“It could be he’s regretting his decision to leave his people for this life among strangers,” the hawk said, rustling his feathers.
“But,” rejoined the bear, “he’s not traveling in the direction of the village, but in one that will take him to more of the white man’s world. It seems to me he’s still intent on living his life as Samuel Hawkins, rather than Soaring Hawk. What say you, Samuel?”
Sam closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to answer. On opening his eyes, he discovered he was alone. He smiled. Whether his spirit guides had actually been with him or not, they did reflect the turmoil going on in his mind. After getting up, he untied the horses, mounted, crossed the stream and continued to head south.
* * * As the day wore on and the sun climbed higher, its warmth made Samuel wish for the freedom of his Indian garb. How did these white men tolerate being covered from head to toe in heattrapping clothing, even in warm weather?
Of greater concern, however, was the fact he didn’t seem to be close to finding Nils Bjorn. He was fairly certain he had followed the directions given and had not missed a turn in the trail, but still he began to worry he was on the wrong path.
He was just about ready to retrace his steps to be sure his course was correct when he came out of the trees into a clearing. There he saw a small, erratically shaped pen enclosed by a stack rail fence and beside it a ramshackle building made of logs and animal skins.
Off to the side was a garden, clearly in the final stages of productivity. Inside the pen were a cow, a horse and two horned animals Sam surmised were goats. Wandering aimlessly, scratching and pecking the ground, were a dozen or more chickens.
Sam surveyed the not-too-impressive homestead. He understood why Nils needed help building a cabin. It didn’t appear he had much in the way of construction skills. As he sat on his horse looking around, he heard the intermittent, chop, chop of an axe in the distance. He swung down out of the saddle, rubbed his backside and stretched. Even riding bareback, he was not used to so many hours on a horse, and the saddle made it worse. He longtied the horses to a small tree so they could graze, then started off in the direction of the sounds.
The forest closed in around him again as he made his way down the path toward the chopping noises. Here and there were felled trees of various sizes. At times, he had to step over a log that lay across the path. He crossed a stream via a downed tree trunk. Sam figured it was the same one he had stopped at earlier, snaking its way through the landscape. At the point he crossed he could see the stream was a good two feet deep.
The sound of chopping became louder. He could see the form of a man through the trees. Nils?
Walking silently, as his life among the people had taught him, he came to the edge of the trees without detection. He stood and took in the sight of the man working with his back toward him. He was naked to the waist and the muscles of his back glistened with sweat in the warm autumn sunshine. Sam felt his body become alive with awareness of the masculinity displayed before him.
Just then, a golden haired dog came out of the forest beyond where the man was working. It was a smallish dog and was either quite fat, or very pregnant, as she waddled on short legs spread wide to support her weight. Upon spying Sam, she began to bark and broke into an ungainly trot. The tone of the bark was friendly, however, and her tail wagged furiously.
At the sound of her barking, the man straightened and turned. In an instant, Sam took in the muscular chest, the powerful arms and shoulders, the narrow waist, all accentuated by the sun on his sweat-drenched torso. The man’s trousers sat low on his hips, and Sam could see the rippling muscles of his abdomen extended far below his navel Other than the blond hair, plastered to his scalp with sweat, there was no other hair on the man’s body. Upon seeing Sam, he smiled.
“Well, hello there,” he called out in a deep, pleasant voice.
He leaned the axe against the log he had been attacking and started to walk toward Sam. At about that time Sam felt something press against his legs. He looked down to see the dog, tail still waving frantically, begging for an introduction. Sam squatted down, and she immediately pushed against him, welcoming his touch.
“She’ll let you stroke her all day if you let her.”
Sam looked up from the shiny golden head and stared directly at the man’s crotch, amply distended and about a foot from his face. He swallowed. He rose and faced the man who was still smiling broadly, standing with his hands on his hips.
“You’re Sam Hawkins, right?” he said.
Pleased the man had recognized him, Sam said, “Yes, I am, and you must be Nils.”
