In spite himself, Tyler suppressed a grin at his father‘s naiveté. At least he was actually talking, and hadn‘t just ordered Tyler summarily from his sight. His father continued. Listen, son. I know I‘ve been hard on you over the years. That‘s because you‘re my only son. My boy. I was countin‘ on you to carry on the line. I guess if I was honest, I always knew there was somethin‘ funny about you. You know, this, uh, gay thing. He said it like it was an affliction, something to be politely ignored, if possible, but Tyler didn‘t call him on it.
I shut my eyes because I didn‘t want to see, he continued. But for all that, you‘re still my son, and I love you. Tyler‘s heart skipped a beat. His father had never, in his memory, said those words to him.
He looked at his father, the large, powerful man who had ruled so much of his life for so many years, and realized, despite all his imperfections, he was a good man who was doing the best he could. I love you too. And thank you.
~*~
Mama was next, but having passed what he considered the toughest hurdle of his father, Tyler was almost lighthearted as he approached his mother in the kitchen. She was standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot that smelled delicious.
She sat him at the table, insisting he have some cookies and lemonade to tide him over before supper, and he didn‘t protest. Mama, he said to her back as he chewed a bite of chocolate chip cookie. I got something to tell you.
And again he shared his secret, the defining secret of his life, tossing away the very last of the chains he had wrapped around himself all these years. His mother came to the table and sat beside him. Like Sarah, she said gently, I know, Ty. I‘ve always known, in my heart. It ain‘t somethin‘ you can hide from your mama.
Now it was Tyler‘s turn to be surprised. You knew? But why then all the talk about grandbabies and wedding bells and when would I meet a nice girl?
His mother looked a little sheepish. She stared down at her hands. I was savin‘ face for us both, I guess. Playin‘ a part, you might say, same as you. I figured you needed to keep it quiet, this bein‘ West Texas and all, not exactly the most tolerant part of the world. She looked up at Tyler with a grin, acknowledging what an understatement that was. And then there was your dad.
Of course. Linda Sutton had spent most of her life doing her best to placate and soothe the sometimes fiery-tempered Tom. This was one more way she kept things running smoothly, at least in her mind. Tyler understood, and where this once would have made him angry, now it only made him a little sad. And even that might not be fair—who was he to say how two people managed their lives and their relationship with one another? They‘d been married thirty-seven years, so maybe they were doing something right.
So, you‘re—you‘re okay with it? Tyler finally said.
Linda put her hand over his. Of course I am, honey. You‘re my boy. Would I rather you found a nice girl and got married and had kids? I‘d be lying if I said otherwise. But we all make our choices in this life, and I can‘t hardly fault you for yours.
Again the choice thing, but he let it go. Thanks, Mama. That means a lot to me. More than you know. And I really think you‘ll like Clint. He came with me. He‘s with Sarah now, getting an overview of the place. I‘m bringing him for supper to meet you all.
Your father knows this? she said, looking suddenly alarmed.
He does, Tyler affirmed. I talked to him first. He‘s okay with it. He said I was still his son and he loves me.
His mother smiled. Of course he does, Tyler. You‘re the second S in the Double S Ranch.
Chapter 14
Clint felt a bittersweet nostalgia for his own family as he watched everyone take their seats around the table. His family hadn‘t been especially close, but even so, family was family. But his parents were both dead and his older brother, Daniel, might as well have been, having fled their family farm when he turned eighteen. The last Clint had heard, a good twenty years ago, Daniel signed up for the Navy, and since then they‘d lost all contact.
Joe and his wife often had Clint to supper, along with their children and grandchildren, but it wasn‘t the same as your own flesh and blood. Jonas was as close as he‘d had to family all these years. And now there was Tyler. Was it possible he‘d known him only a few weeks? Though he cautioned himself that he was still probably in the first flush of new love, he felt deep inside that he‘d known Ty forever, and had only been waiting to catch up with him again, at long last.
Tyler sat beside him at the round dinner table. The table was covered in a blue checkered cloth and set with what was probably the family‘s good china. Tyler looked happy but nervous. On his other side were Sarah and her husband, Bert. Mrs. Sutton was bustling around the kitchen while Mr. Sutton, his leg resting on an extra chair, took up two places, a large mug of beer nearly empty in front of him.
