Way of the Heron

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Chapter Ten

Call Of The Heron

Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!

Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned. Especially in this day and age.

Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author.

Historical Note: This chapter happens during the months of May through August in 1868. The setting is the area in and around the mining town of Maury City, located in the arid uplands to the east of the southern Cascade mountains and a few days travel to the northeast of the Elxa's home, the valley of the heron.

And now, on with the story!

CALL OF THE HERON

Young Jim Willis came to the Lazy B Ranch looking for a job, but found a whole lot more there than he bargained for, waiting eagerly for him...

...from the men he met around the ranch and in nearby Maury City, the youthful cowboy learned how to slake a thirst for manflesh that had burned in him as long as he could remember...

...but his teachers had more to give than mere physical pleasures. They opened the door to new concepts, new ways of thinking about mansex, and taught Jim to listen for the...

CALL OF THE HERON

The first thing Eli Hunter was aware of as he awoke was the warmth. Snug beneath the cotton sheet and colorful Indian blanket that covered him, he luxuriated in the heat coming from the nude body of the bigger man who lay close behind him, spooned more-than-comfortably into Eli's back. Eli recalled the few times in his life when he had not woken up with that comforting presence near him, and shivered as he remembered the empty, cold feelings.

Ben Wyatt felt the movement. His big arms came up around Eli's torso on their own, automatically hugging the smaller, wiry man, pulling him back into his bearlike chest. Anything to keep his man warm and safe, just as Eli had once kept Ben warm and safe, long ago.

A memory flared within Ben then, of the wagon train they had come west with as boys, Eli eleven and Ben ten, and how they became firm friends during that arduous journey. An indication of the hardships the pioneers faced was the number of graves left in the wagon train's wake. Ben's mother was among those who succumbed. Eli had stuck close to Ben after that traumatic event, trying to comfort his younger friend as much as he could.

Much later, Ben came to believe that Eli and he had recognized something in each other that they then had no words for. The only experience the boys had with sex before they met was solitary masturbation. Beyond that, they had only a vague, inward perception that girls would never hold any attraction for either of them.

Everyone the pair had ever known seemed to think that was a terrible thing. So they kept how they felt to themselves, a dark secret they could not share, until they met each other. When they finally confessed to each other how they felt, each was relieved to find that the other did not consider him a freak because of it, were kindred spirits so to speak, and their bond of friendship consequently strengthened.

As the terrain got rougher, there were places along the trail where the wagons had to be lashed to trees and winched up or down hills too steep for the draft animals to negotiate. One day, when the wagon Eli's family used had been winched down a hill in that fashion, someone in too much of a hurry guided Ben's father's wagon into position at the top of the hill and started hooking it up before the previous wagon had time to move on. When Ben's father felt his wagon start to slip, he yelled a warning and pushed Ben off the seat where his son sat next to him, and into the arms of a bystander.

And moments later, with a great grating roar, it was over. Ben was not the only one frozen in shock as he gazed at the crumpled wreckage of the two wagons below him. But he was the first to tear off down the hill, crying out for his sole parent, only to find Eli there ahead of him, franticly trying to dig into the smashed, tangled mass to find his own family, until he was pulled away.

"Lemme go!" Eli yelled, looking to see who held him. It was one of the wagon train's guides, Mr. Thorsson. The man's thick, strong arms restrained the struggling boy easily.

"They're gone, son," the blonde Minnesotan breathed sadly, as he hugged Eli to him. "Come away. You don't wanna see it." He looked up and beckoned to Ben. "You too. Come with me, son."

Ben looked back before obeying. He saw blood dripping, running down a broken wheel spoke and making an ugly puddle that seemed to be seeping towards him, before a crowd of men blocked his view. He shuddered and went to the scout, who took the boys to the wagon he shared with his partner, Mr. Edgerton.

"Stay in here," Mr. Thorsson said as he lifted the boys into the wagon, "I'll be back soon."

"Sven! What the hell... "

The other guide had ridden up and left off swearing when he spotted the boys. Mr. Edgerton's shaggy, dark brown hair and longish beard were lightened by a coating of traildust. He took off his hat and slapped it against his denim-clad thigh, generating a cloud of tawny dust.

"Art," Sven began as he turned and went to his partner, but the boys heard no more of the guides' conversation as the men moved away, back towards the wreckage of the wagons.

Eli sat on a sack of flour, feeling numb. His father and he had been checking the harness on their team of oxen when the odd rumbling noise had begun. Caught between the animals, the man had saved his son's life by picking him up bodily and tossing him away from the wagon, but Eli's father had not been able to follow quickly enough. And there was his mother and little sister, both lying deathly ill inside the wagon. They could hardly have moved by themselves.

He glanced at Ben, who looked as miserable as Eli felt. Eli realized with a start that Ben's father was gone too. Eli went over and hugged his buddy. Ben started to cry.

"I've got you, Ben," Eli whispered as he held firmly onto the only friend he had left in the world, "I've got you... "

"Don't let go... don't you leave me too... " Ben managed between sobs, hugging back.

"Never, never... " Eli said as he hugged tighter and started to cry as well. Both boys sharing their grief and knowing all they had left to them was each other...

The past merged with the present as Ben felt Eli's hand come up to gently stroke his lover's thick arm. The bigger man could not help himself. He squeezed his best friend's naked body to him a little more tightly and whispered softly.

"I've got you, Eli... "

"Don't let go... " came the quiet response.

"Never, never... " the words caught a little in Ben's throat as he realized Eli was also remembering the traumatic events that had made the pair orphans, brothers, and two against the world. His lips came down on Eli's neck and he heard the man moan softly in anticipation of his lover's caresses, the touches only Ben could give him...

They made love, the gentle sort of love only two old buddies could make, coming together and sharing their bodies. Knowing exactly what pleased one or the other, doing it with real concern, one as pleased as the other when either came. And floating together in the blissful afterglow, bonded gladly in the singular togetherness that intense male bonding gives to those who are lucky enough to find it.

Their grumbling stomachs finally coaxed them to think about getting up. Reluctantly, they unsnuggled and rolled out of the bed. Ben could not help but admire his partner.

Eli was a spare, wiry man, 5'10", 160 pounds and covered with dirty blonde fur. His bright green eyes gave back the same kind of admiration for Ben. He grinned at the larger man.

"Good morning, little brother."

"Morning, big brother." Ben chortled.

'Little brother' Ben was anything but. When they first met, Eli was the taller of the two, which was normal, seeing as he was older by a year. Because of that, after the accident that had bonded them for life, the pair had fallen into the habit of calling each other 'big brother' and 'little brother'.

But when their growth spurts came, Ben soon outgrew Eli, becoming a bear of a man, with a blacksmith's build. Now he was 6'4" and 240 pounds of rampant masculinity. All wrapped up in a thick pelt of light brown fur that any real bear would have envied.

Partly because of Ben's intimidating appearance, and partly because of some timely assistance he had provided that got the sheriff of Maury City out of a rather tight spot a couple of years earlier, Ben had been offered the job of deputy sheriff. Eli was made one too, because they came as a pair. No one in Maury City seemed to mind that, so everything worked itself out to everyone's satisfaction.

"C'mon," Ben grinned as he pulled two towels off a shelf and stepped to a nearby door.

Their room at the back of the jailhouse had a door that opened onto a seldom used alleyway. A few steps away was a huge stock tank that stored water for a neighboring livery stable. The naked men, seeing the coast was clear, stole through the cool morning air up to the tank, the sides of which were about five feet high. Eli was just able to perch his bearded chin on the edge and look down into it.

"Is the water clean?"

"It's cleaner than you are!" Eli chuckled merrily.

"Here, big brother," rumbled Ben, "lemme help you in!"

Before he knew what was happening, Eli was picked up and tossed into the water like a sack of feed. The action startled a droop-eared mule standing nearby out of its slumbers as the man ker-plunked loudly into the drink. The rudely-awakened animal jumped and brayed in alarm before running off.

Eli came up out of the cold water shivering and sputtering. He was glad his little brother knew his own strength. Eli could just as easily have been thrown completely over the stock tank.

Ben looked rather satisfied with himself as he draped their towels over the corral fence. Then he moved effortlessly as he pulled himself up, over the edge of the wooden vat and sank into the water. Eli could not help but notice how the level of the water in the stock tank rose as his 'little brother' settled in.

Because the water was cold, they did not spend too much time in it. They scrubbed themselves and each other's backs furiously, then scrambled to get out. The towels rustled busily as the two men dried themselves and rubbed the chill out of their limbs.

"Morning, deputy Wyatt, deputy Hunter."

They looked and saw Harold Mott, the owner of the corral, leaning on the fence and watching the naked men with more interest than some might have thought warranted. Eli and Ben continued to dry themselves unconcernedly. They had permission from Harold to use the tank for bathing whenever they needed.

"Morning," Eli returned companionably as he dried his balls.

"Is Sheriff Johnson back from Happenstance yet?" asked Harold, naming a small cowtown to the east of Maury City.

"Nope, we're still holdin' down the fort," Ben answered, smoothing out his bushy beard.

"I hear Al has more than that bank robbery to keep him busy out there," grinned Harold. "Word is he's stayin' in the hotel run by the widow O'Conner. She's a right hospitable lady, if you know what I mean!"

"Yep!" Eli responded. "Al oughta be in a pretty good mood when he gets back!"

"Well, I won't keep you two out here chattin'. Y'all might get arrested for indecent exposure!"

They all laughed, knowing that until the sheriff returned, Ben and Eli were the law in Maury City. The deputies went back to their room. As Ben was hanging up the towels to dry, he noticed Eli grinning wryly at him.

"What?"

"I was thinkin' mebbe ol' Harold's right. Mebbe I oughta arrest you."

"For washin'? Then you're guilty too, you know."

"Naw, not for that." Eli came closer and caressed his lover's bearded cheek before going on softly. "For bein' the most damned handsome cuss in the county!"

"That's something you're guilty as hell of too," Ben sighed, before bending down to kiss his big brother.

Once they were dressed, the men went into the jailhouse. There was one man locked up, still sleeping off his bender of the night before. Eli unlocked his cell and left the door open.

"When Fred wakes up he can get out on his own," Eli said.

"Right," nodded Ben. "Let's go get some breakfast."

Nothing much out of the ordinary happened that day as the pair did their rounds and usual patrols. Maury City was an orderly place, for the most part. The local silver mine workers, the soldiers from nearby Fort Seward and the cowboys from the surrounding ranches might get a little out of hand on the weekends when they all came into town to blow off steam. But on a weekday like this one, peace and quiet reigned. The deputies' rounds were conducted in leisurely quietude.

In the early evening, after having dinner at a local hotel, the deputies wandered over to their favorite saloon, the Mineshaft. It was there that they had the greatest chance of socializing with other men like themselves, as the place had a 'reputation'. As they neared the batwing doors, neither noticed a young cowboy standing in the shadows across the street, nervously smoking a cigarette.

Jim Willis had been trying to get up the nerve to go into the Mineshaft for a half hour or so. He knew what rumor said went on in that place, the kind of man-to-man activities he had always wanted to try. But he had never known another guy who liked those things. He would have been willing to wait for that, to experience his first time with someone like the handsome cowboy he had met earlier that day at the Lazy B Ranch, but so much seemed to be beyond his control at that moment.

Sandy Epps had not yet turned twenty, like Jim, with fair hair that must have inspired his nickname and eyes green as the sea. Jim had noticed the young cowhand right away when he rode into the Lazy B, looking for a job. As they talked, Jim thought he had seen a spark, a hint, of... something, he did not know exactly what, just was not sure. It was more than just friendliness, and Jim hoped Sandy would like him, a lot more than just as a friend, but things like that took time, and after his interview with one of the owners of the ranch, the man who ran things for his partners, Jim was sure he and Sandy would not have the time they needed.

Jake Beeson had spent most of his life working outdoors. It showed in his looks. His handsome features had been buffeted by all sorts of weather, giving him a prematurely aged appearance. Plus, Jake's brown hair had begun to go gray early in life, as some men's hair did. The longish hair on his head and his trim beard were shot through with gray. Though he was only in his mid-thirties, Jake looked a lot older.

A no nonsense sort of guy, Jake gruffly inspected Jim's body like a butcher would a side of beef, looking for any imperfections or weaknesses. But Jim's father had run a few steers on his small farm and, as far as cows went, Jim had grown up knowing what to do, how to do it, and was built for the work. Jake finally admitted Jim was 'acceptable', but wanted to know if he had the 'temperament' for ranch life. Jim was mystified by the question.

"Whatcha mean?"

"We only get to town once a week," Jake explained, staring at Jim in a way that made the young man feel a little apprehensive. "The boys here, well, they have urges that hafta be taken care of. And as the new guy, you might be asked to help 'em out."

The way Jake smirked when he said 'asked' left Jim in doubt as to whether or not he would be allowed to say no. But he made light of the grizzled rancher's suggestive warnings, saying he could handle that sort of thing as casually as he could, and took the job. The young cowboy did not really have any choice, being nearly broke and having had no luck in finding work at the other ranches in the area around Maury City.

Jim knew he wanted mansex: he had been attracted to men as long as he could remember. But growing up as the only boy on an isolated homestead, he had never had the opportunity to try it and was totally inexperienced. The idea of his virginity being taken by the first horny cowhand who 'asked' bothered Jim no end.

Now if he could be sure it would be Sandy who did the asking, that would have been another matter altogether to Jim. But he knew that circumstance was unlikely. From speaking with Jake, Jim came to understand that Sandy was the current 'new guy' at the Lazy B.

As they left the cabin that Jake used both as his home and office, Jim looked around for Sandy. He was hoping to get a chance to talk to the handsome cowpoke again and find out if what Jake had insinuated to him was true, if the other hands used the new guys for sex. But how he was going to broach such a sensitive subject was a poser.

Jim could not help but grin to himself as he imagined asking: 'Excuse me, Sandy, but will I hafta suck on your pecker if I start workin' here?' Jim also could not help hoping that the answer was: 'Yep! Get to it, handsome!'. But Sandy was nowhere to be seen.

Jake proceeded to show Jim the bunkhouse the ranchhands shared. It was basically just a big room built from thick wooden planks and posts, with a number of sturdy double wide bunk beds clustered around a huge potbelly stove that kept the place warm during the winter. Jim noted that privacy was practically nonexistent in the barracks like building, but he had expected something like that.

Jake showed Jim which bed would be his. Like all the other bunks, it was a double bed, meant to be shared, and Jim saw he would be sharing this one with someone. At least whoever his bunkmate was kept it neat and the blankets looked and smelled clean enough.

Jake also introduced Jim to the few men who happened to be around. Most of the others were scattered around the ranch working. Those he did meet seemed as interested in his body as Jake, which really got Jim's imagination going. As he departed to retrieve some of his belongings left in Maury City and settle some accounts there, a process that would probably take him another day or so, Jim heard two nearby workers whispering and chuckling behind his back.

"Bien parecido vaquero!" [Good-looking cowboy!] muttered a handsome Hispanic hand named Miguel Lozano.

"Mirar bien bastante devorar, eh?" [Looks good enough to eat, eh?] his companion, a blonde cowboy named Brett Randolph asked. Miguel grinned at him and put a big hand on Brett's shoulder affectionately.

"Your Spanish is gettin' better, amigo."

Jim had not caught any more of the pair's mysterious conversation, but it unnerved him more than a little. He was sure the crew were planning something for later, probably a gang rape in the bunkhouse. So there he was in Maury City, standing nervously outside a place where he hoped to meet someone who would be his first, a man of Jim's own choosing.

Still, he found it hard, thinking of Sandy and wishing there was someway Sandy could be the one to do it... But no, it was too late now. And it was still unclear whether or not Sandy liked guys the way Jim did anyway...

"Holy shit!"

Jim's expletive was muttered involuntarily as the cowboy spotted a burly man who walked - no, strutted would describe it better - along the plank sidewalk towards the Mineshaft as if he owned the town. Despite his size, he looked only a little older than Jim, in his mid-twenties, perhaps. Jim felt his pecker plump up in his jeans and his mouth go dry. This was definitely the one, the ideal man Jim wanted to take his cherry.

Jim could already imagine being crushed and taken by a big man like that, one whom he would not be able to fight off. It would sort of be just like what he imagined was waiting for him back at the Lazy B. A mob of horny cowpokes, impossible to resist, who would strip him, hold him down despite his useless struggles, and take his ass, one after the other, all night long...

"Sweet Jesus, let him go into that saloon, let him be the same sort of guy I am!" Jim breathed earnestly as he drank in the sight of the handsome man.

Jim's fervently whispered prayer was answered, but there was a catch. The big guy stopped before the batwing doors and was partly silhouetted by the light from within the saloon. Jim groaned inwardly as he saw the man turn to speak to another, smaller fellow who accompanied him, one whose presence had been eclipsed until then by his larger buddy's form.

'Shit. He's got a pardner,' Jim thought, unsure of what to do. Then, as the pair went inside he steeled himself to follow. He flung his cigarette on the ground and stomped on it, grinding it out resolutely under one scuffed boot. 'I'll ask 'em both, if I hafta!" he resolved. "I'll sure hafta accommodate more'n two when I go back to the ranch!'

Jim went up and pushed boldly through the batwings, composing himself to look at ease as he entered the bar, unsure as to what he would encounter. Once inside, he looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the light. The Mineshaft seemed at first glance to be no different from any other saloon Jim had ever been in and the cowboy scratched his russet beard in mild perplexity. Somehow, he had expected a place with a 'reputation' to look different.

He spotted the men he was following, bellied up to the bar. They had just gotten a couple of beers. He fingered the change in his pocket and hoped he had enough to buy them drinks. He moved across the sawdust-strewn floorboards towards his quarry like a catamount stalking a bighorn.

"Hey, Eli!" A voice called from a nearby table. Jim saw four men seated there. The one who had spoken shuffled a deck of cards. "Come and join us! Ben too, if he'd like to play a hand or two."

Eli waved and went to sit in on the cardgame, but Ben evidently declined. Jim noted all that closely as he sidled up to the big guy. Eli was his partner, and the man Jim had first seen outside was Ben.

As he got a beer, Jim covertly studied Ben's image in the big mirror hanging over the bar. Ben looked even more intimidating than Jim had first thought, which thrilled him more. It was not long before Jim realized Ben was using the mirror too, to study the other men in the room.

The men who were miners were distinguishable from the cowboys by their almost knee high boots and lack of bandannas hanging about their necks. There were a couple of soldiers too, in their neat, dark blue uniforms. Ben took them all in, but his eyes kept flickering back to Eli as he sat hunched over his cards. Ben did not seem to notice the man standing next to him though, and Jim steeled himself to speak up, though he had absolutely no idea how he was going to ask for what he wanted.

Just then Eli jumped up from the table. He hurried over to Ben and started whispering excitedly. No one else but Jim could hear what they were talking about.

"Loan me some money, little brother!"

'Little brother?!' Jim thought in perplexity as he eyed Ben again. It was the last sort of nickname he could have imagined for such a giant of a man.

"Fuck no!" Ben grumbled. "I'm not stakin' you!"

"But I can't lose! Look at this hand!"

Despite himself, Jim could not help but look. Eli's hand was good. He held three Jacks.

"No." Ben repeated flatly.

"Hey, you."

Jim jumped when he realized Eli had spoken to him.

"Uh, yeah?"

"You wanna get in on this? Stake me and I'll spilt the pot with you!"

"Don't do it." Ben warned, turning his eyes on Jim for the first time. Ben's irises were an unusual, soft gray in color, shining like polished granite...

"Whatcha say?" Eli urged, snapping Jim back into real time.

Ben studied Jim as the cowboy fished in his pocket and poured the few coins he had out on the counter. Jim was a handsome young guy, apparently not yet twenty, with longish, dark red brown hair and a short, full beard the same color, both roughly trimmed. His blue eyes looked weary and Ben wondered if the man would let him and Eli do something about that.

"I wish I could, friend, but that's all the money I got," Jim replied as he pointed to his pitiful pile of change.

"Goddammit!" muttered Eli as he went back to the table, where loud whisperings commenced between Eli and the other players.

"My name's Ben Wyatt," the big man said, introducing himself to Jim. "That," he said, hooking a thumb back behind him, "was Eli Hunter."

"Pleased to meet you, sir." Jim said as they shook. Ben's hand enveloped his completely.

'Judas Priest! He could crush me with those hands if he wanted to!' Jim thought.

"Forget the 'sir' nonsense, ah, what's your name?"

"Oh! Sorry, I'm Jim, Jim Willis."

"Whatcha do around here, Jim?" Ben smiled a smile that Jim was sure he could easily get lost in.

"I ride for the Lazy B."

"Really? I know the owners and used to ride for them myself. I don't get out that way as much as I'd like since I moved to town," Ben informed Jim. "It's a good outfit to work for."

"I hope that's so." Seeing Ben's puzzlement, Jim went on. "I mean I just signed on there today. I'll start workin' there the day after tomorrow."

Jim swallowed the last of his beer and checked his change to see how many more he could buy. If he could get a buzz, maybe it would not hurt as much when Ben took his cherry... or beat his ass for asking him to. Ben drained his mug and signaled to the bartender, a man he called Chester and apparently knew well, for two more beers. He frowned when he saw Jim fooling with his change.

"Put that away. When you drink with Ben Wyatt, you drink on me."

"I... thanks," Jim managed as they clinked mugs and drank.

"If you really wanna pay me back, think of a way to get that idjit away from the card table!"

Ben scowled the words as he looked into the mirror. Jim looked too. Eli was shaking hands with his opponents. Apparently a deal of some sort had been struck and the cardgame recommenced.

"Eli? But he had a good hand. If I had the cash, I'd stake him."

"Eli can't play cards worth owl shit!" grumped Ben. "But he thinks he can, which makes it even worse. Mark my words, Jim, he'll turn three Jacks into a losin' hand!"

"Is Eli your pardner?"

Ben's head swiveled around and his gray eyes bored into Jim, who almost jumped when he saw the big man's reaction.

"Er, um, if that ain't too personal a question, Ben."

"No," he said easily after studying the young cowboy some more. Ben lifted his mug and took another drink before he answered Jim. "Eli and I have been together since we were orphaned as kids. We were lucky enough to find new parents who took us both in, so we grew up together. We consider ourselves brothers."

"Oh. I'm sorry... "

"Don't be," Ben said, his soft gray eyes steadily holding Jim's blue orbs. "We've gotten through everything life's thrown at us 'cause we had each other and worked through it all together, sharin' the joy and the pain. Without him, I... "

Ben trailed off and turned his head to gaze pensively at Eli's reflection in the wide saloon mirror. A little shudder went through the big man's frame. Jim saw it and wondered, amazed by how vulnerable Ben suddenly appeared.

Forgetting they were in public, the young cowpoke reached over and put his hand on top of Ben's and squeezed it in sympathy, without thinking. He was moved by compassion and some other, unnameable emotion. The pair, like so many others, were ultimately just two lonely voyagers through life, trying to make contact with other kindred spirits. And at that moment, they had found one another.

Ben looked down at Jim's hand. When he realized what he had done, the cowboy tensed up, but resolutely left his hand where it was, wryly wondering at the same time what the inscription would be on his tombstone. Ben looked at Jim and spoke softly.

"Let's get a table, so we can talk more privately."

"Ben, I wanna ask you something, but I don't know how," Jim managed in relief as they carried their mugs to an empty table near the stairs. For the first time Jim realized the Mineshaft rented rooms as well as he noticed a pair of men climbing the steps together.

"About me and Eli?"

"Sorta... Look, lemme tell you what happened to me today... "

When Jim finished spilling his guts to Ben, the big man did not know whether to laugh or not. The deputy knew the owners of the Lazy B very well, and he and Eli had once worked there as hands themselves, before becoming deputy sheriffs. But he had never known of anyone on the ranch who had been forced to do anything against their will, much less get raped.

Ben was not sure if Jim was being made the victim of a practical joke or not, but the fear and want he saw in the younger man's blue eyes was real. Ben told Jim if he wanted to be initiated into man to man sex, Ben would do it with all the gentleness and love he could muster. But Jim had to be sure, because he would remember it for the rest of his life, and a memory like that had to be a good one, if you could make it so.

"I'm sure," Jim said, reaching out to touch the back of Ben's hand where it rested in the shadow of he staircase. He gently stirred the dark hairs that grew there. "When I first saw you outside, struttin' along like you owned the town, I was sure... " Jim looked up at Ben and spoke his need in a strained whisper. "You're so goddamn big and handsome, Ben... I wanna feel you holdin' me down, like you was some wild beast and I was something you've caught, helpless... I wanna feel you be the first to take my ass, open me up, show me what mansex is all about... You, Ben, you... "

Ben took Jim's hand and gripped it hard as his gray eyes shone with a primal emotion.

"Lemme talk to Eli... "

"Ben, I won't mind if your pard wants to join in, I just... I want you to be the first... "

"Eli ain't the type to force himself on nobody, Jim, me neither. But if you want us, we'll give you all we got... "

Jim was about to respond when he spotted the bartender coming over and warned Ben with a look. Ben turned his head to see his good friend, Chester Quinn, the owner of the Mineshaft. He noted the worried look on the man's face.

"What's up. Chester?"

Chester nodded at Jim in greeting before leaning over to whisper in Ben's ear. Ben just sighed and, excusing himself to Jim, got up. Jim swiveled his chair around and watched as Ben went over to the table where Eli had been playing cards. The cowboy's eyes widened when he saw what was going on there. His and Ben's emotional talk had blocked out all else going on in the saloon, and from what Jim could see, a lot had happened in that short time.

Eli looked like an actor in some melodrama. He was on his knees with his hands clasped, pleading for something from one of the men he had been playing cards with. Everybody in the saloon was watching by the time Ben arrived. After that, Eli looked relieved, and the other cardplayers seemed quite apprehensive.

"What is it this time?" the big man scowled. Jim got the definite impression that this was not the first time Ben had been called upon to get his partner out of a jam of Eli's own making.

The young cowpoke watched Ben in amazement. He was impressed by how terribly threatening Ben could make himself look when he wanted to. The burly bruiser glared in apparent disgust at the men grouped around the velvet covered card table before him as if for two cents he would be more than happy to squash the whole lot of them.

"Eli... " one of the cardplayers squeaked in fear, then coughed and started again. "Ah, Eli here made a wager, of his own free will, and before witnesses."

The other three players nodded vigorously in agreement with the one who had spoken. Jim figured the speaker had won the wager, whatever it was. Ben looked at the man expectantly.

"Well!?" he finally demanded, in a boom that made half the men in the saloon jump.

"He lost the hand to me. So he has to pay up."

"Pay Myron so we can get the hell outta here!" Ben growled as he turned to Eli.

It seemed to Jim that Ben's partner was the only man in the Mineshaft Saloon whom Ben could not intimidate. Eli got up and casually brushed the sawdust off his pants while Ben glowered over him ominously, waiting for Eli to explain. Eli put a hand on Ben's shoulder and coaxed the bigger man down so he could whisper in his ear for a few tense moments.

"You what?!!" Ben bellowed, straightening up abruptly. Jim was sure the glass panes in the saloon's windows had all rattled at the big man's outcry.

"Go on, tell 'em," Eli was saying calmly. "It's not a legal wager if you hafta do something illegal to pay it off."

Ben stroked his light brown beard in thought. He glanced briefly at Jim and his face softened for a split second to give his new friend a wink. But then the terrible visage returned and frowned horribly on the hapless victor in the cardgame.

"He's right, Myron. What you want is against the law."

Myron sputtered indignantly. His witnesses objected. And Eli smiled triumphantly.

"However... " Ben began, looking thoughtful. It got so quiet in the saloon that Jim was sure he could hear a leaky beer tap dripping behind the bar. "...seein' as the sheriff is gone, one could say there was no law in this town, if only temporarily."

Time seemed to have stopped. Finally, the victor replied. Jim could tell Myron was picking his words very carefully.

"So... I can... have my wager?"

"Sure!"

"Ben!! Why you low-down, stinkin', polecat you!" Eli roared at his partner as the cardplayers grabbed the spare framed man and started hustling him upstairs.

"Stop fightin' us, Eli," one of players smirked. "You lost on purpose, 'cause you like what gonna happen to you, and you know it!"

"That's a damned lie!" spat Eli, provoking more laughter. "I always play to win!"

"Some men have different ideas about what constitutes a win," returned Myron merrily, rubbing his crotch openly in anticipation, so Eli could see. "And you just hit the jackpot, buddy!"

Eli started to cuss again in protest, but more attention was paid to Ben when he spoke again

"One thing, though... "

Ben's words froze the action again. He walked over to the group of four men who were holding onto Eli firmly. Eli was still struggling against them, but even he was waiting to hear what his little brother had to say. Ben looked into each set of eyes until he was sure he knew who the men were and that they knew he knew.

"Take your pleasure," he rumbled as menacingly as he could. "But if you hurt my big brother... "

Ben did not bother to finish his threat. The men gulped and stammered out that they were not sadists or anything and that if Eli would just relax he would get as much out of it as they would. They promised not to leave a mark on him.

"On the outside, at least," one snickered.

"You bastards!" Eli cursed, starting to fight again. He was hopelessly outnumbered and any one of his debtors could have made two of him. "Goddamn you Ben! You just wait!" he threatened as the commotion moved up the staircase.

"Hey, Myron!" another man in a soldier's uniform with sergeant's stripes called out as he vaulted up the steps behind the group of horny cardplayers.

"What, Hiram?"

"Can I watch?" he asked. Then, remembering Ben, he turned to the big man and vowed, "I won't touch him!"

"Sure," Myron answered, after seeing Ben nod in approval. Hiram Mitchell was a friend of Ben's, as were most of the men in the saloon. "Anybody else here wanna see this loser pay his wager?"

Upon hearing Myron's announcement, there was a general movement towards the foot of the stairs. Every man in the bar was curious to see what would happen. And the abundance of wood that could be discerned, straining at the crotches of their trousers gave the promise of a fine jack off circle. Eli was appalled.

"Ben! This is... How could you?!" he sputtered.

"Try room five, gentlemen!" Chester called out, grinning widely. "I believe a previous guest left a length of rope in there!"

"No! Ben!" Eli's voice suddenly sounded worried. "You gonna let 'em tie me up like a yearlin' calf?"

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before bettin' on cards!" Ben shouted up from the bottom of the staircase. "Relax and they won't use the rope. Right, boys?"

"Yessir, yessir," they avowed, before grinning evilly at Eli. "As long as he's a good boy... "

Eli's face went white and his struggles lessened, though his voice could still be heard pleading as he was dragged to room five.

"No, please... Ben!"

The slamming of a door ended intelligible speech, but the commotion went on. Ben sighed heavily and went back to where Jim sat. The saloon was almost empty, as most of the men were upstairs, watching or participating in Eli's 'payment'.

"Maybe in the future Eli won't bet what he ain't willin' to part with," Ben grinned. "And pay up without makin' a fuss and attractin' unwanted attention!" Ben's grin faded when he saw the look on Jim's face. "What's the matter?"

"I think I just saw my future at the Lazy B," he replied.

"You wanna go watch? Maybe after you see it happenin' to someone else, you won't fear it so much."

"I think I'd rather be with you, Ben. I know about how people can be cruel and takin'. I want you to show me how it can be gentle and good and mean something too... "

"Okay, Jim. Let's go."

Jim stood, glancing up the stairs as he did so.

"But I feel bad about Eli... "

"Why? You didn't force him to make that bet."

"Aren't you worried about him?"

Ben looked up the stairs in a way that told Jim he was, but the big man spoke very calmly.

"Eli's got sense enough to know when he's beaten. He'll pay off his debt without any more fuss."

"Could you have stopped it?"

"Not really. Wagers like that are made all the time between men when they play cards, and not only in this saloon, when they don't have any cash, or sometimes even when they do. If you wanna see a really intense hand of cards bein' played, you wait until you see two randy studs who both like to be on the top gettin' into a game where they know one or the other is gonna get ridden like an unbroken colt, hard and long, when it's over!

"Bets like that might offend some folks' sensibilities, but they don't have any business tellin' the rest of us what to do, especially when what we do doesn't hurt them. And those bets do get collected. Eli knows that. He was tryin' to get out of it on a technicality, like some shyster. He oughta know better... hell, he does know better than to try something like that."

"Why was he so scared when they mentioned tyin' him up?"

Ben licked his lips as he pondered his response.

"Now that's a story. Can you keep it to yourself?"

"Sure, Ben."

"Well, the short version is, I once rescued Eli from a guy who'd kidnapped him, hogtied him and was gonna rape him."

"Jesus H. Christ!" Jim hissed. "Did he get... "

"No," Ben answered Jim's unfinished question. "I got there in time and stopped it. I'd never felt an anger like the one that rose in me when I saw my big brother trussed up like a chicken and hangin' like a side of beef with some filthy pig about to violate Eli's ass with his stinkin' prick. It made me go sorta crazy.

"The motherfuckin' rapist saw it in my eyes, 'cause he got down on his knees and started beggin' for his life, but I shut him up by shovin' my shotgun into his mouth and holdin' it there with one hand while I pulled out my knife with the other. I told him that one way or another, he was never gonna rape again and gave him the choice: lose his cock and balls and live the rest of his miserable life as a gelding or have his head blown off. He chose the latter. I pulled the trigger with no more feelin' than you might have when you swat a fly. I think it actually improved the bastard's looks."

Ben spat and stamped the lugie hard into the dirty sawdust underfoot, in a faint echo of the anger he had once felt. Jim was shocked and fascinated at the same time by Ben's tale, but did not doubt the rapist deserved what he got. Rape, like murder and rustling, was a hanging offense, and strange as it might sound, Ben's offer to let the man go after castrating him was mercy of a sort in that day and age. Ben continued on without paying any heed to Jim's reaction.

"Eli ain't never liked ropes since, though I've let him tie me up a couple of times when we play. Once he said he wanted me to truss him up, but as soon as I tightened up on the ropes, he started breathin' hard and turnin' red like he was havin' an attack of some kind. I couldn't untie him fast enough. And afterwards he had bad dreams for several nights... "

Ben looked up the staircase again as concern lined his face.

"I think I will go check on him."

Jim got up and followed his new friend. Ben opened the door to room five slowly and put his head inside. Jim heard nothing but strange, quiet, intriguing little noises.

Ben pulled his head out, grinned and beckoned Jim closer. The young cowpoke glanced inside and saw a crowd of men, jacking each other off. They were grouped around the four winners of the card game, and they were around Eli. He was kneeling and sucking hungrily and energetically on one of the winners' cocks. It did not look to Jim as if Eli absolutely hated what he was doing.

Ben urged Jim back and he closed the door quietly. Soon after, they left the saloon and walked up the main street in silence. It was a fine, starry night, the last one in May, still and cool. When Ben stopped in front of the jailhouse, Jim looked at him in surprise.

"What're we doin' at the calaboose?"

"Don't worry, citizen," Ben said in his best official voice as he flashed his badge at the stunned cowboy. "You're safe with me."

"Lord 'a mercy," Jim squeaked. "You're a lawman?!"

"That's right. Just do as I say, and we'll have no problems!"

Jim could not believe that he had propositioned an officer of the law. But at the same time, after seeing Ben's performance at the Mineshaft, Jim understood why Ben was a deputy. Ben's intimidating manner did most of his work for him. Jim knew most bad guys were bullies at heart, and they could easily be bullied in turn.

As Ben unlocked the door and let him inside, Jim looked around. A low-burning kerosene lamp revealed a spartan office. There was a desk, a couple of chairs, a cabinet for papers and a glass-fronted case mounted on the wall that displayed a number of rifles. A few wanted posters were tacked up here and there. The cowboy followed Ben into the back of the building, past a couple of empty cells, and into the room Eli and Ben shared, a perk of their job as deputies, as their presence was required whenever there were prisoners to care for. Another dim lamp shed a feeble light within.

Though he truly wanted what Ben had to offer, Jim was suddenly nervous. He sensed the truth of what Ben had told him earlier, that he was about to experience something that would be a milestone in his life, a defining moment he would never forget. The young cowhand jumped when he heard Ben lock the door.

Ben chuckled in the semidarkness. He tried to make it sound like an evil chuckle. From what Jim had told him, part of the cowboy's desire for Ben was based on the deputy's intimidating manner, so he played it up.

"So," began Ben, "you wanna have sex with me?"

Jim just stared at the man, unsure of what to do.

"Speak up, boy!" the deputy growled.

"Yes.. yessir... " managed Jim.

"You want my cock?" Ben asked, caressing the plump length that showed through his jeans.

"Yessir!"

"In your mouth?"

"Yessir!"

"Up your ass?"

"Yessir, please... "

Ben noted a similar bulge growing in the cowboy's pants with satisfaction and anticipation before he reached out and pulled Jim closer.

"Have you ever kissed a man?"

"No, sir."

"Lemme show you how it's done... "

Belying his rough preamble, Ben leaned down and gently pressed his lips against Jim's. His tongue pierced the cowboy's bushy moustache and traced the full lips underneath the bristling, chestnut colored hairs before pressing slowly between them until they yielded and parted, allowing Ben inside. Jim tasted another man for the first time, felt the deeply exciting feeling of another masculine beard meshing with and grinding into his, and liked it, a lot.

Jim tried kissing back and as his tongue explored the interior of Ben's mouth, he felt Ben's hands moving, busily loosening and removing his jacket and bandanna and shirt. Jim reached up to do the same for Ben and soon he was reveling in the new, unique sensation of feeling another man's bare chest pressed against his own. The incredible warmth, the dull thudding of another man's heart vibrating so closely to his own. Both beating so strongly...

Moaning softly through Ben's kisses, Jim moved his hands across the deputy's burly form, sensing the echoes of his own body in what he touched. And he felt Ben's hands on his body. Exploring gently, learning...

At length, Ben broke off the kiss gently and smiled at Jim.

"Okay?" he whispered.

"Yes! Oh God, yes, Ben!"

Ben maneuvered Jim to the bed and coaxed him to sit. Kneeling, the deputy pulled off the cowboy's boots. As Ben unbuckled Jim's belt and opened his jeans, Jim muttered apologetically.

"I ain't washed in awhile. I'm sorry I didn't think of it beforehand... "

"I like the way you smell, Jim, like a man who's worked and ridden under the hot sun for a spell, but if you wanna bath, I can easily accommodate you."

