Date: Sat, 8 Aug 2009 15:17:36 -0500
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthier@verizonmail.com>
Subject: Lost Boy

				Lost Boy
				Naked Prey 13
				by George Gauthier

Author's Note: This is a tale set in the American Southwest in the XIXth
century. It is the thirteenth story in my 'Naked Prey' series for the
Historical section of the Nifty Archive, each with different
characters. The Naked Prey Series was inspired by the old movie "Naked
Prey" (1966) set in Africa starring Cornel Wilde and the movie "Run of the
Arrow" set among the Indians of North America. The latter movie was clearly
inspired by the real life exploits of the mountain man John Colter.

The other stories in the series so far are 'Naked Prey' set in 19th century
Africa, 'The Shawnee', set in colonial America, 'Terra Australis', set
during the great age of exploration in the South Seas, 'Dangerous Game' set
largely in the Caribbean in the mid-seventeenth century, 'White Comanche'
set in the American Southwest in the 1830s, 'Fearful Symmetry' about two
castaways on the island of Sumatra in the early 18th century, 'Periplus' a
tale of a voyage around the Indian Ocean in the late eighteenth century,
'Source of the Nile' set in Roman Egypt, 'Treasure of Carthage' set in the
Mediterranean during the mid 12th century, 'Monster' set in the Pacific
Ocean in the early XIXth century, 'Hispania' set during the fall of
Visigothic Spain to the Moors in the early VIIIth century, and 'Cast Away'
set in the Pacific Ocean during the early XIXth century.

This story contains graphic descriptions of the male human body, of
consensual sexual activity between adult males, and of moderate bondage and
physical abuse.

If any of this would offend a reader, read no further. This is not intended
for persons younger than an age where they may freely and legally select
their reading matter in whatever jurisdiction applies.

It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living
or dead. Otherwise, it is reasonable accurate historically as far as its
setting.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my 'Daphne Boy' historical
tales or my 'Jungle Boy' series of tales in a modern setting, posted in the
Gay/Authoritarian section of the archive. Also, please try my futuristic
'Track and Field' stories in College and my 'Mer-Boy' stories in
Gay/Beginnings. For links to my stories, look on the list of Prolific
Authors on the Archive for George Gauthier.

Comments and feedback welcome.

			Chapter 1. Southern Utah, 1888

From aloft the hawk watched a lone figure crossing the desert
basin. Another two-legs, it thought, though this one had strange yellow
feathers on top instead of the usual black. His body color was an even
shade of light brown. Usually the bodies of the two legs were patterned
with colors and dots and stripes. Well, nothing there for him, the hawk
thought dimly. Two-legs were simply too big for a hawk to prey on. The
desert jackrabbit was more his sort of quarry. The figure moved ahead in a
reasonably straight line, not yet stumbling and staggering in a way that
might interest brother vulture. With a screech, the hawk banked its wings,
turning away to stay in the updraft rising from the desert floor.

On the ground Justin Anders was unaware of the scrutiny from aloft, his
attention was on the coyote that had been watching him off and on all
day. For hours it had hunted nearby though always returning to look the boy
over. Justin wondered if the animal really saw him as prey. Slightly built
though he was and unarmed and naked, Justin still did not think of himself
as the rightful prey of a single coyote. After all the animal weighed maybe
twenty five pounds, just under a quarter of the boy's own mass. He could
handle a coyote even if his only weapon was a rock picked up off the
ground.

Now a cougar would be a different matter altogether. Scary customers those,
males of that species would easily outweigh a slightly built youth like
Justin. They were stalk and ambush hunters too, sneaking up on their prey,
their coats a natural camouflage that allowed them to launch surprise
attacks, pouncing from atop rocks and banks. He would have little chance
against a ferocious cougar armed with fangs and claws. Its claws would tear
into his tender flesh, the front ones digging in to keep him from escaping,
the back ones disemboweling him, though the killing stroke would likely
come from suffocation, the great maw of the beast locked around his neck,
cutting off his air. Then the cat would drag the boy's dead body to its
lair, hauling it like a rag doll, no longer a good looking human boy but so
much dead meat.

A jaguar would be even more of a mismatch for an unarmed youth. What use a
rock against a beast that might weigh 300 pounds (136 kg). Justin had seen
an old jaguar kill. The bleached skull of the antelope showed where the
powerful canines drove right into the brain thanks to the big cat's
powerful bite. At least that would be an instant kill. Strange that both
cats were such beautiful creatures in their own right, especially the
jaguar with its spotted coat.

Hunters had thinned both species in those parts for the bounty offered by
the county, and the predators had learned to keep their distance from
humans mounted on horses, but a boy on foot would attract their
interest. Let either of those big cats get on his trail, and Justin was
finished. He could not outrun, outclimb or outfight apex predators like the
big cats of the American Southwest. For such beasts, a nude human boy like
Justin would be so much naked prey to be run down, killed, and eaten.

The sun felt hot on his bare back and ass, but he was well tanned from
roaming the hills in the nude, during his years as a shepherd boy for the
flock that had formerly been in his charge. True he was barefoot, but he
was quite used to that too. The elders did not waste money on shoes for the
boys. In time their feet developed tough calluses that were nearly as good
a moccasins. Still some stretches of bare rock that he tramped across were
pretty hot from the burning sun.

Meanwhile the boy trudged doggedly across the desolate desert landscape,
plagued by dust and heat and fatigue and thirst. The dust kicked up by his
passage had settled on his bare flanks. The bright sun made him squint in
the glare. Justin wished he had a broad brimmed hat to keep the sun out of
his eyes, but the elders had exiled him not only empty handed but also bare
ass naked. That was how they found him at the sheepfold, going about his
chores in the nude, as was his habit in the isolated location in the hills
where he had watched over a flock of sheep for the colony of Mormons of
which he had been a member till that very morning. He had always preferred
the simplicity and freedom of nudity to the restrictive and prudish
standards of dress and deportment the elders insisted upon, shirts buttoned
to the neck, sleeves rolled down to the wrists. Walking around totally nude
made him feel more alive, more in tune with nature. It also made him feel
sexier, though he had not really had much chance to explore his sexuality,
not in the repressive atmosphere of the colony.

The previous morning, the elders had ridden out fully armed to the distant
sheepfold, angry over the rebellious sentiments he had reportedly been
uttering of late. They found him at the stream, after his morning wash up
and swim, the wooden yoke on his shoulders, weighed down by a bucket of
water at each end. Elder Jenkins had been adamant that they did not let him
gather his things, few as his possessions were. They would send him out
into the wilderness just as he was, in the rude nude.

"Oh don't think we are surprised at your sinful nudity. We know about you,
boy, you and your shameless ways. We have had men watching these last few
days with a spy glass, searching the cabin when you were away with the
sheep, looking in through the window at night. Sinner that you are, you
don't sleep in a nightshirt like any godfearing man would. You sleep in the
altogether. When you roll out of your bunk in the morning you traipse down
to the stream to bathe, not once a month or even once a week for the
Sabbath, as it our custom but every single day. Then you splash around,
swimming, neglecting your duties for the sheer animal pleasure of stroking
back and forth the length of the deep pool. Hummph, here you are sixteen
years old, going on seventeen, and you waste half the morning idle, playing
like a child."

