Luke & JJ
by Greg Bowden
Chapter Eleven
"I'll kill him!" Luke hissed. "I swear, I'll kill that son of a bitch with my own hands if he ever tries..."
"Easy, Luke, easy," J.J. said, pulling him close. "It's all right, I can take care of myself, and nothing..."
"I don't care. And I know you can take care of yourself, J.J., but how could he... Damn it, I knew he was trouble from the first moment I set eyes on him."
Luke had had a very bad feeling the first time he had seen Hiram Rodale but he had kept his counsel to himself since no one asked him and it was not his place to advise either Mr. Williams or Eliot on who should and who should not be hired to help on the farm.
The winter had been cold and heavy rains in February had kept the men out of the fields so there had been ample opportunity for general maintenance and repair of the equipment and farm buildings. They had even found time to hang new paper in Louisa's parlor and to make over a small bedroom at Eliot and Millicent's. That room was to serve as a nursery in the Fall.
By April, though, it became evident that another hand was going to be needed for the care and planting of the fields. John and Eliot decided that they could get by with just one man who would work on both farms as needed; that way they could share in the cost of his keep and his wages. The man would stay in the hay barn at the senior Williams', the same place Luke had slept when he first came to them. As Louisa pointed out, she was already cooking for five and one more mouth would make little difference; for Millicent it would be more of a burden, especially now, with the baby coming.
The men agreed to begin making inquiries.
One Tuesday morning in mid-April, Eliot came by to talk with his father and, incidentally, have a cup or two of his mother's coffee. He had never said anything, but Louisa was becoming aware that she would soon have to speak to Millicent about coffee making.
"Got a man you maybe should see, Pa," Eliot said, helping himself to a biscuit left over from breakfast. Louisa made another mental note.
"Who would that be?" John asked.
"Fellow name of Rodale. Hiram Rodale. The Widow Noyes sent him up to see me yesterday afternoon. Seems he used to work on the place sometimes, you know, when Mr. Noyes was alive. I think he worked there after, too, just doing whatever he thought needed to be done."
"You like the man?"
"Yeah, I guess. Seemed okay. And Mrs. Noyes is pretty anxious we take him on. Feels like she owes him something, I guess."
John nodded. Widowed ladies, he knew, often felt odd sorts of obligations. "Well, bring him around and we'll talk to him."
"I
will,
John smiled at his wife. "I expect you'll be visiting with Millicent this afternoon. Now don't you be too hard on the girl. She'll learn, just like you did."
John never ceased to surprise Louisa. She'd had no idea he was aware of the timing of Eliot's visits--and the probable reason for it. "I shan't, John, I shan't. Perhaps a small suggestion here and there..."
John went out to the barn, chuckling to himself. He knew Louisa would be gentle, probably so gentle that Millicent wouldn't even realize the suggestion had been made, even after she began to act on it.
That afternoon, after the mid-day meal, Eliot and Hiram Rodale found John and Luke in the barn, sharpening the plow. Hiram appeared to be near John Williams' age and was a big man, well over six feet tall and solidly built. His long hair was combed back but looked greasy, like it hadn't been washed in a while. Luke took an immediate dislike to the man.
"Pa, this here's Hiram Rodale."
Hiram shook John's hand. "Right nice place you got here," he said.
They spoke for a few minutes, talking mostly about the rain and the crops that soon must be planted. All the while they talked Hiram's eyes kept sliding to his right, to focus on Luke. Eventually John noticed.
"Oh, this is Luke. You'll meet the other boys later; they work down in town."
Hiram shook Luke's hand. "I'm sure we'll get on just real well, won't we, Luke. Real well." Luke backed away, wiping his hand on his britches, and said nothing.
"One thing," Hiram said, turning his attention back to John, "I don't do no work on the Sabbath day." John gave him a puzzled look. "No work. God rested on the Sabbath and so do I, reading His word in His book and praying for His sinners." He looked defiantly at the two men. "No work."
Luke mumbled something and left the barn. The way Hiram had looked at him almost made him sick to his stomach.
