Date: Sun, 26 Jul 2015 08:38:58 -0400
From: Ron Nelson <nelson99@comporium.net>
Subject: Wrestler's Story - 12B  Buck, Scott& Roscoe

Wrestler's Story # 12B  -  BUCK, SCOTT AND ROSCOE


By: Ron Nelson


© 2015 by the author. All rights reserved.


(Note to the reader:  There isn't any wrestling in this story.  However, it's
a story about a man and a dog. Scott and Roscoe.  It takes place just a couple
of weeks after the prior story.   As a result, this seemed to be a good place
to put it in our series.  Hope you like it!)


Just as a couple of weeks before, Buck Barton was in his office checking
out the specs on a new laser metal cutting machine he was thinking about
getting for his truck and auto repair shop in Gadwell, North Carolina, when
Dr. Justin MacGregor, head of traumatic injury section of the VA hospital
up in Asheville came in quietly, with his usual friendly but reserved
smile.  But this time maybe it was tinged with a small shadow of concern.

"Good Morning, Doctor, it's always good to see you! What can we do for you this
morning?" was Buck's friendly greeting to a friend and customer whom he was
always glad to see.

"'Morning, Buck, I see you're prospering, and I can understand why. If I'm
counting correctly, you've added two men to your already fine crew!"
The doctor was a keen observer of his surroundings, and he rarely missed
anything of importance.

"Sure thing, doctor, we've taken on two new but experienced men, one for
transmissions, and the other for body repair work.

"But I expect you've come to see us with something else on your mind. And if
it's anything we can help you on, the answer is `Yes'!"

"You're right, Buck, and thank you for asking.


"You recall one of our patients, Scott Chilton, whom you, Cat and Roscoe,
were so kind to a couple of weeks ago when you had him out to your cabin for
the weekend?

"Sure do, Doctor, and it certainly was the pleasure of all three of us to have
him. He did as much or more for us than I think we did for him. How's he doing?"

"He's coming along just fine, Buck, and has been making very good progress
toward getting his feet back on the ground and working those demons out of his
head.

"Those things take time, but he's doing a lot better than most men.
Just now, however, we're having something of a problem, which is not helping
things.

"You may have read in the paper that we're demolishing the old East Wing
of the hospital, and plan to replace it with an up-to-date new wing which will
give us more than twice the amount of space, and much better facilities, than
we had before.

"The problem is that the old wing was constructed of solid concrete, and the
fastest and most economical way to demolish it is by the use of jack hammers,
which the contractors operate twelve hours a day, six days a week, to get the
job done as quickly as possible.

"The problem with that, however, is that for a number of our patients, like
Scott, the sound of the jack hammers reminds them of all the horrors of the
machine gun and mortar fire they were exposed to during the war, and the deadly
consequences it made for so many of their buddies, and the wounds they suffered
themselves.

"The men up at the hospital know it's only jack hammers, but the impression it
gives them is just too deep and painful for them just to ignore. As a result,
it's a mighty unsettling situation for them, and understandably so.

"So what we're trying to do is give them a break from it now and then, for at
least a few hours or a couple of days, to ease the tension and pressure on them
until the demolition gets done."

"I know what you mean, Doctor," was Buck's serious reply. "I was in `Nam, as you
know, and the machine gun and mortar fire were some of our worst experiences. So
often, we couldn't tell where it was coming from, and yet we knew the firing was
so rapid and so deadly. And knowing it was trying to search us out and destroy
us, it wasn't easy to overcome. I don't think it will ever be completely out of
our minds."

"What I was wondering, therefore, Buck," continued Dr. MacGregor, "is would it
be possible for you, Cat and Roscoe to let Scott join you again one of these
weekends, maybe even this coming weekend, when you'll be going back out to your
cabin, and maybe take Scott along to give him a break from all the work going
on at the hospital?"

"Doc, nothing would give us greater pleasure! In fact, with this weekend coming
up, it should be a quiet weekend. Cat is going to be away visiting his grandmother,
to whom he's devoted, and who has done a really great job in keeping him, at
least as much as possible or anybody can, on the straight and narrow.

"However, Roscoe and I will be heading out to the cabin Saturday morning and
planning to come back Monday afternoon. I've got a couple of jobs in mind to do
some time, maybe getting to them this weekend, and neither too burdensome.