Ben showed the naked cowboy to the stock tank behind the jail. Jim washed himself quickly in the cold water, then, when he was done, Ben surprised Jim by wrapping the dripping cowboy in a towel, picking him up easily and carrying him back to the room they shared. As Jim finished drying himself off, he watched as Ben stripped off the rest of his clothing and turned down the bedcovers for them both.

They met together under the blankets. Jim gasped at the new sensations he felt as Ben's massive arms enfolded him, hugging Jim to the warm, hard hairiness of his big body. Ben lowered his head to kiss Jim again, murmuring softly.

"Gently, for your first time Jim, 'cause I want you to know what love is... "

Slowly, patiently, Ben fingered and lubed Jim's hole with a slippery salve, getting him used to first one, then two and at last three of Ben's thick fingers, stretching the tight ring of muscle wide open. Once Jim was used to his fingers, Ben moved them carefully around inside the cowboy as he searched for the slight bump of the man's prostate. Finding the gland, he massaged the spongy firespot expertly. Jim seemed to melt into Ben's arms while his cock jumped and stood stiff as steel.

"Ben... " he gasped. "What... what are you... doin' to me... "

"Lovin' you, Jim," he murmured as he kissed his bedmate.

"Oh, Ben... I'm gonna... can't stop it... ahh... Ahhh... "

Ben quickly lowered his head when he heard Jim's strangled warning. The deputy took just the tip of Jim's seven inch bone-hard prong in his mouth, skinning back the prepuce with his lips as the cowboy came. Jim moaned aloud. He thrust himself frantically into the warm, wet velvet that surrounded and palped his cockhead, sweetly and achingly at the same time, as it suctioned away his eruption of molten masculine thickness as fast as it spewed hotly from his nuts.

The last few spurts of seething lovejuice stayed however. The mirific slickness was swirled torturously around Jim's naked glans by Ben's busy tongue until Jim could take the pleasure-pain no longer and pulled away with a gasp. At once, Ben came up to kiss the cowboy again and as Jim opened to it, he tasted his own creamy load being fed back to him. He greedily swallowed all that Ben had saved for him in a daze of sexual excitation.

When he had finished sucking and tonguing the interior of Ben's mouth in search of the last few drops of his own essence, Jim sank back onto the bed, laboring for breath. Ben shifted himself back between Jim's legs. All the time, the deputy had continued to massage the cowboy's prostate and stretch his backdoor. Jim's orgasm had relaxed the man as much as possible and Ben knew it was time.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, Jim," he warned as he removed his fingers, propped Jim's ankles up on his shoulders, brought his well-lubed eight inch tool to the cowboy's puckered hole and popped the shiny cockhead through Jim's feebly protesting ring of muscle. "I told you, there'll be some pain, since it's your first time... "

"I don't care... I'm glad it's you... go on... ride me... "

Jim willed himself open and ignored the pain from what felt like a second, inner ring of muscle trying to keep Ben out. But eventually the big deputy's cock blundered through, past the obstruction, and Jim felt the pain slowly fade and turn to a delicious fullness as the rest of Ben's manhood slid inside him. As Ben started the slow in and out motions, Jim learned to clench on the outstroke, making the ride almost unbearable for Ben.

"You're a fast learner, Jim," the deputy hissed. "I ain't gonna last long if you keep that up... "

Jim relented. He relaxed and let Ben go at his own speed. Ben very much preferred to take his time and ride his partners as long as he possibly could, but Jim's virgin ass was so incredibly tight, even without Jim clenching his inner muscles, that Ben knew he would not be able to hold out as long as he would like to. So Ben switched to a faster tempo, pounding himself roughly into the cowboy.

Jim felt himself getting hard again as he was pressed down into the bed with each of Ben's strong downstrokes. Ben's hands were gripping Jim's shoulders, his belly rolling with each thrust against Jim's belly, sandwiching Jim's cock between them. Their belly fur was soon plastered flat, soaked by the precum squeezed from Jim's aching manhood.

It was so good, better than what Jim had imagined getting from a big guy like Ben. Being held down irresistibly by the man's relentless, rhythmically flexing weight, making Jim feel every single sweaty second of the cherry busting fuck, filling Jim's ass up with stiff cockmeat. And soon, with Ben's scalding hot cum as well...

"I'm almost there, Jim... " Ben puffed.

"Do it, Ben... fill me up... make my ass yours... "

Jim's words were just the trigger Ben's orgasm needed. The deputy abruptly began to gasp incoherently in time with his rod's wet pulses, shooting streamers of cum deep into Jim's deflowered ass, wave after thick, juicy wave. Jim felt the inner explosion as a great surging, a burst of filling warmth, a liquid blossoming that signaled the consummation of their manly union.

"Oh, Ben," Jim whispered as Ben laid his full weight on top of his bedmate and panted for breath. Jim hugged the exhausted man to him, stroking his back and feeling the hairs that grew there plastered down with sweat. "Thank you, Ben... "

"If you really wanna thank me," the big man grunted wearily through a wry grin, "you'll put that hard pecker of yours in my ass right now and ride me just as hard as you can... "

It was long after midnight when Eli returned to the jailhouse. His wager had taken awhile to pay, as he had agreed to blow every cardplayer as many times as they wanted, if he lost. Since he had no money, he had to strike the deal in order to stay in the game.

"Can't believe Myron had a full house!" he muttered ruefully as he let himself inside.

By then, Eli had cooled off and was not mad at Ben for what happened. He had to admit he was responsible for his own actions. And he hoped his little brother was not too annoyed with him for kicking up a fuss about the bet, because he was really looking forward to crawling into the bed they shared and cuddling with his lover.

Finding the door of their room to be locked was unexpected. Eli fished in his pocket for the key. Before he could find it the door opened.

"Big brother!" Ben smiled as he wrapped a brawny arm around Eli. "Come in. We have company."

"Oh? Who?"

Eli stepped into the room and stared. The handsome, russet haired young man he remembered speaking to briefly at the bar was in their bed, or rather tied to it. Ben had trussed the naked man up in the same way that Eli had Ben a few times, in a position that left the man's ass exposed, vulnerable and available for anyone's use.

After Ben's gentle initiation, and Jim's return of the favor, feeling what it was like to fuck a man for the first time, Jim had asked for something a little rougher. Ben obliged Jim by getting out his ropes and showing the cowboy how it felt to be helpless when another man took his body. Jim had liked that experience too.

Jim had already told Ben he would not mind Eli joining in the fun when he showed up, so, after they were introduced, Eli stripped and got on the bed. Jim's eyes widened when he saw the deputy's impressive cock. On a guy the size of Eli, the ten inch tool looked like a mule's prong had been grafted onto the spare man's body.

Jim struggled playfully against his bonds as Eli ran his hands hungrily over the bound man's furry body. Jim conjured up fantasies of being restrained and raped at the Lazy B in his head as Eli felt him up. Jim was almost looking forward to being gang raped by his fellow ranchhands by then. Eli liked what he felt and saw in Jim and his pecker quickly went fully hard and started dripping precum like a leaky faucet.

"Just one thing," Eli said, his voice husky with desire as his slimy cockhead kissed Jim's backdoor.

"What?" asked Jim, tugging at the ropes that bound his wrists to the headboard, trying in vain to force himself back onto Eli's hard prick.

"I don't fuck just anybody. The men I fuck are my friends. You wanna be my friend, Jim?"

"Yeah," he gasped, still fighting the ropes.

"Then I expect you to return the favor sometime." Eli let just the head slip past the puckered gateway and Jim writhed in frustration.

"Alright! I will! I'll fuck you! Anything! Now slam it into me! Make me feel what those damn saddletramps at the Lazy B are gonna do to me!"

Eli promptly complied. Jim was still virgin enough to give a little yelp of pain as Eli's ample endowment went in to the hilt at one thrust, breaking ground Ben's prod had not reached. No harm was done though as Jim's insides were well lubed by that time with more than a couple of loads of Ben's cum.

Between the silky smoothness of Jim's cum-filled ass squeezing Eli's big pecker dreamily and Eli's eagerness to get the young cowboy into his own saddle, the deputy was too excited to hold himself back. Jim got an energetic fucking from Eli, but it was not very long before Jim once more felt the unique, masculine explosion of warmth deep within his being as Eli moaned and thrust and shot, adding his load of hot spunk to the slick mess that already roiled within the cowboy's guts. He grinned wryly at Jim.

"That's a fine ass you got there, kid."

"You're the second one to say that!" Jim laughed.

"Huh?"

"I just broke Jim here in," explained Ben, "and he's a quick learner!"

"Ben was your first?"

"And you were my second, Eli. Thank you." Jim answered sincerely, gazing wistfully at the shorter man's semihard cock. "I sure hope I get to try that big pecker of yours again sometime soon!"

"You can count on it, Jim!"

Eli moved to kiss Jim and the young cowpoke responded enthusiastically, but his body betrayed him as he yawned against Eli's mouth. Ben saw it and, noting that it was late, suggested they all turn in and continue their games in the morning. The deputies untied Jim and sandwiched him between them in their bed. Jim hugged Eli from behind, letting his plump cock wedge itself in the crack of Eli's ass as a silent promise for later and, with Ben behind Jim, hugging both his bedmates, Jim slept deep and hard, just like he had been fucked.

"Jim Willis."

"Yeah?"

Jim answered and turned. He froze when he saw the huge, dusty blue plumed bird standing next to him. It looked like a heron, except that it was much bigger than an ordinary heron and regarded the startled cowboy with eyes unlike any creature's, eyes that were rolling spheres of lavender flame. As Jim gaped, the apparition spoke again.

"Look."

For the first time, Jim realized he was outside, in an unfamiliar landscape. He could see a wagon train rolling slowly along in the distance. The dust thrown up by its many wheels and the tramping hooves of the animals that drew the vehicles hung in the still air like a tawny cloud over the long line of covered wagons.

"Come."

At the single word, Jim found the bird and himself transported inside the lead wagon in a twinkling of time. A big, blonde man was sitting on the driver's seat. Two young boys were seated beside him, one dirty blonde and the other light brown headed. Something about the pair seemed familiar to Jim.

"What you are seeing happened a long time ago," the huge heron murmured. Its odd voice made Jim think of the sound of flutes playing somehow, behind the words it spoke. "Watch and listen."

"...it's up to you," the man was saying, addressing the two boys, who looked sad. Their expressions made Jim want to go to the pair and give them a hug. "Art and I, well, you know our business is guidin' parties like this one across country. We could use some extra help, and we could teach you what we know about bein' guides and trackin' and followin' trails. You'd see a lot of the west if you stay with us, and we'll treat you decent. You'll be our sons."

"Well," the elder of the two spoke up, after looking at his companion, who nodded, "okay, as long as Ben and I can stay together."

"I know exactly how you feel, Eli," the man murmured. "Art and I weren't born brothers, but we feel as if we are, in our hearts. That's a special, powerful thing, and I think you two share that. You and Ben will never be separated as long as you stay with us."

"Then we stay," Ben spoke up. "Eli and me will do the best we can for you, Mr. Thorrson."

"Call me Sven, son," the big Swede said as he reached over and used one muscular arm to hug both boys to his side. "Do your best and that's all Art and I will ask of you... "

"Is that Ben and Eli, as little boys?" Jim wondered.

"Yes," the strange heron answered, indicating a small, battered trunk that held the boys' few belongings, all that was salvaged from the wreckage of their families' wagons, with a gesture of one dusty blue wing. "The world looked upon them then as penniless orphans, objects of pity, but the bond of friendship between them was a true treasure, one that grew with time, becoming a powerful manlove."

The uncanny bird gave a little flap of its wings. The scene around them changed again. Night had fallen. The boys were wrapped up together in a blanket inside the wagon, while Art and Sven, their new foster-fathers, slept beneath it.

Jim could see that the boys were not asleep though. They were peering though a crack in the bed of the wagon, trying to see what was causing the soft, intriguing noises that were drifting up from beneath them. Sven had said he and Art were like brothers, so the boys had thought nothing of it when the two men lay down and cuddled together in shared blankets to sleep. However the noises Ben and Eli were hearing just then did not sound to them like any that sleeping men made.

It was too dark to see what was going on between the men beneath the wagon, so eventually the boys gave up on their spying. But the continuing noises made them feel strange, and as they held each other, they discovered their little pricks had become hard nubs. They also discovered it felt good to rub them against each other.

Each had been hard before that, of course, and had learned how to pull on their dicks for pleasure, but neither had ever had a brother to compare himself with or experiment on. Catching on quickly, it was not long before they were doing everything they could think of to make this new feeling better, finding out that what was good for one was usually just as good for the other. At last, all their wiggling and rubbing against one another caused a wave of sensation like nothing the pair had ever felt before to rack their young bodies almost simultaneously. The boys clung to one another in open mouthed amazement as they felt a hot wetness spreading over their bellies.

"Eli, we wet ourselves!" Ben worried when he noticed the mess they had made. He did not know it then, but for Ben, it was the first time he had ever shot off while playing with himself.

"No, it's not pee. I've done it before. See?" replied Eli, directing Ben's fingers into the sticky fluid that covered their bellies.

"It's so slippery!" wondered Ben.

"It tastes good, too," Eli urged, "try it."

Ben opened his mouth to protest against the gross sounding idea and Eli took the opportunity to thrust a gooey finger into his new little brother's mouth. One taste of the salty-sweetness that coated Eli's digit was enough to convince Ben. At once he was all over Eli's smooth belly with his tongue, licking up their mingled fluids, the clear, thin cum produced by the boys' immature balls.

"That was good!" affirmed Ben when he finished.

"Lemme clean you now, little brother," Eli said as he started to lap up the rest of their spooge off Ben, sending the ticklish lad into a fit of the giggles before Eli was done.

The boys cuddled again and despite their still hard nubs, managed to go to sleep. They had not once thought about all the noise they were making. Under the wagon, Art turned to Sven and whispered.

"I guess you were right about those kids."

"Yes. And I hated to think of 'em being separated, 'cause there's no one here in this party who could take 'em both. These settlers are havin' a hard enough time seein' that their own families are fed without lookin' after orphans."

"Well, I knew you were a softhearted Swede when I took up with you," Art smiled, running his hand through Sven's longish hair. "I sorta thought you were gettin' a little softheaded too when you said you wanted us to adopt those boys, but I gotta admit, the idea of bein' a dad is settin' well with me. Especially knowin' they're the same way we are."

"Yes, we know exactly what they're gonna go through as they grow older, and we can give 'em the guidance we didn't have."

"Yeah. What lucky kids."

"Lucky all of us. And lucky me, for findin' a good man like you."

"I love you, pardner... "

Art and Sven kissed again, feeling their passion rise for the second time that night. As they moved together again, towards another shared bout of lovemaking, the scene faded. Once more, Jim found himself alone with the majestic bird, who turned to face Jim again, fixing him with its blazing lavender orbs.

"Tell Ben and Eli that they have been under my protection since they met, and soon I will call to them. Their brothers long to meet them and feel their touch."

"Who are you?"

"I am a guardian and guide to men like them and you. My way is open to you too, Jim Willis. Listen with your heart, and when you hear the call of the heron, follow it. It will lead you to the home of your true brothers, men who share your spirit... "

The heron flapped its great wings and a momentary vista appeared of a forested mountain valley. The view lasted only a moment. But the glimpse was enough to fill Jim with the certainty that he was looking at a place that wanted him to be there, be a part of the life that flowed powerfully through it, because he had a man-loving heart...

"...but where is that place? How do I get there?"

"Jim? Wake up!" Ben poked him in the ribs. "You're talkin' in your sleep!"

"Ben?" blinked Jim. "Listen... "

And in the darkness, Jim related his strange dream. Eli heard and turned so that he and Ben faced Jim, both listening in open mouthed amazement and confirming the truth of what their new friend had seen. As Jim finished by relaying the heron's final message to his companions, Ben stroked his thick beard thoughtfully.

"I wish Bill was still here," he muttered.

"Who?"

"Bill Axford," explained Eli. "He was a friend of ours who used to live here in town. He disappeared a short time ago. He was a heron man, and he'd probably have been able to tell us exactly what your dream meant."

"Heron man?" Jim puzzled. "What's a heron man?"

"Well... "

Ben began to tell Jim about the unique legends that circulated throughout that part of the country, stories that his and Eli's foster fathers, the trackers Art and Sven, had told their adopted sons as they grew up. Jim was astonished by the tales, having never heard anyone ever say a kind or positive word about what Jim had felt in his heart for men ever since he had been a little boy. The idea that a whole tribe of man-loving men existed, defended against an intolerant and hateful world by supernatural forces, nourished by the amorous energies raised by the heron men's shared lovemaking, enthralled him.

"And it wasn't just a legend? Your friend, Bill Axford, was one of these heron men?"

"Yes," Eli avowed. "He told us about how he sorta stumbled onto the hidden valley where the heron men lived and was initiated into their tribe."

"Did he tell you where the valley was?"

"No, he said it was a secret he had to keep to himself."

"Oh."

"The reason I wish Bill was here is 'cause the heron men were said to communicate with each other and their guardian spirits through medicine dreams, and were experts in interpretin' them," explained Ben. "I think that's what you just had, Jim."

"The message seems plain enough to me," Eli pointed out. "The spirits of the heron men are inviting us to join the tribe."

"Yeah," concurred Ben. "But what sorta 'call' are we supposed to be waitin' for?"

"Let's just keep our eyes and ears open, like Art always told us to do, and we won't miss it when it comes."

"I guess that's all we can do for the moment, big brother," Ben breathed in agreement as he caressed both his bedmates. "Jim, I was plannin' on tellin' you this later, but since you already know about Sven and Art, you oughta know now that they're your bosses. They own a half interest in the Lazy B, but they leave the running of the ranch to Jake Beeson, who owns a quarter interest."

"We used to work there too," added Eli, "until we got our deputy jobs."

"Who owns the rest of the ranch?"

"A fella by the name of Sam McCrea," Ben responded. "He works there too, as Jake's foreman, his second in command."

"Sam and Jake are pardners too," added Eli.

"Where do Sven and Art live?"

"They have a cabin at the ranch and stay there during the winters. But the rest of year they often work as Army scouts, goin' out with the patrols from Fort Seward. They're good friends with the officer in charge there, Major General Edmund Teal. Ed's the one who, um, taught me how to do the rope tricks we tried earlier. That's his favorite way of playin' with other guys."

"He's one of us?"

"Yep. And most of the other soldiers at the fort share our tastes, too. Ed has used his influence to quietly gather together a regiment of men who chose a military career to hide the fact that they weren't 'the marryin' kind' and could live with other men in a socially accepted way."

"I've heard tell," Eli began with a grin, "that new recruits arrivin' at Fort Seward get the kind of initiation you were expectin' at the Lazy B, gettin' hogtied and fucked by their brother soldiers from sundown to sunup. I can just imagine what kinda wildness goes on in those army barracks the rest of the time!"

Jim grinned back at Eli as he felt the deputy's member swell and press against Jim's side.

"That horsecock of yours is sure imaginin' something pleasin'!" Jim chuckled, reaching down to stroke the warm length of flesh. "You want another ride, deputy?"

"Yeah, but you're gonna be the one doin' the ridin', cowboy," Eli grinned as he kissed Jim and then turned his back to his bedmate.

"Here," Ben muttered as he reached over and spread some grease on Jim's ready tool with a slippery paw.

When he was ready, Jim slid easily into Eli and started pumping away, hugging the deputy from behind and reaching to caress Eli's big pecker. It was standing proud and hard against his furry belly. Then Jim felt slick fingers probe his ass just before a familiar bluntness knocked insistently at his backdoor.

"How about it, Jim," Ben murmured into the cowboy's ear, his moustache hairs rasping the sensitive skin sensuously. "Let's make a sandwich for a midnight snack... "

Jim relaxed and Ben glided inside him in one long, slow stroke that caused Jim's fuck rhythm to falter as he enjoyed the feeling of being filled up with hard manflesh. Then Eli's ass muscles chomped down on Jim's cock, reminding the cowboy of his other responsibilities. Jim promptly went back to work, panting at the wonderful sensations he was feeling as he gave and got at the same time.

Jim thought sex with the two deputies just seemed to get better and better, and though he tried to hold off, he could not. Between Ben's cock nudging his firespot and Eli's innards squeezing his thrusting manhood, Jim was soon pushed off the edge, triggering Ben's orgasm as well. They gasped and squirmed and shot together as the agitated bed squeaked and groaned plaintively beneath the rutting men in protest.

Ben moved to Eli as soon as he was done filling Jim's ass. Jim watched in amazement as Ben swallowed his partner's horsecock to the hilt and held it in his throat as Eli cried out and pumped his load down the big man's gullet. Jim watched the softening member slip out of Ben's mouth and shook his head as Ben lapped up the last drops of Eli's seed.

"Ben, how'd you do that?"

"Practice! And lots of it!" he winked as he moved to gather up the rumpled blankets and cover up his bedmates. "Let's all try to get some more shut-eye."

Jim and Eli agreed and, reassembling the sandwich that Jim found so comforting, they drifted back to sleep together.

The next day, Jim accompanied the deputies around Maury City as they patrolled the town. In the course of making their rounds, they stopped often to shoot the breeze with their fellow townspeople, several of whom Jim recognized from his visit to the Mineshaft. A couple of the men appeared to be respectable businessmen in nice suits and that puzzled Jim until Ben explained that those men 'dressed down' so as not to appear out of place in a working class saloon like the Mineshaft.

"When Indian chiefs are huntin' buffalo, they don't wear their big feather bonnets!" Eli added with a grin, winking meaningfully.

The men spent the rest of the time telling each other their life stories. The farm Jim had grown up on sounded rather dull in comparison with the home Eli and Ben had shared, the vast open spaces of the west, wandering from one job to the next with their foster fathers and always meeting new people and learning new things. Not least of which were the pleasures each could give the other as they grew older, their brotherly friendship leading them on to gentle explorations that bonded the two men absolutely and inseparably.

They dropped by Fort Seward, but learned that Sven and Art were out with a patrol. However, the orderly, a sergeant named Hiram Mitchell whom Jim recognized from last night's antics at the Mineshaft, did take them in to see the commanding officer. Major General Teal was a handsome man with black hair and a full, neatly trimmed beard, who looked somewhat younger than Jim imagined a general ought to be.

As the men talked, Jim's medicine dream came up. The general showed great interest in it. He pulled out a folder of papers for his friends to see after Jim's story was over.

"We've had to 'show the flag' recently in the country south of here," the general explained, "because of rumors of trouble brewing between the local Indian tribes and the settlers."

"Is it serious?" asked Ben.

"It's hard to tell. We have to take the reports seriously, of course, or else the state authorities will be jumping down my throat. But my instincts tell me whatever trouble might be brewing out there, it isn't being brewed by the Indians. It wouldn't surprise me if someone's trying to use the U.S. Army to get rid of the natives so they could move in on their vacated lands."

"Huh!" Eli began. "Any idea who?"

"There's any number of big landowners in the area who'd benefit if the natives disappeared, so, no, I don't know, but like I said, my instincts tell me the trouble is coming from some white source, not from the Indians. But anyway, back to this," the general said, tapping the folder on his desk with a finger. "While he was with a patrol somewhere south of here, Sven came across an outcrop of rock covered with native hieroglyphs. He took the time to copy them." Ed pushed a paper towards the men. "See anything you recognize?"

"Well I'll be," breathed Ben as he fingered one of the images.

"What is it?" asked Jim.

"That," Eli answered, pointing to the glyph Ben had touched, "is the sign of the heron men. The stories say they all wear a pendant with that symbol on it around their necks."

"Did your friend Bill Axford have one of those?"

"Yes, he did."

"Who's Bill Axford?" asked Ed.

As Ben and Eli explained about their friend, whom Ed had not heard of before, Jim looked at the paper, intending to memorize the sign. It was a graceful, curving glyph, obviously a stylized heron's head. Ed went on, nodding at the news about the deputies' heron man friend.

"I always thought the stories were more than just stories," he said. "Last summer, my orderly, Hiram, ran into an old native who wore one of those pendants, but he was on official business and didn't have time to question the man. Why didn't you mention Bill to me earlier?"

"Bill didn't wanna draw attention to himself. We wouldn't have known, except we saw the pendant he wore and knew what it meant. We kept quiet about it at his request."

"I understand. I won't spread it around either. Well, to get back to Sven's discovery, he asked the local Indians about the pictoglyphs, but they either didn't know or didn't want to say what they were."

"I'll bet they were afraid of the heron men's protector, the demon called Hunts-by-night who appears in so many of the legends about 'em." Eli offered.

"Perhaps," wondered Ed, "and perhaps they know that the heron men's home is nearby and don't want to admit it. I'm thinking of leading the next patrol that goes down that way myself and have a look around."

"You wanna find 'em too?" asked Jim.

"Don't you?" Ed shot back. "It appears they really exist, and now, after hearing about Ben and Eli's friend, Bill, I'm sure they must live somewhere here in Oregon! I want to track them down and find out if the legends are true... "

"...and have some fun if they are!" chuckled Ben. "Maybe you could teach the heron men a few rope tricks!"

"Why not? You enjoyed my lessons, didn't you?" Ed glanced at Eli and put a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, caressing it affectionately. "And I hope you'll come to trust me enough to try it yourself, sometime." Eli smiled weakly in reply, still too leery of ropes to commit himself. "How about you, Jim? I'd sure like to see a handsome young cowboy like you all nekkid and trussed up!"

"He let me tie him up, Ed," Ben admitted, "and I think he liked it a lot!"

"Really?" Ed asked as he glanced at the blushing cowhand. "You'll have to come and visit me the next time you're in town, son. I promise I'll show you a good time."

"Sure, Ed, I'd be pleased... "

"Oh, I think the pleasure will be all Ed's!" Ben laughed.

When they left the fort, they stopped for lunch before heading back to the jailhouse. After another session in bed with the pair, learning more about the ways Jim could pleasure his fellow man, Ben and Eli treated Jim to dinner and drinks. As evening fell and Jim readied himself to return to the Lazy B, the deputies told him not to be worried about going back there. Ben put a big hand on Jim's shoulder reassuringly as the cowpoke tightened his horse's cinch before leaving Maury City.

"If you do have any problems, let me know. I can get you a job here in town if the Lazy B turns out to be more than you can handle... "

"As if you and Eli aren't a handful and then some already!" Jim snorted in amusement before getting serious. "Thanks. For the offer and for everything else that you've done for me."

"Hey," Eli smiled, "you're an okay guy, Jim. Our bed's open to you anytime!"

"And the other thing we talked about?"

"Sure," promised Ben. "When we get that call to join the heron men, we'll be sure to ask if you can come with us."

"Well," Jim said as he mounted his horse, "guess there's no puttin' this off any longer. Goodbye, fellas. I'll be back to visit as soon as I can."

The deputies waved goodbye and Jim returned the salute as he spurred off into the darkening evening, following a trail well marked by wagon ruts that eventually led to the next town to the south, Steens Station. He was scarcely out of sight of Maury City when he turned off that trail to follow another track, and by the time Jim reached the Lazy B's main compound, full night had fallen. By the light of a solitary lantern he found the barn and bedded down his horse.

Everything was quiet and Jim figured the men were used to hitting the hay early. After a visit to the outhouse behind the barn, he washed his hands and face beside the pump. Then Jim stroked his damp beard in thoughtful resignation as he approached the bunkhouse.

"Guess I'm as ready for this as I'll ever be," he sighed softly to himself, running one hand tentatively over his no longer virgin butt. "I'll just think of Ben and Eli while they're rapin' me, as if it was my friends lovin' me, and that'll make it bearable... "

Jim touched the doorlatch and let himself inside as silently as he could. The sounds of sleeping men filled the darkened interior. A little nonplussed, Jim made his way to the bunk that Jake had assigned to him and quietly shucked his clothes.

Moving slowly and carefully, the young cowboy spread his blankets out on his side of the bed. Every sense he had was alert, probing the darkness that surrounded him. Jim fully expected that any moment a dozen rough, callused hands would come shooting out of the darkness and seize him, the prelude to several sweaty hours of forced sex...

Jim grimaced as he felt his cock stir and plump up at the thought of being held down and used like that by his fellow ranchhands. But as he reached to give his genitals a gentle squeeze, the snores and lesser sounds of quiet breathing continued all around him. The man felt almost as if he had been cheated somehow as he slid under his blanket and allowed himself to relax a little.

"Jim?"

The whispered word almost made the startled cowpoke jump out of his skin.

"Yeah?" he responded, forcing himself to whisper. He looked towards his bedmate, but it was too dark to see anything. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Sandy."

"Sandy?"

Jim felt happy and relieved to find himself lying next to the handsome cowpoke he had met on his first visit to the Lazy B. Then he felt a hairy shin brush up against his. Was it accidental?

"I was startin' to get worried you wasn't comin' back."

Jim's brain was awhirl. Sandy had missed him! He felt Sandy's shin make contact again and this time it stayed against his.

"I... I had business to take care of in town."

Sandy shifted a little closer. Jim did too. Now their thighs were touching and Jim could feel Sandy's body heat.

"Are you tired? If you wanna sleep... "

"No. Ah... You wanna talk? Oh... "

Jim's voice faltered. Sandy's hand had come over and touched Jim's chest lightly. Jim sighed as the fingers riffled his chest hair.

"You okay with this?" Sandy breathed. "I don't wanna force nothing. It just seemed like you liked me a lot when we met, and I was hopin' we'd... well... get close... 'cause you seem like a great guy, Jim, but if you just wanna be friends, well, that's okay, too."

Jim answered silently, placing his hand over Sandy's and pressing it firmly into his chest hair. Sandy sighed in relief. And both felt anticipation at what the touch implied.

"Nice. I thought you were a furry guy, Jim."

Jim put his hand out and touched Sandy in return. Like most blondes, the cowboy's chest hair was nowhere near as thick as Jim's. But Jim could imagine Sandy shirtless in the sun, and his body hairs gleaming like spun gold in the bright daylight...

"That's nice too."

Their hands explored downward. A part of Jim could not believe what was happening. The rest of him hungered for Sandy.

"Sandy?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're a really handsome guy."

The men found and gripped each other's cocks. As they compared sizes and began to gently stroke, Jim's eyes finally adjusted to the faint light of the stars shining through the bunkhouse windows. He could just make out Sandy grinning at him.

"And you're the best-lookin' hunk of cowpoke I've seen in a long time, Jim!"

They moved closer and kissed. Jim opened to it and their tongues tasted each other. All the while they continued to fist one another's cocks.

"I ain't gonna last long like this, Jim," Sandy sighed.

"Don't mess our bed up, here... "

"You don't hafta do... ahhh... "

Jim ducked his head under the blankets and swallowed his bedmate's manhood. He thanked Ben silently for his lessons as he caressed Sandy's dick expertly and sensuously with his tongue. It was all Sandy could do to keep from crying out as he came.

'Damn, he's loaded,' marvelled Jim as at least a half dozen shots of creamy man nectar went down his throat. He continued to nurse until he had gotten all of Sandy's thick load and the man's meat was soft.

"Lordy, Jim, where'd you learn to suck dick like that?"

"I ain't tellin'," he snickered, reaching for his own pecker and starting to jerk it again.

"Oh no you don't," Sandy whispered, moving to return the favor. His technique was not as good as Jim's but Jim could tell Sandy was trying his best to imitate what Jim had done to him.

"Sandy... " Jim breathed as he stroked the shaggy blonde hair on the gently bobbing head and pumped his hot load into the cowboy's hotter mouth. Like Jim, Sandy kept his lips locked around Jim's prong until it was completely spent and soft.

"Wish we could do more," whispered Sandy, releasing Jim and stretching out next to him, cuddling, "but we gotta get some sleep if we're gonna work tomorrow."

"I know, pard," Jim yawned.

They kissed again. Long and sweetly. Each tasted the tang of his own sperm on the other's tongue.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You called me 'pard'."

"Sure," Jim answered. Then a sudden thought occurred to the cowboy. "You got a pard already, Sandy?"

"No... "

"You do now if you want one," Jim yawned as he wrapped his arms around Sandy and pulled the man's body close to his own. The two men relaxed against each together warmly and fell asleep.

During the night, Jim was dimly aware of the presence of a familiar, imposing, birdlike figure with eyes that burned like balls of livid violet spirit fire, standing guard beside the bunk he shared with Sandy. It did not speak, but there emanated from the shadowy form a pale purple radiance that Jim perceived somehow with his heart. The experience was strange, to say the least, but very comforting, like the feeling of Sandy's warm body pressed next to his as they slept.

Jim thought he was dreaming when he saw a naked man suddenly drop quietly out of nowhere to stand beside the bunk he shared with Sandy. But as Jim blinked his eyes, he realized what he was seeing was real. There was just enough moonlight slanting through the bunkhouse windows to allow Jim to see the man's thick, semihard cock swinging above a hairy, low-hanging nutsac in an eye-catching way as he donned his clothes.

Once he was dressed, the wiry man paused to whisper something and Jim realized he was speaking to his bunkmate. They slept above him and Sandy. Then the man silently eased his way out of the bunkhouse. After that, Jim must have fallen asleep again, for the next thing he knew, Sandy was whispering in his ear, urging Jim to wake.

"Jim?"

The cowboy's eyes fluttered open and he looked around. The details of the inside of the bunkhouse were only just a little more barely discernible than they had been earlier. The light of false dawn glowed softly through a nearby window.

"Jim?"

"Sandy?"

"We gotta get up soon."

As if it had moved of its own accord, Jim's hand slid down his bunkmate's side, across his lightly furred belly and found Sandy's hard prick.

"You're already up," Jim yawned as he gently fingered Sandy's rigid manhood.

"If you wanna sleep some more... "

Jim did not waste time responding. He curled under their blankets and repeated his performance of the previous evening. After getting a mouthful of Sandy's nutjuice, the blonde cowboy quickly moved to return the favor. Soon the spent men were relaxed in each other's arms.

"Sandy, that was real nice, but I'd sure like to be able to take my time with you and see all of you when we make love."

"Me too, Jim. But there ain't a whole lotta places around here where two guys can get some privacy. Listen, there's a spot by the creek where we all wash. I'll show it to you later."

"Sounds good. Sandy, there's something I've been wantin' to ask you."

"Well, ask."

"Jake said some odd things to me when he hired me, about the guys here, and havin' to 'help' 'em, sometimes, with their 'urges'. You know what I'm talkin' about?"

"Yeah, the boss told me the same thing. It sorta scared me. I ain't exactly 'virgin territory', but I don't cotton to trespassers, neither."

"Me too. I don't wanna get raped."

"Me neither," Sandy said with a shudder. Then he cuddled closer to Jim and whispered. "Unless of course it's you."

"I won't deny I wanna get to know you better, Sandy, but I won't take nothing by force," Jim muttered as he ran a hand over Sandy's smooth backside. Sandy wiggled his butt lewdly under Jim's questing fingers.

"You won't hafta, Jim. I'm ready to give it. You won't be the first, but I've got this feelin' that you're gonna be the first that counts for something. I hope you'll let me inside you when we get a chance to be alone."

"Oh, yeah... " Jim breathed as he felt Sandy's hand journeying across his ass. After a few moments he added: "You won't be my first either, but I think you're right about what you said. It's gonna be something extra special when it happens!"

The cowboys moved to kiss each other again before Jim went on.

"Has anybody approached you?"

"No. But some of 'em have said things that make me think they're just bidin' their time, like they're plannin' something for me... Sometimes I think that one of these nights, I'm gonna walk in here and they're all gonna jump me, tie me up and have their way with me! It's funny, I don't want it to happen, but I keep thinkin' about it, like I do... " Sandy confessed. "I hope you don't think that's weird... "

"No, Sandy, I don't," Jim breathed, "'cause I was expectin' the same thing when I came in here last night, to have a bunch of sweaty cowhands grab me, hold me down and take turns poundin' my ass until dawn, and a part of me wanted it, too!" Jim admitted that as he slowly caressed Sandy. "But I'm glad it was just you and me together, nice and gentle."

"I liked it too, Jim," Sandy sighed.

"How long have you been workin' here?"

"I was hired four days ago. We... I mean I came here from Tennessee after my folks passed away. My grandpa's little brother was supposed to have been a fur trapper out here, so I thought I might find some relatives. This was as far as I got before I ran out of money and had to take any job I could find."

"I was busted too, so it was starve or work with these guys. I figured I'd take my chances."

"Where're you from, Jim?"

"I was born on a farm up near Salem. My folks were from Alabama, and part of the first group of settlers in that area, back in 1848. I was born the next year... Um, Sandy?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to know, I don't think I would've taken the job if you hadn't been here already."

"I'm glad you're here too."

"I think you're a damn handsome cuss."

"You're purdy easy on the eyes too, Jim. I think... wait, listen!"

Jim strained his ears. He heard a rhythmic, soft, liquid sucking noise that grew louder as he listened. Shortly thereafter, it ended abruptly with a breathy, heartfelt sigh.

"Sandy, what does that sound like to you?"

"Sounds like what we were doin' to each other, Jim. I... "

"Hey, Brett," a harsh whisper sounded from somewhere in the darkness, shocking Sandy into silence. "If you're through with Miguel, I could use some company."

"Fuck off, Clyde!"

A few titters of laughter arose. Most of the men in the bunkhouse were obviously already awake. Jim could feel Sandy's body tense against his as both men were appalled by the realization that their whispered conversation might have been overheard.

"Sounds like Brett don't appreciate you, Clyde!" another man whispered.

"He's afraid he'll like it too much if he tries it, Rufus! Damn, but I'd like to get off in a hot mouth! Any takers?"

"There's always the new guy," suggested someone else.

The laughter was louder and cruder this time and sounded to Jim more ominous and suggestive.

"Oh, yeah, Matt," Clyde said as if he had just remembered. "Hey, Sandy, you awake?"

Sandy did not respond verbally. He shook with sudden anxiety. Jim hugged his bunkmate protectively.

"He's awake. I heard him whisperin'!" came a voice from the bunk above Jim and Sandy's.

'Judas!' thought Jim.

"Whisperin'?" Clyde asked, clearly puzzled. "Who's he whisperin' to? The new guy always sleeps alone!"

"Okay, who's the chicken rustler?" someone new asked.

There was more coarse laughter.

"We got another new guy now," came a voice Jim recognized as belonging to Sam McCrea, Jake's partner and second in command at the Lazy B. Jim wondered briefly why Sam slept in the bunkhouse instead of with Jake. "They're bunkin' together."

"Oooo weee! Fresh meat!"

