Two Sides of the Same Coin (49 page)

“What did ya think of Jeanette, Mike?”

“She’s really sweet. She comes on all rough and tough, but she seems to have a heart of gold.”

“She does, and she’s good at her job.”

“Go for it then. Hire her. I’m gonna get somethin’ to drink before the next one gets here. You want somethin’?”

“How ’bout some of that iced tea you made.”

“You got it, Jeff.” Mike disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of iced tea. José followed with his own glass.

“Boss, she is a very nice lady. We were talking about stock, and she knows how to cowboy.”

“So you think we should go ahead with her?”

“Sí. I also think if you have gay people here, she will be nice for the girls.”

“Good point, José.” We chatted for a few minutes, and then Mike turned to José.

“She can have my old room in the bunkhouse. I cleaned it up good. I can also put a ‘Ladies’ sign on one of the bathrooms in the bunkhouse.”

Just about that time, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mike went to get it. He returned a few minutes later with a real tall guy about six-three or six-four. The guy was stocky too.

“Howdy there. I’m Jeff, and this is José. I reckon you and Mike met.”

“Herb Renford.” He stuck his hand out, and we all shook.

“So tell me about your cowboyin’ experience.”

“I’ve worked mostly on dude ranches. I’m pretty good at teaching beginners how to ride, and good taking care of horses. I was a stable boy in a riding school before I started working on dude ranches.”

“How well do you ride, Herb?”

“Okay I guess. Well enough to ride with the dudes and help when we have them participate in roundup. I’m not the world’s greatest cowboy since I didn’t grow up with it, but I’m not bad. I’m happy to show you if you’d like.”

Mike looked at him. “How come you want to work at a dude ranch? Do you have a hotel background?”

“No. I’ve been doing it ever since I dropped out of college. One of my cousins worked on a dude ranch when he was in college. He told me when he was all dressed up as a cowboy, women would come knocking on the door to his room almost every night. I like being around the horses, and I really like the steady supply of ready women.”

José swore in Spanish under his breath. “Híjole, pinche cabrón.”

“Hey, speak English, I don’t speak beaner.”

José smiled, but it was a cold smile. His eyes were like ice.

“I forget sometimes,” José said. “Jeff and I speak Spanish all the time.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We all screw up once in a while.”

José continued to smile that icy, dangerous smile at Herb. “Herb, tell me, if we had a gay couple or a lesbian couple here as guests, would you have any problems with them?”

“I might be able to convert the dykes. All they need is a good man. The fags better keep away from me. You guys know how it is, them fags prancing around, talking like women. I think they just want to be women. Some fag comes knocking on my door at night, and I’ll kick the shit out of him.”

I looked at him. “What if he kicked the shit out of you?”

He stared back and then looked away. He let out a laugh that sounded more like a bray. “You’re joking, right? No fag could take me.”

Mike had scooted over closer to me. I put my hand on his shoulder and began to rub.

“I could kick the shit outta you with one hand tied behind my back,” I said. “The way I see it, Herbie, is someone who’s so homophobic is hidin’ somethin’. After all, there’s nothin’ more homophobic than a closet case.”

“You’re kidding me. Why do you care about fags?”

I leaned over and kissed Mike. “Mike and I are partners, and in much more than business.” I stood up. Mike and José stood up also. “I think you better get your bigoted ass outta here before I kick it into next week.”

“Fucking fags.” As he turned to stomp out, he spit at me. He missed me, but hit José who was closest. José began to move, but I beat him to the punch. Herb was half turned when I slammed into him. He wasn’t expecting it, and he was on the ground with me on top of him in a flash. I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back and up.

“Okay asswipe, you need to apologize for bein’ a stupid closet case, or I’ll break your arm.”

“Fuck you, fag!” I pulled his arm further up and twisted it harder.

“It’s gonna break, shit for brains. To get me to let up, all you gotta do is say ‘I’m sorry for bein’ a stupid asswipe closet case’.”

“Fuck you.”

“Herbie, you’re startin’ to bore me. Kickin’ your sorry ass ain’t even made me break a sweat. I reckon I just better break your arm and be done with it. I reckon you’re like all the straight trash that talks big about the women they’ve had. Just they haven’t had any, it’s all talk. I just can’t see anyone, woman or man, stupid enough to knock on your door.” I applied a bit more pressure.

“I’ll call the sheriff!” His voice had gone high and was all panicky.

“You just go right ahead, asswipe. Sheriff Johnston and I are real good friends. Mike and I just had Sunday dinner over there a few weeks ago. You go right ahead and call him. You started this. I’m just defendin’ my home, right, Mike?”

