"Wichita"
Part 2
The only thing left for me to do was to hop on to the buckboard and bring several bags of chicken feed back to the farm and unload them for pa. However, I didn't leave town; instead I stopped in front of the Marshall's office, leaned against the buckboard, and waited for Jack's return. Now, why the hell, would I do something like that? – Well, because I felt like it.
The waiting was quick since the Marshall was in Junction City, attending a jury trial as witness in a bank robbery. The entire town knew that. Deputy Buck was left here to watch the store.
Shore `nuff, like a bell ringing on Bessie the cow, Jack was in and out of the office, in a few minutes. I called to him, and he came over to where I was standing by the buckboard.
"I could have told you the Marshall was out of town, but your business is your business, and besides, you didn't ask about the Marshall." I yapped away bragging how smart I was.
"Get in!" I said to Jack.
"Why! - Where, we going? He asked barely concerned.
"I am kidnapping you." I replied with a rip-torn smile.
"Oh good, it's been a boring week. Seriously, where are we going? He repeated.
"I can't leave you standing on the street, with no place to sleep, nothing to eat, while I go back to the farm for a warm supper. You are coming home with me."
"I'm Comanche trained by braves, and a big boy," replied Jack. "I am okay, and will camp out for the night."
"I'm trained too and a big boy. We have similar background and a lot in common." I proudly stated.
"Would you get into the buckboard, I am taking you home with me. Besides, I am more fun, than camping out alone, with coyotes for company." "Nope."
"Okay, I tried," I mumbled.
"Ah fuck, move your ass over and let's go farming," chuckled Jack. This was the first time he smiled openly and laughed. His face lit up and he was a handsome looking cowboy dang near being a stud. Yeah, I know, that's a stretch, but way beyond average. Still holding on to his satchel (suitcase) he tossed it on top of the bags of chicken feed and sat next to me.
We rode out of town, and by now we were talking freely and being comfortable with each other. It was obvious we hit it off and would be friends, if nothing else.
About a mile before the farm, I stopped by a creek to let the horse drink. Jack sat on a rock, and I set beside him. Our legs touched, and not even thinking, my hand rubbed his thigh. It must have been my looking at the bump in his crotch that hypnotized me into thinking this would be okay to do.
I took my hand away and about to apologize for acting queer, when Jack caught my hand putting it back on his leg. He then, touched me the same way. "It's okay," he muttered.
Like cowpoke fruit cakes, we fondled each other through our clothes, just squeezing and rubbing. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest. OMG, Jack, a masculine Comanche, looking Latino, with a workingman's body, and I was rubbing his dick.
The clothes stayed on, but I can't say nothing happened, because the thinking between us was now understood, without mumbling a word, and that's saying a lot.
"Let me talk about Wichita, and seeing the Marshall," began Jack. "I know your pa will ask me questions, they always do."
"Okay, now am I allowed a question," I asked.
"Sure, anything you want to know, we are friends," he smiled.
"Can I kiss you, sorta like man to man?"
"Yup, I suspected that, you're a fucker who wants to kiss a man."
We started kissing but the excitement was making our peckers hard to the point of almost no return. We knew what we wanted to do, but it had to wait; talk about thinking the same way.
"Whew, let's go," said Jack. Once we start, it will take the medicine man to get me off you, and we can't do it right now."
"That's right - we can't, I behave like a homo warrior, taking what I want when I'm naked. Dang, you'll be running away, once I start doing that."
"We'll see about that," Jack replied. "I don't frighten easily."
Once again we were on our way, and Jack talked about himself. I come from Haysville Ks, where I trailed outlaws through Comanche country. Tracking is what I do. Sheriff Gleason, in Haysville, is friends with the Marshal here. They send telegrams back and forth, and guess what?"
"I can hardly wait." I sighed.
"The Marshall here asked Sheriff Gleason, if he could borrow a scout to do some tracking. There were two of us working in Haysville, and the sheriff sent me. I'm supposed to be a deputy, but he has one. He's a mangy sort of feller and kinda dumb."
"You ain't got the job yet; and yup, the deputy is a local jerk."
"Maybe I won't even take the job. I don't like the jail here, in Wichita. My grandmother could break out of that cracker box. Jack laughed. The fiery old lady can shoot a worm off an apple.
"Well, think about it, there are lots of jobs around Wichita."
"That's just what I'm gonna do – "THINK. - "Is the farm much further?" Jack asked.
"This is it, a few yards over the dirt road, and its home cooked vittles."
I drove to the farm shed to unload the bags of chicken feed. Pa was standing by the gate as we pulled up and stopped. I introduce Jack and knowing pa, I could tell he liked him. Jack took to people, like a duck takes to water. An old corny saying, but the best, I could come up with at the moment.
We unloaded the buckboard and Pa wanted to help, but Jack insisted that we do it. I knew that was a letter "A" on Jack's qualification card.
We walked around the farm and pa pointed out the various things that needed to be done before winter, even though it meant nothing to Jack. However, pa being pa rambled on anyway.
The barn could stand painting and the door to the hay loft was broken and needed fixing, plus fences required mending. The field had to be plowed, for corn, wheat and potatoes, and a heap of chicken manure, spread on the pasture.
Pa finally stopped talking and thank heaven, I was drained thinking about the work needed to be done. Jack nodded his head and just smiled.
We waked to the house where ma was already setting the table seeing, we had company.
Jack, walking close to me, pinched my ass quickly just fooling around.
"Whoa, that will get yuh everyplace," I mumbled.
"What was that?" Pa asked.
"Curly was saying, there is stuff everyplace," stammered Jack.
I couldn't shake the feeling that we all connected somehow.
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Part 3 - Connected