“Your uncle, well he was a bit of a dandy,” his mother replied.
“What do you mean,” Ark replied.
“Well he wasn’t fond of women, he took to men more. A lot of people didn’t like that too much. One night some of the boys in the town drew their guns and your father, he didn’t care who or what your uncle did, cuz your uncle,” his mother had said beginning to cry. “Your uncle was a good man. A good man who never hurt nobody. He was the sweetest thing. Your father got three of them and your uncle got four but they kept coming. It was like a thunderstorm of bullets on the two. I saw. I watched the whole thing from the porch. Your uncle’s rugged good looks, they were blown away. Your father’s fine features, the defined jawline that you have, you couldn’t see them after those murders were done.”
“What happened to the men? The murderers?”
“Nothing.”
“But the law.”
“The sheriff was one of them. Also one of the ones that had gone with your uncle in the past too. They were all so full of hate. There wasn’t much I could do. They took the guns. They took the land cuz I was a woman. The crops dried up and the ranch died. We had to leave. We drifted and drifted til we met…”
“Right,” Ark had said. He’d remembered the days adrift. The days of begging for scraps of random labor. The two had had nothing. His mother dark skinned and uneducated. He not fairing much better even despite his good looks which only really came to light when he was washed up but their day to day life denied them regular bathing.
Eventually Ark slept or what could be called sleep. When the rays of dawn peeked above the horizon Ark’s eyes had already been cracked open for hours. He felt like a cracked cup. The energy that should have filled him from the rest had leaked out in the hours of night. He was empty and felt as though he’d have his entire life dragged out of him.
His mouth was beyond parched when the door finally open. The bowtied man shoved a bowl of oatmeal and a glass jar of water at him.
“Best fuel up. You’ll be wanting to look fully bellied when they look at you,” the man said. His mouth smelled of stale alcohol and his bowtie looked more threadbare than the day before. A slight string dangled from it down to his top two buttons. “If I don’t catch a fair price off your sweet ass I’m gonna find your family and they’re gonna be in a lot more pain than the pain you’re gonna be in.”
Ark was famished. His stomach was grumbling and he ignored what the man said. There was food. It tasted of saw dust and cornhusks but it was food. It filled the empty pit of his stomach and gulping down the water was like a storm in the desert. His energy bloomed. When he was done eating, which took all of two minutes, he looked around the room. The man leaned against the door blocking his view to the outside world.
“It will be a few hours. You can look out the window and see the dust rise and settle as people come in,” the man said with a laugh. He locked the door behind him and Ark could hear the creaking of the steps and the erratic pause when the man stepped past the missing stair.
With nothing to do Ark stared out the window. Nothing happened for the first hour. A few chickens ran around on the street. The tied horses wagged their tails at mid morning flies. Slowly the town came to life. More horses rode in, people dismounted and went into the shops in the area.
A stage was set up in the middle of the square. It wasn’t much, a few planks of wood on blocks. After the platform was erected people started to congregate around it. The people, of course, were mainly men. Some big, some small, most of them, even from Ark’s far away perch were ugly. They were covered in dirt and filth making the bowtied man look like a fresh debutante at her coming out ball.
“You ready,” the bowtie man called from behind the door.
Ark wasn’t sure if he was ready or not. He didn’t know what would happen so how could he prepare? The man entered with a length of rope.
“Get on the bed,” the man said.
Ark didn’t move. He stared at the man. The string from his bowtie looked like it had lengthened but his breath still stank of rancid alcohol.
The man slapped him. It was sharp and it made the tan skin of Ark’s flesh turn red. Ark felt hands on him and was pushed onto the bed. Itchy rope wound itself around his wrists. He was bound. The man pulled him to his feet with a jerk.
“Let’s go. Time to make a sale.”
The sun was in the middle of the blue sky when the two went outside. The air smelled of dried horse dung and tobacco. A handful of men were smoking cigarettes. Their fingers were yellowed and teeth browned. Bits of their facial hair were stained with the effects of being chimneys and their teeth were jagged cliffs.
