Harvard Comes To Montana

Harvard Comes To Montana, Chapter Six

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

Hey, Guys;

Thanks kindly for your emails. They've meant a lot to me, and you've influenced me in how to tell more of Jeff's story of AgRomance (okay, I just made that up, and already, I think it should be its own category on nifty.....or not!).

Due to some recent events for Jeff and Marc and for myself, I am revising my earlier estimation of "Harvard Comes To Montana" running ten chapters. It's more likely to be more than that, although this time I will not offer a definitive count. When Jeff stops talking, I'll stop transcribing. Until then, I'm along for the same ride you boys are.

Weather is getting colder across the Northern half of the globe. Please: take care of your animals, take care of old people and little kids, and take care of yourselves. We're all in this together. And always: it costs absolutely nothing to be kind, polite and respectful to every person you meet. Even if it did: that makes going into debt worth every effort.

*** 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 ***

I woke early Tuesday morning. 5:00. Mom and Anders were still sleeping (Anders snores.....just like Dad. At least that sound would be a constant). I waited until I got downstairs before putting my hikers on, and went out to do the morning chores. The chicks, now three weeks old, were all doing well. I'd need to clean out and refresh their coop soon.

The hay Anders and I had put up in the barn loft yesterday was quite a lot; it would get the horses through mid-August, at least. Straw, too, for their stalls. I threw down what I needed from up top, and also gave them some more oats this morning. Once the water troughs were cleaned and filled, I released all three horses out into the little pasture for the day. All the chores were finished in an hour, so I had extra time to get cleaned up for This Guy I Seem To Kinda Like.

We have a shower in the barn. A full bathroom, actually. I wanted to be polite and not make a lot of noise. My mom deserved as much rest as she could get. The water pressure in the barn shower is hyper-strong and shoots out hot water like needles attacking my skin. I loved it. And.....I could not wait a moment longer. I had the time, I'd slept well, I had energy.....and Paco was basically begging to be held and massaged.

We got busy, he and I, my eyes closed tightly and my mind filled with images of Marc Taylor. In running gear, everything else since, and maybe a fantastic suit of Sterling silver armor, too. I'm sure it wasn't, but my cock felt extra-thick and hard this morning. God, this was incredible. I had to slow down before I burst. I wanted this to last, so I played with my full balls, too. They'd been aching for release for days now. It's almost criminal if a teenaged boy lets them fill up that much.

My body still had some soap on it, and.....well, soap makes a decent enough and convenient lube, when ya need it. My left hand found the valley between my ass cheeks, and wandered through it. I had some hair in there, which I liked for whatever reason. A little more and.....oh, yeah. Right there. Circling, a little pressure, and.....that was all it took. A torrent of cum blasted from my cock, all over the corrugated steel wall of the shower.

I leaned against the wall, breathing hard. I sounded like Marc when he was running the other morning. Oh, I needed that. Next time, I'd better get a seriously deep, penetrative kiss at the same time, Professor. But this was enough. For now. I knew as sure as my name was Jozef (dba "Jeff") Pavel Wojtowicz, that this morning's release probably snowballed through the Universe and prevented a natural disaster somewhere, or the start of another war. Don't thank me, seven billion Citizens Of Earth; I made that noble sacrifice for all of you (while thinking about only one of you).

Once both the shower and I were thoroughly cleaned, all I had to do was brush my teeth and put my contacts in my eyes. I walked back toward the house with a towel wrapped around my waist, carrying my clothes with me. My phone buzzed. It wasn't Marc, which is what I expected. Nope. Best (Guy) friend, Tom Sanger.

"Hey, Tom."

"Hey, Jeffrey. No doubt you've already fielded a ton of calls about your dad. I wasn't trying to be rude; I just wanted to wait until I saw you at the funeral."

"Nope, I know you weren't being rude. My brother came back and is helping me deal with harvest so Mom can grieve. We've been all wrapped up in barley, for starters. So what's up, Tom?"

