Harvard Comes To Montana

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Ten

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

Hi, Farm Fellas;

Happy New Year to you!

You know, I kinda wish this story's timeline was concurrent with ours; Jeff has a fondness for fireworks. However, to go from the end of July in Chapter One to New Year's Eve would've required all of us to age way too much in the process. Trust me: you'll receive updates well into the future about what goes on in JeffyLand. For now: I'm focusing on getting that kid through Harvest. The rest of the future will take care of itself.

Your emails of support, feedback and critique have been welcome and inspiring. All my life, I've been proud of my family history, where and how I lived, my family, my horse(s), my dog(s), cat(s) and obsession with local coffee shacks. Heck, the list is longer than that, but I'll tell you and hope you'll believe me (because it's true): Fergus County, Montana, is magical. Rye really is my favorite grain, and when it's finished growing and is ready to harvest, my favorite smell. Grinding it into flour makes my knees weak. I'll stop now, or I'll make a mess in the front of my Levis. Can't have THAT.

Thanks for reading about Jeff, Marc and all the rest. I know you want to compare it with another epic saga well known to everyone, so go ahead and call this what it is: The Redneck Downton Abbey.

With gratitude to nifty.org and the archivist @stories@nifty.org for this writing and publishing opportunity, I wish all y'all a prosperous 2024. Griz

*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***

Despite having set my alarm for 4AM, I was awake at 3:30. `Well, for fuck's sake', I always say. I got up and stretched, then checked on Lola Cola and the pups. She was already awake and attending to her litter. I was pleased to see twelve little heads right up against her, either nursing or sleeping. No one had been moved away in the past few hours. I smiled at New Mommy and asked her if she wanted out. Her wagging tail and almost immediate standing up told me she was ready. Old Cat yawned and once again, stretched out beside the pups in Lola Cola's absence. Did he not also have to go outside? I'd not have been at all surprised if he'd wandered into the shower itself to pee. More power to you, O.C.; I have peed in every shower I've ever been in.

Lola Cola was pleased to be outside where the air was cooler. She sniffed the air while squatting, and have taken care of all the business a dog ever has to, we went back inside. I turned the circulating pump off so the floor would not be heated anymore. O.C. moved back to his previous position as Lola stretched out again. The pups almost simultaneously found a nipple and latched on. I found the can of pup formula outside, mixed a little warm water with it, and picked up one of the two who would not be nursing right now. I think this was the same little guy I'd held yesterday. His eyes closed and his face tiny, his little paws reaching to knead on something to get the milk flowing. I held him carefully so he could drink. Oh, yeah.....get at it! I think I liked this one a heck of a lot.

After his Time On The Tit, I nursed the other who wasn't on Lola Cola. He, too, was hungry. Once done and everyone snuggling against their mom, I took my clothes off and stepped toward the farther end of the bathroom where the shower was. I started the water, and Lola Cola looked over her back at me, wagging her tail. Was she giving me permission or stating her envy? Heh.....we'll get you cleaned up tomorrow, New Mom.

I took my time in the shower, enjoying the hot water flowing from the non-stop heater Dad had installed in the barn. "Flash Heaters" were still a novelty when he got it, but it turned out to be his and my favorite shower. Anders now liked it, too. Sure, it wasn't always energy-efficient-----when I wanted to take a half-hour-long shower. That wasn't often. Mostly, I liked the solitude of that bathroom and the barn. It's where I'd have loved to live, actually. Forgot to ask Dad if he'd build me a bedroom in the barn; I'd always wanted to live there.

Cleaned up, I got my shoes on and grabbed my clothes, running to the house with the fairly cold air crashing against my warm and humid skin. Shock! It sure woke my sorry ass up, if it wasn't already! Got upstairs, finished up in the bathroom there, and got dressed. I looked at Marc's shirt.....and as much as I wanted to live in it, I'd have to begin that tradition another day. Today I wore the same jeans as I had on yesterday at the funeral, but a fresh western-ish shirt. I pulled on my Noconas and gave myself a last once-over. Satisfied I wouldn't offend Sebastian, Marc or Sam Knox at the fairgrounds, I stepped downstairs softly to avoid waking Mom. I hoped as I passed her door that she was sleeping soundly. She buried her husband and father of three boys. Sleep as long as you want, Mom. Anders and I have this.

If you've never backed a truck up to a trailer before, it'll take you an hour to just get the hitch close to the ball, and another hour to actually get `em to meet. Do it only a few times, and you've cut that down to 15 minutes in total. Or: down to 30 seconds, because your Pa bought a recent-year Ford F-350 pickup with an automatic backing system and camera that take care of it right the first time, and gives you time to drop down the visor mirror and check your teeth before driving into town.

It also emasculates you, since goddamnit, you're letting a truck do YOUR JOB? Heh.....sure am! I can back the truck up myself, or I can save time to spend extra with my boyfriend. Thanks, Pa. Although I like driving my old truck better, there's something to be said for a throaty Diesel motor, both at idle and at 3,000 RPM: and that something is `seductive'.

I got the trailer attached, which had already been positioned right at the corral gate. I opened the gate and walked back with a flashlight to find my steer. Sebastian had been a 4H project that hasn't ended. I could've sold him at two years and again at four; but Dad suggested going for five years. I had documented that he'd been grass-fed for four years and nine months. Since then: corn finish for fat marbling.

He was a healthy beast, and gentle. We'd always got along well. When I called his name, he made his usual deep `moo' and walked slowly toward me. This animal weighed 2,100 pounds. He'd dress out at well over half that, and it would be certified Black Angus Prime beef. Whatever ribbon I took, I knew Ross Sweeney, owner of the Yogo Inn in Lewistown, would buy him to serve in the restaurant. We'd already had that conversation a couple of times, and I'm proud to say, he approached me with the idea. Dad left the entire negotiation up to me. I felt so proud, and I know Dad did, too.

Loading him took only a couple of minutes, and I loaded both corn and hay to go with him to eat while at the Livestock Barn for judging. Once he was all secured and as happy as any animal could be with taking off for judging by humans who would read his feed and vet records, poke and prod him (gently, I hoped, for their sakes), we got on the road. The truck was all sorts of capable for towing a one-ton trailer and a one-ton steer, but I still drove under the speed limit.

In Montana, regardless of time of day or time of year, there are deer and antelope that'll get the bright idea to jet across a road only to collide with the front of a truck or car. That fucks up everything, for no one more so than the poorly-timed dash by whatever ungulate happened to be near there. What it also does, if I were to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting it, is cause the trailer to fishtail and knock both Sebastian and me around. Lose-lose situation.

Just because I could, I pulled up to `Common Grounds'. Kim was still in town, and both she and Eva were working together on some baked goods. I hadn't thought about eating before town, since Marc and I would be getting breakfast. Still---Eva plus Baking plus Perpetually Hungry Teenager = win-win situation. I'm all about the situation, whether it's beefy steers, beefy boyfriends (!) or baked stuff.

"Good Morning, Jeff! Who are you pulling?"

"Hey, Eva; hi, Kim. Sebastian my steer is in back. Taking him into the fair."

"Good luck! What're you gonna have, Darlin'?"

"Something maybe new.....rather than a Zombinator full-strength, can you make one less potent? I'll be stopping by the Empire after dropping off Sebastian, and I know I'll drink coffee there, too."

"Gonna make you a hybrid! You're my lab mouse again! Half-and-half white coffee and Colombian medium roast. Flavored the same, though?"

"Oh, yeah! Please. I can smell something good in there.....you baking fresh this morning?"

"I am! Just pulled out banana muffins and mocha-caramel swirl muffins, too."

