Harvard Comes To Montana

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Thirty-Eight

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

Hiya;

This is an important date. It was on this very date, years ago, that I lost my virginity. Or gave it away. In reality, I THRUST my virginity DEEPLY into someone, during an ASSinine moment of run-away HORmones. That moment will not be documented in this chapter. I've just told you all you're gonna hear about it. The trial and sentence have been sealed, so no one will ever know.....

.....kidding. There's nothing for anyone to see.

Anyway. Moving on..... I hope May ended well for you, wherever you are. Welcome!' to the new readers, and Thanks for coming back!' to my veterans in appreciation of Farm Smut.

Actually, `smut' is a real disease on a farm, afflicting corn. It's always above ground, and a fungus. The corn is harmless to humans and edible with the smut on it, and is considered a delicacy in some places. Farm boy smut is edible, too; and also considered a delicacy. It can be found all over his chest or stomach, and sometimes on his face or the wall behind the bed. We farm boys have terrible aim, but amazing production of ammunition.

ANYWAY.....here's Chapter Thirty-Eight. Aunt Patty is in town from Hingham, and there's a big feast on Farm W to welcome her, and allow for introductions to the new tenant farmers (the Sangers) on the Hingham operation, as well as to Kristi, Trace and Toby, Eva and.....Marc. Jozef tried to assure Marc in 37 that everything was going to be okay, but he's a little apprehensive and holding his breath.

Have a great June! You have an entire year before we celebrate me not being celibate anymore, at least historically. Enjoy the following 364 days of the focus being on Jozef's big Polish cock, and not mine!

*** 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 ***

The silence of sleeping farms is a luxury for farmers. Sleep is a break from work, never guaranteed, often a fantasy. We hear about sleep and we just wonder at the possibility of eight hours in a row with our eyes closed. When we hear Townies talking about vacation, we laugh and wonder just how bad the trauma to their heads was in the falls they suffered. Vacations' are just hallucinations, and a cruise ship' is the worst one of all. There is absolutely nothing in Reality bigger than a big rig that hauls grain and livestock. Not in a farmer's reality.

I know I make it sound like no one suffers more or more often than an Agro person, but we really don't suffer THAT much. We are our own bosses, day in, day out. Profits can become losses, but we can't blame anyone else, and we often can't blame ourselves. We just like to bitch and moan about stuff. Some of us are even creative about it, and write country-western songs to fit the mood. You've heard `em; it's all about suffering, ain't it? And whiskey. But then, the whiskey brings on more suffering, and well, there'll always be country-western music, I suppose.

Off the county road, down the long drive, I parked alongside the barn and walked across the barnyard to the house. There were no lights on, and I didn't want to be the cause of anyone waking up. My mother and brother both deserved all the rest they wanted. Curious, though; usually Aleksy was up and going with Eva, and Mom wasn't asleep past five in the morning, either. I sneaked as quietly as I could inside. Okay, so; something was up. The little night light in the kitchen, in operation for as long as I could remember, wasn't on. Nor was the light on the top of the piano, providing the same subtle illumination. I pulled my phone out to turn on the flashlight so I could check the box in the basement. I heard noise at the bottom of the stairs and saw a shadow on the lighted floor, cast by another phone's light. I heard my brother cursing about something. Probably saw a mirror.

"Ahoy down there; what seems to be the problem?"

"The water heater circuit keeps tripping."

"Then stop trying to reset it. Two possibilities: there's a problem with the breaker itself, or it's the water heater and associated wiring. That's the shortest run in the house; the box is right below the water heater mounted on the outside wall. Not even ten feet. Why'd you shut off the power to the entire house?"

"How do you know this stuff?! I was trying to rule out other things."

"Same problem arose twice before. The instant water heaters really draw lots of electricity. The problem is it's inconsistent. Electricity is consistent in and of itself. The problems arise when humans start dicking around with it. I want to get the entire circuit rewired with a bigger gauge. I can run the wire, but someone else needs to connect it. Or, replace the water heater, which isn't even five years old."

"So we're out of hot water today?"

"No. The barn's water heater still works, I'm sure."

"Oh, yeah.....sheesh. I guess I'm still a tourist here. The problem, though: big feast later, and no hot water. We can send people across the barnyard to use the restroom there, but as far as cleaning in the kitchen....."

"We keep that ten-gallon copper pot on the stove at a simmer. Basically the same thing the homesteaders did, back before there was AC run in the country. Even after, because the lines weren't exactly reliable----and certainly not maintained in the middle of the night. In fact, did you know the beginning of around-the-clock maintenance by the Rural Electric Association was due to three people with polio in iron lungs out in the country? Those things were wired for AC, not DC. If a line went down, the family had to take turns manually operating the bellows underneath the cylinder to keep their folks alive. It was scary. Old Miss Jane Monson owned that huge ranch, since split up into smaller ones. When she sold it for ten zillion dollars back in 1941, she paid for the REA to upgrade the lines and equipment in three counties due to the number of people needing medical equipment in their rural homes. Her money also created a `third shift' of people who were on guaranteed call to repair the lines if they were down. Now the REA, headquartered right here in Lewistown, serves fourteen counties and maintains almost 5,000 miles of lines. Some of that money lives on in college scholarships."

"Does your extensive knowledge offer a hint that you might've received one of those scholarships?"

"Yeah. It wasn't academically awarded. I wrote an essay about how the drought of the early Twentieth Century had a snowball effect; farms failed due to a drought that lasted almost five years. Banks failed, entire communities were abandoned---specifically Andersonville, only a few miles from here---, and lives were both ruined and lost. I wrote that if electricity had been available to Agro folks back then, they could've powered their wells and irrigated their crops, and had refrigeration to keep food safer. I estimated anywhere from forty to sixty percent of failed farms could've been kept viable with electricity."

"Jozef, that's amazing in and of itself, but that you even know those facts and history? Ten times more amazing. I hope the scholarship was worth your work."

"Heh.....I didn't do much work, really.....I remember Dad's uncle Vladymr telling all that. I just paid attention, kept some notes in my head, and the essay took an hour to write. $2,500.00 to pay attention. I'd say my efforts were worth it."

"I'd bet you also had offers for employment at the co-op....."

"Well.....subtly. Which was kinda curious; they knew I was on this farm. Who would leave a farm to work in an office? Oh.....present company excluded, of course."

"Putz! It was interesting while it lasted, and I got `teaching' out of my system. I didn't have an actual office my first two years. Everything was in my backpack. That was okay, actually; with an office comes additional responsibility. Didn't take me long to realize working inside is not preferable to working outside, particularly when you're being useful and feeding people."

"Do you think you'd have ever come back here, if Dad were still alive?"

"Yeah, I do. Someday I would have. I'd never have had what you had, though. Your dad was not my dad, and neither of those were Gus' dad. Ned Wojtowicz, like his three boys, continued to grow up. We'd have eventually compromised our insistent positions. I wish it could've happened while he was alive, but I'm at peace now. I accept the reality of my history, that it can't be changed, and I can only move forward with my own family. I learned by example, though.....how to keep my head in who and what my kids are, and not who and what I think they should be."

"Cryptic....."

"Maybe we should get to it, then. Do you think you can remain objective and listen, and do you think you're ready?"

"As I ever will be, I guess. Are you?"

"There's never a convenient time to assassinate a dead man's character in front of his son who has only ever exalted it."

"Sheesh.....you're as much a riddle as this water heater thing is. Tell you what; I don't want to start something I can't finish, and nothing with you is easily communicated before Mom gets worried or suspicious. Throw the main and let's go up. But Aleksy....."

".....we will, Jozef. I promise. Just need uninterruptible time."

"Did you not get the memo? You are a farmer. Time is not beholden to us. Quite the opposite."

"Yeah, but one can hope."

"In vain. Only in vain."

The lights returned and some appliances beeped to announce they needed some attention to reset a clock. Every appliance has a clock now, and yet, no one uses them; we reach for our phone. We've allowed ourselves to be conditioned. So, now we're beholden to both Time and the keeping of it. Ironically, though.....because farmers are outside more than in, we can see where the Sun is in the sky and know what time it is, regardless of season, within fifteen minutes. I already told you a farmer can tell time with his nose, too. `Tween you and me, Paco always knows what time it is.....for a teenager, it's always time to make a ten-minute commitment to The Gentlemanly Art of Self-Abuse. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean everyone else operates on the same clock or schedule, so we demur, our dicks and us, until we can prevent both blue balls and a scandal. It's a delicate balance for the indelicate mammals, you know.

Mom walked around in the kitchen above us in the predictable every-single-morning route: into the kitchen. To the door to look out at the barnyard. To the window over the sink to look at the kitchen garden. To the fridge to see if anything changed magically overnight (they sometimes did. I continue to be a growing teenager. I've been known to grab a chair, open the fridge and make love to the contents at Midnight). Finally, Mom goes to the counter under the South-facing window where the coffee maker lives and performs the most vital of tasks for Agro folks: A potful of Ambition (thank you, Dolly Parton). The little radio next to the coffee maker comes on to the Ag Report, then the news on the NPR station out of Missoula, and finally, just some music. Breakfast is always the next priority. Even down in the basement, Aleksy and I could smell bacon. We floated right up the steps to be seduced by that singular aroma.

"Morning, Boys; why'd we lose power?"

"Aleksy was investigating why we didn't have hot water, and being the stand-up `all or nothing' middle brother that he is, he decided to just shut everything down."

"MOM!"

"Boys! Really! Let me get in at least one mug before you start challenging my rationale for having children in the first place. So what's up with the water heater? Same thing as always?"

"I think so, Mom. I think it's grounding out, although that just doesn't make sense, since it doesn't do it every time. We've replaced the breaker, so I doubt it's that. Really, I'd just like new wire in a thicker gauge run from the box to the unit outside. Worst case scenario: a new water heater. Until then, I'm assuming the water gets hot in the barn bathroom. It's gonna be inconvenient later when we have a yard full of folks, but most of us have been in that barn bathroom before."

"I'll heat water on the stove for the dishes. No big deal, at least not temporarily. Do what you think is best, and call Steve Knight. He wired the current unit in when your dad bought it new. Ask him how long it would take to get a new one, if that's what we need. We could have worse problems. Now about food.....bacon, eggs, toast, hash browns? That okay for you boys?"

