Garrett soared above the ramshackle town of Laramie City.
Although it was nighttime, he could make out every shack of log and canvas. He flew weightlessly past the Union Pacific depot, where at this time of night only a few straggling carousers stumbled about. Behind the Cactus Club, someone he assumed was Rusty Pipes tossed out a cauldron full of something steaming. And of course, though the sun was due to rise soon, at the Bucket of Blood the musicians still played. Garrett thought the banjo player sounded about to keel over in a dead faint.
He’d been soaring nightly for about a week now, and he knew it had to lead somewhere. There must be a reason he’d been flying about, watching Mr. and Mrs. Fowler fall out of their buggy in their furs and top hat, back from a dinner party at the mayor’s house. One night he’d attended a meeting of the Order of Oddfellows, where all the members put on a play wearing dresses with flowers in their hair. Or, worst of all, once he’d witnessed Henry Zuckerkorn, journalist for the Frontier Index, indulge his passion for spanking prostitutes dressed as schoolgirls.
But to what avail? What was all this flying about showing him? Other than indulging in a passion for gossip.
Tonight was different. Tonight he soared with a purpose. He wasn’t just content to flit about from tent to tent or even to speed over the horse corrals or the river, where he breathed in the fresh rapids and grasses, the fish frisky and jumping in their early morning constitutional. No, tonight he maintained the question in his head. Where is Shady Barnhart? With this in mind, Garrett thought he could get some answers.
He knew he had to get away from Laramie City to do so, but before he left, he saw an odd thing. His spirit swooped into the saloon of the Frontier Hotel. A fellow with a thick, elaborate moustache sat with Simon Hudson, drinking ale. Garrett was irritated he should have to look at this mundane business, especially as they seemed to only be discussing the old college days at Amherst.
His irritation seemed to propel him onward, for his spirit soon rushed up and away from the town. The dimly lit prairie opened up below him as he flew up the windswept slopes of the Laramie Mountains, populated with gnarled, deformed pines. Heartened to know he was heading toward Sherman Summit and the Dale Creek Bridge, he gladly soared over ridge after barren ridge. He raced up the dizzying slope of the bridge following the train tracks, and when his spirit shot out over the summit, he hovered there for a few seconds, enjoying the scene.
Up here, he could hover as though in a cottony cocoon, imbued with joy at everything. He still thought about daily human life back in Laramie. For instance, he was very pleased with the recent turn of events with Levi. He had never voluntarily allowed another man to touch him, but when Levi had grabbed his cock, it seemed right and natural. It was as though they were two old spirit friends coming together—as though he’d known Levi in a previous incarnation.
Garrett knew that Spiritualists believed that life continued in some angelic form after death. So he supposed he was a Spiritualist and should ask Liberty if he could borrow some of her father’s books. His—or rather, Paddy’s—prophecy that Levi would arrive in town indicated some sort of connection between them, some predestination that the paths of their lives would meet and converge. It did not seem strange at all that Levi had suddenly frigged his penis to completion. Perhaps Levi was accustomed to doing that with other men. It wasn’t so unusual on the prairie, where women were scarce.
So Garrett just hovered over the Dale Creek Bridge and the summit where so many tracklayers had toiled and suffered, attacked by Indians. His ghostly body shivered to see a lone pine tree in the rising sun. Having fixated on it, his spirit automatically streaked to get a closer look. Yes, here it was. The Lone Pine Tree, sticking out of a great crack in an enormous boulder.
However, just as he strove to inspect the tree closer for the body of Caeser Moxus, his soul flashed to another location entirely. It was a small Indian encampment of tipis, and outside one of them, some people were binding a wakan man into a buffalo robe. As Garrett swept closer, he saw they were binding a small boulder, a symbol of the gods, into the wrapping with him. They tied all his fingers and toes, wrapped the entire package in cords, then rolled him into the tipi.
Now seeming to float at about human eye level, Garrett entered the tent. It looked as though this wakan man would heal one who was sick. Garrett recognized the ill man as Brave Buffalo, one of the bogus signers of the bogus treaty at Fort Sanders. The wakan fellow wailed and moaned the usual prayers.
