Desolation

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Phil Ford

DESOLATION

CHAPTERS FORTY-FIVE TO FIFTY

by Phil Ford

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

Monday morning was still rainy and cool. Dan had gone out early Sunday morning and shut the gates to all the fields while the cattle were still in the shelter of the brush and trees in the pastures, or beneath the pole barns along the stock lanes. Everything that could be done for the day was quickly finished. There would be a lot of days like this until summer came again. The worst days would be those where they had to work in the rain or cold, because some task couldn't wait. Bob had told everyone to sleep in. He Dan, and Tim fed the chickens; there wasn't much else to do. They drove down the pasture road to see if the creek had begun to flow. The series of dams could serve as bridges if the creek filled its banks but would not hold back a serious flood. Most of the ponds were now full of water as the men looked down.

Tim and Scotty had pushed stones from the creek bed to cover the sides of each dam and the top had been concreted over with a lower gap at some point to function as a spillway, but the appearance suggested natural formations rather than something built. Even the dirt used in building the obstructions to the flow had been dug from the bed itself rather than taken from the bank or the higher ground above. Several deer were drinking from the pool in one spot, oblivious to the men or the sound of the truck obscured by the sound of falling rain.

"We should continue these little dams through the main ranch" Bob said, "They are looking really nice."

"It will give us a few more fishing holes, some of these are forty feet deeper than the bed was before and should hold water all year" Tim commented.

They drove back and out the cattle guard but turned away from the house and continued down the road. There was no destination to their journey, no objective. It was a drive to fill some time that morning and see more of the surrounding country on the remote back roads surrounding the ranch.

More by chance than intent they found themselves at the horse trainer's home, with his barns and pens beside it. "Let's stop and visit a while," Bob said, "We still haven't bought any horses for the men I've hired and we can see what he has right now."

One man was in the barn cleaning out stalls, but no one else was in sight and just one pick-up sat parked outside. Walking up a voice said "The boss and everyone else are out of town for a while, if you're looking for someone."

"We're just killing time this morning, can't get much work done in the rain and nothing's pressing. We stopped by to see what you're training right now while we passed by" Bob related.

"I'm on the last stall and then I haul the muck to those piles out back and I'll drink coffee and watch the TV for the rest of the day" he said, pointing to a long pile about ten feet high beside the far fence. "I'll show you the ones we're training if you want." He raked a last fork full out the stall gate and led a horse back inside, shutting the gate. There were about fifty stalls on each side of the aisle and a large hay storage area at the back with feed bags opposite it and a full hay loft above open in the center of the barn above the aisle. About thirty horses were in the stalls but more remained empty. He walked ahead of them pointing out each animal, giving details and at the last stall said "These are all trained right now. He's off at a competition and on a buying trip. He won't be back for a week or two. His cell phone will reach him if you need one right now."

Introducing themselves and exchanging handshakes, Bob said, "I'm Bob, this is Tim, and this is Dan. I have the Esterhazy Ranch a few miles from here. I've bought a few of your horses, the little blonde palomino-colored mare you sold in the summer for one. Did you train her?"

The color drained from the man's face and his tone changed. "I don't want any trouble Mr. Esterhazy. Maybe you better call my boss and come back when he's here."

He turned as if to resume his work and as he reached for the pitch fork, Bob replied "I think you have the wrong idea here, we aren't here to give you any trouble. As a matter of fact, quite the opposite; your mare has been a great help to me. Without asking any questions, she helps me decide if a man will fit in on my ranch before I hire him. I only hire gay men and it's not something you can ask a man about and be sure of getting the truth and not getting into a fight."

"I think I understand a little more now," the trainer replied, introducing himself as Lance McClure. "I thought you'd be using her to keep from hiring any queers, not the other way around."

"You might want to keep that information to yourself; I'm not out to advertise the fact and just asking the questions would have brought attention to it eventually. My men and I are just like any other cowboys. I want to keep it that way." Bob talked for quite a while, bringing Dan and Tim into the conversation. He explained his financial situation briefly saying money wasn't a problem, without giving too much detail, but that he paid a little better than most. Dan asked if he would help the Johnny and Gary learn horse training in exchange for their free labor and got his agreement. Bob ended their conversation saying that he could refer anyone who would fit in at the ranch to him if he wished and left him the phone number.

Driving back toward the ranch Bob said, "I was always alone with just Martin or Maria around the ranch and never realized what a problem being gay was out in this country. There couldn't be very many gay cowboys around. I thought for a minute we were going to have a fight on our hands with a pissed off guy holding a pitch fork. What might have happened if he was one of the straight trainers thinking we were gay and I'd said the same things?"

Dan just thought what he'd thought so many years. It's a fucked up world and there's nothing we can do to fix it, but he never said it. They went to the Gas'n'Go for some snuff and smokes and visited with Miss Sally a while over a cup of coffee. She agreed to meet with Maria and the Catholic women about the charities and said she'd bring some of the Methodist women from her church along to help, too. She asked Tim if he'd seen Laura lately and he replied "We haven't been dating for a while" and that he didn't think they would be again.

They drove by the church and seeing Clavo's car, they stopped for a minute. He was making one bedroom of the rectory a classroom for catechism classes. He said all the men were at the house and were bored as hell. Clavo had made excuses just to get out of the house. Work kept everyone busy most of the time, but working men could only take so much TV and sitting around. Rather than join them, a trip to town might be fun.

Discussing the situation at home, Dan, Tim, and Bob were in agreement about one thing. They couldn't be responsible for finding anyone something to do in their time off. Bob thought it had to be made clear to the men that they find their own activities so he decided to tell them if they hung around at the house expecting to be entertained, they'd be put to work in the foul weather regardless. Everyone living in the house would have a little more tolerance, but still, it was a big house.

They went shopping all around town. Most of it was man shopping for things like paint and building materials, tools and toys, toys for big boys, that is. They hit the book store and stayed nearly two hours coming out with two large boxes full. Dan got them into a leather crafting store and all three bought leather, tools, and supplies plus more books. Dan wanted to make some bridles and try to make his own saddle. At Wal-Mart they got CDs and DVDs. They were sick of shopping by then and only home sounded good.

