Memories of a Colorado Sky

Memories of a Colorado Sky by Sarah Black Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com Copyright ©2006 by Sarah Black First p...

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Memories of a Colorado Sky by Sarah Black

Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com

Copyright ©2006 by Sarah Black First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2006 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Hawk pushed open the screen door and brought the platter of steaks in from the barbeque on the porch. "Hey, Griff, where's that steak sauce?" Griffin pointed toward the kitchen. He had the phone tucked against his ear with a shoulder and a big wooden bowl of salad in his hands. "I know Durango isn't New York or San Francisco, Matt. You've got to give it more time. You'll meet somebody. But you can't be so judgmental about cowboys, not out here." Griff's honey brown eyes lifted and met Hawk's. Hawk grinned when he saw the color rise in Griffin's cheeks. "Cowboys, they're something different. A little more dangerous than you and me." He paused, then, "No, of course I'm not talking about him. Listen, I've got to go. Talk to you tomorrow?" Hawk set the steaks on the table. "Yee Haw. That the new librarian?" Griffin nodded. "I think he's a little lonely. He wants happily ever after, and he wants it right now." "I think he wants to sink his teeth in your ass. Happily ever after, huh? No such thing," Hawk said. He walked into the kitchen and washed his hands at the sink. Griff followed him and stuck his hands under the stream of water, then dried them on the linen cup towel tucked into the waistband of his Levi's. "I know you don't believe in forever, Hawk." Hawk studied Griff's face, then reached for the cup towel at his waist and tugged it free. "Happy today is good enough 3


for me, Griff. I'm not a forever kind of guy. It's dangerous to put all your eggs in one basket, you know what I'm saying?" Griff nodded, his mouth set. Hawk grinned at him. He was so young, so beautiful and hopeful and young. Hawk ran his fingers back through Griff's wavy brown hair. It was streaked with red and gold from spending so much time in the summer sun. His face was getting sun-kissed, too, and his nose was covered with freckles. Griff gave him a quick, fierce hug around the waist. "Happy today is enough for me, too, Hawk." He walked out of the kitchen, and Hawk stared after him. Oh, yeah. I can see how much you believe that in your face, kid. Hawk sighed. He remembered very clearly being Griff's age, twenty-six, though that was more than ten years ago now for him. He didn't want Griff's heart broken, didn't want to watch his lover turn into a cynical, prickly, asshole... "Come on, Hawk. Bring the bottle of wine. Let's don't let the steaks get cold." Hawk pulled a couple of steak knives out of the drawer and went through into the dining room. "I bet we won't need these," he said, putting the knives down on the table. "Those filets are so tender they're falling apart. Colorado beef, I'm telling you, there's nothing like it. We could get some elk steaks if you want to try something different. Maybe bison. Bison's good over a campfire, just a little tough. You got to chew on it for awhile." "Uh, well, these steaks smell great," Griff said. "I still want to find some elk out walking around and take a picture, send it back home to Vermont so the folks can see I'm living in the 4


Wild West." He shook up a glass cruet of dressing. "Let's move slow on the 'eating the wildlife' thing, okay? You want some of this? Bleu cheese vinaigrette." "Yeah." Hawk reached into the salad bowl and grabbed a handful of salad, dropped it onto his plate. Griff raised one eyebrow and passed him the salad dressing. "How did the closing go on the loft?" "Good," Hawk said. "It was over quick, so I had enough time to get some of the furniture moved." "I guess if you're a real estate attorney, your own closing should go quick. What did you get moved?" "The bed. A set of sheets and a couple of towels. The coffee pot and two cups and a can of coffee." Griffin was grinning at him across the table. "Everything a cowboy needs. And with those big loft windows, you can lie in bed tonight and look up at your Colorado sky." "Everything a cowboy needs but you. Come spend the night with me?" "You sure you don't want to be alone, Hawk? First night in the new loft?" Hawk studied his face. Griff really didn't understand how ... how charming he was. How appealing and tender. He was all heart, all heart and melting brown eyes. "Kid, I want to fuck you bad. I want to crawl all over you until you scream out loud and shove that monster prick of yours into my mouth. And I want to wake up with you in my arms. I want to bring you coffee and snuggle up while you tell me all about your moss and gall and whatever that shit is 5


you're always talking about. Okay? We clear? We on the same page?" Griffin stuck out his chin. "Well, I want to fuck you, too." His cheeks were flaming and he stuttered over the f word. Hawk laughed until the tears were streaming down his face. Griffin sighed. "Yeah, okay, we're on the same page. And it's ox-gall and carragheen moss. How many times do I have to tell you?" "At least one more." **** "Oh, baby, you taste so sweet." Hawk moved down over Griff's belly, touched the damp skin with his tongue. Griff's musky semen was smeared across his belly. He was breathing like he was about to start hyperventilating, clutching the sheet in both fists and moaning. Griff's skin was golden in the late evening light coming in the big loft windows, and he smelled like something lemony and green. It was his unique smell, stronger between his legs, and Hawk loved to nuzzle in his damp hair. He loved to nudge Griff's cock with his mouth, loved to lay his cheek against it until Griff groaned and reached for him, fingers tangled in Hawk's wild black hair. Hawk reached a hand up and smeared some of the semen around on Griff's skin. "Don't you use this for your paper marbling? I think I saw a bottle that looked like come somewhere on your worktable. I can go get a little jar, scoop it up." 6


"You are such a fool. I don't ... Wait a minute. Wait. You know, I could try an Ebru ... Hmmm. That would be kind of cool. It's Turkish, a decorative ... Oh, God, Hawk, I can't think. Remind me to think about that again when I'm not about to get fucked." "You're gonna be jacking off into little glass bottles for the sake of Turkish marbled paper? That's kind of weird, kid." Hawk traced his tongue across Griff's skin, felt a laugh bubbling up in the belly underneath his mouth. "So you don't need this right now, then? I can have it? You're on a hair trigger, Griff. You come so fast I can't get my mouth down here in time. And I like the way you taste." "I just can't wait. You've got that slow hand, Hawk. It's never been this wild for me. I'm just.... you shatter me." He sighed, ran his fingers through Hawk's hair again, rubbing his scalp. "The good news is, though, that you can have a repeat performance. Almost at once." "Oh, yeah. Right." Things were stirring down south, and Hawk gave the tip of Griff's cock a lick. "Oh, to be twenty-six again." Griff's words were reverberating down his spine. You shatter me. He knew what the kid felt like. He'd just never tried to put it into words like that. He didn't want to have that much power over someone else. It would be so easy to hurt him. Hawk promised himself that he would be careful, extra careful that Griff didn't end up ... ruined. You are such a fool. You think you have control over what he feels? You think you have control over his heart? Hawk closed his eyes, concentrated on tasting the warm, sweet skin under his mouth. He'd think about this later. 7


"Hawk, come on up here with me." Griff tugged on his shoulders, and Hawk slid up his body, let their legs tangle together, let their chests and bellies settle against each other. "Kiss me," Griff said. "I love the way you kiss me." Hawk looked down into his lover's face, then closed his eyes and took Griff's mouth. Griff's face was too open, too hopeful, too full of love. Sometimes Hawk had to close his eyes. He couldn't bear the hope. But if Griff felt too much, he kept it to himself, other than what he couldn't keep off his face. He let his body do the talking. Griff thrust his hips up against Hawk's, traced down Hawk's back until he could hold Hawk's ass. He thrust again, their cocks tangling with each other, and he moaned against Hawk's mouth. "How do you want me? Anything. Just don't make me wait." Hawk leaned up on his arms, stared down at Griff, golden and sweet and smelling like lemons and sweat and semen. He smiled down at him, and Griff caught his breath and reached for Hawk's face. **** Hawk climbed out of bed about midnight, leaving Griff splayed out and sweaty and exhausted. Hawk loved to sleep with Griff's body tucked up against his, but he was too keyed up to sleep tonight. These lofts, they had been a long time coming. He'd been part of the group originally planning the development. That was nearly five years ago now, and the lofts were everything he could have hoped. Set on the Animas 8


River, the wall of windows overlooked the river trail, the mountains, and the brilliant spread of stars across the Colorado sky. Hawk slipped on a pair of jeans and let himself out the front door. He walked down to the river trail and lay down in the grass, looked up at the night sky. The deep indigo looked as thick and rich as velvet. The stars were clustered so thickly that their light reached for him, bathing him in star shine. He loved the Colorado sky, had since he was a kid growing up on his Granddad's ranch. That was the real Colorado, the land of horses and cattle and big mountains, big sky. And the tough men who wrestled with that land. Men with hands as hard as ironwood, men who wore their Stetsons sixteen hours a day, who ate outside, worked outside, slept outside. That could have been his life, too. He had been a couple of years younger than Griff, and would have dropped out of law school in a minute, given up his plans and taken up a life in the saddle. He would have done it to be with the man he loved more than his own dreams. It was all a long time ago. He'd carried the sorrow of that loss until his back felt bent and twisted under the weight. But he was a Colorado man, tough as the land, too fucking tough to break. He'd learned to live with the loss, and to not risk everything ever again. Hawk was happy tonight. The grass was damp next to the river, and he could feel the wet against his back, against his bare feet and soaking through his hair. And Griff was upstairs, and Hawk knew that when he climbed into his bed, Griff would reach for him, and hold his cold hands between his own until he was warm. 9


And if Hawk reached for him, Griff would open his arms, open his mouth and let Hawk take him wherever they wanted to go. He looked back toward the loft. Griff was out on the balcony, waving. Griff handed him a towel when he came in. "What's wrong, Griff? You can't sleep?" "Kenny, somebody called. I picked up your cell." Hawk smiled at him. "You never call me Kenny. Why..." Ice water flooded his stomach. Only a couple of men still called him by his childhood name. "Ethan called. Your granddad fell out on the ranch. I don't know how. He's got a broken arm and a bump on the head. Ethan said he was on his way to the hospital." Hawk moved into the bedroom, grabbed his shirt off the floor. Griff picked up Hawk's boots and socks. "He sounds like Sam Elliott," Griff said. "You know, that cowboy actor." Hawk could smell coffee perking in the kitchen. "Yeah. He looks like Sam Elliott, too." He pulled on his boots. "Thanks for the coffee, kid. My granddad, he's old now. Eighty-eight. I keep forgetting. I don't want to think about how old he is." "So what can I do to help?" Hawk looked over at him. Griff was in boxers and bare feet, his hands clasped across his stomach. "Is the furniture coming tomorrow? You want me to stay here when the movers come?" Hawk moved into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. "What have you got scheduled in the morning?" 10


Griff shook his head. "I need to marble some paper. Start building a portfolio for those etchings that were donated to the library. All of it can wait, Hawk." Hawk nodded slowly. "Thanks, Griff. If you could stay here when the movers come, that would be great." He leaned forward and took a kiss. Griff reached for him, clutched his shirt in both fists and pulled him close. "I'm sorry about your granddad." He hesitated. "It's him, isn't it. Ethan. He's the one." Hawk sighed and wrapped his arms around Griff. "He's what one?" "The one who broke you. The one who still has your heart." Hawk smiled at him. "Don't be such a drama queen. Maybe you have my heart." "I wish." **** The hospital was close, walking distance from the loft, but Ethan and Jasper were already in Emergency by the time he arrived. Hawk recognized Ethan's old pickup. He must have called from the parking lot. There was no one on duty at the reception desk, and the waiting room was empty. Hawk pushed open the double doors leading into the Emergency Department. A young woman was coming out of an exam room. She was wearing blue scrubs, with her dark hair piled on top of her head. "Excuse me. I'm Ken Hawk. My grandfather was brought in. His name's Jasper Hawk." 11


