Under the Big Sky: What Heaven Hath Joined Together... Let No Man Cut Asunder.

By S. Bryan Gonzales

Somewhere on the edge of a long-forgotten land called the Great Open, two fiercely strong-willed, all-American high school boys come togetherforging a relationship hotter than the blazing Eastern Montana summer sun. Cash McCollum, a short-tempered, fifth generation rodeo cowboy, finds his simple, black-n-white world bulldozed over by rich, handsome Travis Hunter, star jock of the football team. And what begins as a secret liaison between them, eventually stirs up into an impish, and sometimes humorous, whirlwind of gossipawakening the small, sleepy town of Miles City. you n Travis seem to be slidin into a real comfy corner. A corner that Cashs older brother, Clayton is not okay with. As time passes, and the friendship deepens, its their extreme popularity that continues to attract a whole lot of unwanted attentionthrusting them from the closet into the middle of local limelight. From the beginning, the stakes are high with each risking a lot. Cash cannot lose sight of the rodeo crown title, All-Around Cowboy, at his fingertips; and Travis is dead-set on taking the football team to state championshipgaining the trophy of Most Valuable Player for himself as well. Compounding this star-studded drama, these two boys also discover their worlds are COMPLETELY differentwith nothing to bind them together but an unbridled attraction and a fierce determination to make the relationship work. Were comin from two different culturescant you see that? Cash forces Travis to smell the roses. You obviously come from money I dont. I never will. Its Travis persistence, however, that keeps them glued together. I cant live without you, Cash, because its you who makes me a better guy Under the Big Sky unveils a world that many overlook, or refuse to acknowledge. It is where the human heart beats as strong as ancient echoes of Indian drums along a mighty and untamed Yellowstone River. Within its pages, youll be taken to places never seen beforebut yet, seem so familiar. Youll be allowed to see the human soulnaked in all its brashness, yet pure and simplegraced with the innocence of honest youth. Under the Big Sky is a story that undeniably declares that, What Heaven hath joined together let no man cut asunder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 29, 2006
• ISBN: 9781425965259

S. Bryan Gonzales

Diane Cardenas has achieved several writing credits such as a journalism award from Bonaventure University.  She has also been noted for assisting in the writing of several medical textbooks such as the Handbook of Symptom Oriented Neurology and Ferri’s Clinical Advisor 2002.    Diane is currently an assistant researcher at the University of Louisville in the School of Medicine.    Where Free Men Pray is her first novel.                Steven Bryan Gonzales assisted Diane in writing Where Free Men Pray.  In 2006, Steven completed the first novel of the Cash and Travis series named Under the Big Sky.       Born and raised in Montana, he grew up with a strong sense of commitment.  Just as he’s determined to do his best in working and studying, he strives to give 100% toward the relationships in his life.  He believes we should be open to all possibilites within the realm of human experience.    Steven’s mission, with this series, is to tell the reader the worth of people.  Bar-none, we need each other—through thick and thin.  In a day and age where people are treated as a cheap commodity, it’s his desire to challenge that attitude and encourage us to respect each other and never take them for granted. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

"H elp me! "

The explosion was earsplitting—piercing his eardrums—but yet, there really hadn’t been a sound, not even a whisper, as thousand-pound hooves slammed mercilessly into dirt, reeling dust violently into the air like a cyclone.

And the boy frantically fell into unsupportive space.

Then, there was the crushing, relentless cracking of bones that echoed throughout the stands, followed by blood squirting and soaking the ground. It seemed automatic—as if meant to be, like switching on the ignition of a truck engine, or yanking the cord of a power saw.

It made Cash sick; and he wanted to retch.

Snarling deep within its throat, bearing rolled-back eyes with whites fully revealed, there was no stopping, nor was there any going back. The angry bull snorted, with nostrils swelled by spray, while its mouth overflowed with churning foam. And the growl was unforgiving, as it reared-up and spun wildly—this time, completely insane.

So, where are these thoughts coming from?

Over and over, Cash could see this vision plain as day. And he could hear the screams as if physically there. But where is ‘there’, and who is the boy? Is it me? Cash couldn’t tell, but yet, thankfully, the boy didn’t look familiar. So, then, who is it? He felt quite unnerved…

Snap!

Abruptly, Cash was heralded back to reality by the crack of a ruler upon the surface of his desk. Mr. McCollum, rodeo daydreaming again? Mr. Vincent, an old former Marine, stood looming over Cash’s head as if he were still assuming DI duties at Paris Island. And perhaps we should all buy a ticket?

Several snickers erupted—rousing impish, demonic stirs throughout the room.

What a smartass, Cash sourly thought. Treating me as if I’m one of his dumb-fuck recruits, who does he think he is?! Hell!

Pushing back up within his seat, defiance gnawed against wilting control. Oh, how he hated shit like this. But bowing a flushing head toward the desk, he sucked in vaporous air—allowing angry teeth to bite mercilessly into the soft flesh of his inner mouth. Be damned if he was going to allow anyone to catch him donning a full-freckled burn.

With the sound of Vincent’s feet trailing back toward the blackboard, Cash’s eyes remained focused upon the open textbook. All he could muster was to avoid everyone’s stare; but yet, his heart returned to a normal beat—allowing his mind to slip quietly back into a shadowy, secluded dream world.