Scotty was alone in the kitchen when they got back. "Brian called and he and Shaun aren't coming out today" Scotty told them. Quent popped in saying he'd been using the computer in the boy's room and found a few more trees but was looking for some that bloomed during the winter. It didn't look very promising though. He grabbed a beer and went back to continue his search. "The guy that trains horses, Lance something, called and talked to Johnny. He and Gary went to see him" Scotty added.

Clavo came in, shaking the water off his umbrella and closing it on the porch first. He grabbed a beer and eased into the spot next to Bob on the couch. "The Ladies Auxiliary and the Methodist Women's Group met with me at four thirty in the rectory. They're going to meet with the women's groups in my other parishes and from other churches in the area to work on the charities. I made it very clear that those they list should include everyone in need, regardless of their situation or religious affiliation, including single men and women."

"Sounds good" Bob replied.

Tim was digging through the boxes of books. He hadn't seen what Dan or Bob picked out yet. Tim didn't usually read a lot, but he usually didn't have anything around to read either. He found two books on trees and carried them to Quent.

Dan looked through all the leather and was surprised at all they had bought. He had whole cowhides in several thicknesses, but was mainly thinking of making a saddle. The books he had bought had patterns for cutting things out included and step by step instructions for beginners. He had made some belts and wallets before, so he had a little knowledge. The utility room with the washer and dryer had been designed to serve as a sewing room and had a large work table in the center that mainly was a place to fold clothes. There was a sewing machine, too, but using it was something beyond his imagination. He'd seen his mom use one a lot and always had to thread the needle or put the bobbin in for her, but had only watched her as she made something for his sister or herself. He moved all the leather to the room and took the books to his bedroom for late night reading.

Scotty answered the phone and it was Miss Sally calling for Bob. He handed it to Bob. She asked him to meet her at the store and to bring Clavo with him, if he had time. They left to meet her.

At the store, she opened the back door to the truck and hopped in saying "I want to show you both something" and directed them down the road about a half mile, signaling them to turn in at an old unoccupied house. "The Methodist Church has offered to donate four lots they own for the community center, so this isn't about that. This place belongs to Garrison who owns the co-op franchise. It's been empty for years. He tried to sell it and had it listed a few times with no offers. I think he'd let it go for a song. Hell, it would be a damn tax write off for him anyway." She led them around and already had keys to the place. "There are five acres, the big two story house and the littler one, plus two big barns and some outbuildings. Every morning I have men looking for work that gather outside the store under the big cottonwood tree. If you want to help people in need, helping those looking for work would be a good place to start. They don't even have a place to piss while they wait. I take them ice water out of charity. They start showing up at five most mornings and hang around until noon or so. Some may stay with family or friends, but my guess is a lot of them sleep out in the woods with no shelter or food."

"So what you have in mind is a place for them to find work and maybe more if it's needed?" Bob asked.

"This place might need a lot of work, but I've always thought it was wasted unused. It is big enough for a lot of purposes, and you could use the men not working to fix it up" Sally explained. "People feel better getting help they work for than they do getting hand outs. It is just a thought."

They looked around a lot more, inspecting the condition of the buildings and the property around them. "I'll give Garrison a call and see what he'll do," Bob finally said, but no more and no guarantees. They dropped her off back at the store and Bob turned to Clavo, "What do you think, bud?"

"I think Sally knows more than anyone else about what is needed around here. I'd listen to her. There are something like fifty or sixty men gathered every morning looking for work as day laborers. There is never enough work offered for more than a few. We've talked about it at church. No one knows where they come from or where they go. Most are Mexican illegals but some are Anglos. If it could help, it would be a good thing, but I don't think even getting permanent jobs for those looking will solve the problem because more will just come to take their places looking. As it is now a lot of them get mistreated or left unpaid when they go with someone to work for them. I've heard some bad stories. I'd be willing to check in a few times a day if we could get some volunteers to keep an eye on things and I might be able to get some free ads in newspapers for employers to call when they need help." Clavo had mixed emotions. Men could be polite and well behaved looking for work, but away from that setting or with alcohol put in the mix, the whole situation could change. Only one sheriff's deputy came to Desolation regularly and wouldn't be able to handle trouble by himself with a large group of men. Thinking that guns might be involved scared hell out of him.

Back at the house, Bob got Garrison's number from Tim. Garrison agreed to let it go for thirty five thousand and the deal was struck. It would be something for the men to work on, on rainy days and some of the day laborers could help as well. Bob went into the office and had a long conversation with his lawyers. Again he got advice. "Don't replace making money with giving money away and don't overburden Clavo, let him take the role of observer, keeping himself and Bob or the ranch separate from what was being done. It sounded like good advice. Next they told him more property had been purchased for wind power, selling off some stocks and investments to buy it. He was given the locations and directions, but didn't need to operate the land unless he chose to, it was bought just for wind generators. They passed on the contact information for the architectural and engineering firms on contract to his company to get the community center started and evaluate the laborer assistance property to give to Clavo.

The rain ended that evening. It had rained steadily but lightly for quite a few days but in the rain gage it only measured three inches at the ranch. It did fill all the ponds along the course of the creek and now flowed down through the main ranch on its way to the river downstream. All the pasture grasses seeded by the plane had come up. If more rain followed, they would carpet the pastures in green through the winter.

Johnny and Gary got back from visiting Lance. They would work with him from nine until noon each weekday morning learning and helping him at the same time. Lance sent his apologies. It seemed he had been beaten up a couple of times and was leery of people he didn't know. His coworkers, the other trainers, hadn't been discrete with who the told about his sexual preference and although they were more considerate now, it was common knowledge in the area and among cutting horse competitors. Once he was beaten up going to his truck at a competition and he didn't attend any now. It cost him one his favorite pastimes and exposure for his skills. The other beating came during a late evening trip to town; coming out of a convenience store, leaving him bleeding in the dirt unconscious. He only went to town now during daylight hours. He hated being alone when the others were gone, fearing something would happen. He was twenty eight and training horses was his life. He had to find a way to live with the bullshit or give up on training horses. "He was smiling and joking by the time we left" Johnny said, "He's happy to have someone around."