He's right behind me," she said, pointing with her thumb. "You can go on in." Hawk pushed open the door. Ethan was sprawled out in the visitor's chair, boots crossed at the ankle, wearing jeans and a faded blue chambray shirt. Hawk felt that old clutch in his stomach, like a fist, like lust. Whenever he saw Ethan, whenever someone spoke his name, when Ethan's memory drifted, unbidden, into Hawk's mind, he would feel it in his stomach. Ethan stood up and offered his hand, and Hawk took it. "Kenny. Good to see you. It's been a long time since we've seen you out on the ranch." Ethan had the slow, deep drawl of a man who thought a long time before he said anything out loud. Hawk nodded. "Ethan." They both looked toward the bed. Jasper looked frail and old, his cotton-candy white hair so thin it didn't cover the mottled skin of his scalp. He had the same beak of a nose as Hawk, the same dark eyes and skin. Hawk sat down next to him in the chair by the bed. One arm was splinted, and the other had purple bruising and a cut, as though the paper-thin skin had torn. Jasper stared up at him. With his black eyes and that beaky nose, Hawk thought he looked like one of the big crows that sat on barbed wire fences all over Colorado. Hawk also thought Jasper smelled like he'd been at the bourbon. "Granddad, what did you do?" Jasper studied the ceiling. "Ah..." Hawk knew the old man wasn't suddenly senile. His black eyes were as sharp as ever. Hawk turned to Ethan. He was 12


leaning back in the chair, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. "He was acting like a damned fool. He and Winn were drinking bourbon on the porch and listening to the rock-androll oldies station." "Kenny, have you ever heard of the Rolling Stones? Brown Sugar? Under my Thumb?" Hawk felt his eyes getting big. "Yeah, Granddad. I believe I've heard of the Rolling Stones." "So that's what happened!" Jasper sighed and closed his eyes. Hawk stared down at him, but Jasper had apparently said all he had to say. Hawk turned to Ethan. Ethan was still studying the ceiling, looking for stars, probably, in its patterned surface. "Your Granddad and Winn decided to dance to the Stones. Also Waylon and Willie, and John Fogerty. I think it was the Fogerty that did them in, tell you the truth. Or the bourbon. Jasper claims his boot heel got caught on a loose board on the porch. I couldn't find any loose boards. I think he just got dizzy and fell down." "I heard that," Jasper said from the bed. His eyes remained firmly closed. "Is Winn okay?" Ethan nodded. "Seraphina is putting him to bed." Winn and his granddad had run the ranch together from the back of a couple of horses for sixty years. They'd promoted Ethan to foreman from ranch hand twenty years ago. Looking at how frail Jasper was, Hawk suspected Ethan and the housekeeper, Seraphina, were starting to spend a good bit of time taking care of Jasper and Winn. 13


"They're gonna take him down to X-ray in a few minutes," Ethan said. "They want to do an MRI and something with his arm. Kenny, you have those insurance papers? I couldn't find them tonight." Hawk had arranged insurance for the ranch over ten years ago now, when he realized Jasper had been operating with no health, no life, no disability, for himself or Winn or the hands. He'd found one of the few places left that would cover ranch people. Ranching was even more dangerous than farming, and most health insurance providers looked at the numbers and stayed far away. They were not taking into account, Hawk thought, the incredible stubbornness, the hardheadedness of ranch people, who would rather duct tape a few sticks of juniper to splint a broken bone than come into the hospital, where somebody might make them take off their boots and jeans. "They gave him some pain medicine, Kenny, but they wouldn't do anything else until they found out about the insurance." Hawk let himself really look at Ethan for the first time tonight. He must be in his mid-forties by now, still as strong and quiet as a tree. Blue-gray eyes, the color of a stormy sea. The lines that came from squinting into the sun were deeper than the last time Hawk had looked into his face. His blond moustache was nearly to his chin, thick blond hair caught back in a ponytail. His hands and face were starting to look weather-beaten. He had that quiet around him that made Hawk think he was grounded, like he was getting strength from the land, that he knew his place, and was at peace. 14


Hawk had been in love with Ethan since he was a kid, since he was first in love with anyone. Ethan was strong like the mountains, as still and beautiful as his Colorado home. Hawk reached out and put his hand flat against Ethan's face before he realized what he was doing. Ethan looked at him, eyes kind more than anything. Hawk snatched his hand back and turned away. He wasn't a kid anymore. He wasn't going back there again. He could still remember, with more than a touch of bitterness, what it felt like to have the person you loved desperately feel sorry for you. The papers for the insurance were in the strong box in his new bedroom closet at the loft. He pulled out his phone and dialed Griff's cell. "Yeah. Hawk? Is everything okay?" Griff had been asleep. "Sorry to wake you. Listen, can you help me out?" "Sure, Hawk. I'm up." Hawk could hear the rustle of sheets as he sat up. "The key ring I gave you? There's a small brass key that fits the strong box in the closet. Inside there's a file that says Jasper. I need the health insurance papers in that file. I'm over in Emergency. Can you bring them to me, Griff?" "I'll be there in ten minutes," Griff said, hanging up the phone. When Hawk turned back to Ethan, he had himself under a little better control. "How are things out on the ranch?" Ethan stroked his moustache, considering. "Well, they're good, Kenny. Changing. We're only running a few cattle now. We got some other things going on. Your granddad's worried 15


about taxes, and he's worried about what's gonna happen to us all when he dies. Winn, especially, but me and Seraphina and her son, Alberto. You remember he's got autism?" Hawk nodded. "He's a good kid, a good help on the ranch, but it'll be hard for him to move anyplace else. Estate taxes will be fair market value of the land, and there's a lot of development creeping pretty close to us. He's afraid you'll have to sell the place to pay the taxes, and..." Hawk nodded. "I've been sending him out some papers about things we could do, conservation easements, land trusts, all that stuff. Have they been looking at the papers, talking to you about what they want to do?" Ethan shrugged. "Nope. I get the feeling they're waiting for you to show up, talk it out." "I've been meaning to get out there, but things have really been hectic. I've had this big development project going on, and it has kept me really tied up. Did you see those big river lofts when you were driving in?" "Yeah, they're pretty. Pretty glass boxes. A man can look at the sky, but he's still living in a box." Hawk nodded. Jasper would feel the same way. Why would you look through glass to see the sky, when you could lie down and smell the earth, feel the land under your back, and have the night sky spread out above you like a blanket spangled with stars? Bugs and rattlesnakes and rocks were just a few of the reasons Hawk could think of, off the top of his head.

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Griff thought he was a cowboy, because he knew how to wear a pair of boots, but that was just because he hadn't seen the real thing yet. It was only a few minutes later that Griff rushed in. His hair was standing up in the back, like a little rooster tail, and the creases from the pillow case were still pressed into his cheek. He was wearing jeans and his Librarians Do It by the Book T-shirt. "I think these are the right papers, Hawk. I got here as quick as I could." Hawk looked through the papers. Alphabetized, he noted. Griff put things in ABC order when he was feeling stressed. "Griff, this is Ethan Miller. He's my granddad's foreman." Griff stuck out his hand. "Griffin Black. I talked to you on the phone earlier." Ethan stood and shook his hand, smiling down at him. Hawk could see the color creeping up Griff's face. "Granddad, you awake?" Jasper's gentle snores had changed. "Course I'm awake. I'm laying here with broken bones; it's not like I can sleep." "I bet you could pass out without too much trouble. This is my friend, Griff." Jasper studied Griffin's face and squinted at the T-shirt. Griff looked appalled and crossed his arms over his chest. "So what do you do? You don't look like a ranch man." "I'm a rare book conservator," Griff said. Jasper narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. "So, you fix up old books that are falling apart?" Griff nodded. "Maybe you 17


better have a look at that family bible we got. The covers have totally come undone." "Granddad." "Sure," Griff said. "I'll be happy to fix up your bible. That's how we learn our business. We practice on old bibles." Griff turned back to Ethan, and they looked carefully at each other for a long moment. Ethan was big, the biggest man in the room. He carried the stillness of the mountains on his shoulders, the smell of snow and juniper and freedom. When Griff turned back to Hawk, his eyes were full of desperate longing, tragedy, his heart was breaking. Hawk saw on Griffin's face a firm desire to do some damned noble thing. Hawk grabbed his arm. "You come with me." He pulled him out of the room and around the corner. "I knew it, Hawk, as soon as I heard his voice. He looks just like you, too. I don't mean he looks like you, but he's tough and strong and steady, I don't know ... Not like a librarian. Oh, God, I understand perfectly, really, you don't need to..." "Shut up." Hawk pushed up against him, pinned his body to the wall. He plundered his mouth, moving his tongue deep in Griff's mouth without any of their usual sweetness first. Hawk pressed his knee between Griff's thighs, pressed hard against his groin until he could feel Griff begin to stir, and reach for him. "Don't be a fool," Hawk said. "You read too goddamn many romance novels. And don't think you know what's going on in my head." He reached for Griff, wrapped the man up so tight 18


he thought he might be leaving bruises. "You're the only man who was in my bed tonight. The only one in my head, too." "Really?" Griff smiled at him, tears standing in his brown eyes. "Ditto, cowboy. Okay, I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." He put one hand flat against Hawk's chest. "But listen. You need to do whatever you need to do, to take care of your granddad." He blinked away the tears. "And any other unfinished business." "I come back, I better not catch that librarian who's always calling you up mixing up margaritas in your kitchen. You know he thinks you're a ripe little plum, ready to be plucked off the tree. Then he's gonna suck all that sweet juice right out of you. He thinks he's gonna move in, soon as I'm out the door." "Oh, please." Griff reached up and kissed him sweetly. "Matt did tell me he makes awesome nachos. Call me if you need anything." Hawk watched him walk through the double glass doors, then he went back into Jasper's room. "We need to make copies of all these papers, give a set to Seraphina and a set to you. We'll have a copy in his medical record here," he said, separating out the papers that they needed. "I'll go find an insurance clerk," Ethan said, holding out his hand for the papers. "Jesus, Kenny. What are you doing? How old is that boy?" Hawk could feel the color flood his face, and he was suddenly furious. "He's three years older than I was, the first time you fucked me." Ethan didn't move. "I heard that," Jasper said. 19


Hawk spun around. "No, you didn't." Ethan walked out the door. **** Nearly twenty-four hours later, and Hawk was exhausted. He'd had a short nap in the chair while Jasper had been in Radiology getting an MRI of his head and some type of bone scan, but he just couldn't leave him in the hospital alone. Jasper seemed so lost in here, not like himself at all. Except when they'd endured an unpleasant conversation with the orthopedic surgeon. The ortho doc was a big, beefy guy, looked like he'd played college ball and just missed the NFL. His name tag, pinned crooked on a rumpled white lab coat, said John Deever, DO. "Good news," he began, paging through the chart. "There's no skull fracture." "I told you that already." Jasper was so cranky the nurses were avoiding his room. Hawk suspected he had a headache made up of equal parts hangover and pain and no sleep. Dr. Deever paused briefly, looking from the old man to Hawk. "The arm is something else again. The bone was brittle, and it shattered..." "He's a genius! He found a broken bone!" "Shattered," the doctor repeated, speaking to Hawk now. "We need to do surgery, try and pin..." "Are you nuts? Trying to get some money out of me, aren't you? You know how old I am?"