Sniffing, inhaling the ever-present residue pine smoke embedded in the fuzzy flannel fabric of his shirt cuff, his thoughts, this time, escaped down an old meandering dirt road leading to a weather-weary house nestled deeply within serene river bottoms. He could see the farm yard 20/20 within his mind.

Of course, this is my home.

Since the cattle drives, when his Texas ancestors had settled along the rocky banks and bluffs of the mighty Yellowstone, their lives seemed divinely protected from the never-ending winds blowing across the stark hide of an area known as the Great Open. Cowboys by nature, roughnecks at heart, five generations seemed to create a heritage, coveted by many—beginning with the old ranch house they all called home. Cash’s great, great granddad had started out with two bedrooms, a large kitchen, and a modest parlor area. Through the years, however, as the family had grown, additions had been randomly added, to where there were now four bedrooms—two added upstairs, in a loft overlooking the living room, and a bathroom to replace the outhouse.

Now, the McCollum Clan didn’t have a lot of money…nor were they high-class rollers…but, then again, they didn’t need to be, simply because it was their pride, determination, and fierce independence that gave them identity. In fact, each of these qualities seemed to run so darned thick—flowing throughout their veins—holding more body than left-over stew still simmering inside an old cast-iron pot. But yet, by far, they were the things that gave each family member a solid grounding beneath steadfast feet.

Well, at least with most of them, he glibly thought.

So, if pride, strong will, and independence were all considered part of the McCollum backbone, then cattle herding, and the ever-lasting tug of the rodeo circuit, were obviously the flesh and blood to their tough, pedigreed character—weaving into every nerve and fiber of their being. And in Cash’s case, he appeared to be either super-blessed, or cursed—depending on how someone else might see it—possessing a double portion of each characteristic, spending all free time working outside, tending to livestock, and wrangling, hour after hour, within a smelly corral, subduing ornery beasts…not to mention getting dusty and collecting his fair share of manure on a pair of well-deserving cowboy boots.

Don’t you think it’s time to retire ‘em? His dad would occasionally chide, in regards to those most-revered boots.

Why? Cash would always come back with a rolling-eyed grunt. They feel like a glove.

With eyes scanning the room, he popped off a huff. To Hell with the open book on my desk. For God’s sake, he could barely concentrate—between the strange daydream and the incredible weather outside—it was torture to his soul. Math equations on the page seemed to jumble and tumble together into one massive, geometric heap—tempting him to impatiently bounce the end of his pencil, repeatedly, off a blank sheet of notebook paper.

And so, it was that Cash shoved his frustration into a tiny mental closet of indifference. He’d concern himself about math equations later.

Glancing up toward the clock, his heart skipped a beat—five more minutes! All he could envision right now was Brownie, his feisty Quarter, kicking up heels with a heap of dust, in the small field located behind the grain house. He could hardly wait to harness him up—tossing an old wooly blanket and saddle onto that gracefully curved back. It seemed to be what both of them lived for—afternoon rides along the river banks, then on up into the rugged crevices of the badlands. Impatiently, a tinge of excitement shot throughout his veins—he could already feel fresh autumn air whip across his ruddy, chiseled face and strawberry blond hair.

Sure enough, at the stroke of three, there began a hurried shuffle toward the door like a cattle stampede. Falling in line, Cash scuffed boot heels across newly-waxed tile. He couldn’t help but notice everyone else’s desire to get out of the building as well.

You know, he told himself, it’s a damned sin to keep kids cooped up like a bunch of chickens on such a perfect autumn day. Afternoons such as this one certainly didn’t come often… especially in Montana.

Fumbling long, slender fingers with the combination lock of his locker, he heard a somewhat familiar voice float over his shoulder.

Thought today would never end.

Yeah, chuckled Cash, tossing his books onto the shelf, …felt like I was gonna blow in Vincent’s class.

He slammed his locker door shut, and turned to find himself gazing face-front into a taut, black t-shirt. Geez! He told himself. Talk about being engulfed! Cocking his head upward, his eyes became welded into the bluest blue he’d ever seen. Why, he’d never known the varsity football’s tight-end to be so big, nor his eyes so cobalt blue.

The mere presence took his breath away.

Yeah, we all thought you were going to do just that after he whacked your desk. Instantly, the deeply-dimpled boy, bearing a rugged, yet sinfully-handsome Val Kilmer face, broke out into a broad-cheeked, pearly-white grin, and added, Especially when you turned beet red.

An innocent chuckle ensued.

Resembling a life-sized GI Joe, or perhaps an invincible Roman guard—every bulging, symmetrically-defined muscle within this giant’s chest, arms, and back, seemed to swell and explode throughout every unforgiving weave of the skin-tight shirt. Moreover, from his heavy dark-lined forehead and brow, to that finely sculpted squared-off jaw, the boy standing before Cash resembled more robot or machine, than mere mortal.

Travis J. Hunter was an enigma… a true riddle; as Cash knew little about him, except that he had come from California with his mother one year ago. Now, why they had moved up here, he wasn’t sure. Mrs. Hunter was the director at one of the banks in town. And the local gossip was that she had left her husband, to move back to Miles City, along with her son, to be, once again, near family.

