Chapter 15

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Abe had been in Colorado for two years. In all that time, he wrote three letters but, nothing directly to Colt. He spoke about finding small amounts of gold and hoping to strike it big. Every letter was the same. “Next time the strike would be the motherlode.”

He moved on from Colorado to Nevada, where he became part owner in a gold mine, only he found silver in the walls of the mine, but not gold. The game plan was changing but the $$ value made everybody happy. It looked like success was finally in sight.

“Dang, that lucky feller, is playin out a silver mine,” babbled Chester, reading aloud a letter from Abe.

“Is that good?” interjected Hatti.”

“Sure tootin, good enough to make that boy rich.” Clambered Chester. “There is no shortage of opinions, when it comes to money.”

Still on the topic of money, it was no longer a struggle for Chester Denton. He was now a successful rancher. For the first time in twenty years, Hatti used the sugar bowl for actual sugar. 

Chester hired two ranch hands to herd cattle and work the fields, plowing, planting corn and digging potatoes. Once a month, he would withdraw payroll funds from the bank and everything went along smooth a corn silk.

The ranch hands got bunks, in the bunkhouse, plus meals. Bart and Colt, worked side by side with the hired help.  Hatti cooked huge meals, plain and simple, and fed everybody, never complaining. In fact, she enjoyed doing it.

She was feeding six people instead of four.  With her motherly caring, she would say, “I just add more water and a dash of herbs to the stew.” It was not quite that simple, but she made light of everything, making sure everybody was well fed.

******

 It was early in the morning and Bart and Colt were already in the barn starting chores.

“Why so glum?” Bart asked his brother. Something was bothering Colt.

“Nothing, but a heap tired.” Colt fired back clearly not his usual self.

“Oh, tired, yeah. You look a bit whinny.”

“I’m not whining, I am tired. Let’s” move these cows and start the cleanup,” replied Colt. They were inseparable cowpokes and considered themselves brothers first and cowboys second. They never fought or argued.

John Conley, who used the name of “Johnny,” and Leon Sparks, who went by the name, “Sparky” were the two hired hands. They were asked to call Chester ‘Pa,’ and Hatti Ma, after joining the family farm.  So they did.

Johnny was the youngest, yet not that good looking, with sandy brown hair, and on the well-built side. He was relentless talking about poking ‘lady parts.’ Otherwise, he didn’t do much talking, unless grunting counts.

Bart believed that the grunting was to let folks realize he was a man; however, Colt thought grunting was creepy. Johnny looked appetizing from the neck down. He chewed dried tobacky and constantly spitting. Chewing was as common as ‘Kansas in August,’ merely a sign of the times.

Sparky was older perhaps forty, although nobody asked his age. He was mature and worked far better than Johnny did.  A divorced man with no family, he didn’t care to be around women, but never said why. However, he treasured Hatti, thanking her for baked bread or something she served for dinner. Yes, he called her ‘ma.’

Leon Sparks (Sparky) sported a man-lickin butt and sugary to look up on.  Bart liked working with him, and Colt teased his brother saying it was his butt that he liked.

“Yeah, okay Sparky has a blue ribbon butt. Hell, I don’t object to lookin, but that don’t make me a homo. I like daisy’s growing in the field too, but I ain’t a posy picker,” “You know how I am,” Bart concluded.”

“Of course,” was Colt’s reply. “I know how you are!”

“This is not complicated stuff. I know why you are heap tired, this morning,” said Bart.

“Is that so?”

“Yep, having two hunky men here on the ranch is a distraction.”

“Don’t mock me, that is crazy talk and you know it is!” Colt barked at him.

“Something is spinning in your head and it will be pulling your hair out, if you don’t control it.  It’s Abe, isn’t it? Bart finally said.

“Dang, you’re good at seeing my thoughts. I can’t sleep lately and when I do, I dream of sex, lots and lots of naughty sex.”

“Why don’t you wake me, I can help with naughty sex,” admitted Bart.

“I should, but it’s Abe in my dream, that I am fucking,” Colt confessed.

“How ‘bout this? Suppose I write ABE on a paper bag, and then put it over my head, and you can fuck non-stop, using me to get off,” grinned Bart.

“Ha-ha-ha, that is joshing, you always know what to say,” clamored Colt, feeling better.

“A hole in the dark, is all the same to me,” added Bart, but I have to be on top to make sure, because I have my own way of fracking hard cheeks.

“You’re knee deep in being on top. It sounds kinda homo to me.”

“Golly Bill, just accepting your dream,” replied Bart.

“What is everybody accepting?” said Sparky standing un-noticed behind them.

Nobody replied, instead Bart, said, “Good morning. Did you men get breakfast yet? Ma made flapjacks and fried bacon. You haven’t lived until those winners slide down your throat.”

“Yup, sure did and the black coffee was strong and mighty hot. Wonderful cook ma is feeding us cowpokes,” said Sparky. “Pa wants the stalls white-washed.” He concluded.

“Yeah, we know. Most stalls are already cleaned out, for white washing,” said Bart, “Just a little more to go.”

“Johnny will be along rightly:” said Sparky.  “I’ll give you a hand shoveling shit. Gotta wait ‘till you’re done there anyway.  He grabbed a shovel and bent over to scoop up a load to toss outside on the manure pile.

“Yeow,” stammered Bart.

Sparky turned abruptly around. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing – Bart likes your ass,” giggled Colt.

“Well I like his too.”

Everybody laughed thinking it was nothing more than horse playing around. Cowboys did things like that and nobody took anything serious.

“Whew – close one,” stammered Bart.

“Naw, it was funny and Sparky paid no never mind.  You can’t hide the obvious”     

******

Chester and Hatti were returning from their trip to town. They had supplies purchased, food, and things needed for the farm.  Chester had become a cattle rancher, but to any one of the Denton’s, it was still a farm.

“I’ll give pa a hand unloading the wagon,” said Colt, even with manure stuck to his boots that needed cleaning.

“Johnny is out there brushing horses,” replied Bart. However a hand would save pa from lugging, even with Johnny’s help.”

Hatti bought more items than usual from the general store. Chester had the wagon loaded with supplies for putting together additional bunks for the bunkhouse.   Chester was looking ahead, just like the time he bought the young bull named Ralph, who by now, was two years old.

That evening after a chicken and dumpling supper, they mingled on the porch talking. Johnny and Sparky, went off to the bunkhouse to play a game of checkers. 

“Anything new in town?” asked Bart.

“Same old whores,” exclaimed ma, expressing her disapproval of saloon women selling what should be covered up.  That only lasted a few seconds when she reached into her apron pocket. “I have a letter, from the post office. It is from Abe.”

“Read it ma,” said Chester.

“Yeah ma, what’s he got to say?” Bart mumbled.

Colt especially hungered for the news not letting the family know how much he needed to hear Abe’s words. Hatti began to read, as everyone listened intently.