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"You appear to be eighty-eight," Dr. Deever said, "and that does present a problem. We need to check your heart before surgery, an EKG, then take a chest X-ray..." "No, you don't. Cause you ain't doing any operation on me! Boy, just go get your plaster and roll me on a cast! Do I have to tell you everything?" The doctor goggled at him. "We don't use plaster! We haven't used plaster in..." He raised a hand and stopped himself. "Wait. Hold it. We're getting off topic. We need to discuss surgery." "No, we don't," Jasper muttered. "Granddad, would you shut up? You won't even let the man finish a sentence." "I'll shut up if someone in this hell-hole will get me some aspirin!" Dr. Deever stepped outside and gestured for Hawk to follow him. He snagged a nurse walking by. "Get Mr. Hawk some T-3, would you please?" She nodded and kept walking down the hall. "Be right there, two minutes." The doctor looked at Hawk. "Your granddad's arm, it won't heal in a regular cast. It won't heal right, I mean. The bone will be crooked, and the extra splinters of bone may set up irritation and inflammation. You think you can talk him into surgery?" "I'll talk to him, but I think it's unlikely he'll agree. Can you think of another option? I mean, is there any other way the bone will heal?" Hawk kept hearing the word in his head, 21


shattered, pictured Jasper's fragile bones splintered into a hundred razor-sharp pieces. The doctor was nodding. "We'll splint it today, let him go home. Then maybe a bone stimulator. Get him on some medicine for osteoporosis." Hawk looked up, surprised. "Oh, yeah, men get osteoporosis, too, Mr...." "Hawk. Ken Hawk." Hawk extended his hand and the doctor took it in a numbing grip. "Are you the ... You're not the Ken Hawk who's developing the Riverfront Lofts?" Hawk nodded. "I'm on the waiting list, but I haven't heard anything yet. I've seen a couple of people start to move in. How do they look?" Hawk had seen that hungry look more than a few times since the development started. He grinned. "They are fucking awesome. Better than I hoped, and I hoped big. Listen, I might have heard a couple of people have had trouble with their financing. Maybe you could check with the office in the morning." "Wow. Thanks, I will. I've been watching those lofts since they started to build them. And they're so close, I could walk to work. Wow. Have you seen that river trail?" Hawk nodded, grinning at him. "Anyway, thanks very much for the tip. Your granddad can go in the morning, just bring him in for a follow-up in a couple, three weeks." Hawk nodded. "Thanks." He went back into Jasper's room. Maybe he could trade a loft for a good bone job for Granddad.

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The nurse had a hand behind Jasper's back, helping him sit up. "Mr. Hawk? How about a back rub? You think that'll help you sleep?" "No, doll. But, thanks. That'll just get my grandson all stirred up, watching you give me a back rub. Maybe you can give him one, instead. He looks a little tense to me." The nurse looked at Hawk, amusement in her eyes. She turned back to Jasper. "Well, the offer stands. I'll check on you later. You can have some more pain medicine about four. I'll see if you're awake then, and need it." Hawk sank into the chair next to Jasper's bed. When the nurse left, he turned to the old man. "What is the matter with you, you had to be so ornery with that doctor? You think that arm's gonna heal by itself?" Jasper shrugged. "He just rubbed me the wrong way. I want to get out of here, Kenny." He was restless in the bed, the sheets twisting up into knots. "I want to check on Winn, make sure the damn fool is all right." "When was the last time you spent the night away from Winn?" "Never," Jasper said. "Not since, well, maybe '48 or '49." "1948?" Hawk laughed. "You can call him if you want, on my cell. But I'll take you home in the morning." "You think you're gonna be with that boy that was here for any length of time? You seem to get a new boyfriend every couple of years." Hawk shrugged. "I don't know, Granddad. I like him a lot, but you just never can tell what will happen. Oh, that reminds 23


me." He pulled out his cell. "I need to check with him, see how the furniture moving is going." "Where you moving this time?" "You know those lofts I've been building, Granddad? Well, they're finished, and the furniture was coming today. Griff took the day off work to stay there to help the moving men." "I'm sorry I caused you trouble, Kenny." Hawk looked at him. "I've been meaning to get out to the ranch, spend some time with you." He checked the messages. "But you don't like to come home because of Ethan. Time to move on, don't you think, boy? It's his home, but it's your home, too. Time you two put this thing to bed, let everybody get on with living." The message from Griff read, Call me when you get this, and I'll bring you the keys. Everything went fine. Hawk checked his watch. It was just after ten. He dialed Griff's cell. "Hey. Sorry to call so late." "It's okay," Griff said. "I'm gonna bring the keys to you, then head back to my place." "Thanks, Griff." Jasper had his eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep. He liked to do that, make his point and then pretend to go to sleep, so there wouldn't be any further arguing. Hawk was starting to doze off when Griff walked in. Griff was just out of the shower, his hair curling and damp. His eyes looked tired. He handed Hawk the key ring. Jasper opened his eyes and sat up. "Come on over here, boy." Griff walked over and leaned against the bedrail. "So, what's this thing you've got going on 24


with my grandson? You're not going to do one of those damnfool gay marriages on the TV, are you?" "I don't have anything like that on my agenda," Griff said. He was smiling down at the old man. "So, what are you two? Just friends?" "Uh, I guess we're lovers. We're, you know, falling in love. At least, I am." Griff's cheeks were flaring red again. "You ever been with girls?" "Granddad." Hawk was rubbing his hand hard over his forehead. He was getting a headache as big as a mountain. Griff grinned. "Oh, well, I was always perfectly normal, girls left and right. I mean, they were all over me. Then I took one look at Hawk, and it was like I got hit on the head with a pole-ax. That was it for me, and then I was gay!" "How about that? The same damn thing happened to him!" Griff turned around and looked at Hawk. "Yeah. I can believe that." **** It was late the next afternoon before Hawk got Jasper out of the hospital. Between the paperwork, the medication at the pharmacy, the cast check and splint fitting, and the discharge instructions from the nurses, Hawk and his granddad were both reeling. "This is what I've been telling you, boy! These hospitals, they're crazy. You got to promise you won't leave me in one of those places to die, Kenny. Me and Winn, we want to go out on the ranch. Seraphina's gonna lay us out, I already asked her. You bury us out there, too. Ethan will show you 25


the place. I got it all picked out, down by those two big cottonwood trees." They were driving out of Durango, down to the valley where Jasper had ranched for sixty years, and his father and grandfather before him. "Granddad, listen..." Hawk stopped. He didn't really know how to start this conversation. He had hard conversations with people all the time, as an attorney, but somehow it was real different when you had feelings for the old man sitting next to you. Jasper studied him. "I heard what Ethan told you, about estate taxes and all that. I didn't want to say anything before, Kenny. Cause I'm your only family and all, and the way you're going, don't look to me like we got any babies on the way. So we got to figure something out. I don't suppose you got any girl..." "No, Granddad. No babies on the way." "Back when I was young, men did what they had to for the ranch. Your grandmother, she was a good gal. We had us an understanding, and she didn't mind that I wasn't at her all the time. You probably don't remember this, but she moved into town when your dad went off to join the Marines. So she had a little fun there at the end, before she got run over by that damn car. We got along fine, but the ranch, it wasn't in her blood, like it is in mine. Like it is in Winn's and Ethan's. And yours." "Well, so what do you want to do? I've been sending you papers for years now, it seems, telling you about land trusts, and how conservation easements work, and stuff from those 26


people at Nature Conservancy and Sierra Club and ... You thinking about some kind of land trust? What are you thinking?" "I'm thinking you better take an interest before it's too damn late. I'm thinking it's your ranch, Kenny. There ain't much money, but we've never needed much. The plans for the ranch, well, you ain't been out there for a good long while, and we've been changing some things. If you want a part in any decisions, then I want you to stick around a couple of days, at least. Can you get a couple of days off work? Cause I want you to spend a little time with us, see what we've been doing. And I want you to make your peace with Ethan." Kenny glanced over. "Yeah, I can get a couple of days off. I already made arrangements since I was moving. And I'm happy to spend some time with you and Winn, Granddad. Things have been moving fast for me these last few years. I've missed spending time with you. But there's nothing wrong with me and Ethan. Things are fine with us." "We've missed you, too, Kenny. And I don't have any more time to mess around with this. And no, things ain't fine with you and Ethan. Who you think you're telling this to, boy? I want you to make it up, and move on already, so the ranch, and me and Winn and Seraphina can be a real part of your life again." "It wasn't his fault, Granddad. None of it was." "I know that. Don't you think I know that? Jesus, Kenny. You should have seen yourself, about twenty-two. So good looking, with that cocky walk that had all those little ranch 27


girls itching in their pants to have a go at you. You came home that summer, and when you saw Ethan, your eyes got as big as moons. I couldn't get a rational word out of you for the rest of the year. You was looking at him like he was the gold of El Dorado, like everything you wanted on this earth was walking in his boots." "That's how I felt, too, like every step he took landed right on my chest. I spent the whole summer trying to breathe right. I wouldn't be that age again for anything in the world." "That boy, the one who fixes up old bibles, he looks at you that way. It reminded me, when I saw you two together." "I'll take care of him, Granddad. I got ... well, I've got feelings for him. I won't let anything happen like..." "Like happened to you? So you think Ethan should have stopped it? Should have protected you?" Hawk shook his head. "No, Granddad. That's not why..." Hawk stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. How could he explain? This was impossible. "Listen. I'm successful, reasonably happy. I don't want to be twenty-two anymore. I don't want to go back to that time. I get around him, and it's not like I still feel the same way, but I feel echoes of it. I remember, and it makes me uncomfortable." "You don't feel that same way, that's what you said? I saw the way you looked at him, when you came into the hospital. That boy of yours, too. Ethan can't help it. I think that's why he's happiest alone, with a horse and a thousand acres between him and all the moonstruck boys who follow him around." 28


That stung. "How did you see the way I looked at him? You were drunk on bourbon whiskey. You knocked your own head in dancing to Brown Sugar." "I saw what I saw," Jasper said. "You don't exactly have a poker face, Kenny. You might want to think about working on that." Jesus. "Can we get back to the ranch?" "Boy, that's what I've been trying to do for days now!" Jasper closed his eyes then, and leaned his head back. He'd said all he had to say. It was true Hawk had been avoiding the ranch. It made him uncomfortable to see Ethan, but worse than that, he could tell that Ethan was uncomfortable with him. He'd disappear, saddle a horse and ride out, find a reason to ride fence with Alberto along to help. Anything to avoid being alone with Hawk. He wasn't sure there was anything he could do about it, but it might be worth trying to close that book. He was a grown man, in full control of himself. He had a life of his own, and was happy with the choices he'd made. It wasn't right that he was making so many people feel awkward, careening around with his feelings stuck out a mile in every direction. He knew Ethan liked him. They liked each other, always had. Maybe if Hawk tried a little harder, they could all learn to be comfortable together again, to be friends, the way they'd been before. Winn was out on the front porch when they drove up, sitting on the bench with one boot propped up on the porch rail, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Sippin' whiskey, they'd 29


always called it. Jasper roused himself, climbed out of the truck, and Winn stood up and they hugged each other. Hawk thought they looked like a couple of brown crickets, all skinny legs and elbows, hugging and holding on to each other. Just like they'd been doing all their lives. It was dusk, and the setting sun was turning the ranch land to deep purple and gold. The wind was kicking up just a bit, making melancholy noises when it passed through the cottonwoods and over the grasslands. The ranch house was low and white, battered a little bit from years of the wind. It was sprawled out, built in bits and pieces, the oldest part over a hundred and fifty years old. That was just the kitchen and the front room and the porch. It looked like Jasper had replaced the posts on the porch with new lodgepole pine. Or Ethan had, probably. Over time, people had added on, bedrooms and bathrooms until everyone could spread out comfortable and have some room. Jasper had told him that they'd all moved into the house now, to save on heating, that Ethan wasn't at his old place out in the bunkhouse. Everybody had their room and a bath, and they all ate together in the big old dining room, sat together on the porch in the evening. Hawk carried Jasper's bag with the medicine into the house. Seraphina was in the kitchen, pulling a pie from the oven. "Kenny! I'm so happy to see you!" He reached over and kissed her cheek. "You got an extra bed around here for me? Maybe I'll stay a few days."