Having these four souls I make my campfires.
The day that is determined for me, may it come earthward.
Where have you gone, bird? Behold your friend.
With a crown of glory, I come forth.
That was the language of the sun as it rose in splendor. A young man then gave a wild yell and all torches were extinguished. The wakan man became fearful as a wind rose from nowhere and rattled the tent furiously. He called out, “Come carefully. Your father is very weak. Be careful.”
The gods paid no attention, and a drum and a deer hoof rattle hanging over the wakan fellow’s head were beaten and shaken violently by invisible hands. Brave Buffalo’s teeth chattered with fever and fear—Garrett could feel the emotions of each person in the tipi. Everyone was terrified of the gods that would bang the drum and rattle the tipi so ferociously. The tipi was full of the little demons who babbled wildly, but even Garrett, who was familiar with the language, couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Becoming suspicious, Garrett removed himself from the tent to see what was going on outside. There hadn’t been any wind before. And lo and behold, what did Garrett discover but two white fellows standing outside, shaking the tipi by its framework of lodge poles.
Garrett went even closer to inspect the men. Moses Taggart. And Shady Barnhart.
Automatically his fist drew back to strike Shady. Give me back my wedding ring, you bastard! But it was as though he were punching through mud. His normally powerful uppercut was like the feeble slap of a schoolboy. In fact, his punch didn’t even connect, didn’t slow Shady down in the slightest from his enthusiastic quaking of the tent.
Of course, Garrett tried again and again. He even went over to Moses and attempted to smite him down, calling forth all the spiritual powers he was unfamiliar with to assist him. Again, it was as though he were trying to wallop some fellow underwater. That made sense. He didn’t have a body.
Yet his anger at the charade these shysters were perpetrating only mounted. He tried roaring as loud as he could and didn’t elicit the tiniest response from either toad. His anger was nearly blinding him. Or maybe it was the rising sun that started to obliterate the vision of the two chiselers. But the entire encampment soon shimmered away into a soft and fuzzy glow.
Garrett looked around. Where was he?
“Garrett, my friend.”
Caeser Moxus! Garrett was being addressed by the ghost of a dead Indian chief!
Garrett saw Caeser then, but he was mainly a floating face being eaten up by the heavenly glow.
“Yes, Caeser?” They didn’t speak through their mouths but through a sort of mind communication.
“You have seen what those men are capable of. What they are doing to us.”
“Yes, Caeser. And it’s my mission to capture them, to serve out justice. Can you tell me where you are buried? I believe you’re buried by that lone pine tree I saw.”
“Yes. Come soon. Brave Buffalo will die soon with the lies of that wakan man who is working in cahoots with those white men.”
“I aim to, Caeser. But first we have to stay in Laramie and protect a white woman from some cold waters. Do you know anything about that?”
Caeser’s ghost answered Garrett something along the lines of, “I don’t know anything about a white woman.” Not a terribly helpful fellow when it came to matters that didn’t concern him. Obviously, the afterlife didn’t grant one omnipotent powers over things beyond one’s scope.
And then the vision was gon
e. Garrett was back in his bed, as though he’d been tossed there by a giant hand in the heavens.
He gasped and clutched his blanket to his chest.
Chapter Ten
“So has Paddy gotten ahold of you yet?”
Garrett looked up from his sawing as though surprised to see Levi standing there. He was hunched over a sawhorse, clad in only his long red drawers, chaps, and his worn Wellington boots. Each motion of his arm with the saw against the boards only served to ripple the muscles in his back and shoulder, fascinating Levi.
Garrett didn’t let go of his grip on the saw. He stood with feet spread wide apart, as though he’d posed there for the express purpose of arousing Levi. “Not in so many words, no. But I’ve been having these sorts of”—his free hand demonstrated something birdlike and fluid—“visions, I guess you could say. Visions I have when sleeping. Last night after…” He looked to the ground, perhaps in shame at recalling their encounter the night before, and he started afresh. “Last night I, or rather, my spirit, decided to take flight around Laramie.”
“Really?” Intrigued, Levi put a booted foot on a block of wood. “What did you see? Anything compromising?”