"Even when you set to work, you stay jay bird naked for the rest of the day
as you walk with your sheep, not even covering your loins or your
withers. Shame."

"And with my own eyes," Elder Mattews added, " I have seen you lying on the
grass, pleasuring yourself, spurting your seed onto your belly, reenacting
the sin of Onan."

"Shame on you, shame," the others chorused.

Two of them seized the boy and tied his wrists together and then up to a
branch of a tree he could hardly reach because of his slight build. He hung
there helpless and unresisting. He knew resistance was useless: a single
nude boy against eight grown men, all armed. He would have to take his
punishment just at he had so often in town. The elders thought a good
whipping or caning was just fine for someone with Justin's irreverent and
insubordinate attitude. Elder Matthews in particular seemed to like to take
a cane to to boy's bare backside. For the sake of propriety, in town, the
elders would take the boy into a barn and strip him naked, tying his wrists
to an overhead beam. This last year it seemed he was getting whipped or
caned once a month. Ironically that made his something of a hero to the
other boys.

This day too, elder Matthews did the honors, switching the hapless youth
front and back as he writhed under the sharp blows. The springy stick cut
at his back, his ass, his chest and belly and legs. Nor did the elder spare
the boy's genitals. Justin showed his defiance nevertheless, keeping
silent, not pleading for mercy, allowing no more than a whimper or an
occasional hiss when the switch hit his nipples or his balls. As the elders
worked over his helpless body, they intoned sentiments like:

"We chastise thee as a sinner, Justin Anders, and as a rebel. No sins is
greater than rebellion against legitimate authority. You held yourself up
as as hero to the other boys, encouraging them to take your wayward
path. Let these welts and cuts and the tears you shed today be a reminder
to you in the days ahead of our outrage and yet also of our mercy. We might
easily have slain you this day."

"Instead we cast you out, Justin Anders, cast you out in a state of nature,
just as you were born. Naked we come into this world and naked we leave
it. In this wise, get you gone from our midst or we shall surely strike you
down where you stand."

Freed of his bonds, the battered nude boy took his first steps into
exile. The thought came to him that he was either marching to his death or
into freedom. So with a jaunty wave to the elders, which left them
sputtering with indignation, Justin set off into the desert.

Looking back at it, Justin was surprised his exile had not happened
sooner. Justin was a bright lad. He had long since figured out for himself
how unjust their colony's laws were, starting with those against sexual
pleasure. Why was it sinful to enjoy such pleasure as he could. It was only
natural. All boys did it, didn't they? Really what did they expect of a boy
of sixteen going on seventeen, denied any sexual outlet save his own
hand. Actually Justin was five months short of seventeen, though with his
slight build, tow headed thatch on top, his lack of body hair, and
fine-boned features he looked a couple of years younger.

The boy trudged along a track so eroded it did not deserve the name
road. It was used mainly by lost boys like Justin, driven out of his colony
of Mormons by its elders, afraid of his rebellious streak in particular,
and perpetually jealous that the attentions of the young females might
fasten on nice looking boys like him, young males their own age. The fate
of those girls was to be forced into marriage with the elders, middle-aged
men who took three or four wives each. Their sect of Mormons taught that a
man needed at least three wives to win his way into Heaven and that the
only way a woman could enter Heaven was as the wife of a Mormon elder.

It did not seem to bother these zealots that their creed effectively damned
most of their males to first celibacy and then to exile, not to mention to
hellfire in the hereafter, and those young males were their own sons. Once
Justin had figured that out, he saw how wrongheaded, how selfish their ways
were. The elders used the boys as cheap labor till they grew old enough to
become their rivals for young women then sent them into exile. The teenage
lasses who might have looked with favor on the boys were forced to become
third or fourth wives, bound in loveless marriages to grizzled elders.

Ironic that their settlement in southern Utah was named Harmony, Justin had
said to other boys, talking about their situation. 'Discord' would be a
better name for it he had added. The quip had circulated among the young
boys till it came to the ears of the elders. Apparently that was the last
straw and sealed Justin's fate.

Justin's rebellion had nothing to do with sexual jealousy on his part. The
fact is, Justin had never had any interest in girls except as friends. He
had had eyes only for some of the older lads, especially dark headed Derek
Longwood. That was a sin too, in Harmony, looking on another male with
lust, the sin of Sodom. Justin had never acted on his desire for other
boys. Nor, despite the calumnies, the elders had heaped on him as they
drove him off, had Justin ever used his sheep for sexual relief. The very
idea disgusted him: a female and of another species.

Justin knew that other boys had been sent into exile along this trail, but
they had been fully clothed and provided with two canteens of water. Justin
was dressed only in his skin and the only water he had was what was in his
belly. At least the elders let him drink his full before sending him on his
way, probably so his body would not be found nearby. Still the desert could
get pretty cool at night. He hoped he would run across a wagon train or at
least a trapper or a miner, someone who would take pity on a lost boy like
him and extend his protection. On foot, indeed barefoot, naked, alone, and
without weapons or food or water, Justin's chances for survival were poor.

At least Justin did not have to worry much about bandits, having absolutely
nothing for them to steal, though he had heard rumors of slavers who
rounded up strays and hobos and winos to labor chained up naked in Mexican
silver mines. The local Paiute Indians were peaceful, grateful to the
Mormons for ending the old style slave raids by the Havajo and the
Utes. The whites had also seized control of the major water sources, so the
Paiutes had made peace with them.

Justin walked a good dozen miles (20 km) that first day. He did not try to
steer a straight line. The trail mostly followed arroyos, curving around
hills and ridges. In the late afternoon he stopped at a wide spot in the
dry stream bed and dug for water with a stick. Just as he had guessed, the
nearby slopes had channeled their runoff to that section of the
stream. Less than one foot down, he found water or rather moist soil. He
had to wait for a drinkable amount of water to ooze into the hole he had
dug, but he eventually got enough to refresh himself. He looked about for a
protected spot on higher ground and went to sleep. The next morning he
drank again and set off. The next few days he had to chop apart the
occasional barrel cactus for its water. Even so it was barely enough to
replace all that he lost from transpiration and perspiration. In this way
four more more days passed.

By that time he was staggering, stumbling, occasionally falling to his
knees, only to pick himself up and trudge forward again. Vultures circled
overhead, waiting for him to weaken further, to collapse and lie still. But
Justin had a stubborn streak in him. He held his hand up against the sun to
glare at the carrion birds.

"Not today!" he croaked defiantly past parched lips, shaking his fist.

"Well said, lad." came a voice from behind him. He saw a man on horse
looking down at him, a big red-haired man, only four or five years older
than he. "Looks like you could use a helping hand there, youngster."

At the limit of his strength, dehydrated, half-starved, Justin swayed on
his feet then crumpled to the ground. He came to his senses as the stranger
dribbled water from a canteen onto the boy's lips. He surged upward,
reaching for the canteen.

"Take it easy, little one. Too much, too soon would be bad for you. Just
sips at first. There is a good lad."

Justin realized his benefactor was right. Parched as he was he had better
take sips at first so he could keep the life-giving water in his
belly. Meanwhile, he tried to focus on what the man was saying.

"Marsters, Lee Marsters. And what would your name be, boy?"

