Long Tall Drink

by L. C. Chase

  Ray heard the front door close as he began loading up his plate. All heads turned when Jesse walked into the dining room with his head down. He’d taken off his hat but was still wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He mumbled an apology for being late and pulled up a chair beside Travis. Jesse’s hair was mussed like he’d just crawled out of bed, and his shirt was rumpled. The same shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. A bad feeling slithered through Ray’s chest.

  “No hats, boots, or glasses at the table, son,” Dot said. “You know the rules.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jesse’s quiet voice was ragged. He carefully removed his sunglasses, neatly folded them, and hung them in the V of his shirt. He didn’t look up, didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and Ray saw why all the way from the other end of the table.

  There were so many gasps around the room, it sounded as if the walls themselves had heaved in dismay. Jesse’s right eye was swollen shut, and the socket and cheekbone sported painfully angry shades of blue, purple, and black.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Travis’s deep voice reverberated through the floorboards like an earthquake. The fork he’d been holding fell from his hand and clanked loudly against his plate. “Did Sam fucking do that?”

  Cold fury laced Travis’s voice like barbed wire and shocked Ray. The depth of anger in that usually smooth baritone was something he’d never have expected from the carefree drifter.

  “Travis,” Ray said calmly, the same tone he’d use on a skittish horse. “Settle down.”

  Travis didn’t even acknowledge that Ray had spoken. His gaze was fixed on Jesse, his lean body beginning to vibrate.

  “Don’t worry about it, Trav,” Jesse said quietly, “I’m good.”

  “The hell you are.” Travis jumped from the table. “I’m going to teach that son of a bitch a lesson.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Clay said as he slid his chair back and rose.

  “Travis,” Ray barked loud enough to break through the dark tunnel Travis had begun to slide down. Travis spun his head around and shot a livid glare at Ray. Under any other circumstances Ray may have responded to the challenge in kind, but he saw something swim alongside the frenetic anger in Travis’s eyes that held him back. Pain.

  “You know he did this to the kid, Ray,” Travis said tightly. His voice and body trembled under his tenuous restraint. “I’m not about to sit by and let him get away with it.”

  “No, you’re just going to make things worse. Antagonizing Sam is only going to put Jess in further danger, and I won’t have it.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” Travis threw back. “I’m done putting up with people like that.”

  “Fine,” Ray conceded. “But you’re not buying trouble while you’re on my ranch. You’ll follow my rules or clear out.”

  “Fuck your rules, Ra—”

  “That’s enough!” Dot’s voice was a sharp, ear-piercing crack of lightning that rendered the room suddenly mute and froze the air in every man’s lungs. The grandfather clock’s peaceful tick-tock continued its steady rhythm, oblivious and undisturbed.

  “Travis Morgan, you sit your butt back down in that chair right now,” Dot commanded forcefully. “You too, Clay Fisher.”

  Clay plopped down like his legs had been shot out from under him and then bowed his head. Travis stood for a second longer; his hands clenched in tight fists. The muscles in his jaw ticked while a nuclear inferno raged in his eyes. He lowered himself slowly to the chair with obvious force.

  “Now,” Dot continued. “No one is going off on any half-cocked mission to ‘kick Sam’s ass.’ We’ll discuss what happened and how to handle it rationally and privately with Jesse. And there will not be any more swearing at my goddamn table. Are we understood?”

  Clay nodded, but Travis remained still as a statue, his gaze now fixed on the breakfast plate before him.

  When it appeared Dot had the room under control, albeit tenuously, she turned her attention to Jesse, her tone now soft and motherly. “Are you going to leave home, son?”

  “Yes, Miss Dottie.” Jesse’s gaze remained fixed on a spot on the table as he spoke. “I left right…right after. I-I told him I was going to move to the ranch. Move in with Clay.” He shot a quick nervous glance at his friend. “If that’s okay.”

  “Don’t even have to ask, dude,” Clay assured. “You know I got your back.”

  “Good,” Dot said. “Except you’re not moving into Clay’s cabin. It’s too small.”