A man in a tie and a worn suit, less threadbare than Ark’s captor but more stained.
“Line up, line up, we’ll have the first one up,” the man said with a quick but authoritative voice. “What do we have here, what do we have?”
The crowd parted slightly and a young man was pushed on stage. His pants were ripped, and his shoes were so worn that one of his toes stuck out.
“Let’s start the bidding at ten dollars. Do I have ten dollars, ten dollars,” the suited man said.
“Ten fifty,” a voice cried.
“Ten fifty, ten fifty, ten fifty! Do I have eleven. Eleven. Eleven!? No. No. Going once, twice, Eleven!? And sold for ten fifty. To the gentlemen with the hat. Now get off the stage boy.” The man pushed the young man off the stage. He fell to the ground skinning his hand. Laughter burst out of the crowd.
“Get up there,” Ark’s captor said.
Ark walked up to the front of the crowd. The rope that bound him went slack as he stepped up onto the platform. He looked down at his feet. The planks of wood were worn and several nails stuck out of it. The pieces of iron were bent and or broken. Ark had to be careful not to step on them.
“Here we have, what’s your name.”
“Ark.”
“Ark. A pretty fine looking boy. Virgin. With an arse as tight and unused as your grandmother’s. While his skin might be dark, his cock is good and firm like the barrel of a shotgun. Has the same blast to it too!”
The crowd jeered.
“Eleven dollars,” a voice cried.
“Twelve!”
“Twenty.”
“We have twenty dollars, that is twenty dollars. Can I get forty dollars? Forty dollars.”
“Forty!”
“Fifty!”
Whistles filled the air as the price continued to climb. Ark looked at towards the crowd. The betting had been cut down to two parties. One was from an old man. His hair was white, what hair he had on his mainly balding pate, and two other men. One was tall with blonde hair the other was wider with strong shoulders and a large brown beard.
“One hundred dollars,” the bearded man said.
The crowd gasped.
“One hundred dollars. Do I hear one ten? One ten? Sir,” the auctioneer said pointing at the white haired man.
“He can’t afford anything but the cheapest of sodomies,” the blonde haired man said. The crowd laughed.
“Sold to the bearded gentlemen for one hundred dollars. Now git,” the auctioneer said with a push. Ark stumbled forward.
“Hey. We didn’t pay good money for damaged goods,” the bearded man said.
“He’s still a virgin.” The auctioneer spat on the ground. “Your money better not be damaged. That’s all that matters.”
“What good is a maimed virgin?”
“What does it matter that happens to the boy,” The auctioneer said. The bow tied man stood next to the man and the bearded man counted out ten crisp bills. The money was exchanged. The bowtied man nodded and smiled. Ark could see he was missing teeth. The dangling string from his bowtie had disappeared.
“Come along then, we have a spare horse for you. It’s getting late and we should be getting back to the ranch. Get you settled in,” the bearded man said.
Ark finally got a good look at the two. The bearded man had piercing blue eyes and wore glasses.
The tops of the spectacles were lined with black and made his sapphire pupils pop out more. The top of his collared shirt was unbuttoned showing a tuft of hair.
His partner came up. The man was tall and had a thin face with a light mustache. He tilted his head to the side. “This is Gregg Horton, and I’m Nathan Harrow. We’ll be taking you in. Don’t worry we don’t bite. Unless you are into that, that is.” Nathan laughed. His long brown hair tilted back and his voice echoed in the mid afternoon. Nathan wore a denim shirt with a bandana pocket sewn into it. He wore blue jeans and leather chaps. A red necktie ringed his neck. The fabric was soft and more for decoration than use.