The introductions had gone fairly smoothly, once Tyler and Bert had managed to carry Mr. Sutton down the stairs in a kind of seat made from their joined hands. Mr. Sutton had looked Clint up and down as they shook hands, as if he was hunting for horns or a sign painted on his forehead or some other indicator of his sexual orientation.
So, Clint, Mr. Sutton now intoned. Sarah tells me you‘re a poet. One of them cowboy poets. Your kind is into poetry, I reckon.
Clint raised his eyebrows. My kind? He pretended to be confused.
Oh, well, you know, the flustered Mr. Sutton replied. Uh, you know, he finished lamely, looking toward Tyler for support, but none was forthcoming. Kinda hard to make a livin‘ writin‘ verse, ain‘t it?
I would imagine so, Clint said drily. I don‘t make my livin‘ at it, though. It‘s just a hobby. I‘m the foreman over at the Ransom Ranch up in Ransom Canyon. Maybe you‘ve heard of it.
Mr. Sutton‘s mouth dropped open. Joe Henderson‘s bull ranch? That Ransom Ranch?
Bert chimed in, That was your ranch had the prize winning bull at the livestock fair this past year, ain‘t that right?
Clint nodded, unable to contain the surge of pride. Sure is. We got a lot of prize winnin‘ breeder bulls. In fact, there were some thefts recently of some of our prize semen. Tyler here helped solve the mystery. He looked at Tyler, who smiled.
I thought you were a journalist in the big city, Ty, Mrs. Sutton remarked as she set a heaping plate of chicken and dumplings, one of Clint‘s childhood favorites, on the center of the table beside a basket of biscuits and a platter of greens. How‘d you come to be solving mysteries?
Investigative journalism, Tyler said, grinning at Clint. Actually Clint was the one following up on the thefts and I just tagged along. Turned out it was a guy who had no idea of the value of what he was taking. He was just a kid really, involved in over his head.
Mr. Sutton was apparently still back at the earlier conversation. You said you‘re the foreman? You‘ve got all that responsibility? He shook his head in obvious disbelief. Does he know? Does your boss know…? Mr. Sutton repeated, apparently having trouble with the concept.
Dad, Tyler interrupted in a warning tone.
Clint put his hand on Tyler‘s arm. It‘s okay, Ty. He turned to Mr. Sutton, forcing his face into respectful lines, half-amused at the older man‘s obvious discomfiture. Does he know what, sir?
Well, uh, you know… Again Mr. Sutton appeared flustered. He took a large bite of his biscuit and wiped the butter that dripped down his chin with his napkin.
Does he know I‘m gay? Is that what you‘re askin‘, sir? Clint kept his tone respectful, and managed to hold back the smile that was trying to break through.
Mr. Sutton flushed, but nodded.
Why yes, sir, he does. I‘ve worked for him nigh on ten years now, and he‘s quite satisfied with my performance, at least that‘s what he tells me. I don‘t guess it much matters to him what I do in my private life. Most folks where I‘m from pretty much keep that sort of thing to themselves. He opened his eyes wide in his best attempt at courteous innocence. Is it different here at the Double S?
Why, no.
Uh, no, certainly not, Mr. Sutton said, reaching for his beer mug.
There was silence for a while, save for the clattering of cutlery and clinking of glass. Mrs. Sutton had finally sat down at the table and Clint passed her the biscuits, which she accepted with a smile.
There was a sudden, sharp rapping on the kitchen door. Mrs. Sutton turned toward the sound. Whoever can that be? The boys know better than to bother us at supper time.
The rapping persisted and then changed to pounding. The voice of a young man could be heard. I know you‘re in there, Bert Carlson. Come out and face me like a man. The voice was slurred and Clint would have bet his bottom dollar the guy was drunk. He glanced at Tyler, who had gone suddenly pale, and he realized all at once who it must be at the door.
Bert, Tyler's father demanded, What the hell is that about?
Bert was shaking his head. That‘s that damn Wayne Hurley. I gave him some new assignments this afternoon, took him off workin‘ directly with the horses for a while. He wasn‘t real happy about it, but truth to tell, this isn‘t the first time Wayne‘s hit the bottle a little too hard. I don‘t want him around the horses right now.
The banging continued. You can‘t demote me and get away with it. Not for no queer. I don‘t care if he is a Sutton. Wayne shouted.
