Date: Sun, 4 May 2008 13:59:10 -0500 From: fireflywatcher ford Subject: Story: Short Grass Prairie, chapter five The usual disclaimers apply, if you are under eighteen or sexual content is illegal where you live, read no further. I reserve all rights to this original fictional work unless I give written permission to reproduce or publish it. I thank you all for reading my story and for your comments. Please write fireflywatcher@gmail.com I thank all the many authors who have inspired me by their work. I'm still trying to improe by their example and welcome comments to better my work. I encourage you to donate to nifty. I thank them for providing this archive as a place for writers to share their work. Short Grass Prairie by fireflywatcher- Phil Ford Chapter Five Schooling only went through the eighth grade with most students graduating when they reached fourteen. There had been no schools anywhere near the ranch when Jake and I grew up, and they were just being started as Sam and Nate neared graduation age. At thirteen and fourteen years old, both boys easily passed the graduation exam from what they were taught at home. Harlan and Rufus could probably pass it as well, but we continued to teach them at home and made them wait until they were older to take the exam, with Sam and Nate as their main teachers, but a tutor for higher maths, Latin, and Greek was found among the European merchants. The additional study would bring the four boys up to the level needed for college entrance, which all four expressed an interest in. Wes shared a house with Justin and Bart took a shotgun house by himself. The dairy and feedlots had the most demanding schedules because cows and goats must be milked twice a day and stock had to be fed. Milk would hold over the weekend for processing into butter and cheese because of the ice and duties rotated giving milkers days off. Extra feed could be put out to last over the weekends, too. Wes fell into the little brother mode with Justin, hanging around at the dairy waiting for the work to be finished or lending a hand if he could. The slaughterhouse was done for the day by mid-afternoon, so he'd go to the house and cook something for supper, first. He'd learned to cook from his dad and every chance he got to watch or help in the kitchen, he'd pick up something new. He learned to cook a few Mexican dishes from Luis and some Irish cooking from Ian. The staple southern style most people fixed, he needed no help with. Most anything he needed was his for the taking, from meat to produce grown in the garden. He'd even planted a little plot beside the house he shared with Justin. After he finished cooking, he'd walk over to the dairy. "Travis and Bob are eating supper with us", Justin announced, when Wes showed up. "They had some business to attend to and passed by this morning. I asked them over, if that's OK. What you got cooking for tonight, buddy?" "I made something my paw taught me. Sometimes we'd be scrambling for something to fix, but with a few extra ingredients like we have around here, it's even better. I went crawdad fishing over along the creek and made a pot of gumbo", Wes told him. "I never ate none of that nor any crawdads, either", Justin replied, "But you ain't cooked nothing bad yet. What's in it?" "First you boil up the crawdads and dip them out to cool. I put a couple of chicken backs and some sausage I brought home in the broth to cook next. Then I put tomatoes, peppers, onions, garlic, some of my scrawny celery, a squash, and a lot of okra in after that. You only put the crawdad tails in, so I peeled them and put them back in. Then I took half butter and half flour and browned it slow in a skillet and added it. The backs I scooped out and just put the chicken meat back in and last I added rice to the pot. Salt and black pepper is all the seasoning I know to put", Wes explained, "But I added a hot pepper, too." "I can almost smell it, it sounds so good", Justin commented. "Let me wash up and we'll head home. I'm done a little early today, myself." Justin was still pretty filthy after washing up as he was most days. The floor of a milking parlor with a hundred cows passing through was like a mud puddle by the time milking was done, but it wasn't mud and had to be cleaned out twice a day after each milking. Travis and Bob sat on the front porch sipping from a jug as Wes and Justin walked up. "You're ripe today", Bob pronounced, "I could smell you before I could see you." "You just keep on sipping on that jug", Justin answered him, "And I'll have this perfume all washed off in a jiffy." Wes had Justin a change of clothes laid out and the tub half filled on the back porch. It was a daily routine. Justin stripped of handing each piece of clothing to Wes, who dropped them in a smaller wash tub, saying as he did every day, "I never would have thought I'd bathe more than once a week until I started dairying." Wes nodded in agreement and poured warm water mixed from the tank on the stove with cooler water from the well into the big tub. When Justin sat down in it, Wes poured more over his head to get Justin wet down. Them Wes took a big bar of soap and proceeded to lather Justin from head to toe. Justin always got hard and Wes never neglected pulling back his foreskin to clean him