Teaching the Cowboy

by J. P. Bowie

  Just like most guys he’d ever hung out with couldn’t come close to the cowboy he’d spent time with over the weekend. Jordan, in a way, was perfect for him. Even though they came from very different backgrounds, he’d felt the almost immediate connection the first time they’d met. He just wished he’d open up about what was troubling him so much. It was obvious that whatever it was he couldn’t seem to get it out of his mind for very long. Blake thought that perhaps when they were together, especially when they were making love, Jordan was free of what haunted him, but Blake was certain the darkness was never really far away. He’d noticed it after the phone call Jordan had received Saturday morning.

  This Grant character getting out of the institution he was being held in, for whatever reason Jordan had refused to discuss, was the problem Jordan wanted to deal with by himself. No butting in from Blake. In a way, he could understand it. This man had obviously been Jordan’s nemesis for some time and he felt it was his alone to deal with. All Blake could do really was to be supportive in any decision Jordan wanted to make. He could only hope that decision didn’t preclude seeing him again.

  * * * *

  “You okay, Jordan?” Tim glanced up as he was about to make his next shot. “Damn,” he muttered when the tip of his cue stick slipped over the top of the ball. “That’ll teach me to concentrate and not worry about your long face.”

  “Hmm?” Jordan had to admit he’d been a million miles away at that point. Somewhere between making out with Blake and listening to his brother telling him about Grant’s release. Man, he really needed to get his mind in order. Mixing thoughts of Blake and Grant was so not a recipe for bliss. The one, yes… The other, most definitely not. “Sorry?” He met Tim’s worried expression.

  “I asked if you were okay,” Tim said, huffily. “And you managed to make me miss my shot and from the looks of it, unless you are totally useless, you have won this game.”

  “Sorry, again.” He lined up the cue ball and sank the black.

  “Jeez.” Tim gave him a dirty look and hung up his stick. “I need a drink. How about you?”

  “Sure.” He walked over to the common room’s sitting area while Tim went to get the beers out of the fridge.

  “So what’s troubling you?” Tim asked, handing Jordan a can of Miller Lite.

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed by the world turning upside down.”

  Tim laughed. “What the hell?”

  “Okay, guess that’s a bit extreme.” Jordan stretched his long legs out in front of him and popped the can open.

  “Ya think?” Tim leaned forward in his chair and stared at Jordan. “What can it be that’s got you so moody the last couple of days? Family trouble…guy trouble? They say cowboys are born gossips, and yeah, there’s one or two I could name, but you can tell me. I’m as tight-lipped as they come.”

  “Thanks for your concern, but it’s just something I have to work out on my own. I appreciate it though, Tim. Sorry if I’ve been a bear.”

  “No, no problem, man. Forget I asked.”

  Shit. Jordan glanced at Tim’s somber expression. Now I’ve hurt his feelings, dammit. “Tim…something happened in my past that I really can’t talk about. Maybe when it’s all resolved I can tell you about it…but for the time being, I hope you understand that it’s mine to deal with.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is, and it doesn’t only involve me, so…”

  “I understand.” Tim leaned over and tapped his beer can against Jordan’s. “If you need any help, you know where to come.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Back in his room, Jordan decided to call Blake. He just needed to hear that sweet, husky voice before going to bed. “Hey, didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked when Blake answered with a sleepy, “Hi.”

  “Almost, but it’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  Blake chuckled. “I know that. Better than good, I’d say.”

  “Are you in bed…naked, maybe?”

  “Yes, naked as a jaybird, and listening to your voice, getting hard.”

  Jordan groaned. “And I’m not there to take care of you.”

  “Mmm…but when I close my eyes, I can see you gazing down at me with those blue, blue eyes of yours and you’re getting ready to lean in and kiss me. I can almost feel your lips on mine. Are you naked?”

  “Getting there,” Jordan said, tugging at his belt. “I’m hard too.” He shrugged out of his shirt, dropped his jeans to his ankles and lay back on the bed. “Wish you were here right now,” he panted, pumping his erection, imagining Blake’s mouth on it and his clever tongue swirling its way up and down the hard length.