"Yes!", we both answered at the same time. Those eggs would be fried in those lovely bacon drippings. A true Farmer's Breakfast. It built America, clogged arteries and thus paid for doctors' kids college tuition. See all the good we do? It's never just about us.

I ran back to the basement for the big copper pot and a few bottles of Italian salad dressing. Yeah, I could make my own, but this is just for marinade, and time is money. I had other things to do. For one, I had to take care of the issue of being celibate since the day before. I will not be a monk when there are plenty of places that afford me the privacy I didn't have in the barn. Dad caught me going at it so many times, and all he'd do is laugh at me.

"You have three thousand acres! You know one of these days, someone else is gonna walk through here and be reminded you're not only a boy, but a Polish boy. Damn, and you're still growing, too.....anyway, take the four-wheeler out and get some workin' done while you're getting some jerkin' done."

"Okay, Dad. Say, where'd you go when you had to.....'this'....."

"Right where you are now."

"Then why are you callin' me out?!"

"It's tradition. My Pa used to get on my case, too. Maybe someday you'll have the same opportunity to enjoy another `Team W on Farm W' tradition with your own boy, and embarrass the shit right out of him. I hope so. You'll have options for the seventh generation. Figure it out, Kiddo."

I'm working on it, Dad. I'm working on all of it. Farm, Family, School, Water Heaters.

Aleksy announced he needed to shower.

"On your way back, will you bring the chicken? I'll get them marinating."

"Yeah, I will. Either of you need anything else from there?"

We didn't. Mom was still a few minutes out on breakfast, so I ran outside and around the house to check on the Berneezers. It was only barely light, but Lola Cola woofed and wagged her tail. I opened the hatch and let her out to run around the yard and make sure every blade of grass was accounted for and `irrigated'. O.C. jumped down and wandered inside the dog run, looking at and sniffing each of the puppies. I looked them over, too. All still alive, all growing, all adorable. Tonight was the self-imposed deadline for the website. No problem. After Mama Dog returned from her stretch, I ran to the barn to get her some food and a couple of duck hearts for her and the babysitter. I left them treated and watered, and ran to see Sebby. He was lying down on the straw I laid for him the day before, just content to watch me. This was our last weekend together. I loved on him for a few minutes. We'd have more time together later in the day. He had his security guard duties, and daisies to eat in the big pasture. I had breakfast to eat, so I ran to the barn to wash my hands before going to the house. Aleksy was just stepping out of the shower as I walked in the barn.

"Do you think you could knock and warn a farmer you're in his space at the moment?!"

"Why? You afraid someone's gonna see nothing?"

I pointed at his dick and laughed. Aleksy snapped his towel in my direction. I couldn't help but notice how much more fur my brother got than I had. I'd seen him in his underwear and shirtless before, but now that he was wet, the hair seemed darker and thicker. A thick pelt of fur on a tall, lean and muscular body; a gay city boy's dream for many. Aleksy had a face that seemed like a decent combination of both Dad and Mom. His jaw and cheekbones were chiseled, and his thick eyebrows guarded a prominent brow ridge. We were definitely brothers, but he scored extra points in looks. Good for him. Considering Eva's natural beauty too, it was easy to imagine their kids would never be called ugly.

"Hey, what're you making to go along with the chicken?"

"I'll use the big skillet and put it right on the grill. Home fries with green and red peppers, onions and garlic."

"How much garlic?"

"Lots of garlic, Big Brother. I know you."

He smiled and continued to dry off. He took a bottle of something from the shelf by the sink and handed it to me. Ah....cocoa butter lotion.

"Do me a favor and get some on my back, please. My skin gets extra-dry in Summer if I'm out sweating the moisture out of my body."

Five minutes later, he was greased like a pig at the fair for the kids to try to catch for carnival ride tokens.

"Did you belong to a gym or something in Bozeman? You're a lot more built than you look with clothes on."

"I used the team gym. It was open to staff as long as the team wasn't working out, which many of them were throughout the year. I got a few privileges, I guess; some of the freshmen and sophomores were in my class. Now, though.....just farm work. I wish we had some weights out here."

Aleksy and Marc could both give other handsome men a run for their money in muscle and looks. Dan, too. The three of them combined? Holy crap. An offensive line the Bobcats could only dream of. Oh. Oops, Aleksy.....watch what you're doing.....

"Um, excuse me.....those are not your shorts, and they're way too tight on you. Scandalously too tight. You'd have every guy on my team chasing you until you couldn't run anymore."

"Oh, these yours? I just grabbed them out of the laundry in the basement."

"The clean or the dirty laundry?"

"I don't know! They were in the blue basket."

"The black basket is for clean laundry."

"Are you telling me I'm wearing my little brother's dirty underwear?!?"

He turned and was facing me now, and that underwear was definitely too small for him. Constricting, actually.

"No, I'm not telling you that....."

"Then what're you carrying on about?"

"Let's see.....if they're not yours and they're not mine.....and definitely not Mom's....."

"HOLY FUCK! I'M WEARING YOUR BOYFRIEND'S DIRTY UNDERWEAR?!?"

"Sure looks that way to me, you goddamned pervy pig. And, oh, look at this....."

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and aimed it at him, but didn't use the camera. Just wanted to fuck with my brother's head for a moment. This was so fun.....he's far too serious.

"NO! DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

I collapsed against the wall in the bathroom while Aleksy fumbled miserably trying to get Marc's underwear off. It was so funny, and just perpetuated my laugh. He finally got them pulled down and off, and was as red as if he'd stood underneath a cascade of only hot water. He threw the box-cut trunks at me, which I caught while still howling. My big brother realized the ridiculous comedy of the moment and started laughing. Well, that's just infectious for me, since he doesn't laugh all that much. It made me just go more and more. We finally calmed down, only to realize Aleksy didn't have underwear at all now. I crossed the room and opened the door to the closet and built-in shelves Dad and I put in a couple of years ago. I had an entire change of clothes in there. Several, actually; it was no mean feat for me to get muddy many times a day in Spring and Autumn.

"Here. I promise you, these are mine. I think they'll fit you better! And they're CLEAN! I hope that doesn't disappoint you!"

"I'm gonna beat your punk ass as soon as I have clothes on, breakfast in me, and Mom isn't looking. You realize that, right?! And you'd better delete that picture!"

"AHAHA!!! I didn't take one. See?"

I opened the photos app and handed him the phone so he could see there was no picture of him. I would not have done that, really. I have my moments of silly fun, but that wasn't going to be one of them. We were having a very silly and fun moment without an active camera.

"Good. I was ready to break your phone! Damn, those were tight. How can you wear them? Or Marc??"

"Well, they're a little tight on both of us. It's good, actually, they weren't clean; you know how everything kinda shrinks in the dryer temporarily. You'd have known right away they weren't yours. But wait.....you have underwear like these?!"

"Yeah....."

"You realize this is a brand and style aimed toward Marc and me and five percent of the rest of the male population on the planet, right?"

"I guess that makes sense, now that I think about it. I went into Macy's in Bozeman and the sales guy came by to see if he could get me a specific size. He came back with a package of these, and they looked okay to me, so I got them."

"Yeah, I BET he had a package in mind.....I hope you're not gonna be uncomfortable now that you know you're wearing gay underwear."

"As long as it's MY gay underwear, I'm fine! Geez!"

"Being the `Modern Age' is what it is, did you get attention you weren't exactly looking for on campus?"

"Wellll.....yeah. Women and men. I wasn't offended, and I had a few explicit offers to meet up off campus. I always smiled and said I was flattered, but not gonna play. It was flattering, really. We're not exactly difficult to look at, you and I. Sometimes, though.....well, I learned very quickly how women feel most of the time. Just an object for men to want sex with. I get it. Does that, or I mean, did that, happen to you?"

"Yeah. Also women and men. You know I've been active with both. I guess because of my age and sky-high hormones, I never took it as a bad thing that someone wanted `all this'. And then I met Marc, and I caught myself looking at him that way when I was giving him a ride back into town after he was out running to Wyoming. When we were in the Empire, and Lu was acting out what I was thinking, saying all the same things in my head. I didn't give it much thought after that, until Dad died and I was in Billings. I don't exactly remember now how it all happened, but he and I wound up talking on the phone. In only a moment, I stopped thinking about him only for his looks and body. He actively listened to me on the phone and said the appropriate things back, considering the reason we were in Billings."

"You landed a stud, Little Brother. I can easily say Marc is the best-looking man I've ever seen in person. You're good-looking. No doubt you've both been made to feel like meat."

"I'm sure he has. When we were in Billings, the guys at Jason's were enjoying the show. I knew it, and I had a minor problem with the Green-Eyed Monster until Marc set me straight."

"Really? Just go with me on this, but you're kinda hot for a farm boy. Sorry, I know how that probably sounded, but I'm not blind to how appearances are judged; even yours. How could you be feeling insecure? Marc isn't going anywhere. He has you. He's not going to do better than you in any regard, Little Brother."

It was an unusual comment to hear from my brother, but if there's anything about Aleksy I admire, it's his security in himself. He's never had a problem with me or other gay folk. When I told him on the phone I was gay, he cheered me on. He told me I'd grow up to be a heart-breaker with my looks, so what he said now wasn't really that different. And honestly, I look up to and admire my big brother. If he feels secure enough in himself and our relationship to say his little brother is hot, then I'm not gonna freak out about it.

The truth is, and I've said this before, I have my issues with insecurity. Knowing both my brother and my man know that about me and are still in my corner, I'm counting it as a big blessing among the many I have. And Aleksy's comment about Marc `not doing better than me'.....well, it made me feel good and bad at the same time. Good because my brother said it, and I trusted and valued his opinion of me. Bad because I clearly didn't trust and value my opinion of myself. Not enough, anyway. I thought my brother was right.....I did need someone to help me navigate Myself. I held my hand up with Marc's shorts in it.

"Mom probably has breakfast ready and is waiting on us. I'll go on ahead so you can figure out whose other clothes you're gonna wear today."

"FUCKER! HAHAHAHA!!!"

I pulled Aleksy into a hug, a tight one, and whispered in his ear--even though we were all alone and he was still really greased up.

"Thank you. You are sincerely the best brother. I love you."

"I love you, too. Go save me an egg and some bacon."

I released Aleksy and smiled and ran off to the house just as Mom opened the door and yelled for both of us.

"Mom! I'm right here! You don't have to yell!"

