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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
There are scenes of unprotected sex depicted in this story. In all cases it was between the main characters, who are in a committed, monogamous relationships and were tested. If you aren't in the same kind of relationship, then you should always protect yourself and wear a condom.
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Mitch stood staring out the window. He could not believe the snow had cut his world down to a few feet beyond the glass. The howling wind had whipped the snow into a monster of epic proportions. It had been coming for days, the meteorologists out of Norman giving warning after warning for what they were dubbing the storm of the century. But every big storm in recent memory had gained that moniker, so it was easy to discount the dire predictions. The cold seeped into the house, Mitch wrapped his arms around himself and shivered in spite of the thick sweats he had pulled on when he had forced himself out of bed.
"Hey, here's some hot coffee. Swimming in sugar just like you like."
Mitch turned and gave his husband a warm smile as he took the steaming cup between his cold hands, savoring the heat. He stood staring at the swirling wall of white and sipped his coffee. They had done everything they could to shelter the animals. Storm, Lady and the two BLM horses were stalled in the barn, Josh and Trent's horses seemed particularly eager to move inside. The boys had even stayed in Josh's room instead of Trent's little home. The main house had an auxiliary generator so even if they lost power, they still had heat and lights. Nevertheless, Mitch couldn't help but be concerned. Josh and Trent's growing herd of goats were more than could fit into the barns, so they had turned them out with the cattle in a wooded pasture that offered more shelter. He took another sip, contemplating the result of this storm on their ranch.
"Stop fretting about it." Mitch felt Darrin's strong hands glide along his neck and rub his tense muscles. After a few minutes, Mitch surrendered to the gentle probing and let his muscles go slack. The couple marveled that the bond between them continued to grow with each touch or each hurdle conquered. They both knew they would support the other, and this was just one more obstacle to overcome. When he felt Darrin lean forward and lovingly kiss the back of his neck, Mitch relaxed. They stood in silence, Mitch wrapped in Darrin's arms as the unending storm pounded their ranch. They were brought out of their time together by stumbling footsteps from Josh's bedroom. Mitch turned his head for a stolen kiss before he turned to see which of the rascals was the first to find his way out of their den.
"Shit, it's coming down like a mother fuck'r," said Trent as he stumbled out of the room in a t-shirt and briefs. He stretched and unconsciously scratched himself as his sleep-fogged brain awoke. Trent stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet and filled it with the coal black brew. He held it up to his face and inhaled softly. This was Trent's long established routine, mug of black coffee, inhale, and sip. After a few mind-clearing shots, he made his way to the living room and curled into a chair to watch the snow blast past.
"You think everything'll be ok?" asked Trent.
"I think so. The cattle and those damn goats are pretty tough. They should be ok. We'll check on them once this blows over. At least it's just a blizzard and not a tornado," said Mitch.
"Yeah, I seem to remember the damn goats saving your bacon," said Trent, a grin plastered on his face.
"Smartass kid!" said Mitch, returning Trent's smile.
The trio watched, intent on the destructive fervor of the storm. The clang of stainless against ceramic marked the beginning of Josh's day. Trent walked into the kitchen and gave his love an early morning kiss.
"Hey handsome. How are you this morning?" said Trent in an almost reverent tone.
Josh stretched, uncoiling like a cat. His arms wrapped around Trent and pulled him close for a scorching kiss. With arms intertwined, the two made their way to the couch where they could watch the snow while laying against each other.
Hearing the clatter of pans, Trent knew Darrin was making breakfast, and he moved to help. They put together a huge meal, knowing they had a long day ahead. Between the two of them, the table was soon filled with biscuits and gravy, fried eggs and crisp bacon.
Darrin called everyone to the table, and they descended like the proverbial locusts. The heaping platters were quickly emptied, and in less time than he would have imagined possible, Josh was crunching on the last piece of bacon. The cleanup was equally quick with everyone pitching in to help. A glance at the window showed no change in the turbulent weather, so the weather bound cowboys scattered to find some indoor activity to occupy their time.
Several hours later, everyone was drawn to the sound of Mitch stomping on his boots and pulling on his heavy coat.
"Where're you going?" asked Darrin.
"The blizzard's about over, I can see the buildings now. I want to go check on everything."
A glance out the window confirmed Mitch's observation and started a flurry of dressing. Once they opened the door, the group entered a world of sparkling brightness and thigh-deep snow drifts. Josh and Trent hurried to the barn to check on their horses. Max was playing enthusiastically, tunneling under the new snow and then erupting like one of the mythical snow beasts. While the younger pair were checking on the equine population of the ranch, Mitch and Darrin started shoveling a path to the ATV's. Mitch was relieved when both cranked and then kicked over with a smoky roar. Going over, or through, the obstacles the storm had created, they were soon in the pasture and began their search for livestock.
