Harvard Comes To Montana

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Seventeen

Hiya, Boys;

Well, with the passage of January, we are officially that much closer to the end of 2024. However, the more Jeff and the others `talk' to me, I am that much further away from concluding this story. Remember when I said this thing would end at the tenth chapter? Damn, I suck at math.

I'm resolved now that it'll continue until nothing else happens in Fergus County.

Don't let anyone tell you nothing happens in Fergus County.

*** 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 ***

My watch silently buzzed my wrist to tell me it was 5:00AM. Snooze.....to snooze or not to snooze.....NOPE. That's not even a question. This is our first harvest without Dad. It's my harvest. I will not miss it.

In the night, our positions had changed a little. We were now chest to chest, and Marc's face pressed into my armpit. He and an arm over me and I had one over him, and our legs did their own interlock thing. My watch was on the wrist which was parked under my pillow, so I doubt it was disturbing Marc.

I extricated myself from him, which was almost like reverse-engineering a macrame plant hanger. Marc moaned and whimpered in his sleep a little, and shifted his position to his stomach. I took one last look at that heavenly heiney and pulled the sheet up over him, and then bent down to kiss the side of his forehead.

"Mumble-mumble-something."

Sounded like Mama Clemenza saying, `Don't forget the cannoli'. I didn't ask for a repeat. I gathered my clothes and carried them to the front living room to get dressed, so as not to disturb my man. It took awhile, but I got almost reassembled. I had no idea where my briefs went, but I wasn't going to spend time searching for them. There at my feet were Marc's.....oh, yeah! I made sure my phone, keys and wallet were in my jeans. Regretful, but ready.

I was careful and quiet in opening the front door. I walked through and closed it in the same manner. I didn't get even three steps away when the front door opened.

"Oh, no you don't."

Damn! I was THIS CLOSE to absconding with the sexy professor's sexy underwear!

"Don't what?"

"Sneak away like that."

I turned and stepped back to Marc.

"You were sleeping and I didn't want to disturb you."

"For which I'm grateful, but now I'm awake through no fault of your own, and you're still here, so we are ending this the same way we started it. Get in here, You."

Marc pulled me back into the house and closed the door, and pulled me close with his arms around my waist.

"Listen, Jeff.....about last night....."

Oh, shit. Here it comes, the `let-down-easy' speech. I'd seen those in movies. Damn. Gotta stay brave.....

"Jeff, that was the best night of my life. What we talked about, the love-making, sleeping against each other.....all new. I've never done any of that before. I don't want you to leave without knowing that."

I regarded Marc carefully, not fully convinced he wasn't still going to fire me as his boyfriend. After a pregnant pause, I felt relieved. Well, a little relieved.

"Oh, WHEW. What we did together makes me wonder what I accomplished previously, because whatever it was, it was no where near what you and I did last night together. I have never made love before, Marc. It was always `rocks off and run'.

"So we can agree then that we should try again and see what happens? You know, `all in the name of Science'?"

"We can agree on that. Maybe tonight.....after the Fair?"

"Let's wait and see on that one. For this reason only: I'm not going to be very romantic and gentlemanly if I've eaten junk food and end up nauseous. I'll practice all the restraint I can, but it IS my first county fair, after all. It'll be over Sunday, but you're not going anywhere. Worst case scenario: Sunday, just as originally planned. I promise, though, I will make all concerted efforts to keep myself pure and pristine so we can do more of last night, tonight."

"Very reasonable, although I think I'm still asleep and perhaps not realizing you just effectively sand-bagged me for a convenient future night when you'll have eaten responsibly first. For now, I need to get back home, in case the grain trucks arrive this morning. We can get almost an entire section done today if everything is where it needs to be."

"I'll never sand-bag you, Boyfriend. Even if all we do tonight is sit and hold hands and talk more, it'll be the perfect climax for the week. You know, maybe instead of a `climax' climax. Have a good and safe day, Jeff. Thank you for joining me last night. Thanks most of all for being my awesome boyfriend. I really do want to talk more about the depths of your thoughts and feelings on family, farming, yourself, and tell you some more about myself, too.

"That just might be possible tonight. For last night, though? Truly; thank you. The best night of my life, like yours. I'm glad I was with you for it."

"Me, too. I'd not like to think either Tim or Shanna were here, instead. Drive safely. What time are you coming to pick me up for the fair?"

"6:00PM. The whole gang is going to the rodeo first. Tom's brother Trace is riding bronc. After that, we'll wander the carnival and see the exhibits. Eva hasn't seen her pie yet, and I want to show off Dad's display and his own purple ribbon."

"Really looking forward to this. Sincerely. I've never done any of this before. I'll be ready before 6. I even have a hat I can wear."

"Smart feller, and you've been here only a few days. See you, Babe."

"Bye, Boyfriend."

We kissed, a chaste, non-invasive kiss that avoided unbrushed teeth. We'd make up for it later on. I smiled and opened the door again. At my truck, I turned to wave and smile again, which Marc returned. My truck and I floated all the way back to Main Street. Damn, I was acting all kinds of goofy. I honked and waved at the street sweeper who smiled and waved back----until he realized he obviously didn't recognize me, and stopped smiling and waving. I know, I know.....'goofy'.

Back on the highway. Less traffic this morning than last night. Oh, were those grain trucks ahead, traveling East?! PLEASE turn left at Eva's----but not until you get some coffee and a muffin! A coffee and muffin sounded like a good idea. Only two trucks ahead of me. Yee-haw! I wondered what experiment Eva had cooking up today. It was finally my turn at the window, and I was already drooling. As least I hoped that was drool----and not some (shall we say) as-yet-still-viscous `Marc mark' on my lip. I wiped it with my t-shirt, just in case.

"Hey, Jeff! Good morning, Darlin'!"

"Hi, Love! Busy this morning, I see!"

"Yeah! I put the big, five-gallon coffee urn in yesterday morning, and began selling a five-dollar re-filled Thermos, with the purchase of the day's special. Word got up and down the road on the CB radios, and now I have guys just kind of double-parking their rigs on the side of the road and coming inside for it. I think I've made 15 gallons of coffee so far this morning! They all bought muffins, too. I might come to regret this.....!"

"The truckers won't! Your coffee is strong and good. Don't tell Lu I said this, but it's ten times better than what they sling at the Empire----and theirs isn't bad at all."

"Aw, thanks, Hon! What're you having today?"

"My usual, I think; but can I have it iced?"

"Jeff, I'm sorry, but my ice machine finally died on me. It was a little one and all I could afford at the time, and I just asked too much of it. I need to get a bigger one. WAY bigger. Is hot okay until then?"

Eva started my toxic toddy and we shouted above the sound of the steam.

"Just as good hot, of course. Ice machine, huh? Have to be new?"

"I'd be happy with operational."