"Damn! Today is my lucky day! One of each, please. Oh----and please make the drink the biggest one available."

"Wait.....you don't want to drink it strong, but you want a lot. Isn't that the same thing? Unless.....ohhh.....! You're planning on sharing all this, I bet! Trying to butter someone up to go out Saturday night, I'm bettin'. How'm I doing, Jeff?"

"Oh, my gosh.....I got up early today, but not early enough to get that past you, Eva. Yeah, well, kinda.....you won't make money on that bet. Anders told me about the plan. I like it. Gonna see if it'll fly with All Parties Concerned, though."

"Well, your brother and I are more than a little on board for that flight, Jeff! It'll be fun! You have to come!"

"I think I agree. I know I agree, actually. I'll let you know on my way back from the fair this morning. What's the damage for this?"

Eva and I settled up, and I honked and drove off. Sebastian wasn't rumbling around in the trailer while I paused to get First Breakfast. Dad always told me that if I'm hauling critters to turn off the motor if I'm stopping for anything other than a traffic light. No reason to gas the steer to death, particularly if there's a chance for a ribbon and a buy-out. Those tend to happen only if the animal has a pulse. The short trip right into town was fast and efficient. It was now about 5:10, so I'm at least on schedule. Although I was joking on the phone with Marc, I had every intention of being at his house by 5:29 at the latest.

When Sebastian and I pulled up across the street from Marc's house, my dashboard clock read 5:19AM. Heh. I guess I won't have to troll poorly-hygiened truckers, after all. I sent Marc a text to let him know I had arrived, but he was already coming out of the house with a smile on his face. He climbed in the passenger side of the big truck, and since it was still darker outside, he leaned across the console and parked a kiss on my lips. He was about to pull away, but I moved my hand to the back of his head to keep him in place. Oh----and if you think our kisses are the kinds brothers give their sisters? Nope. Not Marc's and mine. Even if I had a sister, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like her THIS much.

Marc's hand went right to my chest. No squeeze; just the right amount of pressure to assure me that all of him, not just his mouth, was in the truck with us. Well, that was what I thought he was up to, but then his thumb found my left nipple, and.....you're a man. You know the effect that has. Oh, yeah. I could do this alllll day long, even if we did nothing else. But how I wanted to do something else.....to do more with this man who might've just come to Montana to stay.

But again.....can't leave the truck running; not only for Sebastian's sake, but for anyone on this street trying to sleep through the thunderous, sonorous, sensuous sound of a Diesel motor idling. So, dangit, I smiled and pulled my face back from Marc's.

"We should go before morning rush-hour traffic hits Main Street. I don't want to be late getting Sebastian out to the Livestock Barn."

"Lewistown, Montana, has rush-hour traffic?"

"Heck, yeah; the Five O'Clock hour is when the town comes alive again. There'll be probably two vehicles ahead of me at the traffic light on Main and First. SO annoying."

"Oh, well, then: by all means! Don't spare the horses!"

"Um, before we spool up the turbocharger in this thing, don't you have something to tell me?"

"Noooo.....I don't think so.....I guess I could ask you how you slept, though."

"Think harder."

"Hmmm.....okay, let's run this up the flagpole: You're my boyfriend. Okay, now you can take your foot off the brake."

"`You're my boyfriend'? Just like that? That's it?"

"What more do you want? Oh, is that more of the really wild coffee? `Zombinator', I think you called it?"

"Yes. No. Well, kind of. A hybrid. Don't drink it all. And you can't just say that to a guy who's hauling a ton of beef and a trailer to the county fair at five-something in the morning! Where's the woo? I don't see flowers or chocolates! Aren't you supposed to ask my mom if that's okay with her?"

"I suspect if you talk this much all the time, she'll be happy to get rid of you."

"Yeah, THAT'S gonna make this all better. Why am I your boyfriend, as you assert?"

"Because I don't want to go running yet again down some dark highway and take all that time to meet someone else. You'll do. Oh! Muffins! One of those'll do, too!"

"I'LL DO??"

"Well, I thought so.....now, though....."

I hrumphed and crossed my arms and turned my face to the driver's window.

"Do NOT eat both of those muffins! You'll spoil your appetite for an Empire breakfast."

"Gonna play `hard-to-get', are you? Okay. I've done this dozens of times. How about.....now?"

Marc reached back over across the console, but not to reach my chest. Nope. He aimed quite well and landed his dextrous digits right on my dick. It was already hard; now Paco was downright (UPright) priapic. At the same time, Marc moved his face toward the side of my head and whispered in my ear,

"And because I think I'm falling in love with you, and no, I have not said that dozens of times before. You are the first, Jeff."

As much as I was having fun with the banter, I was now floating above my body. Angels were singing. I was starring in my own Hallmark Christmas Movie at that moment. No one had ever said that to me, not once in my short, seventeen year old life. So, there shouldn't be any surprise that I was surprised, and was happy to hear Marc say that. Even him only thinking' he might be in love with me was enough. I can work with thinking'. I turned my face toward his, my eyes wide with surprise, my biggest smile yet on my face, and I plastered his lips with another kiss. And another. And deeper. And longer. And.....oh, shit. Sorry, Sebastian.

We concluded this round of my heart having gone from silent to pounding. I turned onto 1st Avenue, and then again at the intersection with Highway 87. I could already see the lights on at the fairgrounds. I held Marc's hand on my hard dick, though. I wasn't trying to turn this moment into something entirely sexual; I just wanted him to feel me at my hardest yet, ever in my life. And it was all his fault. Marc, you get all the blame and all the credit. If my dick gets any harder or longer at this moment, you'll have to steer the truck pulling the steer in the trailer. I'll have long since passed out from a lack of oxygen-rich blood to my head.

Fortunately, that wasn't the immediate scenario. I kept my wits about me and Marc's hand on me, and we turned onto the fairgrounds property. I already knew which stall would be Sebastian's, so I pulled right up at it and backed in. Marc had already figured out what I needed to do, so before I was all the way back, he got out of the truck and opened the stall gate outward for me. Unloading my beast took only five minutes. Because Sebastian wasn't familiar with Marc, I unloaded the straw myself and got some alfalfa and corn in the manger for him. The water hose was close by, so I filled the trough with lots of the spring-filled well at the fairgrounds. The water in and of itself is a good reason to go to Fergus County. Best water, anywhere.

Marc stood on the outside of the stall while I brushed Sebastian down and gave his horns a polish. He would be judged at 3:00PM today. As I'd hoped, he was the only large animal in the barn yet. Sam Knox only slightly bent the rules for me and allowed us in ten minutes before six. I handed him all the paperwork for Sebastian, and thanked him for the little grace of early admission. He was all smiles; Sam IS the Central Montana Horse Show, Fair and Rodeo. It all works because he still does. Sam pointed me off in the direction of where I could park the trailer until after the fair. I introduced him and Marc, and I gave Sebastian a good-luck hug and kiss.

After five years, a 4H project had become personal for me. That guy and I had got on well from the day he was brought to our farm. I wasn't all too thrilled about his immediate prospects after the fair, to be honest. The proceeds from his sale would go right into the farm, though; it was needed and welcome. It really is just a big, ol' cycle. In, out, in again. For six generations, and if I have my way, six more to come.

We got back in my truck, and drove the trailer to its parking lot for the duration of the fair. Also being `first in', I took the trailer spot closest to Sebby's stall, already back-in positioned. After unhitching, I smiled over at Marc and told him I'd be back in a moment. I left the truck running for a moment, and then ran back to the stall. I walked into Sebastian's quarters for the four days of the fair. He grumbled something, probably about being left there with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I placed my hand right between his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He liked that, as well as having his ears rubbed. I did all of it. I spoke to Sebastian for a moment. I talk to all our animals.