Darrin and Mitch canvassed the pastures for cattle. They were both concerned when they saw a collection of snow-covered mounds. Afraid for the worst, they headed toward the closest group. Mitch's heart pounded, worried they had lost the herd, when the closest mound exploded into a thousand pounds of deep red cow, very much alive.
Mitch let out a held breath, hopeful the scenario would repeat for each one. The wish was gradually fulfilled as one-by-one the sleeping cattle revealed themselves. It took some time, but before the hour was up, they had found every cow, to the immense relief of both men.
Roaring across the snow, they entered the pasture where the goats had been put before the storm. With the hope that Trent and Josh had equal success in finding their animals, they headed their machines into the brush-covered pasture. Thick with squat cedar trees from fence line to fence line, it had seemed like a good choice to shelter the goats. But they didn't make for an easy search.
Mitch killed his vehicle and listened for the horses, hoping they were close. Just as he was about to give up, he heard the familiar nicker he was searching for. Motioning to Darrin, they raced in the direction of the horses. Even though they'd had good fortune so far, Mitch was concerned that the more diminutive goats had not withstood the storm as well as the cattle.
Still prepared for the need to salvage two young men's emotions from devastated loss, he almost slammed into the sea of goats that streamed around a massive cluster of cedars. Mitch managed to shut down the ATV before he crashed into them, and then sat in happy disbelief as the vast array of spots and horns moved first in front, and then around him. He heard a gentle chuckle behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see Darrin with a huge smile on his wind reddened face.
"Looks like they managed to survive," said Darrin with a grin.
"Yeah, it does. I'm really glad that I was wrong."
The stream of animals dwindled, and Mitch could hear the reassuring noises of horses moving through the snow. Behind the last cluster of goats, he saw the boys coming around the snow-covered trees with the stragglers. He waited, still concerned, to hear what the younger couple had found. By the smile across their faces, he knew there were no losses, which let Mitch finally relax. As the horses closed the distance between them, he noticed one goat was sticking beside Trent's horse like a tick and bleating continually. He couldn't help but watch her as Trent stopped beside him.
Mitch turned to ask Trent about the doe, and saw a wiggling movement in the canvas bag tied to Trent's saddle horn. Mitch watched the bag jiggle for several moments before looking to Trent for explanation. With a chuckle, Trent untied the bag and handed it to Mitch. He opened the neck of the bag and looked inside with the doe trying to climb onto the ATV with him. Mitch looked at the wriggling mass of bodies and legs inside and looked at Trent.
"Apparently she decided last night was the perfect night to give birth," said Trent with another chuckle.
Mitch balanced the bag on his lap and stuck his hands inside. They emerged with three tiny kids, two black like their mother, and the other with pinto markings. All three obviously healthy, well fed, and ready to be reunited with their mother.
"How in the world did they not freeze?" said Mitch.
"I don't know!" said Trent with a shake of his head. "We couldn't find the goats and were afraid we had lost them. But they were in the cedars where they're so thick you can't get through them on horseback. Josh and I managed to get them out, but this doe kept yelling and wouldn't leave. So we went back, crawled under the big ass cedar she was circling, and found the little guys. But they're too small to get through the snow, so I put them in a bag I'd thrown in the saddlebag just in case."
"Well the little farts are tougher than I gave them credit. We can put the doe and her babies in one of the horse stalls and we'll let them grow some before putting them back with the herd," said Mitch.
He gently slid the triplets back in their carrying bag and handed it to Trent. He watched as the younger men rode slowly toward the barn, chatting and laughing as they moved through the sunlit winter scene. Mitch shook his head in disbelief, amazed that they had made it through the latest crisis and hoped they were finished with near disasters for the next few years.
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Winter had ended with a whimper after the early March blizzard. Things had settled down on the ranch and people had again settled into the day-to-day life, everyone except Trent. While things were going well, Trent knew disaster was coming; it always did. He knew he should have been brave and left already. They had become invested in his life, and he had let it happen. He knew better, he had learned the lesson soon after being dumped in foster care. He should never have let Josh fall in love with him. Even worse, he had fallen in love with the ranch, Mitch, Darrin, Max and everything and everyone else. He knew better than to let it happen. He could feel the pressure; he had to leave soon. The heartache was building, ripping his soul apart. He began to prepare for his exodus.
The other three had left Trent to take care of things while they took an overnight trip to Amarillo. There had been several things they'd needed from the west Texas town and Trent didn't mind taking care of things overnight. It was mostly checking on the animals, and otherwise just enjoying some quiet time. The crew had left early one morning. By evening, Trent had taken care of everything they had left for him to do.
Rising early from a restless night, he decided to clean their house. They had both been busy for the past few weeks, with Trent kidding out the goats and Josh finishing his semester. So the house needed cleaning, and Trent felt it was a perfect time. He decided to have an old fashion spring-cleaning and soon had everything he could move laying in the spring sunshine. The place was scrubbed and vacuumed to within an inch of its life by the time he was ready to put the furniture back in place.