"You know Ross Sweeney at the Yogo Inn? He took over a couple of years ago from Faye Faydeau?"

"No, I don't think I do. Honestly, I'm busy being a barista, baker or boring sleeper. Don't get out much. With Kim here now, I can finally go see if I recognize anything in town. Why? Is he going to buy me out? SOLD!! HAHAHA!!!"

"Ross is buying Sebastian in October after he's been on corn for awhile. He's also buying new kitchen equipment. Last time I saw him there, he was talking about new walk-in fridge and freezer, and ice machines for the kitchen, lounge and three for the guests in the hotel hallways."

"Oh, dang! Really?!"

"That guy is gonna turn the Yogo around; it needs some love. You feel comfortable calling him if you want to check into this, or would you like me to do it? Or get a handshake going on? He's a good guy, Eva. I wouldn't send Sebby off to a prime rib buffet line for just anyone."

"Ooohhh.....let me think about this. I'll call you, Hon. Really, that's good news. Gonna have something to eat this morning?"

"What do you have today?"

"The usual muffins; huckleberry, chocolate mocha, raspberry cream cheese. Orrr.....you might want to try this sausage and egg wrap thing I'm kinda working on......"

"SOLD! How many do you have?"

"Seven. No, five."

"Three, please! They'll go to a good home, I promise!"

"Of that, I have no doubt! YOUR home! Wait.....wait just a daggonned minute, Jozef Pavel Wojtowicz.....!"

Uh-oh. A woman in the family is using my full name in never a good sign. WTF did I do now.....

"`HOME' is in THAT direction, but you're coming from THAT direction."

Eva motioned with her fingers pointing in opposite directions. Oh, shit. Busted. Why does Eva have to be creative, gorgeous AND brainy?! And so early in the morning, too??

"Well....."

"`Well', nothing. You're GOING home, and at 5:30 in the morning!"

"Ummm.....maybe....."

"Your hair is all jacked up, too. YOU HAVE BED-HEAD!"

"SHHH!!! Turn that steam off so you don't have to shout and tell people in Missoula, too!"

"Oh, this is so precious! Our Kiddo is growing up!"

"STOP WITH THE `KIDDO'! That makes this all kinda.....oogey!"

"`Oogey'?? HAHAHAHA!!! Okay, no more embarrassing you!"

"Thanks.....I'm still trying to twist my mind back together about everything. One thing's for certain: we're still going with you and Anders to the fair tonight. I have to check with Tommy if he and Kristi still coming, too."

"Are the four of us going together?"

"Ummmm.....no.....pretty sure I'll drive Marc and me."

"Really? There's so little parking available at the fairgrounds!"

"Yeah, but there's plenty in front of his house, and y'know, after....."

"OHHH! Well, dang! Now I'M the one turning red!!! Here's your breakfast! Go away before I say something REALLY dumb!"

Eva shooed me away, but I pulled out a Twenty and handed it to her. I was laughing right along with her. I knew what it was like to turn that red.

"That cover it, Eva?"

"Just right, Jeff! Thank you! I hope your harvesters will come through on their way out!"

We waved at each other and I got back on the road toward the farm. Ahead of me, I saw three long grain trucks. Finally. Harvest can commence! This is what we've waited for, from the seeds being planted to the irrigation pipes being moved around to Anders and I going out and tasting the results.

I rolled down my window as I passed one of the fields of Rye. Barley first, Wheat second, Rye last. I wanted to ride along with Miguel when they came back through to get the Rye, and just hang my head out the side of his combine and breathe in all that heady grain aroma. I'd done that for years, and each time, he just laughed at me.

"You have Rye in your veins, Senorito!"

Even as of this Summer, I still can't drive one of their rigs. Legality-liability-lies, lies lies! How can I say I'm a farmer if I haven't actually cut anything down, except with a long-handled scythe!? These things have a top speed of twelve miles an hour! I can't exactly take it out and `cruise Main Street' with it, like my classmates!

Oh, well. I can at least ride along and lose brain cells to the heady euphoria of grain plus The Eagles on the stereo plus Miguel's good, clean musk plus the vista before me of land that Polish eyes have taken in for 130 years.

130 years and counting. Don't make me beg, Aleksy and Eva; but I will.

I could see all the way down the county road that I had no oncoming traffic, so I edged myself over and drove past the big rigs coming for our revenue. Once I got beside the lead truck, I honked and slowed to a stop. The driver did the same, and we talked through our rolled-down windows.

"Hey! Welcome! I'm Jeff. Are you here for Farm W?"

"We are. Thanks. I was here last year. What section we doing this morning?"

"Southeast section. I'll get you right to it and open the gate. The Combine Team are likely on their way. We didn't think you'd be here until about 8:00."

"Got an early start. That'll work for us. Wish we'd stopped at that coffee place back there, though. Must be good; they had a line at 5:30 in the morning."

"Eva has the best coffee. Tell you what; let's get you situated, and I'll drive you and the others back there in my rig. You definitely won't be disappointed."

"Sounds good, Jeff. Oh, if you don't remember me, I'm Helen. The other two are my boys, Randy and Todd."

"Helen! Heck, yeah! Welcome back, I guess I should've said. Okay, on our way."

I moved in front of Helen and her boys, and we drove the three miles to the section where we'd begin harvest. God, this was big for me. I was as nervous and excited that morning as I was the night before. What would've made that moment perfect: both Dad and Marc with me as I made my own first harvest cut with the scythe, right ahead of the combine; just like Dad did, Grandpa did, and those before him. We always make the first cut at Harvest with the very tool brought from Gdansk in the 19th Century. It's ceremonial, perhaps; but for me, it's honorific to my namesake, Jozef Feliks Wojtowicz.

We had different middle names, because we take our mother's father's name there. Great-Grandpa Jozef had three other middle names, as was a common custom. Because there were only a handful of boys' first names and a smaller handful of surnames, a bigger combination of middle names would impart a greater delineation of who from whom' and who from where'.

Poland wasn't a `melting pot', attracting immigrants from other parts of Europe----with the exception of Russia, where most of the names were either the same, or at least very similar. Poland contributed TO melting pot nations, such as mine. Besides, it was population control; with every Polish Catholic woman behaving like Lola Cola, people had to move to America to make room for the next generation of little Alekys and Jozefs. And Januszs. Gus.

So, by now you're probably wondering how we got `Jeff, Anders and Gus' from the names on our birth certificates. Well, that gets us back to what I was saying about only a few names to go around for more than just plenty of kids. In the generation before mine, it was nothing at all to have a family picnic once every couple of years-----and have 300 people show up for it.