"I see that got your attention, Brett!" Clyde muttered sourly.

"What are the new guys whisperin' about?" asked Matt.

"They think we're plannin' to rape 'em!" Judas responded.

As the men laughed at that pronouncement in a thoroughly evil-sounding way, Jim could feel Sandy shudder again. It was plain that Sandy really was scared of being forced into sex. The cowboy kept ahold of his new friend and kissed him reassuringly. At the same time, Jim was beginning to really dislike the fellow who bunked above them.

"I've heard worse ideas," yet another, previously unheard-from cowpoke, began. "What's the plan?"

"Oh, the usual one, Heck," replied Matt. "We wait until Saturday night bath time when everybody gets nekkid down at the creek and... "

"Screw that! I wanna get off now!" whined Clyde. "Hey, what's-yer-name, c'mere!" Clyde went on in a singsong manner. "I got something for ya... "

There was more laughter. Jim decided to brazen his way out of the dilemma he and Sandy found themselves in. He whispered to Sandy, who grinned as he agreed. Then Jim turned his head back towards the dimly lit bunkhouse.

"You'll hafta excuse me, Clyde. Right now, I've got my hands full takin' care of Sandy!"

All the noises and whisperings stopped. You could have heard a pin drop in the bunkhouse. Then Sam started laughing, big booming guffaws that shook the windows as the others joined in.

"You're an okay guy, Jim!" Sam said once he recovered. "The rest of you knuckleheads need to hurry up and finish jerkin' off, if you haven't already. I can hear Cookie bangin' around in his kitchen."

"C'mon Jim," Sandy urged as the sounds of men pleasuring themselves grew louder in the bunkhouse, "we gotta get up."

"Why?"

The Judas in the top bunk must have still been listening, because Jim heard him release a snort of laughter. A dark head appeared at the top edge of the bunk, peering downward at the two 'new guys'. Jim snarled at the intruder.

"What?"

"You new guys always get up early to help Cookie." Judas whispered.

"Jake didn't mention that to me!"

"Your funeral... " hissed Judas as his head disappeared.

"You'll come with me if you know what's good for you!" Sandy warned as he rolled over Jim and out of their bunk.

Jim followed and the light was just enough to show two naked cowboys with dangling, half hard cocks and firm butts bending over to pick up their clothing. There were a couple of sighs and a long, drawn out, "Yesssss... " from the semidarkness as some of the men came. The senior hands were obviously watching the show Jim and Sandy were unintentionally putting on as they donned their clothes, and enjoying it thoroughly.

"I think they make us get up early like that so they can see us nekkid and get off on it," Sandy muttered as he adjusted the bright red bandanna around his neck when they got outside the bunkhouse. The sky over the Lazy B was brightening rapidly, turning from a deep purple to a delicate shade of blue as the stars paled before the approach of sunrise.

"I think so too," agreed Jim, breathing in the cool, clean morning air. "Does it bother you?"

"At least they ain't makin' me touch 'em."

Jim's hand came up Sandy's back and rested on his shoulder. Sandy sighed and leaned into Jim as they slowed their pace towards the cookshack. He obviously had no objections to Jim taking liberties. Jim stopped him and kissed the blonde cowpoke, a long kiss that Sandy opened to, leaving both men nearly breathless by the time it was over.

"Sandy, I swear they won't lay a hand on you if I can help it!" Jim vowed as the kiss ended.

"Jim, you don't hafta protect me... "

"I gotta look out for my pard, don't I?"

"Jim... I... " Sandy was apparently too overcome by emotion to go on, so he kissed Jim again, intending to make it even longer and deeper than the kiss that had preceded it.

"Hey, you two lovebirds!" a harsh voice suddenly rang out. "Save that mushy stuff for your bunktime! Get in here and help me!"

Both men jumped, separating as they saw Cookie cussing and snarling at them energetically. He was an animated shadow framed in the illuminated doorway of the cookshack, and Jim recognized the outline of the spare man he had seen earlier in the night. It was apparent that Cookie bunked with Judas.

Jim could hear the sounds of laughter erupting from the bunkhouse behind him. Cookie's oaths had been loud enough to be heard by their fellow cowpokes, whose mirth was clearly evident. The new guys wasted no more time getting to work.

The cookshack was one big, open room, thrown together out of raw lumber and lit by several glass kerosene lanterns attached to the wallposts all around with metal brackets. Several rough wooden tables were spaced about in such a way as to leave a clear path from the front door to another at the rear, and each table was flanked by equally rude benches. It was Jim and Sandy's first job to lay out a stack of blue enameled tin plates for the ranchhands to grab as they came in, then place cups and utensils out on the tables.

At one end of the cookshack stood a great potbellied stove, which presumably was fired up during the winter to provide extra heat. It certainly was not needed on that fine June morning. The opposite side of the building was dominated by a mammoth, wood burning cookstove of black iron with a few touches of chrome and enamel. Large pans, pots and kettles hung from big spikes on the wall or hooks in the rafters, and rough wooden shelves and counters held every variety of utensil and cooking need one could think of for use in a kitchen. Sacks and barrels of foodstuffs were scattered around wherever a space against the wall was available.

The new guys could not seem to do anything right for Cookie that morning. The short, wiry, red-haired, older man would turn the air blue with his curses as his unwilling helpers laid out the tableware and fetched items for him to turn into breakfast for the other ranchhands. Sandy did not seem to mind or take the criticism personally, so Jim figured it was just Cookie's usual manner.

Following Sandy's lead, Jim ate as the pair readied the cookshack, grabbing bites of food between chores as Cookie piled platters and filled big bowls with the results of his early morning labors. There were flapjacks and eggs, sausage and biscuits, grits and bacon, gravy and loaves of bread Cookie had baked the evening before, and more. The cookshack's atmosphere simply roiled with a veritable smorgasbord of appetizing aromas, impossible for any hungry man to resist.

When all was ready, Cookie went outside. He hollered like a banshee, beating on a big metal triangle hung beside the door of the cookshack for good measure. The other cowboys soon drifted in, yawning and stretching.

It was the first good look Jim had gotten of his new fellow cowhands and, on the whole, he liked what he saw. 'There sure are a lotta good-lookin' men on this ranch!' Jim considered as he helped Sandy and Cookie dish out the food. Once the edge was off their appetites, the men started talking.

There seemed to be only one topic of conversation that morning: the new guys. Jim did not notice at first, but it slowly dawned on him that the cowhands' chatter was sprinkled liberally with phrases borrowed from the private talk between himself and Sandy earlier that morning. He winced inwardly, but bore it stoically when he saw Sandy doing the same. At least they did until Clyde dropped a verbal bomb on Sandy.

"Thanks, Sandy," Clyde said as the young cowboy refilled the man's cup with steaming coffee. "Has anybody ever told you what a damn handsome cuss you are?"

A few of the men choked on their food when they heard that and had to have their backs beaten by their buddies sitting next to them until they were out of danger. Jim looked up, appalled, at Sandy, who had gone white-faced. The Judas who bunked above them must have repeated their early morning conversation to his fellow ranchhands word for word.

"Thanks, Jim," began Brett as he took a piece of cornbread from the plate the distracted man was holding. "You know, you're purdy easy on the eyes!"

This time only one man was caught off guard. His buddies pounded his back to keep him from strangling on his breakfast as the rest roared with laughter. Smoldering with silent resentment, Jim plotted his revenge.

Finding out from Sandy which cowhand was the tattletale who slept above them, a black haired man called Pete, Jim managed to spike the man's second order of scrambled eggs with a generous dose of cayenne pepper he pilfered when Cookie's back was turned. Jim was pretty sure Sam saw him do it, but the foreman acted like nothing had happened. Jim set the steaming plate in front of the Judas.

"Thanks," Pete grinned, "That was a mighty entertainin' conversation you and Sandy were havin' this morning! It was all I could do not to bust out laughin' at some the things you said! Listenin' to you two, anybody'd think all we do here on the Lazy B was screw each other!"

"Don't you?" Jim asked. His question provoked a few hoots, but his eyes were hard as he glared at Pete.

"You'll find out soon enough," the cowpoke replied, with an evil glint in his eye.

"And so will you, sweetcheeks," Clyde chuckled as he slapped Sandy's behind. Sandy jumped and yelped and there was more laughter.

After settling down, Pete dug into his breakfast, but after a couple of bites, he started to holler for water. On cue, Sandy rushed a pitcherful to the Judas who was making their lives so miserable that morning and pretended to trip. Soaked to the skin and his throat on fire, Pete ran from the cookshack to the pump outside.

"Serves you right, you Judas!" Jim hollared after the retreating figure.

"You touch my spices again, boy," Cookie threatened Jim, brandishing a big carving knife while the other hands were dying of laughter, "and I'll cut your balls off and feed 'em to you!"

"Pete had it comin', Cookie," Jake rumbled.

Jim had already noticed that the grizzled headman and Sam were sitting together. No doubt Sam had filled his lover and fellow co-owner of the Lazy B in on what had happened in the bunkhouse that morning. Clyde turned from where he sat by the window and spoke up.

"Here comes Judas!" he warned his fellow ranchhands. Jim had apparently given his adversary a new nickname.

"Where is he?" Pete roared as he stomped back into the cookshack, "I'm gonna kick his ass!"

"He's right over there, Judas."

Pete stopped and stared.

"Goddammit, Rufus, my name ain't Judas!"

"Is it now," Jake announced. "Jim named you and Sandy baptized you. From now on you are Judas."

"You'll pay for that, boy!" Judas hissed as he advanced on Jim. "I'm gonna beat you like a rented mule!"

"C'mon, you evesdroppin' varmint, I got something for you, too!" Jim challenged, his fists up. He was more than ready for a fight by that time.

"Five bucks says Judas beats the new guy!" somebody yelled.

More bets were being wagered when Cookie stopped the action. He grabbed a big meat cleaver from where it hung from a hook on the wall and slammed it down on the closest table with a mighty THUNK! burying its keen edge an inch into the wood and causing the tableware to jump and rattle. Everyone in the place froze and it abruptly became quiet.

"Jesus, Cookie!" Matt exclaimed. He had been sitting nearest to the impact and his face was ashen. "You nearly got me!"

"Madre de Deos!" muttered Miguel as he crossed himself. He had been on the other side of the unexpected blow.

"I didn't come anywheres near you two!" the redheaded cook snarled, looking at the startled pair disgustedly. "If I'd wanted, I coulda trimmed your fingernails for you!" Having proven, to himself at least, that he was in control of the big chopper, Cookie raised his angry eyes to the rest of the group and took a deep breath. "NO FIGHTIN' IN MY COOKSHACK!!" Cookie bellowed out at the top of his lungs.

"The hell you say, pard!" growled Judas, as he started to move towards Jim again.

"Don't push me, Pete! As God is my witness," Cookie vowed as he wrenched the huge cleaver from the cleft it had made in the wooden table and brandished it in the air over his head like some mediaeval weapon of mass destruction, "the man who throws the first punch in my cookshack loses his fist!"

"Shit!" yelped Matt as he scrambled away from the hot tempered chef. Miguel bolted in the opposite direction. Jim held his ground.

"I'm willin' to take this outside," Jim offered, keeping a wary eye on Judas.

"I'm not," Jake said calmly, standing up. "I don't pay you guys to fight each other. Beat up cowhands don't work so good. You started this, Judas, and Jim's paid you back. Now shake hands and let it drop."

"Goddammit!" roared Judas in exasperation. "My name ain't Ju... "

Jim was amazed by how fast Jake moved then. Before the newly christened cowpoke could finish protesting against his new name, the grizzled headman had crossed the space between him and Judas. Jake grabbed a big fistful of Judas's shirtfront and shook the man like a ragdoll.

"Your name is what I say it is, shithead! Now you do as I say or I'll drag your low-down tattletale ass outside and kick it for you! I'm in charge on this ranch! You got that?"

"Yes... yessir... " Judas managed. Jake released him and the chastened cowboy went over to Jim, offering his hand.

"Even now?" Jim asked as they shook. Judas looked into Jim's eyes as if he was searching for something.

"Sure," Judas said at last, seeming to find what he wanted. "No hard feelin's." Seeing Cookie still looked somewhat disgruntled, Judas went over, pulled him further away from the crowded tables and whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry, pard. Are you gonna start callin' me 'Judas' too?"

"No," he whispered back. "You'll always be my Pete, even when you rile me something fierce by threatenin' to bust up my cookshack!"

"Guess I deserve a woppin' for that!" he grinned.

"Oh, you'll get one! You just wait... "

"You gonna forgive him or not, Cookie?" Jake broke in.

A ripple of laughter went through the cookhouse and Jim looked at Sandy, wondering what the joke was. As Sandy shrugged in incomprehension, Jim remembered that the two men shared the same bunk and that Pete had called Cookie 'pard' earlier. Could they possibly be...

"Sure," returned Cookie easily, ignoring his chuckling comrades as he hung his cleaver back up.

"Good!" Jake rumbled, the passion of his confrontation with Judas still evident in his voice as he turned to address the rest of the group. "And don't none of you other Rump Rangers ever forget who's in charge around here either!"

A sudden hush fell over the group. Once again, Jim and Sandy found themselves mystified by their fellow cowpokes' actions. Startled glances were traded between the ranchhands and the boss of the Lazy B looked like he had just cut a fart in church. They heard Sam mutter in annoyance.

"Goddammit, Jake!"

"What's a Rump Ranger?" Jim asked innocently.

"Shut up!" Jake spat, turning on Jim. "You forget you heard that, or you can pack your saddlebags and get out!"

"That goes for you too, Sandy," Sam added, quietly but firmly.

The new guys nodded in bewildered agreement and Jake moved on to assign the men their jobs for that day. As the pairs were announced, they left the cookshack to start work. As last just Sandy and Jim were left with Jake and Sam.

"Sandy, you said you're good with figures, right?"

"Yessir."

"Okay, you come with me. I need to go over the books. Sam, would you mind ridin' fence on the west and south with Jim?"

Jim exchanged a glance of surprise with Sandy. This was the first time either had heard Jake ask someone to do something. It seemed to be the grizzled headman's way to order the men of the Lazy B around as if he owned them. But then Jim remembered what Ben and Eli had told him, that Sam was Jake's lover.

"Sure," Sam replied easily, before glancing at Jim. "Go and saddle our horses, Jim. Matt can tell you which one is mine."

"Okay, Sam," Jim agreed. He shot a look at Sandy. "See you later, Sandy." Sandy smiled and nodded to Jim and the young cowpoke left the cookshack with a spring in his step, feeling fine.

By then, Jim knew that Matt was the Lazy B's blacksmith and spent most of his time in the small forge set up behind the main barn. Matt was kept almost constantly busy with repair jobs, making or mending iron items or shoeing horses. As Jim approached the barn he heard two men talking within.

"...I can't believe Jake mentioned the Rump Rangers in front of the new guys!"

Jim stopped just outside the open barn door and strained his ears to listen closely.

"Judas made Jake so mad he forgot himself. It was just a slip of the tongue. The new guys still don't know nothing about it."

"I guess so. What do you think of 'em, so far?"

"That Jim's a firecracker. He has a good effect on Sandy, too. Sandy was a pretty shy guy, until Jim came along. When he dumped that water on Judas, well, I just didn't expect anything like that from Sandy!"

"They're a pair already?"

"Accordin' to Judas. He says they're already tryin' to find some privacy so's they can have sex!"

"Huh! Speakin' of which, are we still on for this afternoon?"

"Sure, pardner. Come up to hayloft after lunch. Hmmmm... "

Jim took a chance and glanced inside. He saw the burly, ultra-masculine blacksmith, whose appearance gave no outward sign of his being interested in the same things Jim was, locked in a pretty passionate looking kiss with another hand. Matt's partner was someone Jim had not been introduced to yet.

The guy was quite handsome, shaggy haired and sported a full, trimmed beard, all a dark red color. As Jim looked the osculating pair over, he scratched his own beard in perplexed thought. It seemed that everybody on the ranch now knew how he and Sandy felt about each other, but they seemed okay with it, probably because some of the men of the Lazy B shared his tastes and the rest were unusually tolerant, or so it appeared. But there was still the mystery of the 'Rump Rangers', whoever or whatever they were.

'What in thunderin' tarnation is goin' on around this dingblasted ranch?' Jim wondered as he took a few steps back and started whistling loudly, just before he entered the barn.

"Hey, Matt," he called out, louder than he needed to. "You here?"

"Who's there?"

"It's Jim. Sam wants me to saddle his horse. Can you show me which one it is?"

"It the buckskin, over there," another voice said, coming closer.

"Thanks, er, we haven't been introduced."

"My name's Heck," the red haired man smiled warmly through his ruddy beard as they shook hands. "Is Sam goin' somewhere?"

"Jake wants me to ride fence with him today."

"Oh. Tell you what, I'll saddle Cream for you while you get your horse ready."

"Thanks, that'll be a big help. Is Cream the name of Sam's horse?"

"Kinda unusual, huh?" Heck grinned before he turned away.

Some time later Jim emerged from the barn leading Cream and his own horse, a bay named Autumn. He saw Jake and Sam talking in front of Jake's office. Jim was too far away to hear what the men were saying to each other, but their body language spoke volumes.

Jake was resting a hand on Sam's shoulder easily, and they were standing quite close together. Sam's hand came up to touch the other man's graying beard lightly and Jake's eyes were bright with emotion. They almost seemed ready to kiss when the pair noticed Jim approaching. The hands fell away and the men stepped further apart. The actions were unhurried, but Jim was sure he had interrupted something.

"Ready to go?" asked Jim.

Sam nodded and mounted his horse. As Jim got on Autumn he caught a glimpse of Jake gripping Sam's shin briefly while the two kept eye contact. Jim turned his mount's head towards the gate and walked his horse towards it. Soon Sam came trotting up behind him.

"Let's ride," Sam murmured.

The screech of an eagle made Jim glance skyward as he rode south slowly alongside Sam. They were following the long barbed wire fence that defined the western limits of the Lazy B ranch. Jim watched as the black and white raptor banked smoothly above the semiarid land.

Jim took in the vista of gently undulating prairie, clothed in rabbit brush and sage. A bit of late Spring color was provided by the golden blossoms of prince's plume and the pink blooms of the desert mallow. Then the young cowboy raised his eyes a little and studied the distant sparkle of noontime sunlight reflecting brightly off the icy peaks to the west.

"See the tallest one? With the sharp peak?" Sam pointed to the southwest, noticing Jim's interest as they rode along.

"Yeah."

"The local Indians have a lot of superstitions about it. Jake thinks it might be connected to some stories he knows."

"What kind of stories?"

"Legends about a mysterious Indian tribe. You get Jake started about them and he can go all night."

Jim smiled at Sam's double entendre as he replied.

"Do you mean the heron men?"

"Yeah!" Sam replied, looking at Jim in mild surprise. "What do you know about them, if you don't mind my askin'?"

"Well," Jim began, "just a few stories from a friend of mine in Maury City, who said he knew a heron man, that's all."

"Really?" Sam replied, his eyes widening.

"Yeah."

"I'd sure like to meet this friend of yours."

"He ain't hard to find. He's one of Maury City's deputy sheriffs. Ben Wyatt's his name. He said he used to work here."

"That's right, I know him. He's one of Art and Sven's sons. They're co-owners of the Lazy B. Most of what Jake knows about the heron men came from Art and Sven. But I didn't know Ben had actually met one."

"Well, since you know him, I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you what he knows if you ask." Jim thought a moment before going on. "Come to think of it, Ben might have meant for me to keep what he told me about his heron man friend to myself, but seein' as you're my friend and his, it oughta be okay."

The men rode along in silence for a spell before Sam spoke again.

"I'm glad you think of me as a friend, Jim. I help Jake run the ranch, but sometimes I don't agree with his style, orderin' the guys around without a lotta regard to their feelin's."

"He's the boss," observed Jim.

"Don't get me wrong, he's got his good points. But he seems to think that the boss can't afford to unwind with his men. Now me, I like livin' in the bunkhouse. I see the men day and night and get to know who's troublesome and who ain't."

"I hope I haven't given you too much trouble."

Sam laughed.

"Give and take is what goes on around here, Jim, and if you keep givin' as good as you get, the men will love you. Hell, I'm already partial to you, and you haven't even worked a full day here yet... Damn!"

"What?"

"Another break."

Jim saw it as Sam was swinging off his horse. The men got out the tools and repaired the gap, wedding new lengths of barbed wire to the old and tightening the strands. It was work they both understood, which left a lot of time for talk.

As they chatted, Jim was alert for any clues that would explain the mystery behind the 'Rump Rangers' Jake had accidentally spoken of, but the conversation he shared with Sam did not provide Jim with any new insights. As they continued to follow the seemingly endless fence, the sun began to fall towards the jagged horizon of the southern Cascades on their right hands. Eventually, Jim looked over at Sam and spoke.

"Shouldn't we be headin' back for supper?"

Sam seemed puzzled for a moment.

"Damn," he cussed quietly. "I knew I'd forgotten something."

"What?"

"I meant to tell you. We're not goin' back tonight."

"Shit," Jim muttered, as he thought of Sandy sleeping all alone in their bunk and the things he would have said to his new partner had he known he was going to be gone overnight.

"Sorry," said Sam. "I hope my forgetfulness didn't spoil any plans you might've had."

A retort instantly hovered on the edge of Jim's lips as he looked at Sam. The older man seemed genuinely remorseful however, so Jim bit his tongue, shrugged it off and examined his feelings. The flash of anger he had felt when he thought Sam was mocking what Sandy and he shared surprised Jim a little. He thought he had a thicker skin than that, seeing as the whole world, or so it had seemed until quite recently, condemned what he had always felt for men, since he was a little boy.

But Jim realized something was different about what was going on between Sandy and himself. It was not just sex, it was... well, deeper, somehow. Sandy's touch meant something more to Jim, a lot more than just the prelude to a pleasurable time in the sack... Jim wondered if this was what it felt like when you began to fall in love...

Then he shook himself. He had known Sandy for only one night. All this idle thought about love was foolishness...

But was it? Jim had heard about people falling in love 'at first sight'. Maybe that was what was happening to him...

Jim thought about Sandy and pondered the little that he had learned about the handsome blonde cowpoke. Sandy liked guys, that was a fact, but just the idea of mansex being forced on him seemed to scare him half to death. Jim wondered grimly if Sandy had lost his virginity to a rapist.

Jim decided he had to get Sandy to talk to him, open up about his fears. Inexperienced as he was, Jim knew their fledgling relationship did not have a future if they could not share with each other. Sam's next words suddenly yanked Jim out of his reverie.

"Penny for your thoughts," the foreman grinned, looking amused as he nodded towards Jim's saddle.

Jim looked down and immediately blushed. His crotch was distended, the blue fabric of his jeans obviously stretched over a mass of hard cowboy meat, the result of his thinking about Sandy. Jim hastily rearranged his basket as Sam went on easily.

"No need to be embarrassed, son. It happens to all of us out here. Even me."

Jim could not stop himself from looking. The soft, worn, blue fabric of the crotch of Sam's jeans was as full as Jim's. As he watched, Sam let his callused hand fall to the suggestive mound and rub it gently, then he gave a little tug on the old jeans and the button fly abruptly yawned.

"I need to take this situation in hand, so to speak," he smiled as he slipped his hand in the opening, grabbed his stiff pecker and started slowly stroking it inside his jeans. Then he paused and glanced at Jim. "I'm not shockin' you, am I son?"

"No, sir... "

Jim found the way Sam called him 'son' to be quite arousing. He looked at Sam more appraisingly and saw a thirty-something cowboy, prematurely aged like all the men who lived life out in the open, weathered and worn with hard work. A thick, bushy yellow moustache obscured his lips, the longest hairs on his head.

The hair that showed under his stetson was close cropped, but full, and his cheeks were gilded by a couple of days' worth of golden stubble. Jim suddenly realized how handsome Sam was. As he did so, he felt his own cock swell in his pants and begin to drool precum. The elder cowboy spoke, continuing to slowly stroke the hard, tasty-looking length of peckermeat that showed through his jeans.

"Well, I think we're almost done for the day. Look, Jim, there's a lineshack up ahead with supplies, a stove and a bed. At least we won't hafta sleep out in that tonight."

Jim looked where Sam had pointed with his free hand. His eyes widened in surprise as he glanced heavenwards. For the first time Jim noticed an angry looking mass of dark clouds writhing and tumbling in the afternoon sky as they approaching from the northwest, portending a considerable storm. A muted mutter of distant thunder rumbled.

"Ride on ahead and get supper started," Sam said, his eyes on the approaching stormfront, as if he were judging its speed. "I'll take care of any more breaks in the fence between here and there."

"Okay, Sam," replied Jim, not really wanting to go.

He wanted to stay and watch Sam shoot his load, but did not know how to ask. So Jim urged Autumn into a gallop and they followed the fence for perhaps another couple of miles before he saw the small lineshack. It was built within the corner where the fence took a right angle turn to the east.

Another little section of fence within that corner protected it, so the cattle could not get to the supply of hay it sheltered. Jim paused to look down the long fenceline that defined the southern boundary of the Lazy B. He and Sam would be riding that section of fence tomorrow before returning to the main compound of the ranch. Another, louder rumble of thunder brought Jim's attention back to the present.

Dismounting to open a gate and lead Autumn to the lineshack, Jim found a halfway enclosed area built off the back of the building. It was large enough to shelter two horses and held a supply of hay and firewood. Once his horse was bedded down, Jim carried an armload of wood inside and fired up the potbellied stove.

As he rummaged around, searching for the supplies, Jim took in the entire lineshack at a glance. A narrow bed stood opposite the stove and an almost comically small table and two chairs completed the furnishings. Various items of hardware hung from hooks in the rafters or on the walls. At the foot of the iron framed bed, in a big, heavy lidded, metal lined box, proof against rodents, Jim found everything he needed in the way of foodstuffs.

Having learned long before how to fend for himself, Jim had no difficulty mixing and cooking up a batch of biscuits. Turning them out to cool, he sliced and fried up some bacon, then used the fat to make gravy. As the aroma of the simple fare filled the warm air of the lineshack, the approaching storm caused an early twilight. Thunder grumbled more insistently outside as Jim lit a lantern and hung it in the building's single window.

Soon, the food was ready. But where was Sam? Jim stepped out of the shack and gazed back anxiously the way he had come. The threatening storm had drifted closer. A flicker of light briefly illuminated a distant cloud from within. A few seconds later came the thunder.

Jim could smell the moisture in the air and feel a fresh breeze blowing across the high prairie, gusts tossing the tops of the sagebrush and rippling the grass. Seeing no sign of his companion, a funny feeling came over the young cowboy. He went around to get Autumn, intending to ride back and look for the foreman.

Just as Jim reached his horse, a livid bolt of lightning lanced down from the lurid sky. It struck the ground maybe a quarter mile or less away. For an instant it was brighter than day and Jim had to calm Autumn as the booming thunder exploded in their ears.

The sound was like the announcement of doomsday, shaking the earth beneath their feet. As the noise faded, Jim continued to coo and stoke his spooked horse's nose. Then it was Jim's turn to be startled as a big hand suddenly gripped his shoulder familiarly.

"Who... "

"Whoa there, kid. It's only me," Sam smiled. Seeing what Jim was doing he asked: "You plannin' on goin' somewhere?"

"Yeah. To look for you. I got worried... "

"Thanks for the concern, but I was okay. Did you make supper?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Good boy," he smiled as he tousled Jim's hair. The young cowhand's cock jerked again in his jeans. "Lemme put Cream to bed and then I'll be in."

Jim went inside, heaped a plate full of food and was ready to hand it to Sam as soon as he came into the small lineshack.

"Smells awfully good in here," Sam grinned as he took the plate and sat down.

"Sam, what do you think of Sandy?" asked Jim as he sat opposite the foreman.

"Why," Sam began, unfazed by the lack of preamble to the question, "I've only known him a few days. He's a hard worker, but sorta kept to himself, at least he did until you showed up. Now maybe he'll really become part of the crew."

"If I told you why he was that way, would you keep it to yourself?"

"Sure, son."

"Well, we haven't had a lotta time to talk, but I think Sandy took Jake's ribbin' too much to heart, and that's why he's been shyin' away from the guys here."

"Jake's ribbin'? Whatcha mean?"

"The same thing he told me. You know, about the guys here havin' 'needs' and expectin' Sandy and me to 'help 'em out' if they ask. You know about that, don't you?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"Jake was foolin' when he said that, wasn't he?"

Sam smiled mysteriously at Jim. He enjoyed himself as he watched the apprehension grow in the youngster's blue eyes. Finally he took pity on Jim and answered.

"Of course he was, son. Nobody at the Lazy B is gonna force you or Sandy to do anything you don't wanna do."

"Why did he say that to us then?" Jim asked, the relief he felt audible in his voice.

"Jake doesn't want guys workin' here who aren't like himself, and comments like that usually scare those types off," Sam said. When he saw Jim's questioning look, he went on. "You see, all of the guys here at the Lazy B are... how do they say it politely?... are 'that way'. Or to put it more plainly, every man Jack of us here are into havin' sex with men. Does that bother you?"

"Hell, no!" coughed Jim, narrowly avoiding choking on his food when he heard Sam's revelation. Why had Ben and Eli not told him that earlier?

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Jim managed, gulping some water to recover. "You're not pullin' my leg, are you Sam?"

"Honest Injun!" the foreman grinned. Outside, lightning flashed again and with the thunder, rain started to fall, pattering noisily on the lineshack's tin roof.

"I'm that way too," Jim said, speaking up to be heard over the noise of the rain.

"I'd already sorta figured that, son!" Sam snorted in amusement. "What about Sandy? Is he one of us?"

"Well, he sure seems to like me. I hope I can help him get over his shyness towards the rest of you guys."

"He's gotta work that out for himself."

"Sure, but not alone. I'm his pardner, I told him I'd protect him, and I'm a little sorry that tonight, I can't."

"I don't see how a youngster like you could understand what bein' a pard is all about."

"I know what I feel for Sandy," Jim reasoned. "The rest I can learn as we go along together."

Sam looked impressed as he chewed on a biscuit dipped in gravy. Jim thought the foreman was going to say something more on the subject, but he just addressed himself to the rest of his dinner. Swallowing the last bite, he yawned hugely.

"Let's turn in," he suggested.

Dropping their plates and utensils into a bucket, Sam set it and another outside to catch rainwater. That way by morning they would have enough to wash the cookware and have more drinking water. Sam stood up and blew out the lantern.

By the faint light of the low fire shining through the grille of the potbellied stove, and the chance flash of lightning, the men stripped off their clothing, draped their duds over the chairs and got under the covers. Jim was sure he would never go to sleep with the hardon that instantly jumped to attention as soon as Sam's warm, hairy body rubbed up against his in the narrow bed. Seeing no other way to appease his unruly member, Jim grabbed himself and tried to come as quickly as he could.

"Boy, quit wigglin' and go to sleep!"

"Sorry, Sam, I'll be done in a minute... "

"Wha...? Are you jerkin' off?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Don't mess our bed up!"

"Sorry, sir, I'll go outside and finish if you want."

"Don't be a fool, son! It's rainin' buckets! You'll catch your death if you go out there!"

"I can't stop now... "

"Here," Sam grunted, sounding annoyed, but inwardly not, as he turned their blankets down. He gave a low whistle as he studied Jim's rigid pecker by the faint firelight from the potbellied stove. "Damn, son! That's a fine pistol you're packin'! Let's see how well you can shoot."

Taking over for Jim, Sam spat in his hand, wrapped it around the hard meat and proceeded to pump. Soon the young cowboy's load was shooting into the palm of Sam's other hand. He looked at Jim.

"Open your mouth, son."

Jim did as he was told, still fazed by his orgasm. Sam lifted his hand and let Jim's load go back to its source. When Sam did not move his hand, Jim cleaned it with his tongue, sucking the remainder of his seed off the callused palm of the older cowboy. Sam looked pleased by Jim's performance.

When Jim had all his spunk, Sam pulled the covers back up. The men lay warmly together in the semidarkness, an occasional flash of lightning still brightening the world at odd moments, and mutters of thunder, like the grumblings of antique gods, overwhelming the quiet sounds of the men's breathing. Jim decided to say what he felt.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I... I'd like to return the favor. If that's okay with you."

"Of course it is, son... "

Jim was beginning to love it when Sam called him 'son'.

"...we all depend on each other out here, to help each other out when we need help... "

"You need any help right now?"

"Well, sure, but I don't wanna just jack off."

"Whatcha want?"

"Well, Jim, I like feelin' a man's warm, wet mouth on my pecker, suckin' and lickin' on it until I shoot my spunk down his gullet, more than anything, but you don't hafta do that if you... "

Before Sam could finish his sentence, Jim ducked under the blanket and started to slurp on his bedmate's hard rod. The older man tried to make it last, but Jim was too eager and too talented a cocksucker, thanks to the lessons he had received from Ben and Eli. Soon he was swallowing a good-sized load of sweet, creamy cowboy cum.

"Lordy, Jim, what a mouth you have on you!"

"I liked doin' it... I like you, Sam," managed Jim as he licked an errant gout of the foreman's cum out of his moustache.

"I've already told you I feel partial towards you, son."

"Sam, I don't know why, but when you call me son it gets me all excited!"

"Maybe, like some guys I've known, it means you'd like an older fella to father you, keep you in line, but you don't seem like the kind of bad boy who'd need that sort of attention."

"What I did in the cookshack this morning wasn't exactly good!" snickered Jim in reply.

"But it was exactly what Pete, excuse me, Judas, deserved." Sam looked at Jim and decided to push it a little, see what Jim had in him. "But Cookie's probably still gonna be pissed about you goin' into his supplies when we get back."

"Is there anything I could do make it up to Cookie?" Jim asked, taking the bait.

"Well," Sam tried to keep from grinning as he spun out his plan, "there is, but... "

"I don't want any hard feelin's between me and Cookie. We hafta work together. You think if I offered to do to him what I just did to you, he'd be willin' to forget it?"

"Maybe. But remember what I said about me likin' the feel of a hot mouth around my pecker more than anything?"

"Yeah."

"Well, different men have different pleasures. And Cookie likes to tie guys up and give them a good woppin' with his hand. Some guys enjoy that." Sam confided, looking to see if Jim were too shocked or not and prepared to drop the subject if he was.

"I'm not too sure I'd like that. But who can Cookie find to wop like that out here?"

"Well, don't tell anybody I told you, but Judas really likes to play that way," Sam replied. "He and Cookie will get together most Saturday nights out in the barn. Cookie ties Judas up tight and spreadeagled in one of the stables, so he can't move, and then he wops him so hard you can hear Judas howlin' all over the ranch."

"Damn!"

Sam's words immediately gave Jim the seed of an idea, a way to tweak Judas really good. He knew he was playing with fire, since he and Judas had agreed to end their feud in front of the whole ranch, but the mischief Jim was contemplating was just too attractive for him to simply forget. He carefully filed the idea away for future reference in his mind as Sam went on.

"Yeah, those two are pards, if you haven't noticed. But back to you, Jim, if you was to go to Cookie and act all bashful and sorryful about what you did and say you deserved to be turned over his knee for it, he'd do it, and believe me, he'd be your friend for life after that!"

"Really?"

"I'm sure of it," Sam grinned.

"Uh, would he tie me up when he wops me?"

"Only if you ask him to."

"Oh. Then I'll do it. I guess I can try early on the next morning I'm there to help."

"Just be sure to think on it, Jim, so's you can make sure Cookie believes you when you say you're sorry and you deserve a woppin' for what you did."

"I will."

And Sam would be there to witness the act, covertly. Jim did not need to know that watching a grown man being humiliated was also one of Sam's turn-ons. The foreman knew a few others at the ranch as well who would probably like to watch a good looking cowpoke like Jim submit to a spanking.

With any luck, they would be inspired to try it themselves, which would surely make Cookie very happy. And a happy cook meant good food and a well-fed camp. Everybody would win, Sam thought, feeling rather proud of himself.

"Say, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I liked what we did and all... "

The older man's hand rubbed Jim's shoulder. His callused hands were remarkably sensual. Jim closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch.

"But?" Sam asked gently.

"You aren't Sandy. I miss him."

"And you're not Jake," breathed Sam.

"Ben told me you and Jake were pardners."

"Yeah. He's been my pard for over ten years. And I'm powerful lonely for him, too. But sharin' the hurt between us makes it easier to bear, don't you agree?"

"Yeah, it does," Jim sighed. He thought of something else then and spoke on it. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you two earlier."

"When?"

"Before we left this morning, remember?"

"Oh, right. It wasn't nothing serious... I hope."

"What... " began Jim before he caught himself. "Sorry. I'm sure whatever it was, it's none of my business."

"No," Sam said easily as he continued to caress Jim's body, "I don't mind talkin' about it to you, Jim, but I'd like it to stay between us."

"Sure, Sam."

"Jake," sighed Sam, "likes to make people think he's tough as nails, that nothing ever bothers him, but that ain't so. When we first met... " Sam's voice trailed off as he began to remember that wonderful, long ago day, a chance meeting on a nameless trail... Then he shook himself and went on. "Well, Jake didn't have any gray hairs then and now he's sorta got the idea that 'cause he looks older than he is, I'm gonna leave him."

"He can't help it if he went gray as a young man!" Jim exclaimed. "I've seen lots of guys with the same problem, if you can call it a problem. The color of a man's hair doesn't affect what sorta person he is, inside."

"That's what I keep tellin' him, Jim."

"Hey, if Jake's so worried about you leavin' him, why'd he pair us up to do this job? He musta known we'd hafta sleep together. It's almost like he's tryin' to tempt you or something."

"No, I always do this job with the new hands, Jim, so they can get familiar with the boundaries of the ranch. And yeah, I get to sleep with them too, which I'll admit I enjoy, but it has never affected how I felt about Jake, and he knows that. But I gotta confess," Sam muttered as he hugged Jim, "you seem like a special sorta guy, Jim. I hope you'll wanna get together with me like this again sometime in the future."

"Sure, Sam," Jim replied, just before Sam's lips met his. They fell silent for awhile, enjoying the feeling of being held by one another, and Jim thought before he spoke again. "Sam?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"About Jake, mebbe you oughta start sleepin' with him every night, hold him like you're holdin' me now, tell him how damned handsome he is, which is the truth, by the way," grinned Jim, "and how much you love him. The guys in the bunkhouse ain't gonna go wild or burn the place down if you stop sleepin' there!"

