Two Sides of the Same Coin

by Jake Mactire

  “Cocky bastard,” Mike said.

  “Just remember, buddy, your cocky bastard.” We grinned at each other.

  “Okay you two, syrup’s gonna start flowin’ in here it’s gettin’ so sappy. Are you ready to order yet?” Sandy had the chile relleno plate, I had the fish taco special, and Mike had the enchiladas. We got an order of nachos to have with our beer too.

  “I want to plan out the entire week, food menus, what to do, and all that stuff. Or do you already have that done too?” I asked.

  Sandy smiled back at me. “I thought it would be better for the three of us to do that. I told Dad I was stayin’ at the ranch tonight, so we can put the plan together.” For a second, I really pitied whoever Sandy would marry. She was beautiful, smart, sweet, and fun to do things with, and utterly controlling.

  “Good thing your dad knows we’re gay. Else he’d be after me with a shotgun.”

  “Jeff, Dad’s known you were gay from the time you were just a little guy. Why do you think when you and I would do things we never had a curfew? Why do you think he let me spend so much time with you?”

  “That’s really great, Sandy, Jeff. My old man tried to keep my brother and sister away from me and drive away any friends. He was always afraid that I’d corrupt someone or they’d corrupt me even more.” Mike had a slightly bitter edge to his voice. Sandy put her hand across the table and took one of his. I put my hand on his leg just above the knee. Sandy was the first to speak.

  “Mike, I know that stuff is really hard to forget. Remember though, what goes around comes around. I know bein’ abused like that really hurt you, but you came through it more or less okay. You didn’t become a serial killer or convict, even gettin’ kicked out at sixteen, you made a life for yourself. You didn’t get into drugs or alcohol, you didn’t prostitute yourself. You came through it okay. I’m really proud to have you as a friend.” I put my hand on top of Sandy’s.

  “I’m proud to be with you, too, buddy. You’re really an incredible guy. You know how earlier you said you were thankful every minute of every day I’m your cocky bastard?” He nodded. There was a sheen to his eyes. I knew what we were saying was really affecting him deeply.

  “I’m thankful, too, every minute of every day that I’m your cocky bastard.” I tried to put some humor into the situation. “Besides buddy, bein’ the cocky bastard I am, I know I got a hell of a lot to offer. And you must be awful special to get me.” Both Mike and Sandy laughed at that one. I added, “We’re like the three musketeers. We’re all lucky to have each other. Okay, now enough of the sappy stuff. Let’s dig into the nachos.” I leaned over and whispered in Mike’s ear, “I love you, buddy, and don’t forget it.”

  Sandy raised her mug and said, “To friends.” We returned the toast and echoed her. Our food came, and we continued discussing what we would do for our guests at Thanksgiving.

  “How about we teach some cowboyin’ stuff? I know we’re gonna teach ’em to ride horses, but what about ropin’?”

  “That’s a good idea, Mike! Jeff, do you remember when we were teenagers that old Mexican buckaroo taught us to make horsehair hat bands, belts, and stuff like that? Do you still do that?”

  “Once in a great while. Just hat bands, though.”

  Mike looked at us. “I work with horsehair quite a bit. I don’t wanna sound all cocky like Jeffy, but I’m pretty good.”

  “We could teach the dudes comin’ to the ranch that too. It’s a real cowboy craft.”

  “That’s an idea. All three of us are good cooks; we could also teach them some real cowboy dishes.”

  “Jeff, I think you have to be raised with the idea of son of a bitch stew to like it.”

  “I like Mike’s son of a bitch stew.” Sandy smirked at that, and Mike turned a bit red. “But that’s not what I meant. I was thinkin’ stuff like sourdough biscuits, dried apple pie, beef in red chile, chicken fried steak, that kinda stuff.”

  Sandy looked at me a little flabbergasted.

  “Everybody knows how to make that stuff, don’t they?” She asked.

  “You’d be surprised. I never saw any of that in the city except chicken fried steak for breakfast,” I answered.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, it’s a whole different world there. That’s why folks would pay that much to see how we live and do our kinda work.”

  “Hey, Jeff, Sandy? What do ya think of this, we could move some cattle into the high pasture and take the guests on a mini cattle drive down to the ranch? We could go slow and the long way and make it a two day thing.”

