Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2024 20:37:46 +0000
From: Griz <UMGriz@proton.me>
Subject: Harvard Comes To Montana - Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Twenty-Nine

By Griz

Umgriz@protonmail.com



Hey, Farm Friends;

Hi from warmer winds, bluer skies and calves that are already 50 pounds
heavier than they were when they were born.  These little ones are endless
amusement for us.  There's one that follows me around, and he reminds me of
Jozef's Sebastian.  Curious and playful, and constantly verbal in his own
language, Bovinese, with the definite and unmistakable accent of central
Fergus County, Montana.

Thanks for coming back around for another chapter of "Harvard Comes To
Montana".  It's good to have more light in the sky, later in the evening.
I can sit out here, smoke my pipe and just mind my own business.  Well, not
my own, exactly; I am kind of caught up in Team and Farm W and everyone
else who orbits that chunk of planet.

I appreciate your emails.  Because I have trust issues these days with
technology, coupled with my own distrust in my abilities to save documents
carefully, I have been printing the chapters and all the correspondence I
receive from my friends, storing everything in the giant Trapper Keeper I
had my senior year of high school.  Someday, an archeologist is gonna find
it all and either laugh at my ridiculous arrogance, or she'll send it to
Netflix and have a series made.  I hope it's the latter.  What will Netflix
look like in 10,000 years, anyway?  Probably more ads and more seasons of
"Stranger Things".  That's okay with me.


**********************************************************


*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction.  If you are under the
age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where
you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives
opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out
how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***


***********************************************************



We stayed on my mountain and continued our embrace.  I was looking over
Marc's shoulder and saw Barn Owl fly to the roof of the house.  Maybe she
was looking for that last mouse, straggling home in the morning after a
night out at the road house.  I could anthropomorphize anything on a farm,
including turning a mouse into a party girl who should've had her own magic
pumpkin coach take her home at the stroke of Midnight.

"Marc, here's my plan for the day.  I want to go out and survey the fields
after harvest with the drone.  There's work to be done to bring in the last
of the alfalfa.  Aleksy and I will start on that, probably this morning
when the lazy fucker's feet finally hit the floor.  Doesn't sound like a
lot right there, but it is.  It'll probably last into evening.

IF there's any time left this evening, I need to get the livestock out of
the big field and back into the little one, and do my best to check each
one for any obvious injury or illness.  The late evening is open at this
point, but I want to get my thoughts together so I can talk with my
academic advisor at Montana and discuss distance learning classes."

"`Before sunup to after sundown'.....you weren't exaggerating."

"No, and that all can happen if there are no problems with any of what I
mentioned.  I just want to be straight up with you about what my days are
like.  Even after harvest, there's never enough time to do all that we
need.  Please know, though; I will always have time for you, and if I don't
have time, I will make time.  Might just be a phone text or a call, and we
might get a meal together.  But next month when my classes begin, I'll have
an even tighter schedule."

"Babe, you are being kind in trying to warn me about your non-stop days and
evenings.  Thank you.  It's okay.  I understand.  I look forward to the
texts, the calls, a bite together and even some well-deserved Zzzzzs, if we
can manage those together, too."

"We have to manage those.  I need tender love-making and aggressive
ass-pounding with you, too.  I need you, Marc.  Might still be a kid in
some regards, maybe many; but I'm level-headed enough to know the
constraints that agro life can place on a relationship.  Every yard light
you can see in the distance to the north and south of us has people in
houses there who can say the same thing: each day is an effort, but the
only way to stay together through Life is to get out of the bed we got into
last night.."

"We will.  I won't hinder you or your farm.  And as for what we get up to
when the farm is getting some sleep and we probably should be, too; well,
just remember the two tubes of lube in the night stands."

"`Night stands', as in, plural?  Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, Jozef.  Didn't we talk about that last night?"

"Yeah, last night....."

"Ummm....."

"`Ummm.....', he says."

I took Marc's right hand from my hip and moved it to the left rear pocket
of my jeans.

"Oh!"

"Yeah, `Oh!'."

I pulled the goo-glide out of my pocket, parking it between my teeth.  I
was juggling the five buttons on my Levis, shucking the tight denim down my
thighs and to the tops of my hiking boots.  Underwear?  Fuck it.  Gets in
the way.  Marc was working his own jeans down his massively thick and
powerful legs.  `How does he get any pants even pulled up those legs first,
let alone down them later' was a reasonable and probably scientific
question, but I had no time for anything but getting on my knees and
launching my open mouth onto Marc's already-hard cock.

Oh, fuck.  That mushroom head was far beyond my tonsils, and my nose buried
in the thick fur above his cock.  No one ever had to tell me to breathe
through my nose; it was on the back of my head, remember?  But I inhaled
Marc's scent, only barely-slightly-lovely there after the shower the night
before we slept.  It was.....Marc.  I steadied myself on his hips and kept
his cock in my throat so I could gather his essence in my sinuses and
brain.  Not my first time down here, and it sure the fuck wasn't going to
be my last (well, maybe the last time before Noon).

Marc held my head in place with both hands firmly placed on it.  Gently he
began to rock in and out of my mouth, just the slightest, smallest oral
strokes.  I caressed the underside of Marc's cock with my tongue, applying
just a little upward pressure.  He thoroughly felt what I was doing, and
Marc moaned just barely, his head back and mouth open, aimed at what
remained of Orion as it approached the Western horizon.

"Jozef.....Babe.....oh.....let me stay in you.  Fuck your drones, fuck your
alfalfa....."

I pulled back and released his now steel-hard cock from the prison that was
my throat.

"....fuck my farm boy ass....."

I had the cap flipped open and was squirting maybe too much lube on my
fingers.  Cock reinserted orally, I reached behind to circle my hole with
the liquid Teflon.  One, then two, fingers made their way carefully inside
myself.  I had and continue to have my moments of impatience, and I've also
regretted my haste here or there over the early years of my sexual
exploration.  Relax.  If I can say it, I reasoned, I can do it.  Heh.....if
only it were always that easy.

Marc resumed holding my head and moving his hips forward and back, pressing
himself against my lips and tongue.  My man was enjoying this.  I could
feel his cock throbbing in my mouth when he had gone as far as he could,
just holding us both still and steady for a moment.  We were at the top of
my mountain, just as day was breaking, almost in view of anyone who would
look in our direction.  Should we be careful?  Yes.  Should we at least be
in the barn loft?  Yes.  Should we just get busy and get my ass bred?

HELL, YES.

I pulled my head back again and smiled up at Marc.  I had tears in my eyes,
but not from any tender `Hallmark Moment' in my mind; sometimes, really
good blowjobs result in tears.  I'm sure there's a logical anatomical
reason for it.  I'd have to ask Tom next time I saw him, just so he can
race to change the subject. I stood up, gave Marc a quick kiss, kept the
smile on my face and my eyes on his, and turned around.

He didn't need any further instruction.  Marc aimed the head of his cock
with one hand while he separated my ass cheeks with the other.  I felt Marc
right where he needed to be.  Still, patient and careful, that Marc.....

"Babe, are you r....."

Before he could say `ready', I pressed back against his cock.  He entered
me, or maybe more accurately, I surrounded him in whip-crack quickness.
Holy fuck, that stung.  I knew it would.  I wanted to feel that pain and
pleasure, which I'd carry with me for the rest of the day.  I felt it right
then, most definitely.

It was incredible.  My man was minus seven inches in me, and it felt like
an entire foot.  Heck, maybe in my enthusiasm, I had my aim slightly off,
and it WAS his entire foot in there.  All the way up to his ankle.  Sure
felt like it.  I'd know if I felt toes wiggling.

We held our position for only a moment.  I'll admit, this was about a huge
quality of fuck and a little quantity of time.  I wanted my man in me, and
I had him.  As he pulled out, I tightened myself up.  Released when he
thrust back in.  Repeat the procedure until results are produced, and in
this case, cum produced in maybe two minutes.  Perfect.  The Sun was
getting up, and soon so would my family.

"Fuck me, Marc.  Mark me again.  Breed me.  Fuckin' own my ass.  It's
yours.  I'M yours!"

Between what one sphincter was doing and the other sphincter was saying,
results were achieved splendidly.  With both of Marc's hyper-strong hands
on my hips, he both pulled me back and thrust himself forward into me, hard
and fast.  I heard it, and I'm sure he did, too; the loud clap of furry
flesh on less-furry flesh.  I was hopeful at that moment that the humans in
the house and the animals in the barn didn't wake up thinking lightning had
hit the old water pump mill.

Marc shuddered, and he unloaded his DNA far up inside me.  I could feel his
cock pulse as each jet coursed through and out of him.  Within seconds, my
own proud Paco unleashed my load all over the ground in front of me.  Yet
again, and I was loving the now-common reoccurrence, I didn't touch myself
once.  The pleasure (and pain) of Marc's sexual aggression brought forth an
intense wave as the involuntary orgasm hit.  I probably once had a pretty
decent-looking, plum-shaped prostate before I met Marc.  Now it probably
was battered and dislodged, not to mention with a texture resembling a
peach pit.

"Jozef, damn!  That was.....I'm still seeing stars!  Holy fuck!
Incredible!"

"Oh, I know, Marc; I was right there for all of it!"

We both laughed, and I pulled slightly forward, releasing Marc's still-hard
cock from inside me.  I felt behind me.  Somehow, whether by luck or pure
anger at me, my ass had sealed back up already.  Ah.  Nice.  At least I
could get to the barn bathroom if necessary, but it never seemed necessary;
Marc's orgasms were explosive.

I was either absorbing all that DNA-rich protein inside me, or it was all
still there, accumulating into a big ball of cum that might need to be
removed surgically someday.  At the rate Marc and I were doing That One
Thing, surgery might need to be scheduled for the end of August.

I could just hear my grandmother warning me: `Cum is like gum!  Once inside
you, it STAYS there for SEVEN YEARS!'

We both pulled the jeans back up while leaning in for a kiss.  There went
the sex and here came the love.  Marc got much more gentle the further
north his tenderness went, and I loved it every bit as much as when his
rugby-player, bad-boy behavior had coursed further south.

Moments with Marc were right where we both needed them to be; still
novices, learning our way together.  I had more experience, but not that
much more.  There was one area we both had zero previous experience, and
that was actually having strong feelings for the man we shared ourselves
with.

We inspected each other while laughing about it, our moment of a little
loving underneath the Big Sky of Montana.  Determined we would not
embarrass ourselves or anyone else, and with the tube of lube tucked way
down in my pocket to ensure no embarrassment from that, either, we made our
way down the side of my mountain and back toward the barn.