Among my grandfathers and uncles and cousins, there were many Aleksys and Jozefs and Januszs. We were all named for an elder. If any of our names were shouted at a picnic, there'd be dozens of boys and men answering. Also, in correspondence between families, it was easier----and better---to have unique names. The question of `who belongs to whom' could be answered satisfactorily

Anders got his because the doctor who delivered him was Anders Andersdottor. I got Jeff because Anders couldn't say Jozef' (he still struggles with phonics, the knucklehead). Janusz became Gus because in the entire family, as far as anyone knew, there had never been a Gus'. I don't think there has been one since. But I promise you, Janusz Gus; my firstborn will be your namesake.

Polish sauerkraut is simple; cabbage, salt and time. Polish logic ain't, and there isn't time enough to explain it now.

I'll get more into Polish family politics maybe after we harvest. Right then, we had trucks to position and drivers to be caffeinated. I had Siri send texts to Mom and Anders telling them what they probably already knew from sight, but they should know the plan of taking the drivers back to `Common Grounds'. Both responded, and Anders texted that he'd contact Miguel to keep him apprised. Thus far, we were doing fine.

`Lie back and enjoy, Dad; I'm ready to prove the results of seventeen years of education you gave me to prepare for this very day. I would not be confidently here without you, and this farm won't move confidently into the future without me.'

Cue the orchestral and choral processional march for "Teenage Hubris Makes Its Entrance". First movement: "The Seventeen-Year-Old Emperor Has No Humility".

It took another fifteen minutes to get to the Southeast section gate and through to where the semis would stage until we began the cut. Once Helen, Todd and Randy were in my truck, we drove back to Eva's. Luck was on our side: I pulled up right in front of two others. From my seat, I rolled down Todd's and Helen's windows so they could order. They all got plain, ol' coffee and one each of Eva's muffins-of-the-day. I was pulling out my wallet, but Eva stopped me before I could fish out another Twenty.

"Team is team, Jeff; first one's on me!"

The drivers and I all said our thanks and got out of the way of real, paying customers. We got back to the farm, but instead of driving them back to their trucks, we stopped at the house first. Mom and Anders would want to welcome them. To be honest with you, though: Helen, Randy and Todd were insulation between Mom and Anders and me. They couldn't exactly say anything about my night in front of the people who would be hauling our grain to market. I'd have to answer to Mom and Anders eventually, but I was willing to stall that progression (or regression, actually) for as long as I could. Just putting off the inevitable.....I already know.

Mom gave the drivers a run-down on what they could expect now they were here. We knew they'd be in and out in only six or eight hours, but they were welcome to join us for lunch, and to use the barn bathroom. Anders made a kind offer to follow us back to the cut section with the side-by-side (Satchmo, remember) so anyone wanting or needed to come back there could do so easily.

After catching up on the news----Dad's death, the grain market, Eva's coffee and muffins, I saw the two Team vans come down the drive from the county road above. We were officially in business. Was it really possible I was more nervous about this moment than I was going to Marc's house (and bed) last night? Sure seemed that way. Good. I needed to park my arrogance, if only so you won't stop reading.

The Team came toward the house, and the six of us came out and joined them. Anders made introductions, and once everyone was smiling and ready, the The Team, all of them, took off in the vans for the southeast section. I told Mom and Anders that I had a new Eva Creation in the truck, and though cooled down by now, would still be good. They got in while I ran to the equipment shed to get the scythe, where it had hung on the wall for----you guessed it----generations. On my way, I shouted my morning greetings to the horses, OC and the billions of barn Bernezers. Lola Cola woofed back at me, and I think it was Bolt who neighed. OC ignored me. Fucker. He needed to remember who had a seemingly endless supply of duck hearts.

The equipment shed was on the far side of the corral, so on my way I slowed to a stop to hi' my big guy. He was right at the fence, so a rub between the eyes and on the ears was possible. I got a moo' from him, so I smiled and continued on to get the very first tool that brought in the very first crop in the very first year of homestead by the very first---you guessed it---generation. Damn, I was officially excited. Running back to the truck, I could see the cemetery in the near distance. I waved and shouted.

"Here we go, Daddy! Hang tight! This one's for you! Love you, miss you!"

Again I laughed and kept running. I got to the truck, all smiles still. I placed the scythe carefully in the back of the truck. Yeah, I know I treated it like a holy relic or something. I jumped in to see them just looking at me, holding their breakfast wraps from Common Grounds and waiting for me before digging in.

"What??"

"YOU!", Mom answered. Anders laughed.

"Yeah, YOU, Little Brother! You're running around the barnyard, talking to animals and Dad, laughing and grinning like an idiot! AND you're doing all that while holding a very sharp instrument! I think you'd be safer running with scissors instead!"

I laughed and shook my head. I was in such a great mood at that moment, I welcomed the (accurate) good-natured roasting. Mom was in the passenger seat next to me, holding the camera she'd use to record the first cut for all Time and Posterity. I forgot about that, but Mom didn't. She never forgets anything. She smiled in my direction.

"Might just be me, but it seems someone got a little giddy' for his giddy-up', Anders. I just wonder what happened to bring that about....."

Anders was in mid-swallow of his first bite of the wrap, and projected it past Mom and me and right onto the dash of my truck. THAT was hilarious, and took the attention right off of me, which brought me great relief! Anders coughed and coughed and turned red, but was all right. Damn, that was funny! I wish Mom had got that moment with the camera. That'd be something to show---you guessed it---Gen Seven.

Well, I'll sum up the next few hours for you, because really, harvesting is just making right-hand turns in fields until ya can't turn anymore, or ya run out of fuel. Everything went according to plan. I got the first cut of my first harvest. Mom took plenty of pictures from different angles and sent a few by text to me. I forwarded one to Tommy, Kristi and Marc. Of course, it was the one without my shirt on and cap on backwards, making me look like I was doing all three thousand acres with that scythe. At that moment, I was so keyed up, I fantasized about being able to do exactly that.

Second Movement: "The Sorcerer's Delusional, Self-Aggrandizing, Twice-Orgasmed Apprentice"

The first day wrapped without incident. The drivers honked as they got back onto the county road. Randy said they'd be back at the same time tomorrow. Miguel discussed that with The Team and they all nodded, now knowing they'd be up and running at least two hours earlier tomorrow morning. The Sun was three-quarters across the sky. Perfect timing to get cleaned up and ready to get into town for the fair. Anders and I were always excited to go to Fergus County's own version of Disneyland and Las Vegas Pro Rodeo. This time was no different.

First, though. Ceremony. Mom, Anders and I headed to the cemetery, specifically to Dad. I carried a handful of stalks of Barley, the first I had cut myself. All of that tradition was for this moment. We reached the graves walking through a very gentle breeze that waved the wheat just beyond them. Mom on one side and Anders on the other, we stepped the foot of Dad's grave. Anders and I knelt. Mom held our hands. I heard her sharp intake of breath, the kind that precedes a deep and mournful sob. And there it came. To spare Mom more anguish, I did what I came to do, and placed the stalks of grain on Dad's grave.

