Of Wolves and Men

Charlie Mosby pulled his pickup truck into the long, dusty gravel driveway of the ranch where he worked. Sixty horses, three managers, and ten wranglers were under his supervision.

Even in early November, dry dust stirred up behind his tires as he stopped, hopping out.

During the day the temperatures weren’t that bad. Lately they were between forty and fifty. At night it was beginning to hit freezing. Some nights near the teens.

His truck bed and trailer were loaded up with hay and oats. “Butch! JP! Goat! Git yer asses over here.” Charlie took off his cowboy hat and whacked it against his jeans, sending up more dusty plumes. He had on a heavily-lined sheepskin leather jacket, which kept him warm all winter, along with his snakeskin boots.

Butch Crowell and JP Martin jogged over to help unload the trailer, with the third of their number struggling to keep up.

“Come on, Goat. Give it some effort.” Charlie gave Hal ‘Goat’ Groates and shake of the head.

Without having to say another word, the three men began transferring the bales of hay and bags of oats to the stable. The daytime wranglers had arrived and were cleaning out the barn.

Charlie left them to their work and walked up the two wooden steps to the ranch home. It had a grand front porch which was the entire length of the house and wrapped around south side. In the summer it was loaded with rocking chairs, benches, and outdoor dining tables. The home was the heart of the forty acre ranch and where the owners Vernon and Connie Norman lived. The property line butted up against the Deer Creek reservoir and federal parkland. The view of the Wasatch Mountains beyond was spectacular, even from the one bedroom cabin Charlie resided in.

“Vernon?” Charlie glanced around the room with the high vaulted ceiling and a fireplace, lit and roaring, warming the room. The hearth took over the entire wall with its exposed rock chimney reaching to the roof.

“Yeah, Charlie?”

“Got the boys unloading the hay.” Charlie walked closer to his boss after spotting him eating lunch with his wife, Connie. “Howdy, ma’am.”

“Hello, Charlie. You want something to eat?”

“Up to you. I can eat with the boys.” Charlie used his hat to gesture to the front door.

“Sit.” She removed a plate from the cupboard.

Charlie put his hat down, tossed his coat over a chair in the living room, and washed his hands at the sink. “I’m grateful, ma’am. I’m very hungry.”

“You tell the boys when they’re done to come get some lunch.”

“I will do.” Charlie sat beside Vernon who was using his fingers to help push a wedge of steak and mashed potatoes onto his fork.

Charlie heard his stomach grumble.
Nothing but the best food to eat at this ranch
. The money Vernon and Connie made during the year renting out cabins and having horse riding ventures made them wealthy people.

Charlie had no complaints. He was treated like a son, had room and board included with his pay, and loved the work.

“Here you go, Charlie.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Looks great.” He picked up the serrated knife and it sunk into the meat like through butter.

Once Connie joined them, making sure everything was on the table, Vernon said to Charlie,

“Something’s out at the west end of the property ripping up the fence line.”

Charlie swallowed his steak with a gulp of bottled beer and sat up. “When’s this started?”

“Far as I know, last night. One of the wranglers was doing a perimeter ride and came up on a hole in the barbed wire.”

“Me and Butch will head up there after lunch.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Probably some pranksters, but if it’s a cougar or bear, we need to know.”

Nodding, Charlie said, “I got it covered, boss.”

Though the three engaged in light conversation, Charlie was preoccupied. He didn’t like anything upsetting the balance of this ranch. The sixty horses were all in good health, they had a great snowshoeing and trail riding winter season to look forward to, and last summer the rodeo at Deseret Peak gave them a ton of referral business.

He politely waited until both Connie and Vernon were done eating before carrying his plate to the sink. “Thank ya, ma’am.” Charlie put his hat and coat on. “Always a treat to be invited to your table.”

“Anytime, Charlie. We don’t know what we would do without you.” Connie smiled sweetly.

“You’re like the son we never had.”

Charlie thought about their two daughters, Suzie and Sherlane, both in college, one in Boston, the other in Palo Alto. The girls were expected home for winter break, but neither had shown up yet. At twenty-five Charlie did have some idea of finding a nice woman to settle down with…at least he had until the incident last October.

His truck had got a flat tire along Interstate 80 and a man had stopped to help him fix it.
Joe
.

Charlie shook himself out of the memory, wondering if it had opened a door to the other side of the ‘sexual norm’ that had never been meant to be opened.

He stepped outside after putting on his hat and coat. Charlie’s truck bed and trailer were empty of bales of hay. Butch was sweeping it out while JP and Goat were still inside the barn.

“Hey, Butch.”

“Yeah, Charlie?”

“After you boys get a bite, you and me have to ride to the west fence line.”

“I heard the wire was cut.”

“That’s right. Go eat. I’ll saddle up the horses.”

Butch hopped down from the truck, walking into the barn with Charlie. “So many jerks camping out there. I bet they just fucked it up to be smart.” Butch hung the broom up by the hole in the handle along with other tools neatly arranged.

“JP, Goat, go get some grub.” Charlie thumbed over his shoulder.

“Good. I’m starving.” Goat brushed off his hands on his jeans.

“Yer always starved.” JP whacked his arm.

“He got enough meat on his bones to keep him alive for a week.” Butch laughed. He said to Charlie, “Be a minute.”

“I’ll be here.” Charlie stared at Butch’s ass as he walked, turning away before anyone noticed.

