Two Sides of the Same Coin (33 page)

“Slick setup is right, Sheriff.”

I scooted over to Mike while the sheriff took pictures of the scene, and picked up all sorts of stuff with tweezers and put them in little plastic bags that he labeled. We both assisted with making plaster casts.

“Jeff, were you able to see the same thing the sheriff described from the tracks?”

“Yep, just growin’ up on a ranch you learn how to track; it comes in handy roundup time. When I was a kid, we used to play cowboys and Indians, tryin’ to ambush each other. I reckon that was where I started.”

“Is there anythin’ you can’t do?” I liked the way Mike was starin’ at me, admiration and appreciation mixed up with a look up and down my body. I grinned back at him.

“Speak Swahili. And my greatest weakness is kryptonite.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Yeah, buddy, but just remember, I’m your cocky bastard.”

“There ain’t a minute that goes by that I ain’t thankful for that.”

“With all these compliments, you’re gonna give me a big head, buddy.”

“I hate to break this to ya, Jeffy, but you already got a big head.”

“I meant the one on my shoulders.”

He snickered. “Yeah, that’s the one I meant too.”

The sheriff spent a couple of hours bagging things and collecting evidence. We helped him put up a yellow crime scene tape. When we’d first come across the crime scene, Sheriff Johnston had called the ranger station in Winslett. It was only occupied by one ranger, the guy we’d met a bit ago when we got the hunting licenses. He couldn’t close the station, so asked us to come by with a report and copies of the evidence log. The sheriff told him that would take a couple of days. He was fine with that. They’d decide then who had jurisdiction.

The sheriff asked us if we wanted to go back to the ranch or to Winslett. He mentioned that Sandy had asked if we wanted to meet her for dinner in Winslett, and then she’d drive us back to the ranch. We opted for dinner with Sandy. Using the sheriff’s phone, I called her. She would meet us in the cantina. About a half an hour later, the sheriff had parked in front of his office. He thanked us and then said good night. Mike and I headed down the road to the cantina. It was only about a half a block. Hell, anything in Winslett is only about a block from anything else. We got into the cantina and looked around. Sandy had gotten a booth. Mike and I slid in across from her. We exchanged howdys and caught her up on the latest news about the rustling. The waitress came by, and Mike and I both ordered Mac & Jacks Ale.

“You two are morphin’ into one another; it’s freaky.” Sandy commented as we ordered the same beer. Her smile showed she was just joking. “Jeff, have you thought anything more about the dude ranch idea?”

“We talked about it,” Mike answered for me. I added some more detail.

“Not only did we talk on it, but I did some research online. I figure we could try it. I’m not sure how to go about advertising, but I figured I could put up a website, and I was gonna call Jonathan. He’s the editor of a gay travel magazine.”

“You gonna make it completely gay?” Sandy asked the question, but Mike also looked at me with interest.

“No, my thought is to open it to anyone who wants to come, men, women, gay, straight, anyone. I know there’s a hell of a lot of open-minded folks. Think of Tom and Ann. They and their kids would love it.”

“I think that’s smart, Jeff. I had an idea too.”

Mike piped up, “What is it Sandy?”

“Maybe we could invite Tom and Ann and their family and Jonathan up for Thanksgiving. They both have connections to magazines. Maybe we’d get featured in an article. Or at least be able to advertise.”

“We huh? You’re gonna help out then?”

“Yes, I am. Maria, José, Josh, and I have been talkin’. We’re all in on it. Maria has Thanksgiving week off, and I took it off from One Eyed Jack’s. Mr. Dobbins’ daughter and son will be home from college, and they can fill in.”

“And just what are ya all plannin’ on doin’ for the dude ranch?” I asked. Sandy should’ve been some high-powered woman executive.

“Maria and I can do housekeepin’ and help with cookin’. José and Josh are more than happy to wrangle dudes. By the way, I almost forgot. Josh’s friend, Renee, wants to come up too.”

“He’s been spendin’ a good amount of time in Seattle. I reckon if Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher can do it with the age difference thing, so can Renee and Josh. I need to call Jonathan and Tom then.”

Sandy turned red. “I already took care of that.” I stared at her. Mike was trying hard not to laugh.

“Darlin’, I am glad you’re on my team with this. I’d hate to see you opposin’ it.”

She smiled at me. I continued, “So tell me about what is happinin’ with my house at Thanksgiving?” She had the decency to blush a bit again.