"You ain't been here long enough to know what sorta craziness those cowhands are capable of," chuckled Sam. "But I've been thinkin' the same thing lately, Jim. Jake and I need to be together more. As soon as we get back, I'm movin' into Jake's cabin. As for the bunkhouse, well, you and Sandy will just hafta take your chances with that hoard of horny cowpokes!"

"As long as they don't force nothing, I think we can handle it."

"They won't. You'd have a hard time findin' a nicer bunch of guys, but they will make, um, comments and suggestions to you and Sandy, which you'll be free to respond to as you see fit. Some of us might have pardners, but we all play around pretty freely. Can I ask you a personal question, Jim?"

"I suppose so, seein' as we've just played with each other's tallywhackers!" he chuckled.

"Be serious," Sam smiled. "Will you tell Sandy what we've done?"

"Sure, if he asked. I know he'd understand."

"You're a lucky man, to have a pardner who isn't jealous."

"What about Jake? Is what we did gonna make trouble between him and you?"

"No, not at all."

"I'm relieved to hear that. I won't hafta worry about losin' my job when we get back!"

Sam chuckled softly and tousled Jim's hair.

"Goodnight, son."

"Goodnight, Sam."

Jim relaxed into Sam's arms and let the noise of the raindrops pelting the tin roof of the lineshack lull him to sleep.

Again, Jim could feel a familiar presence in the night, observing him. The shadowy form of the mysterious heron who had haunted his dreams of late shed a subtle spirit light, an arcane illumination for the soul that filled the lineshack, a radiance that proved to be just as warm and comforting as the heat from the potbelly stove or Sam's hairy body, as the older cowhand hugged Jim to him protectively while they slept. Once the great heron seemed to murmur, in its strange, flute-like voice.

"Your understanding of my way is growing, Jim Willis... "

Jim awoke with the smell of coffee filling his nostrils in a delicious manner. He looked and saw Sam sitting in a chair beside the bed, sipping from a tin cup, his blue eyes gazing with a gentle fondness at his sleeping companion. The foreman had not bothered to put on any clothes and it would have been hard for Jim to say which was brighter, the morning sunlight slanting strongly through the single window of the lineshack or the golden hairs that fleeced Sam's work hardened body.

"Now that there's light enough for you to see me proper-like without my wrappin's, Jim, I hope the sight ain't too disappointin' to you," Sam said through a grin.

"Hell, no!"

Jim got out of bed and stood before Sam. The older man stared hard at the naked young cowboy in the light of the rising sun. His eyes told Jim he was pleased with the sight of the russet haired man's furry body. His cock seemed to like the view too, by the way it gave a little lurch and started to lengthen.

"I guess it's only fair you get to see me nekkid too."

"Jim," Sam shook his head, "you amaze me."

"Why?"

"Sexy young cowboys are a dime a dozen, but one like you, who knows how to give, not just take, is rare. Usually a man has to age a bit before he discovers the subtle pleasures of givin'."

Jim was not sure what to say, so he said nothing. Sam went on.

"Does it really give you pleasure to be here with me, Jim?"

"Sure, but... "

"But?"

"I'd really like to see Sandy again."

Sam nodded slowly, thinking of Jake. And of a few things the partners needed to discuss. Jim and Sandy among them.

"Let's get dressed, have some coffee and what's left of those good biscuits of yours for breakfast and ride back then," Sam said, standing and stretching easily, his cock swinging freely. "If the southside ain't in worse shape than the fence we've already ridden, then we oughta be home before dinnertime."

"Um... do we hafta leave right away?" Jim asked quietly as he let his fingertips stroke Sam's semihard meat lightly. It did not stay semihard for long after that.

Sam responded with a kiss that told Jim they would stay in the lineshack until both men were thoroughly satisfied. The foreman maneuvered Jim back into the bed. He muttered as his hands explored Jim's ass.

"I'd sure like to get in there, son... you willin'?"

Jim gasped his assent and Sam hawked and spat into his hand. He worked the spit into Jim's backside, finding and massaging the heated manhole until his fingers easily slipped through. Coating his cock with another gob of saliva Sam positioned the head against Jim's backdoor.

"I'm gonna ride you like an unbroken colt, son," Sam warned, pushing his cockhead past the cowboy's spit-slickened asslips. "'cause that's another one of my pleasures. If you want me off, you're just gonna hafta try and unsaddle me!"

"Go on," Jim hissed as Sam's cock sank irresistibly into his body. "Let's ride... "

The foreman grinned at Jim's use of his own expression. He paused when he was all the way in to let his companion get used to the steely rod stretching his innards. Once he felt Jim relaxing, Sam started to fuck the youthful cowboy with forceful strokes.

Jim had been fucked that way before, by both Ben and Eli. And when his turn came to top the deputies, they showed him how to use the muscles in his ass to heighten the pleasure of the act for the fucker. Jim did that now, gripping Sam when he plunged in, forcing the foreman to work to pull himself out. It drove the older man wild.

"Goddammit, Jim!" he panted, after a few minutes of the treatment, "You're drivin' me over the cliff... too soon... I don't wanna... Ohh!... Ah shit!... Ooh... Ahh... AHHHH... "

Sam pounded his load into Jim's ass, moaning like a lost soul as he did so. Then he rolled off and lay beside his companion, gasping for air. When he had recovered somewhat, he looked ruefully at Jim.

"You fucker! I wanted a longer ride than that!"

"You dared me to unsaddle you," Jim pointed out.

"C'mere!" demanded Sam, bearhugging the young man and kissing him passionately awhile as he toyed with Jim's rigid manhood. "Two can play that game!" he warned as he spat in his hand and slicked up his asshole, then went down on Jim, drooling around his hard joint until it was sloppy with the foreman's spit. "There," he said, pulling Jim between his legs, "let's see how long you can ride me, you young whippersnapper!"

"Okay," said Jim playfully as his shiny, slick cockhead stretched and pushed its way through his companion's sphincter, "let's see if I can get a gallop outta you, you ol' stallion you!"

"I'll gallop you, you... ahhh... "

Jim cut Sam's comeback off when he sank his rock hard shaft all the way into the man's ass in one, smooth thrust, like a sword into its sheath. Sam wiggled like bait on a hook beneath him as Jim started to fuck the foreman hard, but Sam knew the same tricks Jim did. Sam's ass squeezed Jim's prick as if it were a boneless hand trying to milk a cow's teat and Jim could not resist the treatment. The young cowboy was soon shaking as if there had been an earthquake as he pumped Sam's ass full of his pearly essence.

"Now you know how it feels!" Sam smirked as Jim struggled to catch his breath.

"Goddamn, Sam," panted Jim, "I don't think I've ever come that fast!"

"You youngsters always seem to wanna sprint to the finish. Me, I enjoy a nice, comfortable, long ride."

"Okay Sam, I give. Next time, you can stay in my saddle as long as you wanna."

"Only if you agree to do the same for me."

"It's a deal."

"Next time then," Sam said as he kissed Jim and rose from the bed. "As much as I'd like to stay here with your lovable self and screw around, we can't. There's work to do, ridin' fence, and we're burnin' daylight!"

After breakfast and cleaning up, the cowboys emerged from the lineshack. They found an absolutely glorious morning awaiting them. The tattered remnants of the previous night's storm, a few broken clouds, hung impotently in a perfect, china blue sky, lit by the rising sun's incredibly ebullient, golden splendor.

The land all around them looked refreshed and greener. The men took their first look at the brand new day, breathed in chestfuls of the fresh, moist, clean air and grinned at each other. They silently agreed that nothing could possibly go wrong on a day that started as beautifully as this one had.

As they rode eastward, along the fenceline that marked the southern extent of the Lazy B, Sam began regaling Jim with some of the many stories he had learned from Jake about the heron men. After awhile, Jim was so engrossed in the tale he was listening to that he was momentarily taken aback when Sam's narrative faltered. Then he looked and saw what had distracted the foreman.

"Sonova... " Sam breathed.

A section of the fence standing before the cowboys was open, all the barbed wire strands broken and lying on the ground, which was torn up by what appeared to be the passage of many animals. Sam swung off of Cream and knelt to examine the tracks.

"What is it?" asked Jim, joining him.

Sam pointed. Jim looked and saw, among the split-hoofed cattle tracks, the imprints of shod horses. He glanced up at Sam's frowning face.

"Rustlers," the older man muttered grimly, standing up and gazing southward, in the direction the tracks led. "Jake had thought we were shy a few head, but he couldn't be sure until we organized a roundup. This might not be the first time they've stolen from us. Let's mend this fence, then we'll go see where those damn varmints went."

Jim and Sam worked quickly, pulling the strands out of the trampled earth and drawing them together. In the process, they saw the wires had been cleanly cut. The job went smoothly until they got to the last strand, which perversely refused to cooperate. Jim could see the piece of new wire they had wedded to the old was too short, but Sam was determined to force it to fit. He was impatient to finish so they could get on the trail of the rustlers.

"C'mon, you bitch... " the foreman grunted as he tugged on the wire.

"Sam, I think it's gonna... "

Sssspppprrrrooooiiiinnnngggg!

The strand of wire Sam was tightening abruptly snapped and flailed wildly. Jim jumped away in time. Sam was not fast enough.

"Oww!! Jesus H. Christ!" yelped Sam.

"What happened... "

Jim saw as he asked. The barbed wire had cut right through Sam's shirtsleeve and into his left arm above the elbow. He was grimacing in pain, gripping his arm and blood was seeping between his fingers, dripping to the ground, a shockingly bright red eruption in the brilliant sunlight as Sam cursed again.

"Goddammit to hell!!"

"Sam!" Jim exclaimed. "You're hurt!"

"I know that, you young ignoramus! Go get a clean bandanna outta my saddlebag so's I can bandage this up!"

Jim complied. As he came back he saw Sam had ripped the sleeve off his shirt and was trying to lick his wound, but he could not quite get his mouth to the injury. So he spit on his fingers and worked the gob into his lacerated flesh.

"Gotta do something to prevent infection... "

"Here, lemme do that... "

Sam stopped as Jim took the foreman's bared arm and brought his lips down on the open wound. He licked the torn flesh gently, sucked it, cleaned it and spat the bloody fluid out, tasting Sam's spit, Sam's blood, Sam's flesh... Jim felt Sam's other hand come up to stroke the russet hair of his head as he worked.

"I hope that didn't hurt too much," Jim said when he finished.

"No," Sam murmured, thoughtfully. "You didn't hafta do that, son."

"Yes I did. You said it yourself. We all depend on each other out here."

Sam nodded, his eyes full of gratitude as he looked at his young companion with even more respect than he had come to have for Jim. They tied the arm up in a bandanna as best they could and Jim urged Sam to ride back to the ranch's main compound while he finished mending the fence. But Sam would have none of it.

After Jim finished the repair job, he was irritated by Sam's insistence on following the tracks of the cattle and horses that led away to the south, but could not deter the stubborn foreman from his purpose. They rode for miles until they reached an arroyo swollen with runoff from the storm. There was no way the cowboys could get across it without making a long detour.

"Goddammit!" muttered Sam in frustration.

He could see the trail continuing southward on the other side of the flooded ravine. Following along the same track with his eyes, Jim saw a prominent, flat-topped hill in the distance that appeared to be composed of dark rock. He pointed at it.

"What's over there?"

"Nothing, or at least there's supposed to be nothing," Sam muttered as he also pointed. "That's Black Butte. Around it is a lotta badlands and canyons, all broken up rock and scrub. A good huntin' spot in the fall, but no place for cattle."

"Let's turn back and get help," Jim urged.

"We can't let those rustlers get away!"

"They have got away," Jim pointed out. "And if we did find 'em, what then? Two cowpokes with three good arms between 'em ain't gonna be able to outfight a gang of rustlers!"

Sam slumped in his saddle, defeated by Jim's realistic portrayal of their situation.

"Lemme get some water and then we can turn back," the foreman sighed.

As the men knelt to fill their canteens from a shallow rock basin full of clear rainwater, Jim looked at Sam and saw his face was flushed. He put his hand on the foreman's forehead. Sam flinched away, but not quickly enough.

"You've got a fever!" Jim exclaimed.

"It's nothing." Sam said dismissively. "Let's ride."

Sam knew the country well and they took off in a direction that he knew would bring them diagonally back to the fenceline and closer to the ranch compound. They rode hard for a time, but before they reached the southern boundary of the Lazy B again, Sam called a halt. Jim had been leading, riding towards a landmark Sam had pointed out when he heard the elder cowboy yell out to him. When Jim circled back he was appalled at the change he saw in Sam.

The foreman's face was ashen and he needed help to get off his horse. As Jim touched Sam, he felt how hot the foreman's skin was and knew the fever had gotten worse. Sam asked to be helped to the shade of a stunted, solitary tree nearby.

Jim got Sam seated as comfortably as he could at the base of the tree and gave him water, wondering what else, if anything, he could do, except watch his friend's condition get worse. The young cowboy looked around at the empty, grass and sagebrush covered country they were in ruefully. As far as Jim was concerned, they were stuck in the middle of nowhere. Jim was not sure how to get back to the Lazy B and help, but even if he had, he would have never left Sam alone in the condition he was in.

"Go to my saddlebags. You'll find a pencil and some paper. Bring them to me." Sam ordered.

Jim brought his friend what he wanted. First he wrote out directions for Jim so he could find his way back to the Lazy B compound. When Jim saw them he objected at once.

"I ain't leavin' you here alone!"

"I'm orderin' you to go!" Sam replied firmly. "Do as I say!"

As Jim agreed reluctantly, Sam wrote another note that he said was his will and asked Jim to witness it. The young cowhand signed the paper in an agonized disbelief at what was happening. He saw that Sam had left everything he owned to Jake.

Then Sam started on a third letter. As he wrote, Sam told Jim he wanted it delivered to Jake and no one else. Jim left the foreman for a moment to go and get a clean bandanna to make a new bandage.

As he was rummaging in Sam's saddlebag, Cream snorted and stamped one forehoof. Jim looked up to see what had disturbed the horse and his heart leapt as he spotted two riders in the distance. Jim immediately signaled to them by waving the bright red bandanna he held and they waved back in reply. The cowpokes had help!

"Sam!" he called excitedly as he hurried back to his friend. "Someone's comin'! Mebbe they can... "

Jim's voice trailed off when he saw Sam slumped over. He knelt down and anxiously checked the foreman. Jim was relieved to see that Sam was only unconscious.

As Jim straightened Sam up, the last letter he had been writing slipped from his relaxed fingers and started to blow away with the breeze. The young cowboy grabbed at the sheet of paper to save it and saw the first line. Jim could not stop himself from reading the rest of it.

'Jake - I love you. I want to tell you that right off. Jim can relate the details of the accident, so let me write of important things before this fever makes it impossible for me to say what I have to.

First, Jim's ready. He's one of us, I'm sure of it. I believe he's falling in love with Sandy. I hope Sandy returns that love, for Jim's sake. Second, Matt's ready to take over my job. He's the most level headed of the crew, though I'm not sure how the blacksmithing work will get done if Matt's out overseeing the others.

Now for us. I know you want more than anything to grow old with me here in this beautiful land we both love, and I want that too, more than I can say, but fate is not often kind to lovers. If the worst should happen, I want you to know you are the finest man I have ever known and I am proud to be the man you chose to love. Remember the songs you sang me, about your love for me, like you said the heron men do to their lovers? Maybe it's the fever doing odd things to my mind, but I have a song for you now:

Down in the green grass valley by a sweetwater pool two old cowboys rest their bones

They dream together side by side of their days on the wide prairie

When they were young and strong would ride and rope, drink and fight and sleep together under the stars

One turns to the other undying love in his eyes and shows his pard where they're going

A land of tall grass and clear water warm days and cool nights cheerful campfires, soft blankets and quiet words

The other smiles in understanding his pard says goodbye and the dream ends

One old cowboy is left by the grave of the pard he loved like a brother

As he rides away he knows someday they'll ride together again

Your lover in this life and the next, forever and completely yours, Sam McCrea.'

Jim's chest started to heave as he finished reading. He wanted to cry. And he wanted to scream at the same time.

"Sam! Sam!" he pleaded as he shook the semiconscious man. "You can't die! Oh God, no! Hold on, Sam, hold on!"

Sam made a noise that could have been a grunt or a moan. Jim tried to give him water, stroking the foreman's throat to get him to swallow as the liquid soaked into his bushy yellow moustache and wet the golden stubble that gilded his chin before it dripped onto his shirt. Jim heard the sound of hooves grinding on the rocky ground, coming to a stop behind him as the riders he had seen from afar arrived at last.

"My friend needs help," Jim began distractedly as he turned to the newcomers, "please... "

The cowboy's voice died away in surprise as he beheld two Indians. One was wiry and darkly, broodingly handsome. The pale line of an old scar marred the coppery skin of his left shoulder where it was bared by the sleeveless buckskin shirt he wore. The other native was broadly muscular and his eyes shone, glittering in the bright sunlight like chips of polished obsidian.

The natives silently took in the scene before them. Then they chattered to each other in their own language before dismounting. Jim had no idea what to expect, but he also had no expectation of violence. The pair did not seem to him to be in an aggressive mood, and Jim noted at once that their rifles were still tied into their saddle holsters, not loose and ready to be used at a moment's notice.

The natives looked at Sam's wound and conferred again. Then they delved into the packs on their horses. Jim noted that they seemed well supplied, as if they were on a long journey.

They bound up Sam's arm with the clean bandanna Jim had gotten earlier, after anointing the foreman's wound with something that looked like a crushed up plant. Then they coaxed him to swallow a little of something similar from a different container. Sam's eyes fluttered open during the procedure and he looked at his rescuers through the daze of his fever.

"Heron men?... I must be... in Heaven... " he managed weakly before lapsing back into oblivion.

His words had a remarkable effect on the natives. They paused and spoke together again, quietly and very earnestly. They opened Sam's shirt, then, apparently not finding what they were looking for, motioned for Jim to open his.

As he did that, Jim tried to recall what he had been told about the heron men. Then the cowpoke remembered their tribal sign. He realized in a rush that the natives were looking for the special pendants that all heron men were said to wear.

Jim looked more carefully at the two Indians. Sure enough, almost hidden by their clothes, were flat, water-smoothed black stones, about the size of a silver dollar, strung about their necks. Jim saw the graceful symbols engraved on them and his heart beat faster as he recognized it.

"Are you heron men?" he asked.

They looked at Jim and then at each other, but they did not respond. Jim knelt and drew the curling glyph that Ben had shown him, the same symbol on the pendants the natives wore. He pointed at it for emphasis.

"Heron men." Jim repeated.

One of them, the scarred man, responded by pointing to the symbol, then to Jim, then made a waving sort of sign in the air with his hand. Jim interpreted it as a question. Was he a heron man?

"No, I'm not a heron man." Jim said as he shook his head.

The scarred man pointed to the glyph. Then he made the questioning sign again. How did Jim know about the heron men?

"Bill Axford." Jim tried, giving the name of Ben's friend, whom he had been told was a member of the heron men's tribe.

"Il-Xochitl!" the scarred man breathed.

"My friend," Jim began, pointing insistently at Sam. "Will he live?"

"Friend live," said the scarred man's companion. Jim's relief was plain to the natives.

"Thank you! Thank you! You do speak English!"

"Not good," the powerfully built man said, pointing at himself. "Ho'va."

"Katchikoa," the other said, also pointing at himself.

"Katchikoa, no English," Ho'va informed Jim before pointing at him and Sam. "Who? Who?"

"I'm Jim Willis, and that's Sam McCrea. We ride for the Lazy B."

"Lazy B? What Lazy B?"

"It's a ranch, you know, fences, cattle."

Jim got on all fours and made a noise like a cow to further illustrate his point. The heron men laughed at his actions and his mooing. Then Katchikoa said something that sounded rather ominous to Jim. Ho'va nodded and turned to the young cowboy.

"You know Gibbe?" Ho'va asked.

"No, I don't know anyone named Gibbe."

"You know Wildcat?"

"I think that's another ranch, a ways off to the south, between here and the town of Steens Station," Jim pointed. "I'd guess it was a day's ride away, or more, in that direction, but I've never been there."

After that, Ho'va and Katchikoa withdrew to speak together privately. While they conferred, Jim knelt beside Sam and placed his hand on Sam's forehead. The cowpoke was amazed to find the foreman's fever feeling as if it had gone down already. Jim figured if he could tie Sam to his horse, he could get him back to the ranch with the directions Sam had written out for him.

Jim went to the natives. They fell silent as he tried to explain what he planned to do. And he thanked them again.

"Whatever you want in payment, I'll see you get it. You saved Sam's life and I'll never forget it. If you want money... "

"No," Ho'va shook his head, "we no need white man's green paper or yellow metal."

"Well, if there's anything else you want... "

Katchikoa spoke to his companion.

"What?" asked Jim.

"Katchikoa want you," Ho'va informed the cowboy, who was not really surprised, knowing what he did about the heron men.

Jim looked at Katchikoa, who was rubbing the apparently well-filled crotch of his buckskin pants. The scarred man pointed at his groin and then at Jim. Ho'va spoke again.

"You choose. Katchikoa not force you."

"You saved my friend's life and I'll always be grateful. I'll gladly give your friend what he wants, and more, if he has a mind to it."

Jim came closer to the heron man who, despite his non-understanding of English, looked impressed by Jim's statement. The cowboy pointed to Katchikoa's groin, then to Jim's own mouth and ass, and finished by making the questioning sign. He was giving the native his choice.

Ho'va said something in their tongue and chuckled. Katchikoa ignored his companion as he felt Jim's reddish-brown beard, stroking it softly. He ran a finger through the hairs surrounding Jim's lips and nodded.

"Katchikoa likes white men's beards!" commented Ho'va.

Katchikoa shot an annoyed glance at his amused friend as Jim knelt before the heron man. The native opened his leggings and stroked his hard, dark skinned, uncut pecker at Jim's face. Knowing he had no time for pussyfooting around, Jim opened his mouth and swallowed the heron man's manhood completely in one swift motion.

"Holy shit!" Jim thought he heard Ho'va mutter.

Jim found Katchikoa's cock to be clean and sweet-tasting. But that was not surprising, given the stories Jim had heard. If the heron men were truly a tribe of man-lovers, then sucking dick would surely be as common as shaking hands among them. And, as a corollary, the tribesmen would wash their cocks as regularly as their hands. Drawing again on the lessons Ben and Eli had given him, Jim determinedly pleasured the native with his lips and tongue, swiftly driving the man to the edge of joy and over it.

"Hmmmm... Ahhh... Ohhh... Ah! Ah! AH! Ahhhh... " Katchikoa half groaned, half cried out as he came.

'Damn he's loaded! The guy must have the balls of a bull!' thought Jim as he drank down the gooey gouts of thick, musky cum as quickly as they filled his mouth.

He nursed at the softening cock, taking the last of the heron man's savory seed. Katchikoa spoke to Ho'va as Jim finished. As Jim stood up, the cowpoke sucked a stray drop of cum out of his reddish brown moustache and looked at Ho'va.

"Did he like it?" Jim asked.

"Very much so," answered Katchikoa, in flawless English. "I know few of my heron brothers whose mouths are as talented as yours for giving pleasure!"

"Wha... ?!?" the cowboy managed, looking from Ho'va to Katchikoa in astonishment.

"We apologize for deceiving you about our understanding of English, Jim Willis," Ho'va began. "But it serves our purpose to allow most of those whom we meet to think us ignorant redskins. We are indeed heron men, or Elxa, as our tribe is also known. We are on a private mission for our chieftain, Falling Star, and we do not want to attract attention to ourselves."

"Oh, well, like I said, anything I can do to help you, I will. I thought Sam was a goner."

"Your friend is strong and should recover quickly, just leave the healing herbs I used on his wound there for a day, two if possible. As to helping us... " Ho'va paused to look at Katchikoa a moment before going on. "I will need to confer with my brother about that. In the meantime, it would be best to get your friend to safety."

"Okay," agreed Jim.

"Perhaps," Katchikoa added, "we will come to your Lazy B and talk more with you."

"Sam's partner, Jake, who runs the Lazy B, would very much like to meet you both, I'm sure. Jake knows lots of stories about the heron men."

"Jake and Sam, they are lovers?"

"Yes."

"My medicine dream was true, Ho'va!" Katchikoa breathed before explaining to Jim. "One of our guiding spirits, the great bear, Zoraxte, came to me while I slept and told me to ride this way, to save the love of another. Sam and Jake's love must be very strong to attract the attention of our totems, who protect all men who love men."

"It is, but I didn't know how strong it was until I read this," Jim replied, handing Sam's last letter to Katchikoa. "Sam wrote that for Jake, thinkin' he was gonna die."

"His song is powerful, coming from a heart filled with the joy of love," Ho'va murmured as he read the letter with his companion and then handed it back.

"Speakin' of seein' spirits, I've been havin' dreams about a big heron with burnin' purple eyes who talks to me."

"He is also one of our totems, the one who has guided our tribe since the beginning, so long ago none remember it, the Heron Spirit!" breathed Katchikoa in awe.

"Are there other man-loving men at the Lazy B besides you, Sam and Jake?"

"All of them are, Ho'va," Jim answered, greatly intriguing the natives.

"We would speak of this further if we had time, but Sam must be our first concern. Take him to safety, Jim. I feel sure we will be seeing you and your companions again soon."

"Why don't you come with me now?" he asked. The heron men looked at each other before Ho'va responded.

"I have had medicine dreams warning of danger to us if we linger in this area. There is an easily defended camp to the east. We will go there and wait until our totems tell us it is safe to return."

As the heron brave spoke, he and Katchikoa moved to help Jim put Sam back on his horse and tie him so he would not fall off. Jim told the pair about the signs of rustlers he and Sam had discovered and the trail leading towards Black Butte. They thanked him for the warning and wished him and Sam luck. With a last farewell to his new friends, Jim left as fast as he could. The directions Sam had written out for Jim earlier proved to be easily followed and, about an hour later, Jim rode into the Lazy B's main compound.

"Hey, somebody!" he hollared, "I need help!"

In response, Matt came out of the barn, the blacksmith's sweaty face and big leather apron streaked with soot, to see what was going on. Spotting Sam slumped over on his horse, the shocked man ran to Jim's aid. They untied him and were getting the foreman out of his saddle when Jake came out of the cabin that served as his office and home.

"What's all this caterwaulin' about!" Jake snarled, plainly upset at being disturbed.

The transformation that came over the grizzled headman when he saw the state Sam was in amazed Jim. Seeing it, no one could doubt what Jake's feelings were for his old friend. Jake's face went ashen. He began to tremble.

"Sam?" he asked anxiously, taking the blonde man's face in his hands. "Sam! Say something!"

"Howdy... pard... " Sam managed weakly, his eyes opening long enough to focus on Jake's anguished face. "How'd you get to Heaven?" he whispered before falling back into unconsciousness.

"Get him inside!" cried Jake.

As Matt and Jim laid Sam out on Jake's big, iron framed bed, Jake rustled busily around in a chest. He was looking for the medical supplies he had while Jim gave a quick description of Sam's symptoms. At the same time, Jim and Matt were removing Sam's shirt. Pulling out a brown glass bottle full of some sort of thick liquid, Jake told them to take the bandage off, so he could see how bad the wound was.

"The heron men said to leave Sam's arm wrapped up the way it is for a day, or better, two, so their medicine could have a chance to work, Jake."

Jim's words seemed to stop time in the cabin. Both Jake and Matt froze. Then slowly, as one, the cowboys turned to regard Jim.

"What did you say?" breathed Jake.

"We hafta leave the bandage on... "

"No, not that! About the heron men!"

"Oh, well, lemme start at the beginning... "

And Jim told the men everything that had happened to him and Sam since they had left the lineshack that morning. The news about the rustlers caused his listeners much consternation. But Jake urged Jim to go on.

Jim described the accident, the trail they followed as far as they could, Sam's collapse during their return, their fortunate encounter with Katchikoa and Ho'va and the assistance the heron men gave Jim. The young cowboy tactfully left out the part about the payment Jim had willingly given the heron men for their help. But he did mention the mission the natives said they were on for their chieftain and their promise to visit the Lazy B.

"My God... " Matt began, turning to Jake when Jim finished. "They do exist! All those stories of yours... I thought the heron men were just a beautiful legend... "

"Well, they ain't. I told you... but we can talk about that later. Take some of the boys and go find that trail Jim and Sam found. See if you can learn anything new. Tell 'em to carry their guns and stay frosty in case you catch up with those rustlin' varmints!"

"Okay, boss." Matt stood up to go, but paused a moment to glance at Jim. "Thanks, Jim, for what you did for Sam."

"He'd have done the same for me."

Matt nodded and left.

"Jim," Jake said, "I want you to go into Maury City and let Sheriff Johnson know what's happenin' around here. And pick up some medicine, here," Jake jotted what he wanted down and gave it along with a two and a half dollar gold piece to Jim. "What's that?"

Jake had spotted the papers in the pocket of Sam's shirt where it had been draped over the back of a chair.

"Sam wrote that for you just before he passed out."

Jake snatched up the papers and unfolded them. After reading Sam's last note through, Jake laid his hand on his lover's head and stroked the short blonde hair that grew there, gently and rhythmically. The other went to dab at Jake's own suddenly moist eyes.

"Oh, Sam, my dear Sam, what did I ever do to deserve the love of a man as good as you?" he breathed.

"I'll get on to Maury City."

"Wait a minute, son," Jake began, turning his pale blue eyes on Jim. "You've done me a great service today, one that ain't gonna be easy to repay."

A thought occurred to Jim.

"Will you tell me some of those stories you know about the heron men, sometime?"

"It'd be my pleasure. And I wanna hear more details about those heron men you ran into. Did they want any payment for what they did for Sam?"

"Yes," Jim blushed. "One of 'em wanted me, so I, ah, gave him a blow job... "

"You didn't hafta go into all the horny-makin' details, son!" Jake chuckled. "But I'm not surprised he asked. You're a handsome dog, Jim, and, from what I hear, Sandy's one mighty lucky saddletramp to have hooked up with you."

"Oh, that reminds me, could Sandy go with me to town? I ain't seen him since yesterday morning."

"Sure, just be quick about it. No stoppin' along the way for... well, you know," Jake winked and turned away from the blushing young cowpoke. The headman looked fondly at Sam, who was resting peacefully. "I don't think Sam's in any danger now, but I'd like to have those items handy, just in case."

"Okay. We'll be back as quick as we can."

As Jim turned away he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Jake bending down to kiss Sam's lips and stroke the blonde man's broad chest gently with one hand, feeling the masculine contours of Sam's hard, muscular torso. Going outside, Jim jumped back into Autumn's saddle and looked around. He spotted Sandy with the group Matt was readying to go after the rustlers. He urged Autumn off as he waved to Matt.

"What is it?" the blacksmith asked as Jim rode up.

"Jake wants me to go to Maury City to alert the sheriff and get some medicine. He said Sandy could go with me."

"Okay, just be fast and don't stop along the way to... "

"Jake already told me not to do that!" Jim exclaimed, as laughter broke out among the other men there. "C'mon, Sandy!" Jim called as he headed for the gate.

"I'm comin', Jim!" replied Sandy, following. "I'm comin'!"

"Didn't I hear you sayin' that the other night?" Judas yelled after the retreating pair, amid more laughter.

"Judas oughta know by now to leave well enough alone!" Sandy muttered when he caught up to Jim.

"Listen, I've got a plan to tweak Judas good, but I'll need your help. You willin'?"

"Sure! What's the plan?"

"I'll hafta tell you some things you'll need to keep to yourself."

"I can do that. Tell me."

So as they rode, Jim told Sandy what Sam had told him. About how all the men at the Lazy B liked the same things he and Sandy did. And that Jake's veiled threats about what the other men might do to the new hands was all bluster, meant to weed out job applicants who did not think like the others did.

After telling Sandy that, Jim wondered why his friend did not look more relieved. If anything, Sandy appeared troubled by the news that his fellow ranchhands were supposedly a friendly, fun loving bunch of guys who all liked mansex the same as he and Jim did. Jim had thought Sandy was afraid of being raped by his co-workers and hoped his revelation would ease his friend's mind. But there was more to tell, so Jim put his puzzlement aside and continued talking.

He told Sandy what he had learned about Judas and Cookie, then Jim explained his plan to Sandy. By the time they reached Maury City the men had their plot laid. Both could hardly wait to get back to the ranch and spring it on Judas as soon as possible.

"What happened to Sam?" Sandy asked, moving on to a new topic of conversation. "I heard talk about rustlers. Did you and him have a shootout with 'em?"

"Naw, it wasn't like that at all," Jim began and went on to tell Sandy about his adventures. This time though, he did not leave out his sexual encounters with Sam, Ho'va and Katchikoa. "...I hope you don't feel like I was cheatin' on you or anything like that, Sandy," he finished.

"No, of course not," replied Sandy, surprised and intrigued by Jim's story. "Sam's a real handsome guy, and the heron men... well, I've heard Jake mention 'em before, but I thought they were just a native myth."

"Well," Jim chuckled, "they ain't. And they're almost as tasty as you are, buddy!"

Sandy snorted in amusement at his friend. When they reached Maury City they split up, Jim going to find his friends, Ben and Eli, the partnered deputies. Sandy took Jake's note and the money and headed for a general store he knew would carry what Jake wanted. Coming out with his purchases, Sandy was halted on the wooden plank sidewalk by a voice that chilled him to the bone.

"My oh my!" the too-familiar voice chortled. "What have we here? What're you doin' in town, Sandy?"

"Russ... " the young cowboy breathed before he turned to confront the pug-nosed, crimson-haired man who had been the source of all his uneasiness of late.

"I know what my name is, the question is, why are you in town? You tryin' to alert the law? 'Cause you know what'll happen to your little brother's sweet virgin ass if you do! It's all I can do to keep my gang's hands offa him as it is! If you try and betray us, Clint's first time is gonna be with a group of horny owlhoots who'll plug every hole the kid has, all day and night long... "

"I swear to God, if you hurt Clint... " Sandy hissed, his free hand dropping to touch the gun he wore. As if by magic, Russ' pistol appeared in his hand to point at Sandy's chest.

"Don't even think it, boy," he growled. "I'm a faster draw than you'll ever be!"

Sandy sullenly took his hand away from his weapon and Russ grinned evilly as he reholstered his gun.

"Your brother's okay - so far," smirked Russ. "Whether or not Clint stays that way depends on how good a spy you are, Sandy. What's happenin' at the Lazy B?"

"They know about your band of rustlers, Russ. A posse is following the trail you left right now."

"They won't find us," he spat.

"Will I see Clint again as we agreed?"

"It just so happens I can accommodate you right now. Follow me if you'd like to have a little family reunion."

When Jim came into the sheriff's office, the first person he saw was a stranger, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The older man looked as if he had lived most of his life outdoors, as he had a sort of weathered and worn look to Jim. There was lots of gray in his dark brown hair and beard. He smiled warmly and introduced himself to Jim.

"Hello son, I'm Art Edgerton."

"Oh! I thought you were Sheriff Johnson."

"Nope. Al is still out of town." Art looked Jim over. "You look like a fella my boys were tellin' me about... "

"And I know you, Mr. Edgerton," Jim replied. "I'm Jim Willis. Ben and Eli told me you're a part owner of the ranch I work for."

"You can call me Art, son," he grinned. "My boys tell me you've had some real interestin' dreams lately, seein' me and Sven as young men, when we first met up with Ben and Eli."

"Yes, sir, but I've got other news that you're not gonna like. Are Ben and Eli here?"

"Yeah, they're in the back," Art said, looking more serious. "What's the bad news?"

"Lemme get you all together, so I only hafta tell it once... "

"...and some of the hands are out there now, followin' the trail the rustlers left," Jim said as he finished his tale to Art, Ben and Eli. To save time, Jim had omitted all mention of his encounter with the heron men, deciding to save that story for later.

"Damn!" Art cussed under his breath.

"Eli," Ben turned to his partner, "you stay here and alert the sheriff when he gets back. I'm goin' back to the Lazy B with Jim and his friend right now to check the situation out. I'll try and be back tomorrow."

"I'm goin' too," Art declared. "I'll go and tell Sven what's up. I'm sure Ed will release us from our Army duties so we can go and protect our property. We'll both probably see you again at the Lazy B later."

Ben and Eli hugged their foster father farewell and Art left the jailhouse. Ben was already wearing his guns, but he went to a glass fronted case mounted on the office wall and opened it. Selecting one of the Winchesters inside, he checked the rifle, loaded it and took an extra box of shells which he thrust into his coat pocket. Eli laid a hand on his lover's arm, gripping it firmly as he spoke.

"Be careful, little brother."

"Don't worry," he soothed his partner. "I've got no plans to leave you anytime soon, big brother."

They kissed passionately, but did not take leave of each other. Ben led Jim and his lover as they left the sheriff's office, saying he knew where Sandy had probably gone to get the medicine Jake wanted. The three strolled down the main street a ways before taking a short cut through an alley when Jim spotted Sandy.

"There he is," Jim pointed.

The young cowpoke had been telling Ben and Eli about Sandy ever since they had left the jailhouse. And Jim had confessed to them his growing feelings of affection towards Sandy. The deputies had given their congratulations, saying they were happy for Jim and hoped it worked out.

Then Ben and Eli got a good look at who the handsome blonde cowhand was talking to. The deputies' expressions registered surprise and they exchanged uneasy looks. They stopped abruptly and pulled Jim deeper into the shadows of the alley.

"What th... "

"Shush!" Eli cautioned. "See that guy Sandy's talkin' to?"

"Yeah." whispered Jim obediently. "Who's he?"

"Red Russ Callahan." Ben breathed. "He's not exactly the most upstandin' of Maury City's citizens. We suspect he's involved with a lot of the crime around here, the leader of a gang of local owlhoots, but we haven't been able to prove it."

"Why would Sandy know him?"

"Jim, what do you really know about Sandy?" Ben began. "You only met him two days ago. If he's mixed up with a lowlife varmint like Red Russ, well, that isn't a good sign. 'Birds of a feather,' and all that, you know? I sure wouldn't wanna see you get hurt."

"Look," hissed Eli, "they're goin' off together."

"Stay behind me and keep quiet," Ben ordered Jim without taking his eyes off Sandy and Red Russ. "We'll follow those two and see what they're up to."

