Date: Sun, 4 May 2008 13:59:10 -0500
From: fireflywatcher ford <fireflywatcher@gmail.com>
Subject: Story: Short Grass Prairie, chapter five

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Short Grass Prairie

by fireflywatcher- Phil Ford

Chapter Five

Schooling only went through the eighth grade with most students graduating
when they reached fourteen. There had been no schools anywhere near the
ranch when Jake and I grew up, and they were just being started as Sam and
Nate neared graduation age. At thirteen and fourteen years old, both boys
easily passed the graduation exam from what they were taught at home. Harlan
and Rufus could probably pass it as well, but we continued to teach them at
home and made them wait until they were older to take the exam, with Sam and
Nate as their main teachers, but a tutor for higher maths, Latin, and Greek
was found among the European merchants. The additional study would bring the
four boys up to the level needed for college entrance, which all four
expressed an interest in.

Wes shared a house with Justin and Bart took a shotgun house by himself. The
dairy and feedlots had the most demanding schedules because cows and goats
must be milked twice a day and stock had to be fed. Milk would hold over the
weekend for processing into butter and cheese because of the ice and duties
rotated giving milkers days off. Extra feed could be put out to last over
the weekends, too. Wes fell into the little brother mode with Justin,
hanging around at the dairy waiting for the work to be finished or lending a
hand if he could. The slaughterhouse was done for the day by mid-afternoon,
so he'd go to the house and cook something for supper, first. He'd learned
to cook from his dad and every chance he got to watch or help in the
kitchen, he'd pick up something new. He learned to cook a few Mexican dishes
from Luis and some Irish cooking from Ian. The staple southern style most
people fixed, he needed no help with. Most anything he needed was his for
the taking, from meat to produce grown in the garden. He'd even planted a
little plot beside the house he shared with Justin.

After he finished cooking, he'd walk over to the dairy. "Travis and Bob are
eating supper with us", Justin announced, when Wes showed up. "They had some
business to attend to and passed by this morning. I asked them over, if
that's OK. What you got cooking for tonight, buddy?"

"I made something my paw taught me. Sometimes we'd be scrambling for
something to fix, but with a few extra ingredients like we have around here,
it's even better. I went crawdad fishing over along the creek and made a pot
of gumbo", Wes told him.

"I never ate none of that nor any crawdads, either", Justin replied, "But
you ain't cooked nothing bad yet. What's in it?"

"First you boil up the crawdads and dip them out to cool. I put a couple of
chicken backs and some sausage I brought home in the broth to cook next.
Then I put tomatoes, peppers, onions, garlic, some of my scrawny celery, a
squash, and a lot of okra in after that. You only put the crawdad tails in,
so I peeled them and put them back in. Then I took half butter and half
flour and browned it slow in a skillet and added it. The backs I scooped out
and just put the chicken meat back in and last I added rice to the pot. Salt
and black pepper is all the seasoning I know to put", Wes explained, "But I
added a hot pepper, too."

"I can almost smell it, it sounds so good", Justin commented. "Let me wash
up and we'll head home. I'm done a little early today, myself." Justin was
still pretty filthy after washing up as he was most days. The floor of a
milking parlor with a hundred cows passing through was like a mud puddle by
the time milking was done, but it wasn't mud and had to be cleaned out twice
a day after each milking.

Travis and Bob sat on the front porch sipping from a jug as Wes and Justin
walked up. "You're ripe today", Bob pronounced, "I could smell you before I
could see you."

"You just keep on sipping on that jug", Justin answered him, "And I'll have
this perfume all washed off in a jiffy."

Wes had Justin a change of clothes laid out and the tub half filled on the
back porch. It was a daily routine. Justin stripped of handing each piece of
clothing to Wes, who dropped them in a smaller wash tub, saying as he did
every day, "I never would have thought I'd bathe more than once a week until
I started dairying." Wes nodded in agreement and poured warm water mixed
from the tank on the stove with cooler water from the well into the big tub.
When Justin sat down in it, Wes poured more over his head to get Justin wet
down. Them Wes took a big bar of soap and proceeded to lather Justin from
head to toe. Justin always got hard and Wes never neglected pulling back his
foreskin to clean him up good. Then Wes rinsed him off and dried him good as
he got out of the tub. Nothing ever happened between the two, but today as
Wes dried Justin's legs, that stiff prick was right at his face and on
impulse Wes gave it a little kiss. "Whoa there, little brother", Justin
exclaimed, "I might just marry you if you do that very often." Wes blushed.

