The ride home gave him chance to calm down watching the beautiful wide-open prairie, still green at that time of year. As summer wore on, the grass would grow waist-high, turning as golden as straw.
From a distance he saw Luke outside the shanty. His heart soared with excitement. Just the sight of his man made his belly flip and his cock grow hard. He wanted to drag him into the shanty and fuck him, on the bed, on the floor, anywhere. But Pip must be tended to first. He dug his heels into Pip’s sides, making the horse gallop the last half mile. Sam rode him straight into the barn, unsaddled him, and let him wander out over to the water trough.
Luke was digging a large patch of ground near the shanty, and he’d taken his shirt off to work. “It’s Sunday. You’re supposed to rest,” Sam called out.
Even in the cool breeze, sweat dripped from Luke’s forehead. He’d been shaving every day since Sam had arrived, but he had a day’s growth on his face today, which Sam found very arousing. He loved the way it scraped his smooth cheeks when Luke kissed him.
Luke stood upright, wedging his spade in the ground. “A vegetable garden won’t dig itself. Anyway, what are you doing here? You’ve got your own land and your own shanty. Just because you’ve been sleeping here at night doesn’t mean I want to see your face every day.”
Sam smiled and licked his lips. “Let’s go inside.” A scan of the prairie told him there wasn’t a soul in sight, but he still didn’t dare throw himself at Luke as he wanted to.
“I’m working,” Luke told him.
“Then I’ll have to suck your cock out here.” He reached for the buttons on Luke’s crotch.
Eyes wide with sudden fear, Luke looked around. “What did I tell you, boy?”
“Let’s go inside, then,” Sam said, enjoying the power of being in charge for a moment. When Luke didn’t move, he shoved him in the chest with both hands. Grinning, Luke shoved him back, but being the stronger man, he knocked Sam on his ass.
“That’s it. You’re done!” Sam scrambled up and lunged at Luke’s ankles, felling him in the freshly dug dirt of his vegetable garden. In a second Sam was straddling Luke’s chest. He leaned down, closing his mouth over Luke’s.
A hand on his chest stopped him. “Get inside, or I’ll kick your ass, boy.” But there was a twinkle in Luke’s eye when he said it.
“You’ve threatened me with a wooden spoon and now an ass kicking. You’re all talk, big man.” The tension between them was rising by the second. Sam was so aroused he could have spent in his trousers right then. Still straddling Luke’s chest, he felt behind him, grabbing the other man’s crotch. Luke was as aroused as he was.
Suddenly Luke arched his back, throwing Sam off. In a second Luke was on his feet. He grabbed Sam around the waist with both his strong arms, lifted him off the ground, and carried him inside, kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. Luke crossed the small shanty in nine or ten fast strides and then tossed Sam onto the bed, where he sprawled. Both panting, they looked at each other. Luke’s beautiful blue eyes were bright with excitement as he kicked off his boots.
“Take me,” Sam said. “Make me yours. Force me.”
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Luke unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them on the floor. Naked in the bright afternoon sun shining through the window and with fresh dirt stuck to his back with sweat, he was so handsome and sure of himself. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The tension broke when Luke grabbed Sam by the arm, forcing him over onto his belly on the bed. With his knee on the small of Sam’s back, he reached underneath him, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his trousers with one hand. Still pinning Sam down, he yanked his trousers down to his calves and then straddled his thighs. More aroused than he’d ever been in his life, Sam began to struggle. Without wasting a second, Luke grabbed his arms, pinning them together behind his back. Sam heard Luke spit into his hand and knew what was coming. When he felt the tip of Luke’s cock touch his ass, he cried out. Luke pushed hard, forcing his way in. Still Sam struggled to get his hands free, but the more he struggled, the tighter Luke held him in place, riding him, fucking him harder and harder.
