Date: Fri, 26 May 2017 19:13:55 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Off the Magic Carpet 13

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/military/off-the-magic-carpet/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your
local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
**TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

I left him there and considered, looking out from the window at the
darkening sky. Maybe God really has watched over me, of us. I was a
Catholic because that's what we were. Now, though, I was seeing more. I
thought I'd lost everything when I was barely a man and he sent me Beth and
Sammy and Milt and Gunny. I was ripped away from my family and shipped to
the horrors of war, but lived. Beth's death undid me, but He granted her
wish as well, to see me and Sammy there for each other before He took
her. And now He's sent me a set of men and boys who may be some of the best
there are. I shook my head in wonderment, watching the light fade over the
field, the rain-washed haze of drying mud making the last rays gleam and
the early stars explode in sparkles. I looked back on my selfish prayer the
night before and sent a silent, "Thank you for everything" heavenwards. For
the first time in a long time, I think I meant it.

*****

Off the Magic Carpet 13: Knitting a Family

By Bear Pup

*****

Things settled into a new routine quickly. Slim and Gunny were the perfect
team, making sure both ranches could make the year. Baxter got his puppy
dog, but Bull soon found that me and Slim were happy to 'pitch in' and,
surprisingly, Buff was even more so. Apparently, Buff and Baxter had a
similar appreciation of bite-sized packages.

Sammy, well, Sammy made me so proud I could burst. I noticed within a
couple days that Ray was flirting shamelessly with Kent, obviously at
Sammy's instigation, and the boy gained confidence nearly by the hour. I
knew precisely when Sammy finally got Kent to the point that the boy worked
up the courage to ask Sammy about sex.

Kent had spent the day puffing himself up more and more, both with false
courage and anxiety. When he and Sammy came back from a chore in the
ravines, Kent looked like he was floating along above his horse, eyes
bright and wide. The next day, he couldn't even eat breakfast and jumped at
the sound of silverware. He spent the entire day looking at everyone
constantly, clearly checking if 'PERVERT' had been stenciled on his
forehead. That night I heard some very satisfying sounds coming from
Sammy's room and smiled.

Kent was a new man after that. He constantly deferred to the guys
(especially Sammy) but would chip in with ideas instead of shutting down
when asked. I made up an errand for Sammy and Gunny in Winfield and slipped
Gunny enough to buy Sammy a really nice pair of Liermann's boots as a
surprise. Sammy strutted back onto the ranch late that day like the
Cock-o-the-Walk, and Kent nearly wet himself praising how wonderful they
looked on the young man who he obviously considered his hero.

Why Gunny? I wanted Ray to have his chance at the big hoss of a lad. He
wasted little time. I am pretty sure that, with Gunny and Sammy gone, I was
the only one around to hear the hell-fire commotion in the Old Barn when,
I'm guessing, Kent first got to ride a man-stallion. From the sounds, he
acquitted himself right well, and I was pretty sure that Ray had a new
saddle-buddy in the making. Turned out I was wrong on one point; I wasn't
the only one to hear. The look Stu gave me when I went into the kitchen
made 'lecherous' seem like 'lazy'.

I paused. It had been a while since I'd caught up with Stu. The kitchen was
thick with the indescribable smell of baking bread and simmer beef. I
pulled around a chair as he worked on a shortcrust. The dough was so packed
with butter that it glowed. He worked it quickly on the marble board he
kept in the old icebox. "You happy here, Stu?" He smiled crookedly and
nodded. "No, Stu, I don't mean with the job. I mean are you... happy?" He
turned and looked me full on.

"Sure, Sam. Why?"

"I worry, Stu, about all the guys. The others, well, they have tells or
they say things that show their mood, you know. Stu, I've watched you cook
and rope and ride and cuss out cows and clean tack and even at a dance in
town. And I have never once seen your features change. I just worry,
Stu. You are the steadiest hand I've ever known. I want you to be more than
happy with the work and the place and the pay; I want you to, well, get
what you really want."