up good. Then Wes rinsed him off and dried him good as he got out of the tub. Nothing ever happened between the two, but today as Wes dried Justin's legs, that stiff prick was right at his face and on impulse Wes gave it a little kiss. "Whoa there, little brother", Justin exclaimed, "I might just marry you if you do that very often." Wes blushed. "You're too good to Justin", Travis told him. He and Bob had come onto the back porch just as Wes gave Justin the kiss. "You guys both take care of each other good. Whatever you got cooking smells mighty fine, too." "It looks like you've been doing some growing there Wes", Bob commented, "Maybe a head higher than you used to be." "I have", Wes replied. "I'm already taller now than my paw was. My feet are still the same size, though. Eating regular and sleeping in a soft bed must do me some good." Of the clothes Wes had laid out, Justin only slipped on the denim pants. He took a deep draw on the jug and they went to the kitchen to eat. It was fill your own bowl from the pot on the stove. Wes had cornbread made and sweet tea to drink with the meal. After they all finished eating, Justin asked Wes, "Bob and Travis have more business in town tomorrow. Can they bunk in your bed tonight and you share mine? It will shorten their ride." "We all chipped in and brought you a present, too", Travis said. "Sure thing, but I don't need no present to agree it." Wes was curious as to what they brought though. They led him to the pole barn in the back and had brought him a young mare, almost ready to foal. "She's one of them Dos Pasos ponies, and we got her cheap because she's a little small", Bob revealed. "She should foal in a few weeks from the look of her and she's only green broke so she'll take some work." "Oh, she is such a beauty", Wes exclaimed. He hugged both of them praising the mare. "They're the breed that has that fancy prance to their gait", Justin piped in. "I don't think she's up to strutting her stuff until after she drops, though." Wes even joined in drinking from the jug that evening. He usually didn't drink. It was a Friday and he was off, but Justin would have morning milking so they all turned in early. Wes slept wrapped in Justin's arms. During the night, he rolled around chest to chest with Justin. Thinking Justin was sleeping soundly, he said, "I guess you know I'm sweet on you, don't you brother?" Surprising him, Justin pulled Wes into a kiss, backing off only enough to reply that he felt the same way about Wes. Moments later they were both asleep again. When Wes awoke, finding Justin was gone to milk, the bed felt very empty to him. Travis and Bob had coffee made and were drinking it at the kitchen table. "Mornin' ", Wes told them, and he started right in fixing breakfast. They only stayed long enough to fill their bellies and were off to tend to whatever business they had for the day. Justin was back at the house by nine that morning. "Let's go for a swim, Wes", he requested. The sun was high and the day was warm already. Grabbing a blanket and a change of clothes, they headed to the deep hole on the Concho above the divide from the Colorado. They tethered Wes's big gelding and Justin's stud horse to graze in the tall grass and played in the water like younger boys all morning. When the pangs of hunger hit them, they dried on the big rock, dressed, and rode back home. Walking in through the back door, the breeze was streaming through all the windows and the screened doors. The curtains reached for the ceiling and fluttered down again. "We have some unfinished business from last night", Justin insisted. He lifted Wes in his arms while humming and singing a melody and danced him around the house. Even with their lips locked together and their tongues battling for dominance, Justin never let the melody falter. Justin stopped before the bed, kneeling and removing their boots, then moving up he deftly released button after button and snap after snap until their clothes fell in a pile at their feet. He lifted Wes above the pile and stepped away from it himself. Pressing their groins together, they locked lips again and as Justin hummed on they continued their dance. Wes' lithe little feet never touched the ground as he was held aloft with his ass cheeks cupped in Justin's hand. The larger man finally came to a rest leaning back into the down mattress, pulling Wes on top of him. Looking through the window Travis exclaimed to Bob, "That is the hottest thing I ever laid eyes on!" They'd brought Wes a red saddle to match his boots, for the little mare. Bob sat it on the porch and they left silently, not wanting to disturb the moment. As Travis and Bob neared the ranch, Travis told Bob, "You better give me the best make up sex you ever put out tonight. I'm pissed we never had a dance like Wes and Justin. I might just pout about it all week." "I'm with you on this", Bob replied. "We've been missing out, bad." With no barn dance and a new moon that Saturday night, the flutter of the curtains in the breeze and the chirping crickets made the only sounds disturbing the night. Each moan and gasp from Wes or Justin was stifled below a whisper as they explored each other's bodies. Wes engulfed Justin's prong and swirled his tongue in circles around the head, stopping to beg