Justin told him. After the man helped him into the welcome shade of a
creosote bush, he went on to explain how he happened to be wandering the
wilderness of southern Utah bare ass naked, alone, on foot, without tools
or weapons or supplies of any kind. As they spoke the man pitched camp. It
was only mid-afternoon, but Marsters realized that his young charge was in
no shape to travel. Given water, food, and rest, he might be up to it the
next day or certainly the one after that. Marsters could see that the boy,
though slightly built was in good shape. He had a trim wiry physique: all
bone and muscle without a scrap of fat. Marsters wondered at the overall
tan which indicated the boy must be out and about often in the nude. The
thick calluses on his feet showed why the boy did not seem especially
footsore. He probably never wore shoes.

Marsters reflected on his good luck. He definitely could use a helper in
his gold mining venture, but he had not hired anyone. Frankly he did not
know anyone he could trust with the location of his gold strike. Here maybe
he had found one. Justin seemed a decent honest boy and one who had nowhere
to go, no one to turn to. No one would miss him or wonder what he was up
to, ensuring the secrecy of Marsters' venture. The boy did not really know
where he was in this unfamiliar country. Also, the boy would be completely
dependent on Marsters for his very survival. Marsters decided to offer
Justin a chance to earn enough money for a decent start in life. The poor
kid had absolutely nothing, not even a pair of pants to cover that pert
rump of his. What were those crazy Mormons thinking, sending into exile
what should be the life blood of their settlement, its youth. More to the
point, how could anyone reject a beauty like little Justin.

Marster's interest in the boy was not solely for his labor. He could see
that the boy would make a fine companion and, Marsters hoped, a willing bed
mate. The older man felt lust flooding him as he looked the boy over,
stretched out on a blanket but still nude. He trembled with his unsatisfied
lust. This lad was an incredible find, just about the most beautiful youth
he had ever laid eyes on. He would be a welcome companion during long weeks
at the mine and maybe afterwards.

What Marsters eyed hungrily was a youth still five months short of
seventeen though looking younger. Justin was a comely lad, small for his
age and slender. Standing not quite four inches over five feet (162 cm) and
weighing only 110 pounds (50 kg) he had a fawn-like physique but with a
wiry musculature, toned and taut from hard work. Indeed his small hands
were callused. Justin was prettier than a boy had any right to be with
delicate features, a straight nose, high cheekbones, and large green eyes
topped by a blond thatch. He had virtually no hair on his body, mere wisps
under his arms or at the fork of his legs, a condition probably related to
his failure to reach full height. His complexion was flawless with no hint
of the acne that can mar a teenager's face, probably for the same reason.

The proportions of his physique were especially attractive. With many
slightly built youths, the legs are disproportionately short, accounting
for most of the deficit in height. Justin's trim form was smaller in
proportion, retaining the classic ratios which artists have discovered
please the eye and excite concupiscence. Besides his alluring physique, the
boy had one of those faces that would turn heads in a crowd. Men and women
would do double takes and stare at him wondering how anyone could be that
cute.

From his tiny red nipples to a deeply indented navel, to narrow hips
framing a surprisingly generous manhood for one so slight of build, Justin
was real beauty, his wiry physique a vision of youthful male
pulchritude. He carried so little body fat that his flat belly showed a
tracery of downward pointing veins just under the skin. The beat of his
heart was visible on the left side of his smooth chest. He was sleek and
smooth, deeply and evenly tanned all over. Stray wisps of hair were
plastered against his temples and forehead, darkened by perspiration as
were the tapering sideburns by his ears. It was obviously no razor had ever
scraped his cheeks or had needed to. He was naturally beardless, without
even a hint of peach fuzz.

After an early supper, the two young men turned in. Marsters undid his gun
belt and laid it within reach next to his boots. Then he stripped to his
drawers, revealing a lean muscular physique. He stood nearly a foot taller
than the boy, with little hair on his body, tanned to the hips. With just
the one blanket between them, Marsters had the boy sleep spooned into his
big frame. He made no advances, not that night, content to hold the boy to
him, to lay his clean shaven cheek next to Justin's the better to smell the
boy in his arms. It was good to feel the trim hard body of a boy next to
his. It had been too long. They quickly fell asleep.

			Chapter 2. Bonding

Justin awoke at dawn, confused at first by finding himself lying in the
arms of a strange man, his bare backside up against what was clearly the
man's morning wood. Justin had never been in the arms of a man before, not
like this. It felt good. He wriggled his bottom so the man's erection lay
in the cleavage of his ass. That felt good too.

Of course, Justin knew that this was supposed to be terribly wicked, taking
pleasure in lying with another male. The man gave off a masculine scent
that was intoxicating, a mixture of leather and horse, wood smoke and
musk. Too bad Justin was still too wrung out from his ordeal to explore
these pleasant sensations any further. Actually his bladder urgently
required his attention. He rolled out of the stranger's arms -- no Lee
Marsters' arms -- and attended to his call of nature. Then he lay back
down. The man stirred, reflexively rubbing his erection against the bare
rump backed into his lap. Suddenly his eyes flew open.

"Oh, young Justin. Uh, sorry about that just now. I must have been dreaming
or something. Well comfortable as this is, it is really time for us to be
up and about."

Suiting actions to words he soon had a fire going to make coffee and heat
up some bacon and beans for breakfast. As the two young men were eating
Marsters sounded Justin out about working for him. As he expected the boy
was willing even eager for the job, especially when he was told they were
on a quest for gold. On his last expedition, Marsters had discovered a
placer deposit in a small seasonal stream. He intended to follow it all the
way upstream and upslope to the mother lode. For that he needed much time
and the supplies carried by his mule. A helper would make the work go
faster. This would be outdoor work, panning for gold at many different
spots along the stream then upslope, triangulating to find where the
deposit was richest, the mother lode.

"Now as to outfitting you, there Justin, I must admit that I have no extra
clothing to give you and only the one blanket to sleep in, besides the one
under the saddle. So, till we get back to civilization, you will have to
travel and work as you have been doing, barefoot and butt naked. I
understand you rather like running around in the nude anyway, to judge by
your even bronze color. Your elders did not just happen upon you in the
nude. It is habitual with you, isn't it boy?"

Justin nodded. Actually he rather relished the chance to prance around in
the nude in front of an audience, to display himself before this
overpoweringly masculine man who had been looking at him in ways that
suggested he was sexually attracted to the boy. And it wasn't like Justin
was being wanton, running around totally nude. They were just being
practical, given the resources available.

So Justin would proceed as before, entirely bare ass, every part of him on
display. Also barefoot and on foot too. Marsters said his mule was already
overloaded with supplies. So riding him was out of the question. Justin
would stay on foot, striding alongside Marsters' horse. At least he had
food and water now, enough to survive the perilous desert
crossing. Marsters weapons would keep the big cats at bay too.

Their way lay persistently upland, onto the Kaibab plateau and its forest
of aspen, spruce, fir, and ponderosa pine. Warm enough in the spring for a
slender nude youth, the plateau was cold enough in winter for heavy
snowfall. It was the snow melt that was the source of the intermittent
stream they would be panning for gold. Marsters had a spot already picked
out for their camp. It was sheltered from the wind and downstream of the
camp with good grazing for the animals. The waters of the stream gleamed in
the sunlight as it splashed around rocks and over sills. Delighted with a
chance to get clean again, the boy plunged in only to be reminded that snow
melt can be cold. Marsters barked out a laugh seeing the lad spring out of
the water, yelping with surprise then flinging himself onto the bank
shivering, skin all goosebumps. He showed Justin where there was a still
side pool farther up that warmed up enough under the sun's rays to be
comfortable enough for washing and swimming.

