Two Sides of the Same Coin

by Jake Mactire

  “It’s none of your goddamn business where I go, or what good I could do.”

  He looked like I’d socked him hard in the face, but didn’t say anything. I wheeled Charlie around and began the ride back to the ranch, the phone, and the sheriff. I could hear Mike behind me, but I didn’t really care. I was riding high on a tide of self-righteous anger, hurt, and panic. It was after a few miles I realized I had acted like a total asshole and began to feel ashamed. I needed to apologize, but worry about the ranch drove me to continue riding. I needed to talk to the sheriff as soon as possible.

  Chapter Two

  I SAT in the ranch office with my head in my hands. It must have been about two in the morning. My laptop was in front of me, and my eyes were blurry from going over the ranch financial books. It seems ranchers live from one year to the next, waiting for the cattle to be sold off and get some money. I had enough money to make payrolls and pay on the loans we had out. I wasn’t sure that the remaining herd was going to bring in enough to keep up the mortgage for the next year. I needed to get the mortgage information and all that from Dad’s attorney. We’d lost a good number of cattle over the last few months. I couldn’t help but remember the conversation with the sheriff. Followed by Mike, I’d ridden a good part of the evening to get back to the ranch house and call the sheriff. He got out to the ranch pretty quick and took my report. He said he’d have one of his deputies inspect the site from the forest service road. Apparently the rustlers had brought a truck right up to the fence, herded some cattle into it, drove a few miles down the road and slaughtered them right there, if they were keeping true to the same method. After that it would be mighty hard to prove just where their beef did or didn’t come from.

  I needed to get some sleep. A cold front had come over the Cascades that afternoon, bringing clouds, rain, and the end to our nice, mild weather. Fall was definitely here. I had tried to sleep earlier, but just tossed and turned and worried about finances and what to do about the ranch. I had originally thought about asking Wayne to take on a full caretaker position, hiring another foreman and maybe another hand or two. With the current financial situation, unless something changed, that would be impossible.

  Part of the reason that I couldn’t drift off was, aside from the worries, I was cold. I got up and shucked off my T-shirt and boxers and put on a pair of red long handles. The stereotypes about cowboys in long johns are in part true. They’re comfortable and warm.

  I also felt bad for the way I’d taken out my frustration on Mike. I needed to apologize, but I’d spent the rest of the day with the sheriff, and later Mike had made himself as scarce as hen’s teeth. I went back to bed and finally fell into a restless sleep.

  IT SEEMED I’d just closed my eyes when I was woken up by knocking on the door. Looking up at the skylight I was able to see that it was already morning. I threw off the covers and without bothering to grab my pants, went to the door, yawning as I went. I yanked it open to see Mike standing there. He looked me up and down and blushed furiously. I realized that the long handles fit me like a glove, leaving nothing to the imagination, including the evidence, stiffly poking down the left leg of my underwear that I must have been having one hell of a nice dream.

  “Come on in and let me get my pants on.” I walked back to the bedroom and quickly pulled on my jeans and a pair of thick wool socks and then headed back to the kitchen.

  “Coffee?” I asked while adding water to the battered old enamel pot I kept by the stove.

  “Uh… sure.”

  Once the pot came to a boil I added the coffee and left the pot to boil. I turned to Mike, who it seemed had recovered from his earlier shock.

  “So what’s up?”

  “Well, I was talkin’ with José and Josh, and we volunteered to work a while with no pay if it helps. We know it can’t be easy payin’ for a funeral, the cattle gettin’ rustled, and all the other shit you’re goin’ through.”

  I was blindsided by this. Although I’d known Wayne and José for years, Josh and Pedro were newer. I’d only met Josh a few times when visiting for the weekends or vacation. Mike I didn’t even really know other than from the events of yesterday, and the way I’d ended the day with him was pretty childish.

