Alleghany County Courthouse – Downtown Pittsburgh

 

“Order!” was the booming cry from the uniformed bailiff as everyone in the small courtroom rose.  “The Honorable Judge Winston Harris presiding!”  The salt-and-pepper haired, tall, distinguished-looking judge emerged from his private chamber to take his seat behind the podium as the bailiff instructed the dozen or so people in attendance to be seated.

 

“The defendant will rise,” the bailiff intoned authoritatively as Brian rose to stand next to his attorney, a well-known defense lawyer that his father had secured for him.  He stood there stiffly, uncomfortable in a black suit, white shirt and black-and gray pinstriped tie as the judge critically gazed down upon his slim, tall figure, thinking how nonchalant and unconcerned the young man seemed, considering the seriousness of the crime he had pled guilty to.

 

He shook his head in disapproval over the young man’s bored look on his face as he glanced down at the plea agreement paperwork in his hands to make sure it was in order.  He wasn’t totally convinced that this was the most favorable option for this cocky-appearing kid or if he even deserved it, but if the unorthodox arrangement helped to straighten him out, perhaps it would be worth it.  From what he had read in his chambers earlier, the defendant, Brian Kinney, was highly intelligent with an I.Q. of 140 and came from a well-respected, long-established Pittsburgh family.  That hadn’t apparently kept him from taking an impromptu joyride, however, in an expensive sports car a month ago, a ride that had resulted in the vehicle being totalled.  Perhaps, though, by signing off on this agreement between the defense and prosecuting attorneys, he could manage to keep this know-it-all kid from delving into even deeper trouble.  It might be worth a shot, he thought silently; he normally was a good judge of character, though, and this young man staring back at him so defiantly didn’t seem too likely a candidate for rehabilitation. 

 

“Mr. Blackstone, you are in agreement with this plea arrangement?” he asked the assistant prosecutor as he peered down at him through his half-rimmed glasses. 

 

Mark Blackstone, the young assistant prosecutor, nodded as he glanced over at the defendant.  “Yes, Your Honor. We are in agreement.  We feel this arrangement would be in the best interests of everyone involved.  Mr. Kinney’s grandfather has agreed to provide full restitution for the damage to the plaintiff’s vehicle as a result of the theft and subsequent accident.” 

 

The judge nodded as he turned his head to eye the defendant and his defense attorney.  “Mr. Wyatt?  Your client is prepared to adhere to all the terms of this agreement?” 

 

The judge noticed a momentary expression flitter across the young man’s face that resembled annoyance or disgust before the defendant plastered a more neutral expression on his face.  He watched as the boy’s father, who was standing behind him in the courtroom, leaned over and whispered something in his son’s ear, his displeasure obvious, before the defense attorney responded, “Yes, Sir.  He is aware this will be his last chance.  I have been assured by my client’s father that he will be well supervised.”

 

“He’d better be,” the judge admonished him sternly as he stared down at the defendant standing next to the attorney.  “Young man, before I pass sentence, are you prepared to adhere to all conditions of this plea agreement as outlined by your attorney and the prosecution?”

 

Brian sighed heavily; actually he fucking hated the arrangement, but he had finally been ‘persuaded’ by his father and his attorney that it beat going to jail for stealing the ‘Vette; if it hadn’t been raining at the time of the accident, he would have beaten that arrogant Simpson kid on the curve without a problem.  It had been the first drag race he had ever lost in the past two years.  Now he’d be lucky if he ever saw another four-wheeled vehicle again; where his father was forcing him to go, he’d more likely be riding on a damn tractor than in a car.  His father had already told him in no uncertain terms that if he fucked again up this time he didn’t care if his ass rotted in jail for the next several years or not. 

 

The judge glared at him impatiently as Brian remained stonily silent.  “I’m waiting for a reply, young man.  Do you agree to abide by the terms of this agreement or not?”

 

Brian huffed out an annoyed breath as his father jabbed him in the back.  “Yes,” he grudgingly acknowledged. as the judge's piercing eyes continued to bore into him expectantly.  He felt a harder nudge to his upper arm as Brian finally added, “Your Honor” almost as an afterthought.

 

The judge stared at Brian skeptically for a few seconds before he finally nodded.  “Very well, then.  Brian Kinney, you are being given one more chance to redeem yourself and prove that you can straighten out your life.  This is highly unusual, but due to your family’s place in this community I am approving the plea agreement as agreed upon by your attorney and the prosecutor.  The sentence previously meted out to you is hereby suspended with the understanding that you are to be placed in the temporary guardianship of your aunt and uncle in Kentucky.  This court will expect regular updates from your attorney regarding your progress over the next six months.  If I catch wind that you have engaged in any nefarious, illegal activities while in their custody during that period, the suspension of your ten-year sentence will be promptly nullified and you will serve out your full term in jail instead.  Do I make myself clear, Mr. Kinney?”

 

Brian sighed again, turning his face away from the judge temporarily so he wouldn’t notice him rolling his eyes in disapproval. 

 

Derek Wyatt, the long-standing attorney for Brian’s family, leaned over to whisper in his client’s ear.  “You’d better appear more grateful for what he’s doing for you,” he told him firmly.  “This is rare for him, trust me.  They don’t call him the Hammer for nothing.”

 

Brian nodded finally as he peered up at the judge staring silently back at him from several feet away.  He sighed in resignation.  “Yes…I understand, Your Honor,” he finally said at last. 

 

The judge nodded, still unconvinced that this brash young man who had incurred several minor, juvenile scrapes with the law before committing this first-time, adult crime would actually be able to adhere to the conditions of the probation as set forth by the court.  “Very well then,” he responded curtly as he signed off on the agreement.  “Don’t screw this up, Mr. Kinney.  This will be your first – and last – chance.”  The judge pounded his worn, wooden gavel down firmly on the podium as he boomed out, “That’s all, gentlemen.  Court is adjourned.”

 

As he turned to go and the bailiff once more instructed the courtroom participants to rise, Brian tugged at the noose-like tie around his neck to loosen it, relieved at least that this part of the proceedings was over.  Somehow he suspected, though, that he was trading one sort of imprisonment for another. 

 

He turned as his father reached over the back of his chair to shake hands with the attorney.  “Good job, Derek,” Jack Kinney told him before his eyes bored into his son’s.  “I'm very grateful, even if my son isn’t.”

 

Brian huffed out an annoyed breath.  “Well excuse me if I don’t kneel down and worship his expertise,” he growled.

 

“Brian Kinney, show some respect for this man!” his mother scolded him from her place at her husband's side, her voice frosty with disdain.  “Thanks to him, you were spared a jail sentence!  You should be thanking him for what he did – for what WE did,” she told him.  “Sometimes I wonder why we even bother with you.”

 

“Spare me the bullshit, Mother,” he growled back.  “We all know why you and dear Dad did what you did; you didn’t do it for me.  You did it to keep all your friends from knowing about it.” 

 

“Watch your language, Brian,” Joan Kinney spat out.  “You’re the most ungrateful child I’ve ever seen.  We should have just let you go to jail instead; it would have taught you a lesson.”

 

“Oh, but we couldn’t have that,” Brian reminded her.  “Everyone at Sunday mass would have been talking behind your back, then.”

 

“That’s enough, Brian!” Jack told him as he gripped his arm tightly and began to pull him toward the center aisle.  “Let’s go; you’ve got a lot of packing to do tonight.  You’re leaving first thing in the morning.  Your aunt and uncle will be at the bus station waiting for you when you get there.  You’d better not disappoint us, either.”

 

Brian rolled his eyes.  “I can’t wait,” he replied sarcastically.  “Did they have to empty the hay wagon out first to make room for me?”

 

“What did I tell you?” his mother replied scornfully as she turned to start walking down the center aisle ahead of them.  “He’s totally ungrateful for what we’re doing for him, Jack.”  She knew as soon as she got home she would have to take a drink; this had been one of the most humiliating and trying days she had had in a long time.  Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to live with a husband who didn’t give her any support or attention most of the time?  Now she was risking total humiliation if her friends found out about the disgraceful predicament her son was placing them in.  They had to get him out of town – quickly – before they all found out and she was totally embarrassed.  She turned to stare at her son and husband who were slowly walking behind her toward the exit; Wyatt had remained at the defense table, storing all his documents away in his briefcase as he, too, prepared to leave the courtroom.

 

“Can we please just go?” she entreated.  “This is much too public here, Jack.”

 

“Shit,” Brian muttered under his breath as his father began to propel him more forcefully toward the exit.  As they finally left the courtroom and headed for their sedan in the back parking lot, Brian suspected he was about to endure the worst summer of his life. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next Day – Mid-Morning; On the Way to Lexington, KY

 

Brian sighed heavily as he looked out the window of the Greyhound bus.  It was bad enough that the fucking metal monstrosity smelled like shit inside – he had decided it was kind of a dirty diaper/sweaty kind of smell.  The only way he could stand it was to keep his hand up to his nose to hide the nauseous stink that permeated the interior of the bus.  He had been on the damn thing off and on now for eight fucking hours, long enough to last through two stopovers in a couple of hickville towns along the way and endure the ‘pleasure’ of three different bus passengers sitting beside him; none of them had been worthy of a second look, let alone a quick fuck.

 

On both occasions when the bus had stopped for a short layover to pick up or drop off other passengers his first instinct had been to bolt right off the bus and escape – anywhere but the virtual prison he found himself in at the moment.  But he also knew he had only $20.00 in his pocket at the moment; an intentional maneuver by his shitfaced father who knew without any money he would be hard pressed to get too far on his own.  And besides, despite all his outward swagger when he was around others, deep down a part of him was actually afraid of being alone in a part of the country he knew nothing about; to him, once they had left the state of Pennsylvania and headed through Ohio on the way to Kentucky it was like entering another planet.  Fields and fields of nothing but grass on both sides of the interstate, with only an occasional cornfield or soybean field to break up the monotony, seemed to be the norm.  After the standard fast-food joints, hotels and gas stations along major intersections, the most exciting site on the way into Kentucky was a large flea market located near Cincinnati. 

 

He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, trying hard to twist his torso to unkink the stiff knots that had settled there a few hours ago; his long legs were cramped in the small space and every bone in his body ached.  To top it off, he desperately needed to take a piss, but there was no way in hell he was going to use what the driver had the gall to call a lavatory located at the back of the bus; he could only imagine what sort of yokels had been using it lately.  Glancing down at his watch, he noticed with part relief/part anxiety that they were due to arrive in Lexington soon; for now, then, he would elect to remain in his seat, as close to the window as possible to avoid the pudgy, middle-aged bear of a man currently sitting next to him who been giving him what seemed to be more than a cursory glance since embarking on the bus at the last stop.  He purposely avoided looking the man’s way, hating the fact that the damn bus didn’t have any middle armrests; he had the distinct feeling that Bubba was intentionally trying to squeeze every last pore out of his body as he pressed into his personal space and took up more than his share of the seat.

 

He noticed the sun beginning its slow, mid-afternoon descent toward the horizon, signaling there was perhaps only a few more hours of daylight left before dusk settled in for good.  As they neared the exit for Lexington, the same lush, green fields remained but they were now sprinkled with barns of various shapes, sizes, and colors.  And the fences!  Rows and rows, miles and miles of wooden picket fences, some white, some black that seemed to literally go on forever surrounding the gently rolling hills.  Horses of all hues – mainly black, brown, and white – grazed peacefully amongst them, an occasional, lone shade tree providing some much-welcome respite from the surprising warmth of the late spring day. 

 

As Brian gazed in amazement at the bucolic, pastoral scene, he had to admit – it was calming and peaceful in an odd sort of way.  But it didn’t squelch his dismay over his fate; this would without a doubt be the most boring summer of his life.  He could see nothing at all to do here and felt decidedly like a fish out of water.  What the hell do people even do out here? He idly wondered.  He had been told by his parents that his aunt and uncle didn’t actually live in Lexington – they resided in a small town a few miles away.  If there was so little to do around the ‘big city,’ he could only imagine what it would be like where they lived.

 

He let out one additional weary sigh as the bus slowly veered off the interstate and turned right toward the bus terminal; at least in this part of town there were a few signs of habitation – a shopping mall, fast food restaurants, a large big-box hardware store.  He looked longingly at an X-rated video store as they passed by before the bus finally slowed down a few minutes later at the familiar Greyhound bus terminal sign and pulled into the station.  After what seemed like an interminable wait to disembark, he was finally able to stand up in the cramped space, grateful at least to be out of his seat as he followed the overweight man slowly waddling down the aisle in front of him.  He rolled his eyes in disgust as the man finally managed to maneuver between the rows of seats and slowly descend the metal steps down onto the pavement. 

 

Stepping onto the curb and retrieving a large, black, army-size duffel bag from the open luggage hold nearby, he glanced around uncomfortably, not having any idea what his aunt and uncle looked like.  The only thing he knew for sure was that his father had told him they would be picking him up and he had better be “damn well” waiting for them by the drop-off and pick-up point when they got there.  He had never met William and Sarah Walker before (just the names alone made him cringe), but he figured with Sarah Walker being his mother’s sibling that perhaps there might be some family resemblance at least.  Poor woman, he thought with a smirk. 

 

As he looked around to catch his bearings, his eyes caught on the sight of a slightly shorter man approximately the same age as himself, leaning on one of the metal pillars nearby; he appeared to be a little more muscular than he was with curly, black hair and a slightly stubbled, angular jaw.  The black leather jacket and jeans fit his lean body snugly, displaying what appeared to be a fairly attractive package tucked inside.  His bright green eyes peered at him intently for a few seconds before he ever so slightly crooked his head toward the inside of the bus terminal. 

 

Brian smirked; well, his parents did tell him to remain at the ­pick-up site; this definitely looked like a pick-up to HIM.  Adjusting his duffel bag over his left shoulder, he slowly shuffled over to the other man’s side and silently followed him through the sliding, double glass doors as the stranger led him over to the men’s restrooms located at the right of the terminal.

 

A few minutes later, he zipped up his pants in the narrow, scuffed metal stall and waited for the other man to exit the bathroom before he, too, followed him back out into the main lobby of the station.  The man he had just fucked had already been swallowed up into the ever-increasing crowd as he headed back toward the exit doors, hoping his ride hadn’t deserted him.  Part of him actually wished that they had; he was definitely not looking forward to his confinement.  But it beat going to jail for a decade, and he figured this older couple would be very easy to deceive.  He smiled; perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all…

 

Exiting once more through the double doors, he glanced left and then right before his gaze settled on an older couple standing near a sage-green and black pickup truck that must have been a hundred years old and his heart sank in instant awareness; he knew.  He just knew.  This had to be them. 

 

The slender-built man of average height leaning against the driver's side door was wearing a pair of worn, bib overalls over a blue-and-gray plaid flannel shirt; he had a white baseball cap on his head that had an image of a large brown horse etched on it.  A few tufts of gray hair, which seemed out of place on a man who appeared to be in his early 50’s was peeking out from under the hat; a pair of worn, brown boots were partially covered by the cuffs of his jeans. 

 

The woman standing next to him had to be his aunt; as he suspected, the poor thing was the spitting image of his dear mother, Queen Joan, except she was a few years younger.  Same narrow face, same piercing, steel-gray eyes, same thin, wrinkled lips.  Same straight, salt-and-pepper gray hair, same rounded nose.  Yep, no doubt, he thought with disdain. 

 

His biggest sense of dismay, however, was reserved for his apparent transportation.  The truck had to be from the 40’s; it looked like something straight out of the Waltons; curved hood, narrow taillights, white-wall tires, with a wooden rail running across the sides of the truck bed.  Despite the ancient appearance of the vehicle, however, he had to grudgingly admit that it looked amazingly devoid of any rust or dings.  Probably only drove it to the supermarket and to church, he couldn’t help thinking.  There didn’t seem to be anything else to do around this ‘burg, so it would make sense.

As he reluctantly shuffled over to the couple who were eyeing him curiously, he watched in surprise as the woman locked gazes on him and actually smiled; it was so unexpected to him, since his mother rarely smiled at anything.  Her normal reaction was a decided scowl instead – that is, when she wasn’t plastered over a bottle of wine.  He noticed the dramatic difference in facial expressions, however, between the man and the woman; while the woman actually seemed happy to see him, the man’s expression remained tightlipped and stone-faced as Brian approached them.

 

As soon as he was within a few feet, the woman spoke.  “Hello, Brian,” the woman greeted him softly with a decided southern twang.  “I can see a lot of your mother in you,” she told him. She held out her hands in a silent invitation for a few seconds until Brian finally walked over and stepped into her embrace, even though the action made him feel decidedly odd.  She hugged him for a few moments, Brian’s hands hanging limp by his sides until she let him go to step back a few feet from him to get a better look.

 

A single eyebrow rose above Brian’s left eye at the woman’s statement; he wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult, although he assumed this woman had meant it as a kind remark.  “Well, I can’t see it,” he found himself saying.  “I don’t think I look like her at all.”  At least he hoped so, anyway.  He stared at her curiously.  “How did you know who I was, anyhow?” 

 

“Your mother mailed me a photo,” she told him, frowning slightly at his somewhat caustic tone of voice.

 

Brian huffed softly at the mention of ‘snail mail;’ that was so…provincial.  “Mailed?”

 

His uncle finally spoke up as he gruffly explained, “We don’t live near any high-falutin’ areas, boy, we live out in the country where there’s still fresh air,” he told him.  “We don’t have those awful cell phone towers like everyone else does.  Regular mail suits us just fine.”   He stared intently over at his taller nephew, noticing the rigid, stiff stance as he informed him curtly, “We agreed to take you in, Brian; but that doesn’t mean you’ll be living at some fancy hotel while you’re here.  We live a simple life out here; you’d best be gettin’ used to that fact right now.”

 

“William, I declare!” his aunt scolded him.  “The boy barely just got here; give him some breathin’ room.”  She smiled at him apologetically.  “Don’t pay him a lot of mind, Brian,” she told him gently.  “You’ll find that his bark is a lot worse than his bite.” 

 

“That’s enough, Sarah!” William told her abruptly as he cut her off; he didn’t particularly care for her description of him.  He scrutinized Brian’s appearance, noting the fancy-looking, black leather jacket he was wearing before he told him, “We’d best be getting home; you can stow your bag in the back of the truck and hop in.  It’s about a thirty-minute drive and the traffic’s going to be awful this time of day.  Let’s get going,” he urged him impatiently. 

 

Brian’s mouth hung open.  “You want me to ride in that?” he asked with disdain, nodding toward the truck bed.

 

William eyed him unflinchingly.  “Well, unless you want to be a hood ornament, Boy, that’s exactly what I expect,” he told him.  “I’m not letting Sarah ride back there, and there’s only room for two up front.  Now get in.” 

 

Brian let out an insulted breath.  “The name’s Brian, not boy,” he told him as he bristled at his patronizing tone.  He peered over the top of the truck gate, thinking he could see the distinct signs of hay in the back of the truck; he wondered what else the man may have been transporting lately.  He was beginning to feel like a cow being led to the slaughter as finally in resignation he threw his bag over the back of the truck and, stepping onto the back bumper, hoisted himself up into the bed with surprising nimbleness, finding a folded-up piece of an ugly rug remnant the only type of barrier between his clothing and the rough, hard, scuffed-up metal material of the truck bed.  He blew out a frustrated breath before he gingerly sat down inside on top of the rug, thinking he could smell the distinct aroma of manure – at least that’s what he thought it was; fuck knows he had been exposed to a lot of shit at home, but not THAT kind of shit…

 

“Are you all right in there?” Sarah asked her nephew with concern as she peered over the top of the truck’s bed, noticing the scowl on his face.  Even though she had just met him, it was easy to tell that he wasn’t happy with this turn of events.  Her sister had warned her beforehand on the phone that Brian was stubborn, used to being coddled and getting his way, so she figured this had to be a major culture shock for him.  She was determined, though, to do her best to help rehabilitate him as best she could.  She knew, though, that with her husband still in grieving over the loss of their son that he might not be so willing to help her with that particular goal; in fact, he had mainly agreed to do this since he needed help around the farm now.  She silently hoped, though, that Brian might perhaps wind up being the right tonic to help her husband break out of his depression; after all, it had been three years now.  Despite how much they had adored their only son, it was time to finally get on with their lives as best they could. 

 

Brian bit his tongue, wanting to tell her that this whole situation was full of shit - literally - but one look at her kindly face and voice of concern and he found that he just couldn’t do it.  He finally settled on something in-between as he replied, “Oh, I’m just peachy,” he told her, the sarcasm evident in his voice.  “Snug as a bug on a rug.” 

 

“Let’s go, Sarah,” William told her sternly as he shook his head; this kid was going to be a handful, he could tell.  Why had he let himself get talked into this?  Was a little extra help around the farm going to be worth listening to this kid’s haughtiness and disdain? 

 

Sarah lingered a few seconds longer outside before she finally nodded and walked around to open the passenger door as her husband entered the truck on the driver’s side.  As they both shut the doors, put on their seatbelts and William started up the truck, she turned to face him as he pulled away from the curb.  “You promised, Will,” she reminded him softly.  “You promised that you’d try.”

 

Her husband harrumphed.  “He’s a smart-aleck,” he told her.  “A juvenile delinquent, used to getting everything he wants WHEN he wants it.”

 

“Well, that’s why he’s here,” she insisted.  “He needs to learn some discipline and develop a sense of purpose.” 

 

“Well, I agree with part of that statement,” William muttered as he glanced in the rear-view mirror to observe their nephew’s face wearing a look of disgust as he held onto one of the wooden side rails.  It was obvious that he did not want to be here, but he seemed smart enough to realize this was his last chance to straighten himself out.  “He definitely needs discipline, all right; I’m not convinced he’s interested in a sense of purpose.”  He sighed as he glanced over at his wife to say, “I hope we haven’t bitten off more than we can chew here.  He’s going to be a challenge, I just know it.”  He sighed as he glanced back in the mirror again, this time seeing Brian lighting up a cigarette.  He shook his head.  “He is NOT going to smoke in our home, Sarah; what a filthy habit.”

 

Sarah sighed; it was ironic that in Kentucky of all places – one of the hotspots of tobacco growth – both of them had never picked up that particular habit.  She knew that part of their job would be to establish ground rules for their nephew to follow; she only hoped that when they did he wouldn’t find them so restrictive that he would promptly rebel and take off for parts unknown.  She felt a express obligation to try and help her sister Joan; she had taken over as a surrogate mother when they were growing up and their mother had died at 31 due to leukemia.  Her sister Joan had been a taskmaster during her childhood years, but with their father being forced to work long hours each week in a local auto plant, it had fallen upon her older sister to help raise her.  She hadn’t always agreed with her decisions, but she couldn’t deny that she had been instrumental in keeping their family together.  Now it was time for her to try and repay the favor. 

 

“I’m sure he’ll listen to reason about that,” she told him softly, noticing her husband didn’t seem convinced; truthfully, neither was she but she had to hope that Brian would at least try and compromise.

 

William snorted.  “We’ll see,” he told her as he steered the truck toward the two-lane highway taking them toward the small town of Versailles.  “I’ve already told Jack that if he acts up and doesn’t do as we say, we’ll report him so fast to their big-shot attorney that his head will spin.  I agreed to try and help them out; that doesn’t mean that I have to let him get away with anything.  By the time I get done with tanning his hide, he may wish he had decided to go to jail instead.  This is NOT going to be a walk in the park for that boy.”

 

Sarah turned to stare out the window sadly, wishing she could find a way to get through to her husband.  They had been married now for 25 years; until their son had died, they had shared a happy, loving relationship built on mutual support and understanding.  Once Dale was gone, though, things had changed.  Her previously happy-go-lucky, hard-working husband had become sullen and withdrawn.  He still worked hard – too hard, she thought – but he no longer kept her company at nights on the porch swing as he listened to the Reds game or sat with her in the living room, reading a magazine in his favorite, brown and ivory corduroy recliner while she did her crossword puzzle.  No, more times than not he would be holed up now in either the barn or the stables, working on some project until it was time to retire for bed.  Except for the brief times she saw him at meals, most of the time she felt like she was living alone. 

 

That is, if not for Solomon.  Nowadays her only company at night was their dog, a five-year-old beagle that had showed up as a stray while still a puppy.  It had been Dale’s dog, actually; he had convinced them to keep him despite her husband’s reservation over having yet another ‘critter’ to feed.  Now he was the last, living reminder of their son and she couldn’t imagine him not being there. 

 

She turned back to look over at her husband’s profile; his face was now etched with wrinkles and creases from years of farming in the back-breaking sun, and his hair that had been jet black before now was relegated to more of a dark gray, but he was still the most handsome man she had ever met.  And somewhere inside she knew there was still a heart of gold beating there; she only had to find the key to unlock it once again. 

 

“Everything will work out okay, Will,” she murmured softly.  “You’ll see.”

 

He huffed out a soft breath, still not convinced.  “I hope so, Sarah,” he told her quietly.  “I sure hope so.”

 

---

 

Earlier that Same Day – At the Next-Door Neighbor’s Farm

 

“Justin!  Jared!  Your father’s waiting, boys, hurry up!” 

 

Despite her exasperation, Jennifer couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face as she heard the predictable sound of footsteps thundering down the two-story farmhouse’s steps a few seconds later; she had gotten to the point where she could tell each son merely by the sound of their feet.  Jared’s was always slow and deliberate, signifying his more laid-back, I’ll-get-to-it-when-I’m-ready attitude, while her more conscientious, younger son Justin’s was always hurried when he was running late. 

 

Sure enough, she turned from her place at the kitchen stove to see Justin rushing toward her, jamming one arm into his lightweight, tan-colored jacket as he came over with a smile to place a quick peck on her cheek. 

 

“Sorry, Mom,” her tousled-headed son told her sheepishly.  “I forgot and overslept.” 

 

She nodded slightly.  “Well, your father’s in a rush to get started,” she told him as her other son came shuffling into the kitchen behind Justin.  To look at the two boys, one might be hard pressed to realize that they were brothers.  While Justin’s appearance was more indicative of her characteristics – slender build with blond hair and blue eyes – Jared seemed to have been born with more recessive genes from the family tree.  He was about two inches taller than Justin, with coarse dark brown hair and brown eyes; the day’s growth of beard he was currently sporting on his angular chin made him seem a little older than his eighteen years. 

 

Jennifer eyed her other son curiously as she opened up the oven and retrieved two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon she had left warming for them.  As Justin set his plate down nearby so he could plop a couple of pieces of white bread into the toaster sitting on the counter, Jared walked up to his mother and yawned widely before placing a kiss on her cheek as well.

 

“You got in late last night,” she told him quietly as she handed him the other breakfast plate and gazed into his somewhat bleary eyes.  “Playing pool again?” 

 

Jared shrugged his shoulders.  “What else?” he asked her.  “It’s the only place open around here during the week.”  Home Stretch was the combination billiard hall and bar located a few miles away; Versailles wasn’t exactly a hotbed of activity at night unless you enjoyed catching fireflies or going skinny dipping at the local swimming hole down the street, so Jared often wound up going there at night when he wanted to meet up with his friends.  It wasn't hard to find a fake ID to gain entrance and wash back a couple beers in between games.

 

Jennifer sighed in knowing resignation as her two sons walked over to the kitchen table and sat down together to eat their breakfast.  Turning off the stove and walking over to join them with her mug of coffee, she watched as both sons dug into their meals with relish.  At least they have that in common, she thought silently.  It wasn’t as if the two boys didn’t love each other; she knew that they did.  It was just that they were so different.  Jared, being the older one, had perhaps been given a little more freedom than Justin had; he was fiercely independent and stubborn, with just a hint of a rebellious streak in him.  Jared seemed to always just barely squeak by in school, where Justin excelled in every subject; he didn’t seem motivated at all in any of his classes, seeing them as more of a hassle than anything else. 

 

Oh, he helped out at the farm when he was asked, but it was always grudgingly.  His personality was closer to Craig’s in a lot of ways – somewhat gruff at times, no-nonsense, and straightforward.  He and his father spent many an hour working on refurbishing the older, hot-rod style cars they bought at the local salvage yard for a song and displaying them at car shows throughout the state after they had fixed them up.  Over time they had built up a solid reputation for the quality of their work and normally managed to turn a tidy profit when they sold their latest model, allowing them to start the process all over again.

 

Justin, on the other hand, had taken more after her.  He was more sensitive and compassionate toward others.  He always worried about hurting others’ feelings and what the consequences of his actions would be.  He loved to take care of their horses and seemed to have almost a sixth sense when it came to them.  Jennifer had grown up in a well-known, long-established family in the Lexington area and had practically been born astride one of the magnificent creatures.  It seems that her passion and love for horses had been inbred in her youngest son as well, a love that he expressed every day in his art.  Several of Justin’s amazing artworks were displayed proudly throughout their farmhouse, and he had even managed to have one of the art galleries in Lexington hang some of them in an alcove devoted to everything equine.  She had no doubt that one day her son would be a wildly successful artist; he had a way of making the horses come alive under his skillful hands, both in real life as well as on canvas. For now, though, both she and Craig depended upon him especially to help oversee their successful horse farm, for it was through their great success at the harness-racing competitions that their farm maintained its chief sustainability and profitability. 

 

“What?” Jared asked a little defensively, eyebrows raised as his mother peered over at him; he could tell she had something on her mind.

 

“You will be here all day today, right?” she asked him pointedly. 

 

Justin watched silently from his place by their side, not surprised by the question.  With Jared, it was always questionable how cooperative he would be when he was asked to do the dreaded ‘chores’ around the house.  Of course, with a farm the size of theirs and the 100-year-old age of their farmhouse, despite its well-kept appearance there always seemed to be maintenance that needed to be done, and that didn’t even include all the tasks required every day to keep their ten horses happy and healthy.  Thank God they had their long-time employee, Vic, to help them with that or all of the family would be spending every waking hour taking care of them. Vic had been a jockey a long time ago and had first met Justin’s paternal grandfather at the harness racing track.  The two had become fast friends and Justin’s grandfather had come to rely on the older man’s wisdom and expertise when it came to caring for the horses.  Eventually, his grandfather had hired Vic to oversee the maintenance of both their grounds as well as the horses.  It cut down on a lot of tasks required of them, but in the case of what they had to do today, he knew such a monumental task would take all of them if they were to finish it in one day. 

 

He heard Jared sigh heavily as he answered, “Yes, Mother, I will be here all day.  I promised, remember?  I’m looking forward to wearing white all day and inhaling paint fumes.”  The dreaded annual chore of painting all of their fencing had come; the moderately warm, low-humidity day was perfect for that task, so their father had decreed that today was the day.  That meant both boys would have to help do the painting until it was finished, which meant they could pretty much count on not being able to do anything else the rest of the day.  Just the perfect way to spend a summer day, Jared thought with disdain.

 

“Don’t be so sarcastic, Jared,” Jennifer scolded her son.  “You knew it was coming up, and it’s the least you can do for your father after all the time he spends with you on your cars.  Both of you are already an hour late.  He’s waiting out by the stables, so hurry up and finish your breakfast so you can get started.  The sooner you start, the sooner you can finish.” 

 

Justin nodded as he met his mother’s glance and smiled at her over his brother’s typical reaction.  She couldn’t help smiling back tenderly at him in return.  She knew everyone said you always loved your children equally, but deep down she had to admit to a certain special affinity for her youngest son.  There was just something innately sweet and sensitive about Justin that endeared himself to you.  Even Jared understood that; when it came down to it, both brothers were distinctly different, but she knew that if anyone ever threatened harm to Justin his big brother would immediately come to his rescue.

 

She was extremely grateful for that, in fact, because by an odd twist of fate both brothers had wound up admitting to her and Craig a few years ago that they were gay.  At first neither of them could believe it was true; at the very least they thought that perhaps Jared might be able to understand what that meant, but Justin?  He had barely been fifteen at the time.  Besides, what would have been the odds that both brothers would be gay?  Wasn’t it more likely that Justin was merely emulating his older brother’s beliefs and just imagining that he might be gay? He was so inexperienced - at least she thought so, anyway; how much could he really know about love and sex?

 

Both brothers, however, had insisted at the time that they were, indeed, attracted to boys, not girls.  She could still recall how nervous Justin especially had been during that difficult conversation, but she had to give Craig credit.  Homosexuality was never something either of them had been all that exposed to nor understood, and she knew her husband was from a traditional, conservative background and could be very set in his ways, but she also knew that he loved his sons with all his heart.  Once both boys had convinced them of their sincerity, her husband – and her – had finally accepted it for what it was.  It still was hard for either of them to comprehend, but in the long run they had decided that if this made their sons happy and true to who they were, then they would have to accept it.  Silently in private, however, they both still questioned whether Justin, in his inexperienced state, was sure yet of just what his sexuality was.  Only time would tell in that regard.

 

In the meantime, though, Jennifer was relieved that Jared was protective of his younger brother, because she imagined being gay in the Bluegrass State wasn’t going to be easy for either boy.  She didn’t worry so much about Jared; he could – and would – pretty much take care of any problems handily. But her more sensitive, tenderhearted child might not be as self-assured.  She knew she could count on Jared to help watch over him, at least for the next year until he graduated.  After then, she worried what might happen to her youngest son once Jared wasn't around.

 

Now, though, as both boys finished up their breakfast and stood up to carry their plates over to place them in the double, white porcelain sink, she could at least be assured she had some time before she would have to worry about that.  “I’ll bring you and your father some lunch out later,” she told them as the two boys nodded and hurried out the door.  As the screen door banged shut behind them, she let out a sigh of relief.  “Now maybe I can get some work done,” she said to herself. 

 

About ten years ago, to help supplement their income Jennifer had taken up the unusual hobby of beekeeping from an older neighbor woman who had been doing it all her life.  The prize money they obtained by racing their best sulky horses at the track kept them fairly comfortable financially, but she found she could breathe a little easier now by marketing the honey she collected from their beehives each summer.  It never provided them with a lot of extra money, but from what she sold at the local farmer’s market it helped to keep her from worrying about whether they would be able to pay their bills each month.  In particularly good years, she and Craig could even afford to sock away a little bit each summer to help with the boys’ college fund; they had managed to accumulate a nice little nest egg for their education.  She had her doubts if Jared would ever go to college, but she knew Justin had his heart set on attending Vanderbilt University in Nashville.  They had a nationally-known equestrian therapy degree program available that her youngest son felt he could use to combine his love of art with his goal to use horses to help rehabilitate the handicapped.  She smiled at the thought; only her son would come up with a way to combine two of his greatest loves and make a living out of it; she had no doubt that if anyone could do it he could.   

 

Wiping her hands on a nearby dishtowel, she placed the soiled dishes in the dishwasher before following her sons toward the door.  She took a few moments to retrieve the protective beekeeping gear she always hung on the coat hooks nearby before she, too, opened the front screen door and walked out onto the porch.  The sun was already well up into the sky and the day promised to be a gorgeous one; cloudless, low humidity, with a slight breeze.  She inhaled the scent of the flowering cherry trees nearby intermixed with the myriad varieties of perennial flowers she had so meticulously and lovingly planted around the two-story farmhouse; thanks to her efforts, there was a profusion of color everywhere the eye could see. 

 

Early summer was her favorite part of the year – it was warm enough without all the stickiness that tended to come to this part of the country later in July and August.  She walked over to the end of the porch to gaze out onto the rolling hills surrounding their home, admiring as she always did the horses peacefully grazing nearby.  Beyond their fence line, she could make out the more modest home of their neighbors, William and Sarah Walker.  She felt enormously sorry for both of them since the death of their son, but perhaps more so for Will.  Sarah was always the more resilient one, managing to bounce back from whatever adversity they experienced, whether it was a drought that served to dry up all their crops one year or the death of one of their livestock another.  But when Dale had died that day, a piece of both of their hearts had died also.  Sarah did a better job of hiding her grief for her husband’s sake, but Jennifer could tell; it was still there.  She knew that her friend and neighbor merely hid her own sorrow in an attempt to help her husband, but the pain and heartache never completely left her eyes. 

 

She had spoken to Sarah by the fence a few days ago, and had learned they were expecting a nephew to arrive today.  She knew that this boy had apparently gotten into some type of trouble back home in Pittsburgh and was being sent to her neighbors as a sort of last-ditch effort to get him straightened out.  Silently she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to foist their responsibility on Will or Sarah, but knowing how good-hearted Sarah was she knew she wouldn’t have been able to refuse.  And Will, despite his suffering, loved his wife so much she knew he would grudgingly go along with it because it was what Sarah wanted him to do.   She fervently hoped that everything would work out for them. 

 

She had invited them to bring their nephew over for a meal in the next few days once they all got situated; perhaps then she could see for herself what this boy was like and help keep him in line for her neighbors’ sake – they had certainly had more than their share of adversity lately and didn’t deserve any more problems.  Knowing there was nothing she could do at the moment to help them, though, she turned to gather up the beekeeping paraphernalia she had placed down on their wooden porch swing and started out toward the beehives near the barn, observing Craig and the two boys now working side by side at the fence closest to the dirt road that ran in front of their house.  She noted with amusement that Justin seemed to be painting his part of the fence twice as fast as Jared or Craig was; undoubtedly all the time he spent with a different type of paintbrush was benefitting him now.  Taking one last glance at her ‘men’ to make sure everything was progressing satisfactorily at the moment, she finally turned in the opposite direction toward the hives.

 

---

Late Afternoon – Near the Walker House

 

Brian hugged his leather jacket closer to him and scowled– now that the sun was starting to go down, the temperature was also cooling off rapidly; he shivered slightly in the breeze being generated by the truck as he wondered just how much longer they had to go.  His aunt and uncle had indicated their home was about thirty minutes away from the bus terminal; according to his watch, that should put them within about five minutes of their destination.

 

From his standpoint, all he could see between the wooden slats of the truck’s side rails were acre after acre of bluish-green grass, rolling hills, an occasional patch of tall, mature trees, farmhouses and barns, and horses – lots and lots of horses, along with a herd of cows here and there.  He rolled his eyes, wondering if they even had grocery stores around here.  Again, he wondered what in the hell he would do out here in the middle of nowhere.  Perhaps it would have been better to have just gone to the fucking jail after all…

 

Finally, they turned off the single-lane highway onto a dusty, dirt road that ran to the right; he yelled out in surprised pain a few seconds later as the truck apparently hit a rut in the road and he bounced up out of his makeshift seat, only to be thrown back down hard onto the metal surface a few seconds later.  As the truck continued to be jostled as it negotiated the rough, pot-hole strewn road, Brian reached to hold onto one of the nearby rails with his hand in an attempt to brace himself, his temperament darkening with each bump he felt.  He questioned the sanity of agreeing to this ridiculous situation as he wished fervently for them to come to a stop – any stop, just so he could finally stand on his own two feet on solid ground.  Between sitting for hours on that damn bus and now this, his ass was feeling sore as hell - and decidedly not in a good way. 

 

He watched through the slats as they approached a rather large, two-story farmhouse set back from the road; it was white with black shutters, with scrollwork on the corner eaves and tall, stain-glassed windows facing an impressively-wide porch that surrounded the house on three sides; a large cedar-wood, curved Amish-built swing sat unoccupied at one end, with white wicker furniture spread out among the remaining space.  Three lush Boston ferns hung from the porch’s ceiling.  A burnished, pewter-colored sign swung from an L-shaped wrought-iron post by the picket-fence gate that had a horse etched on it with the words “Windswept Farm, Est. 1938” written above it.  The house was obviously an older one, but it was evidently lovingly cared for. 

 

Brian noticed they weren’t stopping there, so this was obviously not their destination. He sighed in disappointment, wanting desperately to escape his latest prison, before he noticed with interest three men hard at work near the road, painting the fence with a fresh coat of white paint.  There were two men squatted down on one side of the fence facing the road, while another one was on the opposite side. 

 

His eyes honed in on the men with interest as they approached them; this was the first fairly interesting sight he had seen since they had left the bus terminal and pretty much the only human one he had seen in some time.  At least there were a few other living things apparently existing here amongst the livestock and horses, although he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.  Holding onto the side rail of the truck, he struggled to pull himself up from his sitting position, noticing how stiff his back had become as their truck began to slow down somewhat.

 

Actually, as they got closer he quickly determined it wasn’t three men; it was ONE middle-aged man and two boys.  The dark-haired boy who was facing him was quite attractive, he discovered to his delight.  He was about his same height as he was and had a lean, muscular frame; the denim shirt he was wearing fit him to a T, and the jeans he was wearing were spread taut across his legs and crotch area as he remained in his squatting position and applied the paint to his side of the fence.  He could tell, though, by the pained look on the boy's face that he wasn't particularly enjoying himself at the moment.

 

The other boy who had his back to him had hair that shone like bright gold in the sunlight; Brian could tell the other boy was more petite and more slender than the other one, but with his back to him he couldn’t see his face.  As they slowed down even further, though, it was easy to ascertain that the blond boy had one fine ass; it was displayed for all the world to see as he bent over at the waist to apply some paint to one of the wooden boards.  Even through the denim of his jeans, Brian could see quiet readily that there was a perfectly-rounded bubble butt hiding underneath the material.  Brian’s eyes widened at the sight; two boys about his age who apparently lived nearby?  Perhaps this summer might have possibilities after all.

 

As the truck came to a complete stop, the older stranger stood up and squinted at Brian's aunt and uncle; his steely eyes locked onto Brian’s a moment later and he thought he saw a look of wariness flitter across the man's face before he acknowledged his aunt and uncle.  At the same time, the dark-haired boy stood up next to the man as he and Brian gave each other a closer appraisal.

 

Craig nodded as he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his navy-blue cotton shirt.  “Will, Sarah,” he said politely in greeting.  He looked at Brian who was standing up in the back of the truck, his eyes boring into his.  “This your nephew?” he asked them as he continued to stare at him for a few moments longer before he turned his gaze back to his neighbors.

 

Brian eyed him briefly, deciding he didn’t care too much for this man who apparently didn’t know how to smile; even his tone of voice was devoid of any emotion.

 

Brian chose to turn his attention back instead to the dark-haired boy who was standing next to him.  Yep, the boy wasn’t bad-looking for a country bumpkin – kind of dark and brooding and not particularly well-dressed, but definitely fuckable, especially considering how slim the pickings were probably going to be around here.  He noticed the other boy giving off a distinctly interested air as he locked gazes with him and the other boy actually smirked back at him in response.  Yes, definitely interested in me, he thought knowingly. By now he knew the signs and this boy was as gay as the day was long.

 

It was then that the other stranger– the blond-haired one – stood up and turned to face the truck.  As Brian finally got a good look at the boy with the delectable ass, his breath caught in his throat.  The two boys were as different as night and day – while the first one, the older one, was tall and dark-haired with strong, angular features, this one was fair-skinned with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.  He appeared to be a bit younger than the other boy, and as their eyes met, he noticed a tint of pink color appear on his cheeks at the attention he was receiving.  This boy was beautiful, he thought immediately. 

 

“Yes,” Brian heard his uncle saying.  “That’s my nephew, Brian.”  Will stuck his head out the truck’s window to crane his head toward Brian.  “Brian, this is my neighbor, Craig Taylor, and his sons Jared and Justin.” 

 

“Hey,” Brian said softly as he stared at the blond-haired boy in fascination, wondering which one he was.  He watched as the blond turned his head in embarrassment over his staring at him as the dark-haired boy addressed him.  “Hi, Brian,” he said with a smile.  “I guess we’ll be seeing you a lot this summer.  Nice to have someone to hang around with.”

 

Craig fixed his older son with a glower, noticing what sounded like a distinctly interested tone of voice in his son’s statement.  “Jared, let him be,” he commanded sternly.  “He’s not here on vacation.”  He didn’t care to elaborate on just why Brian WAS there; he figured that would be up to the boy’s aunt and uncle to divulge if they felt like it.  What he didn’t want to do was encourage his son to hang out with someone who had come to within a heartbeat of winding up in jail as a felon.  That didn’t seem like the kind of kid his sons should associate with.  He had reluctantly agreed to let the boy come over for a meal with his aunt and uncle, but that was all he had promised.  He could only hope they would keep the boy so busy that he wouldn’t have time to corrupt his own sons while he was here.

 

Brian digested this information curiously.  So the dark-haired one is Jared; that means the blond with the hot ass must be Justin, then…He wondered just how much Craig Taylor knew about him and his predicament.  It certainly sounded like his aunt and uncle had been talking about him before he got here by his reproachful, distrustful tone of voice.  He wasn’t particularly happy about that; it really wasn’t any of this man’s business what he had done.  He knew nothing about him.  Well, to hell with the man, he decided; he made a mental note to find out as much as he could about both boys in the next few months no matter WHAT he might think.  He may not be on vacation, but that didn’t mean he was about to stay holed up on his aunt and uncle’s farm, either, not when he had such intriguing ‘entertainment’ nearby. 

 

From his place near the truck, Justin couldn’t help turning his gaze back to the vehicle to glance up shyly at the amazing looking boy staring back at him with the most incredible hazel eyes he had ever seen.  The tall, dark-haired boy was gorgeous – he had a lean body, flat chest and stomach, and long-fingered hands with thick, brown hair that glinted with reddish highlights in the afternoon sun.  And when he looked at him like he was right now, his stomach felt like a thousand butterflies were flying around inside.  It was a feeling he had never quite felt before and it both fascinated as well as scared the shit of him.  He had heard his mother and father talking about a nephew who was coming to say with the Walkers, but he hadn’t heard how old he was or why he was visiting all summer.  Now he was dying of curiosity to know all about him.

 

He was disappointed a few seconds later,though, when he heard Mr. Walker saying, “We’d best be going, Craig; Sarah’s itching to fix supper and I want to get Brian set up in the spare bedroom before it gets too late.” 

 

Late? Brian thought incredulously.  It was only 4:30; just what time did these people go to bed, anyway?

 

Craig nodded as he held the paintbrush away from his body, realizing he needed to get back to work.  “Let us know if you need anything,” he told him politely, not really desiring to follow through on it but feeling a need to offer just the same.   Being helpful was more up Jen's alley than his when it came to being neighborly.

 

“Thanks, Craig,” Sarah told their neighbor with a smile.  “Oh, and thanks for the invitation to come over.  I’ll give Jennifer a call tomorrow and we can set up a good time for all of us.”

 

Craig nodded as William put the truck into gear and slowly continued on down the road.  Brian continued to stand up in the back of the truck as Craig and the two boys watched them leave, his gaze bouncing back and forth between Jared and Justin.  As Craig bent down to dip his paintbrush back into the gallon of paint to resume his work, Brian noticed the older boy bestow a wink and a smile on him.  He smirked back at him briefly before he bestowed one more glance on the beautiful blond boy who sneaked a gaze of his own toward him before he, too, turned his back to him and returned to his painting.

 

 

The pickup truck proceeded on down the narrow, dusty road for approximately another eighth of a mile before it slowed down and stopped completely in front of a smaller-sized, somewhat weather beaten residence that was a white two-story with black shutters.  Brian took one last look at the rapidly-disappearing, grander white farmhouse behind them before he confronted what would be his new digs for the next three months.  The difference was startling.

While the Taylor house has been surrounded by a white clapboard fence and was impeccably landscaped, this house had clearly passed its glory stage a long time ago.  He could imagine the home had been quite attractive at one point - it was enclosed with a metal, wrought-iron fence that was now rusting in spots, and the paint covering the delicate filigree work at the corners of the narrow front porch was intricate but fading in spots, no doubt due to battling the unrelenting rays of the morning sun that had beaten down upon it daily for over a century.  As he peered through the tall, rather spindly shade trees out front, he could detect a screened door with a small rip in it and a storm cellar protruding from the left side of the home, its wooden doors peeling with remnants of green paint.  The once grand residence, now looking neglected and forlorn, obviously begged for some much-needed tender loving care. 

As he hopped over the back of the truck bed and jumped down to stand next to the vehicle, he heard his aunt say softly almost in embarrassment, "It's not much.  But it's paid for and it's ours." 

 

The sarcastic statement about having to live in a dump for the summer that Brian was about to utter died on his lips; the almost guilty tone in his aunt's voice made him bite back what would have been his scathing reply.  Instead, he found himself simply saying, "It looks old."

 

"It was built in 1845," his Uncle Will told him defensively as he reached up to retrieve Brian's suitcase from the back of the truck.  "It may not look like much, but it's sturdy and has stood the test of time.  It'll be here a hell of a lot longer than most other houses will." He didn't tell Brian that before their son Dale had died three years ago the home had been a virtual showplace; fresh, crisp white paint, spotless, shiny wrought iron fencing, coal black shutters and spotless windows that shone brilliantly like small prisms of rainbows in the morning sun.  Now the only vestiges of their once wonderful home were the myriad colors of blooming perennials that Sarah has so meticulously planted on all sides of the house and along the fence.  His wife spent far too many hours outside in their flower and vegetable beds now, pulling up weeds and planting seeds that would eventually yield a bounty of food later for cooking and canning, but he understood more than anyone why she did it. 

 

It certainly helped keep their budget more controllable and saved them a lot of money on grocery expenses, but Will knew the real reason why she constantly subjected herself to such backbreaking work; it wasn't for the cost savings, although their funds were always tight now.  It wasn't because she preferred the taste of pesticide-free food or liked being out in the fresh, country air.  No, she did it to forget her grief - just as he spent so much time in the barn or at the stables doing the exact same thing.  Sarah was always reprimanding him about the stables being the last place he should go to try and assuage his grief. She always worried that the beloved spot where Dale had always escaped to when he was troubled, sad, or bothered about something would merely serve to accentuate his own loss rather than alleviate it. But she was wrong; it actually helped to make him feel closer to their son.  He could stand there inside the musty, rustic structure and almost feel their son's presence still lingering there.  Yes, escaping to where his son had stood so many times before was painful at times.  Yes, his son's favorite place still haunted him with all the ‘could-have-beens' that invariably rushed through his mind.  But it was also a refuge for him, a sanctuary, the one place where he could still feel the unbridled, carefree spirit of his larger-than-life son, the son he missed terribly but painfully realized that he wouldn't see again until they were both dead and gone onto another place and time...

 

"Will?"   

 

He blinked as he realized his wife was addressing him; he turned his head to observe Sarah standing a few feet away with their nephew, both with perplexed looks on their faces.  His hand curled around the smooth leather straps of the suitcase he was still holding as he gruffly remarked, "It's getting late; let's get inside." 

 

Sarah studied him for a moment, knowing her husband was holding back something but instinctively realizing that now was not a good time to mention it as she gently took Brian by the elbow and led him toward the side gate.  "This way, Brian," she told him with a slight smile.

 

Brian followed her to a side door entrance, scowling at his closer inspection of the peeling paint and tired-looking exterior.  A black-and-white, cement horse statue in mid-stride about 2 feet tall seemed to stand sentry by the back door, its nostrils flaring at full gallop as its mane seemed to fly in the wind.  He wasn't surprised to note that one of its ears was missing a tip; somehow he expected it.  As they walked up to the side door, he cast a cursory glance around the property itself.  There was a huge, graying, weathered barn standing approximately 100 feet away from the house.  Two other smaller buildings of unknown use stood on either side of it.  He couldn't tell for sure what their purpose was because he couldn't see inside, but from the distinctive animal smells his nose was picking up, he had the ominous feeling that their residence was being shared by other, four-footed creatures who dwelled in the out buildings. 

 

"Come on," he heard his uncle sternly say by his side.  Brian huffed out a resigned breath as he turned around and walked through the side door while his uncle held it open for him; his aunt followed right behind him as Will waited to enter last. 

 

They came out into a small, narrow laundry room; to the left of the open doorway was the kitchen.  Brian noticed an ancient-looking, white, cast-iron stove that appeared to be from the Art Deco period of the 30's perched in the far corner; a brass pot rack hung overhead above it from the open-beamed ceiling.  An old, white refrigerator sat on the opposite wall, making a rather loud humming sound.  Two white, porcelain sinks were situated on the other wall with a window directly above them, facing out onto the road.  Golden yellow and white eyelet curtains were hanging on either side of the window, matching the cloth napkins folded neatly on a small, white laminate dinette table.  A clock nestled in the belly of a rooster was hanging over the doorway leading into a small hall that went toward the front of the house.  For a moment, he thought he was in a Twilight Zone episode and had been transported back in time to the Walton's kitchen.  He expected John Boy to come walking in at any moment...

 

He stood there, unsure what to do as he heard his aunt softly tell his uncle, "Will...Show Brian to his room."  He noticed his uncle hesitating for some reason as Sarah repeated, "Will...Please." 

 

Sarah watched as Will finally nodded and Brian followed him down the hallway, knowing why her husband was hesitating.  She knew what he was about to do wouldn't be easy; but it was time to move on and it had to be done.  She bit her lip anxiously before turning to open the kitchen pantry door and retrieve a bag of onions stashed there. 

 

---

 

Brian surveyed the living room to his left as he and his uncle passed it on the way to a set of stairs; the room was furnished with a couple of  cream-and-maroon recliners and a large, cream and navy colored plaid couch in between them.  An old-fashioned floor lamp stood next to the couch that faced a wood-burning fireplace with a brick mantle.  He noticed a large painting of a horse attached to a sulky hanging over the fireplace, thinking the jockey in the work of art looked familiar but not knowing why. 

 

"Up here," Will told his nephew curtly from his place on the first step as Brian turned his gaze to the other side of the hallway; he was surprised that the room, which apparently was a sort of study, had a large pool table situated in the middle of it.  Somehow his aunt and uncle didn't seem like the frivolous, spendthrift types, and the pool table looked totally incongruous among the shelves of books and Victorian-looking furniture spread around the room.  At least now, though, he might have something else to occupy his time besides the two intriguing-looking neighbors he had encountered a short time ago.  For once the idea of spending a summer in Hicksville with an aunt and uncle he didn't even know was beginning to have some perks to it...

 

He climbed the stairs behind his uncle to a landing, following him to the right as Will advised with a nod of his head, "Bathroom."  Brian peeked inside as they walked by and grimaced at the small, all-white bathroom with a combination bathtub/shower located at the far wall; the shower curtain was partially pulled back, but he could see a horse pattern interwoven on it.  What was it with all the damn horses?  He hadn't seen any at all as they had come in.  Apparently, though, they were a fascination for his aunt and uncle, but why, though?  He hurried to catch up with his uncle as the man stood at the far end of the hall and impatiently turned to face him.

 

"Well? Don't be dawdling - times a'wastin," he told him sternly, his arms crossed over his chest.  He had purposely turned away from the closed door he was standing next to, finding it extremely difficult to open it.  He and Sarah had talked at length about this and he still felt a sense of dread looming over him at the thought of entering that room again.  But he also knew it was the only other bedroom they had, and as much as he hated to admit it Sarah was right - it wasn't doing anyone any good staying empty all this time.

 

Brian walked up to him, noticing for once that his uncle seemed uncomfortable about something, even anxious.  The man just stood there by the door, not moving.  "Is this the bedroom?" he asked him. 

 

Will nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.  He hadn't been in this room in so long, not since...He took a deep breath and slowly curled his hand over the old-fashioned, crystal door knob, feeling the smooth coolness under his touch as he turned the knob to open it.  Slowly he pushed it inward, noticing the musky smell first, followed by the thin coat of fine dust blanketing the oak dresser and the fat spindles of the matching bed.  The entire room was just as they had left it, except that Sarah had changed the sheets and made up the bed right after Dale had died; why she had felt the need to perform that rather absurd gesture he didn't know.  What difference had it made?  But once the bed had been freshly made and a dusting had been done, the lights had been turned out, the door had been closed and nothing had been touched ever since.  It was exactly as they had left it.  Some of his son's most important horse trophies still stood proudly on a wide bookshelf above the bed; Dale had won so many by the time he had died that they had wound up placing some of them in the barn, up in the loft.

 

His favorite cowboy hat, well-worn and loved, still hung over one of the rear bedposts, right where he always hung it when not in use.  An antique, iron horseshoe - the symbolic icon of good luck - still hung over his desk on the far wall next to his closet.  And the large, black-and-white portrait of three of their former horses - animals that had been sold after Dale's death to a neighbor horseman - still stared back at him from the side wall to the left of the tall window overlooking the barn.  It was as if his son would be rushing in any minute, all breathless from yet another practice run with his favorite horse.  Only as he looked around the eerily quiet room, Will knew in his heart that that was all a cruel illusion.  He knew Dale would never walk back into this room again, and it filled him even now with tremendous grief and loss. 

 

Brian stood there just inside the room, observing the myriad of emotions filtering across his uncle's face.  It was really the first time he had ever seen any crack in the man's impenetrable shell since they had met, and he wondered what had caused it.  He glanced around the room, feeling like he was in some sort of shrine.  There were more horses - statues displayed on a night stand - but also a photo hanging next to several variously-sized trophies.  He walked deeper into the room, approaching the photos to take a better look as Will stood there still as a statue.  He immediately recognized his aunt and uncle in the photo; it was startling in the difference, however.  In the photo, his aunt and uncle had their arms around a boy between them who appeared to be in his late teens and they were smiling - it was a genuine, radiant smile full of happiness and love.  They did not appear to be that much older than they were now, but the expressions on their faces were so dramatically different from the weary-looking, sullen expression his uncle was wearing now and the drawn, sorrowful look on his aunt's face that he had seen earlier that he was astounded that they were the same two people.  What had happened between then and now to produce such a change?  He stared at the boy in between them, noticing a distinct resemblance.  He wondered for a moment why the boy looked so familiar, and then it hit him; it was the same boy he had seen in the portrait over the mantle downstairs. 

 

He turned around to find his uncle staring over at him with an indecipherable look on his face.  "Who's that in the photo with you?" he asked Will, nodding his head toward the picture. 

 

His uncle pursed his lips tightly together for a couple of seconds before he told him curtly, "None of your business."  He stood there for a moment longer before he walked over to the bed and placed the suitcase down on its side.  "Get unpacked and cleaned up," he told him abruptly.  "Dinner's at six.  Don't be late." 

 

Brian huffed out an irritated breath at his uncle's rudeness as the man turned around and strode quickly out of the room without saying another word.  "Well, thanks for the warm welcome," Brian muttered under his breath as he stood there for a moment, his eyes flashing in anger.  He couldn't see the tears that welled up in his uncle's eyes as he hurried to escape before Brian noticed them.

 

---

 

"How quaint," Brian grumbled as he pulled the vinyl shower curtain to the side and stepped over the lip of the tub to get in, making a face of disgust at the rubberized bath mat lying on the bottom of the tub.  There was a hand-held shower head attached to the side wall to use for showers, and a built-in soap shelf directly underneath the small, frosted-glass window.  A metal towel rack hung at the back of the tub with a couple of thin, well-used, cotton towels - white with a couple of horses on them, of course; what else? 

 

Looking at the green-colored, antiseptic-smelling bar of soap on the shelf, he was thankful for his more expensive milled soap that he had thought to bring with him, along with his quality after-shave and cologne.  Even if he might be forced to live in a hick town, he still didn't have to smell like he lived in one; he had to retain his dignity, even though it was hard to feel ‘dignified' when you were standing in a porcelain bathtub.  Shaking his head in repulsion, he began to shampoo his hair, thankful at least that the farmhouse has decent water pressure.

 

Several minutes later, he could feel the results of not eating much earlier settling in his stomach as he finished getting dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a short-sleeved, black tee shirt.  Brushing his hair into place, he felt somewhat cleaner and void of all the dust and manure the truck had reeked of and appeared a little more presentable now.  Slipping on a pair of leather loafers, he walked down the hallway and descended the steps.  An enticing aroma greeted his nose as he padded down the short hallway separating the kitchen from the living room and entered to find his uncle already seated at the oval-shaped table situated near the corner of the room.  His aunt smiled at him from her place at the stove, a large platter in her hands. 

 

"Brian," she greeted him.  "We were just getting ready to eat.  Have a seat," she instructed. 

 

Feeling just a bit out of place among people he still didn't know very well, he nonetheless surrendered to his growling stomach and walked over to the table to eye his uncle, who returned his gaze with an unreadable expression of his own.

 

"You're late," the man told him as he glanced up at the rooster clock.  "I told you dinner was at six.  That is rude and disrespectful.  Next time make sure you're here when we tell you to be."

 

"Will..."  Sarah walked over and sat the platter of chicken down in the middle of the table; she pulled the two rooster-shaped oven mitts off her hands and placed them down on a small telephone table nearby.  "Brian didn't know any better; it's no big deal," she soothed.  She smiled reassuringly at Brian as she pulled out a chair at the opposite end of her husband and urged him, "Sit down and we can get started."

 

Brian exhaled out an angry breath to try and calm himself as he finally did as she asked, pouring his long body into a wooden Hitchcock chair with a fruit pattern on the back, a maroon chair pad tied to the seat for cushioning. 

 

Will stood up and pulled out his wife's chair for her to sit before he, too, sat back down and eyed their guest with barely-disguised repugnance.  No doubt his nephew was accustomed to being waited on hand and foot; well, that wasn't going to happen in his household.

 

"Will, would you please say grace?" Sarah asked her husband as she placed her napkin in her lap and folded her hands.

 

"Not yet, Sarah," he told her sternly as he kept his gaze on his nephew across the table.  "We need to go over the rules of the house first."

 

"Will, the food will get cold..." Sarah protested.

 

"I don't care," he told her adamantly.  "There're some things he needs to understand before we go any further."

 

Brian rolled his eyes.  "I thought I was avoiding prison, not being sent to one."

 

His uncle's eyes flashed with indignation.  "Watch your mouth, boy; we can send you back there if you want.  Is that what you prefer?" 

 

Brian growled, "I am NOT a boy!  And I told you not to call me that!"

 

Will snorted as his voice rose in anger; he knew this had been a mistake.  "Then quit acting like one!"

 

Sarah bit her lip nervously.  She had been hoping for a pleasant evening of dinner and conversation, not an inquisition.  She tried again to reason with her husband.  "Will, please...It's Brian's first night here and he's trying to get adjusted to his new surroundings."

 

"That's all the more reason why we need to straighten some things out now," Will countered as he stared Brian down.  "You need to understand some things.  Rule No. 1:  You are to be in bed each evening no later than 10:00 p.m."

 

Brian's mouth fell open in astonishment.  "Ten p.m.? "  He let out an incredulous laugh.  "You're giving me a fucking curfew?" 

 

"Watch your language, Brian!" Will snapped at him.  "We do not permit profanity in this household.  You can call that Rule No. 2."

 

"Ten p.m.?" Brian repeated.  "Why do I have to go to bed when you say so?  I haven't gone to bed at 10 p.m. since I was in middle school."  Brian never HAD allowed anyone to dictate when he did or did not go to bed.  His mother and father had tried but he had simply waited until they had checked up on him to make sure he was ‘asleep,' and then he had promptly turned the television or computer back on and did his own thing; some nights he even slipped out of bed altogether and went into town as he got older to the clubs or the bars.  Even back in middle school he seldom got to bed before midnight; he was one of those people who thrived on just a few hours' sleep; he still did.  The thought of having a set time as to when to go to bed, then, especially at his age, was totally ludicrous.

 

"I don't care WHAT you did or didn't do," his uncle told him flatly.  "While you're living in my household you will either do what I say or you can go back to Pittsburgh and wait whatever punishment that judge prescribes for you there.  I really don't care; it's your call."   He crossed his arms defiantly at his nephew and stared over at him unflinchingly, leaving no doubt that he meant exactly what he was saying.

 

Brian let out an angry breath as he glared over at his uncle; his aunt eyed him sympathetically but chose to remain silent, no doubt acquiescing to the ‘man of the household.'  To Brian he wasn't much of a man, though - he seemed more like a big bully, just like his own father was.  But the man unfortunately had a point; he had him over a fucking barrel because the last thing he wanted was to wind up having to go to jail for ten years.  He decided reluctantly that this jail was preferable to the other alternative as he finally grumbled, "Okay.  Whatever." 

 

"That's not all," Will told him.

 

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, only to have her husband grab her wrist gently but firmly and say, "Sarah, let me speak my piece."  Sarah sighed as she nodded, licking her lips anxiously, hoping her husband and her nephew would eventually come to a meeting of the minds.  From the looks on both men's faces, however, it was doubtful that would happen.

 

"Rule No. 3:  You are to be awake no later than 6 a.m. each morning so you have time to eat breakfast before doing your chores."

 

Brian thought that surely he hadn't heard the man right.  The proper words failed him temporarily as he finally uttered, "Six a.m.?  Chores?  What the fu...What are you talking about?  Is this a labor camp?"

 

"No, Brian, it's a farm; a working farm!" Will growled as he held his butter knife tightly clenched in his hand.  "That means that everyone in this household has to contribute to its operation, including you!  Did you think this was a resort out here?  That you could just go swimming in the local pond and work on your glorious tan all summer?  Well, if you did, Boy, you're in for a rude awakening!  We work hard out here to survive.  And you will be expected to do the same while you are living here, just like the rest of us do!  Do you understand?"

 

Brian fumed at his uncle from across the table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes dark with fury as he remained mute and unyielding.

 

His uncle, however, could be just as stubborn.  "I said...Do...You...Understand?" 

 

Sarah's attention darted between her husband and her nephew, wondering which one would come out on top in this battle of wills.  Though not actually connected by blood, both were apparently cut from the same stubborn, strong-willed cloth.  She could tell that Brian was highly agitated by this unexpected curtailment of his freedom; not surprising, she supposed, considering how much freedom he must have enjoyed back home.  But then again, perhaps that was why had had gotten into so much trouble.  As her grandmother had always liked to say, Idle hands were the devil's workshop, and the devil must have been working overtime with this young man.

 

Brian seethed inside, feeling like a trapped animal.  He desperately wanted to just tell the man to fuck off and get the hell of there, but what did he know about this part of the country?  The thought of stealing some money from him and even that monstrosity of a truck he owned to escape crossed his mind, but he knew if he did and he wound up getting caught he would be in even MORE trouble.   He had heard enough horror stories about being some prisoner's whore in jail to realize that would not be a pleasant experience.  And the thought of being incarcerated for ten years, being told when to get up, when to take a piss, when to shower, and when to go to bed filled him with repulsion, even though his current situation wasn't that much different.  Clearly, though, he was going to have to find a way to pretend to satisfy his tyrant uncle's stipulations while discovering how to, ahem, enjoy himself along the way; that was his only option.  Which led him briefly to think of his encounter with his neighbors earlier....

 

He came back to the present several seconds later, feeling the heated stare of his uncle whose question he still hadn't answered.  He lifted his gaze to observe him waiting with barely veiled impatience for his response.  He glanced over at his aunt, who nodded slightly in encouragement before he inhaled a deep breath and let it out, assuming an almost defeated, submissive stance as he nodded, knowing it was merely a way to deceive his uncle into thinking he had a false sense of control over him.  "Okay.  Yeah.  I understand," he bit out distastefully.  "But I want to get one thing straight with you.  My name is Brian.  B-R-I-A-N.  Not Boy. Do YOU understand THAT?" 

 

Sarah eyed her husband in concern as she hastily interjected, "That's only fair, Will.  He has a point.  Respect goes both ways."

 

"Respect has to be earned," he corrected her before sighing in resignation.  "Very well... Brian.  I will call you by your first name if you hold up your end of the bargain - agreed?"

 

Brian stared over at him for a few seconds before he nodded - just before his stomach let forth with a response of its own. 

 

Sara laughed, a nervous but relieved laugh.  "Well, then.  Sounds like someone's hungry," she replied with a smile, glad that the impasse has apparently been broken.  "How about some of my famous fried chicken?"   She started to reach for the platter in the middle of the table, only to be stopped by her husband's hand gripping her wrist again.

 

"Not before grace," Will reminded her sternly as she nodded. 

 

Brian watched as they bowed their heads and his uncle began to intone, "Lord, for this bounty we are about to receive may we be truly grateful."  He paused for a moment before he added, "And please help provide us with the tools to guide our nephew onto the right path.  Amen." 

 

Brian sighed softly in annoyance as his aunt passed him the chicken; he took a piece of breast meat and passed it onto his uncle silently, the ritual repeated until all of the food on the table had been distributed to each party. 

 

The silence tense and uncomfortable for several interminable minutes, Sarah decided to try and lighten the mood by saying, "That was nice of Jennifer to call and invite us over for a meal.  She's such a sweet lady." 

 

Brian's ears perked up at the mention of their neighbors; that was the one possibly pleasant part to this whole ordeal - the two boys he had encountered earlier in the day - one dark-haired and brooding like thunder, the other blond and pale like the sun.  How they could be brothers was hard to fathom, but they did share one thing in common - they were going to find out what it was like to be plowed; deep and hard, very, very hard..He smirked at the thought as Sarah continued, "If it's okay with you, I thought I'd call her this evening and see if she'd like to meet for supper tomorrow.  I could make my blackberry cobbler and take it with us.  What do you think, Will?" 

 

Her husband took a bite of his half-runner beans and swallowed them before he shrugged.  "I suppose that would work.  I have to go into town tomorrow and pick up some more chicken feed.  And I need to set up some irrigation out in the back field.  So supper would be better than lunch."   He peered over at Brian with a smirk, noticing the rebellious teen wasn't shy about voicing his opinion or eating when the food was good.  "Good thing you're eating," he observed dryly.  "You'll need your strength for your chores."

 

Brian glanced up as he swirled his fork around a small helping of macaroni and cheese and wondered just what he meant by that statement.  He had to admit - the fried chicken was excellent; crispy on the outside, not too greasy, moist on the inside.  And the beans were seasoned with some sort of seasoning to make them quite tasty, and the macaroni and cheese appeared to be made with real cheese, not with some boxed shit, so at least his aunt knew how to cook.  "What kind of chores?" he couldn't help asking, wondering what in the world anyone did out in the middle of nowhere.

 

His uncle merely smiled at him and said, "You'll see soon enough.  But better not dress in fancy duds tomorrow, unless you want them to get all greasy and smelly."  He appeared to be enjoying the look of dismay on Brian's face as he quickly glanced over at his wife before adding, "Now finish up your supper and get off to bed; we've got a big day tomorrow."

 

Brian glared over at him sullenly before he stabbed a few elbows of macaroni, uncaring all of a sudden how many carbs he was ingesting; something told him that he would be working any extra calories off tomorrow in no time.

 

---

 

Early the next morning - Windswept Farm

 

Justin glanced up from his twin bed where he was sitting cross-legged and hastily flipped his sketchpad face down on the mattress as his brother appeared in the doorway, hoping his face didn't give away what he had been doing.  "Hey."

 

"Hey," Jared responded in kind as he walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed; he glanced down at the sketchpad next to his brother's legs as he said, "Drawing again, Squirt?   Were you BORN with a paintbrush in your hand?"

 

Justin snorted.  "Using that same old line again, Sport?" he teased him in kind.  Their nicknames came easier to the two of them than using their actual names.  Jared always liked to kid his younger brother about how much smaller and slenderer he was than him; that, plus the fact that he was forever trailing along with him on most of his adventures.  And while Justin was almost on the petite side - slender and fair-skinned - he was more large-framed and muscular, even though he didn't appear to have an ounce of fat on his body.  He WAS the perfect composition, though, to be a hell of a baseball player in high school, as well as the captain of the track team.  He certainly had the natural ability to excel in whatever endeavor he usually put his mind to, except in regards to two things:  artistic talent and mastering their sulky in the various horse races that their family had participated in and emerged victorious in.  For that it required someone with a gentle touch and a smaller stature - two characteristics that fit his younger brother perfectly and whose attributes seemed to match his nickname for him.  They had long ago forgotten when exactly the two nicknames had emerged, but now it seemed more natural to use them than their birth names. 

 

Jared grinned back at his brother as he nodded his head, indicating the sketchpad.  "What were you drawing?" he asked curiously, noticing Justin's face turning red.  "Let me see."  He reached to grab it, but Justin was faster as he snatched it up and held it tightly face down against his chest.

 

"Just doing some doodling," he mumbled.  "Nothing special."

 

Jared licked his lips skeptically.  "Then why can't I see it?  Hand it over."

 

Justin scooted back a little in the bed toward the headboard.  "It's personal," he told him stiffly.  "You don't let me see everything YOU do."

 

Jared snorted.  "That's different.  I prefer to watch my porn and jack off in private."  He eyed his brother's guilty face as he asked, "What could be so personal about a sketch?"  Before Justin had a chance to respond, he quickly reached out and pulled it out of his hands. 

 

"Give that back!" Justin shouted as his brother turned it over and smirked. 

 

"Aha!" he said in triumph, his eyes twinkling in amusement.  "I knew it!  You're fantasizing about that Kinney guy already!"

 

Justin's face flushed an ever darker shade of red as he glared at his brother.  He reached to take the sketchbook back, but Jared was too quick for him as he deftly dodged away just far enough to evade him as he stared at the drawing Justin had so meticulously made last night.  It was a sketch of Brian standing up at the back of the truck, staring down at them with a sort of arrogant sort of grin on his face, his leather-jacketed body straight and tall silhouetting his trim body.  His dark hair was slightly tousled from the wind and it shone under the spotlight of the sun while his hands gripped the back of the truck bed.  It was a remarkable likeness of the guy, Jared had to admit, as he grinned over at his guilty-looking younger brother.  "Dream on, Squirt!" he told him.  "He is so out of your league!"

 

Justin huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest.  "And I suppose you think he's just perfect for you."

 

Jared's smile turned even wider as he nodded back at him.  "Damn straight I do!  Oh...wrong choice of words," he joked.  As much as he loved his brother, he was presently enjoying the look of disgust on his brother's face.  While he had perfected an indecipherable look of nonchalance a long time ago - finding that it helped to get him out of a lot of jams in the past - his brother was like an open book when it came to figuring out how he felt.  His emotions were always so easily read just by looking at his body language and his face.  And right now he could tell quite easily that he had hit the nail on the head.  He felt a slight rush of sympathy for his tender-hearted, idealistic brother who always wore his heart on his sleeve and tried to see the good in people; to most other acquaintances and to his family, his younger brother could never seem to do any wrong in their eyes.  He actually felt a little envious of that trait in Justin, but he would never let HIM know that.  Perhaps that was why he always had to feel like he was one step ahead of him.

 

"He was looking at ME, Squirt," he told him gently.  "He is so above your level.  You need to go find you a little tame pony somewhere, not a stallion like he is."  In fact, he hadn't seen anyone who could compare with the body he had seen on this particular guy.  He really didn't know anything at all about him yet except for the bits and pieces his parents had mentioned, but he was sure going to enjoy finding out.  He could already tell just by the look the other guy was giving him that he was of the right ‘persuasion.'  And soon he would be able to test that theory out in practice. 

 

Justin huffed out an angry breath.  "I'm not one of our horses, Jared," he told his brother defensively.  "And he was checking us both out, so don't be so sure of that...Sport."

 

Jared had the gall to laugh as he handed the sketchpad back to his brother.  "Face it, little brother; this is the only way you're ever going to get up close and personal with that guy."  He paused for a few seconds before he added, "I bet he's got a great cock," finding glee in the icy stare he was receiving. 

 

"I'm sure you'll find out," Justin muttered as Jared let forth with another laugh at his expense, making him even madder. 

 

Jared reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately as Justin shrunk back from him in resentment, suddenly feeling like a five-year-old kid.  "I'm sure you're right," he told him with a twinkle in his eye.  "In fact, I'll have my first chance to check that out tonight." 

 

Justin frowned, his initial anger forgotten.  "What do you mean?"

 

Jared smiled.  "I heard Mom talking to Sarah Walker a little while ago; guess who's coming over for dinner tonight?"

 

"Shit," Justin mumbled, his eyes wide with both excitement as well as anxiety as he realized instantly who Jared was referring to.  While he found that he was having a hard time getting the Kinney boy out of his mind, at the same time the thought of being so close to him at dinner filled him with nervous fear.  And while he firmly felt he was correct - that this Brian was definitely looking them both over - he also knew that typically once they laid eyes on Jared and got to know him a little better, he was left flat in the dust when it came to potential boyfriends.  Not that he had had that many - actually, he had never had a ‘true' boyfriend; merely occasional, clandestine ‘dates' where he and the other guy went over to the swimming hole or rode a couple of their horses up into the gently rolling, heavily wooded slopes around the farm.  And while he had occasionally participated in some healthy rounds of mutual blowjobs or hand jobs with another guy behind the bleachers at school, the truth was that he had never had sex with another guy, not the full-scale, in-your-ass sort of sex.  Not that he didn't think about it - constantly.  In fact, just last night the subject of his latest desire had been featured prominently in his wet dream - the boy that had popped up out of nowhere.  And he had never come so hard in his life before as a result; he had had to bite down on his hand last night so no one else in the house would hear his groan of climax.  But seriously, when it came to this other boy what chance did he possibly have against his older, wiser, and more street-wise brother? 

 

Jared's lips turned up in one corner in a knowing smile. "That's right, little brother," he confirmed with a mischievous gleam in his eye.  "The subject of your gay fantasies is coming over for dinner tonight.  Hope he'll let you down easy."

 

Justin's eyes flashed as Jared rose from the bed, cocky and so sure of himself.  "Fuck you," he growled as Jared laughed at him again.  "We'll just see about that." 

 

"Dream on, Squirt, dream on," Jared countered.  "Now get up - Mom sent me up to fetch you for breakfast; you have to finish up the painting this morning before it gets too hot."

 

Justin's mouth hung open.  "Me?  What about YOU?"

 

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a knot," Jared told him.  "Dad and I need to go into town to get some feed for the horses.  We're going to go look at another car to restore, too.  It's a beauty, or it will be; a 1937 Ford.  I can see it solid black with flames on either side - just like one of those old American Graffiti jalopies."

 

Justin rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm.  If you saw one old hotrod, you've seen them all.  At least with his art, his subject matter was only limited by what he could think up or see.  And right now one ‘thing' in particular was especially intriguing.  The thought of seeing that ‘thing' up close and personal tonight, however, was extremely intimidating to him, but also very exciting; hell, out here the most exciting thing was the local county fair.  This particular event tonight, though, far surpassed that.  Just the idea of this Brian guy sitting at the same table with him made his heart race and his palms get clammy.  If he looked and sounded that sexy from several feet away...Shit, what would he do if he actually tried to make conversation with him?  Would they even have anything in common?  Would he even look at him with Jared putting the moves on him?  The whole idea was so mind-boggling...

 

"Come back to Earth, little brother!  Come in!"

Justin blinked his eyes and looked over at his brother sheepishly.  "Yeah?" 

 

Jared snorted.  "I said...Do you need anything while Dad and I are in town?  Growth hormone?  Suntan lotion?"  He snickered as he said, "I know you don't need any condoms."

 

Justin's face turned red as he said, "Fuck you, Jared!  Just go and leave me alone!"

 

"See ya," he told his brother as he turned and walked away, his laughter mocking Justin as he sat there indignant.  Maybe he didn't need condoms; not yet, anyway.  That didn't mean that he didn't have every intention of using one - someday.  Something told him two things, though, about Brian Kinney:  one - HE was the one who ‘needed' condoms, and probably lots of them; and two - the man would never be a bottom for him or anyone else.  He groaned in embarrassment over just the thought of him...And that gorgeous other boy....

 

"Aargh!" he muttered in disgust.   Why did life have to be so difficult?  Sighing heavily, he placed his sketchpad down carefully on the bed.  Taking one last look at the subject of his angst, he grudgingly rose from the bed to go eat his breakfast. 

 

---

 

Same time...

 

Brian glanced at himself in the dresser mirror, dreading what ‘chores' his uncle had in store for him today.  When he had come up to his bedroom last night, he had sat on the edge of the bed for a while, peering out through the tall window that looked out onto the barn and other outbuildings, hypnotized by how inky black it was out here.  Except for the full moon filtering in from high above, and the myriad of stars blinking back at him, there wasn't a light anywhere to be found, at least not any nearby.  As he walked over to stand by the window, however, he could make out a few lights coming from what appeared to be the Taylor farm up the road.  He was too far away to make out any actual people inside, but he couldn't help wondering which room or rooms held the two boys that he had seen earlier in the day. 

 

That was definitely going to be the highlight of his day today.  At least if he could get through whatever drudgery his Uncle Will had in store for him today, he had something to look forward to later.  He had spent several minutes last night, sitting on the window ledge taking a much-needed smoke, wondering just which boy he would fuck first.  He had no doubt he would fuck both of them in short order.  He even wondered if he could take turns with both of them at the same time, but he finally decided that might be just a little too kinky for two country boys.  But he had no doubt that maybe even by the time the next night was over, he might very well have a taste of both of them.  And what tasty sorts they appeared to be!  He smiled.  It was almost like a smorgasbord of delectable ass and cock - one tall, dark, and lean, one blond, fair and slender.  It was like having the best of both worlds.  The only question was - which one would be the lucky one to go first?  The one with the muscular body or the one with the wondrously curved bubble butt?  Whichever one gets the honor, he thought to himself, they'll be damn lucky to have me.

 

He smirked at his reflection in the mirror before he turned and headed out of the bathroom and down the hallway toward the stairs.  He could smell the food his aunt no doubt was preparing for breakfast as he reached the downstairs and turned toward the kitchen, glancing up at the clock as he entered to see that it was precisely 6:00 a.m. on the nose.

 

His uncle glanced up from the newspaper he was perusing as he arrived, noting his nephew was wearing a form-fitting pair of well-worn blue jeans, a long-sleeved, V-neck, dark blue pullover tee shirt and a pair of leather loafers.  He snorted softly at Brian's shoes, knowing they wouldn't last more than five minutes in the same condition where he was heading.

 

"What?" Brian asked him as he walked up and sat down in his customary chair from last night. 

 

Will never lifted his gaze from the page he had returned to reading as he told him, "I hope you don't mind getting manure all over those shoes, Brian.  They're awfully fancy to do chores with." 

 

Brian's nose crinkled in disgust.  Did his uncle say manure?  He thought he had already smelled enough horse shit yesterday in the truck.  He looked up as his aunt walked over and placed a glass of orange juice down next to him, along with a plate of fried eggs, bacon, and a homemade biscuit.  "Well, maybe you need to change what I'll be doing today, then." 

 

Sarah eyes rose at her nephew's sarcastic tone of voice, knowing instinctively that sort of response would not go over very well with Will.  It didn't take long to find out that she was right. 

 

"Well, maybe YOU need to go upstairs and change your shoes," he told him brusquely.  "Because chores are chores; they need to be done and they are not subject to change or your whims.  Now either go find another pair of shoes or be prepared to ruin the ones you have on now.  Your choice." 

 

Sarah walked over and sat down between them with a sigh, not even waiting this time for Will to help pull the chair out.  "Will, his breakfast is getting cold; can't it at least wait until he's eaten first?"

 

Will huffed out an exasperated breath as he picked up his ivory-colored stoneware mug and took a sip of his coffee.  "Fine," he finally uttered to Sarah's relief.  With one last swallow, he pushed himself back from the table.  "It can wait until you're done eating; but I expect you in the barn in 30 minutes - no excuses."  With that, he carried his plate and mug silently over to the sink to rinse it off before walking briskly over to the adjacent laundry room.  A few seconds later Brian and his aunt heard the creaking of the screen door as Will pushed it open and slammed it shut behind him.

 

Sarah let out a sigh as she turned to eye her nephew with sympathy.  "He can be pretty gruff at times," she explained with a slight smile.  "But he's really not a vindictive or mean person, Brian.  He just has high standards and has had to work hard all his life.  He expects the same from everyone else."

 

"Maybe," Brian grumbled in admission, finding it somewhat easier to talk to his aunt than his uncle.  "But he still treats me like the shit he's demanding that I work with out there."

 

To his slight surprise, his normally congenial aunt's eyes flashed in consternation as she scolded him, "Brian, I may not be so ‘colorful' with the English language as you are or come from the big city, but I do not approve of that language in my presence.  And your uncle is a decent man, despite what you might think.  He's...he's had a difficult time over the past few years."  She debated for a moment, wondering just how much detail to go into before she added more softly, "He...We lost a son three years ago; our only son.  Our only child."  She bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes as she explained, "He was our miracle baby.  I had miscarried twice before Dale came along and I was told by the doctor that I couldn't have any more children.  Just when we had learned to accept that, I found out I was pregnant again.  We were overjoyed when I was able to carry him to full term and give birth to a healthy boy."

 

She was lost in another time as her gaze drifted over toward the window, her mind's eye seeing her son when he was a lot younger.  "He was very mischievous and so full of life; he always loved to go exploring around the farm and just being a fun-loving boy. He had a tender heart; he was always bringing home a stray animal.  That's how we wound up with Solomon; he followed him home one day and he never left."

 

Brian frowned.  "Solomon?"

 

Sarah nodded.  "He's our son's beagle.  He's around here somewhere; he likes to go exploring at night and normally comes home early the next day when it's time for breakfast.  He's kind of a free spirit, much like Dale was."  Right on cue, there was a sharp ‘yelp' by the back screen door as Sarah rose with a smile from her chair and walked over to greet him.  "Look at you!" Brian heard her gently scold him.  "What have you been into this time?"

 

Sarah opened the door to grab onto Solomon's collar and pull him a few feet over to the laundry tub.  "Hang on, Solomon; I need to wipe your paws first."  She grabbed one of their more threadbare towels she always kept hanging over the lip of the tub for just this purpose and began to lift each paw to wipe the water and mud from the dog's feet.  Rubbing the side of his head affectionately afterward, she murmured, "There...that's better," as the dog happily wagged his tail at her.  She rehung the towel over the side of the laundry tub and stood up to walk toward the kitchen, Solomon rushing along ahead of her.

 

Brian's eyes widened slightly as a tri-color, medium-sized beagle rushed up to him and furiously wagged his tail at him.  The dog began to sniff his leg curiously, excited to see new company.   Not accustomed to being around animals, he tentatively reached his hand over to rub the top of the dog's head, surprised to see how soft the hair felt.  He gave the dog a couple of scratches there before he dropped his hand back to his thigh.  Solomon, satisfied with his cursory examination of their guest, trotted over toward the window and began to sniff his presently empty food bowl as he glanced back at his owner.

 

Sarah laughed softly.  "I'm coming, you food hog.  Give me a second."  She and Brian exchanged a smile of amusement as she walked over and reached up into the cupboard next to the sink to retrieve a medium-sized bag of dry dog food.  Pouring some into his food dish, Solomon immediately began to crunch down vigorously on his breakfast. 

 

Replacing the food back into the cupboard, Sarah turned to her nephew.  "He seems to like you," she observed.  "He's normally a little hesitant around people he doesn't know, but he doesn't seem that way with you."  Walking over to sit down next to Brian, she said, "Better be prepared to have a shadow following you around this summer."  Her smile faltered a little as she added, "I think you remind him of Dale.  He worshipped him so much and never let him out of his sight while he was at home.  He loves me and Will, and we're glad we still have a part of our son with us, but I know he still misses him...Just like we do, too." 

 

Brian's heart lurched a little over the obvious sorrow in his aunt's voice.  Even though he didn't know her well at all, it didn't take much to realize how much she still missed her son.  "How...how did he die?" he found himself asking, unable to resist.

 

Sarah let out a ragged breath as she averted her gaze away, wondering if she should go into too much detail.  It was one thing to describe her son when he was vibrant and alive; it was another to talk about the way he died.  And she knew how impatient Will was since Dale had died and how late it was getting.  She finally turned her attention back to her nephew and shook her head with an apologetic sort of smile.  "Some other time," she begged off, hoping he would understand.  "Your uncle's waiting for you.  You'd best be getting out to the barn." 

 

Brian studied her for a moment, still wondering how someone apparently around his own age could have died so young, but realizing that for whatever reason his aunt didn't want to discuss it.  He nodded as he pushed himself back from his chair and took one last swallow of his juice to finish it off.  He started to grab his plate to take it over to the sink, but his aunt took it from him, along with the glass.

 

"You go ahead," she told him as she swallowed the painful lump in her throat that had arisen over talk of her son.  "I'll take care of this."

Brian nodded as he stood up and proceeded to leave, finding himself being followed closely by a four-legged shadow just like his aunt had guessed he would.  Brian rolled his eyes down at the dog as he muttered, "Great.  I not only get to work with shit, but I get the pleasure of your company, too, huh?"  He shook his head in resignation as the dog wagged his tail in response, finding it not that bad that at least someone seemed to like him as he hurried up the steps to go change his shoes. 

 

---

 

Justin sighed as he hefted the paintbrushes and five-gallon bucket of paint onto the back of the utility vehicle his family used for trips around the farm.  Normally he would just hop onto one of their horses to travel where he needed to go, but with the equipment he needed today to finish painting the fence adjacent to the Walker property it was too much for him to handle with a horse.  Jared and their father had left about thirty minutes ago to go into town and Vic was busy tending to the animals in the stable, leaving him with the tedious job of finishing up what the three of them had started yesterday. 

 

As he started up the vehicle that resembled an industrial version of a golf cart, he slowly drove toward the far edge of their property, as always observing his surroundings for any scenery or subjects he could use for another sketch.  He always kept a sketchpad handy wherever he went for just that purpose, finding a lot of inspiration in his daily encounters on the farm.  Several times, in fact, he had drawn one or more of their horses as they grazed peacefully in one of the fields or romped playfully among themselves while they rejoiced in being out in the open pasture of the farm.   Whenever they chased each other around like they were playing tag or took off in a full gallop, seemingly for no other reason than they were happy to be alive and free, it always brought a smile to his face. 

 

Now as he came closer and closer to the Walker farm, his heart began to race a little, knowing that the gorgeous boy he had seen yesterday was somewhere inside the house.  He wondered what he would do if he should run into him?  He hadn't thought about that earlier, not realizing which part of their property his father would send him to in order to finish up the painting.   He couldn't say he was exactly disappointed where it wound up being, however, since the Walker house sat back a hundred yards or so from the fence line, with the barn even closer, although it made him nervous, too.  As the quiet vehicle crept closer and closer to the fence, he could see that the two, tall wooden barn doors were swung wide open and there was a figure inside, sitting on a milking stool with his back to him. 

As he slowed the vehicle down to a stop and turned it off, he could clearly hear someone spewing forth with a string of swear words; that instantly told him that the figure inside the barn wasn't Will Walker.  As far as he knew the man had never uttered so much as a ‘darn' or a ‘shoot' in his life, much less the words being thrown out presently.  That, along with the dark hair and lean frame of the man he was presently observing told him that this wasn't his neighbor but their nephew, the very same boy he had had such an intense dream about last night and couldn't get out of his mind since seeing him for the first time yesterday.  His pulse began to race and his eyes couldn't turn away from the sight as he stared over at the boy whose back was to him.  He listened in rapt fascination to his sexy tone of voice, currently muttering all sorts of profanities.  Silently he climbed up onto the six-foot fence, using one of the split rails for leverage as he sat with his legs dangling over the top and enjoyed the luxury of observing the other boy secretly without his knowledge, finding the courage to do so only because he knew Brian didn't know he was being watched.

 

It was only after he could make out what the other boy was saying that he realized why he was so angry, and he had to bite back the laugh that threatened to escape his throat. 

 

"Damn it to hell!" Brian barked out in disgust as he banged the metal pail onto the straw-strewn floor of the barn.  "Fuck!  What is wrong with you?" he asked.  The only response he got was a slow, lazy swing of the cow's black and white head as one huge eye stared down at him.  To Brian it appeared that the cow was silently mocking him for his ineptness.  When his uncle had left him a while ago with the admonishment that when he came back he expected the cow to be milked, Brian had decided this was better than the alternative option of raking out the stalls that he had been given.  Now, however, as he tugged at the cow's teats and nothing happened, he was getting more and more frustrated.  "This is fucking ridiculous!" he shouted out as sighed in disgust.  "I know there's something in there!"

