The Search for Soaring Hawk

by Terry O'Reilly

  Rayburn backed away, turned and stomped off back to his wagon.

  The camp settled. People were cooking and enjoying the meal provided by the Indians, and Garrett sent the Tuckers to make sure Rayburn stayed out of sight. Gus was preparing the antelope for the men. When it was ready, Sam, Garrett, Gus, Todd, and the Indians who had brought the meat sat in a circle and ate. Wolf prowled the circumference and heartily accepted the scraps tossed to him.

  “Ask them if they’ve had news of the trail, or of any trouble ahead,” Garrett said to Sam.

  Sam did as requested. He reported the braves felt the trail from here to the Platte was good. They had not had rain for a while so the ruts from previous trains passing would be firm. There was plenty of grass for the oxen and horses, and antelope were abundant.

  Once they entered Sioux territory along the Platte, the Indians had heard of some attacks on fur traders by the Lakota, one of the confederation of Sioux tribes.

  Garrett listened with a steady gaze. “The Lakota have never given us trouble before. We’ll have to see what’s stirred them up.”

  As the last of the light faded from the western sky, the Indians took their leave. While Todd and Gus cleared up the meal, Garrett, Sam and the Tuckers walked to the center of the camp and called for a meeting of the men.

  “Sam, go tell Rayburn he can come out,” Garrett said with a laugh.

  Sam did. A very angry man exited his wagon and followed Sam to where the men were gathering.

  Garrett addressed the group. “We got us off to a good start, but keep in mind this is the easy part. Once we get through the plains and into the foothills of them mountains, things’ll get a good measure tougher. Tonight, though, we have to set up night watch. The oxen and horses need to graze. Some of us have to stay with ’em to keep them together and stop them from wandering off. We’ll also have a patrol keep an eye on camp. Don’t expect no trouble yet, but we need to get the hang of this, so when we get to places that are more dangerous, we’ll all know what to do. Todd, Cody and I will take the first watch. We’ll need about six men to help us.”

  Plenty of men stepped forward and volunteered.

  “Good,” said Garrett. “Work in pairs. One man awake; other catchin’ a few winks where he can. Spell each other.”

  The men looked at one another.

  “On the ground?” one asked.

  Garrett smiled. “You’ll get used to it. I’ll be around to show you what to do.”

  The group broke up. The oxen and horses were unhitched and driven to an area outside the camp, where they could graze. Once the routine was set, they would free them before dinner. Cody went to show the men how to keep the herd together and make sure they could get to the river to drink.

  Garrett and Sam walked back to the wagon. When they arrived, Todd and Gus had things in order.

  “Todd, you’re comin’ with me for first watch. Get the horses.”

  Todd nodded and followed Garrett’s instructions. Garrett, Sam and Gus walked around to the side of the wagon opposite the camp.

  “Gus, you and Sam get some rest. You’ll be takin’ watch tomorrow night.”

  “Good,” Gus said with a smile. He walked over to Sam, put both arms around his neck and said, “My turn tonight. You owe me a fuck.”

  Garrett laughed. Sam blushed. Even so, he felt himself swell slightly.

  “Walt’ll be sleeping under the wagon most likely. He won’t like being kept awake,” Garrett said, still chuckling.

  “Why not just invite him to join you?” Todd interjected, walking up as he led the horses, apparently having heard the last of the conversation.

  Gus turned and looked at Todd, then walked over to him. He put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him forward, until their foreheads were touching. “Aside from the fact he probably wouldn’t ’preciate it, he ain’t family, little buddy. He ain’t part of the family.”

  “Family?” Todd replied, seemingly not understanding.

  “Yeah, family—you, me, Sam, Garrett. The four of us. Family.”

  Gus’ statement took Sam by surprise. He had no inkling from anything that had gone on before that the man had such a perspective on their relationships. His affection for Gus increased. So did his anticipation of the night to come.

  * * * Once again, as they had back in Independence, Gus and Sam lay facing each other in the bed of the wagon. Even though they had just been together the night before, those memories, along with Gus’ disclosure of the importance of what he had called family, made Sam’s arousal sweeter. He lay with one arm around Gus’ shoulders. With the other, he stroked the side of the older man’s face. Gus leaned his head on one hand. He ran the other up and down Sam’s hair-covered chest, stopping to tease his nipples. He stopped and held the leather pouch.