  “Hey, Mike, about yesterday, I’m sorry about what I said. I acted like a real asshole. Only excuse I got is I was upset about my dad, the rustlin’, the ranch, and all the other shit I’m tryin’ to muck though. It’s really no excuse though, and takin’ out my frustrations on you was a real shitty thing to do. I’m very sorry. Also buddy, I really appreciate the offer about workin’ for free for a while, but we’re not that bad off yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s hard to be civil when you got all that stuff goin’ on.”

  I extended my hand to him, and he took it in a firm shake. I looked at him and realized he was staring right at me. We just stood there and looked at each other while we clasped hands. As I looked at him, I saw an expression of intense longing in his eyes. I noticed that they were brown with tawny flecks of gold. His beard was well trimmed and a red gold color. He smelled of good clean sweat and soap, maybe Irish Spring. I pulled his hand, bringing him toward me as our faces moved closer together. I opened my mouth for the kiss and closed my eyes.

  All of a sudden, there was a racket at the door. I heard a familiar voice saying, “Yoo-hoo honey, I’m home or here anyway.” Robert was here. Mike and I dropped hands and backed off, acting like two embarrassed teenagers.

  “Finish with the coffee, will ya?” I asked as I headed to the other room and the door.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “I ain’t had too much time to miss anybody or anything. When did you get here? I didn’t even know you were coming. You look too fresh to have taken a red-eye and driven.” I gave Robert a quick hug and kiss.

  “I thought it was about time I came up here and brought my big, bad, cowboy stud home. I flew into Seattle and drove to Wenatchee yesterday. I stayed there and was up before dawn to get up here to bring you home.” Robert usually worked out in the morning, so getting up at four for the three hour drive here wasn’t such a stretch. I smiled at him. It was nice to hear some easy banter rather than criticism.

  I heard a snort and muffled laugh from the kitchen.

  “Come on in. We were just fixin’ to have coffee. Want some?”

  “Is it that cowboy style coffee you like so much?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll pass. Do you have any tea?”

  “I suppose. C’mon in the kitchen and meet Mike.”

  “Mike?”

  “Yeah, he works here. We were just chattin’.”

  We walked into the kitchen. Mike was slouched back on one of the chairs by the big old wooden kitchen table. His long lean legs stretched out in front of him were encased in tight Wranglers. His scuffed cowboy boots were crossed at the ankles. He had on a big dinner plate belt buckle proclaiming him a champion in roping at the local rodeo. He wore a thick flannel shirt in a green plaid; the sleeves were rolled up and the red sleeves of his long handles protruded down to his wrists. A once white cowboy hat completed his dress.. All in all, he was a pretty hot picture to see. The Wranglers fit him good, real good. He stood up as we headed into the kitchen.

  “Mike, Robert; Robert, Mike,” I said in the way of introduction as I searched through the cabinets for some tea bags. Finding some, I turned to put some water on.

  Mike was looking at Robert with faint hostility. Robert was looking at Mike like he was an ice cream cone on a hot day.

  “Ohhh, be still my beating heart. What a handsome cowboy! It’s too bad I have a cowboy of my own, or you could save a horse and ride me!”

  “Fat chance!”

  “A feisty one too!”

  “I’ll take a rain check on that coffee; I’m sure you two got lots to catch up on.” Mike stalked out.

  “Bye, bye, you cute studmuffin you!”

  “Robert, we’re not in San Francisco. These guys would kick th
e shit outta you as soon as talk to you if you get ’em pissed off.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re heading back into the closet out here, Jeffrey.”

  “No, I just know these people; they are laid-back and they don’t care as long as you don’t shove nothing in their faces.”

  “Well, I am who I am, sweetheart. So when are you going to sell this dump and come back to the city?”

  “Robert, give me a break! My dad’s funeral was only a few days ago, and I ain’t had too much time to figure out just what I want to do.”

  I looked at Robert. There was no denying he was a handsome man. About six-two, he was very muscular from hour after hour spent in the gym. Where I was long and lean, Robert was stocky. He had immaculately coiffed brown hair. His features were regularly shaped and pleasant. He also had one of the most camp senses of humor I had ever seen. It seemed funny in San Francisco, but plastic and overdone here. He was all duded up in a Brooks and Dunn type cowboy shirt, with stiffly ironed creases, Levis, and new boots of something that looked like alligator skin. He was wearing a new felt hat way back on his head, the way a girl would, and a little blue kerchief around his neck. The phrase drug store cowboy came to mind.