`Our first harvest without you, Dad; all our work, all your work over the past year. This is the grain that got you a purple ribbon at the fair this year. This is what we brought in today. Miguel, Helen, The Team and we had a great day. We're sharing the fruits of our labor with you, Dad. We'll do the same next year. I love you."

Anders and Mom echoed that. We stayed a moment and then made our way back. Anders and I had our arms around Mom. We got to the barn.

"Let's check on Lola Cola, too."

Mom just continued forward.

"You boys go ahead. I'll be in the house."

Mom walked across the barnyard toward home. That breeze followed us back this far, and whipped Mom's hair up and around. The Romantic in me wanted to believe that was Dad, giving Mom and hug and a kiss. She looked like she needed them, too. I hoped I didn't overstep some emotional boundaries at Dad's grave. I meant what I said sincerely, but I wasn't intending to speak for my mother and brother.

Anders and I went into the barn and were greeted by Lola Cola's welcoming woof. Her tail thumped against the floor repeatedly. Anders gave her head a rub.

"Yeah, I know what you want: you want that collar off. I want it off for you, but you have to have it for two more days. Sorry, Mama Dog. You want to go pee, though?"

Lola was up on her feet. I pulled back the protective net and stood back as she raced past Anders and me. OC was right there in her stead, keeping watch on the pups. I'd trust that cat to guard Fort Knox. `Pussy Galore', indeed. She had nothing on Old Pussy Cat. I found my little guy and picked him up. My gosh, how he has grown in four days. Maybe not double in size, but definitely bigger. All of the pups looked that way, which was constantly reassuring they all could really, possibly, probably live past this critical stage.

Lola Cola returned and she and OC performed their pas de deux, with OC jumping back up on the straw bale. I put my little guy back down by his mom and siblings. All was well. Anders secured the net, and we said goodbye to the entire barn menagerie.

My big brother and I got inside and checked on Mom. She was quiet, but all right. She tried to reassure us with a wan smile, which we didn't question. `Leave well enough alone' is another time-honored rural mantra. Be concerned, be compassionate; but don't be in the way of someone working through some stuff no one but they can resolve.

Anders and I went upstairs to our rooms to get ready for the fair. We discussed what shirts we were wearing so we didn't `clash' with each other. We decided on cowboy boots. No cowboy hats, though; we'd be there at Dusk, and wearing a hat that big didn't make sense. Also, while Tommy might have one in addition to Anders and me, Marc wouldn't. Had to keep it fair and consistent, I thought. We got downstairs for final approval by Mom. Her spirits were much lighter then.

"You boys will be the best-dressed, handsomest men there. Your dates are some lucky!"

"Anders, I tried earlier; see if you can talk Mom into coming with us."

"I'm staying home with Lola Cola and the pups. I might go tomorrow. I have to pick up my entries and ribbons anyway."

I thought those were both viable reasons, but also maybe unspoken was the obvious: going to the fair without Dad could possibly be uncomfortable. Not because he was gone, but because the attention would be drawn to that very fact. By this time next year, Mom would go. She'd gladly mind the strollers while the contents' daddies and mommy were enjoying the rides and rodeo. See? I really had this all planned out; crops and kids, and more kids and crops.

A fleeting thought crossed my mind, which made me dizzy: we should have one kid for each of the Bernese pups. Of course, that meant more bedrooms, more bathrooms, more horses, more 4H projects, more vehicles; more, more, more. Okay, so, maybe not twelve kids. There aren't really enough Polish names for all of `em, anyway.

Back to reality, Anders and I kissed Mom and told her we'd bring her a prize from the carnival games. We headed out to our rigs and drove toward town. Anders stopped at Eva's. I drove past and saw Kim smiling at a long line of vehicles. I'm sure Eva was getting ready for a fun evening out. We'd make sure, Anders and I, that there was no stress, no pressure, and no coffee within fifty feet of her at all times.

It'd be a different evening out for me. I was the one going to be stressed and under pressure from others at the fair and rodeo who'd see my boyfriend and want to get well within fifty feet of him. Can't disparage folks for having excellent taste, but I was the only one in the county smart enough to go out driving and find him first.

My phone rang my boy Tommy's tone. I answered through my truck radio.

"Hey, Tommy; where are you?"

"We got here early. Rode in with Trace. Where are you?"

"Just coming in past the hospital. Wow, Main Street is busy. Is anyone at the fair?!"

"Oh, yeah. This is our `once-a-year' unbearable crowd. Hey, we're back by the rodeo stalls. There's some good parking room here. I maybe-kinda-sorta moved a trailer next to our truck. There'll room enough for yours."

"Damn, thanks! Good thinking. Do you see any spaces for Anders?"

"He ain't ridin' in with you?"

"Nope. I'm picking up Marc at his house, and Anders is at `Common Grounds' getting Eva. We drove in separately because we might not leave at the same time."

"I noticed you didn't say `go home at the same time'....."

"Well, it's still accurate to say `go home at the same time', because Marc has a home, too.....just so you know.....smart-ass."

"Cough-Cough-SLUT-Cough.....whatever. Yeah, I'll just move the trailer over a little, and both your rigs can squeeze in."

"Thanks, Bud. Hey----wait for me before going into the rodeo. I have a plan."

"Oh? Gonna sneak in like we did that one time?"

"Heh.....no, but that was fun. Who did we think we were fooling? Mr Knox has eyes on all sides of his head! Like we were the first ones who ever conspired to do that! No. Wait, because the rodeo is on me. Not the farm, me. Be a good boy in public, and I might throw in a hot dog and some cotton candy."

"Generous of you, Bud. Really; thank you. As for throwing in a hot dog-----"

"SAVE IT, TOM SPANGLER!"

"WHAAAT? You make it seem like I have the same filthy, corrupt mind you do! I was just going to say that thecottoncandywillbeenoughthanksthrowthathotdogatorinMarcgottagobye!"

Click.

Fucker! GRRRR!!!

My boy Tommy is whip-crack quick with the Come-Back Funnies. I like it when he zings me, because I'll just turn around and use `em on someone else. I always need new material. That was already turning out to be a great Saturday evening at The Central Montana Horse Show, Fair and Rodeo. I got through town and over to Marc's house. He must've seen me roll up, because he was out and running to my truck, carrying a blue hat. Oh, god. Just how does he keep getting hotter and hotter?

Marc's hair was cut, and he'd trimmed up the beard and mustache. Less hair length only drew attention to the length of his eyelashes. A lot of women pay a lot of money to get what he was born to have naturally. He was wearing lower-cut black jeans, which hugged his legs and ass tightly, but not obscenely. His shirt was a simple white button-down, and while I don't understand all that goes into the process, it looked tailored to me.

Marc's impressively-built chest was accentuated behind those pearly buttons, and just the right amount, in my opinion, of hair peeked above the white t-shirt he wore beneath. Tying it all together was a simple, tooled western belt with a nice-looking silver buckle in the shape of the state of Montana. Right in the middle was a blue stone. Perfect. Right where Lewistown is on the map.