"I'll be back to check on you every day, Bud. You're here representing the entire farm, and I know you'll do Dad and me proudly. You're the handsomest steer in Fergus County, Sebby. My handsomest steer. Be brave, and be kind and welcoming to every other critter that'll show up here today. See you later, Stud."

I kissed him again and walked back to the truck. I was feeling a little differently about this fair. My first without my dad. The first that I can remember with Anders. The first since high school graduation.

The first being someone's boyfriend, and someone being my boyfriend.

I climbed back in the truck and smiled at Marc. He was laughing at the `747 instrument panel' of HVAC, Sound System and video display on the huge touch screen on the dashboard.

"Is there anything this truck can't do?! I remember riding in the Dean's Range Rover last year, new off the lot. I don't think his does anything that this one doesn't! My seat is vibrating!"

"Oh, yeah.....Dad got this at an auction when someone in the next county was bankrupt. This is the F350 Limited, I'll have you know; top of the line. He got it for the price of an entry-level, no-frills brand new truck, and this one is only two years old. Still has a strong warranty. So: I'll give you a choice. We can drive back into town and park for breakfast at the Empire, or now with the Sun up, I can show you exactly where you and I met on Sunday. THEN we can go to breakfast."

"Plan B, please. Here. Gimme your hand to hold while we drive there. I've held Jeff Wojtowicz' hand, but now I want to hold my boyfriend's hand. Just to see if there's any difference, clinically."

"I'll be assessing the same, you know. Just to see if I'm further getting used to your skin on mine. Of course, I believe we'll need to increase exponentially the amount of skin in contact. I think this'll be a longer scientific survey. We'll have to do this a lot more, and also make it the basis for compounding study of The Boyfriend Dynamic. We can call it the TBD', which also means, to be determined'. We've determined we are boyfriends, but we've yet to determine just how we're going to make that work if for some reason you don't like the job offer with the school district."

"Well, what options would I have here at that point?! I am not exactly considering back-up plans for that, Jeff."

"Not to worry. I also happen to know Mr Pavlicek, the high school history teacher, just retired last month. The pay won't be great, but it would be your subject. I can comfortably say you'd be the only Harvard-educated Doctorate degree-holding high school teacher in the entire state. Over-qualified and definitely underpaid."

"Hmmm....."

"You don't sound like that's too attractive....."

"It's not, but I can't say I would not consider it. The salary aspect isn't my concern, really. My challenge is finding satisfaction in a job. I want to create solutions and then work with the teachers in all classrooms to meet them. I want one day an entire graduating class to think, `I have options. I'm confident in the education I've received thus far to help me make informed choices of what I need, and which discipline needs me.'"

"Marc, you have to say that in the interview. They will need to know the effect you'll have on the kids, not on just the office of the school district. They will also want to know how you're going to work with the Montana Secretary of Education. You might want to study up on her, too. She is not a friend to educators, Marc; she has never been a teacher in her life, and in fact, has spent more of her term thus far looking into creating charter schools in the state."

"This is more entrenched than I thought-----but it's why I'm researching, and why I'll be talking with Emil tomorrow. The last thing I want to do is stick my dick in a beehive."

"I believe you would foment the right changes with the right leadership. Marc, I'll admit to you that half the reason I want you to have this job is for the sake of good you'll do the school district and the kids. The other half is because I want us to be together. Sure, we'll probably be hyper-discreet, but we'd be together. I'd have my place, you'd have your Grandies' house. We'd both have trucks. I really don't think there would be an issue if we work ourselves into being open about who we are and our relationship."

"This will be my first time being in a closet. I'll be candid: I don't know how to reverse-engineer decades of hard work by millions of people just so we can be out. I'm not saying I don't want to make that effort; I'm just saying this will be a challenge. It's one I would not do at all, any of this, if you were not my boyfriend.

I'd return to Harvard and think, this was the best Summer of my life, and Jeff was the best man I could've hoped for a partner.' I don't want to have that thought, though. I want the one that goes, I'm returning to Harvard to get my stuff, and then I'm going West to Fergus County, Montana, because I want my life to include Jeff, who is, I think, the best man I could hope for as a partner'."

Well, there you have it. Marc will stay if he and I can be together---and figure our stuff out along the way. And if teaching high school history doesn't work out-------I know a farm that will easily benefit from another hand working crops and stock. I know for a fact that he and the boss will get along juuuuust fine together.

We smiled and worked on the muffins and shared the coffee as we drove out of town further on the road we were originally on. I pulled onto Tessie Potter's property, around the back of her house. She's not there. She's in a care facility in town. Her folks haven't come to talk with her yet about what to do with that old farm and house. An entire estate of stuff.

Once parked, I smiled at Mark.

"The front seats here are separated by the console, but the back seat can fold into a full-sized bed. At least that's what the owner's manual says. Would you like to include that experiment in the scientific survey we discussed?"

"I'm always in favor of acknowledging honorable sacrifices in the name of Science. What do we have to do? Lift up one thing while pushing another?"

"Just one push----of that button on the console. It'll also move the front seats forward automatically."

"You realize if we take road trips, we can save money on hotel rooms?"

"Not really, Professor. We'd have an inverted return on investment of fuel for road trips. We'd be better off riding in Mom's Expedition and staying in decent hotel properties. But.....I'm all for further scientific study to determine who's right and who's wrong here. If I'm wrong and still get to be horizontal with you in this tank, I'll shout it from the rooftops that this is the only way to travel-----IF one has a hot, educated, published, beautiful, witty, handsome man with you in the truck."

The seat was now a bed with the seat back folded down. We crawled in through the rear doors. My gosh, this really was the approximate size of a full-size mattress, which is what I sleep on already. Marc and I were perfectly comfortable on it. We rolled on our sides to face each other, with his hand on my face and mine on his. We smiled into each other's eyes.

An innocent moment, and one that would stay that way----insofar as it would not take us further than we had already gone. We were still in public, and were we caught by a sheriff's deputy or a state patroller, Marc's career here would end before it began. Kissing and talking was the M.O. for this morning. It was comfortable to lie there. Road noise was almost non-existent. We talked about the rest of the day.

"Marc, what are your plans for today?"

"More study on more recent history of the school district, with focus on hirings and firings, and finding out who are the tenured teachers. I also want to read the bond sales for the new buildings and cross reference that with the average of the past three years in taxes budgeted for the school district. I want to return to the library for that so I'll have plenty of room on their tables to spread out files. What do you have going?"

"Back to the farm, and more focus on the new-born pups. Thus far, we're keeping all twelve alive for now, but should in reality be losing 16%, or two pups due to birth complications or genetic issues. We've been hand-feeding any of the pups that can't latch onto a nipple themselves. The vet says they're all doing well equally. Anders and I made a commitment to keep the losses of pups to zero.

So I'll have that, and this afternoon, Mom wants to go over ledgers and stuff with Anders and me. I think the family lawyer will come out, too. There's the will to deal with."

"Sounds like we're both going to be studying numbers and other stuff."

"Yeah. Somehow I feel it's too soon, but the longer we wait, the bigger a challenge it'll be to decide how soon we can get the other Custom Combine crews in here for the wheat and oats. Dad thought we could be debt-free after this harvest, so if we can, I want to pay that loan down to zero and be in a good place if we ever need another. I truly believe with Anders here teaming with me, we can double the efficiency of this farm, and spend only 75% of the expenses that we normally do. It's not so different from your concerns with the school district, after all."

"Jeff."

