The Search for Soaring Hawk

by Terry O'Reilly

“Yes, oh, yes, Sammy boy, the old man’s gonna give you his stuff. Oh, yeah, yeah, here it comes. It’s all yours, Sam, my boy, all yours.”

  As Gus groaned deep in his throat, Sam felt the warm silkiness of his issue flow over his hands. As Gus’ climax reached its peak, he clenched his sphincter around Sam and pumped him as if he were using his hand. Sam bucked over and over, then pushed all the way into Gus, holding perfectly still. His member throbbed as contractions forced his seed from his body and into his partner.

  “Yeah, boy, fill me up with your hot stuff. I want it, boy. I need it. Yes, yes, yes. Oh, yes, Sam, thank you, thank you.”

  Both men were trembling and breathing heavily. Gus brought Sam’s wet hand to his mouth and kissed the sperm laden fingers. Sam pulled Gus close and kissed the back of his head.

  “Nice, real nice,” Gus intoned as his breathing began to return to normal.

  Sam felt a warm flush of affection fill his being. His mind flashed back to the day when he had stood on the banks of the pond with Garrett.

  “Another thing about love,” Garrett had said. “It don’t have to last forever. If you feel it for someone for an hour, a day, or a week, and then it goes, that’s all right. So, if you love someone, tell ’em when you feel it. You’ll both feel good.”

  “I love you, Gus,” Sam said, kissing the white-haired man’s neck.

  “That’s nice, too, boy. It’s good to be loved,” Gus muttered. Sam knew he was falling asleep.

  Still buried deep inside the old man, Sam fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  * * * “Tomorrow we’ll be leaving Independence,” Garrett said as he stood before the assembled migrants. “It’ll be a long journey and a tough one. At times, it’ll be difficult. At times, it’ll be dangerous. But, if you keep in mind a few rules, it’ll be successful.”

  “First, I’m in charge. Me and the men standing in front of you,” he said indicating Gus, Sam, Todd and the Tuckers. “Gus and I have made this trip five times. We know what’s waiting for us, and we know how to get through the rough spots.”

  Sam watched as the crowd shifted uneasily and looked at each other at the mention of the difficulties that could lie ahead.

  “Sam and Todd here ain’t never made the trip, but they got skills and know how that makes them good leaders. Cody and Walt Tucker have worked for us and other trains. They’re here to help as well.”

  Garrett paused and looked around the crowd of faces, as if wanting to make sure what he was saying had sunk in. Then he continued. “So, what I say goes, no questions asked. Is that clear?” Garrett paused again.

  There was a murmur of assent.

  “If you got problems with the way the train is run, you come to us first.” He looked around the crowd yet again.

  Sam sensed they were behind this man, trusting him, depending on him.

  “We’re gonna need to help each other out along the way. You never know when someone’s gonna need something. We got to be willin’ to be good neighbors and share what we got if it comes to that.”

  There was another moment of shifting and exchanged glances.

  “Now’s the time to make sure everything is ready to leave. If you have any questions or if anyone has anything to say, let’s hear it.”

  There were a few questions about how long it would take to get to California, how far the train would go each day, and if the threat from the Indians was real. Garrett answered that the trip would take four to five months; how far they got each day depended on lots of things, not the least of which was the weather. As far as Indians, he felt they were better off worrying about the weather.

  Garrett was just about to call the meeting to a close, when Reverend Rayburn strode to the front. “I have a few things I want to say,” he said.

  Garrett nodded and gestured toward the assembled group.

  “I am the Reverend Ezekiel Rayburn,” he announced in his most pompous, arrogant manner as he turned to face the crowd. “I will avail myself to all those who seek spiritual guidance. I will lead a daily prayer service each morning and a Sunday service each week. I intend to make God the center of this journey as I am sure Mr. Taylor would agree.”

  He looked over to where Garrett stood. Garrett nodded.

  “Now,” he continued, “I will lead us in prayer for a safe passage.”

  The men in the group removed their hats, and the women bowed their heads and folded their hands.