"Well," John said, "I suppose the boys can give a hand on Sundays. What do you think, Eliot?"
"Yea, I guess they could." Eliot was becoming less and less sure that Hiram was the man they needed, but the widow Noyes had been pretty insistent. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Hiram, would you do us the favor of going over and making sure the chickens have fresh water?" John asked. He wanted to talk to Eliot alone.
They watched Hiram lumber towards the door and, when he was well outside, John turned to Eliot.
"What do you think, Son?"
"Well, you know Pa, I don't know that I'm so keen for him anymore. Getting no help at all on Sundays is going to be a burden on Tom and J.J. That's about the only time they have for themselves..."
"I know, I know. But after you were here this morning, who should come calling but your father-in-law, James Chase."
Eliot was surprised. "Away from the bank during business hours? It must have been important."
"Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you? But he was here on behalf of Mr. Rodale, there." He gestured towards the barn door. "Seems Mrs. Noyes asked him to come up and have a word with me, sorta see to it that we took the man on."
"Well, I'll be da..." Eliot had never sworn in front of his father and caught himself just in time. "I mean, why would he do that?"
"No idea, Son. But I expect it means we better at least give Mr. Rodale a chance."
Eliot nodded his agreement just as a loud commotion started in the barnyard. Someone was yelling and Dickens could be heard, barking his 'get away' bark. The two men hurried out to see what was happening.
The scene that greeted them brought a smile to each of their faces. There was Hiram Rodale, perched precariously on the top rail of the horse corral, alternately cursing Dickens, who was barking and growling just below him, and yelling at Luke, who was almost doubled over with laughter, to call Dickens off.
Quickly sizing up the situation, John called Dickens who immediately came to him, all the while throwing growls over his shoulder at Hiram. "You can come down, now. It's all right," he called to Hiram. Then: "Here, Luke, come take this beast and introduce him to Hiram. Tell him we'll have no repeat of this scene. Now."
Luke did as he was told, controlling the dog and asking Hiram to hold out his hands and let Dickens sniff them. Dickens did so and then lifted his leg, missing Hiram's boot by half an inch or so. Then, having offered his opinion, he walked off without a backward glance. It was all Luke and Eliot could do to control themselves. Even John had to hide a smile.
Hiram was furious at being made a fool but thought it best to try and hide it; he'd have his revenge, especially on the boy Luke. The thought of what he'd do with Luke brought a little smile to his face. John, seeing the smile, thought it meant Hiram had seen some of the humor in the scene just passed, and it made him feel a bit better toward the man.
"Well, Hiram," John said, approaching the man and putting a hand on his shoulder, "I apologize for Dickens' manners. It'll not happen again. Now, let's go over to the hay barn and see where you'll be sleeping."
That night, whispering in bed, Luke told J.J. how he distrusted Hiram, was almost afraid of him. "I don't know, J.J., he just didn't seem right. That 'no work on the Sabbath', I think it's just because he's lazy. Your pa knows, too; he just hired the man to please the widow Noyes. But mark my words," he said, turning in J.J.'s arms, "there's something wrong here and it'll come out before the summer's over." He hadn't told J.J. about the way Hiram had looked at him. That, he thought, was best left alone for the time being.
Hiram brought his few things up to the farm the next day and settled into the hay barn. John started him with cleaning the milking stalls and scrubbing them down with soap. Luke, who was repairing and oiling the plow harness, looked in on him now and then and had to admit that the man was doing a passable job. Perhaps the man wasn't lazy after all.
At the mid-day meal Hiram asked to say the prayer and John allowed him the privilege. It was a long, rambling prayer, full of pleadings to God for forgiveness and mercy. By the time he was finished, Louisa had made up her mind that he would not say the prayer at supper. The boys would not enjoy waiting through it and besides, Hiram's prayer was more depressing than strictly called for at a meal.
Luke almost had to ask to be excused from the table. Hiram's prayer was very like those his father had said and, when Luke dared a glance, he had been shaken to see his father's expression on Hiram's face, that twisted look of triumph mixed with fear. Luke had little appetite for the meal that followed.