"Oh, TRUST ME----there is always a reason to yell at your kids! You'll find out, and I'm just going to laugh! Where's your brother?"

"Coming in a moment."

"Well, go in and wash your hands."

"I just washed my hands!"

"Yes, and then you ran across a barnyard. Do you know how much cow poop floats around in the air? Your hands aren't clean anymore! GO WASH!"

I laughed and walked past Mom in the open doorway, and went to the sink to get my hands in the coldest well water ever drawn. Gotta hand it to Ivory Soap, though; still makes a lot of lather in cold water. I had to have a little fun, though.....

"So, you think there's cow poop in the outside air that gets on our hands and makes them dirty?"

"Of course. You should wash your face, too."

"Sooooo.....remind me where we're eating dinner tonight....."

"YOU ARE A BRAT."

"Well??!"

We both laughed, and I did not wash my face. If what Mom said was true, I'd been covered with and had consumed tons of volatile cow poop from the day I was born. Ewww!!! Aleksy ran across the barnyard and into the house.

"Did I miss breakfast?!"

"Almost. Wash your hands."

"I just took a shower!"

As Mom said the same thing to him she'd said to me, I said the same thing right along with her. We all laughed, but you know what? Mom spoke and the boys listened. My big brother, almost Thirty years old, obeyed Mama and washed his already-clean hands. He wasn't so clean elsewhere, though.....it had been covered, if only temporarily, by my sexy, hairy-assed man's not-clean underwear. What a way to start a day on a farm.

"One of you boys drop the bread in the toaster, please. The other one, get the OJ. Bring your plates."

It was a good, hearty breakfast, and we discussed the rest of the morning. After more laughs and a cohesive plan we would dis-cohere (Disco Hair!) within moments of planning (because we're on a farm), we teamed on cleaning up the kitchen. I returned to the basement to find the biggest Tupperware container ever moulded. A few minutes later, I had the chicken marinating and across the barnyard to the fridge there. I joined Aleksy at Dad's truck so we could go get my boy and then drive to the Ag Station. I decided to call Tommy so he could be ready.

"What do you want?"

"Get dressed if you're not already. You're coming with Aleksy and me to the Ag Station."

"Why are we going there??"

"So you can meet Mario. He's the professor who runs it. Since you'll be doing two of your classes there, it's a good time for you to meet him and anyone else there who might be having to endure you sleeping in class."

"And why didn't you think to tell me about this before right now?"

"Because. For one thing, you'd have forgotten, and this would've still come as a surprise to you. For another, I forgot. I was too wrapped up in other stuff."

"Oh.....so now I'm not a priority anymore. I get it."

"Well, it's better you know now, although you'll forget that, too. But I won't remind you."

"How much time do I have?"

"Nine months, give or take; so enjoy these spontaneous moments with your boy and his brother. You won't get another one for eighteen years, and even longer if you and K do That One Thing more than just once. Orrrr.....you have five minutes. We're almost at your farm."

"I think you mean `your farm'."

"It's still yours, you calendar-challenged Okie."

"I'll go tell Dad. Drive on in; the gate's open. How long we gonna be there?"

"Not long. Hour or so?"

"K."

We slid our call closed, and over a small hill and around a bend, and we were at the Sanger Farm. I had no intention, at least not anytime soon, of calling it `The New Thousand' or anything else but the Sanger Farm. Yeah, business is business; but honoring friends and neighbors by establishing a little tradition of recognizing some of the land's history hurts no one, and is good personal business. Tom actually ran to meet us at the gate, a crushed old cowboy hat on his head and a goofy grin on his face.

"What're you smiling about? You don't have gas again, do you? Please don't. I just cleaned the upholstery."

"Whatever. I'm just glad to be getting away for a little while. Dad's getting nervous, which makes Mom nervous, and that makes Trace fuck Toby. Oh, sorry, Aleksy....."

"Heh.....don't worry about it, but just how does your parents being nervous make Trace and Toby act all amorously?"

"Well, they make a lot of noise when they fuck, and all their moans and `oh, Baby' stuff drowns out the parents. Really, they're performing a kindness for me, although it's a little bizarre to be grateful for your own brother's gay butt sex if your folks are worried about making a good impression on the new boss tonight."

Both Aleksy and I laughed as we drove off to the Ag Station. What a day for straight brothers and gay brothers and best friends and farmers and who knows what else. I'm sure we'd find out.

The ride to the Ag Station at Moccasin wasn't long; on the highway, about half an hour. If we'd taken the county and farm roads, we'd have been there in half the time, but going to Tommy's first negated any benefit. That was just fine; it extended the time with two of my three best and closest friends. Yeah, I know.....'where's Marc in that?' That's a good question. Is Marc not also a friend? I don't mean boyfriend, but a friend. It's not that I'm trying to narrow the definition of Marc, but I'm trying to expand the definition of friend'. Lines are blurred in my mind, but not in my heart. All four of em and plenty more live the same in there, and any would pick me up if I fell. I had done a little of that with my insecurities already, and Marc and my big brother both picked me up, propped me up and slapped me upside the head with the reality that Marc's own single and fairly sexless life, despite innumerable opportunities to the contrary, should be an obvious, trustworthy indicator that he's okay with me. I'm not looking, so why should I think he is? Because, despite being the valedictorian a year earlier, I am kinda dumb. Fortunately I'm (apparently) kinda hot, according to two men who are the very definitions of the word.

With more banter between the three of us exhausted, I hinted obliquely to Aleksy to discuss grain sorghum with Tommy, whose eyes lit right up at the idea.

"That stuff grows like weeds in Colorado! I went to a state FFA convention, and everyone was gettin' all kinds of hard over grain sorghum, acting like it was the biggest deal of all time. So they're developin' a strain that'll work well here? That's perfect! Good for the soil in rotation after wheat, easy to plant and harvest, and if we can get some of their seed.....heck, yeah! Damn, I'm glad you called, Jeffrey! Got me away from nervous parents and a brother who was on his way to fucking his balls right off his body! AND there's grilled chicken later! YEE-HAW!"

And with that, we pulled off the highway and onto the tree-lined drive at the well over century-old agriculture experiment station, where many grains and grasses were genetically combined with others to get a better yield at a lower expense for the farmer and the consumer. We parked and a man approached our truck, laughing.

"Noooo.....you're lost, Mister. Traitors and QUITTERS go to Missoula! You're mistakenly on Bobcat Territory! SHOO!!!"

We laughed and Aleksy introduced Tommy and me to Mario, who pretty much ran the Ag Station. It was fun to watch Tom looking around like a race horse being led to the gate. He was excited like I'd never seen him before, and it made me happy to see him happy. That kid's entire life is upside down right now, and I knew he was scared witless at the prospect of being a husband and a father, farming with me on land that was its own blurred line for the moment, and also to start school. I knew, or felt confident, that if I could handle a few responsibilities at the same time with the support of people I love and who love me, then Papa Tommy was gonna sail through his own stuff just fine. We had the same support. We were each other's support. Farm together, study together, and yes----change diapers together. Oh----and grow up together. We got a few years in, but we had a long way to go.

Mario introduced us, but particularly Tommy, to two of the other teachers who'd be there in September. They just so happened to be there that weekend, so it was good timing. Only a handful of students were there in August, having gone home after their own harvest. I learned that in just that one year, they were experimenting on fifteen grasses and ten grains. Once they could produce the same results three years in a row, the university lawyers got involved, and the new strains get legally protected.

See if you can guess how much ADM and ConAgra donate to ag schools like Montana State University.....and what strings they try to attach to what the school's lawyers are trying to protect.....all that research, all that experimentation, at zero cost to Big Ag. Donate to a school, instead; that's a tax write-off. They don't get the legal protection transferred to them; they dick around for a moment or two, change the compound chain with one atom more here and one less there with negligible results, and then it's theirs, and the college can't do anything with their own plants----it's `legal infringement'. Don't get me started.

Too late.

So, back to the less cynical and more positive comments I'm capable of: Aleksy and Mario looked at calendar together and found the second weekend in September for a barbecue at Farm W. Turns out Mom wasn't far off in her idea of spit-roasting a hog in the ground; Mario thought there'd be about 45 people at the Ag Station that weekend, and maybe more if word got out back at MSU. Heck, that's fine; the more, the merrier. We'd had harvest parties there with over a hundred people. We could handle hungry Ag students for an afternoon.

After right at an hour, Tommy sent a text to Jon and Sally to let them know he was still there and would be back soon. Jon and Tom have the same sense of humor. Jon texted back to his son.

"Remind me: who are you again?"

We laughed, shook a few hands goodbye, and pulled Tommy's eyes back in his head from where they'd been rolling around all over the place, taking in the plots of land marked with this or that grass or grain. Here's a boy who's gonna be probably the best vet in all of Central Montana, not even yet in school, and having conversations with the three teachers about how they're getting the results they have so far, what he hopes to be involved in, and all sorts of other questions. They were looking forward to him being there for his two classes, and welcomed him back anytime before school even started. He was going to be just fine there, and I hoped it would reduce any stress or anxiety he had by even just a little amount. Back in the truck and on the county road home, Tom saw the route that would allow for a shorter commute for his two classes there. Tommy was excited about how grain sorghum silage was actually better for livestock than corn, easier to grow, used less water and ohmygod, Tom! Stop with the evangelizin'! I believe you! His day just kept getting better, and he just kept getting more excited to be a student. I was excited for him, K and me; we'd still all be in `school' together for four more years.

When we dropped him off at his place, Kelly ran out to the truck.

"Do we need to bring some chairs and a table?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea. You want us to take them with us now? Lots of room back there."

Kelly smiled and nodded, so Tommy, Aleksy and I wrangled six lawn chairs and a PVC picnic table into the back of Dad's truck. She also handed us a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, a quintessential farm accessory. That'll be one less thing for Mom to even have to think about. Even though my brother and I were assisting with the whole thing, that didn't mean Mom would give up worrying about every last detail. She could keep all that stuff straight in her head, like she could rattle off commodity prices over the past five days and other things every farmer thinks about.

She could do that for now.....but for how much longer? We'd all find out what to expect when we went to the seminars. We'd also find out genetic predispositions, something that concerned me, too. Maybe Aleksy and I could experience the same condition. Maybe our kids could. Right now, though.....it was Mom, and she was pretty much witnessing her own eventual decline, and probably worrying every fucking day if misplaced keys meant anything, or a birthday of a friend forgotten this year. I'll tell you: never let your folks see you seeing them worry about what you're worrying about. It's a conversation no one knows how to start, and there's likely something more to worry about before it ends.

