Date: Mon, 12 Jan 2009 10:06:50 -0800 From: Tom Creekmur Subject: The Way Of The Heron - Part 4 * * * The Way Of The Heron By C. T. Creekmur Prequel Four Nizano * * * Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else! Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned. Especially in this day and age. Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. Historical Note: This story happens in the Willamette valley of Oregon and the town of Spring Hill in the summer of 1863. And now, on with the story! * * * NIZANO... Zeke Barnet had a full and peaceful life, and an untroubled one, until jealousy and unbounded ambition in another threatened to destroy him... ...but the spirits of the Elxa would not allow such an evil scheme to claim the life of one they had marked, guiding Zeke onto a new path, drawing others after him, and giving him a new name: NIZANO * * * Phil Caddell had lived with the Elxa for almost three years, and that was more than long enough for him to know when he was having a medicine dream. He found himself walking along the shore of a lake. The beach was littered with small, round, flat stones. As Phil looked at them, he realized each had a singular, curling glyph engraved on them; they were Elxa glyphstones, like the one he wore, myriads of them. Phil soon spotted another man in that place. Phil saw he was Hispanic, but of a distinct type Phil had encountered a few years back, when he passed through California. The man's face was oval, the eyes large, dark and alert, the nose thin, slightly aquiline. His mouth was firm, and the chin too, though hidden by a generous amount of beard. The face of a man of character. His red hair was a bit of a surprise, but he was undoubtedly a purebred Castilian, a member of that quasi-noble class who once had owned vast ranchos and elegant haciendas throughout the American southwest. These proud families had eschewed intermarriage with the natives, preferring to marry among themselves or arraign for Spanish ladies to come to the New World to be their brides, so that their Asturian blood might remain pure. With the coming of the Americans, many of those old families found themselves dispossessed, swept aside by the tidal wave of settlers bringing a new way of life. The man was skipping stones, choosing them from the beach. He cast another before turning to face Phil. He smiled in greeting. "Hello, Big Otter, my brother. I am glad you have come. I am Blue Badger... " "Blue Badger!" Phil wondered, recalling the stories he had heard. Blue Badger was reputed to have been the most powerful shaman who ever led the heron men, long before Phil's birth. "I have something to show you," he said as he picked up another stone and tossed it. Phil watched the stone fly and an odd thing happened. Time seemed to slow. The stone struck the water and Phil glimpsed the face of a young man. Despite his beard, it was obvious he had native blood. The stone skipped again and another face appeared, that of a black haired white man with a scruffy beard. The sight of him sent a chill of warning through Phil; he was sure the man was dangerous. The stone bounced off the surface again and Phil saw two men this time, cowboys by the look of them. But the one with black hair and a short trim beard caused a very different sensation in Phil. The feeling was brief, too short for Phil to be sure of anything except it was good. The stone hit once more and plunked into the water, leaving the images of two more men, a chestnut haired white man and a handsome native. Phil looked back at Blue Badger. "The first man you saw needs your help. Go to him." "Where... " "Xioga will know the way. Another is showing it to him." Blue Badger reached to stroke Phil's long brown beard gently. "Remember what you have seen, my brother... " Phil's eyes fluttered open and he found himself where he knew he ought to be, in the camp he and his fellow heron man had made, somewhere in the far northern reaches of the lands the Elxa claimed, near the watershed that divided the tributaries of the Willamette from those of the Umpqua. Phil felt the more-than-comfortable warmth of Xioga's naked body pressed into his back, and relived the love they had shared on their play journey, an aimless ramble through the wilderness two heron men might make for a month or so, bonding as lovers for that time. Xioga stirred and an arm came over Phil's side to stroke his broad, densely furred chest. "Are you awake, my brother?" Xioga whispered. "Yes," answered Phil. "I have met Blue Badger in my dreams... " "Ah! So you know of the one who needs our help?" "Yes." "Come," Xioga arose from their shared bedroll. "I was shown the place where we must wait. It is not far, but we must go now." Phil got up and helped prepare to break camp as Xioga went on. "The Staley Creek portage is not far... " "Yes," nodded Phil. "I have sometimes taken that route to Spring Hill when I have furs to sell. I know it well enough to ride in the dark." "As we must now." * * * "Wake up, young man! You are in danger!" Ezekiel Barnet started and stared about himself in disbelief. He clearly remembered going to sleep in his own bed. But now he was outside in unfamiliar woods, naked, but not alone. An elderly native, a stranger to Zeke, and as naked as the young light brown haired and bearded man, stood nearby. "What... " Zeke began as he scrambled to his feet. "Be silent, my son, and watch!" Following the elder's pointing finger, Zeke saw a sight that chilled his spine. A huge, hideous beast was stalking the woods. It appeared to be as large as a cow, but was covered with coarse, orange-brown fur. The way it moved, the sight of its blunt muzzle and sharp teeth, told Zeke it was a predator. "Do not be afraid, my son," the elder soothed. "This evil creature can neither see nor hear us. Watch what it does." Zeke turned his gaze back to the horrific beast. It lumbered on, passing behind an old tree. But when it came into sight again, it had changed, taking on the appearence of a black haired white man, one that Zeke knew well. "Herman?!" Zeke muttered in consternation. The beast had become his cousin, Herman Bush. Zeke frowned, thinking of the trouble Herman was stirring up. Zeke's father, Amos, wealthy owner of the AE Ranch, a horse breeding farm, had married a native woman and Zeke was their only child. Herman, Amos' sister's son, had come looking for work, or so he said, worming himself into Amos' trust. Zeke was soon sure Herman's ultimate goal was to get Amos to recognize him as the heir to his fortune and ranch, rather than 'that half-breed' as Herman said in an unguarded moment when he did not know Zeke was listening. The beast, now Herman, continued on until he met another person. Zeke felt a sick uneasiness when he recognized who it was. Sadie Mae Ray was a member of a family notorious in the community around Spring Hill for their southern sympathies and mountain clan ways; as 'white trash' went, one would be hard pressed to find a more fitting example. As the pair spoke, Zeke followed their conversation in mounting alarm. "So," Herman began, "you got the plan straight?" "Yeah. You just arrange to get me alone with Zeke. Then I'll rip my dress and scream rape." "No one will believe the word of a half-breed injun over a white woman," Herman chuckled. "The law will hang him and I'll get everything old uncle Amos owns, clear and legal!" Zeke was shocked. Herman was right, no one would take his word over Sadie Mae's, thanks to the racism that was ingrained in most people. Rape or even attempted rape was a hanging offense. But Zeke knew if he somehow was acquitted of the crime and escaped the gallows, Sadie Mae's male relatives would hunt him down like an animal and probably do ten times worse than hang him. "You'd best not be forgettin' what I get," Sadie Mae went on. "I ain't forgittin'. As soon as Zeke's dead, I'll marry you." "The sooner the better, Herman Bush. I'm carrying your child, and if you try to double cross me, my paw and brothers will skin you alive!" "Don't worry darlin', we'll get everything that's coming to us," Herman reassured Sadie Mae before he kissed her. Soon Zeke was watching as the two made love. The elder cleared his throat. "That hyaena spoke more truly than he realizes." "Hyaena?" "The beast. It is what we Elxa call men like Herman Bush. He will indeed get everything he deserves!" "Elxa? Who are you?" "I am Ikukua, a shaman of the Elxa tribe. I came to warn you, Ezekiel Barnet, against your cousin's evil scheme." "Why would you care about me?" "Because you are Elxa too, my brother, though you have not known that until now." Ikukua glanced at the undulating pair and sniffed in disgust. "Now that