Courtship of Levi Moore Chapter 4
The Courtship of Levi Moore
Copyright© 2019 – Nicholas Hall
Chapter Four
“After loving you so much, can I forget you for eternity,
and have no other choice?”
(Robert Lovell)
Leaving shortly after the opening of the breakfast room at the motel and enjoying the complimentary meal, I loaded my car, and was on the road before seven, before the heat of the day settled upon the Iowa landscape. There was a haze in the air that, from my previous experience in the State, could only portend a hot and humid day ahead! I longed not only for the coolness of the northern air, grown familiar to me over the past years, but the peace and serenity of our home on the lake where the breezes, even on the hottest of days, cooled and refreshed me as I lounged on our broad, lake-facing, front porch. It’d be a long drive home, with several stops on the road, but I welcomed it since it did give me an opportunity to think much and plan ahead. My nephew and his future husband to be would be welcomed at Spirit View Farm and I wanted to be prepared for them when they came to visit. There was no doubt in my mind, unless I’ve read their intentions wrong, the visit wouldn’t be long in coming.
The journey home would take more time than my trip down. I wanted to swing through Cedar Falls, where my Alma Mater was located and I received two of my degrees. My third and highest degree I received at Iowa City, the University of Iowa. We still had several rental properties in Cedar Falls and I wanted to take a quick look at them. A trip through campus was always welcome as the campus and institution grew over the years, changing much from the smaller college I first enrolled in.
The side trip meant changing my route home. I drove out U.S. 30 to Cedar Rapids and picked up I380 to Waterloo-Cedar Falls. The drive wasn’t that long, just a little over three hours. Scooting around the south side of Waterloo on U.S. 20, I entered campus from the south, drove through it, noting some changes since my last visit, contemplated stopping at the Maucker Union, but decided against it, and continued on to check out our rental properties. Brief stops at each, giving visual inspections from the driveways, except for one I did get out and walk around, provided me with information I needed to relay to my property manager hired to oversee the properties. By the time I left Cedar Falls and headed north on U.S. 63, it was after lunch time. I decided to delay lunch until New Hampton figuring a late lunch would get me through to home without having to stop for dinner. If I needed to, I could pick up something at one of the gas stations/convenience stores when I put gas in the car.
Lunch in my tummy and tank full of gas, I continued north on U.S. 63 to Chester, picked up SH 56, continued north until it intersected with I94 W to I35 N and headed toward the Twin Cities. I picked up I494 there, swung around the Cities to I94 W to SH 101 up to Elk River, and on to U.S. 169 north to my turn west, south of Garrison on Mille Lacs Lake. It was almost dark when I arrived home, the sight of my house welcome. It didn’t take me long to unload the car, put my things away, and head to bed. The next few days would be busy, I thought.
After breakfast I sent an e-mail to my property manager with instructions to concerning one piece of property; find better tenants since it was clear to me they weren’t very careful of my property and secondly, get the necessary repairs made to the apparent damage, and three keep a more watchful eye in the future- hint-hint!
Over the years I found it advantageous to visit our properties unannounced. The surprise visits produced the results I desired. I was very conscientious about keeping my properties, rental and at home, in good repair. At home, the small barn, with silo, used for livestock, grain, and hay storage in earlier years, and boat storage during the winter along with the snowmobile and ATV, was in excellent shape, the hog house and pen (not used for many years) was in good repair as well, the chicken house and yard ready for fowl if need be, although I’d not had any in the past several years, and the open faced machine shed, holding only a small tractor, riding lawn mower, a two bottom plow, disc, and harrow was in need of some roof repair. I kept my lawn/garden tractor with attachable snow thrower in the three car garage next to the house for easy access in the winter.
The house needed little done to it. We’d put all-weather siding on it about fifteen years before and a metal roof and they were in good shape. Inside, the master bedroom on the first floor could use a new paint job, the four bedrooms on the second floor were okay, but the room I thought I’d put Elgee and Rick in if they came for a visit could use some sprucing up. However, I’d leave it up to them to make the decision. It was the biggest room with queen-sized bed and a corner view with windows on two sides. The other three bedrooms were somewhat smaller, but still fairly large. One room had a double bed and the other two twin beds. The bathroom was at the end of the hall.
