Two Sides of the Same Coin

by Jake Mactire

  “I heard a few more shots in the distance after a few minutes. It was in the direction Wayne had gone, so I headed over there, tryin’ to keep rocks, trees, or anything between me and the direction the shots had come from. I came down into a little hollow that looked as if horses had been hobbled there. Lots of small steps and lots of horse shit. Then I looked and saw Wayne. He was in the middle of the hollow, lyin’ on his back and holdin’ his side. I ran over and saw he wasn’t hurt too bad, but bleedin’ some and in a lot of pain. I used my handkerchief and my bandana to stop the bleedin’ as much as I could and then helped get him back to his horse. I left him for a few minutes. I got my horse and we came back. By the time we got back here, Wayne was lookin’ pretty bad. I called the sheriff and search and rescue. They got here pretty quick, and about ten minutes later you got here.” He gulped the rest of his whiskey.

  “Shit, Jeff, that coulda been me! I coulda been shot out there. The bullet just missed my head by a bit.” He was shaking now and looked pretty freaked out.

  “You’re okay, buddy. You’re here, you’re safe, and Wayne is getting some good care.”

  He was still shivering a bit. I grabbed a throw blanket from off the back of the couch and tucked it around his shoulders. I could tell the whiskey was starting to hit him. His movements were becoming more exaggerated and slower.

  “Thanks, Jeff. You’re one hell of a guy. You know that?”

  “You ain’t so bad yourself, buddy. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “Thanks. You know, I reckon you’re about the first real friend I ever had.”

  I didn’t really know how to answer that, so I just smiled at him. He turned away and stared into the fire for a few minutes.

  “Jeff?” Mike turned to me. He was obviously drunk now.

  “What’s that, buddy?”

  “A year ago, if someone had told me I’d be sittin’ here after gettin’ shot at, drinkin’ with a gay guy who I’d told that I was gay and feelin’ okay about it, I woulda laughed at ’em. Or kicked the shit outta ’em.”

  “So what changed for you, buddy?” He leaned back—flopped back might be a better way of putting it.

  “I like it when ya call me buddy, Jeff. It makes me feel kinda special. It reminds me we’re friends.” He drew a long breath and continued. “I guess just seein’ you. You’re gay and all, but you’re a real man. You act like a guy. You don’t take no shit, but you can still be real nice. I heard Sandy teasin’ you in a good way about bein’ gay, and you just laughed with her. That’s so cool, Jeff. I wish I was as okay with me as you are with you.”

  “You will be, buddy.”

  Mike smiled at me when I said “buddy.” He grinned at me. His eyes were unfocused from the whiskey.

  “After all what you went through as a kid, I’m surprised you’re not really fucked up. You’re gonna realize that you’re a real guy, too, and a gay guy. The two don’t cancel each other out. And you’ll realize, too, that sex is a lot more than just stickin’ your dick through a hole in a bathroom stall for a blowjob.”

  “You know, Jeff, I ain’t never done anything else than that with another guy.”

  “Really? You never kissed a guy or fooled around other than letting some anonymous guy suck you off?”

  “Nope. I’m a real loser ain’t I?”

  “No, you’re not. When you meet the right guy, things’ll just happen for you. Don’t worry about it. Comin’ out is something we each do individually. It’s easy for some people, some people go through hell, and some never can face themselves.”

  “I’m glad you’re my friend.” He leaned against me. By now he was slurring his words heavily. He lay his head against my shoulder and chuckled. “Ssss hot.”

  “Blanket too warm on ya now?”

  “No, sss hot wearin’ your underwear.” With that he took a few deep breaths and began snoring softly.

  For the second time in a week, I carried Mike to the spare bedroom and undressed him. My long handles fit him like a second skin, and again he was half hard in them. I pulled up the covers so he wouldn’t get cold. I ran my hand gently along his jawline, stroking his beard. He really was a stunningly handsome man. Just like a few days ago, because it seemed the thing to do, I kissed his cheek. I turned off the light, closed the door, and headed upstairs to my bedroom. As I shucked off my clothes before crawling in bed, the old song, “I Don’t Like to Sleep Alone” came into my mind. As I jumped into bed and pulled up the covers, I wondered where in the hell that came from. But then this annoying little voice in the back of my head said maybe Sandy had a point in our talk earlier.