"Anders is here? Great! Well, I don't know if this is good timing or not, but I fell off the shed roof like an idiot yesterday and dislocated my shoulder. It's all back in place, but the doc said I can't rope anytime soon. We haven't taken our horses out since last week, and I know we need to practice for a few hours before Saturday; but I can't, Jeff. If I fuck up harvest by not being useful, Dad will kick my ass and dislocate that, too."

"Shit happens, Tom. You're lucky you didn't break anything. Maybe it is good timing, Bud. We haven't really practiced, and since Sunday, Time has been filled with a lot of stuff I never knew could take so much of it."

"You still going to the rodeo?"

"Yup. Your brother is bronc riding, and the Garcia twins are going to rope. It'll still be a good show. You going?"

"I have to, or my brother will stand in line to kick my ass after my dad gets it first. Let's hang out together for it."

"A good plan. I guess I can remember what you look like, ya skinny fucker."

"Heh.....you're just jealous! Your horse is, too. MY horse never complains about ME being on his back! Okay, glad I caught you. I knew you'd be up. Probably pullin' yer pud again."

"I'm always `Up', Sanger. You can probably see it from your window."

"HA! That little thing? It always looks like you're in -20 degree weather."

"Please. I have more meat hangin' down than Hormel has hangin' up, and you know it."

"Perv. See ya."

"Bye, Tom."

Damn, that's sucky luck, getting injured right before harvest. Tom's family are fairly new here; only two generations. His dad sold a farm in Oklahoma and bought 1,000 acres near ours. Tom and I go back to grade school. He's a good guy, and I trust him implicitly. He's one of my other friends who knows I'm gay. That has never been an issue between us:

One day before hunting season, Tom and I were out riding our horses in the foothills of the Moccasin Mountains range. We were 15. Out of the blue, Tom just asked me point-blank asked me if I was gay. That shocked me, but not enough to make me nervous or keep me quiet. I said I was, but why did he ask that? He said it was because I never talked about girls or looked at them, or anything.

Tom is pretty perceptive for a dirt farmer; spends the entire year looking at grain or livestock, but can deduce his friend is gay. I wish more people would just come straight out and ask, rather than sneak around gossiping. Gossiping takes no courage, no integrity. Asking questions takes both. We ended the conversation with Tom assuring me he was still my best (guy) friend, that nothing changes, and was sorry if he was intrusive.

"Nope, you're fine, Tom."

"Well, I guess to be fair, it was only a hunch on my part; I'm not gay, but I don't look at girls really, either."

"The fuck ya don't, ya skinny bastard! Every goddamned ewe sheep in the county! I see the looks you give `em!"

We laughed, and that was that.

It was nice to relive that memory. After the call and back in the house and upstairs, I brushed my teeth, parked the contact lenses in my eyes and got dressed in clean Levis and a collared rugby shirt. It was just a little tight, which was on purpose. I wanted Marc to see a `preview of coming attractions'. I also decided on some white Adidas instead of boots for my time in town this morning. Not trying to look like something I'm not; I just have the kind of build and was at the age that I can look good in the kinds of things college or farm kids wear.

Anders was up and walked toward my bedroom while I finished dressing and making my bed, rubbing his head and trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light of the bathroom he passed.

"What're you all dolled up for? Got a date?"

"I'm going to meet a friend, but no, we're not dating."

Anders leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms.

"Yeah? Do I know him?"

"Nope. Just visiting for the Summer. It's a weird story. I'll tell you when I get back later."

"Where're you going?"

"Running Mom's jars and Dad's grains out to the exhibition barn, and then Dad's shroud into Jerry. Then we're swinging by the Empire to get my lucky hat that I left there the other day. Do you need anything from town? I'm gone only a couple of hours."

"No, but thanks."

"Oh----the morning chores are done. The horses were released into the little pasture."

"Fine. Uh, Jeff....."

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go full-on `Big Brother Protective Mode' for a moment, and probably the first time. There's this guy, just visiting, and you don't know him. You're not dating, but you're going out driving with him. Do you know ANYTHING about this guy?"

"I do, `Warden'. His name is Marc. His grandparents are Rod and Naomi Taylor, here in town. Marc is an associate history professor at Harvard University."

"Oh. An academic. BEWARE! You'll be abandoned several times each semester while he's up late grading papers and tests. An older man, huh? Well.....then.....carry on. But you're only friends? Not dating? You think you will date? You seem to know something about him, after all."