you know of their vile plan, what will you do?" "I don't know... " Zeke began, then asked, "What do you mean I am Elxa? My mother was of the Wasnai... " "You know of the Elxa. We are also known as heron men." "The heron men?!" Zeke hissed. "I thought... " "We were a legend?" finished Ikukua. "It is well that most think so. If the white authorities knew of our existance... " "I understand." Zeke nodded. He knew the stories told about the heron men; now that he knew they were real, he felt a profound relief somewhere deep inside himself. He could be open and honest about how he felt about men with Ikukua. Until then, Zeke had known no one whom he could confide in, share his secret with. "Will you take my advice in this matter?" "Of course." "Do you know the trail to the Staley Creek portage?" "Yes." "When you awake, move quickly to ready yourself for a long ride. Do not let anything delay your departure from your father's ranch. Speak to no one, but get on your horse and ride. Two of our brothers will be waiting for you. They will protect you and know what to do." "How will I know them?" "You know the stories. They will be wearing the sign of the heron." "The pendants, yes." Zeke suddenly looked worried. "But what about my family?" "Search your heart. You do not want to be what your father is, follow his dreams as if they were your own. Your true family awaits you, Nizano." "Nizano?" "It is your Elxa name, given by the invisible powers who protect our tribe and all man-loving men like ourselves." As Ikukua spoke, his spirit wings unfurled and Zeke watched in wonder as they touched him, drawing forth the wings he had never known he had. "Come to us, and live the life men like us were meant to live, free to love as our gentle hearts direct, using that love to work miracles... " Just like that, it was over. Zeke bolted upright in his bed, as aware as he had been a few moments before, and absolutely sure that everything he had seen was true. The sun had not yet risen and it was pitch black outside, but Zeke moved with a purpose, fired by the amazing possibilities that Ikukua offered; Zeke would be a heron man!. Fully dressed and armed, Zeke saddled his horse and led the animal out of the barn as the faintest glimmers of dawn played in the east. He mounted and paused to take a look around. A little of Zeke's resolve weakened as he wondered if he would ever see his childhood home again. He glanced up at the window of his parents' room. "'Bye, mom... dad... " The sad mutter passed his lips and then Zeke walked his horse away. He took a southbound trail he knew well enough to ride in the dark, but it was not long before the growing daylight revealed everything. The trail was deserted and Zeke met no one as he went on his way. A couple of hours after sunrise, the smell of a campfire mingled with that of bacon cooking came wafting through the air to Zeke. His stomach growled as he scanned the surrounding woods from the trail. "Hello!" Zeke halted his horse and looked for whoever had hailed him. At last he spotted an imposing, buckskin clad white man with a long brown beard waving to him. Zeke found a faint trace and followed it up a gentle slope to a small clearing. From there, anyone would have a fine view of the trail Zeke had been riding. Had the man been waiting for him? Zeke wondered as he scrutinized the stranger. 'Huh! He's sure a big'un!' Zeke thought. "I'm Phil, Phil Caddell," the brawny man introduced himself. Zeke guessed he was a trapper, by his appearance. "I'm Zeke Barnet." "Glad to meet you. You hungry, Zeke?" "Yes. Very. I didn't eat before I set out this morning." "Well sit and join me." "You seem to have cooked a lot of food. Were you expecting me?" "My companion will be joining us soon, but there will be plenty for all three of us." There were two of them! Zeke wondered if it was a coincidence. Then he realized it was not as a handsome native came into the camp, clad in buckskin like Phil. His black hair was bound in a long braid that hung to the small of his back. Zeke glanced at Phil again and saw he too had long hair, also bound in a braid that rested between his shoulder blades. "This is my friend, Xioga." Phil began. "Xioga, this is Zeke Barnet." "Greetings, Zeke." Zeke tried to answer, but the sight of the Elxa pendant Xioga wore stopped him. "Are you alright?" "I hope so," Zeke began, finding his tongue. He pointed to the stone Xioga wore. "Does that mean what I think it means?" "If you are thinking of some obscure native myths, yes," Phil answered as he brushed his long dark beard aside and showed Zeke the pendant he wore. Zeke looked from Phil to Xioga and back, wondering if they would find him as desirable as he found the heron men. But he forced himself to stick to the topic at hand as he went on. "I'm just surprised... I know the man in my dream told me two of his brothers would be waitin' for me, but... " "Please, relax and eat," urged Xioga. "I have have been watching the trail as you approached. No one is following you. You are safe with us for the time being." "You know what my cousin is up to?" "We know your life is in danger, but that's all." Phil replied as he offered Zeke a cup of coffee. "How... " "I also have had dreams," began Xioga as he sat beside the fire. Zeke and Phil joined him. "We, my friend Big Otter and I, were hunting in the far northern reaches of the lands we Elxa claim as our hunting grounds... " "Big Otter?" Zeke asked, looking at Phil. "It is my Elxa name, but you can call me Phil if you like." "Oh. I understand. The man I spoke with gave me a new name. Nizano." "'He-who-helps'" translated Phil wonderingly before turning to Xioga. "Go on, my brother." "In my dreams, I was visited by the spirits that guide and protect the heron men. They showed you to me and told me an evil force was stalking you, preparing to kill you. So we came to save you if we could." "If you want to tell us your side of it," Phil went on, taking a sip of coffee, "we're all ears." * * * "...and then I heard Phil callin' to me." Zeke concluded. He savored another strip of bacon while Phil and Xioga sat back and looked at each other. "Is Ikukua really your chief?" "Yes, Zeke," Phil answered. "A hyaena... " muttered Xioga, who was still pondering Zeke's tale. "What is it?" Zeke asked. "To the Elxa," began Phil, "a hyaena is a man who has the same nature as we do, except that he cannot bring himself to express or enjoy it." "Herman likes guys?! But... that makes no sense... I saw him and Sadie Mae... " "He is using her to get rid of you, pure and simple." Phil shook his head. "The silly woman does not realize that after you're dead, Herman can refuse to marry her and she will have no recourse. If she exposes the plot, she convicts herself of giving false testamony that led to an innocent man's death. She might end up getting hung as well. But Herman can plausibly deny everything and still end up as your father's sole living heir." "What about the child?" "Herman will say it must be yours, a bastard who cannot inherit anything under the law." Xioga muttered something in a tongue that Zeke assumed must be Elxa. Phil gave a little snort of laughter. Zeke glanced at him. "What's the joke?" "No joke, my new brother," replied Phil. "Xioga was just thinking out loud. He said it would not be an entirely bad thing if his knife happened to find itself buried in Herman's heart. But I think I have a much better idea." "What?" "Listen... " * * * Amos Barnet was worried, but he did his best not to show it as he went about his morning business. Every once in a while, he would catch his wife looking at him with pleading eyes and he would reassure her that all was well. But the couple had been on edge ever since they discovered their son was missing. Amos just could not figure it out. It was totally unlike Zeke to vanish like that. Again, Amos raised his eyes and scanned the area, hoping he would see his son coming home. The thought that something bad might have happened to Zeke chilled Amos; everything he'd built, all the years of toil and sweat, were for his beloved son. As he nervously stroked his brown beard and tugged on his bushy moustache in distraction, Amos spotted a buckskin clad stranger, a trapper by the look of him, coming along the trail to his ranch. Amos went to the gate and waited for him. "Mr. Barnet?" the heavily bearded rider asked as he reached the gate. "Yes, that's me." "I have a letter for you, sir." Amos glanced at the envelope and then back at the stranger. "This is Zeke's handwritin'! Do you know where my son is?" "Please, sir, read the letter. It will explain everything." Amos tore open the letter and scanned its contents, a summery in Zeke's words