From Cash’s perspective, Travis appeared to be the conceited type—severely stuck on himself. Smart, good-looking, and very athletic, he obviously had what it takes to quickly move up within social ranks, into the inner-circle of what many people cynically dub the ‘SNOBS’ group. And while he was friendly and quite audacious, his mannerisms were very arrogant toward those seeping from lower ranks.

Now, what the Hell does he want? At first, Cash could not help but rear up.

Never making a special point to talk with him before, the little cowboy seriously wondered, why now? There’s no reason to have our paths cross. But, then again, something inside made him feel good—fully alive—to have this big jock approach him, and give him attention. Even stranger, he liked looking at Travis. In fact, he couldn’t take his gaze off those piercing, most riveting, eyes. So, it really wasn’t a mystery why a funny feeling overtook—making his heart race, then causing warm ‘pricklies’ to shoot along an unsuspecting spine. God, he’s gorgeous…

Suddenly, he could feel his body become erect, with senses charging outwardly into full explosion.

What’s up? he lowered his voice, struggling to regain control. But all the while, his hands trembled against the unknown…the unexpected. Thank God I’m holding on to this jacket, he secretly told himself, with forging fingers establishing a simple death grip into supple leather.

I heard you’re selling a Paint. Travis’ words seemed to sail through the air like a wispy feather—something definitely not correlating to that body of his.

Well now, that’s odd, Cash thought. But instead, he courteously replied, It’s my brother’s. Then, squinting, he studied the big guy more closely. Humph, he wryly thought. Off the cuff, this dude doesn’t seem like the horseman type. Instantly, his mind pictured Travis—smugly sauntering out to that sleek-red Viper of his, which always seemed to be carefully parked within the farthest reaches of the badly-weathered school parking lot. No offense, but there was no way he could picture this guy tending to anything running around with four legs and a tail—especially a horse.

Naw, he’s more ‘material boy’, than a ‘back to nature’ kind of guy.

How old is it? Travis asked, slowly shifting his position from one leg to the other, all the while, having his arms strategically crossed. His crème-white jeans were definitely skin-tight smooth.

About two years. Feeling braver, Cash began to step away from the wall. She’s a good mare—lots of life. A smile snuck across his face, as he could not help envisioning her skip and buck around in the field, avoiding Clayton, and that annoying saddle of his, at all cost.

I’d like to see it. Travis said, apparently noticing the grin. Uncrossing his arms, he allowed his eyes to mechanically rove over Cash as if he were the bull’s eye on a target.

Give Clayton a call. He’ll be glad to show ‘er off.

At that point, Cash locked. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t move—and he didn’t want to. Then, somewhere, deep inside, a wicked thought whisked around within his brain—sending a swell of wetness throughout his throat and mouth. What would those lips of Travis’ be like to kiss? Would they be soft or hard?

Suddenly, he remembered who he was.

For God’s sake! Quickly snapping from out of whatever it was, he hacked up an awkward cough—shifting a scrutinizing gaze into all directions—but Travis’. What’s the matter with me? Am I nuts, or what?!

Instantly, he needed air…lots of air.

Right, responded Travis with a continued stare. I’ll give him a ring. Then, with a pause, he purposefully slid an inviting hand toward the awkward cowboy, saying, Thanks.

Now, truthfully, he probably would not have given their little chitchat a second thought, but it was the handshake, the simple entwining of warm, begging fingers between them, which seemed to set everything into a swirling motion. Because, as the hold lingered, with neither guy appearing to be in any hurry of letting go, Cash knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, there was something going on.

Where have you been?

Hiding somewhere?

Tell me why,

I haven’t noticed.

What do you want?

And why is it me?

Tell me why,

I haven’t noticed.

What the Hell?! Nervously, Cash shuffled from leg to leg, as he found himself completely mesmerized by the twinkle of the enveloping glare blazing from the other boy. This can’t be! I’m not this way…am I? But yet, I want him. In fact, I want him so badly; because he’s not just some ordinary guy. Why, he’s anything but ordinary. He’s the hottest, most handsome, muscular guy in town…if not, the entire state!

At that, his jacket slipped from guarded fingers—falling inconspicuously to the floor.

Eventually, the undaunted jock relented, releasing Cash’s hand; but wittingly, he allowed a declaring grin to slide ever so slowly across glistening lips. He definitely looked pleased…most very pleased. See ya later.

Yeah, no problem. Cash coolly replied, as he watched Travis turn and weave his way among milling students. And as the now-noticed god-boy eventually disappeared from view, he finally admitted that his entire being had just been overtaken by an unyielding tsunami. So much so, he could barely think, let alone lean down and grope for a deserted jacket.

Pushing the school doors open with a forceful shove, he grabbed for the pack of crumpled smokes from his pocket. And with jittery fingers, he fired one up.

God, he asked himself, so, what just happened in there? And why is it I have these feelings? Isn’t this wrong? Certainly, it goes against everything I believe…at least, what I think I believe. But, then again, in defense of his attraction, he found it rather flattering to have someone like Travis Hunter approach him, since the star-studded jock never seemed to cross social boundaries—forsaking the rich and famous, or football—which were all undeniably his total existence.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this. I tend to be that way, you know, but it really seems that Travis wants more. Something like… oh, come on, don’t be stupid! He swore at himself. That’s impossible! He just doesn’t seem like that type of a guy.