 

A sound he recognized as a musical sort of cross between a giggle and a laugh caused Brian to quickly twist his head around; instantly the day became a lot more interesting as he observed a boy sitting on the fence straddling the Walker property and the Taylor farm next door.  It was the smaller, blond-haired boy with the delectably curved ass he had observed yesterday.  He noticed the boy flushing in embarrassment as he realized he had been caught watching him.  He quickly rose to his feet, wiping his hands off on his jeans as he called over, "You think this is funny?" 

 

Justin clamped a hand over his mouth as he realized what he had done; his eyes widened and his heart thumped in his chest as the boy swaggered over toward him, followed by the Walker's dog, Solomon, who had been curled up nearby on the floor.  God, he was even more gorgeous than yesterday!  He was wearing a pair of tight jeans that seemed to have been tailor-made for him, along with a black tee shirt that molded to his chest, revealing his flat abdomen and trim waist.  The sleeves of the tee shirt were pushed up to his elbows, revealing some bronze skin underneath, and he was wearing a pair of black sneakers.  Justin was convinced he was the most exquisite boy he had ever seen, and his entire body tingled in a way he had never experienced before.  He eyed the boy closely as Brian walked up to him, nervous as hell but unable to avert his gaze away from him. 

 

Brian smirked as he noticed a pink flush creep up on the other boy's cheeks.  He made a mental note that this one would be all too easy to capture if he caused that reaction merely by looking at him.  Perhaps he would be first on his list to fuck, then, rather than the older one.  This was going to be all too easy.  This boy had ‘inexperienced' and ‘virgin' written all over him, and he could tell that he already had him under his spell; not surprising, actually, he thought.  He always had that effect on other boys.  He was almost disappointed at how easy this was going to be, though; the chase was almost as sweet as the conquest to him.  Maybe he wouldn't even have to wait until tonight to have his first taste of the Taylor boys.

 

"You always go around spying on other people...uh, Justin?" he addressed the other boy by name as he deliberately encroached on the blond's space to throw him off balance, splaying his hands to either side of the petite body and resting them, palms down, on the roughness of the wooden fence rail.  He was inches away from Justin's body and was finding it almost impossible not to touch him.  He could see how incredibly blue the boy's eyes were now - the shade of a calm, mid-spring sky, he decided - and his lips; that full, bottom lip especially was made just for grabbing onto and sucking...And that creamy-colored skin - God, so smooth.  He wondered how it would feel to touch that skin with the pads of his fingers...or his lips...He could feel his cock stirring merely at the thought.

 

Justin swallowed hard in response to Brian's audacity and his closeness, a movement that did not go unnoticed by his tormentor as the other boy's eyes darkened in telltale reaction.  He couldn't recall ever seeing someone that looked as magnificent as this boy, but at the same time he was still insulted over his insinuation that he had come out here merely to ogle him and that provided him with just enough chutzpah to resist the temptation to reach out and touch him.

 

Brian listened in surprise as the other boy actually flashed his eyes at him in defiance and told him stiffly, "I wasn't spying on you!  I'm out here to paint our fence!"  Justin was scared as hell inside and his heart was hammering a mile a minute, but he wasn't going to let the other boy know that.  The thought of being looked upon as some scared little faggot kid - or a stalker of some kind - didn't sit too well with him.  And it was the truth - he didn't know Brian would be out here, not that he was complaining especially.

 

Brian's eyes examined the fence, noting that it was, indeed, one of the few areas that did not appear to be freshly painted, so perhaps this boy was telling the truth.  Nonetheless, he felt a need to bait him anyway, simply because he could.  "I think you just wanted a closer look at me," he told him as Justin blushed an even darker shade of red.  Too easy...He smirked.  "Everyone always does."

 

Justin huffed in irritation.  Yes, the boy was gorgeous, but he was also apparently very conceited.  He snorted, pretending to be a lot braver than he really was as he replied sarcastically, "I'm sure they do in the big city.  Out here, though, we value skills more than looks, and when it comes to milking cows your rather considerable talents evidently leave a lot to be desired."

 

Brian had the gall to laugh at his comment as he remarked dryly, "Is that so?  Well, then, I humbly bow to your expertise," he told him as he bowed at the waist.   He slowly backed away from Justin and placed his hands on his hips as he stood facing him.  "Well, come on - let's see how it's done, Farmer Brown," he replied, snickering at the affronted look on Justin's face.   His brows rose in question as Justin remained rooted to his spot before he asked, "What?  Can't get down from there without my help?"

 

He held his hands out to indicate he would be more than happy to catch his fall, but Justin merely glared at him before promptly jumping down from his position without any assistance.  Brian laughed as the other boy pursed his lips together in aggravation, finding the look quite endearing.  Of course, Brian wasn't about to let HIM know that, however.  He held out his hand toward the barn.  "Well, Maestro, show me the proper technique, then." 

 

He deliberately waited for Justin to lead, wanting to savor the view as he followed along behind him, openly admiring the way that the other boy's jeans brushed up tightly against his ass and finding himself wanting desperately to plunge his cock where the denim lay draped across those two, perfectly-rounded cheeks. 

Justin's other cheeks were burning as he walked toward the Walker's dairy cow; without even turning around, he had a feeling he knew exactly what Brian was doing, and the thought both excited him as well as scared the shit out of him.  Why did he feel like he was playing with fire all of a sudden?  What exactly did HE know about seduction?  And more importantly, who was doing the seducing here - him or Brian?  He forced himself to focus on the task at hand as he walked up to the bovine and sat down on the small, slate gray wooden stool.  He reached up with his right hand and stroked the animal's udder slowly in a circular pattern as he spoke to her soothingly.  "Ready to give me some milk, Girl?" he cooed softly.  "Hmm?" 

 

Brian pulled his lighter and his cigarettes out of his pocket to retrieve one and ignite the end, standing there in amusement over the way the other boy was talking so affectionately to a cow.  Placing the Zippo and the remainder of the pack into his pocket, he took a deep drag before he drawled, "What the fuck are you doing feeling up a cow?  It must get pretty desperate out here."  Although I can't imagine why, he couldn't help thinking sarcastically.  If I were around here permanently, though, you'd be feeling up something ELSE...

 

Justin huffed out an exasperated breath, explaining, "The udder is a muscle, Brian.  You have to do this in order to relax the cow and allow the milk to flow."  He reached for the metal pail sitting nearby to place it underneath the cow's teats.  "That's the way, Checkers," he told the cow with a soft voice.  Feeling confident the animal was relaxed as she would ever be, he stole a glance over at Brian as he instructed him, "You have to take your thumb and your middle finger and squeeze the teat between the base and the udder to trap the milk there."  To demonstrate, he placed his hands over two of the four teats and squeezed firmly at the base as a small amount of milk oozed out of the hole. 

 

Brian couldn't resist the grin that spread over his face over the earnest lecture he was receiving from the other boy, thinking it looked remarkably like something else he was quite familiar with.  "Oh," he said, elongating the ‘oh' part.  "Why didn't you tell me it's like jerking someone off?  I'm a master at that!"

 

Justin blushed a deep shade of red and his eyes flashed in aggravation.  "No, it's NOT like jerking off, you moron!  You don't PULL on the teats, you squeeze them!  That's why you weren't getting any milk before!"  He sighed as Brian laughed, making him even more aggravated.  "I can't believe I'm even bothering," he muttered to himself as he turned his back on the older boy and began to squeeze the teats in earnest.  A steady but narrow stream of milk began to squirt out, landing in the bucket with a distinctive ping as it hit the empty, metal bottom.  After a few tries, the milk volume increased as Justin kept up a steady pace, alternating with squirts from both hands as the milk made a regular whoosh, whoosh sound into the bucket.

 

Brian took another drag on his cigarette as he watched the long-fingered hands of the other boy do their magic; he couldn't help wondering just what sort of ‘magic' those hands could produce on HIM as he said, "You country boys sure know how to use your hands.  How about when you get done you demonstrate on ME?" 

 

Justin's heart pounded in his ears at the inherent invitation in that sultry voice.  His hands shook slightly as he somehow managed to keep milking the cow and ignore the not-so-subtle invitation, despite the emotions the other boy was generating in him.  Was he deliberately goading him because he realized how inexperienced he was?  Yeah, the guy was hot; VERY hot.   No doubt the most magnificent specimen of male perfection he had ever seen in his young life, in fact.  But there was something almost condescending and haughty in that voice that riled him, like he knew he couldn't resist him.  Besides, he had a sinking feeling that as soon as Jared was done with him, he would be promptly forgotten.  Did he want to be someone's throwaway fuck, someone to be toyed with and just discarded for someone better - like his own brother? 

 

Justin set his jaw as he glanced over at the cocky-looking expression on Brian's face and smiled, a sweet, disarming smile, one that caused Brian's eyes to widen in surprise in its intensity; he had never seen a smile so glorious in all his life and it made his heart skip a beat. 

 

"How about I demonstrate my skills on you NOW?" Justin answered seductively as he twisted his both wrists just enough to squirt some milk in Brian's direction. 

 

Brian jumped back in stunned surprise as the warm substance hit him squarely in the face.  "What the fuck?" he sputtered as he blinked his eyes a few times in an attempt to get the milk out of them.  He finally took the sleeve of his tee shirt and managed to wipe the milk away as he glared over at the laughing face of his tormentor, feeling humiliated that he had been caught - at least figuratively - with his pants down.  He wasn't used to being surprised or taken unaware and it made him angry as hell - but also just a little impressed, too.  "You little shit!" he growled at the other boy as he walked toward him with the intention of grabbing him by the arm and shaking him - maybe even kissing him, too, for his daring.  He was startled, however, when another stream of milk came arching itself expertly over onto his shirt this time, followed by another giggle from his attacker. 

 

"Now THAT'S funny!" Justin replied, his face breaking out into an even more radiant smile.  "Now you're an official country hick yourself; welcome to Kentucky...City Boy!" 

 

Brian's mouth hung open at the audacity of this brat; this beautiful, feisty, adorably sexy brat.  He was just a kid, though...wasn't he?  If he was, however, why was he feeling these very grown-up feelings for him?  And despite his drenched, no doubt ridiculous-looking appearance, why was he feeling a sudden need to wipe that smirk off the fucker's face by smashing his lips against his?  His intention must have been broadcast quite clearly, because as he slowly walked toward the other boy with an odd sort of predatory smile on his face Justin ceased his milking and stood up to face him, his own smile fading from his face to be replaced with something akin to fear and shyness.

 

"Uh...I'd better be going," Justin said as he bit his lip and slowly backed away from Brian.  "You...You saw how I did it; you can finish it up now.  My mom will be wondering where I am."  Actually that was a bold-faced lie.  He knew his mother had mentioned going over to tend to her beehives while he was painting, and they were located on the other side of the house; there was no possible way she could even see him from there, then.  Brian didn't know that, however. 

 

"I thought you had to finish painting the fence?" Brian reminded him softly as he continued to advance on the other boy, wondering if Justin knew he was backing up against several bales of hay behind him. 

 

Justin retreated further in synchronization with Brian's advance just like a well-choreographed dance before his ass bumped up against something scratchy and he had to stop, realizing with dread that he had miscalculated and run into a brick wall - or at least a wall made of hay.  His eyes widened as Brian came closer and closer...Suddenly he knew how a field mouse must feel up against one of their barn cats back home.  Brian was now so close he could smell the other boy's intriguing after-shave and feel his breath on his face as he placed his hands on Justin's shoulders and firmly dug into his flesh.   Justin felt like the other boy's touch was burning his skin right through his thin tee shirt as he watched Brian's face come closer and closer.  His eyes instinctively fluttered closed in anticipation of how it would feel to have the other boy's lips on his as he prepared to surrender to the inevitable...

 

"Brian!  You out there?" 

 

The words from Brian's Aunt Sarah came filtering abruptly into the barn, having the same effect as cold water being thrown in Justin's face as his startled eyes flew open and he realized what he had been about to do.  Flushing in embarrassment over the fact that he had almost become a willing pawn in this other boy's manipulations, he used the momentary diversion to deftly break from Brian's grasp, breathlessly mumbling, "I have to go - I need to finish painting the fence," before he rushed from the barn, coming head-to-head with Brian's aunt who was searching for him. 

 

Sarah's face registered surprise at their unexpected visitor.  "Justin!" she greeted him with a perplexed expression; she glanced behind him into the barn, not seeing any sign of Brian.  "I didn't expect to run into you."

 

"Hello, Mrs. Walker," Justin replied, praying his face wasn't as red and flushed as he thought it was.  His pulse was still racing over his near encounter with the woman's nephew.  He furiously tried to come up with an explanation as to what exactly he was doing over here as he told her, "I...I was working on painting the rest of our fence and noticed Brian needed a little help with milking Checkers."  Justin never did understand why a black-and-white cow was named Checkers, but the large bovine had been called that for as long as he could remember so the name had stuck. 

 

Sarah relaxed a little bit, feeling that explanation was more than plausible when it came to Justin.  They had lived next to the Taylors for a long time, and she had watched both of the boys grow up literally before her eyes.  She felt very fond of this kind, more tender-hearted boy; as far as his older brother went, though, she was ambivalent about him.  Jared could be helpful at times when he wanted to be and it suited his purposes - after Dale had died, she had to grudgingly admit that the boy had been invaluable in helping to harvest their crop of wheat that year with the combine.  But she always felt that it had been due more to his love of complex machinery rather than some sense of altruism.  Justin, on the other hand, had always been the more sensitive of the two, never hesitating when she asked him to do something and always checking up on her and Will regularly to make sure they didn't need any help.  It would be just like Justin to offer to help Brian with milking their cow, then. 

 

She smiled at him warmly as she replied, "That was very kind of you, Justin.  Is he in the barn?"

 

Justin nodded, still shaken up by his encounter with her devastatingly handsome nephew.  "Yeah...I think he's over by the hay bales."

 

Sarah nodded back at him.  "Thanks.  We'll see you at supper later?" 

 

Justin swallowed hard, suddenly remembering that the Walkers - and Brian - were coming over for dinner at their house later that evening.  How in the hell was he going to face Brian again with a straight face after what had just almost happened?  He knew, though, that unless he suddenly became deathly ill there was no way he could avoid it.  The only thing he could hope for, then, was that he wound up sitting as far away from the other boy as possible.  There was no way he could look him in the eyes now without imagining all sorts of scenarios between the two of them.  In fact, if he didn't get out of there right now, he could quite possibly wind up being embarrassed by the beginnings of a hard on he was starting to feel that had been created merely by thinking about the other boy.  "Yeah," he hastily told her as he turned around.  "I have to go back to work now.  I'll see you later."

 

"Thanks again, Justin," Sarah called after him as the boy quickly walked away, wondering why he seemed so flustered but finally chalking it up to the boy being a little on the shy side.  She turned around after a few seconds to go in search of her nephew, hoping he had been working on the chores that her husband had assigned him.

 

Brian stood just inside the barn, unable to avoid overhearing the conversation that had transpired between his aunt and the youngest Taylor boy.  He smiled as he heard Justin telling her he would be present for dinner later.  You can run for now, Little Boy.  Yeah...run home to your sanctuary.  But as he walked back over to the cow and this time succeeded in producing some milk from her, he knew it wouldn't be long now.  No, not long at all.  Paraphrasing John Denver, he couldn't help thinking with a smile, Thank God I'm a country boy...

 

 

5:00 p.m.  - Taylor House

Jennifer hastily wiped her flour-laden hands on a half-apron as she heard the banging of the back screen door leading into the kitchen; she briefly turned away from watching the lemon meringue pie baking in the oven to observe her youngest son shuffling wearily towards her.  She sighed, noticing Justin's denim pants were flecked with slivers of white paint; he even had some smeared on his cheek along with his hands.  "Another pair?" she inquired resignedly.  "Why didn't you wear the same ones you painted in yesterday?"

 

Justin shrugged.  "They were dirty."

 

His mother let out an exasperated huff.  "Justin..."  She shook her head, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.  It wasn't that they couldn't afford to buy him a new pair of jeans, but it seemed so wasteful nonetheless.  "You'd better go shower and get changed; the Walkers will be over in about an hour.  Did you get done with the painting?"

 

Justin nodded, trying to keep his mind off the ‘diversion' he had encountered earlier in the day, because it would just remind him that said diversion would be in their house and in near proximity shortly.  Their dining room table accommodated a total of eight people, more than enough to comfortably seat all of them.  No matter where Brian sat, though, it would still be way too close for his comfort.

 

"Are Jared and Dad back from town yet?" he asked, noticing how quiet the house seemed.

 

Jennifer shook her head as she retrieved a long-handled wooden spoon from the beef pot roast and vegetables she was cooking on the stove and blew on the sample before taking a taste.  She placed the spoon back down in the pot and reached for the shaker of salt to sprinkle some more into the mixture before she told him, "Not yet.  I hope they get here soon, though, or they'll be late for supper."

 

Justin snorted.  "You know what it usually means when they're running late..."

 

Jennifer sighed.  "Yes, I know."  She paused, unable to get the rest of her statement out over the loud rattling they heard directly outside.  "Not another one..." she murmured as she hurriedly placed the pot roast on "low" to simmer and the two of them walked over to the screen door just in time to observe Craig's red pickup truck lumbering up the dirt driveway with an older model vehicle in tow behind it.   Peeling green paint and all, it looked like something straight out of a Bonnie and Clyde robbery from the 30's.

 

"Looks like somebody got his way again," Justin muttered as the truck came to a stop and Jared eagerly disembarked from the vehicle to walk back with his father and inspect their latest project.  He loved his brother - there was no question about that - and his father; but it seemed that too often his older brother got the bulk of their father's attention.  Helping to earn money in the family by being the main jockey in their horse races apparently wasn't enough to impress either one of them.

 

He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder as she gave it a sympathetic squeeze and told him softly, "Better go take your shower, Honey; I'm sure your father and Jared will need to do the same before supper and you know how the hot water runs out really fast around here."

 

Justin watched Jared and his father talking animatedly about what would be their newest restoration project as they stooped down together to examine the older vehicle's tires, each one with a big smile of delight on their face.  Sighing softly as he turned away from the sight, he nodded and silently turned to trudge down the hallway toward the upstairs.

 

Jennifer turned to watch him go, her heart going out to her more tender-hearted son.  It wasn't that Craig didn't love both sons; but sometimes in the dark recesses of her mind, she couldn't help questioning if that love was a little disproportional.  Maybe that wasn't fair; perhaps he did love both sons equally.  But it did seem that her husband spent more time on a regular basis with Jared on their various car restorations and gave him more attention than he did their other son.  Jared had been born after a difficult delivery; he had come into the world with a hole in his heart that had needed to be repaired.  For a time it wasn't clear if he would even survive.  When he pulled through, though, the two of them had decided to name him after Craig's father.  Perhaps that served to bond the two of them closer together.  But at times Jennifer feared that it also caused Craig to sometimes overlook their other son, although she refused to believe it was intentional.  As she watched the two of them admiring the '37 Ford and making plans for what they would do to revive it to its former glory, however, she silently resolved to discuss that concern with her husband at her first opportunity.

 

"Craig?  Jared?  It's getting late," she called out to them through the screen door.  "You'd best be getting in to dress for supper."

 

Craig nodded, not quite looking forward to hosting the Walkers - and their rebellious nephew - this evening, but knowing that he dare not protest to Jennifer; when she had something in mind to do, it was fruitless to complain about it.  Before their son's death, Will Walker had actually been quite a pleasant conversationalist; the two of them had had a lot in common and had spent many a day engaging in talks over the common fence they shared between them.  After Dale's demise, however, the man had shut up tighter than a drum.  Now it was normally like pulling teeth to engage in any sort of discussion with him.  He wasn't looking forward to all the uncomfortable silences that he knew would follow if he tried to talk to him tonight.  Perhaps it was just as well, then, that this Kinney boy was coming with them.  At least that might liven things up a little.

 

Wiping his hands off on his jeans Craig walked over to open the screen door, immediately smelling Jen's signature beef pot roast and noticing his favorite dessert, lemon meringue pie, through the glass door of the oven.    Taking a moment to kiss his wife on the cheek, he inhaled the distinctive citrus aroma.  "Really going all out for this supper, aren't you?" he observed.  "I thought this was supposed to be something informal."

 

"It is," Jennifer told him.  "I just wanted to make sure their nephew felt welcome."  She glanced over her shoulder as the screen door banged open and Jared came loping in, wiping his hands off on a white rag covered in what appeared to be grease.

 

"Jared...You have grease all over your hands!" she told her son in dismay; even his fingernails were black.  "Couldn't you have waited to tinker with the car later?"

 

Jared smirked as he shrugged.  "What can I say?  It's a sickness, Mom."

 

Jennifer shook her head, not amused by the reply.  To her relief Craig backed her up by growling, "Don't disrespect your mother, Jared, and do as she says.  Go get ready for supper."

 

Jared huffed in irritation, but he knew better than to countermand his father's stern order.  "Yes, Sir," he replied glumly as he left to trudge over to the steps to go upstairs, the rag thrown haphazardly into the garbage along the way.

 

Jennifer sighed as she turned her attention back to the stove.  "You coddle him too much, Craig," she told her husband.  "If you keep doing that, he will never learn to have patience or work very hard for what he wants."

 

Craig walked over to the sink to wash his hands, squirting some of the liquid soap into his palm.  "He does work hard, Jen," he told her.  "He's still a kid; he'll have plenty of time to get mired down in a 9-5 job when he gets a little older.   Let him have a little fun with his cars in the meantime; that's hard work, you know," he pointed out as he dried his hands on a paper towel and threw it in the garbage can hidden under the sink.  "Those cars don't fix themselves; there's a lot involved with restoring them.  And we've made some good money off them, too," he hastened to add.

 

Jennifer stirred the pot roast briefly before she turned to face her husband with barely-concealed exasperation.  "Craig, he's not a kid anymore.  He's nineteen years old and doesn't seem to be worried about his future.  He barely graduated from high school - thanks in no small part to his brother helping to tutor him through it - and except for those old cars he's constantly working on he doesn't seem to have any ambition at all.  He needs to start thinking about how he's going to support himself.  We won't always be here to take care of him."

 

Craig placed his hands on his hips as he blew out a weary breath.  "Jen, let's not start on that again tonight, okay?  As much as I'm not especially looking forward to it, we're going to have company soon and I need to go wash up.  Let's put that issue to rest for some other time."

 

How many times had they discussed this subject? Craig wondered.  He just couldn't understand the urgency with their oldest son.  Perhaps his stance was due in large part to his own parents, who practically pushed him out the door the day after he graduated twenty-five years ago.  His mother and father had been so intent on him rushing into agricultural school right after high school graduation that he had found himself taking summer classes three weeks later.  Even now he could remember how much he had resented not being able to relax and enjoy life a little first, at least for the summer.  That no doubt had a bearing now on why he didn't want to pressure their oldest son into making the same mistake.

 

Jennifer sighed, realizing they were not going to see eye-to-eye on the matter.  "All right.  But Craig, he at least needs to be doing more around the farm while he's not working or going to school; Justin's been forced to take on a lot of extra chores while his brother's been fiddling around with those cars and Justin can't afford to do that.  He really needs to be practicing with Headstrong a lot more before the next race.  And Vic's got his hands full lately with getting the fields ready for planting."  Vic was a big help around their 60 acres of land, but in late spring the biggest push was to get all of their fields plowed and their crops in the ground; that was pretty much a full-time job at the moment.

 

Craig leaned up against the double-kitchen sink as he eyed his determined wife.  "Okay," he finally agreed.  "I'll make sure that Jared takes up some of the slack.  I agree that we can't afford for Headstrong to become stiff from not being ran before next weekend's heats at Red Mile."  The Red Mile was the second oldest harness racing course in the country, having been constructed in 1875 in nearby Lexington.  Windswept Farms was renowned for the quality of its harness racing horses and, due in large part to Justin's skill, they had been quite successful in most races they had entered, so much so that their track winnings had been their main source of income for the past three years and had helped to keep them financially afloat.

 

Justin had learned the skill from Vic, who had been quite a good harness racing jockey in his heyday.  But while Vic had the technical skills, know-how and the right stature to be an effective jockey, Justin seemed to have something special.  He had a unique manner with their horses that they seemed to particularly respond to.  He was extraordinarily gentle with them and spoiled them rotten when Vic wasn't around with red delicious apples he picked from the orchard trees that were sprinkled around the grounds.  He would stroke their manes while he murmured encouraging words to them before he hitched them up to the sulky for practice.

 

Craig had initially scoffed at his son's attempt to be a ‘horse whisperer,' never believing in that sort of sappy hocus-pocus with animals, but he had to grudgingly admit that Justin did seem to have some sort of unique bond with them.  Whatever it was, they rewarded his youngest son by frequently placing in most of the races they ran, most of the time not only placing but winning the whole damn thing.  And their average track speed had actually increased in the past few years since his son had begun practicing with them.

 

He glanced over at Jennifer as she nodded, somewhat appeased.  "Good," she told him.  "He can start early tomorrow with cleaning out the stalls."

 

Craig sighed, already anticipating the reaction that would get from his oldest son.  "Oh, he's going to love that," he replied dryly.

 

"I don't care," Jennifer told him as she stirred the pot roast a few more times with the wooden spoon.  "It has to be done and Justin has his hands full.  Just see that he does it, okay?"

 

Craig brushed his hand through his hair.  "Okay," he agreed as he held his hands up in resignation.  "I'll tell him when I go upstairs to shower and change."  Jennifer nodded in satisfaction as she returned to her meal.

 

---

Same Time - Walker House

"Boy, what are you doing up there?" Will growled at his nephew as he tapped his foot impatiently at the bottom of the steps.  "We are not going to be late for supper!  Get a move on!"  He was already bristling over Brian's lack of productivity earlier.  When he had checked up on the progress of his chores, he had been dismayed to discover that the boy had only managed to milk their cow and sweep out the barn; all the other tasks he had given him had been cast aside and ignored.  He sighed; his nephew obviously had a lot to learn.

 

Sarah walked up to her restless husband and placed a hand on his arm.  "We have plenty of time, Will," she said quietly, attempting to sooth him.  Since their son had died, he always seemed so restless and agitated anymore.  "It's just next door."

 

"That's just part of it," he told her through gritted teeth, trying to adjust the tight collar of his short-sleeved, plaid cotton shirt.  Why did it feel like his neck had gotten thicker lately?  "Our ‘guest' didn't finish all the chores I gave him earlier, Sarah.  I thought I made it plain that either he's going to have to abide by the rules of this house or he will be shipped back up to Pittsburgh.  I don't have time to waste here, and he's got to carry his load."

 

"William...He's only been here a couple of days; let him get used to the routine first.  I'm sure he'll come around."  Sarah still felt obligated to her sister; the least she could do was try and help straighten her sister's son out before just giving up on him.  And truth be told, they needed the help that someone young and strong like Brian could provide them this summer.  The key, though, would be trying to figure out how to motivate him to do it.

 

Will softly snorted his doubt as he looked up to see their subject sauntering casually down the steps as if he hadn't a care in the world.  Brian was wearing a tight-fitting pair of black jeans, black loafers and a clingy type of bronze-colored shirt that seemed at least one size too small for him; he could see the taut definition of the boy's chest outlined through the fabric.  The entire outfit was totally out of place on a farm, but something told him this boy didn't own any other type of clothing - nor would he care if it was inappropriate.

 

"I'm glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to join us," he called out scornfully to his nephew as Brian walked down to join them.  "Speaking of busy schedules, what exactly did you do today, Brian?" he drilled him.

 

"Will..."

 

"No, Sarah, I want my question answered," her husband countered.

 

Brian glared at his uncle as he tightly grasped the round knob of the step's railing.  "What is this?  An interrogation?  I did what you told me to do; I did my chores."  He said the last word as if he were eating something distasteful.  The only good part about his ‘chores' had been the blond assistant ‘milkman' who had come out of virtually nowhere to help him take care of Checkers earlier.  That was the only thing that had been even remotely pleasant about today.  He scowled, thinking about how long it had taken him merely to clean the dirt out from underneath his fingernails; already they were starting to get worn and chipped from doing his ‘manual labor.'  For one brief moment he reflected upon whether he would be better off to have been sent to jail after all, but he dismissed that as stupid; despite his abhorrence for all things ‘agricultural' in nature, it still beat having to sit in a cell twenty-three hours a day for the next decade.

 

He turned his attention back to his uncle as Will corrected him, "No, you did NOT do your chores; there's several tasks you seemed to have overlooked - or should I say ignored?  I thought I had made it clear that this was not going to be a walk in the park here.  I need HELP on this farm, Brian; not some prima ballerina who's afraid to get his hands dirty."  He felt his wife squeeze his arm in a subtle attempt to tell him to back off, but he wouldn't have it.  "You're either going to have to commit yourself to doing what I need done and contribute to the upkeep here or you can just pack your bags now and go back where you came from.  Which is it going to be?  The choice is up to you."

 

Sarah bit her lip, torn between not alienating her sister's son and knowing that Will was right; Brian wasn't fulfilling his part of their agreement.  If he kept on just sliding by in an attempt to do just enough to get by, it would not only anger her husband but also create a lot of stress on all of them, not to mention that Joan would be extremely disappointed not only in her son but also in her for not being able to do what she had promised to do.  "Can we discuss this after supper, Will?" she finally asked softly.  "It doesn't have to be resolved right now."

 

But Will stood there defiantly and succeeded in blocking Brian's way.  "Yes, it does," he insisted as he stared unflinchingly at his nephew who was a few inches taller than he was.  "I'm waiting for your promise to keep your word, Boy; and this time it'd better be a sincere one."

 

Brian bristled at the condescension.  "I told you before, Uncle...my name is NOT Boy!  I am NOT from a fucking Tarzan movie!  If you expect ME to treat you with respect, I expect the same!"

 

"Will...Brian," Sarah beseeched, her eyes pleading as she moved to stand between them.  Why did things always seem to spiral out of control with these two?  "Please..."

 

Will turned to his wife, his jaw set and eyes dark with irritation.  "Wait outside, Sarah.  We'll be along shortly."  She hesitated, the concern evident on her face as he tilted his head toward the door.  "Do as I say," he said with deadly calm.  She paused for a moment in indecision before, giving Brian a slight smile of reassurance, she nodded in agreement and turned to leave.  Will waited several seconds more until he could hear his wife stepping through the back door before he turned his attention back to his insolent house guest.

 

He exhaled a deep breath in an attempt to calm down as he stared into his nephew's stubborn face, feeling furious over Brian's lack of cooperation but also just a little mortified by his own behavior.  He didn't always used to be so difficult to get along with.  He knew his son's untimely, unexpected death a few years ago had changed him in ways he wasn't always proud of.  It had made him cynical, bitter, angry, and a stranger sometimes to others, even to himself.  But this kid succeeded in intensifying those emotions in him and seemed to almost delight in goading him at every turn.  Was his reaction, though, due to how much Brian reminded him of his own son?  Both were fiercely strong-willed and independent to a fault.

 

He shook his head slightly in admission.  That probably had a lot to do with it.  But it still didn't mitigate the fact that his nephew wasn't holding up his end of the bargain.  He sighed as Brian remained standing by the staircase, rigid and silent.

 

Trying the reasonable approach this time, he began, "Look...Brian.  I need help around here - a lot of help.  And I'm sure you don't want to spend the next ten years in jail, which is what's going to happen if you don't start cooperating more.  I thought we had reached an agreement over supper last night that you would keep your promise to help out here.  Sarah and I can't afford to have an extra mouth to feed all summer long without you doing your share; we aren't rich by any means and need all the income we can get.  Surely you can understand that?"  Perhaps he couldn't, Will thought silently.  Perhaps this boy had been coddled way too much by his parents to know what it felt like to live from month to month, although from what little interaction he had experienced with Joan and Jack Kinney, they didn't exactly seem like the nurturing or extravagant types.

 

Brian pursed his lips together tightly; just the thought of spending all summer long doing dirty, filthy chores with four-legged beasts who did nothing but eat, sleep, and shit did not sound like a wonderful experience to him.  But it was preferable to the alternative, though, as much as it pained him.  His hand tightened on the smooth, wooden knob of the staircase as he turned his head to look out at the front yard, noticing one of the tall but spindly trees slowly blowing in the gentle, early summer breeze as he considered his alternatives.

 

Brian turned his attention back to his uncle after several seconds and held his hands up in surrender.  "Okay, okay," he grudgingly grumbled.  "Truce.  I'll do the damn chores."

 

His uncle rolled his eyes; one step forward, two steps backward.  "I told you about the profanity..."

 

Brian brushed his hand through his hair in agitation.  "Fine, whatever," he told him with a huff.  "Can we go now?"  Anything to get away from this boring conversation...

"Will?  Brian?  Please, let's get moving," Sarah entreated through the back screen door, somewhat relieved not to hear some sort of heated argument arising from inside the house.  "We'll be late if we don't leave right away, and that would be inconsiderate."

 

"Yeah, Uncle, that would be inconsiderate," Brian agreed sarcastically.  "Are we done here?"

 

Will shook his head in aggravation as he advised, "Apparently we are," he replied, not rising to the bait this time.  "But I'll expect you downstairs tomorrow at 6:00 for breakfast; better get a good night's sleep tonight after we get back - you're going to need it."  With that, he turned and began to walk determinedly down the hallway toward the door.  "Let's go, Brian; unless you want to stay and clean out the chicken coop instead."

 

Yeah...right...working up to his elbows in chicken shit, or the chance to get to know the Taylor boys a lot better...At least that was certainly a no-brainer of a choice.  Unbuttoning one more of his buttons on the satiny shirt, he paused for a couple of seconds in front of an oval-framed mirror to admire himself.  Hurriedly smoothing back some tousled-looking hair, he nodded in satisfaction.  "Hope you won't fight over me, boys," he said with a smirk as he turned to follow his uncle out the back door.

 

---

 

Five Minutes Later - Taylor House

Jennifer gratefully smiled at her youngest son as he came into the kitchen, his blond hair a little darker while it was still damp from his shower.  "Justin, would you please go in the dining room and set the table?  Jared and your father aren't down yet, and I'm afraid the Walkers will be here any minute now."  She glanced over the door at their clock, noting the time; a couple of minutes before six.  There was still a lot to do, but at the moment, though, she had her hands full transferring the beef pot roast to a large serving platter while keeping an eye on the loaf of homemade bread she had warming in the oven along with the pie.

 

Justin nodded as he walked over to the buffet in the adjacent dining room to open the top drawer, knowing his mother was wanting him to get out their ‘good' china they reserved only for company; any other time they would be eating out of the more inexpensive, everyday plates kept in the kitchen cupboard to the right of the sink.

 

As he began to place a supper and bread plate in front of each chair, along with silverware and a crystal beverage glass, he thought back to his meeting earlier in the barn with Brian and felt his forehead breaking out into a light sweat of anxiety over their impending reunion.  He hurriedly wiped his brow with the back of his hand as he finished setting the table, realizing how relatively intimate the table was, even though it could seat eight.  Hell, he knew it wouldn't have mattered if it sat twenty-eight; he would still find himself feeling way too close when Brian showed up.

 

He glanced over at the hallway as he heard footsteps lumbering down the stairs; by the heavy-handed sound he knew it had to be Jared.  Sure enough, a few seconds later his older brother appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and smirking at him.

 

"Doing your assignment for Home EC Class, Squirt?" he teased with a lazy smile.  Justin noticed his brother was dressed up more than normal for supper, instantly ascertaining the reason why and finding that he didn't like it.  Typically Jared would come down to supper (late of course) wearing the same scruffy jeans he had been wearing before, along with a simple, plain, form-fitting tee shirt he had rescued from wherever he had last thrown it, or some shirt with an old car on it that resembled something out of American Graffiti.  Today, however, he was wearing one of his dress shirts that was reserved for special occasions.  It was a dark gray shirt with subtle off-white pinstripes; he had paired it with linen slacks in a slightly darker shade of gray, along with his favorite belt that had a buckle shaped like a sterling silver '57 Chevy on it.  He was wearing his black leather Wrangler boots and his black and silver bolo tie.  Justin had to admit - he was dressed to kill and he knew it wasn't because he was trying to impress the Walkers.  No, his brother was after someone much more appealing to him - to both of them.  Damn him...

Why should he be surprised, though?  Jared always did want whatever HE wanted as they grew up - whether it was the same toy, the same type of pet, or their parents' approval and attention.  And normally to his consternation he got it, too.  It was just that this time - this one time when he had found another boy that he was attracted to and really wanted to get to know and hang out with, this one time when he found his thoughts preoccupied with their new neighbor - he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jared might by some miracle either look the other way or find someone else to occupy his time and attention with.  Now, however, as he looked at his tall, lanky brother dressed so impeccably, he knew that wasn't going to happen, just as he had feared earlier.

 

"No," Justin replied huffily.  "I'm helping out Mom because she asked me to; maybe you should try it sometime."  He wiped his hands off self-consciously on his somewhat faded jeans, glancing down at his pair of clean but well-loved sneakers that he had slipped on after his shower and feeling decidedly like a poor second cousin.  His royal blue, V-necked sweater was still vibrant in color after multiple washings - thanks in large part to his mother's almost obsessive drive to keep their colors and whites separated in the laundry - but he still felt distinctly bland compared to Jared's appearance.  He could feel some of his self-confidence wavering just a bit as his brother stood there looking at him with an expression that felt like he could see right through him.

 

His brother shrugged as he replied, "She didn't ask me to help her; she asked YOU.  You're the domestic one.  My job will be to entertain our guests."

 

Justin walked over to his brother with a snort.  "Yeah, one in particular no doubt.  What makes you think he'll want to be entertained?"

 

Jared laughed softly at the question and at the hurt, defensive look on his brother's face.  "Do you see the way he looked at me yesterday?  Oh, he'll want to be entertained, all right.  And Mom and Dad always taught me to be polite when company comes."  He affectionately ruffled his brother's hair as Justin glared at him, flushing at the double entendre and imagining all sorts of things he would like to do himself with one particular guest that was arriving.

 

The only problem was, however, obviously he wasn't the only one that felt that way and what Jared normally wanted Jared normally got.  He sighed in displeasure as he stared into his brother's bemused face.  "Yeah...Right," he muttered.  His heart threatened to stop just then as he heard someone knocking on their back door; anyone who had been to their home before knew that they never used the front entrance to come and go, so it must be their next-door neighbors.

 

Jared smiled widely at his brother.  "And right on time," he said.  "Have to go greet our guests," he sing-songed as he brushed past Justin, making sure to nudge his shoulder just a little too roughly for it to be a coincidence.  He took just a second to whisper in his brother's ear, "Better get the napkins out, too, Ms. Homo Homemaker," before he left a fuming Justin standing near the dining room entrance.

 

"Fuck you, Jared," Justin muttered as his brother laughed softly and walked toward the kitchen.  "We'll just see who gets to ‘entertain' our guests."  He stood still as he listened to his mother extending a cordial welcome to Mr. and Mrs. Walker, his heart hammering in his chestas he heard her then addressing Brian.  So he IS with them, he confirmed with part excitement, part apprehension.  He knew any second now they would all be walking toward him into the dining room, and he paused for a moment, wondering if he should just stay put or nonchalantly meander into the kitchen to have a first-hand look at the boy he had encountered earlier.

 

His curiosity getting the better of him, as well as his worry over his brother getting the upper hand, he started to walk the few steps into the kitchen.  His eyes widened as they instantly honed in on Brian like a heat-seeking missile.  If he thought the boy was gorgeous before at the barn, he was downright magnificent all cleaned up.  The jeans he had on seemed to have been custom made for his long, lean body, molding to his legs like a denim glove.  They seemed to go on for miles and miles, ending in a pair of black, leather loafers.  And the bronze-colored shirt, unbuttoned around his neck, complimented the hint of tan skin that was tantalizingly revealed to his admiring glance.

 

His face darkened into a frown, however, as he observed Jared walk right up to Brian and whisper something in his ear before Brian grinned back at him.  When he smiled, Justin noticed, Brian's entire face transformed into something almost predatory in nature; he observed his eyes light up with a particular sort of gleam as he whispered something back to his brother in return and Jared nodded.  His heart threatened to stop as just then Brian's gaze lifted over to meet his and one corner of his mouth turned up into a knowing, lazy smile as he looked over at him.

 

Justin lingered back a few feet, uncertain as to what to do, before that dilemma was taken away from him.  "Justin?  You remember the Walkers, of course," Jennifer acknowledged him as she turned to include him in their little group.  As he nodded at their two neighbors (purposefully avoiding staring over at Brian again as he yearned to do), he noticed that his father had also chosen to hang back away from the others; he was presently standing against the sink facing them with what appeared to be a shot of bourbon in his hand.  Justin knew that his father only drank when he was nervous or agitated about something, so it wasn't surprising that he was doing it now.  His father had made no bones about not wanting to play host tonight.  "Yes," he found his voice enough to say politely.  "Good to see you again, Mr. Walker, Mrs. Walker."

 

"You, too, Justin," Sarah told him warmly as Will simply nodded curtly to acknowledge him.  Sarah smiled over at Jennifer as she explained, "Actually, I wanted to thank Justin again for his help earlier with Checkers."

 

Jennifer replied, "Checkers?  I don't understand.  Did she get loose again?"   It was a common occurrence around their two farms for the Walkers' cow to wander over onto part of their property; in fact, normally if one of the boys or Craig saw her, they would simply herd her back over to her stall without even notifying Sarah or Will that it had happened.  Jennifer peered over at her son for an explanation, noticing what appeared to be a rosy-colored flush on his face; was Justin coming down with some sort of fever all of a sudden?

 

"No, not that," Sarah explained.  "I ran into him earlier near our barn; he had been helping show Brian how to milk our cow.  You know city slickers," she teased.  "It takes them a while to get the hang of that type of thing."

 

Justin thought he heard a dubious snort coming from his brother over the real reason why he was over at the barn, but by the time he looked over at him Jared had plastered an inscrutable-looking expression back on his face.  He had an idea, though, that his brother would be interrogating him later about it.

 

"Oh, I don't know," Brian volunteered from nearby.  "You'd be surprised what sorts of skills you pick up that can be transferable to other tasks," he added as he peered over meaningfully at the youngest of the Taylor boys; a blush appeared on Justin's cheeks in response, along with a look that clearly pleaded with Brian not to divulge what ‘other' sort of activity he was referring to.

 

Brian blessedly decided not to elaborate further on his comment to Justin's relief.  Despite standing next to Jared, he was finding his own thoughts presently preoccupied by the younger of the two brothers, a blond with eyes the color of a calm, blue sky and an almost impossible beauty.  The brilliance of the blue sweater Justin was wearing seemed to make his eyes even more vibrant, and he found himself momentarily entranced by them.

 

While he was attracted to Jared's assertiveness and lack of hesitation in offering to extend his own version of ‘Southern hospitality' to him later, there was still something about this younger brother that was quite compelling.  Perhaps it had more to do with the thrill of the hunt and the pursuit of inexperienced, fresh prey rather than feasting on an easier target.  Justin had certainly proven himself to be curious as well as interested in him - he was certain of that much after their encounter at the barn earlier - but he had a feeling that it would take some more convincing on his part before the younger Taylor brother succumbed to his ‘charms.'  As his eyes met Jared's however, and he thought about how similar they both were, he decided they both had their appeal.  Choosing between them wasn't necessarily a bad dilemma to have, he thought, as a smug sort of smile began to spread across his lips at the notion.  The only question on his mind at that moment, then, as he peered over at the reticent blond and then back to the older, wiser brother, was the same question that had occurred to him yesterday:  which one he would fuck first - the all-too-willing, dark-haired, 'bad-boy' older brother who was undoubtedly well-versed in all the intricacies of sex, or the inexperienced but beautiful blond, younger brother who would be oh-so-trainable and pliant.  Decisions, Decisions...

 

Justin had to turn his gaze away from their cocky-sounding, wisecracking visitor as he felt a quick surge of heat rising across his face and his hormone-driven cock twitching in interest.  Just the sultry sound of Brian's voice caused all sorts of wondrous visions to emerge in his head, some of which he was personally familiar with but most of which he was not.  He inwardly cursed his involuntary reaction and naivety, noticing that Jared actually had the gall to wink at Brian as they looked at each other again, even though his brother had no idea exactly what Brian was referring to.  He had made a point not to even discuss his earlier encounter with Brian to anyone.  Now everyone knew about it - at least part of it.  Fuck.

"You were over at the Walker farm today?" his father asked him as he placed the shot of bourbon down next to the kitchen sink.  "You were supposed to finish up painting the fence, Justin, not while away precious time goofing off over at the Walker farm."

 

Justin huffed.  "I was NOT goofing off," he told him father as he eyed him defensively.  "I was working on the part of our fence closest to their barn and noticed that Brian was having trouble figuring out how to milk her, that's all.  I thought he could use some help.  And I still got the rest of the painting, done, too."  That was more work than Jared could say HE had done, he couldn't help thinking to himself.  But somehow if he said it aloud he knew his father would stand up for him; most of the time it seemed like Jared walked on water as far as their father was concerned.

 

One side of Brian's lips curled up in amusement as he stared over at his earlier bovine helper.  He nodded as he told everyone present, "Yeah, Justin was very informative."   He smiled broadly as he was rewarded with Justin turning an even darker shade of red; on his normally pale skin, it looked quite attractive as well as dramatic.  He liked the fact that this younger boy was so easily goaded and wondered what other reactions he could produce in him.

 

Jennifer watched the entire exchange between Brian and her youngest son with close scrutiny, noticing how Justin had turned red in reaction to what Brian was saying.  She suspected there was something else going on between the two of them, but at the moment it was impossible to tell what it was.  Not wanting the awkward moment to stretch out any further, she asked, "Why don't you all move into the dining room and I'll get our supper?"  She held her hand out toward the other room in invitation.  "Boys, please show our guests to their seats and I'll be right in.  Craig, would you help me collect everything, please?"

 

Jared walked over and grasped Brian's arm near his wrist.  "This way, Brian," he said as he turned and started to lead the other boy toward the dining room.   "I'll show you where to sit."

 

 Justin sighed softly in resignation and fumed over his brother's presumptuousness; he was too polite to ignore their other guests, however.  "Mr. and Mrs. Walker," he said with a nod as he followed Brian and Jared toward the nearby dining room, unable to help noticing how Brian's clothes moved so fluidly with his body.  Stop it, he told himself sternly.  It isn't going to happen...

---

 

 

Jennifer waited until the others were out of earshot before she turned to face her husband.  "Craig, will you please quit being so hard on him?"  She had wanted to hold off on this topic until later, but she found that she couldn't hold her tongue anymore.

 

Craig looked at her in befuddlement.  "Who?"

 

Using two oven mitts, Jennifer took the squat loaf of homemade honey wheat bread out of the oven and placed it on a medium-sized platter that matched her good dinnerware.  "Justin, that's who," she told him as she reached down to retrieve the pie and place it next to the bread so it would have time to cool before dessert and coffee were served.

 

Craig frowned.  "I wasn't being hard on him."

 

Jennifer shushed him, afraid the others would hear.  "Please keep your voice down.  Yes, you were.  He spent all day out in that hot sun making sure the fence was completely painted while you and Jared went gallivanting into town to pick up yet another jalopy to work on, and then you scolded him when he tried to help our neighbors out."

 

Craig couldn't believe it.  "First of all, those ‘jalopies' as you call them help make a tidy little profit around here when the horses aren't performing up to speed.  And second of all, I think Justin was more interested in checking out the new neighbor boy than helping to teach him how to milk a cow.  I happen to think that boy is a bad influence.  I mean, you heard why he's staying over there!  He's not here as a reward for being an upstanding kid, Jen; he's here because his own parents can't control him!   Do you really want Justin hanging around with someone like that?"

 

Jennifer sighed.  Perhaps Craig was right - she had heard just enough to know that this Brian boy had been in trouble back in Pittsburgh, and the last thing she wanted was for her son to get drawn into some kind of trouble along with him.  But then again, she trusted Justin's judgment and he was almost a man.  Where did you draw the line between smothering a son and protecting him?  Was it possible Craig was telling the truth?  That he was merely concerned over what sort of influence Brian might have on their vulnerable, inexperienced son, and he wasn't really showing favoritism?  She wanted to think so, but...

 

"Maybe not," she conceded as he nodded in agreement.  "But I also know I trust our son, Craig, and he's not a little boy anymore.  He's almost an adult.  He has to make his own decisions - and mistakes.  Besides, it was just a brief encounter at the Walkers' barn.  I hardly think the other boy is going to corrupt him during that time."

 

"Corrupt...That's a unique way of putting it," Craig muttered.  "I still don't like it," he decided.

 

Jennifer glanced over toward the dining room, knowing their guests would be wondering what was taking them so long.  "We'll take about this some more later," she assured him, determined not to drop the subject.  "Can you bring the pot roast and vegetables?  I'll grab the bread and get the salad out of the fridge."

 

Craig pursed his lips tightly together, feeling they had a lot more to discuss but also knowing that it would have to wait.  "Okay," he told her.  "But let's not draw this meal out," he told her quietly as they collected the items for their dinner and turned toward the dining room.  "The last thing I want is to spend all evening with a woman who doesn't know when to quit talking and a guy whose teeth you have to pull out just to get him to string more than a couple of words together."

 

Jennifer sighed.  "Come on," she told him, choosing not to counter his statement.  "Let's just make the best of it."

 

---

 

 

In the dining room, Jared could barely keep the smile of triumph off his face.  He had managed to steer Brian to the empty space right next to his own seat; Justin had been relegated to sitting across from them, next to the Walkers.  He knew that their mother and father would choose to sit at either end as they normally did when company came to visit.  He used his advantage at the moment while Mrs. Walker engaged in polite conversation with his brother to steal stealthy, admiring glances over at his dining companion.  He had been quickly intrigued by Brian the moment he had seen him out by the road yesterday, but now that he could get more up close and personal with the object of his appreciation, he was even more captivated.  The boy was probably the hottest thing on two long, lean legs he had ever had the pleasure of observing.  He was a few inches taller than he was, and his hair was slightly lighter with glints of reddish tint.  He had a sort of Romanesque profile - strong and angular, with long eyelashes and hints of gold specks in hazel eyes.  And the shirt he was wearing left little to the imagination - it clung to his flat chest and stomach like a tight glove.

 

His only disappointment was that he couldn't view Brian from the waist down.  That didn't mean he couldn't do a little tactile exploring, however, as, keeping his eyes on the Walkers from across the table, he slowly reached his left hand over and gave Brian's thigh an exploratory squeeze.

 

He could feel a slight jolt under his touch at the unexpected contact before he, too, felt Brian's hand slowly trailing a path up his upper leg, only he didn't stop at his thigh.  He bit his lower lip to hold back a moan that threatened to escape his mouth as he felt the other boy's right hand curling around his cock through the slacks he was wearing and giving it a possessive squeeze.  As Brian began to knead it like some delectable loaf of bread, despite his own growing desire he had to take his own hand to firmly remove the other boy's, knowing he would fucking come in his pants if he kept that up.

 

From his place across from the table, Justin's mind was trying to stay focused on what Mrs. Walker was saying about how hot and dry the weather had been so far this year, but his gaze was concentrated instead on his brother and their other guest sitting next to him.  Both of them had these strange expressions on their faces that he couldn't comprehend what they meant, but neither boy was looking at each other; in fact, if he didn't know better he would swear they were purposely trying NOT to catch each other's attention.  Just what was going on?

 

As his mother and father came into the room carrying the dishes for their supper, his gaze remained on Brian as the other boy's eyes caught his and he flushed once more in reaction.  It was as if Brian's eyes could pierce all the way down into his very soul, to his innermost thoughts and emotions, and he suddenly felt barer than a newborn baby fresh out of delivery.

 

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Jennifer said with an apologetic smile as she finally sat down at one end of the table, placing the platter containing the freshly-baked bread and the large bowl of salad down in front of her; Craig followed her lead by sitting down at the opposite end of the table and setting the oval platter of beef pot roast and vegetables down in front of the Walkers.

 

Sarah smiled back at her neighbor.  She had always liked Jennifer for her kindness as well as her frequent overtures to help out any way she could.  She was always having Justin take some honey over to her or some extra cookies she had baked for them, as well as allowing both boys to pitch in at their farm whenever they were in a bind; Justin, however, often wound up being the more giving of the two.  "That smells sensational," she told Jennifer, nodding toward the pot roast swimming in thick gravy with potato chunks, carrots, celery, onion, and mushrooms.

 

Jennifer beamed at the compliment.  "Thank you - I hope you like it.  It's one of Craig's favorites - isn't it?"

 

Craig nodded, just a wisp of a polite smile on his face.  He still wasn't thrilled to be entertaining their next-door neighbors - much less their rebellious nephew.  Silently he hoped that his wife would abide by his wishes not to prolong their visit tonight.  He had already had a long day and was eagerly anticipating going to bed early.  He knew he and Jared would both want to start working on their latest project, and it would have to be after his oldest son had done his chores around the farm.  "Yeah," he told them.  "It's one of her best recipes."

 

Jennifer peered over at her husband to say, "Craig, if you'll hand the pot roast over to Will, we can start passing the other dishes around."  As her husband handed the platter to their guest, she noticed all the empty glasses filled only with ice and realized she had forgotten something.  "Jared," she addressed his older son, feeling Justin had helped enough already, "I forgot the iced tea pitcher.  Will you go get it please?"

 

Jared reluctantly scooted back from his chair with a nod, leaving Brian momentarily alone.  As he left the room, Brian watched from across the table as Justin was handed the meat platter from his Aunt Sarah.  He observed in fascination as the blond-haired boy deftly took the serving spoon and with long, graceful fingers placed some meat and vegetables onto his plate before passing it to his father.  As he let go of the dish, Justin's own eyes rose once more to meet his and he could almost feel this palpable, electric shock running between them.  He had to break off their gaze to place a small amount of meat and some carrots - no high carb potatoes, however - onto his own plate before passing the plate back over to Mrs. Taylor as an intriguing idea began to take form.  As the rest of the dishes were passed around, he slumped down ever so slightly in his chair, just enough to slide his foot out of its loafer before he slowly extended his leg out from under the table toward his goal.

 

Justin gasped in startled shock a few seconds later and dropped the platter of homemade bread onto the sage-green tablecloth with a decided thud as he felt something probing his cock and balls from under the table; his eyes flew open in comprehension as he realized it was someone's foot, someone's toes actually groping him!  His heart began to pound furiously as everyone looked over at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

 

"Justin?  Are you all right?" Jennifer asked as she reached over to grasp his wrist, alarmed to feel her son's pulse racing furiously.  Luckily the bread had landed back on top of its platter, none the worse for wear as she looked over at her son's flushed face.  "Justin?  What it is, Honey?"

 

Justin dared to look over at Brian and discovered the other boy staring at him with an amused smirk on his face.  As Jared returned with the pitcher and set it down in the middle of the table, his eyes narrowed at the odd look passing between his younger brother and Brian, while Justin found himself growing both confused as well as irritated by their guest.  Just what did he want with him?  What did he want from him?  First he makes a point of sitting next to his brother, whispering God-knows-what into his ear and leering at him as if he were the tastiest item on the menu, then the moment he's gone he's playing footsie with him under the table?

 

As he pondered what it all meant, Justin realized to his embarrassment that everyone was still looking over at him for an answer, including Brian (as if he didn't already know the reason why); Jared was merely staring over at him with a perplexed look on his face as if he had missed the punch line of some joke.  Pursing his lips tightly together, he took a deep breath and blew it out before he raced to come up with a plausible explanation.  It would serve the cocky - no, Justin, don't even go there, he told himself - the arrogant boy right if he just told them all what he had done, but somehow confessing to the Walkers and especially his own parents that he had cried out because one of their supper guests was fondling his cock and balls with his sock-clad foot didn't seem like the best explanation at the moment.  It would serve his brother right, though, if he knew he wasn't the only fish in the fucking sea when it came to Brian.  He couldn't help thinking, though, that this other boy was merely toying with both him AND his brother and he didn't like being made to feel like just a ‘convenience.'

 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled apologetically.  "The platter was hotter than I thought it would be."

 

Jennifer frowned but kept silent; she had brought the platter in herself without using any oven mitts and knew that was a lie.  But why would Justin make that up?  Once more she felt like a drama was being acted out right in front of her eyes but she wasn't privy to the script; everyone else, however, seemed to take her son's explanation at face value as they all continued to pass around each part of their supper until everyone had their fill.  The last thing Justin saw on Brian's face before they all began to eat their meal was the same sort of bemused, lazy smile he had worn previously as he cast his eyes downward and began to eat, hoping the heat he felt on his face would soon disappear.

 

---

 

 

For the next thirty minutes, the time passed fairly pleasantly as the adults engaged in polite conversation about ‘non-controversial' subjects, such as the dry weather, the poor price crops had been getting the past few years, the Walkers' chickens' output of eggs this year, and the upcoming county fair.  All the time the three boys engaged in a silent conversation of their own, Justin and Brian exchanging sneaking glances at each other when the other thought they weren't looking, while Jared merely ogled Brian openly, occasionally casting what seemed to Justin to be an outright flirting gesture his way.  It wasn't as if his brother was batting his eyelashes at him or something lesbian in nature like that, but it was more the way his eyes lingered on Brian much too long to merely be a polite smile of interest.

 

All the time, Justin was torn between half-praying, half-hoping that Brian would or wouldn't attempt another round of "footsie" with him under the table, finally deciding it was better that he didn't for fear he would be unable to hold back his response to it.  Merely being in the same room with the other boy was making his insides go crazy with wild dreams of fantasies the two of them could share, and when Brian had actually touched him before...He closed his eyes tightly together as if that would force his mind to think of something else, but it didn't work.  His and Brian's all-too-close encounter in the barn and the other boy's stunt a little earlier had seen to that.

 

"Justin?"

 

He opened his eyes at the sound of his mother calling him.  Damn it.  "Yes?"

 

"Justin, maybe you'd better excuse yourself and go lie down," Jennifer said as she reached over to place one hand on her son's forehead.  He didn't appear to feel hot, though.  "You don't seem feverish, but I really think you're coming down with something."

 

Justin glared over at his brother as he definitely heard a snort this time.  "Something funny?"

 

"Yeah," Jared replied, clearing enjoying his brother's discomfort and seeing right through what his actual problem was.  "You are.  Mom's right - you'd better go lie down, Squirt," he said with a smirk, "to rest." 

Fuck you came to mind again as an appropriate response to his brother, but Justin bit his tongue as he turned to his mother to say firmly, "I'm fine.  Maybe just a little tired after painting the fence all day."  He stared pointedly over at his brother making his insinuation clear, but Jared merely curled a corner of his mouth up and shrugged.

 

Brian was enjoying himself immensely as he watched the Taylor brothers' badminton show.  He had to give Justin credit - the boy was easily embarrassed but he still didn't back down from his older brother who reminded him of himself in a lot of ways.

 

Jennifer bit her lip, still worried over her son's odd behavior, but decided maybe Justin was right - he was merely tired. She glanced down at her son's plate, noting with some relief that at least his appetite hadn't been affected; he had polished off two pieces of homemade bread with butter and some of her honey, most of his salad, and every bite of his pot roast.  "More bread, Honey?" she asked softly with a smile.  "Or more meat?"

 

Just then he felt another probe to his cock with the same talented foot as before and he bolted upright in his seat with another startled gasp.  As everyone stared over at him - except Brian, of course, who purposely looked down into his plate as he stabbed a piece of his own meat - Justin hastily replied, "No...No more meat; I can't handle anymore right now."  He looked over at Brian, who had an amused grin on his face as he rose from the table with the growing beginnings of an impressive woody starting to form.

 

He cursed his body's reaction under his breath as he looked anywhere else but directly ahead.  "Uh...Maybe I should excuse myself," he told his mother.  "Would you mind?"

 

Jennifer cast a scolding glance over at Craig as if to say see, I told you he was working too hard before she turned to Justin with a concerned look on her face.  "Of course, Honey.  You go ahead and get some rest."

 

Justin quickly scooted back from the table and picked up his empty plate and glass, holding it down in front of him and feeling like he couldn't get out of there soon enough.  "Mr. and Mrs. Walker," he mumbled as they nodded at him.

 

"I hope you feel better soon, Justin," Sarah told him with a smile.  "Come over to the house sometime soon and I'll fix you some of my homemade blackberry cobbler that you love, okay?  That'll make you feel better."

 

As he nodded and quickly turned to go, he unexpectedly heard Brian call after him, "Yeah, Justin, you really must come," along with a soft chuckle and with the heat rising up to his neck and beyond, he scurried down the hallway.

 

---

 

 

A few minutes later, he was outside, leaning his back against the large maple tree located on the side of the farmhouse and savoring the coolness he always found there.  The roughness of the bark against his shirt felt soothing somehow, comforting.  It might have had more to do with being away from the source of his awkwardness, however, than the familiar security of the tree trunk that he had climbed countless times before when he was younger.  He would be the first to admit that his experience with other boys when it came to sex was woefully lacking compared to his older brother's; in fact, it was pretty non-existent apart from a few shared blow jobs and kisses.  But he suspected that even his brother's sexual appetite was nothing compared to that of their dinner guest.  The older boy frankly scared the shit out of him by the way he made him feel merely by being in his presence.  Of course it didn't help that it seemed like Brian was softly mocking his inexperience every time he looked at him - and with his touches, the way he smelled, the way he looked...

 

He let out a long, ragged breath, relieved in one way to be out of the house but also disappointed that he had acted like a scared little child in front of him.  "Shit," he muttered as he closed his eyes in mortification and sighed.

 

---

 

Meanwhile, inside the house, the tug of war between Jared and Brian waged on, both boys occasionally sliding their hands over to the other boy's body as they secretly explored and mapped out each other's contours and angles while the adults conversed quietly among themselves and the supper began to wind down.  Brian, attracted to both Taylor boys, decided that the most convenient target was the best one at the moment as he took advantage of the other boy's proximity to silently broadcast his wishes for exactly what he wanted to do with him later.

 

Jared was all too willing to encourage his overtures.  "Uh, Brian, my dad and I like to work on old cars.  Want to see the '37 Ford we picked up earlier today?  It's out in the barn."

 

Brian smiled widely, knowing that wasn't all he wanted to check out.  "Sure," he said to Jared's delight.   "I'd really like to see it," he said huskily, making no pretense about just what he was referring to.

 

Jared leered at him in a mirror imitation of Brian's own expression as his mother began, "Jared..."

 

"Come on, Mom, I just want to show it to him, that's all."  Brian had to keep from snickering at his response as the older Taylor brother looked over at his dad for reinforcement.

 

"Let them go, Jen," Craig encouraged her, even though he still didn't quite trust the Kinney boy.  He figured, though, that all this talk about crops and the latest farming utensils wouldn't hold much interest for either boy.

 

Jennifer sighed in resignation and nodded.  "All right, but don't get your hands all greasy again," she warned him.  "And don't keep Brian out there forever; the Walkers have to get up early tomorrow just like we do."

 

"Okay, Mom," Jared told her as he and Brian quickly pushed back from their chairs and rose to leave before anyone else put up a protest.

 

"Uh...Jared...Our guests?"

 

"Oh.  Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Walker," Jared replied almost automatically, knowing what a stickler his mother was for common courtesy.  The two neighbors nodded at him as he rushed out of the room with their nephew, hardly able to contain his excitement over finally being alone with Brian.

 

---

 

 

Justin heard the back screen door opening and in the fading daylight poked his head around to see who it was.  Were the Walkers leaving with Brian?  He found that idea disappointing, even though he knew it had been his choice to run off like some little sissy.  Even though it was dusk now, he had no trouble making out who the people were and his eyes narrowed in dismay - it was his brother; his brother and Brian.  Unobserved, he held his breath as the two laughing boys walked companionably down the narrow concrete walkway together, side by side, toward the back, white wooden gate as Jared swung it open to exit.  Just as he suspected, he watched as Jared led Brian toward the barn, probably with the pretense of showing him his latest restoration project.  Something told him, though, that Jared had other ‘hobbies' in mind at the moment.  There was only one way to find out for sure, however.

 

He waited until they had entered the open double doors of the large, wooden barn before he rose from his place behind the large tree and followed the same path as the other two boys.  Taking care to keep to the side of the doors so neither boy could see him, he quietly crept closer and closer, hearing murmuring coming from inside.

 

As he got nearer to the doors, he could begin to hear what they were saying and although not surprised, it filled him with dismay.  He scooted closer to the doors as he listened intently, clearly making out his brother's voice - the one he used when he was trying to get something he really wanted.

 

"You are so fucking hot," Jared was murmuring huskily, his voice an octave lower than it normally was.  "You were making me so hard in there."

 

Justin held his breath as he molded himself to the exterior wall of the barn, making sure he couldn't be seen by the two boys inside; he felt like he was a witness to some gruesome accident scene, feeling uncomfortable standing there as he clearly eavesdropped on something personal but unable to turn away, either.  He held himself perfectly still as he heard Brian speaking this time, the boy's velvety, sultry voice making his pulse speed up in response, even though he wasn't talking to him.

 

"I'm going to fuck you so hard your eyes will roll to the back of your head," he growled at Jared.  "You won't be able to walk with that ass for a fucking week."

 

Justin squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the distinctive sounds of moans and feet scuffling; he risked peering around the corner of the barn's open doorway to observe his brother and Brian rapidly taking each other's clothes off as they groped and kissed, and he couldn't take it anymore; his face showing his distress and heartbreak, he quickly turned and rushed away toward the back of their property, any place where he couldn't hear the sounds of his brother and the boy he was strongly attracted to going at it like two dogs in heat.  As he dropped down onto the cool ground and felt the prickle of tears at the back of his eyes, he knew:  his worst nightmare had come true - Jared had, indeed, triumphed in his bid to capture Brian's interest, just as he feared he would.

 

---

 

Same Time - Inside the Barn

Brian's demand caught Jared by surprise as he captured the other boy's wrists in a strong grasp to stop their movement.  "What did you say?" he asked Brian breathlessly as he broke off their latest kiss and held Brian's wrists firmly in front of him while he stared into the darkened, lust-filled eyes of his companion.

 

Brian frowned, slightly irritated that his intention to give this other boy a good old-fashioned fuck he would remember into the next week was being thwarted.  Perhaps the hillbillies down here had another name for it.  How much clearer could he be?

 

"I said...I'm going to fuck the living daylights out of you," he reiterated as he struggled to break Jared's grasp.  As soon as he was free, he quickly moved to begin unfastening the other boy's pants, only to have Jared move back from him with a look of annoyance.

 

"I think you've got that wrong, City Boy," Jared told him as reached over and began to unbutton Brian's jeans now.  "The only one who's going to be doing any fucking tonight is me.  I'm nobody's bottom boy."

 

Brian's mouth hung open in amazement as he bristled, his eyes flashing incredulously.   "I think you've been inhaling too many tractor fumes lately; I could have sworn you just said you were going to fuck me.  Well, no fucking WAY, Jethro.  Not going to happen unless it's during your wildest wet dream, because I don't bottom for anybody."  Impatiently he waited for the other boy to come to his senses; knowing he would surely see reason.  All that groping under the dining room table earlier had made him horny as hell and decidedly frustrated.  He still had his rules, however, and it did NOT include being anyone's fuck, no matter how tight his groin felt at the moment or how talented this other boy might be.

 

To his disappointed surprise, however, Jared placed his hands on his hips and stood his ground.  "Well, Slim, we may be out in the hicks as far as you're concerned, but out here I don't bottom for anyone, either, so you'd better adjust your lofty goals downward if you want to get laid tonight."  Secretly Jared wasn't quite as assertive as he sounded; he was nervous as shit, but desperately hoping this gorgeous boy would see reason and decide that being fucked was better than nothing at all, because he was not going to back down.  He never submitted to any other guy and despite Brian's perfection he wasn't about to start tonight.  Once you bowed to another guy's demands, he figured the boy would never accept anything less, and he didn't want it broadcast that he would accept being a bottom for anyone.

 

Brian snorted.  "Well, it looks like the only thing getting laid tonight are eggs, then."  He stared the other boy down unflinchingly, disappointed that his plans for the evening had just been thwarted.  He wondered fleetingly where Justin was before Jared spoke up.

 

"Well, where does that leave US, then?  I really need to get off," he told Brian, his voice dripping with pent up sexual frustration as well as agitation.

 

Brian held his hand out to slowly push the other boy backward toward a horse stall nearby, noting with relief that it was empty save for some straw spread out on the ground.  Thank God there's no shit lying around there, he thought as he continued to urge the other boy ahead.  Jared, his eyes reflecting his confusion, allowed Brian to lead him through the open door of the stall just before he was given a firm push and fell on his back onto the relative softness of the thick, golden-colored, makeshift blanket.

 

He smirked up at the other boy in relief as he realized their playtime wasn't over yet, guessing what Brian had in mind.  His theory was confirmed as Brian sat down next to him and opened his jeans, pushing them down along with a pair of tight, black briefs to display an impressively large-size, erect cock, purple and throbbing.

 

Despite his earlier bravado, Jared licked his lips in anticipation as Brian demanded, "Suck me off and I'll do you the same favor.  It'll be the best head you'll ever have," he promised as Jared swallowed hard at the thought.  It didn't take long for Brian to divest himself of the rest of his clothing as he lay back on the ground next to him, one leg bent at the knee as he eyed the other boy intently and noticed the telltale look of lust in Jared's eyes as his gaze lowered to take in his hardened member.

 

A few minutes later he was coming down the boy's throat as his body arched up in climax and he cried out in release, despite finding that his choice of sexual partner wasn't as talented with giving blowjobs as he had hoped.  It had been adequate for what he had needed, but he found that Jared was lacking in the finesse department.  No matter, he decided; it had accomplished what he needed and there was still one other brother to check out - one that promised to be quite pliant and willing to let him coach him in the proper way of giving and receiving pleasure.

 

As he fulfilled his promise to return the favor shortly afterward - leaving Jared a sated, spineless mess on the straw-covered, dirt floor - he quickly grabbed his clothes and stood up to leave.

 

"What?  You're just leaving?" Jared breathlessly called out to him from his place on the floor, his voice somewhat coarse from the previous, loud verbal reaction he had had to Brian sucking him off.  The boy had been right - that had been the most amazing blowjob he had ever received, and it left him even more determined to convince Brian to let him fuck him.  He could be very determined when he wanted someone - and he had never wanted anyone more in his entire life.  "I was going to show you my car."

 

Brian laughed in incredulity.  "Really?  I thought you wanted to show me some other kind of hot rod.  Maybe some other time," he told him as he finished buttoning up his shirt and snapping his jeans back together, brushing some errant strands of straw out of his auburn hair as he slid his feet back into his loafers.

 

Jared rolled over onto his side and quickly rose to his feet as he hurriedly scooped up his clothes.  Jamming his legs into his jeans - not bothering to put his underwear back on but simply stuffing them into a pocket - he tried to think of a way to keep Brian there.  The boy was the most exciting guy he had seen in a long time - maybe forever - and he found that he didn't want to say goodbye yet, even though he knew he would be next door.  His typical confident nature faltered in front of this dominating boy as he suggested, "Maybe you can come over tomorrow and help me work on it.  Do you know about cars?"

 

Brian guffawed at the crazy question.  "You could say that," he dryly replied.  He shrugged.  "I'll have to see - I have chores I have to do first."  He said the word chores distastefully; merely the word made him want to gag.  He could only imagine after his less-than-pleasant conversation with his uncle earlier just what sort of ‘chores' the man had in mind for him.

 

Jared nodded as Brian turned to go.  "Well, see what you can do," he implored.  "It'll be one sweet ride once it's all fixed up.  It has an 85hp, 221-cu.in. V-8.  Wait until I get it out on the open road!"  His eyes shone with excitement - the same reaction he always had when he was starting on yet another project.  Just like with all the others he always wanted to keep the finished product, but his father was normally able to talk him out of it with the promise of starting on yet another one.  The idea of sharing this latest restoration with Brian, though, riding with him as they cut through the countryside in a blur of speed and power, was enormously appealing to him and gave him hope that he would be able to impress him with his driving skills.

 

Brian nodded casually.  "I'll be around," he said.  "Later."

 

Jared's eyes followed the gorgeous boy - all tousled from their encounter but still glorious even in his indifference.  "See ya," he responded as Brian disappeared into the darkness.  "And it won't be the last time," he softly vowed.  He stood there alone for several seconds amongst the sounds of the crickets, soft moos of their cows, and the occasional whinny of a horse out in the adjacent paddock before, with a sigh, he quickly donned his shirt and walked back toward the house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From his place near the back of their property at the outskirts of a cornfield, Justin sat cross-legged in the grass; he pulled nervously at some blades of grass nearby with both hands as he looked over at the glow of a lantern emanating now from the open barn doors.  He could make out shapes from within, moving in distortion with the flickering of the kerosene lamp, but he refused to contemplate what exactly his brother and Brian were doing.  Besides, it didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening at the moment; he had already seen - and heard - enough earlier to know exactly what they were doing...

 

"Damn it!" he growled in frustration, feeling the tendrils of his own desire flaring up as he thought about the gorgeous neighbor boy who had begun to occupy all of his waking - as well as sleeping - thoughts lately, and who had taken inordinate glee earlier in tormenting him at the dinner table.  The boy was both exasperatingly arrogant but also oddly vulnerable in some ways as he thought back to their encounter in the Walker barn earlier.  Clearly Brian wasn't very comfortable in this rural environment; the boy was from Pittsburgh and no doubt more at ease in a big city setting.  When it came to proclaiming his masculinity, however, he had no problems asserting himself no matter WHERE he was...

 

Which was the crux of the matter; Jared was obviously attracted to Brian, too.  Of course, what gay boy wouldn't be?  "Just once," he murmured.  "Just once couldn't you have thought about ME instead of your damn dick?" he whispered.  He sighed.  He loved Jared - his older brother could actually be quite protective of him when it was needed.  He recalled several times in school when he had rushed to his defense in gym, for example, when some of the bigger boys in his class had picked on him.  It was definitely a big advantage to have one of the star athletes in school stand up for him, and he had been grateful for that.  It worked both ways, though; he had helped his brother out when he was struggling with algebra or chemistry and needed to maintain at least a "C" average in order to remain on the baseball and football teams.  He knew if it hadn't been for his tutoring - as well as a little bit of ghostwriting on his part for his term papers - his brother would have never been able to stay on the squads, and he knew it would have devastated him to be suspended.

 

Jared always did place a great emphasis on his reputation, and while he was in high school on the varsity teams he relished all the attention he had received as the chief jock.   Of course, in such a small, conservative town as the one they lived in, one didn't dare breathe a word about your homosexuality to others; the word ‘fag' would roll smoothly off local tongues just as easily as the day's farm commodities report if they knew about it and your family would be forever stigmatized, a chance that their father had studiously told them they couldn't afford to take with the state of the current economy.

 

Even though he had accepted their lifestyle, he had warned them NOT to go around ‘flaunting' their sexuality or even breathing a word of it to anyone else; he had reminded them that their livelihood of selling their mother's honey, their crops, everything that brought in money for them to live on, was tied to Versailles.  Even the money that was generated as a result of their horse race winnings would not be possible if others did not bet on their horse to win, not to mention the veterinarians, feed mill operators and storekeepers that would suddenly be too ‘busy' to help them out if they needed it.  No, they were firmly reminded, there was way too much riding on their silence to worry about being ‘honest.'

 

Justin did not agree with that mandate, but as long as he was in his father's house he had no choice.  He knew his mother didn't agree with his viewpoint, either, but she had been brought up to believe that in the household the man ruled the house and made the big decisions, not the wife, and it was an upbringing that she could not bring herself to break from.

 

So in order to keep his sexuality a secret, his reputation as a ladies' man intact, and remain on the high pedestal everyone placed him on, Jared entertained his younger brother with tales of how he would go through the motions of taking out the cheerleaders who were always the most beautiful girls in school while excusing himself to visit the bathroom where he would promptly drag the closest, halfway decent boy along with him for a quick fuck to make his ‘dates' with the females more palatable. Justin didn't necessarily agree with his brother's deception while he had been in school, but he understood it in light of the small-town mentality that existed.  Perhaps it was no wonder, then, that Jared had pounced on the first real opportunity he had to indulge in his whims with the sexy neighbor boy had had virtually dropped in out of nowhere, one where he didn't have to carry on any pretense as to his sexuality.

 

Just then Justin heard his brother's voice picking up in volume, although he couldn't make out what he was saying.  Could they be done already?  "That didn't take long," he muttered; his stomach fluttered as he made out the tall form of Brian Kinney ambling out of the barn, heading off in the opposite direction toward the Walker farm.  Apparently their new neighbor had no intention of going back into the farmhouse to say goodbye to anyone, including him.  He stared after him for as long as he could until Brian's form was gobbled up by the darkness; a few seconds later, he noticed his brother emerging from the barn, also, swinging the kerosene lamp alongside him as he placed it down long enough to push the heavy wooden doors closed behind him.  As Jared clicked a clunky, metal lock together around the two ends of the barn doors to secure them, Justin noted that his brother's shirt was now hanging completely open, the flaps flowing back and forth gently from the mild breeze that always seemed to envelope the barn at night; his hair, which had been so meticulously groomed earlier, was now mussed up and sticking out in all directions as if he had been strenuously working out.

 

His face darkened with jealousy as the idea of just what sort of activity his brother must have been partaking in surged through his mind.  His breathing heavy with anger and disillusionment, he watched Jared swagger back toward the house with the lamp before he finally stood up from his observation point, his hands balled into fists at his sides.  There was no way he could go back into that house and see the smug look on his brother's face.

 

Biting his lip in indecision and now silhouetted in the slim sliver of moonlight hanging above, his legs began to instinctively move him toward the stables on the other side of the barn; it was where he always went when he needed to calm his nerves.  There was something about the quiet majesty of the antique structure with the steeply-sloped roof, thick, wooden, beams and the rooster weather vane perched on top that always made his mood lighten, despite whatever happened to be bothering him.

 

Now as he approached the stables, he was greeted with a soft whinnying sound from the nearest open half-window.   Despite his worries, the sound made him smile and his mood lift just a bit as he walked up and whispered, "Hi, Boy.  I've missed you, too."  He felt bad about the lack of attention he had been able to provide for Headstrong lately; the fence painting had taken up much of his time the past couple of days.  He knew that Vic had made sure all the horses had been groomed, bathed, and fed during his absence, and the stables cleaned out in the meantime, but the job of keeping them all exercised, especially Headstrong, normally fell to him; he took his responsibility to do that very seriously, so the fact that he had been unable to follow through on that bothered him.

 

He reached up to fondly stroke the soft skin on the left side of Headstrong's nose as the horse whinnied again; it was one of his favorite spots to be caressed, just like the ears on a dog.  "I know," he whispered.  "I'll make it up to you tomorrow; I promise."  He blew out a plaintive breath between his lips as he lay his forehead against the animal's, cupping the horse's mouth gently with the palm of his right hand.  He giggled softly as Headstrong nuzzled the ticklish flesh with his lips.  "Sorry, Boy, I didn't think to bring you a treat; I'll bring you something out tomorrow, okay?"

 

He knew it was foolish; he knew the horse couldn't possibly understand what he was saying.  But he was certain that the horses responded to his voice and his touch.  He recognized that he had been born with some sort of gift; an instinctive ability to bond with them, and it was his avid hope that he would be able to soon use that gift, along with his love of art, to help others.  First, though, he needed to get through the summer, and that meant not only continuing to work with the horses but also dealing with his brother - and his brother's relationship with Brian Kinney.  "It's going to be a long, hot summer," he told the horse.  He thought he could see the large, expressive eyes blinking back at him sympathetically in the dim moonlight as he sighed.  "I better go, Boy.  I promise I'll be back tomorrow to work with you, okay?"  He stroked the horse's neck one last time before turning to head back to the house, his burdens still firmly in place but his heart just a little lighter.

 

---

 

"Justin!" Jennifer called as she noticed her son passing by the dining room archway; she could have sworn he had told her he was going to go up to his room to rest.

 

Breathing a sigh of resignation, Justin turned to pause in the doorway.  "Hi, Mom," he responded quietly.  He noticed that only the adults were now at the table; remnants of dessert and half-filled coffee cups indicated the dinner was now winding down.

 

"I thought you were upstairs, Honey," Jennifer commented as the others turned to look over at him.

 

Justin could feel the heat of embarrassment rising into his face under their scrutiny as he furiously raced to come up with a logical explanation.  "Uh...I did.  But it was so hot upstairs that I had to open the windows and go outside for a while until it had time to cool off."  Justin's father, always trying to conserve money (at least where house utility bills were concerned; apparently Jared's ‘hobby' didn't count when it came to budgeting), had declared that the central air conditioning was off limits until July.  Instead, they had to rely on big, metal, box fans to cool the typically hotter portion of the house.  Thankfully, they did a decent job of circulating air from one side of the upstairs to the other.  It wasn't the best of solutions, but it did save on cooling costs.

 

To his relief, his mother nodded with a slight smile.  "Yeah, I know how hot it can get up there."

 

She tilted her head over at the partially-eaten lemon meringue pie.  "We've got some dessert left.  Would you like some?"  She seemed to study him as she peered over at him intently.  "Are you feeling better now?"

 

Justin pursed his lips together.  Was he?  Not really, but he wasn't going to tell HER the real reason why.  "Yeah," he told her instead.  "I feel fine now."

 

She smiled.  "I'm glad to hear that, Honey.  Have a seat and I'll get you a piece of pie, then."

 

Somehow Justin didn't think he could stomach sitting there at the table with Brian's aunt and uncle, or risk having the memories of his and Brian's ‘game' earlier flashing through his mind, so he reluctantly shook his head, although he knew how wonderful his mother's pie was.  "No, thanks," he said.  "I think I'll just turn in; I'm pretty bushed.  Now that the fence is done, I need to get back to work on exercising Headstrong tomorrow for the race next weekend."

 

At the mention of next week's harness race, Sarah stole a glance over at her husband, noticing his stiff body language and the tight lines drawn around his mouth.  She knew exactly what - and who - he was thinking about.  Of course, he always thought of their son whenever harness racing was mentioned.  How she wished that things were the way they used to be.  That would mean that their son was still alive, though, and as much as she wished that that could be true, she knew that wasn't going to happen.   She reached under the table to squeeze his left thigh as finally he turned his head to look over at her.  They locked gazes for a moment before she told her hosts, "Uh, we'd better be going, Jennifer, Craig.  It's getting late and we all have to get up early tomorrow."

 

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Jennifer asked, not quite wanting the night to end.  Visitors there were few and far between, living far from the nearest small town, and she had been having quite a pleasant evening with their neighbors.  While Craig wasn't exactly the best conversationalist at the most ideal of times, he had still managed to maintain a polite back-and-forth interaction with Will while she had enjoyed discussing new recipes with Sarah, as well as news about Versailles, including the new library being constructed in town.  It wasn't the most exciting of topics, but to Jennifer they were enjoyable nonetheless.

 

"Yeah, we need to go," Will interjected; his voice just a little brusque.  He frowned in irritation.  "I wonder where that boy is?  Brian went out with your son at least an hour ago.  I TOLD him before we came over here that I needed him to get up early to work on the chores he didn't finish today."

 

Justin soaked all that information up like a sponge in a mop bucket, all the while wondering how much he should tell his neighbors about Brian's whereabouts; apparently Jared must have gone upstairs through the front door earlier when he had returned.  He noticed that whenever his brother didn't want to explain something he made a habit of quietly entering through the seldom-used front entrance and heading up the steps to his room without anyone being the wiser.  He knew Brian had no intention of coming into the house.  He supposed that it wouldn't hurt to tell them that since he had already mentioned he had gone outside earlier.  "I saw Brian heading in the direction of your house a little while ago."

 

They all turned to look at him, making him feel a little awkward over their penetrating stares as Will growled, "Nice of him to let us know."  He scooted back from the table, placing his navy-blue, cotton napkin on top of the table as the chair made a scraping sound on the hardwood floor.  "We'd best be off then, Sarah.  I still don't trust that boy; all I can say is I'd better find him in bed when we get home."

 

Looking a little embarrassed at her husband's gruff manner, Sarah pushed her own chair back and rose to join him.  "We had a lovely evening," she told Jennifer politely.  Turning to Craig, she added softly, "Good luck with the race next weekend.  I'm sure with Justin riding Headstrong you'll do very well as always."

 

He nodded at her silently, noticing a frown appear on Will's face as they turned to leave.   No doubt the man was feeling melancholy again about Dale.  He could feel sympathy for the man, losing his son like he did, but he wasn't going to exclude his own son from competing in races just out of some odd sense of respect for the other man's loss.  "Thanks, Sarah.  I'm sure you're right.  The horse is very consistent for us."

 

Sarah smiled fondly at Justin as she walked over toward the archway; he really was such a sweet boy.  "Thanks again for your help earlier, Justin," she told him.  "We really appreciate it.  Don't forget I owe you a cobbler."

 

He nodded with a smile.  "I won't."  And he meant it; her prize-winning cobbler - always much sought-after at the county fair - was one of his favorite desserts.  The thought of having an excuse to visit the Walker farm in the near future, though, made him feel both apprehensive as well as excited.  Perhaps he would have to take her up on her offer very soon if he could work up the nerve...That is, if Jared wasn't around keeping Brian ‘busy.'

 

"Justin," Will addressed him curtly before he turned and proceeded abruptly down the hallway toward the back door, his thoughts occupied both with his deceased son and with their recalcitrant nephew.  Sarah hastened to keep up with him as a few seconds later the screen door banged against its frame and they were gone.  As the car started up and he heard them leaving, Justin turned his head as his father called out his name from his place at the table.

 

"Yeah, Dad?"

 

"Did you see Jared out there?  That Kinney boy isn't the only one that needs to get up early for chores.  I promised your mother that I'd have him take over some of yours tomorrow so you can concentrate on taking Headstrong out to the exercise track."

 

Justin nodded, silently pleased that his older brother would apparently be much too busy tomorrow to think about a repeat performance with their hot neighbor.  That was some consolation, he supposed...

 

"I saw him earlier about the same time that Brian left.  He was coming back to the house.  You didn't see him?"

 

Craig frowned as he shook his head.  "No, we didn't.  Now where could he be?  Justin, go upstairs and see if he's in his room.  Let me know if he isn't.  And if he IS, tell him that I want him downstairs bright and early at 6 a.m. so he can eat breakfast and get started on your chores.  If he gives you any guff, send him downstairs and I'LL take care of him."

 

Justin nodded, secretly pleased that their father would be the one meting out punishment if Jared objected.  It was about time that his older brother got back to work for a change.  "Okay," he told him with a nod.  "I'm heading off to bed, too."  He knew it was best to work out with Headstrong in the early morning so he didn't overwork him in the mid-day heat.  He glanced over at his mother, who was rising from her place at the table to begin collecting dishes.  "You need any help, Mom?"

 

"No, Honey," Jennifer told him with an appreciative smile.  "I can do it.  You run along; I know you have a busy week ahead of you."

 

Justin nodded before turning to leave, taking the steps wearily; the task of painting most of the day in the hot sun had left him bone-tired and more than ready to go to bed.  As he reached the landing and headed toward the opposite end where his older brother's bedroom was located, though, he was filled with anxiety.  Oh, he was going to enjoy telling Jared that he would have to wake up early for chores tomorrow, but he was NOT looking forward to his brother's arrogant recap of his rendezvous with Brian, which he knew Jared would no doubt take special delight in describing for him.  He knew his brother; he would be unable to avoid bragging about it - every last, painful detail...

 

As he reached Jared's open door, he noticed him sprawled out on top of his favorite queen-sized bedspread - the navy blue one with '57 Corvettes all over it - reading some type of classic car magazine.  He was still dressed in his dinner clothes from before, except now he had his shirt wide open and the sleeves were rolled up.  Justin swallowed hard at the implications as he saw his brother glance up at him as he appeared in the doorway; he pretended to feel more confident than he was, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest as he peered back at him.

 

Jared plastered a grin on his face, kind of like the cat that ate the canary, as he spied his brother.  Showtime..."Well, look who's up past his bedtime?" he teased with a lopsided grin.  "Looking for some more household chores to do?  I have some dirty laundry that you can take downstairs to the washer if you want."  Jared smirked as he reached over to retrieve the pair of white briefs that he hadn't bothered to put back on after he and Brian had sucked each other off; he had crumpled them up on top of the bed earlier, just waiting for an opportunity to use them to his advantage later.  It seems his ‘opportunity' had just walked in.  "Here," he said just before he threw them over at Justin, who ducked just in time as the briefs scudded on the carpeted floor at his feet.  "You can wash along these with your teeny-tiny, tighty-whities; I seemed to have stained them earlier."

 

Justin glared over at him, trying hard not to think about what that meant.  "No, thanks," Justin replied stiffly.  "You can take your own fucking dirty clothes downstairs yourself."

 

Jared slowly twisted his lanky body to rise from the bed and walk over to his brother...  "Suit yourself," he told Justin with a toothy smile.  "I have some other clothing that needs washed anyway."  He bent down to pick up his briefs as he replied in a sort of conspiratorial stage whisper, "Even with the condom, I shot such a load into Kinney that I had to use these to wipe me off.  Whew!" he exclaimed with a wiggle of his brows.  "You know he has a beautiful dick - and ass.  I told him if he's a good boy, one day I'll even let him top ME.  Sure you wouldn't rather keep these as a souvenir?  It'll be the closest you'll ever get to him."

 

Justin couldn't stand it any longer; his attempt to come off as nonchalant and uninterested failed him miserably as his eyes flashed in fury and despair.  He had to try and maintain some semblance of dignity, however, or he knew he would come off as a weak, pathetic kid.  "Fuck you, Jared!  What makes you even think I care about WHAT you two did?"

 

Jared snorted in skepticism as Justin's face reddened in embarrassment.  His brother was so transparent and just like any typical, older brother one of his favorite pastimes was teasing his sibling.   Justin always carried his heart on his sleeve, and this was no exception.  "Oh, you care, all right," he told him as he leaned in closer to his brother's face, close enough to smell peppermint; apparently Justin had been chomping on another one of those insipid white-and-red hard candies again like he always did...

 

He smiled knowingly.  "You're not kidding me, Squirt; you think he's as hot as I do.  The only difference is that he only needs YOU to help milk the cows!"  He felt bad as he watched an expression of pain flicker across his younger brother's face; his intent really wasn't to hurt Justin, although he DID have a reputation to maintain and it was great fun to tease him.  After all, it wouldn't do to let Justin know that he had actually struck out earlier.   Surely Justin realized he was way out of his league here.  Someone like Brian would just chew him up and spit him out with nary a glance backward, so he was really doing him a favor in a weird sort of way.

 

Justin used the palm of his right hand to push his brother away from his personal space.  His felt both furious as well as humiliated.  "That's what YOU think, you asshole!  Brian was looking at ME across the dinner table, not you!  And that's not ALL he was doing, either!"  His eyes widened as he realized that perhaps he was giving too much away as his brother's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Justin?  What do you mean...that's not all?"

 

Shit.  Justin's face turned a deep pink as he fought to explain his statement.  "Well, um..."

 

Jared crossed his arms over his exposed chest as he glared over at his younger brother.  "Go on...explain what you just said.  You said Brian was doing something else at dinner.  What exactly would that be, Squirt?"

 

Justin felt particularly vulnerable staring over at his brother's well-defined, muscular pecs.  Next to him, he felt like some wussy.  But he wasn't going to back down, either, damn it.  "Well, if you MUST know, he was flirting with me!"