Paul came up to take supper to the bunkhouse. He said they all got out and drove around the ranch that afternoon. He and Frank had looked at the bees, and then checked to see what equipment had been bought. They would have a list of things to order ready for spring and some recommendations for Bob tomorrow.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

Time passed by very quickly for the next few months. During bad weather, none of the time went to waste. There were so many building projects completed, a lot of things changed. The roof was extended from the bunkhouses to the cook house, making it one larger building. Eight rooms were turned into four larger rooms that housed the four couples, with king size beds replacing the bunk beds and couches added in each room giving them more privacy. The two remaining rooms in that bunkhouse became computer rooms and offices. A twelve man whirlpool and weight room took some of the space under the new roof area and the bathrooms were improved and updated.

The irrigation system for the wind breaks was installed and double the number of hives was in place with the empty ones ready to receive their new queens at swarming time. Swarms after that would be moved to the wind farm lands.

The community center and laborer assistance buildings aptly named the 'Goodworks Foundation' were complete. All ties to Bob were kept confidential. Other ranches had volunteered their men in helping build both, though the payrolls had been reimbursed by the foundation for their efforts. Bill and his domino plating friends now did the volunteer work helping find men jobs and the ladies of the community ran the kitchen preparing the meals. They all received some pay for their efforts. Since most were retired, the money was appreciated. The food bank had moved there and was now involving everyone, not just the Catholic Church.

Scotty only cooked for the household now and did more work on the ranch. Quent had needed greenhouses for his wind break trees, so thirty had been built, with a couple of them growing produce for the ranch and a few with plants started for the spring garden. They all made use of the wind power for heating and would be cooled some in the heat of summer by large water coolers already installed. The watering systems were on timers with fertilizer controlled and mixed in by injection pumps.

Johnny and Gary had learned a lot about training horses and Lance even visited the ranch from time to time. All the grain fields were now closed off so they would produce a crop and the pastures were lush and green. It would be a month before the first calves of the year were born. It was a good time for another trip, this time with everyone going and Lance invited as well. There were no herds to move, no irrigation needed to be done, There were extra feeders for the chickens and enough feed and hay out for the horses to last ten days. Even another priest was saying mass for Clavo to give him the time away.

The jet arrived at the ranch at nine in the morning and within ten minutes was in the air again with everyone loaded. They had to stop in San Antonio both going and coming back to clear customs because their trip was to Cancun, Mexico. From there it was a three hour flight and at two in the afternoon a bus carried them to their hotel. Two connecting suites with ten rooms and two living areas at the best hotel had been arranged. By three, everyone was on the beach with drinks in their hands.

Only Paul, Frank, Scotty, and Clavo had seen the ocean and they had always been to the cold pacific water in southern California that chilled you even in the wet suits surfers wear. Here the water was warm and clear blue and with the barrier reef, snorkeling or diving was a joy.

This was a complete vacation resort. Buffets and meals were always available, the kitchen never closed. The bars were the same. Everything that could be enjoyed, was available, and even horses to ride or a golf course for those inclined to play. The only activity they planned together was a day trip to the Mayan ruins and pyramids at Culiacan. They all carried digital cameras and extra memory cards and thousands of pictures were taken. They did things together. They did things in groups or couples. Brian and Shaun stayed busy to the point of exhaustion.

The plane carried seventeen very well tanned guys back to the ranch. It had been spring break for the two boys still in school, which was one reason the date was chosen. Showing off all their pictures took them several days and was a hit with the other students. Brian was walking in a haze. He and Shaun were both making salaries grown men would be happy with and between their parents and Bob they didn't need to spend a penny of it. If their relationship was anything more than being best friends, the guys at the ranch or anyone else looking, saw no sign of it. Brian now stood six foot one and Shaun was only slightly shorter at six foot. On the beach in Cancun, they got more than their share of attention from the girls and the guys. The Speedos they wore couldn't have hurt anything.

What was most amazing about the two younger boys was their being so centered and so mature, as if they reached beyond their years. After working with their calves or helping on some project at the ranch, they spent a lot of time during the evening with people at the laborers center. They would latch hold of some guy and say "Come on with us, we're going to help you find a good job." They would take him into a room and sit him down on a couch. They would turn on a tape recorder saying, "Hey, we're just kids and we'll have to write up stuff for your file later, so this is just easier for us." Then they began to talk to the guy. It would get relaxed and they'd just ask about what he liked in life, what his dreams were, it would just go on and on. By the end, they knew why he lived, who mattered to him, and really where his heart was. It would have the basic details of his education and experience, and further his lessons learned through work and being with other people. No matter what the first impression might be, what they wrote up for the file in the end represented a person, a person worth time to get to know and someone worth giving a chance to make their life better.

More than half the interviews had to be done in Spanish, but they both had gotten pretty fluent with school and the ranch helping them learn. At least they knew the right questions to ask after a response and got help from Clavo, Dan, or Paul getting them written up later. If they ever met someone who had an evil nature or was beyond redeeming qualities nothing was ever said, it just might be conspicuous that their file lacked an interview with the boys. Mean or evil natured people do exist and those in Desolation were no exception, it is just that they are always outnumbered by good people.

At the beach their experiences gave them the illusion of being older. Few vacationers were under eighteen, but they blended in and melded with those around them. If there was a problem with that, it was that boys their age still need to be kids sometimes, but they managed to do that by themselves when they needed it.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

One of the first things Tim did when they got home, was to head for the Gas'n'Go to buy some snuff. He had run out in Mexico, not knowing he wouldn't find it in the stores there and had to settle for cigarettes to ease his tobacco addiction. Coming in the door he was greeted by Laura's voice saying, "You've got a long drive to the beach from here, cowboy," and realizing he was in shorts, huarache sandals, a Mexican pleated shirt, and Panama hat in February he gave her a stupid smile.

"Bob took all of us that work for the ranch to Cancun for a week. The plane just landed twenty minutes ago and I haven't changed clothes yet. It's a good thing it's a warm day" Tim answered her. "How have you been doing lately?" The store was empty except for the two of them right then. He'd already paid for the snuff. After cutting the seal with his pocket knife, he was packing a pinch of the Copenhagen into his lip as she spoke.

"Bored as hell, really, since I haven't seen much of you and Dan for a while," Laura kind of hinted for an invitation with that. "I'm changing jobs next week. The bank is opening a small branch in Desolation. I got one of the two teller's jibs. It's next to the post office. I worked as a teller before and in an office back in Dallas."