Jim did as he was told and followed the deputies, feeling a sudden inner numbness, and an agony of confused emotions. Sandy, some sort of outlaw? Impossible...

...yet Ben's words haunted Jim relentlessly as he moved automatically along behind his friends. The big deputy was right about his not really knowing Sandy. But there was nothing Jim could think of that he could call suspicious in Sandy's behavior since they had met. There was only what Sam had observed, Sandy's reluctance to get close to anyone at the Lazy B. But if that were true, why had Sandy excepted Jim from that rule?

Ben, Eli and Jim followed Sandy and Russ, slipping quietly from one shadowed bit of cover to the next. Eventually, they watched as Red Russ led Sandy into a livery stable. Once they were inside, Ben darted down a shadowy alley next to the barnlike structure, followed by his companions.

Locating a crack in the side of the stable large enough for them all to look through, but not readily be seen by those within, the trio watched as Russ showed Sandy to a stall inside the building. A figure, bound and gagged, lay within it on a pile of straw. The bound youth started to struggle when he saw Sandy, but his efforts were obviously in vain.

"Clint! Goddamn you, Russ!" Sandy cried as he knelt and removed the gag.

"Is that the thanks I get for lettin' you see your little brother?" the villainous owlhoot smirked.

"Clint, are you okay? Have they hurt you?"

"No, but they keep me tied up practically all the time!"

"Well," Russ pointed out, casually and quite companionably, "we can't have you strayin' off. You're too valuable to us, Clint. As long we have you, your big brother here has to do what we say, otherwise, I throw your sixteen year old virgin ass to my men... well, maybe not virgin, since I'd get to ride it first... "

"Damn you!" Sandy jumped up, his fists clinched as if he was ready to fight Russ.

"Calm down," a new voice said. An exceptionally ugly man with a ratty black beard had appeared in the next stall and was nudging Sandy with the business end of a shotgun.

"Yes. You listen to ol' Herman, son. Calm down. I won't let innocent little Clint here get gang raped as long as you keep spyin' for us on the Lazy B!"

"That's why Sandy didn't like Jake's jokin'!" Jim breathed in sudden comprehension to his companions. "It kept remindin' him of what was gonna happen to his little brother if he didn't cooperate with those blackmailers!"

"Quiet!" Eli breathed back as Jim flashed on something else. The reason Sandy had been troubled earlier, by Jim's news that the men of the Lazy B were all guys like him and Sandy, man-lovers, was because it made Sandy feel worse about his spying, like he was betraying his own family, his brothers...

"Now that you've seen Clint, you can get back to the Lazy B," Russ ordered. "Keep your eyes open. I expect another report from you Saturday night."

"I don't know if they're gonna let me come into town then, Russ. It might be my turn to stay behind and keep an eye on the ranch."

"Hmm... " Russ said, stroking his crimson beard in thought. "That gives me an idea. If you was out there all alone, me and the boys could waltz in there and clean out the place. But that'll take some more plannin'. We'll let you know when we're ready."

"Clint... " Sandy began, turning.

"Visitin' hours are over," muttered Herman. The ugly owlhoot emphasized his words with another nudge from his shotgun.

"I'm okay, big brother," Clint declared, trying to be brave for Sandy's sake. "Even if they do rape me, I'll do as you said and think about you, like it was you doin' it, and then it'll be okay... "

"That's enough out of you, you little faggot!"

As Russ barked the insult he replaced Clint's gag. At the same time, he ordered an appalled and pained Sandy to be on his way, and not to forget his threats. Jim and the two deputies watched grimly as Sandy sadly left the stable, looking back often at his bound and gagged little brother.

"What'll we do?" Jim whispered, relieved that Sandy was not a criminal, but enraged to see him being blackmailed by Red Russ, who was obviously behind the rustling at the Lazy B.

"Nothing, for the time bein'."

"But we can't leave Clint with those rapists!" objected Jim.

"Keep your voice down! He's obviously in no danger at the moment. But if we go in there now, there's bound to be a shootout and someone will get hurt. C'mon!"

As the eavesdroppers eased away from the stable and went to get Ben's horse, Ben explained to Jim and Eli the germ of an idea of his. By the time the trio had led the big deputy's horse back to where Jim and Sandy's mounts were tethered, they knew Ben's newborn plan depended on Sandy not knowing anything about it. His ignorance was going to be a critical part of the trap Ben was already planning to lay for Red Russ and his gang of rustlers.

"Sounds like it might work," Jim murmured thoughtfully as they halted next to his horse. He reached to stroke Autumn's nose affectionately as Eli nodded in agreement and Ben went on.

"I'll just hafta set it up with Jake. We'll hafta plan this careful and right. Eli, you keep an eye on that stable where those rustlers are holdin' Clint. If they move him, it just might be to their hideout, and I'm willin' to bet that wherever their lair is, the Lazy B's missin' steers are bound to be somewhere nearby!"

"That makes sense. Okay, Ben. I... "

"Quiet!" the big deputy warned. "Here he comes!"

"Sorry I took so long, Jim... Who's this?"

"Ben, Eli, this is Sandy Epps. Sandy, meet Ben Wyatt and Eli Hunter. They're deputy sheriffs. Ben'll be comin' back with us to talk with Jake about the rustlin'."

"Pleased to meet you," Ben rumbled companionably as Sandy shook hands with him and then Eli.

"Likewise," Sandy managed, a little awed. He went around to his horse, next to Jim and whispered. "Lordy, Jim! What a hunk of man Ben is!"

"Eli ain't half-bad himself!" Jim grinned back. "I'll tell you more about both of 'em later."

"Right," Sandy said aloud, swinging up onto his horse. "Well, as Sam likes to say, 'Let's ride'."

"Don't forget to take care of that business we discussed, Eli." Ben reminded as Jim and Sandy moved off.

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, little brother," said Eli, squeezing Ben's leg meaningfully above his boot, firmly set in his horse's stirrup.

"I'll be back, big brother, don't you worry none," Ben vowed before spurring his horse and following after the two cowpokes as they headed south in the afternoon sunlight.

The jagged, icy peaks of the mountains to the west sparkled like jewels under the sun, more light to guide the men as they returned to the Lazy B. While Sandy took their horses to the barn, Ben conferred with Jake a bit in his cabin. Jim wanted to see how Sam was doing, so he stuck his head into Jake's bedroom and saw the foreman, his lanky body laid out on the big iron framed bed.

"Damn, Sam!" Jim grinned, hoping to cheer his friend up as he rubbed his crotch in mock excitement. "Seein' your handsome self spread out in that big ol' bed is gettin' me all horned up!"

"You're a good-lookin' sight too, son," Sam smiled. Though he still sounded weak, he punctuated his words by running a hand down his torso, ruffling the line of dark blonde fur that ran from his chest downwards, across his bare belly and squeezing the suggestive lump at his crotch, which was covered by a thin sheet. "C'mon in."

"You feelin' better?"

"Sure am. Jake told me how you got on with those heron men. I swear, when I saw those natives wearin' the sign of the heron, I figured I'd died for sure and passed on to wherever good cowpokes like us go after we kick off! Did they really say they'd come and visit us?"

"Yes. And Ho'va and Katchikoa were real impressed by what you wrote. Ho'va said it was 'from a heart full of the joy of love'."

"They saw my letter to Jake?"

"I did too. I'm sorry, Sam, I couldn't help but read it. It... it was really beautiful, what you said to Jake."

"That's okay, son. Why are they here?"

"They're on some sort of mission for their chief. They said his name was Falling Star. I hope we can help 'em."

"Me too, son. I owe them," Sam said with a twinkle in his eye. "But I hear you've paid them something on my account already!"

Jim blushed and Sam chuckled as he reached out to tousle Jim's russet hair.

"When I'm healed up, would you like to ride the rest of the fence with me?"

"Will we spend the night together again?"

"You can count on it!"

"Okay then. Just make sure you're got all your strength back. I want that 'nice, comfortable, long' ride you promised me!"

"I'm lookin' forward to it too, son," Sam whispered as he gave Jim's arm an affectionate squeeze.

"Hey, Jim," Jake began as he looked into the room. "You and Sandy go grab some lunch. Tell Cookie Ben and me'll be along to join you after we've finished discussin' the rustlers."

"See you later, son," smiled Sam.

"Hey!" Ben stopped Jim before he left the cabin. "What's this about you meetin' up with a couple of heron men?! You didn't say anything about that earlier!"

"I figured the rustlers were more important, Ben. I promise I'll tell you everything I know later."

"Okay, I suppose I can wait until Sven and Art show up, so you won't hafta repeat yourself, but after that dream you had, well, I'm kinda excited about this, Jim!"

"I understand, Ben. I'm hopin' I'll see those heron men again too."

"I'll see you later then."

Jim stepped out of the cabin and saw Sandy waiting for him.

"Jake said we could go get lunch."

"Sure. Would you like to go down to the creek and wash up first?"

"Why sure!" Jim smiled broadly at his friend. "Now we can finally get a good look at each other nekkid!"

Sandy grinned back and started walking. He led Jim down a path that wound past the cookshack and up to a rather curiously shaped rogue boulder. The exotic object looked to Jim vaguely like a clinched hand pointing its index finger up towards the sky.

"Funny lookin' rock, huh?" Sandy asked. "Look at this."

Jim looked where Sandy indicated and saw unusual symbols carved into the stone. He recalled seeing marks similar to them on the papers General Teal had shown him a couple of days ago. Jim eagerly looked for the sign of the heron men, but it was not among the glyphs etched upon the boulder's surface.

"Jake told me he thinks this marks a sacred spot to the Indians who used to live around here," added Sandy.

As Jim continued to inspect the marks on the odd boulder, he thought about how his father had been a member of the Masons and insisted his son join too. Among the many unusual symbols Jim had learned about was 'the hand of the mysteries', a representation of a human hand covered with eldritch objects, each of which had mystic significance. The strange stone reminded him strongly of the Masonic mystery.

As he straightened up and paused beside the extraordinary boulder, Jim followed the gently sloping trail downward with his eyes to a body of sparkling water. He soon saw that it was formed by a sort of natural dam, a ridge of granite, which cut across the course of the creek, backing the water up into a horseshoe-shaped bend. Sandy went ahead of his friend, stopped at the edge of the water and started pulling off his clothes.

"Hey, how do we dry off afterwards?" asked Jim.

"The guys keep these stashed here," Sandy grinned, pointing to a hollow in a nearby rock. The convenient space held some old flour bags and a couple of thick bars of soap.

"Mighty thoughtful of them!" Jim returned as he quickly doffed his clothes. "They seem like a great group. I'm happy to be workin' here."

"Yeah... "

Sandy's response sounded troubled and Jim figured he already knew why. He had not meant to remind his partner of the trouble he was mixed up in with Red Russ. Jim tossed aside the last of his clothes, then reached out and caressed Sandy's bare shoulder as he gazed at his fellow cowboy's nakedness.

"But, most of all, I'm glad you're here."

"Jim... " murmured Sandy, looking grateful.

As Jim had imagined, Sandy's body hair shone like threads of gold in the sunlight as it was exposed to his eyes. Like most blondes, Sandy did not have a lot of it, nowhere near as much as Jim. The sparse pelt of pale fur was thickest where it spread across Sandy's muscular pecs and funneled down his belly in a line to his crotch. The 'goody trail' ended where his cock stretched outward, hard with anticipation and dripping precum.

"Let's take care of this first," Jim muttered as he knelt before his friend in the warm sand at the water's edge.

Using his mouth, Jim brought Sandy off, then stood when Sandy insisted on returning the favor. After the blowjob, Sandy gave Jim a cum-flavored kiss before grabbing the soap and wading into the stream, working up a lather as he went. Jim followed and they spent a few minutes washing each other, grinning like fools at each other as they ran their soapy hands all over one another's bodies.

Sandy showed Jim a deep spot where they could dunk themselves and rinse off the suds. Though they were clean, the pair continued to stroke each other's wet skins. Jim looked down at their cocks, which had fully recovered and were signalling their readiness for more fun. The chestnut haired man grinned and cocked his head at some flat, sun-warmed rocks near the spot where they had left their clothing.

"Let's take this show over there, pard... "

"Well, well! What have we here?"

The two men spun around to see three of their fellow cowhands. Clyde, Heck and Rufus were standing in the water just a few feet away. All were naked and sporting wood.

"Looks like the new guys were all ready to have some fun," Clyde smirked, stroking his cock suggestively in their direction. "Think they'll mind takin' us on?"

"Which one do you want?" asked Rufus, eyeing Jim in a way that told him Rufus wanted him.

"Sandy," Clyde leered as he ogled the blonde cowhand and squeezed his hardon at the same time. A clear gout of precum dribbled out and Clyde took his time as he obscenely pulled back his foreskin and smeared the slimy fluid across his exposed, dark red glans, making it glisten in the sunlight. "How about it, kid? Ready to let me fuck that sweet ass of yours?"

Jim glanced at Sandy. His friend looked as if he were going to be sick.

"You son of a bitch, Clyde!" growled Jim. "Leave him alone!"

"You got somewhere else I can put this?" Clyde asked as he continued to grope himself.

"If I agree to let you three have your way with me, will you let Sandy go?"

"Jim, no!" Sandy protested.

"That's enough," Heck ordered. "The joke's over, Clyde."

"Awww!"

"Dang!" Rufus muttered as Heck waded closer.

"We were just jokin' around, guys," Heck said. "Nobody here's gonna hurt you."

"Clyde scared Sandy," Jim said, looking hard at the dark haired cowhand. "I don't like that."

"Aww, it's his own fault!" Clyde protested as he came over. "He oughta know by now that nobody here's gonna rape him!"

"Hey, we're all just cowpokes here, brothers, right?" Rufus chimed in as he followed.

"Here, let's have a little circle jerk and help each other out. Whatcha say?" added Heck.

"No hard feelin's?" Clyde asked as he wrapped his hand around Sandy's cock and started stroking it.

Wordlessly agreeing, Sandy grasped Heck's tool, who took Rufus in hand, who starting jacking Jim. Jim took ahold of Clyde, completing the circle. The cowboys concentrated on their tasks, watching each other to make sure they were pleasing the man whose rod they were caressing. When Sandy started to show signs of impending orgasm, closing his eyes and gasping, Clyde grinned.

"Just to show you there really are no hard feelin's... "

The cowboy knelt in the water and swallowed Sandy's cock as if he had been born to do it. Jim's free hands reached out to rub Clyde's shoulders and pinch Rufus' nipples at the same time. Rufus groaned and came all over Clyde's back.

"I don't want any hard feelin's either," Rufus said once he caught his breath. He knelt in front of Jim. "May I?"

Jim nodded and Rufus hungrily began sucking on the cowboy's boner. Heck looked from one lovemaking pair to the other as he stroked himself, obviously enjoying the view. Soon he erupted, spattering Clyde's shoulders with another load of cum.

Heck cleaned his and Rufus' mingled seed off Clyde's broad, hairy back with his tongue, but did not swallow all of it. He spit a generous palmful into his hand and started working it into his ass. Jim watched the long, cum-slick fingers sliding in and out of Heck's hairy hole and went over the edge.

"Mmmmmuuutthh!"

The inarticulate sound of surprise was all Rufus could make as Jim grabbed the man's head and held it down, forcing his spurting dick into the back of Rufus' throat. He managed to swallow most of Jim's lovejuice, but some of thick whiteness oozed from the corners of his mouth to soak into his red beard. Jim looked at the man who had blown him and thought the sight of his pearly cum dripping and glistening on the ginger beard was too sexy for words.

"Sorry," Jim said as he helped the man up. "I didn't mean to get rough."

"Don't apologize. I like guys to hold me down and use me roughlike. You really turned me on when you did that. See?"

Jim looked down and saw Rufus was hard again and fisting himself towards a second release. Jim leaned in and started sucking his cum out of Rufus' beard. The man groaned in pleasure and stroked himself harder, muttering half words that told everyone within earshot how good Jim was making him feel.

Jim could tell Rufus was close. He was ready to kneel down and suck off his fellow cowhand when another hand gripped the redhead's shoulder. Rufus looked to see Heck, his watery blue eyes full of want.

"I need you, inside me, please... "

Rufus kissed Heck and then turned him around. In one smooth thrust up Heck's well-lubed hole, Rufus buried his meat and started hunching away. Jim caressed the flexing ass that faced him, letting his fingers slip into the fiery-haired cleft, finding the tight tuckerhole, probing and stretching it.

"Damn, Jim... " Rufus hissed.

Remembering the lessons he had gotten from Ben, Jim spat on his middle finger and thrust it into Rufus' ass, feeling for the firespot. Finding the soft button of flesh, he massaged it gently, felt the man's ass muscles spasming around his intruding finger and listened as Rufus babbled something unintelligible. When Jim looked, he could see drool running from the glassy-eyed man's open mouth as he continued to fuck Heck, reduced by Jim's simulation to an idiot state of pure rut, raw sexual being.

Amazed at what he could do to the man, Jim added another finger. Rufus moaned softly, a long drawn out 'yyyyyeeeeesssss'. Jim's cock was at full mast again and Rufus' red furred ass was begging to be filled. He removed his fingers and jabbed half the length of his prick into the cowboy.

"Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck me, Jim... " Rufus hissed as he rode Heck. Jim did as Rufus had begged and soon shot another load into the man, filling him from the other end.

"Jim," Sandy gasped a few seconds later, gripping his shoulder. Clyde was still energetically sucking his joint. "I'm so close... lemme unload in Rufus' ass too... "

Jim obligingly pulled out and Sandy took his place, but not for long. After only a few frantic strokes he went off the cliff. As soon as he finished coming he fell back into Jim's arms and Clyde took Sandy's place.

Clyde drove his unsatisfied rod into Rufus' juicy ass. It met no resistance whatsoever. Thanks to the loads of sperm that roiled in the cowpoke's guts, Clyde's pecker slipped and slid in the tight, silky smooth tunnel like a hog on ice.

Clyde exclaimed in wonder at the sensation. He began to thrust himself wildly into the almost frictionless void, trying desperately to find the stimulation that would get him off. At the same time Clyde thrilled Rufus with his frenzied ruttings. Jim kissed Sandy, urging his partner to come a little distance away from the others.

Sitting in a warm. shallow spot of rippling water, Jim let Sandy relax against his chest as he held the spent man upright. He ran his hands across Sandy's body at will, occasionally kissing his shoulders, neck and ears. Sandy recovered from his sexual high slowly, eventually turning to face Jim fully so they could kiss properly, deeply, and completely.

When they heard their erstwhile sex partners groaning and moaning aloud, they turned to watch. Clyde's pleasure had been prolonged by the ultra-slickness of Rufus' innards, but when Heck achieved his second orgasm, it set off a chain reaction. As ass muscles clenched and gripped the cocks within them, first Rufus, then Clyde started yelling and cussing out loud as they popped. The cowhands' shouts of bliss boomed off the rocks in the little canyon.

"Well," the blonde cowpoke grinned as the commotion died down, "we've seen the show. Shall we get something to eat now?"

"Sure," agreed Jim.

They toweled off and dressed, then paused to bid farewell to their fellow hands, who had gotten their second wind and were beginning another bout of shared sex. As they climbed to the odd boulder, the sight of the cookshack reminded Jim of what Sam had told him about Cookie. He turned to his friend.

"Listen, Sandy, remember what I told you about Judas and Cookie?"

"Yeah."

"Well... "

Jim proceeded to tell his partner about Sam's suggestion on how to get friendly with Cookie. Sandy was surprised and amazed.

"Wow! You think it'll work?"

"It'd be worth gettin' a woppin' in the hopes of not havin' Cookie growlin' and snappin' at us every morning!"

"I can't argue with your reasonin'. But... would you really take a woppin' to make my life easier?"

"We're a team, ain't we?"

"Jim... I don't know what to say."

Jim felt a little disappointed at Sandy's response and tried hard not to show it. Jim thought about his friend's situation and wondered if Sandy's concern for his younger brother Clint was to blame. Then a new thought occurred to Jim.

"Sandy," he began cautiously, "do you trust me? Can you trust me? I kinda get the feelin' that you trusted someone once before, and they let you down real hard."

Sandy looked at Jim with startled eyes, telling Jim how right he was.

"You don't hafta explain nothing to me, pard, if you don't wanna," warned Jim softly.

"No, you're right," Sandy sighed. "Before I came out to Oregon, I met a guy in my hometown who I thought wanted me as much as I wanted him. He was my first and I was real happy for awhile, thinkin' he loved me, but eventually I found out it wasn't so... " The blonde haired man looked down at the ground and kicked at a patch of dried up grass with his worn boots. "When I realized he was just usin' me, it sorta busted me up inside, left me feelin' empty and cold... "

"...and it's hard for you to trust again," finished Jim, feeling anger towards whoever had hurt Sandy.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Jim... "

"Shush, pard," Jim breathed, putting an arm around Sandy's shoulders. "I can wait for your trust, Sandy. And you can believe me or not as you please, but I'm tellin' you here and now that I'll never treat you badly. I saw something in you the first day we met that attracted me, and I still see it, in your eyes, in the way you stand, hear it in your voice. I don't know what it is, buddy, but it's a mighty pleasin' thing to me, and I only hope you'll feel the same about me someday."

Sandy looked as if wanted to respond, but Jim went on quickly, urging his friend towards the cookshack.

"Now let's go deal with Cookie. Remember, just play along when we get inside."

"I suppose you two want some lunch too!" Cookie snorted gruffly when the pair of cowpokes sauntered into the cookshack. "Usually I'm done with that and gettin' ready to make supper by now!"

"It's been a busy day, Cookie." As he said that, Jim noted that the three men were alone in the cookhouse and he was glad for it.

"I know," the redheaded man began, unbending a bit. "I heard what you did for Sam, and, well, I wanna add my thanks."

"And I'd like to apologize to you," Jim pounced.

"For what?"

"You know, about my goin' into your spices the other day. That was mighty wrong of me. I oughta be wopped for it."

Sandy tried to control himself as he watched Cookie. The look that spread across Cookie's face at that moment was one sheer incredulity, followed by a mixture of hope and lust, and much more the latter than the former. The cook tried to sound casual.

"Well, you oughta be. I shoulda bent you over my knee right then in front of the whole ranch and done it!"

"I'm willin' to take my punishment now, if you've a mind to it," offered Jim.

"Why, ah... sure... " Cookie said as he glanced out the window to make sure no one was around. "C'mon over here, Jim... "

Sandy watched as Cookie sat, looking excited. Jim dropped his jeans and laid himself over Cookie's lap. The older man's face was aglow with pleased anticipation at the sight of the young cowboy's upturned buns, exposed and at his mercy.

He rubbed his hands together in gleeful preparation. Then, unable to stop himself, Cookie caressed the firm globes. Jim enjoyed the feel of the man's rough hands there until they withdrew.

SMACK!

Jim gave a yelp of pain. Sandy jumped a foot when Cookie struck his friend. Cookie muttered.

"You gonna be a good boy from now on?"

"Yessir!"

SMACK!

"Oww!!"

"You gonna stay outta my supplies?"

"Yessir!"

SMACK!

"Ahh!"

"You gonna do as I tell you when you're in my cookshack?"

"Yessir! Yessir!!"

SMACK! SMACK!

"Oww! Owwww!!"

"What the hell is goin' on in here!?"

Jim, Cookie and Sandy all turned to see Jake standing in the doorway. Behind him were Ben, Art and a blonde headed stranger who Jim guessed was Sven Thorsson. They were all crowded in the doorway, staring incredulously at the unexpected spectacle.

Jim abruptly leapt up and hurriedly pulled on his pants, but not before everyone in the place saw how the skin of his buttocks had flushed to an angry red, thanks to Cookie's blows. Cookie also jumped up, allowing the onlooking men to see a very obvious and impressive looking lump tenting his stained apron. Unable to hide the way his hard cock was jutting out from his groin, the cook blushed and stammered in embarrassment.

"Ah... ah... Jake... I... ah... "

Jake looked from Cookie to Jim to Sandy and then back to Cookie.

"On second thought, I don't wanna know, Cookie! Just dish us out some grub!"

Cookie hopped to it and the six men ate a late lunch together. Sven was introduced to Sandy and Jim. Then, at Jake's insistence, Jim retold the story of what had happened to Sam and himself that day. Only this time he included his encounter with the heron men. Even Cookie stopped his work to sit and listen to the tale. Everyone was amazed.

"This could be it, Ben!" Art said excitedly. "The call you said Jim was told about in his dreams by the big heron, or the Heron Spirit, as those heron men called it."

Sven and Ben nodded. Jake did too, having been told by Ben about the odd dreams Jim had been having of late. Ben replied to his foster father.

"When they show up, we'll see, pa. But I don't mind tellin' you, me and Eli are sure ready to go and see the heron men!"

"Well," Sven began, "I hope these Elxa tribesmen won't mind if Art and I wanna tag along too. After all these years of tellin' and hearin' stories about 'em, I'd sure like to see for myself how much of it is true!"

"And Jim wants to go too, don't you Jim?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, I do... " he paused and looked at Sandy. "I'd sure like it if you'd come with me, pard."

"It sounds too good to be true... "

"Well, if it is, we can always come back here. Right Jake?"

"Sure," the rancher said slowly.

Jake and the others had been told by Ben how Sandy was being blackmailed into spying for the rustlers who had hit their ranch, and Jake pitied the young cowboy who sat beside Jim. Sandy had masked his worry about his little brother well. And it explained to Jake why Sandy had been reluctant to make friends with his fellow cowhands. It would make betraying them that much harder if he knew them better, and liked them.

But then Jim had come along. Jake figured Sandy must have fallen for Jim 'at first sight' as some say. Even knowing what might happen to his younger brother, Sandy could not deny the feelings that Jim provoked in him, ones Jake could identify with. It had been the same with him when he had met up with Sam.

Jake's mind reeled back to a long ago day when he was riding a dusty, nameless trail, a young, free man, drifting with the wind. It was along that trail that he had encountered the most gorgeous hunk of cowpoke he had ever seen, a blonde man about the same age as Jake, holding his horse's hoof and trying to pick a stone out of it. Jake had stopped to help and as the day was drawing to a close, he suggested they camp together.

To his delight, the blonde man was willing. He said his name was Sam and that he was hoping to find work at the next ranch he came to. They swapped life stories and shared a meager dinner as night fell and displayed its starry wonders above the men's heads, but in vain. They had eyes only for each other. Looks led to touches, and before the night was over, the pair were determined to stay together, to see if what they had found could get any better, and it had, over the months and years that followed...

"Jake?" Ben nudged the rancher. "You okay?"

"Yeah," answered Jake, shaking off his sweet reverie. He looked at Jim and Sandy and hoped the pair would be as happy as he and Sam had been. "Jim, you and Sandy will both always have a home and a job here at the Lazy B if you want it."

Sandy looked down into his plate, feeling awful. If Jake knew what he had been up to, he was sure the rancher would want to string him up from the nearest tree. It was what all rustlers deserved, and he was guilty of it by association. And then there was Jim. Just the thought of disappointing the man who was already much more to him than just his friend made Sandy feel sick inside.

"You okay, buddy?" Jim asked quietly, guessing what was going through Sandy's mind.

"Yeah," lied Sandy, wiping his face with his bandanna to hide the way his eyes had teared up.

The conversation went back to the heron men for awhile after that. At last, Jake asked for a bowl of soup to take to Sam. While Cookie worked to oblige him, he turned to Art and Sven.

"Maybe you two could take Jim and Sandy and ride over to the northside for a look at the herd before supper." Jake suggested. "Jim needs to get more familiar with the lay of the property and Sandy hasn't seen all of it yet himself either."

"No problem," Sven answered, looking at the young cowboys. "That is unless Jim's behind is too sore to sit a saddle!"

"I have some salve that would help... " offered Cookie, looking up from where he was working.

"I'm okay," Jim laughed, "really!"

"Shall we go then?" Art said as he got up from the table.

The four men went to the barn and collected their horses. Following Sven and Art's lead, Jim and Sandy rode out of the compound on a trail Jim had not seen before. It took the men roughly northward and crossed a creek. Sandy turned to Jim as they splashed across.

"This is the same creek we were washin' in earlier, if you're wonderin'. We're a ways downstream from where we were."

"Where does this creek flow to?" Jim asked, noting the way it curved away to the north. The trail they followed now seemed to parallel the banks of the stream.

"There's a sorta lake it falls into, close to the northern boundaries of the Lazy B." Sven answered.

"Mudhole is more like it," snorted Art.

"Most of the time, yeah, I suppose," Sven admitted, "but seein' as it's the only watering hole on this side of the ranch, our cattle ought to be somewhere nearby."

"Or what's left of 'em." muttered Art sourly.

As they rode along, Art and Sven turned to a more pleasant subject. They started taking turns telling their companions how they had met Sam and Jake. The cowboys had been between jobs and, meeting by chance, the older men offered them a job, needing help guiding a holiday party of rich men from Portland into the mountains for a couple of weeks of hunting.

That trip allowed the four to get to know each other better, and later, when the opportunity arose, they, along with their foster sons, Eli and Ben, had pooled their savings to buy the Lazy B, a run-down ranch they had gotten cheap from a busted entrepreneur. Soon afterwards, they met Matt in town at the Mineshaft by a lucky chance, and the blacksmith was intrigued by their plan to have only ranchhands interested in mansex to work on their land. He threw his lot in with the others and his skills were invaluable in restoring the spread to working condition.

Those seven men had been the nucleus of the family-like crew that evolved later. The others had drifted in like Jim and Sandy. Some had heard vague rumors and came to see if they were true, a few had been 'recruited' by hands who sent word of this oasis of tolerance to their like-minded friends, and a couple had been found, like Matt, in the Mineshaft.

Some laughter was provoked as they told the story of how Clyde joined. Heck had met him at the Mineshaft on a Saturday night, when the crew usually went into town together, and the two men left the bar early to pursue their common interests. They went to the livery stable where the men had left their horses, climbed up into the hayloft and got down to business. Afterwards, Clyde gratefully cuddled with Heck beneath shared blankets and went to sleep.

No long after, the others arrived, as they usually did, to share the loft and work off any horniness they had not been able to appease at the saloon. Clyde had woken up to see Matt, his hard, hairy, naked form crouched over Heck, asking his pard if he was going to share. After a little confusion, Clyde figured out what was happening and before the night was over, he had serviced most of the men in the loft. His affable and insatiable nature got him a unanimous invitation to join the Lazy B's team.

Not long after the storytelling was over, the four reached what was usually the end of the creek. Jim guessed that the storm of the previous night had been just as heavy here as it had at the lineshack where he and Sam had been. A respectably sized pond glittered in the late afternoon sunlight and the men could see its overflow disappearing away to the north through what was normally a dry arroyo.

A few steers were at the edge of the water drinking. A few more could be seen nearby grazing. Art looked at his companions.

"Well, let's make a circuit around there," he pointed, "and count all the animals you see. We'll compare our totals when we get back to this point."

They moved off and described a big, rough circle that encompassed several dozen or so acres. Arriving back at the edge of the lake, the men watered their horses. The animals' large, velvety nostrils quivered above the surface of the clear water as they drank while the men talked, comparing what they had seen. Sven shook his blonde head.

"It sure looks like we're missin' a bunch, unless there are others wanderin' around out there."

"Well," Art began, glancing at the sky, "let's start back."

Sunset was approaching, but it was an unusual one. The light the four men rode by as they returned was a strange, continuous blaze of bright red-orange illumination that played brilliantly in the sky to the west above the distant peaks of the southern Cascades. It made the icy mountaintops look as if they had all caught fire.

The uncommon sunset had all but faded away by the time the men reached the Lazy B's main compound. A few stars had begun to appear in the dark, purpling sky to the eastward. No sooner had they put their horses away in the barn than Cookie's hollaring and clanging announced supper.

Sven and Art sat with Jake and Ben in the cookhouse, discussing what the old trackers had seen. Jake no doubt was informing his partners about the news brought back by the posse he had sent to follow the rustlers' trail. Afterwards, taking some food for Sam, Jake left and Ben followed him, intending to share the two men's bed that night. Jim grinned at the big deputy, imagining what he would be doing later on and Ben winked as he left.

Art and Sven left to go to their own cabin after the meal was over, but Jim and Sandy stayed to help Cookie clean up. As they worked, Sandy thought he could already detect an improvement in the cook's disposition. It seemed to be a confirmation of Jim's belief in what his voluntary punishment could accomplish.

Extinguishing the lamps, they all left the cookshack together and stepped out into the cool night. Cookie bid the pair goodnight and headed for the bunkhouse. Jim and Sandy followed more slowly,

"It's too bad we can't go down to the creek again, but it's too dark now," sighed Sandy.

"There's always tomorrow," Jim suggested.

"It's a date... pard."

Jim looked at Sandy in surprise, but the dim light coming from the bunkhouse was not quite enough to let him see the expression on his friend's face clearly. Jim kissed Sandy passionately anyway before they reached their goal. Jim could feel the weariness of the day's exertions and excitements catching up with him as they pushed the door open and went inside.

Glancing around, the two cowpokes saw a desultory card game going on at a table in one corner, lit by a single oil lamp. The rest of the bunkhouse was dark and filled with the soft, furtive sounds of sleeping men. The three players perked up when they saw who had come in.

"Jim!" Matt smiled. "You care to get in the game?"

"Sure," returned Jim at once. He was tired, but felt he should not pass up the chance to bond with his fellow ranchhands. "How about you, Sandy?"

"I'm too tired. I'm turnin' in."

"Okay."

"Actually," Jim began as he sat down, "I'd like to hear what you found when you followed that trail."

"Well, like we told Jake and the others," breathed Matt as he started dealing, "we trailed the rustlers as far south as the badlands around Black Butte, then lost their track."

"Another herd had passed that way recently," Brett said as he picked up his hand. "The ground was so trampled and tore up, we couldn't tell who went where."

"It sure looked to me like they continued on south, towards Steens Station," Heck, the third cardplayer, opined. He discarded two cards as he spoke.

"But there ain't nothing out that way," Brett protested as he studied his hand and fingered a card. "Just a lotta bare rock, canyons, scrub... "

"But beyond all that is the Wildcat," returned Heck in a meaningful way.

"The Wildcat?" Jim asked, thinking of what the heron men had mentioned to him. He realized suddenly that he had forgotten to tell the others about the braves' initial questions to him on that subject.

"It's another ranch to the south of here," explained Matt. "It's run by a guy named Horace Gibbe. A really bad hombre, as Heck here knows for a fact."

When Jim head the name 'Gibbe', he remembered the heron men had asked about someone with the same name. It could not be a coincidence. Jim listened to Matt intently, then turned to Heck.

"You know Gibbe, Heck?"

Heck lifted his eyes to Jim's and licked his lips nervously.

"Yes, I do. I used to work for him... "

Matt's hand moved to rest on and rub Heck's shoulder reassuringly as the cowboy spoke. Jim recalled what he had seen passing between the pair in the barn the previous day and guessed they were partners. Matt picked up the story for Heck and went on.

"Heck had to leave the Wildcat," explained the burly blacksmith, "for reasons we don't need to go into right now. Suffice it to say that the things we've heard about Gibbe and his ranch just don't sound right."

"What have you heard, Matt?"

"Oh, rumors of land bein' fenced in by Gibbe that didn't belong to him, land set aside for the local natives. And smaller landowners, farmers and settlers, bein' harassed and run offa their claims. But nobody can seem to prove anything, even though the Wildcat Ranch just keeps gettin' bigger and bigger."

"You think they might be helpin' the rustlers dispose of their stolen beef?" Jim asked, a little shocked by his own suggestion. Anyone who would do such a thing was worse than the rustlers they dealt with, because it undermined the whole cattle industry for honest ranchers everywhere.

"If half of what we've heard is true, I wouldn't put it past Gibbe," muttered Matt.

"Call," Brett interrupted.

The men showed their hands. Heck won with three queens. He yawned and refused the deck Matt offered him.

"Sorry, pard," he yawned again. "I've gotta get some shuteye."

The other players agreed with Heck and Matt blew out the lantern. In the darkness, Jim made his way to the bunk he shared with Sandy. Once he was undressed and under the covers, Sandy's hand came up to brush his arm and caress Jim's shoulder.

"Jim?" he whispered low, all too aware that Judas was sleeping above them.

"Yeah?"

"I... I really missed you last night."

"I was lonesome for you too, Sandy," Jim breathed, reaching to hug his friend as Sandy slipped his arms around Jim in return, "but I'm too tired to play right now. Let's get some rest."

"Okay."

The two friends cuddled up together and drifted off to sleep within a minute.

That night Jim saw the Heron Spirit again in his dreams. Though it seemed to stand guard beside the bunk he shared with Sandy, the Elxa totem's head was turned away from the men. Jim tried to look and see what was attracting the godling's attention and got a surprise. The cowboy found he could see right through the walls of the bunkhouse. Somewhere towards the south a mass of dark and ominous stormclouds were gathering, piling higher into the sky.

As Jim studied the growing storm, he felt strange. It was almost as if the disturbance that was building threatened him personally. Jim could not help but believe that the storm was possessed of a burning hatred for men like himself, all man-loving men.

"Lyxtli, I and my brothers will fight you if we must!" the Heron Spirit murmured, addressing the storm. The totem's flaming violet eyes burned with a fierce intensity that Jim had not seen before.

The ominous clouds replied with a defiant mutter of thunder that sent a chill down Jim's spine. Then the Elxa god turned its burning eyes on Jim. Its flutelike voice soothed the cowboy.

"Remember, and tell your brothers... " it whispered musically. At that dulcet command, Jim's consciousness slipped easily into the black, unknowing void of ordinary sleep...

Jim awoke to the feel of Sandy's tongue moving, lapping slowly and deliberately at his hard cock. Drifting on the boundary between sleep and awareness, he reached to gently caress the blonde head resting warmly on his belly. When Sandy felt his lover was awake, his tempo became more insistent and Jim felt the wonder of a slick tongue slipping under his foreskin and massaging the sensitive glans, pressing, rubbing, urging...

"Ahhhh.... " he breathed softly as his seed leapt from his body and was taken into another's.

When his spasms had ceased, Sandy carefully cleaned his bedmate's organ before coming up to kiss and hug Jim to himself. He did not seem to want the favor returned and Jim was more than content to hold Sandy and feel his comforting warmth as the false dawn brightened the bunkhouse by slow degrees.

"Jim?" Sandy whispered into his ear, very low.