 

Jared reared back his head and laughed, not only at the righteous-sounding statement but at his brother's look of smugness.  "Flirting with you?  And how, pray tell, was he doing that?  Did he bat his big, bad, chocolate eyes at you?  Did he give you a wink?  Did he waggle his eyebrows?  Tell me - I'm dying to know."

 

"No, he didn't bat his big, brown, chocolate eyes at me, you moron!  He...he was...."  God, how could he say this without sounding weird?  Well, he supposed there was only ONE way to say it, wasn't there?  He took a deep breath and let it out as he said, "He was playing with my cock - and my balls - under the table with his foot, that's what."  So there - take that, Hot Shot!

To his dismay, however, instead of being impressed - or even jealous - Jared merely smirked back at him in amusement.  "Oh, is THAT all?  Well, he did a lot more than ‘play' with me," his brother replied haughtily.   He reached over to ruffle Justin's hair affectionately as Justin moved to get out of his grasp, feeling suddenly like a two-year old child being greeted by his long-lost grandmother.  "You really are a hoot, Little Brother.  When I see Brian again, I'll make sure to give him your regards."

 

Justin couldn't help asking; it was one of those questions he didn't want to know the answer to, and one of those that he did.  "You...you're going to see him again?"

 

Crumpling his discarded briefs into a sort of makeshift, miniature basketball, Jared turned his body just enough to lob the pair with a perfect arc into the open top of his brown, wicker hamper located over in the far corner.  He turned to Justin with a smug look on his face as he nodded.  "Sure.  I told him I'd take him out in my hotrod as soon as it's road worthy.  In the meantime, I think I'll introduce our new neighbor to the good ‘ole swimming hole - swim trunks optional, of course."

 

Justin glowered at him in disgust before a sudden thought occurred to him.  It was HIS turn to grin now as he told his brother, "Well, it won't be tomorrow...Stud.  Dad wanted me to tell you that you'll be taking over all my chores tomorrow so I can work out with Headstrong for the race coming up next week."

 

Jared's reaction was instant and furious.  "What the fuck?!"

 

Justin was enjoying his brother's reaction enormously.  "You heard me; Dad said that you would have to..."

 

"I HEARD what you said, Justin!" Jared growled at him, upset that his plans to spend more time with Brian were being rudely thwarted.  He glared over at his brother as he said,  "Well, we'll just see about that.  I'm going to go talk to Dad right now.  He promised me that I could spend time working on the new car."  How could he do this to him?

 

Justin smiled.  "Go ahead," he dared him.  "He said if you gave me any guff to send you downstairs anyway."  Despite his disappointment of earlier, at least he could derive a lot of satisfaction out of the look on his brother's face now.  "I'm going to bed."  He was tired and suddenly weary - both physically AND mentally.  Hopefully when the first rays of the morning sun struck tomorrow, things would look a lot brighter.  Somehow he suspected he was wrong, but he hoped so, anyway.

 

"I'll just DO that!" Jared called after him in a huff as Justin turned and walked down the hallway toward his own room on the other end.  "Don't think this is the end of this, Squirt!  You can't tell me what to do."

 

Justin merely shook his head sadly as he reached his own bedroom and slowly closed the door behind him.

 

---

 

Early the Next Morning - Walker Farm

The sun's rays were barely peeking up from the eastern horizon as a bleary-eyed Brian slowly stumbled down to the Walker kitchen; in a case of déjà vu, his uncle was once more sitting at his customary place at the end of the table, sipping a mug of coffee as he held the open paper in his other hand, scanning the morning's news before he began his tasks for the day.

 

Will glanced up briefly as Brian ambled up to him, studying what his nephew was wearing.  Brian had at least taken his advice this time and had donned more suitable clothes for farm chores.  He had on a worn, classic pair of blue jeans, a sleeveless, black, cotton wifebeater shirt (although Will had no idea it was actually called that - he just thought it was a sleeveless, round-neck tee-shirt), and a pair of some weird kind of black sneakers that looked like they might have been a sort of pebbled leather.  He snorted softly to himself over that thought; it wasn't that he hadn't warned Brian about possibly ruining some of his good clothes.  If he WANTED to run that chance, that was his choice...

 

"Coffee?" Will mumbled, not taking his eyes away from the local section he was reading.  He nodded over toward the portable carafe that was sitting on a round, woven potholder at the other end of the table.

 

Brian rubbed the sleep from his eyes thinking back briefly to last night's events; after he had walked back from the Taylor farm, he had stood outside on the front porch of his aunt and uncle's porch, taking a much-needed drag from his cigarette and taking advantage of the solitude before his relatives returned from dinner.  He had stood there, his hands on the wooden porch railing, looking out onto nothing but field after field of corn and soybean crops.  No houses (other than the Taylor house, which you couldn't see from this vantage point), no city lights, no car headlights; nothing as far as the eye could see in the dimness of the moonlight.  He could hear an occasional soft moo from Checkers in the barn nearby, and crickets - lots and lots of crickets.  The sound was almost deafening in the still, tranquil, cool, night air.  He had never realized how loud the quiet could be at night, having come from an urban area.  How did one ever get used to this?

 

He had stood there for several minutes, reliving earlier events in his mind.  He had thoroughly enjoyed his little game of parrying with both Taylor brothers at dinner earlier; at the time, both boys had made what could have been a tedious event much more enjoyable.  Each had their own unique, attractive qualities.  Jared was much more assertive, sure of what he wanted, and not afraid to go after it.  He didn't hide his desire for him.  He liked that in a guy.

 

Justin, on the other hand, was clearly at a loss as to how to communicate his wants and needs, and was obviously much less experienced when it came to sex.  That much was obvious in the way he would easily blush at him simply after he gave him a certain look, or the way he was unable to hide his gasp of surprise when he had used his foot to probe what felt like a surprisingly large cock on someone so slender.  His tormenting of the younger brother had been quite entertaining; he had gotten a big kick out of evoking such a quick, immediate response out of him.  He couldn't hide his amusement every time Justin either dropped part of his dinner, or physically reacted otherwise to his overtures.  And he thought he would fucking lose it when his mother asked him if he wanted any more meat.  He grinned; that had been too hilarious, watching the blond try furiously to hide his boner as he hastily escaped from the dinner table.

 

The only bad part about the whole evening, in fact, had been his inability to fuck the older boy.  He had never expected to be turned down by some backwater hick from Kentucky (albeit a rather hot one, though); no one, in fact, ever turned Brian Kinney down and it made him highly agitated - as well as totally frustrated.  Normally he would have just dismissed the boy after a stunt like that and gone in search of some other prey, some other very convenient prey...The only thing that stopped him, however, had been the thought of being able to at least temporarily escape his bucolic prison for a while if he played along.  If the guy wound up being as good at fixing cars as he boasted, at least he would have a set of wheels at his disposal soon...

 

"Are you listening to me?"

 

The word Boy didn't spring from his uncle's lips, but as Brian returned his attention to the present and peered over at him, the word was clearly dying to escape from the man's lips.  He sighed, knowing that before he could play he had promised he would do his chores, and despite what his uncle might think, he always kept his promises, no matter how distasteful.

 

"I'm listening," Brian told him glumly as he pulled out a chair and plopped his long body into it.  He reached over for the carafe to pour some of the remaining coffee into his cup.

 

Will nodded as he folded up the newspaper section and placed it beside his plate to give him some direct attention at last.  "Well, that's a start at least," he conceded curtly.  "Your aunt's gone out to the chicken house to get some eggs; she'll be back in soon."  He eyed his nephew intently as Brian took another gulp of his coffee, noticing the boy had put an outrageous amount of sugar in it before adding some milk from the small pitcher sitting in the center of the table.  He always took his black; he couldn't imagine putting all that other gunk in his drink.  He held his tongue as he added, "Speaking of the chicken house, that's going to be your first assignment today.  It's time for the annual cleaning."

 

Brian didn't like the sound of that at all.  The word cleaning was ominous enough; adding the word ‘chicken' to it made it sound downright abominable.  "What KIND of cleaning?" he asked warily, hearing the backdoor screen open and shut as it creaked and banged.

 

Will didn't have a chance to answer immediately as Sarah walked in with a basket of eggs crooked under her arm by the handle.  She eyed both men cautiously, knowing how they liked to spar with each other as she walked up to the kitchen table.  Arching one eyebrow at her husband as a warning before she bent down to give Brian a kiss on the cheek and a small smile, she greeted her nephew.  "Good Morning, Brian," she told him softly.  "Did you sleep well?"

 

"It was okay, "Brian told her grudgingly as she nodded, turning to walk over to the stove and flipping the front burner onto a medium setting.

 

"How do you like your eggs, Brian?"

 

He shrugged.  "Scrambled, I guess, but I don't normally eat them.  Too much cholesterol," he explained.

 

He thought he heard his uncle huff like he had just expressed some sort of sacrilege as she nodded curiously.  "What DO you normally eat for breakfast, then?"

 

"Usually just some whole wheat toast with a little marmalade and some guava juice."

 

"Some what?" Will asked, temporarily forgetting their previous conversation.

 

"Guava juice."  Was his uncle hard of hearing?  "It's from a tropical fruit."

 

"Never heard of it," Will responded brusquely.  "Out here we have orange juice, period.  That's always been good enough for us."

 

Brian sighed.  "Whatever," he told his aunt as she looked over at him questioningly.  "Orange juice is fine."  Brian had long ago learned how to pick and choose his battles, and arguing with his uncle over what juice to drink for breakfast was way down the list at the moment.

 

Sarah nodded.  "There's juice already mixed up in the fridge.  Would you please go get it, Brian?  There're juice glasses above the sink."

 

Brian nodded as he pushed back from the table and did as she asked while she prepared the eggs and retrieved some homemade honey wheat bread from the corner, wooden bread box cabinet.  Slicing four pieces of bread off the loaf, she plopped them into the stainless steel toaster nearby and began to mix the eggs up with a little milk.

 

"Did you shoo all the chickens out of the coop like I asked, Sarah?" Will asked his wife from his place at the table.

 

Sarah turned her head to look over her shoulder and nodded.  "Yes.  Rhodie didn't want to come out, but I finally managed it.  They're all out in the enclosure now."  At Brian's look of confusion, she smiled.  "Rhodie is our Rhode Island Red.  He definitely thinks he rules the roost - in more ways than one.  He can be very stubborn when he doesn't want to do something.  I had a heck of a time getting him out of the coop so it could be cleaned out."

 

Will smiled then.  "I was just explaining that to Brian when you came in."  He turned to his nephew to explain with more glee than Brian cared for, "Your first chore today is to completely clean out the coop with a rake and the garden hose and then put all new pine shavings back in.  The old bedding needs to be raked up and shoveled into our compost bin behind the coop near Sarah's vegetable garden, and all the nesting boxes need to be completely disinfected and cleaned, also."

 

Brian's mouth hung agape as he stared at his uncle like he had just babbled in a foreign language.  He knew he had agreed to do his chores today, but being up to his armpits in chicken shit was not what he had had in mind.  "You want me...to clean out the chicken coop?"  He could barely get the words out.  A vision of him needing fishing waders just to walk around in what must be a ton of chicken muck swam before his eyes as bile rose in his throat merely at the thought.

 

"That's what I said," he uncle repeated as Sarah walked over to slide a portion of the scrambled eggs into each man's plate.  "And it needs to be done immediately after breakfast.  Trust me, you do not want to be working around chicken manure when the sun starts beating down on it, unless you want to be asphyxiated in the process."

 

Sarah returned with a plate of the toast as she placed it down in the middle of the table along with some of her homemade strawberry jam.  "It's because of all the ammonia," she explained as she finally took a seat opposite her husband at the end.  "It's not healthy to breathe it all in.  You need to wear a mask over your mouth and nose while you're cleaning it out, too."

 

"A mask..." Brian murmured in disbelief.  And he thought this would be better than lying on a bunk in prison?  Perhaps he should rethink that option.  "Working in chicken shit..."

 

"Brian, I told you about the language," Will admonished him with a glare.  "It has to be done.  Farm work isn't glamorous.  Now eat up so you can get started on it."  He left no room for argument in his voice.

 

Brian sighed.  He shook his head in disgust as well as resignation, knowing he had to do it.  That didn't mean he wouldn't find some other way to occupy himself later.  All work and no play definitely would make him a dull boy, and he had no intention of ever being called ‘dull.'  "Okay, okay," he grumbled as he reached over with the intention of stabbing some of his fluffy scrambled eggs on his plate.

 

He was stopped by his uncle's hand on his wrist as he glanced over at him.  "Grace first," he was sternly told.  With another sigh, he placed his fork down on the plate and waited until his uncle had said his piece, wondering what he personally had to be thankful FOR.

 

Later that Same Day...

Brian was somewhat surprised by the lunch his Aunt Sarah had whipped up for him and his uncle; from what little he knew about southern cooking, he had expected some lard-laden fried chicken, potato salad swimming in mayonnaise, and perhaps a piece of chocolate cake with icing two inches thick for their mid-day meal.   Instead, when he arrived back at the house to the sound of a cowbell being rung from a square, wooden pole mounted near the back of the house that signified the food was ready, he was greeted with broccoli coleslaw with low-fat dressing, baked catfish sandwiches on homemade, whole-wheat buns, and collard greens.  A fresh-fruit cup for dessert and unsweetened iced tea (sugar or sweetener optional) rounded out the menu.

 

"Don't knock it if you haven't tried it," Sarah said to her nephew with a smile after Brian turned his nose up - literally - at the sight of the collard greens nestled inside the white, Corelle-type bowl as he took his place beside his aunt and uncle.  "They have a lot of iron and they're very healthy for you.  Try them with a little vinegar on top."

 

Brian leaned over to peer inside the bowl.  "What's in there with them?" he asked warily, as he poked around the inside of the dish with a large serving spoon.

 

"Don't play with the food, Brian," his uncle quietly scolded him, making him feel like he was three years old.  "It's Canadian bacon and red union."  He took the spoon away from his nephew to say grace briefly before he turned to scoop out a generous portion of the greens and place them on his plate.  "If I can get used to this version, so can YOU."

 

Sarah smiled at her husband's grousing.  "Will grew up on classic southern food just like I did.  But a few years ago the doctor warned him about his cholesterol being sky high and his hypertension, so I slowly weaned him off the more fattening versions and started serving him healthier ones.  Neither one of us really miss it much now, and we're both a lot healthier."

 

"Speak for yourself, Missy," Will told his wife sternly, although there was a hint of affection in his voice as well.  Sarah knew he wasn't being critical, not really anyway, although she knew he DID miss some of her famous, batter-fried chicken.  She did make an exception for her prize-winning berry cobbler, though; Will always DID have a soft spot for blackberry cobbler a la mode, except now he enjoyed it with low-fat frozen yogurt instead of vanilla ice cream.  "Give me some of your good old biscuits and gravy any day."  He sighed.  "Those were the good old days..."

 

He looked at her with a sort of half-grin as he reached over to unexpectedly squeeze her hand before letting it go, evoking a smile of delight from his wife in return before she passed the bowl of coleslaw to him.

 

Brian watched their interaction with interest; it was the first time he had really seen his uncle act affectionately toward his aunt, and the first time he had seen him genuinely smile since they had met.

 

"Brian?  Up for a challenge?  You don't seem like the type to back down from anything new."  Sarah held the bowl of collard greens out to him tentatively, knowing her nephew would be unable to resist her gentle dare.  Brian studied the bowl for a few seconds before, with a nod of his head, he accepted the container and spooned a small amount onto his plate.  Squirting a few drops of vinegar onto the greens as his aunt had suggested, he drew a small forkful up to his lips and took a tentative taste.  Both his aunt and uncle watched him curiously as Brian warily chewed the concoction around in his mouth before taking a swallow.

 

"Not bad," he advised in his typical, noncommittal way.  Sarah grinned at him before she, too, took up a forkful of the greens and ate.  The rest of the meal was spent in atypical, congenial silence for a change as they briefly took a break before Brian and his uncle resumed the rest of their duties for the afternoon.

 

---

One Hour Later...

Brian warily eyed the machine from a few feet away.  It looked sort of like a cross between a push mower and a snow blower.  It had a handle and a pull cord to start it like a mower, but it also had rounded blades shrouded by a curved metal piece below it that he had never seen before.  There was no discharge vent, either, like you normally saw on a snow blower to throw the snow off to the sides.  "What the fu...uh, what is it?" he asked with a frown.

 

Standing a few feet away from him in the barn, his uncle scoffed at him softly; it seemed like Checkers was amused as well, for she let out a soft moo at about the same time.  "You've never seen a rototiller before?"

 

"A what?"

 

Will shook his head, still amazed whenever his nephew demonstrated his lack of knowledge regarding farm life.  This boy reminded him in so many ways of Dale that sometimes he forgot there were still distinctive differences, too.  "A rototiller; it's used to break up soil in preparation for crop planting.  I want you to use it on Sarah's vegetable garden."

 

"I walk behind it?" Brian asked incredulously.  The thing appeared to be extremely heavy; it was obviously made entirely of steel from how old it looked; there were definitely no plastic parts on THIS machine like newer models would have.

 

Will huffed out an impatient sigh.  "Of course you walk behind it.  Now roll it out outside and I'll show you how to use it."

 

Brian's gaze swept over longingly to a large, antique-looking red tractor in the far corner of the barn, sitting rather forlornly by itself and partially obscured by a faded, gray, canvas tarp covering most of it.  He had first seen it the other day when he had come out to milk the Walkers' cow and had been immediately intrigued by it.  Any type of machinery fascinated him (well, at least any that he could ride on), and this had been no exception.  He had lifted the tarp off it and hoisted himself up onto the seat and sat there, imagining what it would be like to ride it around the property, what type of motor it had, and just how fast it would go.  At the time, though, he had no key to it or he would have cranked it right up.  Now, though, as he stared over at it, he turned to suggest hopefully, "Why don't you have me use THAT for the garden?  It would be a lot faster."

 

Will narrowed his eyes as he asked, "How do you KNOW about it in the first place?"

 

Brian gave him a sort of ‘duh' look.  "I saw it yesterday when I was out here; it's pretty hard to miss."

 

His uncle looked at him with thinly veiled patience as he advised, "Nice try, Brian, but that tractor hasn't run in years.  Trust me, you would never get it started; it's shot.  So the sooner you get started with the tiller, the better.  Times a wasting and Sarah wants that dirt prepared soon so she can start planting.  She does a lot of canning in the fall and she's already behind."

 

Brian looked over again at the tractor emblazoned with Farmall letters etched on the side before he sighed in resignation and, curling his fingers around the cold, metal handle of the tiller, began to push the machinery along in front of him as he followed his uncle out of the barn.

 

---

Thirty Minutes Later

"Shit," Brian muttered as he paused in his work to take a ragged breath and wipe his brow with the back of his hand.  He had once more doffed his shirt after putting it back on earlier for lunch, the early afternoon sun now beating down mercilessly on his skin.  He felt like he was roasting - he knew he would have a motherfucker of a sunburn later - and the sweat trickling down his forehead and running into his eyes due to the uncharacteristically high humidity today did nothing to improve his mood.  He had found it rather easy to master the mechanics of using the rototiller once his uncle had shown him, and he was in great shape physically, but he was finding the actual work a lot harder than he had imagined it would be.  The dirt he was churning up was hard as a rock from the lack of rain recently, and as a result he was having to go over the same patch of soil over and over again in order to break it up evenly.  There had to be a better way.

 

"Fuck it," he finally decided as, tilting up the front of the tiller where the rotating blades were, he turned to wheel it back over to the barn.  Turning it off a few minutes later, he gazed over to the tractor for a few moments before walking over to take a better look at it.  Tugging at the heavy canvas tarp to throw it onto the ground, he began by making a thorough inspection of the apparatus.  It had to be at least 60 to 70 years old.   This was the first time he had ever been ‘up close and personal' with a tractor before, and in an odd sense it fascinated him but didn't intimidate him.  Walking slowly around it, he pursed his lips together thoughtfully before he located a metal latch that was holding the top in place.  Pulling on it to disengage it, he soon had the top open and was studying how to hotwire the thing.

 

---

Thirty Minutes Later - Inside the Walker Kitchen

 

Sarah finished washing the last of the dishes as she placed a dinner plate into the drying rack next to the sink.  "Is Brian out with the tiller, Will?"

 

Will took a drink from his water glass and set it down on the kitchen table before he nodded; he had just finished working on their toilet upstairs that had been leaking slightly.  Since their finances had gotten tighter in the past few years, his innate talents as a handyman had served to help them keep their maintenance expenses low.  "Yeah, at least he was starting on it when I came in earlier."  He sighed.  "I still don't know about that boy, Sarah.  He questions everything I say or do.  I can see why he ran afoul of the law.  He's too stubborn for his own good."

 

Sarah set the dishtowel down on the counter next to the sink to walk over and place a hand on her husband's shoulder to face him.  "I don't think he's a bad kid, Will.  I think he just needs the right type of influence and support."  She paused before adding more softly, "And I think he reminds you a lot of Dale...Doesn't he?"

 

Will let out a tense breath between his lips.  Sarah was right; there WERE a lot of similarities between this boy and their only son.  Was that why he was so hard on Brian?  Because every time he looked at him, and heard his sometimes insolent, stubborn replies he was seeing and hearing his son again?  His face contorted into pain as he briefly closed his eyes, the grief still fresh even now.

 

"Will?" Sarah whispered.

 

He opened his eyes back up to see his wife, the woman who had always stood by him in good times as well as bad, looking at him with concern.  Sometimes he thought she knew him better than he did himself.  He tried to smile back at her reassuringly, but he wasn't sure how successful he was being as he nodded his head.  "Yeah," he admitted to her; she was the ONLY one he would admit it to.  "He does remind me of him."

 

She nodded.  "I thought so," she said.  "He reminds me a lot of him, too.  Both stubborn as the day is long, and both so sure of themselves that they know the answers to every question before you even ask it."  She leaned in to rest her chin on her husband's shoulder.  "But we both know that's not true, don't we?"

 

She pulled back to look into her husband's face, seeing the lines etched there from too many nights lost in grief for their son as well as worry over how they would keep their farm afloat.  It had been hard - extremely hard - on both of them these past few years, but more so for her husband.  She knew more than anyone how his gruff exterior merely served to hide the roiling pain that still churned inside of him.  And only she knew what her husband was really like; at least before Dale had died.  How she longed to see that in him again.

 

Will gazed into the eyes of his wife, seeing the young woman he had first met and promptly fallen in love with.  For not the first time, he wondered why she even bothered to endure his constant irascibility and short temper.  Sarah was still relatively young and beautiful; he wasn't blind to the admiring stares from the men in town whenever they thought he wasn't paying attention.  He had no doubt that his intelligent, generous, and sweet wife could have her pick of several men in Versailles.  Why she chose to stick by him was a mystery, especially since Dale had died and he had retreated into himself.  But for whatever reason, she was looking at him with the same expression of love she had always given him, and for that he would be eternally grateful.

 

"I guess we do," he finally admitted to her as he pressed his forehead against hers.  "I just hope my patience doesn't run out before he admits he needs it."

 

As they pulled back a few inches, she grinned at him; he couldn't help grinning back at her in return, seeing the look of quiet joy on her face.  It was a look she was seldom bestowed with and he could tell how happy it made her.  He would have to try somehow to give her that same look more often, he thought to himself, before he noticed a frown appear on her face.  Her gaze was directed over his shoulder at something else as he heard her say almost in a faraway voice, "Will..."

 

"What?"

 

"Uh...isn't that your old tractor?"

 

"What?"  Will turned around to see what his wife was looking at through their kitchen window that overlooked the medium-sized plot of land that hosted her annual vegetable garden each year, and his eyes widened in shock.  It was his old Farmall, all right; and there, perched like a giant, preening peacock on the slightly rusty seat, was their nephew, bouncing along on top like he was an old-time veteran.  The only thing missing was a pair of faded overalls like their son used to wear when HE rode around on it.  His heart skipped a beat as for just a second he thought he saw Dale there instead of Brian before he muttered, "Well, I'll be damned..."  He scratched the top of his head in amazement and blinked to make sure he wasn't just seeing things, but when he opened his eyes back up his nephew was still sitting up on top of the seat like he owned it.

 

Sarah pursed her lips together to keep from laughing at her husband's unexpected slip of profanity before she watched him hurry over toward the back screen door to open it.  "Will, be careful..." she admonished him, knowing he would realize what she meant.

 

Will walked out to the backyard, just in time to intercept boy and tractor as the bulky machine came to a slow, sputtering halt beside him.  Brian peered down at him through mirrored sunglasses as he shouted to be heard.  "You got this contraption to start?!" he yelled in amazement.

 

Brian took off his sunglasses, squinting to readjust his eyesight as he peered down at him in an exact duplication of how his son used to look at him whenever he asked a redundant question.  "You really want me to answer that?"

 

Will shook his head before he muttered loudly, "Never mind!  Wait!" he urged him as he heard Brian revving up the engine again and getting ready to head toward the garden.  "I need to show you how to work the cultivator part!"  He stepped up on the running board alongside Brian and reached over to begin demonstrating how the controls worked as Brian nodded his head in understanding.

 

From her viewpoint at the back screen door, Sara's heart leapt at the sight of her husband and nephew working together for a change.  For once, her husband's face was animated and alive, not dull and void of any emotion like it normally was.  She watched as he jumped down from the tractor shortly afterward before Brian put his foot down on the accelerator and the Farmall started to move again.  Soon, she could see dirt being kicked up from her garden patch as their nephew adeptly cut up the cake-like dirt for her vegetable garden.  Will watched, also, for a few moments, satisfied that Brian seemed to know what he was doing, before he turned and flashed a warm smile at his wife.  For the first time, it was one of his ‘pre-accident' smiles and the sight quickly filled Sarah's heart with joy as she smiled back at him in return, her eyes tearing up at the wondrous sight.  Her heart just a little more hopeful now, she decided it was time to break out her canning books.  It looked like she would need them after all.

 

 

---

Early Evening

The steady, rhythmic squeaking of springs on the back porch's swing alerted Justin to his mother's presence before he actually saw her.  Sweaty and bone-weary from exercising Headstrong and caring for all the other horses in the stables, he dragged one foot in front of the other as he walked up the narrow stone path to the porch steps and slowly ascended the stairs.  "Hi, Mom," he called over to his mother as he turned to the right to walk over and join her on their Amish-built, cedar porch swing.  The swing was his mother's favorite piece of furniture on the porch - eight feet long and made of narrow, cedar slats with a curved top, it was somewhat more expensive than typical swings, but they had found it last summer at a flea market and his mother had found that she just had to have it.  Insisting that it was being purchased strictly from her honey profits, she had talked Craig into carting it home in their trailer, and since then she had spent many an early evening in the swing, relaxing with a glass of iced tea and listening to the night sounds that enveloped them.  It was one of the things that she loved about living in the country - the ability to appreciate all that nature had to give them, and enjoy that special time between the waning light of early evening and dusk when the world seemed to stopped moving quite so quickly.

 

She smiled fondly at her tired son.  "Hi, Honey," she greeted him as he plopped down beside her with a groan.  "You look exhausted."  She couldn't help reaching up to briefly ruffle the top of his hair fondly, just like she used to do when Justin was a young child.

 

He nodded as he let out a breath between his lips.  "It's only June!" he grumbled.  "It's not supposed to be this humid yet!"

 

She smiled at him, reaching over to pour a glass of iced tea into a spare, plastic, insulated tumbler glass, the kind that kept drinks colder for a longer period of time.

 

"Thanks," he said with a grateful smile as she handed it to him.  He looked around.  "Where's Jared and Dad?" he asked curiously.

 

She twisted her lips wryly.  "Where do you think?" she asked him.  "Your brother finally got done with his chores, so he and your father are..."

 

"...Out in the barn working on that car," Justin supplied for her as Jennifer nodded; he could hear faint banging sounds now coming from the direction of the storage barn.   He sighed.  "That's a big surprise," he stated sarcastically.  He rubbed his left hand through his sweat-slicked, stiff hair.   "I am so tired," he admitted.  "And I'm all sweaty now, too."  He looked over toward the back door.  "I'm not looking forward to going upstairs to all that heat at the moment.  And a hot shower doesn't exactly sound very appealing, either."

 

She nodded sympathetically.  "Why don't you walk down to the lake and take a swim instead?" she suggested.   "As hot as it's been lately, the water should feel really nice now."

 

Justin's eyes lit up at the thought.  "That sounds like a great idea," he told her.  "Do you mind if I skip dinner and just grab a sandwich when I get back?  Besides, I'm so icky and grimy right now, I don't think I'd make a great dinner companion."

 

She laughed as she wound her arm around her son's shoulder and hugged him to her briefly before letting him go.  "You ARE awfully stinky," she teased him as she felt the wetness through his sweat-soaked shirt.  "You smell like a workhorse."

 

He grinned at her as he replied facetiously, "I can't imagine why."  He quickly gulped down the rest of his tea and set it down on the small, white, oval-shaped, wicker table in front of them before he placed his hands palm-down on his thighs and pushed himself up into a standing position.  "I'll be back in a little while, then," he told her as he turned to go.

 

"Be careful, Honey," Jennifer couldn't help calling out to him.  She knew her youngest son could take care of himself, and that out here there really wasn't much to worry about safety-wise, but that still didn't keep her from saying it anyway.

 

Justin gave her a long-suffering look.  "Mom...I'll be fine," he assured her.  "I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

 

She smiled a little sheepishly.  "Okay.  I'll save some leftover roast beef for you from dinner so you can make a sandwich with it later."

 

He nodded gratefully as he trotted down the steps, still sensing the oppressive humidity practically smothering him but looking forward to a nice, cool dip in the lake that was situated toward the back of their property.  It was surrounded by a grove of sycamore and cedar trees that kept it much cooler than the rest of their farm, especially on days like this.  It was one of his favorite spots on the farm, a perfect place for a little recreation as well as a great location to do some sketching. 

 

He had lost track of how many times he had sat on the bank, lost in his work as he sketched a landscape of the terrain or drew one of their horses from memory.  Typically it was one of Headstrong, but he had also drawn True Blue on several occasions.  TB, as he not-so-fondly called him at times, should have been the one to be called ‘headstrong,' actually, because the name definitely fit.  The horse was obstinate, stubborn, and downright pigheaded, but also could be dangerous.  Even though he prided himself on how well he could handle horses, and how they seemed to naturally migrate toward him, he had long given up on THAT one.  Of course, the horse hadn't originally belonged to them, anyway; he had been the Walkers' horse, or to be more precise, Dale's.  Perhaps the horse's heart had been broken when Dale had died, too, much like his parents' had; before it happened he had never recalled the horse acting that way.  Now, though, even HE shied away from him, leaving it up to Vic to care for the horse as much as possible while keeping a respectful distance from him.

 

He shook his head, forcing his mind away from such depressing thoughts, as he hurried toward the watering hole; it was a medium-sized lake, actually, constructed several years ago mainly for serving herds of cattle.  But as the farm's focus had shifted from raising livestock to caring for racehorses, its purpose had changed to more of an amusement for him and his brother now, not to mention some of their other schoolmates who enjoyed frequenting it, especially on days like this.  Today, though, Justin was glad that he would be alone, because he had a lot to think about:  the horse race coming up, his education, his parents' financial situation, and last but certainly not least, a certain cocky but unforgettable neighbor boy who both fascinated him as well as totally exasperated the hell out of him.

 

As he threaded through the narrow, dirt path that curved back and forth among the thicket of trees, he could almost feel his stress level lowering with each step as eventually he caught his first glimpse of the placid, sparkling water ahead; he could hear the loud staccato sound of a pileated woodpecker nearby, high up in a dead oak tree, as he began to unbutton his shirt and jeans.  He threw the shirt on the ground, his jeans, shoes, and socks quickly joining it on the bank as he pulled his briefs down to shimmy out of them.  He could feel the cooler breeze blowing on his heated skin as he stood there unclothed, the wind caressing him gently, as he walked over to the edge of the lake and tentatively poked his big toe into the water.

 

"Ahhh," he smiled in pleasure as he noted the tepid temperature.  "Perfect..."  Walking around to an adjacent, more highly elevated part of the bank where a chunk of jagged rock stuck out prominently over the water, he reached up to grab onto the thick grapevine hanging overhead and with a joyous, childish cry of "cowabunga!", he swung out onto the surface of the lake and let go of the vine, dropping with a decided splash into one of the deeper parts of the water.

 

A few minutes later, he was happily floating on his back, enjoying the cool refreshment of the water as he closed his eyes in blissful peace, temporarily forgetting his anxiety.

 

---

Same Time

 

"Shit!" Brian groused as the bare skin of his wrist came into contact with a blackberry thorn.  From the stinging sensation he felt, he knew there would no doubt be an ugly, red streak tomorrow where the thorn had torn across his arm.  "This had fucking better be worth it," he muttered as he made sure to keep to the dirt trail his aunt had told him about.

 

He had been astounded a little earlier when his uncle had actually complimented him on his preparation of the ground for his aunt's garden, and he had almost fallen over in shock when the man had grudgingly mumbled a ‘thank you' for bringing the tractor back to life after he had declared it non-repairable.  Brian himself couldn't really explain HOW he had done it; he had just jiggled a bunch of wires, tightened up bolts and screws and unfamiliar parts that appeared to be loose, and with a ‘Hail Mary' in tribute to his mother he had joined the two wires together to hotwire it.  The engine had sputtered and coughed out billowing rolls of black exhaust smoke initially, almost choking the shit out of him, before it had miraculously come to life. 

 

Tentative at first, the engine became smoother and smoother until finally it was running steadily without any gaps.  Once he had finished the plowing in record time and had returned to the barn, turning the antique tractor off, his uncle had grabbed the key from a ledge above one of the doors, jammed it into the ignition slot and turned it to the right to make sure it would start again, and discovered surprisingly that it did.  He repeated the action once more just to make sure it wasn't a fluke before, muttering to himself that he ‘still didn't believe it,' he cocked his baseball-capped head over at Brian to declare, "I don't know how you did it, Brian, but...thanks."

 

The last word came out so softly that Brian thought at first he had misunderstood.  "What was that last word again?  I'm sure I didn't hear that right."

 

His uncle had sighed in exasperation.  Raising his voice, he had heard him clearly the second time.  "I said...THANK YOU."

 

He recalled his uncle looking at him curiously as he had looked around like he was searching for something.  "What?" he had asked him, perturbed.

 

Brian remembered smirking then.  "I'm just making sure the earth isn't going to swallow me up whole."

 

His uncle had huffed at him.  "Very funny," he had retorted.  "Let's go - your aunt's got some homemade frozen yogurt in the freezer that she made earlier."  He had paused to study him.  "You like vanilla?"

 

Brian had bitten back a snappy comeback, wanting desperately to remark that it was cock size that mattered, not their skin color, but he wisely chose to bite his tongue and had simply nodded his head before saying, "Yeah, I do."

 

His uncle had nodded.  "Let's go, then." And with that, he had turned and walked out of the barn, Brian following several steps behind him.

 

It was during those bowls of amazing vanilla frozen yogurt a few minutes later that his aunt had mentioned a swimming hole - or more accurately, a medium-sized lake - on the Taylor property that was often used to cool off with during the particularly hot months of July and August, which were typically known for their high humidity and temps in the 90's, making everyone who didn't have central air conditioning especially miserable.  She had mentioned that Jennifer had often told her that whenever they wanted to use it, they were welcome to do so.

 

Feeling particularly grubby after his work in the chicken coop and from tilling the garden soil, Brian had welcomed the idea, thinking the lake sounded like a perfect alternative to taking a shower.  So with instructions on how to get there, he had quickly set off in search of the watery oasis.

 

Now, as he came out into a clearing and saw the body of water he had been searching for, he noticed immediately that he wasn't the only one taking advantage of a respite from strenuous labor.  He quickly ducked around a large cedar tree nearby before craning his head around carefully to take a closer look at the person in the water.  His eyes widened and he smiled in delight over his good fortune as he recognized Justin Taylor lying fully relaxed about twenty feet away from the nearest bank.  He was floating on his back with his eyes closed, the placid water lapping like gentle caresses around his flawless, creamy-colored skin.

 

Brian began to salivate at the wondrous sight in front of him. Justin's cock, relaxed and heavy, was bobbing in the water, giving him just a brief, tantalizing peek of it as it surfaced and then dived back under again and again like some sexy submarine.  He licked his lips in anticipation, wondering what it would be like to take that organ in his mouth and suck on it, taste it, indulge in it.  He could almost feel the silkiness of it, the bulk of it, the wet warmth.  He had never had sex in a lake, but as he continued to openly admire the compact, oh-so-perfectly proportioned body of the younger Taylor boy floating effortlessly on top of the bluish-green water, he was getting painfully hard just thinking about it.

 

Watching to make sure that Justin didn't open his eyes, he smiled as he began to peel his own clothes off, noticing the other boy's attire lying nearby in a heap on the dry, dirt ground.  A wicked inspiration occurred to him as he quickly discarded the rest of his clothes and, draping them over a low-hanging limb of the cedar tree, walked over to pick up the other boy's clothing and shoes from their place on the ground.  Looking around hurriedly, he found a large tree stump with a hollowed-out crevice in it about fifteen feet away.  Walking over to the dead oak tree, he hurriedly bunched up the clothes and shoes and stuffed them as far back into the hole as he could, over to the right where they couldn't be easily detected.  Grinning at his cleverness, he quickly turned and walked toward the bank, feeling his cock hardening even more as he kept a close eye on his prey.

 

Impatient to get to Justin, but also knowing he had to be stealthy, he slowly entered the lake and began to wade over to him in the chest-deep water, relieved that it wasn't frigidly cold but pleasantly temperate as he carefully crept closer and closer to the other boy.  As he got nearer to him, his estimation of his prize rose dramatically.  The boy was heavenly.  Not a blemish on his slightly sun-kissed skin, downy, almost unnoticeable fine hairs on his arms and legs, a flat belly and just the right amount of definition in his chest, with perky little pink, water-wrinkled nipples poking skyward, just begging to be worshipped by his tongue and teeth.  And his cock; shit, it was even more impressive than he had imagined on someone smaller than him.  Smooth, large and thick, just waiting to be thoroughly suckled while he drove the boy into a state of delirium. The younger Taylor boy may have been shorter in stature, but when it came to what really counted, the good lord had definitely blessed him and now Brian was going to reap the benefits.

 

He forced his gaze upward to Justin's face, so peaceful and unsuspecting in its relaxed state.  Perfect button nose, delicate, gracefully-curved ears, absurdly-long eyelashes, and that mouth; that full, luscious mouth that just begged to be kissed and was so perfectly shaped for giving him head.  It was almost too much for him to contemplate and he couldn't wait to explore every delectable inch.

 

He was about four feet away when all of a sudden his left foot stepped on a sharp, jagged rock on the lake bed and he couldn't help the cry of pain that rose involuntarily from his lips.  His heart hammered in his chest as with dismay he noticed Justin's eyes pop open in startled surprise and he knew his task had suddenly become just a bit more challenging...

 

---

 

Justin's heart almost stopped and his eyes threatened to bulge out of his head as he heard a male voice cry out practically on top of him.  His body flushing a dark pink in instant realization as to who it was, he scissored his legs frantically until he could find the security of the lake bottom underneath before he turned around to stand face to face with a very wet, very bare-chested Brian.  The boy's hair was blowing rebelliously in the gentle breeze, his tanned skin sparkling with beads of water, and his chest was heaving lightly up and down as he stared over at him intently with those golden-green eyes.  God, he was magnificent!  Wondering what the handsome boy had on - or worse yet, didn't have on - Justin tried furiously to sound more assertive than he actually was as he growled, "You scared the shit out of me, Brian!  What the fuck are you doing here?"

 

The other boy had the gall to smirk back at him as he replied truthfully, "I was admiring the view."  His eyes slowly raked down Justin's face and then lower, moving toward his chest and then even more downward, making Justin feel like he could see straight through the water, even though he knew it was just murky enough to be impossible.

 

Justin had no doubt the boy's active imagination was working on overdrive at the moment, not that he had to imagine anything; after all, he had just seen ALL of him - at least the frontal part - in pure, unobstructed and unabashed glory.  He blushed profusely at the realization and crossed his arms over his chest protectively as he replied, "Well, the sightseeing tour is over, Brian.  And you're on private property.  So get out!"

 

Brian chuckled.  "No problem," he said.  "But are you sure you want me to do that?"  He proceeded to walk closer instead of heading back toward the bank as he told the younger boy in a stage whisper as if in mock horror, "I'm wearing my birthday suit, too, you know," emitting a sort of throaty, and decidedly sexy laugh that made Justin began to retreat from him, waving his hands in the water like oars to try and escape faster as he began to back away.

 

The impossibly blue eyes flashed over at Brian as Justin warned, "Stay away from me, Brian!  I'm warning you!"

 

Brian laughed even harder, thoroughly enjoying the fiery look on the blond's face and his show of bravado even in the midst of extremely uneven odds.  "Oh, you want to play tag?  Well, I used to love that game as a kid.  Okay, have it your way, then.  You're IT!"  he said with a smile as he began to advance confidently now, knowing it wouldn't be too long before he could capture Justin's body against his and taste the full, lush lips that were pursed so tightly together at the moment in righteous irritation before he spun him around and rammed his hot, hard cock into an ass he already knew was just perfect for that purpose.  He was getting closer and closer...just a few more seconds...His cock was throbbing painfully now...he was so damned ready...

 

To his surprise, Justin abruptly stopped backing away, even though he was continuing to walk toward him. Instead, he stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest again as he told his pursuer quietly, "I'm nobody's second choice, Brian.  This is your last chance!"

 

Brian stopped momentarily to stare over at the blond spitfire in confusion; surely Justin knew he could never outrun him, so there was no hurry, even though he was finding his resistance very intriguing.  So why had he stopped, then?  Actually he didn't care WHAT the reason was; he HAD to have this boy now!  But his prey's words registered at last in his mind as he replied, "What the fuck are you talking about, Justin?"

 

"You heard me, Brian!" Justin fired back.  "I'm not going to be your consolation prize!  Go find some OTHER boy to fuck!  I'm sure that wouldn't be very hard."

 

Brian chuckled at the other boy's fiery impertinence.  He had NO idea just how 'hard' things were at the moment, but he would soon find out...Justin had to realize he was fighting a losing battle.  He always got whoever he wanted and the more Justin fought, the more he wanted HIM.  He found the younger boy's courage to stand his ground fascinating.  He once more began to confidently advance toward the blond, his cock, his whole body longing now for a taste of the beautiful boy who was finding some inner strength to combat him still, even in the face of what was a certainty.

 

"What if I want YOU?" Brian asked him in a sultry tone of voice as he continued to get ever closer; he wondered about the benefits of buoyancy in water while he and Justin fucked, the idea making his entire body thrum with anticipation.  He couldn't wait any longer; he had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted this boy right now.  How could he have been so blind? he thought, as he stared over at him.  Yes, Jared was hot:  confident, handsome, and cocky.  He was attractive in a smoldering, dark sort of way, and the guy knew it, too.  In fact, Brian was beginning to realize just how boring such predictability could be.  He was TOO much like himself.  But THIS beautiful boy - this one was unlike any boy he had ever been with.  This one had the gall to actually challenge him, to make him feel unsure of himself, Brian Kinney, the boy who always got any one he wanted; this one seemed to delight in tripping him up at every turn, always keeping him on his toes in spite of his obvious inexperience with sex.  Fuck, he was amazing!  Why hadn't he seen it before? To his astonishment, Justin actually smiled at his rhetorical question then. 

 

"Well, sorry, but I don't want YOU!"  Justin knew it was a bald-faced lie as soon as he said it, though; the boy practically dripped with desire for him, and with his chest all wet and rivulets of water flowing down from his bronze, god-like face to his flat stomach, Brian was breathtaking; at least he knew HE was struggling to breathe at the moment.  Just knowing the boy was completely nude from the waist down made his mouth go dry.  He was half-tempted to stop his plan from taking hold, but he just couldn't let this cocky bastard get away with thinking he was just a fish waiting to be caught at the end of his hook.

 

"I don't believe that for one second, Justin," Brian said, now almost within touching distance of the other boy.  He stared transfixed at the expressive blue eyes that were defiantly glaring back at him.   "You want me as much as I want you.  Why are you fighting me?  You wouldn't if you knew what I'm going to do when I catch you.  You want to know, don't you?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper now that they were so close.

 

Justin's eyes darkened in barely-concealed desire as Brian's lips turned upward into a look of triumph.  "First I'm going to kiss that look of indignation right off your face," he vowed as he got closer and closer.  Just a few more inches...almost there...

"Then I'm going to grab you and turn you around so fast your fucking head will spin at the pace," he growled, now almost able to feel Justin's satiny-looking skin under his touch.  "And then...then I'm going to ram my cock into your pretty little ass so hard that..."

 

He never got all the words out as, all of a sudden, he felt his feet give way beneath him as they came into contact with a break in the bottom of the lake bed and he found himself without any support underneath him; he was able to give Justin one quick look of stunned shock before he was unexpectedly pulled under into the deeper part of the lake; it took him several seconds to resurface, just long enough for Justin to scurry away, his legs and arms confidently cutting through the calm water as he swam toward the bank where he had first entered.

 

As Brian re-emerged on top of the surface, he spit out the large amount of water he had took in through his mouth as he looked around for Justin who had quickly disappeared; as he treaded over to a place where his feet finally touched the bottom again, he turned to observe his target now out of the water and peering over at him from behind a tree.  Even though he looked silly hiding his nude body from his sight, the boy still had the audacity to call out to him smugly, "I forgot to mention that there's a sharp fall-off over there."

 

Brian's face darkened in embarrassment. Once more the boy had proven to be quite unpredictable, but this time he wasn't finding it quite so amusing.  "What the hell?"

 

Justin shrugged.  "I told you I wasn't anyone's second choice, Brian," he reminded him, his hands wrapped tightly around either side of the tree's trunk like a shield of armor.

 

Brian forced a confident smile on his face as the cockiness returned.  "Well, I hope you brought some sunscreen with you, then, because your clothes seem to be missing.  I'd hate to see that hot little ass of yours get all red and sunburned.  You can always come back into the water with ME, though."  His eyes widened in dread, however, as Justin oddly grinned back at him, turning HIM into the uncomfortable one now. 

 

"That's okay," Justin told him matter-of-factly as he held up a familiar-looking pair of jeans and a pair of black sneakers.  "I found someone else's clothes conveniently hanging from that tree branch over there.  But don't worry; I'm sure you can always wear MY clothes home!"  Quickly slipping his shorter legs into the larger-sized jeans before rolling up the cuffs, Justin finally emerged from behind the tree as he slid his feet into the expensive sneakers.   He ignored the intoxicating scent of the other boy that still lingered on the shirt that was held in his hands as his face lost its smile and he told Brian with deadly calm, unable to hide the hurt and sadness evident in his voice, "Just because you let Jared fuck you doesn't mean that I'm going to let you fuck ME," before he quietly turned and walked away, leaving a speechless, older boy with his mouth agape in the water.

 

An ugly epiphany bloomed inside Brian as he realized exactly what Justin had meant, and his face contorted into fury.  It was time to have a little talk with Jared.

 

 

 

Last Chapter:

Brian forced a confident smile on his face as the cockiness returned.  "Well, I hope you brought some sunscreen with you, then, because your clothes seem to be missing.  I'd hate to see that hot little ass of yours get all red and sunburned.  You can always come back into the water with ME, though."  His eyes widened in dread, however, as Justin oddly grinned back at him, turning HIM into the uncomfortable one now. 

 

"That's okay," Justin told him matter-of-factly as he held up a familiar-looking pair of jeans and a pair of black sneakers.  "I found someone else's clothes conveniently hanging from that tree branch over there.  But don't worry; I'm sure you can always wear MY clothes home!"  Quickly slipping his shorter legs into the larger-sized jeans before rolling up the cuffs, Justin finally emerged from behind the tree as he slid his feet into the expensive sneakers.   He ignored the intoxicating scent of the other boy that still lingered on the shirt that was held in his hands as his face lost its smile and he told Brian with deadly calm, unable to hide the hurt and sadness evident in his voice, "Just because you let Jared fuck you doesn't mean that I'm going to let you fuck ME," before he quietly turned and walked away, leaving a speechless, older boy with his mouth agape in the water.

 

An ugly epiphany bloomed inside Brian as he realized exactly what Justin had meant, and his face contorted into fury.  It was time to have a little talk with Jared.

---

 

The attraction of swimming in the refreshing lake water suddenly lost its allure as Brian watched Justin hurriedly shrug into his jeans and slide his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.  Without another sound, Justin gave him one last, sad look before he turned and disappeared from sight a few seconds later, the cuffs scraping slightly against the dirt as he walked.

 

Brian stood there watching him go, too stunned to say or do anything.  His face was red with both embarrassment as well as rage.   Justin thought that he had let Jared top him?  That could be the only possible explanation.  How DARE he spread that type of lie about him?  He didn't bottom for ANYBODY, and he sure as hell didn't appreciate someone insinuating such.

 

His fury over being lied about drove Brian out of the water in record time as he pulled up short on the bank a few minutes later.  He was going to have a showdown with Jared very shortly, but first there was the issue of his missing clothes.  He walked over to the nearby hollow tree to retrieve Justin's clothing, which by now were wrinkled and encrusted with chips of wood from the decaying tree.  Turning his nose up at the sight as he held the shirt up in front of him, he gave it a wary look, wondering how in the hell he was going to get back to his aunt and uncle's farm with clothes that were not his and were obviously the wrong size.

 

"Shit," he muttered as he threw the shirt down on the ground and picked up Justin's jeans and held them up against his waist.  There was no fucking way he could wear these without looking like some yokel sporting a pair of denim knickers.  What choice did he have, though?  At least the blond's ample ass should give him more than enough room to shrug into them, and it was either that or saunter back to the farmhouse in his birthday suit.  That didn't particularly bother HIM, but he didn't want to be responsible for giving his Aunt Sarah a heart attack, either.

 

A few minutes later, he was standing there with the loose-fitting jeans on, the cuffs at least four inches too short for his long legs.  Feeling utterly ridiculous, he scooped up Justin's shoes and underwear to stuff them into the shirt and tied the flaps together before turning to walk back up the dirt trail leading away from the lake, careful not to step on anything in his bare feet and dodging more blackberry thorns along the way.  He rolled his eyes, feeling like a modern-day version of Huckleberry Finn.  All he needed now was a stick to attach the balled-up clump of clothing to, and he would definitely look the part.  He sighed in disgust over the image that was projected as he ran smack into a spider web stretched across the pathway and came up with a mouthful of the sticky substance in his face and his eyes.  "Shit!" he growled as he wiped it away and shook his hand up and down violently in an unsuccessful attempt to get rid of it.  He finally had to wipe his hand off on some leaves in order to dislodge it.  Could this get any worse?

 

As he came out of the clearing, he spotted a familiar blond head nearing the Taylor yard and wondered if Justin would have the same problem that he might have - trying to explain why he wasn't wearing his own clothes.  He watched as the other boy walked up to the front gate and promptly hid behind one of the front bushes near the steps.  Snickering at his juvenile antics, he then observed him stealthily creeping up the front porch and cupping his hands to one of the front windows as he peeked inside before, finally, he opened the front screen door and quickly entered the house.  Sneaky little shit, he couldn't help thinking in an oddly admirable way.  Justin, however, had it lucky - at least HIS purloined clothes were more than enough to cover him and he had his good, quality clothes; he, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of jeans that probably came from some ad straight out of the Farmer's Almanac.

At that moment, he would have liked nothing better than to march over to the Taylor house and have it out with that fucking liar Jared, but he thought it wiser to go change his clothes first.  Steeling his jaw in determination, he veered off toward the left, keeping to the edge of the woods as he carefully made his way back over to the Walker farm.  As he got closer to the property line separating his aunt and uncle's farm from the Taylor farm, he quickly ducked behind the large trunk of an oak tree as he spied his uncle walking into the barn where Checkers was housed, thanking his lucky stars that he was able to elude his uncle's scrutiny.  Blowing out a sigh of relief as his uncle disappeared inside, he held the bag of clothing by his teeth as he walked over to the fence and scaled the side of it, hoping he didn't wind up with a splinter in his foot in the process.  Hopping down and keeping a watchful eye on the barn to make sure his uncle didn't come back out, he quietly walked toward the front of the house, not paying the ground any mind until he felt a sharp, unexpected stinging sensation on the top of his left foot.

 

"Fuck!" he cried out as he bent his leg at the knee and picked his foot up, noticing a bee stinger protruding from the arch of his foot.  "I don't believe this!"  He winced as he pulled the stinger out, trying as best he could to ignore the acute pain shooting up his lower leg.  Hobbling along now in an effort to get out of sight from his uncle's possible detection, he managed to limp up the porch and was about to open the door to quietly enter when Solomon, the Walker's beagle, came bounding up to him and began to circle around him eagerly for attention.

 

"Amscray, Mutt," he muttered to the dog as he looked around warily, "go find a fox to hunt."  But his words to the dog merely served to encourage him further as Solomon began to bay excitedly at him with a loud, booming bark.

 

"Shhh!" he hissed.  "Are you trying to blow my cover here?"  He quickly reached for the doorknob just as he found it opening on its own.

 

Sarah frowned as she opened the door wider, her eyes sweeping over her nephew's tousled-looking damp hair, bare chest, and jeans that appeared to be way too short for him.  He was holding a ball of clothing in his hands and was missing his shoes.  "Brian?  What happened to you?"

 

Great.  Thanks, Dog, he silently berated the beagle as he stepped inside; Solomon trotted along happily at his heels and promptly scampered down the hallway toward the kitchen, no doubt in search of his food bowl or some water.  Sure enough, a few seconds later he heard the distinctive sound of water being lapped up.

 

"I got stung by a bee," he informed his aunt, as if that would explain how he looked. At least it seemed to temporarily divert his aunt from more probing questions, however, as she furrowed her brow and took him by the forearm.

 

"You poor thing," she murmured sympathetically, wisely choosing not to press her nephew further as she led him over to the couch.  "Sit down and I'll go get something to take care of it. Where did you get stung?"

 

Brian sat down on the edge of the worn but clean couch.  "On the top of my left foot," he told her through gritted teeth; for something relatively minor, the sting hurt like hell.

 

"You're not allergic, are you?" she asked worriedly as she helped Brian to put his foot up on top of the coffee table.

 

Brian shook his head.  "No, but it smarts like crazy."

 

She nodded as she took a quick look at it, noticing only some redness and perhaps a little swelling there.  "Just try to relax and I'll be right back."

 

Brian glanced over toward the hallway leading to the kitchen, worried that he would be busted any minute by his uncle and not wanting to deal with having to explain his strange appearance.  "Uh, no, it's okay," he hastily tried to dissuade her.  "It's not that big a deal; I'll just go upstairs and find something in the bathroom for it."

 

But Sarah was undaunted.  "No, you need to put some ice on it to reduce the swelling, and have the wound cleaned.  Just stay put."  For a smaller woman, Sarah could be quite commanding when she used the right tone of voice; Brian didn't know if it was because she sounded remarkably like his own mother, or she was just naturally imbued with an authoritative, calming presence, but something in her voice told him to comply as he nodded back at her.

 

A few minutes later, she returned with a wooden serving tray holding a plastic bag of ice, a kitchen towel, a metal dishpan containing some other items to take care of the wound, and a coffee can.  Placing the items down on the coffee table in front of her, she dipped a clean washcloth into the coffee can filled with tepid, soapy water and began to gently clean the wound.   "Are you allergic to any medicine, either?" she asked as she placed the cloth back into the water a few minutes later and used the corner of her clean apron to gently dry the infected area.

 

Brian was amazed with how methodical she was and by how gently she tended to him as he shook his head.  "No, not that I know of."

 

Sarah nodded as she reached for a small bowl that held a baggie filled with a few tablespoons of water.  "I'll get you some anti-histamine and ibuprofen for the pain, then, as soon as I'm done."  She pulled open the zippered plastic bag and poured the water into the bowl as she reached into the bin again for a small, plastic bottle of some sort.

 

As she continued to administer to her nephew, she couldn't miss Brian's repeated, worried glance toward the back of the house.  "He'll be gone for a while," she gently reassured him.

 

"Who?"  Brian asked, trying to sound ignorant.  Inside, though, his heart was beating anxiously that he would be caught any minute and he knew his aunt was well aware of who they were talking about.  It wasn't that he was scared of his uncle; he just didn't want to be put through yet another inquisition.

 

"Your uncle," she replied anyway, playing along with him.  "He's in the barn taking care of the animals for the night, and then he always comes and sits on the front porch with the radio afterward to listen to the Reds game.  He won't be in for at least a couple of hours yet."  She sighed softly.  "He does it every night during the summer."  Just once she wished they could do something together and actually converse with each other.  They had always done that...Before the accident.

 

Brian nodded, knowing it was useless to play dumb.  Who else could he be talking about around here, anyway?

 

Sarah unscrewed the small container's lid, placing it down on the coffee table next to the bowl of water.  Brian noticed it had holes on the top like a spice jar.  Reaching to retrieve a toothbrush, he watched as she poured the tablespoons of water into the bowl and began to sprinkle some auburn-colored powder into it to create a paste.

 

When Brian was finally able to read the label on the container, he turned to look at his aunt as if she had lost her mind.  "Meat tenderizer?  What's that for?  I'm not some piece of tough steak."

 

Sarah laughed softly as she swished the water and powder together with the clean toothbrush to help thicken it.  "You'd be amazed what sort of home remedies we use here for medicinal purposes," she explained as she applied some of the paste to the brush and slowly rubbed it over the sting.  "Out here we can't just run to the drugstore every time something happens to us.  The tenderizer has an enzyme in it that helps to break down the bee venom."  She smiled understandingly at her nephew's look of doubt.  "Don't worry - you won't smell like beef, and it'll help with the itching and the discomfort."

 

Brian shook his head, temporarily forgetting his other problems.  "Now I've heard of everything," he murmured as his aunt finished applying the odd concoction and returned all the items to the metal dishpan.

 

"Here," Sarah said quietly as she handed him the cloth-covered ice bag.  "Apply this to the sting for a little while; it will help reduce the swelling."  Brian nodded as he did as he was told.

 

Sarah had an opportunity to study her nephew a little more closely as he pressed the bag to the top of his foot.  There was no way that these were the same clothes that Brian had worn on the way to the lake.  "Brian, whose clothes are those?" she asked softly, no judgmental or scolding tone to her voice, merely an inquisitive one.

 

Brian lifted his gaze to stare into his aunt's face; it was a kindly face, similar in feature to his mother's physically, but that was where the similarity ended.  His mother always looked so cold and impassive when she talked to him as if she were just waiting for him to screw up again.  His Aunt Sarah, on the other hand, had been nothing but kind to him ever since he had come here, and he could tell she wasn't accusing him of anything,  just merely wondering what any normal person would wonder - how he left wearing one set of clothes and returned wearing another.  How in the hell was he going to explain this to his aunt, though, so she wouldn't be shocked?

 

He sighed softly as he met her gaze, deciding for once that maybe the honest, straightforward approach was the best.  "They...They belong to Justin."  There...At least it was out now...

Sarah frowned.  "Justin?  How in the world did you wind up with his clothes instead of yours?"

 

Brian fidgeted on the couch and averted his eyes downward to look at the ice bag again as he replied, "I saw him - down at the lake.  He was there when I arrived."  Sarah remained silent as her nephew explained, "He was floating on top of the lake...without his clothes on."  For a few seconds, his allowed his thoughts to stray back to that first moment when he had  first seen Justin out in the water; even now, the image of the other boy and his beauty was seared into his brain and he had to force himself to steer his thoughts away for fear his attraction to him would become obvious, even to his unsuspecting aunt.

 

To her credit, his aunt didn't bat an eye over that provocative statement, though; in fact, she actually grinned.  "Well, you wouldn't catch ME and Will doing that - not at our age now, anyway - but I imagine the Taylor boys would do it on their own property and away from prying eyes."  She lowered her voice to more of a conspiratorial-type whisper as she revealed to him, "Don't tell your uncle I told you this, but it's really nothing new.  Your uncle and I used to do that same thing over at that watering hole all the time when we were first married.  Nothing would cool us off more than some skinny dipping after a hard day's work on the farm, especially during the hot summer months.  This kind of weather is unusual this time of year here, though; it's normally not this hot yet."  She felt her face warm a little in embarrassment over what she had just divulged as she reached over to take the ice bag away from her nephew and place it in the bin; trying to keep her voice neutral, she added softly, "That still doesn't explain how YOU wound up with Justin's clothes."

 

Brian gnawed on his lower lip for a moment before he decided he could trust her not to be judgmental; at least this would be a good test of that theory anyway.  "Well...I thought it would be kind of fun to hide his clothes from him as a practical joke, so I stuffed them in the hollow of a tree when he wasn't looking.  Then when I waded into the water to surprise him, he wound up turning the tables on me."  He deliberately didn't tell her how amazingly hot Justin had looked there lying on his back totally naked or how he had unashamedly pursued him; he figured there was only so much his conservative aunt could handle at one time.

 

"How did he do that?" she asked, watching him intently now in rapt fascination.

 

"He neglected to tell me that there's a steep drop in the water in one part of the lake and he led me right over to it."

 

Sarah nodded with a laugh.  "Yeah, I know... over by the large grape vine."

 

Brian's eyes widened in surprise.  "You know about that?"

 

She nodded again with a smile.  "Yeah...that old oak tree has had that grape vine hanging down from it for years; we used to swing from it and drop into the lake there all the time when we went swimming.  It was a lot of fun."

 

Brian huffed.  "Well, someone conveniently avoided telling me about it and I wound up being pulled under into the deep part.  By the time I got back up to the surface, Justin had already swum back over to the shore and found MY clothes to wear."

 

Sarah chortled in amused glee.  "So he left wearing YOUR clothes and left his instead?"

 

Brian looked a little uncomfortable as he admitted, "Well, he didn't know where HIS were, so I guess he had no choice."  Sarah nodded in understanding as he told her, "What could I do?  I didn't think Uncle Will would appreciate me walking back here buck naked."

 

Sarah burst out laughing at the imagined sight.  "No, he probably wouldn't have," she told him, grinning from ear to ear.  "But it sure would have been funny to see."  She glanced over at the balled-up clothes lying on the couch.  "Well, I think it would be courteous to return Justin's clothes to him, don't you think?  It wasn't HIS fault that you hid them from him.  I think he did the only thing he could under the circumstances."

 

Brian contemplated that; while it would serve the little shit right to not return his clothes after what he had pulled, it WOULD accomplish one thing:  it would give him an excuse to confront Jared about the lies he had been telling his younger brother, and perhaps help elevate him to a more favorable status in Justin's eyes afterward after he explained what really happened.  He didn't stop to consider why it was so important to him that he straighten things out with the younger Taylor brother; he just knew that it was.  "I guess you're right," he told her with a nod.  "In fact, I think I'll go return them now."

 

She frowned.  "It'll be dark soon, Brian. It can wait until tomorrow."

 

"No," he shook his head, trying desperately to scramble for a good reason why it had to be right away.  "I don't want him to run the risk of getting into trouble over not having his own clothes," he told her, thinking that sounded plausible.  "And it's just a few minutes' walk.  I can even take a flashlight with me just in case I start back after dark.  And besides, I didn't bring a lot of clothes with me - I really need to get my own back, too."  He was silently proud of the story he had just concocted - if it were him even HE would buy it.

 

She nodded, looking into his eyes and sensing just a hint of awkwardness there and perhaps something more; there was almost a touch of anticipation in his voice.  "Justin's a wonderful boy," she told him with a smile.  "Very thoughtful and considerate, always so soft-spoken, too.  And I think he's a very handsome young man; no...beautiful, both inside and out, I would say.  He has more of a classic look than the rugged features that Jared has.  Don't you think?"  She asked politely as she gazed into his face.  She had noticed the way that Brian had been staring at Justin over the Taylor's dinner table; he might have been trying to be subtle about it, and maybe he didn't even realize how much his expression was broadcasting his innermost feelings, but she had seen it just the same.  And his reaction just now to her question only confirmed her suspicion that there was more going on here than just a juvenile sort of practical joke at Justin's expense.

 

"Yeah, I guess," Brian grumbled, embarrassed, as he turned his face to look out through the front window.  "If you notice those kinds of things."

 

Sarah quirked one side of her mouth up, knowing she had to be right.  She couldn't quite grasp how one boy could be attracted to another boy - that was about as foreign a concept to her as flying without any wings - but her nephew wasn't fooling her, not for one second.  "Well, anyway, I suppose it would be okay to go over there now if you're careful.  That is, if your foot is doing better."

 

Brian nodded; he had scoffed silently at his aunt's homemade attempt to make his foot feel better, but he had to admit - the sting was practically gone now and the pain was minimal.  "Yeah, it's fine.  Just a little achiness, that's all."

 

Sarah nodded as she rose from her place at the couch.  "Well, why don't you go upstairs and change into some of your own clothes?  I'll go hunt up that medicine and a flashlight for you in case you need it."

 

Brian nodded as he stood up and reached for the ball of Justin's clothing.  As he turned to go, Sarah reached out to grasp his forearm.  She hesitated saying something, but she felt she must; she was really fond of Justin.

 

"Brian...Whatever happens between you and Justin..." Brian opened his mouth to protest that there wasn't anything going on to even be concerned about, but his aunt placed a couple of fingers lightly over his mouth to squelch it.  "Just hear me out," she entreated earnestly before she removed them.  "Whatever happens between the two of you...just don't hurt him.  He really is a sweet boy, but he's still very young.  That's all I'm going to say.  Okay?"

 

Brian finally nodded silently as he turned to go, his aunt's eyes practically boring into his back as he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom.  Sarah watched him go for a few seconds, deep in thought, before she headed back to the kitchen with her supplies.

 

---

Fifteen Minutes Earlier - Taylor Farmhouse

Justin collapsed face up on his twin-sized bed and groaned as he looked up at the ceiling.  What had possessed him to be so bold around Brian?  What had come over him?  He looked down at the oversized, long shirt and the jeans he was still wearing and he couldn't believe he had actually engaged in a battle of wills with the handsome, older boy.  What in the world was he thinking?  But he couldn't help it.  Despite his deep attraction to Brian, he had been sad as well as pissed; angry that just because Brian was sexy and gorgeous - and knew it - he thought he could just waltz in that water and expect him to bend over some rock outcropping and let him ram his cock into his ass like some faithful, little eager puppy dog, and sad that his idea of perhaps having a relationship with him had been promptly squelched.  Well, he might not be overly experienced when it came to sex and he might be deeply attracted to the guy, but he still had his pride.  He had meant what he had said - he wasn't going to be anyone's consolation prize.

 

"More like a booby prize," he muttered to himself.  That's about how he felt at the moment - like a big, ignorant boob.

 

"Well, I got news for YOU, Hot Stuff.  I'm NOBODY'S easy lay," he vowed once more to himself, feeling a lot less confident than he sounded, though.  He huffed, insulted at the thought that Brian considered him such an easy and willing target.  Why couldn't he just find some sweet, thoughtful boy to have a relationship with?  Why did he have to fall for someone who was arrogant and egotistical?  Knowing how forceful a personality Brian was, he was actually surprised that someone like him would agree to bottom for his brother in the first place, although he knew Jared could be quite determined when it came to getting what he wanted.  Maybe Brian felt just out of place enough here on the farm to agree to something he might not normally do.  He sighed.  What did he really know about such things, anyway?

 

Thank God no one had been around when he had sneaked in through the front door; if he had had to explain to either Jared or his father, especially, what had happened, he would have died from extreme mortification, not to mention his father would have had yet another reason to be disappointed with him and he would have been subjected to all sorts of questions he didn't want to answer.

 

He had the distinct impression, also, that his father didn't want them to have anything to do with Brian.  He had only grudgingly agreed to let Jared show Brian the newest car he was restoring, no doubt because it was JARED who had asked him and Jared could usually do no wrong where their father was concerned.  Still, it was obvious that their father didn't find Brian the best influence and didn't trust his motives.   Well, he wouldn't have to worry about HIM where the other boy was concerned; HE had no intention of being Brian's plaything.  If he wanted to get his kicks, let him go into town and find someone else who was willing to be used like that, or let him and Jared take turns fucking each other's brains out.  He really didn't care anymore.

 

Nice speech, Taylor, he could hear his subconscious chiding him as he folded his arms across his chest and continued to stare up the ceiling at nothing in particular.  He could hear banging sounds coming from outside his open window and knew it had to be his father and Jared still working on their newest project.  Sitting up finally, he decided it would be best to shuck out of the other boy's clothes and shove them into the clothing hamper before anyone noticed his odd state of dress.  Rising from the bed, he pulled out some of his own clothes from the top dresser drawer, and walking down the hallway he entered the bathroom door and closed it.  He unbuttoned the jeans and began to pull them down his legs when a sudden image appeared in his mind of the boy who normally wore them kneeling in front of him as he worshipped his cock, and that just made his entire body instantly heat up in reaction.

 

Idiot!  Stepping out of Brian's shoes and kicking the jeans off the rest of the way in disgust, he stood there and looked at himself in the mirror.  To his eyes, he looked like he was maybe 12 years old; no wonder Brian didn't really take him seriously!  Was he going to look like some fucking kid the rest of his life?  Sighing sadly, he began to unbutton Brian's shirt and pulled it off, holding it up to his nose to inhale the intoxicating scent of the boy who normally wore it - a unique mixture of sweat and after-shave, and perhaps a touch of cigarette smoke.  It was like instant endorphins had been released as a rush of desire flooded through him.  He closed his eyes and inhaled more deeply this time, savoring the thought of him - and Brian - together in the throes of passion as he reached down and began to slowly pump his cock, pretending Brian was doing it instead.  His dick became achingly hard merely at the thought of the other boy expertly jerking him off.  "Uhhh," was the unintelligible sound that sprang from his lips at the thought.  He began to stroke his cock faster and faster now, feeling the telltale tensing of his body signaling an imminent release....so close, God, yes...

 

"Justin!  Are you up there?"  Jennifer furrowed her brow in worry; she hadn't seen her youngest son return from the lake and he had promised to be home within a couple of hours.  Out here, once the sun began to set darkness followed soon afterward, and despite the relative safety of their environment, she still couldn't help worrying about him.  She was hoping, therefore, that Justin had somehow come home when she was out by the honeybee hives or had entered through the front door as he occasionally did sometimes.

 

Justin groaned as he was jolted out of his erotic fantasy by the sound of his mother's voice.  He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, stilling his hand on his leaking cock as he answered back as best he could, "I'm in the bathroom, Mom!  I'm taking a shower!"  And needing to jerk off...

He sighed in relief that he was at least spared having to come face-to-face with his mother at the moment.  "Okay then, Honey!  I saved you a sandwich from dinner if you want to come down and get it when you're done!"

 

Justin exhaled a deep breath as he reached to turn on the hot water.  "Thanks, I'll be out in a little while!" he called back as he pushed the vinyl curtain aside and tested the water temperature.  Finding it adequate, he threw Brian's shirt down on the floor to join his other clothes and stepped inside the bathtub to let the water cascade down his body.  Closing his eyes, he imagined Brian with him under the spray, his body glistening from the steady stream as he rocked back and forth, in and out, the taller man's body flush with his as he fucked him and held onto his waist with his large, long-fingered hands.  God, it would feel so good!  A few more strokes of his cock and soon he was coming all over the marble wall of the enclosure.  Sagging against the side of the bathroom wall a few seconds later, he sighed.  He could resist becoming Brian Kinney's plaything, but he knew deep down it still wouldn't prevent him from wanting him or being attracted to him.  He only hoped that the next time he met him, that fact wouldn't be written all over his face.

 

 

Craig stood back from the car and nodded in satisfaction.  "Shouldn't be too hard to repaint this one," he said approvingly, impressed as always with his son's intuition when it came to determining which cars to work on.  His son seemed to have an innate ability to determine which vehicles were the best candidates for restoration.  Even though the finished product didn't always bring in the high profit margin that he would like, he still enjoyed working alongside his son to get them road ready. 

 

Jared nodded as he closed the driver's side door, his eyes lit up with enthusiasm.  He always got excited whenever they brought home a new vehicle to restore.  There was just something about starting out with a shell of some former, classic car and slowly watching as it transformed into a showpiece again.  "This one is going to be so sweet!" he remarked with a smile as he stepped back to stand next to his father's side.  "And did you see the low miles on this one?  That's the original odometer!" he exclaimed.  "I can't wait to get this one fixed up, Dad!"  They had found this latest car through the grapevine in town, having heard about it being stored, forlorn and neglected, inside Thatcher's old barn on the older man's property when they went into town to buy some feed for their animals.  A visit to the farm later that afternoon, along with a little, well-placed schmoozing over the price, and they had found themselves bringing home their next project.

 

"Yeah, this will be a good one, Jared," Craig told him as he put his arm congenially around his son's shoulders and smiled proudly.  A noise near the door made him look over to the opening as he noticed his old friend and their jack-of-all-trades, Vic, standing in the doorway.  "Hey, Vic," he greeted the other man with a polite nod of his head in acknowledgment.  "About ready to lock up for the night?"  Vic lived in an older but neatly kept mobile home situated in a corner of the farm; it was part of his payment for helping to keep the farm running and assisting in taking care of the horses. 

 

Wiping some dirt from the palms of his calloused hands on his jeans, he nodded.  "Yeah.  I'm getting ready to make my sweep around the buildings and then I'm heading home.  You want me to lock up here, too?"

 

"Dad, I'd like to work on the car a little longer," Jared interrupted them, sensing his father was about to pack it in. They had just gotten started with the inspection of the car to determine what needed to be worked on first; he didn't want to stop now.

 

Craig paused for a moment before nodding.  "I guess that'd be okay. "We'll take care of this one, Vic; you can go ahead and lock up all the others." 

 

Vic nodded back with a small wave of his hand.  "Well, I'll say good night, then.  Have a good evening." 

 

"You, too.  Good night, Vic."  Craig replied.  He never was very effusive, even around his old friend, but Vic was used to it; the man never HAD been on the demonstrative side, even when he was courting Jennifer a long time ago.  It was a wonder they had ever hooked up together in his opinion, but for some reason Craig's wife seemed to have been smitten with him from the beginning.  Now, he suspected she stayed with him more out of a sense of loyalty and family than anything else.  As he left, he could still hear his old friend and Jared talking and out of curiosity, he paused just outside the door to listen. 

 

"I'm heading back to the house," he heard Craig advise.  "Don't stay out here TOO late; I still need for you to cover for your brother's chores the rest of the week until after the next race."

 

Vic could actually hear Jared huff in irritation.  "When am I supposed to have time to work on this?" he whined.  "Why can't Vic take over for him?"

 

As he stood there silently nearby, it was all Vic could do not to roll his eyes and walk back into the storage barn to give the selfish, older boy a piece of his mind.  Did he think he sat on his ass all day long while he was playing with his latest toy?  And in his opinion, Justin was overworked and overstretched as it was.  The poor kid hardly had time to think, let alone do anything enjoyable, between finishing his daily chores and practicing for the next harness race, and despite that, he never complained about what was expected of him.  He seethed inside at the obvious disparity between Jared and Justin; when was Craig going to realize how unfair that was? 

 

To his relief, Craig for once held his ground.  "Jared, you know how much Justin needs to devote to the race coming up!  That's our main livelihood right now; we need the money his winnings bring in.  And Vic has his hands full with making sure all the fields are ready for the corn and soybean crops.  That's a full-time job right now, you know that."  There was a pause before Craig added in a more soothing tone, "You'll just have to limit how much time you can spend on the car for now, that's all.  It's just temporary until after the race, and then Justin can go back to doing his own chores again."

 

Vic shook his head; why was Craig always kowtowing down to this lazy, self-centered boy?  The shame of it, too, was that Jared was actually talented at working on cars; if he would only devote as much attention to helping out on the farm as he did with restoring cars, perhaps he could eventually find a job that paid him to do what he loved.  What he seemed to fail to understand, however, was that Justin's skill and success at handling Headstrong was the main reason why he HAD time to goof off with all those cars in the first place, and the boy seemed exceedingly ungrateful about it.  Craig was right; if Justin wasn't doing so well, they would ALL be suffering right now.

 

As he turned to walk toward the stables to secure it, he idly wondered what was going to happen a year from this August when Justin went off to college in Nashville to pursue his own dream of combining his art with equestrian therapy.  Surely Craig wouldn't begrudge him that chance somehow?  And surely Jennifer wouldn't allow him to revoke it?  She might have been brought up in an environment where the wife supported her husband's decisions in the family, but even SHE wouldn't allow him to do that to Justin...Would she?  He pursed his lips tightly together.  You better not screw up that boy's chance, Craig Taylor, or you will hear from ME.  Sighing and realizing there was nothing he could do about the situation except continue to encourage and support his young friend as much as possible, he began his rounds to lock up for the night.

 

---

 

Showered and changed into his own clothes at last, Justin felt a little more refreshed and a little less agitated than before as he walked downstairs to retrieve his sandwich.  It was almost 9:00 now with darkness fast approaching and his loudly growling stomach was informing him of how long it had been since he had last eaten. 

 

His mother was sitting in one of their flowery, overstuffed chairs in the living room as he arrived at the bottom of the steps, working on a crochet project for the local hospital.  She glanced up and smiled at her son.  "There you are.  I was getting worried before.  Did you have a good swim, Honey?"

 

He smiled back at her.  If you only knew... "Yeah, it was fine.  You were right - the water temperature was just perfect."  Of course, the water seemed to be boiling once Brian had joined him in the lake, but he didn't dare tell HER that.  He figured he was going to have enough of a problem figuring out what to do with Brian's clothing, much less explaining how he happened to come into possession of them in the first place.  "I just came down to get my sandwich," he told her.

 

She nodded.  "It's on top of the stove, wrapped in plastic wrap.  And I saved you a piece of lemon meringue pie from dinner last night."

 

He grinned.  "You're the best, Mom," he told her sincerely as she smiled lovingly at him.  He turned to walk down the short hallway leading into the kitchen as the back screen door squeaked and then banged as it closed.  He met his father coming in just as he got near the stove.  "Hi, Dad."

 

Craig eyed his younger son studiously.  He knew Justin had missed dinner earlier to go swimming from what Jennifer had told him.  "Justin," he greeted him. "You went swimming down at the lake?"

 

Justin nodded as he turned to pick up the roast beef sandwich his mother had wrapped up for him and the piece of pie and dessert fork she had left on a small paper plate.  "Yeah...It was so hot today that Mom suggested I go cool off for a while."  He walked over and sat down at the kitchen table as Craig wandered over to the sink to fetch a glass in the top cupboard and pour himself some tap water.  "The water was just perfect, even though it's only June."  As always, Justin felt somewhat awkward engaging in simple conversation with his father.  Half the time he felt like he wasn't really listening to him at all and it always felt strained somehow. 

 

Craig nodded before he downed a gulp of his water.  Fortunately for Justin, he didn't press him any further on his previous activity or Justin feared his face would have turned a deep shade of red and instantly given him away that something had happened other than him going for a leisurely swim.  "Where's your mom?"

 

Justin took a bite of his sandwich and swallowed before he told him, "She's in the living room, working on her blanket for the hospital."  His mother was part of an auxiliary women's group who crocheted baby blankets for newborn babies of mothers who were poor and could not afford one.  

 

Craig nodded as he polished off his glass of water and set the glass down in the porcelain sink.  "By the way, I told your brother he's supposed to do your chores the rest of the week until after the race is over."

 

Justin's eyes widened.  He really wasn't too surprised by that, though; he couldn't help thinking it wasn't because he was worried about him being overworked.  He knew it was more because right now he was the ironic breadwinner of the family; him and Headstrong, that is.  Just once he wished he could believe that his father was truly concerned about his welfare for a change rather than how he was helping to keep their farm afloat.  "Thanks," he finally replied half-heartedly, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice.  

 

"You'll need to really concentrate hard in the next few days before the race," Craig advised him as he stood over the sink and washed his hands, drying them on a nearby cotton towel.  "You need to work him hard, Justin.  He can be complacent if you let him."

 

Justin let out a breath and said, "Yes, Sir," but inside he was bristling.  Did his father not think he knew how to treat their best-winning horse by now?  It was a sure bet that both he and Vic knew a hell of a lot more about preparing Headstrong for his races than HE ever would.  Apart from purchasing the straw and feed for the horses, his father really had nothing to do with them most of the time.  "Is Jared still out working on his car?" he asked, trying hard to keep the hurt out of his voice. 

 

"Yeah, I told him he could stay out a little longer," was the predictable reply.   Of course - Jared could pretty much do whatever he wanted.  "You'd best get up to bed as soon as you're done eating, Son; tomorrow will be here before you know it."  Justin silently nodded as his father turned to go.

 

As Craig left the kitchen and headed toward the living room, Justin could hear him talking to his mother as he silently seethed inside. His eyes glistened as he thought, just once, Dad, I wish you could have the same pride in your voice for me that you do for Jared.  Sighing sadly, he carried his plate over to the sink and rinsed it off before setting it next to his father's glass and throwing the plastic wrap in the garbage can nearby. 

 

---

Jared softly hummed to himself as the radio played one of his favorite songs; he smiled as he thought about how wicked the Chevy would look once he got done with it.  This car could quite possibly wind up being the sweetest-looking vehicle he had ever restored, and with the powerful engine it had in it, he was going to have a blast driving around in it.  Now all he needed was the right decoration, and he had just the right one in mind.  If only he hadn't had to do his brother's chores today, he could have been spending time much more pleasantly by now.  In fact, maybe he could just find a way to wander over to the Walker farm after a while and see if he could seek Brian out.  There was nothing like a few smokes on a joint and some beer to mellow anyone, and he couldn't wait to continue his pursuit of the other boy.  He knew if he just gave it time, he could wear Brian down.  No one eventually said no to him, no matter how hot he looked. 

 

The look on his brother's face when he had told him what had happened between them had been priceless.  Justin was just too gullible for his own good.  He loved his kid brother, but he also loved teasing him and leading him on.  He felt like he was actually doing him a favor; Justin was just way too trusting.  He needed to develop a tougher skin if he was ever going to survive in this world.  Eventually, he thought Justin would understand that and actually thank him for it. 

 

"Jared."

 

As if someone had been reading his mind, Jared's heart began to race at the deep, sultry sound of his name being uttered.  Had he just imagined it?  It had sounded so real, though.  As he stood up from the side of the car to look over toward the doorway, he realized he hadn't been dreaming it up as he saw the object of his fantasies standing there, larger than life.  Brian was wearing a black pair of slim-fitting jeans over black boots; a sleeveless, round-necked, black shirt complimented the outfit perfectly.  He had his arms crossed over his chest and feet crossed at the ankles as he rigidly stood there leaning against the door frame, his long, lean body silhouetted in the waning daylight like some mysterious and dangerous Greek god.

 

Jared smiled smugly over at his quarry as he felt the stirrings of desire bubbling up inside of him.  This boy made his body thrum with heady anticipation every time he saw him, especially now that he had had the pleasure of seeing ALL of him.  He knew the other boy wouldn't be able to resist him; he just didn't think their reunion would happen quite this fortuitously.  "Brian," he murmured sexily as he slowly swaggered over toward his prey.  "Well, if this isn't a very pleasant surprise," he replied as his eyes raked appreciatively over him.  He pulled out the bag of weed he had stashed in his jeans pocket and held it up to him.  "Ready to get this party started in style?"  In the soft glow from the kerosene lamp nearby, he thought Brian looked particularly striking in his all-black ensemble; almost as good as he was soon going to look completely naked with his ass surrounding his cock.  "I knew you couldn't stay away from me," he told him as he flashed him a knowing, lazy sort of smile.  Brian remained oddly silent, however, and didn't move from his place in the doorway. 

 

Frowning slightly at the apparent indifferent treatment, Jared decided it was time to reinforce who was the more dominant of the two.  Out here, HE was king and always would be; he was glad Brian finally understood that.  Walking closer until he was within inches of the other boy, he glanced up into the face of his target; Brian's eyes were hooded and dark, indecipherable.  Undoubtedly, however, that was his way of masking his desire for him.  He noticed that his lips, which he knew from experience were highly talented and pliable, were pursed tightly together now into a thin line.  Well, he would just have to ‘pry' them open again with his tongue.  Leering confidently at him, he reached toward Brian's shirt with the intent of pulling it off the other boy completely when suddenly Brian reached for his wrist in a lightning-fast move and encircled it painfully with his long-fingered hand.

 

Brian's face darkened into repressed fury as he told Jared with deadly calm, "I know what you told Justin."

 

Jared frowned as he winced at the sharpness in his wrist.  "What the fuck are you talking about, Brian?"  He struggled against Brian's vise-like hold on his wrist as his mind whirled in confusion.  "You're hurting my arm - let me go." 

 

"I know you lied," Brian told him; the more he thought about it, the angrier he got and the more tightly he squeezed the other boy's wrist.  "I know you fucking LIED about what we did last night, Jared!"  His voice began to get louder as he seethed inside.  How DARE this guy concoct a story and brag about what he didn't do?  About what he would NEVER do?

 

Jared was forced to retreat further into the barn as Brian placed his other hand, palm down, on his chest and began to shove him none too gently backwards toward his car as he continued to hold onto him.  "Since when did you see Justin?" he managed to counter desperately, his voice getting louder and his eyes widening at the look of fury on the other boy's face.  "Besides, you don't know Justin; you can't believe a word he says anyway." 

 

---

 

Same Time - Justin's Bedroom Upstairs

 

Justin was lying in bed on his back, wearing only a pair of boxers, the still-muggy night quickly plunging the area into darkness.  His parents had retired for bed about an hour ago as they normally did; out here on the farm, they rose quite early and went to bed early by most people's standards.  Justin wasn't sleeping, however, even though he knew he would need to get up before dawn to start preparing to work out with Headstrong for the upcoming race.  He had done a small, quick load of wash earlier that evening after he had eaten and had just retrieved Brian's clothes from the dryer a few minutes ago which were now folded neatly and lying on top of his desk nearby. He really did need rest desperately, especially after working with Headstrong all day out in the hot sun; but as he lay there looking up at the ceiling, his thoughts were too occupied by his and Brian's encounter earlier to allow his eyes to close and his body to drift off into any sort of slumber.

 

Not for the first time he questioned whether he had handled the situation properly; God knows he had wanted Brian badly - who wouldn't?  And Brian had been more than clear as to what exactly he had in mind for him, for them.  Why hadn't he just accepted it for what it was and not chosen to overanalyze it?  If nothing else, he had no doubt that this boy would be a magnificent lover.  What better person, then, to teach him the basics?  It's because you're a scared little faggot, he chided himself.  You weren't refusing him on principle; you were afraid of the unknown, of what he might do, of winding up looking ridiculous when you tried to imitate his moves and failed miserably. 

 

"No," he vowed out loud.  "No, I wasn't," he reassured himself.  Yes, he admitted it; he was afraid of what he didn't know.  But that didn't mean even if he had been more experienced that he still wouldn't have turned Brian down.  He was not going to be ‘second best' just because Brian didn't get what he wanted out of his brother.  Even HE had more pride than that.

 

His conscious mind slowly began to register the sound of agitated, loud voices filtering in through his open bedroom window overlooking the backyard as he frowned.  It sounded like it was coming from the storage barn nearby, and the one voice sounded like his brother's.  Was Jared still outside working on that damn car, even though their father had indicated he could only stay out for a ‘little longer?'  He glanced over at his illuminated horse clock with the face in its belly and noticed that was two HOURS ago.  He fumed; Jared apparently could do whatever the fuck he wanted to, though.  But if the one voice belonged to Jared, who did the other voice belong to?  He had seen with his own eyes his mother and father going off to bed, so he knew it couldn't be his father, unless he had gotten up afterward.  He supposed that was possible; maybe their father was telling Jared that it was time to come in and he didn't like that.  That would be quite plausible; when Jared didn't get his way, he tended to become both angry and petulant, even childish in reaction.  But the more he listened further, the more he didn't really think the other person talking was his father.

 

Extremely curious now, he rose from his bed and walked over to the window, placing his elbows on the wooden windowsill and leaning down as he strained to listen to the conversation.  He couldn't hear all of it, just bits and pieces as the voices got increasingly louder, but there was no mistaking the angry tone in one of the voices. 

 

---

 

Jared gasped as Brian shoved him up against the side of his car.  Any other time he would have found this sort of ‘rough play' hot, but he knew by the look on Brian's face that it wasn't red with desire for him; more like hatred and contempt. 

 

"You told Justin that I bottomed for you, didn't you?"  The concept was so distasteful and repugnant to him that Brian had trouble even formulating the words; it was like some acrid taste had settled in his mouth.   "You lying asshole!  Did you really think you could say that and expect to get away with it?"  He reached to clench Jared's shirt in his right fist as he leaned in closer.  Jared could see the fury in Brian's darkened irises and a vein protruding in his neck as he spat out, "Answer me, damn it!" 

 

Jared held up his hands and tried to act nonchalant, which wasn't easy to do considering that Brian's face was inches away from his.  "Okay, okay," he finally relented as he held his hands up as if in surrender; he tried to project a sort of self-deprecating smile that said I was only having fun with my kid brother, what's the big deal?, but by the angry look on Brian's face, he could tell it wasn't going over very well.  "Maybe I did tell him that.   But it was just a joke, Brian!  Come on, what did you expect me to tell him?  I have a reputation to uphold around here."

 

---

 

From his perch at the window, Justin's heart began to pound as the voices got louder and angrier, and he recognized the other combative voice as belonging to Brian.  What was going on?  He leaned out the window in an attempt to hear better just as the gentle, warm breeze stilled to a dead calm and the voices became even louder and more harsh.  At last he could clearly make out what his brother and Brian were saying and he instinctively held his breath, afraid to miss a single word.

 

---

 

Jared could feel Brian's hot breath on his face as he was told, "I don't give a fuck about your reputation, you son of a bitch!  You had no fucking right to lie to him!"

 

Jared furrowed his brow, more curious now than frightened by Brian's fury.  "Big deal!  So I made up a story that I topped you!  What does it matter to you WHAT Justin thinks?  He's just a kid!  And how the hell did you find out, anyway?  That little shit told you, didn't he?"  That was the only explanation.

 

"That doesn't matter, Jared!" Brian snarled back at him.  This asshole didn't DESERVE to know anything.  "What matters is that you've been spreading lies about what happened last night and I want it to stop, do you hear me?"  Brian's face was contorted with rage; he had already been angry enough about the lie Jared had told, but the cavalier attitude he was displaying now that he had been called out on it was making him even angrier by the minute.  "I repeat, do...you...HEAR...me?" 

 

Upset that his untruth had been uncovered, dismayed at the condescending tone of voice Brian was using, and perturbed that Brian seemed to actually care WHAT his little brother thought, Jared used a rush of adrenalin as well as the element of surprise to push himself away from Brian and break free from him.  He walked far enough away to get out of Brian's reach for the moment while he tried to catch his breath and regain some sense of composure.  He wasn't used to being undermined or insulted.

 

"Yeah, Kinney, you don't bottom, I get it!"  Jared yelled back.  He shook his head in disgust as Brian stood facing him, his chest heaving with extreme agitation.  Putting on a brave front, Jared snorted as he glared over at his adversary, trying to sound more confident and calm than he actually felt as he retorted, "Although with your scrawny ass, I can SEE why you wouldn't agree to bottom; who would want it?" 

