Hey I remembered to put an intro on it. Sorry I've forgot to for the past few chapters. Hey! How's it going? Is your new year starting off right? Did you finish the list of 2023 boy stories you wanted to read and are already making 2024's list, hehee. Well, I hope you read Bear & Cub, I worked real hard in it and am real pleased with my first Detective story. I think Counting Down is a huge hit.

I'm thinking about the next story (actually, I'm always thinking about the next story) and could use some of your help. I'm thinking about writing my next story in a different genre. I'm thinking I would classify, Counting as dramatic, and Bear & Cubs as thriller/Detective, so how do you feel about stories that are wrapped around a theme like that? I can write superhero, Magik, alternate universes, space, etc. (I don't do horror, sorry for you horror fans) Email me (Foxfire3730@proton.me) and I'll take a tally then decide where to go from here.

If you do enjoy Counting Down, please read some of my other works on AO3 (TuxEdwards): Counting, Counting Down (the sequel to Counting), Not Capable of Love, Fire (Boys of Grizzly Valley on AO3), Go Bag (Boys of Grizzly Valley on AO3), and Jaded (on AO3). Please take a few minutes to drop me an email to let me know if Counting Down is for you: Foxfire3730@proton.me

 

If you like my stories and want to tip or donate to me, consider buying me a coffee at this link: Thank You

 

"The Universe is Made of Stories, Not of Atoms" -Muriel Rukeyser

 

Camels and Straws

 

AJ

11 Days Left

There is a creaking sound coming from the leather of my gloves as they become more snug around the polyester lasso. The saddle is snug around Stepper's chest and doesn't give much as I rock it for the tenth time since I've been in this chute. Within a few inches of my palm, the lasso's honda knot easily falls into place. A bead of sweat rolls down my glasses' frames and hangs off the bottom of the left lens until it is no longer able to resist gravity. It then falls past my face's determined look, the shirt with the white and light-blue checkered pattern, and it comes to a sudden stop on the thumb of my left leather glove, leaving behind a small dark spot that appears to look like a tiny star.

Stepper backpedals, stomping his hooves, and flicking his head from his own building excitement. We've done this 2,887 times if you include both practices and competitions. This is the part I get excited for. The moment in between breaths just before the `Go Buzzer' goes off. Its here, within these last few seconds, I can close my eyes and picture how Stepper's muscles move and will drive us out of the chute with such force that I can feel it from my head right down to my toes in my cowboy boots.

I can see in my mind how the calf will move his legs, kicking and jerking. How it can send him spinning one way and jumping another. Stepper's hooves will dig into the dirt, springing us forward at maximum speed, and the probability of losing my hat will be high. I'll lower my body along his neck for the first jolt, then I will raise my lasso up and ready it. It circles my body as I focus on Stepper's body movements, waiting for just the right moment--the exact moment they align with the calf. To make matters even more impossible, I have to include the flight time and the arch of the throw of the lasso before it lands around the neck of the calf. 

Wrapping the lasso around the horn of my saddle, I flip my right leg on the left side. I give Stepper the command to slam on the breaks, and his momentum propels me forward. Hitting the ground running, I'll pull my piggin' string from my back belt and tie the calf's legs. 

The `Go Buzzer' goes off. My eyes spring open to all the possibilities of the rodeo!

9 Seconds Later

After my run, Stepper weaves us through gates, people, and other horses on our way to our stable. Halfway there, my brothers and their friends show up talking about my run. "That was excellent, AJ," Krew says, petting Stepper as I slide off the saddle. 

"Thanks," I uncomfortably respond. I'm not sure why, but I always feel out of place when people give me compliments. 

"Yeah, AJ, it's amazing how you and Stepper move," says Jason Oaks as he helps me take the tack off my horse. Jason is a friend of mine that I get to see during rodeos. He lives somewhere in Nevada near the state line. He's very good, and Zack said that people are expecting great things from him in bull riding. I wish I could enter Bull Riding. 

Beau takes off Stepper's reins, and as I head to get a brush, he stops me by wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into a kiss. We get a few whistles and wisecracks, but that just makes Beau kiss me deeper, and I want him to. 