"You're too good to Justin", Travis told him. He and Bob had come onto the
back porch just as Wes gave Justin the kiss. "You guys both take care of
each other good. Whatever you got cooking smells mighty fine, too."

"It looks like you've been doing some growing there Wes", Bob commented,
"Maybe a head higher than you used to be."

"I have", Wes replied. "I'm already taller now than my paw was. My feet are
still the same size, though. Eating regular and sleeping in a soft bed must
do me some good."

Of the clothes Wes had laid out, Justin only slipped on the denim pants. He
took a deep draw on the jug and they went to the kitchen to eat. It was fill
your own bowl from the pot on the stove. Wes had cornbread made and sweet
tea to drink with the meal. After they all finished eating, Justin asked
Wes, "Bob and Travis have more business in town tomorrow. Can they bunk in
your bed tonight and you share mine? It will shorten their ride."

"We all chipped in and brought you a present, too", Travis said.

"Sure thing, but I don't need no present to agree it." Wes was curious as to
what they brought though. They led him to the pole barn in the back and had
brought him a young mare, almost ready to foal.

"She's one of them Dos Pasos ponies, and we got her cheap because she's a
little small", Bob revealed. "She should foal in a few weeks from the look
of her and she's only green broke so she'll take some work."

"Oh, she is such a beauty", Wes exclaimed. He hugged both of them praising
the mare.

"They're the breed that has that fancy prance to their gait", Justin piped
in. "I don't think she's up to strutting her stuff until after she drops,
though."

Wes even joined in drinking from the jug that evening. He usually didn't
drink. It was a Friday and he was off, but Justin would have morning milking
so they all turned in early. Wes slept wrapped in Justin's arms. During the
night, he rolled around chest to chest with Justin. Thinking Justin was
sleeping soundly, he said, "I guess you know I'm sweet on you, don't you
brother?"

Surprising him, Justin pulled Wes into a kiss, backing off only enough to
reply that he felt the same way about Wes. Moments later they were both
asleep again. When Wes awoke, finding Justin was gone to milk, the bed felt
very empty to him. Travis and Bob had coffee made and were drinking it at
the kitchen table. "Mornin' ", Wes told them, and he started right in fixing
breakfast. They only stayed long enough to fill their bellies and were off
to tend to whatever business they had for the day. Justin was back at the
house by nine that morning.

"Let's go for a swim, Wes", he requested. The sun was high and the day was
warm already. Grabbing a blanket and a change of clothes, they headed to the
deep hole on the Concho above the divide from the Colorado. They tethered
Wes's big gelding and Justin's stud horse to graze in the tall grass and
played in the water like younger boys all morning. When the pangs of hunger
hit them, they dried on the big rock, dressed, and rode back home. Walking
in through the back door, the breeze was streaming through all the windows
and the screened doors. The curtains reached for the ceiling and fluttered
down again.

"We have some unfinished business from last night", Justin insisted. He
lifted Wes in his arms while humming and singing a melody and danced him
around the house. Even with their lips locked together and their tongues
battling for dominance, Justin never let the melody falter. Justin stopped
before the bed, kneeling and removing their boots, then moving up he deftly
released button after button and snap after snap until their clothes fell in
a pile at their feet. He lifted Wes above the pile and stepped away from it
himself. Pressing their groins together, they locked lips again and as
Justin hummed on they continued their dance. Wes' lithe little feet never
touched the ground as he was held aloft with his ass cheeks cupped in
Justin's hand. The larger man finally came to a rest leaning back into the
down mattress, pulling Wes on top of him.

Looking through the window Travis exclaimed to Bob, "That is the hottest
thing I ever laid eyes on!" They'd brought Wes a red saddle to match his
boots, for the little mare. Bob sat it on the porch and they left silently,
not wanting to disturb the moment. As Travis and Bob neared the ranch,
Travis told Bob, "You better give me the best make up sex you ever put out
tonight. I'm pissed we never had a dance like Wes and Justin. I might just
pout about it all week."

"I'm with you on this", Bob replied. "We've been missing out, bad."

With no barn dance and a new moon that Saturday night, the flutter of the
curtains in the breeze and the chirping crickets made the only sounds
disturbing the night. Each moan and gasp from Wes or Justin was stifled
below a whisper as they explored each other's bodies. Wes engulfed Justin's
prong and swirled his tongue in circles around the head, stopping to beg
Justin to teach him how to please him. "You're doing great", Justin answered
in a whisper. The intensity had Justin digging his fingernails into his
palm. Wes gulped down his reward and was flipped on his back after the prong
gave up it's last throb. Justin dove to the base of Wes' dick and buried his
nose in the fine curly hair there. He worked a finger, then two, then three,
into Wes' back door, twisting and gently driving his fingers in and out.