The next day, Marsters showed Justin how to pan for gold. It looks easy
enough, but like everything else there is a trick to it. Anyone can slosh
sandy water around in a 14" pan. The trick is to slosh the sand out and let
the gold nuggets or dust sink to the bottom. A good technique really is all
in the wrists, and the boy caught on quickly. He was good with his hands
and had a good eye too for the gleam of gold at the bottom of the
pan. Confident that the lad would do a good job for him, Marsters set him
to work. They started upstream from their camp, following the scent of the
gold, as it were, looking for the richest sands.

Marsters was happy for the company. He had traveled alone for too long. It
wasn't just the mere fact of companionship. This particular boy Justin he
had stumbled across was a rare delight. He was cheerful and intelligent and
talkative, even something of a chatterbox, not that Marsters minded, and
intensely curious about the world he knew so little of. Marsters was widely
traveled, an educated man, a West Pointer and former army officer. It felt
good to talk with the boy about the republic which now stretched from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, about his education at West Point, and about map
making and building bridges (West Point was an engineering school as much
as a military one). The older man found the boy a good audience, his
cheerful honest face a welcome sight during their tedious hours of work by
the stream.

Then of course there was the boy's physical beauty, so close to hand,
totally nude, with his tanned torso bent over, spinal bumps leading down to
the cleavage of the rump, only the soles of his feet the original pale
shade. He reminded Justin of a fawn, young and wiry as he was, veins
standing out in his arms and legs under the taut skin. His hair was spun
gold and his eyes the green of growing things. He had a ready smile too. No
wonder he was so intensely attracted to the lad, but Marsters was never one
to force himself on a boy, especially a virgin like this Mormon. Marsters
decided to be patient, to wait for the boy to signal he was ready for
physical intimacy. He could tell from the way Justin looked at him during
their morning ablutions that the boy was physically attracted to him, just
nervous due to his sheltered upbringing. After a week had passed at their
diggings, he sensed that the boy's sexual urges were overcoming his
shyness, so he decided it was time to make his move. The older male found
Justin splashing in the warm pool at the end of a day of hard work.

"Mind if I join you, Justin?" Marsters asked already stripping off his
garments and kicking off the moccasins he wore around the mine.

"Sure thing, sir" Justin said in a shaky voice, watching this much larger
man take off every stitch. This was the first time Marsters had stripped
entirely in front of him, though he had seen him in just his drawers. The
man was tall and lean and powerfully built, with strong shoulders. He
exuded masculine charm. He had a commanding presence though softened by the
kind regard with which he looked at the boy. No sexual predator lurked
behind that intent stare but an ardent suitor. Still the boy was
intimidated by the contrast between with a virtually hairless boy like
himself and the macho adventurer who had rescued him and become his
employer and friend.

Of course he knew what the man wanted from him. No farm boy is truly
innocent of the facts of life, growing up around animals, nor was
Justin. He knew that male and female joined in the act of generation to
further their species. That included men and women. But he was a boy, and
this was a man. Yet he also sensed this man would never violate him, never
take him unwillingly, despite his longings. There was a decency and
integrity in this man that recommended him as both a friend and a lover. In
his own way, Marsters must have been as lonely as Justin himself. And he
certainly was an attractive man, with those startlingly blue eyes of his
and his red hair. Justin felt a sudden heat in his belly and his heart sped
up, his throat going dry. He felt his manhood plump up. Suddenly
embarrassed Justin turned his back to the man squeezing his eyes shut.

Marsters was smart enough to realize that he must be gentle with the boy,
not scare him off by coming on too aggressively despite his intense
attraction. The boy had lead sheltered existence, after all. He swam over
to where Justin stood chest high in the water and put his hands on his
narrow shoulders.

"Don't be shy or frightened, Justin. I won't hurt you, or make you do
anything you really don't want to do. I am your friend. I would like to be
your lover too. You like this don't you, the way I am holding you, touching
you?"

As Justin nodded, Marsters ran his hands down the trembling boy's flanks to
his narrow hips.

"My, my, you are such a handsome lad, slender though well built. Here let
me step a little closer. I so very much want your body next to mine."

He put his chest to the boy's back, his legs straddling the boy's slender
hips, virtually engulfing him. Justin whimpered as he felt Marsters'
upright manhood press against his backside, into his cleavage. The older
male held the boy in his arms, stroking his chest and belly, rubbing his
nipples, nibbling his ear, cooing and soothing the boy but letting him feel
the strength in Marsters' arms. Marsters reached lower and stroked Justin's
erection with one hand, weighing his taut ballsac in the other. The boy's
breathing speeded up. He felt lightheaded, flushed and incredibly hot
despite standing chest deep in the pool of water.

His own hands stroked Marsters' forearms uncertainly. The man's hands
reached up to stroke his face. Justin found himself kissing them in
return. He looked back anxiously into the older male's face to ask.

"The elders taught me that this was wrong, that a man should not lie with
man. The Bible calls it an abomination."

"Yes the very label the ancient Hebrews put on pork and on delectable
shellfish like lobster and clams. So why take any of their condemnations
seriously? As to your elders, what wisdom do they have, really? They deny
their young males all female companionship, whip you for pleasuring
yourself, and curse those of you who turn to their own kind for
gratification and love. They are ignorant, selfish, and small minded. It is
wrong to condemn your natural impulses and to deny your honest
feelings. Does this really feel wrong, lad, something awful? Isn't this
what your body craves? For males like us, these feelings are natural, this
attraction to our own kind. It isn't something we chose. We are as God made
us. Don't deny yourself the way I did in my young manhood, in school and
later. I finally left the Army so I could be true to myself."

"Surely this kind of touching is what you have wanted ever since we linked
up in the desert. I know I have longed for you, watching you run around
naked as we worked this stream. We would be false to our own natures not to
respond to these feelings, Justin. Let me teach you to make love to a man."

Abruptly Justin spun around and turned his face up to the older
male. "Yes," he gasped passionately. "Please teach me. I am burning with
desires I don't understand."

"Come with me then, Justin. Let's get out of the water and lie together. "

They climbed out of the pool and lay down, the soft grass their nuptial
bed. That was the beginning of Justin's education in male love. The boy was
so small and beautiful, a delicate flower, just right for picking. His
slender physique was utterly alluring, tanned, trim, wiry, with a well
corrugated front and a fine round rump in back. His genitals were generous
for a boy with such a slight build, the ballsac virtually hairless and
pulled tight to the fork of the legs.

With the boy stretched out under him, Marsters kissed Justin, noting the
youth's surprise as he thrust his tongue inside the boy's lips and played
with his tongue. The boy moaned and raised himself up, pressing their
bodies together. Marsters kissed the boy's nose and cheeks, then snuffled
at his ears, nipping the lobes. As the boy's hands roamed over his broad
back, Marsters sucked on his the nubbins of his tits, teasing them with his
tongue, then nibbling on them. The boy gasped as the older male introduced
him to these unsuspected erogenous zones. Marsters had to suppress his
amusement at the boy's innocence and ignorance. Laughter would only
embarrass the nervous virgin youth.