One thing he couldn't move alone was their maple dresser, which took both of them to budge. Trent was in such a cleaning furor that he decided to remove all the drawers and see if he could move it then. Soon there were drawers on every flat surface. Trent scooted, tugged and cleaned until he was satisfied, and then started putting everything back together. Almost finished, he grabbed the drawer of Josh's underwear and headed to the dresser. Trent struggled to put in the last drawer until his hand slipped and the entire content was scattered across the floor. With a sigh, Trent wedged the now empty drawer into its slot and started putting things back inside. As he grabbed a last pile to shove inside, a small white box fell out of the pile of clothing.
Trent gave it a curious look and picked it up. He looked at it closer and realized it was from a jewelry store. Without considering the consequences, Trent opened it and a ring box slipped out. His hands were shaking violently at the fears welling up inside him, and made the simple task of opening the box almost impossible. After numerous tries, he managed to open the lid, and saw a simple gold band nestled inside.
Trent slipped the ring out and held it between his fingers. The light reflected off an inscription, which Trent carefully read. As the words leapt off the bright metal, Trent felt as if a hand was constricting around his heart. The inscription said simply 'To my husband, Trent.'
Trent tried to stem the flood of tears with his sleeve, but they dripped off his chin and onto the floor. His body was racked with sobs of grief over things that could never be. He'd come so close to happiness, so close to love. He wasn't even sure what love felt like until he'd come to the ranch. He knew he didn't deserve their love, everyone before had convinced him how worthless he was. The guys were just gullible and naive. They didn't need the kind of trouble he brought. The tears of loss flowed, until with a shuddering sigh he wiped his face for a last time.
It was time.
He needed to go.
The walls that Trent had let down slammed back into place and isolated the weak emotions of love and caring so he could do what needed to be done. He finished putting the drawer back together, not wanting Josh to know he'd found the ring. He wasn't leaving immediately. Trent wanted to have a few last memories of Josh and the ranch, and he had one last gift for Josh before he left forever.
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Josh watched Trent's receding horseback silhouette, wondering what was going on. It wasn't that Trent was a stick-in-the-mud, or anything like that. But since Josh had gotten back from his trip to Amarillo, Trent had seemed almost manic. The frantic need to do everything seemed to overwhelm him. It left Josh with an unsettled feeling. Josh let his horse walk forward, considering for a few moments until deciding it was just Trent being Trent and that he should enjoy the cheerful behavior because there would be a crash at some point. With a whoop, Josh rammed his cap down on his head as his heels urged his horse into a run, trying to keep up with Trent.
The next few hours raced by, and they found themselves collapsed on the creek bank, the horses grazing nearby while the boys soaked up the spring sunshine. The fiery sun had encouraged both of them to peel off their shirts. Josh rolled on his side, his head propped up as he watched Trent. Suddenly a hand shot out, grabbed his nipple and twisted it.
"Asshole!" squealed Josh as he launched himself onto Trent. The battle quickly turned to a sensuous wrestling match, the light sweat on their skin adding to the sexual heat invading Josh's body. The wrestling became less and less about winning a bout, and more about the building feelings. Josh felt Trent's hands slide up his bare sides and catch his head. He rolled so Josh was pinned under him. Trent froze in place, his warm breath caressing Josh's lips, which were only a fraction of an inch away.
"I win," said Trent.
"I let you win."
"Oh?" Trent lifted himself, and Josh's senses flared with the perfect blend of pain and pleasure as Trent grabbed both his nipples, digging his nails into them as he twisted them hard. Josh let out a low moan as the passion flared. He groaned as Trent released him, and ground his crotch against Josh.
Trent held Josh's face between his hands. "I want you to fuck me."
"Now? Here? You sure?"
"Yes, now. I want you to pop my cherry."
Josh chuckled at the bad porn line but could feel the stiffening in his jeans at the thought. They had an active sex life, but he hadn't wanted to rush Trent, so he'd never tried to top.
Josh felt Trent grab his face and pull him so they were looking at each other. "I want this, don't over-analyze everything."
Josh smiled, having been caught in his own downward spiral. He rolled to his back and then pulled Trent on top of him. His hands ran over Trent's back, eventually trapping his head with his outstretched hands and pulled him in for a kiss.
There was an urgency to Trent's response, a sense of need that Josh had never felt before. It was as if he were oxygen, essential to Trent's survival. Josh knew he should stop them, see what was causing Trent's emotions to surface in ways Josh had never seen before, but lust overwhelmed his brain. Sex became more important than whatever was happening with Trent.