"One is to take out the old well pump, which has seen its day, and it's going to
take some muscle to loosen and free it up from its base and then replace it with
the new pump, which we've already taken out to the cabin.

"The other is to dig about a dozen post holes around the pump house and refuse
bin to keep those pesky raccoons and other varmints out and from messing things
up like they've been doing lately.

"I figure each job will take only about five or six hours, and that will then
give us a lot of time free time just to sleep in late, finish early, and have
the evenings free for just relaxing and hanging out."


Dr. MacGregor smiled quietly as Buck outlined his plans. He smiled, first
because he was pleased that Buck would be able and welcome having Scott with him
for the weekend. Second, because he knew Roscoe. Buck's very intelligent and
thoughtful dog, would be going out with them.

Roscoe had been a very devoted and understanding companion to Scott last time
when he most needed it. And third, because he knew that the powerfully muscular
Buck, just like the more slender but almost as powerful Cat, liked to wrestle
and get into it with each other in Buck's bunkhouse on the wrestling mats he had
there.

He knew also that the muscular Scott liked to wrestle around too whenever he got
a chance, and he suspected that if the two of them were to spend the weekend out
at Buck's cabin, it wouldn't be any great surprise if one or both evenings
they'd find themselves wrestling around with each other down on the mats in the
bunkhouse, however it ended up.

The doctor didn't know, nor did he care to know, just exactly what they did and
how they ended up. That was none of his business. But he did know that all three
of them, including Cat, got a great workout out of it, and most likely a sensual
and erotic pleasure out of it too. So he was glad of it for them on that
score as well.


Saturday morning dawned clear and warm, with the whole weekend forecast to be
hot, with thundershowers predicted for both evenings and nights.  It was just
before nine o'clock, as planned, that Dr. MacGregor and Scott drove up in the
doctor's old Mercedes. Buck and Roscoe were waiting for them by Buck's big
black and chrome F-250 pickup for the ride out to the cabin.

The Mercedes hadn't even come to a stop before Roscoe, Buck's big chocolate Lab
retriever, who remembered Scott well from last time, and recognized the sound of
the Mercedes as well, raced over to the passenger side of the car and jumped up
to look in the window to see if his friend Scott were coming back.

When he saw that it was Scott, before Scott could even get out of the car,
Roscoe all but leaped into his arms, and, as Scott bent down, equally glad to
see Roscoe, quickly found his whole face was soon wet with Roscoe's lapping him
all over.

The grin on Scott's face couldn't have been wider, and he made no move to wipe
his face off from Roscoe's caresses as he stood up to shake Buck's welcoming
hand.


In another moment, all three watched the Mercedes back away and leave, leaving
them alone, and in just another couple of minutes, while Buck loaded a couple of
last minute things in the big pickup and Scott and Roscoe stood closely
together, all three headed out to the cabin.

As before, Buck knew that Roscoe loved to ride in the big pickup, and loved to
sit in front, riding shotgun, with his head out the window to enjoy the scenery
and wind in his face.

But Roscoe was just as pleased, when Cat or someone else was in the front seat,
to keep his place in the back seat where he could pace back and forth to check
what was happening on both sides of the road, or, when he lost interest in that,
to sleep peacefully on the big comfortable seat and be lulled to sleep by the
soft but deeply throbbing sound of the engine.

This time, therefore, Buck and Scott got in the front seats, and Roscoe gladly
took his usual place in the rear seat.

But then, within just a few minutes, Buck noticed it happened again. Just like
last time when he and Scott were in the front seat, and Cat and Roscoe were in
the back seat, Roscoe quickly sensed that Scott was not as much at ease as he
might be. There was something which was unsettling him, and he instinctively
knew he needed to try to help make it right.

Quietly, Roscoe got up and moved forward, once again squeezing himself between
the two big commander's seats and got up into Scott's lap.

He was so big, and such a lapful, that Scott that previous time could barely see
over or around him, to say nothing of just having the full weight of the big Lab
dog in his lap.

That previous time Buck had looked over toward Scott to tell Roscoe to return to
his back seat place. However, he quickly saw that Scott was holding the big Lab
tightly in his arms, had his face buried in Roscoe's rich brown fur, and a few
tears moistening his eyes.