Much better to wash my lube-covered hands in there than in the kitchen
sink, getting it all over those freshly-gathered cackleberries from the
hens.  Besides.....standing beside Mark and looking at each other and
ourselves in the mirror was a little pleasure.  It was probably as close as
we'd get to the little photo booths that would get four pictures of us on a
strip of paper to commemorate just being together.

Hands washed, we made one additional trip to the Barneezers.  Lola Cola was
sleeping, and it looked like the pups were, too.  Only O.C. was awake,
keeping watch and holding twenty tiny scimitars at the ready to take on any
threat to his own family.  We crept on by to avoid disturbing thirteen
sleeping furballs, and returned to the house.

Inside, Mom was already up and in the kitchen.  Aleksy and Eva were there,
too; drinking coffee and reading news on the iPad.  The grain was gone, and
we were paid.  The alfalfa bales were ours alone, though we might sell one
hundred bales here and there.

"Custard Toast for breakfast, Kids.  I've had the sourdough bread
marinating in the custard since last night.  Raspberries from the garden,
and maple syrup or lemon creme."

My brother and Eva both smiled when they heard the menu.

"DROOL, Mom!  Jozef will want to hog it all, but it'll be fun to fight him
for it."

"I've loved your custard toast since I first had it years ago!  What can I
help with, Marie?"

"Well.....ever made lemon creme before?"

"No....."

"It's really easy.  Take the quart of lemon ice cream out of the freezer.
Scoop out half of it.  Put it in a pan and heat it.  Once it's melted and
warm, it's Lemon Creme.  Ta-Da!"

"Mom, you're a real Julia Child!  Big Brother, how much alfalfa remains to
come in?"

"Not much.  300-350 acres."

Marc looked up from the iPad.

"What is a practical size of one acre?"

"One acre is nine-tenths of a football field, minus the end zones.  43,560
square feet.  Sixteen tennis courts."

"Is your equipment enough to get that much alfalfa baled in one day?"

Aleksy nodded while setting the table.

"It is, if we don't stop for anything.  Lunch goes out with us, and we keep
the fueling pickup in a convenient location in the field.  If we start
after breakfast and stay focused and have no equipment problems, and if
your boyfriend can make it through an hour without having to go love up on
his lonely steer, we can get it done by seven or eight tonight."

"Big Brother, isn't about half that alfalfa planted a week after the half
by the gate?"

"Yeah.  The newer stuff is in the corner of the section.  That should
actually wait a few more days, but we could cut it now to just be done with
it.  I think the yield would be off by maybe 5 - 6 percent.  Not huge.  If
we can, though, I think we should let it grow and get it in a half day next
week.  That'll free up half of this day for checking the harvested fields."

"Just was talking with Marc about that before we came in.  We discussed a
run-down on my day, but I wasn't speaking for you and Mom.  I like the
alfalfa plan.  Sounds like a good day.  Looks like the coffee pot is low;
everyone want more?  I know I do."

"Make some more, Hon; thanks.  Eva, your drip coffee is much better than
this.  What're you using?"

"My coffee supplier roasts his beans himself.  That's what I use for the
drip, but I buy packaged beans for the machine."

"Is the drip stuff available for retail sale?"

"Of course.  I can run it through the grinder for you, if you want.  Five
pounds at a time, keep it in your fridge, all is well."

"Then that's what I want, maybe end of the month.  I have enough Folger's
to last me until then, and I don't want to just waste it, even though I've
never thought much of it.  I'm going to get started on the griddle.
This'll make a lot, and I'll fry it all.  What we don't eat, I'll use in
Monte Christo sandwiches tomorrow."

Marc popped his head up again.

"Is that the one with ham, swiss cheese and raspberry jam?"

"That's right, Marc.  Probably late-lunch or an early dinner."

"I hope there's lots left over; I want to come back for one or two of
those.  Haven't had a Monte Christo in years."

That pricked my ears up.....'come back for', Marc?  Hmmm.....  I was
realizing I'd talked about MY plans, but didn't listen to him talk about
his.  I wanted to cover that.

In no time, breakfast was on the table and enjoyed leisurely.  We caught up
with the town news on KLCM, and then the ag report out of Billings on the
NPR Yellowstone Public Radio station.

Before we could get to the ag report, we listened to a particular tidbit of
town news that froze us all.  A group of people, the `Concerned Men For
America', had seen the video of Marc stopping Junior's attack on Eva, as
well as the news that he was being held without bail until a court date in
December.

This was a far alt-right group closely aligned with others like them in the
country.  They would come to town to petition the court to establish bail
for Junior so he could be released pending trial.  This was all dog whistle
bullshit.  They wanted to get him out of jail so he could talk about how he
was victimized simply for trying to have a conversation with his wife,
which she aggressively resisted.  All of us at the kitchen table knew
exactly how it would go.

The group would probably also petition for a change of venue or a speedier
trial; preferably August, but also early September would do.

This had the potential for regional all the way up to national news
descending on Lewistown, where the news outlets would find some----but not
many---county citizens lamenting poor Junior's fate.  Members of the
Montana legislature, some of them also far alt-right people disguised as
Americans, would be counted on to play this for all it was worth during an
election year.

Eva just looked blank.  Damn.  It seemed possible she might not get much of
a break from her attacker, after all.  She would be pulled into the trial
as a witness.  Marc Taylor, too.  We had a farm and family attorney, but
we'd have to get some advice from her anyway.  And if Junior followed
through with his threat to counter-sue Eva and also go after Marc for
assault and battery, he'd need an attorney.  Oh, my gosh.

Well, it HAD been a nice start to a sunny day, and with a good breakfast to
send us to the fields.  Nothing we could do about any of it until we found
out if the Concerned Men For America were able to make changes to Junior's
bail and court date.  Whether we wanted it or not, we had yet something
else to think about now.

The five of us set the kitchen right again, which took all of ten minutes.
Mom could've handled it all herself, and probably would've preferred it
that way; but we needed to stay together, and with the common good of a
clean kitchen, ten hands contributed to that end.

"Eva, that'll have been heard by everyone in town.  You want to avoid all
the questions?  You can stay here with me while the boys farm.  Or I'll go
in with you."

"Thanks, Marie.....you're all so good to me."

"You're family."

"I know.  I feel that way.  But I need to be there.  If that's on the news,
we're going to be busy, and I can't leave just Kim there by herself."

"Then let's you and me go in together.  Do your work, and I'll ride shotgun
a little at the window.  I can generally get people to stop talking before
they even start, just by giving them `That Look'.  My boys know `That
Look', but have not seen it for many years!"

"Are you sure?  Because I'd love that, really."

"I'm sure."

"Thanks!  Aleksy, I'm going in now.  See you later?"

"Of course.  And both you and Mom hear me: any funny business goes on
there, call me and I'll be right there."

"I know you will.  I'm one of two lucky women in Fergus County; we both
have the three Princes Charming in Silver Armor!"

Aleksy and Eva kissed and hugged tightly.  While the news was shocking and
disturbing, the headline was not `Dangerous Lunatic Escapes Fergus County
Detention Center'.  Eva was safe, but no longer assured.  None of us were,
really.  The one who demonstrated his danger was behind bars; the ones we
didn't know were on their way.

Eva and Mom grabbed their backpacks and keys and rode off together in Mom's
rig.  Once they were up to the county road, Aleksy excused himself to go up
and make the bed in their room and get showered.  Marc and I stayed in the
kitchen, seated at the table and enjoying the last of our coffee with
chocolate milk.  A poor man's mocha.

"Damn, Jozef.....that's certainly news.  Those `men's groups' are coming
out of the woodwork these days.  Sometimes they're successful.  This is
going to get interesting.  I suspect that group will foot the bill for
Junior's defense at trial, and will try all sorts of legal maneuverings to
keep him out of jail and as their new poster boy for the victimized and
downtrodden Poor Hated White Guy."

"Well, Eva isn't living in `Common Grounds' any longer, which is good.
She's safe here with us.  I think I'll look into a gate lock, up at the
county road.  Just in case Junior figures out where Eva lives.  That fucker
will make her parents' lives miserable, too.  Here I am, talking like he's
already released."

"That's exactly what we need to plan for, Babe; we make the best plans for
the worst possible action.  That's something else I picked up along the way
while marching backward through Time to understand History.  Combat can't
be over-planned or too carefully refined.  I'm going to say this, too: if
it turns out to be a good idea that Aleksy and Eva NOT stay out here, they
are welcome at the house in town.  Dan and the deputies and the city police
can make their presence known in the neighborhood."

"That's great, Boyfriend; very generous, and very caring in the security it
could provide.  I hope you'll mention that to Aleksy."

"Mention what to Aleksy?"

"Ah, there you are.  So, we were talking about enhancing security here.
I'm thinking a lock at the gate up at the county road.  Maybe another
deadbolt on the kitchen and front door here, too.  And Marc had an idea."

"Yeah, well, let's assume the worst; Junior is released on bail, but his
trial doesn't actually get moved up.  He's now floating around free for
awhile, and I doubt his behavior will have changed.  If you and Eva think
it would be safer and more comfortable for you, there's the house in town,
and you're welcome to it for as long as you need.  I was telling Jozef that
Dan, the deputies and the city police would be a lot more present there
than all the way out here.  Your call, but my offer.  I'll have extra keys
made, but new and additional locks installed."

Aleksy thanked Marc with a hug of gratitude.  There was a difference for
four or five inches in height between them, but really, we grew and adopted
giants on that farm in so many senses of the word.  I was so proud to just
be in their presence.


Dad, you'd have outshone my pride with your own.  Maybe you made the moment
possible.  Most certainly, you made Aleksy and me, to love and welcome Marc
to be one of us.  The kids born to be here with us will be giants,
regardless of how little or big they ever are in their lives.  Our lives.
I, too, want to be proud of my kids, Dad; and how they share their love
with the people they bring into Team W and onto Farm W.  All of us, all of
them, giants.

"Marc, Little Brother; thank you.  If I have any peace at all about last
week and now this news, it's that Eva and I aren't alone in any of it.  I
am not saying `no' to your kind offer, Marc; I AM saying that I hope we
won't need to actually take you up on it."

That day had begun really well for Marc and me, but the wind turned on all
of us and brought the threat of a challenge.  For generations on that land,
we looked as far and away as we could, every day, to see what was in the
air and on the horizon.  While in those situations it was truly about the
weather-----snow, hail, sun, rain-----sometimes, like that time, it was
just a comfortable metaphor for an uncomfortable moment.

The three of us nodded grimly, not at all happy with the news.  However,
there was nothing we could do about it, except be supportive of the county
prosecutor who would resist all motions the `Concerned Men' group would try
to raise.  I thought later I might look online and see if I could create a
new group: `Normal American Men Concerned About Concerned Men for America'.
We three can't be the only ones.