"I'm not too small am I?", asked Wes.

"You're less than a finger's width shorter than me", Justin answered. "Do
you think I'm too small?"

"You're perfect", Wes insisted. "Will yours fit inside me? I want to feel
what it's like, so bad."

"After you give me a mouthful we'll give it a try", Justin replied. "It will
hurt some at first, but I'll go slow."

Justin felt Wes jump when he touched his love button. He avoided it after
that trying to extend the time stretching Wes open before Wes spurted. When
it was obvious Wes couldn't hold off any longer Justin savagely attacked
Wes' prick tip with his tongue, putting four fingers to work on the love
button at the same time. Then he shared the cream with Wes.

Justin was so worked up from the extended play he greased himself and Wes'
pucker with balm and thrust Wes' knees to rest on his shoulders. He scooted
close and began his entrance. "Push out when I push in", he instructed Wes.
He buried his tongue down Wes' throat and tugged at the tiny nipples on Wes'
chest while he drove inward. Justin was fully seated in one slow smooth
motion. Wes showed no sign of discomfort. Justin's fingers had done their
job well. Within a few pumps, Wes lifted himself to meet Justin halfway on
each stroke. Releasing Wes' legs, Wes wrapped them around Justin's waist.
The long intense session ended when Wes' orgasm brought Justin off at the
same time, gripping Justin's dick with each spasm. They lay entwined until
Justin felt Wes had hardened again. The bitch had snuck in the house when
the wind blew the screen door back a little. She licked Justin's foot which
had him howling with laughter. That break signaled the start of round two.
Justin took the position on his hands and knees, spreading his legs to give
Wes the perfect height for entry. He guided Wes' hands to grip his hips and
said, "Give it to me rough, baby."

Wes drew near to spurting several times but the urgency lifted each time.
Ages later they came in unison a final time before sleep overtook them.

"I've loved you the whole last year I've lived with you", Wes declared,
handing Justin a cup of coffee, "Couldn't you tell?'

"I'm a little slow I guess", Justin replied. "We've got lost time to make
up. You ain't sore are you?"

"Naw, I'm fine. It was you getting plugged so long anyway ", Wes answered.
For the next month they sought out every opportunity to be together and got
a lot of slack from their jobs. Then being in love and being together was
just a comfortable part of living.

The next year was occupied in our free time corresponding with colleges,
making inquiries for the four boys. One had decided to study medicine, one
law, one business, and one chose engineering. Finding one school offering
all four fields of study that would accept the boys was quite a task. Sam
and Nate were referred to as half Spanish rather than Comanche or Mexican
because no schools would have accepted them. Exams were required at each
institution. We three dads with our partners and sons took a private rail
car to the east and visited the three schools that met our needs. Arriving
at a decision we purchased a house adjacent to campus, set up bank accounts,
hired a housekeeper and a workman to tend the grounds and horses that would
be needed, and arranged for the same rail car to bring them home during the
month long Christmas break and during the summers. If tutors were needed,
they would be obtained. Harvard and Boston had been the only option in the
end. We left to boys to find their way in this strange city and returned to
the ranch. I was thirty two that summer and the year was eighteen eighty
seven.

In eighty eight, the Englishman abandoned his holdings and sold the land for
a penny an acre. We bought a fair share of it as did our hands, employees at
the businesses, and our partners. While there were many buildings and lots
to work cattle, it had only perimeter fencing and scattered natural watering
holes for the stock. It was minimally improved.

Chance, Swift, and Luis took the journey up to Fort Cobb and out to check on
the ranch there. They rode in the caboose and took their horses along in a
cattle car. The foreman Justin had hired had everything in order when they
arrived. He and the cowboys there were honest hard working men and three of
his cowboys were black men. Luis and Swift had never seen a black man and
were fascinated by their appearance. When they visited the other Comanche
from the winter camp, they weren't prospering as well as the men had
expected. They had only increased the herds by a little over the many years.
The oldest of the men, who was now their chief, explained, "The army only
lets us sell our cattle to them. They take what they want, cows, steers, and
bulls. They cheat us by paying less than half the fair price and by counting
the numbers wrong."