Justin to teach him how to please him. "You're doing great", Justin answered in a whisper. The intensity had Justin digging his fingernails into his palm. Wes gulped down his reward and was flipped on his back after the prong gave up it's last throb. Justin dove to the base of Wes' dick and buried his nose in the fine curly hair there. He worked a finger, then two, then three, into Wes' back door, twisting and gently driving his fingers in and out. "I'm not too small am I?", asked Wes. "You're less than a finger's width shorter than me", Justin answered. "Do you think I'm too small?" "You're perfect", Wes insisted. "Will yours fit inside me? I want to feel what it's like, so bad." "After you give me a mouthful we'll give it a try", Justin replied. "It will hurt some at first, but I'll go slow." Justin felt Wes jump when he touched his love button. He avoided it after that trying to extend the time stretching Wes open before Wes spurted. When it was obvious Wes couldn't hold off any longer Justin savagely attacked Wes' prick tip with his tongue, putting four fingers to work on the love button at the same time. Then he shared the cream with Wes. Justin was so worked up from the extended play he greased himself and Wes' pucker with balm and thrust Wes' knees to rest on his shoulders. He scooted close and began his entrance. "Push out when I push in", he instructed Wes. He buried his tongue down Wes' throat and tugged at the tiny nipples on Wes' chest while he drove inward. Justin was fully seated in one slow smooth motion. Wes showed no sign of discomfort. Justin's fingers had done their job well. Within a few pumps, Wes lifted himself to meet Justin halfway on each stroke. Releasing Wes' legs, Wes wrapped them around Justin's waist. The long intense session ended when Wes' orgasm brought Justin off at the same time, gripping Justin's dick with each spasm. They lay entwined until Justin felt Wes had hardened again. The bitch had snuck in the house when the wind blew the screen door back a little. She licked Justin's foot which had him howling with laughter. That break signaled the start of round two. Justin took the position on his hands and knees, spreading his legs to give Wes the perfect height for entry. He guided Wes' hands to grip his hips and said, "Give it to me rough, baby." Wes drew near to spurting several times but the urgency lifted each time. Ages later they came in unison a final time before sleep overtook them. "I've loved you the whole last year I've lived with you", Wes declared, handing Justin a cup of coffee, "Couldn't you tell?' "I'm a little slow I guess", Justin replied. "We've got lost time to make up. You ain't sore are you?" "Naw, I'm fine. It was you getting plugged so long anyway ", Wes answered. For the next month they sought out every opportunity to be together and got a lot of slack from their jobs. Then being in love and being together was just a comfortable part of living. The next year was occupied in our free time corresponding with colleges, making inquiries for the four boys. One had decided to study medicine, one law, one business, and one chose engineering. Finding one school offering all four fields of study that would accept the boys was quite a task. Sam and Nate were referred to as half Spanish rather than Comanche or Mexican because no schools would have accepted them. Exams were required at each institution. We three dads with our partners and sons took a private rail car to the east and visited the three schools that met our needs. Arriving at a decision we purchased a house adjacent to campus, set up bank accounts, hired a housekeeper and a workman to tend the grounds and horses that would be needed, and arranged for the same rail car to bring them home during the month long Christmas break and during the summers. If tutors were needed, they would be obtained. Harvard and Boston had been the only option in the end. We left to boys to find their way in this strange city and returned to the ranch. I was thirty two that summer and the year was eighteen eighty seven. In eighty eight, the Englishman abandoned his holdings and sold the land for a penny an acre. We bought a fair share of it as did our hands, employees at the businesses, and our partners. While there were many buildings and lots to work cattle, it had only perimeter fencing and scattered natural watering holes for the stock. It was minimally improved. Chance, Swift, and Luis took the journey up to Fort Cobb and out to check on the ranch there. They rode in the caboose and took their horses along in a cattle car. The foreman Justin had hired had everything in order when they arrived. He and the cowboys there were honest hard working men and three of his cowboys were black men. Luis and Swift had never seen a black man and were fascinated by their appearance. When they visited the other Comanche from the winter camp, they weren't prospering as well as the men had expected. They had only increased the herds by a little over the many years. The oldest of the men, who was now their chief, explained, "The army only lets us sell our cattle to them. They take what they want, cows, steers, and bulls. They cheat us by paying less than half the fair price and by counting the numbers wrong." "All the land is privately owned