"Marc."

"Maybe I rushed things, just because we were having fun after a rough day for you. I'm going to ask you: Will you grant me access to your heart so some of me can live in there with you? Will you please continue our clear path of candid and honest communication? Will you please listen to me when I say I need that, which won't be often, but will be for important things----like my hopes, my insecurities, my joys and my nightmares? Will you be patient with me while I get to learn the life here, the roads, the streets, the names of people? Will you introduce me to your family and your horse? Will you honor me with an answer of `yes' to my request for you to be my boyfriend? Please be my boyfriend, Jeff."

Tears began in my eyes when he said, `Will you grant me....." I was choked up while my eyes geysered salty tears from them. If I could've caught my breath and my senses, I'd have wanted to respond to Marc:

"Everything you see here, Marc; all that I am. I am yours. I will share in your good moments and challenging ones. I will listen to you, and I will talk with you. It's the very least I can do for my boyfriend."

We pulled together and hugged tightly, and kissed. These were gentle kisses, and exactly right for the moment, because I could say nothing. And nothing needed to be said.

We laid in the back seat bed of the truck, just cuddling and saying nothing. Our bodies, fully clothed, did all the talking. We watched the Sun's ascent into the sky, and the shadows it created on the rear side of Tessie Potter's house. More kisses, now deeper. I moved one of my legs between Marc's. That got us closer still. Within a few moments, though, the cab was getting heated up by not only the Sun, but by us, as well. We both realized it and laughed at the same time.

"Well, Boyfriend, I think it's time I drove us back into the throbbing metropolis that is Lewistown. The Empire is gonna get busy on the first day of the fair."

"You mean to tell me there's `throbbing' going on outside this truck, too? Umm.....don't they have a drive-through window or something? Like, we could get the food and come right back here? Or have it delivered?"

"I like the way you think, Marc.....but I actually need to head back to the Livestock Barn by 10AM. That's when the fair opens, and I need to be there at least until after the judging is finished. Absentee humans equals disqualification."

"Ohhh.....well, that makes sense. People are going to be interested in Sebastian, even before he's awarded the blue ribbon."

"That's right. You're welcome to hang out all day with me, if you want; but I think you'll be properly bored after just two hours. Sebastian had BETTER bring in a blue ribbon, or the last of his five years will be spent out in the North Forty where the Sun never shines, and his dinner will be oat husks."

"Poor little Sebastian! Don't do that! Anyway, I don't know if I'd be `bored' if I'm with my boyfriend, but you know I have some budgetary records I want to review at the library. I think it'd be a good use of my time to do that today, so I can talk about it with Emil tomorrow over lunch."

"Ah, right you are. So: breakfast, back to your home, and we talk later?"

"Or even during the morning and afternoon; now that I have my first boyfriend ever, I kinda want to talk with him. At least send and receive a text or thirty."

"And I'd like that with my boyfriend, too. Wait.....am I really your first boyfriend? In 29 years, you've not dated?"

"Oh, yeah. I dated my academic advisors, my study groups, numerous librarians, three deans, two counselors, one literary agent and one publisher."

"Okay, I actually understand what you meant there. You've certainly been driven to achieve some amazing academic goals in your short lifetime."

"I was driven. The culmination of all that study seems to be toward the application for a job in Fergus County, Montana. Just never knew it at the time. All of my time will have been spent perfectly if I'm hired. And my time spent with you will be a lot of the reason I want the job, Jeff. If we had not met, I would not have talked as long as I did with the retiring superintendent, regardless how much he might've wanted to talk with me. Truly: with my grandparents leaving, I'd have had no reason to want to stay here. You and I met. Now I want to stay here."

"I'm pretty sure everyone will want you to stay here, Marc. Particularly Lu Barney, coming in a close second to myself!"

We laughed and I pulled into the parking lot behind The Empire. We walked in the back door, and there was `our table'. Lu walked by with plates for another table, but noticed us. She sent a big smile in our direction, but we sent it right back to her. She and I had a particularly personal subject we----or I---needed to discuss. Lu dropped the plates off, then back to the kitchen, then to us with water and coffee.

"Ooooo! The crops are lookin' SO GOOD this year! Right here!"

We all laughed and after we had our water and coffee, I stood up and pulled Lu into a giant hug.

"Lu. Thank you. You singing at my dad's funeral was nothing I could've ever expected to happen, and I sure didn't imagine such a great voice lives right here. You and Eva and Tom and Kristi were perfect."

"Aw, Jeff.....gonna make me cry. I knew on Sunday that I'd sing at Ned's funeral Mass. Nothing could've stopped me. He and I stood next to each other in choir for three years in high school. Your dad had the loveliest baritone voice; I loved standing next to him. And so handsome.....my gosh. He was so good to me and my younger brother. My folks were from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. Ned gave us rides in Winter after school on his way to your farm. He knocked a couple of heads together, too; he found out some other senior boys----thugs, really---were bullying my little brother. That never happened again."

I was not surprised to hear Dad stopped bullies, but I had no idea he could sing, too. I don't think I'd ever heard him.

"Lu, that's incredible. I love that. How'd you choose the music you sang?"

"I didn't. Your dad did. We sang those pieces in choir, and I remember him saying they were his favorite music we had done. I'll admit, I had a huge crush on Ned Wojtowicz! EVERYONE did! My little brother, included. Ned was the Second Coming as far as he was concerned."

We laughed again, and Lu directed us back to the idea of eating. Oh, forgot all about that!

"Special today is biscuits and gravy, but I think it turned out too salty. If you like it like that, then go for it. Otherwise, Dottie just made up some fresh buttermilk batter, and the waffles are coming out of the iron smelling heavenly."

"Lu, waffles it is, for me. Two, please. Strawberries, or whatever you have fresh, too. And OJ for me. Oh---and coffee."

"It's all yours, Jeff. And Marc?"

"Double the order please, Lu!"

"And THAT'S all yours, Marc. Oh-----since you're here, would you please do me a favor? See that picture right above this table? It's crooked, and has been buggin' me since Bill Clinton was president."

"Sure; no problem."

Marc stood up and reached as high as he could to straighten the picture. Lu stood by him with the perfect view to see his shirt ride up over his perfect washboard stomach, covered in dark, brown, luxurious Man Mink. She looked straight ahead at that the whole time Marc was attempting to right the picture.

"How's that?"

"Um...a little more on the left side, I think."

Marc made the adjustment.

"Better?"

"Almost....."

Lu's eyes were glued to Marc's torso, from his waistband up to where his shirt rode just higher and higher, the higher he reached.

"There! Perfect. Oh, my GOD, is that ever perfect....."

She caught my eye and turned a billion shades of red. Lu giggled and thanked Marc as she took off for the kitchen with our order. We could hear his lusty laugh all the way into the kitchen. I was laughing so hard, tears were in my eyes.

"Did I miss something?!"

"No, you didn't miss it. You provided it. The `breakfast entertainment'!"

I explained to Marc what Lu was actually doing with her innocent, `make the picture right, Marc' routine. He laughed and turned red, too. After a few minutes of getting in on the joke, our talk turned to our plans for the day, which was essentially full of essential stuff. We agreed to see each other on my way out of town. Lu returned with the plates. The waffles were covered with berries and real whipped cream, and we got little side bowls of more berries. Syrup, OJs, cream and a refill on the coffee, too.

"Okay, Boys; what else can I get for you?"

I just smiled and shook my head to indicate I was perfectly fine. Marc looked at Lu.

"Actually, it's not food-related, but could you do me a favor, Lu?"

"I'm jest a girl who can't say `no', Marc!"