Marc and I walked outside toward the rigs.  It made the most sense for him
to take the diesel to town.  I used my truck for some of the actual stuff
trucks were built for in the first place, but Dad's truck.....well, it
hadn't been `broken in' yet.  Not a scratch, not a dent, not an unpleasant
smell in the cab.

It was funny to me that my own truck had started out that way, but by the
time my dad and uncles used it for their own commutes, it acquired----shall
we say----personality and color.  I loved my rig, and yeah, I'm sure you
can already imagine, it's what I want my own kids to learn to drive in,
too.

"Marc, Aleksy and I need to go cut the alfalfa.  You are welcome to stay
here.  I'd love you to stay here.  Heck, I just love you."

"Love you, too.  And thank you for the welcoming offer.  I don't have my
laptop here, and all my notes and files are on it.  I need to make calls,
negotiate deals, do laundry and miss you.  Because I will."

"Charmer.  Hey, what're you going to do about eating?"

"Pizza."

"HA!  You are such a college boy!  I'm jealous!  Pizza sounds great!"

"You could drive in and join me in a pizza....."

"Hmmm.....I dunno, Marc; do you think there's room enough for both of us?"

"`Both'.....oh, and YOU'RE such a smart-ass!  I'd get a huge pizza.  Wings,
too, if you want."

"I am growing weaker by the second.  Let's talk later.  Aleksy is right; we
can get a lot of work done if we focus on it.  Call you later?"

"Whenever works for you.  If a call goes to voicemail, leave me a message.
I'm likely on the phone with my agent or publisher, or the dean.  I need to
see if she has any leads on someone on staff wanting to rent my home.  Um,
Babe.....how're you.....are you okay?  I might've been too rough this
morning....."

"I'm fine, Marc.  Better than fine.  I wanted what I got.  I had every
intention of satisfying you, too.  Were you?  Satisfied, I mean?"

"More than the last time, and I've been able to say that on each and every
occasion we're together sexually.  Making love.  Fucking with wild abandon.
I know this'll sound mushy, but you and your ass were worth waiting
twenty-nine years for."

"Both my ass and I are yours, Marc.  I know sitting on that hard steel
tractor seat will `feel' your earlier presence fairly quickly, but I
welcome it.  It'll keep my mind off the other work that needs to be done!"

We were already pulled together, my hands on his shoulders and his on my
hips.  I stepped closer and covered the space between us, our feet zippered
in position, and leaned forward to kiss my man.  The slight tilt of our
heads, our noses, too, zippered in place, gave each of us full access to
the other.

The kiss was tender.  Subtle and quiet.  The polar opposite of the sex we
enjoyed earlier.  I'd have been fine staying that way.  Fuck pizza; kisses
are my favorite food.  Still, both Marc and I had our jobs to begin, and
the distance was short and brief in duration.  I liked his idea of pizza.
Jockeyed just right, maybe my brother going with me, we could also get the
diesel back to the farm.  No big deal.

I heard Sebby calling me, since I was in full view of him in the pasture.
Heh.....ya don't typically think of farm animals having jealousy issues,
but I'll tell ya what: Black Angus steers, or at least one I could think
of, were just naggy if adoring attention on them was lacking.  Still, I
missed him, and maybe he missed me; and he was on my list of
responsibilities for the day.  No time like the present to shut him up and
cross it off my list.

Marc took the keys and began stepping into the truck.  He smiled and put
both feet back on the ground, leaned in and gave me another quick kiss.  If
you've had a man you didn't expect to love, you got kisses you didn't
expect could even exist.  Two-For-One deal with Marc.  God, I loved that
man, the Summer between high school and college; when everything that could
go wrong went wrong, and part of what made things right again was that
two-for-one deal.


Marc drove up the long driveway to the county road.  He had his arm out the
window, waving.  I waved back, and kept waving, until he was gone from
view.  My brother walked outside, easing his big farmer hands in leather
work gloves.

"You think you guys will ever stop behaving like you're each other's first
crush?"

"Marc is my first crush.  I'm his, too."

"Oh.  Really?  Him, too?  Well, then.  Carry on!  It's kinda cute,
actually.  I've known you all your life.  Ever since you were brought home
from the hospital, you've been a magnate for everyone.  But it's just like
you to only respond to an extraordinarily rare mineral, found only by
chance on random Montana highways."

"Thanks.  I am so happy and relieved you and Mom, Eva, Tommy and Kristi
have welcomed Marc into my heart and onto the farm.  I don't take any of it
for granted.  I have heard too many stories of other gay kids not having my
freedoms and privileges."

"I've heard those stories, too.  I've seen on campus at MSU how being gay
will be a lifetime burden for some of the kids there.  Four years there,
and they go right back to a life of hostility or, if they're lucky,
invisibility.  A friend of mine on faculty in the school of architecture is
also a faculty liaison for the on-campus gay-straight student alliance.

He has told me some of the members' stories.  Some come to college just to
not hear hateful comments from their own family.  They go into debt with
student loans so they can see another gay student on campus, and feel a
sense of community.  If they get an education along with that, it's a
double win."

"If I can ask, did you have a tough time, dealing with having a gay
brother?  And one who is just so daggonned handsome and virile, too?"

"Full of yourself much?  Was there any room in you for the custard toast
this morning?  Little Brother, your gay way was partially paved for you.
The other part was just you for your own sake.  I knew when I met you that
you'd be special and amount to great things.  You're already doing that.
Years ago when you wrote to me to say you're gay, I was in tears; happy and
worried, same time.  That's a long story, and we have a long day ahead of
us mowing hay.  Another time, okay?"

"Another time, Big Brother."

Aleksy pulled me into a hug.  His 6'3" giant and my 6'1" kinda-giant
selves, cut from the same cloth, had the entire farm just to us.  Well, at
least as far as other humans were concerned.  As for the other mammals?
Nope.  Not quite alone.

A particular two thousand pound steer called again, this time raising his
voice and applying some attitude to it.  I fantasized that I'd be the first
one to sit down to a 24 ounce rare cut of Sebby Prime Rib and groan with
relief before the first bite: `Silence.  Finally.'

Of course I didn't mean that, although I knew someone would get that cut at
the Yogo Inn.  It would not be me, and until that moment came, I welcomed
the naggy attitude bellowed my way.  Aleksy laughed and we stepped back.
That was a nice hug, and it was still a nice Thursday morning to get to
work and think about how I'm going to see my man again sometime.
Pizza.....always motivation for me.

The day went exactly as planned.  We mowed, baled and stacked close to 175
acres of alfalfa.  It smelled so good!  You know how mowing your lawn
smells good?  Alfalfa is fescue on steroids, and the heady aroma is no
different.  A few years ago, Dad bought a funky, manually-cranked juicer.

He proceeded to masticate some of the freshly-cut alfalfa with the machine,
extracting the dark, forest-green liquid.  Dad, Mom and I sipped the juice
at first and then just threw it back, returning for more.  I still like
alfalfa juice, and the buzz it gives me is what coffee beans can only dream
of.  Gotta dig that thing out again.....

By 2:00PM, we were finished with the alfalfa.  The equipment got topped up
with fuel, the air filter shop-vacced out, and added some coolant, too.
The Beast was ready for Friday.  It seemed like a good time for a lunch
break, and leftover Moussaka was just right.  I heated up two farm boy
portions and Aleksy whipped together a little Greek salad, too.  We ate out
under the huge, old tree and surveilled the little and big pastures.

Moving the herd from big to little was the plan, and it looked like they
were all actually near the gate separating the two pastures.  Nice.  Thank
you, Team Angus.  We'd get a chance to count them and give the visual
inspection, and then report to Sally and Lamar if we found anything we knew
we couldn't handle.

"Aleksy.  Dad's truck is in town now.  I think it should be back here, in
case we need to tow or haul with it.  No matter what arrangement we make,
Marc will end up out here tonight without his own rig.  Will you come into
town with me?  Have some Professor Pizza with His Lord High Braininess and
then return here?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that.  What time you thinking?"

"7:00?"

"That'll work.  Actually, that'll be when Eva is done.  Can she come to
town with us, or is it a `guys only' pizza party?"

"No family excluded.  Of course she should come."

"Little Brother, can you imagine her using more of that kitchen space
and....."

"Stop right there.  I know what you're gonna say."

"You'd object to `Common Grounds' slinging pizza, too?"

"Oh, no objection from me; I love the idea!  Ten minutes away from
freshly-made pizza that'll very likely be the best in the county?  Oh,
yeah!"

"Then why'd you want me to stop?"

"Because if you give Eva more to do there, she'll have less time to do
stuff here."

"What stuff does she need to do here?!"

"Ovulation, Conception, Birth.  And in that exact order."

"Okay, how long is it gonna take you to get your degree?"

"How'd we get onto my degree all of a sudden?  I suppose the usual four
years, unless I take 21 credits a semester, including Summer, and finish in
three.  Why?"

"You'll be twenty years old, correct?"

"Yeah.....?"

"Okay.  So.  Degree first.  From this day forward, all of us in this house
save our pocket change, and in three years, you and Marc can afford a
surrogate."

"That seems hasty.....you'll be a dad at 30!  Why so early for me?!"

"Because changing all those diapers will keep you focused on your own
reproduction experience, and let Eva and me just work on the `practice
part' awhile longer."

"HAHAHAHA!!!  That's without doubt the most G-rated and socially acceptable
way to say `We wanna bang!' I've ever heard!"

"You're young yet.  Let's just agree: storks and cabbage patches will be
on-call for awhile, okay?  Although, truly, I think you'd be a good dad
while you're still so young."

"Aw, man!  Really nice thing to say!"

"I was just meaning to be practical.  Both you and your kid could reach
puberty and maturity together."

We both laughed and finished the last of the lunch, then walked in and
cleaned up.  Mom would be pleased; officially no Moussaka left.  I told
Aleksy I'd go get the drones and extra batteries from the farm office, the
little room that was once a Butler's Pantry.  Aleksy said he'd go out and
check on the Barn Family, and get Bolt and Stan ready to ride.  I was
looking forward to this.  It had been only last week that my brother and I
droned the crops, liking what we saw and getting excited for harvest.

The ride out was pleasant.  Maybe half an hour or forty-five minutes.  No
hurry.  It was now 3:00PM, and we could survey a lot by the time we planned
to quit at 6:30PM and get cleaned up for town.  Not much of a breeze at
that hour, so I was feeling the drones could stay on course and we'd get
good images.  I programmed one drone for Aleksy and me, and the other drone
for Mom.  All of the footage saves as a file, and everyone would get to see
everything eventually.