"You two are so cute," Cooper says, taking the brush from me. 

"Yeah, don't forget to breathe," Boston says with a giggle. 

"Yeah," Colt fake laughs until he gets everyone's attention. "At weast he's not moaning and screaming wike he does when they have sex."

I pull away from Beau as Colt's words bang around in my head while he, Krew, and Boston laugh. Why would he tell them that? I'm sure he thinks he's being funny, but it's so embarrassing that everyone knows I moan and scream during sex. I see Cooper punch Boston in the shoulder and scowl making Boston stop. As the rest of them laugh, I pull my hands away from Beau, and suddenly it feels like the room is closing in around me and I can't breathe!

"AJ, what's wrong?" Beau asks with a concerned look on his face. He reaches for my shoulders, and I take a step back, stumbling.

My tears begin to fall out of embarrassment, and I try to hide them from the guys, wiping them away. "I'm okay; I just need to lay down." I answer him softly and turn to head to Pop's house. I hear the rest of them asking Beau what's wrong, and then Colt yelling at Beau for pushing him. I wipe the tears from my eyes and begin to run. 

The screen door slams against the cabin wall, making a loud crack, and Gran comes from the kitchen to see what's going on. "AJ, dear, what's wrong?" She asks, but I know if I stop and tell her, I'll be a sobbing mess, so I keep running straight up the stairs to the guest room. After slamming the door, I fall on my stomach and cry into the pillow.

Beau

"AJ, unlock the door, please." I plead for my boyfriend to open the guest room door. I've been standing here for ten minutes, and I feel like I'm talking to a wall. 

"Maybe you should just give him some time, Beau," Gran suggests.

"I can't; he's riding again in like twenty minutes," I explain. "AJ, dad sent me to come get you. We've got Stepper all set." I stop and listen closely to the door, trying to tell if he's asleep or not. I think I can hear him crying. I side-eye Gran and can't think of anything else to say, so I add, "Colt's sorry, AJ. He feels bad for saying that."

"What did he say?" Gran sternly asks. 

"Gran, I took care of it. He was just being stupid," I answered. The click of the door lock pulls my attention back to the door, and I watch it slowly open. The door opens just enough for AJ to fit through it. He's been sobbing and looks really tired. "Oh, AJ, I'm sorry," I say softly. 

"I'm sorry, Beau," he whispers and hugs me.

I rub his back and assure him, "Don't be sorry. Colt was just trying to show off to his friends."

"I guess I better ride."

We headed down to the stables, and AJ and Stepper did their run, but AJ's heart wasn't in it. His time was not the best, but it wasn't the lowest. It really bothered AJ; at least that is what everyone thought, but Colt and I knew better. I just glared at Colt the whole time, and he just cringed. He tried to leave my side, but I made sure he stayed and watched. "That was your fault. How could you say that to us in front of our friends? You know AJ is having trouble making friends here," I scold Colt. 

"Can I go?"

"I think Gran wants to talk to you, so, sure, you best go." I dismiss my little brother, and he walks towards the house, scuffing his feet and kicking stones as he mumbles to himself. What's with him lately? I hurry to catch up to AJ, and when I get in the barn, he's in Dad's arms crying. He's doing his best to condone AJ, but he has no idea what's wrong. 

"Can you explain this?" Dad asks me as I walk up. 

"Yes, sir," I answer softly. "Well, some of it, at least."

Dad looks down at me crossly, and AJ asks to go home. "AJ, buddy, I can't leave the rodeo. How about you stay with Gran, and I'll come get you when I can?" The agreement from AJ is soft, and I didn't even hear it--just dad saying, "Okay, she'll be so happy to spend time with you. Beau take the tack off Stepper and put him away for AJ."

"Yes, sir."

AJ

Dad rubs my back as he carries me up the deck steps, and Gran is there holding the screen door open for us. Across the room, Colt is standing with his nose in the corner. Once I see him, I look away, and dad asks, "What'd he do?" Referring to Colt's predicament.