And as I've already said: Worrying is praying for something you don't want.

So stop worrying, Jozef. Mom isn't going to fail today, and she's not going to fail tomorrow. Aleksy said so, and he has a good track record of being right.

Finally home and with the lent picnic furniture unloaded, Aleksy went to check on the dogs and I went to take Sebby out to the big pasture where the cows and calves were. Once he was ambling off and out of earshot of me, I pulled my phone out to make a painful, or at least stressful, and certainly bothersome, and definitely unavoidable phone call.

"Ross Sweeney."

"Hi, Ross; it's Jozef Wojtowicz."

"Who? Oh. Yeah?"

"Am I catching you with a free moment? I want to discuss our transaction; specifically when you'll be coming next week to pick up the steer you are buying."

(Not very sly, but why not remind him?)

"Next week is getting filled up fast here."

"Do you want to come today?"

(I knew he'd say no, since he'd have to bring a check with him. I was playing a bluff, which is dangerous.)

"No. Gonna have to put it off a week."

"Hmmm.....well, that might be a problem, then. I'll be planting Winter wheat the following week. Tell me a date and I'll put if on the calendar here so we can all expect you."

"I don't know a date yet. Gonna have to play it by ear."

"Ross, if it would help you, I can ask the attorney to work with you. We were just discussing the transaction recently."

(Recently' can be, and was, several months ago. But that's more recent' than the day I bought Sebastian at auction.)

"Attorneys don't need to do nothin' here!"

"Then we can settle this like the businessmen we are, Ross. When is this committed transaction going to happen? Just need a date, Ross; I want to make sure I'm here when I hand you a rope and you hand me a check, and we enjoy one more handshake. I'll make sure I give you enough rope, Ross....."

(Okay, THAT wasn't subtle at all, and not conducive to the conversation, and HAHAHAHA! Whatever!)

Ross finally gave me a date. I was walking back to the house so I could make sure it was on the calendar in the kitchen where everyone could see the day they'd need to stay very, very far away from me, because I don't want to have a complete melt-down of both anger and despair in front of them when I see my Big Guy ride away from me. We concluded the call, fairly tersely, but I'll take whatever I can get from a snake, as long as `terse brings the purse' on the date on the calendar.

A big breeze blew up behind me and a dust devil spun around in the barnyard. Who knows how many cow poop particles were now all over me. Oh---and who cares? I walked over to see how H.K. was acclimating. Well, there you have it; he's no longer the Fresh Meat. He was pecking away for his dinner, and the hens were doing the same. You're already yesterday's news, H.K.; here's to a successful future ten years on the job! I looked up to see a dark, green sky West of me. Uh-oh.....that's hail. I buzzed my brother.

"What?"

"Do you see the sky?"

"Ummm.....oh. Yeah, I do. Fuck. I'm glad the crops are in, but the cattle are out."

"I'll go out on the four-wheeler and take a lead for Sebby. I'll walk him into the aspen grove; they'll follow him. If it passes us, that's fine; or if it's the little stuff, it won't hurt the cattle. Seems like the hailstones are getting larger now; golf ball-sized over on the East side of the state have caused damage."

"I'll park the rigs in the equipment shed. Oh, and get Lola Cola back into the barn. The pups can fend for themselves."

"WHAT??!?"

"Kidding."

"You're evil. We might be picnicking in the house....."

"Or we could have a barn party....."

"Not a bad idea. Anyway, I'm gonna run inside and tell Mom what's up."

I walked in and there was Mom at the kitchen table with all sorts of folders open in front of her again---but not the folder about Marc.

"Mom, there's green sky in the West. I'm going out on the four-wheeler and lead the cattle into the aspen grove. Aleksy is going to move the rigs into the equipment shed and the dogs back into the barn."

"Well, damn. I hope it's the little stuff, but hail just gets bigger and more damaging these days. Regardless, it's going to make a mess of the lawn for the dinner picnic."

"Aleksy said we could have a barn party. Not a bad idea, if necessary. That bathroom still has hot water."

"We're counting chickens.....I'll go help move the puppies. You're not staying in the trees with the cattle, are you?"

"Sure. There's the East side of the hill; I'll lead them there."

So, that's what we did. In the end, we got hail, but it was little, and not much of it. Sebby and the cattle walked themselves out of the aspens and I rode back to the house. Some leaves in the yard, but no damage that I could see to any of the buildings. When I parked the four-wheeler by the barn, I saw Mom and Aleksy with the horses, dogs and the cat who just would not leave them for a moment.

"Boys, the ground is cold with even just a little hail on it. Let's leave the dogs in here for now. I need to go see if the kitchen garden got much damage."

Mom took off for the house, and Aleksy and I secured the net across and in front of Lola Cola's stall. Bolt and Stan looked down on them, perhaps curious about these dogs that come and go and come again. That reminded me.....

"We gave ourselves a deadline for the website."

"I can't keep it. We decided that before Mom decided on a party."

"What if you can have both? We don't need to launch it today, but we can get most of the work done, and then be ready for web hosting, whenever. The dogs are already almost three weeks old. Don't they adopt at eight weeks?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll go get my laptop, open it up, and just email yourself whatever pictures you want. Or you can build the site on my laptop."

"A better plan. Really, this'll be quick. We might be able to actually launch it later tonight. I'm gonna get some photos of Lola Cola and the pups now; they're looking fairly adorable and adoptable, just as they are."

Fifteen minutes later, I had almost everything done in terms of moving photos onto the template. Aleksy's laptop had the AKC registration information, so I got that, too. I wrote a short bio about my brother, emphasizing that the dogs were born and were being raised on the same land he had been. It wasn't going to win any awards, this website; but it was about winning good homes for the puppies. All but one, anyway; my Little Guy was going nowhere.

My phone buzzed. Tom.

"Didn't I just see you? And don't I have to see you again in a couple of hours?"

"The answer to both of those is, `you're some lucky bastard, aincha?' Did you get much damage?"

"No, not really. Mom's garden probably has some casualties, but otherwise, it was almost just big sleet. How about there?"

"Bigger and heavier. Knocked some shingles off the house and broke two windows on the porch. Toby's fifth wheel is messed up. Those things aren't very sturdy. They were inside, probably doing more gay butt sex and making so much noise, it covered up the sound of the hail."

"You're obsessed with gay sex, you know."

"Am I? Hmmm.....maybe I am. Seems like most of the people around me play on that team, so I guess I can't help but think about it as much as they do. Oh, I have a question....."

"Is it about gay butt sex?"

"Sure is. So, fisting....."

".....which I've never done....."

"You haven't? Why not?"

"For the same reason you don't have gay butt sex! It's something SOME people do, but not ALL people! Geez!"

"Well, I tried it....."

"You're kidding. You tried fisting?"

"Yeah, myself! Started with one finger, then worked up to two, and half an hour later, all five were in. I took a real deep breath and squished my eyes closed, and then the whole fist popped in."

"Please tell me you're kidding....."

"Well, it wasn't so bad, although it was a strange angle and my wrist was a little uncomfortable, but I wasn't going to stop. So with my free hand, I turned the music on and the lights down low and got comfortable with a couple of pillows under my ass. I worked a finger in from my right hand, then another, and I'll be danged, wouldn't you just know, I'd relaxed enough to get both hands in! Whew, that was.....intense. I didn't think I could do it. But here's the question: I wanted to clap and applaud myself on a job well done, but I think I'm just too tight! How can I get more relaxed? I bet clapping would sound really weird....and probably feel weird, too."

".....what.....oh, my god.....you have GOT to be kidding me....."

Silence. Uncomfortable and seemingly endless silence.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKIN' GULLIBLE! Did a really big hailstone hit your head, and you just don't realize it?! Damn, that was too easy!"

"I can't even think of what to say to you at the moment.....you're.....you need help, that's what you need. Goddamn, Tommy! You're such a fucker!"

"Okay, okay; maybe I am! But let me ask you a real question....."

"I'm afraid to ask....."

"Oh, it's my question; I'll ask."

"Well?"

"Are you hard right now? You got hard, didn't you? You can tell me."

Well, I'd been played, and most righteously. My boy got me---and how. Just hooked me and reeled me right in. I was impressed. Grossed out, but impressed. He'd set a high bar with that.....that disgusting, truly twisted and brilliant slaughter of what remained of my innocence. Was that Karma that came to visit? My recompense for kind of messing with Ross Sweeney earlier? That must be it.....and it if was.....I was in for a whole lot more, because I've played some seriously Karma-deserving pranks on folks along my seventeen years. Uh-oh.....

"Am I hard.....I don't know if I can ever get hard again, since I now equate `gay butt sex' with you double-fisting yourself. I need to pour bleach on my brain somehow!"

"HA! This has been a great day, Winkte!"

"`Wink-da'? What the hell?! That's a new one.....care to explain?!"

"Winkte. Lakota for Two-Spirit'. I told you this already. A `Two-Spirit' is a gay person. It means there's both a man and a woman living inside you. A tribe considers itself lucky or blessed to have a Winkte. I am lucky and blessed, both, to have you and Trace. Toby and Marc, too, I think. One family, four Winkte. If my child is gay, I'll have five. My tribe will have to make me a Chief at that point, I think.....they'll realize I'm powerful!"

"Or they'll realize you've figured out a method of population control. Well, despite you being a total and complete DICK to me just a few moments ago, I'm happy to be one of your Winkte."

"Do you think people can get two hands up their ass?"

"I would not be surprised.....there are some kinks out there I'm not aware of. I'm fairly vanilla, I guess."

"So.....this `fisting' thing.....it's not common?"

"Probably not here. You're asking a rural, Agro Winkte in Fergus County. I have no idea how common or uncommon it is anywhere. You can always find someone somewhere who is into the wildest thing you can imagine. Someone has already done it and loves having it done."

"Otherwise.....it's just gay butt sex, all around?"

"YOU AND YOUR `GAY BUTT SEX'!!! FOR REAL, TOMMY??"

"HAHAHA!!! See you later! Have a nice day! HAHAHA!!!"

The fucker hung up on me, and in doing so, invited the be-all, end-all Karma of all Karmas. I don't get even----I get ahead.