“Yep, and this is Molly. Well, you can see she’s gotten herself in a bit a trouble, though I can’t figure out how. There are no other dogs around here as far as I know.” As Nils spoke, he held out his hand and Sam took it in his. The grasp was firm and warm.
“I’m glad to meet you,” Sam said with a strong desire to take him into his arms and hug him.
“Happy to make your acquaintance myself,” Nils said, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder and firmly squeezing it. “What brings you out this way?” he asked, dropping his hand.
“Dexter said you were looking for help building your cabin. I thought maybe I could give you a hand.”
“I would appreciate that. I’m not very handy with tools,” said Nils, turning back to where he had left his axe.
As he walked away, Sam watched the beautifully formed cheeks as they alternately contracted and relaxed. He followed.
Nils sat on the log and indicated Sam should sit beside him.
“Well, I hope Dex made it clear I cannot pay much. I can make sure you get fed, though,” he said with a chuckle.
“I don’t need pay. Don’t have a use for the money Dexter paid me for my skins and the work I did for him. I still have all of it.” Sam tried to explain. “I don’t know if you know my story, but I was raised by Indians. I’m…I’m trying to find my way with the whites and…well… so far I’m having a hard time.”
Nils wrinkled his brow. “Dexter said you were doin’ well with the men trappin’ and skinnin’ and all.”
Hearing Nils and Dexter had discussed him gave Sam a good feeling inside.
“Oh, Dexter and the men were fine. It’s just that our ways are so different.”
Sam went on to explain how killing for the sake of killing, with no honor to the prey, wasn’t something he could tolerate. He avoided talking about the way Russell had been used for sex.
Nils listened. When Sam finished, he placed his hand on Sam’s thigh and said, “Well, Sam Hawkins, I don’t hunt for the thrill of it. I hunt to keep me and Molly goin’. So, I think we’ll get along fine. If you care to work with me here, I’d be happy to have you. But I’d like to pay you something for your time.”
Sam smiled and extended his hand once more. “Like I said, no need for pay.”
“You said you were havin’ a hard time finding your way in the white man’s world.”
Sam nodded.
“Well, maybe I can help with that.”
Nils accepted his hand and the agreement was made.
* * * As the sun set and the shadows of the trees lengthened, Sam and Nils sat just outside the shelter. After taking care of his horses, Sam had worked the rest of the afternoon with Nils on splitting the logs of the felled trees. He had taken the opportunity to shed his flannel shirt and the two men worked side by side, naked to the waist. The contrast between them was stark: Nils was blond, his body hairless, and his skin, despite some sun exposure, a pale tan. Sam was dark-haired, his chest covered in thick black hair, and his body, due to his Indian heritage, bronzed. His eyes were a dark brooding brown; Nils’ a brilliant blue.
After working all afternoon, they made their way to the stream, where they stripped and waded into the chilly water to rinse off the sweat. Sam had the opportunity to surreptitiously appreciate the man with whom he would be living and working. He was not sure how he would keep his desires from
showing. Nils was a wonderful specimen of manhood.
They sat around the fire as their dinner was cooking. “As you can see, I’m not much for buildin’. This is about the best I can do,” Nils said, indicating the structure behind him. “Surprised it’s still standin’,” he added with a chuckle. “Gonna need a better place for both me and the animals before winter sets in. And you, too,” he added with his warm smile.
Sam listened as he watched the horses walk around the small enclosure, getting acquainted and working out the pecking order with nips and squeals. The goats and the cow stayed out of their way.
“I don’t know much about building a cabin,” Sam said. “But I can build you a lodge that’ll get us through the winter. I can fix this,”—he pointed to the shelter behind them—“so those horses and all will be taken care of.”
“I’ve been talking to Dex up at the post,” Nils put in. “I’ve been lookin’ carefully at the way the thing was built, too. I think I have the idea of how to get the cabin done. But it needs more ’n one man. I’d like to have it done before next summer and have all ready when Sally gets here.”