"He said something he shouldn't have," Gran says

"What did he say?" Dad asks.

"I don't know; I didn't ask him. I just asked him if he said something he shouldn't have. He started crying and said yes, so I put him in the corner to think about it and why he said it," Gran responds as if her reasoning was obvious.

Dad puts me down and says, "Well, it looks like you've got this handled. I have to be getting back." He kisses the top of my head as I wipe some rogue tears from my cheeks and leaves. 

I watch him run back to the rodeo, and Gran says, "Why don't we clean you up, and then you can lay down?"

As we climb the stairs, I eye Colt; he does the same. Why doesn't he love me anymore? I normally ignore his little jabs, but to embarrass me like that. I can never look those boys in the eyes again. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I get to the top of the stairs, and in the back of my mind, that little voice tells me there are twenty-five stairs and fifty-one spindles. Once we get in the bathroom, Gran wets a washcloth and places a hand on my back, and with the other one, she washes the dirt from my face. I will admit that it does feel good. Afterwards, she takes me to the guest room and tells me to lay down for a little bit. 

Entering the guest room, I am about to climb into the bed when I see a teddy bear over next to the lamp. I hurry over and take the bear before laying down. I curl up and snuggle into the bear. My finger moves around the sheets, stopping on each little picture of a blue flower: fifteen..., sixteen...., seventeen....., eighteen......, nineteen........

After A Few Hours

I'm woken up and picked up by my dad. I struggle to keep my eyes open and eventually just give up and lay my head on his shoulder. Gran kisses me, we're in the gator, and then, after my fourth yawn, we are pulling in the garage. I walk into the house with my dad behind me. "Congratulations on winning the roping buckle, honey," mom says over on the couch. I make a beeline for her and crawl up into her lap. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"He and Colt exchanged words. I don't know what was said; I haven't talked to Colt yet, but AJ took it hard, didn't'cha pal?"

"I don't want'a talk about it."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm sure Colt didn't mean it," Mom says, combing her fingers through my hair. 

"Colt!" Dad yells up the stairs.

"You can stop yelling for him. Zeke and Zack took him and Beau to lacrosse practice," Mom says, then pats my butt, saying, "Go change your riding clothes, AJ, and take your prize buckle upstairs until we can get it mounted."

Zack

Us Colter boys enter the house, and Colt runs straight to Dad and jumps in his lap. Mom comes out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks and snacks. Beau gives her a one-arm hug, and she says with disgust, "Whoa boy, you smell terrible. You, up to the shower, now!"

Beau laughs and hurries upstairs with all his gear. Dad stands up with Colt upside down in his arms and announces that he and Colt will be having a talk in the master bedroom. Zeke and I admit simultaneously, "Ouch, we remember those talks."

"Stop," mom scolds us. 

"Is he spanking Colt yet?" Zeke asks as he flops down on the love seat.

"That's about the age he started spanking us. Where's AJ?" I ask, taking some pretzels from her snack bowl. 

"I sent him upstairs to change an hour ago. He probably fell back asleep," she answers, and she slaps my hand when I go for more pretzels. 

"Fell back asleep," I repeat looking at the stair thinking maybe I should check on him. "Why's he always so tired?" I ask not expecting an answer.

Fifteen minutes later, Beau comes bounding down the stairs and leaps over the couch to tackle Zeke. I look around the room, and other than Colt pouting and laying on his stomach after the talk he and dad had, we're all enjoying the movie, but one, "Beau, is AJ coming down?"

"AJ isn't upstairs," he says, confused. 

We all exchange looks, and I get up and head upstairs. I check his bedroom and find his rodeo clothes and underwear on the floor next to Beau's smelly lacrosse shorts and sports jock-strap, which I can smell from the door. Leaving his room, I see his hearing aid plugged into its charger. I quickly checked the other bedrooms, bathrooms, closets, and game room, but no AJ. Where the hell could he be?

I come down the stairs, asking, "Has he come down?"

"No, he's not upstairs?" Mom asks. 

"Wherever he is, he's not wearing his hearing aid."