He turned back to the crust and started assembling two deep pies plates
with it. I thought for a long time that he'd simply switched off, that the
question had been too personal or maybe even painful. When he spoke, that
slow, quiet voice was a bit different. There was no stoicism there, but
some deeper sincerity. "I loved Beth, you know."

The words rocked me. "Not like that. I loved her. I love Sammy. Even
Gunny. I'm coming to love Kent. Probably Doug." His slow voice didn't
change cadence, but some incredible light flowed through it. Something
undefined, perhaps undefinable. Something... holy? "That's what makes me
happy Sam, to love people. Dote on 'em. Make their favorite food. Watch 'em
be happy. Watch their dreams. Even love them as they pass on. I think I
loved Beth most, though. She was such a beautiful soul, Sam; your wife was
one of the most-special souls I've known."

I sat there, my mouth open, and I could feel the tears start to
prickle. "Stu, I." I fought not to break down, and knew it was a losing
battle. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. To know that she was
loved like that. And S-S-S-Sammy." I did weep then, letting all the grief
and worry out. All that time that I was in in the War, terrified of what
was happening to my beloved Beth and my young son, they were surrounded by
this profound, beautiful love. And I never knew. I longed for it and never
knew.

I felt his hand on my shoulder as I cried. When I finally got to the
leaking tears stage, he gently pulled my face up until he could see my
eyes. "That's what I want, Sam. Love just like that. I could not be happier
than I am here, with you, with this whole big family you've built. You
don't ever need to ask me again." I am not sure I've ever really looked Stu
in the eyes. What I saw there was a depth that I'd never imagined. It was
like trying to stare down the midnight sky.

My eyes flicked back and forth across his face, always returning to the
eyes. I knew from the ranch records that Stu was only a handful of years
older than me. But the wrinkles matched the eyes they framed, the eyes of a
thousand-year-old shaman. His face had the subtle structure of the Indians
from the old books even though he had none of the complexion. But those
eyes? In those eyes I saw the spirit of eagles, bears, coyotes, ravens; I
saw a buffalo for every star in the sky; I saw tenderness, determination
and, most of all, a love for which I had no name.

He looked away and broke the spell, returning to his pies. It took me a
long time to come back to myself fully, and I found that I was no longer
grieving; no longer burying my grief or even trying to brave it out. Where
there had been grief for Beth, only that love remained. It was as if I
heard her whisper, 'Thank you, Sam.'

I shook myself as I watched Stu carefully decant some rich, yellow batter
into the prepared pie plates, absorbed, or seeming to be, in his work. I
whispered, no idea why I knew a whisper was required, "Thank you, Stu." And
went back into the yard. I finished up a lot of the tack chores just as
Sammy came back with the Magic Boots to be oohed and ahhed over by the guys
and especially Kent.

Dinner was a stew thick enough to stand a spoon in with a thick, dark,
heavy bread. The shortcrust I'd seen earlier was revealed as still-warm
buttermilk pies with that signature crackly top-crust that the custard
creates on its own. We retired to smoke and chat, and I noted that both
Bull and Kent had now become regulars in the shit-sessions. Kent and Sammy,
as they often did, threw a ball around.

The next day was so different as to belong to a separate universe. I was
doing maintenance midmorning on the water-tower and the washhouse, just the
regular tighten this and grease that. The sound was not unlike a shot and I
turned to the New Barn where I knew Smitty and Doug were working on the
horse stalls. Doug erupted from the doors and ran full-out to the
bunkhouse. Even at that remove, I could hear the bolt slammed home. Smitty
was late out of the gate, obviously tucking himself back into his jeans. He
pounded and whispered through the bunkhouse door, then got louder. Finally,
I could make out the sounds of pleading. Oooookay. Time for Mr Boss to step
in.

Smitty jumped a foot when I coughed. He'd been knocking and slapping on the
wood, trying every possible entreaty of in the tune of 'sorry, please and
never'. I gave him a stern look and he gawped at me. "Don't you have work
to be doing, Corporal Smith?" He scurried off like I'd threatened to shoot
him.

I didn't bother knocking or anything else. I went around to the side and
used my passkey to open the door that the hands had covered with coat-hooks
to the point no one recalled it was a door at all. It screamed in protest
and I saw Doug startle like a rabbit where he huddled on his bunk.