“They insisted that we charge them.” I started to object, but she cut in. “If we don’t charge, they couldn’t say anything in their magazines. Renee insisted to Josh she pay too.”

“Okay.”

“We’re charging the adults fifteen hundred dollars each for the week. That includes room and board, horseback ridin’, use of the hot tub, and maybe a tour on horseback of the area. I thought we could go get a permit and cut a Christmas tree in the national forest and put it up one night. Another night we could have a dance in the livin’ room, two-step around the Christmas tree like the cowboy song says. I’ll just have to teach Mike to dance.”

Mike turned red now. “Jeffy’s already done that.”

Sandy smirked at both of us. “I imagine Jeffy did just that. Did you like it?”

“Who wouldn’t like bein’ held in some incredibly handsome, hunky guy’s arms, rubbin’ belt buckles, and goin’ round the floor?”

“You got me there.” Sandy and Mike were starting their own conversation.

I finally decided to break in.

“Hey, you forgot, smart, good dancer, and a lot of other things.”

“Cocky bastard,” Mike said.

“Just remember, buddy, your cocky bastard.” We grinned at each other.

“Okay you two, syrup’s gonna start flowin’ in here it’s gettin’ so sappy. Are you ready to order yet?” Sandy had the chile relleno plate, I had the fish taco special, and Mike had the enchiladas. We got an order of nachos to have with our beer too.

“I want to plan out the entire week, food menus, what to do, and all that stuff. Or do you already have that done too?” I asked.

Sandy smiled back at me. “I thought it would be better for the three of us to do that. I told Dad I was stayin’ at the ranch tonight, so we can put the plan together.” For a second, I really pitied whoever Sandy would marry. She was beautiful, smart, sweet, and fun to do things with, and utterly controlling.

“Good thing your dad knows we’re gay. Else he’d be after me with a shotgun.”

“Jeff, Dad’s known you were gay from the time you were just a little guy. Why do you think when you and I would do things we never had a curfew? Why do you think he let me spend so much time with you?”

“That’s really great, Sandy, Jeff. My old man tried to keep my brother and sister away from me and drive away any friends. He was always afraid that I’d corrupt someone or they’d corrupt me even more.” Mike had a slightly bitter edge to his voice. Sandy put her hand across the table and took one of his. I put my hand on his leg just above the knee. Sandy was the first to speak.

“Mike, I know that stuff is really hard to forget. Remember though, what goes around comes around. I know bein’ abused like that really hurt you, but you came through it more or less okay. You didn’t become a serial killer or convict, even gettin’ kicked out at sixteen, you made a life for yourself. You didn’t get into drugs or alcohol, you didn’t prostitute yourself. You came through it okay. I’m really proud to have you as a friend.” I put my hand on top of Sandy’s.

“I’m proud to be with you, too, buddy. You’re really an incredible guy. You know how earlier you said you were thankful every minute of every day I’m your cocky bastard?” He nodded. There was a sheen to his eyes. I knew what we were saying was really affecting him deeply.

“I’m thankful, too, every minute of every day that I’m your cocky bastard.” I tried to put some humor into the situation. “Besides buddy, bein’ the cocky bastard I am, I know I got a hell of a lot to offer. And you must be awful special to get me.” Both Mike and Sandy laughed at that one. I added, “We’re like the three musketeers. We’re all lucky to have each other. Okay, now enough of the sappy stuff. Let’s dig into the nachos.” I leaned over and whispered in Mike’s ear, “I love you, buddy, and don’t forget it.”

Sandy raised her mug and said, “To friends.” We returned the toast and echoed her. Our food came, and we continued discussing what we would do for our guests at Thanksgiving.

“How about we teach some cowboyin’ stuff? I know we’re gonna teach ’em to ride horses, but what about ropin’?”

“That’s a good idea, Mike! Jeff, do you remember when we were teenagers that old Mexican buckaroo taught us to make horsehair hat bands, belts, and stuff like that? Do you still do that?”

“Once in a great while. Just hat bands, though.”

Mike looked at us. “I work with horsehair quite a bit. I don’t wanna sound all cocky like Jeffy, but I’m pretty good.”

“We could teach the dudes comin’ to the ranch that too. It’s a real cowboy craft.”

“That’s an idea. All three of us are good cooks; we could also teach them some real cowboy dishes.”

“Jeff, I think you have to be raised with the idea of son of a bitch stew to like it.”