  “We’ll get a bunk bed for them,” Ray said.

  “Nonsense. You’ll move in here, young man. We have plenty of room.”

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t do that, Miss Dottie,” Jesse said with another quick glance up.

  “You can and you will, and that’s final.” Dot’s voice was firm. And anyone with any brains knew better than to argue when she was in control. Facing down a stampeding herd of elephants would be easier. “Clay, honey, you take a truck and go pick up Jesse’s things when you’re done your with breakfast. And stay clear of Sam.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right then,” Dot said as she glanced around the table and waved her hand. “Y’all finish your meal while it’s still warm. We have a ranch to run here.”

  Ray watched as the men returned to their meals before his gaze landed on Travis. He hadn’t spoken since Dot ordered him to sit down—he’d barely moved—and now sat staring distantly at his half-eaten breakfast. His body was still coiled tightly, jaw set hard, and a rapid tattoo pulsed in the thick jugular vein in his neck. Ray couldn’t see Travis’s hands under the table but had no doubt they were still clenched in knuckle-whitening fists.

  Travis cleared his throat and pushed away from the table.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to no one in particular. “I have a busy day ahead.” He picked up his plate, remaining food untouched, and dropped it on the trolley as he made a hasty exit.

  Ray had a feeling he was going to find something broken out there in Travis’s wake and decided to give him a little time to vent before he went to work.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jesse said when the room once again fell silent. “I shouldn’t have come back.”

  “Don’t you dare, young man,” Dot admonished. “You did the right thing. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, and you’re staying right here.”

  “Yeah, dude,” Clay agreed.

  With a sigh, Jesse went back to his breakfast, and Dot leveled a knowing look at Ray. He nodded his understanding. They’d all need to watch out for Jesse—and keep Travis in check—until Sam got over it and moved on.

  Ray took his time leaving the house, and when he did make his way out, he found Travis working with a new horse. Fortunately nothing was broken, but Travis wasn’t getting anywhere with the animal.

  “Why don’t you call it a day, Travis,” Ray called over after a couple of hours. “Looks like you could use a break.”

  “Nope. Need to work.” Travis didn’t turn around. His voice was flat and emotionless.

  Ray watched the man for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Obviously the situation with Jesse was bothering him. But it bothered Ray too. Not to the point of vigilante violence, but still, Travis wasn’t the only one pissed off. The whole ranch was pissed. Jesse was like a kid brother, and the first reaction he’d had was the same as Travis’s, though Ray wasn’t so quick to action.

  And then an unwelcome thought skimmed over the surface of Ray’s mind. What if Jesse and Travis were more than just friends? Anger and jealousy rose in the back of his throat, and he quickly swallowed the sharp bitterness back. No, he would not let himself be jealous over a temporary hand, a rambling cowboy. He had no reason. Jesse was just one of those bright, shiny lights in the sky that people instinctively wanted to make sure never dimmed.

  “Why don’t you stick around the house after dinner and have a beer with us then,” Ray offered.

  “Sure.”

  Ray watched Travis sur
reptitiously as the three men sat in the living room nursing their beers after dinner. Ray and Jesse were sitting at opposite ends of the large leather couch, and Travis sat on one of the oversize chairs near the front window.

  “Dot got you all settled?” Ray asked Jesse, breaking the silence that had fallen after Dot had bid them good night.

  Jesse nodded, plucking at the label of his Wild Fly Ale.

  “I’m really sorry about this, Ray. Travis.” Jesse kept his attention on the label-peeling task as he spoke. “I didn’t tell him the truth. Not really. But I did tell him I wouldn’t stop working at the ranch. I wouldn’t stop being friends with Travis. That’s when he hit me”—he paused, then added quietly—“the first time.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ray saw Travis flinch; noticed how tightly he gripped the beer bottle in his hand. If that bottle had been fine crystal, it would have shattered by now.

  “I told him I was going to move onto the ranch. Stay with Clay. He went off that I’d been brainwashed by Travis and if I messed with people like him, I’d end up just as twisted. Said he didn’t want a ‘fucking faggot’ son.”