"That's great! You'll be working normal hours for a change. Bring Patti and come out to dinner Wednesday if you can make it. Our ranch hand that does the cooking beats anything you've ever seen." Well she got her invitation out of me, Tim thought.

"Sure thing, I'll tell Patti. Is seven about right?"

"Perfect! That's when we usually eat." Tim waved a goodbye and scooted out the door before any questions could be asked. He took a drive around Desolation to see if he'd missed anything since he hadn't heard about the bank opening. Other than the community center and the laborers assistance center, there were twenty new houses going up. Desolation was having a building boom. The houses were part of Bob's charity's efforts. They were built with volunteer labor and to a great extent by the new homeowner. A lot of the materials were donated, adobe bricks from the ranch for one thing, but were metal roofed and over insulated. Another common feature was solar panels on the roofs. If they couldn't pay their mortgage payment and utility bills, a new home wouldn't help them much.

Johnny Mac took some gifts he'd bought for his parent's by their house. For once, they were home. They stayed gone a lot, usually separately and he wondered if a divorce was somewhere on the horizon. It was a waste of time and left him feeling as ignored as he had been living there with them. Being so light hearted from the trip, his mood was crushed by visiting them. His dad never looked away from the TV for more than a minute and barely acknowledged his gifts. His mom stayed on the phone the whole time only covering the mouth piece to whisper "thanks hon," and going right back to her conversation. He squealed his tires leaving the house and drove to the lake to sit and brood.

Bob and a few of the other men didn't have anyone to buy gifts for so they mostly bought gifts for the guys. Bob did buy a couple of things for Maria and Charlie, though. Dan bought some things for his sister and her kids. She was still pissed off at him for selling the house. She always made a trip to visit around Christmas because Desolation was what meant home to her, but even the offer of Martin's house as a place to stay wouldn't console her. She'd signed over her part of the house to Dan after taking anything of value, thinking the house was worthless. Over the years, begging money out of Dan, she'd gotten more than half the sale price anyway and on what he'd made before that had been a hardship leaving him eating beans and cornbread for weeks several times. Her definition of broke was a few hundred dollars left in the bank and Dan's was dead broke with nothing left at all. He never told her how much he got for the house, just saying "I have a place to live on the ranch and I'll buy an acre or two and build a retirement home with what I got." All he said about working for Bob was "he's a good man and I'm happier working for him" but never saying what he earned.

Johnny Mac was still in a foul mood when he got home. Scotty and Quent were in the kitchen cooking. Quent had gotten damn good under Scotty's supervision and could prepare a lot of his best dishes now. Johnny went straight for the bar and carried a bottle of tequila to his room. The first half of the bottle went down fast.

Gary got home when the bottle was nearly empty. Back in their bedroom, he saw the monster he feared in the past had been released again. Johnny hit him and knocked him around ending in some very rough sex that left Gary in pain. He begged Johnny, "Don't do this Johnny! I love you!" but it had no effect. His face was bruised and his eye blackened. Johnny went for another bottle at the bar and Gary took refuge in the closet of the unoccupied bedroom ashamed for anyone to see him as he was. Fortunately, Johnny passed out before anyone else came home.

Too often, anger hits those close to someone rather than the cause of the anger. Quent went back to his bedroom for a flannel shirt because of the evening chill coming on and heard the muffled cries from the unused room. Gary was curled up in the corner of the closet. He was the smallest man in the house at only about one hundred and thirty pounds and five foot eight. Quent scooped him into his arms and carried him to Scotty. Going back to check on Johnny, he found him passed out snoring loudly in bed. He took the bottle beside the bed back to the bar.

"Motherfucker, what the hell got into Johnny to do this to you?" Scotty asked Gary, pressing a bag of ice to his swollen eye.

"Man, it's just the booze. He used to get like this a lot but it's been since before Donnie died that he did it last. He's real scary when he's mean drunk, but he don't intend to do it, it's just the booze talking," Gary defended him. "He'll be OK tomorrow, just let him sleep it off. He won't even remember it, he never does."

Scotty felt a strong urge to roll Johnny up in a sheet and take a baseball bat to him. He wanted to grab him and say "You do this to a little guy but try it with me you son of a bitch!" knowing Johnny was bigger and stronger but he had the advantage of being sober. Everyone in the household was pissed of by the time Clavo came in. He was a calming force. They ate the supper Scotty and Quent had prepared and giving Gary a sleeping pill, they put him to bed in Bob and Clavo's room where not even a drunk Johnny would dare look for him.

Clavo came back in and spoke to everyone "You may forget that I'm a priest and can't tell you everything I know, because it might be told me in confidence. Trust me on this. Something hurt Johnny today worse than the beating he gave Gary. He'll be overcome with guilt way beyond the life of the bruises and Gary's swollen eye. We'll have to talk to Gary and he must never say it's OK. He didn't do anything to deserve what Johnny did to him. What we need to say to Johnny may be a little harder to figure out."

They all sat silent for a while. Clavo began to tell a story. "A friend I grew up with had a father with a violent streak in him. He might be drunk or he might be sober, but he always said he had a bad Irish temper and went blind with blood in his eyes when he got mad. That was his excuse. We can all find an excuse for anything we choose to do, but the point is, there is always a choice involved and the excuse lets us behave in ways we know is wrong. It's really a failure to control our feelings. In its worst, we take things bothering us out on the innocent. My friend's dad regularly used his Irish temper as an excuse to beat up his wife or his children. One night he came home drunk and was intending to beat on his wife. His son, my friend's brother, stepped in to prevent that. His dad took a gun and killed his son, proceeding to beat his wife unconscious. He passed out there on the floor with his dead son lying in a pool of blood and his wife unconscious from the beating. He claimed not to remember anything but was charged with murder and attempted murder. Due to the mercy of the court and his own contrition he got probation, quit drinking and returned to his wife. He was overcome with guilt, but even without alcohol his temper remained an excuse. A year later he killed his wife in another fit of anger and got a life sentence. The only answer I have is that no matter what the circumstances we have to face up to our own actions and accept the responsibility for them, but most important is to direct our anger at what makes us angry and not toward those we love or others."

Silence continued but Dan asked, "Sometimes we are angry at ourselves, what do we do then?"

Clavo was even at a loss for answers then and all he could come up with was "We have to love ourselves, too, to be healed and be better men or women."