"Hmmm?"

"We gotta get up and help Cookie soon."

"Hmmm."

"Did you wanna try tweaking Judas?"

Jim shook off the last remnants of sleep and turned so he could breathe into Sandy's ear.

"Sure. Is Cookie gone already?"

"Yeah."

"What about Judas? Is he awake?"

"I think so... "

Just then, they heard a low gasp from above and the sound of movements that told them Judas had just finished jerking himself off. Jim nodded at Sandy. Sandy grinned mischievously as he began to speak, in the same sort of quiet whisper that they had used before, the one that Judas apparently had no problem hearing.

"Jim? You awake?"

"Yeah, Sandy. Whatcha want?" Jim grinned meaningfully at Sandy as they both heard Judas moving, as if he were getting into a better position to eavesdrop on them.

"Jim, I was wonderin', are you really okay with Judas now?"

"Sure, Sandy. Why do you ask?"

"Well, Jim, 'cause I'm still mad at him," Sandy grinned back as he tried to sound angry. "You know what I'd like to do to that eavesdroppin' varmint?"

"No. What?"

"I'd like to tie him up and give him a good woppin'!"

Both men heard a faint, but audible gasp, from above.

"What did you say?" Jim whispered, suppressing his mirth.

"You heard me, Jim," Sandy went on, as he also struggled to control his urge to laugh, "I'd like to tie that eavesdroppin' varmint up and wop his behind so hard that folks'd hear him hollarin' all the way to Maury City!"

"You can't do that, Sandy!" Jim pretended to protest. Both men smiled as they heard a soft, wordless groan of disappointment from Judas. "Our feud's over. We shook on it and we're even now. I won't let you... "

Jim fell silent as he and Sandy both heard Judas moving above them. A little later, he dropped noiselessly to the floor beside their bunk and started pulling on his clothes. As he finished dressing, he whispered.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You and Sandy go on ahead and sleep in this morning. I'll go help Cookie out. Call it my way of thankin' you for what you did for Sam yesterday."

"Okay. Thanks." Jim said.

As Judas left, Sandy breathed to Jim in amusement. "What he really wants is a woppin' from Cookie, now that we've gotten him all horned up about it!"

"Speakin' of bein' 'all horned up'... "

Jim had gotten a feel of Sandy's hard meat and turned to do something about it. As he began to suck on it, he realized they had a rare moment of time and relative privacy. He stopped sucking and breathed a suggestion to his bunkmate.

Sandy agreed and as Jim lay face down, Sandy pulled Jim's asscheeks apart and started to drool into the hairy cleft, paying attention especially to the throbbing hot hole in its depths. As Sandy fingered the pucker, Jim wished the sensation could go on and on, but eventually Sandy withdrew his digit and replaced it with his prick. He eased the slick knob in slowly, then the shaft, struggling to resist the urge to plunge in all at once.

"Oh my God, Jim," Sandy breathed as he got himself halfway in, "you feel so... so damn... "

"Go on, ride me," returned Jim, pushing back at Sandy from below. Sandy complied, sinking in the rest of the way and starting to ride Jim's ass fast, hard and silent, plowing away until the cowhand faltered, stiffened and twitched before unloading his nuts deep inside Jim's guts.

"Oh my God... " Sandy moaned softly into Jim's ear as he came back to earth. "Oh my sweet, sweet God... "

"You okay?"

Sandy pulled out, turned Jim so they could kiss face to face, then breathed, "Jim, I've had time to think on what you said yesterday, about trust, and, well, I feel I can't afford not to trust you, 'cause... 'cause... " Sandy faltered, sounding nervous.

"'Cause what?"

"'Cause I... I've fallen in love with you."

"Oh, pard... " murmured Jim, stroking Sandy's hair. "You don't know how much I've longed to hear you say that to me, Sandy. I love you, too... "

They kissed again and Sandy found and gripped Jim's joint. Between the emotional impact of Sandy's declaration and the physical sensation of Sandy's hand on his manhood, Jim had gone rock hard and was dribbling precum freely. Feeling Jim's reaction, Sandy pressed his lips to the cowpoke's ear.

"You gotta take me now, the same way!" he almost begged. "I don't care if we wake all the rest of the ranch up and stampede the herd! Just fuck me, Jim!"

Jim agreed at once and Sandy went down to slobber and drool all over his friend's tool. Then Jim rolled his buddy over and brought his dripping organ to Sandy's reardoor. He had more than enough lube to make the entry easy, and slipped right on through.

He fucked Sandy as Sandy had him, hard, deep and fast, while struggling to keep the noise of their enthusiastic coupling to a minimum. Despite what Sandy had begged for so passionately earlier, Jim was not ready to put on a show for the whole bunkhouse. But the thought of doing so was suddenly, strangely attractive to him.

The idea of taking Sandy in front of his fellow cowhands, imagining hearing them hoot and urge him on, soon pushed Jim off the cliff. His hot cum seared its way into Sandy's being, fulfilling them both. Now each had left a part of himself in the other, bonding them closer than before. Slowly, they disengaged and turned to face each other, hugging tightly, kissing and murmuring loving words to one another as they came down from their sexual high, and fell back into light slumber.

"Jim... " Jim heard Sandy sigh a heartfelt mantra just as Jim's consciousness faded back into sleep, "my pardner... my Jim... my pard... my man... my love... my Jim... "

Jim knew it was only a dream. But when he saw the Heron Spirit stretch its wings out to caress his and Sandy's faces, Jim could have sworn he really felt it. The singular, soft sensations caused by the tips of dusty blue feathers trailing across his cheeks...

Jim was awakened later by the sound of Matt groaning, though it did not sound exactly as if the acting foreman was in pain. Jim lifted his head and looked over Sandy's inert form, across the bunkhouse to where Matt slept. There was enough light for Jim to see Heck on his bedmate's back, hugging the blacksmith from behind. Their blankets had slipped enough to expose the naked men from the waists up. The writhing, rhythmic movements they were making plainly advertised what they were doing.

Heck came in a series of hard thrusts, whispering his love into Matt's ear hoarsely as he drilled his partner and filled him with his seed. Jim glanced around the bunkhouse and realized he was not the only one watching the men rut. Miguel caught his eye and smiled, then surprised Jim by running his hand down the outside of his blanket, drawing Jim's attention to the gently bobbing lump made by Miguel's bedmate's head as Brett blew the handsome Hispanic cowboy.

Jim could only suppose that between what Judas had told the others and what he had done for Sam, the older hands fully accepted him now. That meant they did not feel the need to hide their pleasures from him or Sandy anymore. In fact, after what had happened at the creek the previous day, they seemed to be ready and eager to invite the two young cowboys to join in the fun with them.

Jim felt the same perverse desire to put on a show for them rise within him again. He was already spooned into Sandy's back. It would not take much to get him in the same state Heck had just been with Matt. His penis began to stiffen and rise.

"Okay, guys," Matt's voice sounded wearily in the semidark, "I can hear Cookie workin'. If you ain't got off yet, you better hurry... "

"Nice speech, 'actin' foreman'," Heck whispered as he cuddled up to his partner.

Jim saw Matt's hands grab Heck's head and force it downward. The action pushed their blankets down further and Jim caught sight of Matt's impressive endowment straining upward from a bush of black pubic hair. Heck swallowed the blacksmith's big dick without any problem however and began sucking on it hungrily, energetically and apparently without any concerns about who might be watching.

As he eyed their erotic movements, saw Matt's hard shaft pistoning in and out of Heck's dark red bearded and moustached mouth, Jim felt his own pecker go hard as bone. He could not help himself. He slipped his aching erection back into Sandy's ass and started pumping, slowly at first, waiting to see how Sandy would react. The blonde cowboy whimpered in ecstasy from beneath him, softly.

"Oh, yeah, Jim... fuck my ass... anytime you want it... it's yours... "

"Okay, pard," Jim whispered back, "but we don't have a lot of time left."

"Go hard and fast then... I love it... I love you... "

Sandy's words spurred Jim off and he rode his partner to a sensuous climax while more than one of his fellow ranchhands watched from the surrounding semidarkness and fisted their cocks or were serviced by their buddies. Then Jim ducked under the blanket and sucked Sandy off, his by now expert tongue knowing exactly what to do to quickly bring his bedpartner off. Then Jim gave Sandy a long, vigorous kiss as he forced the hot load of fresh cowboy cream into his partner's mouth.

"God, Jim," Sandy moaned, struggling for words, "you're so... I love you... so damn much... "

"I love you too, pard," Jim responded, feeling himself getting hard again. Sandy felt it too.

"You want me to blow you? Or do you want another ride?"

"Sandy, I... "

Abruptly, a cacophony of sound split the air as Cookie beat the metal triangle and hollared from the cookshack. More than a few plaintive groans went up at that. But slowly the men in the bunkhouse responded.

"Oh, well... " sighed Jim as he got up.

Soon there were naked cowboys to be seen everywhere, stretching, yawning and eyeing each other's morning hardons. Jim took a good long look around, thoroughly enjoying the sights and adding his stiff cock to the morning review. He was quite pleased to see he was not the smallest man there.

"Hey!" began Clyde, spotting Jim. "Ain't you supposed to be helpin' Cookie?"

"Good morning to you too," Jim smiled in his friendliest manner as he turned and studied the lanky, hairy body of his good-looking co-worker more carefully than he had at the stream the other day. Clyde looked only a little older than Jim or Sandy, dark haired, broad in the chest and narrow at the waist. The two cowpokes' hard peckers pointed directly at each other as Jim replied. "Judas volunteered to go in my and Sandy's place this morning."

"Oh."

Clyde looked Jim over and his cock showed no signs of going down. Jim thought he was about to speak, to suggest something, but turned instead to grab his clothes and pull them on. Jim donned his pants, poking his softening prong down one pantleg and was aware of a couple of his fellow ranchworkers watching hungrily as he did so. Grinning to himself, Jim turned and bent over Sandy, who so far had only moaned and stretched since Cookie's signal had sounded, giving his ear a light kiss.

"Time to get up, pard," Jim whispered. "We can't fuck and sleep all the time, as much as I'd like to do with your loveable self!"

"I love you, Jim, more than anything," Sandy murmured in reply, then sat up, yawning and stretching. His cock stood proudly up from the blonde bush of crotch hair, his foreskin stretched tight over the swollen glans.

"You sleep well, Sandy?" Clyde asked with a grin.

"Yep," he said as he jumped out of the bunk, his hardon bobbing wildly as he started pulling on his clothes. "I'm ready to bust broncs or wrestle grizzly bears, your choice!"

"I think chasin' down rustlers is what we're all concerned with today," said Matt, his cock and balls dangling openly as he began to step into his jeans. Heck apparently could not resist groping the blacksmith's delicious genitals one last time before Matt could pull up his pants, surprising him. "Cut it out!" Matt whispered harshly to his partner.

"Why?" Heck asked openly. "We ain't got nothing to hide from Jim and Sandy. They like the same things we do. Right?" he asked, looking at the pair.

"Sure," answered Jim, reaching over to rub Sandy's bare shoulders as Sandy blushed.

"I hope you and Sandy would like to, ah, fool around with some of us again sometime," Clyde suggested. Jim had already noted that Clyde slept alone. Apparently he did not have a steady partner among the men who lived and worked at the Lazy B.

"Aw, give it a rest, Clyde," Rufus began, another apparently unattached cowboy. "Can't you see those two are fallin' in love?" Sandy gasped and blushed even harder at the redhead's words, provoking a few chuckles as Rufus went on. "Despite what happened at the creek yesterday, it's gonna be awhile before they're ready to get frisky with anybody else around here but each other!"

"What happened at the creek?" asked Brett.

As Rufus began giving a blow by blow account of the bout of group sex they had shared, Clyde looked a bit taken aback. Jim considered that it was possible Clyde was more lonely than he was horny. He whispered to Sandy as he finished dressing.

"Sandy, how would you feel if I played around with some of the other guys here? Would you be jealous?"

"I guess not... Knowin' how you feel about me, I'm sure you'd always come back to me eventually."

"I would, 'cause I love you, pard, like something fierce." Jim smiled. "It's just that I get the feelin' Clyde needs some lovin' and I'd be a liar if I said he didn't attract me. Besides, from what we've heard so far, the guys here seem pretty free and easy about sharin'."

"I think Clyde would want me more than you, but if you wanna, go ahead. For the time bein', you're more than enough for me!"

"I'm gonna wait for you outside, pard," Jim grinned before leaving the bunkhouse.

Jim paused on the porch outside, breathed in a chest full of the clean, early morning air and sighed, glad to be alive. Then he spied Art and Sven emerging from their cabin, which shared a wall with the cabin Jake used. Jim smiled when he saw Sven pull Art back into the doorway for a lingering kiss before the older men both stepped outside and headed for the cookshack.

Jim tried to imagine Sandy and himself years from now, older, but still just as much in love. Then he was distracted as Jake's door opened and Sam came out, supported by his lover. Ben exited close behind the pair and waved Jim over when he saw him.

"How'd you sleep?" Jim asked playfully as he came up to Ben.

Ben's response surprised Jim. He looked ruefully at Sam and Jake as the pair moved slowly towards the cookshack. Then he spoke.

"Look at him!" Ben said under his breath. "You'd think that Sam was an invalid, but lemme tell you, brother, he nearly wore my backside out earlier this morning!"

"Sam sure can fuck!" Jim agreed. Ben looked at his friend with surprise in his eyes and Jim chuckled. "Yep, I've been with Sam too. And I'm lookin' forward to our next meetin'!"

"Well," Ben muttered, rubbing his backside, "maybe it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be."

"You loved it, and you know it, big guy!" Jim snickered.

"C'mon," laughed Ben, "let's get some breakfast."

"I'm waitin' on Sandy... "

"Oh, that reminds me. We want you to be in on a little get together later, as we plan that surprise for Red Russ I told you about yesterday. Jake'll see to it that Sandy is busy elsewhere so he doesn't get suspicious."

Jim nodded in understanding. Not long afterwards, the cowhands started drifting out of the bunkhouse. Sandy came over to Jim and, along with Ben, they went to get their breakfast.

Despite their head start, Jake and Sam were among the last to get inside the cookshack. As the others passed the pair, everyone had a kind word for Sam and a wish for him to get better soon. Watching them interact, Jim quickly realized how much the other hands respected and looked up to Sam, loved him, in fact. After Jake had his partner squared away with some breakfast, he got up and addressed the group.

"Sam isn't up to thankin' you all personally, so I'll do it for him. Both of us feel proud and lucky to have such good friends as you. I'm sure Sam will be better soon, but I hafta tell you that Jim isn't the only one to be thanked for that.

"Because of this rustlin' business, I know you'll all be extra wary of any strangers you find on or around the ranch. So I wanna tell you that Jim met two real live heron men the other day and it was their medicine that saved Sam's life." Jake's listeners gaped and there were a few exclamations and surprised looks directed at Jim. "The heron men, two Indians named Ho'va and Katchikoa, promised to come visit us, so for God's sake, you knuckleheads, don't shoot at any Indians you might see around here!"

There was a general murmur of agreement to Jake's request from the rather stunned audience. All of them had heard the entertaining stories of the heron men from Jake or other sources. But none of them had really believed in the legend of the lost tribe of man-lovers.

Up until then, the hands had considered the tall tales a sort of blueprint the owners of the Lazy B had followed as they built up the ranch and sought out like-minded cowpokes to live and work with them, like a band of brothers, forging a unique family. The sudden revelation that the heron men were real had them all intrigued... And exercised the constantly horny ranchhands' very lascivious imaginations.

"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, here's the plan for today. After breakfast, we're goin' out to round up the herd. I want a head count, so we can figure out how many we lost, and if we can get 'em all together in one place, they'll be easier to keep a eye on. Understood?"

There was another noise of agreement from the group as they continued to chow down. Knowing that they were facing a long, hard day in the saddle, the men stuffed themselves, as there was the distinct possibility that no one would get any lunch that day. Jake went on.

"I'm hopin' we can drive the herd into the big corral to the east of the main compound. There's enough grass over there to last 'em a week or so and I'm hopin' we'll get our hands on those rustlers before then."

"Hey, boss, should we have some rope collars ready, just in case?" Rufus asked.

The cowpoke had used the slang for hangman's nooses, which provoked a few suggestions from his listeners about where the best place would be to string the 'rustlin' varmints' up, as well as speculation about when an outbreak of 'hemp fever' might occur, an old euphemism for hanging. Jim glanced at Sandy, who had paled when he heard his fellow ranchhands' comments, but was otherwise controlling himself. Sandy knew his fate might be the same as the outlaws whom he had been forced to help and Jim guessed what was going through his partner's mind.

"We've got the law here helpin' us," Jake motioned to Ben. "There's no need for us to do the job of a judge or executioner. You're honest cowboys, not a bloodthirsty lynch mob."

"You okay?" Jim whispered to his partner as some groans of disappointment went up from the group. Apparently more than one of their fellow cowpokes had been looking forward to a hanging.

"Yeah... Jim, do you remember what you said to me... about trust?" Sandy whispered back nervously.

"Sure."

"There's something I hafta tell you... but not here. We gotta be alone."

"I'm not sure we're gonna get the chance to be alone together today, pard," Jim returned, wondering if Sandy wanted to spill his guts about the mess he was in with Red Russ.

"I know... but it's important."

"Mebbe when we get to the creek later on this afternoon, before dinner," suggested Jim.

"Yeah," Sandy brightened. "We can find a private spot there so we can talk."

"I hope talkin' isn't all you wanna do, pard... " Jim murmured as he slipped a hand down to squeeze Sandy's rear surreptitiously.

"Jim... damn, but I want you now... "

"Hold that thought, pard. For this comin' afternoon, and the night later on... "

As the ranchhands finished eating, they drifted over to the main barn in ones and twos to get their horses. Shoveling the last of his eggs into his mouth, Sandy turned to his partner. Jim felt his love for Sandy rise again as the blonde man spoke.

"I'll go get our horses, pard," he said, swallowing. "You eat some more if you want. I surely want you to build up your strength for later on, when we get to the creek!"

"Go on, you," Jim snorted in amusement. "I love you," he added in a low whisper.

"You gettin' shy now?" Sandy whispered back through a grin. "What would you do if I gave you a big ol' kiss right here in the middle of the cookshack?"

"I'd kiss you back as hard as I could, buddy! Then I'd probably rip off your duds and have my way with you right here on this table!"

"Cookie would like that, I bet! We'd both have to let him wop us before he'd forgive us!"

"Then go get our horses if you don't want a woppin'! I'll see you later."

"Okay, pard."

Sandy pursed his lips briefly at Jim and left the cookshack. As Jim turned his head to watch Sandy go, he caught Ben eyeing him. He grinned sheepishly at the deputy who waved Jim over. Carrying his plate, Jim joined Ben, his foster fathers, and Jake and Sam.

"You'll ride with us today," Jake informed the cowboy as he munched on some bacon. Jim looked questioningly at Sam who was sipping hot coffee from a big cup.

"Yeah, I'm goin' too. I ain't gonna lie in bed while you guys have all the fun around here!"

"Ben," Jake began, looking at the deputy, "do us a favor and take Sandy with you when you go into town. That'll give me a chance to tell everybody about your plan to trap the rustlers."

"You gonna tell them about Sandy too?" asked Ben.

"I'll hafta." Jake turned to Jim. "Sorry, Jim, but they gotta know why we can't tell Sandy about our scheme."

"I understand. Just be sure to tell 'em why Sandy's mixed up in all this. He can't help it if he's bein' blackmailed."

"I will," Jake promised, before he used a fragment of biscuit to mop up a pool of bacon grease on his plate. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, obviously relishing the taste.

"Well, I do have to get back to town," admitted Ben, "to check on Eli and see if he's learned anything new. And see if Sheriff Johnson's back from Happenstance yet."

"If I was you," Art advised, "I'd send someone to find out what's takin' Al so long. I know he's investigatin' that bank robbery, but what's happenin' here is important too!"

"I might just do that, pa. And I'll be back this evening, I hope."

"The later the better," said Jake. "I'll give Sandy an errand to run in town and, with any luck, Red Russ will hear of it." Seeing Jim's questioning look, Jake explained. "It's part of the plan. We're gonna let Red Russ think no one but Sandy will be here tomorrow night." Jake turned back to Ben. "Don't let Sandy come back here until late tonight. Like I said, the later the better."

Jim figured Jake wanted to give Sandy every opportunity to make contact with Red Russ and pass on the misinformation. Then Jim caught the strange way Sam and Jake were exchanging meaningful glances, smiling oddly, and were eyeing the young cowboy on the sly. Art and Sven seemed to be doing the same, and even Ben appeared to smile knowingly when he noticed the same things Jim had. Jim did not know what to make of their behavior.

"Take care then, son," said Sven as Ben got up to leave.

"Yeah. And tell your brother we love him," Art added.

"You know," Ben paused, looking thoughtfully at his adoptive fathers, "the things Jim saw and told me and Eli got me thinkin' about the past and I don't recall ever really thankin' you two for takin' my brother and me in and lookin' after us. You didn't have to do it, and we couldn't have grown up together otherwise."

"You have thanked us, son, you and Eli both, in little ways you two probably wouldn't think of as thanks," smiled Sven. "Watchin' you two grow up and become fine men was a joy to me and Art."

"Especially seein' as we had a lot to do with how you two turned out so damn well!" Art added.

Ben started to respond, but shut his mouth with an effort. He moved to hug the two older men fiercely then left the cookshack with Jake. As they walked towards the barn, the deputy pulled out his bandanna and dabbed at his watery eyes.

Jake patted Ben's shoulder affectionately as they went. He knew how Ben felt. Art and Sven were more than business partners to him and Sam. They were close and dear friends.

"Sandy," Jake began as he and Ben met the young cowboy at the entrance of the barn, "Tomorrow's Saturday and I want you to go into town with Ben and let Chester Quinn know we'll all be comin' over there tomorrow night. I always warn him before my men show up at his saloon to blow off steam. I'm sendin' you because it's gonna be your turn to stay here and keep an eye on the place while we're gone, so if you wanna, enjoy yourself at the Mineshaft. Otherwise, help Ben out with whatever he needs to do. He's comin' back to the ranch later tonight and you can come back with him then."

Sandy did not argue with the order, though he was sorry he was not going to get the chance to be with Jim that day. Jake watched as Sandy rode off with Ben. Then Matt came out of the barn and Jake turned to the blacksmith.

"You and Heck both know the plan for dealin' with the rustlers, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, here's what we'll do. We'll split into three groups. You and Heck each go with one, Art and Sven will go with the last group. As you all work, tell everyone the plan. Tell 'em about Sandy too, why he can't be told, and how he's bein' blackmailed. We don't want any hard feelin's against him."

"I understand," Matt nodded. "What about you?"

Jake grinned at his acting foreman.

"Me and Sam will be ridin' with Jim."

Matt looked puzzled and Jake went on.

"One more thing you can tell the boys," Jake confided, continuing to grin. "The sooner we round up the herd, the sooner we can initiate a new Rump Ranger!"

"Jim?" breathed Matt.

"Who else?"

"Is that why you got rid of Sandy?"

"Well, it's sorta like killin' two birds with one stone, but yeah. He'll be comin' back with Ben late tonight, so we have to be done inductin' Jim into the brotherhood before then."

As Jake spoke, the pair grinned evilly at each other. Both were imagining what was in store for Jim later on. They got their horses and moved to join the rest of their fellow ranchhands, itching to get to work. Like Jake had said, the sooner they were done, the sooner the fun could start.

When Ben and Sandy reached Maury City, Ben let Sandy go and do as Jake had asked him, expecting to meet him later at the jailhouse. While the cowpoke was busy at the Mineshaft Saloon, Ben went directly to the stable where he had seen Red Russ holding Clint. He found the place empty.

As the big deputy was wondering what to do next, he spotted a friend. Dirk Jennings was a slightly built, nut-brown haired half-breed who did odd jobs around town. The young man's beardless face brightened when he saw Ben and returned his wave.

"How's it goin', Dirk?" Ben asked as he approached the teenaged metiff.

"Not bad," answered Dirk, giving Ben a look of hungry, lusty longing.

Ben knew exactly what kind of business Dirk ran on the side for the partnerless men of Maury City. The good-natured, handsome sixteen year old was quite a popular item, and he enjoyed the attention he got. His laughing brown eyes and cock-hungry rear had provoked rivalries among his admirers and set off many a barroom brawl.

The fights however were hardly the youth's fault. Dirk was always willing to share, but he could not be blamed if some of his customers insisted on having the adorable boy all to themselves. In the course of earning his extra spending money, Dirk got to know a lot of what was going on in the town by listening to his many partners, who were as glad to have someone to talk to as to have sex with. The big deputy had found the randy youngster to be a veritable mine of dependable information in the past, and he hoped to get a little now.

"You got a minute?" asked Ben.

"Always, for you!"

"Let's step over here then, son," Ben murmured, patting the youth's rear end affectionately as they entered an alley.

They soon found a shadowy and secluded spot, behind a cul-de-sac of crates and barrels. Dirk moved to hug and kiss Ben passionately. Then he turned and dropped his jeans, exposing a pair of smooth, tawny, delectable globes of tender young manflesh.

Never one to pass up an invitation, Ben spat on his fingers and worked the thick digits into Dirk's tight rear end. When the youth's hole felt ready, the deputy freed his rigid member and pushed it to and through the slickened bull's-eye. Despite the delightful feeling of Dirk's ass spasming around his hard pecker, Ben stayed in control enough to ask Dirk what he had really wanted when he spotted the lad.

"I'm lookin' for Eli," he muttered.

"Well, you won't find him in there!" giggled Dirk, making Ben laugh too. "Not right now, at least."

"You've had Eli?"

"Sure. That man has a dick and a half on him and he sure knows how to use it! You are one lucky dog, Ben, to be sleepin' with him every night!"

"I know it, Dirk, I know it." sighed Ben in a truly heartfelt way.

"I'm sorry, Ben, but I haven't seen Eli today."

Another thought occurred to Ben, despite his being distracted by the delicious, rising tension deep in his groin as he hunched his way towards orgasm.

"What about Red Russ? You seen him around?"

"I haven't seen him either, but I did see one of his, er, associates. Ric Dale is his name. He wanted a quick blowjob from me, said he'd have liked to do more and take his time, but Russ wanted him to leave town for awhile, on short notice."

"Oh? Did he say why?"

"No, but when he left, he was driving a wagon, covered with a tarp, which I thought I saw movin', like something alive was under it."

"Did you see which way he went when he left town? It's real important that I know, Dirk."

"He took the road south, towards Steens Station," answered the lad, panting as he stroked his own cock in time with Ben's thrusts.

"And there was nobody else with him?"

"No... ahhhhh!"

Dirk breathed out the shuddering sigh as his cock abruptly spewed, spattering the side of a barrel with thick gouts of his white jelly. The pulsations of his nether muscles squeezed Ben over the edge and the deputy came too. Dirk felt the hot, wet explosion of his friend's cumming within him, felt it fill and coat and soothe his stretched innards, and relished the sensation.

Panting, Ben withdrew. A long, glistening strand of manseed continued to connect his pecker to Dirk's ass for a few moments, then it sagged and broke. The men adjusted their clothing, then kissed again. Ben looked into Dirk's eyes.

"Thanks. For the info and the rest... "

"It was my pleasure," Dirk smiled, then grew serious. "Can I ask you something, Ben?"

"Sure."

"I know what Red Russ is, but Ric isn't like him, he's... well... a good man in bad company. I'd hate to see him go to jail. Is it serious, what you're investigatin'?"

"Dirk," Ben wet his suddenly dry lips, "do you have feelin's for Ric?"

"I think so," began the lad, "I think about Ric a lot... He's a half-breed like me, you know, and sometimes I wish he'd been my older brother, so we could've grown up protectin' and lookin' out for each other like you and Eli do... I surely like that idea... I've never been in love before, Ben, so I'm not sure, but the thought of Ric goin' away to jail, of my not bein' able to see him again, it... it makes me scared and sad at the same time."

"I can't promise you anything, son," Ben said as gently as he could. "Ric's a grown man. He knows if whatever he's doin' for Red Russ is wrong. And if I catch him doin' wrong, the law has gotta be followed."

"Do you think I could talk Ric into not workin' for Red Russ anymore? And if I did, would that keep him... out of jail?" Dirk had almost ended his question by saying 'with me?' but changed it at the last second.

"That would save him from a world of trouble, son," murmured Ben, not wanting to go into details that would worry Dirk. As an accessory to rustling, Ric would face the death penalty if caught.

"So it is serious." Dirk breathed.

"Yeah, son, it is."

"Listen, Ben," pleaded Dirk, "please let me know what it is. I can keep my mouth shut and I can help you."

Ben wavered. He was not sure if it was the right thing to do, but he had to admit to himself that Dirk's connection to one of Red Russ's band of owlhoots might just come in handy. And he knew he could trust Dirk.

"If I do, you might hear some things you won't like, son... "

"I can take it. You said it was serious. Well, I can be serious too, if I hafta."

"Alright. Let's go to the jailhouse and see if Eli's there. I'll tell you all about it as we go."

By the time they reached their destination, Ben had explained the troubles centered on the Lazy B Ranch. Dirk looked worried, knowing his friend Ric was flirting with hanging, while Ben noted how quiet the office was. A quick look around in the back part of the jail told him Eli was not there, but Dirk called him back to the office.

"Look at this," he said, offering Ben a piece of paper.

"It's from Eli," Ben muttered as he read.

'Dear Ben: They moved Clint and I trailed them. The rustlers are hold up in the Four Fingers. The missing herd is corralled in the westernmost canyon and their hideout is built in the next one to the east. I've gone to send a wire to Happenstance and alert the sheriff. Be back soon. Your loving big brother, Eli.'

"I know where the Four Fingers are," Dirk said. He went over to a county map on the wall and tapped a particular spot with his finger. Dirk went on to explain that there was a place near Black Butte where four canyons came together at one point. "I've hunted in that area before and I know it well. I could go there and keep an eye on those owlhoots for you."

"That's a dangerous proposition, Dirk."

"Naw, I know a way to get up on the plateau above those canyons. They'll never see me, and from there, I could get back to town faster than they could, if I had news, or if they spotted me, which they wouldn't."

"Hmm. Actually, that gives me another idea... " Ben was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. He looked and saw his lover. "Big brother! It's good to see you!"

"Likewise. Howdy, Dirk."

"Dirk's gonna help us rescue Clint." Ben announced.

"How?" Eli and Dirk asked at the same time.

"Listen... "

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the roundup had gone smoothly and a lot faster than Jim had thought it would. He of course had no idea what was really motivating his fellow cowpokes to be so hardworking, beyond a self-interested desire to thwart the rustlers and keep the ranch, their home, intact. Jim was further beguiled by Jake and Sam as they related amusing stories about his fellow hands.

The tale of how Rufus joined the Lazy B had Jim in stitches. Like Clyde, Rufus had been discovered in the Mineshaft, between jobs and intending to just drift through Maury City. As Rufus had told Jim himself, he loved to be restrained and used by other men. That characteristic had gotten him noticed.

He met Cookie and Judas, and soon the three were up in the loft of the livery stable exchanging, as Jake put it delicately, 'tips on the more obscure uses of ropes'. Rufus was very willing to let his new acquaintances tie him up for a bit of fun. While they were thus engaged, the other Lazy B hands began arriving from the Mineshaft.

After some initial apprehension, Judas and Cookie clued Rufus in, and the redhead shook in his bonds with delight. He invited one and all to take their pleasure with him while he was tied up, and no one refused the opportunity. In the morning, having decided Rufus was definitely one of them, the other cowhands tied him to his horse and brought him back to the ranch, where he willingly stayed.

The four groups consolidated the herd handily. Then they organized to drive it into a very large corral beyond the east side of the main compound. Art swore and pointed out what everybody could see.

"Damn if those rustlers didn't get about a third of our herd!"

"C'mon pardner," Sven urged, "at least what's left is safe for the time bein'. Let's wash up and get some grub."

Cookie had left the drive earlier to start supper. As the men passed the cookshack on their way down to the creek, they could not help but breathe in the delicious aromas wafting from the building. Jim figured hunger was the reason no one fooled around in the water.

The men washed quickly, some just dunking themselves to rinse off the sweat, and then headed for dinner. The cookhouse was unusually quiet as the men addressed themselves to their food. And later, as they finished, all headed for the bunkhouse, as if they were eager to turn in early.

"Jim, could you give me a hand gettin' Sam to our cabin?" Jake asked when he saw Jim was done eating.

"Sure," he agreed. "You okay?" Jim inquired as he let Sam put his good arm around his shoulder.

"Just tired, son," he smiled disarmingly.

They passed through the office part of Jake's cabin and into his bedroom. Jake paused to casually pick up a long ribbon like piece of leather off their bed. Jim thought nothing of it as he stopped there, expecting Sam to sit down.

But suddenly, Sam's grip tightened and, in a trice, Jim found his hands pulled behind his back by Jake. Sam's show of weakness had caused the young cowboy to drop his guard. Though the foreman's left arm was still sore, his grip was plenty strong enough to hold Jim firmly in the few moments it took for Jake to truss Jim's wrists together securely with the length of soft leather.

"What the hell... "

"Shaddup," Jake growled as he yanked Jim's bandanna off, rolled it up and stuffed it into his mouth.

"No! Noommmuulph!"

Sam continued to keep a tight hold on Jim as Jake followed up by tying another bandanna tightly around his head so Jim could not spit out the wad of cloth. Then Jake took Jim's hat and placed it on the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed one of the young man's legs, pulled it up and yanked off a boot.

"Gaaalll Aaammm Rrrittt!" Jim cursed through his gag as he started to struggle harder.

"Hold him!" Jake barked as he pulled off Jim's other boot and tossed it aside. Jake came around and fingered the material of Jim's shirt, judging it. "Thin and worn," he pronounced. "He won't miss this old rag."

"Uuutttsss Ooowwin Ooowwwaaannn?"

Jake pulled out another bandanna and blindfolded Jim.

"Nnnnaaaa... " he moaned through the gag, shaking his head in vain as the world went black.

"Whatcha mean no, cowboy?" Jake asked companionably. "Don't you wanna find out about the Rump Rangers?"

Jim froze. He turned his head in the direction of Jake's voice. Jake smiled and moved silently to Jim's other side before he spoke again.

"That's right," he whispered, making the young cowpoke jump and turn in the new direction, "I know you've been wonderin' about what you heard in the cookshack a few days ago and now you're gonna find out all about it!"

Jake punctuated his remark by caressing Jim's ass lightly. Jim yelped through his gag and tried to jump away, but he felt the hands follow and fondle his behind even more forcefully. Jake chuckled in a thoroughly evil manner that alarmed the young cowboy. His next words alarmed Jim even more.

"Every horny ranchhand on this ranch is gonna get a chance to ride that fine ass of yours tonight, Jim, and you ain't in much of a position to say no."

"Uuuu Bbbbaaaarrrddd!" he cussed.

"Take care of our friend here, pard, until we're ready."

"Okay."

Jim heard the door open and shut and knew he was alone with Sam. He turned his head in what he thought was Sam's direction. The older man sighed before he helped Jim sit on the bed. Then Sam sat beside him and stroked Jim's hair gently.

"You scared, son?"

Jim slowly nodded.

"Do you still trust me, son?"

It took a little longer, but Jim eventually nodded again.

"Good boy," Sam murmured, hugging Jim's bound form to his side. Jim let his head rest on Sam's shoulder as the older cowboy went on. "You like it here at the Lazy B, don't you?"

"Uuunnnn Hhhhuuuuhhhh," Jim managed.

"At least, up until now, I reckon."

Jim did not respond and Sam went on.

"All those stories about the heron men gave Jake an idea," Sam began to explain. "He figured he could put together his own tribe of man-lovers, lookin' for likely candidates among the saddletramps who drifted through the area. Slowly, we've built up a family of brothers here, but we're not bound together just by what we like to do in our bunks. There's an... um... initiation we all go through." Sam paused to let that sink in. "I think you'd be a fine addition to our brotherhood, Jim. If you wanna become a Rump Ranger, I'll sponsor you. If not, well, nothing more'll be said about it. I'll untie you and you can go your way."

"Hhhhuuuhhh?"

"Oh, you can stay with us if you like. The others will all be mighty disappointed that you didn't wanna join our brotherhood, me too, but we won't shun you or anything like that."

"Uuunt aahh," Jim shook his head vigorously as he decided. He could not let Sam down.

"I don't understand you, son," Sam teased gently. "Are you sayin' you don't wanna join us?"

"Uunnt Aahh!" Jim managed, forcing the words through his gag. "Ahh Aaannuutt Tttooo Oooiinn!"

"You wanna join?"

Jim nodded vigorously.

"Even if it means lettin' all the guys on this ranch have their way with you tonight?"

Sam felt the body beside him stiffen. He knew Jim was remembering Jake's words and actions. What Sam did not know was that Jim was also recalling how he had felt the first night he came to the Lazy B, how he had been expecting to get gang raped, and his disappointment when it did not happen. Realizing he had been prepared for this to happen once before, Jim slowly nodded again and Sam whispered in his ear.

"I'll be with you every step of the way, Jim. I swear you won't get hurt."

Jim sighed and rubbed himself up against Sam, trying to show his appreciation. He felt Sam's arms come around to hug him, gently and firmly, a protective circle. The older cowboy sighed again.

"You're startin' to become real special to me, Jim. I know you're in love with Sandy and I ain't got no plans to ever leave Jake, but, well, look," managed Sam, his voice husky with emotion, "I've never had a son, or ever expect to by conventional means, but I'd like to think of you as my boy, if you're willin'."

"Eeeesss, Aammmm, eesss," Jim agreed, nodding and rubbing himself against the blonde man energetically.

"You won't regret it, son," promised Sam, hugging Jim to him lovingly and kissing his forehead. Then, from somewhere outside, Jim heard a sound like a bell tolling.

Jim guessed it was the signal to begin as he felt Sam pull upward on his arm, urging him to stand up. They left the cabin and Jim felt the coolness of the evening air on his skin as they walked across gravelly ground. Then his bare foot came down on a rough wooden plank and he knew they were on the porch of the bunkhouse.

They stopped and Jim heard Sam knocking, apparently at the door. His rapping had an odd cadence to it. Two knocks, three, then one, with a slight pause between them.

"Who is it?" a solemn voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Ranger McCrea."