 

Brian than actually laughed to Jared's surprise as he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled over at him, his back to the storage barn's open doorway now.  "That's a good one, asshole.  Trust me, there've been plenty who have wanted it.  I just don't give it to them." 

 

---

 

Justin's gulped; My God, was it true?  Did Jared make the whole damn thing up just to sound important and look like he was the bigger man?  He had to smirk at that; as brothers he had seen Jared's cock from time to time, and while it was large enough to ‘get the job done' and then some, he had nothing on Brian's majesty.

 

---

 

Jared huffed, desperate to remain in their battle but quickly losing ground; he began to grasp at whatever straws he could as he replied, "More like you'd have to pay them, Brian!  And by the way, you weren't that great at giving head, either; I just needed to get off after you wouldn't do what I told you to do."

 

Brian began to advance on his foe; it was one thing to lie about what had happened; it was quite another to out-and-out insult him.  "You fucking piece of lying shit!" he snarled.  "You got the best damn blowjob of your fucking life last night and you damn well know it!"  Brian began to advance on Jared with the intention of shoving his fist in his face this time - he was angrier than he could ever recall being - but he realized if he did, it would definitely backfire on him.  Jared would promptly go running to tell his parents what had happened and would undoubtedly embellish the details, just like he had to Justin, and the only thing THAT would accomplish was having his aunt and uncle send him back to his parents.  His Uncle Will had already threatened him with such if he so much as slightly screwed up, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was actually getting used to living here; while it was still the most archaic, primitive Hicksville of a place he had ever lived in, it sure as hell beat being in a jail cell 24/7, not to mention that after seeing Justin in the lake earlier, it could even get better.  First, though, he had to finish up this mess and make things right with him.

 

Jared huffed.  "That's your opinion!" He began to slowly retreat as Brian continued to come closer until to his dismay and mortification his back bumped up against the thick, wooden wall planks of the barn.  "Go ahead, Big Man!  You want a fucking fight, Kinney, you got it!"

 

"No," he told the other boy as Jared stood there, effectively trapped from going anywhere else. He waggled his finger at him furiously as he declared, "I'm not going to waste my time on you; you're not worth it, Jared!  I'm done with you!  But trust me, if I ever catch you lying about what happened, I don't care if it DOES land me in jail; I'll come in here and whip your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for a fucking YEAR!  You got it?"  Jared stood there, fuming silently. 

 

Brian huffed in disgust over the other boy's lack of response.  "Are you fucking DEAF now as well as delusional?  I said...you got it?" 

 

His stance, legs apart and arms braced against the wall on either side of Jared's face, as well as the deadly tone of his voice and his flashing darkened eyes told Jared that Brian was not kidding and was not to be toyed with.  Something told him that Kinney had probably gotten into a lot of scuffles in the big city and he didn't relish the idea of finding out that fact firsthand. 

 

"Yeah, Brian, I GOT it!" Jared shouted back, seething. 

 

Brian nodded, his mouth pressed into a tight line as he stood and glared at him in disgust.  "Smart boy," he told him sarcastically.  He glanced down just then to see the baggie of pot peeking out of his adversary's left jeans pocket and, before Jared knew what was happening, he had reached out and deftly snatched it away from him. 

 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jared growled at him as he unsuccessfully lunged for it.  "Give that back!"

 

Brian smirked.  "Now you farm boys know you shouldn't play around with recreational drugs.  Besides, this is one of the highest-yielding tobacco states in the country.  Go have yourself a smoke instead; you need to support the economy."  He reached into his shirt pocket and helpfully threw his almost-empty pack of cigarettes on the ground near Jared's feet.

 

Turning to go, he walked away a few steps before he turned around, his back silhouetted once more in the open doorway.  "Oh, and one more thing, Jared; unless you want to look like a total fool, I think I'd keep my big, fat, fucking mouth shut around Justin regarding what we discussed tonight.  Unless you WANT him to know what a big liar you are.  Wouldn't want to damage your reputation now, though, would we?"  Laughing, he finally turned and walked out, the baggie of pot swinging back and forth playfully in his hand like a grand prize at the local county fair.

 

"Fuck you, Brian!" Jared shouted back, fuming in defeat.

 

Brian promptly turned his head around to quip, "Only in your dreams, smart ass; only in your dreams."  He could hear what sounded like Jared throwing things around in the storage barn in a temper tantrum a few seconds later, and he couldn't help the triumphant grin that spread across his face.  He paused several feet away from the barn in the shadow of a large maple tree to savor his victory as he watched the light inside the barn be extinguished and Jared stomp over to the barn's thick, wooden doors a few moments later to slam them together and lock them with a padlock.   He could hear the other boy muttering under his breath in disgust as he acted like some petulant child that didn't get his favorite toy for Christmas and he couldn't help wondering what he had seen in the boy in the first place.  Slipping deeper into the shadows away from the moonlight quickly illuminating the darkness, he observed Jared trudge over dejectedly toward the rear of the farmhouse, his head hung low as he walked up the steps and, after a few seconds of fidgeting with the screen door, finally entered the house and slammed the door behind him none too quietly.  Apparently Jared was not only a bad liar, but he was also a sore loser. 

 

Brian grinned as he emerged from the shadows and held up the baggie of pot to examine it more closely under the moonlight.  Jared had been quite accommodating; not only had he gifted him with a nice stock of weed, but he had also supplied him with the wrappers, too.  At least tonight wasn't going to be a total washout, then... Just then he lifted his eyes slightly to look up at the back of the Taylor house and noticed for the first time a slim figure silhouetted in an open window upstairs.  His eyes widened in instant recognition as he realized who it was and his evening suddenly got a lot more interesting.  The figure ducked quickly out of sight as soon as he was detected, but it wasn't fast enough to prevent Brian from knowing it was Justin.  Well, well, well...he thought with a smirk.  Spying on me, Blondie?

 

He smiled in delight over his good fortune.  He needed to return Justin's clothes anyway, didn't he? He thought to himself, No time like the present.  Striding over to pick up Justin's jeans as well as the balled up clump he had fashioned earlier and left near the barn, he approached the back of the house and slipped inside the picket fence though the gate.  Standing underneath the still-open window, he placed the clothing down at his feet as he stooped down to pick up some small pebbles scattered on the ground.  Using his skills honed as a high school baseball pitcher, he reared back and took aim at the open window, grinning in triumph when the first, small, round missile landed squarely in the middle of the top pane of glass and made a distinctive skittering noise as it dropped back onto the ground near his feet. 

 

Throwing one more stone at the same pane of glass for good measure, he cupped his hands over his mouth and in a loud whisper called out Justin's name, but there was no response.   Frowning in disappointment, he waited a few seconds before he called out again, this time a little louder.  "Justin!   I know you're up there!  Come to the window!" 

 

Justin closed his eyes in embarrassment as he pressed his body out of sight into the corner nearest the window; how could he have let himself get caught spying on Brian?  Shit.  Thank God his brother's bedroom down the hall had a window facing out onto the side of the yard instead and he had heard Jared going into the bathroom and turning on the shower a few minutes ago, or no doubt he would have heard Brian calling up to him.  As angry as his brother had sounded, too, if he knew that Brian was doing that, he would probably never hear the end of it.  He wasn't sorry he had listened in on their argument, however, because it had provided him with the self-satisfying information that his brother had made up the entire thing about fucking Brian.  He didn't stop to think about why that suddenly made him feel so happy, however, because he had more crucial problems at the moment to consider as he heard Brian calling his name once more, this time a little louder.  If he didn't do something soon, not only would his brother hear once he got out of the shower, but his parents might, too, even though their bedroom faced out onto the front of the house instead.

 

Shit, what was he going to do?  He bit his lip in indecision, feeling decidedly like a stupid, careless little kid for being caught.  It was obvious Brian had seen him watching him and he could feel his face warming in embarrassment at the thought.  Go away...Please...Go away, he prayed.  He waited with bated breath for another sound, but didn't hear anything except for the multitude of crickets and frogs he always heard around this time of night. 

 

He finally decided to risk a peek as he moved over to the window and leaned down to look into the backyard; his heart raced as he saw Brian staring up at him, framed in the moonlight.  The boy took his breath away; he couldn't deny it.  He was just so fucking gorgeous. But if Brian was thinking he could just take care of his ‘needs' with him instead of Jared, well, he had another thing coming.  Strong...I must be strong, he told himself.  "Go away, Brian!" he finally called down urgently in a loud whisper.  "My parents will hear you!"  He did NOT want to explain why Brian was standing under his window late at night yelling up at him, especially to his father. 

 

He huffed indignantly as Brian merely smirked up at him in response and stayed where he was.  What part of ‘go away' did this guy not understand?  "What is WRONG with you?" Justin hissed down at him, his hands curled tightly over the marble window sill.  "I said GO AWAY!"  He made a shooing motion with his hand as if Brian were a large, sexy fly, but the fucker remained firmly in place as if he were enjoying his discomfort.

 

Brian grinned.   "I'll leave," he replied as Justin hopes rose; well, part of him was relieved while, if he were truthful, part of him was disappointed, too, that Brian hadn't put up more of a fight than that.  His heart skipped a beat, however, as Brian clarified, "I'll leave after you come down and talk to me."

 

Brian stared up at the younger Taylor brother framed in the window and to his amazement all sorts of lesbionic thought began to rise to the surface.   He couldn't prevent it, though; the moonlight was shining down on Justin's blond hair and the pale skin of his bare chest from up above, right at the perfect angle, and it made him seem to glow like some kind of angel.  God, he is SO beautiful, came unbidden to his mind as he stared up at the indignant and righteous-looking face peering down at him.  He could tell that Justin was perturbed, but at the moment he didn't care.  He was not leaving until he made sure this boy knew what did - or didn't - happen last night. 

 

"Brian, it's late.  We can talk tomorrow," Justin tried frantically to reason with him.  The other boy's voice was getting louder and louder now.  "Just go away and come back then."   He berated himself, feeling suddenly like some weird version of the Wizard of Oz, before he turned and scurried back into the shadows as he returned to the obscurity of his bed.  Perhaps if he moved out of sight and stayed there immobile, not saying anything further and just ignoring him, Brian would finally get the hint and leave for now.

 

Brian watched, mouth agape in shock, as Justin promptly turned around and disappeared from view, yanking the gauzy, light brown curtains closed behind him in apparent dismissal.   Fortunately, however, Justin didn't close the actual window itself, probably opting instead to take advantage of the light breeze blowing to help combat the still, muggy, humid air.  Undoubtedly it must get rather hot upstairs in that old farmhouse, he mused, as he watched the curtains slowly undulating in the window.  What a shame... He snickered.  His mouth broke out into a broad smile as another idea came to mind.  If Mohammed won't come to the mountain, then the mountain will just have to come to Mohammed...

 

Justin sat down on the side of the bed, listening intently for any more sounds from below.  Once more the crickets and frogs dominated the night; other than an occasional moo from someone's cow off in the distance, he couldn't hear anything else.  Had Brian finally taken the hint and gone back to his aunt and uncle's at last?  Sighing in relief at the relative silence, he pulled back the covers and lay down, his thoughts awhirl with so many emotions:  excitement, nervousness, anxiety, happiness even over the fact that his brother had lied about what had happened between him and Brian, but also, if he were honest with himself, disappointment that Brian had given up so easily.  He let out a deep breath between his lips as his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, knowing that did not mean sleep would be forthcoming; in fact, he had a good idea that sleep would be a rare commodity the rest of the night.

 

His heartbeat had just gotten back to a more respectable cadence when all of a sudden he heard a thump in the room and his eyes flew open.  What was that? he wondered as he looked around the room, half expecting to see Brian somehow magically appearing beside him.  But he was alone, and there was no further sound.  He frowned.  What had happened?  Had he been half asleep and just imagined that noise?   He held his breath to make sure, hearing nothing but the same old sounds he normally heard.  Deciding he must have just imagined it, he began to close his eyes again just before he heard a second thump and was smacked on the side of the leg by something hard. 

 

"Wha...?"  He instantly sat up in bed, looking through the dimness at an object lying near his feet.  His mouth hung open as he recognized what it was:  it was one of his sneakers that he had been wearing at the lake when Brian had stolen all his clothes.  He huffed in irritated comprehension, looking around until he located his other shoe near the door where it had landed after Brian had thrown it; that would explain the other thump he had heard.  He quickly rose from the bed and rushed over to the window to fling the curtains aside, expecting to see Brian down below, but to his great surprise - and disenchantment - there was no sign of him.  He squinted his eyes, noticing what appeared to be a large clump of some kind lying on the ground near the back gate and he shook his head in confusion.  What in the hell was that?  Could this night get any weirder?

 

Biting his lip momentarily in indecision, he finally hurried to shrug into a pair of loose-fitting pajama bottoms that he dragged out of his top dresser drawer before quietly opening the door of his bedroom, making sure that Jared was still in the bathroom taking his shower.  Relieved to still hear the water running, he closed his door just to be on the safe side from prying eyes before quietly tiptoeing barefoot down the short, wooden hallway toward the stairs. 

 

A couple minutes later, he arrived at the kitchen and crept over to the back exterior door, his heart pounding as he turned the glass knob to open it.  Wincing when the outside screen door squeaked when he pushed it open a few seconds later, he walked out onto the back porch and peered over at the indecipherable wad still lying near the back gate, motionless and silent.  Walking down the steps, he slowly began to realize as he got closer that the formless ‘lump' he had noticed from his upstairs bedroom was the rest of his clothing that Brian had hijacked last night.  Muttering to himself about the other boy's lack of courtesy, he picked up the clothing and, with one last glance around the yard to make sure Brian really had left, he began to return to the porch.  He had just climbed the steps and arrived near the back door to open it when a voice suddenly sounded out of the darkness from several feet away and made him jump a couple of feet off the ground in reaction.

 

"I see you found your clothes," the amused but confident voice rumbled from his right.  "By the way, your shoes were the wrong size."

 

Despite his aggravation over the other boy's cockiness, Justin thought his heart would explode with excitement at the unexpected, sultry sound of Brian's voice.  There was something almost dangerous about this other boy that sent a thrill running through him.  He tried hard to calm himself before he whirled around to retort, "Fuck, Brian!  You just scared the shit out of me!"

 

Brian smirked from his place at the side of the porch, his feet lightly scraping the weathered, slightly scuffed, white, wooden floor as he swung back and forth in the porch swing.  "You mean again?" he teased.   There was something amazing, almost magical, about throwing this boy off balance.

 

Justin had to bite back a smile in response to that statement, despite the wild thumping in his chest and the annoyance he felt.  "You do seem to have a talent for that," he admitted grudgingly as Brian slowly continued to push himself back and forth in the swing with his feet as he studied him silently, the motion emitting a soft, squeaking sound from the slightly rusty chains holding it up.  Justin couldn't help noticing that Brian had his legs spread farther apart than necessary on the floor while he moved back and forth.  For once he was glad his face was masked in the shadows of the porch, because it hid what he knew had to be a red tint to his cheeks as he lifted his gaze to see Brian's eyes shining back at him knowingly.   He knew he wasn't fooling this boy for a second; there was no hiding his desire for him.  He couldn't help it; Brian was just so incredible looking.

 

"Come over here," His fantasy softly urged him as he scooted over to the far left side of the swing in invitation. 

 

Justin clutched his clothes to his chest as a sort of protective armor as he replied stiffly, "I can see you just fine from over here.  I thought I told you to go home."

 

"I don't listen well to authorities; I thought you already knew that."

 

Justin snorted.  "I'm not an ‘authority,' Brian."  He licked his lips nervously, feeling inordinately uncomfortable even from several feet away.  He figured as long as Brian was in the same county it would be too close for HIS own good.   He sighed.  "I have to get some sleep so I'll be ready to work out with Headstrong tomorrow."

 

Brian eyed him intently, drinking in the other boy's proximity as he teased, "Headstrong?  Is that your boyfriend's name, Hot Stuff?"  Even though he was kidding, he found the idea of Justin having a boyfriend unexpectedly disturbing and not preposterous at all; he silently decided that any guy who didn't show any interest in this boy had to be out of his fucking mind.

 

Justin knew Brian was making fun of him, but he couldn't help flushing at the hot stuff moniker anyway as he snorted in response.  "No, you asshole!" he scolded him softly, taking care not to raise his voice so he wouldn't be overheard.  He wished now that he had thought to close his bedroom window upstairs, but at least he had closed the door to his room; hopefully that would prevent anyone from noticing that he was gone or overhearing them.  "He's our horse, you idiot."

 

Brian nodded with a grin.  "Oh," he replied, his tongue lodged in his cheek.  "I would think if anyone would be called headstrong, it would have to be you."

 

Justin rolled his eyes in annoyance as he deflected the conversation back to the matter at hand.  "Brian, I told you to leave earlier.  Why are you still here?  As I explained, I have to get some sleep tonight or I'll be worth shit tomorrow when I need to be alert."  For a horse, Headstrong was quite perceptive; it was as if he could sense when Justin was off his game, and if he thought for one moment that Justin wasn't putting his entire attention into their workout then he wouldn't, either.  He had seen it happen before, and neither one of them couldn't afford not to be at a hundred percent tomorrow; it was too close to race time now. 

 

"And I explained that earlier, too," Brian answered him simply.  "I needed to talk to you."

 

Justin stood with his legs planted apart in defiance as he answered curtly, "So go ahead and talk so I can get some sleep; I'm not stopping you."

 

Brian sighed in disappointment; this wasn't what he had in mind.  Apparently he would have to try another tactic.   "Okay," he said, his voice getting louder, "But I'll have to speak up if you're going to stay way over there."

 

Justin's eyes became big as saucers at the loud volume of Brian's voice; his adrenaline shot up in fear as he answered in a stage whisper, "Will you keep it the fuck down?  I don't want my parents or Jared to hear us."

 

"Afraid they'll hear something titillating?" Brian asked in the same loud voice as Justin appeared worried.  His plan was working just as he hoped; it wouldn't be long now at all.  "Then come over here," he insisted a little softer this time, noticing Justin staring at him warily.

 

But Justin knew he had no choice; he knew Brian was up to something, but it was as if he couldn't stop it.  "Fucker," he muttered as began to walk closer toward the swing.

 

Brian smirked.  "A pitchfork might be more effective," he advised him.

 

Justin frowned as he drew up short.  "What are you talking about?"

 

Brian nodded his head in reference to the wad of clothing Justin was still carrying like a security blanket.  "You can drop your weapon; I'm unarmed."  He raised his hands in supplication as if he were surrendering as he smiled back at him in amusement. 

 

Justin gave him a dubious look as he stood there frozen to the spot, deciding there were various interpretations of the word ‘armed.'  Just by virtue of Brian looking the way he did, and the husky sound of his voice, he decided that Brian was far from helpless or harmless.   Nevertheless, like some moth drawn to the light he dropped the clothing onto the floor with a soft plop and hesitantly advanced toward the other boy with no other protection now than his dignity and his pride.

 

Brian flashed him a lazy smile, feeling triumphant that he had succeeded at least in getting Justin to come out onto the porch with him.  "Sit down," he urged him softly as he patted the seat beside him.  "I won't bite; unless you want me to."  He noticed Justin's eyes widening as they gleamed in the moonlight, finding himself entranced by how shiny they looked.  Why did the damn swing have to be so wide, he couldn't help thinking as he watched Justin gingerly sit down on the opposite side of the swing, as far away from him as possible.  He was so damned skittish around him, like some fragile butterfly.  It was a far cry from the more impertinent boy he had met down at the lake.  He figured he couldn't really blame him, though, after how aggressive he had been toward him earlier.  Well, his reluctance could be remedied pretty readily. 

 

As soon as Justin sat down, he promptly scooted over to the other side of the swing until their thighs were touching; he tried hard to focus on his companion's face that currently had a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look, but it was hard not to concentrate instead on the fact that Justin had on a relatively thin pair of pajama bottoms that did nothing to hide the other boy's desire for him - very HARD, indeed, because he was feeling much the same.   The fact that Justin wasn't wearing any shirt, either, wasn't helping him to calm his racing pulse or his rapidly-beating heart.  In fact, it was having just the opposite effect.  He couldn't stand it all of a sudden - he had to touch some of that smooth-looking, vibrant skin before he went out of his mind. 

 

Justin eyes grew large as he watched Brian smile and slide his arm around his shoulders to pull him even impossibly closer.  At the first touch of his hand on his skin, he felt like he was on fire.  Brian's fingers were so warm, almost like they were searing into him, and his leg touching his made him swallow hard as he attempted to not notice how his proximity made him feel.  He bit his lip and turned his head away, taking comfort in the light breeze blowing on his face as he tried to calm his skittering heartbeat.  His lungs began to inhale and exhale rapidly, an involuntary response to what Brian's presence was doing to him.  Was it always like this with someone you were this drawn to?  It was hard to say, because he had never been as attracted to someone as he was to this boy, so he had nothing to compare it with.  He couldn't imagine feeling any more alive than he did at that moment, though, and it scared him to death while at the same time excited him to heights he didn't even know were imaginable. 

 

"Brian," he whispered the other boy's name as he turned to find his face inches from the other boy's.  "What... What are you doing?" he asked as Brian's face grew closer and closer.  He knew what was about to happen, and his eyes widened as they stared into the hazel ones boring into his.  Just before Brian could kiss him, though, he managed somehow to press his palm against the flat, hard chest and put enough distance between them to sputter out, "I... I thought you said you needed to talk to me." 

 

Brian whispered, "I do my best talking when my lips aren't speaking." 

 

Justin flushed at the insinuation, knowing full well what Brian was referring to.  How did he get himself into this situation?  And more importantly, how does he extricate himself from it?  Perhaps the question actually was, did he want to?  Before he could figure that out, his eyes glanced downward, just in time for his other hand to capture Brian's wrist before he reached a certain prominent, hard target.  "Brian," he breathed out, his lungs craving air.  He could feel his cock becoming unbearably hard at the mere thought of those long-fingered hands giving it a squeeze, but he knew once they did there would be no going back.  He held onto the other boy's wrist for dear life as he leaned back in the swing as far as he could.  "Brian, you said we would talk... As in speaking." 

 

Brian sighed in temporary defeat; why was that so important to this boy?  All he wanted to do right now was kiss those impertinent lips senseless and fuck the boy into oblivion.  He had been feeling horny ever since he had first seen Justin in that window, and now to see him up close and oh-so-personal made it even more imperative.  Apparently, though, that wasn't going to happen until they ‘talked' things out the old-fashioned way.

 

To Justin's relief, Brian finally stopped advancing as he sat up straighter in the swing and peered over at his companion to say, "Okay, Justin.  What do you want to know?"  Justin loosened his hold on Brian's wrist, just enough for Brian to take advantage of it and promptly grasp his hand in his.  He didn't normally resort to such trivial, cutesy sorts of PDAs, but for some reason it felt right with him and hopefully helped to reassure him that he really was interested in what Justin had to say.  He cocked his left eyebrow expectantly as he stared into the deep blue eyes.

 

Justin inhaled a deep breath and let it out, still not feeling particularly safe with Brian pressed up against him, but at least feeling just a bit more at ease since Brian had halted his unflagging pursuit of him.  He nodded.  "I... I couldn't help overhearing you - you and Jared - in the barn earlier.  You were angry at him."

 

 Brian responded wryly, "You could say that.  Actually, I was tempted to rip his balls off," he added as Justin stared at him in shock.  "But I didn't want to give him a cheap thrill, so I didn't."  He gazed into the expressive blue eyes before asking, "Just how much did you hear?"  It was important to him that Justin knew all of it, and something told him that it was important to Justin, too.   Justin was about as different from his brother as oil and water. 

 

Justin bit his lip as he turned his head to stare out over at the storage barn.  "I... I heard the two of you talking about what happened last night." 

 

Brian squeezed his hand, noticing how warm it was.  The hand was surprisingly strong, though, and slightly calloused, no doubt due in large part to how hard Justin seemed to be working most of the time.  "You mean about what didn't happen last night, don't you?" 

 

Justin turned his head around to stare at Brian.  The other boy had backed off a little bit, but he could still feel his leg brushed up against his and his fingers slowly stroking his palm and it was making him crazy inside.  No one had ever made him feel like this before, and it was both highly arousing as well as terribly disconcerting to him.  This wasn't like racing Headstrong; there was no game plan here he could follow to make sure he didn't make a fool out of himself.  "Yeah," he whispered in admission.  "I mean, I heard the two of you talking about...You know..."  He could feel the heat blooming on his face at the mere thought of what he thought he had heard.

 

"You mean about Jared fucking me?" Brian finished bluntly as Justin nodded.

 

He smirked.  "Yeah, he fucked me all right," he said as Justin's face fell in dismay; had he been wrong after all?  "In his dreams, that is," Brian clarified to Justin's joy, "and by the way, he doesn't give head very well, either."  He quirked one side of his lips up to gaze over at Justin, noticing what appeared to be a soft smile breaking out on his face.

 

"Really?"  Justin whispered.  He had hoped that was what he had overheard, but until now he hadn't wanted to assume anything.  To his relief, however, apparently he had heard right.  "He didn't?" 

 

Brian smiled at the tone of Justin's voice and how his face suddenly transformed from one of sadness and anger to one of happiness, even though he suspected he was trying to hide that fact from him.  He continued to stroke Justin's hand as he replied firmly, "No, he must certainly did not.  I don't bottom for anyone - especially such a smug asshole as your brother." 

 

Justin chuckled, a sound that Brian found enchanting.  It was the first time he had really seen Justin break out into such a bright smile and hear him laugh, and he found that he rather liked it - a lot.  "Too much like yourself?" Justin asked unexpectedly.

 

Brian eyed him with new appreciation; that question didn't sound innocent at all.  "Are you calling me a smug asshole, Mr. Taylor?" he asked.    

 

Justin's face broke out into an even wider smile then just as the full moon came out from behind the porch roof, and Brian couldn't help thinking that it had just met its match in the brilliance department.  His breath caught in his throat as he was able to see Justin more clearly now, and he couldn't help returning his smile.  "Well?" he asked, one eyebrow arched in question as he edged in a little closer.  This boy was amazing.

 

"What do YOU think?" Justin quipped impishly; his smile, however, began to fade as he watched Brian's face looming ever closer to his.  He licked his lips nervously as his eyes flickered down to Brian's mouth, feeling suddenly like he was getting in way over his head.  What was he doing out here with him?  They both knew where this was heading if they stayed out here much longer.  "Brian," he whispered.  "I..."

 

"Shh," Brian entreated softly as he brought their clasped hands up to place their hands up to his mouth and kiss Justin's knuckles, feeling the smaller hand trembling in his as he did. Normally he would promptly dispense with any hint of courtesy or pleasantries with a boy he was interested in fucking - and God knows he wanted that badly at the moment - but something made him hold back and take things more slowly with him.  Was it his relatively young age or something else about this boy? He didn't know; he just knew it was somehow important that he did.  That didn't mean every fiber of his body wasn't crying out to have him, though; ALL of him. 

 

"I'm going to kiss you; you're not getting away from me this time," he vowed as he broke his handhold with Justin and curled his hand firmly around his companion's neck to pull him closer.  Justin's eyes grew round and darkened as he stared wordlessly into his eyes, mutely accepting what he knew was destined to be.  Both boys' eyes fluttered closed as their lips tentatively met; an initial, soft, exploratory type of encounter at first. 

 

Justin groaned softly at the first taste of Brian's lips; so soft, so warm, and so confident as he felt him increasing the pressure slightly.  Partly for balance but also just because he wanted to, he HAD to, he took his free hand and wound it around the other boy's back to hold on for dear life, feeling the chiseled hardness under his touch.  A few seconds of increased pressure on his lips and somehow he instinctively knew what Brian wanted as his mouth opened ever so slightly to allow the other boy's tongue to slide inside, and he found himself about to drown in the sensations he was feeling.  He felt Brian's lips continually moving, gliding over his as his tongue swabbed the inside of his mouth hungrily, seemingly washing over every centimeter as Brian angled his lips to seal them tightly over his. 

 

Brian was almost lying on top of him now in the swing, so close to his own chest that he could feel twin hearts beating almost impossibly fast; their hands, which had been trapped between, broke apart almost of one accord as they used that opportunity pull each other closer, Brian's hand slowly sliding around Justin's bare back as Justin's wrapped itself around his neck and played with the soft hair there.  Their groins brushed together and both boys moaned audibly at the delicious contact; Justin couldn't help feeling heady over the knowledge of how hard both of their cocks were against their bellies, and he felt inordinately powerful that he could make someone like Brian desire him so badly. 

 

As their kiss continued for what seemed like an eternity, Justin could feel the swing's chain biting into his back as Brian pressed him backward, but he didn't care; the emotions flooding through him for this boy more than made up for any discomfort.  He couldn't help thinking how if Brian could make him feel this incredible merely by kissing him and pressing up against him, how it would feel to actually have sex with him.  That notion both thrilled as well as frightened him in its intensity.  He had no doubt that Brian was hoping they would find out shortly just how well they fit together, but was he ready yet for that big step?  As much as he wanted it himself, as much as he craved it, tendrils of doubt - doubts about his own ability to satisfy this experienced and incredibly sexy boy - and also hesitation about moving too fast bubbled up to the surface.  After all, hadn't Brian just tried to do this very same thing with his own brother last night?  How could he be sure, then, that Brian wasn't merely trying to accomplish something he couldn't get done last night and wasn't just using him as a convenient backup plan to satisfy his own needs?  Was it possible he just needed ‘his itch scratched' and it didn't matter who the recipient was?

 

With great reluctance, then, as well as a great deal of self-discipline he wasn't even sure he possessed, he somehow managed to wedge his hand in between their bodies and exert enough strength with his palm on Brian's chest to push them apart, their lips separating with a resounding pop that sounded even louder in the relative stillness of the night. 

 

Brian pulled back far enough so he could look into Justin's desire-clouded eyes, his own searching the other boy's face for an answer as to why he had pushed him away.  His breathing was incredibly ragged from their kiss, coming out in soft pants as he frowned into the flushed face of his companion's.  "Wh... What is it?" he asked, his chest moving up and down rapidly.  He tried to deflect the disappointment as well as frustration over being stymied as he added, "Why did you pull away from me?  We can go somewhere else more comfortable," he suggested, thinking that Justin was merely wanting to take their action away from the house for fear of detection.  He wanted nothing more at that moment than to continue where they had left off; they had really just begun, and already he was hard as a rock and leaking profusely from their efforts, so he didn't care WHERE they went as long as he could accomplish that much-desired goal. 

 

For one brief moment, he decided that this boy might just prove to be the exception when it came to his self-control; he had never come in his pants before, but this beautiful blond might just prove to be his undoing if they didn't promptly pick up where they had just left off.  "Justin?" he asked as he took his hand from around his companion's neck and used it to lift his chin and make him look into his eyes.  He continued to breathe rapidly in and out through slightly-parted lips as he stared into blue eyes that were shining like 100-watt bulbs under the moonlight.  "What do you want, Justin?  Tell me."  He couldn't believe he was even asking that question; any other time, he would be demanding what he wanted or he would just go after what - or who - he wanted.  Why was it so different with this boy, then?

 

To his dismay, Justin bit his lip momentarily before he said, "I... I can't do this, Brian.  Please... Let me go."  He grasped Brian's biceps in a silent plea to escape, but Brian didn't show any signs of wanting to move.  "Brian, please..."

 

Brian shook his head in stunned incredulity.  "Why?  I know you want me, Justin."  There was no hint of arrogance or conceit in that statement; it was simply the truth.  He could feel Justin struggling slightly beneath him and it filled him with vast disappointment.  He leaned down to try and kiss him again, desperately wanting to taste those lips once more and with that gesture somehow show this boy how much he wanted him and how much that yes, he cared for him.  But to his profound surprise and displeasure, Justin turned his head.  His attempt to not jump to conclusions failed him as he huffed out in frustration, "What is the problem with you?  One minute you're letting me tongue fuck you and the next you're turning me down?  What is wrong with you?"

 

The hurt and anger that bloomed inside him at Brian's tone of voice provided Justin with the necessary adrenalin to forcefully push Brian off him; surprised by Justin's strength, Brian managed to reach for the opposite arm of the swing as he sat vicariously upright on the other side as Justin rose shakily to his feet.  Pulling his sweatpants back up slightly and knowing that his actions did nothing to hide his desire for the other boy, he retrieved what little dignity he had left and stiffly told him, "There is nothing ‘wrong' with me, Brian.  I'm just fine.  I told you; I have to get some sleep so I'm rested for tomorrow.  That's all there is to it."  He hurriedly walked over and scooped up the ball of clothing that had been hastily dropped near the back door as he told him, "Thanks for returning my clothes."

 

Brian looked at him in shock.  What the hell had happened here?  The last thing he was worried about was returning Justin's clothes.  That had been merely a convenient device to return - and to see him again.  Now he was being rejected?  For what?  So Justin could get some beauty sleep?  He voiced his thoughts aloud as he retorted, "That's bullshit, Justin!  You are not leaving because you need sleep.  You're leaving because you're fucking scared."

 

Justin huffed as he once more held the clothes up against his chest and stared over at the other boy.  He knew Brian was absolutely right; he WAS scared - scared of the feelings this dangerous boy engendered in him.  He wasn't about to tell him, that, though; it was embarrassing enough.  "I am NOT scared, Brian!  I told you why I have to go; you can believe me or not."

 

Brian was not to be deterred, however.  "No, Justin!" he argued.  "Tell me the REAL reason why you just did what you did!  Or are you really that fucked up?" 

 

Justin fumed.  How did this go from such an incredibly erotic experience to another argument with this boy?  Throwing caution and common sense to the wind and not concerned at the moment whether he would be heard or not, he retorted somewhat loudly, "Okay, I'll tell you why!  We're not going any further with this - whatever it is - until I'm convinced that you're not using me as a convenience!"

 

Brian frowned as he glared over at him.  "A convenience? What the hell are you talking about, Justin?" 

 

Justin shook his head; was Brian that dense?  "I am not going to be your little backup boy when things don't go the way that you wanted with Jared."

 

Brian stood up as Justin backed slightly toward the door, feeling like he might need to make a hasty escape; he couldn't trust himself around Brian.  One more kiss like the one they had just shared, and he knew his righteous convictions would promptly disappear.  "I thought I had just gotten through explaining what happened - and didn't happen - with Jared."

 

"Yes, you did," Justin replied in agreement.  "But I'm not LIKE Jared, Brian.  I can't just have sex with a boy just because it would feel amaz...good," he corrected quickly, not wanted Brian to know just how incredible his kiss had felt and had easily he could be manipulated, even now, despite his pride.  "I need more than that."

 

Brian brushed his hand through his head in agitation, emitting a laugh at what he considered the absurdity of that statement.  "What?  You want romance, Hot Stuff?  Saltwater Taffy?  A new saddle?"  He snorted.  "Well, I don't do those types of things.  I don't NEED to.  So don't go expecting me to turn into some kind of lesbian boyfriend or something; it ain't gonna happen."

 

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat at the sarcastic tone of Brian's voice. He nodded.  "That's not what I was saying," he gritted out, his heart aching but his voice surprisingly clear and strong.  He shook his head, wondering why he was even bothering.  Brian was obviously merely looking for someone to satisfy his needs just as he suspected; he didn't really care who it was.  "Never mind," he told him, his voice hard.  "You obviously don't understand."  He reached to open the screen door, wincing again as the door squeaked on its hinges.  It had done that for months now; he silently vowed to grease the damn door so the next time it wouldn't make so much noise. Of course, there probably wouldn't BE a ‘next time;' at least not in the middle of a moonlit night, anyway, and certainly not with this boy. 

 

"No, I don't," Brian countered, his voice clipped with anger.  "Just go, then; go back up to your widdle bedroom and let your horses keep you company instead.  Just don't expect me to be waiting around when you DO decide you want to fuck, because I won't be waiting around for YOU.  I'm sure there are other guys around even this small burg of a town that will be more than happy to accommodate me."

 

Justin sighed sadly as he opened the door wider and turned to face the other boy.  "Yeah, you're probably right," he admitted.  "Good night, Brian," he whispered before he reached for the other doorknob and quickly slipped inside before his resolve totally shattered.  He managed to just close the other door behind him before he leaned against it and felt the first smattering of tears in his eyes.  Closing his eyes and half-praying that Brian would actually decide to stay and fight, he heard nothing instead but the steady ticking of their rooster clock and the thumping of his weary heart.  Finally wiping a few tears away from his cheeks, he slowly trudged through the kitchen and through the hallway to the stairs.  A few minutes later, he entered the bedroom thankfully unobserved.  Almost against his will, he found himself walking over to the still-open window, slowly parting the curtains to peer outside just in time to see Brian slowly walking away in the moonlight, the glow of a cigarette marking a trail beside him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brian sat on his aunt and uncle's back porch steps, his long legs crossed at the ankles as he took a long drag from the weed he was smoking; apparently the back hills of Kentucky were good, fertile ground for growing pot as well as tobacco, because considering how much out in the hicks he was, the stash he had appropriated from Jared earlier had turned out to be surprisingly good stuff.  His entire body was definitely feeling more relaxed than before; so much so, in fact, he could almost forget what had happened earlier.  But despite his best efforts, he found his thoughts straying, not back to the contentious encounter he had had with Jared, but rather to a frustrating but electrifying episode he had shared with Jared's younger brother on the Taylors' back porch swing a few hours ago.

 

What was it about this boy that captivated him so?  He was much too young for him, much too inexperienced to ever be his equal... Wasn't he?  Oh, Justin hadn't come right out and told him as much - not about the inexperienced part, anyway - but it was written all over his face whenever he felt like he was getting too close to him.  He knew that was the reason why he had pulled back, not because of some Victorian-type, romantic, bullshit principles.  Wasn't it?  But still, there was no denying that the boy could kiss!  He could kiss so well, in fact, that those wondrous, dusty pink lips should be outlawed.  It was as if their lips were meant to be melded together, as if their bodies had been made to be formed together into one glorious work of art.  It was almost magical in a way, almost life-altering even.

 

But as much as he might crave another taste, he was Brian Kinney; he didn't go around begging someone to be with him.  If Justin felt that riding his horses was more important than riding him, well, then, so be it.  There had to be other boys around besides a timid little field mouse and a cocky, arrogant bull that could adequately fulfill his needs.  Something told him, though, that none of them would be quite as satisfying as a certain beautiful blond who was uppermost in his thoughts at the moment.  Sighing softly in pent-up frustration, the buzz from the weed wearing off as reality began to sink back in, he threw what remained of the homemade marijuana cigarette down on the dirt ground by his feet and, standing there for a few moments to cast his eyes over at the now-darkened Taylor farmhouse, he turned and quietly trudged up the steps to the backdoor and entered the residence, knowing his uncle would have him up once more at the crack of dawn for yet another round of unpleasant chores.

 

---

Same Time - Taylor Farmhouse

Justin lay on his back in bed, his much-needed sleep proving to be an elusive commodity.  No matter how hard he closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep, it simply served to conjure up images of the boy who had kissed him to within an inch of his life earlier on their porch swing.  He found that it was actually better for him to keep his eyes open; it didn't remove the pictures of Brian from his mind, but at least he found that he could lessen their intensity by concentrating instead on the glow-in-the-dark stars and moons plastered onto the ceiling of his room, or turning his head to observe five more minutes had gone by from his horse clock, minutes ticking off relentlessly that he should be using for sleeping instead of erotic daydreaming.

 

He touched two fingers of his right hand to his lips, almost able to still feel the way that Brian's kiss had made his mouth tingle, how his tongue had swept into his mouth like some sensual wave, how Brian's arms had felt around his back, almost like they were tendrils of fire scorching his skin where they caressed him.  Just thinking about this other boy made him groan out loud at the way his body was reacting even now.  Brian wasn't even there - he had been gone well over a couple of hours now - but his cock apparently wasn't aware of that yet.  He let out a long, plaintive breath between his partially-opened lips as he reached down with his right hand to start stroking himself, imagining it was Brian's hand manipulating him as the palm of his left hand made circular motions over first one nipple and then the other, quickly bringing his arousal to an even higher level; his moans got louder and louder in volume as he allowed his eyes to close and he thought about his encounter with Brian on that swing and how Brian's skilled hands would feel if they were touching him now.  It didn't take long for his body to clench in delicious anticipation and for him to release his pent-up desire for him; several seconds later, his body lay sweaty and panting, his mind still racing with thoughts of the other boy.

 

"Damn you, Brian Kinney," he breathlessly whispered in a ragged voice, knowing that his hope of being fully rested before his next workout with Headstrong tomorrow morning was now an impossible goal.  He would be lucky if he managed to drift off to sleep at all now, although at least he could say that his body had been released temporarily from its torment.   Sighing again more heavily this time, he finally sat upright in the bed and swung his legs around to the side.  Eying the still wadded-up bundle of clothing over in the corner of his dimly-lit room where he had haphazardly tossed it earlier, he placed his bare feet down on the cold, hardwood floor.  Quietly creeping to his bedroom door, he opened it to plod down the hall toward the bathroom to wet a hand cloth to clean himself up.

 

---

Next Morning - Taylor Farmhouse

As he arrived at the kitchen, Justin was relieved to notice Jared not sitting there at the table eating breakfast.  After the confrontation he had overheard last night between his brother and Brian, he had been somewhat nervous about what sort of reaction his brother would have to seeing him this morning, even though it was not his fault that Jared had been rejected.  He hadn't lied about the events; Jared had.  He had a feeling, though, that his brother would still be carrying a grudge over him revealing the lie he had been spreading about him and Brian.  Of course, at the time he didn't know it WAS a lie, but he had a feeling that little detail wouldn't matter to his brother.

 

"Hi, Honey," Jennifer greeted her youngest son with a tender smile from her place at the stove.  "Scrambled eggs and bacon?" she asked him as she stirred a pan of gravy that was going to accompany the homemade biscuits presently baking in the oven.

 

Justin, still damp from his shower and looking decidedly bleary-eyed and tousled from his restless night's sleep, nodded as he shuffled over to the empty chair next to his father and sat down.  Jennifer quickly retrieved a casual, white-with-green-trim dinnerware plate from the oak Hoosier cabinet next to the stove and brought it over to the table to place it down in front of her son.  "Everything should still be warm," she told him as Justin nodded again and reached to scoop out a large portion of the scrambled eggs from the bowl sitting in the center of the table.  He took a pair of metal tongs resting on the edge of the bacon platter to snag a couple of pieces as his mother returned to the stove and his father eyed him from the top of the newspaper section he was perusing.

 

"Ready for Headstrong's work out this morning, Justin?" he asked without any preamble as he studied him like some old-fashioned school marm would.  "What time did you go to bed last night?  You look like shit this morning."

 

"Craig!" Jennifer chided him over his choice of words as she held up the gravy pan and poured the thickened sauce into a medium-sized matching bowl.  "Please... Your language."

 

Craig shrugged.  "Well, he does," he insisted as Justin's face turned red in embarrassment as if his father could figure out the reason why.  "I thought you knew better than to fritter away your sleep time the week before a race.  You know that Headstrong will pick up on your lack of energy."

 

Justin couldn't help sighing.  "I went to bed early enough," he insisted, although it had been much later than he had initially intended; it wasn't his fault, though, that he was minding his own business and someone else decided to interrupt his plans.  "I can't help if it I just happen to not be able to get to sleep."

 

"Were you drinking too many Cokes again before you went to bed last night?"

 

Justin rolled his eyes and huffed softly.

 

"Don't get impertinent with me, Justin; it's a legitimate question," Craig countered as Jennifer walked over with the basket of hot biscuits and bowl of gravy to place them in the middle of the table.  "It wouldn't be the first time, you know."

 

Justin sighed as his mother sat down on the opposite end of the table from his father.  "Give me a little credit, Dad!  I never drink caffeine that late when I know I have to get up early to work with Headstrong before a race!  You know that; I just couldn't get to sleep, that's all."  He looked over at his mother who was peering back at him sympathetically.  Sometimes he felt like he was in this continual, old-time rerun on television.  Did things ever change around here?  Apparently not - not when it came to his father never giving him the benefit of the doubt or having much faith in him.  He wondered how his father would feel if he just up and decided not to race Headstrong at all - how would he like it if he took away a large chunk of the farm's income as a result?  But it wasn't just for his father's sake or his brother's sake that he did it - he did it mainly because of his mother, and because it helped him to hopefully achieve his own goal next year of going to college out of state.  Right now with the way he felt it couldn't come soon enough, but he wasn't about to leave his mother, especially, in the lurch.  He worried constantly about what would happen once he DID leave - how the farm would remain solvent without his ability to bring in so much prize money to help with their finances - but he couldn't stay tied to the farm forever.  It would be up to his father at that point to figure out an alternative.

 

Craig lowered his paper to place it, folded, beside his plate.  "Well, eat up, then; at least you can practice on a full stomach, although normally that's not a problem, is it?"

 

Jennifer sighed this time as Justin averted his eyes and silently picked up his fork to sullenly stab at his scrambled eggs, suddenly feeling no desire to keep verbally battling it out with his father.  She reached over to pick up the basket of biscuits and say, "Here, Sweetheart, have a biscuit while it's hot."  Justin nodded glumly as he grabbed one of them and, pulling it apart, placed the two halves down on his plate and reached for the bowl of thick, brown gravy to spoon a generous amount on top, placing the bowl to his side where his father could reach it along with the biscuits.

 

As Jennifer accepted the food last and placed a small portion of each on her plate, she looked over at Craig to ask, "Where's Jared?  Is he still in bed?"

 

"Apparently," Craig replied tersely.  "And I told that boy to be up early today to do Justin's chores.  I don't like it when one of you boys don't mind what I say," he added as he looked over at Justin.

 

Justin turned his head to avoid letting his father see another disgusted rolling of his eyes as his gaze locked onto his mother's, both silently expressing the same sentiment:  Why are you directing that at ME and not at Jared?

 

"Go see what's taking him so long, Jen," Craig told his wife.  "He needs to get down here now; time's a wasting and it's going to be hot today."

 

She nodded as she pushed back from the table with her chair and stood up, silently resentful of his ‘caveman' attitude, but not openly protesting it.  She had been brought up to be the obedient little wife when she got married, but there were times when it distinctly grated on her nerves.  Her husband took a lot for granted at times; he had two, perfectly good legs and a powerful set of lungs; why was it HER job, then, to take care of these sorts of things just because she was supposed to be the ‘good little wife?'  One of these days she just might surprise her husband and tell him to do it himself.

 

Justin hurriedly consumed as much of his breakfast as he could as she left, not particularly wanting to either spend any private time with his surly father or risk any possible confrontation with Jared over Brian.  That was the last thing he either needed or wanted right now, not before the big race this weekend.  He scooped up the last bit of scrambled egg from his plate with his fork and pushed it in his mouth to swallow it at the same time he was wiping his lips off with his rooster-motif napkin.  "I'd better get going," he murmured as he placed the napkin down.  "May I be excused?"

 

To his relief, he father merely waved his hand in confirmation as he continued to sip from his coffee mug and picked up the sports section; Justin took advantage of his father's temporary indifference to quickly push back from the table and stand up.  Grabbing a couple of apples from the fruit bowl lying on top of the sideboard against the back wall, he quickly placed one in each pants pocket before he walked to the door to make his escape.  As he opened the screen door and shut it behind him, he heard his father say, "Don't coddle him, Justin, you hear me?"

 

"Yes, Dad," Justin shouted back in exasperation and barely-disguised disgust as, finally freed from the tense atmosphere surrounding the kitchen table, he headed out in the early-morning sun toward the stables.

 

---

 

Standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to her older son's upstairs bedroom several seconds later, Jennifer placed her hand on the well-worn, wooden knob of the railing as she looked upward, not detecting any outward signs of movement.  "Jared!" she shouted out.  "Are you up?  It's getting late, young man!"

 

She stood there for several more seconds before she sighed in disgust.  Proceeding to walk up the steps now, she reached the top of the landing and observed her son's bedroom door closed.  Shaking her head over the difference in values and sense of responsibility between her two sons, she walked over and instead of knocking on the door proceeded to turn the knob to open it unannounced.

 

Just as she figured, her oldest child was sprawled diagonally across the bed face down, one leg poking out of the crumpled, dark blue comforter as he lightly snored away.  His hands were lying underneath his pillow and his tousled, dark head was turned to the side as he softly breathed in and out in slumber.  Obviously their son had made no attempt to set his alarm clock last night; it currently read 7:00 a.m. and Jared should have been dressed and downstairs at least thirty minutes ago.  She peered over at her rebellious son in thinly-veiled aggravation; she loved both her sons dearly, but it seems that in the past few years especially it was becoming harder and harder to generate much respect for her oldest one, especially when she witnessed his frequent and flagrant disregard of their wishes.   Not for the first time, she wondered why Craig was so hard on Justin and so lenient with Jared.  Well, she could help to balance that out right now.

 

"Jared Alan Taylor!" she boomed out as she watched her son's body jerk in reaction.  "Get yourself out of that bed NOW!"

 

Jared's heart raced as he heard his mother's voice from a few inches away.  Instead of raising his head to peer over at her, however, he merely took his cover and pulled it over his head in a futile, childish attempt to somehow drown out her command.

 

In response, Jennifer reached down and promptly pulled the cover completely off her son's body, making sure it landed on the floor out of his reach.  "I said, GET UP NOW, Jared!" she demanded.  "If I have to say it again, I will go get your father to repeat it for you."

 

She watched just a little smugly as the implied threat had its desired effect and her son raised his arms above his head as his eyes opened slowly to glare over at her.  "Where is the fire?" he groused as he turned over to flop down onto his back and he rubbed his hand over his eyes wearily.

 

Jennifer's blue eyes flashed in irritation; she could accept a teenager's laziness at times, especially when it was during summer break, but she could NOT approve nor condone outright disrespect or insolence.  She briefly thought of reaching down to smack the living shit out of her son on the top of his head for his attitude, but thought better of it as she merely stated coolly, "You were told by your father last night to be up early to do your brother's chores. Now you have fifteen minutes to get showered, changed, and get your lazy butt down to the breakfast table, or I WILL tell your father about your horrible attitude and he can come up and remind you of your responsibilities.  Which is it going to be?"

 

Jared groaned, a headache threatening to burst forward as he slowly propped his torso up on his elbows and sluggishly sat up in his bed.  He knew that voice, and he knew better than to disregard his mother's threat as an idle one.  He could occasionally ignore his mother's wishes, but his father was another matter, and he had been quite adamant in his demand for him to do his little brother's chores while he was practicing for the next race on Saturday.

 

He looked up at her serious-looking face to grumble, "Okay, okay. I'm up.  I'll be down in a little while."

 

"Not a ‘little while,' Jared, fifteen minutes," Jennifer reminded him curtly as she turned to go.  "Get cracking."  She could distinctly hear Jared muttering under his breath as he slowly rose to his feet, but she chose to ignore it as she quickly retreated back out into the hallway, not for the first time wondering what in the world they were going to do with their oldest son.  Except for his cars, the boy seemed to have no ambition anymore at all.  Well, she was going to have to discuss that with Craig; she was not going to let him idly while away his time this summer any longer and not do anything productive.  They were a lot better off than the Walkers were, but that was due in large part to Justin's success at winning.  Once he was gone - and she was determined not to let anything stand in the way of his dream to go away to school - that financial cushion would be promptly removed.  It was time, then, to talk to Craig about Jared either pulling his own weight around the farm or moving out and finding some way to be self-sufficient on his own.

 

She heard the bathroom door slamming upstairs as she reached the bottom landing, knowing Jared was angry at her but not caring.  He has brought all of it on himself, she said to herself silently as she arrived back in the kitchen, noticing Justin was now absent.  Craig was placing his dirty dishes in the sink as he turned around at the sound of her returning.

 

"Justin already outside?" she asked him as she gathered up the remainder of the soiled dishes from the kitchen table and brought them over to the sink to place them on top of the other ones.

 

Craig nodded.  "Yeah, he should be out at the stables by now.  I only hope he's able to focus properly on what he needs to do; you saw how he looked."  He glanced around, noticing that Jared hadn't followed his mother down.  "Where's our other son?" he asked with some degree of concern.

 

Jennifer sighed.  "Your son was still in bed when I went up there just now," she reported as she turned on the faucet to rinse off a couple of the plates.  "He just got into the shower as I was coming downstairs."

 

Craig's brows narrowed in consternation.  "I told him last night that I needed him up early to take care of Justin's chores.  He must not have set his alarm, or it's not working properly."

 

Jennifer looked at him incredulously as she turned around to wipe her hands on a dish towel before leaning her body against the sink behind her.  "No, his clock was working perfectly; it was seven o'clock on the nose.  Face it, Craig!  Jared does what he wants to do because you let him get away with it."

 

Craig brushed his hand through his head in nervous agitation, a trait that his youngest son had picked up from him whenever he was worried about something.  "We've already discussed this, Jen.  He's not even out of his teens yet.  He will have plenty of time for real world responsibility when he gets a little older.  I can control him; let him have a little fun in the meantime."

 

Jennifer pursed her lips tightly together in irritation.  "Craig, he's not a child anymore!  Justin is shouldering more of the responsibility around here right now than HE is!  Either he needs to own up to his part of the chores around here or..."

 

"Or what, Jen?  Say it."

 

"... Or we need to tell him that he either needs to go out and find a job that will help pay for the operation of this farm or he'll have to go find a place of his own, period!  You of all people know how expensive running a farm is, especially during the lean times.  If it hadn't been for Justin..."

 

"Yes, yes, I know," Craig interrupted her impatiently with a wave of his hand.  "I've heard this a thousand times before, Jen!  If it hadn't been for Justin and his winnings from all these races, we would be in dire straits right now; don't you think I'm aware of that?  Do you know how that makes me feel, by the way, to know that as the man of the house I'm not living up to my obligations to provide for my family?  That my own son is bringing in more money right now than I am?  Do you?  Have you ever thought about that?"

 

Jennifer sighed.  "Of course I have!  And I know it must be a blow to your ego to acknowledge that fact!  But it's the truth, Craig!  If it wasn't mainly for Justin we would be in as much trouble right now as the Walkers are!"

 

Craig bristled at the implied insult.  "I am well aware of that, Jennifer, believe me."

 

"Are you, Craig? Well, you should be more grateful to him, then, for his hard work and dedication.  In fact, he's much more focused and mature than Jared is, so why are you always so hard on him?  No, let me finish," Jennifer pressed, gesturing with her hands as Craig started to open his mouth to respond.  "All he wants from you is a little indication that you love him, that you care about him, and that you appreciate what he does around here.  But all he seems to get from you instead is ‘you'd better be in top form, Justin,' or ‘you'd better get busy, Justin.'  Craig, he's still a boy himself!  He needs some time to just relax and have a little fun, to go swimming, to take a ride out into the woods, to sketch.  Have you even seen him with a sketchpad lately?  No," she said, not allowing him to respond yet.  "You haven't, because he hasn't had time to use one.  And he loves it so, Craig!  That's his dream, to combine his art with equestrian therapy in college, so he can use his love of art and horses to help others.  But how can he improve upon his chances of being admitted to Vanderbilt if he's not allowed to practice both of his skills?"

 

Craig whispered "Shh" to her like she was some precocious little child when he heard Jared clopping down the stairs, no doubt wearing his favorite, worn, black leather boots.  The boy practically slept and bathed in them.  "We'll talk about this later," he murmured in dismissal, not wanting Jared to overhear.

 

Jennifer was not about to let it go so easily.  "You bet we will, Craig," she told him curtly.  "Plan on it."

 

Craig's eyes widened slightly at the contentious tone in his wife's voice - he was unaccustomed to her being so assertive - before he turned to observe their oldest son almost swaggering in from the hallway.  His jaw set in aggravation over his cavalier attitude, he watched as Jared walked in to casually ask, "What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

 

Craig reached over to snatch a banana from the wooden ripening hanger nearby.  "Here's your breakfast, Jared," he growled as he lobbed it at him.  Jared managed somehow to contain his initial, stunned surprise at his father's angry tone of voice as he caught it and dumbly said, "What's this?"

 

"You heard me!  It's your breakfast, since you're almost an hour late," he was informed. "You're lucky to get that!" Craig snapped, more embarrassed than angry that his son had so callously flaunted the extra attention and privileges he had bestowed upon him since he had been out of school.  "Now take your breakfast and get out there and start on your brother's chores unless you want to be assigned cleaning out the stalls, too!"

 

"But..."

 

"That's enough, Jared!  I thought I had made myself clear how important this was; obviously you weren't paying enough attention.  Now either get out there and get busy, or you can kiss working on your car goodbye until you finish for the week! Do you understand me?"

 

Jared glared over at his mother, who stared unflinchingly back at him.  "Thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically as he turned to go.

 

"Just a minute, young man," Craig called after him; his brusque tone of voice causing his son to slowly turn around.  "Let me get one more thing straight; you do not disrespect either me OR your mother.  And don't go trying to blame her for you getting into trouble.  If you had done what I asked in the first place, none of this would be necessary and you would already be out there working like your brother is.  Now go before I decide to take that damn car completely away from you and assign Justin's chores to you permanently!"

 

Jared sighed heavily in resignation; his bluster gone in the face of his father's surprising defense of both his mother and Justin.  "Yes, Sir," he gritted out as he jammed the banana into his jeans pocket and walked toward the back door.

 

"And one more thing, Jared," Craig warned him as his son placed his hand on the back door knob, preparing to leave as he sighed heavily in disgust.  "Don't be giving your brother a hard time about doing his chores; he needs to concentrate on the race.  Don't be interrupting his practice."

 

"Wouldn't hear of it," Jared muttered as he turned to leave.  As the back screen door banged shut, Jennifer turned to her husband in surprise.  "I didn't expect that from you," she admitted, still peeved over her husband's continual show of favoritism for Jared but at least grateful that he had stood up to their son and insisted he follow through on what he had been assigned.  Her expression sobered as she added, "But it's just a start, Craig."

 

Craig let out a tense breath.  He didn't like arguing with any of his family, and if he was honest with himself, Jen was right.  Maybe he wasn't giving Justin enough credit.  Unlike Jared, Justin had always been the responsible son, the caring son, and the one they depended upon, and maybe he had come to take that for granted.  Since he had been a child, Jared had always been the more troublesome and difficult one, the free spirit.  It was both a curse and blessing to their child and to them; while he admired his child's devil-may-care attitude, it also created a lot of bumps along the road for them, whether it was Jared acting out in school, in church, or in town.  Justin, on the other hand, had never been any problem to them and had always been the ‘good' child, the obedient child, so much so to the point that maybe he didn't pay as much attention to him because he didn't have to.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, without Justin's help the past few years they might very well be living in the trailer that Vic presently occupied, being the caretakers for someone else who had come along and bought their much-loved property out from under them instead of still enjoying their treasured family home.  He suddenly felt a little ashamed about that fact.  "I know," he found himself now softly admitting.  "I... I do appreciate what Justin has done around here.   He's a good boy, Jen."  He inhaled and then let out a deep breath before looking into his wife's eyes.  "I'll try to make a better attempt to let him know that.  You know I love him just as much as Jared."

 

Jennifer cocked one elegantly-shaped eyebrow, not quite convinced but willing to give her husband the benefit of the doubt.  "Well, then tell him that, Craig; show him that you love him instead of finding ways to criticize everything he does."

 

Craig looked into her fiery blue eyes for a moment before he nodded.  "I'd better get out there and make sure that Jared is doing what I told him to do," he told her.  As he turned to go, almost as an afterthought he turned and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.  As he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, too, you know, even though I don't tell you that very often."

 

Jennifer quirked one side of her mouth up into a half-smile, a little surprised by the admission.  It was rare when Craig came out and said those three little words, so whenever he did it always caught her a little off guard.  She sighed softly.  "I love you, too; it's just that sometimes I like you better than at other times."

 

Craig had to smile softly at that.  "Fair enough," he told her as he turned to go.  "See you later."

 

She nodded as she watched him go out the door; she stood there lost in thought for a few moments longer before she turned around to finish rinsing off the breakfast dishes and began to fill the sink with some hot water.

 

 

Brian rubbed the sleep from his eyes as, still damp from the shower but fully dressed in jeans, his favorite brown calf boots and a sleeveless, black, button-down cotton shirt, he emerged into the kitchen of the Walker farmhouse, relieved to notice that his uncle was nowhere to be found.   Although the two of them had come to a somewhat uneasy truce as of late, the man still grated on his nerves at times with his surly attitude.  He couldn't help smiling a little at his aunt, however, who was sitting at the oval-shaped kitchen table sipping from a white coffee mug as she glanced at a well-worn, dog-eared cookbook.

 

"Brian," she greeted him affectionately with a smile and a nod; in the few days her nephew had been here, she was quickly becoming fond of him, despite her initial reservations.  She could tell underneath his gruff exterior that he wasn't quite as tough as he would like everyone to think he was.  "You're up early," she observed as she reached to pull out the chair next to her in invitation.

 

He walked over and slid his long body into the chair as she poured a cup of coffee for him out of a warming carafe on the table.  "Did I have a choice?" he softly grumbled.  Getting to bed much later than he should have, plus coupled with spending most of the time thinking about what he should or shouldn't have done regarding a certain blond next door, did not make for much of a restful night's sleep.  In fact, it hadn't made for much sleep at all.  It had been one of those nights where he had lain in bed, staring at the ceiling or periodically turning his head to gaze over at the garishly-red LED light of the small bedside clock that almost mocked him with its announcement that yet another hour had crept by without any sleep.  Finally, at 5:30 a.m. he had decided it was doing him no good to just lie there and watch another hour go by, so he decided to drag his lethargic body from the bed and lumber into the bathroom, hoping that a shower would invigorate him somewhat.  It had simply served, however, to allow his mind to drift into areas he shouldn't have permitted it to, and a few minutes later his erotic daydreaming over what he had hoped would have happened last night had caused him to shoot his load all over the shower walls as he came with an almost violent reaction and sagged against the cold ceramic tiles for support.

 

Now as he glanced over at his aunt he knew she had no way of knowing just what the cause of his insomnia was, but she still seemed to be peering at him with a sort of enigmatic smile on her face as she replied quietly, "Well, you did in a way; you always have a choice."

 

Brian snorted softly.  "Hardly.  Get up before even the roosters start crowing to do my good deeds around Sunnybrook Farm, or work on the prison chain gang picking up bottles, dead animals, and condoms from the side of a road for the next ten years.  Even I know which one is the better choice."  Actually he wasn't being fair; now that he had gotten more accustomed to staying at his aunt and uncle's farm, he had to grudgingly admit that it wasn't all bad.  There were certain parts that he kind of liked in a way.  For instance, he had enjoyed tinkering with his uncle's beat-up tractor the other day - secretly pleased by the incredulous look on his face as he triumphantly started it up and backed it out of the barn - and the weed he had commandeered last night hadn't been half bad, either.  His aunt, too, had proven to be quite pleasant to be around and treated him with respect, which was a lot more than he could say for his parents.  And, of course, there was a certain beautiful blond boy that lived next door that he couldn't seem to get out of his mind.  Yes, there were actually some parts to living in Hicksville that he had grown to like, in fact.  He just didn't have the nerve to admit that to his aunt yet, however.

 

Sarah nodded.  "Well, I guess that's true.  But you did have a choice whether to get up early like your uncle asked you to or not.  You could have just stayed in bed."   She stared into her nephew's face as he averted his eyes to take another sip of his coffee, noticing the blurry-looking eyes and the drawn look on his face.  "You don't look like you slept too well last night at all," she commented.  "Is the mattress not comfortable enough for you?"  Or was it something else, Brian?  Or SOMEONE else? 

Brian kept his eyes cast downward as he mumbled, "It's all right.  I... I just had a lot on my mind, that's all."  He lifted his gaze to look into his aunt's kind face as he tried to explain his lack of sleep away.  "You have to remember - this is like being in a foreign country or something to me; maybe even another planet."

 

Sarah had a feeling there was a lot more to it than that, but she wisely chose to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind as she fixed him with a smile and an understanding nod.  "Well, I'm glad it's not the mattress.  I fixed your uncle an egg white omelet and some whole wheat toast.  What would you like for breakfast?  You can't work very well on an empty stomach."

 

Brian took another sip of his coffee before he replied, "I'm not that hungry.  Maybe just some toast."

 

Sarah clucked in disapproval.  "Toast isn't very substantial, Brian.  As least let me fix you some oatmeal to go with the toast, okay?"

 

Brian sighed in resignation over his aunt's concern, still somewhat amazed by the difference between her and his mother.  Back home, he would be expected to fix his own breakfast, whatever it might be.  Normally he just plopped a couple of pieces of whole wheat bread into the toaster and maybe ate them with a piece of fruit; he wasn't used to someone actually caring about whether he ate or not, much less fixing it for him.  "Well, if it's not too much trouble..."

 

Sarah beamed as she scooted back from her chair.  "No, of course it isn't!" she replied, delighted that Brian was actually agreeing to it.  Something told her he wasn't used to getting much attention back home, and that was probably at least part of the reason why he seemed to be in trouble all the time.  She loved her sister, but sometimes she had serious doubts about her parenting skills.  And Jack - the few times she had observed him he certainly didn't appear to be the fatherly type; normally he was more apt to be bragging about his latest wins at the local racetrack than interacting with them over coffee or meals.  And the amount of alcohol that he seemed to consume every time they got together for holidays or occasional visits seemed way too exorbitant in her opinion.  She never had cared much for Joan's husband, and she couldn't help thinking that he had definitely not been a good influence on this young man's life.

 

She smiled reassuringly at Brian as she walked over to grab the canister of old-fashioned oats from the pantry and the homemade loaf of bread sitting on a wooden block on the counter near the refrigerator.  "I would offer you some fruit to go on top of the oatmeal," she explained somewhat apologetically, "but I ran out yesterday."  She poured a cup of the oatmeal into a ceramic bowl with some water as she placed it in the microwave and turned it on to cook before she deftly sliced two pieces of whole wheat bread from the loaf and placed them in the toaster.

 

Walking over to join him at the kitchen table, she looked over at him a little sheepishly as she informed him, "Actually, that's going to be one of your chores today."

 

Brian frowned.  "What's that?"  Images of him calf-deep in chicken manure from the other day filtered through his mind; he supposed nothing could be much worse than that awful ammonia smell had been.

 

"I asked Will if I could borrow you today; I could use your help getting some blackberries and strawberries picked this morning, along with gathering eggs from the chicken coop.  He's already gone into town to buy some feed anyway, so he said it would be all right."

 

Brian bit his lip.  Berry picking or gathering eggs didn't sound too bad, especially after the last type of chore he had endured, although he remembered all those wild blackberry briars he kept running into along the path to and from the swimming hole.  He had to bite back a groan that tried to escape just then; it was a bad idea to think about that swimming hole, because it merely made him think of something, no someone else that he had discovered there and what that particular ‘someone else' had looked like bobbing in that water.  He knew that no matter what he had told Justin last night about how easy it would be to find someone else to take his place, he realized that was total bullshit; after seeing him in all his glory floating on that water, tasting those lips last night and feeling that lithe little body pressed against his in the porch swing, he knew there couldn't possibly be an equal replacement for him.

 

The sound of the bread being ejected from the toaster startled Brian out of his daydreaming as he blinked before peering over at his aunt, who was looking at him curiously.  "Brian?  Is that okay with you?"

 

"Uh, yeah... I guess.  I, uh, are there thorns on the blackberry bushes?"

 

To her credit, Sarah didn't laugh at his question like someone else might; instead, she shook her head and smiled.  "No, you'll be glad to know that actually there aren't any on these; they're a larger, domestic type that don't have thorns like the wild ones do."

 

Brian nodded in relief. "And the eggs?"

 

"They don't have thorns, either," Sarah teased before she laughed at the look on his face.  "What about the eggs?"

 

Brian couldn't help grinning at his aunt's attempt at humor.  "I mean - is there a certain technique to gathering these eggs?"

 

She got up to walk over to the microwave as it beeped to indicate the oatmeal was done as she shook her head.  "Not really," she informed him.  "I'll give you a basket with a handle on it to gather them with.  But don't expect them all to be lying conveniently where the chickens roost; that only happens on TV and in the movies."

 

Brian frowned as his aunt brought his oatmeal and toast over to him and placed it down in front of him.  "What do you mean?"

 

"What I mean is, it's kind of like an Easter egg hunt; those hens will lay them wherever they please - in the coop, on the ground, anywhere.  You have to look all over for them.  Oh, and if you see our rooster biting one of the hens, don't worry.  He's just flirting with her."

 

Brian looked at her confused; did he hear that right?  "Flirting with her?"

 

Sarah grinned.  "It's part of their mating ritual, believe it or not; nothing to worry about."

 

"Good," Brian declared as he scooped a couple teaspoons of sugar into his oatmeal and swirled it around with his spoon.  "I got a close up look at that guy's talons when I was cleaning out his digs and I'm not planning on interfering with his love life."

 

Sarah laughed.  "Don't worry - he and the chickens will get out of your way if you get too close to them, trust me.  You'll be fine."

 

Brian eyed her warily, not quite convinced, but he decided playing the part of a hunter and gatherer of berries and eggs sounded a whole lot better than diving back into chicken shit.

 

---

Forty-Five Minutes Later - Walker Farm

Brian couldn't believe all the chickens clucking and scurrying around his feet; the other day when he had cleaned out the coop he hadn't recalled so many.  But he figured since his aunt and uncle allowed them free range around certain parts of their property, most of them must have been out when he had cleaned out their ‘home.'  Now, though, it seemed like they were everywhere under his feet; he had to watch where he stepped, not only to avoid stepping in chicken shit but also to make sure he didn't step on one and turn it suddenly into the newest member of the KFC assembly line.

 

He reached down on the ground near the coop to snag two eggs sitting side by side near the outside front wall.  "She was right," he muttered aloud.  "You chickens get laid more than the tricks at the bus station."  He was amazed by how warm the eggs felt when he picked them up; he didn't know what he was thinking, but he must have had some jaded image from buying eggs at the grocery.  He mistakenly thought they would be cold to the touch, but these were nothing of the kind.  He crinkled his nose just then, wondering just how ‘fresh' these particular eggs were.  Thoughts of contracting some exotic animal disease filtered through his mind as he mentally made a note to make sure he thoroughly washed his hands when he returned to the house before he undertook the next part of his chores for the day.

 

Walking gingerly into the shed and having to stoop to enter, he observed that most of the chickens were outside; there were two reddish-brown hens, however, that were sitting on their nests, their bodies plumped out at the bottom.  They eyed him anxiously with their beady, little, piercing eyes as he stared one of them down.  "You don't scare me," he told them, not sure if he was trying to convince him or them.  "Nice little chickens," he cooed as he carefully approached the nearest one, who began to cluck louder and louder the closer he came.  "Just hand over the eggs and no one will get hurt," he snickered.

 

 Actually, he didn't even know if there were any eggs underneath her; perhaps his aunt really didn't need one or two more, but it was the principle of the thing.  He was not going to let any female chick intimidate him, human, fowl or otherwise.  Despite what his aunt had told him about not having to worry about being accosted, he stopped about a foot away out of claw range as he gingerly reached over toward the hen that began to cluck even more frantically while the other hen roosting nearby joined in.

 

"Great, a duet," Brian growled in disgust.  "Don't give up your day job, girls."

 

He winced at the loud squawking that suddenly erupted.  Throwing caution to the wind, he walked a couple of steps closer before he held his breath and reached underneath the hen with the intent of checking for possible eggs.  He jumped back, however, as the chicken let out one last screech and promptly flew off her roost; her wings were so close to his face he could feel the wind they generated as he ducked in self-defense.

 

"Shit!" he cried out in disgust as he waved his arms around, resulting in startling the other hen that flew away just like the other one.  At least he had succeeded in shooing them both away, however, and he was rewarded with three more eggs as a result.   "Nice try," he muttered smugly as he scooped up his bounty.

 

A few minutes later, he emerged from the chicken coop, wiping sweat from his brow with the tail of his now unbuttoned shirt and feeling like he had just survived a combat zone.  He shook his head, wondering again if this was preferable to doing hard time at the state pen, but knowing the answer already.  It wasn't the most pleasant of tasks, and certainly not what he would choose for himself, but he knew it could be a lot worse.

 

All in all, he had found a total of 32 eggs.  He wondered what in the world his aunt would do with so many eggs as he left the enclosed area of the coop's range and closed the gate behind him, noticing his aunt walking toward him with a glass of what appeared to be lemonade.

 

"How did you do?" she asked him.  She peered into the basket bulging with eggs and smiled.  "I see you figured it out.  You did quite well for a beginner; how many did you find?"

 

"Thirty two if I counted right," he informed her, almost with a touch of pride that he had survived his first smack down with the chicken gang.

 

She nodded with a pleased smile.  "I'll take that," she offered as she accepted the heavy container from him and crooked the handle over her left arm.  She held out the large, clear, plastic glass in her other hand as she said, "I brought you some lemonade; I thought you could use it."

 

"Thanks," Brian said gratefully as he took it and downed about half of it in one big gulp.  He let out a deep breath afterward.  "That felt good."  She nodded with a smile as he returned the glass to her.  "Now you said you needed some berries picked?"

 

She nodded again.  "Yes.  I haven't had a chance in a few days to check any of the bushes, so I'm hoping they're full; that is, if all the birds haven't feasted on them yet.  Little feathered thieves!" she growled good-naturedly.  "The picking baskets are in the shed behind our barn.  Just walk around the side of the barn and you can't miss it.  It's not locked; there's really nothing of value in there, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding them inside."

 

Brian nodded.  "How many do you think I'll need?"

 

She twisted her mouth thoughtfully.  "Well, each one holds five gallons, so I'd probably take maybe three or four?  They can get pretty heavy, though, so maybe you'd better haul them out there with the tractor."  She grinned.  "Once you got your uncle's tractor going again, he couldn't wait to hook up his old trailer to it; it's still attached.  I'd take advantage of it and tow the buckets out there.  Believe me, once you get them filled up, they will be extremely heavy to carry and you'll be glad that you did."

 

Brian thought about protesting that he didn't need to rely on something like that just to carry some berries back to the house, but he trusted his aunt; if she told him they would be really heavy, he should believe her.  So instead he nodded in agreement.  "Okay."

 

She nodded back at him.  "I'm going to go put these in the refrigerator," she told him.  "If you need me I'll be in the kitchen.  I'm making a big bowl of potato salad and two dozen deviled eggs for the town social tomorrow night, and hopefully some blackberry cobbler if I have time."

 

"Town social?" Brian inquired, thinking how quaint.

 

Sarah nodded.  "Yeah, they have this big event every year in June to kind of kick off the summer growing season.   They claim it's to get to know all our neighbors better and to discuss any issues that might concern us.  We all sit around and socialize and get reacquainted, and they have some music and games you can try your hand at.  But if you ask me, I think they just want an excuse to eat.  I have to admit, though, the homemade ice cream that the Bargers bring in every year is the best; wait until you taste it."

 

Brian shook his head.  "I don't think I'd be interested in that," he told her softly.  The idea of sitting around with a bunch of old timers as they shoved a chaw of tobacco into their mouths and sat on bales of hay as they talked about soybeans and fertilizer didn't appeal to him at all.

 

Sarah studied him for a few moments before she shrugged slightly, trying to act indifferent.  "Well, it's up to you.  But normally both of the Taylor brothers come with their mother and father every year."  She noticed Brian's eyes light up at that comment; something told her his reaction was directed more toward the younger brother, however, than at Jared.

 

"They do?" Brian asked before he could control himself.  Damn it, could he sound any more eager than some puppy at the moment?

She nodded as she tried to hide her pleased smile; I thought so.  "They sure do.   Although I suspect they go more out of their father urging them to do it than a real desire to be there.  But maybe if you went, too, they would have someone else to hang out with their own age.  You'd be doing them a favor," she suggested slyly.

 

Brian smiled back at her; the more he thought about it, the more he decided that idea didn't sound half bad, especially if he could find a way for him and Justin to be alone and create their own version of rolling in the hay.  "Yeah," he murmured.  "I'll think about it."

 

She grinned.  "Good.  Well, I'd better let you get back to your work.  Why don't you stop around noon and I'll have lunch waiting for you?  Will should be back way before then and we can eat together."  Brian gave her an ‘Oh, goody' type of look as her grin became wider.  "Now don't give me that look, Brian Kinney.  Will is definitely warming up to you, I can tell."

 

Brian snorted.  "Yeah... right.  Instead of it feeling like Antarctica around him now, it feels more like the balmy winds of Alaska."

 

She chuckled at the odd comparison.  "Well, despite what you think, he really is starting to like you... Juneau?"  Brian eyed her like she had two heads at the odd statement until he caught the punch line and then shook his head at her strange sense of humor before half snorting/half laughing at her feeble attempt at a joke.

 

"Sorry - just a little corny humor," she told him with a wink as she turned to go.  "I'll see you in a couple of hours.  Good luck - oh, and make sure you wear gloves when you pick the berries, or you'll wind up with purple hands!  There should be a couple of pairs out in the shed along with the buckets."

 

Brian looked at her retreating form aghast, grateful that at least she had warned him ahead of time before he turned and walked over toward the side of the barn.

 

---

 

His aunt had wound up being right; once he had turned the corner of the barn, the weathered, wooden, light-gray shed was directly behind it.  A dirt path, wide enough for a pair of tire tracks, ran from the back doors of the barn directly to the shed, but it didn't appear to be utilized very much.  Weeds and wildflowers were growing along the back exterior of the barn in profusion, so it was obvious that it hadn't been used lately.  In fact, weeds were everywhere.  Thankfully there was enough of a small, narrow footpath for Brian to follow from the side of the barn over to the shed to avoid skin contact with the thicket of plants; he stuck to it religiously for fear of encountering more blackberry thorns or some sort of poison ivy.  He had discovered to his consternation that he seemed to be a ‘poison ivy magnet' when he had encountered some previously in the woods at the local park.

 

A few years ago, he and another boy had decided to hike down from the open baseball fields of the park to the wooded area surrounding the nearby creek to sneak in a smoke and maybe do some ‘other' type of exploring with each other.  At the time, he hadn't even paid any mind to all the wildflowers and weeds growing along the wood line, but later that evening he started itching like crazy, so much so that his mother had wound up having to take him to the doctor early the next day.  To say it had been awkward explaining how he had been exposed to poison ivy around his cock and his ass was an understatement; the look of disgust on his mother's face had closely resembled the same one a child would make after they were forced to eat spinach for the first time.  He had hoped that her face might actually freeze that way somehow, but unfortunately it had finally transformed afterward back into her typical, shrunken apple doll visage instead.  That had been the first time his mother had realized he was queer, and the last time she had tried to keep hooking him up with the ‘good little Catholic girls' that lived in the neighborhood.  At least there had been one good thing to come out of his ‘exposure,' then... He no longer had to hide who he really was, and he had found it extremely liberating.

 

Now as he approached the weed-infested shed, his attention was drawn toward the rear barn doors where a faded, gray canvas tarp was draped over a large object of some kind toward the left side, much like the tractor had been covered, only it had been protected better by the elements.  Whatever was underneath this tarp appeared to be somewhat larger than the tractor, however, and it was obvious it hadn't been touched in a long time, at least if the condition of the tarp was any indication.  Weeds were not only growing chest high all around it, but also growing through the canvas itself.  No, whatever was under this tarp, unlike the tractor, hadn't been viewed in quite a while.  His curiosity got the best of him as, the baskets and his chores temporarily forgotten, he walked over to take a closer look.

 

---

A few minutes earlier...

"Hi, Sweetheart," Sarah greeted her husband as she heard the back porch door creak; she noticed with amusement that Will had what appeared to be pieces of hay matted in his hair, probably from where he had picked up the bales he had purchased in town and hauled them out of the back of their pickup truck.  No one could ever mistake her husband for a city slicker.

 

"Hey," he responded as he walked up and placed his calloused hands on her shoulders to peer down at the large bowl in front of her; she noticed he was wearing his favorite pair of worn, blue-jean coveralls and black-and-white, long-sleeved plaid cotton flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled up.  "I see you found enough eggs in the chicken coop to make your deviled egg dish tomorrow."  He impulsively reached down to lightly kiss her cheek from behind as Sarah beamed at the affectionate gesture, so reminiscent of the way her husband used to be but so rarely demonstrated as of late, at least not since their son had died.  It felt good, but also unexpected; she thought fleetingly that maybe Brian was having a good influence on her husband as she leaned her head back against his chest and replied, "Not me; Brian.  He found 32 of them.  We might just make a farm boy out of him yet."

 

Will walked over to the coffeemaker located on top of their corner kitchen cabinet as he helped himself to some, not surprised that his favorite mug was lying next to it, ready to be filled; the ability to anticipate what he needed was one of the things that he loved the most about his wife.  "Well, we'll have to see about that," he told her a little gruffly, unconvinced that their nephew would ever embrace country living.  "What time did our ‘guest' roll out of bed this morning anyway?"

 

She smiled as she continued to slice open the hard-boiled eggs, placing the white part face up on a golden-yellow, glass deviled-egg platter and the yolks into a medium-sized bowl.  "He was down here for breakfast right after you left, believe it or not," she told him to his surprise.  "Dressed and ready to go."

 

Will turned around to lean against the back of the cabinet, raising a brow in surprise as he held his John Deere yellow-and-green coffee mug in his left hand.  "Really?  Could it be he's not as lazy as I think?"

 

Sarah's eyes flashed in righteous indignation.  "I never thought he was lazy, Will, and I don't think you really did, either," she chided him softly.  "He's just not had enough direction or attention in his life.  I'm sure that's why he's gotten into so much trouble back home.  Has he been in trouble here?"

 

Will snorted as he carried his coffee mug over to the table and sat down next to his wife.  "Well, not that I'm aware of, other than disobeying my wishes," he admitted grudgingly. "But it's only been a few days, too.  Maybe it's just harder to FIND trouble out here than in the big city."

 

She stopped slicing the eggs for a moment as she peered over at her husband to counter, "But he really has not been a problem since he's been here at all, and I really think he's trying harder now to please us, don't you?  He DID get your tractor to start, which is going to be a tremendous time saver for you, and he's out there right now picking berries for me without complaint.  And he got up on time this morning."

 

"For a change," Will conceded.  He sighed.  "All right.  Maybe he really is trying - a little.  But I'm going to hold off judgment for now."  He frowned over a sudden realization.  "You said he's out picking berries?  I just drove by the fence and I didn't see him over there."  When he and Sarah had first discussed wanting to plant several blackberry bushes and strawberry plants, the Taylors had graciously agreed to allow them to plant them against part of their fence to help support their growth; in exchange, Sarah promised to provide them with plenty of her homemade, prize-winning cobblers to which all of them, especially Justin, had enthusiastically agreed.

 

"Well, he's probably still out by the shed getting the baskets," Sarah advised him reasonably.  "I told him he could take the tractor and trailer out there so he wouldn't have to carry them back afterward; you know how heavy they get when they're full."

 

Will huffed.  "I guess," he agreed reluctantly.  "But I certainly don't hear the tractor; it chugs out so much black smoke and makes such a racket when it's running that I'd know if he's started it up.  I'd better go make sure he's not goofing off somewhere after all."

 

Sarah sighed.   Can't her husband have just a little faith in him?  No wonder the boy is so unsure of himself at times, despite his cocky exterior.  "Well, I'm sure he's doing exactly what he should be doing, but go ahead.  Lunch will be ready in about an hour."

 

Will nodded as he chugged down a large gulp of his black coffee and placed the half-full mug back down on the kitchen table.  "I'll go check on him and then I'll be out in the barn straightening up."

 

As he slammed the screen door behind him a few seconds later, Sarah silently hoped that her trust in Brian was justified and that he was doing precisely what he should be doing.

 

---

 

Brian carefully crept closer to the tarp, studiously examining every weed to make sure it didn't appear to be either poisonous or possess thorns.  He had had enough of both plant types to avoid each one.  He had always heard that you should avoid anything that had three leaves, so whatever remotely resembled poison ivy or even gave off the impression of having a sticker of any kind was fervently avoided as he at last managed to wedge himself up against one corner of the tarp that was hanging loose over the edge of whatever it was hiding.  As he bent down to examine it further, he noticed how threadbare the tarp actually was; the ends had small, round metal eyelets like the type you might thread rope through, but if they had actually been used that way in the past there was no evidence of it now; the flaps were slowly blowing in the quickly-warming, late spring breeze like a gentle wave.  He refused to consider what - or who - might had frayed the corners (deliberately pushing away images of anything with sharp teeth and a long tail from his mind) as he reached down to grab the nearest corner and pull it up and away from whatever it was hiding underneath.  As he held it up to peer at the object, his eyes widened in shock over what he spied.  He immediately recognized what it was in spite of its somewhat forlorn appearance, because he had seen one very similar to it the other day at the Taylor Farm.  It was a racing sulky; oddly the blue body of the device appeared to be in fairly decent shape, but it was missing its two wheels that he recalled being on the Taylors' model.  He frowned.  Why would his aunt and uncle even have one of these on their farm?  They didn't have any horses.  And why would it be sitting here out behind the barn, only half-assembled and apparently long forgotten, especially when it was apparent that they were not exactly well off financially and, in fact, seemed to be in almost desperate need for more money?  He could understand his uncle holding onto a tractor of his that had sentimental value, but why would anyone want to cling to something like this that obviously had been discarded when they could at least sell it for scrap metal?  He furrowed his brow, lost in thought as he tried to put the pieces together into something that made sense.

 

---

 

Sarah turned back to her work with the eggs as she thought about her conversation just now with her husband and she gasped as an awful thought suddenly crossed her mind.  Shed... buckets... tarp... "Oh, no!" she murmured in horror as she hurriedly scooted back from her kitchen chair and rushed over to the backdoor, just in time to see her husband about to walk around the side of the barn.  "Will!" she called out as loudly as she could.  "Will, come back here!  I need you to do something for me!  Hurry!"

 

Her husband turned around and stared at her for a moment puzzled before, wiping his hands on his overalls, he began to trudge back toward the back of the farmhouse as Sarah frantically thought of something, anything, to stall him from going out to the shed.  She bit her lip as she looked around the kitchen.  What?  What could she tell him?  Will would be back in the kitchen any second.  Glancing around, she spied her favorite glass tea pitcher lying next to the kitchen sink.  Hurriedly closing the back door so he wouldn't hear her, she rushed over to the pitcher, and wincing at the predicted sound, she grabbed the glass handle and promptly flung it down onto the hardwood floor with all her might; the container promptly smashed into a million pieces, flying everywhere, as she gingerly walked around the mess as much as she could just in time to open the screen door back up before her husband noticed it had been closed.  Peering out, she sighed in relief as he came walking up the back cement walkway and gazed up at her curiously.  "What is it, Sarah?"

 

She did her best to look distressed - actually, that wasn't too far from the truth at the moment - as she informed him in a surprisingly calm tone of voice, "I just broke my favorite tea pitcher and there're shards of glass everywhere.  Can you go get the wet/dry vacuum from the basement and help me clean it up?  I can go make sure that Brian's getting what he needs from the shed while you do.  You know the vacuum is way too heavy for me to tote upstairs.  Please, Honey?"  She batted her blue eyes at him coquettishly, hoping that the trick she had successfully used when she was a lot younger was still effective now.

 

Will sighed.  He never could say no to this woman.  "I really need to make sure that Brian is doing what he says he was going to do; I don't completely trust him."

 

"Will, please," Sarah pleaded, putting on an Oscar-winning performance.  "I can't work around all this glass on the floor.  If you'll go get the vacuum and clean this up, I promise you that I will go make sure that Brian is doing his chores like he's supposed to be doing."  She placed her hand on the metal doorknob of the screen door as if to say the decision had already been made.

 

Her husband shook his head in resignation.  "Okay, Sarah.  But make sure he is not sloughing off.  You need those berries for the social tomorrow, and if you ask me, he's getting off light today."

 

She smiled at him gratefully.  "Thank you, Honey.  I'll go check on him now," she assured him.  "I'm sure everything's fine."  She held her breath until Will finally nodded in acquiescence and turned to walk down the hallway toward the door leading into the basement.  Biting her lower lip apprehensively, she quickly opened the back door and took off like a shot toward the left side of the barn, keeping studiously to the dirt path that led directly to the supply shed - and something else.

 

Her heart began to pound as she spied Brian near the back of the barn, directly in front of the tarp.  He was holding up a flap of the canvas and looking at the sulky, just as she had feared.  "Brian!" she cried out loudly, her voice ringed with panic as she came running up to him out of breath.

 

Brian dropped the flap as he turned around to look at her, puzzled by the almost desperate tone in his aunt's voice.  "What is it?  What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely concerned as he reached to gently grasp her by her upper arms.  "Are you all right?"

 

Sarah tried hard to catch her breath before she told him, "Yes, I'm fine.  But the sulky... Brian, you need to stay away from it!  Please!"  She broke away from her nephew's grasp to tug on his right wrist to urge him back toward the shed.

 

"Aunt Sarah, I don't understand," Brian countered as he lightly resisted.  He peered over at the covered object in mystification.  "What's that doing here?  Why do you have a sulky?  And why is it just lying there neglected?"

 

Sarah licked her lips nervously as she continued to urge him back toward the shed.  "Please, Brian, I'll help you gather the berry buckets and some gloves.  Let's get back to the barn so you can hop on the tractor and get out to the bushes.  We need to go now!"

 

Brian frowned but allowed his aunt to lead him over to the shed; she only released her grip when at last they reached the two wooden doors and she undid the unhooked lock to swing the double doors open.  "Brian..." she pressed him as she looked at him almost desperately.  "Come on!"

 

"No," Brian told her as he stood his ground and crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to enter the shed until she explained.  "I want to know what's going on to make you so scared."

 

Sarah sighed; there was no time.  "Brian, your uncle just got home.  He's in the house right now, but if he comes out here and sees you anywhere near that sulky, he will explode with anger!  Now let's get the buckets and go!"  She cursed herself for having thought about asking him to do this; if Will gave any thought as to where Brian was at the moment, he would be out here with fire in his eyes, even though Brian wasn't doing anything wrong.  She continued to tug frantically on his arm, trying to get him to move, knowing that time was of the essence.

 

No," Brian repeated, though, to her dismay; he felt like an outsider looking in as he stubbornly stood his ground and refused to budge.  "I want to know what the hell is going on first!  Why would he care about that old contraption over there?"

 

"Because," Sarah said, pain obvious in her eyes; she took a deep breath to steel herself as her voice softened in sorrow and she disclosed, "That's the sulky Dale was riding on when he was killed."

 

Brian's eyes grew large.  His cousin, Dale, was a sulky rider like Justin?  This was the first he had heard of that, as well as the first time anyone had even mentioned how his cousin had died.  "It is?" he asked as he glanced over at the tarp.  "How did it happen?"

 

She pursed her lips tightly together.  "It was an accident at the track," was the cryptic answer.  "Will had it towed back here and placed over there by the barn," she told him as she peered over at the tarp and shuddered slightly, recalling that horrible day.  "He found an old tarp inside the barn up in the loft area and had them cover it up.  Since then, he hasn't looked at it or even spoken about it.  But I know my husband; if he even so much as saw you anywhere near that sulky, he would lash out at you and explode.   So please, Brian - let's get the buckets now and get out of here!  He might come back here any minute!  Please!" she repeated desperately as she pulled on his right arm to try and get her nephew to obey her plaintive request.  She wasn't afraid of her husband - she knew he would never hurt her and he actually abhorred physical violence - but at the same time he and Brian had slowly been building up a relationship, and she feared that this would promptly put them back at Square One - or worse.  She couldn't afford to take that chance, not when Brian's presence was actually starting to have a positive effect on her husband, maybe even a healing effect.