I turned and locked the door behind me, plunging the room back into the
relative dark of the curtained window. I grabbed a chair and swung in to
sit well away from Doug. The fact that I sat silently, patiently,
increasingly unnerved the young man.

"I-I-I-I-I'm, uh, sorry, Sergeant. I, um, I'll, well."

"Hush, Doug."

He looked at me exactly like the hen at the fox. I found it fascinating
that such a quiet man could be so utterly undone by another person's
silence.

"Let me tell you a story, PFC York. It was when I was, oh, perhaps 15. I
had two best friends, Jack and John if you can believe it. Jack would take
every dare and loved the attention it got him. John wanted things to be
simple, even though they never really were. One day, late summer after
school started, Jack started talking about the train trellis down on Caney
Creek. He was gonna jump off, which we all knew guys had done before as the
creek was plenty deep.

"Jack poked and prodded and cajoled John until the boy agreed to make the
leap with him. On the day of, I was one of the guys who went along to
watch. They got up there, with a guy on each end with ears to the rails to
make sure it was okay. John looked and turned white as a sheet and
refused. He begged Jack not to jump, that it was too shallow at that time
of year, that he'd get hurt or killed. Jack laughed at him. So did some of
the guys who came to watch the show.

"John, well he ran off and rode home quick as lightning, absolutely
mortified he'd backed out just because it was too high, too shallow and too
dangerous. Jack, well, of course Jack went through with it. It's who Jack
was!

"What do you think about that, Doug? You wonder why I mention Jack and
John?"

Doug stared at me. Stared long and hard. "You think I said no to Smitty
about, um, something. And that I was stupid. That Jack was brave and
honest. That John was a welcher and a wimp and a wuss, right? That's what
you're telling me. That saying yes then backing out is a c-c-coward thing,
right?"

"Interesting thought, Doug. Actually, Jack hit the water like a brick and
the bottom a second later. The Doc, when we got Jack over the Cedar Vale,
said he was lucky he'd just broke his leg and not his back. John nearly
refused to come to school the next day. When he got there, he was the one
they all were in awe of. He knew better and had the guts to say no. Not
that he wouldn't have jumped, but that it wasn't the right time. That
spring, after the rains had raised the creek, he jumped off the trellis all
on his lonesome. Jack was still on a crutch at the time.

"As for why I'm talking about Jack and John, I think you said no to
something Smitty wanted that you knew neither of you were ready for. And if
either person thinks that, they are, by definition, right. You saw danger
he didn't and stopped it before crutches were required. Anyway, I have a
ranch to run. You relax for a while then get back to chores, please, and
have a good day."

I stood and Doug's voice jumped out. "There's no trellis over the Caney."

Without turning, I started, "Oh, Did I say Caney, I meant--"

"No, you didn't. I get it. Thank you, Sergeant." I made damned sure he
could not see my smile.

I left by the main door, noting that the bolts did not shoot home behind
me. I made my way to the New Barn. Smitty was there, trying to fix a
post-beam with one hand on the hammer, the other on the nail and third
holding everything in place. I watched that not work for several minutes
until he hollered out a major cuss word and dropped the hammer, grabbing
his thumb instead.

"Hurts, don't it?"

I thought he'd crap his jeans at that. He jumped and spun. When he got his
voice back, he put on a surly demeanor that didn't really work with his
dimples and lashes. "Yes, sir. I mean, hitting your thumb with a
gull-darned hammer does hurt, doesn't it?"

I pulled myself up to sit on a cross-beam of a stall. "Oh, I didn't mean
the hammer. I meant when you push something too far too fast and you break
it. Like a horse run too hard, you know?" His eyes were wide and
worried. "I have a problem, Corporal. You want to hear about it?" He nodded
cautiously.

"I have two employees who think they screwed up because ain't either of 'em
talking to the other. Both are tough and brash and young and they think
that everything has to be their fault, and that everything has to go a
thousand miles an hour or not at all. I know you probably don't think about
that much, but it can be a problem. So... both these very bright and
hard-working young men are damned well useless to me right now. Any idea
how I should handle it, Corporal?"