Josh sat up, pushed Trent back and kissed him with passion. Their tongues warred, the small lances of flesh invading the other's mouth again and again. Josh felt Trent's desperate gasp as they made out. The emotions filled Josh until his world was reduced to just him, Trent, and the sun-drenched embankment.
Trent could feel his cock throb and press against his jeans in response. Trent paused for a second, then dove in, biting Josh's hard nipple. The fireworks generated overwhelmed Josh's system, the last of his thinking brain drowning in lust. Trent's fingers skated over his chest and stoked the fire with each pass until Josh's moans were reverberating through the open air.
Past caring, Josh's hands and eyes explored the luscious form in front of him. Trent had developed into a hot young man. Still more slender than Josh, his body was a rippling mass of perfect muscles. Josh loved the tattoos, tracing them with his finger as he remembered Trent's explanation of the native totems. His finger trailed off the edge of the ink and he wrapped his arms around Trent, enfolding him in a crushing embrace.
His hands slid lower, urgent in their exploration of Trent's back. Reaching the arch of his lower back, they plunged into Trent's jeans and grabbed the tender flesh of his ass. His fingers slid between Trent's ass cheeks and ran their length. As he rubbed against his pucker, a glimmer of sanity broke through the lust and caused Josh to lurch backward.
"Fuck! We need lube!"
Trent smiled, reached into his pocket, extracted a small clear bottle and handed it to Josh. With the bottle tight in his grip, Josh watched as Trent unbuckled his belt, yanked open his pants, wriggled out of his clothes and crouched in front of him. Trent panted heavily, his chest sinking toward the ground, surrendering himself to Josh. Trent's eyes were filled with desperation, and beseeched Josh to enter him.
Josh stripped and was soon as bare as Trent. Moving behind him, he squirted lube into Trent's lightly furred trench until it was matted and dripping. Josh wanted nothing more than to plunge his cock into his lover and rip his cherry ass open. But he did not want to repeat his own first experience. Knowing he wanted Trent to remember his first time for the pleasure, and not the pain. He worked to be as gentle as possible when he opened Trent.
Through all this, Trent voiced no concern. His only sounds were small mews of delight as his ass was prepared. After Josh had been working three fingers into his ass for many long minutes, Trent looked back with a look of desperation on his face.
"Fuck me, Josh. Please, just fuck me."
Josh watched the quivering hunk of man in front of him as he emptied the rest of the lube over his rock hard cock. Josh let out a soft groan as he pressed inside. Trent's tight ass closed around Josh's cockhead, and he paused giving Trent time to adjust. Before he knew what was happening, Trent had slammed back into him, sinking his cock completely into Trent's gut.
"Oh shit!" screamed Trent.
Josh froze, afraid to move until Trent's pain had subsided. Within moments though, Trent was grinding his ass against Josh. Josh gritted his teeth in an effort to restrain himself as the heat from Trent's ass permeated his body. He moved in rhythm, meeting each of Trent's backward thrusts. The union between them blossomed until his hands clamped onto Trent's waist and he started fucking in earnest.
The two moved in unison, neither able to do more than moan in ecstasy with each time Josh lunged forward. Trent squealing with pleasure each time he was impaled. Josh mounted him like a stallion breeding a mare, thrusting and snorting in a race to his climax.
Josh lost himself, everything forgotten but his pleasure. He ripped his cock out and plunged it back in over and over. The wet sound of Trent's ass filled the air around them, their breath coming in gasps. Josh felt himself plunge over the edge, his body wracked with ecstasy as he convulsed and emptied himself into his love. Josh pinned Trent under him, filling him with his seed, breeding him.
He could feel Trent's body shake under him, shivering while his over-stimulated system released like a hair-triggered virgin, which he hadn't been in a very long time. But Trent had never let anyone fuck him. He gave that gift to Josh. Trent collapsed on the grass, taking Josh with him. They held each other as their chest heaved and they tried to recover.
Eventually, the chirp of cicada and the rustle of the cottonwood leaves along the creek came back into being for the two. Josh wrapped his arms around Trent and pulled their naked bodies together. His hands gently danced over Trent's skin, wanting to always remember what Trent had given him.
Josh tilted his head closer and whispered, "I love you."
Trent lay quietly in Josh's arms. Unshed tears built in his eyes as he forced himself to focus on leaving.
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Darrin watched Trent as he chewed the food he'd just put in his mouth. He knew something was wrong, but he could not put his finger on it. Trent was in the best mood in months. He'd been playing with Max for hours, joking with Mitch, generally being a happy teenager, which wasn't like Trent at all. It wasn't that he was an unhappy kid, but he was normally much more reserved. His behavior was triggering some nagging feelings in Darrin, something he felt he should recognize.
The evening wound down, and Trent continued to act out of character. Neither of the other two seemed to notice, so Darrin relegated it to his own pessimistic nature. He went to bed, not sharing his unease with Mitch for one of the few times since they had been together. The next day Darrin left early for the office to catch up on the backlog of tasks that had accumulated.