Around 5:00PM, folks started arriving. First was Marc. I was happy to see that old truck up on the county road, headed in our direction. I was right by the side of the barn when he parked. Once he was out of the truck, I smiled and pulled him inside the barn.

"Hi, Boyfriend."

"Hi, Babe."

"Miss me?"

"Oh, yeah. I know this evening is about your aunt, primarily; but I hope we can talk after, or maybe tomorrow."

"Developments?"

"You might say....."

"What might YOU say?"

"I love you."

"You are welcome to say that as much as you want! And I love you. Gimme."

Marc leaned forward and pulled me up tight against him and kissed me just right properly. It was good. He smelled good. Cologne? Axe Body Spray (or as I call it, RAID for Twelve-Year-Old Boys')? He maybe rubbed one of those little green tree air fresheners all over? Whatever it was, it combined with Marc's own I've lived in my skin for a day' smell, and ultimately, he smelled like my mate. If Tom called me right then, I could answer his question: yeah, I'm hard. Winkte can do that to each other.

We kissed some more and then walked to check on the puppies. I explained to Marc why they were back in the barn. He said hail fell in town, but not with any consequence, at least at our house there. Aleksy found his way to where we were. Damn if he didn't pull Marc into a hug, which was so nice to see. My brother and my man actually liked each other. I think, too, that was Aleksy affirming what Marc and I have by being familiar with family. It felt wonderfully fuzzy inside, and crowded out a little more of my insecurity. Or.....it was a warning: `I'll take Marc if you can't handle him! I've been in his dirty underwear already!' So he had.

If I didn't already tell you: My big brother is my BIG brother. He's 6'4"/194 cm and abuses any weight scale with his over 225 / 102 kg solid frame. Since I didn't (and wouldn't) take that photo in the barn bathroom, I'll tell you he most closely looks like NFL guy Rob Gronkowski, but with muscles, dark blond hair all over and a handsome mug. I don't really discuss what we look like much, other than my horse, dogs and steer, cat and the Dearly Departed Cock-A-Doodle. I guess you know Tommy is almost my height, 6'3"/ 191 cm, but half my weight. That kid has never been on an airplane. If he goes back to Oklahoma to visit his tribe, Jon and Kelly can hook him up to a drone and send him off, enjoying the view from the flight on their phones.

"Marc, am I remembering a recent conversation about use of barn space for breeding Bernese?"

"You are. The West wall."

"So, we'd still have a few stalls on the East wall, and they're a little larger. We kept the Morgans in those."

"Well, a Bernese dog is almost as large as a Morgan horse....."

"Heh.....indeed. In almost no time, we'll have a dozen buzzin' around here. Actually.....I'm thinking of a different use. A more personal use of the space."

"A sling mounted from the rafters? Go on....."

"Marc! How do you know anything about slings?! Even I don't! Not practically, anyway!"

"Just because I've never played ping-pong doesn't mean I don't know what a paddle is! But okay, so not a sling.....a cake-decorating studio?"

"NOW you're close! Free weights, actually; maybe a leg sled and another machine or two. These stalls are about 625 square feet, or 58 square meters. I'd been thinking that someday when the house is full of kids, it'd be actually kind of cool to build an apartment in here. There are three Morgan stalls. So, a loft-like apartment in the stall next to the bathroom, and a weight gym with sauna next to the apartment. Each stall has its own door on the East wall, so we could go to and from the Jacuzzi from right in the gym and the apartment."

"What brought this on, my junior Frank Lloyd Wright?"

"Seeing my brother naked."

"Um, care to expand on that? I'm sure you've seen each other `au naturelle' many times, or at least a few."

"Not since he has been back here, and not since he has been throwing weights around. Both of you are chiseled gods, and it's something you take seriously. I like it, too, but it hasn't been easy for me since my body is still growing, and I pretty much have been getting my workouts throwing bales of straw around that barely outweigh Tom."

"Yeah, that Aleksy Hug wasn't some easy-breezy pat on the back. He doesn't really wear clothes that reveal what I've suspected he's built. So, your idea is an interesting one.....both ideas, actually."

"We don't get much activity in Winter months, other than lifting those bales to take to the livestock, or bringing some down from the hayloft for Bolt and Stan. I used the gym at school whenever I could, but that's no longer available. I could've used any of the gyms at Montana, but I'm doing college right here. And Lewistown itself does not have a fitness center with much more than cardio machines and a handful of Eagle-Cybex machines with not much in the way of actual resistance on them."

"Hmmm.....I like what your mind is thinking....."

".....if you could see what I'm really thinking right now, there would be a sling in a stall and locks on the doors at both ends of the barn."

"I REALLY like!"

I kept him in our embrace, and while I'm no Aleksy, I can hold on solidly to a solidly built man and whisper some solid vulgarities in his ear, and that's precisely what I did. Along with a lick up and down his neck and a nibble or two on an earlobe, my hands did a little exploration, surveying the vertical terrain that is my man. I liked what I smelled, tasted, heard, saw and felt, but there was that sixth sense that was nearly always experienced when I was around Marc. Equilibrioception is the sense of balance, which I don't often have, because Marc makes me light-headed and knocks me off my feet.

Ugh.....that was so cheesy. I'm sorry. I had to do something to atone for what I whispered in Marc's ear. And NO, I'm not sharing. But if you can imagine it.....well, it's possible this vanilla farm boy can, too. Um, anyway.....

"Jozef.....Babe.....I can't walk out of here like this."

Marc was quite capable of lifting a motor out of a tractor with that thing. I could hear Mom's voice somewhere around the barn.....what to do.....

"Boyfriend, close your eyes....."

"NOT HERE! I CAN HEAR MARIE!"

"No, not that.....just listen....."

I returned my mouth close to his ear and performed EEC (Emergency Erection Collapse).

"The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And `Round'.....Sarah Huckabee Sanders naked....."

That was all it took, apparently; and the timing was right, because Mom walked through the North door of the barn, only twenty steps from where Marc and I stood.

"Oh, good; Marc, you're home. You're staying for Patty's welcome dinner, aren't you?"

Marc hugged Marie, which made me really nervous for a moment.....I hoped my hypnotic suggestions had successful results. Whew.....

"I am. I came early to help, if I can."

"You know, I'll take you up on that.....I'm making some side dishes. Cold salads and stuff. Would you make a few gallons each of iced tea and lemonade?"

"My favorites! Just tell me your formulae and I'll go from there. Oh.....also, sounds like a crowd; before I get too settled, do you need me to go get ice?"

"Thanks, but I already asked Patty to pick up three bags on her way out."

Mom and Marc walked across the barnyard together, with Mom pointing out the minimal hail still on the ground and the bushel or two of leaves that were brought down from the tree during the storm. I heard them both laugh about something, which made me smile. If you really think about it, or if I do, a shared laugh is a vocal hug. We hug a lot here.

I moved forward with me own stuff for the day. I made sure the grill was cleaned, and lined it with charcoal, pine and Douglas fir chunks. Ever had wood-grilled chicken? Woo-hoo! Mine's the best (if not the only.....). Aleksy buzzed my phone.

"`Sup?"

"I got a call from Rand Tuss. He heard and saw a coyote last night, and there've been bobcats in the area. I think we should bring the cattle into the little pasture."

"Agreed. Horses? Four-wheelers?"

"Let's motor out. It'll save time."

"Oh----wait----you want me to go with you?"

"Well, yes! Why do you think I called you?!"

"I assumed you wanted me to know Marc's underwear didn't cause ever-lasting damage, and that your circulation had returned."

"You pest. Please tell me you didn't say anything to Marc about that."

"I didn't....."

"Good. Don't."

".....not after the first time....."

"Wait....."

"No, I didn't really. I really hope, though, that Trace and Toby don't tell Marc about it....."

"WHAT?!? THEY KNOW??"

"HAHAHAHA!!!"

"Gonna beat you so hard.....get out here and help me wrangle cattle."

"Not if you're gonna beat me! Marc's spending the night here! I can't be broken or bruised when we.....well.....you know."

"`Play Backgammon'?"

"Yeah, that's it. Fine. Where are you?"

"Equipment shed."

I slid the call closed and headed in that direction. I took the long way around so I could swing by Compost Condominiums. Everything looked all right. I think we all checked on the folks, whether to look for issues or to escape our own for a moment and reflect on their hard work over the years, giving us the opportunity to stand there and appreciate them. And, I think, to imagine where we'd be, sooner or later. We had three thousand acres, soon to increase by another thousand. At the end of Time, past, current and future Team W wouldn't occupy all of them, but the thought appealed to me. I'm not sure how the water would taste, but if I knew us, it would have the strong essences of Determination, Independence, Tenacity, and Hugs. All the different kinds of Hugs.

We no sooner got to the gate between the big and little pastures and Sebastian yelled at me, walking forward and leading fifty mamas and fifty babies. #27 survived and thrived, but we kept our eyes on her anyway. She wasn't outcast or anything by the herd. I doubted they even knew she was gone. We knew, though. A farmer won't admit this, but if something happens to an animal, we often feel like we failed in caring for them or keeping them safe. It was why Rand called Aleksy; he knows how we feel when something happens that we could've reasonably prevented. We fenced the cattle in actually closer to the barnyard in an area that has been occupied over the years by a huge stack of hay bales. They still had lots of room to move around, but the barbed wire surrounding them would go a long way to keep the coyotes out---and prevent them from attacking and dragging a calf away from its mother.

Once as sequestered as we could help them be, we handled the other big animal chores. I told Sebby he'd get a shower, but with the cattle in a smaller space, I needed him to be there with them. Bolt and Stan, though.....they could benefit from being brushed out, and it'd be good if Auntie P wanted to ride. The day wound down, and Aleksy and I stayed together as a team to get through as much as we could before the others arrived. The issue of hot water arose again, and we decided to end our work at 4:00 so we could take turns in the barn bathroom. Aleksy had already showered that morning, but I suppose that was just natural to him, as it was part of his schedule in Bozeman.

We ended right at 3:55PM and walked in the house to find Mom and Marc working together on other things for dinner. No one would leave the table hungry today, for certain. We announced our intention to get cleaned up, and then collected what we needed and returned to the barn. I elected to go first, and began my strip. Aleksy hung out with me while I cleaned up. He clipped his toe- and fingernails while I adjusted the water just right (which was, as always, on the cooler side).