"He only does that when he wants to be alone," Beau says with a bite of fear on the edge of his voice.

"Where does he go, Beau?"

"Um, is he naked?" Beau asks reluctantly.

"What?" Mom and Dad practically say it at the same time. 

"Yeah, I think so--why? How'd you know?" I curiously ask: I wasn't going to mention that detail. Mom kind of thinks she stopped the boys from being naked all the time because she doesn't want to tempt the cowboys living in the bunk house with pristine, preteen boy asses, but since Beau brought it up.

Then Mom follows up with, "Beau, where is AJ? This is not the time for bro-secrets."

"We, um, we like to run naked to the lake to skinny-dip after bedtime if one of us has a bad day. Lately, he's been spending a lot of time there at night; I could run out to the lake and check?"

"I got it; sit down," I tell Beau.

"Yeah, sit down," giggles Colt reaches up and attempts to pull Beau's briefs down. Beau tries to hold them up, but not much is covered by his efforts. Shaking my head at the goofiness, I tell Mom and Dad, "I'll be right back with AJ." I grab one of the giant swimming pool towels and head out to the garage. I fire up the gator and take it down the driveway, past the bunk house and the hay bale barn, and head towards the lake. 

Passing the bunk house, I see a few lights on and hear Sanchez playing his guitar. I chuckle at the thought of AJ being in there. There are two guys in there that might be questionable, but the other fifteen love my brothers as if they were their own kids. Other than swats on his ass for being out at night naked, which AJ would love by-the-way, he would be totally safe in there, but after what Mom's been through with AJ and his dad, it's no wonder that she is overly cautious.

The moon is so big here in California that it always amazes me what it looks like on a muggy, clear night. The constellations are in different places, but they are no less amazing than they are in Montana. Bug sounds fill the air as I drive across the east pasture and I smell the pine trees that encompass the small lake as if it was some kind of oasis. Just inside a row or two of pine trees, I come up on the beach area of the lake. I pull up and stop just before the sand that dad had brought in and dumped.

"AJ!" I shout. 

No response.

"AJ," I shout again and then cuss when I remember he can't hear me. I stop and listen to the night. I don't hear the water moving, so I don't think he's skinny-dipping. "Damn it!" I cuss again, grab the towel, and head through the woods, heading around the lake. Other than a couple bushes I had to push my way through, it was easy to find the path the boys must have made that leads to their tree house, which dad made them. 

The bushes open into a small clearing with a huge tree that leans out over the glass surface of the lake. Four feet up the tree trunk is a huge tree house. I climb the four steps and enter through the front door. It's a tight fit. I think it was made with preteens in mind. "AJ!" I shout, hoping to get a reaction or a sign he's here somewhere, but nothing. The first floor has two rooms and stairs that go up; I hope he's not upstairs. I'll check out on the wrap around deck that hangs over the lake first. 

Stepping out on the deck, I see AJ as naked as a jay bird, looking up at the moon, as pale as a ghost, and shivering. Taking out my cellphone, I text mom that I found him and that he's fine. After putting my cell back in my pocket, I unravel the towel and drape it over his shoulders. To my surprise, he doesn't even jump. 

I sit next to him, and he looks at me. He's still so cute, and I think the shivering smile actually makes him cuter. I sign, `How did you know I was here?'

He holds up pale fingers and signs, `I can feel the floor boards under my butt move when you walk.'

I mess up his dripping hair, sending droplets of lake water flinging about, then sign, 'Hey, what are you doing out here?' 

He weakly smiles and signs back with shaky hands, `Thinking,' and looks away from me to look at the stars. 

I watch the side of his face, and after a few seconds, I see a tear amongst the evidence of his skinny dipping. I tap his shoulder and sign, `Are you going to tell me what's wrong?'

We sit there for a few minutes, and I reach over, wiping the continuous tears from his eyes. What bothers me most isn't that he's crying; it's that his body shows no evidence of crying; minus the shivering from the chill, he looks eerily calm. `AJ, little man, talk to me.'

He leans over and places his head on my shoulder. He signs, `I miss you.'

