the pine with his hands, finding the emerging bird to be a magpie, the long tail coming out of this jagged piece here, the bright eyes perfect for that knot there.
"Hank?"
Jasper's shadow fell over him and Hank knew it was now or never, so he carefully
set his knife aside and took Jasper's offered hand, listening to the wind batter the door rather than his pounding heart. He had things he could show, had ways top make it good.
They didn't say a word after that, just went to their little joined bedroll, Hank pulling Jasper's clothes off, first his heavy coat, then his suspenders, his shirt and pants. Jasper shook a little, eyes huge in that sweet face, but he never once protested, just took what Hank gave and gave a good many touches on his own.