He'd gotten through most of his day, the feeling of unease never relenting. By the time Emma stopped by to chat, he had worked himself into a fine state of nerves. She took one look at Darrin, and her face darkened.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure."
The very fact that Darrin was so direct signaled his distress. He carefully answered her questions in as much detail as possible, not sure what was going on. The grim look that was growing on Emma's face was a clear indication that he'd been right, something was wrong.
"Darrin, where is Trent now?"
"I'm not sure. Home, I guess."
Emma took a deep breath. "Go home. Right now. What you described is one of the signs of someone contemplating suicide."
"Oh, God."
Darrin fled the office, his door left open and everything in disarray. He forced his pickup to top speeds on the rural dirt roads that wound their way to the ranch. Was he too late? How could he have been so stupid to not recognize the signs yesterday? The miles home had never seemed longer. By the time he'd slid his pickup in front of the door, he launched himself before it stopped rolling.
Darrin ran into the house, screaming for someone, anyone, but mostly for Trent. The panic was building when he saw Mitch appear at the bedroom door, a look of concern on his face.
"What's wrong, babe?"
"Where's Trent? I have to find Trent!"
"I don't know. His house, I guess."
Darrin spun and ran out the door. Mitch followed closely behind, even though he didn't know what was happening. Darrin burst into the tiny house without knocking. Scanning the room, his heart sank when he saw Josh sitting on the bed, holding a piece of paper, tears streaming down his face. Josh looked up, made several attempts to talk, and finally got out two words.
"He left."
Darrin felt a split second of relief, which was immediately overwhelmed by a host of other emotions. Mitch walked to Josh, took him in his arms and held him while Darrin lifted the paper from his hand. He held the tear-stained page, reading about Trent's fear of hurting them and the misplaced idea that he was a lightning rod for all things evil. The letter went into great detail, begging them to take care of his horse, and to toss the ball for Max since he was the only one who seemed to find time to do it. The litany went on for two pages. Part apology and part diatribe, it was clear that he was on the street again and that he did not want them looking for him.
Darrin laid the letter back on the bed, sitting beside Josh and wrapping his arms around him as the tears burst from his eyes in a renewed freshet. Mitch looked from one of them to the other and then picked up the letter and read through it. Once he was finished, Darrin heard Mitch let out a deep sigh, and then sat on the other side of Josh, being there while he cried.
Darrin was devastated. He thought Trent understood they considered him family. But Darrin was also old enough to know never was a very long time, and sometimes things change that you could never expect. But you had to survive long enough to come to that point. Deep inside, in a place he'd never share with Josh, he was just relieved he'd only ran. Darrin had never been so happy to be wrong in his entire life.
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Sheriff White Cloud let his squad car roll to a stop beside the walking figure, rolling down the passenger window.
"Leaving?" asked the sheriff.
Trent exhaled, wondering what was going to happen now. He stopped, looking down the highway for several beats of his heart before replying.
"Yeah, it's time. Before anyone gets hurt," said Trent with a tint of steel in his voice.
"You know that's not the truth. They're going to be hurt. Josh especially."
"Josh will recover. It's just easier this way, for everyone."
"Everyone? Or easier for you? What happened? Did it get too real?" asked the sheriff.
Trent finally turned his head to look at the sheriff, his last comment hitting too close to home. His anger at the unavoidable situation surfaced, and he snarled back.
"It's me! Why the fuck can't you get it through your head? No amount of redman mumbo jumbo is going to fix me either. Josh can find a normal man, and the other two... well they'll understand they just got a broken one in me."
"I don't see how you're any more broken than anyone else, but I won't argue it with you," said the sheriff. "Where are you going?"
"I dunno. Somewhere east of here. I've done west, wasn't really impressed," said Trent.
"Here."
Trent took the card the sheriff offered, noting that it was Sheriff White Cloud's business card before he looked back at the sheriff with a questioning look.
"Look, I'm not going to help you run, your family here would never forgive me. But when you're ready to come home, call me. I'll come get you."
Trent gave a hollow laugh and held the card back. "Here, take it. I'm not coming back, not soon, not ever. Besides, you wouldn't really drive across a bunch of states to get a lame ass trouble maker."
Sheriff White Cloud pushed Trent's hand back. "Keep it. You'll be back. This country seems like hell on earth to some folks, but for those who listen to it, it's the song that you fall asleep to every night. It's tough country and unforgiving, but it will call you back because nowhere else will you feel at home." The sheriff nodded as Trent sighed and put it in his back pocket.
"And yes, I'd get you home if you call. I might not be your ride the whole way. The thing about cops is they have lots of friends spread out over the country. So I might call in a few favors to get you home, but I would get you back."
