The Chap in Chaps

By Deirdre O’Dare

In 1910, Charles Smythe inherits a ranch from his late uncle. With some misgivings about leaving his life in England, he finally arrives in Arizona Territory only to meet one of his employees, an experienced hired hand named Sombra. In Sombra, Charles finds not only the perfect man to teach him all he needs to know about ranching, but also the masterful lover he has always craved. Can he build a real relationship this time, especially with a man so different?

As a youth, Sombra fled his New England home in disgrace when his first homosexual affair become public knowledge. Upon arriving in Arizona, he found employment with Dabney Darwin, Charles's uncle, and the kindly English expatriate fashioned him into the son he never had. But when Dab's nephew arrives to assume ownership of the property, Sombra is not sure how to take young Charles.

Yet he soon discovers that "taking Charles" is exactly what they both need ... and desperately desire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Oct 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781634865135

Deirdre O’Dare

Deirdre writes gay romance channeling a prior life’s gay male twin she calls Danny. Fascinated by love’s diverse shades and guises, she explores and experiences a range of attachments. She still believes in happily ever after, that Love is the One True Thing and genuine Love is never wrong. For more information, visit deirdredares.blogspot.com.

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Chapter 1

Ash Fork, Arizona Territory

October 15, 1910

Charles Bainbridge Darwin-Smythe stepped off the metal stepstool the obsequious porter had placed beneath his feet onto the bricked platform between the Santa Fe track and the small frame depot. A brisk wind whistled past, carrying the nip of approaching winter and the scent of juniper, sage, and wildness. The odor was totally different from any scent ever to assail Chaz’s aristocratic English nostrils.

It told him, beyond any doubt, that he was far away from England and the home he was unlikely ever to see again. Black foot-high letters on the end of the depot proclaimed Ash Fork. The fragments of town he could see on either side of the depot and the tracks promised little in the way of comfort and culture. He shook his head, then shrugged philosophically and strode toward the building.

Glancing back at the train, he saw a pair of burly workers lift his two trunks down from the baggage car and push them clear of the track. He’d deal with them shortly. The pressing business now was to see if anyone was here to pick him up. One would think the arrival of a new owner for the D-Bar ranch would merit some kind of notice. He had wired ahead to tell them of his travel plans, after all.

He was still not sure why Uncle Dabney had left the place to him, but it mattered little. It was his, and he was here to claim his domain. Perhaps a change of venue would do him good. The whole London scene had begun to pall, especially after he and Aubrey had the acrimonious split this past May. Chaz had thought the two of them were going to be set until doomsday. After all, they’d been a pair for over two years, but Aubrey suddenly had developed an interest in some young bohemian type who would starve in his garret if not for a well-heeled patron. Let them starve together when Aubrey’s father learned of it and cut him off without a cent! A genteel friendship with an equal was one thing; a flaming affair with a foreign artist quite another.

Just as Chaz reached for the handle on the door into the depot, the staccato rap of boot heels on brick arrested his motion and attention. The tall, lean man who strode toward him would be difficult to ignore under any circumstances. Clad in dusty black, he looked like a dooming shadow against the sunlit morning’s blue sky. He came to a halt about two steps from Chaz and looked him up and down with narrow-eyed arrogance, as if he were the master and Chaz the subservient.

Mr. Smythe, I presume?

Although the greeting was spoken in a drawl Chaz was learning to recognize as the style of English spoken in the American southwest, the wording seemed at variance with the accent.

That is I, and you are?

Just call me Sombra.

I take it you’re from the D-Bar?

The tall man nodded once. Yep. Needed to come to town anyway so I figured I could collect you on the same trip. You got a war bag or something?

Chaz pointed to the two trunks huddled together down the platform. The dark man glanced at them and back at Chaz with a raised eyebrow. Traveling light these days?

Chaz fought his urge to bristle. This laconic stranger, whatever function he served on the ranch, would require a set-down sooner or later, but this was not the time or the place. I do not plan on going back. I brought along everything I intend to keep.

Sombra shrugged. I’ll get the buckboard. Turning on his heel, the dark-clad man strode off around the building.

Moments later he returned, now seated on the wooden bench of an open wagon style conveyance