"All the land is privately owned now", the agent told Chance. "They can sell
their cattle however they choose. I don't know what your complaints are, but
that's how it is. Two thirds of the Comanche reservation lands went back to
the government. There'll be a big giveaway soon to any who claim it. The law
now is whatever you have inside a fence is yours."

"These Comanche have their land fenced", Chance answered.

"Well that's a good thing. Those that don't may loose what they've got when
the giveaway starts", the agent replied.

The land giveaway was set to begin in May of 1889, leaving us nearly a years
notice. The boys, Luis', and the other Comacho allotments were on the edge
of what remained in native hands. Chance gave the foreman a free hand and
access to all the funds he needed to fence in additional land. "Fence enough
to give yourself and each of your men pieces large enough to make a decent
living and we'll do title work next year after the giveaway", Chance told
the foreman. "Hire crews if you need to. Put off your roundups and we'll
bring all the men up to get it done for you. Just build fence."

The three men made their journey home just as they'd come. We did indeed go
up to do the roundup that fall and the next spring once we'd done it at the
ranch first.

In the winter of ninety two, after the boys had returned to Boston and were
in their post graduate studies, an epidemic hit Texas. Half or more of the
population permanently relocated to the cemeteries. We'd shut ourselves up
on the ranch and temporarily closed the businesses just as we'd done in the
past. We all survived and the epidemic didn't hit Boston or cities to the
east.

"Dad, Dad", I heard coming from the front of the house. We hadn't sent or
received mail for a year, or done any business.

"Nate", I answered and swept him up in my arms, as best as I could seeing he
was a healthy grown man now. "Are you all home now?", I asked.

"Yes", he replied, "And with a few additions to the family." I went to the
front porch and began ringing the big old bell to call everyone up to the
house.

"They'll think disaster has struck, for sure", I declared. There before me
stood all the boys, four young ladies, two heavily pregnant and two holding
babies in their arms. I held my had up, palm forward. "May as well wait a
few minutes for introductions or we'll be at it for hours", I insisted. The
parlor of the Taylor house filled with the immediate family of the ranch,
the McCorkles, the Thorntons, and Wes. "Doctor Mrs. Amy Taylor and little
Jimbob", Nate introduced.

"Mrs. Sara Pearson and Jacob Samuel", Sam announced next, "But we're calling
him Critter for now." Both babies had a medium olive complexion, a blending
of the milk white of their mothers and the darker tones of the Comanche skin
displayed by their fathers.

"Mrs. Ellen Foster", Rufus told us, followed by Harlan saying, "Mrs. Louise
Foster" to identify his wife. Both Foster women were soon to deliver babies
of their own.

Introductions of the men began with we three dads, the rest receiving a
prenom of uncle or cousin in turn. They would take the small house for the
moment until we could build or make other arrangements. The house in Boston
was packed and closed up with the workman retained to look after things. It
could be put up for sale and the contents shipped by sending a telegram.

The ladies wanted to hear stories of growing up on the prairie and Indians.
We wanted to hear about life in the city and how they had grown up. Mason
jars with glass lids made a fine container for bottling wine. They would be
amber glass to be proper, but in the cellar that was of little consequence.
We had a variety of fruit wines, some made from wild grapes, and both reds
and whites from domestic grapes. Ellen and Louise had a small glass each as
it was thought to quiet the child so it's kicks weren't as violently felt by
the expectant mother. If our daughter-in-laws were indeed stuffy Boston
society prudes, as we expected, the wine loosened them up and we had an
afternoon of friendly conversation.

"I sure missed your single malt", Sam told Jake. "With all the Irish in
Boston, I hoped to find some as good, but none were more than a close second
in taste."

"I'm glad you missed it", Jake replied. "There's not much else to bring you
home after living in the city."

"It's a crowded place with nowhere you can be alone with your thoughts",
Rufus countered. "The sea and the fresh fish is great but a bass from the
river suits me just fine. Even where the sky is open out on Cape Cod, fog
rolls in at night and you can't see the stars. This is home."

"Sam said there were two small colleges near here", Sara began, "Do you
think we might find teaching positions? We all have advanced degrees."

"One is Baptist and the other is Methodist. Which do you prefer?", Jake
asked.

"Actually I'm not religious", Sara answered. "My family is Jewish but only
my grandmother is active in the faith. Amy, Louise, and Ellen are
Episcopal."

"With your credentials, either of them would offer you all positions", I
replied. "Do you plan to practice medicine with Nate", I asked Amy.