"I think I pulled a muscle on my stomach when I was reaching to fix the picture. Will you please just give it a rub and see if you can find anything that seems too tight?"

Marc stood with his back to the rest of the cafe and lifted his shirt right above his pecs. Oh, he was so beautiful, my boyfriend! (My Boyfriend! SWOON!!!)

Lu was almost just staring at him, her jaw slack and, for the first time in probably forever, silent. Marc reached for Lu's hand and placed it palm-to-furry stomach.

"Yeah.....I think that's where I noticed it, Lu. Does anything feel.....unusual to you?"

Lu just shook her head `no', staring all over Marc's naked torso. He moved Lu's hand to his right pec.

"Maybe.....no, not there.....lower again, please. Like, right on my navel, Lu."

She just did as he said, still silent! This was so funny, and I had to really fight myself to keep from laughing!

"Lu, whatever you did or are doing, it worked. I feel all better now. Thank you!"

Lu pulled her hand away, now looking Marc in the eyes.

"You're magic, Lu!"

Marc kissed her forehead and sat back down, smiling at Lu.

She backed away, touching her forehead. She turned the corner. I heard Dottie say,

"What's the matter with you? Got a headache?"

"No! I am never washing my hand or face, ever again!"

Marc and I laughed and began our breakfast.

"Marc, you're devious and cunning, I'm very proud to report!"

"Who, ME? I'm an innocent little rabbit! Whatever could you mean?!"

Breakfast was incredible. I forgot out much I liked waffles until Mom served them for breakfast, and now today, too. Lu returned with the check, joke-fanning herself with her order pad. Marc pulled out his wallet.

"Thanks for a perfect breakfast, Lu!"

"Oh, you're WELCOME, Marc! ANYTIME!"

"Lu, do you think you could check one more thing for me....."

Marc stood and turned his backside to her, pointing to right below his belt.

"I think I pulled something here, too....."

Marc and I laughed, and Lu did, too. Always a good sport, Lu! She walked back to the cash register with the $25.00 Marc gave her.

"NO, I AM NOT GOING TO MASSAGE YOUR ASS FOR YOU, MARC TAYLOR! But come back later when we're not so busy....."

Everyone burst out laughing, not having been fully in on the joke from the beginning. We laughed still as we walked out the back door. Lu had done something really amazing that she didn't realize: she passively introduced Marc to about 25 people in The Empire, who now also had a face with a name. This was good. `The kind of advertising money can't buy'.

I drove Marc back to his house. The Sun was fully awake and in the sky, so there wasn't going to be any kiss now. We held hands, though, and committed to texting and calling. Marc got out and went inside and I drove back to the fairgrounds, laughing at the silliness that went on in the past hour. Yeah, there's definitely something in the water here.....may the well never run dry.

I actually enjoyed driving this truck! It was huge, but Dad bought it for its utility; hauling and carrying things. I wasn't far off from Marc in my assessment that it'd be a good road trip vehicle. Today, though: it did its job in getting Sebastian to the fair. I hoped he was acclimating well with all the other animals showing up. Sebby looks imposing, but he's a sweetheart. He is a bull in all but one regard, but he's also the bovine equivalent of Lola Cola. Loves belly rubs, is friendly and curious, and someone the cows appreciate when he's around. `Guard and Protector', almost. I'd seen him run off a coyote at dusk. Never saw it again. Maybe Sebastian caught him and ate him.

Back at the fair, it was suddenly crowded with folks in for the horse show event. The vast majority were American Quarter Horses, but I saw the Piers family brought in their three Arabians. They'd show them later in full parade gear, which was impressive. Suzie Piers would be dressed like a sultan, too. I looked forward to the horse show and the rodeo. Sebastian was fine in his stall. He was nobility among commoners, I thought. I saw the other entries, and while they all looked good and the result of definite work by their humans, my guy was in a class all his own.

Sebby greeted me with his usual moo, and nodded his head. That was his signal for us to get together. I got up to his stall and opened the gate, making sure no one was nearby when I did. I was certain my steer would not bolt out of there, but I wasn't certain some toddler kid wouldn't shout something about the big cow and race into the stall and disturb Sebastian. All was well.

I got inside and right up to him. I had him in a blue halter and lead today. A subtle hint to the judges that a blue ribbon would accessorize just right.....heh. I grabbed Sebby's stiff brush and gave him some attention. His coat was still clean, but I knew he liked how it felt. He would eventually lean into the brush, and I weigh only ten percent what he does; you can imagine the effort required to stay upright when my guy gets some brush attention.

Mr Knox came by, the permasmile still on his weathered but perpetually friendly face.

"How's your steer, Jeff?"

"He's doing well, Mr Knox! He likes brushing the way some humans like their shoulders rubbed."

"He has been the center of attention this morning. Even the kids bringing in their cats, dogs and bunnies have come by to see him. He's huge! And so docile. If he's near the gate, he doesn't shy away if kids want to pet him. I hope he does well for you, Jeff."

Mr Knox winked and walked away. Who in Fergus County, let alone on Earth herself, would replace him when he stopped doing this? Or the Grange Women? I was glad I had lived in a time that included me in their friendly community world. I gave Sebby's horns another polish and got him some more alfalfa and corn.

When I first got him, I was twelve years old. My dad knew I wanted to do a 4H project. He took me to the livestock auction, only just across the highway from the fairgrounds. We watched all sorts of animals come through the auction circle. Dad and I were up against the fence. About seven small steers came through, only a few months old. Each was an individual lot. They were still calves, and had to run to get anywhere. While six of them stayed together, one little guy came right up to where Dad and I were standing. He just stared at us, then tried scratching his ear with his hind leg. I was all smiles at this little guy. Pure black with big, brown eyes. I looked up at Dad who only winked at me, smiling just a little.

Dad signaled the auctioneer, whose assistant right then came out and grabbed the little steer by his neck to hold him still. The auction process began. The auctioneer began his fast-paced banter with the crowd. Dad held his hand on mine. "Just wait", he told me. A rancher from out Winnett way raised his hand. $50.00 bid. More auction-speak, which I didn't understand. A few seconds passed. No other bid. Dad let go of my hand and winked again. I waved my hand enthusiastically. The bid was now sixty.

It continued that way for another three bids each. Dad had whispered that I should not raise my hand, but just rest both of them inside the fence, and when I wanted to bid, I was supposed to just raise my finger. I did, and the auctioneer caught it all. What I learned then was discretion; don't broadcast to everyone else there what goes on in my head.

The big got to $100.00. That's what I had come with. Dad told me that was my budget, and I had to stay within it. Every animal, every man, has his price. I was nervous now, and looked worried up at Dad. He patted my shoulder and winked again. I raised my finger and looked the auctioneer right in the eye as I did it. He asked the crowd who would go to $110.00. No one.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity while I held my breath. I tensed up. Dad put his hand on my shoulder and gently shook it. He knew how I was feeling, and what I was thinking.

"SOLD to Wojtowicz Family! One hundred Dollars! Pay the cashier, and thank you! Well done, young man; you got yourself a perfect Black Angus steer, there."

I was so proud, and I still hadn't breathed. What had been bated anticipation became shocking disbelief that I'd won the auction. I finally exhaled and the older farmers who were next to us just laughed and extended their own congratulations on my first auction. One asked me what I was going to do with my little steer. I told him we would be doing a 4H project together. That got hearty approval from everyone, and then Dad and I were off to pay for my little guy.