now", the agent told Chance. "They can sell their cattle however they choose. I don't know what your complaints are, but that's how it is. Two thirds of the Comanche reservation lands went back to the government. There'll be a big giveaway soon to any who claim it. The law now is whatever you have inside a fence is yours." "These Comanche have their land fenced", Chance answered. "Well that's a good thing. Those that don't may loose what they've got when the giveaway starts", the agent replied. The land giveaway was set to begin in May of 1889, leaving us nearly a years notice. The boys, Luis', and the other Comacho allotments were on the edge of what remained in native hands. Chance gave the foreman a free hand and access to all the funds he needed to fence in additional land. "Fence enough to give yourself and each of your men pieces large enough to make a decent living and we'll do title work next year after the giveaway", Chance told the foreman. "Hire crews if you need to. Put off your roundups and we'll bring all the men up to get it done for you. Just build fence." The three men made their journey home just as they'd come. We did indeed go up to do the roundup that fall and the next spring once we'd done it at the ranch first. In the winter of ninety two, after the boys had returned to Boston and were in their post graduate studies, an epidemic hit Texas. Half or more of the population permanently relocated to the cemeteries. We'd shut ourselves up on the ranch and temporarily closed the businesses just as we'd done in the past. We all survived and the epidemic didn't hit Boston or cities to the east. "Dad, Dad", I heard coming from the front of the house. We hadn't sent or received mail for a year, or done any business. "Nate", I answered and swept him up in my arms, as best as I could seeing he was a healthy grown man now. "Are you all home now?", I asked. "Yes", he replied, "And with a few additions to the family." I went to the front porch and began ringing the big old bell to call everyone up to the house. "They'll think disaster has struck, for sure", I declared. There before me stood all the boys, four young ladies, two heavily pregnant and two holding babies in their arms. I held my had up, palm forward. "May as well wait a few minutes for introductions or we'll be at it for hours", I insisted. The parlor of the Taylor house filled with the immediate family of the ranch, the McCorkles, the Thorntons, and Wes. "Doctor Mrs. Amy Taylor and little Jimbob", Nate introduced. "Mrs. Sara Pearson and Jacob Samuel", Sam announced next, "But we're calling him Critter for now." Both babies had a medium olive complexion, a blending of the milk white of their mothers and the darker tones of the Comanche skin displayed by their fathers. "Mrs. Ellen Foster", Rufus told us, followed by Harlan saying, "Mrs. Louise Foster" to identify his wife. Both Foster women were soon to deliver babies of their own. Introductions of the men began with we three dads, the rest receiving a prenom of uncle or cousin in turn. They would take the small house for the moment until we could build or make other arrangements. The house in Boston was packed and closed up with the workman retained to look after things. It could be put up for sale and the contents shipped by sending a telegram. The ladies wanted to hear stories of growing up on the prairie and Indians. We wanted to hear about life in the city and how they had grown up. Mason jars with glass lids made a fine container for bottling wine. They would be amber glass to be proper, but in the cellar that was of little consequence. We had a variety of fruit wines, some made from wild grapes, and both reds and whites from domestic grapes. Ellen and Louise had a small glass each as it was thought to quiet the child so it's kicks weren't as violently felt by the expectant mother. If our daughter-in-laws were indeed stuffy Boston society prudes, as we expected, the wine loosened them up and we had an afternoon of friendly conversation. "I sure missed your single malt", Sam told Jake. "With all the Irish in Boston, I hoped to find some as good, but none were more than a close second in taste." "I'm glad you missed it", Jake replied. "There's not much else to bring you home after living in the city." "It's a crowded place with nowhere you can be alone with your thoughts", Rufus countered. "The sea and the fresh fish is great but a bass from the river suits me just fine. Even where the sky is open out on Cape Cod, fog rolls in at night and you can't see the stars. This is home." "Sam said there were two small colleges near here", Sara began, "Do you think we might find teaching positions? We all have advanced degrees." "One is Baptist and the other is Methodist. Which do you prefer?", Jake asked. "Actually I'm not religious", Sara answered. "My family is Jewish but only my grandmother is active in the faith. Amy, Louise, and Ellen are Episcopal." "With your credentials, either of them would offer you all positions", I replied. "Do you plan to practice medicine with Nate", I asked Amy. "Wye yes, that is what we hoped for", Amy responded. "Any other doctor would treat me as a nurse, but my husband better not even think such thoughts. We were forced to take minor degrees in art or music during