That night, at the evening meal, J.J. said the prayer, short and to the point. Hiram never took his eyes off J.J. during the prayer and, in fact, Luke caught him looking at J.J. frequently through the meal. J.J., full of the day's news, didn't seem to take any notice of the man.
The next three days went along smoothly, with Hiram proving himself to be a hard, and un-complaining, worker. He was always courteous to Louisa, and never less than respectful to John or, when he worked at Lilac Farm, to Eliot. He tried to make friends with Luke but Luke remained aloof; there was still something about Hiram he didn't trust.
The third Sunday in April, Hiram's first with the family, dawned clear and unseasonably warm, almost as if the wet, cool spring had been cut short and the warmth of summer had taken charge.
Hiram
accompanied the family to the
Services seemed to drag on interminably with Reverend Shaffner's sermon on God's all seeing eye seeming longer and, to be kind, less interesting, than usual. Even Louisa had trouble concentrating and found herself wishing she was outside, like a truant from school. It occurred to her to wonder if perhaps Reverend Shaffner felt the same and this sermon was his way of doing penance for his thoughts. She dismissed the idea with a shrug and tried again to pay attention to his words.
Services over, the family was in high spirits on the drive back to the farm. It was decided that much of the day's work could wait in favor of a little recreation and general enjoyment of the day.
With clothes changed and the essential chores completed, Louisa shooed the boys out, telling them to be back in an hour for dinner. Tom immediately found his notebooks and sat in the shade on the porch to complete his plan for reorganizing certain procedures at the bank. Luke and J.J. decided to walk over the hill to the stream and perhaps take a swim if the water wasn't too cold.
Once out of sight of the house, J.J. took Luke's arm and pulled him close. "It's so beautiful, Luke, isn't it? Look at the grass on the hill, and the poppies starting to bloom."
Luke put his arm around J.J.'s waist and looked at him. "Yes, it's beautiful J.J., but only because you're here." He hugged him close. "You make it beautiful."
J.J. hugged back. "No, it's you who does that. It was never like this, before you came, before I loved you, before I was whole." He laughed and broke away, trotting on ahead. When he reached the thick stand of willows along the creek he stopped and turned, so Luke could see him. Then he brazenly ran his hand over his crotch and squeezed his hardening sex through the rough cloth of his jeans. Luke broke into a run.
A few minutes later they were both naked, lying on the soft, new grass growing along the creek bank. "Oh, Luke," J.J. whispered as Luke slowly entered him, "do you suppose God..." He let out a low groan as Luke pressed against that secret place, deep inside him. "Do you suppose God does see everything? Even this?"
"I don't know, J.J. I don't know much about God. Now shush. We mustn't make too much noise." He pressed against the secret place again and J.J. let out another groan.
"Why not. There's no one to hear."
This last was, unfortunately, not true. Crouched behind a small but dense pine tree, Hiram Rodale listened and watched them with lust filled eyes. He had been on his way back from his services, walking across the grazing fields, when he came upon the creek and it's stand of willow. He'd decided to sit for a moment and contemplate the lessons of this morning's readings, which was what he was doing when he heard Luke and J.J. He had quickly hidden himself, thinking the boys might strip down for a swim and he'd be able to catch a glimpse of J.J., naked. His hopes were answered, beyond his dreams.
His sex had grown painfully stiff in the confines of his trousers and he worked silently to release it, never taking his eyes off the scene before him. As he watched he began to think of himself as Luke, taking J.J.'s body, pleasuring himself with it. He admired Luke's body, had wanted it from the first moment he laid eyes on it there in John Williams' barn, but only until he had seen J.J. Since that moment he had become obsessed with finding a way of getting into J.J.'s body. Now, here, in front of him, J.J. was doing with Luke exactly what Hiram wanted J.J. to do with him. Exactly what Hiram thought about every night as he relieved himself with his hand, as he was doing now.
Though he almost bit through his lip when he reached his climax he still could not keep a soft groan from escaping. It might have been heard, too, except that Luke and J.J. were making noises of their own and were far too deep in each other's pleasure to hear anything outside of themselves.