Once settled up, Dad backed up to the ramp with our old black GMC. The chute was opened, and my little steer didn't hesitate; he actually ran up the ramp and into the back of the pickup. Dad pulled forward a little, and I raised the tailgate. I asked Dad to stay for a moment, but he had to drive away from the ramp so others could use it for their auction wins. He parked 50 feet away from anyone else, turned off the truck and stood by the side while I climbed up into the bed. The little guy wasn't shy at all. He didn't try to get away from me. He let me pet him for a few minutes. Dad said we had to get going, and the answer was NO.

"No?"

"NO, Jeff; you can't ride in the back with him to the farm."

"Awww.....wait, how did you know I was going to ask that?"

"Because I know boys, Jeff. I've been one for 46 years."

"Oh. Well, what if he falls out?"

"He won't. Remember you got a halter and lead for him?"

"Oh, yeah! I'll tie him to the front wall of the stock rack!"

"That's right, Jeff. Rule Number One: Keep your animals safe, fed and happy. All the other rules come easily after rule number one."

I tied him, though it wasn't easy to get the halter on, to the stock rack. No way he could fall out now. Three men came up to talk with Dad while I was still in the truck bed. I knew who they were, but they were grown-ups, so we didn't really know each other. No one wants to know kids until they can hold a conversation, at least about the weather. Sesame Street and Mr Rogers didn't count. Now, though, I wonder..... The men talked with Dad about grain prices, and the fact that one of them had taken the subsidy to not actually grow a crop that year.

It would take me another several years to understand supply and demand and commodity forecasts. Right then, all I cared about was coming up with a name for my new little guy. I'd have to give that careful consideration, I was sure; I didn't want anyone laughing at him----or me. When we got back inside the cab and drove off, Dad talked about stopping in town to get an ice cream to celebrate my first auction win. Heck, yeah! Ice cream just for spending money?! I was all over that idea.

While we ate outside the Arctic Circle, I asked Dad about the men. Now I was curious about why all these adults talked to each other. Dad carefully and patiently explained that a farmer doesn't have to be friends with every other farmer, but it was necessary and important to be friendly. He explained the difference, and just as with every other time my parents explained something, it made sense to my little brain. I got it.

I commented that wherever we went, people came up to Dad and talked with him. He said our family had been around here almost longer than anyone else. In a small community, an old and established name was respected, as long as the people who had the name were respectable, and respected other folks.

My dad was a giant. Not only was he so tall, he was just a presence wherever he went. People looked at him and stopped talking when he entered a room. He looked both approachable and guarded at the same time. Dad commanded attention without opening his mouth. Either Mom learned that from Dad, or it was the reverse. For a good many years, they were our local Prince Rainier and Princess Grace, or President and Mrs Kennedy.

They knew everyone's names. They greeted people by name. If they were with new people, both Dad and Mom introduced themselves and struck up friendly conversations, and never forgot the names of the people they'd just met. Dad had been approached multiple times to run for a County Commissioner office, but he refused each time, saying family and farm come first, and are enough for him. That always made me feel good when I heard it.

Both Dad's and Mom's commitment to Anders and me seemed to deepen considerably when I went to First Grade. My homework, my grades, my school interests were of paramount importance, and not an afternoon went by that they or Anders were at the kitchen table, helping me with my homework. I grew up thinking that's what all parents did, but I learned a few years later that some of my classmates had parents who didn't even look at or care about report cards. Like they couldn't be bothered. Mine cared.

Fast forward to today, and here was little guy, all grown up, my Beast Friend'. My first auction was also my first successful one, with many to follow over the years. Sometimes Dad wouldn't even come with me. Of course, technically, it's a monetary transaction and minors can't participate; however, it never seemed to be an issue. Earlier this year I went without Dad. By now, I knew everyone's name, and other farmers talked with me. Always, they asked about my parents, and told me So-And-So said hi'. Of course I would.

When I was seventeen years old, I looked like a younger version of Dad. I think genetics made my transformation through my teen years less of a challenge. My genetics now, all 130 years of them brought me to this point: operating a successful farm, getting my 4H project judged, and in a round-about way, establishing myself in a relationship. The challenges were provided for me; my proof as The Sixth Generation was the only response I needed to give.

Over the next few hours, Marc and I texted back and forth. I could tell he was immersed in something because he wasn't his jocular self. He was still Marc', but I could tell he was studying. Anders was right: an academic! BEWARE!' I smiled at that, because I was the same way when I studied in school. I knew I would, or at least could, resume my behavior in a college class. Hopefully one online.

Fingers crossed, and fingers crossed for Sebastian. The judging event for large, non-equestrian livestock was next. I did not recognize the man who came to Sebastian's stall. He confirmed that I was his human, and he looked at the paperwork, which had a picture of Sebby to confirm as much as possible that the paperwork and the animal belonged together. He asked me some questions, but the most particular one stayed with me.

"This is a five year old steer. Most people enter by the animal's third year. While there's not a limit on the age, five years is relatively old. Why did you wait?"

"Sebastian and I had a lot to teach each other, still."

"And what have you learned in the past two years?"

"Patience, Sir."

The judge shook my hand and said thanks. He had two other to go; a cow and a steer. I knew the kids who entered them, and I had wished them good luck earlier in the day. Five large animals had been entered for judging. Three ribbons could be awarded. I felt that if Sebastian and I rode home together having won nothing, we gave it our best, and he was the best 4H project a guy could've had.

I'd have lost nothing, because I got 1,825 days with him, and I liked every one of them. We treated each other well throughout, something the judges couldn't have known-----nor really cared about. They wanted to analyze feed, weight, pharmaceutical use and temperament. I understood that. I had all that and more, and none of it could be taken away from either Sebby or me.

An hour later, I brushed him again, but very slowly this time. He really liked that. Nothing hurried. The boar bristles worked right down into his hide, scratching every itch he didn't know before existed. Sebby snorted a few times and gave out his signature moo. We both wanted to go home, but he'd be here for the duration of the fair. That's part of the deal.

Not everyone comes the first day for the judging; they come over four days, and some of the people wandering through would be those who would want to make an offer on the livestock after the fair was over. I knew my guy already had a future. Well, no, strike that; Sebastian had a buyer, a man who would advertise in the hotel restaurant where the beef on their plate had come from. I would have a reputation as a stock grower and businessman. It's what I was born and raised to become.

Finally, the time had come. The same judge came back around with (still smiling!) Mr Knox and greeted each human of the entrants and thanked them for bringing their animals and showing them. He congratulated them on raising some of the best animals he'd seen in recent years, and commiserated that he had only three ribbons to award. He began with the white ribbon (3rd place) and nailed it to the stall of the last cow judged. Caroline Parker was beyond thrilled to have placed her first year with a large animal project. She was standing right next to me, and her happiness was almost infectious.

The judge spoke of the unique features of the Hereford of the red ribbon winner, and remarked that the records kept by the boy who'd brought her were the finest he'd ever seen. It showed devotion to his project, said the judge. The boy was also happy, but I could tell he was not completely satisfied with second place. I hoped that meant his next project would reflect what he learned during this one.

That left two other boys and myself. I knew them both. Karl Mason and Curt Oldham. Younger than I was. Both freshmen this past year, and also `old names' in Fergus County. They were some of the school's best athletes, and having larger operations with more people working on them afforded them after-school sports team opportunities.

Karl had an amazing arm, and was the only freshman on the varsity team this past year. Curt was a good tactician, and held the same distinction on the varsity basketball team. I knew both their brothers, and oh, my god.....IF I could've chosen any two boys for my first (of many, I had hoped) three-ways in the hayloft, it would've been Kim and Carson. There is more than one kind of prime, grade-AA beef on a farm.

