Back on the street, Abe walked with Colt to the general store to catch up with his ma and brother Bart. They were cow pushers. It was as simple as that.

“Remember this dude,” asked Colt, when his ma saw Abe with him.”  

“I do,” exclaimed Bart before Hatti had a chance to answer. “You’re from Fort Kilmer buying cattle…..right?”

“Yep, but not any longer. I’m in town now and work at the livery stable. I remember you fed us at your farm.”

“Stop out anytime.” Hatti told Abe.

“I’ll do that. I like fishing and Colt is going to show me some good fishing. You should come along too Bart,” said Abe.

“Uh, yeah, sure….okay,” mumble Bart, knowing the invite was just for something to say.

Abe left walking towards the livery stable. Colt watched him walk, trying not to be obvious about it.  Gaud, he sure liked seeing those bones moving through the dusty street.

The boys loaded the wagon with Hatti’s supplies.

Their ma had two forty lb. sacks of flour, sugar, dry beans, powered chocolate, canned peaches, dry yeast, a cloth blanket and some spices. Alvin Foster, the storeowner, had thrown in some fabric, and white thread, at no charge, for Hatti.

Bart drove the wagon back to the farm this time.  Colt snuggled close to Hatti, kissing her cheek. Today he was different, something made him happy and it showed.

The ride back took longer going slowly. Hatti spent more than planned and was concerned about the flour tipping over, so Bart obliged, and drove at a slow steady pace.

******

Bart liked the flurry of the town. Ogallala was quiet during the day, except for a ruckus here and there.  Aside from having a glass of beer, he was not a drinker, but needed the saloons to find a whore who would give him a poke. 

That evening, lying in bed, Bart said to his brother Colt. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I will, when there is something to tell.”

“That wasn’t the greatest reply in the world, however Bart figured there was something between his brother and the cowboy Abe.

“You really do have a story to tell,” said Bart.

“Yeah, I do. Abe wants me to be his partner prospecting for gold in Colorado.,” said Colt, finally deciding to talk.

“Are you doin it?”

“Naw, never! Can you see me leaving here? Everything I love and need is here on the farm.  Besides, there is no guarantee for gold except talking about it.”

“Bart placed Colt’s hand around his cock and closed his eyes. “Yo brother, get my pecker to spit a load. I’ll be getting me a whore pretty soon; although you are mighty skilled with your hand.”

******

It was a dark morning before sunup, when the boys, (now men), begin their chores. Usually they started a bit later in the morning,  however, they were going to Ogallala and wanted to be there as soon as possible.

There was always a girl or two hanging around a saloon. The whisky and poker games were plentiful, so were the whores looking for $2.00 a poke.

The thought of following a cowboy, saddle tramp, or some old dude, poking the same hole, one after another, disgusted Colt. Bart didn’t think of it that way, and wanted to see what a good poke felt like.

He remembered at age fifteen, endowed with a big pecker, hassled by drunken cowboys to poke a whore. They paid the $2 bucks and brought him to the room. She was sloppy drunk, wet with spent cum leaking between her legs and smelling like spoiled fish. He ran from the room,  but said he got a poke, so they wouldn’t laugh at him.

Bart, thought getting to town early would make a difference.  He kept thinking about Ogallala, with no guarantees about anything.

******

“That will do it,” said Bart, after milking the only cow their pa still had on the farm. Then, he put Clair, the family cow, out to pasture for some green grass.

Colt poured the milk in a lid covered galvanized can fastened to a rope. He lowered it into a hand-dug hole in the ground. The dugout hole banked with bales of straw for insulation, included chunks of river ice saved from the winter. This was their only refrigeration for the milk can.

Their ma used milk or water, in most of her cooking. They kept whisky for cuts and bruises. Everybody drank raw milk, except for male company.

The chickens finally were fed and a skimpy amount of eggs gathered. The female hog named Billie, had mush in the trough for slopping.

There was still wood to split, but that would have to wait. Their ma had the wood box filled, so waiting until later was of no concern to anybody. There was a little fence mending, but their pa planned to finish that.

The morning chores were under control. Bart threw down some clean hay in the horse stalls. “There, Dottie,” he said to the horse, now you can keep your hoofs dry from this pee soaked wood floor.”

Bart, hugged the oversize pony and latched the stall door, before going back to the house. Together like bookends, they left the barn together.

They stopped to clean up in the creek. There was no playing around this time, only using the water to wash away the manure smell.

In their room, Bart put on clean underwear / clothes, and scrapped the manure from a boot, holding it out the window.

“What do you think?” questioned Bart, putting back on the boots and standing tall.

“You won’t have trouble getting a poke. Hell, I would open up for you myself….but I’m only funning!”

Their pa came from the barn caring a broken harness. He didn’t seem grumpy any longer.

“Take this to the harness shop and get it refastened. It should cost about 50 cents. He handed Colt a dollar and said, “Take care of this son.”

“Will do, Pa, Colt replied, stuffing the harness into his saddlebag.

“There will be some leftover stew on the stove if you boys get back hungry,” said their mother. “Oh, and apple pie too.”

They looked like first-rate rodeo stars clean, trimmed and smelling like Witch Hazel. What good-looking sons, Chester and Hatti had working the farm.

Chester Denton sat on the steps of the stoop watching his boys disappear to the clacking sound of horse hoofs. They rode out of sight, but he still kept watching the dust stirred up by the horses.

“Our boys are grown, ma!” he said.  “I hate seeing them ride off.”

“Don’t be silly, they are grown men now, you just said so yourself.”

“Blasted, don’t remind me. Still they are not here,” Chester continued.

“Good golly, they are only going to town, not Colorado,” she replied.’

“I know but supposin they meet some church woman, with daughters and decide to hitch up and have kids. Just suppose that!” barked her husband.

“They ain’t doin that in three hours.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Pa, there is too much “supposing” going on here. Close the door and come inside for some coffee and apple pie.”

“Is it still warm.”

“For you, I will make sure of it. good grief,” she mumbled.

******

To be continued……