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

Lance was alone when he got home Sunday afternoon. The horses had been fed and the stalls were clean, mostly. There was no note saying where his boss or the other two horse trainers were or when they would return. He could have called the cell phone numbers, but he didn't. He didn't like being checked up on and gave others the same latitude. Each had their own house on the place and the fewer questions that were asked, the better. They were all single men. Straight or gay, no one wanted interference in their personal lives.

He had no personal life, just training horses, nothing more. The most fun he'd had in years was his trip to Cancun and the enjoyment of it would last him a few more years before he felt the need to be around people much again, horses were better company. They didn't talk. If they got pissed off, a rub on their ears and a soft voice would gentle them down again. They could hold a permanent grudge, but never against Lance, he was too sweet and loving for that.

The evening was pretty peaceful. He called his dad and a couple of friends to tell them about his trip. He had traveled around a lot going to shows and competitions with the horses. His college days had taken him a few places, too. There were trips to South Padre for spring break and the rodeo team went places he'd not seen before. All he'd ever seen of Mexico was crossing the border in Brownsville over to Matamoros, from El Paso going to Juarez, and of course going to boy's town with the guys and on deer hunting trips. Those trips to boy's town were a big mistake. He got dragged along whether he wanted to or not, but could always sit and wait while the others did the dirty deed in the back rooms and lie like hell the next day. He was always the only one left, so no one knew better. There were even a few times after he was left all alone that he got dragged by a guy to a back room himself. That had been fun and no one was the wiser.

Going with a group of gay guys, he hoped in the back of his mind that something like his back room visits might happen on this trip. It wasn't that kind of resort. If he'd run into an American, a European, any foreign man who was interested; something could have happened without any objections. That didn't happen. First he met a local Mexican and on the way to the suite, hotel security intercepted them, apologizing that the rooms were for guests only and they parted company saying they'd meet for a drink another time. The second time, security was rude and insistent that the guy leave the hotel calling him 'joto' and saying in English that he was a known male prostitute and implying he was also a thief. He gave up. Sex wasn't worth the embarrassment, even in quiet hallways at two in the morning. He had a great time anyway.

Monday morning he was still alone. He tried to get the horses fed and the stalls cleaned before Johnny and Gary showed up, most days. He was moving a little slow today. There were only sixteen horses being trained at the moment and some were gone, probably taken somewhere by his boss, but eleven were in the stalls. It was less work and that was a good thing he thought. He would tie a lead to a horses halter and bring them out into the corridor until he had the stall cleaned. He'd fed them first. Most animals take a dump right after they're fed and it left the stalls cleaner if he fed them first.

He was on the eighth stall and going to get the pitch fork when he was hit across the back of his head. His only thought was "that damn horse kicked me" and he hit the dirt, loosing consciousness.

Johnny Ray was shaken awake that morning. Entering the kitchen he saw Gary's face all bruised and swollen. He knew he must have done it. He sat at the table staring down, unable to face his actions or even express his sorrow to Gary. No one said a word. The house was almost never silent, but no one said a word. He sipped his coffee but wouldn't eat anything. All eyes were on him, beating him with their glances as he must've beat Gary. He knew. One by one they left the room to go about their morning work, except Scotty who stood by like a mother hen puttering in the kitchen. It was the longest morning of his life. He felt so worthless, so small, like he was a speck of dust on the floor. No more tequila, never again, he thought. Like Clavo had said, alcohol was another excuse. It was self control that determined what a person chooses to do. Johnny wasn't part of that conversation and neither was Gary, but it was all Scotty could think about.

"Come on, let's go, we're going to be late and Lance will be waiting," Gary said.

"What are we going to tell him?" Johnny asked.

"That's not my problem," Gary said, "You figure that out for yourself."

"I am sorry, you know. I don't remember anything."

"I know Johnny, just like all the times before, but I didn't love you then and you didn't leave me like this those times. Let's not talk about it, OK?"

"But..." started Johnny.

"No bullshit and no excuses just shut the fuck up." One thing Gary didn't have this morning was patience. Johnny could beg and apologize, but the damn bruises would be there for Gary to explain for a week or two. The best he could do was stay in the house and that wasn't possible. Would it be a better explanation to say your best friend beat you up or your lover? Hell, his busted lip even hurt drinking coffee.

They got out of there. Johnny drove. Only the radio made a sound.

They found Lance laying in a pool of blood with the horse still tied by the lead rope nearby. Gary couldn't see too well with a swollen eye so Johnny called 911. An ambulance and the sheriff's deputy were dispatched. He still had a pulse and the instructions Johnny got were not to try to move him, but to cover him with blankets. "FAGGOT" was spray painted on the back of his shirt in orange letters.

The deputy arrived first and took pictures waiting on the ambulance. He looked at Gary. He looked at Johnny's knuckles. Then despite anything that could be said, he handcuffed Johnny and put him in the back of the patrol car. He said gay bashing wasn't on the hate crime bill in Texas, but assault and attempted murder were. He tried to get Gary to implicate Johnny in his own injuries, but Gary wouldn't do it. He lied. He said he'd gotten hurt by accident the day before and Johnny had nothing to do with it. Lance was still unconscious, so even Gary's word that they had just arrived finding him beaten up wasn't good enough.

Gary followed the ambulance in Johnny's truck, calling Bob to help Johnny at the sheriff's office on the way. By evening, Lance was at the ranch in the spare bedroom. His head had been shaved and he had a lot of stitches. He was conscious but got some pain medication. He had no idea what had happened. With Bob's assurance that Johnny wasn't involved in the assault, he was released without charges, getting home an hour or two after Lance arrived.

Dan. Tim, Scotty, Quent, and Johnny all set off for Lance's house and packed up everything, bringing it back to the ranch without even asking him. He may have had saddles or tack left in the stables, but those could be gotten later or replaced. Bob called the horse trainer. He said the horses would be cared for, for a few days, but someone better get back to do the job. After that the conversation was one sided and pretty nasty on Bob's part. Lance had nearly been killed, and all because he or his men had set him up to be victimized, and it had already happened twice before but they still left him alone and exposed to more violence. "If you care so little for the man you described to me as your best hand, you're not someone I care to do business with any more" Bob admonished him.