"Not too much older; he's 29. Anders, I hope with every fiber of my being that Marc Taylor and I will date, but he's here only through August. I would, though, like that almost as much as you and me teaming successfully on this farm and make the sixth generation the best so far. I believe we have that in us, Big Brother. I can tell already you want that, too."

"Yeah, I do. Getting released from my contract without any grievance or penalty due to the death of someone in the immediate family presents me no problems. I think you, Mom and I need to sit down and talk about this. Maybe out on the horses. That way when she screams she won't scare the chickens."

"Big Brother, she won't be the only one hootin' and hollerin'. She and I will be scaring chickens all the way over in Wheatgrass County. I need to scoot to town. I want in and out of that exhibition barn as fast as possible."

"And you're taking this Matt Tyler there?"

"Marc Taylor."

"Oh, yeah. Whatever."

"Asshole. And yes, I am."

"You'll probably go out back in the plum orchard, like everyone else for this `non-date'. Do you need me to lend you some condoms? Will five be enough? A bottle of lube?"

"Anders, your mind sometimes! I'm glad Mom didn't hear you say that. And no, thank you; I have condoms and lube in my truck already. I'm always prepared. And that was NOT the `in and out' I was referrin' to."

"Sure it wasn't. Has he been with a Polish guy?Specifically a Wojtowicz?"

"No. All he has ever dated were hummingbirds. This could be a challenge..... Fuck, Anders! I have no idea what he's done, nor who with! `Not dating', remember?"

"Well, I wish you all the luck, if things go that far. I can call the hospital and see if they have a surgery bay open, just in case, for Post-Wojtowicz Full Sphincter and Rectum Repair and Restoration Surgery'. Tonsils relocated to their original position', too. Buy one and get the other half off, today only!"

"You know, Dear Brother Aleksy Bartek Wojtowicz, how truly boring it is around here without you?"

I grabbed my phone, keys and wallet and laughed, shaking my head at my brother while walking out of my bedroom and down the stairs. Many years have passed since Anders was in this house, and perhaps more since I've joked with him. My brother is a good man. If he and I partner on this farm operation, I don't think I would ever stop smiling. Dad's shroud was right on the kitchen table, with a note on it from Mom: "Thanks, Honey."

The drive into town was uneventful, but there was the obvious weekday traffic. Not too many grain trucks out yet, but within a couple of weeks, Highway 200 toward Moccasin would be a sea of tail lights. Your Wheaties will taste extra-good this year, Kids!

I stopped at Eva's since I didn't get any Go Juice at home. She looked happy, and not the "thanks for your business" happy. After the car in front of me finally got through, I eased to a stop as she slid the window open.

"Well, Good Morning, Jeff! How're you doin', Hon?"

"Hi, Eva! Good Morning. I'm actually okay this morning. I think the three of us are coming closer to peace. This was sudden. Didn't have to watch Dad decline and slip further and further away."

"I hadn't thought about it that way. I like that idea, actually. What'll you have?"

"My usual, please. Do you have any muffins up in there? Preferably Apple Cinnamon or Huckleberry?"

"Both! Baked `em this morning, right here."

"Then I'll buy both, please. Eva, gotta say, I didn't know how you'd turn an old trailer into a coffee shack, but you did. Looks like you have a lot of space in there."

"I do. This trailer was only three years old when the bank repossessed it. I wanted it just to live in after.....well, anyway. I knew this spot had utilities brought to it when a previous moron thought slinging joe would be a great income and lifestyle. All I had to do was get a permit to move this here. It's 16' x 60'. The kitchen is just beyond this wall, and it's all up to county health department code. I bake everything in there, and I'm thinking of baking pies and offering them starting in October. I wish I could bake pies like your mom does. I'd be sold out before I even turned the oven on!"

"Yeah, her pies are awesome. She's not entering any this year at the fair, though. Just canned stuff. And Dad's grains. That's where I'm headed now, to the exhibition barn. I like your idea, though; I hope you'll do it. The muffins are incredible!"