  “I think that’s a great idea for summer. But I don’t know that the dudes are gonna want to be campin’ in weather below freezin’ at night.”

  “Makes sense, it would be good for summer.”

  “Maybe durin’ the summer, Jeff, you could lead pack trips into North Cascades National Park. You been goin’ there since you was just a little guy.”

  “I could. It’d be pretty easy to get permits.” We continued eating and talking, coming up with all sorts of ideas like gay week, singles week, senior’s week, just about everything under the sun. As much as I hated to admit it, it sounded like we had some pretty good plans. Finally we finished up, and Mike insisted on paying the bill. We headed out to Sandy’s truck. It was one of those mini pickups. Fine for two folks, but three was a squeeze. Good thing though, I didn’t mind squeezing together with Mike. I wasn’t complaining. I had it real bad. We got back to the ranch and headed into the house. I noticed that the TV in Wayne’s trailer was on. I could see the flashes of light through the window. I thought about walking over and saying hello, but decided it could wait until tomorrow. Sandy, Mike, and I settled in the living room. I got us each a beer. Sandy had a notebook in her purse, and we began planning out meals. We decided right quick that stuff like fried fish was great, but it was a pain to cook for a group. We decided on simple stick to your ribs chow like meatloaf, pot roast, sourdough biscuits, beans, and potatoes. We decided at least once to have a barbecue and/or steak fry. For breakfast we spent a bit of time discussing what would be good to have. I was all for bacon and eggs and biscuits and gravy, and stuff I like to have. Sandy reckoned that was good a couple of times, but thought we should have cereal, coffee cakes, fruit, stuff like that in case some of the guests didn’t want the heavy cowboy type breakfast. I was about to jump in and object but she saw me coming.

  “Jeff, not everyone likes big breakfasts. These folks don’t go out and do a hard day’s work like you guys do. You need the calories and energy, they don’t.”

  “Yeah, but they might like it. They’re on vacation.”

  “When you were in San Francisco with Robert, how often did he eat a big breakfast with you?”

  “Only on weekends or holidays.”

  “See? That’s what I mean.”

  “I don’t see why ya can’t have both. Have cereal, coffee cake, fruit, toast already set out. Then make bacon and eggs, flapjacks, whatever to order.”

  “Buddy, you are a genius!” Both Sandy and I beamed at Mike.

  We’d just started talking about lunch when I heard the door open and heard a voice call, “Hello, you still up, Jeff, Mike?” It was Wayne.

  “Howdy, Wayne. We sure are, c’mon in.” He walked into the living room and seemed surprised to see Sandy.

  “You want a beer, Wayne?”

  “Ain’t gonna say no to a cold beer.”

  I went into the kitchen and got him one. “How are you doin’, Wayne?”

  He looked at me, took a swig of beer, and replied, “I’m feelin’ better. Just thought I’d stop in and say hello. It was nice of ya to stop by the other night, Jeff.”

  “No problem at all, Wayne.” I came back out to the discussion of lunch for dudes.

  “I think just sandwiches and soup would be good most days. Say we have a steak fry one day, we could have steak sandwiches the next.” Mike nodded and added his two cents’ worth.

  “We could always have somethin’ like c
hili too. Then we wouldn’t need no sandwiches. Just have cornbread and coleslaw or potato salad with it.”

  “You guys are really plannin’ on goin’ through with the dude ranch huh?”

  “We all reckon it’s a pretty good idea, Wayne. Hell, Sandy was thinkin’ of havin’ a singles week. You ever get tired of that little honey you got in Wenatchee, you might find yourself a rich lady, like Trace Adkins sings about in ‘Marry for Money’.” Wayne looked at me for a second and then smiled.

  “Ask me no secrets, I’ll tell ya no lies, son.”

  “Hell, Wayne, your business is your business. Like you said to me once, I just wanna see you happy.”

  “Thanks, Jeff.”

  We continued on with lunch, deciding on what types of things to have. Mike then asked about Thanksgiving.

  “So you reckon we ought to have lunch for Thanksgiving, or just have snacks and cut ’em off about one or so, and then eat at around four?”

  “I like the idea of no lunch and snacks only, Mike; we’ll all sure appreciate Thanksgiving dinner more. What were you thinkin’ of makin’ for Thanksgiving dinner, Jeff?” I thought Sandy was asking a funny question.