“Sally?” Sam asked, his heart sinking.
“Sally’s my intended,” Nils said, rising and turning the rabbits on the spit. He sat and continued, “Her father said we couldn’t get married until I had a proper house for her to live in.”
“Where is she now?” Sam asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“Back home.” Nils looked directly into Sam’s eyes. “I only met her once. Whole thing was arranged between her family and mine. I hope I like her when she gets here.” He looked back at the fire. “Well, rabbits are done.”
* * * The evening chores consisted of getting hay and water for the horses, cow and goats, rounding up the chickens and getting them settled in the coop in the back of the lean-to where they would be safe from predators, and cleaning up after the evening meal, giving Molly the remains. Nils milked the cow and one of the goats. He poured some of the warm milk into a pan for the dog.
“Well, don’t have much use for the milk right now,” he explained. “But wanna keep them from dryin’ up. Gotta keep milkin’ to do that. You wanna try some?” he asked, pouring the white liquid into a cup for himself.
Having never had milk, Sam declined. “Maybe another time.” Nils set about making up a sleeping matt for Sam in the shelter. Sam noted that he positioned it quite close to his own. After a final check of the small homestead, Nils suggested it was time for bed.
“Gets pretty cold at night now,” he said. “I sleep in my union suit and wear my socks, too. Thought maybe puttin’ our beds close together would help us keep warm.” He smiled his endearing boy/man smile.
Sam went to his pack, pulled out his union suit and held it up for Nils’ approval. “Russell made me get this. I haven’t used it yet. But if you think it’ll do?”
“Well, I think it will,” said Nils, giving his approval.
The men changed, exhibiting the same measure of modesty that had been apparent when they had bathed in the stream. They settled down on the mats and lay facing each other, heads propped on hands. Molly waddled into the shelter and looked from Nils to Sam. Finally making up her mind, she walked to the end of Sam’s matt, circled a few times and lay down with a huge sigh.
“Those pups will come soon,” Sam observed.
“Yes,” Nils agreed. “I’m a bit worried about it. Don’t have any idea who the daddy is, but she sure is big.”
Sam nodded.
Nils looked at Sam in the fading light. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said. “Especially glad it’s you who’s come to help me.”
Sam felt a surge of emotion pass through him. “I am, too, Nils.”
He wanted with all his heart to reach out and touch the man’s face, to let him know in some way what he was feeling. But he refrained.
Nils smiled at him for several seconds. “Well, good night then,” he said and laid his head down on the grass stuffed mat.
“Good night,” Sam said. He did not immediately close his eyes. He looked through the gathering darkness at the man lying next to him. What was to come of their friendship? What was to happen when Sally arrived? He listened to the sounds of insects, still holding out hope of a mate as the cool weather of fall closed in on them. He heard the soft hoot of an owl, the rustling of the chickens in their coop as they, too, heard the sound. Insects hoping for a mate, predator and prey, Sam and Nils. He drifted off to sleep.
He was roused at some point during the night. It took Sam a minute to discern what had awakened him. He had turned away from Nils as they slept, but now he felt an arm reaching across his chest and drawing him close. He responded by covering Nils’ hand with his own and pressing back against him. He could feel Nils’ erect penis against his butt. Sam felt his organ responding, straining against the fabric of the union suit. Nils nuzzled the base of Sam’s neck and sighed deeply. They remained in this embrace—Nils gently pumping against Sam; Sam caressing his hand and leaning back into Nils’ nuzzlings. At some point he fell back to sleep, not knowing for sure if Nils had been awake while he held Sam in his arms.
* * * When Sam felt Nils rise from the mat, he opened his eyes. The early light of morning filled the shelter. The chickens were clucking, anxious to be out and about foraging for insects and seeds. He rolled over onto his back, his morning erection pressing against the rough cloth of his union suit. Nils was disappearing out the flap of the lean-to. Sam got up, stretched and followed him.