 

Brian looked at the silent pleading in his aunt's eyes and finally nodded in agreement as he hurried behind her into the shed and she quickly located the four, tall, white plastic picking baskets.  Taking them from his aunt's hands, he watched as she located a pair of dark gray, thick, cloth work gloves and threw them into the top bucket.  "Let's so," she urged him as she quickly shut the two doors back and hooked the lock through the metal tab to close them back.  "Hurry!"

 

Brian nodded as they began to walk back toward the front of the barn.  They had just turned the corner when Will came out the door, dragging a cardboard box containing the remnants of Sarah's pitcher.  He glanced up as he noticed his wife and nephew carrying the berry buckets, eyeing them a little suspiciously but not seeing anything out of order.  "Brian," he said curtly with a nod.  "Everything okay?"

 

Brian cast a quick look over at his aunt before he replied with a slight smile, "Yeah, everything's fine; Aunt Sarah was just showing me where the buckets and gloves were.  If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go start up the tractor now.  When's lunch again, Aunt Sarah?"

 

Sarah smiled back at him in relief for his changing the subject as she handed him a couple of the buckets.  "If it's okay with your uncle, I think I'll push it back another hour.  How about one o'clock?  I'll ring the bell when it's ready."

 

Brian nodded as he turned to leave, stopping only as he heard his uncle warn him sternly, "Don't be late."  Brian stopped with his back to his uncle, glad for his aunt's sake that a possible blowup had been avoided  He turned around after a few seconds to quirk one side of his mouth up as he glanced over at his aunt to say, "I won't."  He paused for a moment longer before he added quietly, "Thanks, Aunt Sarah."

 

She nodded back at him as he turned to go, understanding perfectly what he was thanking her for, even though she thought she should be thanking HIM.  "Anytime."  She smiled over at her husband as she spoke up a little louder.  "Thanks, Will, for taking care of that.  Perfect timing."  In more ways than one, she couldn't help thinking as she told him, "I'd best get back to fixing our lunch and my dishes for the social tomorrow night."

 

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek in gratitude before he nodded back at her and resumed carrying the box over to their garbage tote.  She and Brian cast one more meaningful, conspiratorial look at each other before he turned and headed into the barn to rev up the tractor and trailer.

 

Letting out a tense breath, Sarah started back toward the sidewalk, thankful that a possible catastrophe had been avoided.  She knew, though, that somehow the issue of Dale's death would have to be dealt with eventually, but for now she was thankful any potential confrontation between her husband and her nephew had been avoided.

 

 

 

Fifteen Minutes Later

Brian swung his long legs around and jumped down from the tractor, having actually enjoyed his brief ride on the piece of antique farm machinery.  It would certainly never be a speed machine by any means, but he had to admit - it was kind of nice sitting up high in the worn, black, leather seat as he bumped along through the pasture like the king of a mobile castle.  It hadn't been hard to figure out where the berry bushes were from his elevated vantage point - all he had to do was look toward the Taylor farm near the fence line and there they were.  The closer he got, the more he realized that there must be at least a hundred of them.  No wonder his aunt had given him four five-gallon buckets; he calculated he would need every available space to collect all of the ripened berries he could see growing in profusion from them as he approached them.

 

Turning the sputtering, chugging contraption off, there was one last belch of black smoke before he was greeted with immediate silence, the difference profound and stark.  Soon, however, he could hear another sound that broke through the peaceful quiet:  the faint but familiar clop, clop, clop of horses' hooves.  As he looked over toward the source of the sound, his heart started to pound in anticipation and he smiled over his good fortune.  It seemed that his companion from last night was at it again, almost like some non-stop movie running on a continuous reel.  Justin was perched in the Taylors' sulky, wearing some sort of geeky-looking, round goggles that hid the blue eyes that Brian knew so well by now, his golden, slightly shaggy hair blowing in the wind created by the speed of the horse pulling it in front, the sun angled above making the blond strands almost glow.  His face was a masterpiece of concentration, his oh-so-perfect lips pursed together as he held the horse's reins firmly in his hands and raced the horse smoothly along the track.  He was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and some sort of V-necked, red tee-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows that complimented his skin tone perfectly, and those same sneakers that Brian recognized from the other day when he had stolen his clothing at the swimming hole.

 

A grin broke out on his face; Lady Luck certainly seemed to be with him today!  Berry picking seemed extremely attractive all of a sudden.  Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, he opened the sides and quickly shrugged out of it to let it flutter to the ground as he picked up a bucket with the gloves and walked over toward the fence line, seeing Justin approaching closer and closer out of the corner of his eye.   He quickly walked over to the bush located closest to the fence line and, donning the thick work gloves, began to pluck some jumbo-sized blackberries from the plant as the sounds of the horses' hooves got closer and closer, making a studious attempt to show that he was ignoring him.  He kept his head down deliberately as he listened intently to the ever-increasing sounds of the horse, feeling like his heart was picking up speed as well.  It both excited as well as scared him to realize how this other boy made his body react, but it was still a heady sort of rush to experience it.

 

Justin was so concentrated on how well Headstrong was reacting to his subtle directives with the reins that he didn't initially notice he wasn't the only one out getting exercise; as he rounded the far corner of the dirt track, his eyes widened in shock and his heart began to thump as he recognized Brian bent over near their perimeter fence with his back to him.  Even without seeing his face, he would have known who it was anywhere; there was no mistaking that sculptured, long, lean body; the same body that had pressed up against him on their porch swing last night and made his own body go crazy with desire.  He swallowed hard as he realized that Brian was naked from the waist up; that immediately served to remind him of their encounter at the swimming hole as he closed his eyes briefly in remembrance.  "Oh, no," he murmured in dread, knowing this boy was definitely going to be an impediment to his concentration today, even though Brian apparently was deliberately trying to ignore him.  That had to be the case; there was no way that he couldn't hear him approaching with the horse.   Or was he trying to taunt him somehow since he had already informed him that he wasn't ‘good' enough for him?  Well, two could play that game, he decided, as he let out a breath and pressed his lips together tightly in determination as he neared where Brian stood.  He flapped the reins in a silent command for Headstrong to speed up and the horse grunted briefly and began to trot more quickly, the dirt now flying up all around his feet.

 

Brian smiled as he heard Justin getting closer and closer; there could be no way that he could avoid noticing him.  Get a good look, Farm Boy; see what you're missing out on, he thought smugly.  He waited for the horse and sulky to slow down, but instead it sounded like the clopping noise just grew more rapid and frantic until he could hear it rushing by him.  Frowning, he slowly raised up and stole a glance behind his back as his mouth hung open in disbelief; Justin had passed by him without so much as a greeting or acknowledgement!  "What the fuck?" he growled as he watched the departing silhouette of horse and rider as it grew farther and farther away.  His mouth still hung open in shock over the other boy's audacity; he couldn't help the slight smile of grudging respect that appeared on his face.  He had to hand it to him - Justin had balls.  And he liked spunk - and something told him this little, fiery farm boy had a LOT of it; in more ways than one.  He grinned.  Maybe he would have to be a little more ‘direct' next time, and from the way Justin was rounding the corner of the track near the Taylors' stables, he was coming back around for another lap.

 

Putting his bucket down, he pulled off his gloves and walked the few steps over to the fence, skillfully hopping over it to land on the other side, right onto the dirt race track.  His smile widened as he saw Justin now on the opposite side of the track, the horse's hooves pounding furiously in rapid cadence as he began to head toward the nearest curve.  Now grinning ear-to-ear, he quickly walked a few more paces before he suddenly plopped down on the ground and promptly stretched his body lengthwise across the width of the track, placing his hands casually behind his head as he heard - and now felt- the rumble of horse's hooves and secretly prayed that Justin's skill was as masterful as he hoped.

 

Justin rounded the corner, purposefully trying to avoid even peering in Brian's direction for fear what he might be doing now.  Knowing the other boy, he could have his pants off by now as well as his shirt, just to get his attention.  He had to admit it, too; the shirt alone had made him practically salivate.  If Brian had doffed any other piece of his clothing since the last lap, all he would have to do was flash that sexy smile at him and he would be truly fucked; principles be damned.

 

He was so busy peering over at the side of the fence to look for the other boy that at first he didn't even see what lay in front of him.  "Shit!" he cried out in shock as he began to desperately pull back on the reins with all his might.  "Whoa!  Headstrong!  Whoa!  Fuck!  Stop! Whoa!"  At that moment, he didn't know WHAT he was calling out.  He was merely shouting out anything that came into his head; anything that would stop this 1,000 lb. equine powerhouse from running over the idiotic boy currently stretched out across the dirt track like he was taking a Sunday nap.

 

Brian's heart began to pound in extreme anxiety as the rumble got louder and louder, feeling now like a freight train was approaching.  Had he been wrong about Justin's abilities?  Or was he going to wind up as the lead in the evening news cast:  Human speed bump run over by one-thousand pound racehorse.  He hadn't stopped to think that he was literally betting on Justin's talent  with his very life as finally, over the sound of Justin's constant entreaties, the horse  began to slow down and eventually came to a stop, no more than two feet away from his head.  He could hear the horse whinny in dismay and frustration as his two front hooves briefly left the ground before he dared to crack open one eye to see the beast's head shaking angrily from side to side as it loomed over him.

 

The horse's ire, however, was nothing compared to what was about to burst forth as Justin let out a huge sigh of relief before he promptly hopped down from the sulky and stared furiously at his unexpected obstruction.

 

"What in the HELL do you think you were doing?" he erupted at Brian as he stood there, hands on hips and blue eyes flashing; Brian thought that Justin in all his indignant fury looked quite hot at the moment.  "Are you out of your fucking mind?  You could have gotten yourself KILLED!"  That is, if I don't kill you first, came unbidden to his mind.  When he had seen Brian, his first reaction had been abject terror that he wouldn't be able to stop in time; now that he had, however, that initial feeling had quickly been replaced with much different emotions:  rage and disbelief.    "I can't believe you!" he added just for good measure as he shook his head.  "Well?" he pressed as Brian merely turned his head and looked up at him lazily.

 

He shrugged, which wasn't very easy to do while he was lying flat on his back.  "Just think of me as a speed bump.  You were going so fast around the track I was afraid that cute little ass might get wind burned."   Just for good effect, he bestowed a sexy sort of grin on his companion and lifted his brows in challenge.  "You owe me now."

 

Justin huffed in disbelief as he reached out to grab his horse's bridle to try and calm him down.  He instinctively reached up and stroked Headstrong's head soothingly as he said, "I owe you?  I owe you for nearly scaring me to death?  For almost causing me to have a heart attack?  How do you get that, Brian?  You're fucking unbelievable, do you know that?"   As angry as Justin was, however, it was hard to concentrate on being infuriated when the other boy was eyeing him like some prize catch and staring up at him with that bare, bronzed, lightly sculptured, sweaty chest gleaming in the sunlight and those piercing hazel eyes that almost looked like they were boring right through him.  To his consternation, Brian merely grinned back at him.

 

"Do you know how fucking hot you look when you get angry?" he asked him unexpectedly as Justin promptly turned a deep shade of red.  "Come over here and give me some CPR to resuscitate me and I'll show you."

 

Justin sputtered indignantly, "I will do no such thing!"  Inside, however, his heart was skittering like a scared baby bird and his stomach contained more butterflies than a botany exhibit.   Instead, he told Brian, "In case you failed to notice, I was practicing for my race on Saturday, and now thanks to your antics you've put me behind schedule.  If my father finds out, too, he's going to be pissed."

 

Brian slowly propped his torso up by his elbows as he pulled himself to his feet, taking a moment to dust off the seat of his jeans with his hands.  He thought he saw Justin's gaze lower briefly to his crotch before he swiftly averted his eyes as Brian sauntered up to him until they were mere inches apart with an insufferable smirk on his face.  Fuck, he is so beautiful when he's riled up, Brian couldn't help thinking.  Justin's eyes were wide and expressive, a darker-than-normal shade of blue as they stared back at him defiantly.  He lowered his voice as he drawled out huskily, "Come on, Justin.  You know neither your father nor my uncle can even see us way out here.  What are you afraid of?"

 

Justin huffed.  "I am not afraid!" he growled.  He instinctively began to back away like a rabbit caught in a snare, only to be caught by Brian as he grabbed onto his upper arms like a steel vise.  "Let me go, you asshole!" Justin sputtered out as he began to struggle, albeit half-heartedly.  Brian responded by wrapping his arms around Justin's back to trap him flush against his chest, savoring the feeling of warmth and softness, but also surprising strength, under his touch.  It was an intriguing combination, which only inflamed his desire for this boy even more.

 

"You sure that's what you want, Justin?" he asked, his voice sounding like some molten, liquid fire.  "That's not what I'M hearing."

 

Plastered chest to chest, Justin's hands were trapped, palms down, against Brian's hard torso.  He could feel the slickened, hot skin beneath his splayed fingers and knew he was quickly losing control of the situation; all he wanted at that moment was to feel those warm, probing lips kissing him passionately again and Brian's hands roaming all over his body as he claimed him.  All he craved was to be totally and completely possessed by this boy.  What had happened to his pride and his dignity?  It was quickly failing him.  His sense of responsibility to his family was quickly being challenged by his heart, which was rapidly falling under this boy's spell if he didn't do something quick.

 

"Well, then you need to get your hearing checked," Justin retorted.   "I have to practice.  My family is counting on me to win on Saturday."

 

"But that's what I'm doing; helping you to practice.  They say practice makes perfect, and I'm about as perfect as they come."

 

Justin rolled his eyes at Brian's lack of humility, but he couldn't help thinking that perfect certainly covered it where this boy was concerned.  No doubt about it; he was fucking gorgeous.  Arrogant as all get out, but still sexy as hell.  That didn't mean, though, that he was just going to fall at his feet, although kneeling down and worshipping a certain part of his anatomy did have its definite appeal.  Fuck, he thought to himself as he felt himself growing hard over the thought; get a hold of yourself, you idiot!

He took a deep breath and prayed that when he spoke his voice would sound more confident than he currently felt.  "Well, despite your high opinion of yourself, Brian, I told you.  I have to practice with Headstrong this morning, and I can't let him get stiff from lack of exercise.  So you'll just have to ‘practice' with someone else."

 

"What about ME?" Brian replied.  "I get stiff without exercise, too."

 

Justin harrumphed.  "I would have thought it was the other way around," he quipped to Brian's amusement as he let out a laugh.  Despite his protestations from earlier, Justin couldn't help bestowing a half-hearted smile on the other boy in response as Brian grinned back at him.  His face sobered as he told his captor, "Now, let me go!  I really do have to get back to my workout," he told Brian almost in a regretful tone of voice now.

 

Brian shrugged, seemingly resigned to the inevitable.  "Suit yourself."  He held his hands out to his sides submissively as Justin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad that Brian was listening to reason for a change, but oddly disappointed that he had given up so easily.  He nodded as he half-turned to go just before Brian grabbed his upper right arm and slammed his body back against his; the force of it was so strong it almost knocked the breath out of him.

 

Brian locked gazes with his prey as he felt Justin's soft pants against his chest.  You're as turned on by this as I am.  "On the other hand, maybe I should show you what you'll be missing first."

 

Justin didn't have the proper time to react before Brian captured the back of his neck with his free hand and promptly crushed their lips together; a moan involuntarily escaped Justin's lips, providing Brian with just enough room to press his tongue inside for another tantalizing taste of that mouth he had been craving since last night's little rendezvous as he slid his other hand around Justin's waist to pull him impossibly closer.   To his delight, he found that it was even more intoxicating than their last kiss under the moonlight.  Fuck, this boy is talented, he couldn't help thinking, as Justin's lips glided expertly over his own and his felt him nipping at his lower lip while they kissed, making his body come alive under his ministrations like no other boy had done before.

 

Justin found himself melting into Brian's embrace despite his misgivings as to the other boy's motives, quickly losing himself in that expertly-given kiss.  At that moment in time, all he could think about was Brian's lips, his hands, his body molded against his, his hardness pressing against him demonstrating his desire for him; nothing else mattered - no worries, no other thoughts but how amazingly alive Brian was making him feel, like he was the most special guy in the world.  He was lost in a haze of lust until he felt Headstrong's nose nudging him from behind and reality came crashing back down into his world.   Nothing's changed since last night, he had to sadly remind himself, as he placed his hands face down on Brian's chest and shoved just hard enough to gain a little space so he could peer into Brian's surprised eyes.

 

"Why did you do that?" Brian growled, his own breathing ragged and uneven; he was just beginning to thoroughly enjoy himself when Justin unexpectedly separated them.  He was getting just a little tired of being all primed up and then being shot down again.

 

"Nothing's changed since last night, Brian," Justin told him quietly, voicing his concerns aloud.   "You can't just go around accosting people like this."

 

Brian snorted.  "Accosting people?  I hardly think that kiss was one-sided, Farm Boy."  He smirked; there was no mistaking that Justin was enjoying himself just as much as he was.  Two could play this game, though..."Your loss," he replied, trying to sound indifferent.

 

Justin huffed.  "Maybe," he conceded curtly, perturbed by the other boy's nerve and his ability to apparently see right through him.  "But I'll take my chances with the other ass."  Yanking his arm away from Brian's grasp, he could hear the other boy's surprising laughter as he walked back over to Headstrong, feeling his face warm in mortification.  He was just about to hop back up on the sulky, his hands gripping the rein, as he unexpectedly heard Brian ask from behind him, "Justin, how did my cousin die?"

 

Justin stood there, stock still.  He slowly turned around after a moment to ask, "What did you say?"

 

Brian gazed at him, no hint of sarcasm or bluster in his demeanor now as he quietly repeated, "I said, what happened with Dale?"

 

Justin could hear Headstrong softly chuffing, his not-so-subtle signal that he was getting restless.  He knew he had to get going soon, or his practice would be completely thrown off balance.  If his father got wind that he was not doing what he should be doing, he would be pissed.  But there was something about the earnest seriousness on Brian's face that made him ask, "Why are you asking ME, Brian?  That's something your aunt and uncle should tell you; that is, if they want you to know."  Again, Headstrong neighed impatiently as Justin reached up and slowly stroked his neck to reassure him.  "Shh... We'll get going soon," he softly promised the horse.  His gaze turned to the other boy as he told him urgently, "Brian, I really need to go."

 

"Justin, please," was the surprising, almost plaintive response.  "My aunt has only told me bits and pieces about it, and my uncle, he'd just as soon pluck my eyes out than confide in me."

 

"He's not that bad," Justin responded in an attempt to defend him.  "At least he didn't use to be."  He bit his lip thoughtfully.  "He's a decent guy.  I mean, he's never been overly friendly toward anyone, but he was never like this before.   He actually used to have a dry sense of humor.  He was always playing practical jokes on me and Jared when we were younger.  But that was before..."

 

"... Before Dale died."

 

Justin nodded.

 

"Then tell me the fuck what happened so I can understand!" Brian pressed, aggravated that everyone was tiptoeing around it.  "I found his sulky out behind the barn earlier today."

 

Justin's eyes widened over that revelation.  "They still have it?  I thought they got rid of it right after the accident."

 

Brian shook his head.  "No, they still have it, all right.  I found it out behind their barn covered with a tarp earlier today, and my aunt told me it belonged to my cousin."

 

"Then you need to ask HER what happened, Brian."

 

Brian shook his head.  "I tried that; all she told me was something happened at the track."  He eyed Justin intently.  "So he was a harness racing jockey like you are now?"

 

Justin brushed his hand through his hair in indecision, still feeling somewhat uncomfortable talking about something so private.  "I really wish you would talk to your aunt and uncle about this, Brian."

 

"I tried, Justin, I told you!" he reiterated in irritation.  He sighed; he wasn't mad at Justin, but the whole matter was quickly making him frustrated as hell.  "If I'm ever going to get along better with either one of them, especially my uncle, I need to know.  Why is it such a fucking secret?  Just tell me!"

 

Justin bit his lip in thought, torn between needing to get back to work but silently agreeing with Brian.  Dale's death had certainly had a profound impact on both the Walkers, but especially his uncle. Perhaps Brian could actually help them to move on from that terrible incident. Although it really wasn't his place to explain, hadn't there been enough secrecy already?  A decision finally made, he reached back and again lightly stroked Headstrong's neck with his knuckles to reassure him.

 

"I... I can't tell you, not right now," he replied, quickly adding as he watched Brian open his mouth to protest, "I have to get back to work or Headstrong won't be worth shit soon."   He sighed; the words came out of his mouth before he had time to consider how dangerous it might be.  "I can maybe meet you later on so we can talk about it then."  He emphasized the word talk, silently warning Brian he wouldn't keep putting up with the type of shenanigans he had attempted last night, although he wondered how truthful he was being with himself about that.  Brian's kiss last night and just now had been the most wondrous thing he had ever experienced, and yes, damn it, he wanted one again and again and again.  He wasn't going to let HIM know that, though.

 

Brian smiled.  Oh, we'll ‘talk' all right.  "Okay, I guess that will have to do.  Where and when?" he pressed, secretly delighted as he eagerly anticipated their next rendezvous.

 

Justin turned to climb back up on the sulky, momentarily giving Brian a wondrous view of Justin's best body part as the denim stretched tautly across his rounded ass; he swallowed hard at the magnificent sight, wondering how it would be to taste it as Justin plopped down on the seat and turned to face him, providing him with just enough time to put his neutral game face back on.

 

Justin pondered the answer to that; why was he even agreeing to it in the first place?  He had just endured a sleepless night last night because of this boy and now he was agreeing to meet up with him again?  Shit, what was wrong with him?  Had he lost his fucking mind?  Maybe he could still back out of it... "Uh... Well..."  Smooth, Taylor, he chided himself.

 

"Time?"  Brian reminded him, tapping his finger at an imaginary watch on his left arm.  "It's a simple enough question; I've got berries to pick and you've got some riding to do."  On my cock, he couldn't help finishing silently, feeling himself becoming aroused just thinking about Justin doing exactly that while he dug into those two fleshy globes and held on for dear life as he rode him.  He knew that ass would be a wonder to behold; at least once he got that offending garment off him anyway.  Fuck, he chided himself, feeling distinctively uncomfortable in his pants at the mere notion.

 

Justin huffed at his impatience.  "You're lucky I'm agreeing to meet with you at all, Brian!  Do you know I hardly got any sleep last night because of you?"  Shit!  Did I just say that? 

"Oh?" Brian asked, arching one elegant eyebrow at him as Headstrong's head swung impatiently back and forth; even without being an equestrian expert - hell, knowing horses at all - he could tell that the animal was raring to get moving again.  "And why is that, Justin?" he asked innocently, pressing his tongue into his cheek.  "I slept like a baby."  Yeah, right, Kinney.  You didn't get any more sleep than he probably did, and for the same reason...

Justin's eyes flashed as he took the reins to remove the slack.  "Because you... You kept me up!"

 

Brian's lips slowly spread out into a full-fledged grin.  "Oh, I did, did I?  I kept you up?"  His eyes flickered down his body as Justin promptly broke out into a blush of embarrassment at the double entendre.  "I'm flattered but not surprised," he quipped.  "Maybe I can help you out with that later."

 

"Oh, just forget it!" Justin growled in disgust as he flipped the reins in a flapping motion to signal to Headstrong that he was ready to go.  Headstrong promptly began to kick up his feet and propel the sulky down the dirt track.   "Never mind!" he yelled as they quickly began to disappear from sight.

 

Brian laughed as Justin picked up speed, the rapid clop, clop, clop of Headstrong's hooves smacking against the packed dirt as they proceeded faster and faster down the track.  He wasn't really worried about Justin's response, though; that was the wondrous thing about circles - they kept going and going in the same direction, over and over again.  He wasn't about to try to lie down in front of that beast again, but that didn't mean he couldn't continue to taunt his prey from the sidelines as he performed his own task.  Walking back over to the first empty bucket, he slid his gloves back on and began to pick some of the blackberries, keeping an ever vigilant eye on the other boy.

 

Justin watched warily as he rounded the corner a few minutes later, noticing Brian still engaged in his chore near the fence; at least this time he seemed to actually be working.  That was an improvement from his speed bump impersonation earlier.  He worked diligently on keeping his eyes on the track ahead of him, pretending he didn't give a shit WHAT Brian was doing, but as he turned the corner his gaze fell directly on the sexy boy still clad in nothing but his tight jeans and his boots and it made him practically drool over the sight; Brian had beads of sweat on his back that were glistening in the sunlight overhead and his hair was wet with his efforts, making him look even more astounding.  Damn him.  He looked away, but it was no use; besides, it wasn't as if he were invisible to Brian, either.

 

"I'm still waiting!" he heard Brian call out as he sped by, not saying a word but feeling his face warming under the other boy's scrutiny.  "I'm not going to give up until you talk to me!" he heard Brian add as an afterthought.

 

Justin rolled his eyes, thinking for someone who had bragged last night that he could go out and find a ready replacement for him he sure was being persistent.  Could he hope that meant that he was genuinely interested in him, though, or merely being driven by the thrill of the hunt and his libido?  And how was he ever going to know for sure one way or the other?  He still couldn't quite figure out how to read this other boy.  One minute he was cocky as hell, the next he seemed almost unsure of himself or even vulnerable.  At that moment, he was glad that Headstrong was more or less trotting around on ‘autopilot,' because he couldn't concentrate for shit on anything else but Brian.

 

Justin didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved when he and Headstrong jogged by Brian several more times seemingly ignored; he had expected at least some type of reaction after the boy's last comment each time he passed him, but to his secret dismay, Brian kept silently to his own task and continued to stay bent over picking berries and dropping them into a nearby five-gallon bucket.  Naturally, though, he still had to taunt him with his ass and his back to him; heaven forbid if he should turn around and pick berries from the OTHER side.  Well, so much for his ‘I'm not going to give up until you talk to me' speech, he thought, realizing he felt a distinct sense of regret over that fact.

 

The bucket he was using quickly filling up with plump, juicy berries, Brian watched out of the corner of his eye as Justin continued to exercise his horse, calculating all too well when the duo would be trotting by again.  As Justin came closer and closer, he chose his ammunition carefully, plucking several particularly large specimens from the bucket.

 

Waiting until the last minute, he stood up just as Justin went rushing by, taking aim and landing one of the fat, juicy berries right on his back with perfect precision.  Thanks, Coach, he thought silently to himself with a grin, grateful now that his high school baseball coach had made him practice his pitching skills over and over again when he was a few years younger.

 

---

 

Stealing furtive, admiring glances at Brian's tanned, lightly-muscled back, Justin sighed sorrowfully, wondering if he had done the right thing pushing the other boy away; that is until he felt something hit him squarely in the back.  He quickly twisted around in an effort to see what it was, only to be hit again this time in the face with a distinctive splat.

 

"What the fuck?" he snapped as he felt liquid running down his cheek.   Was he bleeding?  He reached up to wipe it away with his left hand as he held onto the reins with his other; placing his fingers in his mouth, he instantly recognized it as the remnants of a now-obliterated blackberry.  There could be no mistaking where it had come from, either.  "Whoa!" he yelled out in disgust.  "Whoa, Headstrong!"

 

For the second time in less than an hour, Justin pulled up on the reins and Headstrong slowly began to heed his command as he grudgingly decreased his speed and finally stopped, none too happy that his exercise had once more been thwarted.  This was so unlike his master to do this to him, and he was not pleased to have his workout interrupted.  He wasn't the only peeved at the moment, however, as he scraped the hard, dirt track with his front paws in agitation and chuffed in protest, shaking his head from side to side as he stood there in disappointment.

 

Justin jumped down from the sulky and, turning to notice Brian once more bent over the blackberry bushes, he took a moment to pull the goggles over his head and throw them onto the ground before he stomped over toward the perimeter several feet away, letting out a huff of anger as he walked up to his side of the fence and growled, "Why did you do that?"

 

Brian rose up from his bent-over position and turned around as if in surprise to reply, "Do what?  I'm just minding my own business here; isn't that what you wanted?"

 

Justin's mouth hung open in response to his audacity.  "You KNOW what!  You... You hit me!"

 

Brian arched his eyebrows, finding it hard to remain solemn in the face of the purplish smears that remained on Justin's cheek and the petulant expression he was wearing; he would never voice it aloud, but he thought Justin looked positively exquisite at the moment, all puffed up like some indignant peacock.  "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he told him, knowing that was totally unbelievable but enjoying it just the same.

 

"Bullshit!" Justin yelled as he turned around to display a purple rendition of a Rorschach blotch right in the middle of his shirt.  "Look at this!" he told him, twisting his head around but unable to actually see it; he could certainly imagine what it looked like, though, enough to know that his mother - and even worse, his father - would be wondering how he managed to get a blackberry stain right smack dab in the middle of the back of his shirt.  He could just hear himself now:  "I was just riding along minding my own business when all of a sudden this blackberry fell off one of the nearby bushes and somehow sailed over and landed right in the middle of my shirt."  Yeah, right...

 

As he turned back around, he realized that the back of his shirt wasn't the only part of his anatomy that he was displaying to the other boy, and from the lowered gaze on Brian's face it was obvious he was taking advantage of appreciating it, also; Justin's face warmed in reaction and he pursed his lips together in irritation as he met Brian's gaze and the other boy actually had the gall to smirk at him.  It was obvious that Brian was enjoying his discomfiture way too much as he pointed out, "And this other blackberry just didn't happen to smack me in the face when it fell out of the sky!  Why did you DO that, Brian?  How am I going to explain that stain to my mother when she does the laundry?  What IS it about you and my clothes that you can't leave them the fuck alone?"

 

Maybe because you normally have too many of them on, came to mind as Brian gazed into his companion's eyes that were full of fire and indignation.  Damn, this boy was just too fucking irresistible when he was all hot and bothered!  His eyes slowly drifted downward to take in the whole, glorious package of Justin Taylor in full drama-princess mode from his head to his chest to the, ahem, noticeable bulge in his jeans to his slim legs and down to his feet and then back up again, noticing his companion's face reddening as he slowly lifted his gaze back up to lock onto his.  Oh, this was too much fun! He decided as he continued to stand there as if he were mute, raising his eyebrows innocently as Justin glared back at him.

 

Justin placed his hands on his hips impatiently as Headstrong whinnied in displeasure at being interrupted once again.  "Well?"

 

Brian shrugged as he finally explained, "You're a country boy; you live on a farm and work with messy, dirty, smelly animals every day, all day long.   She should expect it.  What's the big deal?  Just shout it out!  Come out, come out wherever you are, spot!" he commanded before he chuckled at his own joke, feeling like a rural version of Lady McBeth all of a sudden.

 

Justin shook his head in exasperation before he sighed heavily, not finding Brian very funny at all at the moment.  "You just don't understand, Brian.  We don't live in the lap of luxury out here!  Everything you do has a price; my grandfather who used to own this farm before us always said that the only thing that's free out here is the fresh air.  Until I got older I didn't know just how right he actually was."  He still missed his grandfather terribly; his mother always told him he reminded him of her father, and now that he was gone he fondly recalled all the things they had done together when he was younger - going fishing while his grandfather taught him how to skip rocks across the water, playing catch with him, even learning how to ride his first bicycle and later his first horse.  It was through his grandfather - and with Vic's guidance later - that he had developed such a keen affinity with the horses to begin with, and every time he won a race he silently thanked his grandfather's love and support for that.  How he longed for the same type of support from his own father!  But he had long ago given up on that dream.

 

Brian frowned at how serious Justin was being; this was a far cry from the other day at the swimming hole when he had been tricked and found himself mesmerized by Justin's twinkling eyes and his mischievous spirit.  "It was a joke, Justin!" He told the other boy.   "Shit!  Where did your sense of humor go?  Lighten up a little!  Jeez!  What happened to you?  Are you 17 going on 37?"

 

Justin's face reddened in embarrassment over the stinging criticism; suddenly it was like a balloon had deflated as he promptly plopped down onto the ground like he had been shot, sitting Indian style, his legs bent as his arms flopped down by his sides.  He idly ran one index finger through the dirt as Brian silently scaled the fence in one easy motion and flopped down beside him to sit the same way.

 

"Justin, I can't believe you're this worked up over a blackberry stain," Brian told him quietly after a moment's pause.  "What's really bothering you?"   He noticed Justin kept his eyes cast downward as he spoke almost as if he hadn't heard him; taking a chance that he wouldn't get smacked silly, Brian reached over and placed his right hand under Justin's chin to get his attention and gently but firmly raised it to force him to look him in the eyes.  "Justin?"  The gaze he received was much too serious for his liking.  "Cut out the bullshit and just tell me."

 

Justin sighed again as Brian dropped his hold and impulsively reached over to link their hands together; he was heartened to feel Justin tightly returning his grasp in response, marveling at the feel of his hand in his, almost like it was made just for him, as he waited for an answer.  It was several seconds before he was rewarded with a response.

 

"It's... It's just that all this pressure sometimes gets to me," Justin admitted softly.

 

"Pressure?  You mean about the racing?"

 

Justin breathed in a deep breath and let it out to try and calm his nerves; of course, having Brian sitting next to him, holding his hand, didn't help his nerves much, but it was a different sort of tension, a good type of tension, one that was much different than the other kind.  "That's part of it," he told him as Brian's thumb began to idly stroke the top of his hand back and forth, setting off a tingling in his entire body.  He tried hard to concentrate as he told him, "Our farm wasn't doing much better than the Walkers' is doing now; not until I started racing a few years ago, anyway."  He lifted his head to look out onto the newly tilled soil of their farm, acres and acres of it that would eventually (if the weather cooperated) yield soybean and corn crops.  "Every year it seemed like we were running into something going wrong; either we had a drought and it didn't rain enough, or it rained so much we couldn't get the crops planted on time.  And one year our combine broke and it cost thousands of dollars to fix it."  He huffed.  "Of course, each year my father always found enough money so Jared could play his sports, even though with the school levy failing three straight years in a row, the cost to play athletics was hundreds of dollars once you paid the participation fee and the uniform costs."

 

"Yeah, I know how that is," Brian responded.  "My father about shit a brick a few years back when he had to shell out hundreds of dollars for me to play soccer and baseball.  It got me out of his hair, though, and at the time the coach thought I might actually wind up with a full scholarship, so I think my old man thought I might get a free ride to college."  He huffed out a cross between a laugh and a snort.  "When I got busted for speeding so many times, though, and was caught with pot in the gym after school one day, suddenly I didn't seem quite so marketable."

 

Justin turned his head to look into Brian's eyes.  "Why would you do that?  I mean, when you had something that big riding on it?"

 

Brian smiled a little self-deprecatingly as he answered honestly, "Because I was young and stupid, I guess.  I never could go the speed limit; I always had this ‘need for speed.'  Well, at least the driving kind of speed anyway; I always stayed away from the hard drugs."  He got a small smile in return this time as he shrugged and his face sobered.  "When you're young you never really think about the consequences of what you do - you think that's for the old folks - your parents - not you."  He peered into Justin's eyes, so large and expressive; it was as if everything he needed to know was contained in those eyes.  He almost felt like he was being sucked into a swirling vortex of blue, never to come back out, but surprisingly he wasn't really scared about it or apprehensive.  It actually felt sort of exhilarating in a way.  "At least that's the way it's supposed to work; I think someone forgot to give you the proper manual, though, because you are WAY too serious for someone your age and have way too much responsibility on your shoulders.  So you're telling me you got into racing because of this misguided sense of responsibility that you had to win to keep the farm solvent?"

 

Justin nodded.  "Well, where else was the money going to come from?  My grandfather deeded the farm to my mother when he died, right after she married my dad.  By law it became both of theirs.  My father tried to do some accounting when he got out of college, but from what my mother told me he only got average grades in school and no one wanted to hire a mediocre CPA.  My dad really didn't know anything about being a farmer when my grandfather died, but he had to learn on the fly once it became apparent that he didn't have any other way to make a living.  My mom doesn't talk a lot about it, but I don't think we were ever what you would call too well-off financially-speaking, but the past few years would have been down-right terrible if I hadn't started winning so many races with Headstrong."  Brian squeezed his hand in silent encouragement for him to continue as he finally expressed what was really bothering him.  "Now I don't know what's going to happen next year."

 

Brian frowned as he cocked his head to look into Justin's troubled face.  "What's happening next year?"

 

"I'll be graduating from high school and hopefully going to college."

 

Brian felt an odd sense of disappointment over that statement; why should he care, though?  He wouldn't be around either way.  "College?"

 

Justin nodded, a small smile appearing on his face at the thought of being able to fulfill his dream.  "That's partly why I got into horse racing to begin with; at least, working with horses anyway.  I want to go to Vanderbilt in Nashville and get a degree in equestrian therapy."

 

"Equestrian therapy? They actually have a degree in that?"  Brian watched as Justin's smile got larger and his face transformed into one of enthusiasm.

 

"Yeah," he confirmed as his eyes lit up at the thought.  "And I want to learn how to combine that with my love of art to help heal children.  Working out with horses can be very therapeutic for children who have suffered either physical or emotional trauma.  And art can also be very effective in allowing them to express their emotions:  fear, anger, sadness, rejection, loss.  I can't think of a more fulfilling occupation than being able to literally transform a young person's life from one of hopelessness and despair to one of optimism and hope for the future instead."

 

Brian looked at Justin in amazement as he spoke; it was like a light had suddenly flickered on into full brilliance while he talked about his dreams and ambitions.  The worry and anxiety that had been clearly written all over his face and heard in his voice before was gone, replaced by excitement and anticipation.  It was obvious that Justin's idea wasn't just some goal to be reached in school so he would have a fancy-looking document to display on a wall later; it was a burning passion for him.  If he had thought that Justin was beautiful before when he had been all worked up over his attempts to get his attention, he was ever more spectacular right now as he talked about his future, and he found himself completely and utterly enthralled.  He also knew at that moment that there was no way that Justin would be happy relegated to staying here on a farm out of some jaded sense of responsibility to support his family.  "That really means a lot to you, doesn't it?" he asked softly as he continued to lightly stroke the other boy's hand.

 

Justin nodded, swallowing at the hard lump that abruptly formed in his throat.  He was so torn - torn between chasing his dream and needing to make sure the family farm would survive.  He knew how much this home meant to his mother especially.  There was no way that he could let her down and see the land and home she cherished be pulled out from under her.  But how could he ever hope to fulfill his own hopes and dreams if he was forever tied down here?  There was nothing here for him - farming was a noble profession, but it wasn't his profession.  He knew in his heart that he wasn't meant to till the soil or raise livestock.  He wasn't even born to race horses, even though he did love working with them.  He STILL intended to work alongside them, too, just not for profit.  His heart lay in another path.  Would he get his wish, though?

 

"Yes, it means the world to me," he admitted, not sure why he was telling Brian this, but somehow it felt right; it felt comfortable.

 

Brian nodded, watching as Justin's ebullient expression quickly turned into something decidedly more morose.  He squeezed Justin's hand and released it before he replied simply, "Well, then, that's what you need to do.  End of story."

 

Justin huffed out a type of derisive snort.  "I wish it were that easy.  I just told you..."

 

"I KNOW what you just said," Brian said softly.  "But you can't spend your life being the financial standard bearer for your family, Justin.  What about YOUR life?  YOUR dreams?  Wanting to take care of your family is very admirable, but don't allow their troubles to drown your own aspirations.  And besides, aren't you forgetting an older brother here?  What is HIS sorry ass doing to help support your family?"

 

Justin rolled his eyes at the thought of his brother as Brian declared, "It's time that HE take some action to help out; since I've been here all I've seen from him is nothing but narcissism and self-indulgence.  And believe me, I'm very familiar with both; I'm normally the master at that."  Oddly enough, though, since he had come here and gotten to know his aunt better, especially, his needs had slowly been pushed aside and replaced by a desire to help both her and yes, even his uncle.  Perhaps he could understand, then, why Justin felt the way that he did, but that still didn't make it right that he had to give up his own dreams for his family's benefit.

 

"Jared's about as useless as packing peanuts," Justin growled.  "No, I take that back; even packing peanuts have their purpose.  Ever since he got out of school, Jared's only goal in life has been to either constantly harass me or work all day on his latest muscle car."  He let out a deep breath.  "The only time he has to be made to do anything is the week before my races; then Dad has to practically threaten him to within an inch of his life to get him to do my chores.  Of course, the only reason why our father does that in the first place is because he can smell money on the horizon, and he knows those purses can either make or break us for the season if I don't compete."

 

Brian shook his head.  "Justin, that is totally fucked!  You're seventeen, for God's sake!  That should be your father and mother's responsibility, not yours!  When do you have any fun?"

 

Justin shrugged.  "You saw me at the swimming hole the other day," he pointed out.

 

Brian smirked as he replied, "I sure did - and it was a sight to behold."  Even now he couldn't get that image of Justin floating on that water out of his mind, nor how he had stood up to him; his estimation of this boy rose dramatically after that, and each time he was with him and he stood up for himself it just seemed to get higher and higher.  He watched now as Justin blushed at the husky tone in his voice.   You really are beautiful in so many ways, he couldn't help thinking, but he wasn't about to express that aloud and give this younger boy the power he would derive from that knowledge.

 

Justin felt his face warm at the sexy tone of Brian's voice; even if he was woefully inexperienced, there could be no mistaking what he meant by that.  "Well, I was relaxing then," he explained.

 

"Uh, huh," Brian responded doubtfully.  "And when was the last time before that when you weren't actually working around the farm or practicing for another race?  When do they occur, anyway?"

 

"About twice a month," Justin told him, "at least during most of the year."

 

Brian nodded.  "Okay, so you work out for a week before each race, and in between time you're taking care of the horses' grooming and doing chores around the farm."  Justin averted his gaze downward as he picked up a stick lying nearby and began to trace geometric designs into the dirt, knowing where their conversation was leading.  "That must give you a LOT of time to have fun, then."

 

"I do what I have to do, Brian; life's not always fair, is it?" he replied curtly as he lifted his gaze to look into Brian's eyes, eyes that seemed to see straight through him.  He sighed heavily in resignation, a mournful sort of sigh as he began to push himself off the ground to stand up, but Brian quickly reached over and grabbed his upper arm to stop him.  "Brian, I have to go back to my practicing - not only will the horse get stiffened up from lack of a workout, but if my Dad sees me out here goofing off talking to you instead of working, he'll give me hell for it.  Trust me, it's not worth it to get him ticked off."

 

"No," Brian agreed quietly as he gazed intently into Justin's eyes.  "We can't have our little meal ticket just sloughing off, now can we?"

 

Justin's eyes flashed.  "I told you, Brian!  You don't understand!  Try living out here in the country for a while and then maybe you would!"  He rose to leave now, pulling his arm out of Brian's grasp as he stood there, glaring down at him.  How could this boy make his emotions jump all over the place?  One minute he was sitting there savoring the touch of his hand in his, and the next minute he's driving him crazy with exasperation and aggravation.   "Now I have to go; just go back to your berry picking and leave me alone!"

 

"Justin..."  Am I hitting too close to home here, Farm Boy? he wondered as he quickly stood up.

 

"No, Brian!  I don't want to hear any more!  Fuck, don't you think I already know all this?  It's not that easy to change things!  I've tried; believe me!"  Damn it.  He silently cursed himself when he felt tears stinging his eyes.  He was NOT going to look like some prissy little kid in front of this older boy.  He turned around to walk the few steps back to Headstrong, who began to chuff excitedly as Justin picked the reins back up; he knew that meant they would be moving again very soon.  As he nimbly climbed back onto the seat, he heard Brian call out his name again; he was startled to hear him talking now from inches away.  He twisted around to see Brian standing just behind him, holding his previously-discarded goggles out toward him.  Justin blinked, finding to his dismay a few teardrops escaping and trickling down his cheeks.

 

Embarrassed, he reached up with his free hand to begin to wipe them away, but before he could Brian reached over and brushed the wetness from his face with surprising gentleness.

 

Still holding the goggles in his left hand, Brian took his right hand and cupped the back of Justin's neck as the blue, glimmering eyes bored into his.  There was no hint of either mockery or ridicule in his voice as he softly told him, "Justin, there has to be a way of helping your family and still fulfilling your dreams; don't let them take them away from you.  In the end, the only one who can really do that is YOU.  If you let that happen, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

 

Justin blew out a tense, deep breath between partly-opened lips and finally nodded, realizing the simple truth in Brian's words.   He was still at a loss as to how to follow his advice, but Brian's warm hand and reassuring touch on his skin made him feel not quite as hopeless or pessimistic.

 

"Just think about what I said, okay?"  Brian gazed intently into his eyes, feeling profound sympathy from the pain he could see staring back at him.  He silently resolved that if the situation presented itself, whether it was his business or not, he would have a talk with Craig Taylor himself and give him a piece of his own mind, his mother and father's threats be damned.  Sometimes you just had to stand up for what was right, and this was an egregious wrong.  And Jared?  He'd better not come anywhere NEAR him if he didn't want his sorry ass kicked all the way from here to Arkansas.

 

As he continued to stare into the deep pools of blue gazing up at him, he had this fervent desire to kiss away all of Justin's troubles, but he knew that wouldn't solve the dilemma that he was experiencing.  With great reluctance, then, he let go of Justin's neck, pausing for a moment to skim his knuckles lightly over the side of his neck and receiving a slight tremble in response; it was an optimistic sign, a hopeful sign and an indication that his desire was being returned.  He also knew it wouldn't be long before he had to explore much more with this intriguing boy but now was unfortunately not the right time.

 

"Justin?"  A sudden, incomplete task abruptly rose to the surface as he dropped his hands to his sides.

 

Headstrong began to shuffle impatiently back and forth when his rider didn't give him the short jerk on the reins to signal they were on the move again.  Justin sighed.  "Brian..."

 

"I know, I know - I have to get back to my chores myself.  But I still need to know, Justin... about Dale... I need to know what happened to him, everything.  Until I do, I'm always going to feel like some stranger peeking in from the outside where my aunt and uncle are concerned."  He surprised himself just then when he admitted, "I want to help them, Justin.  Damn, even my uncle and not just my Aunt Sarah.  But they keep tiptoeing around his death.  What the fuck happened to him at that track?"

 

Headstrong whinnied louder just then, reminding Justin that as much as he might want to help Brian, it couldn't be now.  "I promise that I'll tell you what I know," he told him.  "But it will have to be later."

 

"When?" Brian pressed, deciding that having an excuse to meet up with Justin again later wasn't necessarily a bad thing; it would actually serve two purposes.  Not only would he finally get some answers about his cousin's death, but he would get to spend some more time alone with him.

 

Justin bit his lip; it wasn't as if he had a lot of spare time.  "I... I don't know," he answered honestly.  He knew from previous experience that until the race was over his life wouldn't be his own.  If he were truthful with himself, though, his life hadn't been his own for a long time now.  Brian was right; he had to find a way to change that.

 

"Justin..." the voice was ringed with exasperation; hadn't they been through this before?  Brian decided he would just have to take the cow, bull, whatever the fuck by the horns.  "Tomorrow night."   He hated having to wait that long to not only get answers to his questions but also see Justin again, but he knew the boy was going to be extremely busy and it made perfect sense to meet up again then when they would both be together anyway.

 

Justin frowned at the cryptic statement.  "Tomorrow night?"

 

Brian huffed.  "Yeah, tomorrow night.  You know, the hog calling of all hog calling events?  An event more thrilling than cow chip throwing?  Do you actually do that, by the way?"  He didn't give Justin a chance to answer before he added with disdain, "Why do you think Aunt Sarah's got me out here picking all these fucking berries?  She had me feeling up chicken asses earlier for eggs."  He shuddered.  "I'll never think of getting laid the same way again."

 

Justin's face warmed quickly at the thought of being Brian's recipient of that particular activity as his eyes grew large in surprise.  "You're actually going to the town social tomorrow night?"  He never in a million years would have expected someone like Brian to agree to go to that sort of small-town, hokey event; Jared, in fact, continues to grouse about it each year when it comes up, and each year their mother manages to apply just the right amount of guilty pressure to make both of them go.  Justin himself thought it was boring as hell, but suddenly the thought of Brian being there made it much more palatable.

 

Brian shrugged, suddenly hedging a little; it definitely wouldn't be smart to indicate to Justin that he was going merely because he had learned he would be there, too, so he chose to explain it in a different way.  "My aunt asked me to go, and since there doesn't seem to be much else to do in this hick town, I decided what the hell."

 

Justin nodded, glancing over toward the stables a little apprehensively to make sure they weren't being watched.  Brian was right - they couldn't be seen over at the house, but if his father decided to come snooping around the stables, it wouldn't be difficult at all to see him out on the track - not practicing like he was supposed to, but sitting there  - what was the word?  Flirting?  Well, maybe not quite that, but he was still, in his father's eyes, not doing what he was supposed to be doing.  That seemed to be the story of his life, though.  He sighed softly as he looked over at Brian almost apologetically, hating to leave.  Yes, Brian could be extremely vexing, puzzling, and even annoying at times, but he still found himself distinctly drawn to him for his honesty and his forthrightness.  And despite what his reputation had been prior to his coming here, he was finding that Brian could also be gentle and caring, not to mention sexy as hell; a dangerous combination, he decided, as he told him, "Okay, then.  I'll see you tomorrow night."  He lifted the reins to give them a jerk, but stopped just before he did to add with a smile, "And tell your Aunt Sarah I'll be waiting for another one of her blackberry cobblers."

 

He gave Brian a small smile and pulled the goggles back on over his head as he finally made the motion that Headstrong had been waiting for; as soon as he flicked the reins with his wrist and let out a sort of "Go" command between his lips, the horse began to take off at a steady but increasingly faster trot.  It wasn't long before the horse had picked up full steam and was quickly rushing down the track, Justin's hair flying in the wind as it gleamed under the intense, mid-day sun.  Brian watched him for several seconds thoughtfully before he turned and climbed back over the fence to resume his own activities.

---

 

 

 

Two Hours Later

Justin pulled up at the stables and slowly disembarked from the sulky, feeling every rut and gouge in the dirt track seeping all the way through to his bones; no matter how many times he worked out on their track, he couldn't escape the battering his body suffered afterward.  The constant motion of the sulky, while relatively smooth, still jarred him back and forth as he practiced.  He figured that no matter how many times he did it, he would always ache after he was done; it was one of the downsides to harness racing.

 

Groaning a little over the stiffness in his body, he heard Headstrong chuff softly as he walked over and placed his hand on the side of the horse's nose.   "You did well out there, Big Guy," he told the animal tenderly with a wistful smile; despite his predicament at home, he couldn't fault the racehorse for his inner turmoil.  He rubbed his cheek momentarily against the horse's neck before he walked around to the back of the sulky; unhitching it from the bridle, he pulled it far enough away from Headstrong so the horse could be freed from it before he placed it carefully down onto the ground.  Picking up the horse's reins, he slowly led Headstrong over to the pasture gate, and opening it, waited until the horse had ambled into the grassy area before, detaching the reins, he securely closed the gate behind him.  Stretching his upper body backward to try and work some of the kinks out, he only partially managed to dissipate some of the tiredness he suddenly felt.

 

"Productive workout?"

 

Justin turned slightly to see Vic standing several feet away at the stable's front doors as he rested his elbows on a pitchfork clutched in his hands; he had just finished laying down some fresh straw for the horses and had decided to take a short break before he moved onto plowing up more of the back acreage in preparation for the soybean planting.

 

Justin glanced over at Headstrong, noticing the horse slowly meandering over to True Blue who was grazing several feet away near the back of the paddock; while he wouldn't be caught dead going anywhere near the uncontrollable horse that  formerly belonged to the Walkers, Headstrong never seemed to have any qualms about being in close proximity to the spirited animal.

 

"Not too bad," Justin replied as he turned to walk over to the older man; Vic was casually clad in a pair of denim, bibbed overalls and a navy-blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his favorite attire when he was anticipating getting dirty.  "He was a little on the impatient side today," he advised him, not wanting to elaborate on just WHY the horse had acted that way.  If they hadn't been repeatedly interrupted by a certain annoying neighbor, Headstrong might have acted quite differently.

 

Vic bestowed a half-smile on the younger Taylor boy as he asked softly, "Any particular reason?"  Not that the horse didn't normally ‘feel his oats' when he was out on the track - the animal was quite fleet of foot and knew it, so he would sometimes act up just because he could - but he had gotten a peek earlier as to the reason why their most prized racehorse might have been a little flustered and it had nothing to do with the horse's idiosyncrasies; it seemed that their new neighbor boy had apparently become smitten with Justin.  You didn't have to be a mind reader - or even be close by - to notice the boy outwardly flirting with his young friend earlier.  Of course, the kiss he had seen the two boys sharing was a good indication as well.

 

Justin's face flushed slightly as he recalled his latest encounter with Brian.  He looked away, feeling awkward.  "No, not really," he finally said as he turned back to look at his friend, feeling like an idiot over having to lie.

 

Vic nodded silently as he studied Justin's face; he could sense that his young friend needed to talk.  "I have some of your mom's homemade lemonade in my thermos; want to join me for a little while to cool off?  I have some interesting news," he added mysteriously with a smile.

 

Justin stared over at him, intrigued; his own troubles temporarily forgotten.  "What kind of news?" he asked curiously, his interest piqued.

 

"Let's go sit down and I'll tell you," Vic promised him as Justin nodded.

 

---

 

A few minutes later, they had escaped the garishness of the midday sun and were sitting together on a couple of stacks of straw in the stable, sipping from some plastic cups.  The summer was just beginning, but already it promised to be warmer than usual; inside the spacious barn, even with all the half-doors of the stalls flung open, the weather was slightly uncomfortable without the presence of any noticeable breeze to offset the warmth.

 

Justin downed the rest of his lemonade in one gulp as he peered over at Vic, unable to control his curiosity any longer.  "Okay, Vic; so what's the news you mentioned?"

 

Vic smiled.  "We're going to have a visitor for a couple of weeks; someone you know.  Although I don't reckon your brother is going to be too pleased about it."

 

Justin furrowed his brow for a moment until his face lit up with a big smile of glee; that could only mean one thing - or should he say, one person.  "Em?" he ventured as Vic nodded with a knowing grin.

 

Justin giggled.  "Oh, you're right; he is NOT going to like that one bit!"  Vic's nephew, who was about the same age as Jared, had visited the Taylor farm about a year ago for the first time and had promptly developed a huge crush on his older brother, following him around like a puppy dog everywhere he went - into town, to the swimming hole, to the pool hall, even ‘accidentally' showing up at the classic car auctions where he and their father typically purchased their hotrods.  He was sure that only his father's warning NOT to carry the boy's idol worship to its logical conclusion had prevented Jared from fucking the daylights out of him just because he could; well, that and Vic's plea that it would be awkward to know that his employer's son and his nephew had gotten ‘better acquainted' during his stay.  Emmett had finally given up trying to win Jared over about the time he had to leave, but now that Justin knew he was coming back, something told him that Emmett might try and pick up where he had left off.

 

Justin had actually grown fond of Emmett while he was here, finding his humor and rather unorthodox style of dress quite entertaining; the other boy always had a myriad number of wild, crazy jokes he could rattle off and he certainly didn't dress the part of a typical country boy, although he had never personally been to Alabama; perhaps down there they didn't dress quite the same as in the back hills of Kentucky.  Something told him, though, that leather-like, butter-colored tight pants and a black spandex top wasn't exactly normal attire no matter where your farm was located.  You certainly couldn't do a lot of menial labor in them, but then again, Emmett hadn't exactly knocked himself out doing chores when he had come to visit, either.  That was ONE thing he and Jared had had in common, he supposed:  fear of breaking a nail or getting dirty, except when Jared was working on one of his muscle cars.

 

Justin couldn't help grinning at the thought of Emmett coming back to terrorize his older brother again.  "So when is he coming?"

 

"He'll be here tomorrow morning; he'll be staying with me again in my trailer out back."

 

Justin's eyes widened.  "That soon?  Then he'll be here in time for the social tomorrow night."

 

Vic nodded with a grin.  "You don't think that's an accident, do you?  He's been raving about Sophie Mason's pecan pie ever since he won it last year at the cake walk.  Trust me, it's totally intentional."

 

Justin laughed; the town's postmistress always brought her 'world-famous' pecan pie to the yearly social, and the gooey, nut-laden treat was always the absolute favorite at the cake walk.  Justin got a kick out of Emmett's participation in the game last year; at first, he seemed to have no idea how it worked, but once he got the hang of it and figured it out, he was bouncing right in time with the fiddle music as he and the other participants walked in a circle until a number was called.  It had been pure coincidence that Emmett had wound up with the prized pie after it was over (attracting several glares from the sore losers in the process), but one bite of it and he was in heaven!  The pie was gone by the end of the second day.

 

He smiled over at Vic.  "It'll be great to have his company for a while," he told him.  He sighed.  "I could use a little cheering up."

 

Vic eyed him intently, knowing this was the opening he had been seeking.  "I thought there was something bothering you," he said quietly.  "Want to tell me about it?"

 

Justin crumpled up the plastic cup and threw it in frustration onto the ground.  He brushed his hand through his tousled hair as he advised, "It's nothing you haven't heard before, Vic."

 

The older man nodded.  "I know you've had a lot of pressure placed on you."  He paused for a second.   "I wish I was able to take your place, Justin," he added with an almost wistful tone of voice.  Despite his love of the sport, Vic had long ago given up on trying to race horses professionally; neither his spirit nor his body was in any shape to accomplish such a difficult feat.  The most he could do, then, was try and offer some sort of moral support and maybe extend just a little technical expertise from his 'glory days'.  He didn't kid himself, though, that he would ever be able to handle riding a sulky again.

 

"Thanks," Justin replied sincerely.  He huffed at the irony.  "I wouldn't mind if you did take­­­ my place, actually, at least from time to time.  I do enjoy racing - it's kind of a high, especially when I win..."  His eyes lit up momentarily, only to be replaced with a sad look.  Yes, he did like racing and the rush it gave him - he liked the competitiveness of it, at least when it was fair - but the feeling was all too fleeting once the reality of his situation at home sunk in and his waning dreams of attending college began to seem more like a distant memory.

 

Vic peered at him silently, somehow knowing that Justin would continue speaking when he was ready; sometimes silence was the best part of a conversation that you could have with someone.

 

"But..." Justin finally continued after a moment, struggling to try and explain how he was feeling.  He focused on a metal bucket hanging from a wooden post several feet away.

 

"...But sometimes you just wish you could do it for the joy of it without all the pressure."

 

Justin turned his gaze to concentrate on his friend before he nodded.  "Yeah," he replied softly.  "I know I shouldn't feel that way... I know how much my family depends on me..."

 

Vic huffed in anger.  "Justin... Son, you're seventeen years old!  That's what you have a mother and a father for - not to mention an irresponsible, older brother."  Vic wasn't going to hide that fact that while he was an old friend of Craig's, he still felt that he wasn't doing as much as he could to support his family, and he didn't even want to start with Jared's lack of accountability.  "You can't shoulder the world by yourself.  You shouldn't have to, either."

 

"I know," Justin admitted as he let out a heavy breath.  "I just wish I knew how to change things, I guess."

 

"Well, I know how things NEED to be changed," Vic growled as he downed the rest of his lemonade with one last gulp, crushing the cup in his fist in anger.  "Your brother needs to grow up and carry his weight around here.  Just because your father and I go back a long way doesn't change the face that he coddles him way too much."  He paused for a few seconds as he gave Justin a wry smile.  "I guess I don't have to tell YOU that, though; do I?"

 

Justin shook his head as he reached down and plucked a blade from the straw he was sitting on to roll it idly between his fingers.  "No," he whispered, the pain evident in his voice.  He lifted his gaze to peer over at his old family friend, the man who had given him so much advice and instruction on how to successfully race and asked plaintively, "Vic, I want to go to Vanderbilt so badly.  I have to get out of here somehow.  You know what happens if someone my age stays here; they either become a farmer or a coal miner; there isn't anything else to do!"  He let out a deep breath.  "Do I look like a farmer or a coal miner?  Look at my dad!  He was supposed to be an accountant; how many accountants does a farmer need?  Vic, if I don't go to college, I'll be stuck here for the rest of my life; and if I am, I might as well die, because I WILL be dead - inside.  Just like my dad already is."  He blinked, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall even while cursing himself for sounding and acting like some little, scared kid.

 

"I know, Justin," Vic replied softly, his heart breaking at the mournful tone of his young friend's voice.  Yes, Justin definitely had a gift when it came to the horses, and he was quite successful at harness racing, but it wasn't where his passion lay.  He had seen enough sketches of Justin's to know how talented he was and what a waste it would be for someone as artistically brilliant and compassionate as he was to wind up having to shovel manure and plant crops for the rest of his life.  Justin's dreams - and his happiness - lay elsewhere.  Right now, he had no idea how he was going to help him chase those dreams, but he was going to be damned if Craig and his irresponsible brother prevented that.  "They'll be a way, Son; I'm sure of it," he told his friend, even though he had no idea what it would be.  He just knew that someone as deserving as this young man had to have luck on his side.

 

Justin nodded.  "I hope you're right," he replied as he cast his gaze onto the dirt floor and continued to fretfully twirl the piece of straw between his fingers.

 

Vic eyed the younger Taylor carefully before he cleared his throat, thinking that perhaps it was best for now to change the subject.  "Uh, Justin, I've been meaning to ask you," he began.  "The Walkers' nephew that's staying with them... What's his name?"

 

Justin raised his head to peer over at Vic as he swallowed hard, the question catching him a little off guard.  "Br... Brian," he managed to stammer out, even now the name evoking a certain nervous emotion in him.

 

Vic managed to hide his amusement as he nodded solemnly.  "Right... Brian.  I was just wondering what you thought of him?  I understand he's been in a little trouble before with the law."

 

"Nothing that big," Justin protested, wondering why he was trying to defend the older boy.  "He just stole a car is all."  His father had found that out from the Walkers and had wasted no time informing him and Jared of it as a silent admonition to tread carefully around him.  That hadn't assuaged his interest in him, though.

 

Vic's eyebrow rose in curiosity.  Only stole a car?  That sounded pretty serious to him; it was interesting that Justin seemed to be sticking up for him.  "Isn't that a felony?  I heard from your father that he was drag racing with it."

 

"That's why he's here instead of in jail," Justin countered stiffly.  "He's being allowed to work it off.  He's been a lot of help to the Walkers so far."

 

Vic did have to smile a little at how Justin was continuing to defend him; it seemed they were both smitten with each other.  "Oh, he has, has he?  And how do you know that?"

 

"Uh, well, I've run into him from time to time while I've been practicing."

 

Vic grinned, enjoying himself and the flustered look on Justin's face.  "Practicing what?"

 

Justin looked indignant.  "Practicing with Headstrong!" he said almost with a 'duh' sort of tone.

 

"Ohhh," Vic replied as his grin widened.  "Nothing else?"

 

Justin appeared confused.  "Of course nothing else!  What else could I have been doing lately?  You know the only time Jared is forced to do any chores is when I have to prepare for a race!"

 

"Well, I saw you and the Kinney boy over at the track a little while ago, and it looked like the two of you were practicing something else together."  Justin's face instantly reddened in embarrassment, and Vic knew then that he had hit the nail on the head.  "You too really seemed to be hitting it off."

 

"I don't know what you mean," Justin stammered again, hoping to God that he hadn't seen what he was afraid he had seen.   "Brian WAS out earlier picking some blackberries and blueberries for his Aunt Sarah so she could make her cobbler for the social tomorrow, and they ARE located near the fence," he pointed out.  "I can't help it if the track runs alongside where he's working."

 

"Looked like he wasn't exactly working when I saw him," Vic divulged as Justin's mouth gaped open slightly and his face turned a little more red.  "Not unless that's what they're calling kissing nowadays.  I about had a heart attack when I saw him actually lay down on the track; you barely missed that boy!"

 

"I know!" Justin exclaimed, forgetting that he was supposed to be playing dumb.  "I told him that was a stupid thing to do!  And then later he hit me with some of the blackberries in the face and on my shirt!  See?" He twisted his upper body around so Vic could see the clear, dark-colored smudge on the back of Justin's shirt and he had to laugh; the other boy was both persistent as well as creative.  Yeah, he had it bad, all right; he's just not sure that Justin realized how much.

 

"So what exactly is going on between you two?" he asked Justin point blank, finding himself just a little concerned.  Justin was so young and inexperienced; and while he could be feisty and combative at times, especially with his older brother, it worried him somewhat that this Kinney kid was playing him just to get what he wanted out of him before he dropped him like the proverbial hot potato.  He cared for Justin a lot, and did not want him to get hurt.  He knew that was part of life sometimes, but he didn't like anyone taking advantage of him, whether it was Craig, Jared, or this rebellious, more experienced boy.

 

Justin thought about simply brushing off Vic's question, but as he stared into his eyes, he found that he couldn't.  He sighed.  "I wish I knew," he admitted.  "God, Vic, he's so hot!  I've never seen anyone like him!  I want to think he really likes me, but I just don't know!  I'm afraid," he confessed, feeling a little foolish.

 

"Of what?" Vic pressed gently, knowing the probable answer already.

 

"That he's just using me," Justin answered as he averted his gaze downward in embarrassment.  "That as soon as he... He gets what he wants, he'll just move on to someone else."  His cheeks burned in shame; just the thought that he was some gullible, hokey country kid who didn't know shit about sex or what it took to make another boy genuinely care about him made him feel like an idiot.  Of course, that had been his biggest fear from the start, and despite what Brian seemed to be telling him lately with his words, his kisses, and his touches, he still couldn't quite rid himself of the lingering doubts swirling around in his head about the other boy's intentions.

 

Vic shook his head in irritation; if Kinney DID do that, he would hear from HIM.  He was strongly protective of this boy; Justin was kind, compassionate, and intelligent, not to mention he was a beautiful young man, inside and out.  If Kinney used him and tossed him aside like some garbage alongside the edge of a dirt road, he would get a piece of his mind.  The other boy was obviously attracted to the youngest Taylor son, but he'd better treat him right or he would hear about it, from both HIM and the Walkers.  Something told him that Sarah - and especially Will - would not look too kindly to their nephew creating a major disruption between them and the Taylors.  In this part of the country, you needed every helpful neighbor you could get just to survive.

 

"Do you have any reason to think that's what he's intending to do?" Vic asked quietly.

 

Justin bit his lip.  "No, not really."  He looked over at Vic.  "Do you think that's what he'll do, Vic? I mean, I've never, uh, you know.  Maybe he would be disappointed anyway."  Shit - could he feel any more embarrassed than he did right now?  But he knew he could never discuss this with his mother and father, and especially Jared; his brother would laugh in his face.

"No," Vic told him firmly, trying to sound more convincing than he felt; he simply couldn't hurt Justin, though, and Kinney better not, either; this boy gave himself wholeheartedly to whatever he did, and something told him that when it came to love, he would be the same way.  "He would be crazy to do that, Justin.  He wants to be with you; and if he does, it won't matter if you're experienced or not."  He took on a wistful sort of look then as he thought back to HIS first time so long ago; he had been upfront with Craig about his homosexuality soon after they had first met, and the boys knew it as well.  He normally didn't spend a lot of time discussing it, though, but in this case perhaps it would help.  Besides, he knew that Justin felt much more comfortable talking to him than his father about sex.  "Your first time should be special, though; don't let him do anything you're not ready to do, okay?  When the time is right, you'll know it.  And always make sure you protect yourself."

 

Justin silently nodded as Vic stood up, knowing his break time was long over.  He walked over to place his left hand on Justin's shoulder to give it a squeeze, nodding down at him affectionately, as he turned to go.  "I'll go take care of Headstrong and True Blue," he told him.  "You go get some lunch; I'm sure you haven't eaten yet."

 

Justin nodded again as Vic turned to go.  "Thanks," he replied softly.  "For everything."

 

Vic nodded back at him.  "Anytime."  With one last look of support, he turned and walked outside,  leaving Justin alone with his thoughts and his doubts.

 

---

Walker Farm - Same Time

Sarah smiled in delight as the porch screen door creaked and, using his backside, Brian pushed the back door open wider, walking inside as he lugged a teeming bucket full of blackberries beside him.  "Look at you!" she exclaimed.  "How many did you wind up with?"  She hurried over to grab the side of the plastic handle to help him carry the heavy bucket over to the table and place it down on top.  "Those are huge!"  She had already rolled out six homemade crusts and placed them inside her rectangular, glass baking dishes in preparation for making her prize-winning cobbler for the social tomorrow night; she knew that would be keeping her busy for the next 24 hours.

 

Brian pulled out one of the metal kitchen chairs and groaned as he sat down at the table.  He wiped some perspiration off his brow as he advised, "There're four more buckets still out in the wagon - two more blackberries and two full of blueberries."  He eyed his aunt warily, noticing how pleased she seemed to be at the bounty he had procured.  "That's a LOT of berries; are you really going to use all of them for the social?"

 

Sarah laughed.  "Dear no!  If I used all of them, I'd need about ten times more baking dishes than I have!  No, I'll crystalize most of them and freeze them for use later in the year.  But I WILL make at least six of them before I'm done.  Two will be given away at the cake walk, one blackberry and one blueberry will be put into the judging contest, one will be auctioned off at the silent auction, and the last blackberry cobbler - that one will go to Justin," she said with a tender smile.  She grinned over at Brian, noticing a flicker of emotion appear on his face at the mention of the younger Taylor boy's name.  "Speaking of Justin, did you see him out practicing on the track today?  I know there's another race coming up this weekend, so normally he'd be working out with Headstrong a few days before."

 

She reached over to grab the pitcher of iced tea she had made earlier, pouring some into a tall, clear glass and handing it to Brian as he took a big drink before he placed it down in front of him.  "Yeah, he was out there," Brian said quietly, looking down at the table as he recalled his and Justin's meeting earlier in the day.  He had been there, all right; he couldn't think of anything else BUT him the whole time Justin had been riding.  Even after they had went back to their own tasks, he couldn't help watching the Taylor boy circling the track, his luminous, blond hair blowing in the wind as he picked up speed around the oval course.  He was very graceful and fluid in his movements on the track, almost becoming one with the horse and sulky as they whipped by him.  And Brian had also found himself pausing to admire the strength and sleekness of the racehorse, Headstrong; the horse was quite fast and very powerful, two attributes that he could readily appreciate.

 

Sarah nodded.  "Did you have a chance to tell him that you would be at the social tomorrow?" she asked as she walked over to the kitchen sink to retrieve a large, white, ceramic bowl to transfer some of the berries for washing.

 

"It might have come up," Brian admitted, for some reason not wanting to share too much of what he and Justin had discussed.  He was still trying to figure it out himself; plus, he was still extremely curious about what had happened to his cousin Dale.  He was going to hold Justin to his promise to tell him more about what happened tomorrow night at the social.

 

Sarah nodded as she brought the bowl back to the table and sat down across from him, stealing a curious glance over at her nephew; she sensed there was something going on between then, something more than what Brian was divulging.  She just hoped he did right by Justin.  "Well, I'm sure he'll be happy to have the company.  There aren't a lot of kids his age around town; most of them are more Jared's age, and you know how uncool it is to be seen hanging around with your friend's kid brother, so they tend to ignore him most of the time.  Hopefully you won't mind keeping him company, though, at least for one night."

 

"Well, I'll have to take your word on that," Brian replied, ignoring the other part of her statement as he reached over to begin collecting some of the blackberries to place them into his aunt's smaller bowl.  "All I have is a sister, and we're not that close."  Actually, that was an understatement; Claire would rather not even acknowledge they were related, and his mother favored his sister over him constantly.  Sometimes he wished he was just an orphan; it would make his life a lot easier.

 

"Yeah, I know," Sarah said softly.  "Did you miss not having a brother growing up?" she asked as the two of them worked congenially together to fill the bowl.

 

Brian shrugged as he discarded a berry that didn't look ripe.  "I never had one, so how could I miss not having one?"  Truthfully, though, there HAD been times when he had wished he had someone to confide in; he never felt comfortable going to his father with his problems.  His father only wanted to know about his achievements, not his failures.  The only consistent treatment he could expect from his father was disappointment when he didn't live up to his expectations.  Then again, a drunk didn't have very high standards, either.  Perhaps that was why he was allowed to get away with some things; his father preferred just to turn his head and look away rather than deal with them.  It was only when he was arrested and publicly identified that his father all of a sudden took an interest in him, mainly because he and his mother were worried about how it would appear to their 'church-going' friends.  That was the whole reason why he was here in the first place.  If he had to be honest, though, his worry about exchanging one prison for another hadn't quite materialized; and one of the reasons why it hadn't turned out to be quite so bad was because of his aunt - and Justin.  So in an odd way, his father had inadvertently done him a favor for once in his life.

 

Sarah nodded with a half-smile.  "I guess you have a point," she said.  "Sometimes I wish Will and I had had another child; then maybe it wouldn't have hurt so much when Dale died."  She inhaled a deep breath as melancholy invaded her thoughts - whispers of sorrow and regret - before she forced herself to move on; playing a game of 'what ifs' wouldn't change anything.

 

Brian eyed her carefully from across the table before he forged ahead.  "Aunt Sarah, you said my uncle was a lot different before my cousin died."

 

Sarah smiled.  "Yes, at least in some ways.  He never used to worry so much about day-to-day things, not like he does now.  Of course, any time farming is your living you always have to worry to a certain extent, since the weather can make or break you each year."  She reached to grab a few more berries to put them into the rapidly-filling bowl as she continued.  "And he used to laugh and smile a lot more back then."

 

"You know... I'd really like to try and make amends with him," Brian told his aunt, knowing he had to tread lightly here.  "But I feel like I can't do that until I really understand what happened back then."

 

Sarah swallowed as she lifted her gaze to meet the hazel eyes boring into her.  "You mean with Dale."

 

Brian nodded.

 

"His death was unexpected, Brian.  He was always the healthiest child; never missed a day in school, at least due to illness, and never was on any prescription drugs.  I think that's why when it happened, it shocked us so much, especially Will, and that's why he's still having such a hard time getting over it.  Dale and Will had their differences, just like any other father and son, but they had always done everything together.  In the year before he died, though, he and Dale had started to drift a little further apart."  She quirked one side of her mouth up affectionately as she explained, "He was so much like you in a lot of ways, Brian - independent, a little rebellious, stubborn, and a born leader.  He was a typical teenager, though; he was just beginning to grow into being an adult and wanted to spread his wings a little bit more, away from his father.  Will didn't like some of the things he was getting involved with; some of the people he had become friends with and was hanging out with.  But the racing had started to bring them back together.  And then the accident happened... And the world that we knew came crashing down."  She inhaled a deep, shaky breath and let it back out through partly-opened lips as she told him, "Will was never the same after that."  She smiled wistfully over at Brian, however, as she explained, "But since you've been here, even with the problems you two have had, I've been starting to see just a little more of the 'old Will' re-emerging, and that gives me hope."  She reached over to take Brian's free hand and squeeze it.  "I'll be forever grateful to you for that, Brian."

 

Brian pushed his tongue into his cheek, feeling unexpectedly awkward.  "I haven't done anything; he still doesn't really like me."  He wondered when that started to bother him so much, and when he actually started to care.  But somewhere along the way, he had, and it hurt to think that his uncle didn't like him.  His uncle was irascible, grouchy, and had little tolerance for disobedience or sloth, but he was also one of the hardest workers he had ever seen, and didn't beat him to within an inch of his life when he didn't follow his directions.  And at least he set clear guidelines for him to follow; in a way, he liked that because at least it showed that his uncle cared about him in an odd sort of way.

 

"That's not true," Sarah protested.  "I know him a lot better than you.  He's always had kind of a hard time expressing his feelings, but he doesn't dislike you, Brian.  Keep working on him; you'll see.  And it'll be the best thing you could do for me, too, if you continue to bring the 'old Will' back to me."  She gave his hand one more squeeze before she let it go to continue collecting berries from the bucket.

 

"But about my cousin; how...?"

 

To his consternation, Sarah shook her head.  "Please, Brian; tomorrow is such a happy occasion around town.  Don't ask me, at least not now.  One day I'll tell you the rest of it, just not right now,okay?"

 

Brian sighed in frustration.  Well, I tried, Farm Boy.  You're going to have to answer my questions now.  He resolved to press Justin tomorrow night about the details; he HAD to know what happened back then!  Of course, whatever he learned or didn't learn tomorrow night, he was sure he'd have an interesting time trying to find out from his company.  The thought of going to a 'town social' didn't thrill him with anticipation, but spending more time with Justin - preferably alone - certainly did.  "Okay," he finally agreed.  "Where IS Uncle Will, by the way?  I haven't really seen him around lately."

 

"He's out in the dairy barn, watching over Checkers," she told him.  "She's showing signs she's about ready to have her calf and he wanted to keep an eye on her."

 

Brian's eyes widened.  "A calf?  How big are they when they're born?"

 

"Well, with dairy cows, normally around 80 to 100 lbs.  Will thinks Checkers is going to have a big one, too, and he's a little worried about it.  She's never had a calf before, and heifers are more likely to have problems with their first offspring."  A sudden idea occurred to Sarah as she asked, "Brian, can you run out to the dairy barn and see if Will wants to come in for a bite to eat?  He hasn't eaten lunch yet, and I haven't had a chance to take any out to him.  Maybe you can keep an eye on Checkers until he has a chance to eat.  If any problems come up, you can come and get him."  Of course, she wasn't all that concerned about her husband eating; he had gone several hours before without a meal when he was concentrating on a particular issue, but any opportunity for a possible bonding experience between her husband and her nephew was one that shouldn't be passed up.

 

Brian's looked at her, a little concerned.  "You think there's going to be problems?  I'm not sure that I..."

 

"Your uncle will be right here if you need him; it's just a precaution," she assured him, but Brian wasn't totally convinced; it sounded too much like some rural Murphy's Law to him.  But he trusted his aunt as he pushed back from the table and stood up.  "You'll both be right here?" he repeated just to make sure.

 

Sarah fought to hide her smile as she nodded solemnly.  "I'll even leave just the screen door open so we can hear you more easily if you need him," she promised.

 

"Okay," Brian told her.  "You'll both be right here."

 

She had to laugh then.  "Yes, Brian. Go.  Everything will be fine."

 

He nodded again as he finally turned to leave and Sarah shook her head.  For a boy who could be so cocky and self-assured when it came to some things, Brian could also be like an insecure, little boy when it came to others.  "Do your magic on him, Brian," she whispered as the creak of the porch door sounded and Brian exited.  "Keep it up."

 

---

 

Will looked up from his task as he saw a motion out of the corner of his eye; he was a little surprised to see his nephew walking into the barn.  He was sitting cross-legged next to their dairy cow that was baying pitifully as she lay on her side, a thick bed of straw splayed out beneath her.  She was clearly in discomfort, which was not a good sign.  He had already used the landline phone out in the barn to call the vet at the first sign of her distress, anticipating what would likely be a difficult delivery, but the doctor was at best fifteen minutes away, and something told him that this heifer didn't have that long to wait; her baby was impatient to come into the world by the signs and noises she was making.  The big question, though, was would it make an appearance alive or dead? The odds of a heifer successfully giving birth the first time weren't that high; too many things could go wrong.  The desperate truth, though, was that they really needed this calf.  It would be a small amount overall financially, but the money they could eventually get by selling her could make enough of a difference for them to get by one month in the dead of winter.

 

"What are YOU doing here?" Will groused softly as Brian walked up to join him; he could detect a note of concern and even fear on his nephew's face; two emotions that he rarely saw there.

 

Brian forced himself not to take offense at his uncle's tone of voice as he explained, "Aunt Sarah asked me to come out and see if you wanted me to stay with the cow so you could go eat lunch."  He looked warily at the large animal lying on her side, her big eye blinking up at him.  Checkers had looked big enough that one day when he been milking her; right now, though, she looked immense - and just a little intimidating.  "Is she okay?" Brian asked as he heard her let out a mournful sort of groan.

 

"First of all, Brian, she's not a cow; she's a heifer.  They're only cows AFTER they've given birth at least once," Will corrected him as Brian huffed a little in irritation; he didn't care WHAT they were called.  To him a cow was a cow.  "And secondly, no, I can't leave. She's NOT okay."  He brushed one weathered hand through his hair as he explained, "I think the calf is in the wrong position to come out, and if it is, there's going to be problems; BIG problems."

 

Brian's eyes became big as saucers; what had he gotten himself into? In the immortal words of Butterfly McQueen, he 'didn't know nothing 'bout birthin' no cows.'  "Well, don't they have vets out here or something?" he asked in desperation.

 

Will gave him a barely-disguised look of impatience as he advised, "Of course they have vets out here!"  He sighed, trying to calm himself down as Checkers let out another groan, indicating she was having another contraction; they were getting closer and closer now - TOO close.  "But he's at least fifteen minutes away, and that calf wants to come out NOW."  He gazed up intently at the young man peering apprehensively down at him and came to a decision.  "You're going to have to help me move it into position, or it's going to die."

 

Brian's mouth gaped open.  "What?  You've got to be shitting me."

 

"No, I'm not," Will responded in a clipped voice. "And don't use that language in front of me.  Now get over here and help me."  Brian, however, appeared frozen in place.  "NOW, Brian!  Do you want this baby to die?"

 

His uncle's demand seemed to sink in as Brian began to hurry over to his uncle's side.  Kneeling down next to him, he asked, "What do I do?"

 

"Just hold the tail out away from her while I try to move the baby into the correct position.  Keep your other hand on her flank to try and keep her calm and immobile."

 

Brian gave him a look of disbelief as he scooted back toward the rear of the animal, wondering how he was going to be able to keep an animal that weighed several hundred pounds 'immobile.'  But he did as he was told as his uncle moved next to him, grasping the tail with his right hand and holding it away from the animal's body as he rose to kneel on his knees and hold the heifer down as best he could with his other hand.  He marveled at how warm the animal's skin felt underneath him, just as Checkers let out with another groan.

 

"It won't be long now," Will told him, his own face etched with concern.  Cupping his hands together, he reached inside the animal's birth canal, discovering that the calf was in the backwards position:  the soles of the hooves and the knees were pointing toward the ground, not upward.  He couldn't feel the tail between the newborn's legs, either, which was the biggest cause of his worry; if the tail wasn't repositioned, the calf might not pass through the rest of the birth canal and the longer it took for the heifer to give birth, the more there was a chance the calf's umbilical cord would be pinched and its oxygen supply cut off.

 

"What is it?" Brian whispered as he noticed the look of grave seriousness on his uncle's face.

 

"The tail's in the wrong place," he told him grimly as he began to reach inside the birth canal for the tail. "It has to be moved between the calf's hooves, or we might not be able to get this calf out before it's asphyxiated."

 

Brian bit his lip in anxiety as he watched his uncle trying to maneuver his hands inside the heifer; all the while, Checkers was bleating piteously in pain.  "Easy, girl, easy," Brian told her soothingly, at once sympathizing with the hurting animal but feeling like an idiot; he tried not to think about the fact that he was comforting a cow (oh, yeah, a heifer) of all things as his uncle let forth with an unexpected profanity.

 

"Sorry," he grunted as Brian raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "I can't get my hands where they need to be; they're too big."  He glanced down at his nephew's long, almost delicate hands and said the words that Brian was dreading.  "Brian, you'll have to try and do it."

 

Brian shook his head.  "Uh, uh," he protested as Will withdrew his now mucous-covered hands.  He couldn't help crinkling up his nose in disgust at the slimy sight that was making him queasy.  "I can't do it."

 

Will's eyes flashed in anger as Checkers moaned loudly, clearly in torment now.  "Yes, you can, damn it!  You either do it or this heifer AND her baby are going to die, do you understand?"  He took a deep breath as he calmed himself, his breathing heavy with anxiety.  His voice was softer and almost pleading now as he said, "Brian.  Please.  You're the only one who can save this calf - and the mother.  I NEED both of them.  Please help them - and ME."

 

Brian stared into his uncle's face, noticing his terror now.  He knew his uncle was telling him the truth, but could he do it?  He only knew at that moment that he had to try.  He nodded as he scooted around the older man.  "Okay," he agreed to his uncle's enormous relief.  "What do I do?"

 

Will nodded as he changed places with Brian, placing a hand on the heifer as he held the tail away from her body.  "Place your hands palm to palm as close together as you can," he began as Brian did as he was told, grimacing as he neared the animal's birth canal.  "Push your hands in about six inches or so and start twisting your hands and wrists around the baby's head and hooves until you can locate the tail."

 

Brian took a deep breath and bit his lower lip in concentration as he got nearer and nearer.  Taking one last breath of courage, he forced himself to ignore the hot, slick sensation as he pushed both hands inside, finding more room there than he would have thought.

 

"Good," his uncle murmured as he watched attentively.  "Push in just a little more and start feeling around for the tail now," he said, his voicing rising a little in excitement.  "Do you feel it?  It might be hard to grab onto," he warned.

 

Brian grimaced as he tried to ignore what he was doing; he would be washing his hands about a thousand times after this.  It felt like he was trying to grab onto a raw oyster as he finally located what had to be the tail.  "I found it!" he cried out in triumph as his right hand curled around it.  "I've got it!"

 

"Good!" Will cried out, feeling just a glimmer of hope.  "Now take it and push it between the hooves and grab hold of them; this calf's about to be born!"

 

Brian nodded as he pushed the tail out of the way before feeling for the front hooves.  "I feel them!" he told his uncle.  "But they're hard to hold onto."

 

Will nodded, his excitement - and hope - mounting.  "I know; grab onto the legs right above the hooves as best you can and start pulling.  As soon as they're partially out, I'll try to help you."

 

Brian nodded again, wishing he had some gloves or anything to help get a better purchase, but he knew there was no time to waste.  Brian grabbed onto the legs where his uncle told him to and began to pull, feeling them give just a few inches.  "Come on!" he said to the calf as he grunted from the exertion of a second push; this time, the legs began to move several inches toward the outside.  "It's coming!" Brian shouted as he grabbed onto another spot and gave the calf another pull.

 

"That's it!" Will cried out.  "Keep pulling!  It's coming; I can see the legs and the head!"  Checkers continued to bleat loudly as Will reached over and placed his hands right above Brian's to grab hold of the legs right above him, almost like they were playing a game of tug of war.  "Pull; just a little more!"

 

Brian grunted again as together the two of them gave the calf a stronger pull now and finally it plopped out, surrounded by a mixture of mucous, blood, and other bodily fluids.

 

Brian watched in rapt fascination as his uncle reached for a couple of large towels and began to clean the calf off, holding his breath as he waited to see if the calf was alive.  He eyes grew large in disbelief as he observed his uncle grasp the newborn by its hind legs and stand up to swing it around in a semi-circle.

 

"What are you DOING?" he asked.

 

"It's a way to clear its nasal passages," Will told him, out of breath from his exertion.  "And to drain the trachea, nose and lungs of mucous."  Will kept swinging the calf as he growled, "Come on!  Come on!  Breathe!"

 

Finally, both of them could hear a high-pitched, bleating sound burst forth, and Will let out a whoop.  "That's it!" he cried out in happiness.  "That's what I wanted to hear!"  Stopping his motion, he placed the newborn down gently on its side in the thick bed of straw just as he heard a truck door slamming.  A few seconds later, Dr. Callahan, the town vet, came rushing into the barn.

 

Walking up to Will and a boy he didn't recognize, he noticed the newborn lying on its side, apparently in no distress.  "Looks like you've had an addition to your herd," he observed with a smile as he placed his black medical bag down on the ground next to the calf.  "I came as fast as I could.  Was it bad?" he asked as he knelt down and began to examine the animal.

 

"Yeah," Will replied as he sat down next to the doctor, a bespectacled man in his 50's with salt-and-pepper, wavy hair and piercing, dark-blue eyes.  The vet was wearing a pair of well-loved, worn denim jeans, scuffed, light brown boots, and a brown, plaid shirt with thin, maroon stripes.  Out in the country, there was no need for formality when it came to dress, nor was it practical.  "The tail was in the wrong position and it was in the birth canal backward, but it wasn't going to wait one minute longer."

 

The doctor looked over at Will and nodded.  Having known the Walkers for a long time, he was well aware of Dale's death; he knew that it not only had affected Will Walker emotionally but also financially. He knew, then, that losing a calf would have been a big blow to him.  "Well, she appears to be doing okay under the circumstances now," he observed clinically as he placed a stethoscope to the calf's heart and listened to the strong, regular heartbeat.  "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but you did a good job birthing her."

 

Will looked over at his nephew and smiled, a genuine, appreciative smile.  "I had a lot of help from my nephew," he stated firmly.  "He was the one who saved her, not me."  Brian looked back at him in stunned but pleased surprise as his uncle turned to the vet to say with what sounded suspiciously like pride, "Doc, I'd like you to meet my nephew, Brian."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The slamming of a vehicle's door caused Sarah to lift her head in curiosity; they weren't expecting any company today.  Wiping her hands on her half-apron, she pushed back from the kitchen table and walked over to the back screen door, her eyes widening in concern when she recognized Doc Callahan's battered pickup truck parked near the barn.  "Oh, no," she groaned in concern as she pushed the screen door to open it and rushed outside.

 

As she neared the barn, she could hear some quiet talking, but not much else.  Biting her lower lip in apprehension over what she might encounter, she hurried inside, noticing the doctor kneeling down in front of Checkers, who was lying on her side.  She could see Will and Brian facing him on the other side of the cow as she called out anxiously, "Will?  What's going on?"

 

At the sound of her voice, her husband lifted his head to look over at her and to her utter surprise actually smiled.

 

"Sarah!" he cried out excitedly.  "Come and meet the newest addition to our family!"

 

Sarah couldn't help smiling back at him in immense relief as she rushed over to see a newborn calf lying on its side, struggling now to stand up.  "Oh, my God, Will!  It's beautiful!" she gushed.  She noticed with a start that Will actually had his hand on Brian's shoulder as he nodded back at her.

 

"You mean she," he corrected her.  "Isn't she a beauty?"

 

Sarah nodded as she looked down at Brian who had this look of amazement on his face as he watched the cow now slowly rise on her knobby little legs and finally stand shakily on her feet.  "She looks just like her mama," she said, feeling a little foolish over her sentimentality.  But it was true; she had the same type of black and white markings that had gotten the mother her name of 'Checkers.'  "How is she, Doc?" she asked their long-time vet.

 

The doctor ran his hands alongside the newborn's stomach, neck and head as it bleated softly in complaint.  "Seems just fine to me, especially considering the way she came into this world," he told her as he placed his stethoscope away in his bag and wiped his hands off on his pants.  "You'll need to keep a close eye on her, but she looks good so far."

 

Sarah nodded as the doctor rose up on his feet; she was well aware that even with a successful birth, complications could still ensue in the next couple of days.

 

"You know what to do?" the vet said to Will, who nodded; this wasn't the first calf he had helped birth, so he knew the post-delivery procedures well by now.  "Give me a call if any complications occur," he said as he glanced over at Brian.  "But I think you have a pretty competent assistant there if you need help.  Nice meeting you, Son," he told Brian as he reached for his bag and stood up.  He nodded his head at Brian's aunt.  "See you at the social tomorrow, Sarah?  I'm salivating over the idea of some blueberry cobbler; you ARE bringing it, aren't you?"

 

She beamed over the compliment.  "Of course."

 

He nodded.  "Good.  I'll be in the front row bidding on it, then.  See you folks tomorrow."

 

"Thanks, Doc," Will told him quietly as the man turned to go.

 

"Don't thank me; thank your nephew," the vet said with a grin as he walked away.

 

Sarah walked over and knelt down where the doctor had been before to pet the calf as Checkers eyed her warily.  "It's okay, mom; you know I won't hurt her," she promised.  She looked over at Will.  "So it was a difficult birth?"