The robot mosquitos took off, programmed with actual Long-Lat coordinates.
Very much like a plane's auto-pilot.  That way, we wouldn't have to hold
the control and try to look at the images on our phones.  Keeping the
drones aloft, we moved forward, following them.  One battery change each,
and we were ready to finish.

We saw only the very neat, efficient and controlled work of The Team on
their machines, finishing earlier in the week.  They left only tight
corners with no reasonable access, but the scythes would make fast work of
what remained.  I wasn't sure what we'd do with the grain; we'd already
gone to market.  We could thresh it, I guessed; hold onto each grain for
bread.

No big deal, but we had to do something with it.  If we left those stalks
there to wither away, we'd be wasting food.  That would have Dad out of the
ground and chasing my ass for a well-deserved kicking.  Heh.....the rural
version of the `Fruma Sarah' scene in `Fiddler On The Roof'.  Nope.  Those
grains will be brought in, Daddy.

We finally saw as much as we'd see today, and were pleased with the view
from up high.  All we really saw was Responsibility to turn the land and
prepare it for the next grain that would grow there, and the Opportunity to
plan that growth.  That would allow us to have incremental plantings and
harvests, so not everything needed to be done at once.  Aleksy and I both
liked that process.  It was all about negotiation.  For now, the day was
closing.

I took out my phone and called Mom.  When she answered, I was on speaker
phone.

"NO, we don't deliver drinks and goodies, even to farm boys who live down
the lane!"

Kim and K laughed in the background while Eva brewed a mocha.

"No drinks or goodies, I promise.  I'm thinkin' pizza."

Eva shrieked.

"I TOLD you Marie; we have the room for a three-level oven in the kitchen,
and we can take out a section of the wall right here, and the prep bar can
just be an extension of the baking counter!"

Oh-HO.  The W Boys were a day late and a dollar short with their smart
idea-----it was already planned by smarter people.  I had no doubt those
pies would fly out the window.

Hmmmm......'Flyin' Pies'.....

"So the real reason I'm calling is to conspire how we can get the diesel
back, which Marc drove in.  My thought: I ride with Aleksy in his rig, Mom
and Eva come in, we have pizza and wings at Marc's house, and I'll drive
the truck home.  Mark then drives his old Ford out, and then when he goes
to town tomorrow, he's all ready for the commute."

Eva liked the idea.

"I haven't been in that house, but I've been curious about what it looks
like.  Is it okay to show up for pizza and be a tourist, too?"

"It's Marc; he's fine with family being family.  Aleksy and I are thinking
7:00.  I'll order two medium pies to pick up at Pizza Hut.  Go to Castle
Taylor, eat, get a tour and ride back out three vehicles: the diesel, Mom's
rig, and I imagine Marc's old truck."

It sounded good to Mom and Eva, but before they hung up, I asked a favor.

"Eva, will you order the pizza?  I'm not good at half-and-halfs and
combination.  As far as I know, there's nothing Marc doesn't eat. And Mom
will have her card to pay for it."

"Of course I will, Jeffrey.  Anyone want wings, too?"

"OH, yeah. A platter of 40.  Variety of sauces, but I like buffalo and bleu
cheese."

"Drinks?"

"There's root beer, coke, 7-UP, ginger-ale.  Oh, and squirt.  Will that
work?"

Agreement all the way around.  Things were in motion.

One more call to make.

"Siri, Call Marc."

"Calling Marc, Jozef."

"Hey, Babe; I was just thinking about you.  How's the field work?"

"Concluded for the day.  All went well.  How's your work going?"

"Thus far it's a lot of discussion about the book itself, page numbers,
subject in specificity, subject in general, obvious successor of the last
book.  That's what I've been told I have to do.  Then I counter with what
is feasible within the time constraint.  Once that's all done:
remuneration, and if I'm expected to go on a lecture circuit to promote the
book once it's published.  Jozef, we have a lot to talk about."

"I like to talk!  You're lucky!  And I'll even listen when YOU talk.
Discuss more over pizza?"

"That's good.  Just right.  So, half an hour until you're here, plus or
minus the back-ups in the pizza kitchen?"

"Accurate.  Oh----are you okay giving a tour of the house?  Neither Aleksy
nor Eva have seen it."

"Of course; if there's a possibility they'll be staying here for awhile,
they might as well see what they're getting themselves into.  Since I have
half an hour more before you're here, I'm gonna get back to a couple of
questions raised when I was on the phone with the east coast guys.

"Okay, Boyfriend.  We'll see you soon.  I'll grab a sack of ice for drinks,
too."

"See you, Babe."


And that was that.  Checking in with each other like we'd been doing it for
years.  I bet Mr and Mrs Holland did that over their seventy years
together, and maybe still did.  I could hear that conversation.....

"Hi; just wanted to let you know I'll be back soon."

"Oh, good.  How was your day?"

"It was fine!  Not a lot going on.  Some thunder earlier."

"I heard it, too."

"Oh.....you heard that, did you?"

"The kitchen isn't that far away from the bathroom!  Well, anyway, be
careful on your commute back.  I moved a chair in the dining room.  Don't
collide with it when you're in traffic out that way."


I'd love to have those kinds of conversations with Marc, many years down
the line.  We've already talked and covered a few emotions along the way,
but there were so many experiences together we haven't even dreamed of yet.
Whatever we covered and whenever, I wanted one conversation to be constant:

"I love you."

"I love you."

Aleksy and I checked our watches and saw we had plenty of time to bring the
livestock in to the little pasture.  They were already just about there,
anyway.  Bolt and Stan were still saddled and enjoying oats.  We mounted
and rode out, seeing what remained of the season for field flowers.

Not a lot of color now, but unmistakable were the tiny purple Shooting
Stars still all over the place.  Neither deer nor cattle liked them, so
they were able to grow in the prairies and meadows of Central Montana.
Further south of Montana, the plants only blossom in April and May.  Those
on the farm seemed to adapt and show their white, pink or purple colors
until Autumn.

When we got through the gate separating the pastures, the cattle saw Bolt
and Stan, and just sort of moved toward us.  Cattle aren't stupid, but
they'll never be known for trail blazers, striking out on their own to see
sights yet unseen.  When they see something familiar, they just move to see
if anything has changed since the last time they saw it.  Made our jobs
easier, so we weren't going to complain.

I dismounted Bolt and kept the gate only narrowly opened.  Aleksy stayed in
his saddle, and as each of the fifty-five cows moved through, we both
looked for cuts or scrapes or other injuries obvious to the eye.  We could
handle the external stuff, at least in most cases.  It was the limping cow,
or the one whose head was never raised, that set of an alarm for us.

Then we'd have to get Sally out.  I stood there content with what we were
seeing, and thinking that I was looking forward to the day when I could
call my boy Tom and tell him if something didn't look right.  That kid's
talents had already diagnosed two issues with Lola Cola, and that was just
over the phone.  Tom just knew stuff about animals, and I loved him for it.
He was going to be known as a great man and a great veterinarian.

I decided to call him since we hadn't communicated already today.

"What do you want?  Didn't I already do my charitable duty and talk with
you earlier this week?"

"Yeah, but you're not very bright and probably forgot all about it, so I
thought it was a good idea to remind you I exist."

"There's a peace, a comfort, that comes to my mind when you leave it,
Jeffrey."

"Those are symptoms of emotional withdrawal.  Bayer has a drug for it.
Anyway.  Wait.....what's with the cars honking?"

"I'm in town.  Dentist appointment.  Just a check-up.  Using the insurance
while we still have it."

"You mean to tell me you were in a dentist's chair with a dentist who knows
you, and he didn't wire your jaw shut?  He clearly doesn't have The Greater
Good Of The Community in mind, now does he?"

"You're wasting my phone's battery.  State your business or leave me alone,
ya Polish Poser."

"You being in town actually plays into my plans, maybe.  Do you have to get
back to your farm right away?  If you don't, we're doing pizza and wings at
Marc's in town.  You come, too.  K is working now, but I'll see if she
wants to stop by."

"Yeah?  That's about as good a plan as I've heard in awhile now.  What
time?"

"7:00.  Marc, Mom, Aleksy, Eva, You, K and me.  I think you and I both go
for the same kind of pizza, but tell me if there's anything you don't want
on it."

"I like everything.  I'll call Dad and clear it with him, but I think we're
fine for the evening.  Pizza.....heck, yeah....."

"I'll call Eva and get the order built up a little.  See you."

"Yeah.....if you're lucky and I'm desperate, Fucker."

I laughed and hit the red button, then texted Mom to tell her Tommy would
be there, and to please ask K if she wanted to join us.  After a brief
pause, Mom texted back.

"More pizza and wings, I suppose?"

"Yes, please!"

"Need to talk with you and Aleksy this evening when we're back out."

"You finally going to put him up for adoption?  THANK YOU!  Best mother,
ever!"

"You're insufferable, but I'm trying.  More pizza, more wings."

"Thanks, Mother-Of-Mine-But-No-Longer-Of-Aleksy's!"

She sent a little emoticon with rolling eyes.  This was going to be a fun
evening.  Oh, geez.....I invited two more people, but didn't cover that
with Marc first.  Fuck.

"Hey, Babe."

"Hey, Boyfriend.  Have a moment?  Just a brief one?"

"Of course.  I'm looking at the footnotes of the last book, the one they
want made into a series.  Most of the people I make reference to are still
alive.  This is good.  I can actually interview them as part of the
research."

"I'd like to understand this process.....hey, um, I kinda asked Tommy and K
to join us for pizza.....and now I'm asking if that's all right with you."

"Oh.  Huh.  Well, let me think about this for a moment.  Remind me: Tom and
K are your best friends, right?"

"They are....."

"So, pretty much `family', but not by blood or some document saying so.
Babe, of course they're welcome here.  It's nice of you to let me know, but
you don't need my permission to invite people to our house in town."

"Geez, Marc.....you fill my heart, you know that?"

"That's my only real job."

And then I got a tear or two in my eyes, and was glad I was only on the
phone with Marc.  As if a glance or a touch wasn't enough, he chose every
other word in the language to say `I love you' without those three.

We talked a little more, then said our goodbyes and hung up.  I was looking
forward to the evening with the six people I cared most about on the
planet.  Marc's new book was something I would be able to witness from its
nascence to publication.  That's something very few people are lucky enough
to witness, other than by the writers and editors, themselves.  I wanted to
know everything, from the history to the process of observing my man
observe History.

Aleksy and I noticed only one cow that seemed to be ailing somehow.  Her
head was down, but she wasn't looking at the ground; here eyes were
forward, seeing where she was going.  Ear tag #27.  I got a video clip of
her while she walked and would send that off to Sally once the herd was
back home.