Out of the three men who were permanent employees, Butch was the cutest…and youngest. All of nineteen. JP was thirty-eight, divorced twice with kids from each marriage, and Goat was a big ole bear, shy to everyone’s gaze. Charlie wouldn’t be surprised if he was a virgin.

But no gay boys here. None.

What did you do to me, Joe?
Charlie walked to a stall and removed his horse. “Heya, big boy.”

He rubbed Spirit’s white blaze, removing the tall, sixteen hand chestnut gelding from the stall.

The horse snorted and nodded his head.

“You and me are goin’ for a ride.” He led the big animal to the ring on a wall, taking off the halter and easily fitting a bridle. Spirit and Charlie were like brothers. Neither gave the other one any grief, just love. As Spirit chewed on the bit, getting it comfy in his mouth, Charlie brushed him just because he wanted to. Butch would take a while to eat anyway.

“How’s my big fella?” As Charlie ran a curry comb over Spirit’s thickening winter, rusty-brown coat, he had an image of Joe’s head bobbing on his lap in his truck. Charlie stopped what he was doing to recall that act. After Joe had helped him change the flat tire, Joe had actually asked if he could suck Charlie’s cock. He’d known Joe had to be gay. He had an earring in his ear, spiky dyed blond hair, a slight effeminate quality to him that Charlie recognized immediately as homosexual, and Joe was obvious in expressing his attraction to his cowboy looks.
Not to
mention, Joe was very pretty
.

Charlie blushed at the thought.
Best blowjob I ever did get
.

Spirit looked back at him, as if asking,
You going to keep brushing me or what?

Charlie continued where he’d left off.
Yeah, but, am I gay now? One handsome man sucks my
cock in my truck and… Presto? Gay? Now I want a man? What do I want?

He thought he knew. He also never expected to have to reenact that event every night so he could come before he slept. It was bad enough hearing the teasing about
Brokeback Mountain
from the tourists. It never failed. When they saw him and Butch standing together they mentioned that movie. The East and West Coast city women would go all gaga and take pictures of the two of them with their horses.

Charlie didn’t think he was ugly, but he didn’t think he was a movie star either.

He tossed the curry comb into a box of grooming tools, taking a saddle off the hook.

A scuff of a boot made him turn to look. “You didn’t have to eat that fast, Butch.”

“I always do. And that spot in the fence is bugging me.” He took his horse out of its stall—Scout, a sturdy pinto, mostly white with brown spots and a brown mane and tail.

While Charlie tightened the cinch, he couldn’t help but peek at Butch as he got Scout ready. But he wouldn’t be caught dead looking at Butch in a seductive way. Butch wasn’t gay. Charlie knew that much. But then again, he’d never considered himself gay or bi-curious until Joe’s amazing mouth and tongue made him come like he had never come in his life.

After he loaded up tools, a shotgun, and wire fencing, Charlie hoisted himself into the saddle and waited. The temperatures were making all of them blow out steam clouds with their exhaled breaths.

A moment later, Butch was behind him in his own saddle, nodding his head in a gesture to go.

Harley, the hyperactive Jack Russell terrier, barked under the horses’ legs. The geldings were used to him and didn’t flinch.

“Get back in the house, Harley,” Butch hollered, but the dog did what he wanted to do regardless.

Charlie didn’t care if the dog wanted to tag along. Harley may be small, but he wouldn’t hesitate to challenge a black bear and chase it off.

Deep in his thoughts, Charlie listened to Scout’s clip-clop in time with Spirit’s. There was no rush. The hole in the fence wasn’t going anywhere and the ranch’s horses were all in enclosed paddocks while their stalls were being cleaned.

November evenings the temperatures varied. October had been so mild, no one knew when the deep freeze would finally hit. So far the cold was tolerable. They could ride until dusk without the painful wind-chill making their skin red.

“All I got from Vernon was west side.” Charlie slowed Spirit down to allow Scout to catch up.

Harley was sniffing and running ahead of them on the trail.

“I have an idea where.”

Charlie stared at Butch’s profile in his cowboy hat for a moment, turning away before Butch noticed his gaze.

After twenty minutes of riding at an easy pace, Butch pointed ahead of them. “I think it’s right beyond those trees.”

Harley began barking and raced to the direction Butch had indicated. It put both men on the alert. “What’s he got? Bear?”

“Don’t know.” Butch pulled his shotgun out of its holster on the saddle and held it as they approached.

As he drew closer, Charlie could see the hole in the fence. It was a huge gap he wasn’t prepared for. “I thought it was gonna be a small tear. What the fuck?”

“Harley!” Getting off of Scout, Butch cocked the shotgun, jogging to where the dog was going crazy.

Charlie did the same, taking his own gun as they chased the frantic dog. When they got to where Harley was making a ruckus, they found nothing but a deer carcass.

Charlie took a closer look at it. “Cougar kill this?”

Butch knelt down. “I never seen a cougar do that. That ain’t right.”

Standing, Charlie scanned the area. A few birds circled— carrion eaters, obviously catching a scent of death. “I swear if I find some devil worshipping thing going on here,” Charlie said, fuming, “I will shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Naw. Up here? Them morons won’t come up here. They’ll freeze their asses off here at night.”

Butch unloaded the twelve gauge shell then slid the shotgun back into its place on the saddle. He removed the barbed wire they had brought and the tools to get the hole repaired.

“First they kill a deer, then it’ll be our ponies.” Charlie set his gun nearby, in case. Harley kept sniffing the area around the dead doe, but seemed to have calmed down.