“Actually, yes. You wouldn’t believe the things that go on in this town. Do you know that newspaper fellow, Henry Zuckerkorn? Boy, does he like spanking ladies wearing uniforms. Anyway, that wasn’t the important thing. I wound up flying, or whatever you want to call it, over the Dale Creek Bridge. That’s where I saw the lone pine tree.”
Levi raised his eyebrows. Garrett was certainly becoming a first-class medium, and he constantly astonished Levi. If Garrett weren’t a man, Levi would almost say he was falling in love with him. He had the utmost respect for him, admired and trusted him, and he lusted after him. Were not those the requirements for this elusive “love” people professed to know about? “Do you think you could lead us to it?”
Garrett nodded. “We could probably find it. It sticks out from the landscape surrounding it. But this part is incredible, Levi. I was in the camp where Brave Buffalo’s tribe has been driven. He’s sick, dying maybe. I was inside the tipi when it began to rattle, scaring everyone. Well, guess what.”
“What?”
Garrett looked at him pointedly, pausing for effect. “Shady and Moses were there, shaking the tent to scare people.”
Levi paused, too, to let this sink in. “Do you know where the encampment was? They move all the time.”
“That’s the problem. I just appeared there suddenly, so I couldn’t give you a map. But maybe this wakan fellow Caleb Poindexter could give us an idea. He’d know where Brave Buffalo is currently residing.”
“Yes, Liberty said she’d find him for us. Rather an odd fellow, isn’t he? Slinking around dressed like an Indian.”
Garrett shrugged, a beautiful play of pectoral muscle against his shimmering, slick skin. His hairless chest looked to be constructed of polished wood. “He’s a blacksmith who comes into the fort sometimes to collect the supplies for the tribes. He’s a mystic, a wakan fellow, probably one of those who got brain injuries in the war.”
“Does he seem simple to you?”
“Not at all. I can tell by his language that he’s highly educated. Like you.”
Levi nearly lowered his eyes in humility. He should have said something modest, like “I’m not that educated.” But the fact of the business was, he was educated. A Harvard graduate, he’d been a journalist in Chicago for the Tribune before having his heart stomped upon by his fiancée, a beautiful vixen by the name of Myrtle Cedarberry. Levi didn’t even like to think about her name anymore, much less picture her face. That she had thrown him over because she didn’t agree with his ideologies had tossed him into a tempest of questioning ever since. That was probably why he’d taken such a low-paying and remote job as Indian agent. He could rant his opinions freely, but there wouldn’t be that many people around to hear him.
Instead, he said, “Thank you. I can tell you’re educated, too. How did you learn to read and write?”
“My master taught me. He was starting to go blind, and he wanted me to read the papers and other things to him.” He shrugged. “He was my pappy.”
Levi was stunned. It was one thing in the South to have a white father but quite another to go about mentioning it. “So, I take it he was rather a nice man?”
“A nice man who wanted someone to read things to him. Listen,” said Garrett, in another tone of voice entirely. Now he did set down the saw and boldly faced Levi. The smell of fresh sweat meant that Garrett would soon be bathing again, a prospect that caused Levi’s cock to expand pleasantly. “About last night.”
“Yes, about your vision. I really feel obligated to remain near Miss Hudson until we can figure out—”
“Not about the vision. About this.”
And Garrett kissed him.
Levi had never kissed another man, and it was a strange new experience. He fell into it easily, relishing the taste and velvety feel of Garrett’s delectable lips against his. Garrett knocked his Stetson off to grab a handful of his thick hair, to hold his face to his. But with all things manly, they were soon locked in a clinch. Garrett’s long arms fully surrounded him and bent him back a little, as though he held a beloved woman, and Levi had to raise himself on his toes a bit to meet him face-to-face.
Garrett’s warm, cowlike tongue licked his lips, and he parted them eagerly. They licked each other like giant cats, all muscular limbs and musky scents intermingling, Garrett’s slick chest leaving a damp imprint on Levi’s shirtfront. It was stimulating and different to run his fingertips along the base of Garrett’s skull. Having only kissed women before, it aroused Levi to feel the massive skull. There were no fragile, birdlike bones here. Everything about Garrett was raw, elegant, and succulent.