"What do you want, Ranger McCrea?"

"I have a man with me who wishes to join our brotherhood."

"What is this man's name?"

"Jim Willis."

Jim heard an explosion of muffled noises. Most of it was laughter, but objections seemed to be mingled with it. Some sounded violent, with one deep and emphatic 'No! Never!'. When the commotion died down the first voice spoke again.

"Do you vouch for this man, Ranger McCrea?"

"I do."

"Jim Willis!" the voice addressed the young cowboy directly. "Do you wish to become a Rump Ranger?"

As a new chorus of hoots, laughter and imprecations arose, Sam leaned over and whispered in Jim's ear.

"Answer as best you can."

"Eeesss!" Jim yelled through the gag. More laughter erupted inside the bunkhouse.

"No man becomes a Rump Ranger without undergoing the ordeal!" the voice warned. "Are you prepared, Jim Willis?"

"Eeesss!!"

"Will this man finish what he begins, Ranger McCrea?"

"Yes," Jim heard Sam respond, strengthening his resolve. Sam's good arm came up Jim's back to hug him as he went on. "He's a true and trusty comrade, a fine young man... and I love him like a son."

Jim heard a low murmuring from inside. He guessed, from the respect Sam was held in, that this high praise was making an impact. It certainly had on Jim. He felt the blindfold wick away the tears of pride that formed when Sam spoke and Jim swore to himself he would do anything to be worthy of the trust Sam had put in him, be the sort of son Sam would be proud to call his own.

"Enter then, Ranger McCrea, and bring the candidate!"

Jim heard the door open and Sam guided him inside. The door slammed shut behind him and, for a short while, all Jim could hear was heavy breathing and vague rustling noises all around him. He jumped when a voice abruptly broke the silence, provoking a few chuckles.

"So," it said, "you wanna be a Rump Ranger, eh?"

Sam still had a hand on Jim's shoulder and he gave it a squeeze to urge Jim to answer.

"Eeesss!"

"'Eeesss' what?" the voice, Jake's voice, Jim realized, mocked.

"Eeesss eeerrr!"

"That's right... " Jake was moving as he spoke, apparently circling Jim slowly. Jim felt Sam's hand let go, leaving him alone.

"When are we gonna get a look at him nekkid, Ranger Beeson?"

Jim knew Judas had spoken.

"You're right, Ranger Myrick," Jake said before raising his voice to address the group as a whole. "Get those duds offa him! Let's get a good look at the candidate!"

Suddenly a dozen hands were all over Jim. His shirt was shredded, and the remnants ripped off his body. He felt himself lifted off the floor bodily as other hands unbuttoned and peeled off his pants, while more felt his ass, tugged on his cock and balls and pinched his nipples.

While this was going on, Jim's bonds were removed, but only briefly. He felt his hands forced through loops of rope which apparently were hanging from the rafters. His ankles were similarly bound in a way that made him imagine they were attached to the bases of two posts. Once his bonds were tightened, Jim found himself almost suspended, spread-eagled, naked and helpless.

The hands returned, feeling and probing every part of his body, though one gripped his shoulder and remained resolutely attached there, squeezing gently. Jim knew it meant Sam was still with him. Between the reassurance he felt from that touch and all the groping, his cock stirred and started to rise, provoking some hoots and rude comments from the onlookers.

"Well, well! What have we here?" Jim knew it was Rufus who asked, as a hand fondled and stroked Jim's hardening meat.

"Looks good enough to eat, Ranger Harris!" another commented. It sounded to Jim like Brett had spoken, but he was not sure.

"Well, Ranger Randolph, come on over here and try it! I'm sure our prospective brother here won't mind!"

"Eeesss eeerrr!" Jim managed. He knew then that it was Brett, whose last name he had heard before.

Jim humped the air with his hard, bobbing cock in what he thought was Brett's direction and the room erupted in laughter. A mouth suddenly covered his stiff rod and began nursing expertly on it. Then Jim felt a hand run across his ass in a familiar manner.

"This part looks mighty fine to me," a new voice said, before giving the plump, pink cheeks a good smack.

"Aaaaooofff!" Jim cried, twisting in his ropes as laughter filled his ears.

"Yessirrie," the man, whom Jim belatedly recognized as Cookie, went on, caressing his butt lovingly, "real nice... "

"Watch it, Ranger Ashley," Brett complained as he released Jim's fully hard cock. "I'm tryin' to work here!"

"Yeah," another objected. Jim recognized Clyde's voice, "you'll get him too sore to enjoy what the rest of us wanna give him!"

"Does he want it, Ranger Rodwell?" someone asked.

Jim heard low mutterings as Sam's hands rose and untied the captive cowpoke's blindfold. Jim blinked and looked around the darkened bunkhouse. All the hands were there, Art and Sven as well.

Some were wearing their long johns unbuttoned all the way down to their crotches, a few were completely naked and all were sporting wood. Jake came up to the bound man, wearing just his boots and hat. He looked Jim directly in the eye.

"If I told you the ordeal you will have to endure was to have every man here fuck your ass, cowboy, would you still wanna be a Rump Ranger?"

Jim's eyes reflected his anxiety as he scanned the room and saw the men slowly caressing their hard cocks, apparently waiting for a signal to begin the gangbang. He looked at Sam and saw his friend had also lost his clothes and was fingering his hard meat. Sam squeezed Jim's shoulder encouragingly and Jim looked back at Jake.

"Eeesss eeerrr," he managed, nodding at the same time.

"Ranger Lozano!" Jake called, "I believe you drew the high card, so you get to go first!"

The handsome Hispanic cowboy stepped forward out of the shadows that had hidden him up until then. Jim's eyes went wide with shock when he spotted the awesome object that projected from between Miguel's legs. It was the biggest cock the young cowhand had ever seen, easily more than a foot long, meaty and thick.

"I call him 'El Culebra'," Miguel informed Jim as he stroked his incredible manhood, sliding its heavy foreskin back and forth over the wide plum-colored cockhead. There were snickers from the onlooking Rump Rangers as Brett translated.

"That means 'the snake', and you can bet there are quite a few hombres around here who love to get bitten by him!"

Jim could not help himself. He started to struggle in a vain attempt to escape. He knew he could not possibly take anything that big without being permanently injured.

"Easy, amigo," Miguel attempted to soothe the captive, without having much effect. "You will find that El Culebra's bite is not fatal!"

"How'd this happen?" asked Sam while Jim watched in horror as Miguel and his one-eyed monster came closer. "Ranger Lozano will kill Jim if he sticks that oversized pole into him!"

"It's the way, Ranger McCrea," Jake informed his partner as Brett knelt and swallowed Miguel's incredible endowment, getting it slick and ready to invade Jim's body. Jim jumped as he felt another tongue go to work on his backdoor, readying it for what Jim was sure would be his last ride. He twisted around in his bonds enough to see Rufus' face buried in his asscrack as Jake went on matter-of-factly. "We all had to do it, and so must Jim."

"Point of order, Ranger Beeson," said Sam. "As Jim's sponsor, I can take his place."

"That's never been done before!" Art objected.

"But it is in the bylaws, Ranger Edgerton," insisted Sam, before turning back to Jake. "Am I right or not?"

"Yes, Ranger McCrea, you have that right, as the sponsor," Jake admitted before turning to Jim, "but Jim has to agree to it, and watch you take what was intended for him."

Sam untied the gag around Jim's head. Then he helped Jim expel the wadded up bandanna that stuffed his mouth. A cup of water was handed to Sam and he urged Jim to drink, relieving the cowboy's dry mouth, before he asked Jim to choose.

"You heard Jake, son. Do you want me to take that for you?" Sam asked as he hooked a thumb at Miguel, who was stroking the portion of his huge prick that was not plugging Brett's mouth in ill concealed anticipation.

"No," Jim said after a few seconds. "I don't wanna see you get hurt again, Sam... and I think I'm gonna need my pa really bad after this is over!"

"I love you, son," Sam muttered, hugging Jim.

"You made the right choice," added Jake.

There was a murmur of approval from the onlookers. To Jim's surprise, Brett released Miguel and both retreated back to the edge of the crowd as the Rump Rangers started fisting their cocks faster. Jim opened his mouth to say something, but Sam shook his head and the young cowboy stayed silent.

Jake looked around at the group. Then he went over to a table. He picked up something that shone in the dim lamplight with the inimitable sheen of gold.

"Any man who can conquer his own fears and willingly take a dreadful punishment upon himself in order to spare his comrade is a true brother." Jake announced. "Does anyone here object to Jim Willis becoming a Rump Ranger?"

Silence met Jake's question.

"Tell Jim what it means to be a Rump Ranger!"

"It means he's our brother for life!" the others answered as they continued to jack themselves.

"And what would we do for our brother?"

"Anything!" the group returned.

"Rangers, it is time to fill the joining cup!" Jake announced.

"Here!" Sven yelped suddenly.

Jake brought the golden object, a cup, over and Sven came in it, his thick white bursts of sperm pulsing into the precious container, the first of many. Jim watched as the men all took turns shooting into it. Jake and Sam were the last to shoot, as they kissed and pumped their cocks, blasting their juices into the gold cup together before they came to Jim.

While Sam kissed Jim, and the others caressed his body, Jake determinedly jerked Jim's hard cock. When Jim came, everyone paused to watch as the young cowboy's suspended body spasmed and his cock jumped as his nutjuice flowed to join everyone else's. Jake swirled the hot mancream in the cup to mix it and looked at Jim.

"Jim Willis, do you still want to be a Rump Ranger?"

"Yes!"

"Then drink from the joining cup, filled with your seed and the seed of your brothers, mingled inseparably as one, and become one with us, inseparable, now and forever!"

Jake held the cup to Jim's lips and Jim sipped a portion of the warm, salty-sweet goop. Then Jake took a sip and passed the cup on until everyone had drunk from it. When it returned to Jake he urged Jim to drink what was left and showed the watching men that the cup was empty before solemnly addressing Jim.

"Jim Willis, we have taken your seed and you have taken ours, binding us all together in a covenant of loving brotherhood for eternity! Welcome to the Rump Rangers, Ranger Willis!"

The men cheered as hands reached to untie Jim's hands. He rubbed his wrists as his new brothers slapped his back, tousled his hair, hugged and groped him. Jim hugged Sam when he came close.

"Thank you, Sam... you didn't mind when I called you my pa, did you?"

"Hell no, son! Look, it affects me the same way as it does you when I call you son!" Sam grinned, pointing out his hardening cock.

Jim knelt and started sucking Sam off. It was the signal for the party to begin. For the next few hours, the Rump Rangers rutted together in every conceivable way.

Rufus was soon trussed up in the ropes Jim had vacated and was happily being used by his friends. With a gentleness that belied his great size, Miguel's mighty meat found its way up more than one of his brothers' backsides. In the next few hours, all the Rump Rangers were, eventually, thoroughly satisfied.

It was very late when Sandy returned from town. He carried a letter from Ben to Jake and knocked at the door of the headman's cabin. Sandy got an unexpectedly generous eyeful of Jake's naked body as the boss appeared with a lantern. He hung it on a nail by the door before taking the letter, opening it and scanning its contents while standing in the doorway.

By the light of the lantern, Sandy saw the premature gray in the man's hair and beard extended to the fur on his muscular chest and hard belly. Even a few pubic hairs were white, curling above Jake's heavily hanging genitals. Sandy could not help but think Sam was a lucky man. As he finished reading, Jake noticed the interest Sandy was showing in him and reached over to give the blonde cowpoke's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"You like what you see, son?"

"Yessir," he nodded.

"The gray doesn't put you off?" Jake asked, fluffing up a patch of white hair in the middle of his chest. Sandy looked confused and Jake went on. "Some guys like us don't like older men, or men who look old, like me."

"Guys who think like that can't be like us!" Sandy quietly exclaimed, unable to stop himself from reaching out to touch one of Jake's nipples. The pink nub erected and Jake heaved a breathy sigh as Sandy went on in a low voice. "Sam's a real lucky guy, to have a handsome dude like you to love him!"

"I think you're a good-lookin' man too, Sandy" smiled Jake. "Think you'd like to get together with me some time and fool around?"

"I don't wanna make Sam mad... "

"You won't, son. We love each other, but that doesn't keep us from enjoyin' the company of handsome young studs like you!" Jake grinned as Sandy blushed. He lifted the letter. "Thanks for bringin' this to me, Sandy. You go get some shut-eye, okay?"

"Alright."

"Goodnight, son."

Sandy turned away feeling a little sad. Despite what Jake had said, Sandy was sure his boss would never have been so friendly if he knew what Sandy was mixed up in. His situation was becoming intolerable, and Sandy prayed Jim would help him.

Soon afterwards, the door of the bunkhouse was eased open and a shadowy form stole across the creaky floor, through the darkness and the sounds of sleeping men. Doffing his clothes, Sandy burrowed under the covers of his bunk. The man who was sleeping there already woke up and embraced his bedmate.

"Howdy, pard," Jim whispered as he kissed Sandy and hugged him tight, feeling himself respond to his lover despite all the sex he had experienced earlier that evening. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you... "

"Me too, pard, me too... "

The pair made love slowly, taking their time, savoring every touch, every stroke. The closeness between them became intense, almost palpable, better than anything either man had ever experienced. As they lay wrapped in each other's arms afterwards, fairly glowing with love, Jim murmured in Sandy's ear.

"I love you, Sandy, now and forever... "

"Jim... " Sandy managed before he broke down and wept quietly. Jim held the man and caressed him until he could speak again. "I have to tell you this, Jim, even if it makes you hate me... "

"There's nothing you could say that would do that, pard, nothing at all."

"It's my fault about the rustlin'," he confessed in a choked whisper. "I'm helpin' the rustlers, feedin' 'em info about the Lazy B. That's the only reason I'm here."

"Why are you helpin' 'em?" Jim asked, though he knew why. "Do you get a cut of the profits when they sell the stolen beef?"

"No, Jim, it's not like that... they've got my little brother... they'll hurt Clint... rape him, if I don't do as they say." Sandy started to cry again. "He ain't never... he's a virgin, Jim... I'd do anything to keep him from gettin' raped by those damn... Oh God, Jim, don't hate me, please, I need your help... " Sandy could not go on and wept quietly as Jim stroked his blonde hair for awhile.

"Of course I'll help you, pard. You're not a criminal, I'd feel it if you were."

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cause I love you."

Sandy choked up and Jim went on.

"You'll have to tell Jake what you told me, Sandy."

"Jim... he might... might wanna hang me for what I've done... "

"You're bein' blackmailed, Sandy, you can't help it."

"At the very least. he'd fire me... I don't wanna leave you... "

"You won't. Where you go. I go, from now on. We're pardners, remember?"

Sandy choked again.

"Let's get some sleep. First thing in the morning, we'll go see Jake together. Don't worry, pard, you won't hafta face this alone." Jim vowed, pulling his man close. Sandy relaxed into Jim's embrace and both men slipped into slumber.

"Well done, my brother! Well done! You are now ready to walk the ancient and sacred path of love and power I have guided so many man-loving men along in ages past."

The Heron Spirit had appeared again in Jim's lucid dreams, to laud him in its eerie, musical voice.

"I am calling you, Jim Willis, to join your spiritual brothers and follow the Way of the Heron. They await you in their secret mountain valley, ready to welcome you in peace and rejoicing and love."

Again, the beautiful vista Jim had glimpsed before appeared, a vision of the lushly forested valley where the heron men dwelt. Jim smiled in his sleep as he saw it and hugged Sandy closer. He knew at that moment, with a certainty beyond doubt, that someday he and his lover both would see it together in the waking world.

As soon as they entered the cookshack the next morning, Jim had a few private words with Cookie. The result was that he shooed both of the young men out, saying he could handle things. Accompanied by Jim, Sandy went over to Jake's cabin.

Luckily, they were not interrupting any fun between their boss and Sam. Seeing the serious look on Jim's face, the pair pulled on their pants and listened while Sandy spilled his guts out to them. Jake withdrew to his bedroom to talk quietly with Sam and Jim, leaving Sandy alone and expecting the worse. He jumped when the door opened and Jake came back into his office.

"Thanks for comin' clean with us, Sandy," Jake said as he sat and motioned for the others to do the same.

"Whatcha gonna do to me?" Sandy blurted out, unable to stand the suspense any longer.

"What would you do if you were in my place?" asked Jake quietly as Jim put an arm around his lover to comfort him.

"You could hang me, or turn me over to the law... "

"Hang you?!! Sandy, Sandy," Jake shook his head sadly. "Do you think I'm some kind of heartless bastard? You can't help what you did, you were bein' blackmailed!"

Sandy looked confused.

"Then... you don't blame me?"

"Of course not, son!" Sam snorted.

"Will you help me rescue Clint then? You know what'll happen to him when Red Russ finds out I've betrayed him!"

"Hold on, Sandy," Jake began. "Lemme tell you a few things that you're not aware of... "

Sandy sat back in his seat, astounded, as Jake finished his talk. Not only did everyone on the ranch already know about his connection to the rustlers, but like Jake and Sam, they did not blame him. Sandy found their attitudes utterly inexplicable. That is, until Sam explained.

"We're all brothers here, Sandy. We're not gonna treat you like the world out there does," he said, waving out the window. "If men like us don't look out for each other, who else will?"

"Nobody, that's who. The world doesn't give a flyin' crap about queers, so we'd better damn well stick together, or else expect to keep gettin' kicked in the teeth because of who we love!" grunted Jake before he got up, went over and hugged Sandy in an unexpected display of affection.

"Thanks... " Sandy managed before he choked up.

"Listen," added Sam, as he hugged the young cowpoke as well, "we've got everything planned to surprise and trap Red Russ and his followers. And that note you brought us from Deputy Wyatt was good news. He's got a plan to rescue your brother and bring him here, so he'll be safe."

"Clint's a good shot," Sandy informed them. "He'd be a big help if there's a shootout."

"At any rate, you don't have to worry about Clint," finished Jake. "But what about you? Are you willin' to go through with meetin' Red Russ here tonight, and keep him and the rest from gettin' suspicious until we're ready to nab him?"

"Sure, I can do it." Earlier, Sandy had told them about his meeting the day before with the archrustler in Maury City, letting him know that the Lazy B would be deserted Saturday night.

"We'll be hidden all around," Sam reassured him. "We can cover you when you find an opportunity to slip away and join us."

"I'll show you where I'll be, pard," Jim chimed in, "so we can fight together."

"Just make sure you keep your minds on the fight," chuckled Jake. "Don't start gettin' frisky in your cover!"

Sandy and Jim were both protesting that they were not sex fiends and could control themselves when Cookie's clanging and hollaring announced breakfast. Over the morning meal, Jake let the whole group know that Sandy was now in on their plan. Everyone had a kind word of hope that Clint was okay, touching Sandy deeply. Then they scattered to get ready for the rustlers, placing wagons and bales of hay in strategic, but unobtrusive locations around the main compound, where the cowboys could take cover.

It was late afternoon as Ben moved quietly and cautiously, following a path blazed by Eli and Dirk. As agreed, the pair had marked their trail across the exposed, barren stone of the plateau with chalk, drawing white arrows that pointed Ben to their hiding place. He had left his horse tied up with theirs some distance behind him in a copse of stunted trees, one of the few spots of cover that could be found in that rocky land.

Ben was moving along the top of a relatively flat plateau that divided two of the four canyons known locally as the Four Fingers. The deputy knew that off to his right was the canyon being used by the rustlers to hide the steers they had stolen from the Lazy B. In the canyon to his left, somewhere, was the rustlers' hideout. In the distance, Black Butte, an old volcanic cone, brooded and shimmered in the last light of day.

"Eli?" he whispered, very low.

The response was a small pebble striking his boot. Knowing Eli would have spoken if it were safe to do so, Ben kept silent as he moved in the direction the stone had come from. He stepped down onto a wide ledge and saw Eli and Dirk.

They were lying on their bellies at the very edge of the ledge. Ben got down and slithered over beside his big brother. Eli's arm came up automatically to stroke Ben's back.

"Good to see you, little brother," he whispered.

"What's happenin'?"

"See for yourself," answered Dirk.

Ben peered down into the canyon below and saw Red Russ and his gang on their horses. The group was gathered before their hideout, an adobe cabin. Russ was speaking to someone, but his voice was rendered unintelligible by the crazy angles of the canyon walls, which reflected sound in a chaotic manner.

"Who's Russ talkin' to?"

"Ric," Dirk answered. "I think he's gonna stay here to watch Clint and the stolen cattle."

"All the better," Ben answered.

As the big deputy finished talking, the sun slipped behind the distant Cascade ridges and instantly, or so it seemed, the shadowed canyon grew perceptibly darker. As if that had been the signal for them to start, Russ turned his horse and walked it towards the confluence of the joined canyons, his minions following close behind. As they vanished around a corner, Ben hissed.

"The guys at the Lazy B are ready and waitin' for them. I'm gonna follow the rustlers at a distance. You know what to do?"

"Yep," Eli affirmed as he pushed away from the edge, followed by Dirk.

The three men made their way back to the horses and mounted. They rode together for awhile, coming down off the plateau on a trail that Dirk had found while hunting in the area, until they reached the floor of an adjacent canyon and followed it to the point where it merged with the other three. Wishing his friends good luck, Ben spurred off after the bad guys while Eli and Dirk dismounted and crept towards the hideout.

Thanks to years of tutelage by his foster fathers, Eli was able to make his way noiselessly to the far side of the adobe building, the part furthest from the canyon entrance. Once he was in place, holding his rifle at the ready, Dirk moved. But not with anywhere near as much stealth as Eli had shown.

As if he were out for nothing more than an evening stroll, Dirk strolled easily up to the door of the hideout and knocked. There was a sound of movement from within, mingled with a mild oath or two in reply. Ric pulled the door open.

"What'd you forget, Russ?" the dark haired and lightly bearded man began, before he saw who was there.

"Hi, Ric," chirped Dirk. "Can I come in?"

"What the hell!" the nonplussed man ejaculated as he looked out beyond Dirk. Ric's dark brown eyes scanned the darkness, but saw no one else and returned to the handsome youth standing before him. "How the fuck... What're you goin' here?"

"Ric, I... " Dirk began. He had intended to try reasoning with the man, but his emotions and the fear of what might happen to Ric got the better of him as he grabbed Ric's hand and blurted out: "I love you, Ric, and I don't wanna see you get hung for rustlin'! Please give yourself up before it's too late!"

"You love me?" he blinked.

"Yes, Ric. I... "

"What about all the runnin' around you do? Just about every cock in Maury City has been up your backside! How can I be anything special to you?"

"I guess it's because we're brothers, in a way... " Seeing the puzzled look in Ric's face, Dirk went on. "We're both half-breeds, we know what it's like not to be wanted by either the white or red worlds. Together, we could look out for each other... "

"Dirk, if you knew me better, you wouldn't wanna hook up with me. I've done hard time. Nobody trusts a jailbird, or anyone who'd wanna be friends with one. Life with me would be hard on a kid like you... "

"It couldn't be harder than mine's been already!" Ric cut in. "You know why I'm in Maury City? I ran away from home 'cause my old man liked to get drunk and beat and rape me! I escaped that, but I found the rest of the world wasn't much better. I learned how to survive, but that wasn't enough, after I met you... "

"Dirk... "

"Please, Ric, I only know I love you and if you get killed... well... it'll kill me too, a little, inside... " Dirk shook himself and went on. "I can stop runnin' around, be true to you, Ric, if you'll just give yourself up!"

"You don't know Red Russ," Ric frowned. "He'd never rest until he'd killed me if I betrayed him."

"What if I told you Red Russ ain't never comin' back here?"

"Huh!?"

"He and his men are ridin' into a trap. They'll all either be killed or captured. Then the law will come here and get you... "

"They'll hang me!" Ric gasped.

"Not if you surrender."

"Then they'll hang me after a 'fair trial'! No thanks!" Ric turned and went back inside the hideout.

"What're you doin'?"

"Gettin' my stuff," came a muffled voice from within the cabin. "I intend to be as far from this place as possible by sunrise!"

When Eli heard that, he started to come out from his cover. But Dirk motioned the deputy to wait with a pleading look in his eyes. Eli hesitated and Dirk went on.

"Ric, if you surrender to me, you won't hang."

"How can you make a promise like that?" Ric asked as he reappeared at the door, carrying his saddlebags, which he had hurriedly stuffed full of his belongings.

"Because of this," said Dirk as he pulled his coat aside, revealing the bright tin deputy's star pinned on his shirt. Ric stared at it, and then into the shadowed canyon beyond his young friend.

"There's another, isn't there?" he whispered. It was more a statement of fact than a question. "No way out... " he muttered. Dirk slowly nodded his head. Ric's whole body seemed to droop a little in defeat. He set his saddlebags down and raised his hands. "I surrender!" he called out to the darkness.

"You made the right choice," Eli said, emerging from the shadows with his rifle pointed at Ric. "Where's Clint?"

"Inside. I haven't hurt him... "

"That's good," Eli growled as Dirk went to set Clint free, "'cause if I even thought you'd forced yourself on that boy, I'd kill you where you stand. Ain't nothing I hate more than a goddamned rapist!"

"He... he'll tell you," trembled Ric. "I treated him decent, better than Russ told me to... Did... did Dirk mean it when he said I wouldn't hang?"

"That depends on how much more cooperative you are."

"What... whatcha mean?"

"How was Russ plannin' on disposin' of the steers? Did he have a buyer?"

"Yeah, but only Russ and Herman knew who it was. Russ said that was the way the buyer wanted it. All I know is, one time when I was on guard, Russ met with a stranger who came to the hideout. I think his name was Dick, Dick Hor-something, but I can't swear to it."

"Hmm. Well, like Dirk said, your boss is ridin' into a trap, and Dirk, Clint and me are goin' straight from here to join the fight. It would be inhuman to leave you here tied up alone, so I'm gonna make you a deal. You stay here to watch the Lazy B's steers. If you're still here when we come back for 'em, you won't hang."

"You'll send me to prison, won't you?"

"Ain't that better than dyin'?"

"I dunno... " Ric muttered, half to himself. "I've done hard time before. I dunno if I could take it again, bein' caged up like a damned animal for years... "

"We ain't got time to debate this," returned Eli. Just then, a possible solution to Ric's future disposition suddenly occurred to the deputy.

"Ric, answer me truly. Do you feel anything for Dirk?"

"Yes. I didn't know he looked up to me like a big brother, but I like him a lot. He reminds me of what I was like when I was his age. Mebbe I wouldn't be in this mess now if I'd had a big brother to look out for me."

Before Eli could go on and voice his idea, Dirk reappeared at the doorway. Clint was with him and Eli could see the resemblance to Sandy. If it were not for the age difference, Sandy and Clint might have been mistaken for twins. The young man was rubbing his chafed wrists as he glanced at Ric.

"You okay son?" asked Eli. "Did Ric hurt you?"

"No." Clint said, looking at his erstwhile captor. "I heard what Ric said, and he's right, he was the only one of the gang that went out of his way to help me. Thanks, Ric."

"I... " Ric began, unsure of what to say.

"We have to go," urged Eli. "Clint, you ride behind Dirk. Ric... " he began, "well... just be here when we get back. It wouldn't give me no pleasure to have to hunt you down and kill you, especially knowing what it'd do to Dirk."

"I love you," Dirk reaffirmed, hugging Ric. "I hope that will make you wanna wait here for me... "

"I... "

"C'mon," Eli ordered, cutting Ric off.

Dirk kissed Ric as hard as he could before he broke it off and ran to catch up with Clint and Eli, who were already at the mouth of the canyon. Ric watched them disappear into the darkness, then heard the sounds of shod hooves on rock as they road off to confront Red Russ and the rest of his gang. He was alone, with no one around to stop him from escaping.

Ric had been in prison before and the thought of having to go back unnerved him. Sour memories haunted him, especially one of a particularly brutal guard who enjoyed beating the inmates for the slightest infraction of the rules. Ric unconsciously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, remembering the foul taste of the guard's unwashed pecker.

He had avoided many a beating by servicing the man, choking as he cleaned the potent smegma from beneath the sadist's foreskin with his tongue, Ric would swallow the filth as quickly as he could, before getting on to the part that gave him what little pleasure he got out of the act. But even that, the feeling of the guard's hard cock shooting in his mouth, flooding it with hot male nectar, was spoiled by the words the brute used, calling Ric every despicable term imaginable for men of his nature, making sure the other inmates heard him and knew what Ric was doing for the guard.

Sometimes the sadist would force pairs of inmates to service one another while he watched, especially men who had no interest in that sort of sex. He got off on his power over the men, and their utter humiliation, beating his cock until he blasted his spooge all over the unwilling partners and then forcing them to lick it off each other. There had been a couple of men Ric had met in that way who, afterwards, had come to him and asked for it again, in private, and Ric had shared himself with them gladly, both giving and receiving a little tenderness, trying to keep cold despair at bay...

"I can't go back there... " he muttered to himself, shaking off the evil memories.

He wondered about Dirk. He did like the youngster, who reminded the man of himself when he was that age. Dirk had said he was willing to devote himself to Ric. Could Ric afford not to do the same?

He looked down at his saddlebags, packed and ready to go. Making his decision, Ric picked up his belongings and went back into the abode cabin to await his fate. For once, he would try trusting someone, and hoped it would be the right choice.

Red Russ reigned in his horse beside a clump of scrubby trees growing within sight of the entrance to the Lazy B. He gave an excellent imitation of a coyote's yelp and got an answer almost immediately. Soon another member of the gang came out from his cover.

"They gone, Gil?"

"Yep. They all rode out and took the road to town about an hour ago."

"Good. Get your horse and follow us."

As Gil fell in behind the others, they rode bold as brass into the Lazy B's main compound, never noticing the shadow that followed them until it was lost behind one of the buildings. Seeing a movement near the barn, several of the rustlers drew their guns, but Red Russ stopped them. It was Sandy, and the gang walked their horses over to where the blonde cowhand stood, beside the open entrance of the stable.

"The steers are in the corral over there," Sandy pointed, "all ready for you to round 'em up and take 'em away."

"That's nice." Red Russ began, then stopped as Sandy turned to go into the barn. "Hey, where're you goin'?"

"You got what you want, now I'm gonna get Clint and put as much distance as I can between us!"

"Oh?" the archrustler laughed. "Was that the deal I made?"

"I got you what you wanted, Russ. I can't help you anymore. Let me and Clint go!"

"You're right, Sandy. You are useless to me now." Red Russ nodded to his ugly sidekick. "Take care of him, Herman."

"Right, boss." Herman nodded back and started to draw his shotgun from its saddle holster, but Red Russ stopped him.

"No, no guns. Too noisy," Red Russ ordered.

Herman grinned evilly and shoved the big gun back into its holster. Then he dismounted, reached down and pulled a very big knife from a sheath sewn inside one of his boots. He smirked as he started moving towards Sandy.

"Stand still and it'll be quick. Fight me and I'll make sure you die slow," the ratty bearded villain warned. "Either way, I'll take care of Clint too, after I and my buddies have had our way with him... "

A gunshot rang out, starling everyone. The bullet connected with Herman's knife, knocking it out of his hand. The ugly owlhoot howled with pain and grabbed his stunned hand as Sandy took advantage of the confusion to run for the nearest cover.

"Get in the barn!" Red Russ yelled.

His men needed no such prompting and there was a momentary bunching at the entrance as all the riders tried to get inside at once. Soon their guns could be seen bristling from every window, crack and crevice of the building. But they saw no one to shoot at.

"Who's out there!?" Red Russ demanded.

"This is Deputy Wyatt of Maury City! You're completely surrounded, Russ!" Ben warned as he showed himself cautiously, "There's no escape, nor need for gunplay! Give up!"

"So you can hang us all nice and peacefully?" the archrustler returned sarcastically.

"You'll get a fair trial... "

"Followed by a quick hangin'!" Russ concluded. "No deal!"

A shot rang out from the barn and a bullet slammed into a wooden post next to Ben, showering him with splinters. It proved to be the signal for the rustlers to begin firing wildly into the darkness and soon the air was filled with bullets, buzzing like angry hornets. Jake bellowed a warning above the din to those of his men who were firing back.

"Stop shootin' into the barn, you knuckleheads! Remember who's in there!"

The firing on the cowboys' side died off at once as they remembered the plan. The rustlers continued to pump lead from the protection of the barn however, keeping their opposition pinned down behind the cover they had arraigned beforehand. Heck peered from the spot he shared with Matt, behind a water trough.

"I hope Cookie and Judas are okay," Heck muttered as he chanced a look at the barn. "What's that?"

Matt glanced too and saw three riders dismounting at a distance before running up to join the cowboys. He figured it must be Deputy Hunter, his friend Dirk and Sandy's little brother, Clint. He was glad to see them, but Matt yanked his lover back down into their cover beside him as a bullet whizzed past.

"Keep your head down, fool, before you get shot again! I ain't plannin' on nursin' you like I had to when we first met up!"

"I love you too, pardner!"

As Heck grinned the words, a commotion arose inside the barn. The sound of muffled gunshots told those outside that Cookie and Judas had opened up on the rustlers from where they had hidden themselves earlier, up in the hayloft. A few moments later a rider burst out of the barn, trying to make a break for freedom.

The man fired his gun wildly, but he could not point it everywhere at once. Brett jumped up and fired as the rider passed his cover. The impact of the rifle shot knocked the man off his horse. He hit the ground heavily and stayed there, unmoving.

Then a group of horsemen bolted out, hoping to force their way through by dint of sheer numbers. Jim recognized one of them by his ratty beard. Herman's shotgun boomed in Brett's direction and the cowhand dived for cover, but not fast enough. A few pellets grazed his shoulder and Brett yelped loudly in pain. The noise was accompanied by an explosion of swearing in Spanish as Miguel exclaimed at what had happened and began tending to his partner.

"You bastard!" Jim yelled as he thoughtlessly stood up in the open and fired at the ugly rustler.

The bullet caught Herman in the shoulder as he was twisted around in his saddle and the impact spun him off his horse. He bellowed in agony as he hit the ground, but seemed to bounce right back up, his shotgun ready in his one good hand as it swung in Jim's direction for another shot. Jim watched in satisfaction as Clint popped up from behind a barrel and plugged Herman.

He enjoyed the justice of it as Herman fell again and this time stayed down. It appeared that Sandy had been right when he called his little brother a good shot. Jim looked to see the group Herman had ridden with had not fared any better. His fellow ranchhands had managed to pick them all off before any could escape.

"Pard! Get yourself back down here!"

Red Russ had just bolted from the barn on foot when he heard the familiar voice and looked to see Sandy rising to grab Jim's arm, intending to yank his lover down. Without hesitation the rustler aimed and fired. Jim fell on top of Sandy.

"Sandy, you didn't hafta... "

Jim suddenly noticed the blood on him. It was not his. He turned to his partner.

"Sandy?"

"You gotta... take care of Clint... for me... " his lover gasped, bloody foam welling from his lips. Jim gasped too when he saw the blood erupting, spreading across Sandy's denim shirt, from a point near his heart.

"No! Sandy! God, no!"

Sandy's hand came up to caress the side of Jim's face with what proved to be his last bit of strength.

"I love... you... Jim... " he managed before his hand fell away.

"No... Sandy... Stay with me... Help! Help me somebody!"

"That faggot's beyond help. And now, so are you."

Jim looked up, directly into the black bore of a pistol, as Red Russ gloated. His finger tightened on the trigger and Jim flinched when the gunshot sounded. Oddly there was no pain and Jim soon saw why when the archrustler keeled over, blood welling from a hole in the side of his head, dead as a doornail before he hit the ground, his face forever frozen in a leer of thwarted triumph.

"Jim! Are you alright?" Ben asked anxiously as he knelt next to Jim. Smoke still wafted from the barrel of his gun, telling Jim that it was the deputy who had saved his life by killing Red Russ.

"Sandy's hurt! We gotta help him... "

Ben took one look at the chest wound and his soul cringed. He placed a big hand over Sandy's heart, on the bosom still charged with vital warmth, already knowing what he would feel. Jim saw the anguish in the deputy's eyes as Ben shook his head.

"He got it in the heart, Jim. There's nothing anyone can do... "

Jim's world swirled into itself as he hugged his lover's body against his own. The sounds of the guns had ceased, but Jim did not know or care who had won. He only knew he had lost, lost everything in the world worth having...

"Jim?"

Clint Epps cautiously peered into the stable, then moved towards the stall Jim had staked out. It was late in the night and a single candle burned fitfully in the darkness, shedding an uncertain light on his brother's body and the lone man who kept vigil beside it. Jim's eyes rose to meet Clint's. They were hard and wary.

"Are you hungry? I brought food... "

"No."

"Jim, I loved him too... "

Jim looked away and ran the fingers of one hand through Sandy's blonde hair gently.

"I understand if you don't wanna talk to me. I know it's my fault he's gone."

That brought Jim around.

"How do you figure that?"

"None of this woulda happened if I wasn't... " Clint paused.

"If you weren't what?"

"A virgin. I wish I'd forced Sandy to be my first, but he thought I oughta find someone I liked. Trouble was, I liked him, so I kept waitin' for him, hopin' he'd do it... Anyway, Sandy was tryin' to protect me because he hated the idea of my first time bein' a rape. After it'd happened to him, he'd sworn the same wouldn't happen to me... "

"Who raped him?" Jim asked in a startled voice.

"When Red Russ captured us, he and the others raped Sandy. Then when they threatened to do the same to me... "

" ...he agreed to do their dirtywork." Jim finished grimly. "But that wasn't his first time, was it?"

"No... He was in love with another guy, before we came out to Oregon. But that fella didn't really love Sandy, he just used him."

"I know. He told me a little about it, enough for me to figure out the rest," Jim muttered. "Clint, I don't consider you responsible for what happened. With his dyin' breath, Sandy told me to take care of you, and I will, if you'll let me."

Clint went and sat down next to Jim. The two men's arms seemed to reach out and hug each other automatically. Clint laid his head on Jim's shoulder.

"I will. I trust you, Jim, 'cause Sandy did. But there's something you've gotta do for me, right now, if it's possible."

"What?"

"My virginity got us all into this mess. I wanna get rid of it. I want you to take it."

Jim lifted Clint's head up so he could kiss him.

"You really want it to be me?" he asked quietly, after the kiss ended. "The first time is... well, something you'll never forget."

