Copyright© 2015 – Nicholas Hall
Hunter’s Lodge on the Osage- Chapter Sixteen
“When will this long weary day end and lend me leave to come unto my love?”
Winter wasn’t all work, although there was plenty to do with the periodic snowfalls. There was always household chores, repairs around the Lodge to take care of (inside and out), but also quiet evenings to read, time to watch a movie, laugh and giggle while eating our meals, or just enjoy each other’s company. We both enjoyed chess, so many an evening we set up the board and played a game or two.
There were trips to Willow Run for shopping and once in a while the opportunity to eat out and enjoy someone else’s cooking – a real treat for Wedge, although there were a couple of times he commented when a particular dish was not quite prepared the way he would’ve.
Trips to Thompson Corners supplied us with the basics such as milk, gas, and a few other items, including bait. Yes, bait! Uncle George introduced us to ice fishing; using a power auger to drill through the thick ice, rigging tip-ups with “golden shiners,” and fishing for northerns and walleyes. It was great fun racing to the tip-up when the flag suddenly popped up giving us a signal a fish had taken the bait, dangling below the ice in the depths of the lake, and was hooked! Pulling the line up hand over hand, keeping it tight until the fish neared the hole in the ice, and sliding it up and out onto the ice, provided hours of enjoyment for us on sunny winter days and early evenings. The fresh fish was always welcome fare at our houses.
Wedge and I learned a great deal from George and Lou, not only concerning how to live in the woods, but about life in general. Uncle George and Wedge spent as much time together with George teaching Wedge the ways of the wilderness and native ways as Wedge did with Lou in the kitchen. If I didn’t know better, from all appearances, Wedge was George and Lou’s nephew; a little lighter perhaps, but not much!
Wedge and I also enjoyed snowshoeing around Lodge property, following the logging roads that wound around throughout, and checking out the sights and sounds of the forest in winter. The day we came across a bear den dug out under a fallen tree and covered with snow, was particularly exciting! We would’ve missed it entirely if Wedge hadn’t stopped to tighten up his snowshoes and noticed a hole in the snow made by the warmth of the little puffs of warm air the hibernating bear expelled as it slumbered on. We knew better than even think of peeking in to see the bear.
“Better let a sleeping bear lie!” Wedge quipped and we continued on our way.
Snowshoe hare were abundant this winter, their tracks decorating the snow throughout the swamps and young Poplar growth, although the bobcats and fox seemed to be enjoying the abundance as well; every now and then we would see the blood spattered evidence of a fatal encounter a rabbit had with one of the predators. Many nights, especially if the darkness was illuminated by the brightness of a full moon, we would hear wolves howling, either announcing a kill, their return to the den, or seemingly just to serenade each other. Once in a great while we’d happen upon the remains of a deer the wolves killed. There were a couple of “deer yards” on Lodge property where, during the winter the deer gathered to escape the winds and cold, there was browse available for them to sustain themselves. Severe winters could be hard on the deer, especially if the snow was deep and the winter long, leading to starvation and lower fawn production.
One bright night, when we returned home from a movie in Willow Run, before we went to bed, Wedge asked, “Want to have some fun?” and motioned to me to follow him to the porch.
I thought it might be a little chilly to be “bare-assed” naked on a cold porch with Wedge embedded deep in me, but, what the heck, it was worth a try!
When I started to unbuckle my pants, he gave me a poke on the shoulder and with grin, admonished, “Not that; later where it’s warmer!”
He opened the storm door on the porch, stepped out on the steps, and began howling like a wolf! His call was long, plaintive, then excited, and back to low, but piercing yelps! He’d pause, wait for an answer, and if none was forthcoming, began again. All of a sudden, one wolf, then another answered him! Wedge was most cautious after that, calling in such a manner, as he explained softly, to encourage the others to come to him and see who just might be interloping in their territory!
Appearing almost magic-like from the dark shadows of the forest into the open area in front of the Lodge, stepping majestically, but wary of any danger, came three big, beautiful sleek Grey Wolves. They stopped about fifty yards from the cover of the trees, stood quietly, their noses in the air, heads turning carefully scanning the area, hunting for whatever brought them to this place. Wedge didn’t respond and we didn’t move, watching this royalty of the forest. They soon tired or were convinced nothing was there and just as quickly and quietly disappeared back into the forest!
Returning to the warmth of the Lodge, I was amazed and delighted at what Wedge did and what we saw.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked Wedge.
“Uncle George!” was all he said and headed for the bedroom.
We made regular visits to George and Lou’s house and they returned the visits as well. When Pat and Tom came up, they also stopped in to say “hi” and fill us in on what was happening so it’s not as if we were cut off from the world and lived in isolation without comfort or conversation with our fellow human beings. Wedge and I settled into a very comfortable life at the Lodge. Free from the burdens of work by my income, we had time to spend enjoying each other. We both knew it’d have to come to an end at some time since Wedge wanted to go on to school and I’d decided I should to, but meantime we’d enjoy life!