30


"That's great, Kenny. Of course there's a bed for you. This is your home." She smoothed her apron down over her jeans. "We got stew and cornbread for supper. Nothing fancy." "I love your stew." He studied her face. "You look good, Seraphina." She had an elegant face, strong and dark, a good southwestern mix. Blood lines like his, a little bit of everyone who had passed through this land. Her dark hair was streaked with gray now. She'd been living on the ranch for twenty-five years. She'd come out here on the run, pregnant, more pregnant than she'd realized, and Jasper and Winn had delivered the baby when she went into labor early. Alberto had some type of autism. He didn't talk much, and he was shy around people he didn't already know. The ranch was the perfect place for him—still and quiet, empty, with work he could do and a routine and just a few people around him. He got on with the horses better than anyone. Hawk needed to make sure that Alberto could stay here for his whole life. He was the youngest of them all. Seraphina put an iron skillet of cornbread on the table, but left the big Dutch oven of stew on the stove. Hawk was surprised to see salads at each place, dark green lettuce and herbs, tomatoes and tiny green onions. "Seraphina, this looks great. Where'd you get the fresh stuff?" Salad fixings were rare on an isolated ranch, where a trip to the grocery store was a three hour round trip. "Oh, Kenny, wait till you see the greenhouses. Ethan and Alberto built them, and me and Winn and Jasper, we've been growing lots of fresh vegetables. We put in some fruit trees, 31


too, got them on a drip irrigation system from gray water recycling. The plum pie for desert? Our plums." She laughed. "Watered by the washing machine. I'm thinking about starting a market garden." "You guys have been working hard. I can't wait to see everything you've been doing." Seraphina was passing heavy stoneware bowls of stew around the table. It had a rich, almost sweet flavor, lots of garlic and onions and beef in a thick brown gravy. Ethan tasted a spoonful, eyes narrowed. "Extra garlic." "Nope." Seraphina grinned around the table, her eyes sparkling. "I'll give you a hint. This special stew is in honor of Jasper coming home from the hospital." This must be a game they played, guessing the new ingredients in Seraphina's stew. Just for a moment, Hawk felt like an outsider, like he didn't belong in their close-knit circle. Then he realized he knew what she'd put in the stew. "Brown sugar." She nodded, grinning at him. Jasper and Winn howled. Then Jasper stopped laughing suddenly. "Oh, girl. You didn't put the rest of that bourbon in the Son of a Bitch stew?" Everyone laughed then, and Seraphina passed around slices of cornbread. "Kenny's got a new boyfriend," Jasper announced. They turned interested eyes his way. Winn shook pepper into his stew. "So tell us about him, Kenny. Is this one serious?" Hawk started to shake his head, very aware of Ethan sitting across the table from him. Then he got a picture of Griff's honey brown eyes, so warm and trusting, so full of 32


laughter. Griff would fit in good around here, trying to guess what was in the stew, sitting on the porch after supper. "Yeah. Maybe," he said, smiling at Winn. "I don't know yet. He's a book conservator, a librarian who specializes in repair and restoration of rare books." "Bibles," Jasper added. "Like books that have literary significance, or that have special art work inside. He puts the chemicals on the pages, so the acid in the paper doesn't deteriorate, or fixes burns or insect damage or water damage. He makes those handmarbled papers, too, you know, those fancy papers on the ends of books. That's really his love. He makes them the same way they did back when they first started making books, with ox-gall and watercolors, and size made out of this Icelandic seaweed..." Everyone was staring at him, spoons suspended. God. He sounded just like Griff, going on about his Antique Spot. Seraphina smiled. "That's good you've got somebody to talk to about books, Kenny. You were such a bookworm when you were a boy." "Kenny, that ox-gall. You mean from the gall bladder?" Hawk nodded. Jasper turned to Winn. "Next time we slaughter a cow, we can save the gall bladder for Kenny's boyfriend, don't you think?" "That would be a real nice gesture," Winn agreed. He'd let his whiskers grow out, and his chin was covered in random prickles, like a miniature porcupine. Hawk caught Ethan's eye. Ethan was trying to keep from laughing, and Hawk bit down on his bottom lip. He could just 33


picture Griff, trying to smile and say a nice polite thank you, with his hands full of a cow's gall bladder. "So you guys aren't running cattle anymore. What are you doing with the land? Besides your greenhouses and fruit trees." Everyone turned to look at Ethan. He touched his napkin to his mouth, then set it back down on his lap. "Why don't you ride out with me tomorrow, Ken? I'll show you what we've been doing." Hawk nodded. "Okay." Ethan turned to Alberto. "Can you pack us a couple of horses tomorrow morning, buddy? The camping gear, some feed. Kenny and me, we'll ride out tomorrow and camp out. Okay?" Alberto nodded, but Ethan's eyes were on Hawk. Hawk could feel his heart beating double time, and his stomach twisting itself into a knot. **** Seraphina's sheets always smelled like bleach and sunshine. They smelled like the ranch, like bare wood floors and whitewashed walls, and wind carrying the scent of juniper across the clothesline. Tonight they were driving him crazy. Hawk twisted and flailed around in the bed until the sheets were a tangled mess between his legs. He tore the top sheet off, kicked it to the floor. His skin felt itchy and sore, like he was covered in sunburn. He couldn't stand the sheet. He couldn't sleep. The smell of the ranch, Ethan's calm eyes, and the craving was crawling back up his throat, scalding him like 34


acid. Hawk knew exactly how an addict felt. This thing with Ethan, it must be built into his brain somewhere. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn't a kid anymore. So why did he remember every taste of Ethan's mouth, the feel of Ethan's mustache against his upper lip? Why did he remember the bottom dropping out of his stomach when Ethan opened his mouth against his, opened his mouth and touched his tongue? Hawk was already trembling, hanging on to Ethan's shoulders, knees like Jell-O. Ethan opened his mouth against Hawk's, then he leaned in, like he wanted more, leaned in and pulled Hawk up against his strong body. His mouth was rougher, harder. He bit down on Hawk's bottom lip, pulled Hawk against him. He was hard as iron through his Levis. And Hawk reached for him, grabbed him and held on and held on... Oh, God. Hawk climbed out of bed, went to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on his face. The bourbon was gone. He knew the cabinet where Seraphina kept it. Shit. He could have used a taste. He felt worn to the bone, but so jittery he knew he'd never get to sleep. Hawk pushed open the door to the front porch and walked outside. Ethan seemed to be having trouble sleeping, too, and he had the bottle of bourbon. Ethan took his time looking him over, sipping from the bottle and studying him with the eyes of a former lover. Cowboy cool, that was how Hawk had always thought of Ethan's eyes, clear as a mountain stream, Zen calm. He'd lost a little of his cool, and from the looks of the bottle it took about two inches of good bourbon whiskey 35


to do it. Hawk was suddenly very aware that he was only wearing boxer shorts. "You look good, boy." Ethan's eyes rested for a moment on the thick, mottled scar in the middle of Hawk's chest, then his eyes dropped and he passed the bottle over without looking at Hawk again. Hawk sat down next to him on the bench, propped his feet on the porch rail, and took a long pull from the bottle. "Kenny, I'm sorry about what I said back at the hospital. It's none of my business who you got in your bed." Hawk nodded, took another pull. Ethan was close enough he could feel the warmth of his body, the warmth of his thigh through faded Levis. And Hawk could smell him, sweat and leather and alfalfa hay. His cock gave a lurch. Jesus, he was sitting here in boxer shorts. "Ethan, why do you want to go camping?" Ethan sighed and reached for the bottle. Hawk could see his mouth, his lips, touching the place his own lips had been moments before. "You don't come back to the ranch anymore, not if you can help it. I guess I need to know if it's because I'm here. This is your land, your blood, Kenny. If you haven't put it behind you, what those ... what happened, if you still blame me, then maybe I need to go." "Jesus, Ethan! It has nothing to do with that. Nothing to do with you. And I never blamed you. Look, I got a life of my own now." Hawk took a couple of deep breaths, his hands flat on his bare thighs. "But I'll tell you what I do blame you for. I was ready to drown in your eyes, drown in your body. You 36


didn't feel for me, why'd you touch me in the first place? I was too young to know what I was getting into." He snatched the bottle back and took another long pull. "I'm not too young anymore. I'll ride out with you, Ethan. But you know the way I've always felt for you. Don't you fuck with me. You don't love me." Ethan narrowed his eyes, his jaw flexing, whiskers gold in the moonlight. "You don't know dick about me, boy. You want to ride out with me, then ride out." He leaned forward, and it was all Hawk could do not to tear into him, take a bite out of his mouth, get a fistful of that blond hair and hold him down and eat him alive. "You go ahead and torture yourself, makes you happy, Kenny. You care so much about love. You care so much about what it all means. Bullshit. Don't lie to yourself. You just wanted to fuck. You were walking around with a hard-on from morning to night. You would have fucked a pile of rocks. That's all it ever was." There didn't seem to be much to say after that. They sat in silence, passing the bottle and watching the moon, until Hawk got so cold his legs were shaking. "I'm going to bed." "Goodnight, Kenny." "Ethan. My friends call me Hawk." **** Seraphina's sheets again, tangled between his legs. The hunger was deeper than his stomach, heavier. He recognized it like an old enemy. Desire like an ache, a slow alien heartbeat throbbing between his legs. 37


Maybe Ethan was right. He'd been twenty-two, twentythree. Maybe he just wanted to fuck so bad that he made himself believe it was love. Ethan. He was so fucking calm. So in control. Hawk wanted to shove that Cowboy Zen of his right up his ass. He wanted to take a bite out of his mouth, and he wanted to knock him over onto his back and let their sweat mix, their semen mix. He wanted to taste Ethan's semen on his tongue. Maybe just one more time in his life. His cock was lifting Seraphina's sheet right up off his thighs. Ethan, the sound of his name a strong two-beat through his cock. Ethan's sun-washed denim right up against his thigh, while they passed the bottle back and forth, wrapping their tongues around the mouth of that bottle. Why hadn't he pushed Ethan over on the bench, jerked those Levis down? Ethan was feeling it, too, sitting next to him. That's why he was sitting on the porch in the moonlight, a bottle of bourbon in his hand. Because there had been a time that Ethan hungered for him, too. And he was remembering. Hawk clutched the sheet, let the taste work its way down from his mind, wrap around the hunger, the desire that was stronger around Ethan than anywhere else in the world. The jerk in his cock caught him by surprise, sweeping across his belly like a snowstorm moving down off the mountains. He thrust against Seraphina's sheet, quick and hard, groaned out loud, and he sounded like a man jerking off to memories of an old love. Hawk shoved a fist into his mouth, but it was too late. Someone else was having trouble sleeping. Feet hit the 38


wooden floor, a big man, by the sound of it, footsteps not trying to be quiet, and the slamming of a screen door. Hawk closed his eyes. Okay. He was okay now. He might be able to get a little sleep before morning. **** In the morning, Hawk poured a cup of coffee and went down the hall to Seraphina's room. He'd been listening to her singing for the past ten minutes. She had the door propped open with an antique flatiron, and was sitting at her dressing table, rubbing lemon cream into her cheeks. She turned and smiled at him. "Kenny! How did you sleep?" Her bed was already made, the patchwork quilt spread neatly over the pillow. Hawk shrugged, took a sip of his coffee. Seraphina's hair spilled down her back, nearly to her waist, in thick dark waves. He came into the room and set his coffee cup down on the floor next to her dressing table. "I'll do your hair." He picked up her ivory handled hairbrush and lifted her hair to brush underneath. That hairbrush had been one of the few things she brought with her when she came out here. It had been her grandmother's. The boar bristles were getting thin in a few places. Hawk rolled her hair into a knot at the back of her neck and secured it with a tortoiseshell clip. He left it looser than she did. She always pulled it so tight. "Seraphina, how are you? How are things out here?" She turned on the bench seat and faced him. "Kenny, they're fine. I don't want you to worry." 39