"Yeah, well have a good life, Sheriff. I don't think you'll see my scrawny ass around here ever again." Trent backed away from the car, giving an awkward wave as it drove past him, shaking his head at the image of the mystical Indian that White Cloud tried so hard to cultivate.
Trent turned to the east, adjusted his backpack and resumed his journey.
<><><><>
Darrin leaned against the posthole diggers, wiping the sweat from his face as he looked across the parched landscape. The forecast was for rain this afternoon, but Darrin could see nothing on the horizon. The day was unnaturally still, especially for an Oklahoma summer day. The humidity was higher than normal; it felt like Darrin could cut it with a knife. He was concerned about many things, but chief among them was Josh.
In the month or so since Trent had left, Josh had not gotten over the loss. It was as if Trent was a critical part of his being, and without him, Josh would wither away. He rarely came out of the house, sleeping with the sheets that Trent and he had slept on the last night together. Nothing could persuade him to wash them, they could barely get him to wash himself. Josh, who was typically so meticulous with his grooming, didn't care any more. Mitch's threat to drag him outside and hose him off was the only thing that had gotten him out of bed and into the shower.
Darrin had starting going in and washing clothes and keeping food in the refrigerator, although more often than not he had to throw it out a few days later when it spoiled. Mitch had forced Josh to eat dinner with the two of them for the first couple of weeks, but finally gave up and let him eat alone.
Fortunately, Trent had left at the end of the semester, so Josh's grades hadn't suffered too much; mostly the work was already finished. But this had gone on through the entire month of May and now they were into June with no improvement. Darrin kept thinking that Josh would shake himself out of it, but nothing seemed to help. Darrin had even gone to the extreme of bringing his mother and Dr. Koch into it. Neither her coddling nor his belligerent tirade seemed to have any effect on Josh. He simply sat and stared with a distant look in his eyes.
They had tried forcing him to get out of the house and help, making him take care of his animals. But he walked like someone impaled by life and had no desire to find a way to make things better. Today, Darrin had suggested they just let him stay in bed, each time they made him help it felt more and more like beating a puppy, and Darrin couldn't take much more.
He'd tossed in the things he needed to work on the fence, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Mitch seemed to be of like mind, saddling his horse, telling Darrin he was going to check the west fences.
So Darrin had barely let the weather do more than register a passing note. Turning back, he rammed the diggers back into the sand and shale filled hole, taking his fury out on the earth.
<><><><>
Several hours later, with only a few of the needed posts planted in the hard ground, Darrin sat at the table, slowly eating his meal alone. Mitch was still repairing fence, Darrin had got a text message from him saying he'd be coming in late. He'd made a passing attempt to pull Josh out of bed, to no avail. Not that he was in any mood to deal with the heartbroken young man. He recognized that Josh was hurting, but had no idea how to fix the problem.
Darrin's food was tasteless as he shoved bit after bit into his mouth, mechanically chewing and then swallowing as he had a million times before, oblivious to the happenings around him as the hours trudged by, the incessant drone of the television, the heat-rippled vista beyond the refrigerated air flooded room. Darrin found himself being dragged into the darkness of his emotions.
His consciousness emerged through the quagmire of his mind, a familiar screeching noise pulling him beyond the immediacy of his own problems. Coming to the present, Darrin realized it was a tornado warning blasting on the television. A quick glance outside confirmed a boiling mass of pitch-black clouds screaming toward them. A few moments of listening to the weather reporter and Darrin took off in a sprint. They had a safe room in the house, but it was also their closet, and was largely impassable after the last few weeks.
Hitting Mitch and Josh's numbers, Darrin tried to reach the other two. But neither answered. Darrin rammed the phone in his pocket, racing to the bedroom and frantically clearing the shelter. He threw clothes and boots with reckless disregard, knowing he may only have a few minutes before it arrived. As a pair of tossed boots shattered a mirror, Darrin heard the gust front hit, the house creaking as 70-mile-per-hour gusts began assaulting the house. As Darrin finished his single-minded task to get the shelter operational, he succeeded, and pulled the door shut with a satisfying clang. As Darrin shoved the door back open, he realized he was still alone in the house.
Not knowing where the other two were, he ran toward the door that was the most sheltered from the wind, hoping Mitch had taken shelter somewhere in one of the many arroyos on the ranch, not allowing himself to let the darker thoughts stop him from trying to save Josh.
Rounding the corner, he was hit with the full force of the straight winds, his hat ripped off his head and was soon part of the blowing shrapnel. He struggled against the wind, desperation flooding him as he tried to reach the little house. As he covered the last few steps he saw it, he saw the demon of the southwest, although it took him a heartbeat to realize the scale of this monster. This was no vining funnel from film. This was a half-mile wide behemoth that ate buildings and destroyed lives. As Darrin forced his way inside the tiny house, parts of the barn were being sucked into its maw. Darrin ran to the bedroom, panic setting in, to find an empty bed. He stood a second too long, heard the house creak, and then a west window shattered as a pole from the barn rammed through it like a medieval battering ram.
