by Jake Mactire
“Yeah,” he answered. “You know why you saw me at the rest area Friday night?”
Just before he said it, I saw it coming.
“I was there sticking my dick through a hole in the wall to get a blowjob. Hell Jeff, what a fuckin’ loser. No high school diploma, nothing to my name, a fag, and a pervert who has anonymous sex in public places. Maybe prison is where I belong. I sure as hell ain’t any good to anybody at all.”
“Mike, I’ll tell the sheriff that we stopped at the rest area so Robert could take a piss. We saw you there for the same reason. He’ll listen to that.”
“Yeah, but that was just a few minutes. What about the rest of the evening?”
“It’s a hell of a long way around on those forest service roads. If you were at the rest area, you didn’t have the time to get all the way to the back of the ranch.”
“Can’t hurt. Jeff, buddy, I am just about all talked out now. I need a drink.” He put his hand on top of mine as it rested on his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem, bud. Let’s go get drunk.”
We entered One Eyed Jack’s and saw a large table off in the bar area filled with somber people. José and Josh were both there as well as Sandy and Maria. There was a bottle of Knob Creek on the table, and a couple of pitchers of beer. Mike and I sat down, and he introduced himself to Maria. She smiled a sad smile at him, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, red from crying.
“Pedro told me about you. You guys got into a fight after he put salt in your coffee.”
“Somethin’ like that. He was a good guy. I should have more of a sense of humor.”
“Yeah, he told me you said that to him and said you were sorry.”
“Yeah….”
“He told me you were one of the best hands with a rope he ever saw.”
“I am so sorry, Maria.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, now let’s have a drink.” Mike raised his glass and gave a toast. “To Pedro, may he rest easy and know that we will never forget him.”
We all repeated, “To Pedro.”
“Where’s Wayne?” I asked.
“He said he had some stuff to do,” Josh answered. “I think he’s got a girl in Pateros or Wenatchee. He’s not been around a lot lately.”
“Why the secrecy then?” Sandy asked.
“Hell if I know, maybe she’s married or something.”
I pondered Josh’s reply. Wayne had been around since I could remember. I really hoped that he did have someone in his life, and I hoped she wasn’t married or otherwise attached.
“So Jeff, where’s your partner?” Sandy looked at me quizzically. “I know he wasn’t acquainted with Pedro, but you’d think he’d be here out of respect and to support you.”
José and Maria had been talking, and with Sandy’s question they turned to look at me. Both Josh and Mike were staring at me also.
“Uh… he’s still sore from fallin’ off that horse. Plus he had some proposal for work to get done. He’s stuck on his laptop.” My excuses for him sounded lame, even to myself. Mike said something under his breath, which sounded suspiciously like “Asshole,” and Josh, sitting next to him, nodded. Mike slammed another shot. I thought it was his third.
“Jeff, I’ve known you since we were kids. He’s not for you. Look at the way he treats your friends.” Sandy definitely had some thoughts on the subject.
Before I could answer back, José added, “Yeah, he treats us like shit, like we’re less than him.”
Maria joined in saying, “Pedro didn’t like him. He told me your friend treated him bad too. Pedro said you were his friend, but he didn’t like him.”
“I understand where you all are comin’ from, and I appreciate the advice from friends. Maybe I could ask you to cut him some slack. He doesn’t understand us, the things we do, how we act around each other, or how we joke around. I talked to him about tryin’ to see the other side and laugh at himself a bit. I talked to him, now I’m talkin’ to all of you.” I looked around and then continued to speak.
“We’re here to remember Pedro, not talk about Robert. So to Pedro,” I said as I raised a glass of whiskey. Everyone answered and had a shot. I decided I was done for the evening. I saw Mike take another shot and noticed he had finished his first glass of beer. He was on his way to getting sloshed.
“I’m done drinking for the night. So Maria, did Pedro have any brothers or sisters? I know his folks are gone.”