The older man proceeded slowly with the boy, limiting himself to oral sex
that first day. After nibbling the boy's nipples and licking his belly, he
showed Justin how a man can pleasure another man's cock with his mouth, a
total surprise to the innocent lad who had never thought of the mouth as a
sex organ. Justin couldn't believe how good it felt, to have his rigid
manhood surrounded by such warmth and wetness, to feel the flutter of
tongue and lips on the head of his cock or the gentle pull of lips on the
rim of the glans, responding to the strong even strokes of a man's fingers
with a mounting climax. He moaned inarticulately as the older male inducted
him into the age old fraternity of males who take their pleasure with
others of their kind, bringing him to a shuddering orgasm. The boy fell
back bonelessly. After the boy came in his mouth, Marsters slid his body up
and kissed Justin hard, letting the boy taste his own male essence. Justin
blushed, thinking this was terribly shameful but so very exciting and sexy
too. The taste was strange and slightly salty but not bad.

Then it was Justin's turn, his chance to bring his lover to climax and to
taste his gism. For this coupling, Marsters stood on his feet, a tower of
strength and masculinity while the boy stayed on his knees, the position of
the supplicant, small and submissive, looking up worshipfully at his new
lover. The boy readily accepted his subordinate role as one ordained by his
youth, his inexperience, and his small nearly hairless physique, so much
less manly than the older male's.

Marsters found himself responding to the boy's goodness and innocence,
breaking him in very gently and carefully despite the intensity of his
arousal, not face fucking him roughly, but letting the boy proceed at his
own pace. Though tentative at first and a bit clumsy, Justin was soon
lustily applying the lesson he had learned from the older male, pleasuring
him in turn, slurping, and licking, and sucking, careful with his teeth, as
he had been instructed.

Justin wasn't so good at getting Marsters' member down his throat; his gag
reflex got in the way. Marsters did not chide him or try to force himself
deeper. No point choking the boy, alarming him by cutting off his
airway. Marsters could see the boy was willing, even eager for oral sex. So
what if he was clumsy his first time. He would get better with practice. He
just needed time. Gently, gently.

He wanted a boy to be pleased as much as he was himself. It felt good,
taking a boy as a partner not just a conquest. Justin looked so very pretty
and submissive down there on his knees, gazing up at him trustingly with
those big green eyes of his. How could he betray the trust of such an
innocent? Marsters felt unaccustomed warm feelings for his new lover. He
realized he had grown very fond of Justin. He was a good lad who inspired
the best in those he met.

That first afternoon, Marsters introduced Justin to the mutual pleasure of
sucking cock, but saving the boy's ass for another day. A boy's first
penetration could be scary and painful -- even humiliating and shameful if
handled badly. Marsters wanted the boy eager for their joining, not
dreading it. He never wanted Justin to feel ashamed of anything they did
with their bodies or afraid that Marsters might hurt him. Not that Marsters
ever would. Yes he could be a hard man and had been in tough spots where he
had taken human life, but this boy brought out the caring and nurturing
side of his nature. Little Justin was so cute and sexy. He needed this boy
to love him, to want to live with him even after their work at the mine. He
wanted an end to his loneliness. Everything looked promising too. As
physically responsive as the youth was to Marsters' first lesson, he knew
the boy would be just fine as long as Marsters was careful with him. This
was one lusty lad who only needed a gentle hand on the reins.

The next day they were by the marge of the swimming hole again, not really
for a swim but to make love. Marsters had told the boy to void himself
before going to the pool. He stripped excitedly, practically dancing with
anticipation as he pulled off his drawers. Justin knew this was the day he
and Marsters would fully become lovers. For their first time, it would be
face to face, the boy on his back with his heels in the air. The older
male's large virile member slid along Justin's cleavage, from tail bone to
perineum, poking, prodding and playing with the anal ring, teasing him
before the real fuck. His thumbs alternately pulled the anal ring apart
then let it relax, gradually stretching it. Marsters fingered the boy's
nether hole, pushing in, lubricating him with a bit of oil, thoughtfully
preparing him for his first ever penetration, letting him get used to the
idea that another male would penetrate this most intimate orifice.

Finally it was time. Justin felt the head of Marsters' cock slide along his
cleavage and poke at the brown whorl between his legs. Marsters' manhood
stretch the anal ring as the head push through the outer ring then the
inner one. The shaft slid inside, first just past the head, letting it stay
there, to give Justin time to adjust to Marsters' impressive girth. The
initial pain hadn't been as bad as he had feared. He nodded to show he was
ready for more.  With a push of his hips, Marsters slid it in a bit
further, gratified that the boy's tiny orifice with its crinkly folds, was
accepting his rather impressive girth, without causing the boy too much
distress. His cock found the boy's joy spot, making him shudder with
lust. The boy's whimpers and moans arose from sexual desire and sensual
delight, not from any real distress as he tossed his head from side to
side.

Marsters was pleased not only for himself but because he had brought so
much pleasure to a boy who had till now denied his own longings. As
Marsters started pumping, Justin asked for more cock, for Marsters to plant
it deeper into him, to thrust harder, to fill him with cock. They fell into
a rhythm, Justin raising his rump to meet the descending shaft as it
penetrated his ass, using his internal muscles to squeeze the invading
penis, both males sweating profusely. They climaxed together, Justin's seed
shot out as a long string stretching from the cock to his face, a white
stream that fell on face, chest, and belly. Two more spurts followed,
nearly as energetic. This was a boy whose pent up sexuality was making up
for lost time.

Marsters fell atop they boy and they lay together, their bellies pasted
together by sweat and cum, the older male's cock still in the boy,
softening now, catching their breath, their pulses slowing, enjoying the
afterglow. Justin had a shy smile on his face. Marsters was gratified that
the boy was not suddenly overcome with guilt and shame. He was smiling,
almost giddy. They kissed sweetly then lay together quietly, gathering
their strength for a second round. For variety, he took the boy on all
fours, doggy style. Justin giggled as he shifted into position, realizing
this was the position he had seen so often with farm animals.

"A fine set of withers on as fine as filly as I ever mounted" Masters
declared, swatting him playfully on the rump.

"Filly? But I am a male."

"All right, a colt then, a frisky colt, just begging to be mounted, if I am
any judge of things."

"Yes, please!" the boy begged.

Marsters eased his cock into the boy's eager hole, pumping away, reaching
under the boy's belly to toy with his own manhood. Once again, they fell
into a rhythm until, in the fullness of time they came simultaneously then
collapsed to the grass, though Marsters quickly rolled off to let the boy
breathe more easily. They lay side by side, holding hands, gazing at each
other, silent, enjoying their new found intimacy.

			Chapter 3. California

The next two months were perhaps the happiest ever in the lives of the two
young lovers, the blossoming of their love for each other. They talked
constantly as they worked the claim or over a fire in the evening, getting
to know one another, filling in their backgrounds, revealing their likes
and dislikes, learning to read each other's moods as only a couple can.

Marsters never tired of the sight of his young lover's nude body kneeling
by the streambed, bent over the pan, the muscles of his arms and back
playing delightfully under the taut tanned skin as he swished the mixture
of sand and gold to separate them. From his thatch of sun gold hair on top
to the firm round rump below, the boy was a constant temptation to the
older male to set aside his own work and take the boy into his arms and
make love to him. Occasionally he did just that, surprising Justin,
dragging his squirming body onto the bank, wrestling it into position, the
boy unresisting and submissive after the initial surprise, loving the
things that Marsters would do with his body.