Buck then turned his head back to the road, changed his mind about saying
anything to Roscoe, who then remained in Scott's lap, tightly held in place by
Scott's big and muscular arms around him, for the whole rest of the trip until
they reached the cabin.

It was the same thing this time, except maybe Scott felt a little more at ease
with himself, while nevertheless holding Roscoe in closely to him, and Roscoe
taking it all in stride.


When they approached the cabin, Roscoe knew, of course, exactly where they were,
and only as they came up the dirt driveway to arrive at the rustic cabin did he
return to the back seat. In another moment, they were there and stepped out into
the warm sunshine and quiet meadow and woods surrounding them.

"Thank you, Buck" Scott said quietly as he wiped away the last couple of tears
which ran down his face, and which were then replaced by wide grins as all
three of them walked over to the cabin.

"You're family, Scott," was Buck's equally quiet reply.


The day went by easily. It turned out to be a hot and sultry day, and both Buck
and Scott worked quietly and steadily in only their shorts and work boots. As
Buck had guessed, the old pump was solidly rusted in place and required the
effort of both of them, working closely together, frequently touching their
muscular arms, legs and bodies in their combined effort to lift the old pump
away and then drop and secure the new one in place. But finally the job got
down, and both saw it was still only early afternoon.

As a result, they decided to start digging the post holes for the new fence just
to get a head start on that. By five o`clock, however, they'd had enough for one
day. After cleaning their tools and putting them away, Buck and Scott returned
to the cabin and bunkhouse, where Scott would be spending the night,
respectively to get washed and cleaned up for what remained of the day and for
whatever the evening and night might hold for them.

As they separated to go their separate ways for the next hour or so, Roscoe,
after half dozing and half keeping an eye on them all day long, looked at both
men wondering which one to go with. He decided to follow Scott down to the
bunkhouse, and would then return to the cabin and rejoin Buck.


Supper was easy and quiet with the big load of barbecue, slaw and beer Buck had
brought out with them. Instead of eating inside the cabin, they ate sitting on
the cabin porch overlooking the quiet meadow, the Appalachian Trail crossing the
property down below and Lawson's Creek down below that in the evening quiet.

As they ate, Buck quietly noticed, with his practiced eye, that after the hot
and sultry day, storm clouds seemed to be gathering in the west, with the
likelihood, with all the summer heat, that there was the possibility of a
thunderstorm coming later on or during the night.

That concerned him some. He knew that Scott had become very apprehensive on his
first visit when there was another storm, and it couldn't help but remind him of
the terrors he'd experienced in `Stan from the guns and mortars and rockets
which hit them from all sides, and from which effects he was trying to recover.

And Roscoe too, who normally feared no man or beast, was nevertheless frightened
of just one thing, and that was thunderstorms with all the lightning and thunder
they produced.

Normally, when Buck and Roscoe were at the cabin alone, Roscoe always slept in
the big easy chair in the living room. But when a big storm came up, he would
always quickly come into Buck's room and jump into Buck's bed with him for the
protection and comfort Buck could always be depended upon to give him.


By ten o`clock, after supper and just enjoying the quiet evening, Buck could see
that Scott was ready to nod off with the change of routine of being with Buck at
the cabin and for all the work they'd been doing during the day. Buck knew he
was ready to call it a day for himself too.

After wishing each other a good night, Scott headed out to go down to the
bunkhouse. Roscoe wasn't quite sure whether he should go with Scott or stay back
with Buck. Buck knew of Roscoe's closeness and concern about Scott, and knew
Scott liked and very much depended on Roscoe's closeness to him. As a result,
Buck urged Roscoe to go down to the bunkhouse with Scott and keep him company
overnight and until tomorrow morning.

Buck watched both of them walk together easily down to the bunkhouse, as Buck
turned back into the cabin for a good night's sleep himself.


Then something startled Buck into being instantly wide awake in the middle of
the night. With the keen sense he'd developed in the US Marines for any
situation which didn't seem right, or something dangerous might be present, he
knew something ominous was about.

He looked at the clock. It said 2 a.m. Then, although he rarely woke up for
thunderstorms which might be passing through overnight, this time he became
quickly aware of the bright flashes of the almost continuous lightning and the
roar of the thunder which instantly followed the flash, which meant the
full fury of the storm was right above them now, which the pounding of the rain
on the roof and against the windows confirmed.