Marc got in my truck and I couldn't stop staring at him.

"Jeff, what is it with you coming to my house twice in a row with impeded speech??"

He smiled and winked, and I reached for his hand. I wanted to pull him in and kiss him right there in my truck, but we were where we were. Maybe someday we'll get there.

"So, do I meet with your approval, Cowboy?"

"You certainly do, Professor. Marc, you're......"

"Yours. I'm yours, Jeff. That's all I'd like you to think about tonight."

I squeezed Marc's hand and we took a shortcut to get onto Highway 87, known locally as Fairgrounds Road. We drove past an antique shop, which was ironically an antique, too. It was a nice evening with a nice breeze blowing through the truck. His hand didn't leave mine until we got to the gate. There was Mr Knox, directing traffic.

"Well, hello there, Young Jeff! You came back after we almost electrocuted the year's 4H project entries! Are you parking here? Free for purple ribbon winners, this time only!"

"Heh.....thanks, Mr Knox; I am. I'm meeting Tom Spangler and Kristi."

"Young Tom is parked at the end of the rodeo stables. I watched him moving that trailer around, blocking spots out. My guess is, he's saving one for you."

"Mr Knox, he and I tried getting away with sneaking in when we were boys; you caught us in the act, and now you caught us again!"

"Well, seeing's how you both survived high school and turned out to be fine young men, I guess I'll let you get away with it this time!"

"Thanks, Sir. My brother Anders will be coming through, too. Be sure to charge him double to pay for me!"

"HAHAHA!!! I just might do that, Jeff! I hope you and your friends have a good time tonight! I think we'll have a heck of a rodeo this year!"

Every small town has a Mr Knox. He's the person everyone knows by name, and despite his protestations, everyone uses Mr Knox' instead of Sam'. He always says he's too old to be called Mr Knox', but to borrow a line from Citizen Kane': `You're too old to be called anything else'. A kind, generous soul; organized to a fault, and as I already told you, Sam Knox IS the Central Montana Fair and Everything Else.

We got over to where Tom was standing, now having moved the trailer so I could park right where he was, beside his old Jeep Comanche. That thing had a million miles on it, if it had one. There's only one Tom Spangler in the county, and he drives the only Jeep Comanche. You see one coming down the road, you see both. Honestly, I can't imagine this county or my life without both of `em in it.

I parked and we got out. I knew introductions were first and foremost, and I was happy to make them. I gave Tommy a big hug, the kind only best boys give each other, complete with lots of back-slapping, smiles and laughter. I whispered in his ear.

"Tommy, I don't get even.....I get ahead! You'll PAY!"

We laughed again, only the two of us in on the hotdog joke. Not everyone needs to know what best boys say to each other. There's a reason they're `best', after all. We share stuff, keep confidences, cry on each other's shoulders and otherwise carry on like monkeys on too much coffee. I gave Kristi a hug and a kiss on the cheek, too. God, I loved seeing them together. It just.....made sense.

With those formalities finished, I stepped back beside Marc.

"Tom Sanger, this is Marc Taylor. Marc, one of my best friends, Tom. Also known as `Tommy'. Marc is my....."

"BOYFRIEND??", both Tommy and Kristi said at the same time.

Oh, holy heck, that was funny! We were all laughing, including Marc. We were having too much fun to have time to be embarrassed or nervous among friends.

Marc and Tom stepped forward into a good, solid, comfortable handshake that lasted a second longer than the normal ones do. Some guys have gaydar; here, you develop `shake-dar'. It tells you without words how that association is going to go from there. Doorbell buttons and handshakes have a whole lotta timing in their applications. I knew this one was going to go really well.

Tommy introduced Kristi before I could, but I'm glad he did; he added a very important piece of information I'd have neglected: Tom called Kristi my girlfriend', and pulled her side close to his, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She smiled up at him as if the word girlfriend' was the password into Heaven. I wondered if that night was the first time Tommy had said it, either in private or in public. Regardless, my best friends were now a couple.

"Kristi is my other best friend, Marc. Has been since I was in the 8th Grade."

All four of us smiled, and with a new sense of familiarity bringing us a deeper sense of comfort, we bullshitted for a moment or two while we waited for Anders and Eva to show up. Tommy and Kristi asked Marc about coming to Fergus County. Marc didn't go into detail beyond saying he was helping his grandparents move South. Kristi welcomed him, but I could tell she was perplexed by the logistics of it all.

"Oh....."

"I've moved to Montana. I bought my grandparents' house from them. This week is the only time I've been there that I can remember, but I already feel like I've lived my entire life in it."

"OH!"

Kristi's eyes went wide and she smiled widely. She realized Marc wasn't my boyfriend-for-the-evening'. Marc stepped almost imperceptibly closer to my side when he said that. Whether Kristi saw it or not, I know Tommy did; he smiled that I saw what you did this Summer!' smile. The same one he had given me over the years that said, `You think you're so smart, but I'm onto you.' It's the smile he gave me after I told him I was gay that day when we were out riding.

Fucker knew before he asked, but it was the best kind of conversation that two best friends have only with each other. A lot of Tom's and my communication was non-verbal. I figured that him holding Kristi's hand at the funeral reception was his quiet way of telling me they were together. I could only imagine how he'll tell me they're getting married and pregnant. I was pretty sure I'd be there for the former, but I just hoped he wasn't going to demonstrate how the latter happened.

Anders and Eva drove onto the scene, and Tommy motioned my brother over while moving the trailer completely out of the way. All three vehicles were parked and in a relatively non--busy area of the lot. We were actually pretty close to the gate, so we wouldn't be waiting in a long line to leave later. Once the six of us were together and all the `Hi!s' were shared, I pointed the box office and suggested we get in line.

Tickets acquired, we found seats all in the same row, almost right in front and at the middle of the arena. That was lucky, but we were also fairly early. It'd fill up in no time, particularly after music started playing through the loudspeakers to keep the crowd feeling light and festive (Is there a gayer word than `festive'? If there is, ya gotta tell me; I need to expand and improve my vocabulary).

The order of seating: Anders-Eva-Jeff-Marc-Kristi-Tom. I know it seems like I was the center of attention, but really; I have been all my life, and always should be, so why stop that night at the fair?

I'm kidding.

It just worked out that way, but the unspoken rule is always: Don't leave a woman on the outside if at all possible. It's not so much a marking yer territory' thing as it is about being a gentleman. If there's some emergency, for example, and we had to rush out of the grandstands? Who better than some gentlemanly roughneck, redneck, knuckle-dragging, knucklehead farm boy to lead the charge? We don't make this stuff up, seriously! We don't go looking for disasters, but we do look for fast ways out of em if we can't handle them ourselves. Most times, we can.