"Thanks, Love! The truckers think so, too. I know there's not enough room for them to pull over here in a long line. I'd love to have that business at harvest."

"You might not get a line all at once, but I bet any trucker who sees that you don't have someone in front of `em will stop."

"I hope so! I also bought a big commercial coffee maker, which I'll keep full. If someone wants their thermos filled, I can do that. Here you go, Jeff. You know, Anders stopped yesterday on his way back from Bozeman. It was good to see him. He looks so good. He's gonna age perfectly, just like your dad. Of course, neither of `em could hold a candle to you!"

"I'd better go before I turn as red as your trailer. Thanks, Eva; and I didn't know Anders stopped here. You helping get the message out got him to Billings to be with Mom and me when Dad came in off the plane. So I will thank you, too."

"Jeff, your family is an anchor for this county. Everyone who comes through here has remarked about Ned's death. Expect a crowd tomorrow.....and of course the Grange Women will have the Civic Center bursting with food after. I'll be at the funeral. My third cousin is in town and is a barista in Helena. She'll take over for me for the day. Wait.....your mom isn't entering a pie this year?"

"I'm glad you'll be there. Nope, no time to bake one. Now; what's the damage here?"

"Actually, would you consider a kind of trade....?"

"A trade? Can't think why not. What're you thinking?"

"Oh, geez.....well, you see, I accidentally baked a couple of cherry pies this morning, too. Fresh cherries a trucker gave me when he came through from Woods Bay on the lake. One is for him, and I was gonna sell the other in slices, but.....um, do you think you'd consider taking the other one in and entering it for me? I won't get to town today at all."

"That's it? That's your trade? A double muffin breakfast, just for me totin' a pie into town for you?" I laughed.

"Well, yeah! Do you think it's rude of me to enter a pie since your mom isn't? I was just thinking, even if I didn't place in the judging, it would maybe get my name out there.....that I'd have pies like that in here."

"It's not rude at all; Mom would be the first to cheer you on, even if she had entered a pie this year."

Eva smiled and reached for the pie, wrapping it up in clingy wrap and handing it to me. Holy fuck, that pie was at least three inches tall and weighed a couple of pounds, and with a full, solid crust. Looked perfect, at least how she handed it to me.

"I really appreciate this, Hon. I've wanted to do this for years, but just never had any courage."

"I'm the one who needs courage to not submit to my gluttony and eat the entire pie on the way in! But I have muffins and The Zombinator! Can't wait to sink my teeth in them. Just curious, though.....how did you `accidentally' bake two pies?"

"Oh, I set out to bake cherry and cream cheese Danish, and next thing I know, I was putting pies in the oven. Heck, even I don't know how that happened!"

"I'd say your `accident' turned out well. Good luck! Talk with you tomorrow, Eva."

"Yes you will! Bye, Jeff!"

I waved out my window as she waved out hers. A successful, if small, businesswoman. Her thermos idea was brilliant. I hope the truckers would also buy her other wares and drinks. Eva had her own little gold mine, and she lives in the back. The most enviable commute in the county.

I moved East toward town, listening to Morning Edition and getting caught up on the rest of the world. The one they keep talking about outside of Fergus County.

Already people out and about, filling Main Street parking spaces. Good for the merchants. I waved to people and made my turn toward the Taylor home. Marc walked out the front door just as I pulled up to the curb. Mrs Taylor stuck her head out the door and waved. I will miss them when they go. The Taylors, Kristi and Mr Raiver are my favorite Townies.

Marc climbed in my truck and we took off on our way out of town. After shifting gears, I reached for Marc's hand. He smiled and gave it up freely, along with a nice squeeze.

"Morning, Cowboy."

"Hi, Professor."

"You look.....collegiate. And hotly so. What's this?"

"What, you don't approve?"

"Oh, yeah; I definitely approve. Damn, you look like you were born to play Rugby. You look great in both barnyard and classroom garb."

"Aw, Charmer. Hey, have some of this coffee. You'll be blown away. And choose a muffin, or have some of each. Eva made them. She was almost part of the family, but in her own way, she is part of us. She has a coffee shack outside of town."