But yet, there’d been that look, as well as the lingering within their handshake.

Well, be damned!

Taking the smoke deeply into his lungs, he felt a dizzy-crazed buzz settle in. Why am I shaking like this? He felt a flare of embarrassment; so, instinctively, he fled—allowing lanky, jean-torn legs to carry him quickly across broken pavement. He simply couldn’t get to his pickup fast enough.

*****

Well, memory of the sizzling encounter with Travis still lingered vividly within Cash’s mind, like fog over the river on a frosty morning, when he arrived at the ranch. What did he think…that the look and touch would magically go away? Poof…and it’s all gone!

If all wishes were horses…

The unsettled sense remained fully blossomed, as he shut off the engine, and crawled out of the musty old truck. What was it I sensed back there? And why the arousal? So, am I attracted to Travis? In fact, am I attracted to men? Even though it bothered him, there was something inside he found deeply exciting. And while he had always been told attraction to other men was wrong, somehow, nestled within his conscience, it seemed right. Natural, perhaps? But, then again, maybe I’m reading more into it than what it actually is. His mom always said he had a wild imagination, like the time he had insisted a ghost was hanging around in the upstairs loft. He could have sworn he had seen his great grandma dusting off the book shelf at the end of the hallway. She had looked so real, hunched over, meticulously moving her duster across the top in a manner done so many times before, when he was a small boy.

Perhaps that’s it—my usual tendency to overreact… and, of course, I’m not gay.

Making his way toward the house, he bounded up the steps and forced open the heavy oak door. The faint hint of livestock musk, fireplace ashes, and an enticing aroma of baking biscuits filled his nostrils. He loved it. It made him feel safe and warm—a feeling he would never verbally admit to anyone else in the family, lest he be ridiculed to death. As said before, the McCollums were a tough breed, hard to understand, and difficult to communicate with. But there was a certain stability that seemed to bring their peculiar tendencies into perspective. And in spite of all the irregularity, there was a place where it all made sense… plain and simple, with open honesty, and no complications… the type of set-up a guy could be comfortable with.

Cash, is that you? A voice called from upstairs.

Yeah, Mom, I’m goin’ out to spend some time with Brownie, he replied, making his way to the kitchen. He heard her footsteps come down the stairs.

A slight, graceful, red-headed woman dressed in jeans, sneakers, and old work shirt, Janice McCollum stood at the entryway to the kitchen with a small package in her hands. I’m runnin’ over to see Dad for a minute, then to the post office to get this off to Clint.

Okay, Cash smiled, as he reached over the counter, lifting the lid from the cookie jar. He was in the mood for something sweet. Something chocolate—one of his strange cravings—something else he’d never dare to admit.

*****

Soon, with bit, bridle, blanket, and saddle, Brownie was finally adorned with Cash rightly situated upon his giving back. And with a joyous nod and sniff, mixed along with tender love-words, the two of them made their way up the long driveway, while anticipating clip-clopping echoed melodically upon rocky gravel.

There was no doubt, Cash always loved fittin’ up his horse, then goin’ out on tall-tale adventures.

Hey, boy, the young, thoughtful cowboy leaned forward—whispering softly into the old Quarter’s ears. …you’re havin’ fun aren’t you?

Fully understanding the little horseman’s ways, Brownie sounded off an agreeing snort. Then, cocking his silky brown head to the right, a wispy mane was caught by the breeze. The horse seemed to smile. And with another small snort, and turn of the hooves, they left the road, then wandered up the hillside beyond a patch of thorn bushes and cottonwoods. Around the small creek bed, at the other end of the ravine, Brownie increased his speed. Bounding past the property fence, and on toward the highway, they continued toward the large grassy field. Cash knew exactly where they were heading, because his buddy loved spending time skulking about in the sage brush edging the badlands. There were usually lots of critters in that neck of the woods—rabbits, ground squirrels, and countless birds hanging about, feasting on goodies such as wild berries.

I know where you’re goin’, Cash chuckled. You wanna go stir some nests, huh?

This time, however, Brownie ignored him; for there was mischievous anticipation within his trot, as if there were more important things on his mind.

Now, Cash understood he was simply along for the ride. But really, he didn’t care, because he knew he was not in control of this one; and the best thing he could do was sit back and go along with the flow.

Gazing into the cloudless, deep-blue sky, he took a long breath. Hassles of school seemed a world away; and along with it, the singeing memories of Travis’ come-on. So, with the faint, sweet aroma of sage nearby, the gnawing stress that had marinated his muscles from earlier in the day seemed to fade, along with the last rays of sunlight stretching across an unending expanse. It was now getting dark, and a sudden chill began to settle in, because the sun seemed to set much more quickly this time of year.

As they headed back to the corral, the last hues of blue sky began to deepen into violet, along with the hint of stars sprouting within what was now becoming an even more consuming depth of darkening, possessed by the eastern horizon. And accompanying the lengthening shadows, every now and then, a whispering breeze would somehow sneak its way around his hat, then past his ears—making the ensuing chill that much more convincing. So, tightly pulling the collar of his jacket around a well-weathered neck, he finally buttoned up, as a shiver buried itself rightfully within his bones—a gentle reminder that winter was just around the corner.