"You're pretty well put together, too, Jozef."

"Thanks, but I have nothing on you and Marc."

"We've been weight training a lot longer than you have. Your potential for growth, if that's what you want, is big."

"Why'd you begin training to get your gains?"

"Oh.....I was lonely, I guess. I needed something to do to take my mind off of school, Eva being gone or me being gone from her, the whole family and farm drama.....I could focus on something easier to change on the outside than what was on the inside more in need of change."

"Ah. That kinda makes sense. I've never been lonely. Maybe I felt that way a little, but just a little; and only for a short period of time. I've been around for only a short period of time. So, were you feeling that way when you were a student, or when you started teaching?"

"In between. When I was going for my graduate degree. It's a solitary pursuit, as you'll find out. You're not in a class with a hundred others going after the same thing. It seemed like a social step backward for me. I made some not-so-great personal choices for a couple of years."

"Really? I find that a little challenging to believe. Or understand. Like what, if I can ask you?"

"Sure. Let's just say I kinda slung it around....."

"`It' meaning.....'that'?"

I pointed at my big brother's dick and laughed, enjoying the camaraderie of such an intimate conversation, something new between us.

"Yeah.....decided to see what I was missing, if anything....."

I scrunched my eyebrows and looked sideways at Aleksy as I stepped into the shower.

"So.....well, I'm not ashamed or embarrassed to say I kinda know what comes naturally to you....."

I pulled the shower curtain back, my hair wet and slicked back from my face.

"Are you telling me you've walked on the wild side? Dipped your toe---or some part of you---in the Dark And Forbidden Pond? Got yer Freak on?"

"So eloquent. I can see why you won that essay scholarship from the REA.....but yeah, I wanted to see what it was all about."

"And?"

"It was about five or so nights."

"Oh, my gosh.....you've been with men. I could not have seen that coming! WOW! Suddenly I don't feel so special anymore!"

"Yeah, well.....you go on feeling special, Kiddo. `The Gay' stuck with you. I was just a tourist for a few days."

"Holy crap! This is the most amazing conversation I've ever had! Keep going! Damn.....my big brother, switch hitting! What was it like? What did you do?!"

"Wait, hold on there, Cowboy! Do I ask you what YOU do??"

"Marc fucks my ass! Okay, your turn!"

We both laughed and calmed down. I decided to keep scrubbing while Aleksy kept talking.

"So, I maybe kinda did that.....not right at first, though. I was nervous----really nervous."

"Where'd this happen?!"

"Denver. I was there for an Ag Profs seminar. I decided it was time to act on my curiosities. I wandered down to a bar called The Wrangler."

"You must've been very popular.....I know that place by reputation. I've never been there."

"You're way too young to get in a bar! I'd HOPE you've never been there! I knew if I started drinking, I'd not only lose my inhibitions, I'd kick them to the curb. I was careful. Finally ended up talking with two guys also visiting. We talked for an hour or two, and I think each one of us were given at least five names and phone numbers on slips of paper. It was actually kind of uncomfortable, so the three of us left and went to a twenty-four hour diner and just laughed and talked. They figured out right quick I had no idea what I was doing, or really why. After a few plates of fries and who knows how many Coke refills, they said I was welcome at their hotel. I felt pretty comfortable with them, since they knew my lack of experience."

"Well, don't stop now!"

"I'm sure you can guess the rest.....nothing unusual. They asked me if I wanted to watch them first, and then I could join if I wanted. By then, I was kind of excited; whether for doing something completely foreign to me, or because maybe it wasn't so foreign, after all."

"How old were you?"

"Twenty-three."

"So I was.....Thirteen. Hey, that's when I outted myself to you!"

"It was. So, you kind of encouraged me, Jozef. By that, I mean you said you knew what you wanted, what you were, and it was time the World knew it. Or at least your family. I admired that courage. I also remember thinking, `I need to know what Jozef is going to be getting up to.....', so I decided to just experiment. See what the big deal was."

"I've seen what `The Big Deal' is. Both on me and on you. W genes.....we come by our gifts honestly."

"AHAHAHAHA!!! Yeah, those guys both said that.....or something like it."

"So you liked the show? Enough to go to the After Party and play?"

"Well....."

"Don't be shy now!"

"Okay, well, yeah, we got busy and.....well, I am curious no longer."

"But that was only one night. You said you experimented or something like it for five nights. Did you get caught in a time warp or something?"

"No.....but.....okay, I'll just be honest with you. I had a good time. I didn't get fucked, but the same can't be said for those two. We did other stuff, all which I'm sure you've done, too."

"Not with them! I'd remember!"

"So, I hung out with them Saturday night as well. More of the same. Wash----A LOT----rinse----A LOT----and repeat a few more times. I flew back to Bozeman, and that was that. Not long afterward, maybe a few months, another opportunity arose....."

"I bet it did....."

"Are you telling this story or am I??"

"You are! And damn! Don't stop!"

"A visiting professor, but a different department. Architecture, I think. It was just play. Exercise."

"Which you apparently liked....."

"Yeah, I did; it didn't make me think I might be bi or gay. I think I'm just kind of.....well....."

".....'a slut'?"

Aleksy reached inside the shower and turned off the hot water. I screamed.

"YOU BASTARD! DAMN! Well, weren't you??"

"NO. Just.....an all-American Agro person with a pulse and an open mind. Look, it's like this: there are things to see at Disneyland, and things to see at Disneyworld, and fun rides at both. There's no sign anywhere telling you if you like Disneyland you can't enjoy Disneyworld. If you're this big to ride the ride, then climb on. Oh, wait.....don't take that....."

"TOO LATE! HAHAHAHA!!! Okay, you're not a slut, and I've essentially done the same thing as you, but from the other side of home plate. I get it. I enjoyed my time with women, but it didn't change the fact that I like men and I love Marc. You like women and you love Eva. Not so different, in my mind."

"Nope.....agreed. Just thought I'd tell you that about myself. I don't know what it's like to love a man intimately, meaning, be in love with him; but I get the mechanical aspect of being with a man. And yeah, I liked it enough that one night became five. It's behind me now."

"Soooo.....were any of them `behind' you?"

"What.....no. To be candid: I would have, if any of them wanted to; there wasn't much interest, though....."

"Of course not! When you're Polish Pickle Packin', everyone you meet is a bottom!"

"Oh.....?"

"Okay, maybe not EVERYONE.....so maybe in my personal experience, it hasn't been that way.....yet. Marc and I talked about it, and we'll get there. Right now, we're fine with what we do. I'm REALLY fine with what we do."

"So I can tell. Your face hides nothing, you know....."

"I hope my Levis do! I don't want to have to explain anything to anyone who has to see me walking away....."

"I suspect this is a conversation uncommon to most brothers....."

"Surely the brothers in Fergus County, although I would not be surprised at all if Tommy and Trace have had similar discussions. Tom basically asked me flat out if I was gay. We were out riding horses. Both he and Trace are pretty open about themselves."

"Tom's a great kid. You guys are obviously tight."

"You and Dan are no different."

"This is a weird little community in some ways, but the bonds people can create are unbreakable. I think it's part of why people survive here. Oh----one thing else, and I want this, like the rest of it, kept confidential----Eva and I had this same talk a couple of weeks ago. I wanted her to know me honestly. It was shocking to her, but she understands it's in my past, and just something I wanted to experience. Please don't allude to this, or anything else, in conversation with her."

"Of course. I understand. Big Brother, you were brave to trek through those woods, and you were brave to tell me. Thanks. This conversation has been wonderful."

"Heh.....'brave' is a thirteen year old farm boy saying `I'm gay' to his big brother, 300 miles away. I told you this because I wanted you to know me better, or at least an aspect of me; and I hope you'll know how much I respect you and Marc, and you and Marc, together. None of this is easy, and unfortunately, none of this is getting easier for gay folk. You don't have to worry about me being there for you."

"I've never worried about that. That's why I told you before anyone else."

I reached for my towel to get out and dry off, but Aleksy already had it and handed it to me. We traded places in the shower, but not until we shared another hug, and he turned the water on. An advantage to the instant water heaters: you don't run out. Aleksy laughed.

"You should've heard Dan's reaction. I told him, too. He just rolled with it: `That's what happens when farm boys find out there's something other than sheep, and tighter----probably----too.'."

"HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

And so we groomed and laughed together, then got dressed (in our own clothes this time) and headed across the barnyard. K's car was there. I was guessing my boy was with her. When we got inside, sure enough, the group was amassing one at a time. Tommy sniffed the air and turned to K.

"Thank god.....he stood closer to the soap this time....."

We all laughed, and got caught up on everyone in the room who were not Clean Farm Boy Brothers.

"Jeffrey, I want to see the puppies!"

"Okay, K; right this way!"

K, Tom and I walked out the door and around the house, leaving the adults (a relative term, when it comes to relatives) to discuss AARP benefits or reruns of `The Lawrence Welk Show', or whatever it is they do. When we were near the dog run, Kristi turned and looked me dead in the eye. It's rare to see my co-best-friend this serious, but I knew it when I saw it.

"What you offered us is generous, and we'd like to accept gratefully. We didn't really talk about when, though. I'm not trying to interrupt your farm or your family, but I want to invite my sisters and brothers. I know our parents won't try to include them, since they'll be ashamed. I'm not expecting them to come, actually....."

"Oh.....they don't know yet?"

"No. We're not trying to hide anything from them; it's just my mom's parents are suddenly both in a nursing home in Helena, and all the emotional energy is being directed that way. It's going to be a challenge no matter how or when Tommy and I tell them, but this is a game of balance. And I don't like games. No matter how hard you try, they're competitive, and my parents are not allowed to lose."

"Damn, I'm sorry, Kids. What a way to start your life and your own family. Where are your siblings?"

"They're all in the state. Bozeman and Billings, and the twins are in Helena."

"Twins? Oh, yeah! Of course! I remember them! They're the oldest of you, right?"

"Right. They're Thirty."

"And you still have a little sister.....that's some age range. I'm one to talk, though; my great-grandparents had eleven kids who made it past birth, and their age range ran twenty-one years. When the youngest was born, he was the uncle to kids eighteen years old! So, do you think any of your siblings are going to share in the glad tidings? I really hope so....."