Grandma and Grandpa Hunter came up the first of March for a week’s visit. I think they just wanted to check on us, but we were happy to have them and enjoyed their visit. Wedge and I decided to drive to Illinois at Easter to visit his mom. She was so excited to see us and took a couple of extra days off from work to spend the time with us. The tension was now gone with Pittman dead and Wedge exonerated of all accusations the man had made!
The three of us went out to dinner the Saturday before Easter Sunday at the supper club where Wedge used to work. The owner and the staff were so happy to see Wedge. They treated him like royalty and gave us our dinner free! It was at that dinner Wedge and I announced to his mom, our intentions to get married in June. We planned a small civil ceremony over in Minnesota and we asked Pat and Tom to stand up with us, along with Wedge’s mom and grandmother, and Grandpa and Grandma Hunter. Any reception we’d have would be at the Lodge for family and friends only.
When we first approached Tom and Pat about standing up with us, Pat immediately asked, “You’re not pregnant are you?”
Before I could respond, Wedge said with a glint of things to come shining in his eyes, “It’s not for the lack of trying, but maybe we need to try harder.”
“Or longer and deeper,” Tom quipped.
She was thrilled and happy for both of us. When we woke Easter morning, there was an Easter basket full of candy and goodies outside the bedroom door and a card. Her card was more than a “Happy Easter” card; it was one of good wishes, joy, and prayers for long life and happiness for her “two sons!”
Parting was difficult, but not so much so, now she knew we were happy, well fed, safe, and going to be together for the rest of our lives. We stopped in Green Bay and spent two days with Grandma and Grandpa and gave them the same news. They were just as happy as Meredith had been. The only difference was Grandma’s hug and kiss with the good natured scolding, “it’s about time; I knew you two loved each other right off!”
George tended the furnace while we were gone, so the Lodge was nice and warm when we returned. He only had to clean up the yard and lane after one small snow storm. We were thankful for that. It was nice to visit, but much nicer to come home!
Wedge and I spent some time with Aunt Lou preparing our seed order for the garden we planned on putting in when spring arrived. George promised to plow our garden plot and help us with the fencing to keep the deer and rabbits out when the frost left the ground.
“No sense planting before the first of June” he advised, “a late spring frost could make you start all over again.”
For some reason, as spring came closer, I began fussing about Harvey. We hadn’t heard a word about him, whether he died or was prowling around the state. I expressed my concern to Grandpa in phone call one evening;
“I wouldn’t worry about him Jeremy,” he said, “if he’s not tried anything by now, he’s probably long gone out of the state. Besides, if he surfaced, someone in law enforcement would nab him.”
I wasn’t all that certain! In the spring, the bears and skunks came out of hibernation or at least a semi-hibernation state, and all sorts of slivery, slimy creatures crawled out from under the rocks. I saw Harvey as no different! Harvey was a snake as far as I was concerned and liable to strike when you least expect it!
Fishing season opened the first weekend of May. I woke in the pre-dawn light; the open bedroom window allowed the wakeup calls of the forest birds to filter in, announcing their presence and seemingly joyful welcoming of the coming day. My head was resting on Wedge’s shoulder, my body sprawled length-wise on his lanky frame, with my legs straddling his hips. The tip of his manly hardness just barely tickled my well-lubed entrance giving evidence of our activities during the night before we slept!
Nuzzling his neck a little before sliding down enough to make solid contact, I reached around, secured his hard cock in my hand, and guided it to my twitching rosebud before sliding back and allowing that stiff pecker to bury itself deep in my insides.
“What a nice way to wake up!” he murmured happily.
It really was!
When the last shove forward, followed by his last strong ejaculation occurred, we lay coupled until he softened, and I said, giving him a kiss, “Ready to give your pole a workout? Fishing season opens today!”
“I thought I just did,” he giggled.
It didn’t take us long to get dressed, into our waders, gather up our fishing gear, and head out back to the Osage River for brook trout. Wedge really loved the succulent, firm, red fleshed fish and enjoyed the pursuit of them. Our breakfast, that opening morning was one we both enjoyed; pan-fried trout, eggs over easy, toast, and potatoes.
It was close to eleven o’clock by the time we got dishes done and our chores around the Lodge done. Wedge announced he wanted to take his motorcycle out for a spin over toward Thompson Corners and around the countryside just for the heck of it! It was the first time out this spring and he loved to ride! He wanted me to go along, but I decided to stay home and work on putting the rest of the posts in for the garden fence.
“If I’ll be later than seven or so, I’ll give a call,” he said on his way out the door.
I heard the cycle start, then shut off just outside the Lodge, and Wedge came bounding up the steps.
“What’d yah forget?” I asked.
“My sling shot; Uncle George said he wanted a closer look at it since he was thinking about getting one.”
“What the heck for?
“Rabbits!” Wedge said as he tucked the sling and a box of steel ball bearings in his coat pocket and headed for the cycle.