  I COULD hear birds out my window. When I opened my eyes, the morning was starting in that soft gloaming we have here in the north. The house was quiet, so I figured Mike wasn’t up yet. It was hard to believe it was only Tuesday with all that had happened this week. I felt tired and thought about just rollin’ over and goin’ back to sleep, but I thought I’d better get some coffee on in case Mike got up. I hadn’t slept too well. I’d had a couple of dreams about Mike, some of ’em weren’t exactly G rated. Others ended up with him lyin’ on the ground in a puddle of blood with his head exploded from a bullet. I threw back the covers and thought I’d better get a pair of sweats. All the talk about me always walkin’ around in my underwear is partly true. I don’t like to wear clothes in the house, just my long johns in the winter and boxers in the summer. But this morning I had this massive hard-on crawling down the leg of my long handles, and I thought the sweats might be a good idea, especially when I was having breakfast with Mike.

  Why in the hell was I thinking of him so much? He was real easy on the eyes, buffed from hard work, sports, and working out. I didn’t think that was it, or not it totally. There was kind of a hurt defensiveness about him, like a puppy that growls when it sees you just because it’s scared. From the bit I’d talked to him, I was sure there was a lot more in that cute head of his than fluff. Maybe it was rebound from Robert; it hurt to realize we weren’t right for each other, and there was sadness and a sense of loss, but I knew it was for the best. That relationship really hadn’t been satisfying for a while. Since Mike was here, lonely, and hot, maybe I was just trying to recreate something I thought I’d lost. I shook my head and got dressed. I headed downstairs. I put some water on to boil for coffee and thought about breakfast. Biscuits and gravy sounded good, so I turned on the oven and began to make the biscuits. I got them in the oven and continued with making breakfast. All of a sudden, there was a shadow in the doorway. There stood Mike. He was wearin’ my sweats and socks; he’d rolled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt. I could see the sleeves of my long johns reaching down to where he’d pushed them a few inches past his wrists. He was close enough for me to make out the golden hair on his forearms. He had a big smile on his face.

  “Mornin’ to ya, Jeff. Ya sleep well?”

  “Fair to middlin’. How about you?”

  “Like a log. I wanted to thank you for bein’ there for me last night. I didn’t know how bad I needed to talk to someone about what had happened. I was scared shitless out there, and you’re about the only person I feel comfortable tellin’ I was scared.” He had gotten a serious look when he said that.

  “Hey, buddy.” He smiled again and I remembered how he liked it when I called him buddy. “That’s what friends do for each other. Now coffee’s just about ready, and I made some biscuits and gravy for us. Want a couple of eggs too?”

  “If I’m not bein’ too much trouble.”

  “None at all.” I pulled the biscuits out of the oven and placed them on a plate. I put the plate on the kitchen table, and got a jar of jam and one of honey out as well as some butter. I put a hot pad down on the table and put the skillet with the fresh sausage gravy on top of it. I put a spoon in it and grabbed a couple of plates, knives, and forks. Salt, pepper, Tabasco, and napkins were already on the table. The smell of fresh baked biscuits, sausage, and black pepper from the gravy wafted up. With the smell of the coffee joining
in, it reminded me just how hungry I was. The sun was trying to come out, and the kitchen had a nice bit of light. I keep the house kind of cool, but the kitchen was warm from the oven. If I had to describe the whole scene in one word, I’d call it cozy.

  “Ya know, Jeff, you’re gonna make some guy a great wife someday.” Mike had a huge grin on his face.

  “Actually, buddy, I’ll make a great husband. I always heard you cook for the ladies and you impress ’em. I can tell it’s true ’cause you’re impressed ain’t ya?”

  The first emotion to flash across his face was annoyance, but it faded pretty quickly into a sheepish grin.

  “Jeffy, you’ve already impressed the hell outta me. Joshin’ and cookin’ aside. You just seem the perfect guy.”