As they brought all his possessions into the bedroom, Lance said, "What the fuck! Why are you bringing all my stuff here?"

Scotty spoke up for everyone: "You don't work there anymore, Lance, you have a job here now and whatever you need. Those guys would have let you die, so just accept it and get happy."

Lance didn't want to think about anything. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Gary found Johnny curled up with one of Gary's dirty shirts pressed to his face. He was crying, too. He guessed Johnny was sincere when he said he was remembering what Gary smelled like and thinking about how bad he messed up. He crawled in bed with Johnny and let him snuggle up, but kept his composure saying "No kissing and absolutely no fucking, you hurt me back there, too." He wasn't going to do anything with Johnny until after the bruises and swollen eye were healed. Clavo came in and talked to them both, basically telling the story he told the others the night before. He offered some advice and help, but they had to work everything out on their own.

It had been too much drama for Bob in one day. Johnny had a reputation before for fighting and with Lance and Gary both about the same size and the both of them put together, smaller than Johnny, it had been a hard fight to keep Johnny from being charged and getting him released. On top of it, he now had another adopted member of the household, in Lance. Things Martin had repeatedly said kept ringing through his mind. "It doesn't matter how big a man is, it's the size of his heart." was one. It held a double meaning for him right now. No matter a man's size, he could win a fight if his spirit was in it defending himself or others for what he knew was the right reason and the value of a man was more in what he cared about than his abilities. Maybe both meanings expressed the same thought. The other saying was the Alcoholics Anonymous creed, "Lord grant me the serenity to change the things I can, accept what I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference" or something similar. He was on a hard search for wisdom at the moment. Perhaps he could find wisdom in the words of those surrounding him. He thought so.

Scotty cooked Texas style chili for supper. He made cornbread to go with it. The after dinner indigestion fit the mood. Johnny may have been moderate with his drinking, but everyone else made up for it.

The next day, Lance decided they were right in moving him to the ranch. He went back and got his saddles and tack, his boss could mail his paycheck. He brought his horse along with him.

Wednesday brought Laura and Patti out for supper; they brought Sally along with them. They had the whole crew come up, partly to show off the guys and partly to keep the women busy meeting and talking with everyone. It was one occasion where Paul's obsessive chatter was appreciated. Actually he could be very charming. They arrived over an hour early and Scotty wasn't finished with the meal preparation. As a result, the women all got a full tour of the ranch and the new acquisitions, one lady per pick-up full of men, of course. Quent stayed behind to help Scotty.

He did the full course meal except he joined the table and the dishes were passed around, then the plates cleared and the next course served. First was a German style salad with some blanched vegetables and a poppy seed bleu cheese dressing. Following that Scotty served a cold tomato cucumber gazpacho. The fish course was a thinly sliced salmon, similar to lox served with a sour crème topping on toast points. Pork medallions with truffle sauce, some early fresh steamed vegetables from the greenhouse and a rice pilaf came with it. Desert was crème broulet. Every course was served with a different wine and for after dinner there was a good port.

Sally said, "Honey, a lady shouldn't tell her age but I'm past eighty and I'd marry you just to get more of your cooking."

Tim came back with "He's been teaching all of us since last June, so we've got a few tricks up our sleeves, too."

"The ranch has grown so much over the last few months, we all need to get work done and pitch in most of the time making the meals" Scotty said downplaying his role cooking.

"When I started some of the projects like the vineyard and beekeeping, I didn't realize how much would be involved. We almost got beyond our abilities to get the work done and are trying to find a realistic median that we can live with" Bob summed it all up.

"What happened to Gary and Lance?" Laura asked.

"Ranch work has some dangers, but fortunately they should be back to normal soon," Dan said trying to answer the question without giving unnecessary detail.

They had some drinks in the den when the table was cleared. Clint, James, Mario, and Juan rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. The balance that wouldn't fit was readied for a second load. Eight guitars were brought out then and along with the rest of the men plating some other instruments they had managed to learn to play with Clavo's help; they sang a few songs together. The music defied any label, being a blending of country, campesino, surfer rock, blues, and Texas music. It was just the practiced sound of the ranch. Quent shined the brightest singing out confidently with other voices blending with his own. Just as they had learned to work together, they had learned to play together.

The ladies picked the timing of a break between songs to make their exit. It was just as well because they only had a few practiced songs, anyway. They had done their best, dressed in their nicest clothes, to entertain the visitors. Their enthusiasm outweighed their abilities.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

The next week the first calf of the year was born. It came two weeks earlier than expected and had to be pulled. Brian and Shaun arrived from school only a little while after the heifer went into labor and were up with her late into the night with Bob having to come to the rescue, showing them what had to be done. It seemed like a horror to the boys.

"Are we going to have to do this every time?" Shaun asked.

"No, just a few will need help and they will be fine by themselves next year, too. We do have to stay with them until the calf is born, though. We'll all take turns and you won't be up every night."

He showed them that he reached inside and tied a rope around the calf. They had to reach in and feel, but it was done in a hurry because the calf had to be pulled out or it would die, and then they pulled it out guiding the head with their hands to exit first. Whoosh and the calf lay on the ground. They cleaned out the calf's mouth and the mother licked it clean. It started breathing and in just moments, it clumsily rose to stand on shaky legs. The first instinct was to suckle and with that happening, they were done. The mother took over.

Even wearing the long glove, what they had done drove the boys to do one thing: take a shower and get that smell off of them. They spent an hour scrubbing each other and then repeating it just to be sure they were clean. It was eight in the morning then. If it hadn't been a Friday night they would have missed school the next day. Instead they slept. It was another week before a calf came again.

Spawning season had arrived. It wasn't yet time to plant or garden and the ground had been prepared. Fishing filled a lot of days with just a couple of guys left behind to keep an eye on the calving. If Dan or Tim weren't fishing, it was raining too hard. In a light rain they would normally never get out in, they were out there. "It washes the bugs into the water and the fish bite better" Tim would swear, but their catch didn't seem to add credit to it. Dan found a canopy that opened in a snap and refolded to fit in a small carrying bag almost as easily. For the first time since he and Tim were kids, they fished side by side under the canopy when it was a rainy day. It even had panels that closed on three sides to keep them dry in the blowing mist.