Ark just stared at the two. They were different. He could tell. They were well dressed. Their hands were callused but clean. They took care of themselves. They weren’t threadbare like the auctioneer, the bowtied man, Ark’s stepbrother. He was still worried though when he got on the horse. He put his left foot into the stirrup and swun his right over the saddle. The leather of the saddle was well taken care of, browned with oil. Ark landed softly in the seat so he wouldn’t startle the horse. The beast was fine with a light white coat and small brown spots. Ark could feel the strength of the horse between his legs. The stirrups had already been adjusted and were the length of his arm. One of the men must have fixed them before Ark had mounted. Ark made a clucking sound and squeezed the horse with both his legs right behind the girth. The animal started to walk forward.
“Once you get used to him we’ll move along at a faster clip,” Gregg said. He was on his own horse, a taller all black stallion whose nose flared and who earned to run ahead.
“He’s always in a rush,” Nathan said pulling up to Gregg. “The only time he ever takes it slow is in the bedroom,” Nathan said with a laugh. Nathan’s horse was red and looked wild. The beasts eyes darted around quickly but it moved forward laconically with slow lazy steps. “I like to take my time. Well except in the bedroom that is.” The man laughed again and squeezed the sides of his horse. He shot out towards the horizon. He was out of sight quickly and Ark worried that he would be abandoned again.
“I don’t suppose we’ve really told you much,” Gregg said to Ark. “Nathan he’s a Brit. Came out here to mine gold is what he told me, although all he been mining is my ass. We own a ranch. It’s a nice place. Everyone contributes. We hold everything together in common. There aren’t any women there. I assume you okay with that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well we purchased you not only because of your good looks, but because we saw straight away that you ain’t like other men.”
Ark shook his head. He didn’t understand what Gregg was implying.
“You really are a virgin ain’t you. Well we’ll show you the ropes when the time comes. When you are ready. In the meantime we’ll introduce you to the ranch, the house and everything. I was born out here. Well over in Wyoming. Made my way down here when I was younger. Couldn’t take things back home. I made a break of it. I met Nathan in a saloon. He was playing cards and taking money left and right. He looked at me and told me he wanted to celebrate. He’s been having fun ever since,” Greg said with a shrug. “We bought the land and been working hard on it. We got it outfitted alright. You the first person we brought on though. Nathan thought we needed some young blood. Said I was getting ‘stale, like a piece of bread.’”
Ark nodded trying to follow along what Gregg was saying. He wasn’t sure what the man was on about but he felt comforted that no one was tying him up or smacking him.
The sun was beginning to set and turning the horizon orange and red like the embers of a dying fire.
They arrived at the ranch when the dying orb had dipped beyond the horizon and the pale moon had come high in the sky. Ark couldn’t make out much of the ranch. He saw a main house that was large but only one story. It was freshly painted yellow. Beside it sat a barn, unpainted, with several stables. A dog lay on the porch and barked at the approaching horses.
“Don’t mind Roscoe. He gets excited when we have new arrivals,” Gregg said. The dog came over to sniff at Ark. His nose was long and brown and he his coat was yellow and shiny. He licked at Ark’s hand. Ark laughed for the first time in a long time.
“See. He don’t mean no harm. None at all. We need to keep him out of the chickens though,” Gregg said. “Come on. Hopefully Nathan already got grub going.”
The two walked into the house. Ark was surprised to see that the house was well furnished. The front room had a coat rack, a bench, and there was a library. Somehow the two had gotten a piano at to the house as well. Ark walked over to the instrument and ran his fingers along the keys. He pressed one and the hammer hit the string echoing the note out throughout the house.
“God damn it, Gregg, what did I tell you about playing music when I’m cooking,” Nathan screamed from further inside the house.
“Wasn’t me. Was the boy,” Gregg said. He was taking off his boots and walked barefoot across the hard wood floor. The living room’s floor was polished except for a long bear skin rug that sat on the ground next to the piano.
Ark walked further into the house tempted by the smells that lay deeper inside.
3.
“It ain’t necessary that you’ve never ridden before or gotten ridden,” Gregg said. The kitchen was full of the smell of food, wondrous food. Ark didn’t realize how hungry he was until the smell of rabbit, steamed corn, and piping hot corn bread filled his nostrils.