“That’s right, Jeffy, he called you a fag and then swung at you; I saw it. Didn’t you, José?”

“Sí, Miguel. I see him insult and try to fight mi amigo, Jeff. But he is not a man enough to take Jeff. He is a little puta pinche cabrón.”

“Fu… ugh! Stop it! Stop! You’re gonna break it! Stop, please.”

I had increased the pressure. The arm was close to breakin’ or poppin’ outta the socket. “Just tell me you’re not man enough to fight a fag. I’m more of a man than you ever could be. So’s Mike and so’s José; I wanna hear you say that, and say ‘sir’ to your betters.” I applied just a tiny bit more pressure.

“I’m sorry, sir. You’re more of a man than me, sir. Sir, you’re all better men than me, sir please, please. I’m not man enough to fight a fa, a gay person, sir. Please stop, sir.” He was cryin’ like a little baby. I released some of the pressure and half pushed, half carried him out the door. I pushed him down the stairs. He glared up at me, hatred mixed with fear.

“You got somethin’ to say, Herbie?”

“No.”

“You ain’t from around here. Everyone in this town knows about me. I been out since I was sixteen. They accept me. Now, Herbie, we all got our prejudices, but decent folk try to work around ’em. You ain’t never gonna work in this valley. I’ll see to that. Now get the hell outta here.” He slunk off to his beat up old car. Once he had the engine started he gave me the finger. I jumped off the porch and went running at him. He took off so fast he missed a curve on the driveway, went over some rocks, and blew a tire. I just laughed. He kept going. I turned around; Mike and José were on the porch.

“Sorry you had to go through that, guys.”

“Gracias, Jeff.”

“For what, José?”

“I remember at one time I was something like him. I tried to be macho. You kicked my ass and made me see reason.”

“Josélito, you’re one of my very best friends, and you are macho in a good way. Not like that piece of shit. You just needed a lesson and learned it. He never will.”

“I think you are right, but I am still happy you taught me.” He grabbed me in a quick hug. Then he turned to Mike.

“Miguel, you are a good man. I am glad you are my friend too.” Then he gave Mike a quick hug.

“Let’s go back in, and get ready for the next one.” We headed back inside. Just as we reached the door a battered old Ford pickup truck came up the drive. A lean guy about five-ten stepped out. He had sandy blond hair and a big moustache. He looked like a blond Sam Elliott.

“Howdy fellas, you the guys hiring wranglers?”

“That’d be us. I’m Jeff, this is Mike and José.” He shook hands with each of us in turn.

“Pleased to meet you, fellas, I’m Smitty. My first name is Albert and last name’s Smith. I go by Smitty.”

“Pleased to meet ya, Smitty. One thing, we just spoke to a guy who really wouldn’t work out here.”

“That the lump down the road with the flat tire?”

“Yep.”

“Gave me the finger when I stopped and asked if I could help.”

“I’ll be upfront with you. Mike and I are partners, we’re gay. José and Josh, our two hands and Wayne the foreman are straight. We just hired another wrangler today, Jeanette, and she’s a lesbian. Now I don’t wanna dump this all on you, but I do wanna make sure you’re comfortable around all types of folks, gay, straight, white, Latino, black, Asian, and anythin’ else you can think of.”

“The person’s a lot more important to me than what they look like or who they love. My little brother is gay. I found out when I stopped him from hanging himself when he was fifteen. He’s a good man and shouldn’t have had to go through what he went through from ignorant folks.” He smiled at me and Mike and then at José.

“Hablo español también. Mi mejor amigo es de México y me enseño hablar.”

José was busy smilin’ and clappin’ him on the back, so I translated for Mike.

“I speak Spanish too. My best friend is from Mexico, and he taught me how to speak.”

“C’mon in, Smitty, can I get ya somethin’ to drink?”

“A Coke if you got one.”

“Sure do.” I handed him a can of Coke from the fridge. We all headed into the living room and sat down.

“So you worked at a couple of dude ranches before?”

“I did, one in Texas and one in Colorado. I can get ya references if ya need ’em.”

“Please. Ya know how to wrangle too?”

“I been cowboyin’ since I was sixteen, so that makes it about ten years. I got a couple buckles in some local rodeos. I like working on a ranch and working with horses and cattle. It’s fun to share that with dudes too.” Mike smiled at him.

“So you’re not in it for the women like the last guy?”

“I always thought it was a good idea to get my bread and my meat at different stores.”

“What brought ya up here to the Pacific Northwest?”