It took three weeks of digging and panning to locate the mother lode, the
central alluvial deposit from which the gold dust in the creek had been
swept downstream. It was a mixture of rich sands and nuggets as big as
Marsters' thumb. They spent four more weeks digging it out and separating
the gold from the sand.

In the end, the partners had several hundred pounds in dust and
nuggets. Now the weight of gold is measured by troy ounces, twelve to a
troy pound. A troy ounce is a heavier than the more familiar avoirdupois
ounce, so the poundage is nearly the same. This was a fortune, enough to
set them up for life, properly invested.

"What will you do with your share of the gold, Justin? Where will you go?"
the older man asked anxiously.

"Go?" the boy said, confused. "I ... I hoped we would stay together. Are
you saying you don't want me to be with you anymore? That you are sending
me away?"

Marsters could see the boy was almost in tears, his chin trembling, fearful
of rejection.

"Oh Justin, anything but." He said, hugging the lad's naked body to
him. "Of course I want you stay with me and to share my life fully. I want
us to live together openly, in a big house. I will even hire tutors to help
you complete your education -- and don't make a face at that, you will
thank me for it later, young man."

Justin nodded, unable to speak, tears of joy in his eyes, overwhelmed with
gratitude and love for this decent man who had first saved his life, then
taught him to love. Now they would share their lives as a couple. Life does
not get any better than that.

"I have plans for this money, Justin, in California. Oh not to look for
more gold, but to invest in farm land and real estate in Fresno, a growing
town in the Central Valley. I plan to grow grapes for raisins and wine and
figs on the farm land and put up a packing plant and warehouses near the
new railroad. All I needed was a stake. Now I have it. Or rather we have
it.

"We'll get papers drawn up so that you are officially a junior partner. One
quarter of everything will be yours, in your own name. You will work as my
private secretary as well. You're a bright lad and you have shown me you
have quite a legible hand. At least those Mormons taught you that much. You
will take care of my correspondence and manage the office.

"I would like to do that, Lee. I am sure I can make a good job of it. I
have a head for figuring too. I want a real job. I have always pulled my
own weight. I couldn't bear the thought of being just a kept boy."

"Good for you, Justin. Our partnership will give us a valid public reason
to share a home. We will have to be careful on that score you understand,
two young males living together without women, sharing not only a home but
a bed. Society can be very cruel to males who love others of their kind. We
could be ostracized or even horse-whipped out of town."

"I guess I will have to get used to wearing clothing too," the boy said
resignedly. "Too bad, I rather like running around bare ass like this. I
feel so free."

"I expect a shameless boy like you will make his own opportunities. I can
see you running around the house in the altogether much of the time, at
least when we are alone or maybe in our garden outside."

"Count on it, Lee. And I don't see why I cannot work the fields butt naked
as well. "

Marsters slapped the boy's bare rump as they laughed at Justin's
shamelessness, happy at the prospects before them. That last night at their
mine, they made love with heightened intensity in celebration of what
promised to be a great future.

The pair of lovers did not try to take all their gold with them at
once. They stashed two thirds of it in a hole dug in the ground and covered
it with flat rocks. The pack mule would carry the rest of the gold except
for a bag of gold dust Marsters would carry on his person for
expenses. Justin waited outside of town with the mule and Marsters' rifle
to guard the gold while the older man stopped at the general store to buy
the lad some clothing. The pants and shirt were a little big on Justin but
would do him for now. As for boots, the boy tried them on for size himself
when he came into town dressed in his new finery. All went well in the
first little town they passed through. The boy was clothed, shod, and
mounted on a steady mare. They made no secret of the fact that they had
found a little gold but told everyone their claim had panned out after only
a small yield, barely enough for a stake in new diggings farther west.

Marsters' plan was to hire some Pinkerton men to help them recover the rest
of the gold but first they had to sell what was on the pack mule in a town
with an assay office and a bank. That meant Cedar City Utah, a center for
iron mining. Even so, the mining town had neither a railroad nor even a
telegraph line. They would have to make the long trip to Flagstaff,
Arizona, which had both. Both young men were armed with rifles and Marsters
had a pair of Colts. They carried a considerable liquid funds in twenty
dollar gold pieces in money belts around their waists and had a draft from
the assay office for the bulk of their funds for deposit in the bank.

The pair traveled across the Colorado Plateau through a beautiful forest of
Ponderosa Pine. Flagstaff lay at the southern end of the plateau which is
why the railroad ran there. The Pinkerton agency sent out six reliable men,
all handy with guns and able to keep their mouths shut. That enabled the
two young men to recover the remainder of their gold and get it safely to
California. The lovers did have to cool their expression of ardor on the
long trip with the Pinkertons. The amused looks they got from those rough
men indicated they were not really fooled about their relationship. Why
else would a man of the world like Marsters, an Indian fighter in his early
twenties, take up with a girlishly pretty fine boned youth not quite
seventeen. Then there was that naked horseplay the pair had engaged in when
camped by a pleasant stream. They explained the boy's even tan as the
result of having been driven from the Mormon colony in the nude and forced
to work at their diggings totally naked. Which was true enough but
certainly not the whole truth. Marsters gave the men a bonus in recognition
of their tolerance.

A year later near Fresno California, Masters' plans were bearing
fruit. Their new home was sited five miles from what was then a growing
town of some ten thousand. The house was built upon a knoll in the Spanish
colonial style, in the form a Mexican hacienda with a high wall around it
for privacy. A creek crossed the garden forming a deep pool suitable for
swimming in the warm months. Justin loved to read and lunch and swim there.

Their first acreage of almonds and figs were doing well, though it would be
several years till the trees matured and produced their first crop. Still
they had enough capital to tide them over, some of it invested in town lots
which brought them ground rents. Justin particularly loved to work in their
kitchen garden: hoeing, weeding, pruning whatever. Justin found he liked
tending to green growing things, to make them flourish and yield fruits and
tubers and stalks and leafy vegetables. He did not mind grubbing in the
soil piling dirt around celery stalks so they would turn white.

By now the hired workers were used to seeing the younger partner working in
the fields and the garden bare of all clothing. He wasn't deliberately
lascivious and never tried to seduce the young Mexican hands though Manuel
in particular was a dark haired beauty in his own right. They had their
girlfriends, or failing that the girls at the cantina. So what if the
slender pretty-boy went about his chores stark naked. At least the young
man was willing to do all the hot sweaty work they did themselves, even the
stoop labor. The lad was never bossy. If he needed something done, he asked
politely and pitched in when he could. The boy shrugged off the dirt and
the sweat and swatted at or swore at the bugs like everyone else. The men
appreciated his wiry strength as he dug irrigation ditches or put up fences
around the kitchen garden. He took his turn lifting that heavy sledgehammer
to pound a post into the hole in the ground then helped string up chicken
wire that would keep neighbors' livestock out if they got over their way.