  Jesse paused, and they both glanced over at Travis. His whole body had begun to vibrate, his mouth was pressed in a hard slash, his lips white, and his nostrils flared. He’d yet to say anything, and his gaze was fixed on the throw rug on the floor in front of the fireplace.

  “And I started getting mad,” Jesse continued, drawing Ray’s attention back. “Told him being gay wasn’t catching and what’d he care so much for anyway. Didn’t affect him any. He started going off again, saying stupid ugly shit, and I yelled at him to shut up. Told him I was twisted long before I met Travis. That’s when he hit me again.”

  Jesse looked to Ray with fear in his eyes, clearly wanting to say something even though he was terrified to do so. Silently imploring for understanding at what he was about to share. And Ray suddenly knew what was coming. His stomach turned. Oh shit, no. How could he have not known?

  Jesse squared his shoulders, faced Ray dead-on, and spilled his deepest secret in a rapid rush. “I am, Ray. Gay, I mean. And I hope that won’t change you letting me work and live here.”

  Shame needled its way under Ray’s skin. All this time the boy had been working for him and living with a man like Sam, his own father. He knew the kind of fear Jesse lived with, how alone he’d have felt all this time. He thought he knew his men, but clearly he’d failed the one he should have known best. If he’d known, he could have somehow found a way to make it easier for the young man. At least let him know he wasn’t alone if he needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to lean on.

  Ray dragged a hand over his face and in a cracked voice said, “I am so sorry, Jesse.”

  Jesse nodded and quickly looked down at his hands but not before Ray caught the liquid flash of disappointment and hurt in the boy’s eyes. Fuck.

  “No, Jesse.” Ray reached out and laid a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, to help you. But believe me, I understand. More than you know.”

  Jesse’s gaze shot up, wary but hopeful. Ray couldn’t find it in him to say it out loud, so he nodded intently. Jesse swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and then his clear blue eyes shone brightly at Ray, so bright Ray couldn’t help smiling. Jesse raised his eyebrows in silent question, and Ray nodded again.

  “No. Way.”

  Ray dropped his hand from Jesse’s shoulder and took a long draught of his beer. He’d just come out to one of his ranch hands. Granted circumstances were somewhat unique. But there it was. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that just yet. It was a bit of a relief, but he’d also just risked opening the door a sliver, let a spear of light in to tease out the darkened corners.

  But Jesse was a good kid, deserved a good life, so that little bit of risk was worth it. At least now Jesse knew he had someone he could talk to. And so did Ray.

  “Well.” Ray cleared his throat. “This is your home now, as long as you want. You’re safe here. We’ll make sure of it.”

  “Thank you, Ray.”

  Jesse looked over at Travis, then back at Ray with a concerned expression on his youthful face. Ray shook his head and stood up. “It’s been a crazy couple days,” he said to Jesse. “Why don’t you call it a night.”

  Jesse nodded, stood up, and said good night to Travis, who didn’t seem to notice. Ray gave him a pat on the shoulder and sent him down the hall. Ray sat back down on the far end of the couch and waited patiently for Travis to come back. The clock in the dining room ticked faintly in the background, keeping time with Ray’s steady heartbeat. Floorboards overhead creaked as Jesse made his way along the upstairs hall to the bathroom. Water splashed through copper pipes buried in the walls and groaned when it stopped. Then the quiet hum of silence filled the house.

  Finally Travis looked over at him, slightly stunned, like he’d just realized where he was but not quite sure how he got there—face drawn and eyes haunted.

  “Welcome back,” Ray said quietly.

  Travis rubbed at his jaw absently. “Sorry, didn’t mean to zone out there.”

  Ray nodded. Just like waiting for Dot to get her “go” in gear, he waited for Travis to start the conversation. He’d share where he’d gone or he wouldn’t, but Ray found himself hoping the man would.

  “Jess okay?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.”

