"Oscar Parker's Texas Adventure"
Chapter 3
Jenny brought out of tin of biscuits, from a side cupboard, and the two women sipped tea pretending to be in the English countryside. It was not too shabby, for farmwomen used to homemade whisky, made from sour mash. Lordy that took a heap of pretending.
"I can't see what's so wonderful about tea time. Give me a shot of hooch, and that would put a smile on my face," Jenny remarked in jest, but nevertheless, serious.
"Nobody will ever accuse you of being too classy," Lil remarked. "You are stuck in the past. Let's leave the whisky to the menfolk, just drink your tea."
Getting back to Oscar," continued Lil, leave him alone. The young man is gay so who knows' what he is thinking. This gay stuff is only cosmetic with Oscar. He is a tough, determined wrangler, herding cattle with the best of them. Besides, who could he be in love with? See how crazy, that sounds! Oscar is so practical, he will be just fine."
"I know and so handsome too, isn't he gram?" said Jenny.
"Oscar is a Parker," replied Lil, picking up the teapot, and returning to the kitchen. "Indeed, that cowpoke a pretty boy," she continued mumbling on her way out.
Nearly a week had passed since he drove Nevada back to the Dawson Ranch. He checked his phone constantly. Some cowpokes are known to be nothing but smoke and mirrors. Oscar wanted to see if Nevada was truly interested in him. He began to think that smoke was in the air.
There is much to know about owning a cattle ranch. Oscar was thirty-two, learning every day from his teenage years, on how to run the family ranch. What he wasn't prepared for was meeting somebody like Nevada, who brought out a weakness, that he never took the time to realize, about himself.
Everybody knew that Oscar was a gay man, but didn't think anything gay about him. He was Oscar, their boss, their co-worker and friend. If sex came up in a conversation, the topic was always pussy, and where to find it.
The ranch hands that didn't have women, depended on whorehouse sluts that took their cash and rode their dicks. It disturbed Oscar but nobody knew he hated to see luscious cock wasted on saloon whores. However, he ignored anything pertaining to sex.
The wranglers returned from branding cattle, housed in a grotto on Parker land. There was sufficient grazing there and the young stock corralled separate from the longhorn steers. Oscar wished branding wasn't necessary, however, there were many things, he wished wasn't necessary. Much of it had nothing to do with cattle.
Another day had ended, and the cowboys dismounted from their tired horses. They washed up and settled in the bunkhouse ready for supper.
The cook, Wally, had chickens roasting, in the oven of an old cast iron stove. The aroma raised hunger with cowboys after a hard day on the range in the blazing sun. They open bottles of beer waiting for supper.
Oscar sat comfortably on his bunk fooling around with his phone. Some cowpokes had phones; others did not. For that reason, Oscar was buying everybody a phone, a modern benefit that went with the job. Now they could talk to one another, out on the prairie.
Jenny sent Oscar a text message. It read as follows...
"Gram wants you to have supper here with us tonight, we have company, and you know how insisting she can be. You have an hour, no regrets!" Jen.
Oscar replied immediately.
"Are you sure, Wally roasted chicken tonight –smells great. I may stay here." Oscar.
"Wrong answer," Jen replied.
"Okay, I'm convinced."
When Oscar went to the house, there was black pickup in the driveway. It looked familiar, but he thought nothing of it. He went into the house through the back door directly to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of ice water and leaned against the counter pushing the ice around with his tongue.
"What's up gram? Who do I have to impress now, being a Parker," he joked kissing his grandmother on the neck as she walked past him filling tumblers with drinking water.
"Now don't be hanging on me with my crystal pitcher in my hand. Just be yourself," she smiled, giving him a peck on his cheek.
"Yes, just be yourself," said a man standing in the doorway. It was Nevada, holding a glass of wine and speaking with copper tones of a rich deep voice.
"Gram, do you know this guy?" said Oscar. "I do, this is" Nevada," he beamed apparently happy to see him.
"We know," interjected Jenny, "we've been talking."
"Well, don't you believe a word of it – yeah, go ahead and believe It, it's all true," grinned Oscar.
"I don't think we are talking about the same thing," remarked Lil. "Sit down at the table everybody, and we can jaw over dinner," she announced, slicing a pork roast.
Lil and Jenny sat at the end of the table and the two men sat across facing one another. They tried not to stare, but couldn't stop sneaking looks. Lil never said a word, but oddly enough, she approved. Oscar hadn't looked this happy all week. She understood the obvious connection.
"Nevada is here to see you, looking for a job herding cattle, and working the range," said Lil. "I explained that you are the foreman, doing the hiring. If we need help, you would know it," she stressed, winking at Jenny.