He impressed them too with his unexpected strength. Though short and
slender, the lad was stronger than his size might indicate. He hadn't a
scrap of excess flesh; he was all hard muscle and sinew and bone. His body
glistened with sweat under the hot sun, keeping him nearly as brown as
their three Mexican farmhands. They often saw him at work in the garden
kneeling on the ground, brown cheeks resting on bare feet, lithe torso bent
over, ribs and spinal bumps prominent as, trowel in hand, he worked at his
humble task firm muscles playing under the skin. He looked so alive, a fine
specimen of the human animal. They would call out a greeting and he would
turn to look, flashing a dazzling smile from his open and honest face. And
those green eyes, the color of growing things. A real beauty that one, the
farmhands thought. A nice kid too.

They found their older patron Marsters more conventional in dress and
though friendly enough a man who maintained a certain social
distance. Still he had chopped away willingly enough at the tangle of brush
that had covered the land, preparing it for crops. In his case he went bare
only to the waist when the work was sweaty.

Their staff was all male except for a maid who came by three times a
week. They sent their dirty clothes out to the Chinese hand laundry in
town. Of course the farmhands and the cook knew that the two young men
shared a bed. They could not hide that, though the boy did have his own
room for changing or for when he needed to be alone, like that time
Marsters came down with influenza. The boy had nursed him back to health,
hovering over him like a ministering angel. Anyone could see that they were
smitten with each other.

Justin had developed a taste for genuine Mexican food thanks to their cook,
Diego Sanchez, a cheerful middle aged man originally from down Guadalajara
way. He was also good with American dishes like steak and potatoes and made
a fine Western omelette when they got up late Sunday mornings, the only day
they slept in.

True to his promise, Marsters brought in a tutor for Justin. The boy was
fascinated by mathematics especially geometry. Here was one subject where
you could have proof of the truth of the matter. So much else in life was
mere opinion especially politics and religion. Of course he did have to put
on a pair of pants and a shirt for when the tutor came by. That gentleman
merely raised an eyebrow at their unorthodox menage. Marsters paid well and
the boy was a good student. All a teacher could ask for. Which was why he
was closemouthed about his employer, never spreading gossip about the
handsome couple. Others in town were not so forbearing.

"Old man McCormick gave me a contemptuous look today, Lee, just because, in
this heat, my shirt was open to the waist when I pulled the wagon up to
this store. He takes our custom at his general store, but he clearly does
not like us. He must suspect our physical relationship."

"He wouldn't be the only one, but most people are willing to live and let
live, even ignoring the obvious as long as we don't flaunt it, forcing them
to acknowledge it, by maybe holding hands or kissing on the street. Look at
the two old spinsters in that house with the green arbor who give music
lessons. Why do you think two maiden ladies took up with each other in
their early twenties rejecting all suitors. I hear they were real beauties
in their day."

"You mean they are like us, Lee, lovers? Two women? But how can they ... I
mean..."

"Such things are not for your innocent ears, my young friend. Suffice it to
say they are a couple, but they are discreet. They earn an honest living;
they don't bother anybody, so nobody bothers them. Unfortunately men are
less likely to get upset about two spinster ladies than about two young
males like us, especially when drunk. Best stay out of bars. Some men are
mean drunks."

"Fine, I only stop off at the cantina now and then for a mug of brew, after
hauling a load to town. I am no drinking man, Lee, you know that."

Indeed except for an occasional mug of beer (plus the free sandwich), the
boy was abstemious in his habits. Sure, he liked the taste of a cold beer
with food but that was it. The boy was mystified when an old borrach—n
(drunkard) explained that, for him, beer was just a way to get drunk. The
old reprobate didn't even like the taste of the brew. Justin could only
shake his head uncomprehending. It was all Masters could do to get the boy
to develop a taste for wine, if only for business. They would be putting in
a vineyard next year, so Justin really had to be able to tell a good wine
from a bad one.

The boy had tried hard liquor a couple of times, virtually coerced by big
men in the cantina who wouldn't let him turn down their offer of a drink of
the hard stuff. They wanted to see how the slender pretty boy would handle
a man's drink.

"This will put hair on your chest, little Justin" he was assured.

Actually Justin did not want hair on his chest or anywhere else on his
body. He liked his physique completely smooth. Just recently he had used a
razor to remove the sparse tufts at his armpits and groin. Being totally
exposed made him feel that much more naked. He felt very wicked, prancing
around like that, bereft of those tokens of manhood, leaving him a smooth
hairless boy, his cock sprouting directly from his belly wall. As with his
body so with his face. As yet his chin was showed no sign of beard or peach
fuzz. In his family a man's beard tended to come in late, as much as a
decade after puberty. That was fine with Justin. He only wished he could
stay boyishly cute forever.

As for the whiskey, the boy first choked on it then coughed it up much to
the amusement of the rough characters who had stood him the drink. One of
them pounded his back to help him expel the drink then gripped his shoulder
companionably and assured him he would handle it better when he was
older. Actually Justin was left wondering how anyone could imbibe such vile
stuff and promised himself he would never develop a taste for whiskey,
older or not. No, the bottle was one problem young Justin would never have
to worry about.

Marsters himself avoided the cantina and possible confrontations. The rough
men who frequented the place tolerated Justin as a sort of mascot. He was
after all just a kid and never went about armed. Small, soft-spoken,
personable, and girlishly pretty as he was, Justin did not challenge their
traditional concepts of masculinity. Marsters did, at well over six feet,
lean and strong, a combat veteran with a reputation for being good with his
fists or his gun. Yet he had taken up with this boy. Oh they did not flaunt
it, but there was no real doubt that they were a pair of sodomites.

The young couple did not attend church services. Both had had enough of
organized religion to last their lifetimes. The local padre had soon
realized how it was with them and did not press the young couple to
attend. He was very friendly when they ran into each other on the
street. The fact is that he shared Marsters attraction to young males. Only
his vows had kept him from exploring that side of his nature after he
reached the seminary. Meanwhile, it would do no harm to chat up the
impossibly pretty Justin, a fine lad as anyone could see despite his
scandalous sartorial eccentricities. Besides the good padre knew that every
month, when Marsters thought no one was looking, he dropped a twenty dollar
gold piece into the coin box for the poor.

			Chapter 4. Temblor

The earliest sign of the impending earthquake was when all the birds in the
district took to the air. Dogs started barking. Suddenly the first shock
hit the town of Fresno. Glass shattered in windows and buildings swayed but
damage was limited. Then the second shock hit, splitting the ground in
several places. Some masonry structures crumbled but the town generally
rode out that shock without major damage. The one exception was on the edge
of town where the quake toppled a huge decaying ash tree growing next to a
grammar school. Its weight brought the whole structure down on the teacher
and her thirty pupils.

At Marsters' hacienda, the damage was slight thanks to its stout
construction, a matter of some broken crockery. So leaving the cook in
charge of the place, Marsters loaded a buckboard with tools and his
workforce and drove into town to see what he might do to help. As they
unloaded at the site, several men grumble loud enough for Marsters to hear:

"What is their kind doing here?

He ignored them. Some men had started to clear the wreckage of the school
but were forced to stop when the voice of the teacher trapped inside called
out to say that their efforts were making things worse. She and her
students were in a void at the back of the school. The whole weight of the
roof, and walls, and tree trunk was pressing down on them, threatening at
any moment to flatten the void formed by the support of the teacher's desk
and bookshelves. Either the weight of the men on the wreckage itself or the
dislodging of broken timbers threatened to bring everything down on their
heads.