Knowing his spare time was over, Darrin dove for the bathroom, throwing himself into a corner, covered his head, and for the first time in a very long time, prayed. Not for himself, but for the rest of his missing family.
And then, hell broke loose.
Darrin covered his face and head, making himself as small as possible as debris hit him like bullets. What lasted seconds seemed like hours as the roaring storm passed over the ranch. He could hear wood shattering and metal screeching as their buildings were destroyed. The walls of the bathroom shook as the house disintegrated a bit at a time. Darrin was only dimly aware when the wind took the roof, leaving him exposed.
Then the rain began, sheets of water pouring from the sky. Making it impossible to see anything, but it signaled the passage of the tornado. Darrin eased himself out of the debris piled against him. Pain surrounded him, but he didn't have time for it. Pressing his hands against the sole standing wall, he pushed himself to his feet, and then turned to see the damage.
Fortunately Darrin had stood facing the house, which miraculously seemed largely intact, or at least repairable. Turning, he realized that everything else was a total loss. But now, he needed to find Mitch and Josh.
He'd been surprised that Josh wasn't in the house. He had been certain that he would still be languishing in his bed. But now Darrin knew where he had to be, he'd gone to save the horses, not knowing they had turned them out into a pasture this morning when none of the horses wanted to re-enter their stalls. But Josh wouldn't know that.
His leg aching, Darrin hobbled toward the destroyed barn, afraid of what he'd find.
The piles of refuge, tin, and wood formed a labyrinth through the destroyed structure. But guessing where Josh would be going, Darrin wove his way to Whitehead's box. It had been near the center of the building, and when the roof had collapsed, it had largely crashed on the middle area.
Darrin began digging, throwing lumber left and right, pulling off sheets of metal until his hands were bleeding in a multitude of places. Reaching down he grabbed a large section of intact roof, and heaved it off the floor...to find Josh.
Darrin dropped beside him, noting the pool of blood surrounding his head and the impossible angle of his left femur. Darrin knelt in shock for a moment, not wanting to know, but finally he reached in, and found a pulse.
<><><><>
Mitch had been exhausted by the drama unfolding at the ranch for the last months, angry beyond words that Trent would leave like he had, exhausted by Josh's deep depression and trying to be understanding with his empathetic husband who was working too hard at keeping everyone else together, to the detriment of himself. That morning Mitch had needed a day without drama, where he could make a difference, where he could fix something. So he'd told Darrin his plans, saddled his horse and threw enough snacks into his saddlebags to keep him fed for the day.
He'd gotten frustrated with the boy's horses. They'd went out to the exercise pens without a problem, but then screamed and fought him when he'd tried to put them back in their stalls. After losing a half an hour trying to make them do what they obviously didn't want to do, he had given up. Deciding a day grazing wouldn't hurt any of them, he'd turned them loose in one of the pastures east of the house. His patience was stretched to its limits when Storm decided to choose today to be difficult too. But the topper was when Mitch looked back to find Max trailing behind him. He tried to send the little red and white imp back several times, but finally gave up when he slunk back again. With a sigh, he urged Storm into a lope that soon had them headed to the far side of the ranch.
Having stopped for lunch, Mitch was sitting in the early afternoon shade of a lone cottonwood tree, looking at the clouds building in the southwest. Just a thin sketch on the horizon, Mitch knew with the sultry conditions it was prime setup for a hell-bringer thunderstorm. Knowing he needed to get a move on or he would be riding in drenched on a decidedly unhappy horse, Mitch quickly picked up. He double-checked that he had the tools he needed and swung into the saddle. They started out at a good clip, the urgency of the situation translating to Storm.
Unfortunately, his afternoon was soon swallowed by the routine of repairing fence. Mitch was at first shocked that the cattle hadn't simply walked through the gaping holes, but then realized with everything that had happened over the last few months, some details had been lost. Without realizing it Mitch moved further and further from the security of the ranch, and neglected to track the progress of the storm. As a result, he was taken by surprise when Storm became rebellious as he tried to go further, and even more surprised that Max refused to be separated from the horse and rider by more than a few feet. Storm's tolerance of the dog was also remarkable. All of this flashed through Mitch's mind just as the gust front passed over him picking up leaves and dust and pummeling them with debris.
Mitch snapped his head upward, shocked at the writhing clouds above him. He suddenly understood the animals' responses. Looking across the prairie horizon he could see the front edge of the rain driving toward them, and he knew they'd never make it back to the ranch before it hit. Remembering a wide wash in the creek close to them, he spun a now-cooperative Storm toward shelter.