"Jasper's eighty-eight. Winn's two years younger. You need some help out here? I can find you someone." She shook her head. "No, Kenny. We're managing very well. Your granddad and Winn, they're cutting back. They don't ride out anymore, and they both take a good long nap in the afternoons. I've been taking care of them, and this place, for a long time. I'm used to it. And I don't want you to worry." She studied his face, concern in her dark eyes. "There's no stress out here, Kenny. No day-to-day stress, not like living in the city. You know what I mean? It's easy to feel at peace." He bent forward and kissed her cheek. She smelled like lemons, and the Lilies of the Valley powder she had used since he was a boy. He looked around until he found the flowered box on her dresser, then he lifted the lid and sniffed. She was watching him, smiling. "Jasper and Winn get me a box every Christmas. If they ever give me Rose or Lavender, instead of Lilies of the Valley, I think I'm going to fall over in shock." Her smile faded. "They've been worried about you, Kenny. They talk about the way you never come home anymore. They worry about what it means, that you aren't feeling ... good about things." Her eyes dropped to his chest for a brief moment, then back up to his face. "Will you bring your friend out to stay? They would like that. I'll cook special for you, Kenny. Pigs in a Blanket, your favorite." He put the box of powder down and picked up his coffee cup. "Nobody makes them like you." He hesitated. "We'll see, Seraphina. Tell me about Alberto. I haven't hardly seen him since I got here." 40


"He's got an orphan nursery set up out in the barn. All the ranches around, they bring their lost babies to him, he feeds them up with the bottle. He'd sleep out there if I let him. I think he sneaks out sometimes at night, beds down in the hay with the babies." She rubbed her hand cream in. "Want to hear something funny? He asked Ethan the other day if Ethan was his father. Ethan said no, he wasn't. So Alberto said, "Well, do you want to be? I don't seem to have one." And so Ethan said yes, he would be happy to be Berto's father. Neither one said anything about it to me, but I guess I'm not surprised they feel that way. Ethan's been out here since Berto was a baby, and he always took care of him that way. You know, the man's way, like Jasper and Winn take care of you. Anyway, it just made me feel kind of happy and sad at the same time." She ran her hands across her face for a moment. "So, tell me what we need to do for Jasper's arm. Is the medicine you brought for pain?" "There's one for pain that he can't mix with bourbon, and one for osteoporosis that I don't even want to try and make him take. Just don't let him saw off that fiberglass." He hesitated. "I should round up all the handsaws. Listen, the doctor said the bone was splintered. Maybe it won't heal, or it'll heal crooked. They wanted to do surgery, but Granddad said no. We'll see what happens." She nodded. "He's kind of old for surgery, don't you think? I don't know how he'd do, being away from the ranch that long. Ethan will take him into town to get checked, Kenny. When does he need to go back?" 41


"Three weeks for another X-ray, and a follow-up with the doctor. Maybe I'll come up and bring him into town." She stood up, tidy in jeans and a sleeveless gingham blouse, gave him a brisk hug. "He would love that. I better get cooking! Want me to pack you steaks for tonight? You and Ethan can cook out. Are you staying down at the campsite?" Kenny felt his belly twist into a knot. She was watching him anxiously, and he forced a smile. "I'm not sure. Ethan's in charge. You know me. I'm just going along for the ride." Ethan had already ridden out with Alberto to feed and water the stock. Seraphina filled his coffee cup and ran him out of the kitchen. He wandered out to the front porch and sat down next to Winn. "How's Granddad? Is that arm hurting? He sleep through the night?" "Yeah." Winn stared off toward the cottonwood trees that marked the wash. "Seems he was the only one resting. I never heard such stomping and banging doors and what-all." Winn glanced over at him and lifted his coffee cup. "You're not a real restful person right now, Kenny. Living in the city, that's what's turned you all twitchy?" Hawk blinked at him. Winn was in a proper mood this morning. "Well, I'm not really sure." "Couple days in the saddle, that'll calm the shit right out of you, boy. You move slow; you think slow. Horses give you plenty of time to think. But after a while you don't have to think anymore. You just have to be there, let it all roll over you." "Let what roll over you?" 42


Winn gave him a sharp glance. "The land, Kenny. You let the land roll over you. And the wind, carrying smells from your place, like that smell, you know the one? When the wind comes down cold off the mountains and smells like spruce trees, and fresh snow. The sound of the wind in the cottonwoods, the wind rolling over the grass, the horses talking to each other, the calves bawling for their mamas. It's the land, boy." Winn sat back and drank his coffee. "You used to know it, better than anybody. You used to lift up your face, feel the change in the air when a red-tailed hawk was flying overhead. You'd feel it before you could see it. Don't you miss that, boy?" Hawk nodded, a little reluctantly. "Yeah, Winn. I do." He wasn't sure he knew how to explain. "You get used to what you have. You get used to the city, and you find things to like there. We've got the Animas in Durango. It's good to stick your bare feet into the river, see how long you can stand it for before they turn blue with the cold. We have the mountains." He waved this away. "But I know that's not what you're talking about. You're talking about this land." Winn set his jaw, his whiskery chin poking out. "I'll tell you something else, boy. It's hurt your granddad's feelings, you keep sending him all these papers in the mail. We got us more junk mail from Kenny, he'd say, and set it in a big pile next to the Bible, on that book shelf." "What, you mean all that stuff about the land trust?" "Goddamn, boy, don't you know any better than that? Didn't we teach you no goddamn manners? Men don't send 43


each other papers. They show up in person, have a cup of coffee, talk things out. Show a little respect." Winn was getting agitated, and Hawk reached over and put a hand on his skinny old arm. "Yeah, you taught me better. It's not that, Winn. It's just..." They both looked out across the front yard. Ethan was on horseback, herding a lost calf out of the wash. The baby was hysterical, his voice hoarse from calling to his mother. Winn sighed. "I knew it." Winn stared at him until Hawk had to return his gaze. Winn's blue eyes were tired now, getting faded and bloodshot. "You know what we'd do for you, Kenny. You know what Ethan would do for you. You got to try a little harder, make your peace. Jasper ain't gonna decide anything about this land, boy. Because it belongs to you. You're his grandson. This has been your land since you was a hard-headed little brat, running wild over the place, running wild right over your grandaddy's heart." Hawk watched Ethan on the horse until he was out of sight around the barn with the calf. "He'd do anything for this land, to protect it, wouldn't he?" He'd even take me out riding, take me back to where we were before. Does he really think he has to do that? Is he gonna put his hands on me, even if he doesn't want to, because he thinks he has to do it to save the ranch? Hawk turned to Winn. "He loves the ranch more than anything else on earth. I think he'd do anything..." Winn was cursing under his breath. "I swear, boy, talking to you is like talking to a damn rock. Kenny, goddamn, you just do not listen to nobody! It's not the land with Ethan. You 44


don't get him at all, do you? You're the one feels the land in your blood, in your bones. It's you feels that way, not him. Ethan, he's all about freedom, Kenny. Don't you know that about him? What he needs is freedom. He can't breathe, somebody's putting chains on him. Goddamn, Kenny. I swear sometimes I despair of you, boy. Don't you see what is right in front of your face?" **** Seraphina was in the kitchen cooking blue corn griddle cakes in the iron skillet and wrapping them around sausages, a ranch-style Pig in a Blanket. Every time a man walked through the kitchen, he grabbed one and kept going. Hawk could see that Ethan and Alberto were working. He'd seen Seraphina go outside and hand them up a griddle cake and sausage wrapped up in a paper towel, and they didn't even have to get down out of the saddle. But he wasn't sure why Winn and Jasper couldn't eat at the table. All they were doing was sitting on the porch complaining about doctors and hospitals and grandsons. Hawk was leaning up against a kitchen countertop, trying to stay out of their way. From the way they both had turned and narrowed their eyes when they saw him, he was due for another ass-chewing. Seraphina handed him a cup of coffee and a Pig in the Blanket on her way to the front porch. Oh, it was so good, the nutty blue corn and the sage and spice of the sausage. Nobody made these like her. When he was a teenager, he had fallen in love with Seraphina, and he wasn't sure anymore if 45


he'd been in love with her long hair, as black as the Colorado sky at night, or her Pigs in the Blanket, or the drama and excitement of her hugely pregnant belly. Or if his heart had been tied to hers by the bruises on her face and arms and belly. Every man on the ranch had been ready to kill to defend her, himself included. "You're spoiling them," he said, when she came back in. "Women in town, they'd have those two old bastards in here doing the dishes." "I heard that!" Jasper yelled. Seraphina just laughed and patted his cheek. "I don't want them in here! You're the only man on the ranch I'll let in the kitchen. The rest, they don't remember to take off their muddy boots. They mess up my cabinets and don't put food away, just leave it on the table with crumbs everywhere like they've never heard of mice." "Kenny, get out here!" Winn was calling him from the porch. "Bring that coffee pot." "He shouldn't have much more," Seraphina said. "Otherwise he'll be in the bathroom twenty times this morning." She poured the rest of the pot into a brushed stainless steel thermos and handed it to him. "Oh, I guess we'll let him today. It's a special occasion, having you home." Were they all trying to make him feel guilty? They were doing a damn good job of it, even if it wasn't intentional. He walked out to the porch and filled up Winn's cup, then dragged up a chair. "Where's Granddad?" Winn gestured with his chin. 46


Ethan had dismounted, but kept the reins in his hand, looped over the horse's head, like he was ready to climb back into the saddle and ride away any minute. Jasper was yelling, flinging his good arm around. All Hawk caught was, "...show him already. He ain't a boy anymore." Ethan looked over at him, jaw flexing, eyes squinting into the sun, and Hawk got a very clear picture of what he would look like when he was eighty. He hoped he'd get to see that in person, Ethan at eighty. Maybe they could work things out, find a way to both be here, work the land together. Ethan said something quiet to Jasper, put his hand on Jasper's shoulder. He gave a whistle through his front teeth and Alberto came out of the barn and held the horse for him. "I got everything packed, Ethan." Alberto stroked the soft brown nose, and the bay mare nuzzled under his ear. "Thanks, Berto. We'll be saddled up and gone in two minutes." Hawk rubbed the black stubble that covered his chin. He hadn't managed to shave yet, and his hair was a mess of wild black curls. From the look on Ethan's face, he wasn't going to get the chance to get cleaned up. "Let's go, Hawk. We're burning daylight." Winn rocked back and propped a boot on the porch rail. "Ethan sounds like The Duke this morning. What's that from, True Grit?" Jasper joined him, hunted around for his coffee cup. Hawk twisted the lid off the thermos and poured him a cup. "No, not True Grit," Jasper said. "Maybe that one with the girl who looks like Seraphina, The Seekers." 47


Ethan was cursing under his breath, stamping around. "Get your toothbrush and let's ride, already. You don't even have a goddamn hat, do you?" "You go get that hat that's resting on my bedpost, Kenny. That black straw might fit you." "It's from The Cowboys," Berto said. "John Wayne was always saying, 'We're burning daylight.'" Winn nodded. "I believe you're right, Alberto. It was from The Cowboys." "Yep, that's the one," Jasper agreed. Ethan had had enough. He swung himself up into the saddle, nudged the horse with his knee until she moved away from the house. It looked to Hawk like it was all he could do not to take to his heels and ride as far and as fast as he could away from them all. Hawk felt himself grinning. He was happy not to be the only one around here about to drown in a flood of feelings he couldn't control. Even if all that Ethan was feeling was irritation, that was something. Hawk went into the house and stuck Jasper's old Stetson on his head, grabbed his toothbrush and a travel-sized tube of Crest and stuck them down into his pocket. "See you two later," he said to Jasper and Winn, swinging himself up into the saddle. "Thanks, Berto." The boy patted him on the knee. Berto did this to everyone when they climbed on a horse. No one knew why, but they'd all come to appreciate his little gesture.