"I hope so, too.....no one talks about themselves when we get together or on the phone; it's always about church and work, work and church. I have no idea what my siblings like to do, who their friends are, anything. Conversations reflect Mom and Dad and how disappointed they are in any of us for any reason. They don't ascribe to the `like and have fun with your kids and grandkids'; it's all about other stuff. They're all good people; I know that. I'm just.....well, I'm like Marie, or I want to be. get an education, set down roots, raise kids with a good man, love them all and get through the years together. And maybe not in that precise order, either."

"Wow....sounds like you just wrote your half of the vows, K. Tom?"

"Nah. She'll just say the usual love, honor and obey', with strong emphasis on the obey' part....."

K shrieked with laughter, as did I. Tommy is the last man who needs someone to obey him for the sake of obedience. He needs to love and be loved. I knew that from personal experience over four years with him. It's what my boy and I had in and for each other, and what he'd have to offer K and their kids would make our relationship pale in comparison----precisely as it should.

"Okay, well, here are my own obligations on the horizon: next Thursday, I'm driving to Missoula so I can get all organized with classes. Friday, I'm going to a seminar at the hospital there about some challenges Mom is facing. The seminar will finish around 5:00PM. I was planning on staying over another night and return Saturday, but: how about next Saturday? Short notice, but we could do it as soon as then."

"Oh.....Saturday is the Sabbath.....no one in my family will come. That day is for one thing and one thing only.....shoot....."

"Until Sundown Saturday, right?"

"Yes, and that's going to be sometime after 9:00PM."

"Kids, evening weddings are not uncommon in other parts of the world, and I know for a very gay fact I can make this yard incredible with little lights, tables, chairs, everything. We can focus just on you getting married with no reception, which might seem a little dry, but possible. Or, we could take all of Sunday to send you off together with everything. I told you: it's all for you, and it's all on me. Whatever you want to do. I suppose once you're married in full view of the family who choose to attend, you're your own woman, in their eyes. They might never approve, but they can't challenge your decision. I mean.....can they?"

"No.....but life in our church can be challenging. A little shame gets stretched far, and only gets thicker."

"Well, poo about that, but that's them, not us. Team and Farm W celebrate their own. No shame, no judgment, no guilt here. So. Next Sunday?"

Tom and K looked at each other, smiles on their faces and, I think, sighs of relief.

"Next Sunday!", they said at the same time.

"Next Sunday!"

I pulled them into a hug and kissed them both. It's the privilege of the best man and pending uncle to kiss the bride AND the groom in a moment to celebrate them, us and the parasite who has an increasing appetite and crowding personality.

Tonight was about introducing Auntie P to everyone else, so making plans for my boy and my girl to marry in the same picnic grounds only nine days from now diluted the good will and comfort this whole dinner was about. I didn't know Patty had some social anxiety, but I'm not surprised when I hear that from or about anyone. There would also be, unspoken but present, Patty's concern for Mom.

The news of her dementia was recent, and all of us on Team W were reacting and responding with our own layman's research and attendance at seminars----which I hoped were friendly to those of us for whom the research was even being done in the first place. What benefit is there to attend and sit there puzzled for an hour or two, hoping for hope, only to have it impressed upon them: `Oh, you wouldn't understand this.....' We want to understand. We want to manage what of it we can. That's all.

Tom, K and I got to the puppies only for all three of us to be reduced to puddles before the `Kryptonie-by-the-dozen' on the ground before us. Lola Cola was happy to see more adoring fans, and was up and wagging her tail. Okay, you can go run, Mama Dog. O.C. took a moment to re-familiarize himself with Tom and K, and deciding they weren't threats he couldn't handle. Still, he moved inside the run so the pups could smell his presence. I had run off for treats and returned to see Lola Cola off in the corner of the yard, rolling around on her back and woof-growling. Her coat was so thick.....I knew Aleksy had a rake for her. We'd have to get to that soon, too.

Oh---speak of the Experimenting Ex-Professor. Here he was, his phone to his ear. He had on his Professional Professor voice. The kind that announces loading and unloading zones at airports, baseball scores on AM radio and anything else requiring the sound of Approachable Authority. He stayed a short distance from the three (seventeen?) of us until the call was over. Aleksy shook his head and smiled just briefly. He looked at me and shoved his hands in his pocket (though how he had room, I didn't know).

"Jozef. How much chicken did you marinate?"

"You brought six cut-up hens, so.....thirty-six or so pieces? Let me guess.....no, I can't guess."

"Ty Macklin. He has the father to the pups. He's Great Falls and wants to bring Maxwell here this evening. He didn't plan this, but wondered if I could take Max now. Sounds like we have enough food. I already told him to come. I can't say no when I'm getting a registered and viable sire for zero dollars. Others, particularly other three-year-olds, can command well over $15,000.00. I don't know if Max is in that league, but he has a serious pedigree. These pups are royalty."

"Perfect timing, in my opinion; imagine the photos on the website of sire and dame and a dozen pups from them, all together. We need to get that website going, and I think pictures of Max seeing the kids for the first time will be photo gold."

Tom and K agreed, but of course they'd agree to anything about a mommy and a daddy and a kiddy (or twelve). Regardless, Ty and Max were on the way. One more plate, one more chair at a dinner party where the ticket for admittance is $15,000.00. Check, credit card or stud dog accepted.

Lola Cola found a spot in the shade of the big tree and was reclined back, panting and enjoying a moment of solitude. I wasn't going to call her to come back, although she would have. Kristi saw, too.

"Tom, stay with me here. Let's get used to this cute, adorable, helpless baby scene. We'll be living it soon enough. Oh, but would you please bring my lemonade?"

My boy just smiled and stood up, taking off with legs longer than a giraffe could hope for, a Knight Errant for his Princess well on her way to being the Queen of royal kids. Aleksy and I talked logistics. I didn't know how these things went, but I wasn't sure it was wise for both parents to be in an enclosed space with the doubled-in-size-fairly-newborns.

"I don't know how Max and Lola Cola will get along, honestly."

"They obviously got along well at least once.....lookit all them puppies."

"Heh.....there's that. Still, I think the stall between Bolt and Stan for the night, and then Max can spend all day tomorrow in BerneezerLand. I think you'll be pretty amazed at Max.....he's not as small as Lola Cola."

"Not as `small as'?? She's a beast!"

"Bitches in this breed are about 25% smaller than the dogs, which is the technical and traditional name for the male canine. Anyway, Max outweighs Lola Cola by a good twenty pounds. Maybe more now. You'll see."

"Do you think Bolt or Stan will be intimidated? Are their stalls safe spaces for them? Sebastian's corral is open tonight."

"He's used to a pack, so putting him by himself would be cruel, with him being in a new place already. He'll bark all night. The horses will be good for him, and he'll be good for them. Actually, I'm gonna run put some new straw down for him, and get him some water in a bowl. Ty will have food for Max."

Okay, I know I go on and on about our animals, but in only two days we have a new rooster and an even bigger Bernese will be here, and I'm as excited as I am when I find a lost tourist along the high way. Heh.....nah. I'm never that excited. Lots of new mammals meeting other mammals over food and I was sure plenty of laughter and stories, and laughter about the stories, and stories about laughter from generations long ago. Marc was here. Maybe he and I could sleep in the barn (the hayloft!) and Max could take our room.

The others trickled in, starting with Eva. She parked and jumped out of her car, then opened the trunk and pulled out a big box. She shrieked a loving laugh at Aleksy, who walked out of the barn at pretty much the same time. You know that sound: a combination of Hi!', I missed you!', I love you!', and Help me carry this box!' Aleksy made no move toward the box until he wrapped his arms around Eva and kissed her first. Have you ever noticed that people in love are ageless, and their expressions timeless? It's innate, I think; all over the world, we all look alike when we're in front of That One Person for whom our time stands still and our world is rocked.

My broad-minded (for five nights, apparently) brother lifted the box out of the car's trunk, and they both walked across the barnyard laughing about something. I loved them each, and together? Ten times as much. With kids? I can't even imagine. I ran to open the door to the kitchen for Aleksy and followed them in to see what was in the box as big as a suitcase. He parked it on the kitchen counter and lifted the lid.

"It's just a little something I whipped up. Lemon cake sprinkled with limoncello with lemon sour cream ganache, raspberry filling between six layers, and fresh berries on top."

Mom just shook her head and looked at Eva like she was the alien responsible personally for the crop circles (in the fields, not the pizzas).

"You `just whipped this up'?"

"The new oven is amazing! I baked all six layers at once! It cut the production time by half! You boys were so good to go get that!"

I wanted----needed----to run my finger across that cake top and lick it like a Popsicle. I've seen photos of professional cakes, and this could compete with any for visual appeal, at the very least. I wanted K to see this, so I ran back to her and Tom and told her to go peek at what Eva `just whipped up'. I didn't offer any hints, knowing she'd like the surprise. Tom looked at me once we were alone.

"You make everything seem effortless, Jeffrey."

"It's not. No one knows better than you what it's like to be a farm boy and have challenges come day-in and day-out. But we get through them, we smile when we want to cry, and put on a good party at every available opportunity."

"Oh.....about a guest count for next Sunday....."

"Go."

"Well, my folks, K and I; that's six. Team W, give or take depending on schedules; six. Maybe half of K's siblings? Three. Whoever is gonna make this all official, one or two. Under twenty."

"That's it?"

"We can cut it down some....."

"Why would you cut it down?! This is a celebration. Don't even think about `cutting it down some'. No one from school?"

"Well, yeah, if that's okay."

"You made friends, and between your Freshman and Senior years, you became a popular kid! We graduated with 113 other imbeciles given a diploma only to make room for more parenting disasters. Surely there were some in there you liked. And what about K? None of her girlfriends?"

"Jozef, no one knows about any of.....this. We don't really know what to do or how to do this."

"Leave it to me. Just show up, say your lines, kiss the pretty girl, sign your name and you're done."

"How're you gonna run this show when you're standing with me?"

"Are you kidding? The same way you and I both know where every animal is on the farm, what they're eating, if they're getting along, how irrigation is going and the plants growing. Tell me how a wedding party, where people show up, eat together and move on is anything different. And we can do that on our horses. In fact.....what do you think of this?"