“No, Jeff, he was an only child.” She started to get tears in her eyes and added, “I remember when I first met him. He was in the hospital for a compound fracture in his arm. They kept him overnight, and I was his nurse. He was so shy, but then he came back to the hospital. He said it was so I could sign his cast, but he asked me out.”
“That’s sweet,” Sandy added.
“Maria has a few days off and is staying here with Sandy,” José commented, and Sandy nodded. “We’re gonna make some posole tomorrow in the bunkhouse kitchen. Wanna join us, boss?”
“Hell yes! You know good Mexican food is my favorite.”
“Posole was Pedro’s favorite too.” Maria sobbed.
We began to tell stories about Pedro, his life and escapades. The evening went on and as it did, Mike got pretty drunk. Knowing Robert was home and feeling a bit guilty about leaving him for so long, I volunteered to take Mike home. He was unsteady on his feet, so I put my arm around his back to support him. He threw an arm over my shoulders and leaned against me as we walked. As we got to the door of One Eyed Jack’s, he began to sing. I was surprised on two accounts: first, he had a nice voice, a rich tenor. Second, the song he was singing was a pretty raunchy cowboy song called “The Old Jism Trail” sung to the tune of “The Old Chisholm Trail.”
Ass in the saddle
And hand on the horn
I’m the best fuckin’ cowboy
Ever was born.
Whopee tie yai yippie
Tie yai yay
Whopee tie yai yippie ai ay!
I’m sick of pullin’ my peter
On the old jism trail
So I’m goin’ to Kansas City
To get a piece of tail.
Whopee tie yai yippie
Tie yai yay
Whopee tie yai yippie ai ay!
I joined in on the chorus, my deeper voice joining Mike’s.
“We sing pretty good together don’t we, Jeff?”
“You bet. Now let’s get you home.” We’d arrived at my truck, and I helped Mike in. He was pretty far gone, and I had to fasten his seatbelt for him.
“Jeff?” He was starting to slur his words. “Sandy’s right! Why are you with that son of a bitch anyway? You could do better. You’re good lookin’ from what I seen the other day; you got a great body and are hung like a horse. And you’re really smart and a nice guy. So what’s up with him?”
“Let’s not talk about my difficulties okay? And by the way, thanks for the compliments, Mike; you’re gonna make me blush.”
“Ssss true.” Mike slid down and either passed out or fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. He started snoring softly as we drove toward the ranch. When we got there, Wayne’s trailer was dark and so was the bunkhouse as the guys were all in Winslett.
I was gonna carry Mike in there and start the wood stove so he’d be warm, but figured what the hell, and carried him to the ranch house. I took him to a guest bedroom on the first floor. I pulled back the covers and lay him on the bed. He was out, so I pulled off his boots and socks. I reckoned I’d better make him comfortable. I unbuttoned and took off his shirt, and then unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off. I folded his clothes and put them on a chair near the door to the bedroom. He lay there, his red long handles unbuttoned to below his chest, showing a forest of red gold fur. I could see his cock down his left leg, and it was half hard. It was pretty impressive in size too. I sighed, and pulled up the covers so he wouldn’t get cold. Then just because it seemed the thing to do, I ki
ssed him on the cheek. I walked softly out of the room and closed the door, then headed upstairs.
I walked into the spare room where Robert was staying. “Hey, Robert, did you finish your proposal?”
“Yeah, I did. I think it will go down really well.”
“Great, and how are you feelin’? Still sore?”
“I’m much better thank you, Jeffrey. So are you just about ready to pack up here and come back to the city with me?”
“Robert, I’ve got stuff to do here. I can’t just leave the ranch with no direction.”
“What is more important to you? The ranch or me?”
“I don’t want to get into this now. That’s really not a fair question. I have some responsibilities here. You knew when we started going out, I’m a cowboy. Hell, we even met at a rodeo; you seemed okay with me then and liked havin’ me park my boots under your bed. Now let’s shelve this discussion.”
He looked at me with a guarded expression. “Well, I was hoping you would change and I could civilize you. But anyway, we will talk about this later. So what took so long?”