I made a note to have my housekeeper change up the bedding in all four rooms. She came once a week, but I wanted to give her notice so she could be prepared to spend a little more time. She was a god-send and helped me tremendously.
I settled into my daily routine, seating myself at my desk in the small office off of the living room, and opened my mail. Answering correspondence, e-mails, paying bills, reading some of the financial bulletins I’d received, checking through the WSJ for the bond markets and some of the stocks we’d invested in, along with perusing my bank accounts took most of the morning. I wasn’t into any high risk investments and no bank stocks, especially after the Great Recession in 2008, seeking lower risk investments instead. Granted, the return was less but the principal was secure. My multiple business ventures, including Coleman Real Estate and Coleman Enterprises, LLC provided more than enough income for me to live quite comfortably without any stress on my bank accounts.
Deciding it was too nice a day, with bright sunshine, a light breeze, and not particularly hot, to spend the entire day inside pouring over my accounts, books, and newspapers, I opted to motor across the lake to a small pub (bar and restaurant) for lunch. “Spooner’s,” as it was called, had dollar burgers today for lunch and I was hungry for a couple of burgers and a beer or two.
The owners, one a son of a childhood friend of David’s, Tom Long, approached us about twenty years before seeking some investment capital. He and Mike Harris were a gay couple and were hesitant about approaching one of the local banks. David tried to assure them it’d be fine, but they remained reluctant. The long and short of it was, we provided the capital to buy and start up the business, a restaurant with a bar and three rental cottages plus an owner’s residence, and they agreed to a twenty percent portion of the actual profits to continue until our capital investment, with interest, was repaid. The amount paid, therefore, varied each year depending on the bottom line, but that was fine. They’d just paid off the entire note two years previously. If the owners should decide to sell, we reserved the right of first refusal. The two of them turned out to be great businessmen and great friends. The food was great as well.
I remember I asked them at the time what they were going to name their new business. Mike replied, “Spooner’s.”
Inquiring further, wanting to know where the name came from since it wasn’t the name used by the previous owner or either Tom or Mike’s name. Mike, blushing, fidgeting just a little, confessed, “Tom loves to spoon in bed at night or really anytime we have the opportunity.”
“And you love it,” Tom laughed.
Nobody would be the wiser and the name stuck! Business was great and I would imagine the “spooning” was also.
Both of my boats were gassed up and in the boat house. The fourteen foot runabout, with a twenty-five horsepower motor, was used for fishing. The bigger boat, a speed boat or ski boat, seating six and powered with a one hundred ten horsepower motor, was more than adequate for pulling water skiers and for fast trips around or across the lake. It is a fun boat to operate. I hadn’t pulled any skiers for about three years, when Claire brought several of her grandchildren up for a visit.
I loosed the mooring ropes on the speedboat, slipped on my life jacket, started the motor, and backed out of the boat house, heading across the lake. The ride was pleasant across the relatively placid lake and it took me less than fifteen minutes before I tied up at one of the pub’s docks, walked up the stairs to the deck of the restaurant, and walked in. Summertime brought many strangers to the area and there were several inside, seated at the bar or the small tables scattered across the dining/bar room. The locals tipped their heads or fingers at me in greeting and I returned it.
I heard someone call out, “Hi Doc!” and turned in the direction the voice came from. Bruce Porter and Chad Cooper, two local high school boys, were seated at a corner table chowing down on burgers, fries, and soda.
“Come join us!”
I accepted Bruce’s invitation, left my order at the bar rather than bother one of the waiters to take my order, and meandered across the room, pulled up a chair and joined my young companions.
“Not working today?” I inquired.
“Finished two lawns this morning,” Bruce explained. “Helped Dad with three trees yesterday, so we have the afternoon off today.”