of what Herman was planning. "Oh my God... " Amos breathed. "This is... it's... " The rancher jammed his son's letter in his pocket and pulled one of his pistols from its holster. "Where is he?" he muttered, looking around for his nephew, his eyes red with anger. "I'll drill that sidewidin'... " "Shooting Herman will only get you hung, sir." "Who are you? What do you know about this?" "My name is Phil Caddell. I'm a friend of Zeke's and I want to see that Herman gets what's coming to him." "Killin's too good for the lousy... " "I agree, sir. But there's no need to kill him." "What're you proposin', mister?" Amos asked, settling down a little. "If you'd care to take a ride with me over to see Clem Ray, we could have ourselves a cozy little chat with him. It might solve all our problems." "Sadie Mae's father? Why would that... " Amos paused. A slow smile spread across his face as he began to comprehend. "I think I see what you're gettin' at... You have a devious mind, mister!" Before Phil could reply, Amos' wife came out to see who her husband was talking to. Amos introduced her as Mary; it was as close as he could get to pronouncing her native name. Phil surprised Amos by speaking to Mary in her own tongue. Mary replied happily to Phil's words. "What... " "He said Zeke is alright! Our son is safe!" "I know that, woman! Now, Phil here and I have to go see someone. I'll be back shortly." Mary spoke to Phil again in the Wasnai tongue. Phil replied, somewhat hesitantly, Amos thought. Mary's face grew grave. They exchanged a few more words and then, their conversation apparently over, Mary turned and went back to the house. "What was that all about?" "I was just assuring your wife that Zeke is alright, sir." "Sounded like more than that to me." "I can see it would be hard getting anything past you, sir." "If Zeke told you anything about me, you'd know that. Out with it, what else is going on?" "Mr. Barnet, I think it would be easier to let that subject wait until after Herman is dealt with." "All right, later then. I'll get my horse. And Phil?" "Yes sir?" "Start callin' me Amos before you sir and mister me to death!" * * * Herman leaned against the bar in the town saloon and took a sip of whiskey. He looked around himself again, wondering why nothing was going right. He had been unable to find Zeke or Sadie Mae that day. He had ridden into the town of Spring Hill to look for them there, but still had no luck. Taking another look around, he noticed the town doctor, a handsome, chestnut haired and bearded man named Cyrus Orwins. He was sitting and talking quietly with a cowboy. They were deep in conversation; their drinks had barely been touched. Herman thought the cowpoke's name was Rudy. He wondered if they were a couple. Herman looked into his drink. But the glass did not hold the answers he sought, the whys of his existance. He wanted to be with men; sex with men held so much pleasure for him, but why? Why was he made like that, different? He had hoped his dalliance with Sadie Mae might put him on the right path, maybe cure him, but now he was sure no woman would ever 'convert' him. It was fortunate he was clever enough to get Sadie Mae to agree to his plan. Once she accused Zeke, Herman would be off the hook; the child she carried would obviously be Zeke's bastard and none of Herman's concern. His thoughts shifted comfortably towards one of Sadie Mae's six handsome, strapping blonde brothers, Jim Bob Ray. Jim Bob was the most pleasant member of the Ray clan. His silver tongue could charm snakes out of their holes; Herman recalled how Jim Bob had recently managed to talk him into a haymow, out of his clothes and into a number of very satisfying sex acts. From what Herman could gather from Jim Bob, his brothers were all inclined to enjoy mansex. He suspected the Ray brothers' reputation for fighting and violence had its roots in their childhood. Herman could imagine them having to learn early to fight and fight hard. With six horny brothers all sharing one bed, each one had to figure out his own way of dealing with unwanted attentions from the others. He had witnessed the Ray boys in action once, during a bar fight. Herman had been amazed by all the dirty tricks they knew. And their only rule was to win. Fists were met with knives, knives were met with guns. He shook his head, feeling sincerely sorry for anyone who ran afowl of the Rays. "Herman Bush!" Herman turned from where he stood at the bar. He smiled when he saw Jim Bob Ray and raised a hand in open greeting. Right behind Jim Bob was one of his brothers, Ricky Joe. He had no reason to expect what happened next. Ricky Joe came up fast and slammed his fist into Herman's stomach. The whiskey he'd been drinking came up at once as he fell to the floor on all fours, retching. "Now Ricky Joe, is that any way to treat our brother?" Jim Bob asked gently as he helped Herman up. "He fucked our sister before he married her, Jim Bob! That ain't right!" "Oh, Herman didn't mean no harm," Jim Bob went on, steadying the stunned man. "He's a good guy. He'll do the right thing and marry Sadie Mae, won't you, Herman?" "No... " Herman managed. "I didn't... " Faster than it took to tell, Ricky Joe whipped out a big knife and pressed it against Herman's throat. "Are you callin' my sister a liar? So help me God, I'll cut your pecker off and stuff it up your... " "Now, now," Jim Bob soothed, gently pushing the knife away and then starting to move Herman towards the saloon doors, "Sadie Mae likes Herman's pecker just where it is, so you leave it there, Ricky Joe." "Where... " "Why, we're going to the church, brother. The whole family's waitin' to meet you and witness the wedding." When Herman made a movement that might have been interpreted as an attempt to escape, Jim Bob's grip grew firmer. "You'd best cooperate, brother. Otherwise I'd be bound by family honor to let Ricky Joe here have his way with you. And that'd be a damn shame as well as a waste." Jim Bob punctuated his remark by patting Herman's ass as they proceeded along the plank sidewalk outside. "I ain't forgot what we did in that hayloft, brother. I'm really lookin' forward to havin' you around on our farm!" Herman gasped and blushed as Ricky Joe overheard his brother's words. It did not take long for him to put two and two together. His eyes went wide. "What?!" "Oh, didn't I mention it?" Jim Bob purred. "Herman here likes the same things we do. We'll just have to arrange us a little huntin' trip after the honeymoon, just Herman and us guys, so we can get to know our new brother better." Ricky Joe made a growling in his throat that Herman thought sounded like something an animal in heat might make. One of his hands repeated Jim Bob's action, but squeezed Herman's rear more determinedly. He gave a low whistle. "Shee-it, Jim Bob! Let's take Herman over into that alley yonder for a bit... " "You heard what paw said, Ricky Joe. Once we find him, he goes straight to the church." "Just gimme five minutes with him!" he begged. "I don't know why I stick my neck out for you like this, Ricky Joe," Jim Bob sighed as he steered Herman into a dark alley. "Paw will skin us alive if he finds out we disobeyed him." "How will he know?" Ricky Joe asked as he skinned down Herman's pants and turned him to face a brick wall. As he dropped his own trousers, he went on. "Herman ain't gonna tell. If he does I'll beat the livin' shit outta him!" "Ain'tcha gonna use any lube?!" Herman fretted. "Looks like we're fresh out, don't it?" Ricky Joe grinned as he stroked his oversized pecker to full erection. "Wait, here... " Out of a sense of self-preservation, Herman turned and dropped to his knees. He swallowed Ricky Joe's cock and started working up a load of spit, hoping to keep his impending rape from doing any permanent harm. But just as he thought he was done using his tongue to get everything properly slickened up, Ricky Joe's hands came down to hold Herman's head in place. "Jeezus... H... K... Ryst... " he hissed. After that, Ricky Joe stiffened and his mouth opened in a wordless bellow as he shot. Herman slurped down the man's slimy goop and fell back as Ricky Joe released him. He immediately found himself face to cock with Jim Bob. "My turn," he grinned. "Goddamn, but that was good!" Ricky Joe managed as he readjusted his pants while Herman bobbed on Jim Bob's hard meat. You're gonna fit into this family right nice, Herman!" "Yep," Jim Bob agreed, feeling his orgasm building fast. "Herman's gotta great mouth... Ah, yeah!! Take it!" "But I'll still have that ass eventually," Ricky Joe promised as Herman swallowed a mouthful of Jim Bob's mancream. "We all will, but that'll have to wait until after the