"Wye yes, that is what we hoped for", Amy responded. "Any other doctor would
treat me as a nurse, but my husband better not even think such thoughts. We
were forced to take minor degrees in art or music during our undergraduate
studies, with the thought that we'd never use our education. The eastern
view is college for women is a place to find a suitable husband and nothing
more."

"Do you think you accomplished that?, I asked her.

"As you say it out here in Texas, take a gander at that purdy feller and
tell me what you think", indicating Nate, "He can sit in my parlor and fan
himself all day, just so he'll be there to look at when I get home from
work."

"You've got spunk, gal", I told her. "Has he shown you his bead work, yet?"

"I've seen some delicate needle work he did stitching up patients", Amy
answered, "I didn't know his talent went any further." That got a laugh from
everyone.

Some helped Luis prepare a fine Mexican meal while others got the wagons
unloaded and carried into the small house. It had been unused for the most
part since the boys left for college, only put to use when they were at
home. Jake and I held our grandbabies, and the boys showed their wives
around the place.

A style of home becoming popular was called the prairie style, originating
around Chicago. It had many common elements with the homes on the ranch. For
work, the boys and their wives choose to build in the old county seat, and
built a building to house their offices as well. They built larger homes on
the ranch and since all the women had family in the Boston area, they
elected to keep the large house there for use when visiting.

Amy delivered Ellen's twin girls and a week later, a boy for Louise. The
girls were named for their grandmothers, Constance for Ellen's mother, and
June for Rufus' mother. Louise's boy was named Matt.

The houses and offices in town were soon completed and the ranch returned to
normal. We'd had to be more discrete and modest with the young women around
all the time. The businesses had gone back to work as if only days had
passed, right after the boys returned Donald McCorkle was back at home
himself. He'd chosen to study banking, finance, and investment and needed
one less year finish his education but had been closer to home in Fort
Worth. He'd started college two years earlier than the other boys, too.
While our lives behind the fences on the ranch changed very little, the
businesses took some time to rebound. Others had moved in to fill the void
left by our absence. Another store opened that now competed with Sean and
Ned, so they concentrated on supplying stores rather than operating one.

In the small towns and the larger ones, the landscape of faces was
unfamiliar, fewer old acquaintances remained. Many had left when the
railroad baron sold off his holdings and half of those remaining had died.
Orphans openly begged in the streets and surrounded you seeking any kind of
work as you passed by. All looked gaunt and hungry. They seemed to outnumber
the adults remaining. Most had the small plots and houses bought by their
parents. They lacked the skills necessary to produce enough food and had
used any money left them already. Worst was the fact that new residents were
totally disconnected from the orphans and felt neither obligation nor
concern for their welfare.

Amy and Nate were the first to attack the problem. Doctors traveled to their
patients, rarely using their offices except to treat injuries. They saw the
entire surrounding area and all the residents as they made their circuit.

"It's like they say, dad", Nate told me, "Lead, follow, or get the hell out
of the way. We ain't in the way and nobody's leading for us to follow, so we
got to step up and do the right thing. If we get them fed for now and teach
them to use the land they have, they can feed themselves and make their own
living later."

Amy was with Nate at the ranch house, on their way home that day. "I've been
keeping some notes and giving out a little food already", she informed us.
"My buggy won't carry much, though. Driving a team and a wagon is a bit much
for a city woman, though. I'm just learning to handle the buggy."

"I'm sure we can spare the food and whatever it takes to get the kids on
their feet. I wonder why none of these churches are helping them, though", I
reasoned. "I know Paw-paw and Granddad Taylor would have jumped right in to
help."

"Amy's and Sara's mothers are sending some money to help them out", Nate
answered. "I don't know how big an area was hit with so many deaths from
this flu, but it wasn't a killer epidemic further east."

"The good Lord might just like leaving this part of the country empty of
people like he had it", I replied.

"Some years were hard when it was just the buffalo and the Comanche", Swift
observed.

"You should have told me my husband was Comanche and not have made me worm
it out of him in bed", Amy declared. "I love him just the same."

"Not that it makes much difference to the small minded", I responded, "But
people thinking he's half Spanish and half white, and the son of wealthy
ranchers has made a little difference. It got him into college, but he and
Sam earned their degrees and deserve to be respected. I respect all the
Comanche men here on the ranch and might even love Swift more because he's
Comanche."

"There you go again", Amy ranted, "All the wives figured out a long time ago
that you men were partners. We're educated, not blind. Would you be happy
with little Jimbob calling Swift uncle instead of granddad?"