  “Hell, I ain’t perfect—I run around without my pants too much.” We both laughed at that and sat down at the table. I watched Mike take several biscuits and cover two of them with a good amount of gravy. I served myself while he put butter and honey on the other biscuit. We both reached for the Tabasco sauce at the same time and ended up kinda holding hands with the bottle in the center. We just looked at one another. It was a sweet, yet searching look. I let go of the bottle and his hand, and said, “Go ahead.”

  There was a bit of sexual tension in the air, and my dick was so hard it was uncomfortable. I was glad I had on the sweats and was sittin’ down. To break the tension I asked Mike, “So what do ya like to do when you ain’t cowboyin’?”

  “I really like sports, football and hockey especially, both watchin’ and playin’. I like camping, and the outdoors, and hiking is fun. I’d like to try deer huntin’, and like to fish, especially fly fishin’. What about you?”

  “Same stuff here. I also like river kayaking, snowshoein’, and cross country skiin’. There’s nothin wrong with just watchin’ a good movie with a buddy and havin’ a few beers. I also like to rodeo. I compete in the rough stock events and am pretty good at heelin’. I got some buckles in calf ropin’ too.”

  “I got some buckles too! I don’t know if you noticed, but I was wearin’ one the other night. So what type of music you listen to?”

  “Country. Sometimes I like Mexican music, too, especially norteña. It’s Mexican country. You know how to two-step Mike?”

  “Naw, never no one to learn it with. I wasn’t really interested enough in girls to try to learn.”

  “You don’t have to dance with a girl. In San Francisco and Seattle they got bars where they have country dance nights and guys dance with guys, girls with girls.”

  “You’re shittin’ me! You mean guys like your friend, Robert?”

  “Some, and some other guys like me or you. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “I reckon it might be.”

  “Hell, Mike, I’ll teach you. Sometime we can just move the couches back in the living room, roll back the rug, and dance. Then if you ever go to a gay rodeo, you’ll be able to dance with all the cute cowboys.”

  “You mentioned them before, Jeff. Tell me about ’em.”

  “They have ’em all over the country. Best ones are in Phoenix, Denver, and Texas, but they got some great ones in Florida and Las Vegas too. I been competin’ in ’em for about six years now.”

  “I guess I got a hell of a lot to learn about gays.”

  “You will eventually. We’re gonna have to throw a football around some time. I ain’t done that in a while and it’s a lot of fun. Maybe we can get Josh and José to go for a game of touch football. Straights against gays.” Mike got a worried look on his face.

  “I ain’t never told José or Josh about myself. They’re not gonna make fun of me are they?”

  “They’re definitely gonna make fun of you. They make fun of me. But that’s just it. It’s all in fun. Think of all the times you heard us jokin’ around. Nothin’ they ever said to or about me was as mean as the stuff outta Robert’s mouth when he was so upset. When they joke around, just laugh with ’em, or ask them out on a date. That’ll shut them up pretty quick.” Mike’s mouth hung open and he seemed speechless. “Years ago I had to kick the shit outta José, but we got over it. We’re good friends. He’s totally accepting of me. Once he even tried to fix me up with his cousin who’s gay too. Josh was a bit mean at first, but then I started goin’ overboard and really obviously flirtin’ with him. I told him we were gonna have to be friends, or if he wasn’t my friend, he’d have to go out with me. He looked like he was gonna shit cinder blocks three at a time sideways until he realized I was kidding him back. Apparently José and he had a talk, cause he’s been fine ever since.” Mike still didn’t look convinced, so he changed the subject.

  “I saw in the garage that you got a couple of river kayaks. Would you teach me how to kayak?”

  “Sure, I got an extra wetsuit, too, and an extra pair of polypro long johns—this time of year you need to keep warm when you get wet. And we will get wet.”

  “I don’t mind that. Can you do that roll over thing in the kayak?”

  “You mean an Eskimo roll? Sure. It’s real easy. Oh, by the way, I got two things I gotta ask you.”

  “You askin’ for a date?” He grinned at me. I wasn’t sure just how serious he was.

  “No, I’m not, at least not now.”

  “Keep in mind I just might say yes if ya do ask.” I figured out he was dead serious from the expression on his face.