48


Hawk was riding a pretty palomino mare with a fine golden mane and tail. Ethan had the lead to the pack horse. He turned around and watched Hawk ride up next to him. "What's this mare's name?" Hawk asked, stroking her neck. She danced a bit, showing what a fine lady she was. "That's Honey," Ethan said. "You remember that big Silver that Berto raised when he was a teenager? Honey's her foal. She's three." He thought a minute. "No, four this year." They rode into the sun, not talking. Hawk could feel a trickle of sweat running down his back, the sun warm on his arms and thighs. The mountains surrounded the ranch, and the land was a sloping green valley since the summer rains. The snow melt off the mountains had filled the creek. Ethan dismounted and opened the gate that lead to the rangeland. He handed Hawk the lead rope to the pack horse, and Hawk rode through with the animal, then waited on the other side of the fence for Ethan to close the gate and mount up. Hawk was surprised to see that the rangeland wasn't overgrown. If they weren't running cattle, what was chewing on all this grass? Maybe they had a herd of elk wintering here, but elk should have moved north by now. Maybe Ethan had brought some bison to the ranch. Those were some tough animals, their squat, heavy bodies designed for the shortgrass prairie land that had been much of Colorado before the cattlemen came, before development. There was a lot of talk down in Durango about running bison or cattle-bison mixed breeds for the meat. Hawk looked over at Ethan, at the long, straight line of his back when he was sitting in the saddle. He was a cowhand, 49


an old fashioned cattleman. He loved the land, loved running animals on the land. That's all he had ever done, all he had ever wanted to do. And Hawk? He thought back to his beautiful lofts, to the river trail with handrails and benches so you could rest and study the river. He loved those lofts. He knew what Winn had been saying. He had felt the land in his bones, in the beating of his heart, when he was young. He still did, tell the truth. Something inside of him seemed to settle when he was out riding his land. But this wasn't the life he'd chosen. He'd found his pleasure over the years in building new things. In building things that would last. He still loved his granddad's ranch, but now he was a development guy. Somehow, between the two of them, they would have to find a solution for this land that they could all live with. Something that would keep Seraphina in her kitchen cooking Pigs in a Blanket, and Alberto taking care of the orphaned animals in the barn, and Jasper and Winn sitting on the porch with their bourbon after supper, and Ethan on a horse, riding the range. What was it about horses, about the way Ethan sat on a horse, made Hawk think that was where he was happiest? They were nearly to the creek that ran through the ranch when Hawk felt the tremor in the land, a rhythmic thud underneath Honey's hooves. She was a little skittish, tossing her head, and Hawk reached down to gentle her with a hand on her neck. When he looked up, a herd of wild horses thundered past, splashed across the creek, and moved up the hill toward their campsite. 50


Ethan was looking back toward Hawk, and Hawk rode up and joined him. They sat together watching the herd. The horses were shaggy and wild, scarred up from a lifetime of running the range. They butted heads and reared up, hooves painting the sky, threw themselves around with the wild, reckless abandon of animals that had never felt the rope or halter. There must have been two hundred head, mostly bays with splashes of white and those tough brown and white paint ponies. Hawk felt something ease up in his chest, some tightness he hadn't realized was there. "Ethan, you got a herd of mustangs." Ethan nodded. "We got about a hundred from the last wild horse and burro roundup. The BLM's been bringing us the rest a few at a time. These are all considered too old to train for the adoption program. They changed the rules so you don't have to wait a year after you adopt an old mustang to get the deed. Jasper was afraid somebody would buy them up, send them to the slaughterhouses. These are some hardheaded old ponies we got here." "I read something about one of those programs at the prisons, you know, where the prisoners learn to train the horses. They learn all sort of things, like working together, and being patient, and respect. Then the mustangs that have been trained, they're sold through the adoption program." Ethan nodded, and Hawk waited. He had a feeling Ethan wanted to say something else. "Some places, they let boys train horses. Boys like Alberto, with autism, or boys with other problems. Alberto, he's real good with animals. And the animals accept him and love him. 51


Don't make him feel real different all the time, the way people do. Maybe we could bring some boys out here to learn about the horses. Learn ranch ways." Hawk thought about that, thought about the boys he saw roaming around Durango, hanging out at the Wal-Mart, looking for trouble. Boys who didn't have any work to do, the ones who had so much energy it came bursting out in all the wrong ways, boys nobody thought would amount to anything. "Ethan, you mean doing something like those Wild Horse Mentors? Horse clinics, like that? Or you mean building a camp for boys where they could come and stay, learn ranch ways, learn to gentle a horse?" "Might be good for boys to come out here for a bit. Not everybody's born to it, born to the land. Somebody's got to teach you how to fix a fence. Otherwise the ranch ways, and ranches, they'll be gone." He nudged his horse with his knee and moved off, and Hawk guessed he'd said all he intended to say. They rode for a couple of hours, following the herd. Hawk noticed an idea niggling at his brain, took it out and chewed it over. Winn was right. Your brain slowed down on a horse, slowed down until the important ideas could come out and take their turn at your attention. He knew why he'd been avoiding the ranch. There wasn't any big mystery. They all loved him so much. They'd fussed over him after he'd been hurt out here, wouldn't hardly let him out of their sight, and every time somebody he loved looked at him, their eyes had been filled with pain and helpless fury. He didn't want to be a victim, didn't want to be 52


helpless, didn't want to see the hurt in their eyes mirrored in his own. So he'd stayed away. Maybe it was different now. That thing about time healing all wounds, maybe it was true. Now they needed him. He wasn't their baby who got hurt, the one they didn't protect. He was the guy they were turning to to save their ranch, to make their dream for it real and strong and lasting. Hawk felt a little more lightness in his chest. They had asked the right guy, because he knew what to do. He rubbed the scar on his chest. Time to get this resolved with Ethan. He wanted it to be finished. Hawk thought about Griff, his delicate fingers tracing the scar. Griff had bent down and pressed his lips to it, sweetness on his tongue, but he hadn't ever asked. Hawk felt a little pang in his belly, wished for a moment that Griff was here, riding with them. Then he looked up at Ethan, and felt a pang somewhere else. It was past time to get over him, way past time to move on. The only problem was he didn't know how to do it. Hawk rode up next to him, and Ethan took his time studying his face. "I think we should make a camp for those boys," Ethan said. "I don't know how much it would cost. Can you figure out the money and the taxes and all that stuff, Hawk? I can build most of it, save some money. Alberto can help." Hawk nodded. "Yeah, Ethan. I'll take care of it. I know what to do, to get some seed money and get things started. You start thinking about what you want, we'll get a plan drawn up." "Okay, Kenny. Good." 53


Hawk grinned at his retreating back. Now Griff, he wouldn't have shut up until he'd wormed every detail of the plan out of Hawk. Griff would have praised his genius and otherwise made him feel like his dick was ten feet long. Actually, Hawk wouldn't have minded telling someone his brilliant idea, but he figured it would have to wait for Jasper and Winn and the front porch. The ranch's campsite was at the far edge of the holding, three hours ride from the main house. They could have made it home, but ranch people, they liked to camp out and look up at the night sky full of stars, fill the pot at the creek and boil up the coffee over a juniper wood fire. The campsite was ringed with twisty old junipers, and the creek was about a hundred yards away. The fire ring was made out of black volcanic rocks. Hawk didn't know where his great-grandfather had found them. He hadn't seen rocks like that on the ranch before. The fire ring had been there a long time. Ethan dismounted, started unpacking the horse, and Hawk took Honey and Ethan's mare Filene down to the creek for a drink. The mustang herd had settled into a pack on the other side of the creek, with the spindly-legged foals in the middle. One old, black stallion pricked his ears, took a couple of steps toward them. Honey pressed close to Hawk, her eyes rolling. Filene looked up, interested. "City girl," Hawk said, rubbing between Honey's ears. "You don't want to run with those wild boys. They'll get a nice girl like you in trouble in a minute." When they had drunk their fill, he walked them back up to the campsite and unbuckled the saddles. Ethan had laid a ground cloth down, and Hawk 54


put their saddles on opposite corners, just like they had done back in the day, when they had come out here to be alone together, and make love. That was a long time ago. Ethan looked at him, but he didn't say a word. "I'll start the fire," Hawk said. He had loved campfires when he was young, but he hadn't sat next to one for many years now. He still remembered how to set up kindling in a little teepee, though, and after a very few minutes the kindling had caught, and was flaring up, and he put some sweet-smelling juniper on the flames. Seraphina had packed them a couple of thick steaks, a thermos of coffee, a bottle of bourbon, and some thick, buttered biscuits for the morning. Hawk grinned, picturing Griff's face. He'd be pawing through the saddle bags, looking for the salad, offering to whip up a nice bleu cheese vinaigrette. Come to think of it, Hawk liked Griff's salads. He'd gotten used to having the fresh stuff. "So tell me about Seraphina's greenhouses," he said. He and Ethan talked through dinner like they always had before, mostly him talking and Ethan nodding and grunting. The sun had set when Ethan leaned back against his saddle and cracked the seal on the bourbon. Hawk threw a couple more logs onto the fire, reached for the bottle and took a long swig, then settled back, his head propped against the warm leather of his own saddle. The first stars were out, the sky deepening from indigo to purple, and Ethan dragged his saddle over and flopped down next to Hawk. He passed the bottle over and Hawk took a 55


mouthful, then set it down. They both stared up at the beautiful night sky, the quiet deep settling all around them. "You getting your courage up, Ethan?" "I don't need to get my courage up to touch you, boy." His voice was deeper than normal, and gravelly. "I always wanted you. First time I saw you, you looked like one of those mustangs out there, like you were so wild and free your feet didn't quite touch the ground. I just wanted to reach out, take a bite, taste that freedom on your skin, taste it on your cock. And it was good, Kenny. Hawk, I mean. Sorry, I keep forgetting." He sat up, and Hawk handed him the bottle. "Hawk, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what happened. I don't think I ever said I was sorry. It was my fault, boy. I should have..." Hawk rolled over, slid on top of him, stopped Ethan's mouth with his own. "Shut up, Ethan. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to see it on your face when I'm making love to you." Ethan stared up at him, his big, rough hands moving down Hawk's back, over his waist, down over his ass. He gave him a little squeeze, thrust up a little until their two erect cocks nudged each other. "Aren't you in the wrong place, boy?" Hawk took Ethan's bottom lip between his teeth, gave it a little tug. "Not this time." Then he was kissing him, his tongue moving into Ethan's mouth. He tasted good, like something remembered out of a sweet old dream, that kind that disappeared when you woke up suddenly. Bourbon whiskey on a cowboy's tongue, warm leather under his head, sweaty 56


denim that peeled off easy in the coolness of a Colorado night. He remembered Ethan's body. He still looked the same, still moved the same, but with a little extra tenderness now, less urgency, like Ethan had time, and he wanted to take it. Those rough hands moved over Hawk like he wanted to memorize the feel of Hawk's skin under his fingertips, make a memory. Hawk felt Ethan slow down, so he reigned in his own desire, that sharp urge to plunder that almost was a bit too rough, that had an edge of violence. Ethan didn't want that, and neither did he. So he slowed down, too, spent some time kissing Ethan, let Ethan's big chest rock him with every breath. Hawk found a single curly gray hair among the blond on Ethan's chest, and Ethan laughed when he plucked it out and showed it to him. Hawk moved down until he could rest his face in that dip that Ethan's hip bones made, perfect for resting his cheek, with Ethan's cock nudging his mouth, asking for a little attention. Ethan smelled the same, velvet skin and wood smoke and leather, but it was mixed now with nostalgia, with a lonely, aching desire, the echo of too many nights remembering, too many nights when his heart had felt split in two from wanting. They both knew this was a one-time thing, to put it to rest between them, and so Hawk tasted sorrow on his tongue, sorrow along the lines of Ethan's body. He moved his mouth over Ethan's cock, concentrating hard so he could remember. So he could taste this again, in his memory. 57