  “Holy Father, Creator of the universe and Lord of all, into Thy hands we commend this undertaking. We ask that, just as your Son calmed the storm-tossed sea, that You grant us fair weather, that You tame the wild beasts that may threaten us and that You stay the hand of the savages that would attack us.”

  At this juncture, Sam looked up. The reverend was looking directly at him.

  The minister continued. “If we should confront the heathen hordes, may they, by the power of your Holy Ghost come to see the light of Your love and accept You and Your salvation, renouncing their hedonic ways and practices.”

  Sam held the man’s gaze.

  Finally, Rayburn looked away.

  “Further, most Holy God, keep our hearts pure, bind the demons of debauchery and fornication that seek to enter the hearts of some that are of our company.”

  At this, Todd looked from Sam to Garrett. Sam smiled as Garrett winked at the boy. Todd lowered his head once more, but Sam could see he was fighting not to snicker aloud.

  The reverend continued for another fifteen minutes with praises of God and blessings on each family individually, including Sam and the men. He ended his prayer with an altar call, inviting all who would forsake the ways of Satan and the world to come forward and be saved. When no one responded to this, he bristled and ended with a lofty amen.

  “Longwinded son of a bitch,” Gus said as the crowd began to break up, and the men made their way back to the hotel for their last night of comfort.

  “Now, Gus,” Garrett said with a laugh, “the man’s just doin’ his job. A preacher’s gotta preach, just like a bird’s gotta fly.”

  “Birds flyin’ is a lot better ’n that load of horse dung,” Gus continued grousing.

  Garrett laughed again, pushed Gus’ hat down over his eyes and said, “Time for a couple a drinks to celebrate the trip before we hit the hay.”

  An hour later, Garrett and Sam helped a very intoxicated Gus and an equally inebriated Todd down the street. Sam had had only two drinks, but because he was unused to drinking, he was feeling very mellow and relaxed. Garrett had drunk as much as Gus, but if the alcohol was affecting him, he showed no signs of it.

  Gus was singing “Amazing Grace” as he leaned on Garrett, his arm around his waist. Todd was almost hanging on Sam’s neck and professing his undying love for him. Wolf, who had obediently waited outside the saloon doors, walked along behind. When the party had almost reached the steps of the hotel, a tall, angry Rayburn confronted them.

  “So,” he spat out, “these are the men to whom we will entrust our lives! What is the meaning of this? I came to ask your advice on a matter of concern, and I find you in the lap of debauchery.”

  “I ain’t in nobody’s fuckin’ lap,” Gus said with slurred defiance.

  The reverend looked as if he had just eaten a persimmon.

  “Now, Reverend, don’t get your dander up. We got us a long trip ahead, and we’re just celebrating our last night here in Independence,” Garrett said soothingly.

  Reverend Rayburn looked from one man to another in utter disgust. “You would be better off if you spent your last night begging God’s mercy on your knees.”

  “Well,” Todd giggled, “we just might be spendin’ some time on our knees.”

  Sam shushed him.

  Without another word, Reverend Rayburn turned and headed back to the wagon train.

  The men all laughed and made their way into the hotel and up to their rooms. Garrett steered all four of them into his room. He closed the door and pulled them all into a hug. Sam stood with his
arms around Garrett and Gus, looking into Todd’s eyes. He felt a warm glow of affection for them all.

  “Enjoy this,” Garrett said. “This won’t happen again for a long while.”

  Sam watched as Gus turned to Todd and kissed him. He felt himself growing hard as Garrett sought his lips and mouth. Before long, he was kissing each man in turn, often sharing a kiss with more than one of them. He could feel someone’s hand rubbing his crotch. Someone else was kneading his butt. The scene dissolved into a swirl of physical and emotional sensations.

  * * * Sam awoke in the night. He found himself in a tangle of arms and legs. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry. His ass was sore as well. He smiled. He vaguely remembered parts of the night. He had penetrated Todd, had welcomed both Garrett and Gus into the confines of his mouth, had kissed and held each man and expressed his love for them. His last memory was lying belly to belly against Todd, who was impaled on Gus’ long, thin cock, while he had held Garrett tightly within him. He recalled how each man had reached his climax, and how he and Todd had deposited their semen between them.