 

Brian snorted before his uncle had a chance to respond, wiping his hands off on an old towel that his uncle had given him earlier.  "You have no idea..." he murmured almost in a daze; the whole thing had happened so fast, he really hadn't had much time to absorb everything.

 

"Brian helped with the birth?" his aunt asked in amazement, wondering what the doctor had meant earlier.

 

"I still can't believe it," Brian replied as he looked from his sticky hands to the baby calf now standing wobbly on its feet; it still hadn't quite sunk in yet.  "That big baby came out of that cow..."

 

Sarah's heart sang at the sound of her husband actually chuckling softly over their nephew's reaction.  "What happened exactly?"

 

"The calf was backwards and the tail was in the wrong place; I couldn't fit my hands inside, so Brian had to do it for me.  He delivered it."  He peered over at his nephew as he admitted, "If he hadn't been here, that calf wouldn't have made it."  There was a different tone to her husband's voice now, almost one of respect, as he described what Brian had done.

 

Sarah's eyes filled with tears of gratitude; it was yet another way that Brian had made a difference in their lives.  "I'm glad you're here, Brian," she whispered in a choked voice.  "You've been a lifesaver."  In more ways than you know, she thought silently.

 

Brian found his face warming over the praise; it had been weird enough getting a thank you from his uncle, but to have his aunt thanking him, too - it was almost overwhelming.  He wasn't used to someone actually giving him credit for something he did.  "Thanks," he finally managed to mumble in a self-effacing manner.  "I had no idea what I was doing," he admitted.  "It was damn scary."

 

For once his uncle didn't call him out on his swear word as he reached for the rope attached to Checkers.  "Come on, Mama; it's time for you to get up," he told the cow softly as he stood up and pulled gently on the tether.  Checkers seemed to understand what he was requesting, and must have wanted to stand up, also, because slowly, with a couple of loud moos of protest in between, she finally stood up on her feet, leaning her head down to nuzzle the newborn calf who was now standing next to her like a miniature version of herself.

 

"What are we going to call her?" Sarah asked as she stroked Checkers' neck soothingly.

 

Will huffed as he let go of the rope.  "I'll leave that up to you and Brian," he told them crustily as he fell back into his normal modus operandi.  "You know I don't name the farm animals, Woman."

 

Sarah grinned; she was on to him.  That was the nickname Will always used when he was trying to sound gruff, but not quite succeeding.  To her, it sounded like music to her ears, because he hadn't used that in a long time.  "I'll take care of it," she said with a smile.  "Are you done with your medical assistant now?  If so, I could use his help."

 

Will shrugged.  "We're done; I'll take care of the calf."  He knew whenever the town social occurred, his wife was up to her elbows in baking.  He didn't envy Brian the job she would assign him, then, although after helping to deliver the calf, his nephew would probably see it as a welcome change.

 

"Brian, can you help me out some more in the kitchen?" Sarah asked as Brian nodded.

 

He turned his nose up at his appearance; his clothes were all mussed up and dirty, and he smelled like shit.  "I need to take a shower first, though."

 

She nodded.  "I'll meet you downstairs in about half an hour?"

 

He nodded back at her as he stood up; still holding the soiled towel, he draped it over a wooden post near the stall before he headed out.  As he walked by her, Sarah impetuously threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Thanks again," she whispered in his ear as Brian just stood there awkwardly, his hands held out so he wouldn't get her dirty.  Nodding once more at her as she let him go, he turned and walked out of the barn.

 

"I told you, William; he's a good kid deep down," Sarah told her husband as she watched him go.  "He saved that calf's life and probably the mother's, too, didn't he?"

 

"Yeah," Will conceded.  Feeling like he was giving a little too much away, he replied, "Can we just drop it now, Sarah? We're already giving him a place to live where he can stay out of jail and out of trouble.  He's still not a saint."

 

Sarah sighed, wondering just what it would take to get completely through her husband's shell.  There had been some give and take, though, and that was a start.  "I'll have supper ready around 6," she told him as Will nodded.  Turning, she slowly walked out of the barn and back to her cobbler preparations.

 

---

One Hour Later...

Brian placed the heavy, teeming bucket of blueberries down into the right side of the cement, double sink in the basement with a grunt; after this, he would never eat another blueberry again.  But he had agreed to help his aunt prepare them for freezing, so he had to finish following through with it.  Taking the metal colander that he had been given, he placed it down in the bottom of the other sink and lifted the bucket enough to pour some of them into the colander.  Returning it to the other side, he began to pour water over the berries to wash them and prepare them to be placed, single file, onto a cookie sheet.  From there, they would go into the freezer until they crystallized in about four hours, at which time he could transfer them into glass Mason jars.

 

Five minutes later, he carefully placed each rinsed berry onto a nearby, metal cooking sheet and set them on a metal rack in the large, top-loading freezer that the Walkers kept strictly for freezing and canning their produce; it was yet another way that they tried to stretch every dollar they could, according to his aunt.

 

"I forgot my lacy apron," Brian snarked as he closed the freezer door and prepared to walk back over to the sink.  A white metal, slightly rusty corner cabinet, however, caught his eye as he dried his hands on a paper towel and walked over to investigate.  The door stuck a little as he pulled on the metal handle to open it, but after a little more exertion he finally succeeded as the door surrendered to his strength.  As he glanced at what lay inside, his face broke into a smile.  Now this was something he would NEVER grow tired of!  Lined up on two shelves inside were approximately 10 - 15 dusty liquor bottles filled with some sort of pale yellow liquid; a cork was wedged in the top of each one, and they had no identifying labels on them, but it didn't take a wine connoisseur to know what was in THOSE containers.

 

His chore for his aunt temporarily forgotten, he reached to grab the nearest bottle by the neck, eager to give the contents a whiff and to get a taste of what lay inside. To his consternation, however, the cork wouldn't budge.  "Shit," he grumbled in disappointment.  He licked his lips; he could almost taste whatever was in it.  Sighing when he tried several times unsuccessfully to get it to move, he resolved to finish his task as soon as possible so he could go in search of some sort of instrument that would 'get the job done.'  Grabbing another bottle, he placed both down on the floor as he hurried to finish up what he needed to do.

 

---

 

Fifteen minutes later, the two liquor bottles were safely hidden in the bottom of the empty berry bucket as he carried his cherished contents back up the basement steps.  Making sure his aunt and uncle weren't around as he opened the door and stepped out into the narrow, wooden hallway, he quietly opened up the broom closet located directly across from the basement door and carefully placed the bottles behind his aunt's mop, shifting the rope braids around to completely cover his treasure.  Smiling in satisfaction, he closed the door back and walked toward the kitchen, swinging his empty bucket back and forth.  Now he had something besides his next encounter with Justin to look forward to. Or perhaps he could combine them?  His smile widened even more as an idea formed in his head and he went back to work.

 

---

11:30 p.m. - Windswept Farm

Justin lay on his bed on top of the covers, clad in a pair of loose-fitting chinos; he was bone weary, and had decided not to bother taking his pants off.   He knew he needed to get to sleep, but his mind was racing so much, slumber wouldn't come.  He sighed; that was getting to be a bad habit of his lately.

 

He clasped his hands on his bare chest, lost in thought.  He recalled his conversations with both Brian and Vic earlier today; they had basically told him the same thing - that he was too young to bear the great responsibility that had been thrust upon him, and he needed to find a way to fulfill his own dreams.  The main question, though, was:  how did he extricate himself from his situation without feeling like he was letting his family down?  That was the big question, wasn't it?  And there didn't seem to be any ready answers to it, either.

 

Earlier at dinner, he had toyed with the idea of broaching the topic, but he couldn't for the life of him find a way to do it.  Of course, having his jerk of a brother eying him from across the table and glaring at him didn't help much.  He wasn't sure what he had done to warrant his brother's scorn this time, but he suspected it was because their father had insisted on him actually doing some work for a change.  That was the typical reaction Jared always had whenever he had to get his hands dirty with something other than grease and a monkey wrench.

 

His father had actually been somewhat decent for a change during dinner; he had asked him how the workout had gone and had seemed fairly interested in what he had to say.  It appeared that he was actually listening to him, rather than just nodding his head periodically and murmuring a 'uh hum' occasionally; he had a feeling his mother might have had something to do with that, but at least it helped to make the meal a little more pleasant, despite his brother's surliness.

 

The night unseasonably muggy for June, he thought briefly about rising from the bed to go flip on the switch to turn on his small, circular, tabletop fan that was situated on top of his bedroom dresser; he had forgotten to crack the window open earlier to try and get some circulation inside the room.  But he didn't get the chance to act on his idea.  Adrenalin raced through his veins just then as he heard a sort of familiar, pelting noise skittering against his window.  No... there's no fucking way...

 

"Oh, no," he murmured.   He knew it couldn't be hail - it was calm and dry outside; in fact, the moon was 3/4th full, and as common on clear nights such as this one, the sky was awash with starlight; millions and millions of tiny, sparkling twinkles.  He listened again for a moment as he continued to lie there, his heart beginning to pound.  There it was again - a distinctive sort of light, rapid tapping noise across the glass.  Well, that could only mean one thing in his mind.

 

Rising from the bed, he walked around it and over to the window.  As he peered down below, he couldn't believe his eyes.  Huffing in disbelief, he pushed on the lower wooden frame of the window and lifted it up as far as it would go.  As soon as he stuck his head outside, he didn't have long to wait to get a response.

 

"Howdy, Tex!" Brian yelled up at him brightly with a goofy, lopsided sort of grin on his face; Justin could see a bottle of some sort clutched in his right hand as he stood there looking up at him, his chestnut-colored hair shining in the moonlight.  "Come on down and let's do some arm wrestling!"

 

Justin's eyes widened at the loud tone of Brian's voice.  "Shhh!" he hissed down at him.  "You'll wake up my parents and Jared!  What are you DOING here, Brian?"

 

Brian actually hiccupped as he informed him, "I told you; I came to see you."  In fact, Brian had wanted nothing else since he had seen him earlier today; the half-bottle of corn liquor he had already consumed had only strengthened his resolve.  "Come on down and let's get reacquainted."

 

"Brian, go away!" Justin pleaded with him.  "You'll wake everyone up and I'll be in deep shit!" he whispered down to him as loudly as he dared.

 

"No," Brian said, actually stamping his foot.  "I'm going to stay right here until you come down.  I'll sing," he half-threatened, half-promised him as he hiccupped again.  Normally, Brian would do no such thing, but it seemed the half-bottle of liquor, along with the weed he had smoked a little while ago, had loosened his inhibitions greatly.

 

Justin's eyes widened in disbelief.  Did Brian just say what he thought he just said?  He had never heard Brian even mention that he liked to sing, much less attempt it.  But whether he could carry a tune or not, if he started belting out a ditty right now, there was no doubt it would be loud enough to wake the living dead; something told him Brian didn't do anything half-hearted.

 

"Okay, okay, I'll come down," Justin hastily reassured him as he made up his mind.  "Just... just don't say anything else, and whatever you do, for God's sake, don't SING!  Got it?"

 

Brian grinned back at him as he raised his bottle up and gave it a swig, tripping slightly on his feet as he swayed a little.  "No can do, Farm Boy.  Get that hot ass down here in one minute or I'm going to serenade you with 100 Bottles of Beer in the Stall."

 

"I'm coming," Justin hastened to tell him as he quickly turned from the window and looked around frantically in the dim light for his shirt; deciding he couldn't waste time trying to remember where he threw it aside, he grabbed his sneakers and rushed toward the door, carefully opening and closing it so no one would hear him.  Wincing as he heard one of the steps creak on the way down and praying that Jared or his parents didn't hear, he reached the landing as fast as he dared and quickly turned the corner to rush through the hallway leading to the back door.  Grimacing at the familiar squeak of the screen door as he opened it, he quickly closed it behind him, his shoes still clutched in his hands.  

A few seconds later, he had to bite back the surprised squeal that threatened to erupt from his throat as he felt an arm slide around his waist from behind.

 

"Just in time," Brian whispered in his ear, his breath hot on his skin.   "Beer No. 100 was about to topple over." Despite the thick blanket of mugginess that permeated the night, Justin shivered at the sound of Brian's husky voice, even as his chest felt like it was on fire from the arm that was holding onto him.  He somehow managed to turn around in Brian's embrace and place his free hand against the other boy's chest to push against him to create some much-needed space between them as he asked once more, "What the hell are you doing here, Brian?  Do you know what time it is?"

 

Brian reluctantly let go of Justin to hold his bottle up between them, eyeing his companion's pale, almost luminscent skin hungrily as Justin flushed.  "Time to par-ty."

 

Justin hurriedly plopped his shoes down onto the floor of the porch and slid his feet into them as he said, "No, it's time to sleep."

 

"Then why weren't you?"

 

"Why wasn't I what?"

 

"Sleeping."

 

Justin's eyes flashed; this boy could get him riled up - in so many ways - like no one else could.  "I was trying to until I was rudely interrupted!"

 

Brian grinned as Justin rolled his eyes in frustration.  He wrinkled up his nose as he caught a whiff of Brian's breath.  "What have you been drinking, Brian?"  He couldn't believe he was having this inane conversation on his family's back porch.  He was scared that the longer he and Brian remained there, too, the more likely that someone would discover them.

 

Brian shrugged.  "Not sure.  It's not too tasty, but it gets the job done.  Found it in the basement."

 

"Oh, no," Justin murmured, realizing now why Brian was acting so out of it.  "Don't tell me you found Dale's stash of moonshine!  I thought they got rid of that shit!"  Jared used to regale him all the time with tales about how Dale was a consummate moonshine maker, and how the two of them had created an old still using some discarded car parts.  Jared, in fact, used to bring some of it home from time to time, unbeknownst to their parents, and hold it out to Justin like some prized possession.  Justin had actually taken a sip once, and had promptly spit it out, deciding that it tasted like a cross between rubbing alcohol and gasoline (well, if he had ever tasted gasoline; it smelled enough like it to no doubt be able to fuel a car).  Jared laughed at his reaction at the time, causing his face to turn bright red with a combination of anger and humiliation, but for whatever reason he had never told his parents about it.  Now he almost wished he had for a lot of reasons.

 

Brian hiccupped again.  "Is that what this is?  Damn!  It really has a kick!"  He brought the bottle back up to his lips to take another swig before he held it out to Justin.  "Try some, Speed Racer!"

 

"Oh, brother," Justin retorted over the new nickname as he reached over to grab the bottle away from him.

 

"Hey!" Brian protested a little too loudly as Justin held it away from his reach.  "Give that back!"

 

"Brian, will you keep it down?" Justin pleaded, expecting the back door to open any second.  Acting partly out of desperation, he clutched Brian's wrist and began to pull him off the porch away from the house; Brian stumbled slightly as he missed one the back porch steps and had to catch his balance as he and Justin reached the ground.  "So pushy," Brian murmured as he was half-walked, half-dragged toward the gate leading out to the dirt driveway.

 

Justin gazed upward as if seeking divine intervention as he continued to tug Brian as far away from the house as possible; not realizing his every move was being watched now by the darkened, angry eyes of his brother peering out from his own bedroom window upstairs.  Jared's mouth pressed into a firm line as he watched his brother and the boy he had become fixated upon slowly ambling toward the side of the barn; just before they turned the corner and disappeared behind it, he noticed Brian's arm slide around his brother's waist and pull him close.

 

"You little shit," Jared growled as his jealousy grew.  "You're just a means to an end, Justin; he's just using you to get what he didn't get from me."  He clutched the curtain tightly in his fist, his breathing rough and labored.  "Well, we'll just see about this, Squirt," he snapped as he turned around to shrug into his jeans.  Treading barefoot over to his door, he opened it to walk down the hallway to his parents' bedroom.

 

---

 

Their backs propped up against the split rail fence of the cow pasture, Brian took another swig from his bottle, his previous boisterousness at least temporarily tempered by his sudden fascination with all the thousands, if not millions, of stars twinkling above them.  He craned his neck as he cast his eyes upward and looked with lips partly open in astonishment at the blanket of lights above them.  "Where did they all come from?" he murmured philosophically as he gazed at them.

 

Justin grinned.  "They were there all the time," he replied, amused by the look of childlike wonder on Brian's face.  He had to speak up a little more loudly than normal to be heard over the choir of crickets chirping all around them.  "You just couldn't see them in the big, bad city."    A train whistle sounded mournfully off in the distance and Justin smiled.  "Do you hear that?" he asked as he held his breath to listen to it sound again.  "The train horn?"

 

Brian turned his head to look over at his companion; even in his inebriated state, he marveled at the beauty beside him.  He nodded his head.  "Hobos ride on them," he said unexpectedly as Justin erupted with a soft chuckle of amusement.  Brian thought it sounded almost magical.

 

"You've been reading too many urban legends," Justin scoffed softly.  He smiled again as the whistle sounded once more.  "I love the sound of a train horn," he told him as their shoulders touched.  "There's just something nostalgic about them, almost hypnotic.  It's peaceful in a way."  He eyed Brian sheepishly as the other boy wordlessly stared at him, knowing how weird that must sound.  "Do you know they have certain signals they use when they're passing crossings?  You can tell whether it's a long train or a short train by how many times they blow their signal, because they have to keep blowing them in intervals until the train has completely cleared."

 

"You know you almost glow under the moonlight?" Brian asked as Justin blushed to his roots at the unexpected compliment; apparently the corn liquor had succeeded in loosening Brian's lips as well as his inhibitions, because he knew he would never talk to him that way any other time.  He watched, wide-eyed, as Brian leaned in toward him as if he were about to kiss him, when all of a sudden he took another swig from his bottle instead. "I promised to sing to you," he remembered with a sort of 'oops' look on his face.

 

"No, no, that's okay," Justin hastily responded, but it was too late.  He watched as Brian hugged the bottle to his chest and looked up at the luminous moon above them before he opened his mouth and what could just barely pass as singing escaped his lips as he crooned at the top of his voice:

 

"Shine on, shine on, harvest moon, up in the sky!  I ain't had no lovin' since January, February, June or July!" 

Justin's eyes got big as saucers at the unexpected song choice as Brian continued to belt out his song:

 

"Don't make-a me wait too long...mffph!!"

"Shhh!" Justin hissed as he clamped his hand over Brian's mouth to muffle the noise; two cows several dozen feet away in the fenced-in pasture promptly began to moo in startled irritation and a dog could be heard barking somewhere off in the distance.  "Keep it down!  You'll wake everyone up!  I'm not supposed to be out here, Brian, and I'm sure neither are you!"

 

Brian shrugged Justin's hand away from his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest, still clutching his bottle, and stated flatly, "You're no fun."

 

Justin huffed.  "It has nothing to do with fun!  You're just now making headway with your uncle; do you want to jeopardize that?"

 

Brian's face brought out into a wide, almost smug grin as he said, "I bet you didn't know I'm a father."

 

Justin scoffed.   "What the fuck are you talking about, Brian?  How can you be a father?"

 

"I am," the older boy insisted.  "I'm the proud father of a 100-pound, bouncing, mooing, baby girl," he reported as he held his bottle out in tribute.  "Bottoms up," he said with a smirk as he took a swig and Justin blushed at the look he was giving him.  He frowned suddenly as he peered down, looking perplexed at his bottle as if he was just now realizing something.  "I should have milk."

 

"Wait a minute!" Justin exclaimed excitedly as Brian's words sunk in; he clutched his companion's sleeve as he asked, "Are you trying to tell me that Checkers finally had her calf?"

 

Brian nodded as he grimaced.  "Have you ever felt up the inside of a cow?  Shit; that must be what it feels like to do it with a girl."  His eyes traveled down the length of Justin's bare torso as he reached out and trailed one hand lightly down the middle of his sternum; he watched in fascination as Justin's muscles rippled under his touch.  "I much prefer to do it with someone like you."  His hand continued its downward travel toward the waistband of Justin's chinos as his hand curled around the fabric and he leaned in closer, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes locked on Justin's.  His eyes drifted to his mouth, particularly that tantalizing, full, lower lip...

 

Justin's heart began to pound; as much as he was attracted to this gorgeous, sexy boy, the words that Vic had quietly spoken to him earlier came filtering back to him; was this how he wanted his first time to be, a convenient avenue for a half-drunken, oversexed boy who was merely using him as a convenience?  But, God, he was so hot and the way he was looking at him sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through him.  At that moment, he wanted him so badly, but not this way.

 

"I'm flattered," Justin finally answered dryly as he caught Brian's roaming hand in his own and grasped it, unable to avoid noticing how warm it felt; as Brian's fingers curled around his hand, his couldn't help thinking what those talented fingers could do somewhere else.  God knows he had spent enough hours lying in bed at night wondering just that.  He stared into eyes that bored into his; their faces mere inches away from each other's.  Justin couldn't help reaching up to tentatively touch Brian's jawline, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the slightly-stubbled skin.  "But it won't be tonight," he finally said with a resigned sigh.

 

He pulled his hand away from Brian's surprised face and released his hand as he stood up, impulsively climbing up onto the split rail fence to look out over at the pasture land and put a little space between them; several dairy cows of various sizes, ages, and shapes quietly grazed or stood stock still under the moonlight nearby, the rolling hills behind them looking like earthbound rainbows with their curved, arched shapes.  This spot always gave him a certain amount of peace among his turmoil, but at the moment with Brian so near him, he found his heart pounding in reaction over what he had just done.  He wasn't sure if he had done it out of courage or stupidity.  What he DID know was that it wouldn't have taken much encouragement on his part for Brian to fulfill his most fervent wish - to know what it was like to be possessed body and soul by him - but he just couldn't allow that to happen with Brian in his current inebriated state.  When it did occur - and he desperately knew now that he wanted his first time to be with him - he didn't want it to be in the heat of passion with no substance or meaning behind it.

 

Brian sat there, his mouth agape as he watched Justin pull away from him and climb up on the fence; had he just rejected him again?  How much more was he willing to subject himself to at this younger boy's expense?  Just what was it about Justin that attracted him so to the point where he was even willing to put up with it?  All he knew was that he had to have him, one way or the other; he was more like some insatiable thirst now, and boy, was he out in the desert!  Sighing in frustration, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, leaving the half-drunk bottle lying neglected on its side as he walked over to his companion.  He placed his elbows on top of the fence as he stood there watching several cattle grazing among the grass or just standing there immobile like statues.  His eyes twinkled and his face broke out into a slow smile as a wondrous thought occurred to him.  "Justin?"

 

Justin turned his head to his left as he replied, "Yeah?" wondering what Brian wanted now; his body was aching for release after being so close to him, and this didn't help assuage it any.  He was suddenly afraid that he was about to be told to go to hell and get lost over the constant, insecure, mixed signals he was giving him.  But what Brian said next totally came out of left field.

 

"How do you tip a cow?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"You heard me.  Let's go cow tipping!" he cried out in glee with a big grin on his face.  He managed to climb up besides Justin and was about to scamper down onto the other side when Justin grabbed his upper arm in alarm.

 

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Brian?" he told him, his eyes wide with concern.  "You can't tip a cow; they weigh over a thousand pounds!  That's just an old wives' tale!"

 

"Humph," Brian huffed out, undeterred and unconvinced as he pulled out of Justin's clutches with surprising deftness and jumped down on the other side of the fence.  "Come on, Farm Boy!  Let's go round one of these doggies up!"  He lifted his hand as he pointed at the cows and began to count out, "Eenie, meenie, minie, mo, catch a heifer by the toe, uh, hoof.    My mother the bitch told me to pick YOU!"   And with that, he settled on a large, black and white bovine standing stock still approximately fifty feet away; from the immobile stance of the beast, it appeared he, or she - he couldn't tell which - was fast asleep on his feet...uh, hooves.

 

"No, Brian!" Justin called out to him as Brian began to stealthily creep over toward the cow.  "Don't do it; cows don't sleep standing up!" he warned him.  "Brian, listen to me..."

 

But, emboldened by a sense of either courage or stupidity, as well as fueled by his partially-drunken state, Brian continued to silently advance on his target as some of the other cows turned their heads in curiosity over their unexpected and unfamiliar visitor, their big eyes blinking as they studied him with wariness and suspicion.

 

Justin's hands gripped the top of the wooden fence tightly in fear as he watched like an observer about to see a train wreck; to his horror, one of the steers - the one 'affectionately' known as Diablo who had  the sharpest horns and the surliest of dispositions - slowly began to wander over in Brian's direction.  "Brian!" he hissed out urgently again.  "Get back over here, you idiot; you don't know what you're doing!"  God knows he and Jared had done their share of stupid things growing up - including the same stunt that Brian was attempting to pull right now - but they had learned the hard way that you could NOT tip a cow over.  All they had gotten from their attempt was a sore ass from the spanking their father had given both of them later when he had found out what they had done.  At least they had managed to escape with their dignity and their limbs intact that time.  Now it appeared, however, that Brian was going to possibly get a sore ass, too, though not from spanking.  He was afraid that it might be more of a spearing rather than spanking as he watched the steer picking up speed now as it headed closer to his prey.

 

Brian walked up to the apparently slumbering cow, bending over to look underneath at the udders as he seemed to weigh his options.  He rubbed his chin with his hand thoughtfully as he stood back up and surveyed his target.  It didn't look all that hard, he decided; all it would take was a good, hard push and a lot of luck.  Even in his less-than-sober state, though, he knew it was bad news to try and push it from the back; after all, he had seen enough of a cow's ass lately and those legs looked quite stocky and strong.  Deciding it was best to carry out his deed from the side, then, he walked around to the cow's flank and placed his hands, palm down, on the surprisingly muscled skin.  To his surprise, the cow that he thought was asleep turned his or her head, then, to look over at him as he (or she) shifted a little on hooved feet.

 

"Brian, look out!" Justin warned him as the steer started to pick up speed.  "Run, damn it!" he shouted now, not caring how many cows, dogs, or people heard him.  "Move!" he told him.  "Go!" he screamed in terror.

 

He watched, unable to turn away, as Brian finally realized there was an angry animal charging directly for him.  His eyes bugged out as he hid behind the other cow as long as he could like a child playing tag behind a tree until the animal was only a few feet away and, adrenalin pumping through his veins, he took off like a shot toward the fence.

 

"Hurry, Brian!" Justin yelled as the steer began to gain on him.  "Come on!" He urged him as he held his hand out and motioned for him to speed up.  He leaned down as Brian approached, thinking he could try and give him a hand up; all the while, the steer began to actually trot now, his hoofs reverberating in the still, night air.  Justin knew it if was colder, he would see the steam rising from the beast's flared nostrils in anger as he kept advancing, faster and faster.

 

Brian risked a quick look over his shoulder as he continued running as fast as he could, hoping his previous experience in high school track would serve him well now; he could see the animal gaining on him and he wondered fleetingly if he would make it as his lungs threatened to burst from the alcohol-infused exertion.  He didn't have time to dwell on that now, though, as he concentrated instead on Justin's face etched with fear as the boy motioned furiously with his right hand for him to keep running.

 

Finally, just as the steer seemed to be gaining on him and he tilted his head forward with the intention of spearing him squarely in the ass, Brian ran up and grabbed the top of the fence next to Justin and climbed up, bumping his head as he somehow hoisted himself over the top like a pole vaulter just seconds before the animal came up short on the other side, snorting and huffing in fury at being thwarted.

 

Justin's heart pounded in fear as he twisted his body around and landed on his ass several feet away from Brian on the ground, his chest heaving from the near encounter.  He lay there for a few seconds to catch his breath before he finally rose to a sitting position, bracing his upper body by his elbows as he looked over at Brian who lay still and motionless nearby.  "Brian?" he called out tentatively.  "Are you all right?"  He had noticed Brian hitting his head as he had scampered over the fence; had he knocked himself out somehow?  "Brian, can you hear me?" he asked, but he received no response; only the sound of the thousands of crickets continuing to chirp, the herd of cows occasionally mooing, and the frustrated steer still huffing on the other side of the fence could be heard as he rose and crawled over to Brian's side on his hands and knees.

 

Brian was lying there on his back with his hands flung out to his sides, his eyes closed.  Justin's heart stopped as he dropped down next to Brian and shook him by the upper arms; he couldn't see any rise and fall of breath from his chest.  Alarmed, he began to shake him a little more urgently, but still there was no response.  "Oh, my God!  Brian!  Can you hear me?"  He turned his head to place his cheek close to Brian's partly-open mouth, but he couldn't feel any air caressing his skin; there was no noticeable inhaling or exhaling from the other boy's chest.  "Brian, talk to me!" he urged him in desperation as he shook him one more time, but again, there was nothing.

 

Finally, not knowing exactly what to do, he frantically thought back to the CPR training he had received in junior high school as he reached with his right hand to grasp Brian's chin and tilt his head back; reaching in first with his finger to make sure there wasn't anything stuck in Brian's throat, he placed his hands back down on the other boy's shoulders and firmly sealed his lips over Brian's, forcing air into his windpipe.  Taking a brief respite to pull back from the soft, warm mouth, he plunged back in, again transferring his breath into Brian.  He was so focused on what he was doing that it took his brain a few seconds to register the arms that slowly wrapped themselves around his back as they pushed him down against Brian's chest; Brian's lips suddenly came to life as he plunged his tongue inside Justin's mouth and began to kiss him passionately.

 

Justin's eyes bulged in realization soon afterward as he used his leverage on Brian's shoulders to launch himself away from him with an indignant sputter.  "You!" he cried out. "You... You asshole!" he exclaimed as he twisted his body away from Brian, his lips tingling from the kiss.  Brian chuckled at his reaction then, which only made him madder.  "You did that on purpose!" he snarled.  "I...I thought you were really hurt!"  He shoved Brian then in anger as he sat on his knees before propelling himself into a standing position.

 

Brian laughed at the petulant look on Justin's face.  "Come on, Justin!  Can't you take a joke?  Damn, that was fun!"

 

Justin folded his arms over his chest.  "Ha, ha, yeah, very funny, Brian!  Oh, but wait!  I'm not laughing!"  He twirled around and began to stomp back down toward the farm, not even glancing a look backward; Brian, hesitating only briefly as he decided to leave his prized, half-consumed bottle of moonshine behind, hurriedly rose to his feet and began to rush after him, stumbling a little as he went as he realized his equilibrium wasn't quite stable at the moment.

 

"Justin... Wait up!  Don't be such a sissy!"  Oops, he thought as Justin seemed to speed up.  Perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say...

"Go back to your aunt and uncle's, Brian!" Justin yelled over his shoulder, feeling humiliated that he had agreed to go with Brian in the first place.  At that moment, he felt more like Solomon, the Walkers' loyal beagle trotting sappily after his master, than an intelligent, independent, man... Well, almost a man, anyway.

 

Brian rolled his eyes as he continued to struggle to catch up with him; apparently Justin was pretty damn fast OFF a horse, too.  "You're being ridiculous, Justin!  Don't tell me you didn't think that wasn't funny!  And don't tell me you didn't enjoy that kiss, either; I KNOW better!"

 

"Don't flatter yourself!" Justin yelled back, unable to resist taking part in their verbal parrying; Brian just made him so damn mad sometimes.  One step forward, two steps back... "Go home and sleep it off!"

 

"Okay, I will!" Brian retorted as he stopped short and defiantly folded his hands over his chest; he pursed his lips tightly together in longing as he couldn't avoid watching Justin - and his delectable, perfectly-rounded ass - continuing to get farther and farther away from him as he continued down the dirt road back to his house.  Yes, he could go out and find practically anyone to fuck tonight if he really wanted to satisfy the physical urges he was feeling - at least if he was willing to walk into what comprised a TOWN around here to find someone.  Or he could even go snag that asshole brother of Justin's, Jared, out of his bed, no doubt, and fulfill the other boy's fantasies; that would sort of be poetic justice where Justin was concerned.  But at that moment, he only wanted ONE 'fantasy' - the reality of fucking Justin Taylor senseless, over and over again.  Something told him that one time with this irascible, stubborn, and thoroughly fascinating boy would never be enough.  But he still drove him absolutely crazy, too!

 

"Have it your way, Taylor!" he shouted back as Justin shook his head in aggravation.  "No problem!  I'll find someone else to go to sleep WITH!"  With a huff of defeat, Brian promptly took a left turn and began to walk back toward his aunt and uncle's property, his lack of success having a somewhat sobering effect on him.  He let out a heavy breath as he turned around just long enough to see Justin proceeding toward his own house.  Well, that turned out well, he thought with a grimace.  Why did he always do that to this other boy?  Justin had been nothing but kind to him as well as honest.  He had encountered enough virgins - and he was sure at this point that this was, indeed, the case with Justin - to know that they could be uncertain of themselves and possess sentimental, sappy notions about their 'first time.'  So why was he making it so hard on him?  Was it because he knew for once in his life that he actually CARED about the other boy's feelings and he knew that for someone like Justin the circumstances would mean a lot to him?  "Shit," he muttered as he raked one hand through his hair and sighed.  "Why did I have to get involved with HIM?" he wondered as he slowly made his way back to his aunt and uncle's house; except for the moonlight and stars above, the house was surrounded by total darkness in the early morning hour.   Walking up to the back gate, he lifted the old-fashioned, metal bar to unlock it and made his way up to the back door.  Luckily finding it still unlocked from when he had left before, he slipped inside; ten minutes later, lulled partly by the high-alcohol-content liquor he had ingested and his impromptu track dash to the fence to escape from Diablo, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a particularly vexing but beautiful boy.

 

---

 

Justin sighed as he continued walking back to the house, still trying to decide if he had done the right thing by rejecting Brian's obvious invitation to fuck.  But that was the problem, he supposed; it had been an offer to fuck, and with Brian half-inebriated to boot.  What sort of first time would that be?  How memorable would it be, to know that he had had sex for the first time with a guy who most likely wouldn't even recall what they had done the next day?  He had to admit, though; it had hurt when Brian suggested that he would go find someone else to take care of his needs.  Just the idea that the boy he was so infatuated with would think so little of him to go find someone else at a moment's notice only solidified his feeling that he had been right not to follow through on what his body - and his heart - was so desperately wanting him to do.

 

Brian could be such a conundrum at times; cocky, rebellious, headstrong (just like his horse), arrogant, and outrageously independent and uncaring of what others might do or think.  At times, though, he would show just a glimmer to him of someone else:  vulnerable, caring, funny, and even uncertain of himself.  It was that Brian that he was quickly becoming irrevocably attracted to, and it was that version that he so desperately wanted to be with for his first time.  The big question was:  which Brian Kinney WAS he?  The one he projected himself to be to others, or the one he allowed himself to be when he showed just a small, other part of him?  "Will the real Brian Kinney please stand up?" he murmured wearily as he walked up to the back, white-picket fence gate and let himself in.

 

Walking up the steps to the house a few seconds later, he was about to grasp the round, metal knob of the back screen door when the exterior door suddenly opened and he found himself peering into the instantly recognizable silhouette of his father.  A light came on over the kitchen table immediately afterward, and he could see his mother peering over anxiously at him, concern creased across her forehead.  His father opened the screen door and it was then that he saw his brother joining their mother's side at the table, a sort of satisfied smirk on his face.

 

"Justin," Craig said with deadly calm, his eyes cold and steely as he scrutinized his son's bare-chested appearance.  "Come in and sit down - NOW."

 

---

 

Justin swallowed at the hard tone in his father's voice as he slid past his rigid form and walked the few feet over to the kitchen table to sit down across from his brother.  Jared glared at him haughtily as their father closed the back door and walked over to sit down opposite Jen at the end of the table.

 

"Where have you been, Justin?" he asked quietly, a vein throbbing in his neck.  Jared had awakened both him and Jen up approximately an hour ago to tell them that their youngest son had left the house with the Kinney boy for parts unknown; not only that, but the other boy apparently had a bottle of booze with him.

 

Justin shifted his eyes nervously over to his mother, who it seemed like was deliberately avoiding his gaze; not a good sign.  "I... I took a walk," he finally said as he thought he heard his brother snort under his breath.

 

"You took a walk," Craig repeated slowly.  "Without your shirt?  Who were you with?" he asked as his eyes bored into his son's.

 

Justin looked over at his brother, who had a slight, smug-looking smile on his face, and in that instant he knew; somehow Jared must have seen him and Brian walking away from the house earlier, and he had wasted no time letting their father and mother know about it.   Knowing that it was no use to lie about it, he turned to look at his father as he admitted. "I was with Brian. And it was hot out."

 

Craig's face darkened in anger; somehow he knew the Walkers' nephew would be trouble from the moment he saw him.

 

Jared snickered at the double entendre.  "Yeah, I'll bet 'it' was hot, all right; see, I told you!" he interjected, stoking the tendrils of suspicion even more.

 

"You asshole!" Justin snapped at him, furious that his brother would rat on him.  What happened to the times when they used to stand up for each other?

 

"Justin, I will NOT tolerate that sort of language in this household," Craig told him sternly as he brushed his hand through his hair in annoyance.  "Apologize to your brother right now."

 

"I will NOT!" he protested to his father's shock, his eyes flashing.  "He uses the same language to ME when you're not around!"

 

Jared grinned over at him unbeknownst to their father, thoroughly enjoying his younger brother's predicament.  "No, I don't," he argued, issuing an outright lie.

 

"Jared, please, you are not helping," Jennifer told him as she held up her hand in an attempt to get her two sons to stop.  "Why don't you go back to bed?  We'll handle this."

 

Jared's grin faded in disappointment; that was not what he had in mind.  He wanted to hear every marvelous detail regarding his brother's punishment, because he was certain it was forthcoming.  "But..."

 

"Craig," Jennifer called out her husband's name as a call for backup, hoping he would at least see the reason in her request and agree with her.  There was no need now for Jared to stay; it would merely be a way for her son to taunt his brother even more, she was sure of it.  The least she could do was see that Justin didn't have to sit there and feel humiliated as a result.  "Tell him to go to bed."  She eyed him unflinchingly as she waited for him to respond.

 

Craig grunted slightly, a little put out that his wife - his subordinate - was trying to at least indirectly give him an order.  But he knew what Jared was trying to do, and while Justin was clearly out of line to sneak out of the house to meet up with that Kinney boy, there was no real reason for him to remain simply to antagonize him.  "You heard your mother, Jared," he finally stated brusquely.

 

Jared huffed indignantly as his mouth hung open slightly in disbelief.  "But I was the one..."

 

"Do it," Craig told him tersely.  "Don't make me say it again."  The unspoken 'or else' hung there, heavy and thick with tension, as Jared glared over at his brother before he stood up and pushed the chair back roughly, away from the table.

 

"Fine," he bit out as he looked over at his brother, his jealousy still eating away at him like an acid.  "But don't think you're going to squirm out of this one, Mr. High and Mighty."  Jennifer sighed in frustration over her older son's attitude before he turned and stomped down the hallway; several seconds later, there was a slamming of his bedroom door before silence once more reigned at the table. It was an edgy, anxiety-driven silence, however, before anyone spoke up again.  This time, however, it was Jennifer who spoke as she reached out and grasped Justin's hand in hers from across the table.

 

"Justin, do you want to tell us why you sneaked out of the house to meet up with the Walkers' nephew?"

 

Justin bristled at the word.  "I didn't sneak out of the house," he corrected her as he pulled his hand away from hers and placed both of his under the table in his lap.

 

"Then how would you describe it, Justin?" Craig pressed.  "You don't normally make it a habit to take a stroll at midnight wearing only your pants and sneakers, do you?"   At least his son had been wearing that, he thought.

 

"Craig..."

 

"No, let me finish, Jennifer," Craig told his wife as he held his hand up for control.  He stared over at his son, who eyed him back defiantly, his arms now crossed over his bare chest.  "I can't wait to hear how you wound up outside with that other boy, Justin, especially when you knew you had to be up early tomorrow - or should I say today now - to practice with Headstrong.  What were you thinking?"

 

Justin huffed, suddenly feeling like he was some serf working off his debt.  "I wasn't planning on going outside," he told him stiffly.  How was he going to explain this without getting himself - and Brian - in more trouble?  Perhaps just a bit of a white lie was in order.  "Brian helped deliver Checkers' cow this afternoon for his uncle," he explained.  "And he was having trouble sleeping tonight after all the excitement, so he walked over here to see if I wanted to join him outside."

 

"Join him outside to do what?  And how did you know he was there to begin with?  Were you waiting for him somehow?"

 

"No, I wasn't waiting for him," he told his parents as he rolled his eyes in aggravation.  "He... he came over and threw some pebbles at my window to get my attention."

 

Jennifer couldn't help covering her mouth in amusement as Justin described the Romeo-and-Juliet type greeting; it was quite charming in a way, she decided; kind of like an old-fashioned wooing.  But somehow she had an idea that neither her son nor the Walkers' nephew would appreciate having their tryst thought of in that way.  And something told her that was exactly what it had been; this Kinney boy was obviously smitten with her son.

 

"This isn't funny, Jennifer," Craig reprimanded her sternly as his eyes bored into his insolent son's.  "Just what were you and Kinney doing tonight, Justin?  Was there drinking involved?"

 

Damn you, Jared, Justin thought scornfully.  Obviously he had been the source of that information.  "No, I wasn't drinking," he told his father, which was true as far as it went.

 

Unfortunately, however, Craig wasn't settling for that ambiguous answer.  "What about Kinney?"

 

"What about him?"

 

"Don't be a smart aleck, Justin; answer the question!" Craig yelled as Jennifer reached over to grab his arm in a silent bid to get him to calm down.  Craig took a deep breath and let it out before he asked a little more quietly, "Was Kinney drinking tonight or not?"

 

Shit.  Justin looked over to his mother now for support, but to his dismay he didn't find any.  "Just answer the question, Honey," she urged him with a sympathetic gaze. "The Walkers have a right to know, since he's staying with them."

 

Justin pressed his lips into a tight line and sat there fuming for a few seconds as he pondered what to say.  Should he tell his parents they were wrong and that Brian hadn't been drinking?  If he told them that, however, he had a good suspicion that his father would call over to the Walkers right now - late hour be damned - and verify it for himself.  If he did, it would be obvious from Brian's state that he had, indeed, discovered Dale's old stash of moonshine.  Jared had to have seen the liquor bottle, also, so they would know that one of them was lying anyway.  He sighed; it appeared there was no way around it; he only had to hope that Brian's aunt and uncle wouldn't come down too hard on him when they DID find out.  Even though he and Brian had parted on less-than-amicable terms earlier, he still cared about him.  Damn it.

He let out a breath before he admitted, "Yeah.  Okay.   Brian had a few drinks.  What's the big deal?"

 

"What's the big deal?" Craig yelled, incredulous.  "He's underage, Justin!  Where did he even get the stuff?"

 

Justin was tempted to tell him that he didn't know, but he also knew his father wouldn't quit until he found out.  Perhaps it wasn't too late to right one particular wrong, however.  "He apparently found some of Dale's old moonshine stash down in the Walkers' basement," he divulged.  "You know; the corn liquor that he and Jared concocted out of some of his old car parts a few years ago?"

 

Jennifer gasped in shock.  "What?"

 

Justin gazed over at them in satisfaction; if Brian was going down with the sinking ship, then so was Jared.  "You heard me.  Jared was the one who found all the spare parts that Dale needed to make the still in the first place; they hid it out in the storage shed behind an old tarp and dragged it out whenever Dale's father had to go into town for supplies.  They sometimes used it after dark, too, when everyone else was asleep, and hid all the bottles downstairs in an old pantry cupboard that Mrs. Walker wasn't using anymore."

 

Craig's eyes narrowed in suspicion.   "How do YOU know all that, Justin?"

 

"Because Jared told me," he replied firmly, leaving no doubt that he was telling the truth.  "In fact, he was really proud of it at the time.  He even showed me a few bottles and let me take a sip; I hated the taste, though, and that was the last time I tried any.  Jared seemed to really like it, though," he added just for good measure.

 

"And just why would he trust you not to tell us?" Craig pointed out.

 

"Come on, Dad!  Back when it happened, I was thirteen years old.  I didn't know what a jerk Jared was until later."

 

"Justin..."

 

"Well, it's true, Mom!  Besides, who would you have believed?  Me or Jared?"

 

"You could have come to us, Justin..." Jennifer assured him, although there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that perhaps he was right; back then, Jared could do no wrong, at least in Craig's eyes.  If he would have denied Justin's allegations, there was a good - better than good - chance that Craig would have believed Jared over him.

 

"We'll discuss that with your brother tomorrow," Craig told him.  "And don't think I won't talk to the Walkers about this, either; and starting right now, except for participating in the race this coming Saturday and doing your chores, you're grounded for the next month and you're forbidden to see this Kinney boy at all during that time; no outdoor activities, no horseback riding, no town social, no swimming, no ATV riding, period.  Do you understand?"

 

Justin's mouth fell open.  Hell, no!  "I won't do it," he stated flatly to his father's astonishment.

 

"What did you say?" he growled as Jennifer's eyes widened in surprise.

 

"I said no.  Brian didn't do anything wrong, and I actually had some fun for a change!  You can't forbid me to see him."

 

"Oh, yes, we can!" Craig countered.  "Either you do as we say or..."

 

"Or what, Dad?" Justin replied, his own voice rising in anger.  "You'll lock me up in my room for the next month so I can't do anything or be 'exposed' to Brian's bad influence?  Fine.  You do that.  And, oh, in the meantime, find someone else to race Headstrong while you're at it, too."

 

Jennifer's eyes widened at the almost threatening tone of her normally easygoing son's voice.  "Justin..."

 

"No, no, Jen, I want to make sure I heard him right," Craig said as he raised his hand and interrupted her. "What did you just say?"

 

"I said... Okay.  Go ahead and ground me, Dad.  But if I'm confined to my room for the next month, I won't be riding in any races, either."

 

"Is that so?" Craig challenged him, thinking his son would back down like he normally did.   "If you don't, you'll be confined to your room for the entire month without so much as a piece of paper or a crayon to keep you amused!  Is that what you want?"

 

"Craig, enough!" Jennifer lashed out then as Justin's face turned red with anger; she was unable to sit still any longer, especially at the mention of depriving their son of what he loved the most.   "I thought we had talked about this," she reminded him, thoroughly annoyed.   She wasn't quite convinced that Brian was totally harmless and wouldn't be a bad influence on her son, but it was obvious that Justin cared for him and from what Sarah had been telling her, he didn't sound like such a bad kid.

 

Craig's brow furrowed.  "What are you talking about, Jen?  I'm talking about Justin disobeying us."

 

Justin tried to open his mouth to protest that he had done no such thing - was there a 'lights-out' curfew in the house that he hadn't been told about? - but he didn't get the chance.

 

"How did he disobey us, Craig?  Justin's done everything that we have asked of him; he's worked out with Headstrong religiously, done all of his chores as requested, and even helped out the Walkers with their cow as well as done most of the repainting of the fence.  So he crept out of the house to meet up with Brian, who asked him to come outside.  And he's admitted that Brian stole some of Dale's old moonshine from the Walkers' basement.  As I recall, Craig Taylor, you, too, had a taste of some of the same kind of stuff when YOU were underage, too.  Did that make you a criminal or an immoral person?"

 

Craig bristled at her tone of voice.  "That's different," he maintained stiffly.

 

Justin, meanwhile, continued to sit there with his hands crossed over his chest as he listened attentively to his parents battling it out over him.

 

"How is it different, Craig?  What exactly has our son done wrong?"

 

Craig sputtered in indignation.  "It's different, Jen, because he's associating with a known felon!"

 

"Oh, for..." Justin growled in protest then, but Jen held up her hand for him to wait, and he followed her direction.

 

 "For God's sake, Craig!  You make the Kinney boy sound like he's been doing hard time for robbery and assault!  He's a nineteen-year-old-kid who, from what Sarah told me, made a mistake.  He's trying to make up for that now by helping them rather than languishing in a jail cell somewhere, and from what she told me, he's been a big help to them.   I admit that perhaps he's maybe not the best role model for Justin to emulate, but..."

 

Craig laughed as he shook his head.  "Role model?  Yeah, he's a role model, all right!"

 

"Uh, excuse me?" Justin finally interceded as held his hands up by his sides, unable to stand it anymore.  "I'm still in the room, remember?  And you can do what you want with me, Dad; and so can I.  I'm not some little kid who will cower at your feet; you might be able to keep me locked up in my room, but you can't sit my ass down on that sulky seat and make me race.  And Jared isn't exactly blameless in this whole thing, either; if he and Dale hadn't made that booze in the first place, Brian wouldn't have found it.  So how are you going to punish him?  Or will it just be me as usual?"

 

Craig's nostrils flared in anger.  "Watch your mouth, Justin!" he yelled, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand as he felt a headache coming on.  This insubordination from his youngest son had taken him aback; when did Justin develop such a backbone for standing up for himself?  As much as he loathed admitting it, though, his son was right.  He had him over a barrel; if he grounded him, he would refuse to race, and if he did that, any prize money which they frequently won would be down the drain, and so would this farm.  And while his wife had more sentimental ties to it than he did, he still didn't want to wind up out on the street somewhere, penniless and homeless, which was a distinct possibility without their youngest son's prize money.  Jared certainly couldn't ride; he was much too big-boned and heavy for sulky riding, and not coordinated enough.  And besides, Headstrong hated him with a passion; he won't let him anywhere near him and starts to chuff and paw the ground if he tries to approach him.

 

He sighed in defeat as Justin glared back at him without blinking.  "You know I still don't trust that boy..."

 

Justin knew the sound of capitulation when he heard it as he tried hard not to smile in triumph.  Cha-ching!  "I'm not asking you to trust him; I'm asking you to trust ME."

 

"He's right, Craig; Justin has never given us any trouble or any cause to distrust him.  There was no harm done here, except that our son needs to get a little more sleep in preparation for Red Mill.  And Brian's not the first one to experience the joys of moonshine - right?" Jennifer asked pointedly, remembering when her husband used to regale her with tales of him sneaking out behind his childhood home to check out the next-door neighbor's moonshine-making capabilities, much like Brian had done tonight. Only he apparently hadn't been directly involved with making it - unlike their other son.  Which led her to another matter...

 

"Are we going to just let this go, then, Craig?  It's really late as it is, and I'm sure Justin will work at getting to bed at a reasonable hour tomorrow - after the town social, that is."  She made no mistake from the tone of her voice that ALL the family would be attending, including Justin.  Something told her that wild horses - or surly fathers in his case - couldn't keep him away, especially with Brian reportedly coming with his aunt and uncle.  "Craig?" she repeated when her husband just sat there glumly.

 

He rolled his eyes, wondering how something so black and white had changed all of a sudden.  "Yes, all right!" he agreed to Justin's delight.  "But you promise me, Justin, that you will NOT let that Kinney boy drag you into something illegal or dangerous, you understand?"

 

Does cow tipping count? Justin couldn't help thinking as he recalled Brian's escapade earlier.  He thought it was best that he not mention that, but there was ONE other matter that needed to be settled.  "Okay," he agreed.  "But I'm not going to stop seeing or talking to him.  And I don't want you getting him into trouble with his aunt and uncle, either; he did nothing wrong."

 

"Well, I tend to disagree with that," Craig retorted, but he knew Justin would follow through on his vow not to race if he did tell them.  "But all right," he said through gritted teeth.  "I will keep quiet about it as long as he doesn't pull you into any more of his schemes."

 

Justin shook his head; not agreeing with his father's choice of words, but it would have to do; at least Brian wouldn't be penalized for his foray into the wonders of homemade booze.  "And what about Jared?"

 

"Jared?"  Craig replied dumbly, even though he suspected he knew what Justin meant.

 

"Yes, Jared, the one who helped make the moonshine in the first place.   He's really good at tattling on me and Brian, but what's his punishment going to be?"

 

"That was years ago, Justin!" Craig pointed out as Jennifer sighed in disgust over yet another example of her husband's favoritism; she had hoped after their last talk that some of it had sunk in, but apparently not enough.  At the sound of his wife's disapproval, Craig sighed heavily.  "All right, all right; I'll talk to him."

 

"You'll talk to him," Justin repeated, figuring where THAT would lead:  nowhere.  What a surprise.

 

"Yes, Justin, I will talk to him; what more do you expect?" he asked in exasperation.

 

Justin scooted back from the table.  "Nothing more than what I always get," he replied softly.  He looked over at his mother's face - a mixture of sympathy and disappointment over his father's response - before he turned and walked away.

 

---

 

At the sound of his brother's footsteps coming down the hall, Jared quickly stood up from his seated position at the top of the steps and hurried back to his room, having closed the door earlier but electing to stay within earshot of the events downstairs.  As he quietly opened and then closed it behind him, he stood there in simmering contemplation, his face dark with anger.  His plan to get his brother away from the Walkers' nephew had failed abysmally; in fact, it appeared now that HE might be the one in trouble.  Well, he wasn't too worried; his father would give him the customary and obligatory 'you shouldn't have done that' slap on the wrist before things would go back to normal.   Now all he had to do was formulate another plan to keep his brother away from Kinney.

 

He smiled as he remembered his mother telling him earlier at the kitchen table that Emmett, that obnoxious lapdog nephew of Vic's, was coming back to visit.  When he had heard, it had just made his mood even MORE sour; now, however, he decided that he might as well use the boy's adoration of him to his advantage.  He smirked.  Game on, Squirt.                  

 

 

 

 

 

Morning - 6:00 a.m.

At first Brian thought the clanging noise he was hearing was coming from inside his head, but after several seconds he finally realized it was actually coming from the old fashioned, Big Ben clock ringing beside his bed.  Groaning in disbelief that it was time to get up already, he turned on his side just enough to reach over and slam his palm down onto the top of the clock to quiet it; picking it up, he flung it violently across the room for good measure.

 

Struggling to rise from the bed, he clamped his head between his hands as he sat up with his back against the headboard, trying desperately to clear the fogginess from his brain.  He had a bitch of a headache, too - no doubt brought on by the moonshine he had sampled, well more than sampled last night.  That, and the fact that he hadn't gotten into bed until 2:00 a.m.

 

"Fuck," he muttered as he finally managed to twist his body around and place his bare feet on the cold, wooden floor.  Taking a few moments to try and calm the pounding in his head, he shuffled over in his briefs toward the bedroom door and out into the hallway to head toward the bathroom, hoping like hell that his aunt and uncle stocked some extra-strength aspirin in their medicine cabinet.  He didn't pause to consider how much he had changed since he had come to live here - before he would have just stayed in bed until he damned well pleased, hoping to sleep off his hangover; now here he was at 6 am., plodding into the bathroom to take a shower before he went out to do his chores.  When had he actually started caring about taking hold of his responsibilities?

 

---

 

Emerging from a hot shower fifteen minutes later, Brian felt somewhat better, but quickly downed the three aspirin he had thankfully found in the porcelain medicine cabinet with a generous cup of water, hoping that along with the shower it would ease the throbbing in his temples.

 

Arriving in the kitchen soon afterward, his uncle peered over at him curiously as he put the seed catalog he was perusing down on the table.  "What happened to you?" he asked bluntly.  "You look like death warmed over."

 

Brian collapsed into the chair on the other end as Sarah walked up and poured him a cup of coffee from the old-fashioned percolator she still used.  "I feel like it, too," he admitted.  But he wasn't about to confess that he had been out late last night boozing it up with Justin.  Somehow the tenuous truce he had managed to obtain between him and his uncle didn't provide him with enough confidence to believe that he would look too kindly upon what he had done.  Instead, he sought out another explanation that would make sense.  "I get migraines sometimes, and had one last night.  Still have it, in fact."  There, that sounded good, he thought to himself.

 

"Oh, that's too bad," Sarah cooed at him sympathetically as she placed the coffeepot down on a potholder and took her place next to Brian.  "Is there some kind of medicine I can get for you?  My father used to get those sometimes, too; he always said if he lay down in a quiet, dark room it helped to ease the pain.  Maybe you shouldn't work outside today; it's supposed to be sunny, and I hear that can make it worse."

 

To his surprise, Brian heard his uncle say gruffly, "Maybe that would be best."  Did he actually hear that right? Was his uncle really concerned about his well-being?  To his amazement, that thought actually made him feel a little guilty.

 

"No," he mumbled softly.  "It's okay.  I took some aspirin earlier that I found upstairs in the medicine cabinet.  That should help.  I'll still do my chores."

 

Sarah eyed him thoughtfully as Will nodded. Rising from his chair, Will leaned down unexpectedly to give Sarah a quick peck on the cheek as she flushed in pleasure at the gesture.  "I'll be out in the barn, then, feeding the animals.  Make sure Brian eats before he joins me; it's not a good idea to take medicine on an empty stomach."  Walking over to grab his favorite baseball cap off a hook located near the back door, he opened the squeaky screen door and disappeared, the lightweight door banging behind him.

 

"Oatmeal with fresh blueberries and some homemade wheat toast okay for today?" Sarah asked as Brian nodded with a slight smile of gratitude.

 

"Yeah, that's fine," he told her as he took a large sip of his black coffee, not caring at the moment that there was no sugar in it.  He just wanted something, anything, to help quell the feeling of miniature jackhammers still clanging around in his head.

 

Sarah nodded as she walked over to the stove where she already had the oatmeal warming on a front burner.  Ladling up a generous amount of the sticky, hot cereal, she grabbed two pieces of her homemade wheat bread that had been pre-sliced before Brian came down and popped them into the toaster.  Placing the oatmeal down in front of her nephew a few seconds later, she pushed the small bowl of fresh blueberries over toward him as he smiled at the irony.

 

"Those look vaguely familiar," he told her dryly as she grinned back at him.  He reached over to spoon some on top of his cereal and sprinkle some sugar on top from a glass jar with holes in it before he closed his eyes and placed his fingers back on his temples.  The pain had abated somewhat, but it was still quite extreme.  He had learned his lesson - between falling off the damn fence last night and imbibing in way too much corn liquor, he felt like shit.  The only redeeming part of the night had been spending time with Justin, although that hadn't quite gone the way he had hoped, either.  And why did he have this nagging feeling that he had been singing, for fuck's sake?  Surely he had merely dreamed that up.

 

"Are you sure you're up to doing your chores this morning?" Sarah asked quietly in concern.  Brian was normally quite meticulous in the way he dressed in a sort of 'bad-boy confronts the farm' manner.  Today, however, there were distinct bags under his eyes, his hair was mussed up like he hadn't combed it in days, and his clothes looked like the same ones he had worn yesterday.   Of course, her husband, who would never have been considered a fashion plate by any means, apparently hadn't even noticed.

 

Brian nodded as he slowly opened his eyes.  "Yeah, I'll be okay," he told her as he stared over at her thoughtfully.  There was just something about this woman that made him do things he would have never thought of doing before.  "Aunt Sarah?"

 

"Yes, Brian?" she asked, her brow furrowing in curiosity.  She thought her nephew looked decidedly confused, hesitant or both.

 

"I have a confession to make."

 

Sarah lifted an eyebrow.  "Oh?  Okay."  Whatever it was, she fervently hoped it wasn't something bad; she felt that Brian had just now started becoming more comfortable living with them.  The last thing she wanted to hear was that he was in some kind of trouble again.

 

Brian sighed.  "I do have a hell of a, uh,...a really bad headache," he corrected himself as she nodded, thinking that was the confession, although Brian had already told her that.  "...But it's not because I have a migraine."

 

She eyed him in surprise.  "It's not?"  Brian shook his head as he gazed down at his quickly-cooling oatmeal; he hadn't touched a bite yet.  "Then why did you say that it was?"  She crooked one side of her mouth up in epiphany just then, as it came to her; of course.  "Because you didn't want your uncle to know the real reason."

 

Brian inhaled a deep breath to calm himself before he blew it back out between his parted lips.  He nodded.

 

"So what IS the real reason, Brian?"

 

"Well, you remember yesterday when you asked me to put all those berries in the freezer downstairs?"  Sarah nodded.  "Well, I did a little exploring, and I opened up that old, white metal cabinet down there."

 

Sarah frowned.  "You mean that rusty old thing in the corner?"  Brian nodded.  "It's been so long since I've opened that I don't even remember what's in there."

 

"You don't?"

 

Sarah shook her head.  "Last I recall Will was going to store some old canning jars in there that we don't use anymore.  They were the pint-size ones, and I always can with the quart-size jars now.  Is that what you found?"   She still had no idea what this had to with Brian's headache.

 

Brian hesitated.  "Well...I found glass containers in there, all right, but they sure didn't have green beans or corn in them - at least not the solid type of corn, anyway."  He looked over at her meaningfully for several seconds until Sarah's face lit up with realization.

 

"No..." she murmured in shock as her face turned pale.

 

Brian frowned.  "Aunt Sarah?  Are you okay?"

 

"He told me he was going to destroy those," she whispered painfully.  "Will...why did you lie to me?"

 

"I don't understand," Brian told her in confusion.  "It was just some corn liquor - at least that's what Justin told me it was last night."

 

Sarah was the one who frowned now as Brian's words sunk in.  "Justin? What does this have to do with Justin?"

 

Brian averted his eyes in awkwardness and idly stirred his spoon in his oatmeal as he admitted, "That's the other part I needed to tell you about.  I...I took two bottles of the liquor out of the cabinet and brought them upstairs to try later.  I hid them in the broom closet in the hall.  Once you and Uncle Will went to bed, I came downstairs and took them out and walked outside to try a sip.  One taste led to another and another...until I came up with the idea to go pay Justin a call."  Shit, he thought as he grimaced over his choice of words.  Now I'm even starting to SOUND like one of them!

Sarah covered her mouth with her hand so Brian wouldn't see her smiling over that statement.  She had the feeling all along that Brian was falling for the young man; that pretty much just cinched it in her opinion.  Her nephew seemed to be bringing his name up quite a bit lately.   "Well, I know moonshine can make you do some things you might not otherwise do," she told him diplomatically.  "What happened?"

 

Brian shrugged as he met her gaze.  "Nothing much.  We walked up to the cow pasture and sat on top of the fence for a while and talked.  Oh, and I tried my hand at some cow-tipping."  He wasn't about to admit to her about the kiss he and Justin had shared, or that he might have been singing, though; he honestly wasn't sure he had done that even, but he remembered the cow-tipping part of his adventure quite vividly.  "I found out that steers aren't very playful."

 

Sarah's eyes threatened to burst out of their sockets.  "You what?!  Brian, you can't tip a cow, especially a steer!  That's dangerous!"

 

Brian harrumphed.  "Yeah, Justin told me the same thing.  But I had to find out for myself the hard way."  He grinned over at her ruefully.  "Liquor kind of loosens up your inhibitions."

 

Sarah had to laugh at that statement.  "Yeah, I know."  Brian looked at her in shock as his aunt shrugged.  "Hey, I was young once, too, you know."  She peered over at her nephew; she had to know.  "Brian, you didn't do anything with Justin last night that you - or I - would regret, did you?"

 

Brian's eyes flashed in irritation; he was unable to hold back the profanity.  How long would he have to prove himself?  "Shit, Aunt Sarah!  What kind of person do you think I am?"  He realized that it was important to him that his aunt be proud of him, not ashamed.

 

Sarah reached over to place her hand on Brian's wrist.  "Brian, listen to me," she whispered soothingly in an attempt to placate him.  "I think when you came here you were a very troubled young man who needed guidance.  And I think you've changed a lot since you've been here.  I think you've done a lot of growing up.  But I also think you're a very headstrong and passionate person.  One that is used to getting what he wants.  And I think you are infatuated with that boy.  Am I not right?"   She lifted a brow meaningfully as she stared into his eyes without blinking.

 

"Maybe," he grudgingly admitted as she nodded.  He shook his head.  "But I would never do something with him that he didn't want me to do.  And, besides, he's really too young for me...We don't have that much at all in common..."

 

Sarah chuckled softly.  "You think love is that logical, Brian?"

 

Brian eyed her incredulously.  "Who said anything about love?" he snorted.  "I hardly know him."

 

"I agree," she replied softly.  "And you should definitely take things slowly.  I'm not saying you're in love with him, Brian.  I think it's way too soon for that, too, and he's very young.  But when it comes to being attracted to someone, rationality has a habit of flying out the window."  She squeezed his wrist as he looked over at her.  "Justin is very special, Brian.  I'm not surprised that you've figured that out, too."

 

Brian sighed; there wasn't any point in denying it any longer.  "But isn't he too young for me?" he insisted, not sure what exactly he wanted his aunt to say.

 

To his surprise, however, his aunt smiled over at him and shook her head.  "Will and I fell in love when I was Justin's age, and Will is ten years older than me; that's not that uncommon out here.  Oh, don't get me wrong; we spent time getting to know each other and didn't act on our feelings for quite a while.  But do I think it's impossible to fall in love at your age?  No, I think it depends on the person.  Look at Will and me.  We've been through some rough times, but we've managed to stay together through the good times and the bad.  Just take things slowly with him.  He has his whole life ahead of him and he needs to find his own path."

 

"That's part of the problem," Brian found himself confessing, aware that if he didn't get outside to do his chores soon his uncle would come looking for him.

 

Sarah frowned as she moved her hand to take a sip of her coffee as she eyed him curiously.  "What do you mean?"

 

"Justin's father treats him like shit," he growled.  "The other day he told me about wanting to attend Vanderbilt University to take equestrian therapy classes, but he feels like he can't go now because of how much his family depends on him to win all those races.  And his brother is a lazy, good-for-nothing bum."  Brian rubbed his face with his hands.  "And...And what good would it do, anyway, to get attached to him even if he DID stay here?  I won't be here after summer's over."

 

Sarah bit her lip, trying not to tear up over the mournful tone in Brian's voice.  Yes, Joan was her sister, but she had her doubts that she was providing this boy with what he needed:  love, reassurance, purpose, and responsibility, of which he was slowly discovering here.  "Is that what you want, Brian?  To go back home to Pittsburgh?"

 

Brian hurriedly downed the rest of his now-cold coffee; his headache had finally died down to a tolerable level now.  "I don't have a choice...Do I?" His voice was both sad but also hopeful as he looked over at her meaningfully.

 

Sarah chose to ignore the hopeful tone in Brian's voice for now, not wanting to call him out on it and make him embarrassed or promise him something that perhaps she couldn't deliver.  Any decision to let her nephew stay here would have to come from Joan and Jack, as well as her husband.  She thought she could actually persuade Will to let Brian stay longer than his legal requirements stated, provided that he kept up with his chores and found a job eventually, but she couldn't speak for his parents.  She smiled over at him tenderly.  "You never know," she finally whispered.  "We'll talk about it later, okay?  I'm sure your uncle's expecting you by now."

 

Brian nodded.  Just before he rose from his seat, he asked her, "Aunt Sarah, what did you mean a little while ago when you said that Uncle Will had lied to you about the liquor?  Justin told me that it belonged to Dale."

 

Sarah looked away from Brian, gazing out through the back, frilly-curtained window that overlooked the barn.  How many times had she done this very same thing when she had been looking for her son?  Even now, she could almost see him running toward the back door, Solomon close by his heels as they hurried in for supper.  She brushed the moisture away from her eye with an index finger as she felt Brian's hand on her shoulder.

 

"Aunt Sarah?"

 

She turned to bestow a watery smile on him and nodded.  "Yes, it did."  She smiled wistfully.  "He always did have a rebellious streak in him - kind of like you," she added as she peered over at Brian tenderly.  She wiped a couple of tears away from her eyes with the corner of her half-apron.  "Sorry about the waterworks," she whispered.  "It's just that Dale's birthday is coming up soon, and that always gets me a little weepier than normal."  Brian eyed her quietly for a few seconds before she explained, "After Dale died, I asked Will to get rid of all that liquor downstairs.  He promised me he would.  But obviously he didn't do it."

 

"Why do you think he didn't?"

 

Sarah shrugged.  "A couple of reasons, I guess.  First, after he died, he didn't want to have anything to do with Dale's belongings.  You know, your bedroom was kept locked and closed until you came, because it used to be our son's."

 

Brian nodded.  He had figured as much already, since it was the only other bedroom in the house.

 

His aunt took a deep breath before she added sadly, "Before you came, when he wasn't outside doing chores Will spent a lot of time down in the basement for no apparent reason, and when he came back up he always avoided me."   She let out a ragged breath.  "I think it was because he'd been drinking to help him forget the pain, even though he normally wouldn't touch the stuff."

 

Brian couldn't help feeling sorry for his aunt.  "I'm sorry, Aunt Sarah."  He reached over to clasp her hand in his and give it a squeeze as she smiled back at him gratefully.

 

She shook her head slightly in dismissal.  "It's okay, Brian.  Actually, I haven't seen him doing that lately thanks to you; despite what he says, I think you've been a good influence on him and he enjoys your company.  I think he missed having another male around the farm."

 

Brian snorted.  "You mean one to boss around."

 

Sarah grinned.  "Maybe.  At first.  He didn't know quite what to think when you first showed up; neither of us did," she admitted.  "But I think there's more to it than that now."  She patted his hand with hers as she advised, "Now you'd best get out there before he comes looking for you and the beast reappears."

 

He nodded with a knowing smile as he stood up.  He tried to sound nonchalant as he asked her in parting, "We're still going tonight to the social?  I mean, will you need me to help you carry some of your baked goods out to the truck later and carry them in?"  By the look of amusement on his aunt's face, though, he knew he wasn't fooling her about the real reason why he wanted to make sure they were going.

 

To her credit, though, his aunt merely smiled and nodded wisely, pretending there wasn't any more to his request than thoughtfulness.  "That would be nice, Brian.  Yes.  We'll be leaving around six-thirty."

 

Brian nodded as he walked over to the door to open it, finding he was looking forward to seeing a certain, blond neighbor once more this evening.  It would certainly make his day go a lot quicker now.

 

---

Same Time - Taylor Farm Stables

 

"Justin!" An excited, high-pitched squeal sounded as Justin turned around to look for the source.  He smiled as he recognized the teenage boy waving at him frantically from Vic's mobile home several yards away, taking a moment to finish unhitching Headstrong from the sulky and taking his gloves off to place them on the seat before he turned to greet him.

 

"Em!" Justin called out in delight as Vic's nephew came rushing up to him and swept him up into a big bear hug.  Emmett almost squeezed the breath out of him before his feet were able to touch the ground again.

 

"Vic told us you were coming back to visit for a few weeks!  How have you been?" he asked with a grin, unable to keep from admiring Emmett's quirky style of dress.  Today he was wearing a pale pink bowtie, a slate blue, swirled paisley, long-sleeved shirt with the cuffs rolled up, dark blue jeans with a big "E" silver belt buckle, and what appeared to be cranberry-colored alligator boots.

 

"You like them?" Emmett asked Justin as he noticed his friend peering down at his boots curiously.  "Had 'em dyed that color.  I like to tell people that I caught an alligator back home in the cranberry bogs, though; gets them every time."

 

Justin burst out laughing at his comment.  He was glad Emmett was here for a while;  he was always so good at taking his mind off other things when he was worried or stressed, two emotions he was feeling in abundance lately.  "You have a lot of alligators back home in Alabama?" he asked with an amused smile.

 

Emmett grasped his upper arm as he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "Honey, they have so many in the marshes back home they should start issuing licenses like they do for the dogs.  People run over them all the time; the damn things just sit in the middle of the highway like they're logs.  They're nasty critters, but they're not too smart.  They make for great fritters, though."

 

Justin crinkled his nose.  "You've eaten one?  What do they taste like?"

 

"Chicken.  Lots and lots of chicken."

 

"Really?"

 

Emmett nodded.

 

Justin giggled.  "Well, I don't think Colonel Sanders has anything to worry about up here."  Emmett grinned back at him as Justin asked, "You're going to be here for a couple of weeks?"

 

Emmett nodded as he glanced over at the sulky.  "Yeah.  Training for the next race?  Uncle Vic said there's a big one this weekend."

 

Justin nodded.  "Yeah, at Red Mill."  He smiled proudly.  "Headstrong's the odds-on favorite to win from what the paper said this morning."  Not surprisingly, his father had pointed that out first thing at the breakfast table; the sports page was the first section he looked at with his morning coffee, even before the agricultural news.  His father may not have had much luck finding accounting jobs around here, but he was NOT a stupid man; he certainly knew where his bread was buttered at the moment.

 

"Something wrong, Sweetie?"

 

Justin blinked, unaware that he had temporarily zoned out as he turned to eye his friend sheepishly.  "No, sorry; I just get a little preoccupied just before a big race."  He smiled at him reassuringly.  "Everything's fine.  I'm glad you're here for a visit, Em," he told him sincerely.  "You're going tonight, aren't you?"

 

"To the social?"

 

Justin nodded.

 

"Are you kidding?  And miss that superb pecan pie that always there?  My mouth's been watering for it ever since I got on the plane to come up here."  He leaned in closer to Justin as he looked around to make sure they were alone.  "And speaking of mouthwatering, where's that delectable big brother of yours?  I haven't seen him around yet."

 

Justin couldn't help rolling his eyes.  "He'd still have his ass in bed if he wasn't responsible for doing my chores this week," he growled.  "He's not too happy about it, either, but our father put his foot down and forced him."

 

Emmett, however, didn't seem too concerned about Justin's veiled comment regarding his brother's lack of productivity; it seems that love truly was blind.  "Is he out in the barn, then?" Emmett asked hopefully.

 

Justin bit back the sigh that threatened to escape his lips.  "Well, he'd better be, unless he wants our father to be pissed off at him."  He actually felt sorry for Emmett as his friend looked over at him with a decidedly pleased smile on his face.  He nodded.  "He should be over there feeding the animals and cleaning out the stalls if you want to go say hello to him."

 

Emmett nodded, his eyes alit with anticipation.  "Well, I think I'll just wander over that direction, then," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.  He pulled at the ends of his bowtie as he asked, "Is he going tonight, too?"

 

Justin did sigh sympathetically now.  Poor Em.  He knew Jared wasn't the least bit interested in Emmett, even though the boy was sweet, funny, and attractive.  He wasn't HIS type - even though he did make him laugh - but he still hated to see him fruitlessly waste his time trying to get his brother's attention.  Jared had made no bones before about how he thought Emmett's fascination with him was a bother and a nuisance, and he wasn't subtle about ridiculing him over the dinner table after he came to visit his uncle the last time.  He was afraid Emmett was going to get hurt, but it was like a train wreck he was unable to stop.

 

"I think so," he finally told his friend as Emmett smiled in reaction.   "Mom and dad always make sure we all go together as a family."  Jared normally spent the entire time at the social grousing about how juvenile and hokey the whole event was, while at the same time scoping out potential guys to fuck out back behind the main activities barn.  His brother's cavalier treatment of other guys at the social was disgusting in his opinion, but he was helpless to do anything about it, just the same as he was going to be helpless to prevent what he assumed was going to happen with Emmett.  Maybe if the boy was lucky, though, Jared would give him the heave ho quickly so he didn't spend the rest of his time here pining for him like he did the last time.

 

"Well, I think I'll mosey over to the barn and say hey to him, then," Em decided with a smile.  "Think he'll like this outfit?"  He turned around slowly to give Justin a 180-degree view.

 

"Em..." Justin began hesitantly, not quite sure what he was going to say.

 

"Yeah?"

 

Justin paused; was it his place to interfere?  Besides, what exactly could he say?  Jared's going to break your heart?  He thinks you're a buffoon and not worthy of his attention?  He laughs at you behind your back?  No, he couldn't do that; he couldn't hurt this sensitive, sweet boy, even though he suspected Jared might wind up doing precisely that.  "Nothing," he finally said with a smile.  "I'm just glad you're here," he told him sincerely.  "It's good to see you again."

 

Em wondered if there was more that Justin was about to say, but he decided to just let it drop for now as he smiled back at him.  "You, too, Justin.  Catch you later?"

 

Justin nodded.  "Yeah; I have to do some more practicing, but I'm sure I'll see you tonight."  Em nodded as he turned and hurried off toward the barn; Justin watched him actually skipping along the way like a little child about to go see his favorite pony.  He shook his head sadly; he couldn't imagine this ending well at all.

 

A few minutes later, however, he had hitched Headstrong back up to the sulky and was back out on the track for some more practice, his concerns temporarily pushed aside.

 

---

 

"Fuck!" Jared snarled as he reared back his arm and flung the stinky shovel in his hand toward the corner of the barn; one of their goats nearby bleated in fright over in his stall as Jared plopped down, cross-legged style, on top of the dirt floor in utter disgust.  If he had to shovel one more load of manure this morning, he was definitely going to puke.  He didn't even have his latest stash of weed anymore that he could use to calm him down, either, thanks to the Kinney boy snatching it from him.  Damn him and his brother!

 

He was still not only seething over being humiliated the other day, but dismayed and angered by what he had seen last night.  He wasn't used to his baby brother taking guys away from him, but for whatever reason Kinney seemed to have fallen for him.  And his attempt to pay Justin back for what he had done had fallen on deaf ears last night.  There was no way he was just going to take it lying down; that wasn't his way.  If I can't have you, Kinney, well, then, neither can the squirt, either.

 

Just then, he heard a slight noise by the open barn doors, and his face broke out into a pleased smile.  Perfect timing...

"Em!" he called out, striving to place as much excitement as he could into his voice as he waved at the other boy.  "I was HOPING I would see you today!" Jared cried out in apparent delight as he wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans and rose to stand as Emmett came walking up to him.  He had to force himself not to grimace at the other boy's choice of clothing:  a PINK bowtie and matching crocodile boots?  Hideous.

 

"You were?" Emmett stammered, thinking Jared was even better looking since the last time he had seen him.  He seemed to have grown another inch or two, also, and was currently dressed in a pair of well-worn, tight, faded, blue jeans that showed off his trim waist, and a lightweight, sky-blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up that exposed his muscular forearms.  He had some sweat on his forehead from working, and his shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons at the top to show off his pecs; in brief, it was a totally amazing look that made Emmett's pulse quicken in reaction.

 

Jared smiled seductively as he walked up to Emmett and lazily stroked an index finger down the middle of Emmett's shirt.  "You bet," he told him huskily as he continued to smile.  "When your Uncle Vic told me you would be coming back here, I couldn't wait to see you again."

 

Emmett frowned as he pointed out, "That's funny - you barely paid any attention to me at all when I came to visit last year."

 

Jared looked shocked.  "No, that's not right at all!  How could you think that?  You didn't understand what I was doing.  Haven't you ever heard of playing hard to get?  It's not cool for my reputation if I go chasing after someone."

 

Emmett snorted.  "Well, if you'd played it any better you would have been up for an Oscar."

 

Jared pressed his body up against Emmett's until they were practically nose to nose with their nearly identical heights.  "Well, there's nobody to see us around here now, and I'm not running away, am I?"  He placed his hands on Emmett's upper arms as he leaned in to kiss the other boy's lips gently in greeting before pulling back.  "We'll have two whole weeks to get to know each other better this time," he leered, his voice seductive and low.  "I'd really like that; wouldn't you?"

 

Emmett's eyes widened as his face broke out into a pleased smile.  "Is my Aunt Lula a Southern Belle?  You bet I would!"

 

Jared's hands snaked up to wind themselves around Emmett's neck as he smiled.  "Good."  His face fell and he sighed heavily, however, as he abruptly let go of Emmett and turned his back on him to look out through the barn doors; off in the distance, he could see Kinney riding around on the Walker's old tractor doing some sort of chore, and his eyes narrowed in jealousy as he thought about what he had seen last night.  It was time to start putting his plan into motion.  "There's just one thing..."

 

Emmett's face took on a look of concern as he noticed Jared's sudden change in mood.  "What?"

 

Jared turned around; his face was awash with anxiety.  "I'm really worried about my little brother."

 

"Justin?  What about him?  I just talked to him over by the stables and he seemed fine to me."

 

"Did he tell you about that other boy who's staying with the Walkers?  Their nephew, Brian?"

 

Emmett shook his head.  "No, he didn't say anything about him."

 

That's a surprise, Jared couldn't help thinking.  They certainly seemed chummy enough last night.  Aloud, he advised Emmett, "He's about the same age that we are.  His parents sent him here to stay with the Walkers as a last resort, and he's been nothing but trouble since then."

 

Emmett didn't like the sound of that; he really cared about Justin - not in a physical attraction sort of way like he did with Jared - but he genuinely liked the Taylor's younger son and hated the idea of something happening to him.  There was just something about Justin that made everyone naturally protective toward him.  "What kind of trouble?"

 

Jared fought to keep the smile from his face as he shrugged.  "Well, apparently he stole a car back home and drag raced with it, and from what my dad told me he was given the choice of either going to jail or coming here to stay with his aunt and uncle.  The idea was that they were supposed to help straighten him out."  He grimaced.  "Unfortunately for us, it hasn't worked out that way.  As soon as he got here, he noticed how Justin was fawning over him, and he's been using it to his advantage ever since."

 

Emmett frowned.  "How do you mean?"

 

Jared appeared to look uncomfortable as he walked over and sat down on a bale of straw.  "You've got to promise me first that you won't tell Justin what I'm about to tell you, because if you do it could cause even more problems."

 

Emmett's eyes widened in alarm as he walked over to sit down next to Jared.  "More problems?  How?"

 

Jared's eyes flashed.  "Promise me first," he demanded as Emmett finally nodded.  "Well, Justin told me the other day that this Brian has been coming on too strongly with him; he keeps pressuring him to have sex, but Justin isn't ready yet."  He paused as Emmett eyed him anxiously.  "And he said last night when he refused him again, he grabbed him so hard by the arms that he put bruises on his skin."

 

Emmett's mouth fell open.  "Oh, my God!  Are you serious?"  He thought back to his encounter a little earlier with his friend.  He didn't notice anything particularly different with him, although there HAD been that one moment when he thought Justin was about to confide in him about something but had changed his mind.  Did it have something to do with this other guy?  The one that was hurting him?  "Has he told your mom and dad?  And what about the Walkers?  He can't get away with that kind of shit!"

 

Jared reached over and grabbed onto Emmett's bicep.  "Well, you know Justin.  He's likes this guy, and doesn't want to get him into trouble; if this deal with the Walkers doesn't work out he'll be sent back to jail, so he begged me not to say anything to anyone.  He said this Brian apologized profusely right after it happened, and he believes the guy!  But you know how these kinds of relationships are; the one who's in danger always makes up excuses for the bad guy."   Jared eyes bored into Emmett's as he pleaded, "I've got to find a way to break them up, Em, before he does something really bad to him."

 

Emmett nodded solemnly, his heart pounding in worry.  "But what can we do?  I still say you need to go talk to your parents - or to the Walkers."

 

Jared shook his head.  "I gave him my word, Em.  But maybe there's another way.  That's where you come in, because Kinney doesn't know YOU.   You are going to the social tonight, aren't you?"

 

Emmett nodded cautiously.  "Yeah, I wouldn't miss it.  Why?"

 

Jared smiled.  This was way too easy... "Well, since Kinney's never met you, you're perfect for what I have in mind.  Are you willing to help break them up, then?  Before he does something awful to my brother?  Em, you're my last hope," he added for good measure, his voice breaking.

 

Emmett swallowed hard, but nodded.  "Sure.  But how?"

 

Jared leaned in closer to his unsuspecting patsy.  "Here's what I have in mind..."

 

 

 

Walker Farm - 5:15 p.m.

Sarah smiled as her two 'boys' wandered back into the house.  "Just in time," she told them.  "I have dinner ready.  Come and eat.  We need to leave in about an hour," she reminded them.  Just like clockwork, she was starting to get a little nervous now that it was almost time to go.  She consistently won a blue ribbon for her blueberry cobbler each year, but she always felt this way just before time nonetheless.  She knew it was silly - it didn't really mean all that much - but it was still a thrill when she won.

 

"Don't get your apron all twisted," Will kidded her gruffly as he sat down at his customary place at the far end of the table as Brian walked in directly behind him and sat down in the middle.  "You know you'll bring another ribbon home tonight, Sarah."

 

She blushed at how easily her husband knew her as she walked over and placed a large bowl of green beans down in the middle of the table to join the pot roast, glazed carrots, and whole wheat rolls already there.  "You don't know that for sure, William," she chided him softly as she  moved to sit, flushing with pleasure as Brian stood up and pushed her chair back for her to sit down.  She nodded her gratitude as he sat back down and she handed him the green beans.  "There could always be some new competition."

 

Will snorted.  "Not if they know what's good for them," he vowed.  "No one can beat your berry cobbler, Sarah."

 

Sarah beamed at the compliment; since Brian had come to live with them, she was slowly seeing more and more of her husband reemerging, and it filled her with cautious hope.  She cleared her throat to try and prevent the sentimental tears from falling as she nodded.

 

She turned to her nephew to ask, "How's the headache, Brian?  Better?"

 

Brian smiled over at her softly, knowing she would keep his confidence.  "Yeah, much," he told her as she nodded back at him.

 

"Now both of you, eat up!" she gently admonished them.   "I don't want to be late!"

 

"Yes, Ma'am," both Brian and his uncle said at the same time as she laughed.

 

---

hirty Minutes Later

Will walked over and handed his wife the last of the dinner dishes as she rinsed them before placing them into the hot, sudsy water in the sink.  Wiping her hands on a towel nearby, she turned to face her husband.  "Will, I want to ask you something."

 

Will leaned against the counter next to her, instantly identifying that no-nonsense tone of voice.  "Okay, what is it?" he asked her quietly.

 

"Brian and Dale are close to the same size," she began.

 

"I guess," her husband grudgingly acknowledged, somehow knowing where this was heading as he eyed her warily.  "So?   Why are you bringing this up?"

 

Sarah sighed.  "I think you know why.  Brian needs some different clothes for tonight's social.  And Dale's things are just gathering dust upstairs in the closet..."

 

"No, Sarah!" Will snapped.  "Leave it alone."

 

Sarah turned to place her hands on her hips defiantly.  "Will, be reasonable!  Brian could only bring so many clothes with him.  And I can only keep washing his work clothes over and over again before they fall apart.  They're the same build and, according to what I saw when I did his laundry, they wear the same size.  There's no reason why he can't use some of Dale's things and put them to good use, both while doing chores and tonight."

 

Will brushed his hand through his hair.  He knew Sarah was right; it was logical to let go of the past and move on.  But somehow it felt like a betrayal to his son; almost like he was forgetting him.  "Those were our son's things, Sarah," he feebly tried one last time, but even to his own ears the excuse sounded lame at best.

 

"Yes, they were," she replied stiffly.  "And the best way to honor him would be to stop treating his things as a shrine or a part of him and let his cousin get some use out of them.  They're just clothes, shoes, and belt buckles, Will; they're things, not HIM."  She reached over to cup her husband's hand over her heart.  "THIS is where Dale is, Will, here; not in a pair of boots or a cowboy hat.  Here."

 

 Will stared into his wife's eyes, bright with the beginning of unshed tears before he finally nodded.  "Yeah.  Okay," he whispered hoarsely as she nodded back at him.

 

She squeezed his hand before letting it go.  "Good.  I know that Dale is looking down on both of us in approval.  And I know he would be the first one to tell us he would never want us to forget him, but that we still have our own lives to live.  We have another young man depending on us right now, Will.  Brian's a good boy - he could be a useful, productive man, too, if we only keep providing him with the right guidance."

 

"Well, I'll reserve judgment on that one," Will huffed quietly, but silently he knew she was right.  Brian was slowly transforming into a responsible person, despite his previous, rebellious ways.  He had a ways to go yet, but even he could admit the boy had some good qualities that could be nurtured.  "Now I'd best be gettin' upstairs and get ready for this shindig."

 

Sarah reached over and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek as he turned to go.  "Thank you," she whispered as he nodded.

 

Quickly washing the last dinner plate, she hurried to dry it and put it away before hurrying to join him upstairs to get dressed.

 

---

Six P.M. - Taylor Farmhouse

"Justin!  We have to go NOW, or we're going to be late!"

 

"I'll be right down, Mom!" was the reply as Jennifer sighed.

 

"What is taking that boy so long?" Craig groused as he impatiently stood by the backdoor shaking his head.  "Jared was ready a long time ago," he pointed out as he looked over at their older son.

 

Jared smirked as he sat at the kitchen table.  "I don't need as much time to make myself look good," he boasted.  He was dressed to the nines tonight, with a dark green, long-sleeved shirt with pearl buttons, a silver bolero tie with a crossed, twin-pistol design, a pair of black jeans, and black, leather boots.  He looked quite striking with the green shirt contrasting against his darker hair, Jennifer had to admit, as she silently chided her son over his pompous attitude.  It was one thing to be confident and assertive, she thought, and quite another to be a braggart.   If Jared spent as much time trying to find gainful employment as he did preening at the mirror and bragging about himself, he would be rich indeed and Justin wouldn't have to shoulder so much of the financial responsibility.

 

"I'll go check on him," she offered finally as time continued to drag on.

 

"Well, either he's ready in the next five minutes, or we're leaving without him - family togetherness or not," Craig warned as Jennifer hurried down the hallway and up the steps toward her youngest son's room.

 

From his place at the table, Jared smiled.  Normally, he would have been ticked off at Justin for taking so long, because he knew what the reason had to be:  He was no doubt primping to make himself look good for Kinney.  But he was actually wasn't worried since he had drafted Emmett earlier to help him break them up.  He was going to enjoy himself tonight immensely as a result, and when Kinney went looking for a 'diversion' later, he would promptly tell him to go to hell - after he fucked his ass into oblivion so he would know what would be missing, that is.

 

---

 

Justin frowned as he stood in front of his dresser mirror, turning one way and then the other to observe his appearance.  He felt so damn jittery since he found out that Brian would be at the social tonight.  Normally he wouldn't spend nearly as much time worrying about how he looked, but tonight was different.

 

Frowning as he looked at his hair, he licked his palm to try and flatten a tuft of misbehaving locks as he heard a noise in the doorway; he turned to look sheepishly at his mother.  "Sorry, mom," he apologized.

 

She eyed him with a mixture of both sympathy and amusement.  "Justin...You look fine, Honey.  Let's go."

 

He sighed in resignation as he studied himself critically one final time in his dresser mirror.  He very rarely had to get dressed up for anything out here in the country, so he had been relegated to wearing an outfit he normally only wore for occasions such as funeral visitations or weddings.  It was a chocolate brown, rayon sport jacket, a maroon shirt with thin, gold pinstripes, and dark brown corduroy jeans.  Thankfully he had a decent pair of dark brown boots to compliment his look, a Christmas present courtesy of his parents from the past year.

 

"You really think so?" he asked as he bit his lip fretfully with the nail of his thumb.

 

Jennifer walked up to place her hands on her son's shoulders as she smiled at his reflection in the mirror.  "You look wonderful, Justin; really.  And I'm sure everyone else will think so, too.  Including Brian."

 

Justin's eyes widened as he turned to look into her eyes, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of the other boy's name.  "Brian? Why do you say that?"

 

She smiled.  "Honey, it's no secret you have a crush on him.  Why else would you have agreed to go out for a walk with him last night?  That IS all that happened, though...Isn't it?" she asked quietly, trying her best not to sound too concerned.  She knew Justin had a level head on his shoulders, but she wasn't so sure about Kinney's motives regarding her tenderhearted son.  And he was quite a bit older than Justin.

 

Despite his best intentions, Justin blushed in reaction to her question.  He wasn't quite willing to divulge to his mother that there was a little more to his encounter with Brian last night in addition to than just a walk under the starlight while his companion discovered the joys of corn liquor and cow tipping.  "Yeah, Mom, that's all there was to it," he told her simply.   "Really.  Don't worry; I know how to take care of myself."

 

She straightened out the lapels of her son's jacket, a little uncomfortable with the direction their conversation was heading as she heard Craig calling in exasperation from downstairs, grousing at them to hurry up.  "I...I just want you to stay safe, Honey," she told him as she placed her hands on either side of his neck and gazed into his eyes.