  “Been meanin’ ta ask ya, what’s in this thing you keep ’round yer neck?”

  Sam hesitated. He didn’t know how much he wanted to share with Gus, or anyone for that matter, about his life as Soaring Hawk. After a moment, he sighed and said, “Memories, memories of another life.”

  “I get ya. Private stuff. Well, we all got a right to that,” the old man said as he released the pouch and returned to an exploration of Sam’s muscular chest.

  The men kissed gently, probing each other’s mouths with their tongues.

  “You kiss good, Sammy boy,” Gus said in a soft voice. “Sort a surprises me that you’d like to kiss an old codger like me.”

  This was a different aspect of Gus that Sam had not expected to see: a softer side, almost vulnerable, perhaps harkening back to an earlier time in his life before undisclosed forces had shaped the gruff exterior most folks now observed.

  Sam kissed Gus again before responding. This time he pressed his body against him and ground his erection into the dense pubic hair. “I have no problem kissing a handsome man like you.”

  “You got a problem with your eyes, boy?” He laughed, reverting back to his gritty personality before kissing him again. “Now let’s us get down to business here. I got me a fuck comin’. How do ya like it?”

  Sam laughed and pulled Gus in for another kiss, this one reflecting the passing of the tender moment and the increase in sexual arousal. “However you want to give it to me, old man,” Sam said with a playful growl.

  “All right…roll over and get on your hands and knees.”

  The thin bedroll did little to soften the hard wooden floor beneath his knees. Gus maneuvered around behind him. He traced the crack of Sam’s butt with one hand, while kneading the firm ass cheek with the other. Sam felt himself tingle as he began to reach complete erection.

  Gus continued his ministrations to Sam’s buttocks by placing his fingers against Sam’s puckered entry. Pushing firmly with a constant pressure, Gus’ digits slipped inside. He moaned softly as Gus moved his fingers in and out, gently palpating the place inside which made him tremble with pleasure. Gus slipped his free hand between Sam’s legs and began to massage his sac.

  “You got yourself a set that’d make one a them bull oxen jealous,” Gus said, sensually.

  Sam could feel the fluids begin to drip from the tip as it slid beyond the hood. He leaned on his elbows and lowered his head to his hands, letting the ripples of pleasure surge through his body.

  Gus moved his hand from Sam’s scrotum to his cock, while at the same time replacing his probing fingers with his tongue. Sam could feel it dart in and out of his ass and swirl around the entry. He felt the slippery saliva coating him, making ready for Gus’ penetration.

  “Stop, Gus,” he said, breathing heavily, “or I’m gonna finish, and I don’t want to. Not yet.”

  Gus removed his hand from Sam’s cock and placed both hands on his ass, spreading the muscular flesh. He then attempted to line his erection up with Sam’s entryway.

  “Ain’t got the meat Garrett does, Sammy boy,” he said, “but I know just how to make that sweet spot a yours sing. Shit, you got long legs, boy. Can’t get my pecker up high enough.
Fuck! Turn over!”

  Sam laughed and did as he was told, resting his legs on Gus’ shoulders, glad to have the pressure of the hard wagon floor off his knees.

  Gus wasted no time aiming his tool at the target. With relative ease, he slid inside Sam. Both men groaned their pleasure. Gus was true to his word. While he didn’t fill Sam as Garrett did, he knew how to finesse his motion to cause shockwaves to travel throughout Sam’s body, concentrating the peak of intensity in the head of his organ. He wrapped his hands around Gus’ hairy buttocks and squeezed in unison with their contractions.

  “Gettin’ close, Sam, gettin’ close,” Gus forced through gritted teeth. He began to grunt with each thrust.

  Sam urged him on by squeezing the man’s throbbing organ with his sphincter muscles, and arching upward to meet Gus’ downward jabs as his own breathing grew ragged and strained.