Other hands weren't quite as enthusiastic. Even the heifers and cows due to calve were up under the sheds at the old feed lots, so they were protected from the weather. No one really wanted to be wet all day. Tim and Dan just put on slickers and carried on ignoring it. If they caught any big females, full of eggs, they released them with another big fish of the same type they guessed to be male for the lack of eggs, down in the line of ponds on the ranch.

Most of the winter had been mild. Three storms passed through leaving the temperature in the mid-twenties for a week or so. Only twenty eight nights had dropped below freezing, but the thirties with a high wind could still chill you to the bone. Most of February since the trip to Cancun had been in the seventies during the day even if it rained and spring seemed to have arrived. A big ice storm hit, the first week of March. For three days it was impossible to drive and two more passed before it all melted. Power lines were down all around, but the wind generators kept it working at the ranch and sent their loads through the stronger high voltage lines wherever the local lines were still functioning. Johnny even pulled out his football cleats to get a steady footing walking to the barns. Everyone busted their ass at least once. Several kinds of heaters were kept fired up at the barns and care had to be taken drying the newborn calves that were born those days. Seventy nine calves were born in the three days and fifty two more while it melted. "The cows pick the worst possible times to have their calves" Brian noted as if they choose to go into labor and were more responsible for the timing than the date he and Shaun had inseminated them. The greenhouse heaters held steady temperatures inside oblivious to the storm.

A lot of cuddling in front of the fireplaces went on over those few days. There were three in the house; the living room, den, and master bedroom all had one. One was in each bunkhouse and a new one with brick ovens, a cook top, indoor grill, and a spit had been built for the addition to Scotty's specifications. The storm had begun on a Sunday afternoon with such intensity that within two hours anyone away from home was stranded and limited to traveling within walking distance. Cell phones were still working but ground lines were all out. Both Brian's and Shaun's parents showed up as soon as the roads cleared enough to travel, checking on the boys. School was closed; their safety was the only concern. "Hell, you guys are in better shape than we are in town," Shaun's dad observed. He was right. Anyone who lacked the foresight to add connections for the old fashioned propane space heaters to their central systems had only their kitchen stoves or fireplaces to heat the house. The poor, who only had space heaters fared better.

Sye and Dave grew a lot in their relationship with each other over their months at the ranch. When they were just around the other guys, they didn't hesitate anymore at showing their affection for each other and would engage in some passionate making out. It was a hot enough spectacle to get everyone else in a romantic mood. Their behavior was so out of character for the rough edged cowboys, it drew a chuckle out of someone at least once a day. They would break their kiss, smile with full teethed grins, and go right back at it.

With all their pay from the ranch put back, they bought a small place about ten miles from the ranch and paid cash for the section of land. On weekends, most of their time was spent working on the place and it had a small old farm house, that was now barely made livable again. They paid cash for the property and had more still left than they'd spent. With the ice thawed, pipes had busted and they were forced to spend the next weekend repairing all the damage. "You could've ice skated in the damn house," Dave moaned. Well water had kept flowing out of the pipes after they burst because the ground water was warmer than the surface above ground, but froze as it flowed across the floor.

"We didn't aim to spend more than one day a week working on the place," Sye said after telling Bob and the men about the busted pipes. "We need some rest after working all week." The four cowboys plus Mario and Juan were busier than the others, moving cows and heifers to the lots as their due dates approached and taking the mothers with their calves back to the pastures after the calves were a few weeks old.

Sometimes Clint and James went with them, more to get away from the ranch than anything else, but did do a lot to help fix the place up. They were thinking about doing the same thing themselves. The Mexican guys had gone out to help them some, too. "Buy you some hives and I'm sure Bob will give you the bees when they swarm. They'll make you more money than cattle if you rob them regularly, a lot more" Paul told them.

Paul's family in California had followed the scheme of a man who had the Guinness Book of World Record's highest yield of honey for a hive of bees, getting a thousand gallons from a single hive over a year's production. They learned beekeeping by that method growing up. Their yields never rose as high, but were very respectable, especially with honey bringing twenty dollars a gallon wholesale. Bob having three thousand hives and the same number ready for swarming season would see an income he had never envisioned. Bob's estimate for a good year was only a hundred gallons per hive and he would easily see eight times that amount. The bee's wax would bring in some more income. Sye and Dave were convinced. Bees didn't need fences fixed and would go up to ten miles in search of nectar and pollen. They didn't want to be beholden to Bob, so they ordered three hundred hives and the bees with what they still had in the bank. After getting the supplies they'd needed too, they still had a good chunk left over.

Sye and Dave had given the necessary push by taking action and putting their earnings toward a purpose instead of letting it sit idle drawing low interest in saving accounts at the bank. Land was still very cheap in Desolation after a one time rise in value during the early nineteen eighties that fell with the economy and the oil bust at that time. Most farmers and ranchers thought the area lacked value unless it was on the irrigation system fed by the lake. The days of failing crops due to overuse of the groundwater resulting in water too salty for irrigation had passed in the forties. This perception along with only gradual land acquisitions accompanied by discretion on the part of the sellers and purchasers worked to Bob's advantage and the advantage of his men. The low prices remained unchanged.

Dan and Tim had the largest nest egg in the bunch, partly from selling their homes. Together they had about a quarter million dollars in savings now. It would have been unthinkable for both of them less than a year before. With no intention of working on fences or old houses and barns, they bought ten sections with the assistance of Bob's lawyers exclusively for wind generators. The lawyers arranged that as they had for Bob and unknown to them because the property was not operated as part of the ranch, Bob had a lot more land with wind generators turning in the breeze himself.

The men were happier being able to be themselves and having someone they loved, more than anything else. None had confidence in making any money by buying property; just sure they would get a tax bill and find a way to pay what was owed. They were all concerned for Lance, he was still very lonely. The only change for him was that he now felt safe. He never left the ranch for any reason. He couldn't be coaxed to fish at the lake either, but no one left him alone. Someone always stayed behind to keep an eye on him. He did go with everyone to work on the houses being built in the community, just because it was the ranch's contribution, the men were always with him, and it was only for one day a month. He attended mass every Sunday for the sake of Clavo, too. Lance had several friends who visited occasionally. They were enthusiastically welcomed by all the men and encouraged to come more often.