  Travis looked down at the bottle in his hands as if wondering why he was holding it. Whatever had happened in the man’s past, the incident with Jesse and his dad had brought something painful to the surface. Ray had already caught a glimpse of vulnerability buried in the depths of Travis’s eyes at the café in Billings, and now this. Just like he didn’t ever want to see Jesse’s bright light dimmed, he didn’t want to see Travis lose his carefree, mischievous attitude. Ray was disturbed to find that it hurt him seeing Travis in pain—the kind of pain that couldn’t be healed with salve and a Band-Aid. All he wanted to do was cross the room, pull Travis from the chair, and hold him. Run his hands through Travis’s hair, over his back, and soothe away whatever hidden demons he fought.

  Travis looked up at Ray and held his gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching for a sign of some sort. Finally he sighed, placed his beer bottle on the companion table, and locked his gaze on the area rug again.

  “I was fifteen when my dad found me kissing another boy,” he began. His voice was monotone and low, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. “He flew into a rage. Beat the shit out of me: my first broken nose, ribs. First broken anything actually. Then when I was lying in a pool of my own blood in the dirt, and he told me I was dead to him. Kicked me off his property. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

  “Jesus, Travis.”

  “I swore no one would ever hurt me again,” he continued, his words growing stronger and sharper as he spoke. “Swore I wouldn’t let anyone beat on someone who couldn’t defend themselves. I won’t stand for it. Won’t turn my back on anyone in need of help. But Jesse needed my help…”

  Travis looked up, and Ray’s heart lurched. Anger and shame shone behind a brilliant glossy sheen that covered those beautiful eyes and reflected in the edge of that deep voice.

  “Jesse needed my help, and I failed him. I swore I wouldn’t let the Sams of the world hurt him when he told me he was gay. And look at him!” Travis’s voice pitched a notch higher. “Look what the bastard did to that poor kid. Because of me. Because I failed.”

  Ray couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand to see the Travis he knew suffer and berate himself. Ray was as much at fault—more actually. Travis had really only just met Jesse, but Ray had known him for ten years.

  In one swift move, he crossed the room and pulled Travis up into his arms.

  Travis fell into Ray’s embrace, warm and solid and strong. So, so strong.

  He needed that more than anything right then, was shocked by how much
he needed it, that he even could.

  And then he broke, gave in, took that comfort without hesitation and let the past wash over him. Watched it race downriver in a flood from his pores. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ray’s waist and clung to him like a life preserver in the churning rapids. Fear of history repeating itself, of not being able to protect, not being enough for anyone, drowned in the safe current of Ray’s warmth.

  His throat constricted. Hell no. He would not fucking cry. Not in front of this man.

  Ray held Travis with one arm firm around his waist and a rugged hand cradling the back of his skull. Travis leaned his forehead into Ray’s shoulder, and Ray whispered in his ear. He couldn’t make out the words but understood their meaning. He let Ray’s strength hold him, wrap around him like a shield.

  “It’s okay, Travis,” Ray soothed in that rough, melodic voice. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”

  A single sob escaped Travis’s burning throat. He squeezed his stinging eyes shut and fisted a hand in Ray’s shirt. Travis knew he was losing the fight but wasn’t yet willing to give up.

  Ray moved his hand in slow circles over Travis’s back. “I won’t let you fall,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

  And Travis did.

  He’d already passed the point of any chance at winning that fight anyway. The floodgates opened, and it all came flooding out in a violent, gushing mess: the pain of being rejected by his father, his family. All the years of being lost and alone with no one to lean on, take care of him. He cried for the boy whose childhood had been stolen and the man he’d become, so afraid of letting himself care for anyone enough to give them the power to hurt him.

  He cried for the people he hadn’t been able to help, the ones he’d failed. The ones he loved but could never tell. For Jesse Davis, so young and innocent, and for Ray Ford, hidden so deep he’d need a search and rescue team to find him.

  He cried until the reservoir ran dry and his throat scrapped like sandpaper and his body felt exhausted. And Ray held him tightly the whole time. He didn’t let Travis go, didn’t stop whispering in his ear.