“We stopped at Winslett and had a couple of drinks in Pedro’s honor. Mike got a bit toasty, and I brought him home.”
Robert’s face darkened. “That blond guy with the red beard? I see the way he looks at you. Are you having an affair with him?”
“Hell no!” I was starting to get angry. “Just what in the hell crawled up your ass and died? The last few months you’ve been nagging me constantly. Lately you’ve been really condescending and just plain mean.”
“I am getting sick and tired of having to correct your grammar, and tired of encouraging you to take advantage of your education. One would think you want to be a stupid hayseed for the rest of your life and hang around with trash like what I’ve seen here rather than with civilized people.”
“Get the fuck off’n your high horse! This is where I come from. These are my people. Maybe we can be a bit rough around the edges, but we are sure as hell a lot more genuine than your plastic, so-called friends in San Francisco. Stop tryin’ to change me!” I shouted out the last phrase, furious now.
“Jeffrey, let’s not argue. I just hope you see I am trying to change you for your own benefit.”
“I don’t understand, Robert. When we first met, you told me the way I talk was ‘cute’. You also liked goin’ to watch me in the rodeo. Now it seems like you’ve done a complete about-face. What happened?”
“Your roughness was nice at first, a turn-on. But it grates on one’s nerves quickly.”
“In other words, you had a cowboy fantasy and found out it just ain’t the same in real life. I am goin’ in the other room, and I am gonna get some sleep. I don’t want to deal with you anymore tonight. I’m me, Robert. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna change because you have a different fantasy than the one that started us off. Now good night!” I stomped out and went back to my room. I undressed quickly and got under the covers. Sleep didn’t come very quickly though. My thoughts kept going in a circle. I would remember undressing Mike, seeing him in just his long handles and putting him to bed. Then I would think about the long johns I had on, and how Robert used to think they were hot. Then I thought of Mike, and us singing on the streets of Winslett. Then about Robert and one evening when we went out to the Rawhide II, danced all night, and made love in the back of my truck in front of his condo. The way he used to laugh at what he called my “ranch accent.” My thoughts continued circling, and I finally fell into a restless sleep.
DAWN seemed to come pretty early. Light was streaming through the skylight into my room. I knew I wasn’t gonna get back to sleep, so I pulled on my clothes. I headed downstairs to the kitchen to make some coffee. When I got there, Mike was already up. Coffee was boiling away in the old battered blue and white enamel pot I liked so much. His shirt was open, showing off his partially buttoned long handles and furry chest. He had big circles under his eyes and that sallow, pasty, kind of green look that says hangover.
“Mornin’, bud, how’d ya sleep?”
“Like a rock. Don’t seem to have gotten too much rest though, and my head feels like it’s about to explode.”
“Yeah, well, buddy, you were poundin’ the whiskey pretty hard.”
“It was a tough day for me yesterday. I was just gettin’ to be friends with Pedro. Then I was at his funeral. Sheriff reckons I did it. Tellin’ you all about my hell of a time growin’ up wasn’t easy. I needed the whiskey.”
“I bet you needed someone to talk to also. I hope my listenin’ helped.”
“You know, it did, thanks.”
He looked at me searchingly, and then his eyes drifted down my chest. I had my shirt on, but it was unbuttoned and my long johns were tight enough to show the cut in my chest. The top couple of buttons on my underwear were unbuttoned, but nowhere near as far as his. He looked up at me and turned a bit red. He gave a half smile and turned to the coffee pot, which he took off the heat.
“Coffee’s on.”
“Thanks. If you’ll let me get some coffee, I’ll rustle up some breakfast for us.”
“You don’t have to. I can get some cereal in the bunkhouse.”
“Mike, I don’t cook all that bad. You’re gonna make me feel real inhospitable if you don’t let me fix us something.”
“Well… if that’s the case, I can’t have you feelin’ bad can I?”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt this cozy little hee haw moment.” Robert was standing in the kitchen door.