  “Me too. Are you working your cock? “

  “Yes,” Jordan gasped.

  “Slick the pre-cum onto your fingers then lick it off, like I’m doing right now.”

  “Oh, God…” Jordan licked at his glistening fingers. “Not tasty like yours. Yours is sweeter.”

  “I love how yours tastes.” Blake’s voice, always husky, now held an unmistakeable seductive tone. “Love it when it pools on my tongue and I can savor it just before I swallow.”

  Oh my God… “Blake, is this such a good idea? Now I’m wanting you here, gazing up at me like you do with that sexy smile…and I can’t kiss you…”

  “When I close my eyes, I can feel your lips on mine, so soft and warm.” Blake’s sigh in Jordan’s ear sent tingles down his spine. “Close yours too, Jordan. Imagine me there with you, kissing you, teasing your tongue with mine…”

  “Blake, I…” Jordan shuddered as his oncoming orgasm gathered in his balls. “Blake, I’m so close…”

  “I know, I am too. Just a few more seconds.” His breathing was now ragged in Jordan’s ear. “Come with me, Jordan.”

  “I’m right there.” Jordan let out a strangled cry as his cum surged from him, coating his abs and chest with thick, hot cream. Blake choked out Jordan’s name then the sound of gasping moans filled the room, and Jordan would have given anything if he could have been holding Blake in his arms when he came.

  “Oh, wow, Jordan, that was… That was…”

  “Yes, it was.” Jordan chuckled and Blake joined in. “Can’t wait to see you again,” Jordan murmured.

  “Likewise. Now I have to clean up this mess and get some sleep. Sweet dreams, Jordan.”

  “They will be when I dream of you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jordan had kept in touch with Paul the entire week prior to Grant’s release. He hadn’t mentioned anything about perhaps needing some legal advice to Royce. He’d decided he’d only do that if Grant became more of a problem. It was unlikely while he was in the halfway house the doctors had talked to Paul about. Then came the worse news of all.

  “Jordan…” Paul sounded worried when he called a day or so later. “The son of a bitch got away from the orderlies that were preparing him for the trip to the facility they were going to house him in.”

  “What?” Jordan’s stomach clenched. “How the fuck could that happen?”

  “Apparently they left him alone in the waiting room while they gabbed with the driver of the vehicle that was taking him. When they came back to get him, he was gone, along with his suitcase of clothes…and, get this, the fucking car belonging to one of the orderlies. The idiot had left his keys in the ignition.”

  “Oh my God,” Jordan moaned. “And of course, they have no idea where he might be or where he’s headed. Shit. He wouldn’t go to Mom’s place, would he?” Panic gripped him at the thought. Grant had always told him his mother loved him like a son. She had for a while until he’d become a raving lunatic. She’d be terrified if he showed up at her door. “Paul…”

  “No chance. I’ll stay with her until he’s caught,” his brother told him. “They’re bound to catch him soon, Jordan. He has no money, and I think he’d know better than to approach anyone begging for a few bucks. He’s deranged, but he’s not stupid.”
>
  “I hope you’re right. Grant’s cunning, though. Did you ever tell him where I was?”

  “No, of course not. There’s no way he could find out. I mean, whoever’s heard of Denton?”

  Jordan managed a chuckle. “Hey, there’s a lot going on here.”

  “You still seeing that guy…Blaine, was it?”

  “Blake. Yes, still seeing him. Not enough obviously, with him in San Francisco and me here, but we hope to fix that at some point. Listen, Paul, I’ve got this Saturday off so I could come down and visit with you and Mom.”

  “She’d love that.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you Saturday morning. Should be there about ten, if I leave early. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

  “Sounds good, bro.” Paul sounded happy. “I’ll keep you up to date if I hear anything about you know who.”

  “Yeah.” Jordan could only hope the authorities caught him before too long. Grant on the loose was one problem he didn’t want to face. “Talk to you later, Paul.”