"Well yeah, we will be cutting hay, and can use all the help we can get. There are miles of fields to harvest," Oscar responded clearly happy to be talking about ranching.
"You work for Barney Dawson," said Oscar. What happened? I heard Dawson was a decent guy, I don't know him, but gram does."
"Yes, I know him," interjected Lil. "The old cougher is a poop. Never mind, I have dishes to pick up, and not saying a word. Go ahead and talk." Lil concluded clearing the table with Jenny's help.
Getting up from the table, Oscar suggested they go outside to talk.
"I was hoping for that," Nevada whispered, "I have much to say - want to listen?"
"Of course I'll listen." Oscar replied. "It sounds good to me,"
"It does?"
"Absolutely – we're alone, who knew," mumbled Oscar returning the whisper.
Some cut up logs were stacked by the house in a large pile. The two of them dropped side by side, sitting on the logs not touching, only talking.
"For the past couple of weeks, old man Dawson changed my chores. He hired me as a wrangler, which I did well. Just the same, he has his favorites, but I am not one of them. He gave me goffer jobs, then cleaning stable stalls, piling horseshit outside the barns. I am not against work, `cause every cowpoke, does that."
"A cowboy unsaddles and brushes his horse, when there is nobody else to do it," continued Nevada. "The `piss me off moment' came when I got the cleanup job for each of them. I need to be out in the range with the cattle. I'm a cowboy Oscar, you know, I'm a cowboy. I did the shit jobs for everybody," complained Nevada.
Oscar slid closer to Nevada and ran his hand inside his thigh. He gambled that touching him was a daring moment, but didn't care, and nobody was watching. He changed, since meeting Nevada. Oscar never touched anybody before working the ranch.
"You have a job here, if you want it. Stay, and tomorrow meet, the men in the bunkhouse," promised Oscar.
"Where will I sleep tonight," asked Nevada.
"Let me worry about that," replied Oscar, brushing his hand gently across his cheek.
Oscar had a special feeling about Nevada just showing up like that. However, simple as that sounds, everything has something to do with something else.
Oscar had to figure the best way to handle the ranch and still have Nevada by his side. It's not that he couldn't handle it; he just didn't like having to do it.
They got to their feet, from the secluded setting spot on the log pile, and went back into the house.
"Well it' official, Nevada Wilson, is our new wrangler." Oscar announced.
"That is wonderful," said Jenny smiling at the both of them.
"It doesn't surprise me," said Lil, "I know my grandson, he has remarkable know-how, when it comes to people."
"Please gram, Nevada will think you are bragging," replied Oscar.
"Of course," Lil replied disappearing back into the kitchen, and turning off the dining room lights. "I own the place, I can brag about anything."
Your grandmother and Jenny, are terrific people, I am going to like it here. Am I going to the bunkhouse tonight, asked Nevada?
"Nope, you can meet everybody in the morning and I will take you around the acres of land explaining everything to you. Then you will be on your own. The amount of free time is all you want, providing the chores (work) is done. I have nothing to do with money, and Lil will talk to you about wages. I get paid like everybody else," said Oscar, completing his initiation speech to Nevada.
"I don't care much about money," Nevada replied. "I care about working. I am a wrangler. I have been touching you, when you're near me, but it won't happen again."
"That's good, no touching working together. I may even shout at times. Then alone, I will take you in my arms, enjoying you different ways until I know how you like me best." The moment was classic.
"I'm the foreman, continued Oscar, but still a buckaroo when it comes to being one of the men. We look out for one another, as well as the cattle, but at the center of it all, is work. I know, and you know that."
"I'm an excellent horseman," Nevada replied, "You haven't seen me ride yet."
"And you haven't seen me ride yet." Oscar whispered, touching Nevada on the butt.
"I hear yuh," Nevada commented. "Hey boss, no touching – remember?"
"That doesn't start until morning," barked Oscar, putting both his hands on Nevada's butt. Besides, I have my own way of doing things," he continued.
"C'mon, hop in the truck, I want to show you something," commanded Oscar. He stood with the door to the truck open, and Nevada got in the passenger seat.
"Where are we going?"
"Just get in."
"Okay boss," smiled Nevada.
"It won't take long, it's a short ride," stated Oscar, looking hot sitting in the driver' seat.
There was still hours left of daylight, and Oscar wanted to drive into the canyon hills. It could have waited, but Oscar hankered to go now, so they did.
Oscar drove his resilient white Chevy truck several miles to where the road straightens into a grassy area. An old cabin, built from split logs, set sixty feet back from the road, with trees that had grown up around it.
"What is this place?" asked Nevada.
To continue, Part 4 is hands on - pants off, finally.
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