That was the most fun I think I'd ever had at a rodeo, but I suppose it's safe to say that was mostly due to the company I was in that Saturday in July. The day began perfectly, waking up with my boyfriend in my arms after a few hours of rest. From there, it just got better. I got the first cut of my first harvest. The pups continued to thrive. Mom was going to be okay. Eventually.

Tom's brother Trace rode that mean-looking, bucking bronco for not only eight seconds, but almost thirty. The crowd went wild for him. When he was on his own feet, he took off his hat and waved to everyone, complete with that famous Sanger Smile, and then pointed right at Tommy. Tom jumped up and clapped, and whistled for Trace. A perfect moment between brothers. Trace took top honors for his ride, which made us only happier.

We met up with him afterward to give our congratulations. Tom pulled him into a hug that was so reminiscent of the hug Anders and I shared the night before. I wondered if they were thinking to each other, `The rougher ride is for all of us now. Can't hold onto the farm, but we can hold onto each other.' My heart really ached for them; regardless of how it ended, it would not be with them keeping their farm. If that were us.....

We wanted Trace to come through the fairgrounds with us, but he was way past Sore', and from the way he was being tossed around on that horse, I could see why. There was a huge, non-bubbled hot tub the fair board kept filled and heated for the contestants, and Trace said he had a date with it----at that exact moment. We parted and walked back toward the Midway. Anders was so happy to be back there, back here, just back'.

"Okay, what're we doing first? Rides? Food? I'm buying!"

VERY COOL of you, Aleksy. You're a class act. I'd have to share that sentiment with him later. Probably tomorrow. Heh.....! You know!

New that year was a very tall double Ferris wheel. Although heights and I have never been close (literally and figuratively), I figured if the others wanted to go---particularly Marc---I'd put on a brave face for three minutes challenging a law or two of physics. Turned out that was on everyone's mind. We lined up and I prepared to have my eyes closed the entire time. What a pussy. You can say it; I know you want to.

All aboard, we made our way to the sky and back to the ground for a few revolutions. It wasn't really that bad. Marc and I got to stop almost at the very top, where we could see everything. It was the perfect vantage point to draw his attention to something very particular to him and me. I pointed at a big yard light in the distance, perhaps two miles from the fairgrounds.

"Marc. Do you see the bright light I'm pointing to?"

"Umm....I think so. On the far side of the highway?"

"Yep. That's a very historic point of interest in the county. You being a professor of said subject, I think you'll appreciate its significance."

"You want me to identify something far away, and at night, from up here?"

"Yep."

"How can I know what's there from here?"

"You've been there. Also in the dark."

"Oh, no way! Is that the place we met?"

"It is. Well, almost. That's about a hundred feet from our fateful encounter. We met on Tessie Potter's land. Where the light is is her neighbor's place, Mel and Jessie Lambert. Close enough, though."

I then moved my arm and finger to point at a much farther spot, right on the horizon.

"See where I'm pointing now?"

"Umm....I think so.....where the highway crests that hill? How far is that?"

"Another three miles. That's where you'd have been running, if not into the Far Beyond, if we both had been able to sleep this past Sunday."

"Here's to insomnia!"

"Here-here!"

Marc moved his leg forcibly up against my own as the ride descended again. That was our hug for the moment. We shared an endless smile, though; and stole glances at each other, laughing at the happy moment we were sharing----and recalling the one we shared on Sunday.

We were all finally back on the ground, trying to get our land legs back. It was funny; that Inner Ear just wants to be in charge all the time, and scolds us when it isn't. We all laughed and had something to say about the view. I kept Marc's and my conversation to myself, and just said we could see into the Far Beyond. And then I'd always be able to say that I'd been on a double Ferris wheel, and that I had no intention of ever doing it again----without Marc.

Anders and I were off to the side where we watched the other four stumble around, everyone laughing and having the fun that a fair is really all about.

Eva had the most amazing laugh; so lyrical and clear, but not piercing.

"Who wants a hot dog??"

Tom would just NOT SHUT THE FUCK UP.

"I bet Jeff does. He loves hot dogs."

I SOOOO wanted to beat his punk ass, but then Kristi spoke up, and with enthusiasm, stole Tom's ill-timed thunder.

"Oh, I do! I haven't had one in so long! I hope it's big, fat and juicy! The last one I had was little, shriveled up and dry!"

I looked right at Tom. He had nothing to say then, but I had his attention with my raised left eyebrow, which shouted loud and clear:

`Well, well, well; look who is Karma's little bitch tonight, Tommy!'

We'd laugh about it later, but right now there was no reason to embarrass Kristi, whether she really realized what she had said innocently-----or was it innocent? I was rolling inside. My kidneys were laughing for me, and bouncing around with my liver, bladder and heart.

Seemed hot dogs had unanimous appeal. We got those and drinks, and wandered over to sit on a short rock wall by the exhibition hall, where Mom's, Dad's and Eva's prize-winning entries were. It's also where the restrooms were for the public. Anders and I were sitting next to each other, enjoying the treat. He leaned slightly in my direction, and dropped his voice a little.

"So. Eva tells me you got some bed head last night....."

I spit my lemonade out when he said that, barely missing Ancient Mr and Mrs Brussett as they scooted at a glacial pace in front of us. I was without witty retort or with fake umbrage, or anything. I KNEW Eva didn't say that, but I also knew my big brother had been laying in wait for two hours to nail me with it. He hit the target perfectly, and when I got my voice back, I joined him a long line of howls. Wojtowicz Boys are dangerous, but never more so than to each other. I'll get ya for that, Aleksy.

We'd wander through the entries, or at least I hoped; I wanted to see them again. For now, though: big, fat, juicy hot dogs. Tommy and I watched each other right in the eye while we ate ours, and a couple of times we burst out laughing so hard, we had to stop everything else until we regained our composure. God, what a night!

We finished up and gave up our rock wall seats to others headed in our direction. My boy was finally human again.

"Where's Ned's grains?"

I pointed with pride to the big display of the ribbon-winning entries, now right inside the huge open barn door. I was so proud. All of Dad's 55 years were accumulated on that display. I could only hope that Anders and I could do as well someday. I knew we'd try our damndest; maybe not to win a ribbon, but just `win at farming'. Plant, harvest, deposit the checks; do it all over again. Ribbons are white, red, blue, and in rare cases, purple. The best ribbon isn't awarded, though. It's green. Every farmer's favorite color. It's the banker's, too.

We moved upstairs where Eva would find her own ribbon, and we could see Mom's. The pie was in a refrigerated case, and although it wasn't as stunning in appearance as it was earlier in the week, the ribbon sure was. Eva squealed, seeing it for the first time. Anders was standing by her side, and moved an arm around her, squeezing congratulations. Fairly adorable, that right there. Kristi and Tommy both remarked that it was the highest pie they'd ever seen. Eva just shrugged while smiling her mouth almost right off her face. Be all the proud you want, Eva; you've earned every good thing that comes your way. And there's more yet to come, I was sure. At least, if I had my way to make some of it happen. What a meddler.....yeah, I already know.