"Thanks. I love my Grammy, but her coffee isn't really strong enough for my taste. Oh, FUCK, this is good! What is it??!"

"`The Zombinator'. The beans are baked slowly at a lower temperature so more caffeine stays in them. It's a true jolt. Don't drink more than one a day. Hey! Share it with me, Fucker; it's mine, too!"

"Heh.....sorry! Tease me and then take it away. YOU'RE the Fucker!"

"No argument there. The fairgrounds are just up ahead, on the other side of the highway from The Bar 19. That's our version of a county road house. We'll be in and out pretty fast, Marc. I'm just dropping off stuff today."

We drove in and right up to the exhibition barn. We got out, and Marc carried the grains in while I got the big box of jars, and the pie, of course. The old stairs creaked like I've always known them to as we made our way up to the Home Arts displays. Three of the Grange Women were there, placing jars around and labeling them with the code numbers that kept them anonymous from the judges' eyes. Mrs Correy noticed me immediately, but got confused in her mind for just a moment.

"NED! You stranger! Did Marie send you in with her things?"

Silence. One of the other women sidled up to Mrs Correy and whispered in her ear.

"Oh, my god.....Jeff, I'm so sorry. I'm an old fool. Forgive me, Jeff. Of course it's you."

She came out from behind the counter and wrapped me in a big hug. I could tell she was embarrassed. I spoke while my head was forced onto her shoulder.

"Hi, Mrs Correy; please, it's okay. I know I look like my dad, more and more all the time. I'm honored, actually, that you'd call me by his name."

"I know he died, Jeff; I'm so sorry. Old habits, you know.....no, I guess you don't know; you just graduated. You're too young to have old habits yet!"

"THERE, Mrs Correy; you made me laugh! Thanks for that!"

Indeed she had, and we all laughed, happy to have crossed that hurdle of a moment before. She took the box from me, and Mrs Holland pulled out the contents, marking the bottom of each jar with a cryptic white label with numbers and letters on it. She then wrote them down in a ledger, with Mom's name on top of each one. Another label went on the sides of the jars, identifying the contents. It had been done this way since Fergus County began having fairs in 1895. May it always be thus.

"Marie sent in a pie, too? Girls, look how tall this is! What kind?"

"Cherry, but it's not Mom's. Eva sent that in with me. I'm submitting it for her."

The women gathered around to ooo' and aaah' over Eva's cherry pie. I hope she took the top prize, but whatever she got, her name would now be associated with pies at `Common Grounds'. The Grange Women and I talked briefly, and I begged off so I could go downstairs and submit Dad's grains. The ladies all bid me farewell. I realized as I walked downstairs that I had not introduced Marc. Maybe it was for the best, since things got awkward there for a moment. We got to the crops entry desk. Mr Horner was there.

"Well, Young Wojtowicz! Good Morning!"

"Good Morning, Mr Horner. I don't think the fair would be the fair if you and the Grange Women weren't here to keep things organized and moving along. I brought Dad's grains in, Sir."

"Yes. I see. Jeff, I honestly hoped I'd see these come in. Between you and me, I'm going to display these at the table right at the door to this room. It's all anonymous, but I'll know and you'll know. And I'm sorry, Jeff. I can't imagine the weight on your shoulders right now, in so many ways."

"Thanks, Mr Horner. I would not be able to do much without my mom and brother here, too. And my friends. Mr Horner, this is Marc Taylor. He's Rod and Naomi's grandson, visiting from the New England States."

"Oh? Which state would that be? I'd heard there were other states besides Montana, but no one has brought in grains as proof, so I'm not sure as I believe those rumors. Hi, I'm Axel Horner. Welcome. It's good to meet you."

"Thank you, Sir. You, as well. I'm in Massachusetts."

"Now why would you be in Massachusetts? You a fisherman?"

"No, Sir. I'm a teacher."

"You don't look old enough to be out of high school, but Rod doesn't look anywhere as old as he is, either. And he's older than I am! I'll miss them when they go. Rod surveyed my land twice over the years, and Naomi taught my kids and grandkids. Too many good people gone this year.....but anyway. Jeff, it's time you called me Axel. You, too, Young Taylor. Let me get these entered and placed before Hyman Roth comes in later and beats me to it."