“Nothin’ to interrupt, Robert. You remember Mike.” Robert moved forward and held his hand out to Mike who grasped it. I could tell Robert was trying to crush Mike’s hand, and not getting anywhere. In fact he looked like he was hurtin’ a lot more than Mike.”
“We’ve already met if you remember,” Robert said sourly.
“Coffee, Robert?” I asked as the handshake contest finished. Robert was trying to rub his hand. He definitely did come out on the worse end.
“Sure, you know how I love cowboy coffee.” I did a double take, but poured him a cup along with one for Mike, then myself.
“Ya like cowboy coffee do ya, Robert? I’m glad to hear it. Seems a lot of guys from the city can’t drink good, honest, strong coffee. They need their Starbucks.” Mike was smiling at Robert, who was adding spoon after spoon of sugar and half the carton of cream to his coffee.
“Yes. It’s one of the things Jeffrey has introduced me to.” My mouth was hanging open with surprise. Maybe Robert had thought about what I said last night.
“That’s just spiffy,” Mike continued. “So maybe we can go ridin’ later this afternoon. To be honest with ya, Robert, I ain’t got a whole hell of a lot of friends here, and Jeff’s one. I sure could be friends with a guy like you too. A guy who rides real well, likes cowboy coffee, hell I wonder just what other fascinatin’ things there are to get to know about ya.” Robert hemmed and hawed on this; I knew the last thing he wanted to get near right now was a horse. He knew Mike was making fun of him, but he wasn’t really sure how. He did come up with a snide comment pretty quick though. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I was gettin’ on his nerves so bad.
“So Mike, I have a question for you. Do all cowboys like to run around half-dressed or in their underwear, or is it just Jeffrey?”
At this, Mike slouched back in his chair. His legs were spread wide apart, long, lean and gangly. He put his hands behind his head as he leaned back, causing his half unbuttoned shirt to fall open and expose his chest and long johns.
“I think it’s not so much cowboys as men, Robert. Whaddya think, Jeff?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Most men just ain’t too modest.” Robert who was dressed in chinos, deck shoes, and an oxford shirt got the implied criticism. It looked like world war three was gonna start any minute. He glared at Mike who stared back insolently.
“Chicken fried steak, eggs, and potatoes okay for breakfast?” I asked, trying to get rid of some of the te
nsion. Robert was getting all huffy and prissy, and the testosterone rolling off Mike was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Sounds great to me, Jeff. You like cowboy food, Robert?”
“I love it. Jeffrey is a very competent cook.”
“That’s fantastic then! If it’s okay with you, Jeff, I’ll make some real cowboy food for us. I make a mean son of a bitch stew.”
“Um…,” I began, but before I could warn Robert away he answered.
“That sounds lovely, Michael.”
“Mike,” was the laconic answer.
By this time, I had the potatoes in the skillet. I didn’t even bother to peel them. I started breading the steaks, and heated some grease for frying them and the eggs. Robert and Mike continued to try to insult each other without really seeming to. Breakfast continued in this vein, interrupted by both of them praising the meal repeatedly. I was shocked as hell when Robert offered to clean up and waived off Mike when he asked to help.
“Well, I am gonna head off to the bunkhouse then. Maria and Sandy are supposed to come over, and José, Josh and me are makin’ a big pot of posole for dinner. You guys are comin’ aren’t ya?”
“I certainly wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Robert replied.
“Great, maybe I’ll make the son of a bitch stew tonight, too, then since you’ll be our special guest.”
“I can’t wait to try it.”
“See ya later then.” Mike grabbed his boots, put them on, and headed out the door.
“Jeffrey, just what do you see in that cretin? I feel like I was doing anthropological research.”
“He’s a friend, Robert, nothing more.”
“I see the way the two of you look at each other. He may be a friend now, but it’s very obvious that you both want to fuck each other.”
“Enough of the jealousy. Robert, I’m just trying to figure out what’s happened with us. We used to have fun times. We used to enjoy hangin’ together. But now it seems that you look down on me and everything about me.”