We looked at Mom's entries next. She could arrange fruits and vegetables in a mason jar the way Rembrandt placed specific colors in specific areas of a canvas. I saw why she was so pleased with her pickles this year; they were all so uniform in size and shape. Good on you, Mom. I can't wait to try these, myself.

Wandering back down to the ground floor, Anders, Tommy and Kristi said they wanted to attend the (shall we say) porcelain facilities. Marc, Eva and I said we'd wait outside for them. The night was so pleasant, and just our luck, a full Moon that Saturday. Picture-perfect. What could possibly take anything away from this day?

Fuck. Spoke too soon, Jozef-Jeff-Kiddo.

Marc and I were looking at the lights of the Midway and listening to a drunk guy arguing with his equally drunken female companion. That's the `train wreck phenomenon'; go ahead and look, just don't get caught. In a split second, a shrieking scream overtook the quarrel. It was right next to us. Fuckin' Junior had Eva by her hair and was pulling her away from us. She resisted, and that fucker slapped her hard.

"Ya fuckin' whore bitch! You're gonna get what's comin' to ya!"

Others heard and saw the attack. I was allllll ready to wander into this disaster, which I didn't come looking for. I was ready to end it, though. I was too late.

Marc was on Junior in a flash that didn't seem humanly possible. He caught the dick fucktard by complete surprise, which made him lose his grasp on Eva, causing her to fall to the ground. I ran to help her up, and we stepped waaaaay back from the public flogging probably all of Fergus County wanted Junior to finally get. Marc didn't let go of him, though. Oh, not at all.

Mighty Marc and Junior were directly beneath a very powerful and tall yard light. The kind that would make a lighthouse beacon seem dim by comparison. People from all around could see this. Marc pushed the palm of his right hand up and back from below Junior's chin, lurching his head back pretty drastically. That seemed to immobilize Junior for a moment, which was all Marc needed.

As if no one else was around them watching this (which many were by now, due to Eva's scream), Marc grabbed ahold of Junior's high school football jersey. The look of surprise on Junior's face was what you'd expect someone to have when they saw the Titanic's iceberg, Godzilla and a cranky Meryl Streep in that Prada movie, all at the same time. Complete shock, horror and surprise.

With his right hand, Marc began a serious to-and-fro slap session on Junior's face. He was not silent about it, either.

"Don't-SLAP-ever-SLAP-EVER-SLAP-hit-SLAP-a-SLAP-woman-SLAP-ever-SLAP-again-SLAP-do-SLAP-I-SLAP-make-SLAP-myself-SLAP-clear-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP?"

Junior was now just garbling his words. We all just assumed he said `yes'. I don't think he then knew where he was or what was happening. Curiously, though-----the drunk guy we saw just before Junior's attack on Eva told us he paying attention.

"Oh, yeah, Mister! You're clear! Real clear!"

I suspect what he watched had sobered him up fast, and he and the still-staggering woman took off, probably afraid Marc might come for him, too. Marc released Junior who was shaking his head and getting his sense back. He staggered, but somehow remained standing. Oh, he was MAD. Marc stayed right where he was. He was clearly ready for any round that followed the first one. I saw on his face a steely determination to fuck Junior up, if that's what it took, to get his point across.

Anders, Tommy and Kristi came back out to see Eva and I holding onto each other. She was crying. Probably scared to death and really pissed off at the same time. Would her nightmare ever end?? Goddamned Junior. There is no hell painful enough for you, ya fuckin' asshole.

Anders raced to Eva and took her in his arms. He had missed the whole thing, but a few glances around told him everything that had happened. Eva's face was bright red where she'd been attacked, and her nose was a little bloody, too. Chances were decent she'd have a colorfully bruised right eye, too. I hoped not. She didn't deserve it, not at all, and it wouldn't be good for business. Oh, sue me. I'm trying to calm you down a little, because I know you're as pissed off as I was. As we all were. Well, except Marc. He was sooooo far beyond pissed off. Relatively speaking, he was where the road met the sky in our view from the top of the Ferris wheel.

The crowd parted, though, when Dan Gremaux the State Police Trooper stepped forward. Uh-oh. Now what? Marc's first week in town, his first county fair, and maybe his first time in an orange jumpsuit? Noooo.....

Junior regained his voice, though. Part of me wished he'd just stay quiet, but then I'd have missed the entertainment.

"That fucker attacked me! Sucker-punched me! God, I'm bleeding! Arrest that fuck!"

"Oh, did he? I saw the whole thing, Junior. From right over there. I don't believe I saw a sucker-punch, though. Did you do that, Mr.....?"

"Marc. Marc Taylor. And no, I didn't. There was a sucker punch all right, but it came from him, not to him."

"Yeah, that lines up with what I saw. Say, are you the Taylors' grandson? The one Lu Barney has been yellin' about all week?"

"Oh, dear.....well, yeah, I suppose that's me."

"Well, pleased to meet you, and welcome to Fergus County. Now, as I was sayin', picking up where Junior here left off, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to arrest you....."

"YEAH! Get him! ARREST HIM!!!"

"Junior, would you just please shut up?! I WILL arrest Mr Taylor.....IF he ever has to correct the bad behavior of any other dipshit moron in Fergus County without gettin' me in on the fun, too. There! Satisfied?! Now, you're comin' with me to the Sheriff's office. Hands behind your yellow-striped back, Junior."

Dan handcuffed Junior, still as mad as a Walmart shopper missing out on a 25¢ off sale. He was led off slowly but surely as Dan read him his Miranda rights. The crowd erupted in cheers with everyone descending on Marc. Oh, god.....I wanted to keep him fifty feet from everyone else at the fair, and he took care of preventing me from doing just that. I took Marc seriously in the truck, though; when he said he was mine, and that's all he wanted me to think about that last Saturday in July. The part he DIDN'T say, though, but I hoped I could help him realize (if he didn't already): I was Marc's.

Once things finally died down, the six of us just looked at each other, realizing we were already gathering Likes on damned social media from the dozens of phone videos captured a few minutes ago. Despite the good he just did, Marc might've irreparably harmed his opportunity with the Lewistown public schools board. I doubted that thought had yet to cross his mind.

His priority was Eva and preventing further injury to her. Although the way he handled Junior was beyond impressive, I shuddered to imagine what my big brother would've done to him if he'd been there. I told you: we don't go looking for disasters, but we try to get out of them, if we can't handle them ourselves.

Tommy was right next to me and kind of whispered in my ear.

"What a fuckin' stud-fuck bad--ass. I will never piss off your boyfriend, or if I do, please promise me you'll take me out before he can get to me."