"I have been judging bovine livestock entries for almost ten years. Some aspects of animal husbandry will never change, and the primary one is direct involvement between the animal and the human. They are interdependent for the project to be successful. Again: I wish I had five ribbons to give, because each of these animals is extraordinary. You may all be proud of your work and accomplishments, and for those of you who will pursue future projects, I wish you well with them, too.

I award the purple, best-in-show ribbon to this five-year-old Black Angus steer. (WHOO!!!) I spent time with him alone, and when his human was with him. I find him to be of perfect health and fitness for his breed, size and age. The records kept were also superlative.

I also take into account what the human has to say when I talked with each of you. I asked the young man who raised this steer what he had learned that was most important to him during the project. `Patience', he answered. Really, that's all we have as farmers and ranchers that'll get us through one season or one lifetime: patience. We have to be patient with our crops, our animals, and most of all, ourselves. Nothing comes fast to a person in Agriculture. Congratulations, all of you."

I joined the other kids in congratulating each other. Curt and Karl were actually fine with not placing. I knew how busy they were being boys, jocks, scholars and farmers. The fact they tried to make time for a 4H project only added to the integrity they sought. After a few minutes talking about what we'd each be doing with our projects, we returned to our animals for individual recognition. I got in the stall with Sebastian and gave him a big hug around his huge neck. Again he moo'd at me and shook his head.

I told him thank you' at least three times, and then attached his purple ribbon to his horn and asked the girl who won the white ribbon if she'd take a picture of Sebby and me together. She laughed and was happy to do it. She took three. I selected the best of them and then texted them to Mom, Anders, Tom, Kristi, Eva and Marc. No message; just the photo. The responses were immediate, and ranged from my own woo-hoo' to right on' to what did you expect?' That was from Anders. Smart-ass big brother!

From Marc: "Oh, that's nice; two purple ribbons in one day!"

"What? Two?"

"My boyfriend got a purple ribbon for having the best large animal there, and I got a purple ribbon for having the best boyfriend there."

MELT. All over the goddamned ground. THIS DAY, I'll tell ya.

I asked if he could call me when he had a moment so we could coordinate any kind of a meeting with what remains of the day. He said he would.

I cleaned up Sebastian's stall and gave him more moo fuel and water. Somehow he came to the conclusion it was a good time to sit, so he folded his front legs beneath him and descended to the straw-covered dirt floor. I sat with my back connecting with his left side. He turned his head to look at me, and from then on, we just hung out together like two old friends.

I cut up an apple I'd brought and fed him sections of it. Oh, yeah.....he loved that. I rubbed his shoulder with my left hand and his flank with my right. He'd continue to get attention, and I couldn't move him or his ribbon until Sunday. I'd be back often to check on him, though; and clean his stall again, replenish food and water, and brush him so he was fresh and pretty for everyone else who would see him.

People stopped by, noticing the purple ribbon. A few asked if Sebby wasn't feeling well. I said he was, but he had been here since 6AM, and needed some rest and relaxation, too. Almost everyone remarked how good a specimen he was. Others wanted to know what I was going to do with him next. I said I had a buyer ready to make the transaction soon. I didn't mention names. Quite often, less' is more'.

I was still on Cloud Nine from the ultimate win. I was hoping for red or blue, but Sebastian brought in the purple ribbon. My last 4H project, and he did brilliantly. I was proud for both of us. With one last hug, I told Sebastian I'd be back later before going home.

I wanted to walk over to the grains and grasses displays, and then of course the Home Arts entries to see who might have won what.

I stopped first on the ground floor. Axel wasn't there, but Hyman Roth was. I wandered around looking at the entries. There were so many! It made sense; we'd had a good Winter and a good Summer. Weather had been good to us this year. I looked around, but wasn't seeing Dad's entries. I saw Mr Roth and asked him about that.

"Well, hello, Jeff! It's good to see you! How may I help today?"

"Hi, Mr Roth; good to see you as well, Sir. I came in looking for my dad's grains and stalks that I brought in Tuesday. I don't see them anywhere."

"That's probably because you're in the wrong place for the grand prize winners, Jeff; you walked right past them when you came in. Everything from corn to soybeans to grains to hops to grasses and more. The display is so big, you don't even know it's there! Why don't you go out and look again, Jeff....."

I walked out front, and sure enough, there was the display, easily ten feet high with terraced ledges all the way down to the ground. In the very middle were Dad's grains and stalks, visible to everyone. Attached to the Rye stalks was his ribbon. Dad's purple ribbon. He won it for Rye, but it was best-in-show. That covered all his entries.

Oh, Dad.....you left a proud legacy in yet another way. This is all anonymous. No one could've known who these belonged to, and there's no believability that either Mr Roth or Axel would cheat. You won this, Dad. Your final ribbon is a purple ribbon. I'm so proud of you, Dad. I hope you'd be proud of me, too. Mom and Anders will be proud of both of us. I'll come back home and see your new spot and talk with you more, okay? Okay.

I went back in and thanked Mr Roth. I had tears in my eyes.

"Jeff, the judges--both of `em--were blown away by the grains submitted from your farm, though they didn't know who they belonged to. They ground the little grains and tasted them. One judge said it was the best Rye he'd ever tasted. Your wheat turned into a perfect flour that tasted sweet and fresh. Those guys were right impressed. When they put the ribbon on and we revealed the name to them, they just shook their heads and laughed. First thing this morning both had said that despite what everyone else brought in, Ned's entries would blow everyone else away. Fortunately they said that in the back office where no one could hear. Their assumption turned into a prediction, and there ya go, a purple ribbon!"

I told Mr Roth that my steer had brought a purple ribbon as well. He had not yet heard the news, but planned on walking around later once Axel returned. I smiled and shook Mr Roth's hand and asked him if he'd return out front with me to get a photo of the purple ribbon with Dad's name right next to it, and me smiling like the proud fool I must've surely looked like. I sent that via text to the same people, and good responses poured right in. Of course, they'd all see the awards themselves, but I'm a fan of sharing good news when it happens.

Walking upstairs, I saw Mrs "Always Present" Correy. She gave me another big hug and told me how nice she thought the funeral Mass was. I told her how much it meant to Mom, Anders and me to have our friends there to send our dad and husband off. I thanked them for the feast, as well, and waxed enthusiastically about the ham, scalloped potatoes, green beans, sweet potatoes and other delicacies which were perfect. I thanked her for always being the admiral who gets everything ship-shape for any event. She smiled at that.

"I supposed you've come up here to see how your mom did."

"That's true, Mrs Correy. She was particularly proud of her dill pickles, she said."

"Well, I think she's going to need a bigger refrigerator!"

We walked over to the display case where Mom's jars were located. Attached to each jar was a blue ribbon. No other color. Blue, straight across the board! Wow, Mom! I knew then why Mrs Correy thought Mom would need a bigger fridge: to display all the ribbons. That was cute of her. Mom would appreciate that. Of course, I took a picture of the jars with ribbons and sent them to her and Andrews. We're all so happy today!

I found the Cakes and Pies area. Following the current trend in which everyone thinks they can be a master cake decorator, some fairly creative designs were executed. Some were actually good; however, it would still boil down to the flavor as being also necessary. Some of the pies were nice, but quite typical-looking. I assumed their ribbons were based more on flavor than appearance, but I really don't know all the parameters of judging.

I finally got to Eva's pie. I looked at it all around, and could see what the Flathead Lake cherry filling looked like. Yeah, Eva baked a tall pie. The crust looked like something you'd see on a cooking show. Golden brown and flaky. Nice. Just as I was looking for her ribbon, Eva called me.

"Jeff! Are you in the Home Arts barn yet?? How'd I do with my pie?"