Ethan groaned, thrust up against his mouth and then thrust up again, reaching down for Hawk's head. "Oh, God, Kenny. I've missed you. It's been so long." Then he was coming, his head thrown back, and Hawk swallowed him, swallowed him deep. Ethan tangled his fingers in Hawk's black curls. Hawk lifted his head, crawled back up Ethan's body. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon and took a swig, watched while Ethan did the same. "I could spend the rest of my life with your cock in my mouth." Hawk closed his eyes suddenly. He remembered saying this once before, when he'd been very young. But nobody spent their life making love. That left the whole rest of their life unlived. Ethan's hair was spread out across the saddle blanket, his stormy blue eyes soft and wild with desire. Hawk paused, one hand on either side of Ethan's head, stared down into his face. He wanted that picture in his memory, too, Ethan's face looking back up at him with desire. Ethan reached up and rubbed a thumb across Hawk's bristly chin. "Goddamn, Kenny, you've always been so goodlooking. You look like a pirate, or one of those banditos from south of the border." His fingers tugged on Hawk's curls, and he pulled Hawk's face down to his. "Enough looking." Hawk didn't think he'd last long enough to climb inside Ethan. He could feel hot waves of desire sweeping over his skin, the muscles in his thighs tensing and curling his toes. Ethan must have seen it in his face. He reached between them, rubbed a rough thumb over the head of Hawk's cock, 58


then set it in place. "Come on, boy." Hawk thrust hard, and the head slipped in. Ethan groaned beneath him. "Sorry," he said, kissing Ethan's mouth hard enough to draw blood. "Ethan, I've wanted you so much, for so long..." He thrust again and again, his control falling away, and then he was coming, deep groans torn out of his throat, and he smelled Ethan's skin, tasted blood and bourbon on his tongue, felt Griff's soft touch against his face, felt the terror and pain of a branding iron being pressed down into his chest, while he stared up into the black forever of a Colorado sky. He raised his head and screamed, pumping hard, and Ethan wrapped his arms around him and pressed him close, whispering in his ear. "Shhh, hush now, Kenny. I've got you. Hush, baby. I got them all. They'll never hurt you again, I promise, Kenny. I promise." When Hawk lifted his head, he couldn't breathe. Ethan saw the panic on his face, put his mouth over Hawk's mouth, breathed warm air in between his lips. Then he was kissing him, his mouth sweeter than Hawk could ever remember, tender kisses full of love. The clutch in his throat eased then, and he could kiss Ethan back, could breathe again. He kissed Ethan for a long time, and it felt like he was kissing him goodbye. When Hawk sat up Ethan rubbed his big hands across Hawk's cheeks, then pulled him down into his arms again. Ethan threw some more wood on the fire, and the flames shot up bright yellow against the darkness. Then he sat back down, leaned back against the saddle, and pulled Hawk into his arms. "Jasper told me he wanted me to tell you what happened after you got hurt. We didn't tell you about it, 59


because we didn't want you to worry if we'd done the right thing. We didn't want to make it hard for you, being a lawyer. But Jasper, he wants this resolved before he dies. I don't see anything unresolved, myself, but ... I don't know, Kenny. It was a long time ago. You still think about it?" Hawk shrugged. "Not very often, Ethan. Every once in a while, I think I see one of those boys around town, but then I look again, they're gone. And they're not boys anymore. I mean, they should be my age, but I always see them like they were boys, like that night. It's just when I'm feeling stressed out, I think. But I sure do wonder sometimes what they're doing. If they've done it to anybody else." It was at this campsite, with Ethan lying over him. They'd just finished making love. There were four of them. They fell on him, hit Ethan on the head with a rock from the fire ring, dragged Kenny off and staked him to the ground. He'd never really known why. Did there have to be a reason for such a thing? Ethan was very still. "You couldn't be seeing them, Kenny. How could you be seeing them? I killed them all that night, every one of them. The night they branded you. Didn't you see?" Hawk turned in his arms, the shock freezing his tongue. He'd always imagined they had run, up to Wyoming or Montana, hid out on some remote ranches, far away from Jasper's long memory and longer reach. "They should have hit me harder, Kenny. When I came to, they had you staked out. They were pressing the branding iron down into your chest. I thought they were going through 60


the bone, straight down into your heart. It was you screaming brought me around. Didn't you hear the gun? I had the rifle with me, and the axe. I shot every one of them in the head, one after the other. They were so drunk, drunk on blood lust, and they were too fucking stupid to run when I started shooting. They just stood there while I put bullets into their heads." Hawk had his eyes closed now, the scar on his chest aching. He'd never known what had happened afterward. Whenever he'd thought about it, over the years, his mind had shied away from the memory like a skittish horse. He'd come to when Ethan was riding toward the house, carrying him pressed up against his chest. Every time that horse's hooves had hit the ground he thought his chest was going to explode with the pain. He remembered trying not to scream, because every time he screamed, Ethan spurred the horse faster, and that made everything hurt worse. He must have passed out a couple of times before they got home. He remembered Seraphina's horrified face, Jasper and Winn's voices, and Ethan looking down at him, blood dripping down his face, dripping off his jaw and onto the collar of his shirt. Hawk had been in the hospital for a long time after that, and when he got out he went straight back to law school and stayed there. "Jasper and Winn rode out that night, buried the bodies. They never told me where. Said it could die with them." All Hawk had ever really known, for all these years, was that Ethan had never touched him again. It had been years before Ethan could even meet his eyes. They had both gotten good at avoiding each other, the pain of that night tearing 61


something between them that couldn't be fixed. But Hawk had missed him all those years, missed him like he'd missed watching the stars in the night sky over his land. "Thank you, Ethan." Ethan nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed against the light of the fire. "Only thing I regret, I killed them too quick. I think about it sometimes, Kenny. I wish they'd suffered just a little bit more, just enough to know a little something about suffering." **** Ethan poked at the fire with a stick, and red sparks shot up into the darkness. The level of the bourbon had dropped considerably, easing some pain on both sides. "So tell me about your boy." Hawk rolled over to his back and settled his head in Ethan's lap. "I might be falling in love with him. I'm not sure." "How'd you meet him? Griffin, right?" "Yeah, Griff. We were at an old bookstore. I was doing my Saturday morning thing." Ethan leaned back and smiled at him. "What do you do on Saturday morning? I can't even imagine what that would be like, living in town." "Well, I go downtown and have an espresso and a pastry from the Italian bakery. I read the paper sitting outside if the weather's nice. And then I go looking around old bookstores. Sometimes I look for a particular book, but most of the time I just look through the shelves until I see something interesting. 62


"I'd seen Griff around on Saturday mornings. He loves the old bookstores, too, so we had seen each other once or twice. Anyway, we were in this bookstore and we were both looking at the books. I couldn't help but notice he wasn't looking at the pages, the words. He was opening the covers and staring down into the books, muttering things like French Shell and Antique Spot. I finally realized he was looking at the end papers, those papers on the inside of the covers. So I started looking, too, and I found this really fancy paper on the inside cover of a copy of The Chronicles of El Cid, by Robert Southey. You know that book?" Ethan shook his head, smiling. "Well, anyway, the paper was beautiful, bright vermilion and clear sky blue and gold, all swirled around. I just handed it to him, and he opened the cover and gasped. Antique Dutch! Then he looked up into my face, and he caught his breath, and he stared at me like I was the hottest thing he'd ever seen." Hawk took the stick from Ethan and poked at the embers. "He still looks at me like that. I get close to him, he starts breathing fast, and his cheeks turn pink. I touch him, and his cock gives this big lurch, like he's got a hair trigger where I'm concerned." Hawk stared down into the fire. The embers glowed deep red as the wind passed over them. "He's all heart, and he handed that heart to me." Hawk looked over at Ethan and shrugged. "I don't know. It's nice, having somebody look at you like that, like their sun rises in your eyes. It makes me feel good to be with him." 63


Ethan reached over and put his hand flat against Hawk's face. Hawk closed his eyes. Ethan's touch was tender against his face. "Yeah. I know, Kenny." Early in the morning, Hawk filled their old yellow enamel pot with water for washing at the creek and warmed it up over the fire. Ethan watched him, shaking his head. "City boy." He walked down to the creek in his bare skin, splashed icy water across his face and chest, stood up and shook like a dog when he was done washing. The mustangs were grazing in the soft morning light. When the sun came up over the mountains, it painted great swaths of bright gold over the scene. Ethan stood next to the creek and let the sun dry him off and warm his skin. Hawk watched him, and the mustangs watched him. The tough old black stallion picked his way across the creek to where Ethan was standing, nudged him hard in the shoulder. Ethan raised a hand to the horse's neck, and they stood there together. Hawk could see what the old stallion could see. Ethan was one of their herd. The ranch was quiet when they rode back in. Alberto came out of the barn and took the horses. "That sure is a fine mare, Alberto," Hawk said, stroking Honey's golden nose. Alberto ducked his head, pleased, and Hawk could see him whispering words of love to her on the way to the barn. "You gonna go check on our old men?" Hawk nodded. "Yeah. But then I'm heading back to Durango this afternoon. I've got to get started on things." "I'm gonna check that fence line up north. I'll take Berto with me." He reached out and shook Hawk's hand. "I hope 64


we'll see you again soon, Hawk. Bring your boy up here. Let him see..." He gestured around him, the ranch house and barn, the wash with the cottonwood trees so shady and green, the mountains, the peace and stillness. "Just let him see." Hawk nodded. "I will. Thank you for taking care of everything out here, Ethan. For taking care of the ranch all these years." "It was my pleasure, Kenny." They looked at each other for a long moment more, then they broke the handshake and turned away. Seraphina was in the kitchen, rubbing bacon grease into an iron skillet on the stove. She had a mess of fried bacon draining on some paper towels, and Hawk snagged a piece. "Tell Ethan to come in, I'll cook you some eggs." "We're good, Seraphina. We had your biscuits and some leftover steak." "You sure? How about some pancakes?" Hawk grinned at her. "Seraphina, you don't have enough to do. I think you need some little cowboys to cook for." She caught her breath. "Ethan told you his idea? About bringing some boys out here to work with the mustangs?" Hawk nodded and took another piece of bacon. "Those crazy wild horses. You should see Ethan and Alberto, and Jasper and Winn, too. They just can't get enough. They could sit and watch those horses till the sun goes down. It's like they've never seen anything so beautiful and free. What do you think about Ethan's idea, Kenny? Will it work?" 65