Sebastian brought up the rear.  I wondered if steers knew inherently that
they were guardians; they just seemed to take care of beings smaller than
themselves.  Sebby was twenty feet behind the cows by the time everyone was
through the gate.  I made a note to myself to have him examined by Sally or
Lamar, too.  It had been three months, and he seemed all right; but he was
my Big Guy, and parental paranoia was my receipt for the $100.00 paid for
him five years earlier.

"Aleksy, what do you think is up with #27?"

"Could be anything internal, but I suspect it's a fetal development issue.
She's too early along to have standard pregnancy toxemia, and the hay we
feed them is hyper-nutrative.  I don't know."

"I got a short video of her.  I'm sending it to Sally and Lamar."

I sent the video.  I knew Thursdays were some of their busiest.  The clinic
also took domestic pets, and it wasn't uncommon for ten dogs and cats to be
in the waiting room.  Fridays for the clinic were entirely out-calls to
farms all over the county.  A house call might not happen the same until
Friday, but I thought we might be fine.  #27 wasn't stumbling, she wasn't
drooling; the other cattle didn't avoid her, and I didn't see blood coming
from anywhere.  Good luck, #27; hang in there until Sally and Lamar can get
out to see you.  I could also take her in, and would; just depended on what
the clinic pros said.

Big Brother and I brushed the horses and gave them some oats and fresh
water.  They seemed playful in the field.  I suppose they were just happy
to be out and riding with their humans.  I was beyond thrilled to be out
with them, with my brother, the cattle and Sebastian.  From my earliest
days riding, I never thought of it as an obligation.  It was a privilege
for me to be among the animals we cared for, and the land we cultivated;
also with care, also with love, and patience and persistence and hope.
`Work is never work if you're doing what you love', said someone wise.
I'll just assume she or he was a farmer.

"Jozef.  Any big plans for the moment?"

"No.....what's up?"

"I'm thinking an earlier ride into town....."

"You're that hungry for pizza?"

"I'm always hungry for pizza!  Actually, though; I'm thinking Polk's Locks
and Keys.  I also want to go see Dan for a moment, if he's not on patrol."

"Fine with me.  You're concerned about Junior and the `Concerned Men', I
take it."

"I'm concerned with whatever I have to do to keep Eva safe and not
worrying."

"We have to drive past the Court House to get to Polk's.  Maybe stop and
see the prosecutor on the way?  Maybe he has more information than the
radio station had."

"That's a good idea.  You mind hanging with me while I do this?  You want
to drive your own rig in?"

"I'll ride with you.  One thing.....if you are okay with me saying
it.....get Eva out here for an entire day, along with lots of ammo.  I'll
paint some targets on that scrap plywood from the furniture."

"Oh, yeah; I like that.  Where's the target practice, though?"

"I'll nail the targets against the shed wall out at the abandoned homestead
house.  The cattle are not in that field now, and there's no one gonna be
disturbed by the noise.  We could stop at Ron's and get ammo, too; I think
we'll have plenty of time."

"Good ideas, all of `em.  Fuck, I hate having to think like this....."

"I'm sure.  The choice is you spending some proactive time to prepare for a
threat we hope never comes, or Eva spending every moment in fear for a
threat she could see coming right toward her."

"Enough.  I'm going to get angry.  Not at you, Jeffrey.  Never at you."

"I know.  You're not tilting at windmills, Don Quixote."

"You're the best Sancho Panza, Little Brother.  Looks like a couple of
hours left.  I'm gonna feed the pups and check on Lola Cola."

"And I think I'll get some time in with Sebby, just him and me.  He was
obviously rolling around out in that field, and he likes being brushed.
Time is not on our side to spend more time with him like this."

"No, you're right.  I didn't know him when you brought him home from
auction, but honestly, it seems like he's just always been here."

"I'm resigned to accepting he won't be here much longer.  I'd like to buy a
bull calf out of this next season.  `Sebby The Second', or something
equally banal."

"You don't have to `buy' a calf, Little Brother."

"Maybe not, but he's not actually `mine' unless I do.  My money makes him
my own personal responsibility.  Does that make any sense?  Maybe not.  I'm
good at over-thinkin' stuff."

"Perfect sense, actually.  Fine.  Market price, whatever you end up calling
the poor beast, probably born to be neglected due to endless romantic trips
to exciting Billings by his human."

"Ugh.....yeah, it was romantic, and yeah, furniture and clothes and all,
but there have to be perfectly logical reasons for me to want to go back
there.  I don't know why, but it always seems like work; even just thinking
about being in Billings, Montana.  I wish Missoula were closer."

"I thought you were gonna go brush yer steer?"

"I am!"

"Then go do it!  For fuck's sake; you talk about going to Billings seeming
like work.  You should have to listen to yourself!  It's Sisyphus, his
stone and the mountain, all over again for me!"

"Oh, quitcherbitchin'.  You'd be miserable if I were mute."

"Can we be scientific and find out?  How about a thirty year experiment?
Starting now?"

To make my point and his, I said nothing; I sneered and flipped Aleksy off.

"That's a great start!  Oh, I'm gonna like turning sixty, having enjoyed
peaceful, quiet, restful years on a farm!"

I turned and smiled at my big brother, my hero, my champion.  I couldn't
really imagine what I could deny my brother, just like I didn't know what I
could tell Marc `no' for.  Aleksy and I could just be silly together, and
even plan serious stuff while being so.  With the hours between farming and
the feeding frenzy that would follow, we had grave matters to consider, and
protecting family was never more important.

Sebby and I hung out for half an hour.  He saw me holding the brush as I
approached the little pasture, and walked right up to the fence.  Another
ear-shattering "MOOOOOOO!!!" in my direction, probably telling me he also
wanted a bubble bath, manicure and pedicure, and why not?  A tail trim,
too.  I took care of his hooves before the fair, and they were fine.
Trimming and hosing him off, though; sure.  Just not right now.

"How you doin', Big Guy?  Did you get some lunch out there today?  See any
UFOs with bad timing, two days too late to make crop circles?"

Sebastian just nosed my pockets, sniffing for apples and carrots.
Damn.....forgot those.  I'd go back to the barn fridge and get some.  Years
ago, maybe in the 1950s, someone planted apple trees around the garden.
They grew into a decent windbreak, such as a fruit-bearing tree can be.
Dad said his great-grandmother canned the apples, including apple pie
filling.

The trees were not producing their best apples now; they were not too
flavorful, and even while still on the tree, kind of `mealy'.  Didn't
matter; Dad, Mom and I would collect them and feed the cattle.  The carrots
we grew lasted throughout the year, hanging up in what remained of the root
cellar part of the basement.  Onions, garlic, potatoes; lots of things
lived down there, and a `quick trip to the store' was thirteen steps down,
shelves laden with canned fruits and vegetables, and bushel baskets of raw
veggies, too.

Sometimes I'd smile with anticipation when I'd see either Mom or Dad come
up from the basement, arms filled with ingredients for a soup or a stew, a
casserole, even just things to go on the sides of chicken and steaks.  Our
business on that farm was food, and we were not only our own producers, but
our own very devoted customers.  The Apocalypse may or may not ever come,
but we would feast like royalty, regardless.

After I got my Big Guy brushed and rewarded with apples and carrots I
chased down, I found Aleksy at the other end of the barn.  He held a
wiggling, whining little pup in one hand and the nursing bottle in the
other.  My hands were big, and a pup in them covered a lot of territory.
The same little dog in my brother's hands?  A little new potato, if that.

Still, his tenderness was kinda beautiful to watch, and after he returned
her to her mom, Aleksy stood and admired how well they were all doing.
O.C., of course, did nothing during all that, except keep his eyes on
everything.  For some reason, that warranted at least one duck heart, so I
got one for him and one for Lola Cola.

"Big Brother, Big Father of Bigger Puppies, if I may be so bold; what is
the future for some of these wee family members?"

"I've been thinking that a website linked to different Bernese breeder
associations could be the best way to go.  It's not just about the money,
and I think that'll be substantial; it's also about being very particular
who can adopt one of these.  The sire is from a champion bloodline.  So is
Lola Cola.  The pups got the best start possible here, and I'm kinda
particular about them also getting the best rest of their lives away from
here."

"Simple website?  Just HTML-5 and SSL?"

"Um, sure.....what you said....."

"Lots of pictures?"

"That'd be essential."

"You'll have your website.  I'll build it myself."

"You can do that?!"

"Yeah; senior project with Tommy.  Have you seen Sally's website?  Look at
the bottom of the home page.  You'll see a name that might make sense to
you: `Team TJ', for Tom n' Jozef.  You just need to decide what you want
your domain name to be.  Oh----wait a minute!  You said last week that the
sire's human wants you to buy him.  That still true?"

"Probably.  I haven't talked with him in a few days.  He wanted to check up
on the pups and tell me how sorry he STILL is for something that is really
out of his control."

"Then are you going to establish an actual breeding business?"

"I don't know!  I guess I have to, don't I?"

"I dunno; this seemed like a good experience, all the way around.  I don't
know how these things work, but if you want to go that route, then I can
add a tab on the website for information about future litters.  I suppose
other breeders would see your sire and dame, and approach you for more
selective breeding with the sire, too.  Those days are over for Lola Cola,
unfortunately."

"Ugh.....is this something I want to take on.....geez."

"Well, at least we can get eleven pups available for adoption."

"Eleven?  I count twelve."

"Twelve born, eleven up for adoption.  I call dibs on my Little Guy.  Name
your price, but Lola Cola has already almost commanded me to adopt him.
I'd be letting all three of us down if I didn't."

"Good lord.  You're a farmer, a student and operator of a petting zoo.  AND
a boyfriend."

"Sigh.....multi-tasking is my super power, I guess....."

We laughed and refastened the net across the stall.  My phone buzzed with a
message from Lamar.

"I'm pretty sure she is a little thin, compared with the others.  Need to
make sure the fetus is alive and growing.  Might just be in a weird
position, placing pressure on the heifer's kidneys or bowels.  We're packed
today.  Choice: bring her in and we'll corral her for the weekend, or I can
come out Tuesday."

"Urgent issue?"

"I would rather attend sooner than later.  If you can bring her in today,
I'll be able to keep my eye on her Saturday and Monday.  If there's an
emergency, it'll be addressed immediately, rather than time being lost to
Sally or me getting to your place.  Your call, Jozef."

"I'll bring her in.  Thanks, Lamar."

"Open Thursdays until 6:00.  See you."

I showed Aleksy the texts.

"I'll help you get the livestock racks on your truck.  Rubber mat, too?"

"Thanks, and yes."