"Oh.....um, well, Eva; you know this was your first time. That was a big step, offering your wares in comparison with people who'd been baking and entering cakes and pies for decades....."

"Oh, crumb.....well, you're right, Jeff. Still, it was fun to try!"

"Eva, let me get a photo of it, and I'll send it to you while we're on the phone, okay? It'll also show how your pie's inside looked. That might've had something to do with the judgment.....but I don't know. Okay, taking the picture.....now.....and texting it to you at the same time. Stay on the phone with me, Eva.....You'll get it in a moment. Just breathe; everything is going to be okay. I promise, Eva."

"A PURPLE RIBBON, JEFF?!?!? Are you serious?"

"Now I am! For a couple of moments, I was having a little fun at your emotional expense!"

"You fucker! I still love you, though! WOOOOOO!!! Kim! I got the purple ribbon grand prize for the cherry pie! First time submitting one!"

Kim squealed from the background.

"Eva, what are you gonna do with that pie?"

"Well, eat some of it, obviously! I'm not going to sell it, though. it's two days old now. The crust won't be quite as flaky, and the bottom crust will be too moist."

"Would you sell it to me? We're throwing a picnic Sunday. Only a few people. We can get everyone a big slice, and that'll also get the word out about the pastries you're offering."

"How about this: I'll bring the pie as my contribution for the picnic."

"Perfect plan, Eva."

Having seen all there was to see for my people, I walked back downstairs. I decided I was hungry, so I went over to the concession stands beneath the grandstands. I waited in line only briefly, and then ordered a double cheeseburger, through the garden, with mayonnaise, black pepper and a fat dill pickle. Shanna's mom took the order and rang it up. She was happy for the sale; it was still slow there, but it's only the first day.

Shanna walked out from behind the refrigerators.

"Oh, it's you, Jeff."

"It's me; exciting, old me. How's your day going, Shanna?"

Her mother spoke to that question.

"Oh, she's in a crabby mood because there's some new guy in town, and he's not interested in her. Just silly, if you ask me."

"Oh? Who's the guy, Shanna?" I knew it was Marc.

"That one you were showing around the other day. Mike? Marc? Yeah, Marc. He just blew me off!"

"Well, Shanna; I was there. You left us because you had to get back over here to help your mom clean the grandstands or something."

"YEAH, BUT: he could've given me his number, or taken mine! It was just really embarrassing."

"Maybe he doesn't move at quite the same speed, Shanna.....you know how tourists are."

"Oh.....he's a tourist?"

"Yeah. From Harvard University. Visiting his grandparents here. Mr and Mrs Taylor."

"Oh, really! Just visiting! Well, now I HAVE to go out with him! If he's here only a short while, then he won't get all clingy and want a long-term girlfriend and kids and stuff like that to weigh me down!"

Her mother laughed again.

"Girl, `weigh you down' from doing what?? Tell me how someone from a fancy school like Harvard University is going to weigh YOU down in Fergus County, Montana!"

"Hey, MOTHER: I have PLANS. Flight attendant for one of the prestigious airlines like JetBlue, or be one of the models on The Price Is Right'. Those are get up and GO-GO-GO' careers, MOTHER. I can't `GO' if I'm stuck here with some book nerd."

I decided it was my civic duty to the future of Humanity to remove Marc from estimable consideration for mate-hood with Shanna.

"Shanna, the stuff you don't want is exactly what he's been talking non-stop about. He wants several kids and settle down in a little house out on the Heights edge of town."

"The HEIGHTS edge of town?? That's where all the poor people in trailers live! Ewwww! Why live there?"

"Because he doesn't have a lot of money, himself. Raising eight kids will be expensive. In fact, he said something about a ten-years-old double-wide not costing as much as a new 14' x 70'."

"EIGHT?? A DOUBLE-WIDE TRAILER?!"

"Yeah, give or take.....anyway, looks like my burger is ready. How much for that, Ma'am?"

"A double cheeseburger with the works is $5.00, Jeff. Soft drink to go with it?"

"Do you have 7-UP or Root Beer?"

"Both."

"Root beer, please. No glass and ice; just the bottle."

I got my lunch and said goodbye to Shanna and her mother. Shanna looked like she had sand in her vagina, and her mother was laughing her head off. Oh, Jeff.....you're going to hell! I wandered back to Sebastian and talked with people while I ate. He walked right up to the gate to inspect the little kids who came to see him. As usual, Sebby was just a big version of himself when he and I first met; curious, friendly and fun. Quite a record for good behavior, my purple ribbon-winning friend.

Curt and Karl had bailed on their animals. Maybe they went to get something to eat like I did. Despite not placing, good sportsmanship still expects participants to be there and answer questions about their projects. The two kids on my left were enjoying the attention they got from fair attendees. The Sun was making its descent from High Noon to now about 5PM.

I decided to stay until I heard from Marc, and when he'd be finished at the library. Sebastian and I liked each other's company. It was easy for us to want to be together. Sometimes I regret agreeing to sell him, but farms are not places for lots of pets. We spend money on animals or we make money on animals. In a tight operation, if we're going to have animals, they have to be for revenue. Dangit.

My phone buzzed. Marc.

"Hey, Jeff."

"Marc."

"I have to leave here. The Historical Society needs these tables for something, and they're here now. Nice old people. All of them know the Grandies. So, I'm done here effectively now. Is it possible to walk back home and then meet you there?"

"Entirely possible, but I can also come pick you up, Marc."

"Thanks, but I discovered some really nice homes on Boulevard I'd like to walk past. There must've been a lot of money in this town in the early 19th century. At least two of these would qualify as mansions."

"I know the ones you're talking about. The big brick house on the corner has an elevator in it. Okay, enjoy the walk. I'll get gathered up here and meet you at your home."

"Great! Thanks! .....Boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend.....I so like how that sounds out of your mouth and into my ear. See you soon."

I smiled as I ended the conversation. I'd never had conversations like that with anyone before he and I met. Pursuing subjects not about agriculture or school. I love talking about those things, but now I was talking about personal responsibility to another man; caring for his emotions and respecting things I'd never had to respect in a person outside of my family before. This was all so new, and I loved it. This was another example of the benefit of having patience for the long run.

I believe I understand patience a little better than some. In this industry, it takes a lot of time to grow everything. Life is scheduled around planting, growing and harvesting seasons. While waiting for them to end so the new part can begin, we take care of other important details. Cleaning. Maintaining equipment. Breeding and growing cattle. House projects. Conventions where we learn new techniques or are introduced to know strains of grain. And we grow, too. In wisdom, always wisdom. Just when we think we know something now, we're reminded all the time: are you knowledgeable, or are you wise? It's the knowledge we need that makes us wise, depending on how we use it.

My knowledge was that I'm a seventeen year old high school graduate, not exactly dumb, who is a farmer, and who is gay, and who lives happily in Lewistown, Fergus County, Montana. Yup, that's what I know. My challenge was to use all that to grow and mature into a wise businessman and wise, kind, loving partner to Marc Taylor. How can you be so sure Marc Taylor is The One', you're probably asking me. I was sure the same way I was sure Sebastian would become something successful and special. I was willing to put forth considerable effort to keep his needs as viable as my own, and in a few cases, more so than my own.

I can do this, I assured myself, including school. I can't lose. Any of this. So much work had been done, by my family, our friends and neighbors, and by my own performance through high school and getting lots of scholarships for college; to teach me the essentials for running a farm. So much of Me had gone into every moment of my life, running toward the future I've always dreamed of living, that it was all I could imagine being and doing.

Even the part where there'd be a man in my life, something I could not have conceived before Sunday morning at 5:00 AM.