They reached the side quickly, the first plump drops splattering in the fine dust around them. Mitch pressed the horse, forcing him down the steep embankment, knowing they didn't have time to do anything else. With a scream of displeasure the big stallion plunged downward, his hindquarters almost touching the bank. But in a split second, they were racing for a sandstone outcropping that Mitch thought would give them some shelter. He vaulted from the horse, grabbing the reins and pulling him under the little shelter provided, Max already winding his way between Mitch's feet, when the storm hit with a shaft of lighting.
The lightning hit the largest cottonwood in the area, almost directly across from them with an ear-shattering explosion. The next minutes were spent trying to calm a stallion white-eyed with terror. It wasn't until he had some semblance of control on the massive horse that he realized the skies had opened and a deluge had begun. Within seconds, Mitch and both animals were drenched, and Max was letting out a most unhappy whine. Mitch knew there was nothing else to do, and hunched his shoulders against the driving rain.
Even through his discomfort, Mitch realized he heard an unusual sound. The low rumble of a train seemed to be coming toward them. As the roar built in volume, the stories of tornado victims flashed through Mitch's mind, and he knew what was coming. Suddenly he was pinned against the dirt embankment as both animals crowded against him.
Mitch was engulfed in the roar of the winds and the crash of broken branches thrown into the wash. He flinched at the crash as one of the big limbs of the cottonwood snapped at its joint and joined the growing pile. As the seconds ticked past, the roar seemed to lessen, but Mitch realized he had another problem that he should have realized. The arroyo was there for a reason, it drained the surrounding land into the creek, and both were swelling quickly from the torrent of rain.
Realizing they needed to move, Mitch started struggling with the now terrified horse. Knowing they would never be able to make it back up the now muddy bank they had slid down only minutes ago. Heading down the creek away from the growing freshet, Mitch tried several paths out, all were too dangerous in the current situation. As he was getting frustrated, Mitch stumbled upon a place where a previous flood had washed out a gradual dish-shaped area making it easily climbed.
Mitch grabbed Storm's reins just under the jaw, running his hand over his silky nose to try and calm him. They started walking upward, the rain slowed to normal levels. The bank was not simply traversed, and toward the top, Storm stumbled and then tried to rear in fright. Finally past his tolerance level, he fought Mitch, lunging repeatedly as he tried to escape. Suddenly, he crow-hopped forward and then came down inches from Mitch. Settling into a formidable position, he refused to budge. Mitch pulled, cursed and pleaded, knowing that the headquarters were in the path of the twister.
"Damn it, horse! Come on!"
Mitch heard a yip from Max and the horse rushed forward, almost dragging him to the top. He flashed Max a brief smile and then jumped onto the wet saddle, plunged his heels into the horse's flanks and instantly barreled across the dripping landscape.
As the house and barns came into view, it was obvious they hadn't been spared. All Mitch could see was mangled metal and snapped timbers. He was comforted by the knowledge that everyone was in the safe room, at least that was his wish.
Mitch's hopes were shattered as he rounded the corner. His first sight was Darrin emerging from the mangled wreckage of what had been their barn, carrying Josh in his arms. Blood was covering one side of Darrin's face, as well as his hands. He slid Storm to a stop and vaulted from the saddle. Racing to the pair, he could see the despair on Darrin's face. As he got closer, the horror was more apparent. Josh's hair was drenched in blood and Mitch could detect no signs of life in his limp body.
He sprinted to them, holding out his hands as if to take on this burden somehow. Darrin glanced up with a despondent look. Mitch braced himself for the worst as Darrin started to speak.
"He's still alive."
<><><><>
Trent sat on his bed, watching the tiny television as he ate. It was an expired TV dinner from the convenience store where he worked, but it was hot and filling. The scream of acid rock flowed through one wall while the warring couple on the other side screamed obscenities at each other. The bass line to the whole horrid composition was the stream of traffic on the interstate highway that seemed to be feet from his door.
The drone of the national news suddenly became interesting when Trent heard the word 'Oklahoma'. His eyes glued to the set, he watched the segment recounting the barrage of storms they that had hit them the night before. Trent watched with growing tension as he recognized some scenes.
His tension muted into horror as a shot of the place he had called home for the past several years was shown as evidence of the devastation. Trent's world shifted with that realization, his rationale for leaving destroyed. He shoved his hand in his pocket, pulling out a handful of change for the pay-phone in the parking lot across the street. He sprinted out the door and was soon holding the receiver in one hand while he rifled through his wallet for the all-important card. Finally recognizing its well-worn edges from the multitude of nights he had held it and wished he could call.
Shoving change into the phone, he began hitting the buttons on it as if the tragedy were the machines fault. Trent paced on the tether it would allow while the phone a thousand miles away rang. Trent counted each ring, willing someone to answer. He had began to panic when there was a click and a deep voice said.
"Hello. White Cloud here."
"Sheriff... I need that ride."
<><><><><>
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