  Now Sam was hard again and had to relieve himself. He carefully got out of bed and walked to the chamber pail. Leaning against the wall to steady himself, he took a deep breath, trying to get his stiff penis to relax enough to operate appropriately.

  When he finished, he turned to the bed. He stopped and looked at the men still lying in a jumble of naked bodies. Sam felt the same warmth he had the night before. He realized he loved them all. He knew they also loved him. For the moment, he was content. Crawling back into the jumble on the bed, Sam awaited the morning and the next adventure.

  CHAPTER 9

  WAGON TRAIN

  Sam and the men got up early while it was still dark outside, dressed and went downstairs for a quick breakfast. Todd, however, still feeling the effects of his imbibing, passed.

  “You’re lookin’ a little green around the edges there, sonny boy,” Gus said with a laugh as Todd sat, leaning on his elbows and rubbing his temples.

  After they finished eating, they made their way to the wagon train. Once there, Garrett had Sam help him make sure everyone was up and getting ready to depart. He sent Todd and Gus to the livery to get the horses. Many of the would-be settlers were already awake, making their morning meal, and getting the oxen yoked and hitched to the wagons. There was an air of subdued excitement.

  Sam also sensed something else among some of the members of the party. They seemed to be watching him out of the corners of their eyes. He rounded the side of one of the wagons and saw Reverend Rayburn and several men huddled together. When he approached, they stopped talking. At that point, Cletus Weston came from the opposite direction. He seemed flustered. He looked at Sam and then the group of men.

  “What’s going on?” came Garrett’s voice from behind Sam. “You’re here a bit early to give your ‘have a good trip’ speech, Cletus.”

  Garrett walked past Sam and up to the group. Sam followed him.

  “I will tell you what is going on,” the pompous sound of Reverend Rayburn’s voice cut the morning air. “I have asked Mr. Weston to meet us this morning to discuss your behavior of the past evening and to request that you be removed from command of this wagon train. We cannot have a person lacking in moral character entrusted with the safety of these innocent souls.”

  Sam felt anger rise within him. He looked first at Garrett, then at Cletus Weston. The latter stood, eyes wide, fidgeting with his watch fob.

  Garrett, however, just smiled and calmly said, “Fine with me. Cletus here can lead the train. Sam, come on, we’ll tell Todd and Gus we’re not goin’. Oh, yeah, I don’t think the Tuckers’ll want to go without us either, but you all have a good trip.” He started to walk away.

  The crowd began murmuring and milling about. The reverend looked confused.

  Cletus ran after Garrett. “Come now, Taylor,” he said, his voice pleading. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “What’s there to work out?” Garrett said without looking back. “The reverend don’t trust me, so, that’s that.” He continued walking away.

  “The reverend don’t speak for us,” called a man in the crowd.

  “No, he don’t,” chimed in other voices.

  Garrett stopped and turned to the men. “All right, if you want me, I’ll lead you, but you understand I’m the undisputed leader. My word is law. If you have a problem with that, you can stay behind and wait for another train.” He addressed his last remark to Rayburn.

  “You know very well there is no other wagon train this year,” the man said, seething with anger.

  “Suit yourself. Either come with me or stay here and start a church or somethin’,” Garrett said standing with his hands on his hips.

  “God will have his way with you one day, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Better hope it’s after I get you safely to California,” Garrett said pleasantly.

  The minister turned on his heel and stormed off.

  The man who had spoken before came forward. “We’re mighty sorry about this, Mr. Taylor. We know you’re a good man and we’re willin’ to follow your lead.”

  Garrett acknowledged the man’s words. Cletus wiped the sweat from his brow. Sam just smiled.

  “Let’s get this train rollin’,” Garrett called out.

  * * * Three hours later, with Garrett and Sam in the lead, Wolf trotting beside them, his plumed tail curled on his back, the wagon train set out for California. The whole town of Independence turned out to line the road as the settlers and their guides embarked on the journey west.