What time is it? He didn’t realize it had gotten so late; and a growl from his stomach began to herald to him—reminding him that he was hungry.

Instantly, he recalled the smell of stew at the house.

*****

The winds started blowing, howling later that evening—seeming to kick up anything that wasn’t bolted or nailed down in the yard. By bedtime, gusts pounded at the panes and under the eaves. Strangely, Cash didn’t recall hearing a storm heading their way in the forecast. As he crawled into the sack—sliding his legs between the soft fuzz of flannel sheets, warmth soon crept back into his body. The heavy wool blanket sure feels good tonight, he told himself. Pulling the covers up around his shoulders, he finally snuggled in for a good night’s sleep.

As he lay still, hazy recollections of the locker scene with Travis kept creeping back into his mind—bringing on its own whirlwind of raging squalls, bursting forth between out-spread legs. The bottom line was, as far as he was concerned—What type of action am I going to make regarding all this? And why am I thinking about him in this way? Then, how am I gonna get to sleep—bein’ all charged up like this? Closing his eyes, he could see the other boy—again and again. There was no doubt; Cash had loved looking deeply into that big jock’s grin, with his ice-blue eyes, and those cherry-red, full lips. Vividly, he could still recall the hint of sweet cologne—well-mixed with a batch of musky sweat. Even now, his mouth salivated.

Therefore, the question is—What do I wanna do with all those good-looking things? A picture can only go so far, you know. These thoughts perplexed him greatly, while an unspoken drive coaxed him further.

So, am I… truth be said, gay?

Well, up until now, he’d never really thought of it before—it had never been an issue. Shit, he’d always considered himself attracted to girls—women, of course. He loved looking at cute ones, small and petite. He even thought about asking a few of them out from time to time. But somehow, situations never really worked out right. And lying within his bed, this particular evening, thinking about all this stuff, he had to be honest with himself. Never once, could he recall a time of truly fantasying in gettin’ it on with a gal—bonin’ the livin’ shit outta her.

Then, what’s goin’ on with me? Am I totally not straight?

Eventually, a funny feeling settled over him. So, should I be alarmed? Concerned? Worried that something might be wrong with me? It made him become somewhat anxious, but there was something stronger that tantalized him—tickling his fancy and kicking his heart into higher gear.

Picturing him and Travis together—why, it looked fuckin’ great…

Somethin’ fun. Somethin’ different.

Hey, I just happened into this strange part of the woods. Don’t ask me why. No particular reason. Just wanted to break the decaying routine—you know, those endless dry thoughts that blow around within a man’s weary mind.

I didn’t give it much of a thought at first—with the skies darkening and snowflakes brushing past my cheeks. Softly, they landed upon my beard and lips—making my face wet and frosty. Perhaps sweet?

Wow! An adventure.

So what of it? —was always told I had a bent for good pump.

It was then my eye caught it…the cabin. Small, of course. Simple, not elaborate.

And was that a light peeking through the shaded window? Hummmm…. Someone’s there—probably settling in for the night.

Lazily, I scuffed my way past with an indifferent shrug and nod. I eventually reached into my pocket, but it was there I cursed.

Outta smokes.

I reached the ridge, by the grove of those lifeless, leafless maples. And there, I felt a chill. Looking around, I thought I heard something. Is it my name?

It made me stop.

Slowly, hesitantly, I turned. What the…? Could have sworn it was a spell. Maybe insanity? Ha! But yet, I hoped to hear it again.

Instantly, weirdly, I took that step—the one that led me back to that shadowy, compelling lodge. Strange. Why now? And where is the trail? No trace of my footsteps can I find.

What the Hell?

But yet, I still went ahead and knocked.

There’s no sound. There’s no reply. So, is it curiosity, or the fact that my feet are so damned cold all I can think of is getting near a fire to warm up?

Who knows? Who cares?

Inside, it was, indeed, warm. Cozy. I headed to the hearth and tossed my gloves. God, it feels good. Is this a sin? I rubbed my hands and took off my boots.

Suddenly, I knew. Looking about, I knew I wasn’t alone. So, who’s here? And where are they?

So, I pushed up—spotting a door ever so slightly ajar, opposite the fireplace. Unprepared, I slipped with wet socks over the smoothed wood, and I pushed it open and sucked in air.

Surely, I’m dreaming. But no, it’s a potion… smoke from the fire, I’m sure. Yet, I can’t move or speak. Hell, I can’t even think! Because stretched and sprawled, securely situated within his own physical beauty, is a naked Dream come true. And as he lay easily across the top of a turned-down bed draped of ivory satin, his arms rest easily behind—revealing two perfect armpits. So, I inhale the scent and I cannot stop.

I want to swim. I want to drown.

With inviting nipples glistening against the flickering glow of a lantern, my mouth waters.

Then, tossing an inviting nod, the god-boy whispers a devilish grin, Come here. His eyes gleam.

The clock chimes, and outside, the wind howls, as tree branches scratch curiously against the window.