It took twenty minutes to turn my truck into a cattle hauler, even if for
only one head.  I backed it up to the ramp at the corral.  Aleksy rounded
her up himself with just the four-wheeler, getting a halter and lead on her
for the short walk in from the little pasture.  Sebastian welcomed the
two-year-old cow into his corral with a bellow loud enough to awaken people
in Siberia.  Or, he was complaining about her being in his own domain.  Get
over yourself, ya big baby.

I walked her up the ramp and into my truck.  #27's head never raised, and
she didn't shy away when I rubbed her neck.  No, it didn't seem she was
doing well, at all.  `Hang in there; you'll get expert care soon.'  I was
happy to talk with Lamar, and he gave options that were generous.

"I'm going to take #27 over to the clinic.  Probably unload her myself,
wherever Lamar points to.  Where you going first?"

"I'll wait for you at the Court House parking lot.  Come in with me.  From
there: Polk's, then whatever else we have to do."

"Okay.  I suppose you'll stop at Eva's?"

"Yeah.  You want something to drink?"

Fuck yeah, I want something to drink.  A liter of cum from my man's cock.

"Sure; Italian soda with peach syrup and cream, please."

"Ohhhh.....that's a good idea.  Okay.  Court House."

I got in my truck, and #27 and I went for a drive in the country.  Poor
little beast.....not doing well, and unable to help herself.  She is why
the Sallys and Lamars and Tommys of the country made the good decision not
to go into retail fashion merchandising.  Heh.....'Tommy dressing windows
at Rimrock Mall in Billings'.  Oh, the humanity.

The ride in was fairly fast.  My windows were rolled down to enjoy a breeze
in the 75 degree air.  I filled my lungs, but there was little to smell
now.  Harvest was in for our neighbors on the county road.  Soon enough,
there'd be the musty, dusty air, the result of soil being turned.

There are options to tilling a field after Harvest, but in our minds, it
remained the most sustainable practice.  Burning the plant remains had been
a common practice for many decades, even though it is a poor management
option with numerous negative consequences; chief among them was an
exponential loss of soil nutrients if done year after year.  Our neighbors
didn't ascribe to burning, either.  If a forest fire ever began in the
Little Snowy Mountain Range, it was not started by any of us as a result of
burning the crop waste.

I waved at whomever was in the window at `Common Grounds', though I
couldn't really see; the Sun was at the perfect height.  I also had the
handicap of bugs on the windshield, something that would have to be
remedied while in town.  Just before hitting Main Street Hill, I turned and
took the road to the vet clinic.

Sure enough, there was no shortage of cars belonging to the humans of pets
with last-minute-before-the-weekend concerns.  I drove around behind the
clinic and backed up to the ramp, and then led #27 down and into a little
corral she had all to herself.  Aw, bless your heart, Lamar.....  He had
already filled the trough with fresh water, and had hay in a manger for
her, too.  She went right for both.  Underweight or not, she had an
appetite and was thirsty.  Those needs at least could be met.

I walked through the back door and saw Betty Powell behind the counter.

"Well, Jeff!  Have you grown even more?!"

"Probably, Mrs Powell; there's always something to eat on the farm, and I
seem to always be eating."

"You're so big!  I remember you when.....well, I'm sure you hear that a
lot!  Lamar told me you'd be bringing in a pregnant heifer.  Did you get
her unloaded, or do you need some help with that?"

"No, but thank you; she's in.  Do I need to sign anything?"

"Yes.....this is for Sally or Lamar to perform procedures in an emergency.
Kind of a surgical release, if you will.  This form says you'll be
responsible for all charges.  This one holds the clinic not liable for
anything happening to your cow that is not the direct result of diagnosing,
consulting or treating her.  And THIS one is consent that I can share your
phone number with my niece in Hobson!  HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!  Not really!  Any
questions for me, Jeff?"

"HA!  No, thank you!  Lamar explained it's possible the cow might not be
attended until next week.  I understand that.  And here----for you only,
Mrs Powell----is my phone number, in case there are other concerns."

"Like, me wanting to go out dancing, and take you along?"

"I'd waltz ya across the floor, Ma'am!"

We both smiled, and I returned to my truck.  Poor #27.  To be ill is one
thing; to be ill alone is either a blessing or a curse.  I hoped she'd be
okay until a vet got to her.  The clinic was well-equipped and staffed.  I
was looking forward to my boy interning there; not only for my sake, but
for the sake of all animals born and in existence in Fergus County.  Tom
Sanger, DVM.  I'd have those cards printed myself, the moment he graduated.

Back on my way into the big city, I noticed people on both sides of the
street, enjoying the late afternoon on their porches or in their yards.  It
seemed to be a good end of the week for at least these folks.  I passed
Betty Powell's house and saw all its shingles on the ground.  Re-roofing.
We had ours done awhile back, but I noticed it would have to be redone in
the next year or two.

That old timber frame house could easily bear the load of tons of snow on
top, but the skin is not the bones, and the shingles weren't quite as
resilient.  The barn's standing seam metal roof had been there since Dad
was born, and he had always intended on putting the same kind of roof on
the house.  Just never worked out that way.  Maybe on my watch.

The Court House parking lot was also filled up, but I saw my brother's rig
parked on 8th Avenue, on the south side of the street.  I had to park a
block further south.  Maybe there was something going on, like a trial or
something.  Walking in the building, I saw Aleksy and Dan talking in a
quieter corner.  I raised my eyebrows to ask if I could join, and my
brother motioned me over with his head.  Dan was talking in a hushed but
still-Dan voice.

"Junior has some fans.  He doesn't, really; he's the unwitting poster child
of these people who've probably never been in Montana before, and didn't
even know Junior until the video went viral."

"So they're coming to town for a temporary spotlight?"

"That's about it.  They'll want to post his bond and then make a big media
show about the rights of American men being trampled on.  I wouldn't put it
past them to make allusions about Marc being an immigrant, just because
he's not bright white like they all are."

That made me tense up.

"Dan, do you think Marc is going to be unsafe with these people in town?
Or Junior, if he's released?"

"Jeff, no one is safe around the Juniors and Concerned Men, not really.
Pure evil always finds a way to clog justice and threaten folk, just by
being around and given a voice.  Now, that's not to say anything is going
to happen that law enforcement can prevent.  I want to assure everyone in
this town, but I can't, that no one I know wearing a badge is one of these
vermin.  I think the rest of us would cross that thin blue line if we found
out there was a rat among us."

Wow.  Dan called like he saw it, and I certainly wasn't pissed off at the
messenger.  Aleksy was visibly upset.

"Will any of those orange jumpsuits fit me, Dan?"

Uh-oh.  Fuck, Aleksy.....at least keep your voice down.  Dan just gave my
brother a look of sarcastic exaggeration.

"I choose to interpret that as you saying you're prepared to protect your
family.  That IS what I heard.....right, you goddamned hayseed?"

Oh-HO!  My brother had his own Tommy!

"Well....."

"`Well' nothing.  You do your job and I'll do mine, and if either of us
needs help, we have each other's number.  Are you done with your Robert
DiNero imitation?  If you are, maybe you two will come with me to the
Prosecutor's Office.  You're not the only people who heard the news today."

Aleksy and I looked at each other.  My brother wasn't enjoying being called
out for a very ill-advised comment, particularly to law enforcement; but I
knew he meant what he said, and I know he meant what Dan said.  Somewhere
in there was the Toyota Prius of reactions to what we'd just heard.

The short walk to the Prosecutor's Office proved to actually take awhile.
The hall where it was located was busy.  Ken Braden walked out of his
office and through the crowd, holding a manila folder high above his head
and directing us to follow.  `Us' looked like perhaps fifty people, almost
all of them men.  I didn't see everyone since we were actually at the front
of the line to follow Mr Braden.

We walked like lemmings up the stairs to the smaller of the two courtrooms.
One of the deputies, a man I didn't recognize, unlocked the door and held
it open.  We followed Mr Braden in.  No one sat.  He stood on the raised
platform, right in front of the judges' bench.

"Seems like a few citizens were listening to the morning news----or at
least each other.  I'm going to tell you what I know, and then what I
legally can about my office's procedure.  Before anyone here says anything:
Choose your words carefully, if you have to choose any.  What you say in
public might be compelled to be repeated in an official setting.  This is
not.  We are here only because my office won't hold all of you, and the air
conditioning isn't being cooperative.  Fair so far?"

The people in the group nodded, but a few were obviously not happy with
what seemed already like people getting ready to react inappropriately to
the news that morning.  Dan walked through the crowd to stand where folks
could see him.  The deputy did the same.  A wise move, I thought; see the
Law, be the Law.  Calm, cool and collected were among the better adjectives
I'd ever learned in school.

Ken Braden patiently, carefully and clearly (better adverbs, too) informed
all of us there that Junior was not getting out of jail today or tomorrow,
and almost assuredly not before his trial date.  Bail had been revoked.
Junior was a clear and present danger to the community.  Mr Braden also
said, but did not go into detail, that an arraignment in Montana could be
continued; essentially, extended for the sake of giving his office or the
public defender more time to prepare the case.

Someone in the crowd, and I didn't see who, had a question.

"Can an arraignment be appealed?"

"Not in Montana.  Now, if there are no other questions, please let me get
back to work.  I am your employee, and as such, my office is open to you,
and I'll try to make myself available."

No one raised their hand or asked another question, so Ken Braden braved
the crowd again and walked out of the court room.  The deputy walked with
the people leaving the room, but Dan stayed behind.  That, of course, meant
my brother and I stayed with him.

"You W Boys want to know something interesting?"

I nodded and Aleksy just looked skeptical.  His mind was still on Eva's,
and I was sure, Marc's safety.

"The person who asked about the possibility of appealing the arraignment
was none other than Lyle Connor, Senior.  I would bet the last thing he and
Mrs Connor want is Junior out of jail anytime soon."

"Holy fuck!  Aleksy, come on.....you're not breathing, Big Brother....."

"Okay, you're both right; I'm wound up in this.  Dan, this `group' coming
to town.....can they do any damage with Junior still in jail?"

"They can be street corner preachers.  They can come in the Court House or
any other public building, and they can be asked to leave.  If they don't,
law enforcement can be called, and arrests can be made.  That's true of any
property; if they are told to leave and don't, there are consequences."

Why does my sleepy little town have to wake up?

We talked with Dan awhile longer.  And of course, he ended up on the guest
list for pizza.  I would definitely try to keep the evening pleasant and
fun, but I couldn't speak for everyone else there.  Maybe they'd be so busy
eating pizza and wings that they couldn't talk.  I really liked Aleksy and
his boy coming together.  And I really loved that Dan called my brother out
for his behavior in the same way Tom and I would each other.  The point was
made and the point was heard.  Enough said, so moving forward.