“Be busy tomorrow,” Chad acknowledged. “Have a bunch of summer and weekend cottage lawns to do before the weekend. People like their lawns mowed and trimmed before they get here.”
Bruce’s dad owned a tree and lawn service business and did most of the tree trimming and removal property owners wanted taken care of or cleared so they could build. Usually, early summer they were particularly busy as cottages were reopened for the summer. Storms always brought brisk business. The downed trees, especially oak and maple, were cut up and split into stove or fireplace pieces and sold for use in furnaces (for those who heated with wood) or fireplaces. During the winter, Bob plowed private drives, lanes, and roads. The more snow storms we had, the more money he made.
Porter’s lived at the other end of the lake. Not right on the lake, but across the road from the public landing. It gave them access to the lake without having to pay the higher property taxes.
I’ve known the Porter family for several years now, since Bruce was about six years old. His dad, Bob Porter, wanted to purchase a boom truck for his tree trimming business and approached me concerning the purchase. David and I, over the years, made entrepreneurial investments, providing venture capital, with locals wanting to expand or purchase equipment or businesses. We generally stuck to those persons we knew. We used the low interest rate we charged to provide more opportunities for others. Haven’t lost a dime yet and probably won’t.
Bob and his wife had four children, with Bruce being the last in the nest. Over the years, as the kids grew, they graduated from running the lawn mowers to chain saws. Since Bruce was the youngest, Bob hired additional help during the summer.
Bruce and Chad have been friends for years, ever since grade school I was to discover. Where you found one, you’d find the other, so it was a natural Chad and Bruce would be working together. As well as I thought I knew the boys, I didn’t tumble they were more than “friends” until a couple of years ago. Then, it was almost happen chance.
I was out one summer day trolling for Northern Pike and had to take a piss. Rather than hang my dick over the side and piss in the lake, I pulled up to one of the several islands dotting out lake. It was an island I was quite familiar with, since David and I used to stop here and “swim.” I could’ve stood on the shore and emptied the “reservoir,” but chose to walk inland a short distance to a clearing and small sandy beach. David and I spent many a fun time there.
I stopped just short of the clearing, took the pony out of the barn and began draining my bladder, splattering the grass, leaves, and other debris on the ground. Dribbling to a halt, signaling all was well, I thought I heard several soft grunts, a couple of sighs, and someone say, “my god that was great.” Another voice said, “I can’t believe how tight you are.”
Now I know for a fact the bears around here don’t speak English; in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bear speak beyond a “woof,” a “growl,” or “grunt.” I quickly ruled out a bear, although a bear just might “grunt” when emptying his balls into a sow, but wouldn’t comment afterwards.
Carefully, after tucking my soldier back in the fox hole, I crept forward, peeked around a clump of bushes, and as the little boy would say when spotting the “beast with two backs” “oh my, oh my, what do I see? Two boys f-u-c-k-i-n-g!” Yep, naked as new born babes, Chad bent over, his cock spewing his load out onto the ground, squealing, “I’m cumming” and Bruce mounted belly to back, ass cheeks clenching as he thrust forward, “I am too,” coating Chad’s rectum with teen baby-makers.
For whatever reason, Chad turned his head in my direction. “We got company!” he bemoaned, aghast at being caught naked with Bruce’s cock buried up his ass.
Bruce looked one way, then slowly turned his face toward me. His face burned red, his cock, all the fire gone from it, popped limply from Chad as they both stood up, facing me.
“Hi, Doc!” Bruce said sheepishly as both boys covered their cocks with their hands.
“Hi, boys,” I responded. “Sorry to interrupt you. Hope it wasn’t too soon!” I knew damn well it wasn’t but figured they’d take my presence a little better; still embarrassing, but more palatable.
“I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place. David and I used to stop by here quite often when we were out on the lake.”
“You did?” they responded at once.
“Yep!”
“Did you …….?” Bruce began hesitantly, uncertain if it was a question he should ask an adult.
“Yep!”
“Oh!”