Then there was something more.


Suddenly, the door to his bedroom burst open, and Roscoe bounded into the room
and leaped up onto Buck's bed, landing on top of him. His eyes were wide open
and almost glazed over in fright, while his whole body was not only drenched
with rain but he was also trembling with a terror which Buck had never seen in
him before.

In an instant, Buck reached out to grab Roscoe and bring him in closer to him to
comfort him. But then Roscoe only barked at him, and quickly turned to go back
out the door. But then Roscoe turned around and quickly leaped back in Buck's
bed and on top of him again, all the time still dripping wet and terrified.


Buck instantly got the message. Something must have gone terribly wrong at the
bunkhouse and Roscoe, terrified as he was of thunder and lighting, had nevertheless
come out right into the middle of the storm and raced up to the cabin to tell Buck
and get him to come down to the bunkhouse quickly.

It was no more than a couple of seconds, instinctively replaying his days in the
US Marines in `Nam, that Buck put on his boots and a rain slicker over the short
briefs he was wearing and headed out the door to get down to the bunkhouse as
fast as he could.

As Buck and Roscoe got out to the porch and were about to go down the stairs
into the storm, however, Roscoe hesitated just a couple of seconds, torn between
his instinctive desire to stay with Buck, and his equally instinctive fear of
the storm.

Buck understood his hesitation, and picked up the big chocolate Lab in his
muscled arms, cradled Roscoe's head against his chest and under his slicker to
protect him as much as he could, and raced down to the bunkhouse as fast as
he was able.

When he got there, he threw open the door and let Roscoe down just inside the
bunkhouse door. From there, in a quick glance, Buck quickly saw Scott lying on
the floor, unconscious, next to his bunk bed, with a stream of blood oozing out
from his head.

Again, Buck's US Marines training came back instinctively as he rushed over to
Scott to see what had happened.


Although he saw that Scott was unconscious, he was making a low groaning sound,
indicating he was at least alive. Buck then checked his pulse and found that,
although it was racing, it was nevertheless strong; and his eyes, although
closed, the lids were fluttering just a little indicating they were probably ok
too.

>From there, Buck could see that while some blood was still coming out from his
head wound, it appeared to be tapering off. There was a considerable puddle
underneath his head, however, from where it had first started.

Quickly, Buck went into the bathroom to get some wet washcloths with which to
wipe away the blood and to check on the wound Scott had received and what would
be required to staunch the flow. And then from there to wipe the rest of Scott's
face as well in order to begin to revive him as much as he could.

Buck's efforts were successful in cleaning the wound and then the rest of the
whole cleaning process. He saw the wound was a sharp cut into the outer layers
of Scott's skin, but fortunately it didn't appear to have done any more damage.
Then, looking up, Buck saw that there was some blood, and some skin, on the edge
of the night table near the head end of the bunk bed.

Most likely Scott had awakened suddenly, perhaps with a crash of lighting and
thunder right overhead, and his instincts and memories from `Stan overwhelmed
him into reacting instantly by dropping to the floor for protection, when he had
hit his head on the nightstand without even realizing what he'd done.


While Buck took it all in in just a couple of seconds, he also saw that Roscoe
was lying on the floor, still soaking wet and shaking with terror, watching both
him and the still largely unconscious Scott.

Knowing that Scott was going to be ok for the present, Buck quickly went back
into the bathroom to get the biggest bath towel he could find and came back out
quickly to begin to wrap Roscoe in it and also dry him off and comfort him to
let him know that everything was going to be ok.

In just two or three minutes, Buck could see that Roscoe was beginning to
tremble less and his eyes were regaining their usual size. Then his tail began
to wag slowly and softly back and forth by way of telling Buck that he was
feeling a lot better now too.

The crisis appeared to be over, and so Buck returned to Scott, who was now
slowly regaining consciousness.


As Buck washed the cut on Scott's head again, this time cleaning it up
thoroughly and now placing a gauze pad over it to protect it and let it begin to
recover, Scott said, "Hey man, you know you make a very hunky nurse! I think
I'll have to do this more often! What happened?"