While we were en route to Polk's to look at locks, my phone buzzed.  Sally.
I texted back and asked if we could talk.  She called my phone, and I put
it on speaker so Aleksy could be part of the conversation.

"Hi, Jeff."

"Sally.  Thanks for calling.  I have you on speakerphone.  Aleksy is here
with me."

"Hi to you both.  So, I was walking past the windows to an exam room, and I
saw your heifer in the corral.  Got me right concerned, right fast.  I told
the waiting patient's human I needed five minutes.  I got out in the corral
with her and listened for heartbeats.  Only one.  She's carrying a dead
calf in there, and she'll likely die, too.  Options are pulling the calf
out and trying to bring the heifer back to health, or we can put her down."

Wow.....that was an option?  Not even trying to save her life?  Before I
could ask, Aleksy spoke.

"What are her odds of regaining health if you pull the dead calf?  Also,
can she recuperate at the farm?"

"Fifty-fifty.  Her chance for survival depends entirely on any issues with
her blood being poisoned by a decaying corpse inside her.  I won't know
that until I take blood.  The thing is, boys, she's suffering right now.
She's eating, but her body isn't delivering nutrients."

"Fifty-fifty?  I'll take those odds.  Your thoughts, partner?"

"Same."

"Okay.  Well, she'll have to suffer a little longer, until everyone else in
the waiting room is gone.  Lamar hasn't seen this before."

"You're busy, Sally.  Thank you.  Please go ahead, try to save the cow, and
we'll talk whenever we hear from you.  Anything from you, Aleksy?"

"No."

"You boys are so good to your animals.  You honestly make our jobs easier.
I hope we can take fifty-fifty odds to one hundred percent recovery.  I'll
call you later."

We bid her goodbye.  We had lost cattle before, and we would again.  One
thing we wouldn't do: be the cause of an animal's suffering, or allow it to
continue.  I wondered by the heifer didn't abort.  At approximately four
months, the calf was about the size of a cat.  I understood enough bovine
anatomy to maybe conclude----by logic, not experience----a few reasons why
the fetus was no longer viable, and what it was doing to the cow carrying
it.  Sally would know.

We finished at Polk's.  Since we were somewhat assured (or I was; Aleksy
had trust issues) that Junior had no impending release despite the
impending noise in town, we didn't buy anything that day.  Aleksy ordered,
though, new locks for the house, including new deadbolts that we would
install; and extra keys for the farm house for Eva and Marc. Aleksy was
mollified by what the attorney and Dan both said, but only one thing would
make him happy, and that was Lyle Connor, Junior, behind bars for the rest
of his life.

My brother's behavior was curious to me.  This wasn't the first time I'd
seen him get agitated quickly.  I remember him being that way when I was a
little kid, and here it was again.  I had no doubt the reason this time was
the threat these people and possibly Junior could bring to the family.
That was all above board.  I'd hope anyone would have that concern, if
there was a threat to the people they loved.

What I wondered, though.....was how much of his anger and reaction were due
to guilt at not being the one to stop the attack on Eva?  I knew he bore
only appreciation and respect for Marc taking care of Junior; there was no
resentment toward anyone but that thug.  I'd learned already, although to
no great extent, how our behavior is affected by anger----especially anger
at and within ourselves.

Anger is a reaction to injustice, after all.

Aleksy and I talked awhile longer.  It was 6:30, and I knew we'd be welcome
at Marc's early, but I needed my big brother to be okay----and to know he
had all my confidence and support in any way he was struggling.  He had
gone above and beyond for me.  Either it was just my responsibility to give
back to him, or it was the birthright of a brother to share his good when
his brother is going through something bad.

As it turned out, Aleksy recognized in himself the stronger reactions to
people being wronged.  He had told me he and Eva were seeing a counselor;
for her things, for their things and for his things.  This was one of his
things.  I wouldn't know for a long time what other demons my big brother
battled, but I was prepared then to meet them and tell them to fuck off,
and leave Aleksy alone.  Isn't that what therapists do?

We shared another brotherhug and drove in his rig to Marc's house, leaving
mine three blocks away in the parking lot behind The Empire, Polk's and
other Main Street businesses.  We were the first ones there.  The others
already knew how to get there; everyone knew where the `modern house' was
in town.

When Aleksy and I got there, we walked to the front door.  My brother
admired the landscaping, and saw lamps among the plants.

"Hmmmm.....I wonder how your `Blessed Rye' would look with lights shining
upward from it."

"It would look perfect, of course.  It already is perfect.  It would just
be perfectly lighted."

I knocked on the door, and the moment I did, I wished I hadn't.  Sure
enough, Marc opened it and tilted his head with his eyebrows crunched up.

"And that is the LAST time you knock on the door to your other home!  If
you do that again, I won't answer!"

Aleksy laughed and followed me inside.  I pulled Marc into a hug and kissed
him.

"Boyfriend."

"Babe."

Aleksy initiated a hug with Marc.  Just a little one that said, `I saw you
only a few hours ago, but you're You and I'm Me, and you're now in a family
of Huggers.'  Nice.

Before we got much further, I heard voices outside and opened the door
myself to see Mom, Eva, Tommy and K.  They walked in and I took the pizza
and wings boxes from them.  God, that smelled good!

"A word to the wise: unless you want a whole bunch of attitude to greet
you, do NOT knock on this door!  I learned the hard way!"

Mom and Eva laughed, `getting it'.  Tom, wonderful, normally bright Tom,
didn't `get it'.

"Is there another door we're supposed to knock on?"

Marc laughed and shook his head.

"That's the right door, and walking in and announcing yourself is the right
way to get the door to open.  Your boy seems to think he's a guest here.
No one here is a guest; but in the evening, call first, please."

Aleksy decided to be a smart-ass.

"Yeah.....particularly if the shades are down in one of the windows....."

Everyone laughed, including Marc and me.  We just added to the reaction by
also turning the shade of Chinese lanterns.  Still.....Big Brother wasn't
wrong.....

I saw Dan's personal truck pull up, possibly the last Jeep Comanche to roll
off the assembly line.  He kept it looking showroom-new, though.  I moved
toward the door and opened it for him, too.  That evening would draw to a
close having heard only one offending knock made on it.  Dan smiled,
walking in and admiring the house.  He was not in uniform, for which I was
so grateful.  It was actually possible we could just have a nice evening
without the name of Junior, along with knocks on the door, having to be
heard.

Kristi had the ice.  Since it needed to be in the kitchen, now was as good
a time as any for the tour.  Marc conducted it while I hung back and got
plates and napkins out.  I remembered where Mrs Taylor had the glasses, so
they joined the other stuff.  Buffet style to the rescue.

I wandered around until I found the others, following their voices
downstairs to the basement.  They were in the `rec room', which was just
the same as the living room above, but no carpeting; probably the original
tiles laid when the house was built.  Two other bedrooms down there, the
laundry, and the mechanical room.  Hot water heat.  The best.  My other
home had it, too.

At the big double doors in the hallway, Marc opened one of them and reached
inside to turn on the light.

"And here is where my father, mother and I lived for six weeks after I was
born."

The little apartment was a shrine.  Immaculate.  Its own little galley
kitchen, a bathroom behind another door, and window wells with exposure to
the north, with privacy afforded by the huge trees in the yard.  Mom walked
around the apartment with her mouth open.  Not only was it exactly how the
little family left it, the furnishings were all of the period when the
house was built.  The whole space looked like it should be the feature
story in `House Beautiful'.

A whole wall was covered with framed photos that included both of Marc's
parents as babies, and some of him, too.  We could see Marc's age
progression in the school photos, all in one perfectly matted frame.  I had
proof that at no point in my beautiful man's life was he an ugly boy.  Marc
stood beside me, laughing at the pictures of himself.

There was a small frame, just below his freshman year photo.  It displayed
not a photograph, but a disc.  I didn't look closely.  A medal for
something at school?  No ribbon on it.  Marc touched the glass of the frame
for a moment and almost whispered.

"Oh.....they kept it."

I looked at Marc's face.  He looked sorrowful.  He shook his head just a
little and saw me looking at him.  Marc smiled and led me to another wall,
this one with more photos of him, and a few of his parents when Marc was a
baby.  He was adorable.

This was the room the entire group spent most of the time exploring and
remarking on.  Mom, who'd lived in a huge farm house since she was barely
eighteen years old, was amazed at the efficiency of the little home for the
little family, twenty-nine years ago.

"Marc, of course you don't remember when you lived here, but is this where
you stayed when you and your folks came to visit?"

"We actually didn't come visit my grandparents.  They would come to Seattle
and see the big city."

"You didn't get sent off to your grandparents for the Summer?"

"Yes, but to my other grandparents' house.  They lived in Seattle.  There
were.....issues between my mother and her parents.  My grandparents told me
just a few nights ago that they kept this little apartment just so, in case
we ever came back.  I came back two weeks ago, but I didn't know this
existed until after my grandparents moved away.  It was like going shopping
for a part of my life I knew nothing about."

Aleksy looked at me almost grimly.  He wasn't angry, but he had something
on his mind.  I almost regretted that I would be driving my own truck home.
I'd have liked to ask him what he was thinking.  I could guess, though.

Marc stepped out of the room, and that initiated the others following.  In
the rec room was a nice upright grand piano.  Kristi was drawn immediately.

"Oh, a McPhail!  My grandpa sold and tuned instruments in town.  He had
McPhails in his store!  I wonder if this one came from there!"

I knew Tom could play the guitar and they both could sing; but I didn't
know about K's musical family background.

"Do you play, K?"

"Oh, I've had lessons since I could sit on a bench.  All us kids play some
instrument.  Of course, the boys were all about trumpets and trombones and
drums, but my sister and I learned the piano.  May I, Marc?"

He smiled and nodded.

K sat down and played----without music----a shorter classical piece.  I
didn't know if I'd heard it before, but I knew right then I'd want to hear
it again.  The piano was okay-sounding, but definitely a little off.  Marc
noticed, too.

"Kristi, I'll have it tuned.  Please come play it again.  Whenever you
want."

"Thanks, Marc; even though my grandpa sold these, my parents didn't have
one.  Just a Baldwin spinet, but it had keys and strings, so that worked
for us!"

It was a nice treat, her little concert.  I remembered the pizzas and
wings.

"I'm going to park that food in the oven for maybe fifteen minutes or so.
We've been down here awhile."

I went upstairs and managed the re-heating process.  Mom and/or Eva made
good choices; two huge pies, each with half-and-half combinations.  The
wings were all the same, but had several sauces as options in small
containers.  I set out all the bottles of soda for the others to choose
from.  There was a dining room table, but damn, when did I last sit at one
of those?  Five years ago at my Hingham grandparents' house?