  “Ain’t is not a word, Jeffrey.”

  “Whatever. Your tea’s ready.” I dropped the tea bag in the mug, poured water on it, and shoved the mug toward Robert, sloshing half its contents on the counter.

  “Jeffrey, it’s good to see you. I am concerned about you. Can’t you see this place is not good for you? You’ve started speaking hick again after just a few days here. And I bet the nearest gay disco is four hours away in Seattle. I’m sure your little shit kicking cowhand friends can be amusing, but honestly, they are way beneath you.”

  I took a deep breath and started counting to ten to keep my temper while I poured my coffee into my mug.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and looked across at him. I thought again that at first the relationship was fun, but now all it seemed was that he was trying to change me. As if to reinforce my thoughts, he began to speak.

  “Jeffrey, you know the only reason I bring this stuff up is that I want the best for you. You have a perfectly good accounting degree, you’re smart, and you have so much going for you. Yet it seems you are determined to stay a redneck. Come back with me sweetheart, and forget this stupid ranch and that nasty bronze casting. You can get a good job. Just think, with our incomes together, my savings, and the money from this place we could have a house in Marin with a view! Think of the restaurants and the vacation resorts we could visit.”

  Just to test him I answered, “I see your point. We could go on a couple of those eco-tour camping trips like a safari in Africa, hiking in Patagonia, or kayaking in Greenland.”

  “You know I have absolutely no interest in that! But if you come to your senses and do the other stuff, I certainly will support you when you want to do things like that. However, if you are going all over the globe without me doing that dirty outdoor stuff, I would expect that we would open our relationship. I have needs too. And you have all your little redneck friends.” At first I felt myself softening up at his promise of support for doing the things I liked. Then he talked about opening the relationship. I knew that wasn’t what I wanted.

  “Robert, you sure as hell have given me a lot to think about. Now I’m gonna get dressed and head on into Winslett for a supply run. You mind stayin’ here so I can think on what you said?”

  “Certainly Jeffrey, I’ll just amuse myself with these hunky cowboys. Maybe one will teach me how to ride.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Jeffrey, I know what I’m doing. I’ll give the horse a carrot or sugar cube, and it will literally be eating out of my hands.”

  “There’s a reason there’s a sayin’ ‘easy as fallin’ off a horse’.”

  “I have a way with animals!”

  “Whatever.” I realized we were getting off on the wrong track, rehashing old issues as if I was still in San Francisco. I smiled at Robert. “Have a good time learnin’ how to ride.”

  “Thanks, Jeffrey, I do want to meet you halfway. Maybe once I learn, we can go riding.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I know I have to compromise too. Now go and get your supplies, and I’ll see you when you get back.”

  It was late afternoon when I turned into the winding side road that led to the ranch. I had the back of the pickup loaded with supplies—truth be told, there was enough for quite a while—so I guessed in part I had an answer for Robert. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. I had been thinking hard all afternoon. I was trying to figure out just how in the hell I felt about Robert. We had some good times together, and the sex was fantastic. He could keep his legs in the air for hours and had a very talented tongue. But sex does not a relationship make. It seemed like lately we had nothing in common. At the beginning, I loved his sharp, sarcastic sense of humor. He took me to artsy stuff and new things such as plays, which I did enjoy. But to do stuff together other than a night out or a weekend trip, was not something we did. More probably we’d had nothing in common from the beginning, but had let physical attraction run wild. Opposites attract and we were totally opposite.

  Did I really want to go back to San Francisco? I didn’t have any friends there. It was a beautiful city, but you couldn’t see the stars due to all the lights. I hated waiting tables. Frankly, I could sell my bronze sculptures here in the artists’ co-op in Winslett and probably make more money than I did in San Francisco. Being here made me realize how much I missed the change of seasons, cowboying, my friends here, and the ranch.