We smiled and shook his hand, both of us saying goodbye to Axel. That was a small grace, and one I welcomed. To be mistaken for my father and welcomed to Adulthood on a first name basis, well, those are moments I hadn't expected, and the surprise was more than pleasant. There's comfort here in familiarity, and while it might breed Contempt elsewhere, it's what keeps us walking in and out of each other's houses without knocking, and in and out of Life without anonymity.

Before going back to the truck, I led Marc to the little plum orchard behind the exhibition barn. It was the most shaded part of the entire fairgrounds, and at night hundreds of lights festooned the trees. It's also where, throughout History, people have come to hide away behind a hedge and get.....well, `Fergus Friendly'.

And that's exactly what Marc and I did. We were hidden just right, away from the probably 20 people on the fairgrounds, all doing something else somewhere else. I pulled his hand and found the perfect hidey-hole behind an ancient Caragana hedge, buzzing with harmless, fat-assed bumblebees.

"Marc....."

"Yes, Jeff?"

All I could do was move my hands over his chest and shoulders and down to his hips, staring him in those golden brown eyes the whole time. Marc pulled me into another incredible hug and just held me. My god. My mind and heart were swimming in a heavy current. What I'd give if he'd never leave here. He pulled me from my reverie.

"Jeff, I think we should keep this discreet, even if this grove seems all ours for the moment. I'd like very much to share another kiss with you, right here, right now. Waiting until we're more alone Thursday has its merits. It'll just make the second kiss all that much better when it happens."

"Aw, grrrrr!!! I'd like it to happen before we both get our AARP cards, Marc....."

We laughed and returned to my truck, enjoying the rest of the now-cold coffee and muffins. Eva is selling herself short; she's a good baker. I looked forward to trying them all. Marc and I resumed holding hands for the rest of the drive. He commented on mine being rough and `worked'. Hmmm.....I hadn't thought about that. I don't often shake hands with non-agro people, so I guess I never noticed, really.

Whether either of us realized it or not, we were driving back to town on the same highway where we met two days ago. It takes only a short drive to leave the thriving metropolis that is Lewistown and enter rural, unincorporated Fergus County. The only constant between them is the people who live and work in both.

Lewistown existed only because of a little 19th Century trading post, but two railroads appeared, taking or bringing people and cargo. Grain, cattle, pigs, lumber and bricks left Fergus County by thousands of tons each day. There are no railroads through town anymore. The lumber mill and the brickyards both closed years ago. The little town and sparsely populated county thrive, regardless. I could not even imagine what the town would look like when I'm Axel Horner's age; but I knew in my heart the farm and my family would still be part of Fergus County's Big Picture. Anders and I would make sure of that from this harvest forward.

I looked over at Marc and smiled a little, and found myself thinking how good it would be if the name `Taylor' could stay just as present and respected in the future here as it was now.

We drove up Broadway and parked in the lot behind the Empire. Marc and I got out and walked in through the back door. It wasn't busy between the breakfast and lunch crowds. Lu Barney's back was to us as she cleaned up the big table where six or eight could sit. I leaned over and loud-whispered in her ear:

"Ma'am, can you tell me about the menu, please?"

Lu stood straight, turned around and thrust her fists on her hips.

"IT'S NOBODY'S BUSINESS ABOUT THE MEN I PLEASE!!!"

The whole place erupted in laughter, with none louder than Lu's. I'd heard her tell than answer to a tourist years ago, and I parked it away in my memory to replay again. I'm glad I got that opportunity today. She looked at us, but focused on Marc.

"Jeff! You brought me back my Boy Toy?!"

"In exchange for my lucky hat, Lu! Dottie called to tell me it was here, and she was keeping it in the office."

"My lucky day in exchange for your lucky hat! The fairest of trades, I'd say! C'mon, Boys; let's go get the hat, and then I need to get back to work. I can't stand around with you two giving me hot flashes just before the lunch rush!"

Again, everyone laughed. I was turning just a little red, being part of the center of attention again. It felt good to laugh, though; to really laugh. Marc and I followed Lu, and in the tiny office, she found my hat on top of the filing cabinet next to the desk. She fitted it on top of my head and pulled me in for a hug.