wedding." Jim Bob said as he withdrew his rubbery organ from Herman's mouth. He pulled back his foreskin, squeezed the shiny pink glans and caught the last few pearly drops on his fingers. Then he offered them to Herman. Herman licked Jim Bob's fingers clean, his eyes pleading for mercy as he did so. Jim Bob leaned down and helped Herman up, whispering in his ear as he did so. "Sorry, brother, as much as I like you, I can't let you go." After straightening their clothes, the three left the alley. Jim Bob kept an arm firmly around Herman's shoulder and Ricky Joe stayed close. Herman's heart lept when he spotted who was standing outside the church. "Uncle Amos!" he cried, "You gotta help me... " "Don't you 'Uncle Amos' me, you low-down excuse for a man! How dare you besmirch our family honor by seducin' an innocent young girl!" Amos Barnet shouted out the words with calculated outrage, fighting the urge to laugh as he did. It had been Phil's suggestion that Amos confront his nephew in public. And a curious crowd had gathered to see what the uproar was about. "You get in there and do the right thing by the mother of your child!" "But... but... " "Furthermore, you'll live with your in-laws from now on!" bellowed Amos. "I wash my hands of you!" "No... Uncle Amos, please... " "Come on, brother," Jim Bob urged. "Time to face the preacher!" "How was that?" Amos asked, turning to Phil as Jim Bob and Ricky Joe hustled Herman up the church steps. "You missed your calling, Amos. You would have made a fine actor!" "Well, I do have a fine memory. Now that Herman is disposed of, I expect to hear what's happened to Zeke. And when he's comin' home." "Shall we go over to the saloon, sit and have a drink while we talk?" "That's a good idea, Phil," smiled Amos. "All that yellin' dried my throat clear out!" In the meantime, as Herman and his escort entered the church, all those within turned to look at them. Herman spotted his future father-in-law, Clem Ray, sitting in the front pew, wearing his best suit and cradling a large shotgun. Ricky Joe's twin brother, Ricky Bo, took one look at Herman and spat in disgust. "Why would Sadie Mae want him?" "Yeah," another brother, Ray Ray, piped up. "Wouldn't it be easier to just kill him, paw?" Ricky Joe leaned over and whispered in Ray Ray's ear. His eyes widened and he looked Herman over with new interest. Herman noted the bulge in Ray Ray's pants and groaned inwardly. Were all the Ray boys hung like mules? Clem rose from his seat and, quick as a snake, drove the butt of his shotgun into Ricky Bo's stomach. His son dropped to the floor while the others laughed. Pain was writ plainly on his face as Ricky Bo pulled himself back up, using a pew for support and clutching his belly. "What was that for, paw?" he managed. Clem growled at Ricky Bo. "Don't spit on a church floor, son. It's a sin." Clem turned and gave Herman a withering look. Then he glanced at Sadie Mae. "Ricky Bo has a point, daughter. You could do better." Sadie Mae grabbed Herman and pulled him into a corner away from the others. "Sadie Mae... " "Don't try any more of your sweet talk on me, Herman Bush, you low down snake!. I know all about what you planned to do! As soon as I accused Zeke, you were home free with a shyster trick! Well, everyone knows this is your child now," she said, patting her belly, "and you can either marry me right here and now, or I'll throw you to my brothers!" "Either way I'm gonna get thrown to your brothers! Sadie Mae, they wanna use me for sex!" "Learn to fight!" she returned. "How the hell do you think you got my cherry? You think those horny bastards respect me any more than they do each other?" Sadie Mae laughed. "I nearly twisted Clem Junior's balls off when he tried to fuck me when we were kids. The others gave me a wide berth after that. You better learn to fight and fight hard if you want any respect in this family. Or else relax and try to enjoy it!" "Well daughter, what's it gonna be?" "We're ready, paw." Sadie Mae answered, pulling a stunned Herman towards the altar. "For my daughter's sake, I'll tolerate you in my family, Herman," Clem spoke directly to him for the first time. "But I won't forget how you got here. As far as I'm concerned, you're a man without honor. And if an accident should make Sadie Mae a widow, I won't mind a bit." Clem glanced behind him. His boys were in a huddle whispering excitedly together; Ricky Joe was busy sharing the good news about Herman. "Be quiet!" Clem snarled, flourishing his shotgun. "Preacher! Get out here and marry these two! Jim Bob!" "Yes, paw?" "Keep an eye on Herman until he says 'I do'." "Yes paw." Jim Bob moved closer and noted the look of dispair on Herman's face as Clem, the preacher and Sadie Mae spoke together. "C'mon now," he whispered. "It won't be so bad." "Oh no," muttered Herman bleakly, "gettin' raped by you and your brothers whenever the fancy strikes, no problem at all." "We could make an arrangement... " "Huh? What kind of arrangement?" Herman asked, eyeing Jim Bob suspiciously. "What if I could... " he grinned suddenly. "Keep my brothers off your back?" "How could you do that?" "I'd have to give that part some thought, but what you'd need to do is always be available... for me." Herman's eyes narrowed. "I'd be your slave, in other words." "Now why use ugly words to describe ugly things? We know they're ugly already. And you have to admit, takin' care of me would be easier than all six of us... and you do like me, don't you?" "Yeah... I do... " "And I like you, Herman. I'll tell you what, I'll do my best to make sure my brothers don't beat you up. But they will insist on usin' your mouth and ass; you are gonna get passed around among us for sex durin' the next month or two, until the novelty wears off, so get used to the idea. Just don't try fightin' against it. You're no match for any of us. You'll just get beaten as well as fucked." "Sadie Mae said that was my only hope, fightin' back." "She must wanna be a young widow." Jim Bob shook his head. "Look at Ricky Joe and tell me you could outfight him." "No, I can't." "And even if you could, Ricky Bo would be on you in a heartbeat. The twins have always worked as a team." Herman looked at Jim Bob. "How do you fight them?" "With my brains, mostly. I try my best to avoid fightin' with my brothers, not because I'm weak, but because it's a waste of time and blood. You'll understand when you witness a knock down, drag out in the family." "How often does that occur?" "Often enough," Jim Bob snorted. "Something's bound to happen at the party after the wedding... " "Ready, Herman?" Sadie Mae interrupted. Herman faced the preacher with Sadie Mae and knew his future was as black as the clergyman's suit. * * * Zeke stepped out of the stream, feeling more than clean. While Phil was gone, putting the plan the three had agreed upon in motion, Zeke had stayed in the camp with Xioga for his own safety. The pair made the time pass by indulging in several hours of slow, intimate love together. Before that wonderful day, Zeke's sexual experiences had been limited to the encounters he'd had with the occasional lone cowboy who drifted through and was willing to share what he knew about mansex with him. And there had been Charlie Cragg. Charlie had been the closest thing to a brother Zeke knew. Whenever Charlie visited, Zeke and he would spend every minute together. The memories of the things they had shared at the swimming hole as boys still moved Zeke emotionally. As they grew older however, the pair had drifted apart. Zeke could remember the surprise he felt the day when Amos judged him old enough to keep a family secret and told his son the reason for Charlie and his mother's visits. But of all his experiences, that day with Xioga was by far the best, Zeke decided as he pulled on his pants. And it was only going to get better from then on, he considered; he had yet to play with Phil and there was an entire tribe of men waiting for Zeke to come to them... Stepping into his boots, Zeke picked up his shirt and walked barechested the short distance back to the heron men's camp. He knew Xioga had gone back to lookout duty, watching the trail for Phil's return. So Zeke was unprepared for the welcome he got as he neared the firepit. "Zeke!" "Mom?!" Zeke squeaked as Mary rushed up to him and hugged him. "How'd you get here?" "I brought her," another voice spoke. Zeke looked for the man who had spoken and stiffened. "Qazapa! Grandfather!" "Humph! The heron men are not as supernatural as their stories make them out to be, if an old man and a woman can walk into their camp unchallenged!" "We need no defense against friends," Xioga announced as he came into view. "Why