  Sam looked at Garrett, who sat tall in the saddle. Sam felt that now-familiar surge of pride flow through him. Turning in his saddle, leaning on the cantle, he looked back over his shoulder. Directly behind him was Todd, seated on a horse-drawn wagon, which would serve as shelter and sleeping quarters for them. Todd was smiling and waving at the bystanders. Sam caught his eye and gave him a wave. Todd responded with a salute. Affection for the young man bubbled up inside him.

  Sam gazed beyond the lead wagon at the rest of the train as it snaked its way out of town. At the end of the procession, Gus would be driving the wagon carrying the men’s food. Sam knew he would be happy to be underway. Warm feelings for the crusty old curmudgeon arose as well.

  What lies ahead? he wondered as he watched the men leading the oxen, the women walking next to them, children and dogs skipping and romping alongside. Will they all make it? Would the buoyancy and joy he observed be sustained when the rigors and dangers of the trek arose and reality hit them? He turned back to face the road ahead. What was coming would come. They would face that when it happened. For now, he would enjoy the sense of excitement and anticipation. He focused on Garrett’s broad shoulders, as he rode slightly behind him, and on the horizon beyond.

  * * * That night, they circled the wagons for the first time. It took Garrett, Gus and the Tuckers a bit of time and a lot of patience to help the travelers get it right. Sam felt he and Todd were more of a hindrance than a help, due to their inexperience, but in the end, the task was accomplished.

  Garrett told Sam he was pleased with their progress. They had covered about six miles. He felt that was better than average for a first day. They had left the last of the homesteads behind and were heading out onto the open plains. They had traveled alongside a river that flowed into the Missouri. They would follow its route, then strike off north to find the Platte, and use that as a guide.

  The only incident had come when the train passed close to an Indian village. Garrett informed the members of the train that this was a peaceful group of natives who were used to the wagon trains passing through their territory, and not to be alarmed if they approached.

  As the wagons rolled along, a party of braves appeared at the crest of a hill. Garrett halted the train as they approached.

  “Well, Sam,” he said, “you get to earn your pay as a Indian scout.”

  He and Sam rode out to meet the braves. T
hey exchanged greetings. One or two of their company spoke rudimentary English and a dialect close to that of Sam’s people. To his relief, he was able to communicate with them fairly easily. Things were going well until a loud voice came from behind. He and Garrett turned to see Reverend Rayburn striding toward them, holding his Bible aloft.

  “Repent and turn from your heathen ways! Embrace the Lord and be saved.”

  “God damn fool,” Garrett intoned.

  The bevy of braves looked questioningly at Sam. He tried to explain the man was attempting to tell them about his God. The braves thought this amusing and chuckled softly as Rayburn approached. Hearing their laughter, the reverend launched into a tirade of the curses which would befall them for making fun of the Almighty, how His angels would smite them for their blasphemy. The more he ranted and raved, the more the Indians laughed.

  Garrett had finally convinced the overzealous evangelist to be quiet and go back to the train. He and Sam had spoken further with the braves before heading back to the wagons themselves.

  Once there, a fuming Reverend Rayburn greeted them with another rant. “How dare you, a drunkard, and who knows what else,” he clamored, giving Sam a sideward glance, “stand between me and the Lord’s calling to convert the heathen.”

  Garrett’s firm, calm retort silenced him. “I don’t know about your callin’, but I do know you will never—never, you understand me—ever again speak to these people in such a manner.”

  Sam smiled.

  Garrett continued, “They came to offer us fresh antelope for supper to celebrate our first day. They came in friendship, and your raving lunacy nearly cost us their friendship. They told us as long as the ‘crazy man’ was there, they would not share their meat with us. Only some fast talkin’ by Sam here convinced ’em you would not be here when they returned. So, Reverend, tonight, when our friends arrive with their gift, you’re confined to your wagon. Is that clear?”

  “You have no authority to do any such thing, Taylor!” Rayburn returned.

  “Try me!” Garrett said, narrowing his eyes, placing his hands on his hips and taking a step toward him.