 

"I know," he whispered, realizing exactly what she meant.  "I promise I will be," he told her sincerely.

 

She nodded, knowing that would have to be sufficient for now.  "Okay; we'd better get going, then; you know how impatient your father can be."  Justin nodded as she slid her hand around his waist and they walked toward the door.  "Oh, wait just a minute," she abruptly said as she scurried out into the hall and down to her and Craig's bedroom, walking over to her custom-made, oak jewelry box to retrieve a small item wrapped in plain, white tissue paper.

 

Hurrying back to Justin's room and giving Craig a shout out that they were on their way down, she rushed back to Justin's side.  Holding out her hand, Justin frowned.

 

"What's this?" he asked curiously.

 

Jennifer smiled.  "Open it."

 

He peered over at her as she nodded in encouragement before he took the small object from her hand and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a black, leatherette bolero tie; the slider was an oval picture depicting a black, wild stallion with a white background in a gold-tone frame.

 

He gasped softly in recognition as he stared at it.  "This belonged to grandpa, didn't it?" he asked as one finger lovingly rubbed itself over the smooth, slightly raised frame.  "I remembered him wearing this all the time; it was his favorite, wasn't it?"  He lifted his eyes to stare over at her.

 

She nodded.  "Yes," she confirmed with a smile.  "And I know he planned on giving it to you one day...before he got sick and didn't get the chance.  But I promised him when I thought you were ready that I would see that you got it."  She paused for a moment to lovingly gaze over at her youngest son.  "I think you've more than earned it, Sweetheart.  I thought you might want to wear it tonight."

 

Justin's eyes gleamed in remembrance; he had adored his grandfather, and just the thought that he could wear something tonight that meant so much to him made his heart swell.  "I'd like that," he whispered in a choked voice as Jennifer walked over and took it out of his hand.  Placing it over his head, she pulled the slider to tighten it up and stood back to observe her handiwork.  "You look very handsome," she told her son sincerely as he blushed at the compliment.  Her eyes watered.  "You're growing up so fast."

 

"Mom."  He rolled his eyes as she hastily wiped the tears away.  "Come on, we'd better go before Dad blows a gasket."

 

She laughed softly in agreement.  "Yeah, let's go," she concurred as they finally walked side by side down the hallway to the steps, arriving at the kitchen a few minutes later.

 

"Finally!" Craig grumbled as he promptly pushed open the back door and went outside to go start up the truck.

 

Jared eyed his brother intently, feeling aggravated over how good the little squirt looked.  In his outfit, Justin actually had cleaned up quite nicely, he grudgingly had to admit.  But he still would never come up to his standards of excellence, and he would still find himself on the short end of the stick before the night was over.  Maybe he wouldn't wind up with Kinney after all, but even if he didn't, neither would Justin, either.

 

"Jared, will you grab that box, please?" Jennifer asked her son, indicating the small, wooden crate of homemade honey she was taking to be entered in the judging contest.  She was particularly proud of this year's product and had high hopes of getting a ribbon in the miscellaneous category.  It wasn't that any prize money would be paid to her, but the publicity and subsequent sales she could possibly generate as a result would be valuable.

 

Jared sighed heavily, but complied as he picked up the wooden crate and proceeded to walk over to the back door.  "Well?" he pressed as he looked over at Justin.  "Let's go, Squirt!  We're already late as it is thanks to you!"

 

"Oh, for the love of..." Justin shook his head in aggravation before he proceeded to follow their mother over to the door; a few minutes later, Jennifer and Craig were seated in the cab with Justin and his brother riding in the back as they usually did, sitting on a cushion of straw spread out on the floor of the truck's bed.

 

The two brothers rode in silence for a few minutes in the dark, starry sky until Jared asked, "What are YOU so dressed up for?  I thought that outfit was too big for you anyway."

 

Justin glared over at him as they hit a bump in the dirt road, causing him to grasp the cold metal of the truck bed's frame.  "Well, I grew into it," he retorted.  "What is wrong with you, anyhow, Jared?  Why have you been on my case so much lately?  It's not the FIRST time you've had to do my chores before a race."

 

"Yeah, I LOVE shoveling shit out of all the animal stalls and bonding with the pigs wallowing in their slop," he retorted.  "There's nothing like the smell of fresh animal dung in the morning."

 

Justin huffed in disgust.  "You're just pissed off because you can't work on your precious car this week," he remarked.  He paused for a moment.  'Or is it something else?  Or should I say someone else?  "

 

Jared bristled, deciding there was no need to disguise his jealousy any longer.  "Don't flatter yourself, Squirt.  He's just playing with you.  When he gets what he wants - and I'm sure he hasn't, because otherwise he'd be long gone by now - he won't want anything else to do with you.  He'll move onto the next guy who can give him what he wants."

 

"That's not true!" Justin cried out, secretly concerned that perhaps his brother was right.  "He's not like that."

 

Jared guffawed.  "Oh, really?  Why ELSE would he be interested in you?  He's MY age, Justin!  You know what they say - why go out and buy milk when you can get it from the cow?"  He laughed; he couldn't make out much of his brother's face, but he knew him well enough to assume if he could it would be red with embarrassment and indignation.  Up until now, he hadn't been 100% sure that his brother and Kinney hadn't already had sex, but from the way Justin was defending him, he knew now that they hadn't, and it filled him with a sense of smug satisfaction.  "Yeah, as soon as he's had his fill of YOU, he'll drop you faster than last year's John Deere model."

 

"You don't know what you're talking about, Jared!  Just shut the hell up!"  Justin pursed his lips tightly together in doubt, however, as his biggest fear began to rise once more to the surface.  Maybe Jared WAS right; what did he have to keep someone like Brian Kinney interested?  No, he told himself as he steadfastly refused to believe that; he wouldn't believe that, not after the kisses and talks they had shared.  There was more than that between them; he could tell.

 

Jared snickered.  "Suit yourself, Squirt.  Let him fuck you and get it over with.  But better enjoy it while you can, because that'll be the LAST fuck you'll get from him."

 

Justin's eyes narrowed in anger.  "You're just jealous," he declared flatly as he continued to hold onto the edge of the truck frame with his right hand as the truck dodged some of the ruts and potholes in the dirt road.

 

"Jealous?" his brother retorted in seeming disbelief.  "Of you?  You overestimate yourself."

 

"No, you are," Justin persisted, his voice rising in certainty.  "You're angry and you're jealous because Brian's interested in ME, not you, and you can't deal with that, can you?"

 

"Shut up, Justin!" Jared snarled, his eyes flashing in fury.

 

Now it was Justin's turn to scoff.  "I thought so.  How's it feel...Sport?"

 

"I told you; shut the fuck up, Justin, or I'll..."

 

Suddenly the truck came to an abrupt stop as both boys had to scurry to hurriedly grab onto the bedrail to keep from toppling over.  A few seconds later the driver's side door opened and slammed shut as their father came stomping over to their side.  "What the hell is going on back here?" he demanded.  He stood there with his hands on his hips as he stared at both boys.  "I could hear both of you screaming at the top of your lungs!"

 

"We were just having a difference of opinion," Jared told him.

 

"About what?"   No answer.  He turned to his youngest son then. "Justin?"

 

Justin knew there was no way he was going to tell their father it was over Brian, and he suspected that Jared sure as hell wasn't going to, either, so he decided to provide another plausible answer.    "He's still complaining about doing my chores."

 

Jared opened his mouth to quickly correct that - well, not exactly correct it, because it wasn't a lie - but he just as quickly decided not to provide the real reason, either.  He figured it wouldn't score him any points with his father if told him the truth, and frankly it would be embarrassing to admit that his little brother was more of an attraction to Kinney than HE was.  After all, he had his pride - and his reputation - to consider.  And besides, the problem would be resolved soon enough at the social.  So he wisely chose not to say anything at all.  Unfortunately, his father didn't choose the same path.

 

"What?!" he bellowed, his voice carrying for what seemed like miles around the quiet countryside.  "Jared, I already TOLD you time and time again that when Justin is practicing for a race..."

 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it!" Jared groused, still annoyed by that situation as well.  "I have to take over his chores.   That doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

 

The quiet opening of the passenger door went unnoticed by the three others as Jennifer disembarked form the truck's cab and, shaking her head in exasperation, walked over to Justin's side of the truck.  With the motor idling now and her window rolled partially down, she could clearly hear everything being said outside and felt it was time to intervene.  She was getting so tired of having to play peacemaker among her family - and of having her youngest son caught in the middle.

 

"I didn't ASK if you liked it, Jared!" Craig was saying as Jennifer sighed heavily.

 

"Craig!  CRAIG!" she repeated a little more loudly, catching him in between his tirade.  "Now is not the time or the place to discuss this; if we don't get going now we'll definitely be late, and I have to get the honey registered with the judges before it starts.  We've already discussed this time and time again; just tell Jared if he doesn't do as you say that you won't let him work on his car afterward."

 

"Mom!"

 

"Shut up, Jared!" Craig growled as his oldest son started to protest once more.  He could hear Justin huff in disgust across from him.  He brushed his hand through the top of his head in agitation.  "Okay, okay," he acknowledged to Jennifer as he inhaled a deep breath and let it out to release some anger.  "You heard your mother.  But if I hear one more peep out of either one of you on the way into town, I WILL turn this truck around and we WILL go home.  And before you say that's what you want to do anyway," Craig said as he turned to glare over at his oldest son in the dimness, "I WILL keep you from working on that damn car even AFTER this week is over, you got it?"   Silence ensued, except for some labored, angry breathing.  "I said - you got it, Jared?  Answer me!"

 

Jared let out a harsh breath.  "Yeah, yeah, I got it!  Whatever!"

 

"Justin, that means you, too.  No more yelling and arguing; if the both of you can't be civil and say something nice to each other, then don't talk at all.  You understand me?"

 

Justin huffed out an angry breath of his own.  He hadn't started it; well, not exactly anyway.  "Okay," he muttered.  "I'd rather not talk to him right now anyway."  Silently he mourned the loss of the previous camaraderie he and Jared used to share.  Until a few years ago, they had been a lot closer and used to tell each other everything.  As he had gotten older, however, and begun to recognize his sexuality a little more - and had started to attract the attention of some of the other males in town as well as achieve some recognition for his art and his racing ability - Jared's jealousy had begun to flare to the surface and their closeness had waned.  Sometimes, however, he wished they could return to the bond they used to have, but it seemed it might be irrevocably broken forever now.

 

"That sounds like a smart decision," Craig retorted.  "Jen, get back in the truck and let's get going."

 

Jennifer rolled her eyes at her husband's brusque tone before she reached over to squeeze Justin's shoulder briefly in support and walked back over to the door to get in.  Craig remained rooted in place for a few seconds before he shook his head and joined her in the truck.  The rest of the drive, not surprisingly, was made in relative silence.

 

---

Cultural Dairy Barn - Versailles

Brian's eyes widened in surprise as he and his aunt and uncle arrived in town and they began to enter a brick-paved driveway heading toward their ultimate destination.  From the way everyone had been talking, he figured this 'town social' was being held in someone's weathered, old barn; kind of like some sort of Amish-style corn husking where everyone sat around on bales of hay, chewing on a strand of straw or talking with their mouths full of a chaw of tobacco as they get caught up on what had been going on in their humdrum lives.  And while it WAS apparently in a barn, it was quite a barn.  Not that he had seen a lot of them, but THIS barn was huge; white with a gracefully, sloping, light-gray roof and a set of double-X doors.

 

His mouth hung open in shock.  "Holy shit," he murmured.

 

"Brian, language," was the instant reply from the cab of the truck; Will had the window partially open to let in some air.

 

Brian rolled his eyes at the expected rejoinder but had to grin slightly; he would have expected nothing less as a response from him.

 

A few minutes later, they pulled off into the grass and parked next to a myriad of other trucks with a few cars sprinkled in between as he hopped down from the antique vehicle.  Opening up the back of the truck bed, he reached to grab a large box holding his aunt's prized cobbler along with the stacks of deviled eggs she had made, just in time for his aunt and uncle to join him.  He gazed up at the impressive structure; now that they were closer it appeared even larger.  "That's some barn," he marveled as he took in the angles and curves along with its massive size; a large steeple jutted out of the top, and it had several windows running down the side of it.

 

Sarah smiled as she nodded.  "Isn't it beautiful?  It was built in the early 1900's as part of a working dairy farm for a hospital of all things, but it was abandoned a long time ago.  Several years ago, the townspeople came together and decided to convert it into a place where we could have activities.  They have a wonderful quilt show here every year, along with square dances and an antique farm machinery show and a flea market on the weekends."  She gazed at it wistfully.  "I'm so glad they didn't tear it down; you don't see barns like this anymore."

 

Although Brian wasn't an expert on architecture, he couldn't help agreeing that it was quite impressive just the same.  He nodded as he hefted the box a little higher in his arms and they began to walk toward the double doors at the end of the barn; several other townspeople were either mingling nearby or walking inside as his aunt and uncle acknowledged them.  Not surprisingly, his aunt seemed to receive a much warmer welcome than his uncle, even though everyone seemed to greet them with either a polite nod, a handshake or even a kiss on the cheek in his aunt's case.  Brian soon lost track of the names of everyone his aunt saw fit to introduce him to as they walked inside and he got a look at the interior.  It was lit up with several banks of recessed lighting at the top of the tall, exposed ceiling; some large, white ceiling fans slowly rotated above, providing a light breeze along with the several windows that were raised to let in some additional air.  Alongside the sides of part of the barn were wooden, staggered shelves to hold the baked goods that were to be auctioned off; toward the rear of the barn appeared to be a more open area for other exhibitions or events.  Wooden, felt-padded benches - pews actually that appeared to have been salvaged from churches - had been given new lives as places to sit and chat with other locals, and were scattered throughout the large structure in the middle and corners of the building.

 

A small stage was set up in the center of the building along the opposite wall with chairs facing it; a group of four men, all clad in overalls and plaid shirts and one wearing a straw hat - were already playing a lively bluegrass tune. The entire inside was alive with a hum of activity, from the music to the animated chatter and the laughter heard all around them.

 

"Brian, would you give that box to that woman over there by that table?" Sarah instructed her nephew, indicating a hard, plastic, white rectangular table near the front door.  "My name's already on all of the items; just make sure they give you a ticket back for them, okay?"  Brian nodded as he walked over and gladly placed the heavy box down on the table.  He had to spend a few minutes explaining his relation to his aunt - everyone seemed to want to know everyone else's business around here, he decided - before he rejoined his aunt and uncle who were standing nearby.

 

"Well, if it isn't my favorite baker!" a booming voice suddenly erupted from nearby as a portly, average-height, middle-aged man wearing jeans, a checkered shirt, and a pair of dark green suspenders waddled up to them.  "I was starting to get worried that my favorite dessert wasn't going to be in the judging tonight."

 

Sarah beamed over at him.  "Now you know better than that, Clay," she chided him with a smile.  "You know I look forward to this just as much as you do."

 

The man who resembled an Americanized version of an oriental Buddha clamped his hand on Will's back as he told him conspiratorially, "She's a keeper, Will.  If I had THIS little lady fixing MY meals at home, I'd weigh twice as much!"

 

Brian had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from make a snarky comment as Will nodded at him in agreement, choosing not to state the obvious, either.  Instead, he smiled over at his wife to reveal, "We don't eat like this all the time, Clay; but you're right," he added softly, "she IS a keeper."  Sarah's eyes lit up at the compliment as Will proceeded to introduce his nephew to the man, Brian not detecting any hint of scorn in his voice and perhaps even a bit of pride as he told the other man, the owner of the local feed mill, about the new 'addition' to their family with Checkers' new calf.

 

As the two men excused themselves a few minutes later to wander over and talk to a group of farmers several feet away, Brian tried to casually look around as if he were sizing up the rest of the facility, but he didn't fool his aunt at all.

 

"I don't think they're here yet," Sarah told him softly by his side as she looked over at him.

 

"Who?" he asked, trying to sound obtuse but failing miserably.

 

Sarah grinned.  "I think you know who; they normally get here a few minutes later than we do.  Not really sure why, but it's almost a tradition with them.  Want to come and look at some of the exhibits with me?"

 

Brian gave her a long-suffering look.  "What?  Of rutabagas, lettuce, and the contest over who can grow the biggest pumpkin in the valley?  No, thanks."

 

Sarah tried to look aghast as she replied with a laugh, "You are such a city snob, Brian Kinney!  First of all, those are all not in season right now, and second of all, we ARE a little more exciting than vegetables and hay."

 

Brian gave her an amused look.  "Oh, really?  Oh, yeah - I forgot about my recent role as a midwife."  He sniffed the air as he replied, "Speaking of which, I smell the distinctive aroma of cow manure.  I hope you're not going to tell me they forgot to remove some of the cows from the dairy barn, are you?  I think I've seen more than my share of those already."

 

She grinned.  "Yeah, between the cow delivering and the cow tipping - or at least the attempt - no doubt you've seen enough cows by now.  It's probably from the cow chip contest."

 

Brian guffawed as he stared over at her.  "Cow chip contest?  Is that a new ice cream flavor?'

 

She laughed in amusement, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling as she told him, "I certainly hope not.  No, it's kind of like horseshoes, only with dried up cow dung instead.  There're even rules you have to follow to enter.  They're holding it out back in a few minutes out in the field before it starts to get too dark; why they don't move up the time of the town social to earlier in the day so the light isn't a problem is beyond me, but that's the time we've always done it and everyone here is very set in their ways."

 

"Tell me about it," Brian told her dryly as he observed his uncle chatting rather amiably with a couple of other denim-clad, suspendered men.   He watched as several men, including his uncle, began to slowly shuffle to the opposite end of the barn toward another set of double doors.  "Don't tell me HE'S going to participate?" Brian asked in surprise.

 

"He might," Sarah replied as she watched him walk away.  "He used to be a pretty good pitcher back in high school, as well as a great horseshoe player.  He used to bring home a ribbon quite often for it, too," she told him as her voice softened.  "Before Dale died, anyway."

 

Another tune started up at the bandstand as Brian eyed his aunt thoughtfully.  "Aunt Sarah..."

 

"Brian, please," she implored.  "Not tonight.  Not when your uncle is finally acting more like himself."

 

"But..."

 

"I know we owe you an explanation; after all, he was your cousin.  But not tonight.  Soon; when your uncle isn't around.  He's beginning to come out of the deep, dark hole he's been in - largely in part to you being here with us - but he still can't talk about it yet.  Let's just enjoy tonight and we can sit down and discuss it some other time, okay?  I promise."

 

Brian sighed in frustration.  Well, he was going to get to the bottom of that big mystery, one way or the other.  Perhaps he could talk to Justin about it later tonight - that is, if the little shit ever shows up.

 

"Okay," he told his aunt with a short nod.  "Why don't you show me around this palace in the meantime?"

 

She grinned in relief.  "Come right this way - and you can see the dried apple doll exhibit."

 

"Oh, joy," Brian replied drolly as he began to follow her down the middle of the aisle way.

 

---

Five Minutes Later

Justin's heart was hammering in his chest as they entered the barn; it hadn't been too hard to spot the Walkers' antique truck parked outside in the grass, so he knew that Brian's aunt and uncle had to be here - and he hoped Brian, also.  He had no reason to believe he had changed his mind and decided not to come, but until he could see him he couldn't be sure.

 

"Ooh, there it is!" Emmett exclaimed excitedly a few feet behind him; he and his Uncle Vic had arrived at almost the same exact time as the Taylors and they had walked in together.  "I can almost smell that pecan pie now!"

 

Justin grinned as he noticed the social's cake walk set up right where it always was each year; Emmett couldn't stop talking about the 'succulent' PEA-CON pie he had enjoyed last year after his win.  He truly thought if Em didn't have another chance to win Sophie Mason's prize-winning pie again this year, he would be thrown into an abyss of depression.

 

"If you boys will excuse me - and ma'am," he added in deference to Jennifer, "I think I'll mosey on over to the cake walk and scope out my chances."  He turned to look over at Justin.  "Want to come with me?"

 

Justin nodded with a smile.  "Sure."  Silently, he thought he could also check to see if Sarah Walker's blueberry cobbler was on display for judging; if it was, then he knew that Brian was probably around somewhere.  He turned to his parents.  "Can we just meet back at the truck later?" he asked hopefully.  The last thing he wanted to do was tag along with his parents - and even worse, Jared.  Despite the rather awkward way he and Brian had parted last night, he still wanted some time alone with him.

 

Craig eyed him intently; not sure if that was such a good idea, but unable to really formulate a reason for saying no; while Vic's nephew was a flighty one, he didn't appear to be irresponsible.  "11:00 sharp," he told Justin tersely.  "Make sure you're out by the truck and ready to go."

 

Justin nodded, knowing it wouldn't do any good to try and wheedle any extra time out of him.  "Let's go, Em," he urged the other boy as he grasped Emmett's arm and began to walk away.

 

Jared smiled as he watched them go; this was perfect. It was working out even better than he had hoped.  It certainly didn't hurt that Justin actually considered Emmett a friend; that would make his plan so much easier to implement.  Now all he had to do was make sure that he succeeded.

 

"Dad, I'm going to go watch the cow chip throwing contest," Jared told him and his mom.  "I'll just meet the two of you at the truck at eleven like Justin."

 

Craig nodded.  "Just see that you watch the time, Jared," he cautioned him as the older boy rolled his eyes.

 

"I know how to tell time, Dad," he retorted.

 

Craig's eyes flashed.  "Watch your manners, Jared!"

 

Jared sighed heavily as he held up his hands in surrender.  "Okay, okay; I'll meet you in the parking lot at 11."  He nodded and turned to go, heading off toward the back of the building where he hoped to find Brian.

 

Jennifer shook her head.  "You let him get away with way too much, Craig," she muttered in disgust.  "I think as soon as this next race is over, we all need to sit down as a family and figure out a redistribution of just who does what back home.  You know Justin won't be around forever."

 

Craig held up his hand in exasperation; was he going to have to hear the same old spiel again?  "Can we just drop the subject tonight, Jen?  Let's just try and enjoy ourselves for one night without all the bickering, okay?"

 

But she wouldn't be quite that easily dissuaded.  "Promise me first that we WILL sit down and discuss divvying up the chores for the boys after Saturday's race."  She left no question in her voice that she wouldn't accept anything less.

 

Craig sighed.  "All right; Monday morning we'll all sit down and try to come to a mutually-agreeable resolution; happy?"

 

Jennifer really didn't trust Craig to follow through with his promise, but she didn't see any other alternative at the moment, so she finally nodded in agreement.

 

---

 

Brian stood next to his uncle, his mouth slightly open as he watched several men take turns hefting a large-sized, flat, disc before they reared back to pitch it into the air like some javelin thrower at the Olympics.  At least they were wearing work gloves, but that still didn't do much to tamper his distaste.  "I can't believe this," he muttered as his uncle next to him smiled slightly at him in amusement over his reaction.

 

"Been doing it for years," he told his nephew.  "It is what it is, Brian; this is life in the country.  We get our enjoyment out of more simple things."

 

"Enjoyment?" Brian scoffed softly as the two of them continued to watch the participants; several men nearby were hooting and hollering like they were at a boxing match rather than observing farmers flinging cow dung up into the air to see how far it could traverse before it came back down to Earth.  "This is about as enjoyable as a hangnail."

 

Will couldn't help grinning as a particularly pungent whiff of manure suddenly filled the air and he watched his nephew's nose crinkle in disgust.  "Sure you wouldn't like to give it a whirl, Brian?  Didn't you tell Sarah that you played baseball in high school?  You'd be a natural," he teased him.

 

"No thanks," Brian responded dryly as he shook his head over how excited everyone was.  "I wouldn't want to take all that enjoyment away from them."  He brushed his hand through his unruly hair as he announced, "I think I'll go back inside and look around."

 

Will nodded, watching the proceedings in rapt attention.  "Just stay close by so we don't have to go searching for you when we leave.  By the way, there're some games over around the other side of the building you might find more interesting."  He quirked one side of his mouth up as he advised his nephew, "They usually give away stuffed animals for prizes; maybe you'll find a cow to win."

 

Brian snorted.  "Well, in THAT case, I'll definitely have to go check it out; all we need is one more cow for the place," he quipped as he turned to head off around the side of the building.  His uncle watched him go, lost in thought as he noticed the similarities between his nephew and Dale, before he turned his attention back to the contest.

 

---

 

"Well?" Jared asked Emmett a few minutes later as he caught up with him lingering near the cake walk.  "Any sign of him?"

 

Jared looked around, realizing he hadn't seen Justin in a while, either.  He tamped down pangs of jealousy as he wondered if they were together already as he told Emmett, "You have to go find Kinney before Justin does!  I told you what happened.  You're not backing out now?"

 

Emmett gazed longingly at the prized pecan pie before he shook his head, concentrating on what was most important.  "No, of course not!" he affirmed, not wanting any harm to come to his friend.  It was beginning to seem like the entire town was here now; the space was quickly filling up with scores of boisterous, happy-go-lucky townspeople catching up on their neighbors' lives.  Almost every available chair was now occupied, and the bluegrass band had struck up a bouncy, fiddler's tune.

 

"You have to go find them!" Jared instructed him.  "Kinney knows what I look like, or I would go with you."  He reached over to grasp Emmett's sleeve, his eyes beseeching him.  "Please, Em, I need to make sure that Justin is safe from him.  You know what to do."

 

Emmett nodded as his lips pressed into a determined line.  "Yeah.  I'll go find him now.  Wish me luck."

 

Jared nodded back at him with a smile.  "Oh, I do.  And I'm sure Justin will never forget what you did, either."

 

Emmett smiled as he nodded once more before hurrying away.

 

Jared's smile widened in glee.  "Yeah...Justin will never forget this," he murmured as he watched Emmett thread his way through the crowd.  "Enjoy him while you can, Squirt," he sneered.

 

---

 

Brian slowly wandered around the game and food booths, rolling his eyes at the "Mayberry-like" carnival atmosphere; there was the typical "Go Fish" booth for little kids to pluck a plastic duck out of a large, metal tub of water, a couple of shooting galleries, and even a 'Whack-A-Mole' game.  Interspersed throughout the small selection of games were some locally-run food booths benefiting such organizations as the Future Farmers of America and the Kiwanis Club, whatever the fuck that was.  Handwritten menus scrawled on displayed blackboards hawked such items as pulled-pork barbecue and beans and cornbread as he made sure to sidestep the errant puddle of water here and there in the beaten-down, grassy surface of the impromptu midway, his eyes searching for a certain someone amongst the quickly swelling throng of townspeople.  Finally, he spied a crown of shining gold several feet away standing in front of a booth munching on something apparently called a funnel cake, and his face broke out into a delighted smile.  "Gotcha," he murmured, pleased that his target was evidently by himself.  "Perfect."  In more ways than one...

Using his taller stature to keep his eyes firmly focused on his goal, he threaded his way through the crowd until he was a few feet away from the other boy, pausing for a moment to admire how Justin's pants and shirt framed his backside.  His heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation as he reached Justin's side and began to slide his arms around his waist.

 

Justin jumped at the surprise contact, but somehow managed to hold onto his prized treat, his adrenalin shooting sky high as he immediately realized who it must be.  He turned around in Brian's arms to stare up at the other boy and couldn't help smiling, his breath catching in his throat at how gorgeous Brian looked in his outfit.  "You are here," he marveled as Brian smirked back at him.

 

"Very astute of you," Brian remarked with a dry grin.  "I told you I would be here."  Dropping his light embrace of Justin reluctantly, he looked around the busy environment.  "I came specifically for the cow-chip throwing contest."  He snorted.  "I can't believe they even do that sort of thing with cow shit."

 

Justin giggled at the look on his face, his irritation with Brian from last night quickly dissipating.  There was just no way he could stay mad at this other boy.  "Did you take a look at it?" he asked.

 

Brian nodded and then shook his head in exasperation.   "They really need to find something better to do for amusements around here."

 

"Like cow-tipping?" Justin teased as Brian grinned back at him.

 

"Well, not exactly what I would do for 'amusement' after last night, but hey, it seemed like more fun than what they're doing over there," he said with a nod of his head.  His eyes glanced down curiously at the fried concoction Justin was nibbling on; it was nestled on a white paper plate and sprinkled with copious amounts of what appeared to be powdered sugar.  He grimaced. "That's a funnel cake, I take it?"

 

Justin grinned in amusement at Brian's expression.  "Yeah.  Best food on earth - after your aunt's cobbler, anyway."  He pinched off a sticky, surgery end and held it up to Brian's mouth, his eyes twinkling.  "Want a bite?" he asked impishly.

 

If Brian didn't know better, he would swear this boy was the devil incarnate as his cock twitched at the sultry tone in his voice.  He licked his lips, the initial thought of disgust over eating such a high-carb concoction quickly fading away as his mouth seemed to open almost of its own accord.

 

Justin's eyes widened slightly. What was he thinking?  He glanced around to see if anyone was watching them, suddenly feeling vulnerable and unsure of himself.  But he had started it, and he certainly wanted to finish it.  His slightly shaking hand belied his bold offer as he held the bite out in front of Brian's lips and slowly slid his fingers inside so Brian could rake his teeth over them to snag the sugary cake.  Justin's heart began to pound as he felt the hot wetness surrounding his fingers and Brian's tongue taking a swipe at them before he managed to pull them out, the other boy's saliva serving to make his skin feel cool against the warm breeze blowing around them.

 

Justin watched enraptured as Brian chewed a couple of times and then swallowed, unable to avoid staring at his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he did so.  His eyes involuntarily darkened with desire as he lifted his gaze to stare into Brian's, feeling the heat flush over his skin at the look he was receiving, one that he conjectured reflected his own at that moment.  He cleared his throat.  "Did you like it?" he found himself saying.

 

Brian's traditional smirk faded away as he answered sincerely, "It was delicious.  And the funnel cake wasn't half-bad, either."  He leered over at his companion, who averted his eyes as his face reddened even more.   "I wouldn't mind having some other bites," he added huskily as one side of his mouth turned up in amusement.  "Know where I can get some more just like that?" he asked.

 

Finding himself suddenly emboldened, all the sounds around them seemed to fade away as Justin lifted his fingers to provocatively suck them, one by one, into his mouth to try and remove the stickiness, watching as Brian's eyes widened in reaction; he found the inflection of gold and green in his pupils absolutely mesmerizing as he replied, "Yeah, I just might."  He knew it was a dangerous game they were playing - and what the eventual result might be - but he was finding it harder and harder to hold out against this incredible, magnetic force known as Brian Kinney.  If only he could be absolutely sure, though, that Brian's motives were sincere and not just focused on having his needs - and his curiosity - met.

 

Brian tried furiously not to give his emotions away - nor let his imagination run wild. But he clearly remembered that day at the pond, seeing Justin naked and floating so tantalizingly on the water and he hadn't forgotten how it made him feel whenever they kiss. But that last, saucy comment from his sassy, blond companion didn't diminish his desire for him; if anything, it made him want him even more.

 

He moved closer to Justin so they were mere inches apart as he whispered to him, "I'll definitely keep that in mind," earning a blush in return as he smiled at him.  "Now if you think you can part with that shit for a while, why don't you show me what else I might like?"

 

Justin marveled at how this boy could get his heart thumping in record time as he promptly threw the remainder of his funnel cake in a slightly rusty, metal container and wiped his hands between his palms to dislodge the remaining powdered sugar.  "What would you like to see?" he asked before he caught himself as Brian smirked.  "I mean, of the building, Brian."

 

Brian grinned as he paused.  It was crowded as hell inside, and while the makeshift midway was bustling with activity as well, at least it was more navigable.  Besides, something told him if he wanted a little time to be alone with Justin, it wouldn't occur inside, and with the rapidly approaching darkness the odds were better for that out here.  "Why don't we just talk a walk?" he finally suggested as Justin nodded in agreement.

 

Periodically as they ambled down the middle of the pathway, someone would call out a greeting to Justin, who would nod or smile at them in return or greet them by name.  Brian noticed that everyone seemed to genuinely like him, with several offering shouts of "Good Luck" for the upcoming race.  It was obvious that Justin was well-liked and held in high esteem by the townspeople, a fact that made Brian inexplicably proud.

 

Brian longed to hold Justin's hand or place his arm around his waist, but something about being in this conservative environment stopped him.  It wasn't so much that he gave a fuck what they thought, but he DID care about how they felt toward Justin, and the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was cause any more problems for him.  So he forced himself to compromise by 'accidentally' bumping up against his shoulder, as he fulfilled his need to touch him occasionally nonetheless.

 

They eventually stopped at a game that Brian actually recognized:  skeeball.  Justin lingered nearby as the barker tried to coax them to come closer.

Turning to Brian, Justin asked, "Didn't you say you played baseball in high school?" he asked with a grin.  "Now's your chance to impress me with your skills."

 

Brian leaned in to whisper in his ear.  "That's not the skills I wanted to demonstrate for you," he told him as Justin blushed just like he thought he would.  "But I guess it's a start."  He walked over to the game operator - a tall, skinny kid who appeared to be in his early twenties wearing bib overalls and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up - and slipped several quarters into the side slot to release a total of ten balls.  "Stand back and watch," Brian boasted as Justin walked up to stand next to him, his arms folded over his chest.

 

Grinning smugly, Brian hefted the first ball into a gentle arc, promptly causing it to take a hard bounce in, then out of the circled target as Justin snickered.  Pursing his lips together in irritation, Brian shrugged.  "That was a practice shot," he explained as he curled his fingers around the next one and lofted it toward the center hole.  It, too, bounced right out of the target and this time came rolling back down toward him.

 

Justin laughed this time.  "Well, it's going well so far," he observed dryly as Brian glared over at him.  "Maybe you'll at least win a plastic key chain."  He looked upward at the stuffed animals hanging down from the frame of the booth and told him, "And I had my heart set on one of those stuffed cows."

 

He guffawed at the expression on Brian's face as the other boy glowered at him.  "I've got eight more balls," he reminded him.

 

"Well, so far your aim with your balls is way off," Justin supplied helpfully as he covered his mouth in amusement; he was enjoying this much more than if Brian had actually MADE his targets; the look on his normally self-confident, cocky face was priceless at the moment, and it somehow made him a little more 'human' in his eyes.

 

"My 'aim with my balls' is just fine, thank you," Brian growled.  "This game must be rigged; you know how they are," he maintained as the booth operator ignored him; after all, he was just there for a little money for the night, not to make a career out of operating a carnival game.

 

He aimed one more ball toward the center only to have it wind up in the outer most ring for a score of a paltry 20 points.

 

Justin grinned.  "Here, why don't you take a rest and let me try a couple?" he suggested.  "After all, you ARE older than me, so I'm sure you tired more easily."

 

Brian rolled his eyes, but held his hands up in surrender and backed up a few feet.  "Oh, by all means, Nolan Ryan, give it your best shot."  He watched as Justin reached over to grab the next ball in the chute and lean over slightly in concentration, biting his lower lip as he focused on his aim.  He watched as Justin softly lofted the ball and watched it promptly disappear down the middle ring for the highest score.

 

He huffed out a breath in disbelief as Justin did the same thing to the next ball, and then the next and the next one until he had racked up enough points to qualify for a medium-sized prize.  A few minutes later, he was the proud owner of a stuffed, black-and-white Checkers lookalike; a prize he proudly presented to his companion.

 

"Oh, no," Brian protested in aggravation.  "You won it fair and square; I wouldn't want to deprive you of the honor.  I'm sure it will look just peachy sitting on top of your dresser back home."

 

Justin grinned as he grabbed Brian's sleeve and looked up at him with a playful gleam in his eye; Brian noticed how much he seemed to be enjoying himself tonight, and he couldn't help smiling back at him in return.  "Oh, no, I couldn't," Justin responded.  "Every time you look at this in your bedroom, it will be a reminder of how you saved a life the other day...and how ridiculous you looked when that steer starting chasing after you last night."  He pressed the cow up against Brian's chest and lifted one eyebrow expectantly until Brian rolled his eyes back at him and snatched it out of his hands; he held it by the end of its tail and swung it back and forth between them as he told him dryly, "I'm honored.  Let's go, Champ."

 

"But...I was just getting warmed up," Justin argued with a smug sort of look of his face.

 

"Showoff," he muttered as he tugged Justin a little more forcefully away.   "You're warm enough."

 

Justin laughed as he finally allowed Brian to pull him away.  "Okay...but the loser has to buy the winner cotton candy."

 

Brian shook his head as the cow continued to be swung lightly back and forth by its tail.  "What is it with you?  Is that all you think about?  How do you stay like that if you eat like a horse all the time?"

 

Justin shrugged.  "High metabolism and a lot of chores," he explained.  "Besides, it's not like my mom feeds me funnel cakes and cotton candy at home; I have to get it when I can."

 

"I like that philosophy," Brian said with a grin.  "And I agree with it completely."

 

"I meant junk food," Justin retorted as he rolled his eyes.

 

Brian sighed.  "I was afraid that's what you meant," he admitted as he lightly held onto Justin's elbow as they steered their way through the burgeoning crowd.  "Cotton candy, huh?"  Justin beamed up at him as he nodded.  "Okay, Nolan, lead the way."

 

Justin grinned as the two of them continued down the relatively short midway; banks of fat, round lights began to illuminate the dusk as they came to the end.  Justin frowned in dismay as he realized there wasn't any more.  "Where is it?" he wondered, almost pouting.

 

Brian laughed at his sulking.  He cocked his head toward the right.  "Well, all's not lost.  There's always fried pork rinds."  He wrinkled his nose in disdain at the thought; did those words actually come out of his mouth?

 

To his relief, Justin crinkled up his nose the same way.  "No way; I hate pork rinds," he disclosed with a disappointed sigh.  "Damn."

 

Brian shook his head in amusement.  Justin could be quite mature for his age most of the time, but right now he sounded more like a child thwarted from his most cherished toy.  "Poor thing," he cooed.  His eyes lit up as he noticed one last game located at the very end of the midway.  "Come on, I want to try that," he decided impetuously.

 

"Of course you do," Justin teased him as he noticed the "Strongman" game standing off by itself.  It was one of those contraptions where you tried to show off how strong you were by lifting a monstrously heavy mallet and striking a platform in an attempt to strike a bell at the very top. 

 

"Brian, you do realize how heavy that mallet is, don't you?"

 

Brian walked over to a middle-aged, balding man with a slight paunch and handed him a five-dollar bill.  "Of course I do," he assured him, slightly miffed that Justin sounded wary of him even trying it.  Well, he would show him.  He didn't stay in the shape he was in by being a couch potato.  Nodding at the attendant, he reached down to lift up the mallet, but to his consternation he found out just how fucking heavy it was; the tool barely moved.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Justin holding his hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing at him as he pulled on it harder, finally succeeding in lifting it up onto his shoulder with a decided grunt.  "Shit," he couldn't help exclaiming in surprise over how heavy it was.

 

"Brian..."

 

But Brian held up one hand in a silent request for him to be quiet.  Justin watched with a bit of concern as Brian stood there trying to catch his breath as he apparently tried to steel himself.  A few seconds later, he lowered the mallet and then flung it around in one fluid, circular motion to gain momentum before, like some railroad worker from the 1800's helping to build the Transcontinental Railroad, he brought it to come crashing down onto the metal platform.  Both boys watched as the guide traveled up the metal 'thermometer' until a distinctive clang was heard.

"Winner!  We have a winner!" the operator announced as Brian gratefully placed the mallet, head down, on the ground next to the contraption and breathed out a giant sigh of relief.  Deciding the tool must weigh a fucking ton, he vowed never to go near one of those ever again.

 

"What'll be?" the man asked him as Brian eyed the prize merchandise carefully; a grin broke out on his face a few seconds later as he pointed to a stuffed, brown-and-white horse with a flowing main of nylon hair and promptly handed it to Justin.  "Now we're even," he announced as Justin beamed and accepted the gift graciously, secretly thrilled at being the center of Brian's attention.  "Ride it in good health," he added as Justin laughed.

 

"That was impressive," Justin admitted as they began to walk away, each boy now holding onto their own stuffed animal.  "It's hard to ring that bell.  You're stronger than you look."

 

Brian didn't know why, but that comment almost made him puff out like a proud peacock.  "Yeah, I am," he told his companion.  "On both counts."

 

Justin grinned.  "And ever modest, too."

 

Brian grinned back at him as they stood at the end of the midway, parallel with the barn.  He stopped, hesitating.  Would they have to go back in now?  Despite how hokey this whole town social thing was, he was actually having a great time with Justin outside.   He once more took his elbow to steer him over to a corner of the barn, hidden from everyone else's view.

 

"Uh, Justin?"

 

Justin turned to gaze up at him so they were facing each other, both of them shadowed by the end of the building now and out of the glare of the harsh, outdoor lighting and the mob of people congregated around the food and game booths.

 

"Yes?" he asked as the two of them stood staring at each other.

 

Justin's eyes shone in the reflection of the myriad stars shining overhead as Brian's breath caught in his throat at his beauty.  He wasn't quite sure what was happening to him lately, but he did know one thing at that moment:  God, he had to kiss this boy.  "I..."

 

Fuck it.  Dropping the stuffed cow down onto the ground, his grasped Justin's upper arms with his hands and crashed his lips down onto his, not giving Justin any time to think about what he was doing.  He head a soft sigh escape Justin's lips as he pushed his tongue inside; moments later, the horse joined the cow on the grass as the younger boy wound his arms around Brian's back and pressed their bodies tightly together as the kiss quickly deepened into a needy, passionate one.

 

Justin felt the hard wood of the barn's exterior against his back as Brian assaulted his mouth, his heart thumping wildly in his chest over the feelings rushing through him.  His entire body felt like it was on fire as Brian's hands crept inside his jacket and began to roam all over him; he found himself emulating the same gestures as his fingernails scraped lightly across Brian's muscled back.  He knew if he didn't stop what they were doing and soon, he would be shamelessly humping up against Brian any second.  It took every ounce of his willpower to place his hands against Brian's chest and push back enough to separate them, desperately needing both breathing room as well as a few moments to come back down to Earth.

 

He could hear Brian's soft panting as well as his own as he continued to hold onto him.  "What?" Brian murmured, his voice throaty and breathless.  "Why did you pull away?"  If he didn't know Justin well enough, he would think the boy was a kind of cock tease, but he suspected it had more to do with fear of the unknown than anything else; despite Justin's apparent inexperience, however, the boy could kiss him to within an inch of his life.  He had kissed a lot of guys over the years, but Justin's kisses were in a class by themselves.

 

Justin was finding it hard to concentrate with Brian staring him in the face, his green, gold-flecked eyes rapidly darting back and forth as if he, too, were nervous.  Perhaps he was - but there was no way he could be as nervous as he felt.  He knew eventually he would have to decide what to do. Someone like Brian wasn't made to go without sex; the boy was too experienced to do that.  Probably just the fact that he had managed to wait this long was a testimony to how he felt about him; wasn't it?  Did he mean, though, that he was interested in something more than just a one-time deal?

 

"Brian..." He began, not quite sure what he was even going to say.  "I care about you..."

 

"Well, that's a start," Brian told him softly.  "So...?"

 

"I don't know, Brian," Justin told him hesitantly, his previous bravado with this boy suddenly gone.  "I want to..."  Why couldn't Brian at least tell him the same thing?  It would make his decision so much easier.

 

Brian was elated with that bit of information, though; at least it was encouraging.  "Then what's stopping you, Justin?" he entreated huskily.   He didn't take time to think about why it mattered to him; it never had before, but for some reason it did now.  Normally he just took what was offered him, and he didn't look back.  This time, however, somehow it was different.

 

Justin's face grew warm at the sultry sound of Brian's voice; he couldn't see his face too well at the moment in the shadows, but perhaps that was just as well, because the more they stood there, the more his resolve was quickly fading away.  But even if he DID want to have sex with Brian, he didn't want his first time to be here; not standing on the side of a barn with scores of people milling nearby.  "I..."

 

Brian huffed out a frustrated breath over his indecision.  He didn't want to scare Justin off, but a guy could only take so much, too.  "I know you want me just like I want you," Brian countered as his hands came to rest on either side of Justin's body and he braced himself, palms down, against the barn's exterior, effectively trapping his companion within his embrace.

 

"Justin, haven't we been playing games long enough here?"  Relatively sheltered now from prying ears or eyes, he told him, "You told me you weren't into one-time fucks, and I get that.  But I think I've been extremely patient with you, Justin.  Don't you think it's time to change things up a little?"

 

Justin frowned at Brian's choice of words.  "Change things up?"

 

Brian sighed; shit, this beautiful, enticing boy could be so infuriating at times.  "You know what I mean.  Do you realize this has been the longest period of time I've gone without sex before?"

 

Uh, oh.  Brian knew he had phrased that wrong as soon as he heard more than saw the reaction.

 

"Excuse me?" Justin replied as he bristled at the less-than-romantic words; his hands stilled on Brian's back as he growled, "Is that all this is, Brian?  Your solution to solving your sexual repression?  Is that all I am to you?  A means to an end?"  He placed his hands on Brian's chest and pushed back from him to break their embrace.  "Well, then, fuck you! Or should I say fuck yourself!"  He began to trounce away, only to have Brian snatch him by his upper arm and twirl him back around to face him.

 

"Oh, my God, Justin; don't be such a fucking drama princess!" Brian retorted; his level of patience and understanding quickly reaching the point of no return.  He hadn't exactly meant it the way it had sounded; he just wanted Justin so badly that he physically ached for him.  It wasn't that he didn't care for him, either.  Why was everything so difficult around this boy?  He had never been so challenged - and so frustrated in his life.

 

"Leave me alone!" Justin cried out as he wrenched himself free from Brian's grasp.  "I told you before!  I don't want just a one-night fuck with you!  Go find some other nameless trick to take care of your problem!" he yelled, not caring of who happened to hear him at the moment; fortunately for him, however, with the boisterous crowd noise and the further buffering from the building, no one noticed their altercation.

 

"Shit, Justin!" Brian yelled back as Justin stomped away.  He followed him a few steps and turned the corner, just in time to see Justin rushing away and being absorbed into the crowd; a few seconds later, he was completely hidden from his view.  He brushed his hand through his hair in disgust. How did such a promising evening suddenly go south all of a sudden?

 

---

 

Justin brushed the tears from his eyes as he rushed through the crowd, uncaring of where he was going.  All he knew was that he had to get out of there and as far away from Brian as possible.  Why had he thought he would be any different than any other guys who had been with Brian?  Than Jared, even?  Apparently his brother had been right; Brian didn't really care about him or his feelings.  He only cared about getting laid and his latest conquest.

 

He bit his lip to keep any more tears from falling as he entered the back doors of the barn, blinking to adjust to the bright light inside like a theater patron emerging into bright sunlight after watching a movie.  Crowds of people were swarming around the judging entries, especially those in the baked goods category, and Justin noticed Brian's aunt standing nearby, beaming as one of the judges awarded her yet another 1st prize ribbon for her cobbler.  Not in the mood to talk to anyone - especially either his parents or Brian's aunt and uncle - he rushed ahead, not looking in any direction and not really knowing where he was going.  He just wanted to get as far away from her as possible.

 

From her place nearby, Sarah accepted the well wishes of several townspeople as she suddenly noticed Justin hurrying by her; from the look on his face, it was obvious that something distressing had happened.  "I'm sorry," she quickly told those milling around her, "I have something I need to do.  Will you excuse me?" she asked as she hurried to catch up with her young neighbor.

 

---

Same Time - End of Midway

Brian tried to hurriedly weave his way through the crowd in his need to find Justin, but he was discovering it difficult to do.  As soon as he dodged one crowd standing in the middle of the walkway to catch up on old times, he found another one to impede his progress.  "Fuck!" he muttered in frustration as an older lady nearby glared at him over his expletive.  Rolling his eyes, he forged ahead a few more feet, just in time to slam into another boy of about the same height.

 

"Whoa!" Emmett exclaimed as he reached out to grasp Brian by the arms to steady him.  "Where's the rodeo, Tex?" he teased.  He let out a deep breath to steel himself; Jared had warned him about this boy's temper, but he forced himself to remain focused on his task:  to find a way to permanently sever this guy's relationship with his young friend.  For that, he would risk the other boy's wrath.

 

"Get out of my way!" Brian snapped as he reached to shove him aside; to his surprise, however, the other boy was stronger than he appeared as he refused to budge.  "Are you fucking deaf?" he snarled, his mind only on one thing at the moment. 

 

"Oh, I can hear just fine," Emmett assured him, not willing to let this boy bully HIM.  He didn't look that overpowering to him; of course, as with most bullies, they were more boast than brawn.  He appeared to frown as he eyed him intently.  "You're the Walkers' nephew, aren't you?"  Of course, he already knew that; Jared had pointed him out to him earlier when he had spotted Kinney and his brother together near the back entrance doors.  That's how he had known to come out here to find him.  That, and the fact that he had seen Justin rushing inside, clearly upset about something a few minutes ago.  Had this boy been pressuring him again to do something he didn't want to do?  That made him even MORE intent on making sure Justin saw exactly what sort of person this boy was, and convince him that he never wanted anything to do with him ever again.  He could do so much better than him. 

 

Brian eyes bored into his, dark and stormy, as Emmett stood his ground.  "Yeah, what if I AM?   Who the fuck are YOU?" 

 

"The name's Emmett Honeycutt; I'm Vic's nephew," he announced.  "I'm staying with him for a few weeks."

 

"I'm filled with utter joy," Brian quipped sarcastically.  "Now move aside." 

 

"What's your hurry?"

 

"None of your business," Brian growled.  What WAS it with these townspeople wanting to know everyone else's affairs?

 

"Oh, but Justin IS my business," Emmett said as the other boy brushed by him, causing Brian to stop dead in his tracks in the midst of all the hustle and bustle and turn around on a dime at the mention of his quarry's name.

 

Grabbing Emmett by the arm, he half-drug, half-pulled him over to the side where it wasn't as crowded as he demanded, "What does THAT mean?" 

 

Gotcha, Emmett silently crowed.  He had certainly had his share of exposure to bullies back in Alabama, and he always found that they were suddenly quite interested when you implied that you were about to snatch their favorite toy away from them. 

 

"Talk!" Brian commanded as his hands curled into fists as they grasped the cotton material of his shirt, wondering how in the hell he could possibly know that he was trying to find him.   "What does this have to do with him?"

 

"Justin's my friend," Emmett declared.  "And he's long gone from here," he advised, knowing that was a bald-faced lie; he had seen his friend just a little while ago, and knew there was no way Justin could leave without the rest of his family.  It was simply too far of a walk back home.  And he was counting on Jared's help in the next part of his plan. 

 

But, of course, Brian didn't know any of that as he eyed him unflinchingly.  This is for you, Baby, Emmett thought in determination as he took a deep breath and revealed, "I saw the two of you together earlier out here over at the skeeball machines, so I know you know each other.  But if you're trying to find him now, you're too late." 

 

"What does THAT mean?"

 

"I heard him hitching a ride back home with one of his neighbors," Emmett told Brian as his heart lurched in dismay.  "Left about five minutes ago.  So it won't do any good to go look for him." 

 

Brian walked a couple of steps and promptly plopped down on a weathered, wooden bench in defeat.  Shit.  What a mess!  He had fucked up big time once more by speaking before he started thinking.  He had never met a boy who both perplexed as well as enchanted him more, but all he seemed to do was keep screwing everything up.  He let out a heavy sigh.  "Fuck."

 

Emmett frowned; he hadn't quite expected that sort of reaction, but perhaps it was just as he thought - maybe Kinney was upset because his 'flavor of the month' had gotten away from him.  At that moment, though, the other boy didn't seem all that violent to him; in fact, he seemed rather miserable. 

 

Looking forward to his reward later of spending some quality time with Justin's brother, however, and figuring that Jared knew better than he regarding this other boy, he nonetheless plunged ahead with the next part of their plan.

 

"Well, now that you're here by yourself and I'M here by myself, what do you say we make the best of it?" 

 

 

 

From his place by the bandstand, Jared had watched his brother rush by, his face drawn and red.  It was obvious he was upset about something.  He grinned; apparently Emmett was playing right along with his plan.  He wasn't sure what had happened exactly, but it had evidently not been in his brother's favor.  Now all he had to do was bide his time a little until Emmett worked his magic on Brian; then he would promptly step in to help 'alleviate' his pent-up frustration and lust.

 

He decided he would play it safe for a little while longer inside the barn before heading out to the midway to try and figure out what was going on; let his brother simply brood and pout outside if he wanted to.  There would be far less complications that way, anyway.  "It never pays to play in the big leagues, Squirt," he chuckled softly in satisfaction as he observed Justin hurry out the main entrance doors.  He shuffled lightly from one foot to the other and glanced from time to time toward the rear of the building in barely-restrained impatience, not noticing Brian's Aunt Sarah quickly heading toward the entrance to follow after his brother.

 

---

 

Her husband currently involved with the cow chip throwing contest, Sarah rushed to follow after Justin, somehow accessing accurately that his look of dismay and anguish might have something to do with her nephew.  "Brian, what have you done?" she murmured to herself as she hurried to catch up with him.  She quickly rushed out the doors, glancing around to try and figure out where her young neighbor had gone. Fortunately, there was enough lighting by the front entrance, as well as the starlight cast from above, to just make out a crown of shining blond hair heading toward the grassy parking area; Justin was apparently going back to his parents' truck.

 

Her brow creased in concern, Sarah scampered after him, her lithe, petite frame aiding her in keeping track of him.  Just as she thought, after a few minutes, Justin pulled up short next to his parents' truck and climbed into the back of the bed, sitting down on one of the straw bales and placing his head wearily in his hands.  He didn't notice her approaching until she greeted him softly.

 

"Justin?"

 

Justin's head popped up, startled.  He frowned as he recognized who it was.  He sniffled a little to try and disguise his sadness from her as he said, "Mrs. Walker?  What are you doing here?"  He really liked Brian's aunt - she had always been kind and loving to him - but she was probably one of the last people he wanted to see right now.  How did she even know where he was?

 

She hesitated a moment, wondering how to proceed before she replied, "I saw you head out here and thought maybe you might want someone to talk to.  I noticed in the barn that you seemed upset.  Are you okay?"  She quietly walked up to the side nearest where Justin was sitting and placed her hands on the top of the cool, metal truck bed; in the darkness, she could just barely make out Justin's eyes gleaming back at her, and she thought they seemed brighter than normal even in the dimness.  Her heart sank at the thought that her nephew could be to blame for his appearance.  Brian, I told you not to hurt him, she thought silently.  She did not want to judge her nephew, though - at least not yet - until she knew for sure what had happened.

 

Justin let out a ragged breath.  "I really don't want to talk about it," he told her sadly.  Had he been wrong about Brian after all?  That had been one of his fears from the start; that Brian was simply one of those guys who chased you until you gave in, and then dumped you like a pair of muddy boots by the back door.  Had he been wrong about him?  What did he know about relationships and love, anyway?  It wasn't as if he had had a lot of experience in that department.  Had Jared been right all along?  He swallowed the painful lump in his throat and sighed, a mournful sort of sigh that tore straight at Sarah's heart.

 

His mouth hung open in shock just then as he watched Brian's aunt walk over to the back of the truck and, pressing the gate's handle to release it, deftly hoist herself up onto the back of the vehicle to walk over next to Justin and sit down on the other bale that his brother had occupied earlier.  "Mrs. Walker, I said I don't..."

 

"I know," she told him quietly as she reached over to place her hand comfortingly on his denim-clad knee.  "But I care about you, Justin.  And I have this sinking feeling that this somehow has to do with my nephew.  Am I right?"

 

Justin stared over at her in the darkness and finally nodded.

 

Sarah pursed her lips tightly together; she had hoped she was wrong.  "What did he do?"

 

Justin turned his head to peer out over the fields, clearly uncomfortable.  This wasn't exactly something he wanted to discuss, especially with Brian's aunt, no matter how much he liked her.  How could she possibly understand something that he didn't even comprehend?  "I...I can't really discuss this with you," he finally told her as he turned back to peer over at her.

 

Sarah eyed him resolutely, however; she wasn't going to give up that easily. She cared about both these boys too much to do that.  "Justin, if it has anything to do with my nephew, you have to tell me.  Please."

 

Justin rubbed his hand over his face; could he really discuss something this personal with Brian's aunt?  Would she even understand, or would she condemn it?  He knew he couldn't dare talk about it with his mother, even though she normally was quite sympathetic to his concerns, a lot more so than his father would ever be.  But as he peered over at her sympathetic, kindly face, there was something about this woman that led him to hope that perhaps somehow she could help him at least to understand why Brian did the things he did.

 

"We...we had a misunderstanding, I guess you would say," he finally whispered, the pain evident in his voice as he relived what had happened.

 

Sarah frowned, her hand tightening slightly on Justin's knee.  "What sort of misunderstanding, Honey?"

 

Justin bit his lip before he sighed in resignation.  The truth was he wanted to talk to someone about what had happened, and perhaps Brian's aunt was the perfect one to talk to about it; he knew that Brian was genuinely fond of her and respected her as well.  Making up his mind, then, he told her, "We were out at the midway around the games."  A small smile played on his face as he recalled how much fun they had been having.  "We played some Skeeball and the Iron Man game," he stated.  His smile widened a little more as he told her, "Brian gave me a stuffed horse when he won his game, and I gave him a cow.  I found out he wasn't very good at Skeeball, but he sure knew how to handle a mallet."

 

She smiled over at him, a little confused, however, by what had gone so wrong then.  "That sounds nice," she told him quietly.  "It sounds like you were having fun together."

 

Justin nodded as his smile faded slightly.  "We were."  And they had been; he knew Brian couldn't have been faking that.

 

She nodded back at him.  "So what happened, then?" she pressed softly.

 

Justin took a deep breath; it was all so personal.  He felt his face warm, and was relieved that in the relative darkness Brian's aunt couldn't see his reaction.  "Well...We got to the end of the midway where there weren't a lot of people, and...We were standing near a part of the barn where no one else could see us, and..."

 

Sarah's heart began to pound over the hesitation in Justin's voice.  Just what had Brian done to him?  Despite her fears, she refused to believe that he would force himself on this boy.  "Justin, please; just tell me what happened," she beseeched gently.

 

"Well...he kissed me," he finally confessed, wondering how Brian's aunt would react to that particular piece of information.  Would she be shocked?  Disgusted?  He had no idea.  To his relief and surprise, however, she didn't gasp in disbelief or make any other sound of scorn or disapproval, but merely gazed over at him thoughtfully, her hand still resting lightly on his knee.

 

Sarah had to hold back both a sigh of relief as well as a smile, because she wasn't quite sure how Justin felt about that.  Apparently something had upset him.  "You didn't want him to?" she probed carefully, trying to decipher exactly what was going on.

 

"No...I mean, no, it wasn't that," Justin admitted as he licked his lips nervously.  "I...I mean, I liked the kiss," he confessed, a little embarrassed to be discussing something so private with Brian's aunt.  But to his continuing amazement, she merely nodded at him briefly.

 

"Well, that's good," she said tentatively, still dumbfounded as to why Justin was so upset, then.  There had to be more to this story, and evidently she was going to have to pry it out of him.  "Justin, if you wanted him to kiss you, then why are you so upset now?"

 

Justin let out another sigh as he swallowed hard.  "Because...," he began.  Shit, this was so hard!  But he really did want to try and figure out Brian's motives, and perhaps his aunt was the only one who could explain it to him. But how to properly say it?  Finally, he told her, "Because he wanted more than I was willing to give him - at least for now."

 

Sarah stared over at her young neighbor, her heart heavy.  She had been afraid something like this might happen.  Justin was young and inexperienced; he was very strong in a lot of ways, but he was also fragile at times, too, and despite his many talents, he was still somewhat unsure of himself and his place in the world. Justin had just admitted to her that he liked Brian's kiss, so that could only mean one thing to her - Justin was attracted to her nephew, just like Brian was attracted to him.  Apparently, though, he had tried to move a little too fast for Justin's liking, and this had been the result.  "Justin," she began quietly as he lifted his head to look over at her, "he didn't try and force himself on you, did he?"  She had to know one way or the other.

 

To her immense relief, Justin shook his head in response.  "No," he whispered.  "Nothing like that. But he told me this had been the longest time he had gone without sex before," he told her, his face flushing in humiliation.  His eyes watered as he told her, "I thought he really cared about me.  Now I think I was only his next target until he got what he wanted and moved on."  He hung his head in shame, a soft, melancholy groan escaping his lips.

 

Sarah's heart broke at the plaintive sound in Justin's voice, but she had gotten to know her nephew well enough by now to know the real truth.  Her nephew could be gruff, short-tempered, impulsive, and impatient, but he also had a tender heart that he did not allow others to see - except around her and then only during rare moments of vulnerability.  And even though she had only known him for a relatively short time, she knew him well enough by now to realize that he cared about this young man a great deal, apparently more than Justin knew.

 

She reached over to clasp Justin's hand as he lifted his gaze to look at her, his eyes luminous under the starlight above.  "Justin," she began softly.  How could she explain her tempestuous nephew so he would understand?  "Brian does care about you; I'm sure of that," she told him firmly.

 

Justin's heart leapt at her statement; could it be true?  He wanted to believe that, but he dare not read too much into it; after all, she was his aunt. He still had to ask, though. "You are?"

 

She nodded as he added, "How do you know?"

 

She smiled, not missing the hopeful sound in his voice.  "He told me as much earlier today," she stated.

 

"He did?" Justin asked in surprise, a hitch in his voice.  Was it possible...?  "He said that?"

 

Sara pondered her answer to that question.  No, Brian hadn't come right out and specifically said, "Yes, I care about Justin."  But on the other hand, he didn't need to; the answer was there in his voice and in the insecurity that had flared to the surface when he had asked if she thought Justin was too young for him, and how useless it would be to get involved with someone just over the summer before he had to go home, and in the way he tried to find an excuse to deny his feelings for Justin but couldn't contradict her when she had forced his hand about it.  No, her nephew wasn't just in it for temporary gratification.  And while Brian could act first and then think about the consequences later, it was obvious to her that both boys felt deeply for each other.  Something told her, too, that they both needed one another.

 

Her mind made up, then, she nodded, not worried that she might not be correct; she knew she was.  "Yes," she told him with a smile.  "He did tell me that he cared about you."  She watched a smile begin to bloom just then on Justin's face as she explained, "Brian can be very impetuous, Justin; he likes to act first and think later.  I think he was just so happy to be with you tonight that he wanted to express that to you.  I'm sure he didn't mean for what he said to come out the way it did."

 

"I don't know..." He wanted to believe her so badly; was it true?  Was Brian just so anxious to be with him that he had merely used the wrong choice of words?  Maybe if he had stayed around to listen to him...He DID try to get him to stay, but he was so upset at the time that he hadn't been willing to do that.  "You really think so?" he asked softly, pressing his thumbnail between his teeth pensively.

 

She smiled over at him and squeezed his hand.  "Yes, I do," she replied.  "And I suspect that Brian is probably kicking himself right now for what he said.  Please, Justin, give him another chance to explain before things get out of hand, and you both regret it.  I'm sure you'll find that I'm right.  Brian is not as tough as he would like everyone to think.  He needs someone like you."

 

Justin stared over at Sarah, constantly amazed at how perceptive this woman could be.  He had always trusted her opinion; was she right now?  Could Brian really care for him as more than just a temporary plaything?  He wanted to think so; he knew he had to find out.  He figured the worst that could happen was that his fears would be realized, but if she was right something wondrous could occur; something that he had been yearning for.

 

He finally nodded.  "Okay, I'll go talk to him.  Do you know where he is?"

 

Sarah released his hand, enormously relieved that he was willing to listen to Brian.  You'd better give it your best shot, Brian; don't muck this up, she silently warned him almost telepathically.  "I didn't see him before I followed you out here," she admitted regretfully. "But this place is not that big; you should be able to find him pretty easily."

 

He nodded again as he stood up.  Extending his hand out to her as a courtesy, she smiled as she accepted it long enough for him to help her rise to stand beside him.  Walking the few steps over to the end of the truck bed, Justin hopped down before turning around to hold out his hands to help Sarah jump down, also.

 

"Go," she encouraged him.  "I'll be inside the barn near the judging booths.  I'm hoping my berry cobbler's about to repeat as a blue ribbon winner."

 

Justin grinned at her, his heart a lot lighter now.  "It will," she assured him.  "Just make sure you save me a piece of it."

 

She smiled.  "No need; I'll make you another one tomorrow.  Now get going."

 

Justin didn't need any more encouragement as he nodded before turning to rush back toward the entrance doors, his heart thudding in his chest.

 

Sarah watched him go as she bit her lip.  Here's your chance, Brian.  Make the most of it.

---

Thirty Minutes Earlier...

From his place on the bench, Brian peered over at Emmett with a grimace.  Was this boy serious?  Did he really think he'd be interested in him after Justin?  To him, NO ONE could be as amazing as he.  Brian couldn't help from laughing softly at the comparison.  "No, thanks," he replied as he sighed and brushed his hand through his hair in agitation.

 

How did Justin consistently manage to make him do and say things he never thought he would say?  And how did he always seem to cause him to put his foot in his mouth?  Before, he would have never cared either way; now, he felt like shit over the expression on Justin's face when he had made it sound like he was considering him just another guy to fuck, which was the farthest thing from the truth.  Why did he have to make it worse, too, by calling him a 'drama princess?'  Real smart, Kinney, he reprimanded himself.

 

Emmett frowned as he looked over at the other boy.  This wasn't quite going the way that Jared had indicated it would.  Kinney was supposed to be sex on legs and a walking bundle of testosterone; the way Jared had talked, all you had to do was stand anywhere near him and offer him a wink and a nod and the boy would be only too glad to oblige.  This guy, though, looked positively miserable, even if he WAS probably the hottest guy he had ever seen.  He fleetingly wondered why Jared hadn't gone after Kinney himself, but he was too absorbed in trying to figure out a way to impress the older Taylor boy that he didn't stop to analyze it.  What was he supposed to do now, though?  He was supposed to come onto Kinney while Justin was around so he would show his friend how shallow and vain the boy was; Justin, however, had run off just as he got there, and it was obvious he was already upset about something.  So what now?

 

"Why are you still standing there?" Brian growled.  "Get the hell away from me!"

 

Well, at least Jared was right about one part, Emmett decided. This guy obviously had a short fuse.  But there was just something off about this that just didn't jive - he wasn't trying to push him around or get in his face; in fact, he looked pretty damn dejected at the moment.  Something - he didn't know what - made him walk closer to the other boy and query, "Why was Justin so upset earlier?"

 

Brian huffed in disbelief; what part of fuck off did this nelly queen not understand?  He eyed the boy's flamboyant, flashy apparel - a shimmering, royal purple, satin shirt paired with multi-colored suspenders and form-fitting blue jeans with a pair of silly-looking, pink crocodile boots - and shook his head.  "It's none of your damn business," he snapped.  To his utter astonishment, the boy actually sat down next to him instead of leaving.  He really WAS deaf as well as suicidal, apparently. 

 

"Leave me the fuck alone!" he yelled as a few of the social's attendees close by gave him a glare or a dirty look over his foul language; at least it matched his mood at the moment, however.

 

Emmett fixed him with an unyielding stare; his previous fear of him being violent quickly abated to be replaced with an innate curiosity.  "Not until you tell me what happened between the two of you," he insisted firmly.  "I care about Justin and I don't want to see him get hurt."  The words fell unbidden before he could stop them; he wasn't sure if Jared wanted him to reveal that much to this other boy, but he couldn't help it.  It was the truth.

 

Brian's eyes widened slightly; apparently Vic's nephew had balls.  He had to give him credit for that.  "Well, neither do I," he told him rigidly, "not that it's any of your business, even if he IS a so-called friend of yours.  You must not know him very well," Brian pointed out, "since you live, where?  In Hicksville, Arkansas?"

 

"I know him well enough," Emmett maintained as he bristled at the imposed insult.  "I know he's a sweet boy who doesn't deserve to be slapped around because he won't bow to your sexual advances."  He quickly placed a hand over his mouth as he realized what he had divulged, his heart hammering in his chest as Brian looked over at him in total confusion.

 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Honeycutt?  Are you...," he couldn't even get the thought spoken aloud - it was too disgusting and vile to think about - "Are you insinuating that I've been slapping Justin around because he won't have sex with me?  Where in the hell did you get THAT idea from?"

 

Emmett bit his lip anxiously now; before then, he hadn't really felt all that nervous around Kinney, but the present, scathing look that he was receiving was making him quite alarmed.   For Justin's sake, however, he was not going to back down.

 

"Yes," he told him stiffly as he straightened up in his seat.  "That's exactly what I'm saying.  And I won't stand by and watch you hurt him anymore."

 

Brian's mouth hung open in incredulity.  "You won't stand for it!"  His voice carried so loudly that others nearby once more turned around to look at the two men sitting there on the bench; their deadly serious faces were a stark contrast to the festivities occurring all around them as Brian stated unequivocally, "I did no such thing! I don't HAVE to beg anyone for that, trust me!" Well, that wasn't exactly the truth; he had never begged Justin to have sex with him, but if anyone could make him possibly break that rule, it might be him.  Of course, it was all probably a moot point now after their fight. "I have never laid a hand on anyone, Honeycutt," he told his companion, prickling at the notion.  "Especially Justin."

 

"But you were in jail," Emmett pressed, unconvinced.

 

Brian harrumphed in irritation.  "Will you keep your voice down?" he hissed as he looked around the midway, even though the noises from the crowd and the games seemed to be thankfully drowning out most of their actual conversation.  "I have NEVER been in jail," he told him, his voice lowered somewhat.  Why he was explaining this to this boy was beyond him, but he told him nonetheless, "I was arrested for stealing a car and wound up here instead of being sent to jail.  Why else would I be in this godforsaken place where there're more fucking cows than people?"

 

Em frowned; that made sense in a way.  And this Kinney guy had really looked affronted over his accusation that he might have been physically abusing Justin.  But Jared had told him that; it had to be true - didn't it?  Why else would he have said that if he wasn't trying to protect his younger brother?  It didn't make sense otherwise.

 

"Where did you hear that, Honeycutt?" Brian demanded, seething inside.  He would NEVER hurt Justin - well, not physically, anyway. And it pained him greatly to think he had hurt him emotionally; he resolved to take care of that at the first opportunity.  There was no way he was going to let Justin go that easily, not without a fight.

 

Em pursed his lips together, his thoughts racing. He was totally confused; what exactly was going on here?  Should he tell him?  How he wished he could figure out who to believe.  He trusted Justin implicitly; he just knew his friend had no malevolent bone in his body. But Jared had told him that Justin would be too afraid to admit the truth even if he asked him.  And he thought he trusted Jared; but he had thought the boy was being a little odd earlier.  Before, Jared wouldn't have given him the time of day, and the thought that he was playing hard to get as he had indicated earlier didn't make a lot of sense then - or now.

 

Brian was quickly becoming fed up; this night had quickly gone from a wonderful experience with Justin to hell in a hand basket.  "I'm waiting," he demanded curtly as he folded his arms across his chest.  "I want to know who told you that."  Brian's mind swirled with possibilities as Emmett remained silent until, at last, the only logical answer slipped into place and his eyes narrowed in fury.  "Jared!  That asshole Jared told you that?"

 

Emmett shrunk back slightly from the other boy as his eyes widened like a rabbit caught in a snare, and Brian knew he had hit his mark.  "He told you I was hurting Justin?  Answer me!" he shouted as he reached over and grasped Emmett by the shoulders, uncaring now if anyone heard or saw him.

 

Emmett's face turned pale and his eyes grew wide as he gasped out, "Yes, damn it!  He told me you were hurting his brother, and he wanted me to come onto you when Justin was around so he wouldn't want anything to do with you!  I was doing it for him!  Now let GO of me!"

 

Brian stared at him, a mixture of horror and rage on his face as he finally released the other boy with a grunt.  "I'm going to fucking kill that asshole!" he shouted as he rose to his feet.  "He's going to wish he never messed with me!"  Abruptly, he turned around and began to rush down the midway, periodically bumping and crashing into other patrons and not caring about the scowls and angry reprimands he received in return over his bad manners.

 

Emmett sat there for a few seconds, immobile and unsure what to do, before finally he rose to his feet and hurried off after him.  He had no idea what he was going to do; he only knew somehow that he needed to be there when the confrontation took place.  Briefly wondering where Justin had run off to - and partially worried what would happen to him as well - he hastened to follow the other boy, still mulling over who was lying and who was telling the truth.  Something in the pit of his stomach, though, told him he already knew the answer.

 

---

 

Brian's nostrils flared in fury as he stomped toward the back door of the exhibit barn, not bothering to cast a glance toward his uncle and Justin's father, who were standing nearby watching contestants wrapping up the cow chip throwing contest.  Both men, however, noticed him as they heard a woman loudly call out in a huff, "Well, I NEVER!" as Brian roughly barged past her without so much as an 'excuse me.'

 

"Looks like your nephew is loaded for bear, Will," Craig told his neighbor as they turned to watch Brian rush inside.  "Maybe you'd best go check up on that boy."  Craig still didn't trust the Walkers' nephew, and the boy appeared to be enraged about something.

 

Just then, they noticed Emmett rushing up to them.  "You'd better stop him!" he told them breathlessly, his face drawn with worry.  "He's going after Jared!"

 

"What?" Craig asked in shock.

 

Emmett reached over and grabbed Craig's arm.  "No time to explain!" he told them desperately.  "Come on before one of them kills the other!"

 

Both men stared at each for a brief moment in indecision before they hurried of one accord into the rear of the barn, systematically searching for either Brian or Jared; they could see the top of Emmett's head several feet in front of them, doing the same.  The teeming crowd, oblivious to their anxious search, was currently clapping along to a lively tune being performed by the bluegrass music quartet at the front of the barn, and with the others grouped around the judging areas, it was extremely difficult to find anyone.  After a minute or so, however, the music abruptly stopped in mid-tune and the crowd slowly died down to a murmur as two males could be heard screaming at the top of their lungs.  Suddenly, they didn't need to search for them; it was obvious where they were.

 

"You son of a bitch!" Brian snarled as he hurried up to Jared, a large vein popping out on his neck.  "I know about Honeycutt and what you did!  I would never hurt Justin!  You're a lying piece of shit!"  There was a gasp from some of the participants over Brian's language as his uncle, Justin's father, and Emmett hurried over to intercept them before things escalated even more out of control.

 

Brian lunged for Jared then, who brought his hands up in front of his face in a defensive gesture as he deftly dodged the other boy's initial strike.  "You want a fight, Kinney?  You're on!" Jared shouted, furious that his plan had obviously backfired somehow.  "Come on, big man!" he taunted him as he crooked his fingers at him in a beckoning motion before he curled his hands into fists in a combative stance.  "You have more to lose here than I do!"  He no longer cared about getting back at Justin or winning Kinney over; his reputation and superiority were on the line now.  "Show me what you've got!" he mocked him as Brian's face turned red with rage and he began to rush him.

 

"Brian, NO!" Justin shouted from nearby just then, his face filled with fear and concern; what in the hell was going on? 

 

Brian turned around in stunned surprise at the sound of Justin's voice to try and find him, only to have Jared sucker-punch him with a glancing blow to his left jaw.

 

"Why, you sniveling coward!" Brian growled as he rushed at him in fury, only to have Justin grab him from behind to hold him in place while Vic grabbed Jared and held on tight to him, giving Craig just long enough to step between the two of them to intervene.

 

"Oh, my God!" Jennifer whispered in horror as she left her place near the preserves and honey judging station at the sound of the fight and hurried over, recognizing both her sons and her husband right in the middle of the fracas.

 

All eyes were on the drama taking place as Craig snapped at his son, "Stop this right now!"  Brian's chest heaved up and down in agitated fury; Justin continued to hold onto him in a virtual vise, his wrists linked around his chest to prevent him from moving as he peered around Brian to see what his father and brother were doing.  "What in the hell is going on?" Craig asked Jared as he turned to stare over at Brian suspiciously, not missing his other son holding onto him from behind.

 

Jared struggled to free himself from Vic's grasp as he cried out, "He tried to charge at me!  He's a fucking troublemaker!  He belongs in jail!"

 

"He's lying!" Brian shouted at him, inexplicably embarrassed as he felt everyone's eyes on him.  He had worked hard to try and turn his life around here; he resented Jared insinuating that he was the same person as the one who had first stepped foot on the Walker's ranch.  "He started the whole damn thing!  He told Emmett that I was slapping Justin around!"

 

Justin's mouth flew open in shock.  "What?"  He stared over at his brother with hatred and hurt in his eyes.  "Is that true?  Did you do that?"

 

Jared sneered at him as he retorted, "Don't flatter yourself!  I don't care WHAT happens to you!"

 

Craig felt his face warm with shame as everyone he knew in town turned to stare at them in thinly-disguised disgust. "You're embarrassing the whole family," he hissed at Jared.  "We're taking this conversation outside - NOW!"  He none-too-gently grabbed his son's arm and forcefully began to drag him toward the entrance doors.  "You, too!" he called over to Justin as Jennifer rushed up to them, but Justin refused to budge from his place by Brian's side.

 

"But...but it wasn't me!" Jared continued to insist as he struggled to remain inside; despite his somewhat shorter height, however, Craig was stronger than he appeared as he ignored his son's diatribe and continued to roughly pull him to the front doors by his arm.

 

"You can explain yourself outside!" Craig snarled as the two of them finally disappeared out of sight, followed shortly by Jennifer; the crowd stood there for a few minutes longer until Vic finally cried out, "Show's over, folks!  Let's get back to the social!"  The shocked observers lingered several seconds longer, until the band's leader nodded at his fellow musicians and the music started up again.  That seemed to jolt everyone out of their frozen state as they finally began to murmur among themselves before they slowly returned to the festivities.

 

Will let out a heavy, ragged breath, trying hard not to jump to conclusions as he surveyed his nephew. He had hoped Brian had changed, but now he wasn't so sure. He observed the youngest Walker boy finally release his hold on him as he felt Sarah clutch at his sleeve; he looked over at her, noticing a myriad of emotions on her face.  She seemed to silently beg him to go easy on Brian as he asked the boy with surprising calm, "What's going on here, Brian?  Did you do what he said you did?"

 

"No!" Justin interrupted unexpectedly before Brian had a chance to answer.  "Brian would never do that!"  His eyes flashed with righteous indignation as well as concern over what fate might befall Brian now, his own prior anger totally dissipating to be replaced by his worry over his predicament.  He stood next to Brian's side as their eyes locked on each other for a moment before he softly added, "Brian would never do that to me."

 

"He's right," Emmett verified from his place nearby as he spoke up, now convinced that everything Jared had told him was a bald-faced lie; Vic, having released possession of Jared to his father, chose to remain with the others to find out exactly what had occurred as he listened quietly to his nephew, who appeared to be fairly distraught.  He knew Emmett could be over-the-top at times and downright eccentric, but he also knew the boy wasn't a liar, and something told him he had been the innocent party in this whole affair.

 

"Jared came to me earlier today and told me that Brian had been pressuring Justin to do something that he didn't want to do," he began; he chose intentionally to keep his explanation vague, cognizant of the prying eyes and ears still listening in.  He fixed his stare on one older man nearby in particular who was glaring at him until the gray-haired farmer finally had the decency to turn away in embarrassment.

 

Sarah urgently suggested, "Let's take this outside, okay?  Side door."  The last thing she wanted was to run into Jared and his parents at the moment still in the heat of their argument; at least if they exited out the side door opposite all the activity that was occurring at the moment, they could be assured of some privacy to hash everything out.

 

Will nodded, realizing that was best.  "Good idea," he muttered, red-faced as he noticed too many familiar faces studying them curiously; even if Brian WASN'T to blame for this, he feared he would have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow when he had to go into town for supplies.  "Let's get out of here."

 

Sarah noticed Justin standing there in indecision, however, as if he didn't know what to do. "Justin?" she asked quietly in concern.

 

Justin bit his lip as he stared back at Brian, still feeling a little awkward after the way they had parted before, but knowing he didn't want to leave just yet.  But on the other hand, his father had practically ordered him to follow them out, and he knew he would come looking for him any minute.  "I...my father," he tried to explain, wondering if he was about to incur his wrath once again; he noticed that his mother had followed him and his brother out the door.  They no doubt would be expecting him to join them any second.  There was NO way, however, that he was going to go home with his brother after all this.  Just the thought of being anywhere near him made him want to puke.

 

"Justin?" Brian called out his name as their eyes met again.  "Don't go yet," he beseeched him softly.  He had to know that Justin misunderstood what he had been trying to say earlier, and that he wasn't to blame for his and Jared nearly coming to blows.

 

Justin swallowed, torn over what to do.  Any second now he expected his father to poke his head back in the door and demand that he come outside.

 

"I'll talk to him, Justin," Vic suddenly offered.  "I'll tell him that you will ride home with Emmett and me."

 

Justin eyed him dubiously.  "You think he'll go along with that?"

 

To his immense relief, Vic nodded; he was sure he could talk Craig into it; there were certain advantages to having been around as long as he had.  "Don't worry; you go with them and I'll take care of it."  With a reassuring nod of his head, he turned and hurried away.

 

"Let's go," Will told the others as the rest of the group walked toward the side door leading out to a small, concrete patio area with a couple of wooden picnic tables; they could all feel the stares of the others on them as they reached the door and opened it, blessedly finding the area unoccupied at present.

 

Will and Sarah sat down on one table with Emmett, while Justin felt Brian's hand on his arm gently leading him to the other one; they wound up sitting side-by-side as they stared over at the other party in the dim lighting.

 

Will sighed as Sarah looked over at him with some surprise over his self-control; normally, Will would have blown up and accused Brian of being the perpetrator instantly, but apparently things had changed somewhat.  It seemed that he was actually willing to hear the whole story before he placed the proper blame.  "Okay, let's hear the whole story.  And I want the truth, Brian."  His voice left no question that he would receive - and expect - nothing less from his nephew.

 

Justin felt Brian reach over and place his hand on his knee underneath the table as he began to speak; he suspected it was meant as a comforting, supportive gesture, but Justin could feel his body heat even through the thick denim fabric as he began to tell his aunt and uncle how the two of them had become 'separated' earlier (he chose not to divulge the actual reason why), and how Emmett had approached him in a move to try and divert his attention away from Justin.

 

Emmett then proceeded to back up Brian's version of events, revealing that Jared had enlisted him supposedly to keep Justin safe from harm and away from Brian.  As Justin sat there dumbstruck, Emmett had continued to divulge how Jared's initial plan had been for him to come onto Brian in an attempt to make him appear to be just a callous sort of gigolo who only cared about having his needs met.  The goal, according to Emmett, had been to break the two friends up so Justin could be safe from further pressure and abuse at the hands of Will and Sarah's nephew.

 

He concluded his story by telling them how Brian had figured out what was going on when he had committed a slip of the tongue, and how Brian had rushed away in search of Jared to have it out with him.  The rest, as they say, was history.

 

As Emmett wrapped up his version of the story, Sarah glanced over at the two boys sitting so close together at the other table; it was obvious that despite their earlier misunderstanding, the two of them still were quite taken with each other.  No one had forced them to sit that close to each other.  She was heartened, at least, to see that.

 

Emmett looked up as the door opened and his Uncle Vic walked back out.  Justin turned around to eye him anxiously in the dim light as Vic walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "It's okay," he reassured him as Justin let out a deep breath of relief.  "I think they're going to have more than enough to handle with Jared for the time being."  One side of Vic's mouth crooked up in amusement as he told Justin, "I don't think he's doing a good job of playing the wounded party this time; I haven't heard the whole story yet, but I heard enough.  They left a few minutes ago," he informed them.  He glanced over at his nephew.  "Em has a good heart; I hope neither one of you is angry at him for what he did.  He thought he was protecting you from harm, Justin."

 

Justin nodded as he looked over at his friend.  "I know you were," he told him sincerely.  "I don't blame you at all." He sucked in a shaky breath, still reeling over the extent that Jared continued to go to just to dominate and torment him.  What had happened to the two brothers who used to be so close not so long ago?  He had grown up, he supposed, and now Jared somehow felt threatened by that.  Perhaps he always had, although it didn't have to be that way.  Now, however, he was afraid their path was sadly going to remain tumultuous and divergent.

 

"Justin, Son, we both have to be up early," Vic quietly reminded him.  "We'd best get going.  You ready?  Emmett?"

 

Emmett stood up and nodded as he walked over to his uncle, both of them looking over at Justin expectantly.  "Yeah, I think I've had more than enough drama for the day.  Just let me stop and pick up my pecan pie and I'll be ready to go."

 

Vic chuckled as he shook his head, not surprised in a way that Emmett would concentrate on that, even after everything else that had happened.  "We'll meet you out by the truck, then, okay?" he told Justin as the boy nodded.  "Don't take too long."

 

"Brian, time for us to head back, too," Will instructed his nephew just then to his dismay, his voice gruff but not overly caustic.  He was secretly relieved that his nephew hadn't wound up being the instigator of what had happened earlier, but they, too, had obligations to fulfill and he had a newborn calf that had to be closely watched for the next several days.

 

"But..."  Brian protested, desperately wanting, needing to talk to Justin alone, to explain why he had said what he had said earlier; he couldn't believe how Justin had come to his defense against his own brother, despite what he had done.  It just made him feel like an even bigger jerk, and he really needed to straighten everything out with him.  "It's not that late..."

 

He looked over at his aunt for support, but in the growing darkness it was becoming difficult to ascertain his silent plea for understanding.

 

Nonetheless, he heard his aunt begin, "Will..."

 

"No, Missus," her husband said in that tone of voice that always indicated he was not going to back down.  Despite his belief that Brian had been the afflicted party in the altercation with the older Taylor boy, he had not appreciated being in such an embarrassing spotlight earlier and he was anxious to just put the whole, unpleasant incident behind them and get back to business.  Incidents like this in a small town tended to linger forever, so the sooner they could move on from it, the better.

 

"It's late enough," he told his wife and nephew as he stood up from the picnic table.  "I have Checkers' calf that needs tending and more fields that need to be plowed.  And Justin there needs to get up even earlier tomorrow for his race on Saturday.  No arguments; let's go.  Chores don't take a holiday, and neither can we."

 

Brian huffed out a protest, but he knew that no-nonsense tone of voice.  Shit.  He watched as his aunt reluctantly rose to join his uncle, both of them standing there waiting for him, and he let out a heavy, frustrated sigh.  He suspected he would get no sleep tonight - his thoughts would be far too preoccupied with the events of tonight, in addition to how Justin would fare back home.  How could Justin even go back to that house after what Jared had done?  And which son would his family support?  Him or his moron of a brother?

 

With great hesitation, he turned to Justin, knowing he urgently needed to say something to him.  "Justin..."

 

Justin sighed as he held up his hand for Brian to stop before he even started; he just couldn't handle any more tonight.  How did such a promising evening go awry so quickly?  Not only had Jared taken advantage of Emmett's sweet nature and idol worship of him - a boy who wouldn't hurt a fly - but he had also managed to make his father look like an idiot in front of the other townspeople; something that no doubt would be discussed at length when he got home, even though he had nothing to do with it, and neither did Brian.  Just what had happened to his brother to make him this hateful? They used to get along so well; they used to be close.  Now it seemed that Jared's single purpose in life was to make HIS life miserable.  And as much as he wanted to talk to Brian - especially after his aunt had sought to reassure him earlier that he really did care for him - he just couldn't deal with it right now.  It was going to be tense enough when he got home; how was he going to walk back into that house?  He had done nothing wrong, but he knew the repercussions would be long lasting nonetheless.  And somehow in the midst of all this, he had to try to find a way to concentrate enough on his practice with Headstrong tomorrow to come out victorious in Saturday's race.  The thought of so much pressure and responsibility threatened to almost make him dizzy.

 

"I can't deal with this tonight," he told Brian at last to his disappointment.  "I...I have to go.  Vic and Em are waiting for me."  He turned around to go, just as Brian reached over to grasp his arm in one, last, desperate measure.

 

"Justin, I have to talk to you," he insisted, but Justin gently removed his arm from Brian's grasp.

 

"Not now, Brian," he murmured as he quickly turned to go; Brian watched him walk away toward the front of the structure rather than going back inside to reach the parking lot.  He couldn't blame him, he supposed; all of them had garnered more than enough unwelcome attention tonight.  "Fuck," he said under his breath as he let out a frustrated breath.  Well, if you think I'm just going to let things remain the way they are, Justin Taylor, I've got news for you.

"Brian," he heard his aunt softly call his name as she walked over to stand next to him.  "Let him go; you can fix things with him tomorrow."  Will walked over to join them, overhearing the conversation, but choosing not to acknowledge it as he simply said instead, "Time to head home," before he, too, walked away toward the front of the building, following the same path that Justin had taken a few minutes earlier.

 

Brian sighed heavily in resignation as his aunt gave his shoulder a squeeze.  "It'll work out, Brian; I know it will," she whispered soothingly.  "Let him sleep on it."

 

"If he even gets any sleep," he murmured guiltily as Justin's shadowy form disappeared around the corner of the barn.  Knowing there was nothing more he could do tonight,however, he reluctantly began to trail along behind his uncle, his aunt's hand still gripping his shoulder as she walked alongside him.  He knew that neither he nor Justin would likely get much sleep tonight.  He didn't dare try to go see him tonight, however, but tomorrow?  Tomorrow was a new day, and a new opportunity.  Before the day was over, he would resolve things with Justin, one way or the other.

 

 

 

Craig stared straight ahead as he drove back toward the farm, his jaw clenched with anger.  He had never been so humiliated in his life.  What should have been a pleasant evening of diversion had, instead, turned into a potential free-for-all.  If Vic and Justin hadn't reached his son and that Kinney boy in time, he had no doubt that they would have come to blows.  Perhaps that wouldn't have been such a bad thing in a way; the Walkers' nephew seemed to bring trouble wherever he went, so seeing him hauled away in handcuffs to spend some time in jail where he probably belonged had a certain appeal to him.  But in all honesty if the story he heard was true he couldn't blame only Kinney for what had happened.  He was coming to the inevitable realization that his own son was as much to blame as the other boy - if not more so. 

 

Jennifer glanced over at her husband's angry visage reflected in the glow of the dashboard, and knew Craig was furious; his fury was no doubt fueled by his embarrassment over being the brunt of ridicule at the social.  Craig had never really felt like he had fit in with the townsfolk from the start; after all, what did a man trained to be an accountant really have in common with farmers who used their hands to toil the land instead of crunching numbers?  She knew this incident, then, wouldn't help raise Craig's esteem in the eyes of the community, and she dreaded what was to come when they got home.

 

Taking a deep breath, she began, "Craig..."

 

But her husband instantly held up his hand.  "I'm not discussing this with you right now, Jen," he dismissed her curtly; he glanced through the truck's rearview mirror to observe Jared sitting in the vehicle's bed through the sliding window.  His son hadn't liked the idea of being ordered home like some puppy with his tail between his legs - especially when Justin had been permitted to come home with Vic, instead - but he didn't care.  If Jared was going to act like a fucking baby, he was going to be treated like one.

 

"This is going to wait until we're home; and Justin's there, too.  And I think it would be best if Emmett and Vic are called to the house to get their versions about what happened.  I want this whole mess out in the open, once and for all."

 

"Well, for once I agree with you," Jennifer told him, her lips pursed together in irritation.  She was fed up with Jared constantly interfering in their younger son's life.  She didn't have to be reminded of how much they had come to depend upon Justin, and how much Jared had failed in his responsibilities to pitch in.  When it came to pulling his own weight and helping the household out financially, Jared was more of a burden than a benefit.  She loved her sons - both of them - but right now she felt more shame and disgust toward her older son than pride.  "It's time we get some things settled between all of us."