are you here?" Zeke asked. "Your friend, Big Otter, told your mother where you were. She wanted to see you again, before you go away with the heron men." Qazapa looked from Zeke to Xioga and then back to Zeke. "Is this what you truly want, my grandson?" "No one is forcing me to go." "Humph! I believe you. You are as stubborn as my daughter, Myarti. I forbade her to marry your father and she defied me. But in time," he smiled slyly at Myarti, "I admitted my judgement of Amos Barnet might have been in error." "I hope you don't think I'm making an error. I'd like to have your blessing." Zeke looked at his mother. "Yours too." "It is never easy for a mother to let go, but you are a man now and you must walk your own path, However, I doubt if your father will ever understand. Everything he has built, he meant for you to have." Myarti shook her head. "Herman was mad to think he could succeed in turning your father's love from you. When Amos looks at you, he sees his son, not a half-breed. Amos was so proud of you. I don't know how he'll take your leaving... " "I wish I could see him one more time. I love him, and you... " Zeke hugged his mother closer. "Listen, what about Charlie?" "Charlie Cragg?" Myarti wondered. Her face lit up in a smile. "Yes, of course, why didn't I think of that!" "Who is Charlie Cragg?" asked Xioga. "Amos had a brother, Edmund, who helped him start his ranch. On his deathbed, Edmund begged Amos to look after his son who'd been born out of wedlock... " "Charlie Cragg," added Zeke. "He took his mother's last name." "Amos did as Edmund asked. He was very uncomfortable with it, but he helped support Charlie and his mother. And Charlie grew up to be a fine young man, the spitting image of Edmund. He works for the Bar-O over on Pitcher Creek." Myarti finished. "Put a bug in dad's ear, mom. He needs help on the ranch; Charlie is family and he knows what to do." "Yes, it's a wonderful idea. Charlie deserves the opportunity." "Humph! I can only assume this sudden show of wisdom from you, my young grandson, has been inspired by the spirits who they say guide and protect the Elxa!" Qazapa commented wryly. "But wherever it comes from, it is good. Go with my blessings as well." * * * Amos was sitting on his front porch, smoking his pipe. His conflicted thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching riders. He stood up to get a better view, out into the vague twilight. "Mary!" Amos called when he saw his wife ride past the gate. "Where... " Amos' voice faltered when he recognized who was riding with her. "Qazapa... " Amos was more than a little taken aback at the sight of his formidable father-in-law. He recalled inviting Qazapa to see his ranch years ago in the hopes of convincing the native that Amos could well afford to support his daughter and any children they might have. Qazapa had come and looked, but still refused the pair his blessing, so Myarti went to Amos without it, of her own accord. The only other time Qazapa had visited was after Zeke's birth, to get a look at his grandson. He accepted the cigar Amos offered him then, which Amos took as a softening of his father-in-law's attitude towards him. And now, he was visiting for the third time. "Amos," Qazapa began. Then he paused and began again. "My son, it is good to see you." Amos was too stunned to reply. Qazapa had never called him 'son' before. He was recognizing and honoring his daughter's choice at last. "Welcome to my home, father," he managed as the pair dismounted. "No doubt you are wondering why I am here, my son." "My home is your home, father," Amos replied, recovering somewhat. "You need no reason to visit; you are always welcome." "My heart is grieved that false pride has kept me away for so long," he answered. "I am here because my daughter needs me... and because I think you need me, my son." "Are you talkin' about Zeke?" Amos asked. He looked away and his voice gained a bitter edge. "I already know about him and the heron men. The trapper, Phil, he broke it to me as gently as he could, but... " Amos' pained eyes came back to Qazapa. "...all I can think is that Zeke's a damned que... " "Do not make the same mistake I made, my son." Qazapa interrupted. "What mistake?" "Because you are different from me, a white man, I closed my heart and chose not to honor you or my daughter, whom you know I truly love. It was a mistake, I admit my error. You are a good man, Amos Barnet. My daughter is truly blessed to have such a mate as you." Qazapa placed a hand on Amos' shoulder to emphasize his next words. "Do not choose now to dishonor your son because his spirit is different from yours. It took me many years to recognize you for who you are, Amos: you are my honored son. Do not make Zeke wait that long to know you honor him and his choices." "It's so hard," Amos sniffed, wiping tears from his eyes. "I built all this for him and he... he just walked away from it, like it meant nothing to him... like I meant nothing to him... " "No, no!" Mary cried, embracing her husband. "Zeke loves you!" "I understand there were some in Spring Hill who disapproved of your marriage with my daughter... " "They were closed-minded bigots!" Amos flared. "I love Mary and marryin' her was the right thing to do, no matter how many bigots objected to it!" "Many 'bigots' object to the things the heron men do." "But is what they do right?" "My son, I have lived many seasons and seen many things. One thing I have learned is that a man who is not honest with himself, who lives in a way contrary to his spirit, is a sad and unhappy man. If you truly desire Zeke's happiness, you must let him live his own life, walk his own path." "Then all my work was for nothing. Zeke will have no sons, my name will be forgotten, strangers will enjoy all this... " "There are still some who share your blood... " "Never!" Amos stiffened. "I'll destroy the place with my own hands before I'd let Herman have it!" "Humph! And I would help you. That hyaena almost murdered Zeke." "Hyaena?" "That is what the heron men call men like Herman. He shares their nature, but he denies it. So you see, forcing him to marry... " "...was a fate worse than death," breathed Amos. "I knew Phil's plan was poetic justice, but... " He shook his head. "No, I won't pity Herman, I refuse!" "Hate cannot live in your heart forever, my son, you are too good a man. However," Qazapa forstalled another objection from Amos by raising his hand, "I was not speaking of Herman. I was speaking of your brother's son, a fine young man from all accounts." "Charlie?" "Yes, Amos, Charlie," Mary urged. "I know he would never take Zeke's place in our hearts, but he is Edmund's son, family." For a moment, Amos flashed on the past and saw the ranch as it once had been. All the new wooden structures still oozing sap, just him and Edmund, working hard to get the place started. And later, Edmund doing his best to help his brother impress Qazapa, gain his approval. He saw Edmund at his wedding, acting as best man and later staying in the barn with the animals so Amos and his new bride could have the house to themselves and enjoy a proper honeymoon. Amos never had the slightest suspicion that Edmund was seeing someone himself, and for good reason. Elsie Cragg was a dancehall girl, the type Edmund knew Amos would disapprove of. So Edmund kept his love for Elsie quiet until he fell ill. Amos had done as his dying brother wished, he'd made sure Charlie never lacked for food or clothes or books for school. But suddenly it seemed like he had not done enough, and broken his promise to Edmund in the process. What ifs haunted Amos. Zeke and Charlie had gotten on well as kids. Amos might have seen to it that they grew up as brothers, he might have tried to be a father to Charlie. Well, it was too late for that now; Charlie Cragg was a grown man. And as Qazapa pointed out, a man many held in respect. But there was still one thing Amos could do for Charlie that he was sure would have made his brother Edmund very happy. Amos focused on his wife and father-in-law again and nodded. "I'll go talk to him. Right after I settle some business at the county courthouse." * * * Two days later, Elizabeth Nesmith finished the last of the breakfast dishes and wiped her hands dry on her apron. She glanced out the window and saw a stranger riding towards the main house of the Bar-O Ranch. Smoothing back her auburn hair and straightening her dress, she went outside. "Hello, miss," the middle aged man greeted her, tipping his hat. "Is Hiram Nesmith at home?" "My father is out working with the men. I'm Elizabeth, his daughter." "Pleased to meet you, Miss Nesmith. I had heard Hiram had a daughter, but not that she was