  After he’d hung up, the reality of Grant’s escape became more ominous. Paul was worried, yes, but even he couldn’t really understand just what it meant to Jordan. The yearlong nightmare of abuse, and worse still, only being semi-aware of just what was going on. Those times when people had looked at Jordan strangely, asking what was wrong, and he’d been unable to reply, to tell them that he had no recollection of what happened from day to day. It seemed as if his only clarity had come when he was astride a bronc, or perhaps for a short time before when Grant would lead him to the chute, help him onto the horse—it was then that he would come alive, raise his arm, nod to the judges and feel the power of the animal under him for those few vital seconds that would decide whether he won or lost.

  Shit… He was sweating. The memories of that bastard and those days of hell sweeping over and through him like a sickening force that threatened to overwhelm him. Would he ever be free of him? Would he ever breathe a lungful of fresh tasting air untainted by the bitter knowledge that somewhere out there, Grant was watching, waiting for his moment to destroy him? He had tried before when Jordan had told him he was leaving, that he’d had enough and it was over between them. He could still feel the horrendous pain when Grant’s motorcycle had hit him as he walked away. The grinding shock of the wheel running back and forth over his leg, the snap of the bone, the smell of scorched flesh under the tire.

  A witness had called the police and Grant had been arrested, but he’d cried and begged for forgiveness and Jordan hadn’t pressed charges. Grant had visited him every day while he was in the hospital, and for a time after Jordan had been released, it had seemed as if Grant was indeed full of remorse for what he’d done. He’d wept over the livid scars on Jordan’s leg, saying he was sorry over and over again until Jordan began to believe him. It was when Jordan had recovered sufficiently to compete again that Grant’s mood had shifted.

  ‘The man’s insanely jealous of your skill,’ Paul had told Jordan after spending a couple of days on the circuit with him. ‘He’s pissed because of the ban they placed on him after he abused his horse.’

  ‘Trixie.’

  ‘Right. The guy’s a monster, Jordan. You need to get the hell away from him.’

  Jed had told him the same thing and Jordan had known they were right. And Grant had known it too, and that was when he’d started drugging Jordan. There had been Valium in everything Jordan had eaten or drunk. He’d failed a drug test and lost his standing as a competitive rodeo rider. Later, when Jordan had realized what Grant had done, the confrontation had been violent, Grant threatening Jordan at gunpoint, telling him he was going to kill him and himself.

  Paul’s arrival at the house had saved Jordan’s life. Between them they’d managed to disarm Grant, and this time Jordan had listened to his brother and he’d had Grant arrested and charged with attempted murder. The long process after the judge had ordered that Grant undergo psychiatric evaluations had been a living hell for Jordan. He’d been sure Grant would fool the psychiatrists. He was just that devious, oozing charm on the outside while hiding the darkness that was the real Grant.

  Jordan remembered how one psychiatrist had stared at him with disbelief when he’d answered his question. ‘Tell me, Mr. Hendricks, how is it possible that a six-foot-two man in excellent physical condition, an ex-rodeo rider, could possibly be subdued and abused by a much smaller and older man?’

  ‘I didn’t want to hurt him even when he was treating me like I was lower than dirt.’

  ‘Why then did you not just leave him?’

  ‘I tried to. He ran me down with his motorbike, busted my leg so I couldn’t compete. The second time, he threatened to kill himself. He said he’d bought a gun and would kill me, my mother and brother first, then himself.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  ‘Yes. I’d seen what he was capable of. He broke Trixie’s leg when he was placed last in the barrel race.’

  ‘Trixie?’

  ‘His horse. A beautiful animal. She had to be put down. He showed no remorse for what he’d done. When my horse, Pinto, died, he couldn’t even show an ounce of compassion. That’s Grant, cold as ice.’

  ‘But that’s very different from killing human beings, Mr. Hendricks.’

  ‘Maybe in your mind. It’s obvious you don’t really know Grant. You might think you do with all your fancy evaluations and such, but you’ll never see the man inside. Believe me when I tell you, he’s laughing at all of you.’