We laughed just a little between ourselves. Anders was a little ways away from us with Eva. They were acknowledged by nearly everyone. NOW Anders was staking his territory, and no one could be confused about it from that moment forward.

I rubbed my shoulder against Marc. He looked at me.

`Sorry', he mouthed. I smiled just a hint and shook my head back at him. How on Earth could he think he needed to apologize for very possibly saving Eva's life?

Tommy and Kristi said they wanted to go. The evening was a little too exciting for Kristi, and she had been crying when she realized just how much danger Eva had been in. That could've been her. It can be any woman, anywhere. Marc and I walked them to Tom's truck. He opened Kristi's door, and she just got in and closed it. She wasn't being unfriendly; she was upset. I knew that. We'd talk about it someday. Tom met Marc and me at the truck's grill.

"Some night, Jeff. Marc, it's good to meet you. Really. Thank you for what you did for Eva. I've hated that Junior bastard for as long as I've lived here. You'll be the talk of this county for a long time, and in a good way. It'll give Lu Barney a rest for a moment."

Marc, Tommy and I laughed.

"And it looks like you're in our lives as well as our community. You're welcome here. Be good to my boy here; he's family."

Tommy shook Marc's hand, longer this time, and then pulled me into a hug, a longer one than our usual. He kissed my neck and responded in kind. Tom got in his truck, buckled up and they drove out onto Highway 87 West toward town to take Kristi to her home in the Lewistown Heights neighborhood. Now it was just Marc and me, by the far wall of the rodeo stalls, not really visible to anyone else.

I reached for Marc's hand.

"Jeff.....careful....."

"I don't care. Let someone see. Let `em all see, Marc."

"No. I don't mean that, but okay. I mean careful of my hand. That's my `point-making' hand."

"OH! Damnit, Marc! You set me up with that!"

"Yeah, kinda did....."

He pulled me into a hug in the dark. It was tight. I was still not exactly making a lot of sense about what I'd seen only a few minutes ago, but I knew at that moment Marc was one of us. He took care of his own. I moved my hands from his shoulders to his back, and then to his belt. `Fuck it', I said to myself. My man just saved an innocent woman's life from yet more pain and suffering. Really: let everyone see my gratitude and relief.

My hands moved lower still. We weren't going to do anything there with our clothes off, after all. I got each of my hands on each of his black denim-clad cheeks. Woof.

"Wow.....these jeans are just tight enough, I can feel your underwear."

"No, you can't."

"Yeah, I can! It's like feeling the Rocky Mountains on a 3D map!"

"You can't feel my underwear, Jeff."

"Then what am I feeling right here?"

I patted his ass with both my hands for emphasis.

"Your underwear."

Oh! OH!! Well! I reached behind me and took his hands from my hips and moved them around to my ass.

"Since we're on the subject.....tell me how yours feel."

"Are you.....really?!"

"OH, yeah. And you're not getting these back for a long time."

"Maybe we can do a hostage swap on neutral territory sometime?"

"Define `neutral'....."

"Seedy motel out of town sometime?"

"I know the perfect place just outside of Stanford. After Harvest, though."

"Okay. Just one request. Wear these for a couple of days before we exchange. I want your scent on them."

"For you? Anything. You're mine, and for awhile, so are your sexy black briefs. By the way.....I enjoyed your scent on `em."

"Me, too, yours.....are we pigs?"

"Oink-Oink, Babe!"

We decided to call it a night. What else was going to top the evening? Oh.....I know what you're thinking.....and yeah, that was going to happen at some point. That was DEFINITELY on my agenda. In fact.....Marc was on the TOP of my agenda.

We came out from the shadows and walked toward the truck. Anders and Eva were almost at his, too. Like Kristi, Eva just wanted to get in the truck and be away from anyone not named Anders for awhile. Anders caught my eye. He motioned with his head for me to follow. I looked at Marc. He understood this was a Brother Moment. He waited at the tailgate of my rig until I returned. I joined Anders about 25 feet from the trucks, almost where Marc and I had just been.

"Little Brother, I have an almost uncontrollable anger inside me right now. Yeah, Marc took care of the problem, but I should've been there for Eva. I should've handled Junior long ago, but like a coward, I left town and threw Eva to the wolf."

"I believe you, Big Brother. Are you okay to drive?"

"I am, or will be, because Eva is with me. If I were alone, I would possibly---or probably---heading to the county jail for some vigilante justice."

"Which would help no one, and only make you angrier. I'm glad home is only a couple of minutes from Eva's place."

"She's not going there. She'd be alone, and although Junior is where he can't anywhere near Eva, she's terrified. I'll take her home."

"Oh.....sure. Well, I hope she'll feel safe there. Her parents are going to have a lot of concern and worry for her."

"Not there. I'm taking her home, Jozef."

There's my real name again.

"Good. I kinda think she belongs at home. With us."

"Yep. So what're your plans?"

"I'm staying with Marc. He's as upset by this as he can be, I think. There's some worry and regret going on up in there. I can't leave him all alone in a still-new-to-him house tonight."

"Yeah, you should take him home."

"It'll be okay once he gets used to...."

"Not there. Take him home, Jozef."

Oh. OH!

******Marc: `don't look at me; I was asleep!'

Tommy: `Jeff, ya fuckin' necrophilic perv!!"

*******first cut with the scythe goes on Ned's grave. Mom, Anders are there, too.

*******Jeff: "Tom, you know I don't get even.....I get ahead. Check your six, fucker. For the rest of your days."

*******Jeff: "Babe, your pants are just the right amount of tight; I can just make out your underwear lines beneath `em."

Marc: "No, you can't."

"I can, too! It's like looking at the Rocky Mountains on a 3D map!"

Marc: "you can't see MY underwear because I'm wearing YOURS."

Jeff: "Oh. OH!"

******Anders: "So, Eva tells me you got some bed head last night.....". I spit my lemonade out when he said that, barely missing Ancient Mr and Mrs Brussett as they walked in front of us.

******Marc beats the fuck out of Junior. Dan Gremaux puts an end to the brawl, which Marc `won' handily.

Junior: "That fucker attacked me! Sucker-punched me! God, I'm bleeding! Arrest that fuck!"

Dan turns to Marc.

"I saw it all, Mr.....?"

"Marc. Marc Taylor."

"Oh? You the Taylors' grandson Lu Barney has been yelling about all week?"

"Uh...oh, dear. Yeah, that's me....."

"Pleased to meet ya. Welcome to Fergus County. Now, as I was sayin', I saw the whole thing, and I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you....."

Junior: "YEAH! ARREST HIM!"

Dan: "Junior, will you please shut up?! I WILL arrest Mr Taylor.....IF he ever has to correct the bad behavior of any other dipshit moron without gettin' me in on it, too. There! Satisfied?! Now, you're comin' with me to the Sheriff's office. Hands behind your yellow-striped back, Junior."