Later, after Luke and J.J. had gone, Hiram crept out from his hiding place and lay down in the grass where they had been. He took his sex in hand again, unable to think of anything but what had taken place exactly where he now lay. He didn't bother to muffle his cries this time.
Hiram came to dinner late, and in trousers that bore some small stains but he seemed not to notice. To Louisa he seemed almost in a trance but she attributed it to an excess of religious zeal. He said almost nothing during the meal and asked to be excused even before the pudding was served.
In the hay barn Hiram sat in the dimness and, as a plan formed in his mind, his mouth twisted into an expression of dark pleasure. All he needed was to get J.J. alone for a few minutes. Once he had a little talk with him, J.J. would be his, for as long as he wanted him. A small chuckle escaped Hiram's lips as he realized that, when he tired of J.J., he would be able to get Luke the same way.
His chance came that very night. A little before nine o'clock, as the family was preparing to go to bed, John asked Luke to give him a hand cutting some wood for the stove, a chore which had been neglected during the lazy afternoon. As soon as John and Luke were out of the parlor, Hiram stood and said his good night to Louisa, then, catching J.J.'s eye, said, "Do you suppose you could help me with the straw for my bed young man? It takes two to handle one of those bales and..."
"Sure, Mr. Rodale. I'll be happy to help." He wished his mother good night and then followed Hiram out to the hay barn. He thought it odd that Hiram had cleared out his bed straw as it had been down only four nights but he shrugged to himself. Perhaps the man wet in his sleep, he thought with a smile.
They brought a bale of straw from the back of the barn and released the wires holding it together. Then they spread it evenly over the pallet that made Hiram's bed. When they finished Hiram put his hand on J.J.'s buttocks and patted him gently.
"You know, J.J.," he said quietly, "it isn't right that a brother should pleasure his brother. That is incestuous and wrong, wrong by all of God's laws. Besides," he pulled J.J. closer, moving his hand firmly over the mounds of flesh, "it takes a man to rightly pleasure a boy, not another boy." His voice dropped to a murmur. "And a boy to pleasure a man."
J.J. was so shocked he didn't know what to do. What was this man talking about, a brother pleasuring a brother? And a man with a boy? That part suddenly sank in and J.J. leaped back, pushing Hiram away. "What are you talking about?"
Hiram tried to move closer but J.J. kept the distance between them. "You know very well what I'm talking about, boy." His face contorted into what was supposed to be a smile and he reached out to touch J.J.'s crotch. "Don't play like you don't know. I saw you out there, you and your brother, rutting in the grass like a pair of rabbits." He reached for J.J. again and J.J. shoved him back, hard. Hiram was caught off balance and fell heavily onto the freshly made bed.
"Oh, so you like to play rough, do you?" That twisted smile came back. "Well, so do I. In fact, I like it better that way." He started to get up.
J.J. stepped back. "Don't you come near me. If Pa finds out..."
Hiram barked a laugh. "Oh, no, boy. You won't say anything because I have far better stories to tell. Stories of you and your brother, you like a bitch in heat and him like a street dog, buggering you with that big root of his, and you crying out for more."
"You wouldn't."
"Or shall I tell how you traded places, him the whore and you the stud, filling his mouth with yourself, choking him with your seed, and proud of it, too." He reached out to J.J. "Those are the stories I shall tell, boy, unless you come to me, let me show you how it feels to have a man inside you."
"J.J.? Are you out here?" It was John.
"One word about this, boy, and I'll tell him all the things he doesn't wish to know." Hiram's eyes lit up. "Or your mother."
J.J. stood frozen for a moment. Then he turned on his heel, calling, "I'm here Pa. Be there directly."
Hiram pulled himself up. "A day, boy. Two at most. If you're not in my bed then, I swear to God I'll tell them. Now go along." He swatted J.J. on the buttocks and laughed.
When J.J. crawled into bed a little later, Luke knew something was wrong. He folded J.J. into his arms and held him until he was ready to talk about it.
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To be continued.
Comments, suggestions or criticisms always appreciated and always answered.
Greg Bowden