There was a fine line between pain and pleasure, and the two mingled. The fucking made Sam’s cock rub against the quilt. The fact that he couldn’t move, his ass filled with Luke’s cock, his body overpowered by Luke, made his pleasure all the greater when his juice spilled out. Every part of his body was engulfed in waves of gratification that seemed to keep on coming. Still he was aware of Luke fucking harder and faster, a sign that his satisfaction was near. For an instant Luke went completely still; then he pumped for another minute before falling, gasping onto Sam’s back.
Luke’s greater weight pressing him down into the bed enhanced the sensation still rippling through Sam’s body. His man owned him in that moment. “I love you, Luke,” he said very quietly.
No answer came from Luke. Sam didn’t really expect him to respond in kind, but he wished he would. At length Luke rolled off his back.
Sam sat up, looking at his semen on Luke’s wedding quilt together with the dirt that had scattered. Luke looked at the mess and smiled. “Was it good?”
“Yes.” Sam pulled his trousers up. “I’ll clean that up. But I should give the quilt a good wash and an outside airing with the messes we made on it over the winter. Did you eat dinner? I bet you didn’t.”
“No. I was waiting for you to make supper. Food tastes better when you make it.”
Sam’s heart soared. Proud and happy, he set about making supper for Luke. He wasn’t hungry after the big dinner he’d eaten, but he sat down with Luke, enjoying watching him eat hungrily. “Do you like cake?”
Looking up from his plate, Luke said, “I don’t have it very often, but sure.”
“I’ll think of a good recipe and make one for you.”
“That’d be nice.” Luke smiled. “Your letters fell out of your pocket onto the bed.” He pointed. Sam retrieved them and put them on the table. “Who’re they from?”
“One’s from my grandmother. One’s from my folks.” He didn’t normally refer to his parents as his folks. He picked up Courtland’s letter. “This one is from a boy I knew. We were sweethearts for a while.” Having no interest in reading it, he tossed it back onto the table.
“In Boston?” Luke asked.
Sam nodded.
“Aren’t you going to read your letters?”
He didn’t need to open them to know what they said. His grandmother would be asking why he’d broken his parents’ hearts. His mother would be begging him to see sense and come home to take up his responsibilities as the heir to the Porter-Smith fortune. Courtland would be declaring his undying love for the hundredth time and asking what he’d done wrong. Sam had ended the courtship as kindly as he could, and now Courtland needed to have some pride and find himself someone else.
He shrugged. “I know what’s in them.”
Luke finished eating and sat back. “I got my vegetable garden dug. It will need to be planted soon. You need to do yours as soon as you can too so you can put some food up for next winter. I’m going to start planting my wheat tomorrow. Do you want to do what we planned? Plant my crop first and then yours? That way I can show you how.”
Feeling cockier than usual, Sam said, “No, I think I can manage my own planting. I’ll do it. I’ve got that new plow I brought out with me. I should be fine.”
“I’m sure you know how since you’ve read all those books,” Luke said.
“I can do it.” He smiled. “I’ll show you, Luke Chandler.”
Luke grinned at him. “I’ll be watching.”
Chapter Eleven
When Sam left for his claim next morning, his letters were still lying on the table. Luke didn’t notice them until noon when he came back to the shanty to eat his dinner and get a brief respite from the sun. It wasn’t an extremely hot day, but as he’d explained to Sam, the prairie sun was different because there was no shade and the land was
flat.
Pretty Girl needed a break too from pulling the plow all morning.
For dinner he made a cheese sandwich, and just before he bit into it, he spotted the pickle jar on the shelf. He sliced up the last one and added it to the sandwich. I can learn from you even if I am older, Sam darling.
Sitting down at the table, he picked up the letter on top, which Sam had said was from a sweetheart in Boston. The next letter was from England. Surely Sam’s parents couldn’t be in England. How could they afford a trip like that on a tanner’s wage? Maybe it was the grandma, but Sam had said she was over here.
“I love you, Luke.”
Had his handsome young man really said that, and did he mean it? At the time Luke had been so engulfed with pleasure that the declaration barely registered, and afterward he was too embarrassed to bring it up. It was hard to say words like I love you.