I won't lie; it hurts me every time he says that to me. Sure, life has gotten a hundred times more chaotic since school ended, and Zeke and I have taken on more responsibility with the Double H and the Bar C, but I need to do better when it comes to being there for AJ. For now, I'll just enjoy this moment when I get to hold my naked little brother in my arms as we stare up at the stars. After some time, I get his attention and sign, `You know you can talk to me about anything, right?' 

`You wouldn't understand, and you can't help me,' he responds, and then stands up and heads around the deck, heading into the woods. Have you ever tried to argue with a deaf kid? It's best if I just wait until he gets his hearing aid in for me to dig farther. When I catch up to him, I scoop him up, making him giggle. I love when he giggles. I turn him around, and he latches onto my neck and lays his head on my shoulder. I see him shut his eyes, and I don't think it would take much for him to fall asleep. 

The chilly drive back provided him with an excellent opportunity to cuddle up to me. I carry him inside the house and right up to his room, where we find his brothers already asleep. I go to lay him down next to Colt, and AJ quickly signs, `Not next to Colt. I don't want to sleep here anymore. Can I sleep with you?'

`That's not a good idea, kiddo. I get up way too early and what would Beau think?'

He scowls and I can almost see the gears spinning in his eyes when he signs, `How about in the guest room?'

A little shocked, I sign back, `I'm not sure Mom would like you stinking up her guest room sheets. You'll have to explain to me why. Are you and Beau fighting?'

AJ bites his lip and looks over at the naked Colt with his little bottom still rosy from his talk with dad. He's peaceful now coo'ing next to Beau. Looking back to me, AJ signs, `Please Zack.' 

I sigh, pick him back up, and carry him to the guest room. I tuck him in and lay next to him, combing my fingers through his hair. I sign that he smells like lake and he giggles.

He looks at me with those brilliant emerald eyes and signs that he loves me. I kiss him on his forehead and begin to get up to leave when he grabs my arm and signs, `Stay, please.' I nod and lay back down. He snuggles into me and closes his eyes, and it wasn't long after that that he was coo'ing himself. 

AJ

9 Days Left

Just After School Started

The music flows through me as I play the piano. Bar after bar, I play the allegro with the frustration and rage I have been storing. Thunderous sounds fill the room making me want to scream out as I blend the cords into my anger with Colt. Then, suddenly, play the adagio and slow down to almost nothing. The nothing in this song is so powerful, following the rage from the beginning. It's my unwillingness to go on. Then, key by key, it builds. Slowly, it becomes recognizable as the rage melody, but tired and more regretful. My regret for having these dark thoughts, but I have them nevertheless. The song quickly amplifies once again, until... nothing once again. 

I pull my hands from the keys and wipe the tears caused by my own pain that I used to fuel the song. Clapping comes from behind me, and I whirl to see Mr. Carter. 

"Wha... What are you doing here?" I ask as I scramble to stand and put my backpack over my shoulders.

"That was amazing, AJ! I can't believe you play with such emotion," Mr. Carter responds, ignoring my question, or so I thought. "To answer your question, this is my classroom. What are `YOU' doing here?"

I sigh and admit, "I thought this classroom was empty, and I was..." My words get lost in my mind, and I can't find a way to say this without confessing...

"...Skipping homeroom," Mr. Carter says, finishing my thought. Shame hangs on my shoulders, and it's heavier than my backpack with all my books in it. I nod and sit down on the piano bench. He comes around all the student chairs and sits next to me. "What was that you were playing?"

I take off my backpack and set it next to the bench. I spin around and drop my index finger on the middle C key, making a solid tone that is strong throughout the classroom. "It's just something I wrote; it's not very good," I whisper in response.

"Not that good! You wrote that? Wow, AJ, color me very impressed."

"You're just saying that to be nice. I best head to homeroom," I say and stand up, grabbing my bag.