  With a huge shudder, Gus impaled himself deeply inside Sam. Sam could feel a pulsating within him as Gus emptied his seed. Gus shuddered again, leaned down on his hands and smiled into Sam’s eyes. Sam continued to contract his ass muscles, relishing the feel of the man within him.

  “Nice?” Gus asked.

  “Very nice,” Sam responded, still arching his back, feeling the need to reach completion.

  “Your turn,” Gus said, rocking back on his haunches and slipping out, leaving Sam feeling bereft.

  Sam rose up, bracing himself on his elbows as Gus bent down and took Sam’s swollen shaft into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the head and probed the slit. Then he slowly ingested the engorged member to its base. Once there, he began to press the underside with his tongue, while pumping with his throat muscles. The effect was instantaneous. Sam grabbed the sides of Gus’ head and arched once more, forcing himself even deeper into Gus’ pharynx. His testicles contracted. His semen shot out and down Gus’ throat. The man never once gagged or choked, but easily took all Sam had to offer.

  Sam was spent. Gus released him and crawled up until he was lying on his chest. He gave each nipple a playful bite and then reached up and kissed Sam full and hard.

  “Glad you’re part of the family, son,” he said.

  Sam put his arm around the older man and nodded. Gus slid off to Sam’s side. There he lay, his arm draped across Sam’s chest, his leg over his thigh. He snuggled into the crook of Sam’s neck. Within minutes, he was snoring.

  Sam lay on his back, staring at the canvas ceiling of the wagon above him, listening to the sounds of the quiet camp. Contentment stole over him. The long trip across country didn’t seem so formidable just then. He pulled a cover over them to ward off the chill of the night and held Gus close. Soon Sam joined him in sleep.

  * * * The next few weeks passed in relative ease. The weather was warm and dry. The train, although moving at a snail’s pace in Sam’s opinion, was making good progress as far as Garrett was concerned. Sam had no reason to doubt him, so he relaxed and took in the experience.

  The terrain became gently rolling. The prairie grass was knee deep, and when the wind blew, it rolled in waves, which Gus said reminded him of the ocean. Sam had never seen a body of water larger than a lake or a river. It was hard for him to imagine the ocean, but he looked forward to seeing it for himself at the end of their journey.

  The long grass, while beautiful to look at, and a boon for the grazing animals, proved to be a problem for those who walked beside the wagons, making it almost as difficult as wading through water. Some resorted to riding, enduring the bumpy ride for as long as they could. When they could take that no longer, they went back to walking, trying as best they could to place their feet in the wagon ruts. This, too, was problematic as they had to be careful of the oxen, which trudged along behind them. More than one close call came when an unexpected stumble put someone in danger of being trampled or falling under the wheels of the heavily loaded wagons.

  As they moved farther north and west, herds of buffalo began to appear on the plains. Sam marveled at the size of these herds. The Tuckers had no trouble providing an abundance of fresh food for the travelers. The aroma of cooking meat, the sounds of fiddle music, happy conversation and laughter filled the evenings.

  There was a good share of complaining as well. Sleeping on the hard ground after a full day of walking made for uncomfortable and not too restful sleep. Thus, when the men and women were roused before dawn to start a new day, they were frequently cantankerous and often belligerent. Some were averse to the use of buffalo chips for their cooking fires, as they felt it would contaminate the food. However, they soon came around when no other choices were available, save burning their belongings.

  As the days passed, Sam took his turns on night watch. At these times, as he gazed out over the star-lit grassland, listening to the sounds of the night, watching the herd of oxen graze, with Wolf by his side, his native heritage would often rise to the surface of his consciousness. At such times, too, he could almost hear the voice of the bear asking again if the path he had chosen was the one he truly desired. He could catch the whisper of the hawk calling him to remember he was still Soaring Hawk. No one knew that the heart of an Indian beat within his chest, save perhaps Wolf, who, in the way of all animals, could sense the truth. These moments were both a source of comfort and confusion for the young man.