“I like Mike’s son of a bitch stew.” Sandy smirked at that, and Mike turned a bit red. “But that’s not what I meant. I was thinkin’ stuff like sourdough biscuits, dried apple pie, beef in red chile, chicken fried steak, that kinda stuff.”

Sandy looked at me a little flabbergasted.

“Everybody knows how to make that stuff, don’t they?” She asked.

“You’d be surprised. I never saw any of that in the city except chicken fried steak for breakfast,” I answered.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s a whole different world there. That’s why folks would pay that much to see how we live and do our kinda work.”

“Hey, Jeff, Sandy? What do ya think of this, we could move some cattle into the high pasture and take the guests on a mini cattle drive down to the ranch? We could go slow and the long way and make it a two day thing.”

“I think that’s a great idea for summer. But I don’t know that the dudes are gonna want to be campin’ in weather below freezin’ at night.”

“Makes sense, it would be good for summer.”

“Maybe durin’ the summer, Jeff, you could lead pack trips into North Cascades National Park. You been goin’ there since you was just a little guy.”

“I could. It’d be pretty easy to get permits.” We continued eating and talking, coming up with all sorts of ideas like gay week, singles week, senior’s week, just about everything under the sun. As much as I hated to admit it, it sounded like we had some pretty good plans. Finally we finished up, and Mike insisted on paying the bill. We headed out to Sandy’s truck. It was one of those mini pickups. Fine for two folks, but three was a squeeze. Good thing though, I didn’t mind squeezing together with Mike. I wasn’t complaining. I had it real bad. We got back to the ranch and headed into the house. I noticed that the TV in Wayne’s trailer was on. I could see the flashes of light through the window. I thought about walking over and saying hello, but decided it could wait until tomorrow. Sandy, Mike, and I settled in the living room. I got us each a beer. Sandy had a notebook in her purse, and we began planning out meals. We decided right quick that stuff like fried fish was great, but it was a pain to cook for a group. We decided on simple stick to your ribs chow like meatloaf, pot roast, sourdough biscuits, beans, and potatoes. We decided at least once to have a barbecue and/or steak fry. For breakfast we spent a bit of time discussing what would be good to have. I was all for bacon and eggs and biscuits and gravy, and stuff I like to have. Sandy reckoned that was good a couple of times, but thought we should have cereal, coffee cakes, fruit, stuff like that in case some of the guests didn’t want the heavy cowboy type breakfast. I was about to jump in and object but she saw me coming.

“Jeff, not everyone likes big breakfasts. These folks don’t go out and do a hard day’s work like you guys do. You need the calories and energy, they don’t.”

“Yeah, but they might like it. They’re on vacation.”

“When you were in San Francisco with Robert, how often did he eat a big breakfast with you?”

“Only on weekends or holidays.”

“See? That’s what I mean.”

“I don’t see why ya can’t have both. Have cereal, coffee cake, fruit, toast already set out. Then make bacon and eggs, flapjacks, whatever to order.”

“Buddy, you are a genius!” Both Sandy and I beamed at Mike.

We’d just started talking about lunch when I heard the door open and heard a voice call, “Hello, you still up, Jeff, Mike?” It was Wayne.

“Howdy, Wayne. We sure are, c’mon in.” He walked into the living room and seemed surprised to see Sandy.

“You want a beer, Wayne?”

“Ain’t gonna say no to a cold beer.”

I went into the kitchen and got him one. “How are you doin’, Wayne?”

He looked at me, took a swig of beer, and replied, “I’m feelin’ better. Just thought I’d stop in and say hello. It was nice of ya to stop by the other night, Jeff.”

“No problem at all, Wayne.” I came back out to the discussion of lunch for dudes.

“I think just sandwiches and soup would be good most days. Say we have a steak fry one day, we could have steak sandwiches the next.” Mike nodded and added his two cents’ worth.

“We could always have somethin’ like chili too. Then we wouldn’t need no sandwiches. Just have cornbread and coleslaw or potato salad with it.”

“You guys are really plannin’ on goin’ through with the dude ranch huh?”

“We all reckon it’s a pretty good idea, Wayne. Hell, Sandy was thinkin’ of havin’ a singles week. You ever get tired of that little honey you got in Wenatchee, you might find yourself a rich lady, like Trace Adkins sings about in ‘Marry for Money’.” Wayne looked at me for a second and then smiled.

“Ask me no secrets, I’ll tell ya no lies, son.”