"Sure sorry to hear about your Pa, Jeff. Real sorry."

"Thanks, Lu."

"Dottie, Ted and I will be at the funeral. We all knew your dad when he was about your age. I'm only a couple of years older than him. I remember him growing up just like you're doing. Him then and you now.....like Time has stood still, Jeff."

"Lu, that's nice. Thank you. I need to go, or I'm gonna lose it here....."

"Off you go, then. And take my in-the-flesh Playgirl Centerfold with you, or there'll be no lunch served here today!"

We laughed and walked back out the back door. Back in the truck, Marc put his hand on my leg. He saw the look on my face and expressed concern for me. I assured him I was fine, since I got my lucky hat back. He asked what was so lucky about it.

"This is the hat I've worn for three years team-roping with Tom, and each year, we took first place in our age group. It's also the hat I was wearing when I brought in a big bull elk last year."

"Wow! That is some luck! So, did you wear this hat when you lost your virginity?"

"No, Silly. I wore a condom."

"You wore a condom on your head?"

"Well, yeah; one of `em. What'd you wear when you lost your virginity?"

"A dot of `Drakkar Noir' on each ass cheek."

"Oh, wow......Total 80s thing. Who were you trying to attract? NASCAR fans?"

"I don't really remember.....but probably a few. You know how they keep going on and on about `pole positions'."

"Ah-ha. Well, would you look at that, a green light. I think that means we proceed through the intersection and right onto another topic of conversation. Do you have another five minutes I can have with you? I need to drop something off at the funeral home."

"Oh, I remember you telling Grammy you wanted to visit there today. Are you sure you want me to come, too?"

"I'm not going to visit. Marc, I've talked with my father so much in the past two days. It's not that I don't have more to say; I will have thousands of hours of conversation with him for the rest of my days. He will be buried only steps away from my house. I can visit him all the time, and I probably will. Dad left me in a good place, in terms of what he had to tell me about farming, and in our own relationship. We were kin, yes; but we were friends, too."

"I'm happy for you, Jeff, that you had that relationship with your parents. Of course I have five more minutes. I am officially finished packing everything my Grandies want to take with them, and helping them inventory everything that is staying."

"Wow.....fast and efficient. I just need to drop something off for Mom, and then we can do whatever."

Marc smiled and held my hand. A few moments later, I pulled up behind the funeral home. Jerry was outside with his ever-present bottle of Orange Crush. I stepped out of my truck and pulled Dad's shroud out. Jerry walked over to meet me. I motioned for Marc to get out and join us. He did, and I noticed that for a college professor, he's just a little shy.

"Jerry, here is Dad's shroud. Mom finished it last night. She said you'd know what to do."

"Yes, we followed the same procedure with your grandparents. Were you not there for their burials?"

"No, Mom and Dad decided I was too little for that, so my other grandparents took me out for the day."

"Ah, I understand. I will make sure this is fitted this evening, Jeff. After the funeral tomorrow, Tim and I will bring Ned out to your place, following you."

"Thanks, Jerry. Mom kinda told me the plan, but not in great detail. Oh, do you know Marc Taylor? He's Rod and Naomi Taylor's grandson, visiting from Massachusetts."

"I do not, but it's good to know you, Marc."

"Thank you; it's good to know you, Sir."

"Jerry, I'm Mom's Knight Errant today. Thank you for this."

"You're welcome, Jeff. I'll see you tomorrow."

We said our good-byes, and driving away I heard my phone beep and buzz with news of a text message. I looked down to see it was Anders. I called him instead of pulling over to text him back, and routed the call through my truck's radio.

"Anders. What's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. This place isn't going to fold just because you're gone for an hour, you know."

"GROAN! I know that! I'm scared to think what would happen after two hours, though."

"Hey, can you stop at the pharmacy and get some antibiotics for the animals? I was in the barn and noticed we're down to half of a bottle in the barn fridge. Also some Gentian Violet antiseptic for the injection site. We're fine on syringes."

"Yeah, good call. I'll get them. Anything else there or somewhere else?"