"Yes, please... I'll try and love you back like Sandy did, even though I know I couldn't ever take his place... "

Jim kissed Clint again, as he drew the young man to him and stood up. It was only a few steps to a huge pile of hay and the pair sank into it. The sweet scent of the dry straw surrounded them as they struggled out of their clothes, making a rough bed upon which Clint was initiated into the mysteries of mansex.

In the meantime, Jim's co-workers had found none of the rustlers had survived the shootout, as opposed to their two casualties. While Miguel carried his lover to the bunkhouse and fussed over Brett's thankfully superficial wounds, a few shotgun pellets in his shoulder, the rustlers' horses were unsaddled and turned loose in a nearby corral. Their owners' bodies were carried over to an unused shack and laid out there for the time being.

Everyone was naturally feeling down because of Sandy's death, but Eli had a few words to say to the group which perked them up a little. To Dirk's relief, the cowboys agreed to the deputy's proposal. Jake then led some of his men back to the Four Fingers to retrieve the stolen steers.

They found Ric waiting for them. Jake watched the man closely as he pitched in and helped return the herd. The night drive went smoothly and after all the beeves were back where they were supposed to be, the men of the Lazy B turned their attention to the lone survivor of the gang. Surrounded by the grim looking cowpokes, Ric nervously eyed the length of rope Jake toyed with as he laid down the law.

"Ric, the only reason you're here and not decoratin' a tree is because you did as Eli told you and Dirk thinks you've got a little good in you, so I'm gonna give you a chance to learn how to be an honest cowboy. Dirk too," the headman said as the kid went to join Ric. "You're good at what you do, Dirk, as many of the men here can attest to, but you gotta settle down someday and learn a real skill. Let us give you a home here. You won't regret it none."

Ric visibly relaxed as Dirk agreed, and Jake fixed his eyes on the ex-rustler again.

"Don't get comfortable, Ric. You won't find bein' here easy, at first. There ain't a man present, except Dirk, who trusts you further than they can throw you. Everybody's gonna be watchin' you real close until you earn our trust."

"I understand," Ric said, then addressed the group. "Thank you for not sendin' me back to prison. I'd rather be strung up than have to face the beatin's and rapes again. I'll work hard... " Ric paused when he felt Dirk's hand slip into his. "Not here!" he whispered harshly, provoking the others to laughter.

"I do have one piece of good news for you Ric," Jake chuckled at the embarrassed man.

"What's that?"

"There ain't a man here who doesn't like the same things you do, and if you're sincere about turnin' over a new leaf, you'll find we're quite a playful bunch of horny cowboys!"

"What?" faltered Ric as he looked around. "All of you?"

"That's right," Jake grinned, winking at Matt so Ric could see. "Find our new guys here a place in the bunkhouse and make sure everybody knows where they sleep, so if anyone gets horny in the night they know where to go for a blowjob." Ric's eyes got big at that, and there were more than a few evil-sounding chuckles from the group around him. He noted a few of the men groping themselves in what appeared to be lustful anticipation. "Okay guys, let's all turn in."

"I'll see you two in my cookshack before dawn to help me make breakfast, or by God, I'll wop both your behinds!" Cookie threatened playfully as the men moved towards the bunkhouse, amid more laughter.

Matt set them up and everyone stripped for bed. Feeling the call of nature, Ric looked at the hairy man who bunked above him and Dirk. Clyde had been about to climb up when he noticed Ric looking at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No, ah... I gotta piss. Where's your outhouse?"

"You don't need to go that far. C'mon."

As Ric followed the black haired man out of the bunkhouse, he heard whisperings from the shadows around him and caught a word or two. Like 'good-lookin'' and 'nice ass'. The night air was cool on his naked body as Clyde led Ric around the side of the bunkhouse and to a pile of rocks which he pointed to.

"That covers up a big crack in a buried rock. You can piss here and it goes right down into the ground."

"Thanks, sir."

"Call me Clyde."

"Okay, Clyde," Ric returned.

Ric tried to aim with his left hand while giving Clyde a handshake with his right. As he did so, Ric could not help but notice the way Clyde was fingering his lengthening cock as his eyes ran over Ric's form. Ric felt himself starting to get hard too as he considered Clyde's body, how damned hairy it was, covered everywhere Ric could see with a black pelt.

Ric rubbed his short full beard ruefully. That was about all the body hair he had, thanks to his Indian blood. Clyde was a type of man who turned him on, but more often than not in the past, the racism Ric encountered from full blooded whites got in the way of his having fun with them.

It was obvious Clyde had no such inhibitions. And having seen for himself how the others accepted Miguel as one of them, Ric hoped he too could fit in there. It would be a novel experience for the man not to be looked down upon as a 'half-breed' anymore.

Ric guessed Clyde was going to be his first customer that night. From what Jake had said earlier, Ric figured he would have to service the men of the Lazy B until he had earned their trust. It was a penance he was not unhappy about taking on, and he was glad a handsome cowpoke like Clyde was going to be the first one.

"Uh," he began as he finished pissing, giving his rubbery meat a few shakes, "Do you want me to take care of that hard pecker for you, Clyde?"

"Sure," the black haired man returned in a friendly way. He put a hand on Ric's shoulder and squeezed gently. "But only if you really wanna, Ric."

"But... from what Jake said, I... I thought I didn't have a choice... "

"He's just yankin' your chain a little. Nobody's gonna force you to have sex around here. After what you said, about what happened to you in prison, I think Jake's joke wasn't very funny, myself. I ain't never been raped, but I don't imagine it's any fun!"

"That's the truth," Ric returned, looking grim.

"Hey, I didn't mean to depress you, buddy," Clyde smiled. "In fact, I was gonna ask you if I could suck on that tasty lookin' morsel you got right there!"

"You wanna? With me?"

"Why not? You like to get your dick sucked don't you?"

"Sure... I just thought... "

"Don't think," Clyde grinned as he went down on his knees, "just enjoy."

Ric felt the man licking all up and down his pecker until it was as hard as bone. Clyde paused to admire it. Then he looked up at Ric.

"Dirk's a lucky fellow," he said before he took the rigid wand of flesh into his mouth and invoked its male magic.

"Oh... " Ric moaned, as the expert tongue seemed to pull all sensation in his body to it and concentrate it under pressure, until it exploded in a series of pulsing bursts. "Oh, Clyde... " he panted as he dug his fingers into the man's hair and held him in place as he thrust and spewed his hot seed into the cowboy's hungry mouth. Clyde stayed put until Ric's member was soft and spent.

"Yep," Clyde said as he let go of Ric and stood up, smacking his lips, "You're mighty tasty!"

"Damn," muttered Ric as he reached out to fondle Clyde's hard prick. "Lemme return the favor... "

Clyde leaned against the outside of the bunkhouse. Ric knelt and hungrily devoured the cowpoke's stiff dick. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his task, hoping to make a friend by giving Clyde the best blowjob he possibly could.

"How's the new guy comin' along, Clyde?"

Ric's eyes snapped open and he saw a naked, red headed man standing beside the rock pile. He was not quite as hairy as Clyde, but the crimson body fur he was exposing made Ric's mouth water. The newcomer peeled back his pale foreskin and pointed the bright pink cockhead downward nonchalantly, as if there was not a hot mansex scene going on right next to him. His piss suddenly flowed as he hosed the rocks down with a strong yellow stream.

"I think he's gonna work out just fine around here, Rufus," Clyde returned easily as he ruffled Ric's dark brown hair, silently urging him to pick up the rhythm again.

"Looks like he enjoys suckin' dick," Rufus observed as he shook his lengthening piece of peckermeat.

"Yep," sighed Clyde, "he's sure doin' a fine job on me!"

Rufus came around to stand next to Clyde and caressed his inflating organ suggestively. Ric took the hint, pulled off Clyde and leaned over to start sucking on Rufus' rod. When it was fully hard, Rufus reached for Clyde's dick and pressed it up alongside his own.

"Hey buddy," he asked Ric, "how about a twofer?"

Ric tried holding both cocks in his mouth for awhile. Though it looked hot, Ric could not get proper suction. After awhile, Rufus pulled back to let him concentrate on Clyde. The redhead fisted his manhood and kissed Clyde while Clyde worked over Rufus' nipples until Rufus was close.

"Oh shit... " he moaned, "here it comes!"

As soon as he heard that, Ric pulled off Clyde and took Rufus in his mouth again. The redhead gasped as Ric's tongue started stroking his sex. His spooge erupted a few seconds later.

"Yeah, buddy!" Rufus panted. "Take my load of spunk! Suck it down like a man!"

After he had swallowed all of Rufus' seed, Ric resumed working on Clyde. As Rufus kissed his buddy and pinched his nipples, Ric got what he had been waiting for. Clyde gave a soft yelp as his prong abruptly spewed and Ric lapped up the cowboy's hot cream.

"Ah shit! Ah fuck! Oh, sweet Jesus, you suck cock good, Ric!" Clyde groaned as he pumped his spasming dick into Ric's mouth. Ric kept right on sucking, like Clyde had him, until Clyde was soft.

"You come up here," Rufus invited, urging Ric to his feet after he released Clyde's organ, shiny and slick with Ric's spit, so all three could hug, touch and kiss each other. While Clyde ran a hand over Ric's smooth, muscular, tawny skinned chest, Rufus let his hand fall to stroke Ric's freely swinging prick. "You okay, Ric?"

"Christ, yeah!" he smiled.

"Can I get a taste too?"

"Sure," Ric invited as Rufus knelt.

"Mmmm... " Rufus managed around the soft, dark skinned tube of meat before pulling off. "Wish I had time to do justice to that nice pecker of yours, Ric, but we ain't gonna be worth shit in the morning if we don't go and get us some shut-eye!"

Clyde agreed through a yawn and after making Ric promise to get together with them again, the three wearily made their way back inside the bunkhouse. They all tried to climb quietly into their bunks, but their absence had been noted. One of the men who slept below Rufus muttered in mock dismay.

"Matt, have you ever known anyone to take a piss that long?"

"No, pard, I haven't. But I suspect there were other sorts of fluids involved."

As a ripple of laughter floated through the bunkhouse, Dirk cuddled up to Ric.

"Good goin', big brother. These guys will accept you in no time if you keep that up."

"Big brother?"

"You don't mind if I think of you like that, do you Ric?"

"No, I don't... little brother," Ric replied, hugging the youngster to himself protectively, like a big brother ought to. A warm feeling suffused his spirit as he heard and felt Dirk's response.

"Oh, Ric... " Dirk moaned softly, rubbing his hard cock against Ric's side. "I love you, I really do... "

Ric ducked under the covers at once to take care of his new little brother, sucking lovingly on the youth's stiff tool. As Dirk muttered half-words of passion, Ric thanked his lucky stars. Having found this haven, made by and for man-lovers, he swore to himself that he would not fuck up and lose it.

The next day, Jake ordered the dead men to be buried somewhere out of sight. He was not the only one at the Lazy B who had no desire to see the rustlers' graves every day. Jake also had no intention that Sandy should keep the criminals company.

"You remember, Sam?" he asked as he showed his partner and two others a certain patch of ground next to the entrance of the Lazy B's main compound. The area was shaded nicely by a huge cottonwood tree.

"Yes," answered Sam sadly. "I'd hoped it wouldn't get used for a long time."

"What?" asked Matt.

"This is where Sam and I decided we were gonna be buried when our times came, right next to the gate so we could see who comes and goes. I think Sandy would appreciate that."

"Maybe he would, but it's Jim you'll hafta convince," Heck said, shaking his head. His shaggy, red brown locks waved in the morning sunlight. "He won't let nobody near Sandy, except Clint."

"Is he still hold up in the barn?"

"Yeah. I believe he and Clint sat up all night with Sandy after Jim laid him out in one of the stables. He's takin' it hard... but I can only imagine how I'd feel if I lost you, pard." Heck looked sadly at Matt, who was moved to reach out and hug his lover. Heck sighed. "I'm afraid Jim's gonna be... "

"Afraid of what, pard?" Matt asked a few moments after Heck's voice trailed off.

Heck disengaged himself from the blacksmith and pointed wordlessly. The other men turned and saw two mounted Indians approaching them. Sam tried to remember, but his memories of the heron men were blurred by his fever. He stepped forward anyway, as soon as the pair of natives stopped before the four cowboys.

"You are Sam McCrea," one of them said. The speaker was a handsome man whose left shoulder bore a long, pale scar. "I am glad to see you have recovered from your injury."

"I have you to thank for that, I believe. Are you Ho'va or Katchikoa?"

"I am Katchikoa. This is my life-partner, Ho'va."

"I wanna thank you too," Jake began, coming closer, "for savin' my pard's life."

"Ah," said Ho'va, "you must be Jake Beeson. Jim Willis told us you know many tales about our tribe."

"Then you are heron men!" Matt breathed. "You are real!"

"Yes, we are," Katchikoa smiled. "We have come to visit and talk with you. After what Jim Willis told us about the men who live here, we believe you have much in common with us."

"Also," added Ho'va, "We must speak with Jim Willis about his medicine dreams. Our totems are speaking to him and we wish to know if what they have said has any bearing on the mission our shaman sent us on."

"Uh... this might not be a good time to see Jim... " muttered Heck nervously.

"Why?"

"Lemme explain... " Sam began.

The heron men listened to the recent happenings at the Lazy B in stolid silence, though it was obvious to the cowpokes that the natives were disturbed and saddened by the news of Jim's loss. When Sam finished the pair spoke to one another in their own sibilant language for a bit, quietly and earnestly. At length, they apparently agreed on something that sounded very serious. They turned back to the cowboys, looking solemn.

"Jake," Ho'va began, "you are the chief here?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call me that."

"We wish to conduct a ritual that may ease Jim's pain, but we require the help of all the man-loving men here. We would especially need their trust. Is this possible?"

"Sure," answered Jake. "What kind of ritual?"

"We are sworn to secrecy about it," Katchikoa replied. "We may be breaking faith with our Elxa brothers by even considering conducting it without consulting them first, but the circumstances are grave. We believe it will help, but if it is not done soon... "

"We'll do anything to help Jim!" Sam interrupted as the others nodded in agreement with him. "Just tell us what to do!"

Jim and Clint had slept through the night in each other's arms. As the sun rose, they awoke and shared their bodies again, Clint trying his best to show Jim how grateful he was for the love Jim had shown him. But afterwards, Jim had taken up his vigil again beside Sandy's makeshift bier, refusing to go and eat breakfast with Clint.

Jim was a little surprised when Clint did not come back right away. More time passed and he began to think his fellow ranchhands had decided not to disturb him until he was ready to let them bury Sandy. Despite the sleep he had gotten, Jim's eyes got heavy and closed, though he fought against the odd fatigue that overwhelmed him.

Jim knew he was asleep when he felt the presence of the Heron Spirit. It was standing in the stall with him. But he resolutely ignored the strange godling. What use were the spirits of the Elxa to him if they could allow the man he loved to die in his arms?

"What is stronger, my brother?" The totem murmured in its oddly musical voice. "Love or death?"

Jim looked up at the big heron with an angry retort on the tip of his tongue. He wanted it to go away, leave him alone with Sandy and his grief. But he could not bring himself to speak.

The head of the great bird was turned away and the blazing eyes were focused elsewhere. Almost against his will, Jim stood and looked to see what the Heron Spirit was watching. Once again, neither the barn nor the distances involved impeded his vision and he clearly saw the two heron men he had met earlier.

Ho'va and Katchikoa were lying close together on a big blanket spread out near a large, strangely shaped stone. Jim recognized it. The rock shaped like a hand pointing to the sky stood along the trail the men used when they went down to the creek to wash.

Jim remembered Sandy telling him it was supposed to mark a sacred spot of the natives who used to live in the area. Then he noticed something very odd. The glyphs that covered the stone all seemed to be glowing slightly, revealing themselves clearly to his gaze.

Looking back at the heron men, Jim saw their discarded clothing, cast carelessly aside near the colorful blanket they reclined upon as the pair made love slowly. Lying on their sides, each held the other's hard cock in his mouth as they caressed one another's coppery bodies. Then Jim blinked and rubbed his eyes, unsure if they were playing tricks on him.

Looking again, he saw the new wonder clearly: tendrils of light seemed to be growing out of the backs of the two natives, from their spines, spreading out and giving the impression of pairs of shining wings. The tips of these projections curled around the bodies of the coupling men and met, forming a sphere of shining strands of eldritch light that surrounded and contained the heron men. Then Jim saw something else.

The ground on which the pair was making love was glowing as well. An upwelling of some strange energy from the depths of the earth, a clear, pure light, was rising and passing through the sphere generated by the heron men's lovemaking, and emerging as a shaft of violet light, rising high into the sky. It seemed as if the column were building, trembling, readying itself for... what?

Jim looked beyond the heron men and saw every other man on the ranch coupled with another, making love in a variety of ways. He felt a slight twinge of surprise when he saw Clint and Clyde writhing together on Clyde's bunk, and in the bunk below were two men he had not seen before. They were all raising energy like Ho'va and Katchikoa were. Some had even produced the same sort of winglike extensions of light, Ben and Eli especially, though none Jim could see were as bright or as well defined as those around the pair of Elxa braves.

The power raised by the lovemaking of the men of the Lazy B flowed to join and feed the mystic sphere that glittered and shone around the natives' straining bodies, looking as if it were made of strands of elastic crystal that pulsed and glowed in a singular fashion. As the coupling men achieved orgasm, Jim could see great bursts of light flare around them. Then the erotic energy their mansex had generated flew to join the nexus. Or whatever it was that was going on around the two Elxa tribesmen.

At last, the heron men too reached their point of no return. The cocoon of brilliant light fibers around Katchikoa and Ho'va glowed with a new intensity, as if a small star had been born, when they came simultaneously. The tower of purple light shining above the arcane sphere also pulsed and roiled with unknowable energies. Then it began to fall.

Like a tree felled by an axe, the construct of light toppled. It seemed to take forever to fall, a long time before Jim realized with a start that it was falling directly towards him. In the meantime, the Heron Spirit turned its attention to Sandy.

Moving almost too fast for Jim to see, the Elxa totem thrust its sharp beak at the wound in Sandy's chest. It drew forth a bloody object, which it dropped into Jim's hand. Then the Heron Spirit spoke again in its soft and melodic voice. Jim could almost hear the distant chorus of flutes that seemed to play behind each word.

"Tell Ho'va and Katchikoa they did the right thing, my brother. The men who live at the Lazy B may not be Elxa, but they are comrades in spirit who walk the same path of love and power as the heron men. Their strong and gentle spirits have answered my question."

"What question?" Jim asked in alarm, watching helplessly as the vast column of scintillating purple eldritch light bore down upon the spot where the pair were standing. It seemed unstoppable, inescapable...

"Love is stronger than death, my brother. Never forget that."

The Elxa totem's murmured words were spoken moments before the column struck. The world around Jim exploded and dissolved into a titanic and violent maelstrom of bright, cool, violet spirit fire. One that seemed to center and concentrate itself upon him and Sandy...

"Ahh!" Jim cried, waking from his unnerving vision.

Jim looked around himself in alarm. Everything appeared the same. From somewhere in the cool, dim interior of the barn, a horse whinnied, unsettled by Jim's outburst.

Jim felt something slipping from his hand and gripped it, looking at the same time. He saw a bloody bullet and his mind was instantly awash in confusion. The Heron Spirit had given it to him in a dream, after removing it from Sandy's heart, but now he was awake. Reality suddenly seemed a questionable thing...

"Jim?"

The cowboy's head spun around in shock when he heard the familiar voice. Sandy's eyes were open and trying to focus on his lover. The blonde cowpoke licked his dry lips and spoke again.

"What happened? How'd I get inside the barn?" he managed. "Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"'Cause," Jim whispered, thinking of the Heron Spirit and awed by the power its followers commanded, "love is stronger than death."

"What does that mean?"

Sandy was stopped from saying more as Jim moved. He flung himself into his man's arms, kissing Sandy urgently before he broke down. Weeping tears freely, Jim clutched Sandy tightly to him, lost in a joy no words could describe.

None of the men of the Lazy B had known what the heron men hoped to accomplish through their ritual. Nevertheless, they had put their trust in the natives and honored their requests, making love to their partners or friends while hoping, wishing or thinking of Jim's happiness. The result was beyond anyone's imagining.

Before the shock of Sandy's resurrection could wear off, another wonder was revealed. It was found that Brett's wounds had been healed as well. When asked about it, the heron men said it was obvious that Jim's happiness included everyone at the Lazy B. Their health and well being were as important to him as Sandy's was.

The Elxa braves' attempts at explanation were comprehended only by a few, and then only partly. Ben nodded and said he had always known there was a power in the love he felt for Eli, but he had no idea it could be expressed in a way that could affect the physical world around them. As Jim listened to talk about 'telluric energies', 'thought forms' and 'directed lovemaking', he just hugged Sandy closer, the blonde man's warm, vital, living body was all the proof Jim needed for the existence of those obscure concepts.

While agreeing with the heron men not to tell anyone what they had done (and a few asked who would believe them if they did), the event was deemed a cause for celebration. Cookie outdid himself by whipping up a feast that everyone relished, and afterwards, while Brett fiddled, the men danced until the bunkhouse shook with the pounding of booted feet. As the festivities wound down, Katchikoa and Ho'va finally found time to talk with Jim about his medicine dreams.

As Jim recounted what he had experienced, the heron men nodded and explained some of the things he had seen and heard. When Jim spoke of his dream of the storm brewing in the south, the Elxa became very attentive.

"What does it mean?"

"That is a question many of us are seeking an answer for," Katchikoa admitted. "Many of our brothers have had visions of a great danger approaching the valley of the heron from the east, or from your perspective here, at the Lazy B, to the south."

"That is why we are here," added Ho'va. "Our chief shaman, Falling Star, asked us to scout these lands, speak with those who lived here, and see what we could see."

"Did the Heron Spirit say anything about the storm you saw?" asked Katchikoa.

"He called it, um, Lyxtli, and said he and his brothers would fight it if they had to."

The heron men's eyes widened.

"What does it mean?" Jim asked.

"Lyxtli," murmured Katchikoa, "is the Elxa name for the mountain lion."

"A wildcat." Jim breathed.

"The danger to our tribe must surely be from this man, Gibbe," Ho'va concluded.

"Then you should talk to Heck," Jim said, looking around to see if his fellow cowhand was nearby. "I was told he used to work for Gibbe."

"We will certainly speak to Heck before we leave," agreed Katchikoa, "but let us go on with your dreams, Jim."

Jim told them the rest of what he had seen, up to his last encounter with the Heron Spirit. Ho'va and Katchikoa were relieved to hear their actions had the blessing of the chief of their totems. Jim, for his part, did not care if the whole world, both physical and spiritual, objected to what the Elxa braves had done. They had brought Sandy back to him, and his lover seemed none the worse for wear despite having been dead for over twelve hours. But Jim did not forget his other friends as he went on.

"What about Ben and Eli? The Heron Spirit said their brothers were waitin' for 'em in the valley of the heron. Will you take 'em there?"

"Of course, if they wish it," Ho'va said. "But do not forget, you have been called also."

"I'm ready to go too, provided it's okay if I can bring Sandy with me."

"When two men are in love, it is only natural that they walk the same path," Katchikoa smiled. "Of course Sandy can come."

A month passed, full of extraordinary sights for Jim, Sandy, Ben and Eli. Ho'va and Katchikoa led them into the valley of the heron and before the Elxa shaman, Falling Star, who inducted the foursome into the tribe. Descending Heron Creek, they passed through the new community of Heron Ranch, which was still being built.

When they reached Roman Rock, the four were feted for several days as many heron men vied to get to know their new brothers better. Their knowledge of the Elxa tribe and the concepts it honored grew as a result of those encounters. One day, Sandy was brought a message. Unrolling the scrap of deerhide, he read what was written on it in curiosity.

"What is it, pard?" asked Jim.

"We're invited to visit a couple of tribal elders."

"Sounds like an honor we can't turn down," Jim smiled. "Where do they live?"

"Not far, according to these directions."

"Well, let's pack our stuff and go!"

Following the well-marked trails to the north of Roman Rock, they eventually found an old cabin standing beside a small pond. A series of rock walls to the south of the cabin held behind them terraces full of vegetables and herbs. They pair were a little surprised to see that their hosts were white men, two old fur trappers, who were among the elders left in the tribe who remembered the time when the Elxa were led to the valley of the heron by the deathless being called Hunts-by-night. After seeing the mystic beasts that protected the Elxa, the Spirit-Wolf and the Ghost-Bear, with their own eyes on several occasions, Sandy and Jim were more open to believing in those kinds of legends.

"You're probably wonderin' why we asked you here," the elder who had introduced himself as Dan said. The younger men nodded and he went on. "I had a medicine dream, warnin' me that one of the four who were comin' to join the Elxa would have a special connection to me. I think it might be you, Sandy."

"Why?"

"What do you know about your family tree?"

"Just what's written in my grandfather's Bible. I left it with my brother Clint 'cause I wanna keep it safe. It's one of the few things we have that belonged to our family."

"What was your grandfather's name?"

"Joachim Epps," answered Sandy. "What?" he asked when he saw Dan's face light up.

"Did Joachim ever speak of his family?"

"Well, we knew he had a younger brother 'cause he named our father Daniel, after him. Granddad said his little brother ran off to become a mountain man in the Oregon territory... " Sandy paused and looked at Dan a little closer. "You know, you sorta resemble him."

"I oughta," Dan cried happily, embracing Sandy, "I'm your great-uncle, Dan Epps, Joachim's little brother!"

A couple of weeks later, Jim, Sandy, Ben and Eli got back together at the cave of mysteries and decided to return to Maury City. They all intended to come back to the valley of the heron as often as they could, but they missed their friends at the Lazy B. Falling Star approved their decision, asking only that they keep the location of the Elxa's lands a secret.

They readily agreed to that. And they asked about bringing others. Eli and Ben wanted to bring their foster fathers and Sandy wanted Clint to meet Dan, the brothers' only living relative. Falling Star told them to be careful who they revealed the existence of the Elxa to, but he assured them the men of the Lazy B and their like-minded friends would be welcome to come and learn the Way of the Heron from their Elxa brothers if they so desired.

So the four set out to retrace their route, across the mountains and down into the semiarid lands to the east of the Cascades. Ben and Eli went back to their job as deputies, and Jim and Sandy headed for the Lazy B. As they slowly approached the main gate, Sandy turned to his lover.

"You think they'll be happy to see us?"

"I reckon!" laughed Jim. "They'll probably use us as an excuse to celebrate all night!"

"I hope not."

"Why?"

"I'm lookin' forward to some private bunktime with my pard."

Jim leaned over in his saddle and met Sandy halfway. They kissed deeply as their mounts walked on. Soon they would be back with their friends, in a community of like-minded cowboys who were bound together by bonds as tender as those Jim and Sandy had witnessed among the Elxa. Those men, like Jim, had listened to their man-loving hearts and heeded the gentle summons only such hearts could hear, following it until they found happiness in a union of like minded brothers after hearing the call of the heron.

EPILOGUE

Rufus sighed wearily as he twisted a length of barbed wire into place and prepared to fasten it to a post with a heavy staple. He had been following a section of fence all day, repairing it as he went, until he was within sight of the entrance to the Lazy B's main compound. He banged the staple home and glanced at the rest of the fenceline, glad to see only one more break.

A faint jingling noise came to his ears. Rufus turned and looked in the direction the sound came from. Through the shimmering August heat, he could see a mounted man was approaching, the hardware on his horse's harness clinking softly. As the cowhand watched, he slowly picked out the rider's details.

Shaggy brown locks hung from beneath a grey stetson. A fluffy brown beard clung to the man's tanned cheeks. Dark brown eyes returned Rufus' apprising looks as the stranger finally reached the redhead and reigned in his palomino.

"Howdy," he greeted Rufus companionably.

"Howdy," the redhead returned. He was struck by what a handsome man the stranger was, who appeared to be part Indian and in his late twenties, close to Rufus' own age.

"My name's Raleigh Colton."

Rufus perked up. "I've heard stories about a mountain man by that name, one of the first white men in this country... "

"He was my pa," Raleigh smiled, showing off a set of strong, white teeth.

"So you're Raleigh Junior."

"Yeah, but I'm not partial to bein' called Junior. And Raleigh sounds too formal. My friends call me Rally."

"Okay Rally. I'm Rufus Harris."

"Pleased to meet you, Rufus," Rally said as he pushed the brim of his stetson up before extending his gloved hand. Rufus was wearing gloves too, but he could feel the strength in Rally's hands as they gripped and shook. "Do you work here?"

"Yep, for most of the past two years."

"Are the owners lookin' for help? I used to ride for the Short Arrow, up near Bend, until they went bust."

"You've ridden a long way to look for work," observed Rufus.

"Well, that's sort of a story. I guess you've noticed I'm part Indian."

"Uh huh," Rufus managed.

'And handsome as hell... ' he added mentally.

The redhead watched as Rally dismounted, standing a little taller than Rufus. His shirt was open to his waist, revealing a muscular expanse of darkly tanned, smooth skin. Rally combed his fingers through his beard and grinned at Rufus when he noticed the cowboy staring at his bared chest.

"This is about all the hair I got from my pa," he said, "the rest of me is about as smooth as when I was a boy."

"It sure looks nice... " murmured Rufus.

He started to reach out to touch Rally. Then Rufus caught himself and stopped, but Rally had noticed the attempted gesture. Rally's eyes narrowed, but he went on in the same friendly manner.

"Can I help you out here?"

"Huh? Oh! Sure!" Rufus managed as they moved a few dozen feet down the fenceline, closer to the ranch compound. "There's just one more break to fix."

"As I was sayin'," Rally went on as he easily fell into the chore of fence mending with Rufus, "my pa married an Umatilla Indian, and I grew up with a foot in both worlds, red and white, so to speak."

"You got any book learnin'?."

"My pa insisted his kids all learn to read, write and speak English. My ma's pa saw to it we were raised like Indians. Anyway, when the Short Arrow went bust, I was sorta at a loss as to what to do. Then I remembered a special ritual my grandpa taught me. It was used by his people to call on the spirits for guidance when in doubt. I didn't expect much, but I performed the rite and the result was, well, real strange."

"What happened?"

"I dreamt I saw a big heron, the biggest I ever saw, with weird, burnin' eyes. It didn't speak at first, but it traced two signs in the air in front of me with its wingtips, symbols that burned like purple fire, and then said when I found one, I'd find the other... you probably think that's all nutty, Indian mumbo-jumbo," Rally grunted as he drew the last wire tight, completing the job.

"No!" Rufus exclaimed, recognizing the Heron Spirit from what he had been told about Jim's visions. "What were the signs?"

"This was the first one," Rally said, squatting down to draw in the dust at their booted feet. He drew a capital B with the flat side down. Above the center of the B was a symbol that looked like a T with the upper part curled downward on either side, looking like two small letter o's. "I figured it was a ranch brand and a few days ago I ran into someone who told me it was used by the Lazy B."

"Yeah," confirmed Rufus. "That's our brand. What was the other sign?"

Rally wordlessly drew again. This time he produced a graceful, curling glyph, a stylized heron's head. Rufus stared at it.

"Do you know that sign?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Rally was surprised. "I thought only Indians knew about it. It's the sign of the heron men, a mythical tribe. Do you... um... know about them?"

"Yes. I've heard most of the legends. Our boss, Jake Beeson, likes to tell us the stories."

"Why? The heron men were... ah... " Rally faltered.

"Like you, Rally?" Rufus whispered. Startled, Rally looked at Rufus and nodded slowly when he did not see any condemnation reflected in the redhead's blue eyes. "Me too, Rally," Rufus murmured as he pulled off a glove, reached to touch Rally's smooth chest and feel the muscles under the brown, sweaty skin. "Me too... "

"Rufus... " he began as both men stood up.

That was all Rally got to say before Rufus leaned forward and planted a slow, firm kiss on the man's full lips. Rally groaned wordlessly through it as he responded, opening up to it as he embraced Rufus. Rally felt the dull loneliness of the past few weeks of travel dropping away as Rufus hugged him back. Over a full minute passed before the men were done.

"Oh God, Rufus, that felt so nice... "

"There's more and better where that came from, brother!" the redhead grinned, releasing Rally so he could gather up his tools. "C'mon, Rally, I'll show you the creek where we all wash. I wanna get you presentable before I introduce you to Jake."

"The boss? Sure, I wanna look my best when I ask him for a job... um... Rufus?"

"Yeah?"

"Does Jake really not care if he has men like us workin' for him here?"

Rufus laughed as he put the last of his tools in his saddlebags.

"Rally, you're a bear who's fallen into a barrel of honey!" he chuckled at the mystified cowboy. "Every man on the Lazy B thinks like us!"

"No!"

"Honest Injun!" grinned Rufus.

"Damn!" muttered Rally, letting his mind wrap itself around Rufus' revelation.

"By the way, all the beds in the bunkhouse are shared. The other half of my bunk's open, if you'd like to sleep with me."

"Don't you have a pardner, Rufus?"

"I'm sorta the odd man out right now. Everybody else is paired off."

"How'd a handsome cuss like you get left behind?" Rally muttered, reaching out to toy with the crimson chest hairs that poked out of the top of Rufus' shirt.

"Oh, it ain't so bad. We all share here, and play around freely."

"But it's better to have a special one you can always turn to," Rally murmured. Then he chanted a few words in what Rufus assumed was his native tongue.

"What'd you say?"

"It's an old sayin' among my mother's people:"

As one bird alone never makes a nest,

one man alone can never find rest,

until he finds his mate...

Rally put his arms around Rufus and hugged the redhead to him.

"I'm eager to see where this path leads, my new friend," he whispered earnestly. "Would you walk it with me, to see if it is our path?"

"Yes, Rally, yes... "

They kissed deeply again and Rally smiled.

"Shall we go to the creek?" he asked. "I can't wait to see you nekkid, Rufus. I'll bet you're as furry as a cinnamon bear!"

"Well, shucks!" grinned Rufus. "For a bear hunter like you, I'm an easy catch!"

Rally grinned in reply. At Rufus' suggestion, they started to walk their horses over to the nearby stable. Rufus told Rally the creek was only a short way from there.

Once their horses were taken care of, Rufus led the way along the path until they reached the unusually shaped stone, covered with native glyphs, that overlooked the creek. As Rally studied the rock carvings in open curiosity, Rufus decided to be honest with the man, and tell him about his fetish for bondage. He already found himself liking Rally far too much to be anything other than open with him, even if it scared the man off, like others had been before when they found out what turned Rufus on.

"Um, can I ask you a question, Rally?"

"Sure, pard," he returned easily, thrilling the redhead.

"Do you handle ropes well?"

"I guess I'm as good as the next cowboy when it comes to lassoin' strays or trussin' up calves so they can be branded. Why do you ask, Rufus?"

"There's a favorite way I like to play, but some guys don't get into it."

"Involvin' ropes?" guessed Rally.

"Yeah... but if you're not into that, it's okay... " Rufus said, looking away as he waited for Rally's rejection.

When Rally chuckled softly, Rufus looked back at the man, puzzled. He watched as Rally reached into his pocket, pulled out something round and seemed to drop it. The object unfurled, proving to be a rolled up length of light brown leather, about an inch wide, and as tough as it was soft.

Holding the ends of the yard-long ribbon together, Rally dexterously flipped the loop over Rufus' head. He tugged the surprised man closer so he could kiss him again. Then he pressed his lips to the redhead's ear and muttered.

"If you like bein' trussed up, Rufus, you've found your man," he hissed. "Ain't nothing pleases me more than tyin' a handsome stud up and havin' my way with him. And I can't wait to do it to a good-lookin' cowpoke like you!"

Rufus moaned wordlessly in delight when he heard that. The idea of making love to the handsome man had Rufus excited, but that Rally might enjoy taking Rufus' helpless body as much as Rufus would enjoy Rally's domination was more than the redhead had ever hoped for. Rally chuckled again as he reached down to rub the hard lump that had appeared in the crotch of Rufus' faded jeans.

"But I hafta warn you," Rally went on, sounding more serious, "I ain't never caught me a cinnamon bear before. I just might wanna keep him trussed up so he can't never get away from me... "

Rufus looked deep into Rally's dark brown eyes as he lifted his hands to the man, wrists pressed together.

"Start trussin', pard," he invited, just as seriously.

"I intend to," nodded Rally, "but it'd be hard for you to wash up if I did it right now!"

"Yeah, I suppose it would," Rufus returned, smiling.

"Besides," began Rally as they started down to the water's edge, "I'd like us to be able to touch each other freely the first time we make love."

"I'd like that too, Rally," Rufus affirmed as they fell to pulling off their clothes.

The men paused to look each other's naked bodies over for a few moments. Rally reached out to ruffle Rufus' coppery chest hair. He murmured distractedly.

"Damn... you're a handsome man, Rufus...."

Rufus returned the touch. He ran his hands over the smooth, light coppery skin that covered Rally's meaty pecs. As he stroked the man's dark nipples gently, he breathed.

Some people say a bird will not build its nest in a barren tree

Behold, this bird is ready to shelter itself in your bosom if you will let it...

Rally just nodded, too moved by Rufus' song to speak his reply aloud. Rufus saw and acknowledged Rally's agreement before the cowboy moved to retrieve a bar of soap that was kept stashed in the hollow of a nearby rock. As they began to wash one another, Rufus could not help but anticipate what their touches were leading to. He tried to imagine all the sorts of lovemaking he and Rally could indulge in, reclining in the tall grass under the open, sunny sky, and again, later, beneath soft blankets, in the darkened bunkhouse...

And there was so much more for Rufus to show and tell Rally when he was ready, about the heron men, and the Rump Rangers. Rufus smiled to himself as he recalled Sandy's recent initiation into the Lazy B's secret brotherhood and how some of his fellow Rump Rangers were in the valley of heron right then, but only a few since they could not all go and leave the ranch unmanned. Rufus had hoped to be in the next group that went, and as he looked at Rally, he figured he would fulfill Rally's dreams when he would invite the man to come with him to the valley of the heron.

Then Rufus thanked the Heron Spirit silently for guiding Rally to him. He thought about what Rally had said earlier, about the path he said he wanted to share with Rufus, and hoped they could follow the Way of the Heron together. As Rally leaned over to kiss Rufus again, their soapy hands slipping down to stroke each other's hard cocks, Rufus hoped with all his might that their journey together along that sacred path would be long and as full of love as two men could possibly make it.

THE END

of Call Of The Heron

the tenth story in the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"