Since we were alone, I kept my voice quiet and ran a pretty cool idea past him, which he loved. REALLY loved. We agreed to keep it a secret----even from K! First, though.....we needed a better guest list, including people we knew from school. After K came back out, we kept the conversation focused on more names, and by the time we finished, a good thirty people would be invited. Of course not all of them would make it, but I'd bet with even a week's notice and most of the kids still in town in August, there'd be easily 35 or 40 in total. Damn, what we could've done with two weeks, or even a month. Heh.....what those two were thinking--and doing--a month ago is what got us in my yard, making plans for a week away.

While we were there, Kelly's Explorer was coming through the field, the Sangers' own driveway from their house to ours. I loved that. They parked, and all four of them poured out and looking `Farmer Sharp'; clean and pressed clothes, nothing fancy, and good boots on. Trace and Toby looked good each time I saw them; clothes that showed off their bodies, which were tight and muscled. They had nothing on Marc and Aleksy, but there's not a competition. Trace got more of Jon's features than Tommy's, and his long, black hair framed a handsome face that could easily be in the movies. Toby? Well, he had the look of the doorman/bouncer at whatever the hot club in Los Angeles was at any given moment. Definitely window dressing and eye candy, but to be taken seriously at all times. I liked how they were always just a half-millimeter closer than any two other cowboys would be, but to another gay guy? That half-millimeter conveyed the appearance they were walking hand in hand and shouting their love to the sky.

Kelly and Jon went in the house to get something to drink, and Trace and Toby joined Tom, K and me at the dog run. Marc came out, finally given a break from being sous chef for Mom. He looked happy to be out of the kitchen and in the fresh air and (returned and welcomed) sunshine. He greeted everyone and stood that defining and Winkte-obvious half-millimeter closer to me. Soon we were joined by Jon and Kelly, who came out with two big pitchers of drinks and a big tray of iced glasses. I suspected that was about all the ice we had.....I hoped Auntie P showed up soon with more.

We were about 6:30PM now, so I walked off to start the grill heating up. I learned years ago that indirect heat created the best smoky flavor for chicken, and I was going to do all of it at once. The grill was huge.....six feet by four feet. We'd had our parties there before.....so for Tom to want a couple of dozen for his wedding? Whatever. We could handle five times that number before we broke a sweat.

As I was getting the chicken out of the barn fridge so it could get up to ambient temperature before grilling, a nicer SUV drove off the county road and wound down the drive. Ah.....Navigator Black Label. Must be Patty. She wasn't afraid at the age of sixty to drive whatever pleased her little heart. As the rig got closer, I could see her. Patty didn't smile much, but that didn't mean she wasn't happy. She just had a stoic personality until she warmed up. Now I knew from Mom why that was. Aleksy and I ran across the barnyard after she parked by Mom's rig and waited for her to open the door and step out. So cool.....the running boards folded out automatically when she turned the motor off.

"Nephews! Look at you! You're both continuing to grow! Someday you'll scare a Simmental bull away, and they run from no one! Hugs! Come here, you two!"

We got hugs at the same time, dwarfing a woman who was perhaps 5'5"/165 cm. Aleksy and I grabbed the ice, and she held onto us. She wasn't frail, though; she was a farmer with exceptionally good taste in clothes, vehicles and jewelry. Mom, Kelly, Eva and K looked at her as Patty walked across the barnyard. She had on cowgirl boots, but they were for show---not work. Although the other four might've felt under-dressed by comparison, it was Patty who was being showy, and I think she realized it when she discreetly removed half of the rings from her fingers and the brooch from her jacket. Maybe people really dressed that way in Havre, or maybe she just wanted to have a reason to not wear farm clothes all the time. Regardless, she was here and Mom made introductions all around. Well, almost.

"Auntie P, this is Marc. He's new to Fergus County, and my friend."

"Hi, Marc; good to meet you. Are you by any chance the young man who exposed some holes in the school board?"

"That was me."

"Marie mentioned that. `Better than a Las Vegas show', apparently. Sounded to me you didn't do the school board any favors, but you sure did for the district itself of teachers, administrators and student. Do you think you'd reconsider if the school board shaped up?"

"Not at this point. I'm doing some post-doctoral work that might result in a series of ten books. We're just thinking and negotiating at present. To write that many books will take me one year for each. After that, I'm not sure I'd want to be in a superintendent position. My mind is open, though."

"I'm putting two and two together.....you're also the polite vigilante I saw on the internet. Well done, saving some girl you didn't even know from being beaten up by that thug. I suppose her boyfriend or husband was in the beer garden."

Silence. Which Eva broke with a slight cough to get attention.

"He wasn't in the beer garden. He was in the restroom, washing his hands to get the cotton candy and hot dog mustard off of them. That thug waited until Aleksy was in the rest room before attacking me."

"That was you?? Aleksy is your boyfriend?"

Eva just nodded

"Oh, damn.....that's awful. Not that Aleksy is your boyfriend! That's wonderful! I think if I were that thug, I would've thought twice about attacking a woman, and certainly not if she was in the company of a wall of these men! I hope he's still in jail. How did I not know you and Aleksy are together....." "It happened recently."

Aleksy seemed.....a little perturbed at Patty's almost-dismissal of him. I chose to believe her comments were the result of meeting new people and discussing situations she knew nothing, really, about. We needed to get her to the puppies....

"Auntie, come check out the newborn puppies; they're in the yard."

The word `puppies' was about all it took to put a big smile on her face, and Marc, Aleksy and Eva joined us. It looked like Team Sanger was huddling with Mom for a moment. I could believe she was just giving them some background information on her older sister. Probably not about the money, but maybe the curt behavior. Nothing to take personally, if possible. She was here to meet everyone. If she didn't like folks in family or in business, she wouldn't be here at all. Of course, she was charmed by the pups and Lola Cola, and gave a rub to as many as possible. Off to a good start with the Unpredictable Patty.....

I excused myself and wandered back across the barnyard to spread the coals and wood chunks around to get the grill above them nice and hot. I heard a diesel motor coming down the drive, getting louder as it got right up to the barn. Louder than that, though: Max. I hoped that air raid siren sound was Max.....if not, what else was coming to Farm W today?

Aleksy ran across the barnyard, waving at the driver. Must be Ty Macklin, soon-to-be former Swiss Bernese breeder. Aleksy pointed Ty to park his truck next to Dad's truck, and then followed over as Max made his presence made even more obvious. Are you listenin', Sebby? You have competition, at least in voice. If Aleksy wasn't exaggerating, perhaps in size, too. Really, though, my Big Guy; you have no competition. Your purple ribbon and adoration of the cows proves that.

Ty and Aleksy shook hands and then hugged, laughing about who knows what. People from Bozeman are.....some of god's special creatures. Just don't surprise them, upset them, or say the names Missoula' or Grizzly' around them. all the symptoms of rabies, or at least the speaking in tongues, rolling around on the ground and frothing at the mouth. Wait.....am I describing Rabies? I get groups confused sometimes.....

Aleksy opened the passenger door behind Ty's, and the largest dog I'd ever seen personally pounded out of the back seat. He wagged his tail and woofed at Aleksy, then ran off to find the nearest convenient tree trunk, light post, or immobile visitor to Farm W. Ahhhh.....I know how good that feels, New Dog. Max was obedient, and didn't take off running anywhere else. He stayed with Ty and Aleksy, but that tail that could rival any vertical brush in a car wash brought friendly greetings to all gathered. I heard a similar bark, and saw Lola Cola stand up and pose her palpitatin' posterior. Max saw her and woofed a response. Well, as long as those shock wave - inducing tail wags were friendly and not warnings, there wasn't much to worry about here.

Max stayed with Ty and Aleksy, but was clearly happy to see his mate. I explained to Auntie P and the others who the visiting dog was, and his relation to the puppies. I didn't say anything about Max coming to live on Farm W, since I wasn't sure of all the details, myself. Somehow, though.....it was off to a promising start. The whole day was. I got a protein First Breakfast, and I was about to grill a ton of the same kind of calorie for dinner. There'd damned well better be a Midnight Snack, too.....in the hayloft, the back seat of my truck, up on my mountain overlooking the `lake', or hell, I'll just park Marc on the rear seat of the four-wheeler and go off to the middle of the big pasture, illuminated by the full Moon tonight and the smile I always have on my face when I'm with my man.

Once I began getting chicken on to char, the grill became Winkte Central, a fact not lost on Tommy when he joined Marc, Trace, Toby and me.

"Is this a safe space for gay guys only, or can straight boys join in?"

Marc laughed.

"What do you want to `join in', Tom?"

"I wanna watch Jeffrey do his chicken!"

Toby, Trace, Marc and I laughed at him and each other. Tommy looked confused.

"What'd I say THIS time??"

Trace and Toby, standing on either side of my boy just side-hugged him. Toby set the straight boy straight.

"Well, a couple of things.....first chicken', at least to four of the five of us here, is a term to refer to a younger gay guy. Second, Jozef isn't going to do his chicken'; Marc has a `Chicken that he does'. So to speak....."

Marc and I turned a billion shades of red, but laughed the loudest. Toby was not wrong, but I wonder.....how did he know what Marc and I did?! Probably the way I walk.....gay guys just kinda know'. It's part of Gaydar. I had an idea what T & T got up to, but really, no one knows for sure. Tommy got it and just shook his head and turned red, a little embarrassed for saying even an innocent remark. That boy forgets nothing and cuts me about the same amount of slack, so I had no doubt I'd hear my name and chicken' in the same sentence again, and he'd never hear `chicken' the same way again, either. The party was off to a good start.

The laughter and drinks flowed smoothly, and after a few temperature readings, the chicken was ready to fly to the table. The grill was downwind of the chicken coop and run, by the way. I'm not a barbarian. We ate, talked, laughed some more, like the good guys they are, Toby, Trace and Tom jumped up to clear the plates (paper plates, but they're still good guys). Eva had slyly cut the cake just before dinner and had it all on smaller plates. Whole or in parts, the cake looked picture-perfect. No ice cream for this.....the cake got to be the star of the show, and the show itself. No one resisted, but we were all full on grilled bok-a-bok (what I called chicken when I was a little kid), Mom's salads (potato, coleslaw, Caprese), corn-on-the cob and Eva's own focaccia and gallons of iced tea, lemonade and the best well water ever drawn. And of course, we had leftovers to feed an aircraft carrier. Remember the size of the grill? It was crowded. I didn't actually count the individual pieces. I suspect my big brother got more chicken than planned.

The same could be said of a Harvard professor.