And the only thought traveling now through my mind is…the night is young…and I’ll make it last forever…

It must have been past midnight when sleep finally overtook his brain, but the unconscious state, unfortunately, didn’t last long; because somewhere deep in the midst of twirling dreams, and the nagging need to take a leak, various people and events floated in and out of his thoughts—including the one and only…Travis Hunter.

So, when the bull ring transformed into a football gridiron, Cash could not exactly tell. But between Brownie, Black Lightning, and cinching up Hell in a dirty old chute, a well-built man appeared to stand silently, within swirling clouds of dust, wearing shoulder pads, sleek-tight football pants, and cleats. And clutched within his hand, there rested a glistening helmet.

Then, Cash found himself alone in a dark shower room—with only the faint glow of light radiating off in the distance. And before realizing what was going on, or where Travis had disappeared, he felt the soft touch of fingers slide underneath his shirt and across his chest. Tenderly, they brushed across tingling nipples.

Travis’ gentle fingers feel so good!

Then, somewhere inside his mind, he knew he wanted to pull away, but something stronger made him stay. So, not moving a muscle, he continued to allow those smooth, purposeful fingers to float effortlessly over willing flesh…

But the shrill ringing woke him up.

And reaching out with eyes still shut, he mercilessly slammed the alarm clock with a fist of fury. Damn it! What a time to wake up! And instantly, his mood went sour.

Just when things were gettin’ interesting.

Then, pushing himself from the warmth of his bed, he plopped hesitant feet onto age-cold hardwood. For Christ’s sake, I’ve gotta be simply conjuring all this shit up… indeed, making a damn mountain out of a mole hill! And even though I’m attracted to Travis, how can I be sure the feeling’s mutual? Because being such a hot-shot jock, Travis can have anyone he wants—at the drop of a hat! So, why then, does he want such an ordinary, run-of-the-mill kind of cowboy like me?

Now, entertaining those ideas scorched even a meaner and more ruthless hole into a now waking brain.

Well, shit fire!

*****

By the time he got dressed, he wholeheartedly decided he didn’t want to go to school.

I can’t face Travis; because this whole scene, he flatly concluded, is nothing more than a sick, hopeless desire for something that’ll never be.

But, in spite of it all, he still collected himself—grabbing his jacket, and trudging very heavy-heartedly down the stairs, as if he were going to a funeral. And like the sand blowing vigorously against his face, he tackled the day with such a gravelly disposition. In fact, it was difficult to distinguish which was less punishing.

So, all of this can be rightfully blamed upon one reason…

…that shit-assed conversation by the lockers! And because of it, everything within my life has now become tossed and stirred—all jumbled up!

Then, going back to yesterday afternoon, for the zillionth time, Cash honestly wondered if all of this was just completely blown out of proportion because of his own stupid, wild imagination.

Certainly, Travis was only trying to play with my mind, by throwing me that mysterious grin, and holding onto my hand too long. If that’s the case, then the encounter, which had occurred the day before, was probably nothing more than a manipulative, condescending expression from a cocky asshole.

Oh, well…wonders shall never cease!

And on that note, he defiantly scuffed heels into his first class, much like the resistance of a housecat being ushered to the sink for a bubble bath.

*****

So, if the day before had been a bear trying to concentrate on studies, it was now virtually impossible; because, within every hallway, between classes, at lunch, only two tables away, then finally, algebra class, situated ever so divinely across the aisle, Cash continually found himself plunked within direct eye-shot of Travis.

Okay then…so, what’s the old saying? Curiosity kills the cat?

Well, historically, Cash knew full-well he was always one who can never keep his fingers off a hot stove.

Just ask anyone who knows me.

Therefore, as a result of all these brazen visual opportunities, he found himself completely unable to resist playing cat-‘n-mouse—of who’s spyin’ on whom. Over and over, the two of them volleyed clandestine glances, with each locking into the other’s gaze—sometimes, even making silly ogle eyes. In fact, there wasn’t a single time he didn’t catch Travis watching him—closely scrutinizing his every move with prey-like calculation.

What is it that you see?

Tell me what you know.

You always wonder where I’ll be,

But yet you follow, when I go.

And by mid-afternoon, Cash was completely numb, but yet, totally charged, because he was convinced—This thing with Travis is definitely more than my over-active imagination. In fact, this is nuts…simply insane!! And doesn’t he care that others might be watching us?

But their little game continued throughout the day until Cash walked down the steps of the school, and out to his truck.

Hey, I’ve been trying to touch base with you all day.

Recognizing the voice, Cash stopped—his heart nearly jumping through his throat. Well, I’ve been here. He could hardly believe such a sharp retort could escape from his mouth. Actually, it wasn’t the words, but the tone within his voice that made it so cutting.

And with that paradoxical softness emitting from such a tough, masculine face, Travis whispered with a chuckle. And that you have. Scanning their surroundings with wolf-like, shifting eyes, he ensured their privacy was intact before continuing. You’re sort of a hard one to nail down.

Coming to a complete stop, Cash turned on his heels and looked squarely at Travis. Yeah, why’s that? Sinisterly, he felt cockiness overtake his innards.

I don’t know, Travis replied, with a shrug. Without question, he appeared uncomfortable. You tell me.

Sensing the tips of his fingers tingle with a slight tremble, Cash could tell there was a fresh shot of adrenaline surging throughout his veins. And with an ornery spirit, he whapped the ball back across the net. Tell you what? I thought you were gonna call Clayton last night.