"Yep." She smiled. "That's it? Just that easy? Well, if anyone could figure out a way, it would be you, Kenny." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "You were always so smart, always thinking. Tell me what I need to do to help." "You be thinking about if you need a new kitchen. About how many boys at a time you can handle. About what kind of help you'll need. Start thinking, then you and Ethan get together and make up a list for me. Buildings, capacity, improvements that need to be finished before you start." She nodded. "I can do that, Kenny. Several of the autism parent support groups have lists of camps and equine therapy programs. I'll start doing some research on those. Maybe I'll go visit one, see what it's like." "How're Granddad and Winn this morning?" "Jasper was only up an hour, then he went back to bed. He looked tired. He didn't want the pain medicine, said it would put him to sleep and he wanted to see you when you came back in with Ethan. You check on him, Kenny." Jasper was asleep in the old bed, the soft white sheets drawn up to his chin. Winn was sitting in the rocking chair next to him, reading. He looked up when Hawk came in and gave him a stern glance. "You got everything all figured out?" Hawk nodded. "Yeah, Winn, I do." He bent over and kissed the old man on the cheek. "I love you. Have I told you lately?" Winn blinked several times. "Well, goddamn, Kenny, I know that! I don't know why you got to be saying it all the time. But go ahead, it makes you feel better." 66


Hawk laughed. "What are you reading?" Winn held up the book, a battered paperback copy of Jack Kerouac's On the Road. "Griff's seen the original scroll. You know Kerouac wrote it on pieces of paper glued together and rolled up? They cut out a bunch of wild sex when they published it, that's what I heard." "That sounds like something that damn fool would do. That scroll thing, I mean. Not the wild sex." Hawk looked over at Jasper. His breathing had changed, so he sat down net to him on the bed. "Hey, Granddad." "Can't a man even take a nap in his own house?" Hawk checked the fingers of the broken arm. "How's this feeling?" "About like you'd expect, boy," Jasper said, pointedly. "Like it's shattered." He pulled at the covers and sat up, swatted Hawk's hand away when he tried to help. "Goddamn prostate's the size of a grapefruit. I'm using up my last days walking down the hall to the toilet." Hawk felt the burn of tears in his eyes. He turned to Winn. "What did he mean, his last days?" Winn was watching him close. "You're gonna have to be a man about this, Kenny." He sat back in the rocking chair and sighed. "That's what I told Jasper, when your damn fool Daddy ran off. Your Daddy was so ready to get out of here, get anywhere else but here he signed up for the Marines before we was done in Vietnam. Damn fool. After we got word he was killed I thought Jasper was gonna despair. Then your mama showed up with you. What were you, four? Five? She 67


had on this pink suit, with high heels and this little hat on her head, what did they call them?" "Pillbox. I remember that hat." She said she was going to Italy to paint for the summer and you was a hellion and Jasper could have you. While they were talking you climbed into the paddock, went running around in the horses. I thought you was gonna get trampled. Jasper watched you real close for a couple of days, and I watched him fall in love with you. You were a little hellion, too, just like your mama said. You'd get mad and scream till your face got bright red. And Jasper would just watch you, like you was too good to be true. You looked just like him, too, that nose and that black hair. But that wasn't it. You lead like him, always have, heart first. That's a good way to get hurt, you ask me. But what do I know? I don't know nothing. I'm just an old ranch hand." "You think you can make it out to the porch? I'll tell you two what we can do to keep the ranch." Winn sighed. "I guess I could hobble out there to hear that story." Hawk stood up and hugged Jasper when the old man came out to the porch to listen to his plan. "What's got into Kenny this morning?" Jasper asked. "All this hugging and loving people." Winn chuckled, but Jasper's unbroken hand was gentle on Hawk's shoulder. "Now, you settle down, boy. I can see your heart's about to bust out of your chest." He settled next to Winn on the bench and propped his foot up on the porch rail. Hawk stared at Jasper's foot in the 68


sheepskin slipper. He couldn't recall ever seeing his granddad not wearing his boots. "So tell us what you got planned, Kenny. It's always exciting for us old cowmen to hear what the fancy smart lawyers got to say." Hawk smiled at them, two old men with signs of a lifetime under the sun on their faces, snickering at him like he was the funniest thing they had seen all day. "Okay. Simply, you keep the ranch. We'll sell the development rights to the Nature Conservancy with a conservation easement. That will give us the capital for Ethan's cowboy camp, to build a bunkhouse, some riding rings, maybe a new stables and a round corral. Whatever Ethan and you guys decide you need. Anyway, the important part is the land stays ranchland forever." He sat back and let out a deep breath. It would be several years of maybe his most difficult and complicated development work ever, but they didn't need to know that. "See, the development rights, that's the difference in the value of the land between keeping it as ranchland, and doing something else with it, like building something. And we'll make Ethan's cowboy camp a nonprofit." Jasper and Winn looked at each other. Winn tipped back and studied the roof. "Kenny, that sounds real good. But don't you mean you keep the ranch?" "Me? No, we're talking about now." Winn stared at Jasper. "Old man, you never told Kenny you gave him the ranch? I swear you're getting senile." Hawk felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. 69


Jasper stared out across the wash, his eyes narrowed. "Now, wait. Wait a minute. Let me think. Kenny, you sure I never called you? Well, you don't worry about it. I'll let you tell Ethan and Seraphina. I probably didn't get around to saying nothing to them, either." Hawk was up and out of his chair. The hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention. "You let some other real estate attorney get his fucking paws on my ranch? Who? Who did you let..." Jasper waved him back down. "Don't be a fool, boy. I got those LegalZoom people to do it! It was real cheap, too. I got the papers right there in the house." Hawk sat back down in his chair hard, his hand crawling up to clutch his heart. Last time he'd heard, the ranch was valued at twenty-three million. It was suddenly hard to breathe. When was the property tax due? "Granddad..." "I figured right about when you got that first tax bill, you would find a way to come out here for a visit. I didn't want to have to die to get you out here, boy. Goddamn, Kenny, what did I have to do to get you to come home, break a leg?" Hawk looked at the stubborn line of his jaw, at the hard, gnarled old hands resting on his knees, and he remembered what Ethan had said. Jasper and Winn had ridden out and buried the bodies. Jasper's eyes were dark and smiling and as tough as they had always been. As full of love as they had always been. Seraphina stuck her head out the screen door. "Coffee or bourbon?" 70


Jasper sat up and looked around at her, smiling. "I heard that." **** Hawk pushed open Griff's apartment door without knocking, and found exactly what he was expecting to find. Griff was standing at the dining room table, staring intently at a kitty litter tray filled with pale golden jelly made from carragheen moss. He knocked a brush against the edge, splattering color across the surface, then picked up another brush that looked like it was made from a bunch of twigs. He stood up then and stretched his back. And looked straight at Hawk. Griff smiled at him like the sun was rising right in front of his face, made Hawk feel like his dick was ten feet long. God, he was gorgeous. Griff's honey brown eyes were full of laughter, full of affection. He leered frankly at Hawk, who was standing in his living room in muddy boots and jeans and a dirty t-shirt and a battered old black Stetson, looking like he'd been out camping and hadn't stopped to take a shower before coming over. Hawk gestured toward the kitchen with his chin. Griff sighed and nodded. Hawk could hear Matt in there, chattering away about the best tequila, and had Griff ever tried Patron? Maybe he could get them a bottle to share, the next time he went to Sam's Club. Hawk pushed open the kitchen door. Matt was really trying too hard, hair blown dry, clear lip gloss, and a Joe Bahama Hawaiian shirt with bright yellow and orange and blue parrots scattered across the black silk. He was putting the final 71


touches on a lovely, towering mound of nachos. They were dripping with cheese and black olives and peppers and purple onions. "Oh, these jalapenos are going to burn a hole right through your tongue, Griff!" Hawk let the kitchen door slam, gave Matt his best tough guy, kick-ass glower, and Matt swallowed a shriek, his hand pressed to his chest. "Hawk! You're back!" Matt snatched up the plate of nachos and held it out, like he wanted to keep something between them. "Go ahead, take one! I made enough for all of us. Uh, were we ... expecting you?" Hawk shook his head, pulled a couple of nachos out of the side, and Matt watched sadly as the beautiful tower leaned and crumbled. Hawk shoved the nachos into his mouth. Matt swallowed visibly, leaning away, and Hawk smiled at him. Matt sidled out of the kitchen, leaving the nachos behind. Hawk shoved another couple into his mouth. They were good, maybe a little heavy on the sour cream. "Griff!" Matt was whispering. "God! My God! He isn't violent, is he?" "Not yet," Griff admitted. "I wouldn't want to push him, though." "I'll see you tomorrow." Matt lowered his voice. "If I see one bruise on you, Griff, one bruise, I'm calling the cops, I swear I am." Hawk leaned against the door frame, looking blackly at them both, and Matt shivered and bolted out the front door. Griff put another piece of his rag paper down on the moss size, lifted it up and laid it down on a pile of newspaper. He 72


picked up the fat sponge, squeezed the water out, and began cleaning the paper off. The marbled paper looked just like colored blotches to Hawk, but he could tell Griff was pleased with the design. "I hope you're having fun acting like a jealous lunatic." Hawk came up behind him, wrapped his arms around Griff's waist. "Yeah, that was good. Live theater." Griff turned in his arms and hugged him. "Oh, my God, you smell like a goat. Or like you've been fucking a goat. And look at that beard." He ran a thumb along Hawk's jaw line. "Hey. You look good. Did everything go okay?" "Yeah. It was real interesting. I've got lots to tell you. It was good being out on the ranch, but I missed you a little." Griff laughed. "You did?" His voice held a faint tinge of sarcasm, then he relented and put both arms around Hawk again. "Well, no, I didn't really miss you, Griff. Maybe I just thought about you a lot. Wondered what you were doing with your moss and gall. Wondered if your lonely librarian friend was about to make his move." "I missed you, too, and I want to hear all about it, every detail. I told Matt we would have to just be friends, and he agreed. But I got the feeling he hadn't really given up. Until about three minutes ago. How's your granddad?" "Uh, well, he seems to be himself again. Granddad and Winn want to save the gall bladder for you, next time they slaughter a cow."

73


"Holy shit! Really? That would be awesome, fresh gall." He gestured to the tiny bottle of ox-gall on the table. "You can't imagine how hard it is to get the good stuff!" Hawk laughed. "Somehow I wasn't expecting that reaction. You keep surprising me, kid." Griff pushed Hawk away with two hands flat on his chest. "Let me surprise you again later. After your shower. Feel free to use my razor." Hawk pulled him close again, rubbed his nose in Griff's hair, smelled his honey and lemon smell. "You know you can just keep one here, Hawk. A razor, I mean." Hawk ran a hand across his stubble, grinning at him. "Yeah? That's a pretty big step. Sure you want me to run off your other boyfriends with my long, strong razor in your medicine chest?" "Oh, please." Griff turned back to his marbling, looking pleased, the color creeping up his cheeks. He ran a sheet of newspaper over the size to clear off the leftover paint. Then he picked up the brush in the indigo bottle and put a couple of big spots of color down. "A fresh gall bladder. Cool." "You've been invited out to the ranch next weekend." Griff turned startled eyes toward him. "Wow. Really? If you keep your razor here, and I go meet the family, that'll be like we're going steady." Hawk crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him. "You know, you're kind of a smart-ass, kid. I like that about you. You got a better prospect in mind, Griff?" "Nope. You're as good as I'm ever gonna get. I think you're it for me, Hawk, for my whole life. You know, like the love of my life." 74


Hawk felt that in the pit of his stomach, had to blink suddenly at the sting of tears in his eyes, but Griff kept his head bent over his marbling tray. "You gonna tell me about Ethan?" Griff turned his head and glanced at Hawk, and his eyes looked a little sad. Hawk reached for him and kissed him on the mouth, tasted sweetness and sorrow and promise. "Yeah, I'll tell you all about it. If you're sure you want me to, Griff." He put both hands on Griff's face, stared down into kind, brown eyes. "If you're sure you want me." "I'm sure." END

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