Tyler pushed back his chair abruptly, nearly sending it toppling. Clint reached out a steadying hand. I‘ll go see to Wayne, Tyler said. But before he could make his way from the dining room to the kitchen, they could hear the sound of the door opening.
A clearly very drunk young man burst into the dining room, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, blood in his eye. He stumbled a little, then raised his bottle toward Mr. Sutton. Carlson‘s tryin‘ to demote me. He don‘t know what I know about your boy here.
Wayne, Tyler began, an urgency in his voice as he moved toward the drunk man. The color that had seeped away a moment before now edged up his neck and cheeks. You‘re drunk. Get out of here.
I may be drunk, Wayne slurred, taking a swig from his bottle for emphasis, but that don‘t change the facts. Ain‘t nobody gonna demote me for some queer. He turned again toward Mr. Sutton. Your boy‘s got secrets, Mr. Sutton. Dirty secrets. Just wait till the word gets out.
All the men at the table had risen, except of course Mr. Sutton, who couldn‘t. Wayne, Bert snapped, his voice tight. My decision today had nothing to do with Tyler. Look at you! You‘re drunk as a skunk, and this ain‘t the first time.
Mr. Sutton‘s face was dark with anger. In a low growl he addressed Wayne. My son ain‘t got no secrets from his family. And you should know, I don‘t take kindly to anyone threatenin‘ my kin. So you just take that bottle and get your butt back to the bunkhouse. Sleep it off tonight, then pack your bags and git, you hear? I‘ll have a check for two week‘s pay drawn up, which is more than you deserve.
Wayne‘s mouth had fallen steadily open as Mr. Sutton spoke, his eyes at first widening with confusion and then narrowing with dawning comprehension. You firin‘ me? he spluttered. You can‘t do that! I know stuff about your boy that‘ll get him tarred and feathered in this county—
You better not be threatenin‘ my family, Hurley, Mr. Sutton barked, half-rising from his seat, despite the cast. Tyler started toward Wayne, his fists clenched. Clint and Bert moved quickly in tandem, as if they‘d previously rehearsed their movements, reaching Wayne before Tyler did.
They each took an arm, their hold none too gentle. Together they dragged Wayne across the floor, not stopping until they were outside. Tyler was right on their heels.
Wayne tried to wrench himself from their grasp, but drunk as he was and the fact it was two against one, left him beat. Damn it, Bert, he said, his voice rising in a whine. Y‘all can‘t fire me. I know stuff.
Bert let go of Wayne‘s arm and moved up close, his face nearly touching Wayne‘s. Clint loosened his grip on Wayne‘s other arm, but didn‘t let go. I‘ll tell you what you know, Wayne, Bert said in a low voice that had steel just beneath it. You know this family doesn‘t tolerate bullies and assholes. You know this family‘s been around these parts for a lotta generations, and if a drunken bastard like you starts makin‘ trouble for the Suttons, well, there‘s gonna be trouble in return.
Wayne jerked from Clint‘s grip and staggered back, looking from man to man. It was clear from his angry, confused expression that he hadn‘t quite taken in what had just happened to him. You can‘t fire me, he said again, the protest weaker this time. He lifted the bottle and tipped it to his mouth. Amber liquid trickled down his chin and Clint felt almost sorry him.
Go on back to the bunkhouse, Tyler said. You heard my father. Don‘t make it worse on yourself. You‘re no longer welcome here.
Wayne‘s jaw worked, but no sound issued from his lips. He threw the empty whiskey bottle to the dirt, scowled and then shrugged. Finally he found his voice. Well, guess what, Sutton? You can‘t fire me, cause I quit! He glared from one to the other, as if he‘d somehow scored a great victory. Then he staggered off in the general direction of the bunkhouse.
I better follow him and make sure he gets where he‘s goin‘, Bert said.
I‘ll do it, Tyler said.
I‘ll go with you, Clint added, moving closer to him.
Bert nodded. Okay, then, but y‘all hurry back. Me and Sarah have got some news, and I don‘t want that son of bitch to ruin it for us.
Tyler and Clint followed at a distance of a few yards as Wayne weaved and staggered toward the bunkhouse. It was unclear if he‘d even remember what had just transpired when he woke the next morning. He entered the building, slamming the door behind him. They waited a few moments, and Clint said, I don‘t think he‘s comin‘ out again. Probably passed out before he even got to his bunk.