our undergraduate studies, with the thought that we'd never use our education. The eastern view is college for women is a place to find a suitable husband and nothing more." "Do you think you accomplished that?, I asked her. "As you say it out here in Texas, take a gander at that purdy feller and tell me what you think", indicating Nate, "He can sit in my parlor and fan himself all day, just so he'll be there to look at when I get home from work." "You've got spunk, gal", I told her. "Has he shown you his bead work, yet?" "I've seen some delicate needle work he did stitching up patients", Amy answered, "I didn't know his talent went any further." That got a laugh from everyone. Some helped Luis prepare a fine Mexican meal while others got the wagons unloaded and carried into the small house. It had been unused for the most part since the boys left for college, only put to use when they were at home. Jake and I held our grandbabies, and the boys showed their wives around the place. A style of home becoming popular was called the prairie style, originating around Chicago. It had many common elements with the homes on the ranch. For work, the boys and their wives choose to build in the old county seat, and built a building to house their offices as well. They built larger homes on the ranch and since all the women had family in the Boston area, they elected to keep the large house there for use when visiting. Amy delivered Ellen's twin girls and a week later, a boy for Louise. The girls were named for their grandmothers, Constance for Ellen's mother, and June for Rufus' mother. Louise's boy was named Matt. The houses and offices in town were soon completed and the ranch returned to normal. We'd had to be more discrete and modest with the young women around all the time. The businesses had gone back to work as if only days had passed, right after the boys returned Donald McCorkle was back at home himself. He'd chosen to study banking, finance, and investment and needed one less year finish his education but had been closer to home in Fort Worth. He'd started college two years earlier than the other boys, too. While our lives behind the fences on the ranch changed very little, the businesses took some time to rebound. Others had moved in to fill the void left by our absence. Another store opened that now competed with Sean and Ned, so they concentrated on supplying stores rather than operating one. In the small towns and the larger ones, the landscape of faces was unfamiliar, fewer old acquaintances remained. Many had left when the railroad baron sold off his holdings and half of those remaining had died. Orphans openly begged in the streets and surrounded you seeking any kind of work as you passed by. All looked gaunt and hungry. They seemed to outnumber the adults remaining. Most had the small plots and houses bought by their parents. They lacked the skills necessary to produce enough food and had used any money left them already. Worst was the fact that new residents were totally disconnected from the orphans and felt neither obligation nor concern for their welfare. Amy and Nate were the first to attack the problem. Doctors traveled to their patients, rarely using their offices except to treat injuries. They saw the entire surrounding area and all the residents as they made their circuit. "It's like they say, dad", Nate told me, "Lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way. We ain't in the way and nobody's leading for us to follow, so we got to step up and do the right thing. If we get them fed for now and teach them to use the land they have, they can feed themselves and make their own living later." Amy was with Nate at the ranch house, on their way home that day. "I've been keeping some notes and giving out a little food already", she informed us. "My buggy won't carry much, though. Driving a team and a wagon is a bit much for a city woman, though. I'm just learning to handle the buggy." "I'm sure we can spare the food and whatever it takes to get the kids on their feet. I wonder why none of these churches are helping them, though", I reasoned. "I know Paw-paw and Granddad Taylor would have jumped right in to help." "Amy's and Sara's mothers are sending some money to help them out", Nate answered. "I don't know how big an area was hit with so many deaths from this flu, but it wasn't a killer epidemic further east." "The good Lord might just like leaving this part of the country empty of people like he had it", I replied. "Some years were hard when it was just the buffalo and the Comanche", Swift observed. "You should have told me my husband was Comanche and not have made me worm it out of him in bed", Amy declared. "I love him just the same." "Not that it makes much difference to the small minded", I responded, "But people thinking he's half Spanish and half white, and the son of wealthy ranchers has made a little difference. It got him into college, but he and Sam earned their degrees and deserve to be respected. I respect all the Comanche men here on the ranch and might even love Swift more because he's Comanche." "There you go again", Amy ranted, "All the wives figured out a long time ago that you men were partners. We're educated, not blind. Would you be happy with little Jimbob calling