The sky was beginning to cloud over, so he hurried back to the field to continue plowing. With one horse he doubted he could plant more than thirty acres this year, but he wanted to plow as much land as possible. The prairie sod was tough, tall grass having deep roots. Luke had planned from the start to grow wheat on one hundred acres, oats on five to feed the animals, and to eventually buy livestock and have a milk and beef herd. When he got to that stage, he’d need to hire help. If only he and Sam could farm together. He could make his farm successful in half the time it would take him as a single man. If he was like other men, he’d have a wife and several growing boys by now to help him out. A wife would cook and keep the house clean. She’d tend the vegetable garden and do the canning for the winter. He had a feeling Sam would prefer to do those jobs, as well as doing men’s work some of the time.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
The rain held off until the sun began to decline, and Luke headed back to the shanty. He put Pretty Girl in the barn and did the chores first. The house felt empty without Sam; with luck he would be over soon. Luke swept the floor and made the place respectable, then sat at the table waiting. When it grew dusk and Sam didn’t show up, Luke guessed he wasn’t going to, and lit the stove to make supper. Lying in bed later, he waited and listened. Still Sam didn’t come, and eventually he fell asleep.
* * * *
By noon the following day, there was still no sign of the young man. Luke veered back and forth between, To hell with him if he doesn’t want to see me, and He’s got into an accident, and he’s lying dead or injured out on the prairie. What if he’s been there all night?
Without bothering to make dinner, he unhitched Pretty Girl from the plow and rode her over to Sam’s land. From a distance he spotted him—not lying in the field, but holding the plow as Pip pulled it. He would get two feet and lose control of the plow, falling over in the dirt. Pip carried on walking another few yards while Sam got to his feet and caught up with him. Then he went through the laborious process of retracing his steps with Pip and the plow to start the whole thing again because the furrow wasn’t straight. As he rode closer, Luke saw that Sam hadn’t managed to plow more than twenty feet since yesterday.
So much for books.
When the whole process happened again, Sam threw his hat on the ground, swearing loudly as sweat dripped from his forehead. Luke dismounted, allowing his horse to graze on the unplowed prairie grass, and wandered over to Sam.
“What’s up, boy?”
Looking surprised but also relieved to see him, Sam wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “I’m an idiot, that’s what,” he said simply. “I thought I could be a farmer, but I can’t.”
“Sure, you can,” Luke said. “You need practice, that’s all. The work is too hard for one horse. I’m going to wear Pretty Girl out if I use her to plow my whole claim, and Pip won’t be good for much either when you’re done working him. I’m thinking of buying a pair of oxen. Do you want to share the cost and we can alternate days of plowing and help each other?”
Sam ignored the question. “My whole body hurts from the strain of trying to hold the plow straight. I could hardly get up this morning.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Luke wanted to hug him tight and take all the pain and worry away. He scanned the prairie. Even though there was nothing but the horses and birds in sight, he could not make himself take the risk.
Tears brimmed in Sam’s sweet brown eyes. “I don’t want to get used to a lonely life like this. What I want is to live with you, just the two of us on our own land like all the other families in De Smet do. This is too much for one man.”
That was what Luke wanted too, but he was smart enough to know it wasn’t possible. “You came here with a romantic notion of farming.” He smiled. “And it’s only too much for one man who hasn’t a clue what he’s doing. What made you think you could go from working in a hotel to working your own farm? You should have worked as a farmhand for a couple of years first.”
Sam spread his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. His palms, blistered and bleeding from trying to hold the plow straight, broke Luke’s heart. He wanted to grab them and kiss them better. “I didn’t realize how hard and how lonely it was. And I don’t see why wanting to live with a man I love is a romantic notion instead of a practicality. Two of us can farm one claim better than we can farm one each.”
Those words again. Luke looked at his boots. Just hearing I love you made his cheeks grow hot. Holland had never said those words. At least he’d never lied about that.