so lovely. My name's Amos Burnet," he introduced himself to the blushing girl, who brightened at once. "Amos Burnet!" "You know me?" "Yes. You own the AE Ranch, on Cottonwood Creek. You breed horses." "I had no idea I was so famous. Who told you about me?" "Charlie Cragg, he works here." "I know. I've come to have a chat with him." "Are you a friend of Charlie's?" "Didn't Charlie tell you? He's my nephew." "No, he didn't... Oh! Mr. Burnet!" Elizabeth sobbed, tears suddenly in her eyes. "Here, here!" Amos exclaimed, dismounting and going to the girl. "What's wrong? If Charlie has been botherin' you, why, why... I'll horsewhip that boy!" "No, no! It's not like that," she said, drying her eyes. "I'm in love with Charlie." "Well, I don't see why that's anything to cry about." "My father does. When he noticed me talking with Charlie once too often, he ordered us to stay away from each other." "But why? Everyone tells me Charlie is a fine young man." "He is! But I won't repeat what my father said about Charlie. It's not fair to hold a man responsible for the circumstances of his birth." Amos stiffened. "Yes, I see you can guess what he called Charlie. Hiram told me he'd never consent to my marrying a... a man with no father." "Did Hiram say this to Charlie's face?" "No, thank God. He told me that in private. All he told Charlie was to stay away from me. If Hiram had said that filthy word to Charlie's face, they would've gotten into a fight for sure... and no matter who the winner was, I'd have lost," she sniffed. "Miss Nesmith, I see I shall have to have a chat with your father as well... " "Oh, please don't! You'll make it worse!" "I don't think so. Here," Amos turned and dug into one of his saddlebags. He pulled out a leather folder and leafed through the papers inside. Finding the one he wanted, he pulled it out and showed it to Elizabeth. "Read that." "'I, Rupert Fromm, circuit judge of the... ' Why, this is a court document." "That's right." "'...having examined the evidence laid before me and heard the sworn statements of several witnesses, it is my judgement that Charles Cragg is the true son of the body of Edmund Burnet, deceased, and nephew of Amos Burnet, petitioner to the court. As per the petitioner's request, Charles Cragg is hereby granted the legal right to... " Elizabeth gasped. "...assume his father's family name and use it as his own for any and all purposes, public or private... ' Oh! Mr. Burnet!!" Elizabeth was so overjoyed by the news she hugged and kissed Amos. "Here, here! You'll make my wife jealous and your fiancee as well! Save that for Charlie!" "But Mr. Burnet, Charlie hasn't asked me to marry him!" "Not yet." Amos winked. "If you ask me, he'd be a fool not to. And I didn't go to all this trouble," he said, flourishing the leather binder of legal papers, "to get a fool for a nephew! Let's see Hiram object to Charlie now!" "Father will probably say Charlie's too poor to afford a wife... " "...or kids?" Amos chuckled as Elizabeth blushed again. He was struck by how beautiful the girl was when she blushed. Amos wondered if Charlie had noticed that as well. "Look, since I figure you're practically family, I'll tell you what I'm gonna tell Hiram if he thinks Charlie can't support you. I drew up a new will and Charlie will get half the AE Ranch when I kick off. Until then, I'm hopin' he will come and work for me as my foreman, help me oversee the operation of the ranch." "Oh Mr. Burnet, that sounds wonderful!" "It'll be wonderful when you get used to callin' me uncle Amos," he grinned, just to see Elizabeth blush again. * * * Hiram Nesmith rode slowly along the new fenceline, watching his sweating men work. They were driving posts, backbreaking work that Hiram remembered doing when he was a young man. Nearly all the hands were shirtless and Hiram's eyes kept being drawn to one brown haired and bearded young man in particular, whose muscular torso was well fleeced with the same color fur. As Hiram watched Charlie Cragg swing the mallet and drive the post down smartly with each blow, he could not help but admire him. Hiram could understand why Elizabeth was interested. He had nothing personal against Charlie, in fact, he considered Charlie one of his best workers. Under ordinary conditions, Hiram might have allowed nature to take its course. But what kind of a father would he be if he didn't look out for his daughter's future happiness? Hiram felt as if he had to draw the line somewhere. He shook his head sadly. It was a damned shame Charlie was the fatherless son of a cheap dancehall girl, a bast... "Hiram!" 'What the... ' Hiram thought as he eyed the approaching rider. "Amos? Amos Burnet?" "Can I have a few minutes of your time, Hiram? I came to see my nephew, Charlie, but there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you as well." "Charlie?" Hiram puzzled, glancing at his employee and then back to Amos. "He's your nephew?" "Didn't he tell you that?" "No. I thought he had no family, since his mother died." "I think I know what it was," Amos muttered. "I was always... uncomfortable with him, with what he represented. To me, he was my brother's mistake... Maybe he dislikes me so much he doesn't want to claim me as a relation." "I don't think so, Amos," Hiram began. "Whenever Charlie comes to me with a suggestion, he usually says it's a good idea because you do the same thing on your ranch. To hear him talk, you run a perfect operation over at the AE!" "Thank you for that, Hiram. I wasn't sure how Charlie felt about me." "So Charlie is your brother's boy? Edmund, wasn't it? I remember when he died, a lot of folks caught that fever around then, my first wife too." "Elizabeth's mother?" "Yes." Hiram tried not to think of how his first wife had died and glanced at Charlie again. "Why doesn't Charlie have his father's name?" "Because I was a stubborn jackass, stuck on 'family honor'," Amos cursed himself as he took out the papers to show Hiram. "But I've finally fixed that and done the right thing by my brother's flesh and blood." "I see," Hiram smiled as he read through the court paper. "Excuse me, Amos, I need to have a word with Charlie... " "Concernin' Elizabeth?" "Why, yes! How did you know?" "I had a frank talk with your daughter a little while ago." "What'd Lizzy tell you?" "That she's in love with Charlie, among other things," Amos answered, looking hard at Hiram. "Oh." Hiram paused. "Believe me, Amos, I was only lookin' out for Lizzy. And I didn't know about Charlie's connection to you." "I don't question how you choose to deal with your own children, Hiram. Truth be told, I'd probably do the same thing if Elizabeth were my daughter. All I want to know now is if you'd consider any member of my family good enough to marry into yours." "Yes. You're an honest rancher, Amos and your nephew there," Hiram hooked a thumb at Charlie, "is a hard workin' man. Did Lizzy tell you Charlie proposed to her? You know he ought to have spoken to me first." "You're perfectly right Hiram. And I think he will speak to you first. Liz... Elizabeth said he hasn't asked her to marry him." "Go ahead and call her Lizzy," Hiram grinned. "Everyone else in the family does!" He glanced at Charlie again. "I'll have a word with him, then I'll send him to you." * * * "Lemme take a turn now, pard," Mark Nutley volunteered as Charlie paused between swings. "No, I'll finish this one." "Okay. I suppose workin' yourself to death in the hot sun is one possible way to get back on old man Nesmith's good side, so he'll let you speak to Lizzy again!" the lanky, black haired cowboy snorted. "But I doubt Lizzy would be pleased!" "I'll thank you to call my future wife by her proper name, my friend," Charlie huffed as he struck the post again. "Otherwise I'll have to find myself another best man." "Don't waste your time. You know they don't come any better than me!" grinned Mark. "You are a good friend, Mark," Charlie managed before the mallet slammed down. "If I was a different kind of man, like you, you know we would probably... " "I know, buddy." Mark reached out to take the mallet and touched Charlie's hands with his own as the tool was handed over. They eyed each other in understanding, then Mark started to drive the post. He could not help but be disappointed that Charlie did not want the same things he did, but it was good that Charlie was one of the rare ones who didn't condemn guys like Mark either. And there had been times... Sweet memories floated through Mark's mind as he worked. Of the camps and bedrolls the pair had occassionally shared. Of Charlie's hard, hairy body responding to Mark's questioning touch in the night, answering, helping each other out, giving and