  “Duh… turkey.” Sandy threw a pillow from the armchair behind her at me.

  “I know you’re gonna have turkey, but how are ya gonna cook it? Roast it, barbeque it, fry it, do a couple different types or what?”

  “Maybe one roasted one barbecued. You guys figure two will be enough?”

  “For eleven adults and two kids, that’s more than enough unless you get real small ones.” I trusted Sandy’s judgment.

  Wayne asked, “What’s that?” He was pointin’ at the printouts Mike and I had made for our huntin’ trip.

  “That’s just some printouts from the Internet on the forest service roads. We used ’em for our huntin’ trip.”

  “Thank God you guys got outta that okay.”

  Mike added, “We were pretty lucky, havin’ a good idea of where we were sure helped. We were pretty exhausted the second half of the second day and the third day. It woulda been easy to take the wrong road.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Mike. You guys are pretty sharp. I hear you were out in the woods with the sheriff today. Did you get your truck all towed, Jeff?”

  “Yeah, we did. Sure is bad luck havin’ the truck all busted up.”

  “I’d say you were lucky you guys were out huntin’ and not in your truck when whoever did that shit to it came by.”

  “You can say that again, Wayne.” Mike was still a bit spooked.

  “You kids reckon that the rustlers are usin’ the national forest?”

  “Seems likely, the forest service and old loggin’ roads all interconnect, and since there’ve been rustlings all around the forest, it stands to reason that it’s the center of activity.” Wayne looked at me and then screwed his face up in concentration.

  “Sounds reasonable. There ain’t too many folks in there this time of year, just hunters. You boys still plannin’ on lookin’ around in there?”

  “Probably not, Wayne,” Mike answered this time.

  “If we do go huntin’ again or horseback ridin’ or whatever there and find somethin’, we’re goin’ right to the sheriff.” Wayne looked at me again.

  “None of my business, but don’t you think you boys better keep outta there? Until they catch the rustlers and whoever trashed your truck, you could be in danger.” For Wayne that was a pretty long speech. I’d rarely heard him say that much unless it concerned givin’ orders to the cowboys.

  “You think they’re two groups, Wayne?” I asked this time.

  “Can’t see how they’d be connected. That biker that knocked the fence down sure wasn’t bright enough to herd beeves. I’d reckon he’s just usin’ the forest service roads to avoid the sheriff.”

  “You could be right.”

  “You sound disappointed, Jeff.”

  “Reckon I am.” He looked at me.

  “I understand how you want this all to be done and over with. Hell, bein’ shot at makes me hope you’re right, but I figure they’re separate.”

  “That makes two things we have to worry about then, the rustlers and Porky.” Mike didn’t sound happy.

  Sandy was frownin’.

  “Jeff, Mike, I bet you done seen the last of that biker,” Wayne said. “What, Jeff, with you whompin’ his ass twice and him messin’ up when he tried to get back at you here and then trashin’ your truck, I bet he’s long gone. Rustlers were probably gone even before.”

  “This time I do hope you’re right, Wayne. It’d be nice to be able to get out in the woods and not worry about crazies, and bullets, and stuff.”

  “I understand. What do you boys got planned for tomorrow?”

  “We were plannin’ on takin’ Mike’s truck into Wenatchee. I need to talk to the lawyer about Dad’s estate.”

  “Will you boys be around in the mornin’? I needed you to get some stuff from the feed store, then I wanted to talk to ya about horses and tack for the dudes.”

  “Sure thing, Wayne, we’ll make time.”

  “Good, I gotta do some errands in the mornin’, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t wanna mess up you boys’ day too much.”

  “No worries, Wayne. We’ll take care of whatever you need. Right, Mike?”

  “Right.”

  “Good.” He chugged the rest of his beer and stood up. “Good night, boys.” He tipped his hat to Sandy. “Good night, young lady.”

  “Night, Wayne, I’m glad you’re up and doin’ again.”

  “Thanks, Jeff.” He headed out.

  “Do you know when you’ll get your truck back, Jeff? I don’t mind drivin’ you around or loanin’ you my truck if you need it.”