Let‘s hope so, Tyler said, a scowl on his face.
They walked back toward the house in silence. Just before going inside, Clint reached for Tyler, gripping his shoulder. He looked searchingly into Tyler‘s face. You gonna be okay?
Tyler nodded and slowly smiled. Yeah. I think I‘m gonna be just fine. Better than fine. Clint smiled back, wishing he could kiss Tyler then and there. But that would have to wait till later.
Once inside, they took their seats again at the table. Mrs. Sutton began to apologize to Clint for the disruption, but Clint assured her everything was fine. Beneath the table, he put his hand on Tyler‘s thigh and offered a comforting squeeze. Tyler placed his hand over Clint‘s and squeezed back.
Bert got everyone‘s attention by tapping his glass. Ahem, he said. Before that skunk burst in here, I had my speech all planned. I‘m not gonna let him ruin it for us. Right baby? He looked toward Sarah, who smiled back encouragingly at him and nodded. Bert again faced the table, looking toward his mother-in-law. Me and Sarah got somethin‘ to announce. When all eyes had turned to him, he flushed and looked toward his wife with a comically beseeching expression. Why don‘t you tell em?
Sarah smiled, the same shy sweet smile Clint had seen on Tyler‘s face. Well, we‘ve been waitin‘ just to make sure, but the doctor said it‘s okay to say now.
Oh, honey, Mrs. Sutton breathed, a hand fluttering to her mouth.
That‘s right, Mama. We‘re gonna have us a baby.
Amidst the laughter and congratulations, Mr. Sutton‘s loud voice boomed out. Well, there, you see? We find out Tyler ain‘t never gonna give us an heir, but at least Sarah here has come through. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.
Oh, shut up, Dad, Sarah and Tyler cried in unison, but Clint was glad to see they were both laughing.
~*~
Tyler and Clint were lying together in his loft. It was late and Tyler was bone weary, not so much because of the long day, but because of the emotional impact of facing not only Wayne Hurley, but his closely held secrets with his family.
Clint held him in his arms, somehow sensing now wasn‘t the time to make love, though Tyler knew if Clint so much as kissed him, he‘d ignite the fire that always burned just below the surface when he was w
ith his dominant lover.
But Clint just held him, stroking his cheek tenderly as he listened to Tyler talk. Tyler had warmed to Clint‘s approval as he‘d related the details of the confrontation with Wayne and the conversation with his dad.
I was so proud of you at supper, Clint, Tyler said. The way you stood up to my dad. I mean, you were totally respectful, but you didn‘t let him pull any punches. It was great.
He could feel Clint smiling in the darkness. I‘ve met a lot of men like your dad, Tyler. My own father bein‘ one of em. It‘s not that they‘re bad men—they‘re just ignorant. They need educatin‘. Tyler snuggled against Clint, feeling safe and happy.
Clint continued. I‘d say your dad really stepped up tonight, standin‘ up to Wayne the way he did, refusin‘ to even listen to that bastard‘s hateful words. The timin‘ worked out well, too. You did good, talkin‘ to your dad right away this afternoon, and bein‘ honest. It‘s best just to be yourself and let folks realize the person they knew all along is still that same person, even if he does prefer someone built the same as him as a bed partner. He reached for Tyler‘s cock, chuckling as he gave it a playful squeeze.
Tyler laughed, his cock swelling at Clint‘s touch. They moved together, kissing and touching each other for a long while, before the words still pressing in Tyler‘s mind made him speak.
Clint, it‘s great having you here with me. But what happens next? I know you said you have the week off, but what then? You‘ve got your job back in Ransom Canyon, and I‘m needed here. What happens to us?
It‘s only two and a half hours from here to my place, Ty. It ain‘t like we live in different countries. If we want to be together, we‘ll find a way. I know you‘re needed now to pick up the slack, but they got along fine without you when you left, and from some of the things you‘ve said since I‘ve known you, your heart ain‘t necessarily set on spendin‘ the rest of your life at the Double S Ranch.
Tyler nodded in dark. It‘s true. I didn‘t only go to get away from Wayne. I think I needed to go in order to finally grow up.
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