That left me alone with our fencing project. George and I previously discussed what type of fence and the necessity for fencing in the garden.
“This person thinks,” George said thoughtfully, “six foot welded wire fence would be good to use. Perhaps with a gate at each end so someone can get in to plow it with a tractor.”
So, that was what we decided to put up. Wedge and I already had half of the posts in and I hoped, this afternoon, while he was gone, I could finish up. It’d take two of us to put up the wire fence, but digging fence post holes was a no-brainer and I could handle that by myself.
Around five o’clock I decided to call it quits. It had been a hot afternoon and even after several breaks, I was tired, sweaty, and ready for a shower. My shirt was hanging on one of the fence posts and when I turned to retrieve it a voice interrupted my action.
I looked back and saw two men, backs to the sun, causing me to squint, and not get a good look at them. One man, as best as I could see, had a full beard, hat scrunched down over his head, and sun glasses. The other, about the same height, wearing a baseball cap, and a scruffy face, stood alongside of him. They both carried fishing poles, but it was the fishing poles that first caused me to become wary of their intentions and what they were doing on Lodge property. The poles were bait casting poles equipped with bait casting reels; not something you’d use on the Osage River for trout, if that’s what they’d been doing or intended to do!
“Nice place,” commented the guy in the baseball cap.
“May I help you?” I asked calmly.
“Must be nice to be so rich as to have a place as nice as this,” he continued.
I turned again to fetch my shirt, again asking over my shoulder, “May I help you?”
My back was turned when I heard a distinct, very audible “click” and another voice said, “I don’t think you’ll need that shirt, you little faggot!”
The “click” was the sound of a revolver being cocked and the voice belonged to Harvey!
Turning back slowly, I faced a leering, bearded Harvey walking toward me, a cocked revolver in his hand. Standing close to me, pistol pointed at my head, with his free hand, he made a fist and drove it deep, hard into my gut, forcing the wind out of me and me to my knees. Bent over, clutching my gut in pain, Harvey just couldn’t resist giving me kick in the ribs and another to my face, temporarily stunning me, and rolling me over on my side in the dust.
I felt my body being jerked up while the other man exclaimed, “For fuck sake, Harve, don’t kill the little shit yet. You said I could fuck him first!”
“Get up,” Harvey commanded and I staggered to my feet. “See, Orville, he ain’t near dead yet. I didn’t damage any of the important parts.”
This didn’t really sound promising to me!
After pulling my belt from the loops and using it to secure my hands and arms behind my back, the two of them prodded and pushed me to the Lodge and up the steps to the inside. Before pushing me to the couch, Orville just had to run his hands up my back and feel my ass.
“Shit, little brother,” he said gleefully, “he ain’t half bad. Bet he’s a better fuck than you were when you were younger!”
Great, Harvey had an incestuous older brother and now he was going to use me as a substitute!
Orville waved a nickel-plated pistol in front of my face, threatening, “Don’t you try anything stupid!”
Believe me, I wasn’t about to! This was my own fault; I’d grown careless, too complacent, believing I was safe from Harvey. How wrong I was and now I was going to pay for it. I only hoped Wedge didn’t walk into this mess!
“Hey, Orville,” Harvey exclaimed, “Look at this, our little faggot got himself a nigger boyfriend,” and handed the picture of Wedge and me to Orville.
Orville grinned, slapped my face hard a couple of times, and leered at me. “So you like a fat, black cock rammed up your little boy hole huh? When I get done with you a fence post will rattle around inside your asshole. Once I’ve done you a couple of times, we’re going to go for a walk in the woods and then it’s ‘bye-bye’ little fuck boy!”
“Just where is your little sweetheart?” Harvey asked.
“Milwaukee, visiting his mother!”
“Be home soon?”
“Not till next week, she’s sick!”
I hoped I sounded convincing; shit they were going to kill me. Maybe I could save Wedge, so I continued,
“He left this morning and said he’d call once he got there, so he should be calling anytime.” At least I hoped he would. If he stopped by to see George and Lou, it could be late when he came home and he promised he’d call.
“Well,” said Harvey, “we’ll just have to make ourselves to home and wait for his call won’t we?” and punched me in the face again. “We wouldn’t want him to get suspicious if you weren’t here to take his call, would we now?”
“Hey, Harve,” shouted Orville gleefully, “look what I found,” and held up a bottle of Grandpa Hunter’s brandy. “Let’s celebrate our good fortune. Not only do I have a sweet boy to fuck, but good brandy besides.”
He walked over toward me, held the bottle out, and offered me a drink. I refused, but he just grinned at me, opened his fly, and chuckled, “Then drink this!” and pissed on me!
God, I thought, would this day never end! When it did, I knew exactly how it would and I was not looking forward to what was going to happen before I faded off into forever!
To be continued:
Thank you for reading Hunter’s Lodge on the Osage- Chapter Sixteen-
“When will this long weary day end and lend me leave to come unto my love?”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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