“My parents moved up to Seattle, and my little brother followed ’em. He’s kinda lost, so I like to be near him. I got up here, and he and I went campin’ a few times. This is one of the most beautiful places I ever been. I decided to look for a job up here.”

“So you have any questions about the ranch?”

“It’s a working ranch, right?”

“Sure is. We run cattle, and I’ve been seriously thinkin’ of gettin’ some rare horses. There’s a breed from Central Asia that’s just beautiful.”

“That’d be the Akhal-Teke wouldn’t it?” I was surprised, not too many people knew about the rare breeds.

“Yep, I was thinkin’ about those and Spanish Barbs.”

“Both good breeds. I worked on a farm for rare horses in Colorado for a while. The job includes room in the bunkhouse?”

“You get your own room. The cowboys and cowgirl share the common area and the kitchen. You get some supplies from us, but buy some of your own too.”

“Any rule against fraternizing with other employees?”

“No, like I said earlier, Mike here’s my partner, and José is one of my best friends. The cowgirl, Jeanette, and I go way back, we’ve rodeoed together. Josh, our other wrangler, is a good friend also.”

“Good. I heard you all were a good group and would make good friends.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“There’s this real pretty little girl who’s a waitress at the saloon uptown. She was telling me when I had lunch.” I laughed at this.

“Sandy. She’s like a sister to me. We grew up together. She’s a great friend.”

“Yeah, she said you were like a brother to her. Said Mike here is a great guy, too, and she had some mighty nice words about José and Josh.”

We spoke a few more minutes about salary and responsibilities. I finally asked him if he was still interested.

“One last question, Jeff. You don’t mind if my brother visits me here, do ya? It wouldn’t interfere with work none.”

“You mentioned he’s had a rough go of it?”

“He had a lot of trouble accepting himself. He got pretty heavy into drugs and booze. He’s been sober two years. We’re pretty close. It might be good for him to meet you two also. He could use some good gay role models.”

“No problem at all, Smitty.” We made arrangements for him to move into the bunkhouse that afternoon. He’d start work day after tomorrow. I reckoned Sandy would be pretty happy about that. He followed José out to look at the bunkhouse and barns. He seemed a good fit. I was pretty excited about him and Jeanette coming to work here. Mike looked dazed or confused.

“Penny for your thoughts, buddy?”

“I was just thinkin’ about this afternoon.”

“What about it? Jeanette, that doofus, or Smitty?”

“Uh no. How my nipple, neck, and balls are still sore, and I like it.”

“You know we’re not gonna do that every time we play, right bud?”

“I know. I don’t want you to think that’s all I like. I really like it when you take your time and we go at it nice and slow. It’s a nice expression of how we feel about each other.”

“I agree. Now what do ya want for dinner?”

“How about meatloaf? We can use the leftovers for sandwiches.”

“Okay, I’ll get the meat outta the freezer. You wanna peel some potatoes for mashers?”

“You got it, Jeff. Can we have some green beans too?”

“Sure, I reckon I got some in the freezer.” We shared a kiss and a hug before walking into the kitchen. I got some meat from the freezer with a pack of string beans. I mixed it all up good with the seasonings and put it in a loaf pan. I set it to bake and got a couple of packets of gravy mix from the cupboard. Mike had the potatoes peeled and set to boil. We had about an hour to go. We got a couple of beers and sat down and relaxed a bit. Pretty soon the potatoes were ready to mash. Mike did that while I made some gravy and nuked the string beans. I took the meatloaf out and let it rest a few minutes while we finished the other stuff. Dinner turned out really well. Both Mike and I love meatloaf and mashed potatoes and gravy. The beans tasted fresh. We both had a couple of helpings. We had the rest of the pie for dessert.

We cleaned up and headed back to the living room to cuddle on the couch. I read a book by a gay author about a bookseller turned sleuth and his closeted police detective boyfriend in the foothills of the California Sierra. It was a good read. Mike was lying with his head on my lap watching TV. It was a nice and relaxing evening. Finally, after the news was over, we turned out the lights and headed up to bed. We stripped off and got under the covers. I ended up making love to Mike, with a nice slow and easy rhythm. We both liked kissing when I was plowing away at him. It was slow and sweet. We both enjoyed it. It wasn’t rough, and we were both bare assed. I reckon there’s a time and a place for the roughness, and a time and place for the costumes like socks and underwear, or a jockstrap. The space we were in tonight was for a gentle coming together. The moon was just past full, so the silvery light shone through the skylight as we played. Finally we were both spent. We cuddled up together, a tangle of intertwined arms and legs. We were both asleep right quick.