  I did enjoy it when Robert and I would head off to Tahoe, or Calistoga, or the North Coast. When we went though, I wanted to camp, and he wanted to stay in five-star or boutique hotels. We had seen staying in bed and breakfast hotels as a compromise, but I was beginning to wonder just what I was getting in return. At first he was fascinated with everything about cowboys. Now he seemed to hate everything about them, the stuff that made me, me.

  As I pulled into the drive in front of the ranch house, there sat Robert on one of the chairs on the front deck. The ranch house was really a log home. Dad had always wanted one and had it built several years ago. It was really beautiful; a deck ran around it, and there were balconies from the bedrooms upstairs. Robert was kind of slouched in the chair and covered with mud. His new hat was beside him crushed, his kerchief was askew, and his shirt was pretty badly ripped. His Levis were a mess, and his new alligator boots were covered in mud and horse shit. He saw me and moaned while holding his ribs.

  I looked at him and finally said, “It looks like you were practicing bronc bustin’ for the next rodeo.”

  “Ha ha ha. Very funny. Those assholes gave me some devil wild horse, and just as I got on they slapped it.”

  “Well, you told ’em you could ride. Not that that justifies what they did.”

  “I ache all over.”

  I went over to him and began feeling his arms, legs, and ribs. “I don’t think you broke anything. Nothing wrong with you some aspirin, food, a bath, and some whiskey won’t cure.”

  “Look at my new clothes! They’re ruined. I can’t believe they did this to me.”

  “How about you kick off your boots, and take off all the muddy clothes, and go upstairs and take a nice hot bath. There’s a big Jacuzzi tub in my bathroom. I’ll bring you some water, aspirin, and if you want a shot or two.”

  “You expect me to strip down in this cold and parade around in my underwear in front of those troglodytes?” I could hear muffled laughter coming from the direction of the bunkhouse.

  “Well, you’re not tracking mud and horse shit all through the house. They’re men Robert. You don’t have nothing they haven’t seen. Let’s get ya inside and take care of ya. They were just funnin’ with ya. Like I said, it don’t justify anythin’, but cowboys love to joke around. The new guy is usually the butt of the joke. It’s happened to me many a time. Just grin and go with it
and they move on to the next guy.”

  He began to undress, moving slowly and moaning and whining constantly. He was covered with bruises, including one on his thigh that looked like a hoof print.

  “You get kicked?”

  “Yeah,” he moaned. When he finally hobbled into the house, I went and took the boxes of groceries into the pantry just outside the kitchen. Josh came over from the bunkhouse to help.

  “You never told us your friend knew how to fly, Jeff.”

  “I guess I was waiting to let you in on that secret when he learns how to land.”

  Josh laughed. He was about five-eight and built like a fire plug. He had a full head of sandy hair and a little moustache.

  “He was getting pretty hard to take, ordering us around like we was servants and telling us we don’t talk right. Kinda got the impression he looks down on us.”

  “I’ll have a talk with him. But in the meantime, take it easy on him, okay? Which horse did you give him anyway?”

  “Tornado.” I couldn’t help laughing. Tornado certainly wasn’t a “wild devil horse” and was named because he was about as far from rough as possible.

  “Well, he was the one that kicked ol’ Tornado several times yelling ‘giddy up’.”

  Realizing that I was fighting a loosing battle, I changed the subject.

  “What do you and the boys have planned for tonight, since it’s Friday?”

  “José suggested that we take turns doin’ lookout duty up by the forest service roads. Pedro pulled first shift. José and I are gonna go into Wenatchee. Haven’t seen Wayne all day, and don’t know about Mike.”

  “Well, have a good time. But not too good; I don’t want to come and bail your sorry asses outta jail.” Josh just laughed at that and headed out toward the bunkhouse.

  I headed upstairs to where Robert was soaking in the tub, stopping at the medicine cabinet to get some aspirin. I gave it to him and poured him a glass of water.