  “That’s real sweet of you, Sandy. Right now I have no idea. They probably haven’t looked at it yet. I’ll let you know if I need a ride or somethin’ and Mike’s just too busy.” I hid a smile on that one and so did Sandy.

  “Jeffy, I hope I’m never too busy for you.”

  “I hope ya ain’t either, bud.”

  “Will you two quit it with the mutual admiration society?”

  “I thought you wanted us to be together?”

  “Before Jeffy got back here from California, why were you always tellin’ me how perfect he was and how this and how that?”

  Sandy got a bit red on that one. “I’m very happy for you two. You know I’m just joshin’ when I give you a hard time. If I didn’t, you guys would wonder if I still loved you two.”

  “She’s got a point there, buddy. A nice, sweet Sandy? I’d think she was inhabited by some alien who didn’t have a clue about the real Sandy we know and love.”

  “You’re spot on, Jeff. I’d think it was her nice twin sister if she was decent to us, not the evil twin we hang with.”

  “Okay guys! You’ve made your point.” We all started laughing. We began planning the meals and got down a good menu. I then had a thought.

  “Does anyone know if anyone has any food restrictions? Or if there’s stuff the kids don’t like?”

  “Hell, Jeff, all you’d have to do is say you liked something and the kids would eat it up.”

  “I reckon so, Mike, but I want ’em to like what we have.” We finally had the plans complete and called it a night. It had been a long day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE smell of coffee woke me up. I could tell by the light in the skylight it was well past dawn. I was lying on my side with my arms around Mike. He felt me move a bit and backed up into me. I knew what he wanted and my body responded immediately. I nuzzled the back of his neck and rubbed the fur on his chest.

  “You’re gonna have to take a rain check.”

  He ground into me all the harder. “Why’s that?”

  “Wake up and smell the coffee, buddy. Sandy’s downstairs and from the smell of things she’s makin’ breakfast.”

  “What about a quickie?”

  I laughed at that one. “I wanna tak
e my time and fuck you right. Don’t ya think I’m worth waitin’ for?”

  “Well, since you put it that way.” We got up and got dressed and headed down the stairs. Sandy had not only made coffee, but she’d fixed a breakfast we called campers. She’d taken hash browns, onions, peppers, bacon, cheese, and eggs, and mixed it all up.

  “Sandy, some guy is gonna be lucky as hell to hitch up with you.”

  “That smells wonderful, Sandy! Thanks!” Mike added.

  “I’m just practicin’ for the dudes.”

  “Hell, Sandy, you keep cookin’ like this, and they’ll come just for the food.”

  She smiled at me. “Thanks, Jeff. So what are you guys doin’ today?”

  “Wayne’s got some stuff for us to do, then I’m gonna drive Jeff to Wenatchee to talk to the lawyer about his dad’s will. What about you?”

  “I gotta work four to midnight.”

  “It’s the easy part of the season for us. Not much to do until the heifers come into heat.”

  Mike perked up. “Jeff, Sandy, I had an idea about somethin’ for the dudes. Did you ever hear of the ‘testicle festival’ in Montana?”

  “Can’t say I have, you Sandy?”

  “Nope.”

  “It was on TV as one of the wackiest parties in the US. It’s outside Missoula, Montana. They put it on right after calf cuttin’ time. They have lots of people, lots of beer, and lots of mountain oysters.” Both Sandy and I started laughin.”

  “So you think dudes would come up here to eat mountain oysters?”

  “A hell of a lot of ’em go to Montana, and there’s another one in Missouri.”

  “I’ll have to think on that one.”

  “Well, guys, on that one, I am gonna head home. Let me know if you need a ride somewhere,” Sandy said.

  “Sure will, and thanks!”

  She headed out with a wave. I turned to Mike. “Testicle Festival, eh? You got one thing on your mind, buddy.”

  “No, Jeffy. Think about it. We all look forward to cuttin’ calves because of the mountain oysters. It’s a real cowboy thing.”

  “You’re right there, but I’m not sure if dudes would appreciate it. It’s kinda like your son of a bitch stew. Cowboys love it, but dudes gag. That’s why we have the sayin’ ‘He’s actin’ like a city boy in front of a plate of mountain oysters’. I’ll tell ya what, let’s ask Jonathan, Tom, Ann, and Renee. We can see what they think.”