While I was moving a chair up to the table so we could all sit there, my
phone buzzed in my pocket.  Sally.  I knew I should've gone to get Aleksy
before I answered, but we were in a festive mood, and this call might kill
it.

"Hi, Sally."

"Jeff.  Well, your #27 came through the procedure just fine.  We ran blood
tests.  She has gestational diabetes, or the bovine equivalent of it.  I
think that's why she was eating, but losing weight."

"Oh, my gosh; that's great news that she survived, Sally!  I have all sorts
of questions, but I guess the big one is, when can I take her home?"

"Monday, if all signs point to improvement.  If not, well, we'll have to
have a grim conversation.  I hope we won't have to.  She's still out; I
used a general on her because I didn't know where the calf was in there,
and if surgery would be necessary.  I'll tell you all about it when you
come.....say, Monday.  I'll monitor her over the weekend."

"My gosh.  Sally, thank you.  This is the best news all day."

"It's our pleasure.  I will sing Farm W's praises loud and clear; you know
and live animal husbandry.  If you hadn't taken the time to look at each
cow, you wouldn't have seen 27 not looking or moving normally.  It's still
early, and don't get a swelled head or anything; but you may have saved an
animal's life today."

I thanked her again and ended the call.  The others were coming upstairs
and into the living and dining room.  Marc was standing by the radio, which
Dan noticed right away.  It was tall; easily five feet.  The dials were
glowing, so I suspect Marc had it on before we arrived, but kept the volume
low.  He turned the knob a little, and rich, warm tones came through the
speaker.

"Marc.....that's a treasure."

"Yeah, my great-grandparents had it since 1940, and then Grammy and Grampy
adopted it in the 60s.  Even has a phonograph."

That was something I didn't know.  Marc pulled on a handle I hadn't noticed
before, and the top half of the radio opened at an angle.  The phonograph
was right there.  I'll be danged.  1940, huh?  I wonder where the 8-Track
was hidden.

The evening was nice.  We ate well, laughed heartily and sailed through to
9:00PM without one mention of the name `Junior'.  This was probably the
longest time I'd been around Casual Dan on any given day, and it was good.
He and my brother were flipping each other grief, just like Tommy and I
did.  At one point, Mom called out the similarity.  Kristi, Eva and I just
nodded with smiles on our faces.

The evening drew to a close.  Everyone helped in little ways to make the
house look as good as it had when we all got there.  Mom found her phone
and backpack and turned to Marc.

"You coming home tonight, Marc?"

"Yeah, I will.  Maybe closer to 10:00, though; if that's not too late.  I
have a couple of things I want to wrap up on my laptop before I go."

"Of course; you're welcome whenever.  I need to get you a key....."

My brother fished out his keys and took his off his keychain, handing it to
Marc.

"Take mine.  I know there are spares in the drawer in the office.  I'll
replace that with one of those."

Holy damn.  Just then, as casually as you please, Dan, Tom and K heard my
mother ask Marc if he was coming home----while standing in his own house.
That made me all glowy inside.

"And I suppose you'll be home around 10:00, too, Jozef?"

"Yeah, Mom."

More glowy.  The other six walked outside to their vehicles.  Marc and I
stood on the walk and waved them all away.  We smiled at each other and
walked back in.

"Babe, we had our first dinner party.  Casual pizza and wings at the formal
dining room table.  Thanks for handling the logistics; you're a perfect
host."

I held on to him from behind, my arms wrapped around his hard stomach, and
placed the side of my head just below his neck.  I could feel and hear his
heart, the soft, steady beat, music to my ears the way K's piano playing
was earlier.  That made me smile.  You think you know someone, and then get
a pleasant surprise in the form of talent and music.  I can appreciate it
in others, but me singing outside of church is cacophony no one should have
to endure.  The organ drowns me out.  That's a good thing.

"Marc, I don't know why I knocked."

"Are you being serious?  I hope not!  It was a funny moment, but it did
give me the chance to remind you: you have two homes.  And now the others
know it, too.  It was said sincerely."

"As if you need to at all, the points you just scored with my mom....."

"About knocking on a door?!"

"No.....the little apartment downstairs.  Your grandparents treasured and
documented your life.  It's not even just that; it's that you let the rest
of us see it----and you."

"More than you know, Jozef.  Hey, I really do have two things to take care
of before going other-home.  Would you like to see what I'm working on?"

"Yeah!  Heck, yeah!"

Marc walked toward the den, which was where his grandparents shared a
wider-than-normal desk, open on both sides, with two chairs and two lamps
on either side.  It was a modern-looking (well, modern for the Fifties)
partners' desk, attached at one end to the wall with all the bookshelves on
it.  Marc's books were on the shelf nearest the desk.  I opened one of the
books and saw the margins annotated in two distinct handwriting styles.  So
both of his grandparents had read his books, and participated actively in
what he wrote.

`Great point!'

`What a powerful sentence.'

`Must ask him about her.....'

I hope they asked him about her.


Marc opened his laptop and turned on the lamp at the side where he sat.
The screen illuminated and I saw a manuscript on it.

"The third book, which will be the first in a series, actually.  I'm
re-reading it and making notes in a different color, if it's something I
want to use in more detail in the fourth book.  Right now, I'm
re-familiarizing myself with my own work.  Tonight, I want to make a few
more notes on stuff still in my head, and then look at the email from the
publishers."

I pulled the opposite chair so I could sit next to him, and Marc showed me
how he was planning a logical flow from what will be the first book in the
new series into the second book.  My boyfriend, the wordsmith and writer of
books.  The email was above my head.  It was all about having an editor
read and make suggestions as he wrote, but who would also then review and
further edit---as necessary---the finished book.

Marc explained the difference between proofreading and editing, something I
already knew; but it was more than just what I thought it was.  If changes
are made, then the proofreader starts all over again.  Not just spelling
and punctuation; but grammar, too.  An editor was the first step in
actually getting published, and that person read for clarity, comprehension
and continuity.  They could pull the project if it wasn't likely to be
readable by the intended audience, and that was that.  Considering Marc had
three books already, I supposed someone stopping his work would be
unlikely.

"Well, Babe; that's it.  That's all I have done so far, but I'm over the
first hurdle, so to speak.  Now it's research, conferring with other
historians, and sticky notes on every wall of this place.  You should've
seen my apartment when I was in grad school."

"Yours is a solitary project, at least most of it.  I'll need to learn how
to tell when you're in your `working' mind and not to be disturbed, and
when you're approachable for the `other stuff' in life."

"We'll figure it out together; just like for you and your studies."

"Crap.  On my list today was to call my academic counselor at Montana.
Well, I'm one less thing she has to worry about over the weekend.
Still.....I need to be focused more on that."

"Monday is, really, only hours away.  Sticky notes are your friends!  Want
a stack?"

"Heh.....thank you."

Marc said he was now done for the night, and was ready to leave whenever I
was.  I grabbed the trash can and took out the liner in it with all that
was left of dinner and packaging.  Out in our area, we had a big dumpster
for about fifteen farm houses.  We all used it.  It was picked up and
exchanged for an empty one every month.

"Oh, thanks, Babe; the garbage is collected on this street on Monday.  I
don't mind it being here for a couple of days."

"Well, I already have it out, but I'll remember that in future.  Of course,
if I have MY way, which I usually get, there'll be no trash generated in my
town home.  Infer from that what you will, Doctor Harvard."

Marc kissed me and leaving on a few lights throughout, we walked out the
Knockless Door.  The garage door was open and there stood the Worthy Stud
and Heralded Steed.

Marc walked to stand in front of the old truck.  Steed it was that night,
and no surprise to me.  I parked the trash can liner in the bed of his
truck and got in the passenger side.  What an incredibly well-preserved
automobile.  A slice out of time on his grandfather's life, just like the
little apartment in the basement was a slice of Marc's.

Both were, in their own ways, preservationists.  Mr Taylor took meticulous
care of his home and automobile.  Marc did the same with the history he
focused on.  Time, enough time, would forget both men as men; but trucks
can't be unbuilt, nor books unwritten.  Pieces of them will always survive,
in pictures to be enjoyed and words to be read.

Marc drove me to Dad's truck.  A newer version of Mr Taylor's 1957 classic,
and no less loved and driven carefully.  I loved my truck, but it wasn't
quite as well cared for.  Maybe Dad's truck, the diesel, could be the one
I'll preserve; honoring the work it has done and the man who owned it.

Or, someday, I could be driving out in a field and some damned bull moose
will be standing there, and I'll stop to admire it.  He'll see his
reflection in the door and ram the truck, over and over until the moose has
made his point clear: only one bull moose in this field, damnit.  At that
point, I'll have been happy just to preserve my life until I could get away
from that narcissistic moose.

The evening was warm.  Stars shone more the further we drove out of town.
I turned on the radio and hit the Search button for AM stations.  I used to
be able to get North Platte, Nebraska, late at night.  Fifties through
Seventies only.  Whatever was played back then.  Stuff my parents and
grandparents listened to when they were my age, in this truck, driving home
after a fun evening in town.

I felt myself age just then.  Some of my seventeen-year-old innocence left
me that week.  I'd witnessed first-hand the hateful intolerance some people
can have for other people.  Then the deceit and deception even local
politicians practice in a desperate bid to have perceived major control in
a minor town.  And finally, the threat of an unknown force coming to the
community to defend, exonerate and exemplify a person so engulfed in his
own internal rage, he can find comfort only in making others extremely
uncomfortable.

Throughout, though, the justice I thought eluded my family and me was there
all along.  A woman who made us welcome in her diner, granting us time and
space to express our affection for each other in the same way she'd seen
countless other cute couples find hope for a future together.  Across the
street from her, the innkeeper who acknowledged bravery and chivalry, and
held us as the example he'd like his own sons to follow.  Finally, the
highway patrolman and dozens of the oldest and newest names in the county,
gathered to make clear: No threats, real or implied, to this county or
anyone in it.

My week was not the typical `glass half-full of water or half-empty'.  My
glass was entirely full; of Justice and Injustice, balanced and,
fortunately, coming to an end.  My family and I got through this week
together.  None of us navigated our lives alone.  We had each other for
pizza together and at the top of our phones' Contacts when distant.  We
were in the month of August, but by no means any of us in our august years.

There was so more growth to enjoy and endure together; with discoveries,
challenges and disappointments, no doubt. Perhaps I'd feel myself age out
of my youth each week that followed that one.  I hoped, if true, that I'd
learned something, shared something, was my best for my growing family, and
took notice of as much as possible.  If I could manage that for a sick
little cow, then maybe I could just be awake and aware for all of my farm,
my continued education, my family and----because he deserves this, just for
him----Marc.