"Stagecoach to Laramie"
Part 6
The sun shining brightly, casting sparkle on the glass storefronts resembled a "Star is born," moment. This felt like a pretty big deal. They were on their own, away from the mercantile, the farm, and people they knew.
Cheyenne looked huge compared to Laramie. Nevertheless, population meant nothing to them. They were in Cheyenne to deliver goods from Laramie, and that was about it. The stagecoach, parked inside the livery stable, was secure. They planned to unload, after getting cleaned up, and finding somewhere to eat.
A barbershop, called "Clip it," had just opened, and the sign in the window said, Haircuts, Shave, and Bath. Underneath in smaller lettering it also read, "Teeth pulled."
Slater stopped to read the sign, with Jake right beside him. Sonny not stopping headed for the barbershop. He wanted a bath thinking warm soapy water was what his body needed. He did wash in the stream, but he truly wanted a proper bath.
Without any discussion, they entered the shop, plunked themselves down in chairs, and spoke to tall lanky gent, who was the barber. His white coat said, "Gus."
"What can I do yuh fer, gents? Gus, the barber, mumbled with a cigar bouncing off his lower lip.
"The works," cried Jake.
"Yup, all of us, - A haircut, and a beard trim, and bath."
"That' it mister, like my brothers say – "The works" added Sonny ready to be first sitting down in the barber chair.
"Well that'll cost yuh. You boys got the money?"
"Prices" A haircut $.75 cents. Shave (beard trim) $.25 cents. Bath $1.00 dollar, but you can save money with just one tub of water."
"We each want a tub of water," said Slater coming across as their big brother making decisions.
"Okay, show me the money." Gus remarked. "You are strangers in town and I don't know you. It's nothing personal boys, just business."
"Slater tossed payment (a ten dollar gold piece) down on the counter. Here's your money, throw in some hair soap, with the bath, and keep the change.
Gus, smiled picking up the money. He seldom saw coins in gold they were mostly silver dollars. However, he loved gold. Now, he was much friendlier. "Hop up there young feller – Already sitting in the barber chair, Sonny evidently was going to be first.
"What brings you hombres to Cheyenne," asked Gus, typically curious seeing newcomers. He was asking Sonny, however, Slater answered before Sonny had a chance to speak.
"We are just passing through on our way to Colorado," barked Slater looking at Sonny in a way that read, "Keep your mouth closed."
"Colorado, huh?" Gus commented.
"Yup, got a job waiting for us."
They were strangers, in a strange town, making delivery of a coach-load of goods from Laramie. That meant carrying a load of cash, and it was not wise to advertise that kind of news.
The West was wild enough for an open robbery, and flashing money was an invitation for trouble. Slater and Jake understood that. Sonny would realize it quickly.
Many mavericks carried guns on their hip, and if shot in the street, it was no big crime. Somebody would carry you off to a doctor; plain and simple, you either lived or died.
After haircuts and their beards trimmed, except for Sonny, who was clean-shaven, they had baths. Dang, if they didn't look like fresh beef. These three wranglers cleaned up especially good. All smiles, horsing around and feeling on top of the world, they set off to find breakfast.
"Whatta yuh have boys, coffee? Flapjacks, steak and eggs, you name it?"
"Coffee! And lots of it," Jake remarked looking around the room. It looked sparse occupied with only a few customers. Folks eat breakfast early in Cheyenne. Perhaps, they, (Slater, Jake, and Sonny), spent too much time soaking cum crusted crotches in warm soapy water at the barbershop. It didn't matter, they knew they were kissing clean now, and all they needed was a willing pair of lips.
They were so diversified with their behavior. Slater appeared straight, living up to his tough guy image. However, Jake and Sonny were a little too carefree, with their homo comments, in Slater's opinion.
"No food then – just coffee? Growled Fred, the restaurant owner. His name was across the top of a mimeograph poorly made menu. Fred probably had them run off, at the schoolhouse for free.
"Hell no, coffee isn't breakfast. Bring us steak and puta couple of eggs on top," insisted Slater.
"Chuck on a heap of those fried taters, too," ordered Jake, adding his opinion to breakfast.
Fred left, then stopping at a nearby table where a grungy cowboy was sitting alone and looking down out and destitute, as one can get.
Fred had harsh words with him. He sat a cup of coffee, on the table yelling, "That's it, drink the coffee, and get out!"
"What do you think that is all about?" Sonny asked Jake.
"He probably has no money and bumming something to eat. Looks like Fred gave him coffee and told him to get out."
"Dang – that' rough," Sonny replied knowing what it is to have nothing. He remembered some hungry days as a child.
Slater didn't say much, but one could perceive the wheels turning inside his head. One never knew what Slater would do next; he was that unpredictable. He motioned to the man to come where they were setting.
"Do I know you fellers?" he asked Slater.
"Nope!"
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Nope!"
"Sit down," said Jake, making room at the table.