taking, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough... "Whoa, pard! That's enough!" Charlie warned, breaking Mark's rhythm as well as his revere. "We're not drivin' these posts to China!" "Charlie! Behind you!" Charlie spun and found his boss looking down at his from his horse. "Charlie?" "Yes, Mr. Nesmith?" "I would like to apologize to you." "For what, sir?" puzzled Charlie. "You haven't done anything to offend me!" "Oh yes I have, something very bad. I'm afraid if I told you what it was I've done, you'd probably want to take a swing at me. And that would thoroughly distress my daughter, something neither of us wants. So I'll just apologize by saying if you and Elizabeth want to meet and talk, that's alright by me." "Why, thank you, sir!" The delight in Charlie's voice was audible. "That is the only thing you two do when you're alone together, right?" Hiram suddenly growled, glaring ominously at Charlie. "Just talk?" "Oh, yes sir! I have never taken undue liberties with your daughter, sir!" Charlie gulped. "Oh. What a shame." Hiram's manner shifted again as he grinned in a conspiritorial fashion and leaned down from his mount. He went on in a lower voice. "Now if you ask me, I think that redheaded gal needs to be kissed, and often. Preferably by a young man like you." Charlie's jaw dropped in utter shock. Mark was likewise speechless, having witnessed the whole exchange. Hiram sat up straight in his saddle and nudged them out of their state of disbelief by directing their attention to another rider who was watching their interactions and smiling. "By the way, your uncle's here, Charlie. He wants to speak to you. Why don't you take the rest of the day off. I think you're gonna have a lot to discuss with him." * * * Just about the same time, quite a ways to the south of Spring Hill, three riders topped a grassy ridge. Phil pointed off across a high mountain meadow of waving grass. Zeke looked away over rippling green and made out a twisting glitter in the distance. Light reflecting off water. "It is Heron Creek," Xioga nodded. "If we follow it upstream, we will reach Ikukua's home in a day, prehaps two." The memories of the love shared with his companions as they journeyed to the home of the heron men replayed themselves sweetly in Zeke's mind. He found himself hoping he would have the opportunity to sleep with them at least one more time. As they began to ride towards the creek, Phil spoke up. "Is there any reason to hurry, my brothers?" he asked, as if he had read Zeke's mind. "We have had no medicine dreams that council haste," Xioga pointed out. He and Phil looked at Zeke. "If you're asking me if I want to spend another night with you two, the answer is yes, yes, yes!" Phil laughed and declaimed: What is more joyous than an eager young man new to the Way of the Heron? All those whom he meets share his love strong and sweet and still he's ready and rarin'! When they reached the creek, Zeke spotted a site that obviously was used occassionally as a campsite. The nearby stream widened at that point into a pool that swirled before tumbling off over a mossy cliff. Xioga doffed his clothing and dived in. Phil and Zeke quickly followed. "It's so warm!" Zeke exclaimed as he came up from his dive. "There's a hot spring over there," pointed Phil. "The overflow from it keeps the pool rather nice." "Big Otter!" Xioga called. When Phil looked, the native tossed something to him. Phil caught and gazed at the object in dismay. Zeke looked too and saw a short stick, its ends neatly cut. Portions of the bark had been removed to create an odd pattern. Half of it had been dyed red. "What is it?" Zeke asked. "The Elxa use sticks like this to communicate with those who live along Heron Creek. This one is a death stick," Phil answered. He pointed to the pattern on the stick. "This is the name sign of the person who has died." "Who is it?" "Ikukua," answered Xioga sadly. "Our chief shaman is dead." "He led the tribe for almost forty years, wisely and well," Phil went on. "With the help of Hunts-by-night, he moved the tribe from their ancient refuge, an adobe city in a canyon on the edge of the Blue Mountains, to this isolated valley." "Hunts-by-night... I remember the stories. Was he real?" asked Zeke. "We have never seen him," Xioga answered. "Big Otter and I joined the Elxa after Hunts-by-night left. But there are many elders still alive who remember him well." "He left?" "Yes, after the tribe moved and was settled here. He promised to return someday." "Oh." Zeke frowned. He glanced at the death stick. "Does this mean we shouldn't go on?" Xioga spoke in the sibilant Elxa tongue to Phil. The big man nodded and looked at Zeke. "We will smoke a sacred pipe tonight before we sleep. With any luck, the tribal spirits will speak to us in medicine dreams." Phil reached to caress Zeke as Xioga moved to sandwich the young man between them. "And the love we share here can summon those sacred totems to us as well," the big man murmured before he kissed Zeke. * * * "Ikukua!" Zeke muttered when he saw the heron shaman again. "I was told you were... " "I am a spirit now, but I still follow the Way of the Heron. Will you let me guide you?" "Of course. If I hadn't followed your advice before, I might be dead now!" "Perhaps you will not believe me, but I sense an aptitude in you for magic, the ability to comprehend unearthly things. My old apprentice is now chief shaman of the Elxa, and now he, in his turn, needs an apprentice." "Me?" "Go to my old home, Nizano. The new high shaman, Falling Star, is waiting there for you. He shall welcome you and teach you many things... " Zeke woke up with Ikukua's words echoing in his ears. The night was warm and the stars were incredibly bright. Carefully he lifted his head and looked around. The horses' heads were drooped in sleep and his companions' breathing was steady and regular. He frowned at the fire, which had burned away to a bed of livid coals. Little tongues of pale flame wavered here and there among the ashes. Zeke got up, quietly and carefully, so as not disturb his comrades, and put more wood on the fire. As the light increased, he realized with a shock that two more persons were in the camp. One of them had his back to Zeke and was wrapped completely up in his blankets. The other, an elderly, white haired native, had put his sleeping robe down next to Xioga's. As Zeke looked at the stranger, his eyes fluttered open and focused on Zeke. He smiled and whispered. Waking in the night, I see him: Naked in the firelight, Burning with beauty, And youthful ardor, Arousing all who see him... O handsome one! Zeke blushed. He knew by then of the Elxa custom of extrapolating verses, 'speaking when the heart is moved by love' as Xioga put it. But he had not yet sung himself. "I am Xaculi. I am guiding our new brother," he gestured to the blanket-wrapped form, "Ho'va, to see Falling Star." "I'm Zeke. I have to see him too... I had a dream." "Ah," Xaculi breathed as he opened his sleeping robe. Zeke saw the elder's strong and desirable naked form within. "Join me, young man, and tell me what you have seen in your dreams." Zeke slipped in and pressed himself warmly against Xaculi as the robe enveloped them both. The elder's hands moved in knowing rhythms over Zeke's body as they whispered together, stoking Zeke's passions. Slowly, their words gave way to more intimate touches. Zeke floated on the love Xaculi freely gave, as Xioga and Phil had given, as he expected all his heron brothers to give, and as Xaculi brought Zeke to a new height of erotic sensation, the young man got a fleeting glimpse of the numinous glory that was the Way of the Heron. * * * EPILOGUE * * * It had been a small, intimate wedding at the AE Ranch. Charlie and Elizabeth Barnet had already left for their honeymoon and the few guests mingled quietly. Mark Nutley tugged at his collar where it grated against his trim black beard, uncomfortable in the suit he had to wear for his part as best man, but happy for all the good changes in his life. When Charlie had gone to work at the AE, he insisted on taking Mark with him to be his lieutenant. With Charlie gone, Mark was going to step up to work with Amos and run things. Mark had no problem with that, or Amos, who knew what Mark liked and was okay with it. That was a new experience for Mark, who had always before had to carefully hide his true nature under a layer of macho cowboy bluster, especially in front of his employers. But Mark would be happy when Charlie returned and things got back to normal at the AE. Mark looked around. He was hoping to see if Zeke Barnet was free so they could talk, but he was still being monopolized by his mother and