"No, stay and play it again for me. I'll write you a pass; don't worry about it. You sound like you need to play. AJ, normal people talk out their feelings, making them feel better. Musicians can do the same thing, but through music. Music is just notes on a page of paper like words in a book," he says, and then plays a few bars of a very boring, monotone measure. "It's up to the composer to make it meaningful, insightful, and emotional." He continued to play, and the notes turned into a song written before my eyes. When he stopped, there was no mistaking his message. "Talk to me, AJ. Tell me what is bothering you," he says, gently taking my hand and setting it on the keys.

Gently stretching my fingers on the keys, I can feel my rage tumbling inside me like red hot gravel grinding my insides. Mr. Carter stands up and takes a step back. I give him one more look, and he suggests, "Let your feelings out, AJ. Tell the world how you feel."

I take a deep breath, relax my posture, close my eyes, and sing:

In the shadows I stand alone,

Searching for a place I can call home.

Lost in a world where nobody knows,

The battles I've fought, the tears I've sowed.

The music plays and the words flow from me, and with every verse, the ball of hot gravel in my chest gets smaller and smaller. I send notes ringing through the room and can hear them echoing back to me as I play and sing:

An empty mirror reflecting my face,

A blurry image, longing for embrace.

In a crowd of strangers, I'm lost at sea,

Hearing to find the person I should be.

The song builds and builds, and I can feel tears on the keys, and my fingers slip to a wrong note, making me slip up again and again until the song crashes into nothing but anger. I stand up suddenly, and the bench slides away from my knees. I grab my bag and head out of the band room, covering my emotional face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carter, I have to go," I tell him through gritted teeth in hopes he'll just let me go somewhere I can be alone and scream at myself for getting so emotional, but he doesn't. He does the unexpected. He hugs me. 

I wrap my arms around him and drop my bag. He holds me tightly, and I break down. "Mr. Carter.... What's wrong with me?"

"Oh, nothing is wrong with you, my boy. I just think you're wound up so tight you're about to snap," he tells me and rubs my back. 

"Nobody likes me here. Everyone hates me, including my little brother," I confess to him. Sitting down in a folding chair, I cover my face with my hands and sob.

"I'm sure that's not true. They don't hate you. The kids at school just don't understand why you're here. You're smarter than any kid here and most teachers, to tell you the truth, but you don't show it. That makes them nervous around you, is all. AJ, you're a great kid, and once they get more comfortable with you, you'll be everyone's little brother," he says, getting me the Kleenex box. 

"How do I do that? Everyone here scares the shit...," my face clams up, but it's too late; the word got out. "Sorry, stuff, scares the stuff out of me."

Mr. Carter smirks at me like he wants to laugh, but he is holding it in very well. "Well, AJ, as one of the teachers here, I would like to think none of us want to scare the... stuff out of you. As far as how? That's easy, just show them. Show them you belong here. I tell you what, tell me what will make you less scared to be here?"

Wow, I wasn't thinking he was going there. I wonder if I should take a few days to think about it. The buzzer tones for the end of homeroom giving me five minutes to get to my first period class. I hop off the folding chair, and Mr. Carter stops me, saying, "This offer ends at first period buzzer; don't tell me you haven't been thinking about this since day one."

Oh shit, um, "Anything I want?"

"Within reason."

"Let me test out. I don't belong here; I know everything here," I tell him, expecting him to laugh. But he's thinking about it, so I lay it out for him. "I have an IQ of 161 and do college homework at home for fun. I have to hide in the closet, so my mother doesn't catch me because she says I'm rushing things too much."

"Where did you get college class books?"

"eBay," I say, kind of like duh. 

"161? Come on, are you being serious?" 

I shake my head and backup my claim by multiplying pi by five squared, then pi by twenty-five squared, then pi by six-hundred-twenty-five squared, and was coming to continue, but Mr. Carter's eyes glaze over, and I stop knowing this was getting me nowhere. "You're just going to have to trust me. If you don't, test me--I'll take it right now or you can ask my mom."

"IQ of 161 huh," he says thinking out loud. First period buzzer goes off bringing him out of his thoughts. He smiles at me and says, "Can you make it through the day?"

"Do I have a choice?" I ask.

Mr. Carter laughs and says, "No, let me get you that hall-pass."