  “I’ll be sure to remember that.” I got a big grin in return, but this time he had turned a bright red. “What I wanted to ask was two things. First of all, Saturday I invited a bunch of nice tourists I met in town up here for a barbecue. One’s just a little guy named Harrison, who wants to be a cowpoke really bad, so I figured we could get him on a horse.”

  “That ain’t no problem. You need help with the barbequein’ too?”

  “Yeah, I reckon I do, but Sandy will be here. On Sunday, Sheriff Johnston invited me over for dinner and asked me to bring you along, if you don’t got nothin’ else to do.”

  “You sure that ain’t a date?” He smiled at me again. I grinned back. I was enjoying having this guy around.

  “Nope, ’cause when I do ask ya for a date, I am gonna make sure it’s someplace I can kiss that pretty mouth of yours.”

  “Don’t reckon I’d say no to that either.”

  I stepped over to the stove to get a refill on the coffee. As I stood up, I realized the front of my sweats was all tented out. I figured that the best thing to do was just ignore it and hope he didn’t notice. Of course he did notice. He was staring directly at my crotch. I thought a change of subject was a good thing right about then.

  “More coffee there, buddy?” I walked over with the coffee pot.

  “Uh… sure.” He leaned back a bit so I could fill his cup, and I noticed he was sportin’ wood to match mine.

  “You up to visitin’ Wayne in the hospital today?”

  “Sure, Jeffy.”

  I grinned. “I like it when you call me Jeffy; that aside, we can go see him in a bit. Visitin’ hours start at ten, and it’ll take us a bit to get to Wenatchee. Also, I wanted to know what you thought about my makin’ José foreman while Wayne’s sick.”

  “Ya couldn’t make a better choice. He knows his stuff, and both Josh and me respect him. You lookin’ to hire any more new hands?”

  “Nope, not now.”

  “Okay. We can handle it. Why’d you invite the tourists over? Sandy told me she was gonna mention you should make this place into a dude ranch. You seein’ what they think?”

  “Ya know, I didn’t think too much of the idea when I heard it, but maybe she’s got somethin’ there. I sure have been thinkin’ about it a bunch.”

  “Ya got my support; whatever you do, I’ll back ya up.” Just then I heard a couple of sets of boots coming up the porch stairs. José and Josh were about to knock on the door. I walked through the mudroom and to the door just as they reached it.

  “Hey, boss! You put Mike up on the couch?” José smiled at me.

  “Yeah. He
was pretty shook up last night, and we had a couple of shots of whiskey. With all the excitement, his not havin’ eaten, and everything, it hit him hard.”

  “Hell Jeff, I don’t blame him a bit.” Josh smiled at me, too, but it didn’t hide a look of concern on his face.

  “C’mon in guys, have some coffee.”

  “Thanks,” they chorused in unison. Josh headed into the kitchen, but José held back.

  “Hey, boss, whatever you said to Mike worked like a charm. He is really a nice guy when you get to know him.”

  “Glad to hear it. Now have some coffee.” We walked into the kitchen. Josh was telling Mike how glad he was Mike wasn’t hurt. José chimed in on the same theme while I got a couple of coffee mugs.

  “Hey, José?”

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “You’re foreman while Wayne’s out. Mike and I are gonna go to Wenatchee this mornin’ to visit Wayne; I thought if you two want to go, you could go in the afternoon. So what work you got for all of us around that schedule?”

  “Thanks, Jeff. I think we’ll finish making sure the cattle chutes are in good repair and then the corral. That should keep us busy at least today and tomorrow.”

  “You got it, José.” We finished our coffee. Mike headed off to the bunkhouse, and I went up to my room and got dressed. We met in the yard back by my truck. Mike handed me the sweats I’d loaned him.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but I still got your long handles and socks on.”

  “Whatever turns ya on, buddy.” He just grinned at me. We headed down the valley and hit the main highway paralleling the Columbia River.

  “Jeff, what do you think about this whole rustlin’ mess.”

  “Hell if I know. I just hope we catch ’em pretty quick. They’re gettin’ pretty ballsy shootin’ at you and Wayne. Somethin’ just don’t seem right though.”

  “What do ya mean?”

  “Well, think about it. They know right where to go, and when they get there, the cattle are there. I can’t imagine they drive those roads with trucks all the time just on the off chance some of our cattle are there.”