"What's up men? Oh, I get it. You want to hire me. You hombres are going to hold up the bank and you want me to hold the horses, so you can get away, I can't squeal on you `cause I don't know who you are. Nah, I am not interested, and not going to do it."
"Yup, that's just what we do," Sonny added beginning to chuckle, matching the grin on Jake' face. "We are big ole bank robbers, ha ha-ha."
"Huh, you dudes are playing me for a fool; a holdup is not it, at all; am I right?"
"Yeah, you're right. We are cowboys heading to Laramie after breakfast.
"I work in a store, in Laramie, I'm Slater." "I'm a cowboy on my pa's ranch, I'm Jake." "I am a cook, and I am Sonny."
"Let's start over - what's up men?" he asked for the second time. Oh yeah, I'm Joe.
"You won't be going to Laramie until tomorrow; that's when the next stage leaves. I'm going to Laramie myself. I'm helping Hank at the stable today, for $2.00, and I will have money for a ticket," said Joe, much friendlier and at ease.
Fred returned with their steak and egg breakfast. Slater asked Fred to bring one more for their friend. They just learned his name was Joe. Slater was playing a respectable cowboy game. It was true, Slater was stuck on himself, but he liked people especially men, real cowboys who might like sharing their bodies with him. He was not a sissy, or a girlie man; he just liked men. Jake and Sonny were pretty much the same way. They were the perfect (straight/gay) odd as hell, trio.
Fred brought another meal to the table for Joe, and the four of them sat eating and jabbering away like old friends, without even trying.
"Do you want to go to Laramie with us?" asked Jake, we have our own stagecoach. Then, he realized he should explain why they had a private coach.
"Nah, you're spoofing me. You aint got a stagecoach." Joe babbled waving a fork in the air.
"There's no reason to lie about it!"
"Okay-good, I believe you. What cha do steal it?" he said grinning but not at all sarcastic.
"Nope, my pa owns the mercantile in Laramie and we brought a load of goods here. The stage line in Laramie let pa use one of their coaches."
"I won't have the fare until tomorrow. Can you fellers wait and leave then?"
"There is no fare Joe, just string along," Sonny, replied, speaking for the three of them. It was unusual too because Slater usually did the talking for everybody. It didn't matter; they all wanted to help Joe.
Slater winked at Jake, but said nothing. They guessed that Sonny; saw something he liked about Joe. Slater and Jake had little interest in him, however Sonny, obviously did; it must be for crotch exploring.
The stagecoach was unloaded of its inventory. The horses rested, watered and fed, were harnessed and ready for the trip back home.
Slater drove the first ten miles or so. Joe sat next to him making Slater a bit uncomfortable. Joe was about as grungy as an unbathed papa pig and smelled almost as bad. The fresh air helped a bit, so they kept him outside.
A few miles outside of Cheyenne, Slater turned off the main road, crossed the railroad track, and drove to a water stream, called the Keonna Creek. It was the same spot earlier, where they relieve Sonny of Comanche cream.
Jake and Sonny were dozing inside the coach, opening their eyes and seeing water, they knew instantly where they were.
Slater pulled a chunk of soap from his pocket that he kept from the barbershop bath, and handed it to Joe. "Guess what, partner?"
"You want me to take a bath?"
"Yup.it will make things a whole lot better; and wash your clothes too while you're at it."
"I know – I have been sleeping in the barn with the horses." I do need a bath. I'll wash the clothes, but I can't leave here in wet duds or naked."
"Don't fret," Jake added, we have blankets, and you can wrap a blanket around yourself and ride inside the coach. "What about my clothes" Joe asked sounding grateful but nervous. He was hoping they wouldn't drive off leaving him with nothing to wear.
"Don't fret; I'll fasten your pants and shirt on top of the stagecoach. With the moving air and hot sun, they will be dry in no time. When we get to Laramie, you'll have to chase away the ladies, looking to get poked."
"Get `em off," Slater said, looking at Joe's clothes.
"Okay, but stay here with me, so I know you're not leaving me helpless. I'm forty years old, and don't want to die in the wilderness."
"Who do you want to stay here?" asked Slater.
"Jake."
"Okay, I'm staying. Give me your shirt and I will wash it for you. Hell, give me the pant too. Don't forget to wash your ass."
"Yes ma," giggled Joe almost being silly. This was it - now they were becoming real friends. It's amazing how trust can develop from nothing.
"Hand me a blanket, will yuh? Joe nodded to Jake. He stood there wet and different appearing. It was tough for Jake to witness him walking naked out of the water. Joe looked like the poster dude for "Feed the Hungry."
It was tough too, because Jake realized nothing was ever going to happen. Nevertheless, it would be nice to have something wet to nibble on. He took a moment to weigh his options, as if, there were there any options! Not every cowboy was available for sex still, there was something homo about Joe.
"I'm an older breed of cowboy," admitted Joe wiping his face dry.
"I hate the spotlight myself; but will attempt to be entertaining." smiled Jake.
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