Garrett’s long cock rose up and knocked against his thigh, and he ran his hand down Levi’s back to grasp his ass and grip him close. The long, stiff penis now rubbed against his own erection, sending delicious shivers into Levi’s balls, and the two men snorted hot breaths against each other’s faces.
As their tongues intertwined with that hot urgency men were prone to, a thought vaguely crossed Levi’s mind. We should get inside. Laramie was a flat, open town. Two men shouldn’t be necking in the yard.
But the thought wasn’t urgent enough for him to act upon.
* * * *
Oh, my. Son of a gun.
At first Liberty thought she was just looking at two men discussing something. She continued taking the bags of sugar and flour from her cart. Since this would be the first Laramie school, her father had allowed her to order a wood stove for both heat and cooking, and she had brought other supplies. She had potatoes, bars of soap, another coal oil lamp, and wooden boxes full of ears of corn, onions, beans, pickles, raisins, and candles. All things the children—or the men—would want.
She was taking the second box into the school when it occurred to her the men weren’t discussing anything. Or weren’t anymore. They embraced as they stood next to a sawhorse, licking each other’s mouths as though there were no tomorrow.
Slowly, Liberty set the box down. It would’ve slipped from her hands anyway.
Peering around the corner of the school, she watched avidly. The men’s jaws worked hungrily, Levi’s fingers massaging the base of Garrett’s skull as he’d massaged her vertebrae before. Garrett’s broad, tapered hand clutched Levi’s ass to his crotch, and they rubbed their bulging erections together.
Liberty’s breath came shallow and fast. She had seen men kissing before, mostly in New York during the convention, but that was quite different. The New Yorkers were ganymedes and poofs, effeminate fellows who liked to act as women. Those men didn’t affect her to the core, as this sight did. Those big city poofs were fun, bright, and interesting, their color certainly livening up any dull proceedings. Most importantly, they were men who loved only men, and Levi and Garrett clearly loved women. Garrett had even been married once.
May
be it was just a happenstance, something they’d stumbled into. Liberty leaned against the corner of the house, barely daring to breathe, to find out more. Maybe they had just been sawing and hammering along when bam, someone had…given someone a fat lip with a hammer? So they were consoling each other? Liberty could really come up with no logical explanation for what she was spying, but it was incredibly stimulating.
She’d never seen Garrett shirtless, and it was a sight to behold. His bicep muscles moved in separate bunches, like some of the stevedores she had seen along the Missouri who unloaded heavy things all day long. He plastered his glossy, nude chest to Levi’s, and it made Liberty shudder between the thighs to wonder what it felt like, being engulfed by those massive arms. His enormous prick was up like a mallet, the thin fabric of his drawers revealing the rim of the straining cockhead as he mashed it against Levi’s clothed erection.
Levi left her so speechless she didn’t have a single thought in her head. The dashing Indian agent leaned his torso back as he clutched Garrett’s skull, and just the sight of the flat plane of his abdomen taut like that made Liberty’s knees turn to water. She clutched the corner of the house to keep from falling down, watching him suck and lick Garrett’s mouth. He gyrated his hips against Garrett’s swollen penis.
When they detached suddenly, as though they’d shoved each other away, Liberty remembered herself. It was only a matter of seconds before they started looking around to make sure no one had seen them. So she smartly picked up her box and vanished inside the front door, heart pounding like mad.
She commenced putting away the groceries, wondering what was taking so long. How long did it take for them to notice her horse and cart out front? She was stowing the wooden box under the kitchen counter when Levi banged in the back doorway.
“Liberty!” He seemed surprised to see her. He came forward as if to help, but she was only fooling around with a coffeepot.
“I brought more things.” She stated the obvious but didn’t know how to bring up what she’d seen. It was so rousing just to stand next to him again. Levi Colter seemed to emanate a sort of energy that her body just sucked up like life-giving liquid. As though without him she would certainly shrivel and die. When near Levi, her body fairly buzzed with his beneficial force. “I just came in and happened to see…”
Disorder in the House [How the West Was Done 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 9