  Jordan sighed and headed for the shower. He’d have to take the days one at a time and hope that one of them would result in Grant’s capture. He might not have any money, but he had his clothes and a car, and somehow Jordan knew he’d manage to find the money for food and gas. He could spin a yarn long as a highway in order to get what he needed. He could only pray that Grant was traveling far away as possible from Jordan and everyone he knew and loved.

  Seth was in the common room, along with Tim and Stu standing by the coffeemaker, making it impossible for Jordan not to be engaged in conversation by the men. He didn’t really want to avoid them. They were good guys and had become his friends, but he had this fear that somehow Grant would find out where he was, what he was doing. He would have to talk to Royce and Parker and alert them to the possibility of a lunatic stalking him and perhaps being a danger to them and their employees.

  “Mornin’, Jordan,” Seth sang out soon as he saw him. “We were just wonderin’ what you’d be getting up to this weekend. Any plans?”

  Jordan chuckled. “Were you now? Guys? I didn’t think so,” he added when Tim and Stu shook their heads vigorously. He reached between them for a cup to pour his coffee into. “Well, as a matter of fact, I do have plans to spend Saturday with my mom and Paul, my brother.”

  “Oh, that’s real nice,” Stu said, smiling. “Where do they live, Jordan?”

  “Near Fresno. Not so far.” He smirked at Seth. “You look disappointed, buddy. Were you expecting me to be off on a whoop-ti-doo kinda weekend?”

  Tim snorted and Seth rolled his eyes. “No, I wasn’t expecting that, whatever the hell that is. Just making sure you ain’t lonesome.”

  Jordan nodded. Maybe he was being too snarky with Seth. The guy was just being a friend. “That’s considerate of you, Seth. I appreciate it.” He swallowed his coffee down. “Let’s get to work…”

  Parker had their schedule ready when they met him over at the stable, their usual morning gathering place. “Parker, can I talk to you and Royce when you have the time?” Jordan asked quietly.

  Parker looked surprised but nodded. “Sure, Jordan. Everything all right?”

  “Hopefully, yes. It’s just that I need Royce’s legal input on how to deal with a problem before it gets out of hand.”

  “Okay. Come ’round to the house at the end of the day. Royce should be home about five-thirty.”

  “Thanks, Parker. I won’t take up too much of his time.”

  The day went quickly enough. Jordan�
��s two guests, Larry and Walt, were affable guys and listened intently to what he told them about the care of a horse. He always appreciated a guest’s attention as some of the men he taught seemed not to be interested in anything but riding and flirting, either with each other or their trainer. Regardless of knowing what the Seven Plus rules were, some would like to push it as far as they could.

  After taking Larry and Walt back to the stables and showing them how to settle their horses for the night, he strolled over to the back of the house and knocked on the French window frame.

  “Come on in, Jordan.” That from Royce who was mixing himself a drink at the kitchen counter. “Need this.” He grimaced. “Been a bitch of a day. Get you something?”

  “Just a beer if there’s one handy. Sorry to bust in on your time to relax.”

  “No problem. Parker said you needed some advice?”

  “Yeah. It’s a bit of a tangled story, but I’ll try to make it short as possible.”

  “No.” Royce handed him a can of Miller Lite and indicated that he should sit at the bar. “Take your time, Jordan. I can tell from your serious expression this isn’t a happy tale.”

  Jordan began to recount the series of events that had led him to this moment. Royce listened intently without interrupting although Jordan was sure he had questions.

  “So, this morning, my brother called to tell me that Grant had escaped from the institution. They were about to transport him to the halfway house…they got careless, I guess, and he took off in one of their cars. They’re searching for him, of course, but he’s a cunning s.o.b. and it’s gonna take some time before they find him. Now, he doesn’t know where I am—Paul, my brother, kept that from him when he went to see him—but he does know where my mother lives, so Paul is spending time with her until they find Grant and lock him up again.”