father. Mark had witnessed the reunion of Amos and Zeke; it had been a joyous, teary-eyed event. Amos had told Charlie about the close call Zeke had had and how Herman's plot had been foiled. He also explained why Zeke had left the ranch. Charlie relayed the details to his best friend at once, knowing Mark would be interested. Once Mark heard that Zeke knew something about the legendary heron men, he could not wait to meet him. Zeke had come to the wedding with two other men. Mark wondered about them also as he looked around. He spotted one, a native named Xioga, deep in convesation with Qazapa, Zeke's grandfather, a member of the Wasnai tribe who had a reservation near Spring Hill. Mark had only gotten a brief glimpse of the third man. He was determined to talk to at least one of them. If the wondrous stories Mark had heard were true... "Hello." Mark turned and felt his heart melt. It seemed the most handsome man in the world had come to smile at him through a long, thick brown beard. The man who spoke was remembering a medicine dream in which he had seen Mark, and felt the same good feelings in himself again as he looked at the black haired and bearded cowboy once more. Mark opened his mouth to respond, but Amos Barnet beat him to it. "Phil! Phil Caddell! My, but you look sharp! I hope you didn't spend a lot of money on that suit, just to wear it to one wedding!" "Oh, no. I had this suit. I hadn't worn it in years. I wasn't even sure if it would still fit me." "It looks good on you. Where could I get a suit like that?" Phil opened the jacket and exposed a square of embroidered silk that bore the maker's marque. "Grace Bros. - Private Tailors - By Appointment To Her Majesty The Queen - William Rufus Square - London." Amos read. He looked at Phil. "London? Have you been there?" "I'm an Englishman. I came to America before the war. After it broke out, I decided not to risk the trip back until all the shooting was over." "God only knows when it will be over," Amos shook his head. "The papers say the south's defeat at Gettysburg was a turning point, but only time will tell. What a damned waste this whole war is... " "Amos!" The rancher looked to see his wife beckoning. "Excuse me gentlemen," he smiled. Mark and Phil turned back to each other. "You're from England? How'd you get all the way out here to Oregon?" "I'd be pleased to tell you about my travels, Mark." Phil glanced around. "Why don't we get out of the sun?" "Okay," Mark agreed, leading the way around the house and into a deserted tack room. The smell of old leather hung pleasantly in the air. Mark picked up a halter that had fallen and put it back on a hook in the wall. Then he realized something and turned to Phil. "Wait a sec, how'd you know my name?" "Nizano, I mean Zeke told me." Phil casually stoked his beard and exposed the Elxa glyphstone he wore briefly. The big man smiled when he saw Mark's reaction. "Yes. Mark, the heron men are real." "Will you... will you tell me about it?" "I'll do more than that, my handsome friend," Phil breathed as he dipped his fingers in his pocket and withdrew another pendant, a twin to the one he wore. "This is for you, my new brother," he began, handing it over. Mark took it, looking at it wonderingly before putting it on. "Our chief shaman, Falling Star, has learned of you from the spirits that guide and protect our tribe. He invites you to join the Elxa and come visit him at his home." Phil put a hand on Mark's shoulder and leaned in. "And I very much hope you would like me to guide you there." "How... how far... " managed Mark. "A few days. We would be camping alone in the wilderness each night." "I'd like that." Mark nodded. "I'd like that a whole lot." Phil's eyes became intense. He stoked Mark's unruly hair. I've walked many moons in the Way of the Heron, yet never before have I felt what I do now! You have set my heart ablaze! You, black haired one... I burn, I melt... Oh! Dark Fire! "Phil... you sang to me, like in the stories... " Phil embraced Mark and kissed him, unable to stop himself. Mark kissed back, just as eagerly. As his hands ran over the fine suit, trying to get an idea of what Phil's body was like, Mark eventually felt the heron man's crotch press into his own. 'Jumpin' Jehosaphat!' He marvelled, unable to believe what he felt. 'What's Phil packin' down there?!' Mark knelt down and popped the buttons on Phil's trousers. He gently worked the rubbery bulk out into the dim light of the tack room. He whistled at what he held in his hands. It was easily the biggest he'd ever seen, and the cowpoke had seen quite a few. "Mark... You don't have to... Some guys can't... " Phil panted as his formidible cock went stiff. "Well I can!" Mark returned, determination in his voice. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his throat and swallowed Phil. "Oh... Oh My... OH! MARK!!" With his nose pressed into Phil's pubic bush, Mark could feel the pulsing of the great organ against his tongue as Phil's orgasm racked him and his seed sprayed down Mark's esophagus. It was not until he withdrew a little to catch a breath that Mark's tongue was smitten by Phil's flavor. He savored it, then rose to share it with Phil. As they kissed, Mark could feel Phil undoing his pants, pulling out his cock, stroking its hot, steely length... "Phil... " He broke off the kiss. "I'm close... " Phil dropped to his knees, eager to return the favor. Mark dug his fingers into the man's brown hair and pumped into his mouth. His words hissed out of him as Mark went over the cliff. "Phil... heron ma... man... " Mark's legs could hardly hold him up afterwards. Luckily, Phil was there to support him. As he held onto Mark, smelling the scent of his hair, savoring the taste of his sperm, Phil knew this was it. "I love you, Mark," he murmured. Mark looked wonderingly into Phil's eyes. "I know. I can feel it. I love you too, Phil. I really do. But how... how did it happen so fast? Is it the magic they say the heron men make?" "Does it really matter?" Phil answered, hugging Mark closer, feeling too good for words. * * * "Goodbye, Mark," Amos said, one morning about a month later. He looked over at Charlie who was ready to ride a little of the way with his friend. "And don't you go strayin'." "Don't worry uncle Amos, I'll be back soon." The men took the trail to the south and rode silently, feeling the pain of the bond they were breaking. At a widening of the trail, they spotted Phil waiting for them with a horse of his own and a loaded pack mule. Charlie turned to Mark. "You sure he's the one?" "Yep, that's my pard," sighed Mark. "Everytime I look at him I feel all warm inside and... " "Okay, I get the picture. It's just like I feel everytime Elizabeth smiles at me." They reached Phil and stopped. Charlie looked from Mark to the buckskin clad heron man. "This is one hell of a good man right here, mister, and the closest friend I have," he told Phil, hooking a thumb at Mark. "You'd better take good care of him!" "Yes sir, I will." Phil said. He was dead serious and they knew it. "You sound just like your father-in-law, when he gave away Lizzy!" Mark laughed. "That's because I know now how Hiram felt: what it's like to lose someone you love," returned Charlie. Unexpectedly, he grabbed Mark and kissed him, long and deep. When he released his friend, he growled. "Go on now. I wish you every happiness... " Charlie turned his horse and spurred off back towards the ranch. The trail was a blur to him; impatiently, he yanked out a bandanna and wiped what he decided was sweat out of his eyes. It was a hot day, he told himself. Yes, uncommonly hot. "Goodbye, Charlie," Mark called after the retreating figure. "You'll be back to visit," Phil reassured his lover. "Yeah pard, I know. I'm plannin' to come back in the spring. Lizzy will be havin' her baby then and I'm sure Charlie will be a wreck. He'll need my help." "He's lucky to have a friend like you." "And you, are you feelin' lucky, pard?" chuckled Mark. "There's no comparison," Phil breathed. "We're together now, and I feel complete for the first time in my life!" "I feel exactly the same," Mark acknowledged, walking his horse closer so he could lean in to kiss Phil. "I already have tonight's camp set up, my love," Phil murmured. "We'll get there about sundown. All we'll have to do is light the fire and spread out our blankets." "You're the best, pard," Mark praised as they started off down the trail, beginning their journey together, side by side. * * * THE END * * * of Nizano the 4th prequel to the series 'The Way Of The Heron' by C. T. Creekmur Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur "All Rights Reserved" submitted to www.nifty.org 1/12/2009