“Some things just won’t work out. You have to be sensible, and that makes no sense.” Luke took a long breath before saying quietly, “I waited for you last night.”
The tears threatening to breach Sam’s eyes finally spilled down his cheeks, but he didn’t cry. He looked so tired he could barely move the muscles in his face. “Sorry. I was so exhausted after digging the vegetable garden. Prairie ground is so tight with grass roots. I’m not as strong as you.”
Luke tried to sound firm, but his tone was tender when he spoke. “You’re still a boy, that’s why, and you’ll get stronger as you get older and when you’ve worked the land for a while. Come on, let me show you how to plow, and we’ll talk later about the oxen.”
* * * *
A couple of hours later, they had a quarter acre plowed, and Sam seemed much more confident. But it was true he wasn’t strong enough to steer the plow, not to mention a horse not used to plowing. “I’m done. I can’t do any more.”
“You need Dr. Allen’s liniment,” Luke said with a smile, glancing around the vast prairie. “And I know someone who’d love to rub it all over you.”
“Oh yeah?” Sam attempted a smile back. “Who would that be?”
Luke looked at his booted feet again as warmth flooded his cheeks. It wasn’t like him to be flirtatious, and as much as he wanted to be, it felt uncomfortable. “Who do you think?” he said in a stronger voice. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten today. Let’s make some supper. Did you eat dinner?”
“No, I had no heart for it, nor breakfast. I wanted to get out on the land. I thought I’d have half of it plowed today and then come over to make supper for you while I boasted about how clever I am.”
“Give it time.” The young man looked so despondent that Luke wanted to hug him. “Let’s go inside.” The moment they stepped into the cool, dim shanty, he pulled Sam close to his chest.
With a long sigh, Sam went limp in his arms. “I can hardly stand up.”
Luke held him tightly as he looked around. The furniture was still not arranged, and the bed stood in pieces against the wall. “You haven’t even set up your bed. Where did you sleep last night?”
“In the barn with Pip. A badger wandered in. Scared the heck out of me.”
“What? Didn’t you fasten the door closed?” Luke asked.
“No. I thought I’d be fine.”
“You idiot!” he burst out. “There’re wolves on the prairie. You could have been eaten alive.”
“Wolves?” Sam gazed at him, eyes wide with shock. “I haven’t seen any
wolves. I didn’t know there were wolves.”
Luke released Sam and looked at him. “I know you’re a city boy, but where’s your common sense? I thought you’d read books.”
“That again? How long am I going to be hearing that old joke? Don’t laugh at me. I’m already crabby enough.” Sam went to the stove, threw in a shovelful of coal, and attempted to light it. “When I finally got the stove going last night, it smoked up the whole shanty, which is another reason I slept in the barn.”
Luke took a long look at the stove and started to laugh.
“I don’t see what’s so damn funny! I nearly choked to death.” Sam was growing increasingly upset.
“I’ll tell you what’s so damn funny, boy. You haven’t connected the stove pipe.” He pointed at the pipe lying up against the wall. “That’s why it smoked. All the smoke was filling the room instead of being directed out through the roof. You’re lucky the fumes didn’t kill you.”
Sam looked at the stove while tears started to roll down his cheeks again, and this time he released a stifled sob. “Shit!”
For a moment Luke watched him, embarrassed at the sight of a man crying. Men don’t cry. “Hey now, stop that.” He forced himself to look directly at Sam, who wiped at his tears but didn’t appear terribly ashamed of them. Luke pulled him into a rough hug. “Act like a man.”
Sam shoved him away, clearly insulted. “I am a man. I’m a different kind of man than you, that’s all.”
Impatient now, Luke said, hands on hips, “You must have had a stove in your house in Boston, or a fireplace or something. You know you have to have an outlet for smoke. And why didn’t you put your bed together?”
Sam looked over at the headboard and side rails propped against the wall. “I couldn’t figure out how.” He paused before adding, “I worked in a kitchen, remember.”
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