Then, shifting core weight from left to right, Travis barricaded himself by crossing arms. I had practice; besides, I couldn’t find your number. He squinted against facing sunlight.

Wow! This looks familiar, Cash wryly thought—remembering Travis’ stance during their conversation the day before. We’re in the book. Eventually, he fumbled for a cigarette from his shirt pocket—his fingers still shaking.

Yeah? Travis asked, somewhat embarrassed, but yet he was grossly distracted as he scanned the parking lot one more time. Then, focusing back onto Cash, who was lighting up his smoke, he continued with a more-than-obvious, last-minute excuse, Well, it was getting pretty late.

I see. Cash leaned up against his pickup—casually propping one boot back on the foot rail. Slowly, he blew smoke from his nostrils; and then, unexpectedly, certain gutsiness swept over him. He could no longer hold back the curiosity. Tell me, Travis, what is it you’re lookin’ for?

The big guy gasped—taking a step back.

Never known to pull punches, Cash simply called the cards as they were; and with that mighty force, it caught Travis off guard—forcing him to nervously shoot his gaze into several random directions. Hey, this is cool…seeing this rugged giant squirm, he smugly thought—fighting off an impish grin that wanted to surface across his face. And yet, Travis sure looks cute standing there, trying to weasel his way through this conversation.

Eventually, Cash felt an overpowering urge to step forward, reach out, and draw him in with cowboy-rough hands. I wanna feel his flesh. I wanna touch him. So, with the sizzling desire grilling deeply within his guts, he continued to eye him down—realizing there was no turning back now. God, I can’t believe this is happening.

Uh, Travis now stammered for words, while an accordion of wrinkles swept across his forehead. We need to go someplace to talk.

And taking a long, hard hit from his cigarette, Cash finally flicked the butt away with his fingers, then asked, Where do you wanna go?

I dunno, was the reply, but urgent frustration rode full-throttle in Travis’ tone as he nervously glanced at his wristwatch. Fuck, I have to be at practice right now.

You set the time and place. Cash purposely ignored the impatience.

Looking intently at Cash, Travis quivered out his words. Let’s talk tomorrow.

They both studied each other closely in an effort to determine mutual sincerity. Then, Cash finally nodded and turned back to the old jacked-up mudder. And jumping up into the cab, he started its heavy-thundering engine—popping out several resounding backfires. He knew the cops eventually would pull him over, ordering him to put a lid on the noise, but until that time, however, his truck, the ‘Pound Puppy,’ would rock the world.

Travis rested a hand on the door. This is just between us. I mean, no one needs to know—right? Blatant pleading wove deliberately throughout his voice.

Shifting the gear stick, Cash pulled his dirty old Stetson down tightly upon his brow. I only sing loud as I’m told to. And having said that, he throttled down and drove away. But glancing into the rear view mirror, he could not help noticing Travis.

My God…he thought. He’s like a lost lamb. And oddly, the sight struck Cash’s soul.

Unbelievably, the big football star remained motionless, in the very spot where the truck had been. And with slumped shoulders, and a heavy brow furled as dark as a thunderstorm in June, it looked as if Travis was ready to cry.

Am I seeing things?! Travis is always so rough and tough; surely, this is a side that no one’s ever seen.

Quickly, steering the monster-wheeled truck around the lot—back to where he’d just been, Cash leaned out the window and threw a quick snip, "What?" Edginess saturated his tone as if dozens of red ants were crawling up his ass.

By nature, the youngest McCollum knew that in and of himself, he was not a cool-headed guy. He knew this all too well—attributing his feistiness to the blood line—thereby using the lame excuse, …it’s because I’m Irish.

But his mother never seemed to buy into this. You’re just like a jackrabbit, she’d usually chant with a scowl, …can’t wait for anything. Someday, however, you’re gonna learn to simmer down.

The sound of a whistle blew from the football field.

You need to get to practice.

I know, Travis replied, looking down at the ground. I’m already late.

Then, an awkward silence fell between them.

I really don’t know where this is going, but something has to be done. Cocking his head toward the passenger’s side of the cab, he finally ordered, Get in.

Without protest, Travis bounded around the truck and hopped in.

And as the engine was gunned, with a deep-throated roar echoing against the school front, then back across the parking lot, Cash commandingly steered the ‘Puppy’ onto the street.

The two boys remained silent as they rode through town, but both seemed to know what would happen next.

Where are we gonna go? Cash wondered—sensing explosive charges of energy spark out from all of his senses. And instantly, he remembered a secluded spot by one of the levees next to the river. It was usually his favorite place to fish. We can park there, and no one will see us.

By the time they got to the sandy river banks, roiling blood pounded throughout his body. He could barely grip the steering wheel. And shutting down the engine, he slid back into the seat and let out a slow, deep sigh. Now what?

Together, they both remained at a loss for words.

So, who’s gonna break the ice? Thoughts within his mind kept telling him he was nuts for doing this—simply jack-assed insane. But something else deeper seemed to take over his will… something much more powerful and demanding than he ever dreamed.