A grin covered Buck's face, glad to see that Scott had not only regained
consciousness, but was able to joke a little about it.  Said Buck, "Man, there
must have been a big stroke of lightning and huge clap of thunder, and you must
have instinctively reacted to it to jump out of bed and get to the floor. And
in doing it, you hit your head hard on the night stand going down.

"Then our man Roscoe here, instantly realizing you probably hurt yourself pretty
bad going down, raced up the hill through all the lightning and thunder and
rain, despite his own considerable dislike of these thunderstorms, to get me
and let me know what happened.

"So I came down quickly, carrying Roscoe back down as he looked like he was
about ready to go next, and so here we are.

"You feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I think so. Sort of a little woozy, but I think I'll be ok.
"But I see Roscoe over there, and he looks maybe a little uncertain about how both
of us are doing too!

"Hey, Roscoe man, come on over here and give Scott a big kiss - and let Scott
here give you an even bigger one in return. You're my hero, for sure!" said
Scott, with a grin his face.

That's all it took for the big Roscoe to bound up and into Scott's outstretched
muscular arms so that the two of them fell back on top of the bunk bed.

"Hey, easy man," said Scott to Roscoe, the smile never leaving his face, or Ol'
Buck will have to patch both of us up again!"


Buck needn't have worried about that as both Scott and Roscoe made sure they'd
have to be particularly gentle with each other for a little while yet.

Buck left the bunkhouse about fifteen minutes later after making sure that both
of his men would be ok for the rest of the night, and headed back up the path to
his own bed in the cabin.

As he stepped out the bunkhouse door he looked back just once more to be sure
both Scott and Roscoe were ok, and saw both of them now once again fast asleep
in Scott's bunk bed. It was a tight fit, but Roscoe had managed to curl up
inside Scott, with Scott's big arm holding him in tightly to comfort both of
them.

On his way back up the path Buck looked up and saw the storm had now passed by
and the crystal clear sky was now dotted with millions of tiny stars while the
softly glowing moon was beginning to set in the west. The night had also now
cooled off with the passing storm, which portended a clear and warm day
tomorrow.


The next morning Buck got up around 6:30, as usual. Normally he'd have breakfast
with whoever was staying over in the bunkhouse around 7:30, but this morning,
everything was quiet with no one else to be seen.

Buck wasn't surprised, and decided to hold off on his own breakfast until Scott
and Roscoe showed up. Which wasn't until almost 8:30 when Buck glanced out and
saw Scott and Roscoe come up the path, not too fast, from the bunkhouse.

Coming up, he could see Scott walking a little more slowly than usual, but
looking around to see and enjoy the freshness of the morning and the surrounding
meadow, woods and creek.

And Roscoe, who normally would have bounded up the path in only a few seconds,
preceded Scott by only a few steps, keeping to Scott's slower pace.

It was only when they reached the foot of the cabin steps that Roscoe leaped out
ahead, bounded up the steps, and all but jumped into Buck's welcoming arms,
which were wide open waiting for him.


"Man," said Scott, a sort of tired grin on his face as he came into the kitchen
where Buck had set the table for their breakfast, "that was some night!"

"How are you feeling, Scott, you ok?"

"Oh yeah, Buck, with two great nurses to put me back together again, one to do
the cleaning and patching and the other to keep me company all through the
night, how could it be anything but!" was Scott's grinning reply.

Buck could see that he was feeling a lot better, although maybe just a little
pale, and the gauze and bandage showing just a little touch of red where
apparently a little blood was still seeping out of his wound.

`No work for us today,' thought Buck, `and I won't mind that either!'

"You ready for some breakfast, Scott? I've got everything laid out on the table,
so you just sit yourself down easy there and make yourself comfortable."

"Ok, thanks Buck, but first we've got to feed the troops," said Scott, as he
stepped over to the cupboard where he knew Roscoe's bowl and breakfast food were
kept.

As he stepped over to the cabinet, Roscoe's eyes followed him. Then the rest of
him, with his tail wagging, followed, until he stood next to Scott, looking up
at him expectantly with a smile on his face and his tail wagging even more.

As Scott bent down to put Roscoe's food and bowl on the floor, he was rewarded
by a few large licks on his face before Scott straightened up again.

As Buck watched Scott straighten up, he couldn't help notice the grin and a few
tears cross Scott's face.

Buck couldn't help but notice his own eyes moisten too.



The End


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