"What can we do if we dare not move the wreckage." Old man McCormick
bemoaned. "My grandchildren are trapped inside that school!"

Shouting to be heard, Marsters addressed the crowd.

"Listen to me. I am a professional engineer. I trained at West Point. I am
pretty sure I can help rescue the children. What we need for the job is a
derrick to lift the tree off and swing it aside. We could demolish that
water tower over there and use its pre-cut timbers to build a derrick to
lift the ash tree off the wreckage of school. The only problem is that
anything we do might collapse the void while we are working. I need a
volunteer to get inside and prop it up temporarily. Any volunteers?"

"Let me try, Lee." Justin spoke up. "I can wriggle right into the void and
prop it up from the inside with short timbers. I'm just the man for the job
too, small enough to work my way into the wreckage but strong enough to
handle the braces. You know how everyone says I am strong for my size. I
can do this, Lee."

"That might work, and we can use railroad ties for bracing. Are you sure
about this Justin? The void could collapse at any moment. You would be
crushed. I couldn't bear to lose you."

"Lee neither of us could ever face himself if we did not at least
try. There are thirty children in there, mostly still alive plus the
teacher. Let's do it."

Impressed by the pair's sincerity and concern for the trapped kids, and
with no other feasible options, the men put themselves under Marsters
orders and went to work. Some fetched railroad ties for bracing. Others got
rope and nails and tools from McCormick's general store. The largest group
demolished the nearby water tower with the owner's permission and collected
the beams for constructing a derrick. Meanwhile Justin stripped down to his
drawers so he would not get snagged as he wriggled through the wreckage. He
tied a rope around his waist. Once he reached the void, he would use it to
pull railroad ties in one by one to brace the weight of the wreckage from
underneath. Marsters gave the brave lad a fierce hug before he crept into a
likely opening. Then he directed the construction of the derrick. Since
they were using already cut wood with bolt holes in the ends, the work went
quicker though the resulting construction was oddly shaped. The main thing
was that the machine provided sufficient mechanical advantage to lift the
heavy ash tree.

Justin had to back out of two dead ends before he found a way into the
void. He stopped twice to brace the weight overhead with railroad ties. The
way was perilous with nails sticking out of the wood and jagged splinters
at the end of broken beams. Justin bumped his head and cut his shoulder and
his hip as he pushed deeper into the wreckage. He ignored the pain and the
bleeding. At one point he nearly panicked when he got stuck and could go
neither forward nor back. It took all his presence of mind to avoid panic,
to breathe deep to calm himself. He flattened himself as much as he could
and managed to extricate himself to try again, even if that did tear the
back of his shorts. Eventually he made his way into the void, dimly lit by
sunlight filtering in through crannies.

The young schoolmarm was taken aback when Justin wriggled his way into the
void, grabbing at his drawers that the wreckage threatened to snatch off
his hips. The last thing she expected was the arrival of a nearly nude
young man, and a stunning blond beauty at that. One of the children piped
up to ask.

"Is he an angel, Miss Morris? He looks like the pictures only with no
wings."

Plucky lady that she was, she answered. "Yes, that is what he is, a
veritable angel and he has come to rescue us."

That brought a cheer from the pupils. The sound carried to the workmen
outside encouraging everyone immensely. Justin's signal with the rope for
them to attach more ties to it rope also gave them hope, telling them that
the brave lad was at work trying to stabilize the wreckage. All told, the
boy installed eight ties as braces around the void, forming interlocking
V's for maximum strength as Marsters had told him to. Miss Morris with her
broken arm could do little to help directly, but she was a calming
influence on her frightened charges.

Afterwards, the work done, both adults spoke with the children to calm
their fears. When darkness fell, the teacher lit the kerosene lamp that had
survived the earthquake intact. In the glow of the lantern Justin started
singing in his clear tenor voice simple camp songs that the children soon
joined in, songs like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and "100 Bottles of
Beer". You might have thought they were on a picnic. Afterwards, with
admiration in her eyes for the courage and kindness of her young rescuer,
the teacher said.

"You know Mr Anders, I cannot remember the last time I encountered a
handsome young man clad in just his drawers. Not that I am complaining of
course. You do look heavenly even if you aren't really an angel. You must
be very brave crawling in here to rescue us. I would like to give you a
kiss when we get finally out of this, if that is all right with you.

"No problem, Miss, but I have to let you know that I am already ... er
... spoken for."

Even in the dim light of the lantern, he could see her blush. "Yes, there
are those rumors going around about the two of you out at the
hacienda. After today, I don't think anyone will care what you get up to in
private."

The men on the derrick had to work well into the night to get it finished,
but Marsters insisted they wait for daylight for the actual
lift. Meanwhile, via the rope, the rescuers sent water and food into the
void for the trapped pupils. By midmorning the tree had been lifted and set
to one side and the wreckage of the school carefully cleared around the
void. Several times the wreckage shifted and threatened to cave in, but the
bracing Justin had installed held up. After several hours, Justin, the
teacher, and twenty seven pupils emerged tired but alive from the
wreckage. Two boys and a girl had been crushed in the initial
collapse. Their bodies were pulled out of the wreckage later.

Justin emerged filthy, sweaty, and covered with his own blood thought his
wounds were actually superficial and had stopped bleeding during the
night. So it looked worse than it was. His drawers had been torn exposing
his right cheek and nearly dragged right off his narrow hips, so the boy
was the next thing to naked. Not that he paid any attention to his state of
undress, as he passed one child after another over to the rescuers. Many of
the children hugged him or kissed him on the cheek to show their
gratitude. The sight brought home to onlookers how much Justin had put at
risk for them: his life, his youth, his beauty of face and of form,
everything he was or would ever be. The lad might easily have died or, if
he survived, been crippled or disfigured. He had risked all that for the
sake of their children.

Not giving a hoot about propriety or her reputation, the young school
teacher hauled off and gave her practically naked rescuer a big kiss which
was captured for the newspapers by an enterprising photographer. That
brought applause from the onlookers and a wry smile from Marsters. He did
draw the boy to himself for a heartfelt hug to show his relief at his
lover's safety.

Even old man McCormick, reunited with his grandkids looked on benignly at
the obvious affection between the two lovers. He came up to them to give
them his thanks.

"You are two good men, both of you. I ask your forgiveness for being a
judgmental old fool before. A man's worth is what he does with his time on
this earth. You risked your life, Justin, for the town's children. And
without your engineering expertise, Marsters, the rescue effort would have
failed. Let no one ever say you aren't a fine pair of young men. I wish you
good luck in your life together. As the patriarch of my family, let me
invite you to Thanksgiving dinner next month."

Miss Morris invited them to her wedding the following year. That forced
Justin to learn to dance. The Mormons had never allowed dancing among
them. He acquitted himself quite well thanks to his natural physical grace
and helpful lessons from his tutor.

The two young men became part of local legend, the young heros who had
saved over two dozen children and their school mistress. No one except
strangers ever bothered them about their unorthodox union, which they were
always careful not to flaunt in public. As long as they were discreet and
kept their intimacy private, everyone was willing to look the other way,
which was the best gay persons could expect in those less enlightened
times. Lee and Justin prospered with the growth of Fresno, capitalizing on
their real estate holdings as the city expanded. They lived long enough to
be counted in the 1940 census when the town had a population of sixty
thousand. Today Fresno is a flourishing city of half a million.