"I could go for some doughnuts....."

"Nope. What YOU want is a fresh, homemade huckleberry muffin."

"Heck, yeah; but Mom didn't bake any."

"Get in your buggy and ride to Eva's. She bakes all kinds of things, right there in her coffee shack. I got two this morning. Best I've ever had. And if you're hesitant, just fuck that and go there, Anders."

"Huckleberry, huh? Yeah, why not? We seem to have gotten on okay. I don't hate Eva."

"I didn't think so. All right, I'm off to the pharmacy."

"How'd your date go?"

"Anders, seriously....."

"Okay, just looking out for your deprived teenage libido."

"Golly, thanks; but.....quite frankly, there's nothing you need to hear; big brother or not."

"Aw, you're no fun. I suspect your date would agree with me.....tee-hee!"

"Hanging up now, Anders......"

I laughed and concluded the call. I was red when I turned to look at Marc. He started laughing at me. I joined in, and reached for his hand, which he gave me freely.

"Well, looks like I'm still the farm errand boy today. Marc, I know that can be annoying for anyone else riding along. Do you want me to take you back to your grandparents?"

"If you don't mind. Not that I don't want to spend time with you, but I need to spend time with them, too."

"Of course. I understand. I'd feel the same way."

"Jeff, we have all of August to be together. Today I need to finalize with the Grandies what our travel plans are. That's going to be a week-long trip, and I don't know when they want to go. They keep changing their minds."

I pulled his hand up in my own to my mouth and kissed it.

"Thanks, Marc. I'll be in the thick of harvest, but I will make all the time I can during that to be with you. I mean it, Marc. I like you, and I like this connection with you."

"As do I. We'll still talk and/or text later, Rugby Cowboy?"

"I hope so! Don't desert me now!"

"If I'm not going home for a month, I'm certainly not going to desert you today, Jeff."

"Marc, damnit.....fuck it, you know what?"

I parked my truck in the heavily shaded West side of the old Coca-Cola bottling plant, behind the dumpsters. I turned off the engine and reached for Marc, pulling him close. I buried my face on his neck, and we moved into another embrace. The way he wraps those muscular arms around me and just holds on.....the way Rose should have held onto Jack.

(If she'd done that----just one unselfish little embrace and pulled him up out of the ice water, we could've had a sequel.)

Only a minute later, we released each other and smiled. Yes, the second kiss would wait.....but this hug would sustain me until then. My thought at the time was, `Make hay while the Sun shines, Jeff; his grandparents might want to drive out tomorrow morning, so it could be many days until I see Marc again'.

We smiled at each other, resumed holding hands, and drove to Mr and Mrs Taylor's house. I was not prepared for Dad's death, and I wasn't prepared for the following days to not be textbook grieving. Yes, my heart was broken because I lost my father and friend, and mentor for everything associated with this farm and my future. As Mom had said, there are plenty of broken hearts, but we weld them back together with some new parts and pieces.

I knew I'd like some of Marc's heart so I could weld it into my own. I knew Mom and Anders would like Marc, and make him welcome on the farm. I also knew Anders would be sizing him up to see which farm implement he could talk Marc into driving for harvest. I'd already been sizing Marc up to see if I could talk him into being in my bed.

Oh, don't act all shocked. You'd do the same thing. In fact, if you did not, the rest of us would suspect there's something seriously wrong with you. `Cuz there is absolutely nothing wrong with Marc Taylor. How nice it'd be, though, if Marc were on staff at the University of Montana----the other Harvard---where I plan on somehow parking my butt in classrooms and lecture halls. I could see no other way I'd be with Marc after August. Harvard came to Montana for the Summer, but Montana would not be going to Harvard. I needed to make this the best August of my life, brief though it would be. I need to make myself the best man Marc will have ever known in the The Big Sky State.

My needs are few, but they are substantial, and I am equal to the challenge. Running the 130 year old farm will be difficult at times. Navigating my feelings for Marc will be its own trial. Getting my education seems only a dream right now. My Dad gave me wisdom when thinking about my challenges, and I remembered what he said.

Per aspera ad astra, Daddy. Through hardship to the stars. See? I listened to you that time.