"Well, let them work it out, Sergeant?"

"Huh. You think that would work? And how long do I wait, Corporal?" He
dropped his yes to the floor and scuffed his boots.

"So how you gonna fix it, Sergeant?"

"Well, I could send one of 'em off the ranch," his head popped up and a
look of true desperation infused his face, "or I can suggest that the one
that was pushing start pulling instead."

"P-P-P-P-Pulling?"

"Well, there are two ways to get a cow to move, right? You can push her --
you know, scare her and wrangle her until she does what you want -- or you
can get your horse or another cow out front and she just follows. With me?"
He nods, thoughtfully. "Which of those works for most of the cows?"

"Well, the ones that are hardest to work with, you have to wrangle. But,
like, the whole rest of the herd? They follow. So, well, pulling works
best."

"A good answer. So, I've got one employee trying to yank another along and
it just doesn't seem to be working. Can you think how someone might 'pull'
another?"

His face was now a mask of real anguish. "NO! I don't! He *wants* this! I
*know* he does. I, uh, mean the people you're talkin' bout, um, do, did,
whatever. But ain't neither of them COWS!!"

I chuckle. "No, they ain't, Corporal. But people, well, they can be a lot
like cows sometimes. You 'pull' a herd by showing the other cows where to
go, that it's safe, that it's okay, that nothing bad happens. It's one
reason pushing don't work as well. The cow don't know if there's a hole or
a snake there cuz no one's been there yet that she's seen. Course she
balks. But you ride out proud on your horse and click and chitch and coo
and come-on-yall, and she just goes, 'Oh. That don't look so bad.' Don't
you think that might work with people, too?"

Smitty is thoughtful in the extreme. I look up sudden and say, "Oh my. I
didn't see it was so late. I gotta run. By the way Corporal... do you know
where I might find Doug? Let him know I think everything's fine and not to
worry. Why don't you give him that message soon as you can, hear?"

I left him nodding slowly. I watched form the window of the Big House as he
finally emerged, screwed up his courage and walked (ran) to the bunkhouse.

One other detail I'd like to note. You may have noticed that we've got nine
hands in an eight-bed bunkhouse. That was the last problem I dealt with
that very annoying day. Buff came to me that afternoon and asked to speak
to me. "Sir, as one Sergeant to another, I need to ask. You know that that
those twins share a bunk, right?"

I smiled, wondering where this was going. "Yes, Buff, I do. I understand
they've always slept that way since they was kids. Why do you ask?"

"Um, sir, well," For a rodeo star and fellow-Sergeant, he could blush like
a neon sign. "Well, I was wondering if you knew if, uh, well, anything else
was going on?"

I gave Buff a long and not particularly friendly look. "No, and I don't
care, not one bit. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, GOD, sir! Nothing like that! I was, uh, well, you know, just
wondering, well..."

"Sergeant, will we get to the question sometime today? We've only got an
hour fore Stu rings the bell...?"

"Uh, if, uh, well, they'd um, you know, be open to a, a, a, third?"

A slow and rich smile covered my face. A few days earlier, I'd been headed
to the old barn to do a chicken count in the egg coupes. I got there to
hear the following discussion.

"Oh, God, Archie, that's soooooo good. Please don't stop."

"I could never stop, Ollie, you know that."

"I love this, but what about... you know, more?"

"I'm worried, Ollie, " a loud moan erupted as, apparently, Archie drove his
point home, "you know it's hard to know for sure."

"But that Buff! He keeps a-looking. O. My. God! Do that again, Archie!"

I high-tailed it away at that point. Eavesdropping on the only example of
true Brotherly Love I've ever heard was just not in me. Back to Buff's shy
and worried question.

"Buff, I never speak for my hands. I never speak about personal matters to
others, neither. I'll say this as, let's say general observation. Sowing a
few hints just *might* yield a big ole crop of fun. You know, with the
right soil and the right.... rain?" I never before nor since seen that
cowboy move so fast. I smiled to myself. Yepper, a right satisfying day.

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
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