Lighting up another cigarette, Cash sucked in thick tobacco smoke as deeply as his lungs could take. Then, slowly exhaling, he sensed a pair of eager, hungry eyes fixed upon him. The spell immediately enveloped; and it was hot as lightening—blazing every portion of his soul. So, like iron dust attracted to a magnet, he yearned to bring his hands—every one of his fingers—to a place they had never been before.

Forbidden flesh.

And famished for what he saw, literally panting, his mouth watered for what he deliciously smelled. Travis’ unique body scent, laced with that musky sweat and the woodsy cologne—it all drove him crazy. He knew he could ride any goddamn bull put in front of him!

Finally, facing Travis, he closely studied each feature—one by one. His extreme high ’n tight flat-top contrasted nicely with his thick, gallant neck and broad shoulders. And his skin was radiantly smooth and deeply-tanned—respectfully earned from all those summer days lifeguarding at the city pool. Then, lastly, every curve of his face—cheeks, dimples, forehead, and chin, seemed to form a symphony of utter beauty, against a perfect set of ivory-white teeth.

Indeed, the sight before him was absolutely breathtaking.

Eventually, Cash allowed his memory to dig back to the first day when Travis had walked through the school doors. It had been the beginning of his junior year…

There’s a new guy startin’ here today.

The news had started as a trickle; but by third period, it had spread throughout the school like wildfire.

Yeah?

…Cash had picked up on the conversation in the hallway, while making his way to his next class.

What’s he like?

I dunno. I guess he seems alright.

Where’s he from?

Someplace in California.

"Great," a sarcastic laugh had quickly followed. "He’ll fit in real good here."

I heard he’s pretty good-lookin’ and really big.

Now, even though he’d heard it, there was no way that Cash was prepared, in the slightest, for what his eyes would soon behold. Upon settling into his desk, with a long sigh, his eyes suddenly caught sight of the most unbelievably handsome, sharply-dressed boy—definitely not countrified, and absolutely no big-town wannabe.

Suave, and of the most nonchalant demeanor, Travis entered the room, with eyes smoothly roving, searching for a vacant desk.

It was the silence that followed which Cash would never forget. Seized by the power of his presence, the entire room had fallen into a hush. Cassie Johnston, one of the varsity cheerleaders, seemingly broke the spell by letting out a long, hoarse gasp. Oh… my… God…

Continuing to search the room, the new student’s gaze unexpectedly landed upon Cash. Then, locking with unyielding penetration, it eventually seared, with blazing eyes of ice, piercing still air within the classroom, and drilling a lunar-sized crater deeply into Cash’s conscience.

What the…? He could only freeze.

At that moment, time had stopped. Or so, Cash had thought, with their glances quickly welding into a glare, and the space between them becoming entangled by fingering lightening bolts. During that encounter, or whatever it had been, Cash had sensed something mysteriously scorch and seduce his spirit. But as fast as he had been caught underneath the trance, he had been rudely yanked back to reality, by his rodeo buddy, Josh Parker.

Like he’s never seen a real live cowboy before? God, this guy’s a trip. Kicking the back of Cash’s seat, his friend had leaned over and whispered into a burning ear, Better watch out, he’s got the hots for you.

Shut up! was Cash’s quick reply—feeling his face scald.

Bringing himself back to the present, Cash now realized what it all meant, plain as day. And he knew why they were here.

But within their imaginary concrete world of hesitation, Travis eventually reached for the handle and let out a huff. Twisting it with a tight fist, he slid out of the cab and slammed the door with an angry thrust. The pickup shuddered.

Slowly, he walked to the river’s edge with hands thrust deeply into his front pockets. And he allowed a small chuckle to escape from his hidden face.

Quietly, Cash opened his door. Something needs to be done; and the first move needs to be now! Indeed, they certainly had not come this far for nothing. So, extending his leg onto the rocky sand, he pushed himself out. And with boot heels sliding precariously over smoothed stones, he made his way to Travis who remained motionless. Then, defying all fear, he finally reached out and softly touched Travis’ shoulder.

CHAPTER 2

S o, how is a line defined when two raging storms become one?

Neither boy could set the boundaries.

And with wielding power, fiercer than a towering geyser, Travis and Cash collided, like a raging frenzy of uncontrolled passion. And nothing… absolutely nothing else etched so deeply, so permanently into their lives as what that warm, sunny afternoon had done on the stony banks of the muddy Yellowstone.

Cash could still smell Travis on his skin as he drove back to the ranch in the moon-bathed darkness.

Sweetness kissed by lips tonight

A feeling I’ve never known

But in depths of fragrant flesh I find

A garden so delicately sown.

Undeniably raw, residual cologne, along with manly sweat, mixed into pungent prairie air, it all permeated his nostrils and senses like honey to a ravaged bear. And the more it lingered, the more it seemed to cure into Cash’s own scent, creating an aroma he simply couldn’t describe.

Why, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and it drove him crazy.

The question, however, that repeated within his mind was—why me? What would make such a handsome boy as Travis go after me?—not that I’m not good-looking. I know I have rugged features that are quite ‘easy on the eyes’.

Each time he walked down the hallway at school, or strolled around the aisles at the local Shop Mart, he was fully aware of the lingered glances at his face and lean muscular frame. Mostly, stares came from gals; but from time to time, a guy could be