"I sure wouldn't", Swift answered.

"I don't like that idea either", added Nate. "Amy's got her own little
secret to fess up to, now."

"Well, there will be another grandbaby in about six months", She revealed.
"I just wanted to be certain before I said anything."

I urged both Amy and Nate to put the plight of the orphans before the
congregations in the area, both to help and to find homes for those too
young to be left to fend for themselves. We were just beginning our spring
roundup with two years of finished steers to ship to market and an
overflowing number to feed out in the lots. I offered two men to distribute
food, saying, "We'll have to see who volunteers." I asked if the ladies
would lend their talents for a dance the coming Saturday night as well,
adding, "You might convince some of the men to adopt. These grandbabies have
them all yearning for children around the place. I would welcome it myself."

I asked Swift later that night if he wanted more children. "We did pretty
good with a Comanche boy, who looks like me", he answered. "I think we
should try some white kids that look like you, now, but only if I can change
my last name to Taylor. It confuses the kids."

We rolled around taking turns as top man all night long as if we were trying
for a baby ourselves. We'd been together nearly twenty years and were still
hot for each other. We rocked in each other's arms for the longest time,
waking up early that next morning. The herds with Swift's brand were up to
be worked that morning and there was no choice but to get up and get to
work.

Swift sat astride his horse with such grace it was easy to see why the
Comanche were called the Lords of the Southern Plains. His hair was trimmed
short and he wore cowboy clothes, but everything about him screamed
Comanche. Jake and I had always used the chute to hold a calf so we could
tie it down for branding. I'd never gotten good at roping, but the lasso in
Swift's hands became an extension of them, reaching out and slipping the
loop smoothly over their head to tug a calf to the earth by it's own forward
motion. As he dismounted, the horse kept torque on the rope, backing away if
it loosened even slightly. He then bound three feet with a leather thong
crafted by his own hands, leaving the fourth free so the calf could breathe.
The aroma of sizzling flesh and fur as the brand left it's mark filled my
senses. My execution of the same task by my method lacked the magic.

Swift compared it to the buffalo hunt before the Comanche had horses. "They
would drive a herd over a cliff and take the meat and hides from the pile of
dead bodies. With the horse, it's a chase to the finish and a single man
thrusting his spear into a noble beast. There is no waste or excess.
Sometimes the beast wins. The spirit gives the gift of life to the deserving
hunter and for another day, we eat."

I was give out by early afternoon and I saw the same fatigue in every other
face around me. There would be many more days spent just on Swift's cattle.
Mine and Jake's were finished working and working all the herds might take
into the summer. We called it a day and went back to the house.

After a hearty meal that had cooked all morning in our absence, it was time
to soak our sore muscles and I built a large blaze under the old boiler.
March still held the spring water at winter's chill. It would be May before
it warmed enough to swim. Chance was itching to soothe his aches so bad he
checked the tap every few minutes to see if it was hot yet. We separated for
stretching room and went to all three tubs knowing the fire would heat more
water once all the tubs were full. I was with Swift, Jake, Dan, and Matt in
the small house, all the grandpa's in one tub.

"For a bunch of old men, we still look damn good", Jake commented. He was
the oldest at forty five. He'd worn a mustache until it got a few grew hairs
and was clean shaven again, now. Of the rest of us, none had a gray hair at
all. We were in prime shape from hard work, each of us with well defined
muscles and no fat as far as the eye could tell. "All the wear and tear
don't show a bit. I'm getting a few wrinkle, though. How'd all of you miss
out on those?"

"Teat balm", Chance replied, "It does wonders for the skin among it's many
fine qualities", he added giving Jake a wink.

"He's telling you, you need to get your face down there and get after it",
Dan responded. "Like a hog in a feed trough, so to speak. I kind of like a
close view of things, myself, and I ain't got no wrinkles yet."

Matt set the jug he was sipping from on the side of the tub and said, "You
got one purdy little wrinkled spot, Dan, right at your back door."

"I'll give you that, but I can't see down there", Dan told him.

Swift got out of the water and went to the wall, tucking his knees behind
his arm pits, saying, "I can, see." Then he rose and got back in the water.

"Swift's a limber feller", I confirmed. "He can do more than that if he's a
mind to."

We passed the jug around and soaked until the water started to get cool.
Through the evening we ate again and cooked food for the next day. Bed time
came early. Many days to come would be like this one had been, but Saturday
night, we would dance again for the first time in a while.

(continued in chapter six)