“What Gregg means to say is that he wants to make you his pony boy,” Nathan said. “He’s always trying to assert himself and prove he’s not just a used old saddle.” The tall man laughed at his own joke while Gregg scowled.
Nathan pointed at the plates in the cupboard. “Well don’t just stand there. Make yourself useful. Set the table. The plates are there, the glasses over there. Silverware in that draw. No get it going. We have a lot of hungry, hungry men to feed.”
Ark took out the plates. They were basic but of good quality, made of ceramic. The glasses weren’t just jars, they were made of real glass. He walked to the dining room. A long table stood in the center of the room. It was made of wood but carefully constructed. A brand was seared into the corners of the table, two arrows touching their tips. Everything seemed detailed.
“How many should I set out,” Ark asked.
“Set it all out. The men should be coming in shortly. Hopefully they’ve all bathed,” Greg said.
“I’ll ring the bell.” Nathan said. He went out to the porch and banged on a bell that was hanging on the porch.
Moments later Ark began to hear the sound of men, a lot of men. They talked and joked and made their way inside. It seemed like too many men to count at first. They varied in size and shape. A few were small, some large, some were dark like Ark, and others light as Nathan.
“Sit, sit, sit,” Gregg said. A few of the men listened too him and took their places on a long bench next to the dining table. Others ignored him and just stood.
Nathan came in after Gregg with the first of the dishes.
“Everyone sit their arses down,” he yelled. The lollygaggers took their seats.
Ark took his place next to a man his size. He looked like he came from south of the border. He didn’t say much to Ark but when he looked at him he looked at him with eyes the color of molasses that were softened by a glint of scandal.
The man took Ark’s fork. Then he took his spoon. Ark sat and said nothing.
“Well don’t just sit there, let’s eat. I’ll introduce the new one soon enough,” Nathan said with a commanding voice.
The men started to dish out food for themselves. They passed the dishes around and each one took a bit to their plate.
“Pass the rabbit.”
“I want some corn bread.”
“Wasn’t Gregg that made the corn. He can’t steam anything properly.”
“He can steam your cock.”
“I don’t want creamed corn.”
“You sure you don’
t? You sure seemed to like the cob last night.”
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Pass the rabbit.”
“The new one he ain’t eating.”
“Maybe he worried that he might have to eat your cock later.”
“He don’t have no silverware.”
“God damn it Jose. Quit stealing shit. You worse than a horse thief.”
The man next to Ark shrugged his shoulders and returned the fork, spoon and knife to Ark. Ark was finally able to eat. The rabbit tasted gamey, the corn bread was fresh and the steamed corn was buttery. He hadn’t eaten since the gruel of oatmeal, that awful sawdust and water in the morning. Ark ate slowly letting each bite sit in his mouth, savoring the taste.
The men in the room were silent as they ate preoccupied with the delicious food in front of them. Occasionally a voice would sound out wanting more bread, more salt, or to pass the water other than that it was silence.
“Horse thief, you been elected on wash up duty,” Nathan said.
“I don’t believe in voting,” the man next to Ark said.
“Well do you believe in the pressure of the men around you? Cuz I’m pretty sure no one wants to have the new one ruined, too afraid to engage with any of us,” Nathan said.
“And besides,” Gregg said. “It’s your turn anyways.”
“Are you gonna bring up the chore wheel,” Jose said.
“It’s not a fucking wheel,” Gregg said. His voice was raised and he looked pained. A bit of corn bread was stuck in his beard. “We take turns. I just made a chart, of sorts to stay organized.”
“Well I’m always doing all the labor outside. Look at my skin. See how dark it is. It cuz I am always out in the hot sun.”
“You were born that way Jose,” Gregg said.
“You fucking white piece of shit.”
Ark sat back in his chair worried that the two men would come to blows soon.
Jose was first to laugh. Then Gregg joined in and everyone started to laugh. Howls of laughter filled the room.
“He really is a white piece of shit,” Nathan said. Tears of laughter came out of the corners of his eyes. “That doesn’t mean it’s not your turn to clean up though.”
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