  When he was not on watch, Sam spent his nights in the arms of one or another of his, as Gus called it, family. There were often moments of great passion, but just as frequently, there were times of quiet affection. Over all, the bond among the four men grew and strengthened as the weeks rolled by. Sam found he relished and eagerly anticipated his time with each, and none was more desired than any other. Each brought to him a uniqueness that made him stand apart. Each touched Sam in a way that nurtured a different need. Todd brought out Sam’s desire to be a protector; Garrett, his need to be the one protected; Gus, someone with whom he could share as an equal, giving and receiving pleasure in an atmosphere of jovial camaraderie.

  When he was on watch, he sometimes thought of what those back in camp were sharing with never a hint of jealousy. They were truly a family. Sam wondered if this expression of a relationship existed anywhere else in the lives of men.

  The only disquieting aspects of those first few weeks came from Reverend Ezekiel Rayburn. The preacher’s constant attempts to proselytize the travelers, his over-long morning prayers before departure, and his stubborn insistence that to travel on the Sabbath was to bring doom and despair on the venture often put him at odds with Garrett.

  What disturbed Sam the most, however, was Rayburn’s thinly veiled criticism of Garrett’s authority and the insinuation that Garrett, as well as Sam, Todd and Gus were involved in a way that could bring God’s wrath crashing down on the entire enterprise. Garrett seemed not to mind Rayburn’s attempts to undermine his position. It was a source of consternation to Gus, however, who frequently advised Garrett to dump the reverend and be done with it. Rayburn’s innuendoes were a concern for Sam, for whom exposure of his sexual proclivities still held the specter of negative consequences.

  Upon reaching the Platte River, Garrett announced to the assembled group one evening following dinner that the train would reach Fort Childs sometime the next day. Enthusiasm greeted this news, as the fort would provide an opportunity to replenish supplies. Of greater importance was the chance to send off or receive letters from home, since the fort boasted a reliable mail service back to the east. Garrett also announced they had made such good progress they would be taking a full day’s break from their trek while there. Anyone who had aligned his thinking with that of Rayburn regarding Garrett’s capacity to lead, readily changed his mind as they enthusiastically proclaimed him man of the hour at this announcement.

  As promised, by late morning the next day, the train came within sight of Fort Childs. What they saw dimmed the enthusiasm that greeted the previous night’s announcement. The fort was not the walled fortress many had expected, but rather a collection of ramshackle buildings, most of which w
ere made of sod. Many of the party were further dismayed when they were greeted by what Rayburn described as the most unsoldierly lot of military men he had ever seen. Sam reluctantly had to agree. The soldiers were unshaven, their hair was uncut, and their uniforms patched. They immediately began offering money to the travelers for any whiskey they might be carrying. Due to Garrett’s strict rule against bringing spirits on the trip, they had none to offer.

  Sam and Garrett dismounted outside one of the buildings that looked to be in better condition than the others. A tall man with a reddish moustache flecked with grey, came out and approached the men. He was dressed in an officer’s uniform.

  “Ah, Taylor,” he said in greeting, extending his hand to Garrett, “it’s good to see you again.”

  “Thanks, Lieutenant,” Garrett replied. “Nice to see you, too.” He turned to Sam. “This is Sam Hawkins, our Indian scout. Sam, this is Lieutenant Stonem.”

  Sam shook the lieutenant’s offered hand. The grip was firm and warm.

  “Not your usual type for a scout, Garrett,” he said, holding Sam’s hand. “You don’t look much like an Indian to me,” he added, addressing Sam.

  Sam smiled. His identity once more camouflaged by the Hawkins genetics, he replied, “I was raised in an Indian village, sir. My mother was taken captive. But,” he hastened to add, “we were well treated. In fact, we were received as full members of the village.”

  Stonem smiled. He released Sam’s hand and turned to Garrett. “You may need him as you head out,” he said. “We’ve been having some trouble with the Indians of late.”

  “How’s that?” Garrett asked.

  “Well, it seems a bunch of trappers decided to have some fun after a day of getting liquored up. They killed about fifty buffalo and left ’em to rot.”

  Sam immediately tensed at hearing these words.

  “That don’t sit well with the Indians,” the lieutenant went on. “Seems they hold the buffalo in high regard.”

  “The buffalo are the source of their life,” Sam put in. “They kill him only for their needs of food, homes, tools. They leave nothing to decay. It is an affront to the Great Spirit. The Indian treats all animals in this way.”