He found Nils around the back of the shelter. He had finished relieving himself and was adjusting his garment. He turned to Sam as he approached. A broad smile broke across his handsome face.
“Good morning,” he said. “You sleep all right?” Sam nodded, returning the smile and greeting, undid a button and pulled his semi-hard cock through the slit in his union suit and began to relieve himself. He felt mildly self-conscious as Nils still stood beside him.
“Well, I mean, nothin’ bothered you? Did it?”
“No, nothing bothered me,” Sam replied. He finished urinating and tucked his penis away. Turning to face Nils, he added, “I slept real well. It was a good night.”
“For me, too,” the big blond said with a broad smile, looking almost relieved. “Well, I guess we better get dressed and get this day started.”
Sam smiled as he followed his new friend around the side of the lean-to, wondering if and when this game of cat and mouse would come to the point, and if he should be bold enough to press the issue.
They repeated the pattern of the night chores in reverse. The chickens were released, the livestock fed and watered, the cow and the goat milked. Breakfast consisted of fresh eggs cooked over the fire, with strips of dried venison. Sam had eaten eggs before, although not those of domestic fowl. And, of course, venison had been a staple of his diet. Once again, he was offered milk and again he refused. He wished now that there was coffee. Dexter had been right. After a month of drinking the stuff, he had begun to tolerate it. It did give him a wake-up kick.
“Whatcha got against milk?” Nils asked as they cleaned up after their meal. “It’s good for you. We drank lots of it back home.”
“Where’s home?” Sam asked, not sure if he had anything against milk except it didn’t seem to appeal to him.
“England,” Nils replied. “I was born in Sweden, but we came to England when I was a boy.”
Sam waited to see if further information was forthcoming. When Nils offered none, he prodded. “Why did you come here?”
Nils looked up from his task of rinsing the metal plates and cups and stared off into the distance. After a moment, he turned to Sam and looked intently at him. “Well, to be honest, it was an excuse to put off marrying Sally.”
“Oh?”
Nils looked away. He almost seemed embarrassed by his admission. “Anyway, I found out about how there was land to be had in the new world, and I convinced everyone it would be a good way to get a bet
ter start than back home. They didn’t like it at first, but I showed them how people could get rich over here…and they finally agreed. So, here I am.”
He turned back to Sam with a sheepish look on his face and shrugged.
Sam understood. He had left his people because he couldn’t be forced into living as they expected a man who preferred men over women to live. Was Nils here for the same reason? Did his avoidance of marriage stem from the same root as Sam’s need to leave his people? Deep inside, he hoped so. Nils’ behavior seemed to indicate it did, But Sam would wait and see.
“Well,” Nils said, “you said something yesterday about buildin’ a place to stay while we built the cabin. You want to get started on that?”
Sam agreed they should get to work on the lodge. He had Nils choose the location, telling him it should be on high, flat ground, so water would drain away from it. That accomplished, he instructed his partner on the size and length of saplings needed for the frame.
“They have to be long, but thin enough to bend.”
They spent the morning in the forest surrounding the homestead, procuring the requisite materials. The sun was warm once again. Sam enjoyed the sight of the muscular body of the man with whom he worked. He had shed his shirt, too, and he watched to see if Nils was surreptitiously looking in his direction as well. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught Nils giving him appraising glances every now and again.
By noon, Sam figured they had collected enough wood to begin constructing the frame for the lodge. They ate dried, salted meat and fresh carrots from the garden as they tore deer hide into narrow strips about the length of a man’s arm. As he explained to Nils, they would use the strips to lash the saplings together to form the frame of the dwelling.
After eating, they began to dig holes, filling them with water. The water would soften the earth, and they would force the thin logs of the frame deep into the ground. With the skills borne of his life as Soaring Hawk, Sam demonstrated how to bend and lash the limbs, leaving a smoke hole in the center of the structure. As the vertical poles were bent and secured, thinner branches were fastened horizontally around them to add stability.
The Search for Soaring Hawk Page 8