Lance was gaining confidence. In the few activities away from the ranch that he did participate in, he only saw friendly faces. He'd lived in the community for six years already. His reputation as a great horse trainer attracted attention none of the other men faced. Even when he wasn't involved and someone won a cutting horse or roping competition, he might have trained the winning horse and regardless, would be mentioned in the conversation that followed.

One more of Martin's truths came to mind when Bob thought about Lance. Martin would say "Never draw attention to yourself son, more trouble follows it than good. A cowboy tips his hat and fades back into the scenery, at least in all the good westerns."

Men from other ranches shared their work on the houses. Lance saw some of them at the laborers center and in church, too. He couldn't sense any ill will at all. When asked about his new job working for Bob, he'd just say it had been time for a change. The trainer he had worked for was so pissed off when he returned after Lance was attacked, he fired all the other men and hired some boys to teach himself just as Lance was doing with Johnny and Gary. The other men left the area when they realized no other jobs existed for their skills locally, but not before getting good and drunk and letting off a lot of steam at a bar in town.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Clavo had so many demands for his time, he was barely maintaining. The congregation in Desolation had grown to a little over two hundred and his other six churches counted about three hundred more. The community center and laborers center, though staffed by volunteers, still asked a lot of him. He had to insulate himself emotionally and still be available to comfort those in need, giving the love to others as he was trained to do.

He never talked shop with Bob. Perhaps it was his training as a priest, but their relationship recharged, restored him to the emotional balance life required of him. As the intensity of his day increased, their lovemaking and its duration intensified proportionally. When he was spent, he could once again face the demands of the next moment, the next day, the next month until once again he teetered on the edge of loosing it altogether. It hadn't been demanding at all when they met. He still had free time in abundance through the week, but fifteen minutes can drain you as much as twenty four hours of physical exertion. Bob gained as much from their mutual recharging as Clavo, but recovered from different stresses. Clavo's only blind spot was after he came home. At the ranch he was off work and turned off his being a priest mode unless something was brought to his attention. He hoped Bob, Dan. And Tim could fill any void, being the most mature members of the household. They usually did.

Clavo had two other favorite outlets he used to recharge. One was his rote activity working in the garden and at the greenhouses. The other was taking long walks in the wild pastures and along the creek. The gardening put his hands on automatic doing the task at hand, freeing him from his thoughts. The walks freed him from his thoughts in the same way, but focused through his eyes. West Texas, even New Mexico, upbringing trained a person from childhood to be aware of everything around them, constantly shifting their attention, their view as they moved along. The next step could bring a rattlesnake across their path and failing to notice changes in the scenery around them could leave them lost in a repetitive environment. There were seldom large trees or distinctive features to guide the way home. The small things held all the surprises. What these outlets failed to provide he found playing his guitar.

Bob's lawyer had warned him not to overburden himself or those he delegated tasks to and in their lovemaking he knew Clavo had reached his limit. His intention was to reduce Clavo's participation to an hour a week in an advisory capacity. He felt it had to be done soon. Nothing in the world was worth jeopardizing his love.

After several discussions with his lawyers, the architects and the engineers, Bob asked them to begin a search for someone with all the necessary skills to do the job and the willingness to take up residence in Desolation. The winery had to be built and other projects. Experience with habitat for humanity would be helpful on the housing projects. Skills to help find jobs for the laborers and contacts with available jobs would be necessary, too. Lots of factors figured in, but the little blonde mare had the last word in the matter.

One morning in March James came into the kitchen early. "Clint is all curled up crying. I can't get him to talk to me and I don't have a clue what the matter is." Dan grabbed Tim and the three of them headed to the bunkhouse. Everyone else knew what to do without instructions. Bob wasn't out of the bedroom yet, breakfast was made and even Scotty joined Quent in the greenhouses. Lance was with Johnny and Gary working with the horses. Clavo was still asleep after a night with a dying woman in a nursing home, holding her hand as she passed to the next world and his exhaustion penetrated Bob's being, holding him from the days work for a time. But for Clint, the bunkhouse was empty, too.

James held Clint while Dan and Tim kept asking what was wrong. He finally said "I never can do anything on this day."

Trying to make a joke, Tim said "I saw on the calendar it's the ides of March, you know, Julius Caesar and all that. It's always been a bad day."

Clint at least started talking, so maybe the attempted joke did a little good. Six years earlier he was on the way to work from his parents' home. Police cars and ambulances were beside the road and his lifelong best friend and lover's truck was wrecked into a fence with all the windows busted out. The friend and another friend were both lying in blood, beaten and run over beside the truck and were about to be loaded into the ambulance. Both were dead. Someone had chased them, run them off the road and brutally murdered them. They were big guys; it had taken several to do the deed. Like Clint, both were gay and the motive was obvious. The cops said they died in an auto accident, knowing the truth and probably who had done it. This was the anniversary. Clint went on a rant saying cops were the lowest form of life on the planet. They only harassed people and threw them in jail. If someone was robbed, assaulted or killed, cops never did a damn thing about it. From a guy who had never done more than get a traffic ticket, this was pretty radical thinking.

It was eight o'clock in the morning and Tim opened a beer. He might have just one at lunch sometimes, but if he had one at eight, forget that day, anything that was supposed to happen was history. He didn't smile. He didn't grin. He chugged it down and got another one. Dan drove. He stopped at the house and yelled in to Bob that they would be back, getting "OK" in response and left.

They drove through town on the way north, stopping at a florist with Clint insisting he needed two pots of flowers because the guys were buried beside each other. Seventy miles later they found the cemetery. Tim, Dan, and James sat in the truck drinking beer for the two hours Clint spent at the graves. They only took dirt roads and back roads just crossing highways all the way back to the ranch to avoid a well deserved DWI. When they dropped off Clint and James at the bunkhouse, Dan said just one thing to them, "Next year and from now on, remember your friends as you loved them on their birthday or another day, but let the way they died and the remembrance of this day be something to forget, not to remember."

Coming in it was five in the evening. Bob asked "Did you have a good day?"

"Don't ask" was Tim's reply.

In bed that night Tim turned to Dan and said "If someone I loved got killed like that, I'd remember it three sixty five and twenty four seven, while I was awake and in my dreams as I slept. I'd yell about it even when people didn't listen until the day I died." Then he rolled over and wouldn't even cuddle, but they woke up spooned the next morning anyway.