Swift uncle instead of granddad?" "I sure wouldn't", Swift answered. "I don't like that idea either", added Nate. "Amy's got her own little secret to fess up to, now." "Well, there will be another grandbaby in about six months", She revealed. "I just wanted to be certain before I said anything." I urged both Amy and Nate to put the plight of the orphans before the congregations in the area, both to help and to find homes for those too young to be left to fend for themselves. We were just beginning our spring roundup with two years of finished steers to ship to market and an overflowing number to feed out in the lots. I offered two men to distribute food, saying, "We'll have to see who volunteers." I asked if the ladies would lend their talents for a dance the coming Saturday night as well, adding, "You might convince some of the men to adopt. These grandbabies have them all yearning for children around the place. I would welcome it myself." I asked Swift later that night if he wanted more children. "We did pretty good with a Comanche boy, who looks like me", he answered. "I think we should try some white kids that look like you, now, but only if I can change my last name to Taylor. It confuses the kids." We rolled around taking turns as top man all night long as if we were trying for a baby ourselves. We'd been together nearly twenty years and were still hot for each other. We rocked in each other's arms for the longest time, waking up early that next morning. The herds with Swift's brand were up to be worked that morning and there was no choice but to get up and get to work. Swift sat astride his horse with such grace it was easy to see why the Comanche were called the Lords of the Southern Plains. His hair was trimmed short and he wore cowboy clothes, but everything about him screamed Comanche. Jake and I had always used the chute to hold a calf so we could tie it down for branding. I'd never gotten good at roping, but the lasso in Swift's hands became an extension of them, reaching out and slipping the loop smoothly over their head to tug a calf to the earth by it's own forward motion. As he dismounted, the horse kept torque on the rope, backing away if it loosened even slightly. He then bound three feet with a leather thong crafted by his own hands, leaving the fourth free so the calf could breathe. The aroma of sizzling flesh and fur as the brand left it's mark filled my senses. My execution of the same task by my method lacked the magic. Swift compared it to the buffalo hunt before the Comanche had horses. "They would drive a herd over a cliff and take the meat and hides from the pile of dead bodies. With the horse, it's a chase to the finish and a single man thrusting his spear into a noble beast. There is no waste or excess. Sometimes the beast wins. The spirit gives the gift of life to the deserving hunter and for another day, we eat." I was give out by early afternoon and I saw the same fatigue in every other face around me. There would be many more days spent just on Swift's cattle. Mine and Jake's were finished working and working all the herds might take into the summer. We called it a day and went back to the house. After a hearty meal that had cooked all morning in our absence, it was time to soak our sore muscles and I built a large blaze under the old boiler. March still held the spring water at winter's chill. It would be May before it warmed enough to swim. Chance was itching to soothe his aches so bad he checked the tap every few minutes to see if it was hot yet. We separated for stretching room and went to all three tubs knowing the fire would heat more water once all the tubs were full. I was with Swift, Jake, Dan, and Matt in the small house, all the grandpa's in one tub. "For a bunch of old men, we still look damn good", Jake commented. He was the oldest at forty five. He'd worn a mustache until it got a few grew hairs and was clean shaven again, now. Of the rest of us, none had a gray hair at all. We were in prime shape from hard work, each of us with well defined muscles and no fat as far as the eye could tell. "All the wear and tear don't show a bit. I'm getting a few wrinkle, though. How'd all of you miss out on those?" "Teat balm", Chance replied, "It does wonders for the skin among it's many fine qualities", he added giving Jake a wink. "He's telling you, you need to get your face down there and get after it", Dan responded. "Like a hog in a feed trough, so to speak. I kind of like a close view of things, myself, and I ain't got no wrinkles yet." Matt set the jug he was sipping from on the side of the tub and said, "You got one purdy little wrinkled spot, Dan, right at your back door." "I'll give you that, but I can't see down there", Dan told him. Swift got out of the water and went to the wall, tucking his knees behind his arm pits, saying, "I can, see." Then he rose and got back in the water. "Swift's a limber feller", I confirmed. "He can do more than that if he's a mind to." We passed the jug around and soaked until the water started to get cool. Through the evening we ate again and cooked food for the next day. Bed time came early. Many days to come would be like this one had been, but Saturday night, we would dance again for the first time in a while. (continued in chapter six)