 

Craig let out a heavy breath, the tension thick in the air as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.  "Trust me, Jen; it will be," he promised her grimly as she nodded. 

 

---

 

"Where IS that boy?" Will groused as he glanced over at the front entrance of the barn; Brian had told him and Sarah that he needed to use the restroom and would meet them out front after helping to load her canning jars and casserole dishes into the bed of the truck.  That had been ten minutes ago, but he had not returned yet. 

 

Sarah peered through the truck's windshield and wondered the same thing.  "I'm sure he'll be along any minute," she assured her husband, silently hoping she was right.  Justin had left several minutes ago with Vic and Emmett, and the rest of the Taylors had departed before that, so she couldn't imagine what Brian was doing now.  For just a second, she allowed a little fear to creep into her mind that maybe Brian had just got fed up with everything and had bolted, but she knew he really had nowhere to go - and he had nothing with him except for the clothes on his back.  So she didn't seriously think he would do something like that, at least she hoped not.  As the minutes ticked by, however, the doubts were surfacing more and more like some unwelcome visitor.

 

Finally, after approximately another minute, she watched as the front door opened and Brian appeared in the glow of the overhead light.  She couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face as Brian began to walk toward the truck with two stuffed animals clutched under his arms.

 

"What in the world?" Will growled.  "We're in a hurry to leave, and he takes time out to go play games first?  What is WITH that boy?"  Just when he thought he saw some level of maturity in his nephew, he goes and pulls this kind of stunt.

 

Sarah grinned.  "No, he didn't," she told him.  "He and Justin played some games earlier out back, and those were the prizes they won.  He must have gone back to retrieve them."  She found that fact very sweet, and it served to cement in her mind just how much Brian did care about her young neighbor.  Hopefully, he would have a chance to tell Justin himself that soon. 

 

"How do you know that?" Will asked her while he watched open-mouthed as his nephew approached them.  

 

Sarah smiled mysteriously, unwilling to divulge the true source of her information.  "Oh, I have my ways," she simply told him as Brian walked up to them and, without explaining why he was carrying a stuffed cow and a stuffed horse under his arms, silently shuffled over to the rear of the truck and climbed in. 

 

Sarah gave her perplexed husband a small pat on the arm and a tender smile before, shaking his head, Will started up the truck and drove off.

 

---

 

Emmett glanced over at his friend sitting across from him; it was hard to see Justin's expression, but he was decidedly quieter than normal. Em could practically carry on a conversation for the both of them with his non-stop chatter if he had to, but even he could tell that Justin had a lot on his mind.  Not that he blamed him; between the race coming up day after tomorrow, Jared's manipulations, and what would no doubt be an unpleasant confrontation with his brother and parents when he got home, he knew Justin had a lot to worry about.

 

So when Justin suddenly spoke up just then, it was a little startling, especially when it came in the form of an apology.

 

"I'm sorry, Em," he heard Justin murmur from the other side of the truck.

 

Emmett frowned.  "Sorry about what?" 

 

Justin let out a breath.  "Sorry about what Jared did to you.  That was uncalled for.  He can be such an asshole." 

 

"Yeah, I'm beginning to see that now," Emmett replied dryly.  He paused.  "Sweetie, you didn't do anything to me.  You have no reason to apologize."  Using the plastic knife he had left stuck in the middle of his pecan pie earlier, he quickly cut a small sliver of the pie from what was left in the aluminum pan (after all, he didn't mind sharing, but he did have his limits), and held the small piece out toward his friend.  "Have some pie," he told his friend.

 

Justin smiled a little at that comment, even though Emmett couldn't really see it.  "No, thanks," he told him as Emmett shrugged before plopping it into his mouth.  "I don't think pecan pie is going to help me right now."

 

"Baby, a piece of homemade pecan pie always makes me feel a whole lot better," Emmett insisted, but he knew what Justin meant.  He sobered as he asked, "What do you think is going to happen when you get home?"

 

Justin sighed.  "Nothing I'm looking forward to.  I'm sure my father will throw his weight around and probably say that my brother has been falsely accused of what he did, and Jared will claim he was the hapless, innocent victim in the whole situation.  He will no doubt try to blame Brian for everything that happened tonight - and probably get away with it, too, just like he always does."

 

"Surely not," Emmett murmured sympathetically as his heart went out to his friend.

 

"Don't be surprised," Justin warned him dejectedly.  That was what he had come to expect when it came to him and his brother. 

 

Emmett licked his lips as he swallowed the last of his pie and eyed Justin thoughtfully.  "Well, I think things will be different this time," he told him resolutely.  "My uncle Vic and I will both explain what happened; surely that will make a difference.  He'll listen to my uncle; he trusts him."

 

Justin eyed him dubiously.  "Maybe.  But I'm not counting on it."

 

Em nodded; he was still feeling disgusted over how Jared had used him to hurt Brian AND Justin; he was going to be more than happy to help straighten the record out.  What had he ever seen in that conceited boy, anyway?  Yes, Jared was very good-looking, but he knew it, too.  He had always prided himself on judging people more on how they looked on the inside and not the outside, and being a good judge of character.  He had obviously failed miserably this time, however. Well, he would never make that mistake again, and he would never look at Jared in the same way, either.  He recalled finding Brian earlier tonight all alone, and how forlorn he had looked, and he couldn't help asking Justin about it. 

 

"Justin, why weren't you and Brian together when I found him out on the midway earlier?  He seemed out of sorts somehow." 

 

Justin frowned.  "Out of sorts?  What do you mean?"

 

Em nodded.  "Kind of like he was distracted or bothered about something -even before I was the cause of it," he added wryly.  "Why weren't you with him?"

 

Justin flushed as he recalled his and Brian's disagreement earlier, and what had led up to it; he could almost still feel Brian's lips on his as they had kissed.  He could also remember how meaningless he had felt afterward, however, when Brian had implied that he had been paying attention to him all this time merely to get into his pants.  That still hurt, even though after talking to both him and his aunt, there was a glimmer of hope that he had been wrong about that.  He still didn't know for sure, though, and maybe he never would now. 

 

"We...we had a disagreement earlier," he finally told his friend.

 

"A disagreement?  I thought it might have been something like that.  What kind of disagreement?"

 

Justin bit his lip; he liked Em, and considered him a friend, but they only saw each other sporadically.  Just like with Brian's aunt, he wasn't sure if he was willing to discuss something so private with someone else.  "Em, I really don't want to discuss it; I'm sorry," he murmured in embarrassment.

 

Em was disappointed that Justin wouldn't reveal more about it, but he respected his wishes as he replied, "Well, whatever it was, Brian wasn't happy about it." 

 

Justin forced himself not to read too much into that as he replied, "How do you know?"

 

Emmett shrugged.  "I could tell.  Jared kept mentioning to me what a violent, aggressive person he was.  But he didn't appear that way to me.  I mean, he was kind of a jerk to me and all, but I think it was mainly because he was worried about you." 

 

Justin's heart began to pound as he repeated, "Worried about me?"

 

"Yeah.  When I told him that you had already left - even though I knew at the time that it was a lie," Emmett hastened to confess, "he just plopped down on a bench and had the saddest look on his face, kind of like he'd just lost his puppy or something."

 

Justin snorted.  "Yeah, or his favorite toy." 

 

Emmett's mouth opened in epiphany then as he realized at least what Justin might be talking about.  Apparently he felt like Brian was using him to get what he wanted.  "I don't know," he told him.  "I didn't get that impression, Sweetie.  I think he was genuinely concerned about you and seemed disappointed that you had left. I think he wanted to talk to you." 

 

Justin silently digested that piece of information, still refusing to see more in it than there was.  "Maybe," he conceded at last.  He sighed.  "I'm not looking forward to when I get home," he repeated to Emmett  as they neared the cutoff that led back to the farm.  It wouldn't be long now.

 

"I know," Emmett murmured compassionately.  "But Uncle Vic and I have your back.  It'll be okay." 

 

"Thanks, Em," Justin told him, sincerely grateful for at least that much, but that didn't really help to lessen his dread any.  "I'm going to need it."

 

---

 

Brian followed his aunt and uncle into their farmhouse, wanting nothing more than to carry his embarrassing but precious cargo upstairs to his room and avoid any further discussion about what had happened.  He didn't know what had possessed him to rush back to the midway and retrieve the prizes, but something urged him to anyway.  Perhaps it was because of the pleasant memories that it had evoked; at least until everything went to hell later when he had put his foot in his mouth.  He couldn't help silently continuing to soundly berate himself for what he had done regarding Justin, but it was too late to take it back now; he could only hope to make amends somehow.  He just didn't know at the moment how he would do that, but he knew he had to try.

 

"Brian?" his uncle called out to him just as he reached the bottom of the staircase; he sighed in resignation as he placed his hand on the curved, wooden bannister knob, knowing he wouldn't be getting off easy as he replied, "Yeah?"

 

"I want your word as a man that you did not start what happened tonight between you and Jared," he told him quietly.  "I know what I heard from Vic, his nephew, and the Taylor boy, but I want to hear it from you now."

 

Sarah stood several feet behind her husband and Brian, her eyes widened in stunned surprise.  She had hoped that Will would not jump to conclusions, but even she was somewhat taken aback by his quiet statement. She had longed to tell Will on the way home the full reason why Jared and Brian had almost come to blows, but she ultimately decided not to, feeling that it might be seen as breaking a confidence between her and Justin. Perhaps, however, she wouldn't need to as she waited for Brian to respond.  Would he answer in kind, however, or fall back on his previous defense mechanism of surliness and stubborn indignation?

 

Brian stared over at his uncle; the man was definitely an enigma.  Gruff on the outside, damaged emotionally on the inside.  It suddenly occurred to him, then; was he that much different than himself?  He noticed his uncle eyeing him intently before he replied softly but firmly, "Yes, Uncle.  I give you my word; I had nothing to do with it."

 

Sarah watched, somehow realizing this was a watershed moment for her two 'men' as Will simply nodded back at him.  "Best be getting off to bed now, then," he told his nephew.  "Six will come early enough tomorrow, and we need to head into town after breakfast for supplies before the chores are done."

 

Brian glanced over at his aunt standing several feet away before he nodded silently and turned to walk up the steps, the stuffed animals still clutched firmly under his left arm. A few seconds later, Will and Sarah heard the closing of Brian's bedroom door. 

 

Sarah quietly walked up to her husband and placed her hand around his neck.  "I love you, Mr. Walker," she told him as she gave him a brief kiss on the cheek and leaned her head against his. 

 

"Don't go reading too much into it, Woman," he told her gruffly, but there was no sting in his voice.  "I'm merely verifying what I saw with the boy."

 

Sarah smiled against him before she pulled back to look him in the eye, noticing Will keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.  She nodded, knowing he would not want her to make a big deal out of it.  "It's been a long day," she murmured.  "I think we should get ready for bed, too."

 

Will nodded as he reached for her hand. She clasped it firmly, relishing the rare affectionate gesture as the two of them slowly headed upstairs toward their own bedroom.

 

---

 

Justin steeled himself before he, Vic, and Emmett walked up to the back door of the farmhouse, noticing the kitchen light was on despite the late hour; just as he thought, they were apparently going to hash this out now.  He was grateful that Vic and Em had decided to come in with him when they got home.  That might at least make his father not quite so volatile if the two of them were there as witnesses.  It was little comfort at the moment, though, as he took a deep breath before opening the back door and stepping inside, his heart pounding in anxiety.

 

Just as he thought, his father, mother, and brother was all sitting at the table as he came in; all three looked over at him as he turned around to face them.  He noticed his father's angry look first, followed by what appeared to be a certain amount of smugness on his brother's face and then sympathy on his mother's part as he hesitated, unsure of what to do, before Vic and Em followed him inside to stand on either side of him.

 

"Good," his father stated. "I'm glad Vic and Emmett are with you; that saves me the trouble of having to go find them," he explained, his lips drawn into a tight line. 

 

Justin noticed a flicker of apprehension spreading across his brother's face as he realized it wasn't just going to be his word against his; this time there were additional witnesses to his duplicity and deceit.

 

"Let's go into the living room," Jennifer softly suggested as she pushed back from her chair and stood to the side expectantly.

 

Craig nodded brusquely as he stood up to join her, noticing his older son remaining in place.  "Jared, you heard your mother.  Get up."

 

Jared glared over at Justin before he grudgingly did as he was told, scooting back from the table as the chair made an unpleasant grating noise before he rose to his feet; without a word of greeting to the others, he turned to head down the short hallway toward the front of the house.

 

"Shall we?" Jennifer asked, her polite words sounding distinctly out of place in the middle of such high tension.

 

Vic nodded at her as he, Emmett, and Justin turned to follow her and Craig into the living room.  Jared had decided to slouch in one of their overstuffed chairs - the one in the corner - as Craig and Jennifer chose to sit together on one end of the sofa.  After a slight hesitation, Vic walked over and sat down on the other side of Jennifer as Emmett took his place in the other chair.

 

"Justin, honey, go get one of the kitchen chairs," Jennifer suggested to her son, but Justin shook his head.

 

"No," he told her defiantly.  "I'd rather stand."  He had no idea what was coming, but at least if he stood up the chances that he could leave quickly were greater than if he chose to sit.  He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned his back against the oppostie wall nearest the hallway, swallowing hard over the thought of what was to come.  But he was ready to have it out; he was tired of all this bullshit.

 

Jennifer nodded as she turned to look at her husband.  "Craig, do you want to begin?" she asked, wondering how long it would be before he exploded.  She had seen his anger boiling just under the surface ever since they had left the social.

 

"Damn straight I do," he told her as he turned to look at Jared.  "First of all, I want you to know that you embarrassed the hell out of me this evening, Jared.  There is no excuse for that."

 

Jared's mouth fell open; that was the last thing he had expected from his normally supportive father.  "What are you talking about, Dad?  I was just defending myself!" 

 

Justin couldn't help the huff of disbelief that escaped his parted lips.  How could he still be maintaining his innocence?  "You are unbelievable, Jared!" he shouted at him, his eyes flashing as he placed his hands on his hips.  "You were the entire cause of ALL of it!"

 

"I was not!" he yelled back, feeling like he was being backed into a corner.  "Kinney has a bad temper on him and he was charging at me!  What did you expect me to do, just stand there and let him beat the hell out of me?" 

 

"You're ridiculous, Jared!" Justin exclaimed angrily.  "We all know that you started the whole thing!  I saw it - I called out Brian's name and you sucker punched him as soon as he turned his head to look for me!  That's not defending yourself; that's being a damn coward!" 

 

"Justin, watch your language," Craig told him as Justin stared at him, incredulous.  Before he could point out he wasn't the only one using profanity, however, to his slight relief he heard his father say, "You, too, Jared."  His brother huffed in annoyance as Craig told him," Now I want to know exactly what started the whole thing in the first place."  Jared, however, remained mute initially.  "Well? I'm sure the Kinney boy didn't just walk up to you and pick a fight for no reason.  He would have too much to lose with HIS record."

 

Jared appeared flustered by the intense stare his father was giving him, as well as the hard tone of his voice as he frantically thought of what to say.  He glanced over at Emmett, who raised an eyebrow at him almost in a silent challenge.  He knew he was quickly becoming boxed in, but he was desperate.  "He...he was angry that I had rejected him earlier, and he was trying to get back at me through Justin."

 

"What? This isn't fair!" Justin cried out.  "Brian's not here to de..."

 

Craig held up his hand.  "Quiet, Justin! I want to hear what Jared has to say first, and then you'll get your chance."  Justin shook his head in disbelief but held his tongue somehow as Craig pressed his other son, "Get back at you how, Jared?" 

 

Jared licked his lips nervously and swallowed, knowing he was traveling down a dangerous, slippery path now.  "Well, he thought he could make me jealous by coming on to Justin instead.  And he threatened to hurt him if he didn't go along with what he wanted.  I was only trying to keep my brother safe."

 

"Oh, my God!" Justin retorted.  "You are out of your mind!  Brian never did any of that!" 

 

"Of course YOU would say that!" Jared argued as he snorted back at him.  "You're too afraid to deny it - and you're too infatuated with him to care!"

 

"Boys!" Jennifer tried to intervene.  "This isn't getting us anywhere..."

 

"I'm not going to stand here and listen to him LIE through his teeth!" Justin shouted back, completely ignoring his mother.  "I've had enough of this!  Tell the goddamn truth for once in your life, Jared!  YOU were the jealous one because you got rejected, not the other way around!  And you used Emmett to hurt ME!"

 

"Boys!" Craig snarled as he huffed in exasperation.  "Quiet, both of you!"  Jared and Justin glared at each other as Craig turned to Emmett.  "Emmett, I want to hear what you have to say about all this."

 

Emmett stared over at Jared for a moment before he smiled slightly.  "Gladly.  Jared came up to me earlier today and told me that the Walker's nephew had been threatening to hurt Justin because he wouldn't, uh, he wouldn't do what he wanted him to do."

 

"See?" Jared said smugly, only to have Craig whirl around and fix an angry stare at him as he promptly shut up again.

 

"Go on, Emmett," Craig prodded him.  "What did he want Justin to do?"

 

Justin's face began to turn red in embarrassment.  Shit. 

 

Emmett glanced over at his friend in sympathy, but he felt he had no choice.  "Uh...he wanted Justin to have sex with him."  There, it was out in the open now, for good or for worse. 

 

Justin blew out a humiliated breath as he looked up at the ceiling.  Could this get any worse?

 

Jennifer bit her lip; she wasn't happy about that possibility, but in all honesty it didn't surprise her that much, either. She had a feeling that there was a lot more to her son's relationship with Kinney than she knew; the fact that Justin had met the other boy late at night the other evening and the constant visits she had observed between the two of them near the horse racing track were evidence of that, although she knew Justin didn't realize she had seen them together out there.  Her son was so young, though, and Kinney was so rough around the edges; what could they possibly have in common? 

 

Craig's jaw clenched and his left eye twitched; those were the only obvious signs of his discomfort as he left out a deep breath.  He was afraid that was going to be the response.  "Okay," he told Emmett evenly.  "So Jared enlisted your help to try and break them up before Justin got hurt?"

 

Emmett stared over at Jared as he nodded.  "Well, that was the story, anyway," he admitted.  "But that was before I found out the truth.  Now I know he was just using me - and my feelings for him - to get back at Brian."

 

"And what is the truth?" Craig asked wearily; he had heard so many 'truths' by now, he didn't know WHAT to think.

 

Emmett gave Jared a haughty sort of look before he replied, "It's just as Justin said.  Brian told me he never laid a hand on him.  In fact, when I saw him earlier tonight and told him that Justin had left - I actually made that up because I thought I was trying to protect him," he explained to Craig, "he looked pretty upset about it.  He certainly didn't try to slap me around.  And besides; look at him!  Does he look like he needs to pressure anyone into having sex with him?  I mean, come on - the boy's the hottest thing I've ever seen, and trust me, I've seen a lot of them in..."

 

"Uh, that's enough, Emmett," Vic told him quickly before he got too carried away.  "I'm sure Craig gets the idea." 

 

"Oh. Well, where was I?  Oh, yeah," Emmett continued.  "I can read people really well, and this Kinney was being honest with me.  The only time he got angry with me was when I accused him of threatening Justin, and he immediately knew who was behind the whole lie."  He turned to look at Jared as the other boy glared at him angrily.  "You should be ashamed of yourself, Jared Taylor," Em told him.  "You were the only one who managed to bamboozle me.  Well, as my Aunt Lula used to say, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.  Never again, Baby; you're nothing but ugly to me now." 

 

"He's lying!" Jared insisted.  "It's his word against mine!  Are you going to believe him, or your own son?"

 

"What am I, Jared?" Justin suddenly asked from across the room as all heads turned toward him.  "I'm his son, too!" he cried out, his eyes glistening with frustration.  He shook his head as he looked over at his father, the words pouring out of him and representing months, if not years of repressed emotion.  "Dad, for once listen to ME!  Believe ME! I'm telling you the truth!  Brian has never forced me to do anything I didn't want to do!  And before you even ask, no, we have NOT had sex, not that it's anyone's business!"  He brushed some tears away from his eyes in anger.  "Why are you never proud of what I do?  Why do you never appreciate what I've accomplished? Why does Jared never do any wrong?"  He let out a heavy sigh before swallowing the lump in his throat.  "Hell, why do I even try?"

 

He pressed his lips tightly together before slowly sliding down the wall to sit with his back against it, bending his knees and tilting his head down to cradle it in his hands, feeling utterly and completely exhausted.  He didn't realize his father had quietly risen from his place on the couch to walk over to him until he felt someone's hand on the top of his head.  Lifting his tear-stained face in surprise, he gazed up into his father's face as Craig extended his hand downward.

 

"Come here," Craig told him softly as Justin frowned slightly.  Nevertheless, he did as he was asked just before his father unexpectedly swept him into an embrace and wrapped his arms around him.  Justin stood there in shock for a few seconds before he slid his arms around his father and leaned into him, sniffling slightly as he laid his head against his shoulder.  For just a moment, he was transformed into a six-year-old boy again, doing much the same thing that he was doing now after he had fallen from his horse that year and his father, having witnessed the accident, had rushed over from the nearby stable to comfort him. 

 

"I do believe you," Craig whispered in his ear as he held him tight.  "And I AM proud of you, Justin; so very proud." 

 

Justin pulled back to look into his father's face; gone at least temporarily was all the hardness he had become so accustomed to seeing recently.  The man looking at him was the one he used to remember seeing, back before times got so tough for them and Jared had changed from being an independent, free spirit into a spiteful, deceitful, and resentful good-for-nothing. Justin let out a deep breath before he replied, "You are?"  He still couldn't quite believe it.

 

Craig smiled then and let out a breath of his own as he nodded.  "Yeah, Justin, I am.  And in case you ever have any doubts, I DO love you, Son; more than you probably know." 

 

One side of Justin's mouth lifted up as he pointed out wryly, "Well, you have a funny way of showing it sometimes."

 

Craig chuckled briefly at that.  "Yeah, I guess I do," he admitted before his face sobered.  "I've...I've been under a lot of pressure, Justin.  It takes a lot away from a man when he feels like he can't support his family properly.  It's not an excuse for the way that I've treated you, I know that.  But maybe it will help you to better understand it anyway."

 

Justin stood there for a few seconds before he nodded and broke away from his father's embrace, feeling a little awkward being on display in front of everyone, but his heart felt just a little lighter now.  There was still the big problem of his brother, though.  He looked over at Jared, who appeared clearly uncomfortable now.  "What about him?" he asked his father.

 

Craig set his jaw, his face tensing a little as he turned around to look at his oldest son; the son that he had once felt so much camaraderie with as they had worked on all those cars together and the one he often raved about to his friends.  The son that had become a bitter disappointment to him.  It was as if he were finally seeing his older child with a set of new eyes, and finally opening up his ears to hear what his wife had been trying to tell him for some time now.   And he found that he didn't llike what he was seeing or hearing.  He took a deep breath, knowing what he had to do.

 

"You have until the end of the month, Jared," he told him quietly.  "You have until the end of the month to find another place to live."  Jared's mouth fell open in stunned disbelief as his father continued, "Ever since you got out of school, you have contributed nothing to this household to keep this farm solvent, while your brother has shouldered most of the responsibility.  You're an adult now, Jared, and it's time you learn the hard way that with age comes consequences.  You can come out here to work on your car if you want and to visit with your mother and me, but it's time for you to find your own way in life." 

 

Craig looked over at his wife, who appeared to be on the verge of breaking into tears.  Jennifer nodded at him in agreement, however, as he told their son, "We'll always love you, Jared.  But neither your mother nor I can look the other way any longer.  I suggest you start looking immediately for somewhere else to live; you have two weeks." 

 

Jared continued to gape as his father as he shook his head. No, this can't be happening.  "But...but you can't do this!" he protested as he looked over at his father in disbelief.  "Where will I go? I don't even have a job!" 

 

"Put your skills to use," Craig told him flatly.  "You know how to break down cars forward and backward; find a way to turn that into a job."  He turned to look at his other son; Justin appeared just as shocked as Jared was, but he was also looking decidedly worn out.  "Best get up to bed, Justin," he told him softly.  "You have a lot of work to do before the race." 

 

Justin nodded as he father reached over and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.  Jennifer stood up as he prepared to leave, walking over to him to give him a hug.  "Get some rest, Honey," she whispered to him as he nodded and, with a nod to Emmett and Vic, he slowly shuffled up the steps toward his room.

 

Craig waited until he heard Justin's bedroom door close before he turned back to address his other son.  "And one more thing, Jared.  If I so much as hear one word about how you have been harassing either Justin, Emmett, OR even the Walker's nephew anymore, I will drag your ass out of here immediately instead of giving you until the end of the month, do you understand?"

 

Jared relied on his last hope as he turned to Jennifer.  "Mom?" he asked hopefully, putting every ounce of emotion into that one word.

 

Jennifer's eyes watered, but she refused to give in.  It was time for some tough love.  "I agree with your father, Jared," she told him to his dismay.  "It's time for you to be a man now and own up to your responsibilities.  Now go up to bed and think about what you've done - and what you need to do going forward." 

 

Jared's face contorted into defeat as he glumly nodded, propelling himself to his feet.  He stood there, looking over at his father one last time, before he turned and walked over to the steps, slowly ascending until a few minutes later, he closed his bedroom door.

 

Craig let out an audible sigh as he turned to Vic and Emmett.  "Thank you for bringing Justin home," he told them.  "And thanks for helping me to figure out the truth about what happened tonight."  He grew silent for a moment before he told Vic, "I didn't want to have to do that."

 

Vic nodded.  "Yeah, I know," he told him, realizing how much that had to cost his old friend.  "But you had to do it, Craig.  He was like a leech sucking the blood out of this family.  And it wasn't fair to Justin..."

 

"I know," Craig interrupted him quietly.  "I know it all now.  I was just too dense to realize it before." 

 

Vic reached over and grasped his shoulder.  "Believe it or not, one day Jared will thank you for what you did tonight.  You did the right thing."

 

Craig looked over at the chair that Jared had just vacated.  "I hope so, Vic.  I really hope so." 

 

---

 

Next Morning - 6:30 a.m.

 

Justin felt the sun's rays on his face before he opened his eyes; he had collapsed onto his bed, totally drained last night, as soon as he had closed the bedroom door behind him and he had surprisingly slept the entire night through.  He would have bet it would have been a fitful, restless sleep after what had happened earlier, but once his head had hit the pillow, he had fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber.

 

Now as his eyes fluttered open, he turned to stare over at his small bedside clock, realizing he needed to get up.  He would have normally already showered, dressed, and been down to breakfast by now, but perhaps it was just as well.  He was dreading running into Jared now after what his father had done. 

 

That had been a shock.  He would never in a million years have expected him to do that; but he awoke this morning feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  He still didn't know how he was going to reconcile his responsibilities here at home with his dream to go to college, but at least by the end of the month Jared would be out of the house and he wouldn't have to worry about him constantly harassing him anymore.

 

Stretching his arms above his head, he twisted his body to rise from the bed and walk the few feet over to his dresser, pulling some clothing out before turning to tread toward his door; he was thankful not to hear any sound from Jared's room.  Hopefully his brother was being true to form and sleeping in late like he normally did.

 

He was just about to turn the doorknob to exit when a flash of something black and brown caught his eye on the floor near the window.  "No way," he whispered in shock as he placed his clothes down on the bed before walking over to pick up the stuffed horse lying on its side and stared down at it, his heart pounding in recognition.  It had to be the same horse that Brian had presented to him last night out on the midway.  But how did it get here?

 

He looked over at the open window and it was then that he knew; somehow Brian must have retrieved the toy and brought it home with him last night.  "You crazy idiot," he murmured softly as he held it in his hands. He couldn't help smiling wistfully, though, over Brian's thoughtfulness.  Obviously Brian had used his unorthodox method of communication when he got home last night and had somehow managed to lob the animal into his bedroom last night.  He had been so mentally drained that he must have slept right through it.

 

At least it wasn't my shoes or more rocks, he thought to himself wryly as he idly stroked the horse's mane, his thoughts wandering back to the wonderful time he had had with Brian at the social.  It had been so great, being with Brian and having fun. He seldom had time to simply experience joy any more, but Brian had managed to accomplish that last night; at least until they had had their argument.  Now, however, as he thoughtfully gazed at the horse's face, his hopes began to rise that perhaps Brian's aunt had been right; he really did care about him.

 

He smiled, prepared to place the horse on his dresser, when he noticed what appeared to be a folded piece of paper stuck under the horse's bridle.  Curious, he pulled the slip of paper out and opened it up to read it:

 

Come see Checkers and me down by the swimming hole after dinner tonight.  We'll be waiting for you. ~Brian

 

So Brian apparently had retrieved both stuffed animals somehow.  He impulsively hugged the horse to his body briefly, his heart hammering at the thought of seeing Brian again, before he walked over and propped it up against his bedroom dresser mirror, patting it once as if to make sure he really wasn't imagining it before he picked his clothes back up and headed toward the bathroom to take his shower. 

 

---

 

One Hour Later

 

"Don't dawdle, Brian," Will reproached his nephew quietly as the feed store clerk rang up their order.  "Get a hold of those feed bags and put them in the back of the truck; I'll be along shortly." 

 

Brian sighed as he reached over and pulled off one of the 50-pound bags of chicken feed from the counter and slung it over his shoulder to carry it over to the front entrance; a few minutes later, his uncle was still shooting the bull with the wizened, suspendered man standing near the cash register as he placed the second bag on top of the first in the back of the truck bed.  It was becoming obvious to him that the feed store was much more than just a place to load up on supplies; it was akin to the town barber shop.  From the notes plastered on a bulletin board near the entrance advertising puppies for sale and the newest fertilizer, to the benches perched on either side of the door as you entered, and the area near the cash register counter, it was clearly a place to catch up with current events and the latest gossip.

 

Fortunately, the man his uncle was currently conversing with didn't seem to recognize him from last night's altercation; he had glanced over at him curiously for a moment with a cursory nod before he turned his attention back to his uncle with nary a hint of concern.  It was just as well; until he could make things right with Justin, he was more than content to just lie low for a while.

 

He had walked over to the Taylor's farmhouse after his aunt and uncle had gone to bed last night, hoping he could somehow get Justin's attention and speak to him.  But even though the window was open, and he called up to him as loudly as he dared, Justin either didn't hear him or refused to acknowledge his presence.  Afraid that his parents - or even worse, Jared - would discover he was there, he had finally given up after approximately fifteen minutes and had elected to lob the stuffed horse into the open window and hope for the best instead. 

 

Now as he stood leaning against the side of the truck waiting for his uncle to emerge, he grimaced as he thought back to his tactless comment last night to Justin and just how he could make it up to him.  He thought the horse had been a nice touch, but he figured he would need to do way more than that.  Why couldn't he just come out and say the words that Justin wanted to hear?  But that was not his way; of course, living in this burg of a town wasn't his style, either, but he was slowly coming to grips with the slower pace and the lack of amenities he had come to take for granted before.  As he thought back to the times he had spent with Justin, though, somehow he didn't miss all the conveniences nearly as much as he thought he would.

 

His eyes wandered a few storefronts down to a sign hanging under a green and white awning, and a small smile broke out on his face; glancing toward the feed store to observe his uncle still chatting away with the other man, he hurriedly walked down the sidewalk to the shop located several feet away, pausing to look through the glass display windows before deciding to enter.  He really knew nothing about this sort of shop, but he figured the sales clerk inside would be able to help him.

 

A few minutes later, he carried a flat, rectangular box under his arm and placed it under the truck's passenger seat, hiding it just before his uncle emerged from the feed store.

 

---

 

Same Time - Taylor Farmhouse

 

Justin looked up from his place next to Headstrong as he heard a car motor revving; a souped-up car of some type was heading toward their home, the dust kicking up from the tire's movements.  He frowned as he watched it slow down near the barn; he recognized one of Jared's friends, Doug Kesterson, emerging from the car and standing near the driver's side door for a few seconds before Jared came out of the back of the house, a large duffle bag slung over his right shoulder.

 

His eyes locked onto his brother's for a moment as Jared turned to notice him standing near the stables, until, with a defiant sort of look, he swung the bag higher onto his shoulder and walked to the car, slinging it into the backseat before he turned and headed over to the passenger side to get in.  The other boy slid behind the steering wheel, and a few seconds later the car fishtailed in front of the house and then accelerated much too quickly back toward the main road, disappearing out of sight a few minutes later.

 

Justin let out a melancholy sigh; apparently Jared had decided to leave earlier than the end of the month.  He hadn't even seen him since last night and now he was gone to who knows where. How he wished it had never come to this; despite all the grief  his brother had wreaked upon him, he was still his only brother and he loved him.  In a way it was a relief to have Jared gone, but it left him with a profound sense of sadness nonetheless.  He wondered if they would ever be able to patch things up, but for now he had other worries to deal with. 

 

A soft chuffing noise next to him made him turn his attention back to more urgent matters.  "Okay, boy," he murmured as he reached up to soothingly stroke the side of Headstrong's head.  "We'll get going."  He quickly jumped up into the sulky's seat, slipping on his helmet and grabbing the reins to give them a quick tug.  Soon he and Headstrong were trotting rapidly around the track; as usual, Justin was soon focused on his practice as he and the horse continued to cycle around the oval path, thoughts of Brian, Jared, his college aspirations and the shifting relationship with his father temporarily pushed aside as he strove to concentrate on his goal tomorrow. It was the same every time he practiced for a race; it was as if he and Headstrong were one unit, both of them fused together.  By now he could anticipate every move Headstrong made on the track, what every shake of his head meant, and whether he was tired or getting his second wind, merely by the sounds and motions he made.  It was one of the reasons why he and the horse had been so successful at the betting tracks.

 

As soon as he was done a few hours later, however, and Headstrong was grazing placidly in the nearby paddock, Justin couldn't help thinking about Brian and what he might have had to deal with once he got back home after the social last night.  Had his uncle wound up blaming him for what had happened?  Or had he actually listened to him and believed what he and Emmett had tried to tell him?  Hopefully he would find out tonight when he met with him.  And yes, he had decided that he would seek out Brian at the swimming hole after dinner, just like he had asked him to do in the note.

 

Brian continued to be such a contradiction to him; cocky, arrogant, and brash at times, but also thoughtful, unpredictable, funny and sweet at other times.  Was it possible that he really had just not known how to express his feelings toward him last night and had not meant for it to come out the way that it had?  The words had hurt, certainly.  But he also knew that he felt something special toward Brian, and he thought he had sensed some of the same feelings in him.  All he knew at that moment was that he had to give Brian a chance to explain, and the relative seclusion provided at the swimming hole seemed like the perfect place in which to do it.  In a way, too, it was fitting that they meet back at the place where they had had their first private encounter. 

 

Time seemed to go by torturously slow the rest of the afternoon.  Justin spied Brian way out in the back part of the Walkers' property atop their old tractor for a while when he was practicing earlier, but he had been too far away to make eye contact with him; the next time he had rounded the track, Brian had disappeared from view.

 

Now as he headed into supper, his mind was occupied with thoughts of their pending rendezvous and he was starting to feel nervous; his stomach was tied up in knots and he felt almost nauseous with anxiety.  Swinging the backdoor open, he was greeted with a sort of wistful smile by his mother, who was taking out some homemade rolls from the oven.

 

"Hi, honey," she called over to him softly.  "Go wash up; I'm just getting the table set."  She wiped her hands off on her apron as she reached over to retrieve a basket lined with a red-and-white checkered towel to place the warm rolls inside. 

 

Justin nodded, noticing three places set at the table.  It seemed odd to not have a fourth one where Jared normally sat.  "Where's Dad?" he asked her.

 

"He'll be along shortly," she told him.  "He's out in the barn."  She sighed.  "He's been out there most of the day."

 

Justin studied her carefully, trying to interpret what she wasn't saying.  "Mom...I saw Jared leave this morning with Doug.  Was he...?"

 

She nodded her head, her face etched with sadness.  "Yes, he decided he didn't want to stick around until the end of the month; he's going to be staying with him, at least for a while." 

 

Justin bit his lip.  "I'm sorry, Mom." 

 

Jennifer brought the rolls over to the table and placed them down before reaching to gently grasp Justin by his shoulders.  "Justin, you have nothing to be sorry for; Jared brought all this on himself.  I'm sorry it had to come to this, too, but don't you dare apologize for what happened.  Jared needs to grow up and act like a man.  We weren't doing him any favors by allowing him to get away with what he did; it's time for him to take responsibility for himself.  And if it took this for Craig to finally realize everything you do for us around here - and to open his eyes - then it turned out to be a good thing." 

 

Justin nodded, still not quite convinced.  "I never wanted Jared to leave," he lamented softly.  "I just wanted him to stop feeling like we were constantly in a competition."  He inhaled a shaky breath and let it out before he told her, "I just wanted things to go back to the way they were, when Jared and I were real brothers.  I'm not sure that will ever be possible again now."

 

Jennifer's heart broke at the forlorn look on her son's face; she couldn't help pulling Justin into her arms as he nestled his head in the crook of her neck and slid his arms around her slender waist.  "I know, Justin.  Only time will tell.  For now, I think this is for the best - for all of us."

 

They pulled back as Justin nodded at her. "Want me to go get Dad?" he asked.

 

She shook her head.  "No, you go wash up; he should be in soon.  I saw him a few minutes ago and waved at him to let him know supper was ready."

 

Justin nodded once more as he turned and headed down the hallway to the downstairs half bathroom.  Shaking her head sadly, Jennifer finished setting the rest of the supper dishes down onto the table just as Craig opened the backdoor and walked in.

 

"Hey, Jen," Craig replied softly as he walked up and kissed her on the cheek.  The two of them had spent about an hour last night discussing what had happened and had finally managed to clear the air about a lot of issues.  Their marriage still wasn't the one they had first had as newlyweds, but last night's discussion had gone a long way toward hopefully repairing some of the holes that needed to be patched.

 

"Hi, Honey," she said with a tired smile.  "Justin's washing up for supper; why don't you do the same?"  He nodded, but paused for a moment before he told her, "I don't know what to do with Jared's car out there."

 

She nodded.  "I figured that was probably what you had been working on most of the day.  Do we really have to make a decision about it now, though?"

 

"No," Craig admitted.  "But I don't feel right just letting it sit there."  He sighed as he pushed his hand through his hair.  "I wish in a way he had stayed until the end of the month, so we could all try to work out some sort of solution.  But in another way, I'm kind of relieved that he didn't.  Does that make sense?"

 

She nodded.  "Yeah, perfect sense."

 

"I worry what he will live on now."

 

"I know," she agreed as she placed her hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and stared down at the empty place where Jared normally sat.  "But we had to do it, Craig."

 

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged sadly, his anger having dissipated since last night to be replaced by regret.  "But I just wish there had been another way."  He was about to go, when out of the corner of his eye he saw his youngest son returning from down the hall; he noticed Justin seemed to hesitate as their eyes met, and he felt a sense of remorse over having put that expression on his face.  Last night had opened his eyes to a lot of things, one of which was how much he needed to make sure this boy knew that he did love him and appreciate him.  It was hard for him to express those feelings aloud - it always had been - and it had seemed somewhat unnatural to verbalize it to him last night, but seeing his youngest son so broken and so convinced that he didn't love him had made him realize how badly he had been treating him and how much he needed to make it up to him.

 

He forced himself to relax his expression and smile at his son as he told him softly, "Come and sit down, Son; your mom has supper waiting."  Justin nodded as he walked toward his father, who reached over to squeeze his shoulder as he passed him on the way to wash up.  It was a brief gesture that might have gone unnoticed any other time, but to Justin it spoke volumes.

 

---

 

The dinner was spent pleasantly enough; all three kept their conversation to 'safe subjects:' the warmer-than-normal weather recently, the local drive to have a new park installed on the edge of town, the latest Cincinnati Reds ball scores; it was a common pasttime to listen to the game on their radios at night while they sat on the back porch, and at least gave Justin and his father something to discuss rather than the situation with Jared.  Finally, it was inevitable that their talk would focus on the big race tomorrow at Red Mill.  In response to his father's inquiry, Justin assured him that Headstrong was prepared for the event and had had a strong workout earlier.  And while no one could certainly guarantee what would happen at any race - their being too many variables that were out of their control - Justin was confident that both he and Headstrong were as ready as they would ever be. 

 

Jennifer glanced over at her son's partially-consumed dinner and frowned a little in concern; it wasn't like her son to not have a good appetite.  Perhaps the events of last night were still bothering him, even though Jared was no longer there and Craig had seemed to go out of his way to pay special attention to him this evening.  "Justin, you didn't eat much," she observed.  "Is anything wrong?"  Even before a race, Justin typically had no problems finishing off his meal, especially when it involved some of his favorites that she had went out of her way to cook tonight, including fried corn, apple fritters, and pork chops with gravy. 

 

"I'm fine, Mom," he assured her, not willing to discuss the real reason why he couldn't eat; he was just too wound up at the thought of seeing Brian again to have much of an appetite.  "I guess I'm just feeling a little stressed out."  He paused for a moment, watching his father drink the last of his iced tea, before he told them, "Uh, I think I'll head down to the swimming hole and take a swim; maybe that might relax me."

 

She smiled over at him, knowing how hard these past few days had been for him.  "Sounds like a good idea, Sweetheart; just don't stay out too late."

 

Justin rolled his eyes.  "Mom..."  Would she think of him as a child forever?

 

"Your mother's right, Justin," Craig agreed; he strove to keep his voice level as he reminded him, "You have a big day tomorrow before the race.  You know how you are when you don't get enough sleep beforehand."

 

Justin sighed but nodded in understanding as he rose from his seat at the kitchen table and carried his dishes over to place them in the sink.  "I won't," he told him as his pulse began to quicken in anticipation over the thought of soon seeing Brian again.  Wiping his hands off on a nearby kitchen towel, he hurried down the hallway to head upstairs and grab his swimming trunks; in record time, he was out the door and headed toward the winding path that led to the swimming hole. 

 

As they watched their son go from their place at the table, Craig asked his wife softly, "You know he's probably not going to be down there alone." 

 

"I know," Jennifer told him, somehow sensing the same thing.

 

"I still have a bad feeling about that other boy; he's much too grown up for Justin.  You don't know how much I had to bite my tongue just then not to ask him whether or not he was meeting up with that boy and to tell him he couldn't.  I still think he's a bad influence on him."

 

"Craig, I'm concerned as well," she confessed, "but we have to trust him; Justin's very mature for his age." 

 

He looked at his wife with one raised eyebrow.  "He's still just a boy, Jen, and not a very experienced one, if you catch my drift.  Whether or not he was to blame for what happened last night, I still say Kinney is only after one thing, and I hate to see Justin get hurt."  He didn't stop to consider how ironic it was that up until now, next to Jared he had been hurting his son most of all.  But he was resolved to change that now; he just hadn't realized how hard that might be.

 

"Yes, I know," she told him quietly as Justin disappeared out of sight.  "But he knows what he has to do to protect himself.  We BOTH have to trust him.  He has to make his own mistakes - and his own way in life.  There's bound to be some hurt with the joy along the way." 

 

Craig eyed her with surprise.  "So you're not worried about this other boy's motives?  You heard what was said last night.  That boy is going to pursue Justin until he gives in, whether he forces him to or not; you know that's bound to happen.  Doesn't that bother you at all?"

 

Jennifer sighed.  "I'd be lying if I said it didn't," she admitted to him.  "But we can't protect him forever.  And I may be wrong, but I really feel that Brian genuinely cares about him."

 

Craig snorted softly in doubt as he rose to take his dishes over to the sink.  "I'm not convinced of that."  He let out an anxious breath.  "But I hope you're right, Jen; I hope you're right." 

 

---

 

Justin clutched his swimming trunks tightly in his hand, almost crushing the piece of clothing as he neared the swimming hole; the closer he got to his destination, the more nervous he was becoming.  Part of him was telling him he was out of his mind, and that he would get his heart broken (as if it hadn't been bruised already).  The other, tenderer side of his heart wanted to believe Brian felt differently about him than all the other boys he had been with. 

 

Just before he came into the clearing, he took a deep breath to steel his resolution.  He would NOT be a pushover here, he told himself firmly; yes, Brian was sexy as hell, knew just what to do to get his body all fired up, and could do things that were downright sweet at times. He was a good listener and seemed to know exactly how he was feeling.  But he could also be extremely exasperating, tempestuous, and unnerving - a very dangerous combination in his mind.

 

Taking one more breath and letting it out, he tentatively walked out into the clearing near the pond, glancing around for Brian.  His face fell slightly as he saw no one around.  Had he arrived too early for their rendezvous?  Or was Brian not even coming at all?  Had he changed his mind? 

 

Just then, his heart lurched as he heard a soft, silky-sounding voice nearby.  "Hello, Justin."  He turned slightly to observe Brian emerging from behind the same, hollowed-out tree that he had hid his clothes in before, his replica of Checkers clutched in his arms.  The irony wasn't lost on him as he received a tongue-in-cheek smile from the other boy.  For once in his life, Brian seemed unsure of himself as he stood hesitantly a few feet away, staring at Justin so intensely that he almost made him feel like he was just as exposed as before, even though he was fully clothed now.

 

Justin couldn't help smiling briefly despite his promise to himself as Brian picked up one of the stuffed animal's hooves and waved it at him in greeting.

 

"I would moo, but I'm still learning cow language," he told him with a smile, relieved to have some of the tension broken.  It was good to see Justin laugh, even if it was temporary. His smile faltered a little as Justin nodded back at him; all of a sudden, he felt uncomfortable as hell.  Any other time, he would be totally at ease with him.

 

"I wasn't sure you would come," he admitted to him as he stood there, his muscular arms wrapped tightly around the animal.  It was almost as if he were using the stuffed cow as armor; perhaps in a way he was.  He couldn't help staring at Justin; even when he wasn't trying to be irresistible, he was.  At the moment, his hair was windblown, and he was wearing a pair of dark, denim jeans, his familiar pair of well-loved sneakers, and a short-sleeved, black tee shirt that read, There's something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.  Brian thought he looked amazing as usual as he gazed into Justin's eyes and was finally rewarded with a pink tint blooming on his cheeks. 

 

"I wasn't sure I would, either," Justin murmured truthfully.  He peered over at him silently for a moment before he spoke again.  "You were over at the house last night." 

 

Brian flashed him a smile.  "I worked hard for that horse.  Almost as hard as YOU work out with Headstrong." 

 

Justin snorted.  "I hardly think so.  But I admit you do have good pitching skills."   He let out a deep breath, suddenly weary of this game.  "Brian, why did you ask me here?" 

 

Brian's smile faded as he stared into Justin's face; he could tell he was still somewhat hurt over what had happened last night.  It was his job to set things right now.   He slowly dropped the cow to the ground as he approached him.  "You already know the answer to that question."

 

Justin's pulse quickened as Brian walked closer; just being around Brian made it hard to breathe at times.  He was wearing a pair of dark-blue, tailored jeans that accentuated his long legs, black boots, and a white, sleeveless tee-shirt worn under a brown and white checked shirt that was hanging open with the shirttails out.  Justin thought he was magnificent.  "Maybe," he conceded as he peered over at him, Brian's eyes boring into his.  "But I still need to hear you say it." 

 

Brian nodded, feeling unexpectedly anxious.  Why was it so important that Justin believe him?  Deep down he knew the reason, but this was all such unfamiliar territory; hell, he had felt like a fish out of water ever since he had gotten here.  But Justin made him feel less isolated, less like a pariah in this unfamiliar land. He made him feel like he was special. Justin made his heart feel emotions he hadn't even been sure he was capable of feeling.  For just a moment, he realized how the Tin Man must have felt in the Wizard of Oz.  Who would have imagined - Brian Kinney has a heart...

 

He swallowed hard; it was now or never.  "Why don't you go sit over there on that log?" Brian suggested, nodding his head over at a large, downed oak tree lying on its side; the tree had been positioned there for so long that the bark had long worn off, providing a smooth surface just perfect for sitting on. 

 

"Where are you going?" Justin asked in alarm as he watched as Brian turned and began to walk away.  "Brian?  I thought you wanted to talk to me."  Now he was just going to leave? 

 

Brian turned around and placed his hands on his hips with barely-disguised impatience.  "You can be the most stubborn person, Justin Taylor.  Will you please just do as I asked?  I'm not going anywhere." 

 

Justin eyed him cautiously, wondering just what he was up to, before he finally turned and trudged over to the downed oak tree and plopped down in frustration to sit on it with a grunt.  He watched as Brian walked over to the hollowed-out tree that he had previously hidden his clothing in and pull out what appeared to be a folded up horse blanket of tartan grey and red. 

 

Justin rolled his eyes.  How subtle... "Brian, what the hell?  I am not going to lie down on that blanket with you," he told him flatly.  Did he think they could just go from their argument last night to having sex?  Did he think he was that easily manipulated?  One look at him and he couldn't wait to peel all his clothes off and let Brian do whatever he wanted with him?  Well, he had news for him.  He may be attracted to him, but he wasn't about to do just take everything lying down - literally.  This boy had some serious explaining to do. 

 

Brian sighed as he walked closer.  "Just open it," he softly urged as he placed the folded blanket in Justin's hands.  Justin frowned as he got a better look at it; it was definitely a horse blanket, but in addition to being folded, it was secured with a plain, black ribbon.  He could also feel something hard and flat tucked in between the folds of the material.  "What is this?" he asked curiously. 

 

Brian quietly sat down beside him.  "Open it," he entreated softly as he watched Justin place the item on his lap and pull the ribbon to loosen it.  He held his breath anxiously as Justin unfolded one flap and then the other to display the contents inside:  a fine quality, red leather art sketchbook emblazoned with a stallion on the front cover.  Two large brass latches held the book firmly closed together.  It was absolutely incredible.

Justin sat there speechless as Brian began to fret that he had made a mistake; his words tumbled out in a nervous sort of jumble now.  "I hope you like it; I don't know anything about art books, but I thought it was perfect for you.  I got you some art supplies, too," he told him.  "They're back at the farmhouse in my bedroom.  The lady at the art supply store in town helped me pick out what to buy for you, but I chose the sketchbook myself.  I saw it in the window and thought it was meant for you." 

 

Justin lovingly brushed his fingers over the embossed photo of the proud-looking horse displayed on the cover as Brian frowned with concern over his silence.  "The saleslady told me it was one of the best books they carry," he explained.  "But if you'd like to exchange it for something else, I kept the receipt..."

 

Justin shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat.  "No," he managed to croak out in a choked voice as he gazed down at what was his dream sketchbook; he had gazed on that exact, same book so many times at the art supply store before that he had lost count.  The rounded edges and sewn binding spoke of its high quality and craftsmanship, and he knew inside it held some handmade watercolor paper that was thick enough for whatever medium he decided to use for his drawing.  There would be no way he could have ever afforded something this extravagant for himself; practically all his winnings went back into the family budget, leaving him with precious little extra spending money except for a modest allowance.  This - and any other art supplies - would never have been possible for him. 

 

"Justin?"

 

He turned his head to peer over into Brian's eyes locked on his.  "It's...it's exquisite," he whispered, his eyes glistening. It was even more beautiful out of the display window.  "How did you know?" 

 

Brian shook his head, relieved that Justin apparently approved of his selection, but he was still a little confused.  "Know what?" he pressed softly.  "How much you would like it?"

 

"No, not that, not exactly," Justin responded as he looked back down at the treasured gift.  "This is the same sketchbook that I would look at every time I passed the art store window."  He ran his fingers over the smooth leather as he lifted his gaze to peer back over at Brian.  "But there was no way I could ever buy it for myself."  He placed the package down carefully on the log next to him as he told Brian, "It's as if you read my mind.  How do you do that?" 

 

Brian smiled slightly.  "Do what?"

 

"Know what I need, what I want." 

 

Brian stared into the beautiful face.  "I know what I want, too," he whispered huskily as he reached to grasp Justin's hand; the skin was soft but slightly calloused on the underside, no doubt evidence of Justin constantly holding onto Headstrong's reins as he practiced.  It was the hand of someone who worked hard at what he did.  "Justin, I'm sorry about what I said last night.  I never meant for it to come out the way it did."  He lowered his gaze to avoid the luminous, blue eyes boring into his as he admitted, "It's just that I'm so damn attracted to you that it's hard to not want to be with you in every sense of the word."  He lifted his head to chance gazing into Justin's face, hoping he wouldn't see rejection there.  Brian reached over with his other hand and placed it under his chin.  "But it's more than that.  I do care about you; probably a lot more than you know."  He leaned his face in closer as he whispered, "I...Justin, fuck, I want to kiss you so much..."  His eyes traveled slightly downward to admire the full lips just begging to be ravaged, and his entire body tingled at the thought of that - and more... He lifted his eyes back up to see Justin flush in reaction to his actions.

 

His face warming at the sultry tone of Brian's voice, any doubts Justin had about how Brian felt about him quickly began to ebb away.  "Brian..." he whispered as Brian's eyes challenged him to deny what both of them were feeling. 

 

Brian's hand slid around Justin's neck to pull him in even closer; he gazed into his eyes, making sure this was what Justin wanted, too, before he finally pressed their lips firmly together.  Their arms slid around each other's backs of one accord as Brian tilted his head to clamp his mouth even tighter over Justin's to deepen the kiss more, his tongue sliding out to demand a response.  He thought he heard a whisper of a sigh before Justin's lips parted slightly in acquiescence and his tongue crept inside to steal a taste. 

 

Time seemed to stand still as they continued to kiss, the only sounds being heard the light rustling of the trees above from the warm, soft breeze blowing, an occasional screech from a hawk or a 'pip' from a nearby squirrel.  Neither boy paid the distinctly bucolic sounds any mind, however; they were much too caught up in their passion. 

 

Justin's hands slid inside Brian's open shirt and roamed up his chest to brush against the older boy's nipples through the thin, cotton fabric; he heard a sharp intake of breath in reaction, which emboldened him to do some further exploring.   His hands crept further upward as he pushed Brian's open shirt from his shoulders; Brian released his hold on Justin long enough to allow the fabric to fall downward to the ground before he reached over to slide his hands under Justin's shirt.  He had to feel that smooth, warm, pale skin under his fingertips. 

 

A few seconds later, Brian's hands gliding up the bare skin of his chest caused Justin to pull back, startled.  When had Brian managed to snake his hands inside his shirt?  He had been so caught up in their kiss and his own adoration of Brian's toned skin to even notice.  They stared into each other's faces now, both reflecting the desire burning inside of them as Justin anxiously licked his lips, his heart thumping so hard.  He knew he was playing with fire here; just one more minute and he understood he would be reaching the point of no return.  How he had continually longed for this day in his dreams at night!  But now that it seemed to be happening, he was scared out of his mind.  Would he disappoint Brian?  After all, anyone that looked like him had to have had all kinds of experience.  Was he even ready for this?  

 

Brian stilled his hands on Justin's skin.  "What?" he asked softly; Justin's own hands were still lying, palms down, on his chest; Brian could feel Justin's body heat permeating through his thin tee shirt like a slow, smoldering fire. 

 

"Brian...I've, I've never done this before..."

 

Brian reached his right hand up to cup Justin's cheek.  "I figured as much," he told him gently, no hint of ridicule in his voice as he brushed some errant hair back from Justin's forehead.  "Is this what you want?"  Am I who you want?  He thought he knew the answer; God, he wanted Justin so badly right now.  But it had to be Justin's decision. 

 

Desire rushed through Justin in response to Brian's touch and the concern in his voice; he was nervous as hell.  Would he be able to satisfy Brian as a lover?  What exactly did he know about that?  But as he closed his eyes to heighten the feeling of Brian's gentle touch on his face, he knew there could only be one answer.  His eyes slowly fluttered open to observe Brian gazing at him expectantly. 

 

He bit his lip.  "Brian..." he whispered out his companion's name as Brian slowly stroked his cheek and held his breath.  "Yes. I want you..."

 

Brian nodded in relief; if Justin had rejected him, he wasn't sure what he would have done.  He curled his hand around Justin's neck to urge him into another kiss before, finally, he pulled back to rise from the log to stand next to the other boy. 

 

Justin stared into his eyes, his breath coming out in small pants of anticipation as he watched Brian reach down and carefully remove the sketchbook from its fleece covering and, placing it back down onto the log, look around for a good spot in which to place the blanket onto the ground.  He spied a small area nearby obscured by some cedar trees that surrounded it, providing just the perfect amount of privacy and seclusion for their first time.  Walking over to the area, he unfurled the blanket as it slowly settled down onto the grass-covered ground and then he returned to stand next to Justin, silently extending his hand downward in invitation. 

 

Brian bestowed a gentle smile of reassurance on him before Justin placed his hand in his and Brian pulled him up to stand next to him.  Never taking his eyes off him, he walked backward with Justin toward the blanket several feet away, stopping only when he reached the small grove of trees. 

 

Brian gazed, dark-eyed, into Justin's face for a moment before he dropped his hand to allow Justin to pull his shirt off; a few moments later, the shirt fell to the ground as Brian reached for the hem of his own tee-shirt and quickly pulled it up over his head to join the other one; he noticed Justin's eyes evolve into a darker shade of blue as he walked a little closer to him.  His fingers longed to yank the rest of Justin's clothing off so he could revisit the beauty he had first seen that day not so long ago when he had found Justin skinny dipping in the water, but he knew he needed to take things slowly with him. 

 

So instead he opted to slide his arm around Justin's bare waist and pull him closer to steal one more kiss; a kiss that Justin all too willingly allowed as his own hands slid up Brian's now naked chest to settle on his collarbone.  

 

Flushed with desire, Justin stared into Brian's eyes as they pulled apart several seconds later; he reached one hand tentatively up to lightly brush his fingers across Brian's lips as Brian's eyes dilated almost to a shade of dark chocolate.

 

"Lie down," Brian quietly urged him, thinking that perhaps that might be less intimidating to Justin the first time.  Justin's tongue flicked out to wet his dry lips, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Brian, as he finally nodded and moved to do as Brian requested.  He gazed up at Brian through hooded eyes a few seconds later from the blanket as Brian kneeled down by his waist and, his eyes locked on Justin's, reached over to unsnap the lone button of his jeans and slowly pull the zipper down.

 

Brian could see the prominent bulge through the fabric, indicating that Justin was just as aroused as he was; a pair of white briefs was evident underneath.  His breath hitched in his throat as the significance of this moment hit him; how he had fantasized about this, ever since he had first laid eyes on Justin floating so sexily on the water!

 

His gaze lifted to meet Justin's and he noticed his blue eyes following his every move; he could hear soft pants escaping his lips. 

 

Forcing himself to still his movements, he whispered, "There's nothing to be afraid of, Justin."  He longed to tell him that he would never hurt him - and he wouldn't, not intentionally anyway - but he knew that would be a lie if he did.  He knew the first time could hurt like a motherfucker, and he was done being less than candid with him. 

 

As if he read his mind, Justin asked a little anxiously, "Will it hurt?" 

 

Brian reached down to lightly stroke the side of his face in reassurance with the back of his hand.  "I'm not going to lie to you.  Yes, it will; at first.  But once you work through the pain, trust me; it will be more than worth it."  Justin swallowed hard but nodded against his hand as Brian gazed down at him; shit, this boy continued to take his breath away.  Just the thought of seeing him totally naked under his scrutiny was making him hard as hell.  If Justin backed out now...well, he didn't even want to consider the possibility.  But as a testament to how much he was beginning to care deeply for him, he knew he needed to give him one more chance.

 

"You sure about this, Justin?  You can still say no."  Although it would fucking kill me...

 

Justin's heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings as he gazed up at the sexy boy kneeling beside him; he had seen Brian shirtless before, but he still couldn't help admiring the firm skin of his chest and his lightly-muscled arms.  And his hands - just the touch of his fingers on his skin made his body tingle at the thought of what they might soon be doing to him elsewhere.  He was both scared but also exhilarated at the thought of Brian inside his most private place; a place no one had ever been before.  At the mere thought of it, his cock grew even harder and begged for the release that only Brian could provide for him.  This was not going to be some jack off in the shower, or a wet dream fantasy that God knows he had experienced numerous times before; no, this was going to be the real thing. 

 

"Brian, yes, God, yes, I want it.  I want to know what it's like - with you." 

 

Brian smiled a little, mainly in relief but also to reassure him as he demanded softly, "Raise your hips up."  Justin lifted his pelvis just enough for Brian to curl his hands around the waistband of his jeans and briefs to slowly slide them down the slender legs; Justin's cock sprung immediately to attention, thick and proud under Brian's inspection.  It was even more glorious than Brian had remembered, and he couldn't wait to taste it.  He licked his lips almost subconsciously as Justin's face turned red.

 

"Don't be embarrassed, Justin," Brian immediately told him as his eyes locked onto his lover's.  "You're fucking incredible," he explained sincerely, which just made Justin's face flush even more.  "I think I know just how to take the edge off, and then we can really get down to business," he advised him huskily as he reached to curl his right hand around the silky, hot shaft, flicking his thumb over the slit that was already leaking pre-come.  He used it to lubricate Justin's cock as he slowly began to slide his hand up and down, watching Justin's eyes widen in stunned arousal. 

 

Justin gasped at the amazing sensation of Brian's hand sensually stroking him to perfection.  It was so much more intense than anything he had ever done to himself, and it was almost indescribable:  like a supernova on steroids.  Something told him that even if he had all the experience in the world with other guys, nothing would compare to being with Brian. 

 

"Feel good?" Brian asked him, his voice sultry as he stared down into the luminescent, expressive, blue eyes.  He really didn't have to ask Justin that out loud, however; all he had to do was look at his face to know he was in nirvana at the moment.

 

All Justin could do was bite his lip and nod his head slightly as he curled his toes under in reaction; he could feel the pleasure radiating from every nerve in his body.  Brian smirked knowingly as he began to slowly increase the pressure and speed of his movements, hearing small murmurs and whimpers  of appreciation escaping the perfect, pink lips of his companion.  He knew it would only take a few more seconds before Justin reached the point of no return, and then they could proceed onto the rest of their 'festivities.'  He couldn't want to find out if the feisty spitfire who constantly sparred with him verbally was just as passionate in the throes of sex.

 

"Brian..." Justin struggled to get his name out as his breathing quickened and he felt his pending climax; he dug his fingernails into the blanket as it bunched under his touch, his body subconsciously arching up slightly as Brian continued to pump his hand up and down his cock until, finally, he cried out in uncontrollable pleasure and arched slightly off the blanket, shooting his come over Brian's hand, chest, and neck.  Brian pumped his shaft a few more times before he finally released him, bringing his hand up to get his first taste of Justin's warm essence and finding it akin to an intoxicating combination of some sweet and salty ambrosia. 

 

Sucking the come off his fingers one by one, Justin's face turned red over Brian's unabashed action; he had never seen someone so comfortable with his sexuality before - not even Jared - and it was like a whole new world was opening up for him.  He lay there, feeling boneless and limp, wondering if Brian had made him feel this good merely by giving him a hand job, how was he going to feel when he fucked him?  Maybe he would merely suffer a heart attack from the mind-blowing sensations and simply die of uncontrollable ecstasy instead.  Either prospect at the moment seemed pretty damn good to him as his eyes traveled down Brian's face to his chest. 

 

"Brian..." he whispered, his voice choked with need.

 

Brian peered down at him, his eyes raking over the pale, smooth skin, now slightly tinged with desire.  God, this boy was amazing.  He couldn't wait to memorize every inch of him.  "Yes?"

 

"Your pants; I want them off," was the shy but firm command as Justin met his gaze evenly. 

 

Brian smiled, impressed with Justin's forthrightness despite his lack of experience.  "I thought you'd never ask," he told him. Taking a moment to use a corner of the blanket to clean himself off, he rose to his feet.  He noticed Justin's eyes following his every movement as he unsnapped his jeans and dug into his pants pocket to retrieve a couple of condoms and a small tube of lube to toss them down onto the blanket before pulling the pants and a pair of tight, black briefs down his legs to settle at his ankles.  Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed Justin lick his lips as he pulled off his boots and socks and tugged the rest of his clothing off to lie in a discarded heap near the blanket.

 

Now there were no more barriers between them as Brian stood there, his cock jutting out heavy and hard, a blatant sign of his desire for this boy who had mesmerized and intrigued him from the moment he had first seen him by the fence that day.  He watched as Justin held out his hands toward him in silent invitation before he walked over to kneel back down on the blanket beside him and take him in his arms.  He slid his hands around the slender back, his fingertips stroking the smooth flesh under his touch as he held onto him tightly.  He could feel Justin's heart racing against his chest as he rested his head briefly in the crook of his neck.  Pulling back slightly to look him in the face, he whispered, "Fuck, I want you, Justin.  Last chance; I can't hold back any longer.  Tell me now; tell me this is what you want, too."  Never before would he have cared about any other boy's needs; it would be take and take and take some more until he got his thirst quenched.  But with Justin, it was different; it was special.  It was so much more. 

 

"You know I do," Justin sputtered out breathlessly as he reached down between them and boldly squeezed Brian's cock for emphasis, evoking a groan from his companion. His body thrummed at the incredible sensation of holding Brian in his hand, the skin so hot and hard to his touch. He sucked in a breath over the realization that he was the cause of it. "I want this - I want you - inside me.  I want you to teach me."  Remembering what Brian had done for him earlier, he boldly slid his hand up and down the silky flesh, causing Brian to let out a ragged breath of repressed desire and quickly capture the roaming hand in his own.

 

"Shit, Justin!" he growled at him as he grasped the hand firmly in his. "Keep that up and I'll be over the edge before we start." 

 

Justin turned bright red but nodded as Brian let go of his hand to rise back up on his knees and reach down to lightly trail his fingers along Justin's arm, watching him shiver under his touch before he whispered quietly, "Spread your legs, Justin."  He gazed at the expanse of wiry, golden pubes framing the large, thick cock that he had just had the pleasure of indulging in, and he was momentarily tempted to steal another taste of it with his tongue this time, but he had more urgent needs to attend to first.

 

"Well, then...," Brian whispered as he stared into Justin's trusting eyes.  "Get ready to learn."

 

 

 

 

 

Last Chapter...

 

Tell me now; tell me this is what you want, too."  Never before would Brian have cared about any other boy's needs; it would be take and take and take some more until he got his thirst quenched.  But with Justin, it was different; it was special.  It was so much more.

 

"You know I do," Justin sputtered out breathlessly as he reached down between them and boldly squeezed Brian's cock for emphasis, evoking a groan from his companion. His body thrummed at the incredible sensation of cupping Brian in his hand, the skin so hot and hard to his touch. He sucked in a breath over the realization that he was the cause of it. "I want this - I want you - inside me.  I want you to teach me."  Remembering what Brian had done for him earlier, he boldly slid his hand up and down the silky flesh, causing Brian to let out a ragged breath of repressed desire and quickly capture the roaming hand in his own.

 

"Shit, Justin!" he growled at him as he grasped the hand firmly in his. "Keep that up and I'll be over the edge before we start."

 

Justin turned bright red but nodded as Brian let go of his hand to rise back up on his knees and reach down to lightly trail his fingers along Justin's arm, watching him shiver under his touch before he whispered quietly, "Spread your legs, Justin."  He gazed at the expanse of wiry, golden pubes framing the large, thick cock that he had just had the pleasure of indulging in, and he was momentarily tempted to steal another taste of it with his tongue this time, but he had more urgent needs to attend to first.

 

"Well, then...," Brian whispered as he stared into Justin's trusting eyes.  "Get ready to learn."

 

---

 

Justin swallowed hard at the lust-filled look in Brian's eyes, but did as he asked as he let his bended legs fall to either side of his body, wide enough for Brian to nestle himself in the V of his legs.  The hard, muscled skin of Brian's chest rubbed against Justin's cock as he slowly slid up the warm body, providing some delicious friction that made Justin gasp in reaction as Brian pulled himself up so they were face to face.

 

Brian braced himself on his elbows as he gazed into Justin's eyes.  "You all right?" he asked softly, feeling Justin's heart racing beneath him.  It matched the tempo of his own as Justin nodded.

 

He gazed at him tenderly before he leaned down to kiss the full lips briefly, biting the lower lobe for a moment before nuzzling the side of Justin's neck with his cheek as he whispered in his ear, "Are you ready now to feel me inside you, Justin?"

 

Justin whimpered softly at the thought as he felt Brian's cock, heavy and hard, lying between them.  After seeing Brian's impressive girth and length, he had a good idea now why Brian said his first time would hurt; he couldn't imagine having something that large inside him.  But he trusted Brian, and knew he wouldn't want his first time to be with anyone but him.  "Yes," he murmured back as Brian rained butterfly kisses on his eyelids, cheek, nose, and jaw.  "Please..."

 

Brian pulled back to stare into his eyes before he nodded, that final, plea-filled word causing his adrenaline to race.  Rising up onto his haunches, he reached over to grab one of the condom wrappers and tear it open.  He felt the heat of Justin's stare on him, and was surprised to feel his hands shaking slightly as he slid the latex over his dick.  Taking the small tube of lube, he squirted a generous amount into the palm of his hand, discarding the container to rub his palms together to try and heat it up a little.  He knew Justin was undoubtedly anxious enough without being startled by the coldness of the lotion.

 

To confirm his suspicions, he noticed Justin nervously following his every move with his eyes as he slathered his dick with the lotion. "Bend your legs against your chest," Brian gently instructed him; he saw Justin nod and his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed hard, but he did as he was told, linking his hands around his lower legs to keep them pressed against his body.

 

Justin felt somewhat absurd and so exposed in this position - almost like a human pretzel - but the fiery look in Brian's eyes made his cock harden even further and his body tremble both with anticipation and desire.

 

Brian's eyes locked on the pink, tightly-puckered hole that was open to his inspection, and his mouth watered at the sight.  He wanted to rim that hole so badly and tongue fuck the shit out of it, but he knew that could be too much sensual overload for Justin's first time.  Forcing himself to be patient, then, he murmured, "I'm going to open you up first, okay?"

 

Justin bit his lower lip and nodded, holding his breath as Brian reached over with one coated index finger to push slightly through the insanely-tight opening, marveling at how the skin instantly suctioned itself around him in protest.  Shit, he had never felt anything so tight in his life!  He couldn't wait to find out how that felt around his cock!  Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, he probed a little deeper, hearing Justin hiss in discomfort as he reached down to lightly stroke his belly in reassurance.

 

"You're doing fine, Justin," he told him softly as he stilled his movement inside him.  "I have to do this, or it's going to hurt like hell."

 

Justin winced as Brian crooked his finger and waggled it a little to try and loosen him up more.  He would be lying if he still wasn't worried about what it would feel like when Brian actually fucked him with his cock; just the one finger inside him was extremely painful.  But he was determined to ride out the agony; he remembered what Brian had said, and he knew this was part of every gay boy's initiation.  And he couldn't think of a better first-time lover than Brian.  "Go on," he croaked out as Brian stopped his movements.

 

Brian nodded, impressed with the other boy's determination; Justin gasped then as he felt another finger pressing inside his opening.  He bit his lip hard to keep from crying out, but he couldn't help the grimace on his face from the pain as Brian pressed the middle finger in deeper to join up with the other one.

 

Brian's face was etched with concern as he stilled his fingers, slowly caressing Justin's belly soothingly again with his other hand.  Until now all the other boys hadn't meant anything to him at all, except as a mechanism for a quick sexual release and a brief flash of pleasure.  He had had his share of virgins before - it was particularly pleasurable to feel his cock inside such a tight ass as they always possessed - but somehow as he gazed down into the resolute face of this particular boy, he realized this was going to be a lot different than that.

 

"Brian, keep going," Justin hissed out just then to get his attention, pressing his lips firmly together to staunch the feelings of uncomfortable fullness as he stared up at the amazingly gorgeous man who was trying so hard not to hurt him. The fact that someone like Brian - was who well-experienced in providing and receiving pleasure - was putting his needs in front of his own merely cemented his conviction that this was the right time and the right person for his first encounter.  He always knew it would have to be with someone special, and with someone who wasn't just a casual fling.  He knew he would have never been satisfied with just a quick fuck.  Today he finally realized that this was the time - and this was the boy he wanted to experience it with.  "Come on," he added softly, trying hard to convince Brian he really meant it.  "I can handle it.  I want you inside me.  I need you inside me."  That was the truth, too; the desire to be one with Brian was an aching, physical need

 

Brian nodded, his heart swelling with pride over this boy's strength, before he leaned down to steal a quick kiss from Justin's soft lips, trying to reassure him through his actions how much he cared for him.  "Yeah, I know you can," he murmured encouragingly.  Fuck, it was so hard to go slowly with Justin, though!  Every ounce of his body wanted to taste and touch each inch of that creamy, smooth skin until he was completely sated and could find it by memory.  But there would be time for that later.  Right now, this was for him.

 

He locked eyes on the beautiful blond beneath him - the blue orbs peering up at him with so much trust and desire that it made his heart ache - before he slowly removed his fingers and, gripping his slick cock, he hovered over the wrinkled opening.  "Breathe, Justin, try to relax," he coached him softly just before he gripped Justin's upper arms to brace himself and pushed in ever so slightly.

 

A cry of pain erupted from Justin as he tried to do as Brian asked; the feeling was almost too much to bear, so much girth being encased inside him, even though Brian had tried to prepare him ahead of time and he was just barely inside him now.  He wondered again how he could possibly accommodate Brian's size. But he was determined to do it, come hell or high water, so he nodded up at his lover in silent entreaty for him to continue.

 

Sweat beaded out on Brian's forehead as he purposefully held back from what he so desperately wanted to do; instead, he whispered out in a steady stream of encouragement, "Breathe.  Work with me, Justin, you can do it; that's it.  Look at me."  Justin's eyes transformed from a light blue to a dark, unfathomable shade of inkiness as he stared unblinking into Brian's eyes, using them as a beacon and an anchor.

 

"I'm going to take you on the most amazing ride," he promised as Justin nodded, his face a picture of concentration as Brian pushed in a little further and, again, stopped to allow Justin to work through the discomfort and tolerate the intrusion. "Yessss," Brian breathed out encouragingly, his voice low and soothing as he felt Justin's walls clamped against his dick.  "Shit, you feel so damn good."  He pushed in a little more, finding it nearly impossible to keep from plunging all the way inside; the feeling was so fucking indescribable.  He didn't know if part of it was due to how he felt about Justin or just the sensation of being in such an incredibly constrictive space, but at that moment he couldn't think of anywhere else he wanted to be - or anyone else he wanted to be with.

 

"Justin..." Brian's brows furrowed as he noted the pain still evident on the other boy's face.  "The pain; it'll ease soon," he reassured him softly.  "Try to relax and let me in."

 

Justin's eyes glimmered with tears over the feeling of fullness; it was almost too much.  But he believed Brian; he knew he was sexually experienced, so he nodded again and concentrated on trying to relax his muscles.

 

Brian slowly pressed in a little more, then a little more after that until he heard a gasp erupt from the perfectly-formed lips below him.  Justin's face began to transform from extreme discomfort into something almost mystical, something disbelieving.  It was then that Brian knew he had found the bundle of nerves to make Justin's body thrum with ecstasy.  He watched as Justin's skin flushed and his eyes broke open in stunned surprise.  Brian smiled as he pulled back out slightly and then pushed back in firmly, striking the same spot again as Justin moaned.  The slickness of the lube provided just the right combination of friction and smoothness to allow Brian to start pistoning in and out in earnest now; Justin seemed to know instinctively what to do as he snapped his hips in perfect synchrony with Brian's movements, meeting him rhythm for rhythm as their bodies fused tightly together.

 

Brian found that he had been right about Justin; once the boy determined the right pace, he enthusiastically began to parry thrust for thrust with him, the sound of their bodies slapping together and their grunts of primal mating appearing abnormally loud under the quiet canopy of the cedar trees.  The birds had even gone still in the late-afternoon hour, leaving the soothing sound of the water that rushed gently over a small waterfall into the pond nearby a perfect contrast to their passion.

 

Brian was in heaven as he plunged in and out of Justin, stopping occasionally to grab another kiss from the other boy's lips; he had never thought anyone could feel so right, so hot, and so incredibly perfect at the same time as Justin did.  He had thought up until now that he had soared to the tallest heights of pleasure numerous times before; but now he realized all those other times had just been a pale imitation of this moment.

 

He could feel Justin's muscles tensing beneath him, signaling he was close to climax, as he reached down to begin masterfully stroking his lover's cock, savoring how full, hot, and alive it felt under his touch.  He heard Justin utter a loud moan then, and call out his name just before he let forth with a guttural cry and arched up off the blanket, shooting streams of sticky fluid between their bodies.  That was all it took for Brian to pick up his pace just a bit, ramming into Justin now a few more times before he, too, let out a vocal shout and his body was overcome with pleasure.  Filling the condom to almost overflowing, he tried fervently to brace himself, to keep his weight off his smaller lover, but it was no use.  He was so drained himself that he promptly collapsed on top of Justin, his legs cradled inside Justin's shorter ones as he placed his head in the crook of Justin's neck and just lay there, completely exhausted and devoid of energy.

 

His lungs starved for oxygen, he breathed rapidly in and out through his parched lips, trying to calm his erratically beating heart, as he felt Justin's hands roaming lazily over his slickened back, finally coming to rest at the cleft just above his buttocks.  He could feel Justin's heart beating in quick cadence with his own as he continued to lie there, fighting the need to come down from the incredible rush he had just experienced, until finally he found enough strength to raise his head just enough to peer into Justin's eyes.  Pushing some sweat-soaked hair back from Justin's forehead, his heart fluttered as Justin bestowed a dazed smile on him.

 

He couldn't help smiling back at him as he whispered, "You okay?"  He could feel their bodies stuck to each other, but he didn't care.  In the after throes of their sexual encounter, this boy was simply enchanting; even more than before.  Sex suited him.  God, he was so incredible...

Justin nodded lazily, a ghost of a smile still on his lips.  "I'm great," he finally managed to confirm as Brian laughed softly.

 

Justin frowned at him.  "What's so funny?"

 

Brian grinned at the insulted look on his face. "Nothing," he reassured him as he idly brushed his index finger around the shell of Justin's ear, feeling him shiver beneath him in response.  He had been right about Justin being so responsive to his touch.  "You just have this sort of goofy look on your face right now, that's all."

 

One side of Justin's lips quirked upward as he replied, "I do, huh?  I'm not sure I like the sound of that."  His hands slowly began to idly slide lower until they were resting on the swell of Brian's buttocks.

 

Brian's eyes widened and his heart began to pound as he felt one of Justin's fingers sliding in between his ass cheeks then.  Just a few more inches and he would be...

 

He abruptly twisted off Justin's body, rolling to lie on his back beside him, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

 

"What?" Justin asked, confused, wondering what had just happened.  He felt the loss of Brian's body draping his profoundly.  "Did I do something wrong?"

 

"No," Brian assured him quickly as he turned onto his side and propped his head up with his hand to gaze over at him.  "It's just that..."

 

"What?"  At that moment, Justin wasn't sure which one made him feel more naked:  his lack of clothes, or the penetrating stare that Brian was giving him.

 

Brian reached over to lightly stroke Justin's arm, the pungent smell of sex in the air.  Not surprising, considering how enthusiastically Justin had taken to their activity.  That was only the beginning, though; at least he hoped so.  There WAS one thing he probably needed to make clear, however; he thought it was already self-apparent, especially after the whole Jared fiasco.  "Justin, what just happened was incredible," he began as he continued to caress his lover's arm.  "Fucking amazing," he admitted as Justin blushed. "I would dare say even the best sex I've ever had.  And there're so many other things I want to show you; that was just the beginning."  He paused before adding quietly, "But I never bottom - not for anyone; no matter how good they are."

 

Justin's face scrunched up in confusion before his eyes narrowed as realization set in.  "Do you think that's what that was?  Me trying to wangle an invitation to the Brian Open?"

 

"Not funny," Brian retorted flatly.

 

"No, it's not," Justin agreed, perturbed.  "I was just..." His face turned a deep shade of pink as he struggled to speak amidst his anger; it was all still so new to him.  "I was just touching you, that's all!  I like touching you.  Shit; you know I've never been with anyone else before!  That's all it was, Brian!"  His eyes flashed with aggravation.  "I'm sorry if you felt threatened by that."  He shook his head sadly in disbelief before promptly bolting up to a sitting position and launching himself up from the blanket.  "I'm going for a swim to wash all this shit off," he growled as he glared down at Brian, clearly irritated and hurt.

 

Brian sighed; why did he always seem to say the wrong things around this boy?  As guilty as Brian felt just then over what he had said, he had to hold back a smile, however, as Justin rose to his feet and hobbled toward the water, clearly sore after their encounter.  He knew if Justin saw the look of amusement on his face or thought he was making fun of him, though, that would be a hundred times worse than what he would have to make up for now.  "Justin...come back here," he implored softly, but the other boy kept limping toward the pond as if he hadn't heard.  "Justin..."

 

"Leave me the hell alone!"

 

Brian rolled his eyes.  "Oh, for the love of..."

 

"That's where you're wrong!" Justin shouted back over his shoulder as he neared the water.  "The only thing you love is yourself!"  And with that, he promptly stood at the rocky ledge near the pond and dove into the deep side, right where Brian had lost his footing that one day when Justin had eluded him. Well, he wasn't going to fall for that again. And he wasn't giving up without a fight this time, either.

 

"Shit," Brian muttered as he took a brief moment to admire the perfectly-curved bubble butt before it disappeared into the water.  Rising to his feet and walking over to the pond's edge, he observed Justin shaking the water out of his eyes as he rose to the surface.  Walking over to the same rocky ledge Justin had used a few minutes earlier, Brian suddenly jumped, cannonball-style, into the water directly beside him, causing Justin to sputter and cough as the water splashed furiously around him and rushed into his nose and mouth.

 

"What the fuck, Brian?" Justin groused as the older boy quickly rose back up to the surface to stand beside him; this time he made sure to find his footing beneath him on one of the flat, solid ledges under the water, instead of winding up being dragged down into the hidden, deep end again.  "Get away from me!"

 

"I will not!" Brian countered as he grasped Justin by the upper arms and dug his fingers into the soft flesh to force him to look at him.  He wasn't letting him get away this time.  He found that Justin was amazingly strong, however, as he almost wrenched himself away from him, but he managed to hold on just barely.  "You're going to listen to me, you obstinate asshole!"

 

Justin's blue eyes flashed in indignation.  "I heard you the first time!  You're the top, the alpha!  Whatever you say goes!  I get it!  You and Jared deserve each other after ALL!"

 

Brian's nostrils flared; not too differently than Headstrong's, Justin decided, as he growled at him, "Don't SAY that!  I want nothing to do with him, and you know that!  I want YOU, damn it!  Why are you so stubborn?"

 

Justin huffed incredulously.  "Stubborn? This has NOTHING to do with being stubborn!"  His mouth hung open in disbelief.  "Just because I'm not...not as big-headed as you doesn't mean that I, I wouldn't be able to...aargh!"  He rolled his eyes as he felt his face warming at the intriguing thought.  "I tried to tell you before; I wasn't even thinking about that!  I was too busy trying to find room for your dick! Trust me, Stud, if I was interested in going down that path I wouldn't have had any problems at all letting you kn..."

 

He didn't get a chance to finish his tirade, however, because Brian decided a fired-up Justin was a quite sexy Justin, and he knew of only one effective way to shut him up. So he took advantage of the open, inviting lips and plastered a big, wet kiss on them.  He could feel Justin sputtering against his lips in protest for a few seconds and trying to push him away initially, but it was only for a brief moment.  He relaxed somewhat and deepened the kiss as he sensed Justin melting into his embrace and sliding his arms around his waist to link them at his back.  Tongue pushing inside to get a better taste, Brian kept going, even when he felt Justin's hands creeping lower to firmly squeeze his ass cheeks, almost tempting him to rail against him once more.  He noticed his fingers didn't stray anywhere else, though.  He only broke off the kiss when he heard Justin giggling against his mouth and felt his lips vibrating against his.

 

He pulled back in confusion, noticing the look of mirth on the other boy's face.  "What's so damn funny?" he growled as Justin grinned back at him.  He had certainly never gotten that response to his sexual overtures before.

 

"Nothing," was the saucy reply as Justin's eyes twinkled, his previous anger apparently gone now.  In fact, to Brian he seemed to be outright enjoying himself.

 

"Bullshit!  Something's funny!"  Brian growled.  "Why don't you share with me what's so amusing about my kisses that you have to laugh about them?"

 

Justin pursed his lips together firmly and smiled for a moment before he explained, "It's not your kisses, Brian.  It's just that when you started arguing with me a little while ago..."

 

"I started it?"

 

"That's not what I meant....Well, okay, maybe it was.  In a manner of speaking, you have to admit..." Justin began to ramble. 

 

Bestowing a long-suffering look upon him, Brian opened up his mouth to protest vehemently, only to shut it as Justin reached one hand up to place it against his lips.  "Will you just keep quiet for a change?" he entreated.  Brian rolled his eyes at the irony, but remained compliant as Justin went onto explain, "It's just that when you get all riled up, your nose does this thing..."

 

Brian brought his hand up to capture Justin's as he pressed, "What thing?  What are you talking about?"

 

Justin's smile grew wider as he finally revealed, "Well, your nostrils kind of get enlarged and you can see the breath coming in and out in huffs...kind of like when I race Headstrong and he gets all worked up."

 

Brian's mouth fell open in disbelief.  "Wait a damn minute!  Are you comparing me to a fucking horse?"

 

Justin grinned.  "Well, I guess you could say that...and you're both hung, too," he said, his face reddening at the thought of what has just occurred between them on the blanket.   "And look at it this way," he added as Brian glared at him.  "Headstrong is a champion race horse.  I could have compared you to Mr. Ed or My Little Pony instead."

 

Brian gaped at him for several seconds as Justin merely smiled back at him impishly.  "Why, you little shit...Take it back, Justin!"

 

"Hell, no!  Look," he pointed out helpfully as Brian huffed in exasperation, "your nostrils are flaring right now!"

 

Brian scowled over at him for a moment longer and held his breath, his lips pressed tightly together in irritation as Justin shrugged; the water lapped lazily around them for an immeasurable amount of time until suddenly, without any warning, Justin let out a squeal as Brian abruptly dove under the water and grabbed his legs to pull him under with him.

 

The two lovers embraced each other under the surface as Brian stole a water-soaked kiss from his companion before the two of them broke through the water.  Arms entangled around each other, they continued to kiss as they stood chest high in the pond, their desire for each other flaring anew between them.

 

Brian finally broke their kiss, finding that his solution to stifle Justin's diatribe was quite enjoyable; his boy now looked thoroughly kissed and completely ravaged.  His golden hair was plastered tightly against his face, and his eyelids were sprinkled with water drops, and Brian thought he was the most wondrous sight he had ever seen.  "Justin..." he murmured so emotionally that Justin's eyes darkened into a mesmerizing shade of blue, much like the cornflowers his aunt was constantly instructing him to plant around the farmhouse. 

 

"Brian?" was the soft query.

 

Brian lightly brushed Justin's cheek with the back of his hand as he replied in kind, "Yeah?"

 

Justin blushed.  "What's it like?"

 

"What's what like?"

 

Justin turned an even darker shade of pink if that was possible as he replied, "What's it like to do it in the water?"

 

Brian grinned as he understood instantly what Justin meant.  "Want to find out?"  He asked with a leer, reaching down to cup Justin's buttocks to lift him up slightly, the water providing a perfect buoyancy.

 

Justin nodded with a smile of delight, instinctively wrapping his legs around Brian's torso to link them behind his back.  "Yeah...you'll find I'm a quick study."

 

---

 

Thirty minutes and one fuck in the water later, the two boys had returned to the blanket to lie on  their sides facing each other, Brian holding Justin in his arms as Justin lay with his head on Brian's chest, their legs snared together as their bodies touched from head to foot.  He marveled at how perfectly they fit together and how amazing being with Justin felt.  Yes, his young lover could be quite exasperating at times, but he was also the perfect foil for his more impetuous and devil-may-care nature.  And while he was by far much less experienced than he was in a number of ways, he also challenged him without hesitation and made him feel things he had never felt before.  He made him care.

 

"Justin?" he whispered to him.

 

"Mmmm?" was the sleepy reply.

 

Brian smiled at the lazy response.  "Can I ask you something?"

 

"Yes," Justin replied, his lips creating a ticklish sensation against Brian's skin.  "It was just as good as the first time."

 

Brian chuckled.  "No, that's not what I was going to ask - but that's good to know."

 

Justin raised his head in curiosity.  "What, then?"   He could see Brian seeming to hesitate for just a moment, causing some initial worry.

 

Brian took a breath as he idly caressed Justin's shoulder in a circular pattern.  "Justin...you promised to tell me what happened to Dale; how he died."  That peculiar situation had never been far from his mind, and perhaps this wasn't the best of times to broach it.  But then again; when would it be?  Everyone seemed to pointedly skirt around the topic.  At least with Justin, he could be guaranteed to get the unvarnished truth.

 

"Brian..."

 

"Justin, I need to know.  I think I have a right to know, don't you?  I want to help my aunt and uncle.  I want to understand them, and I can't do that until I know what happened back then."

 

Justin peered into his eyes for a few seconds before he nodded.  "Okay.  I guess you're right."  Justin disentangled himself from Brian's embrace to push himself up into a sitting position on the blanket as Brian did the same, placing his hand on Justin's knee companionably while he waited with rapt attention to finally learn the circumstances of his cousin's death.

 

"Well, you know that he died three years ago," Justin began, clasping his hands in his lap as Brian nodded silently.  "And you know it was during a race?"

 

Brian nodded again, not wanting to possibly do anything to cause Justin to stop now.  He sensed this was going to be his best chance to get at the truth.

 

Justin smiled fondly as he recalled the older boy.  "Dale was an even better racer than I was," he revealed.  "He was my biggest competition, in fact. But he was also fun-loving and a good friend."

 

Brian's eyes widened.  "He was?"  Justin nodded.  He rolled his lips under mischievously. "When did you start racing, then - kindergarten?"

 

Justin rolled his eyes before reaching over to smack Brian in the chest.  "No," he replied with a grin.  "I started about a year before Dale died."  His smile faded as he thought back to that dreadful day.  "It was at the same place, in fact, as where I'll be racing tomorrow - Red Mill."  He winced as the image of Dale's accident popped into his mind and his face contorted in pain as he stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular.

 

"Justin?"

 

He blinked his eyes as he turned to look into Brian's concerned face.  He managed a slight smile of gratitude as he assured him, "I'm okay."  Brian nodded as he took a deep breath.  "I remember it was a beautiful day starting out.  Sunny and not a cloud in the sky.  The temperature was just perfect, too, for racing.  In the low 60's."  Justin felt Brian's grip on his leg tighten as he glanced down at his hands to recall what had happened.  "Dale was already there with his parents when I got there with Jared and mom and dad," he informed Brian. "We always parked our trailers near each other and talked before the race.  It helped both of us to calm our nerves, even though Dale had nothing to worry about.  He was always much more confident in his abilities than I was."

 

Brian frowned.  "I doubt that, Justin.  You have a special gift with horses.  I may not be an expert at all when it comes to what you do, but anyone can see that."

 

Justin smiled.  "Thanks.  But you should have seen Dale!  It was almost like he was one with the horse; almost like he was an extension of True Blue."

 

"True Blue?"

 

Justin nodded.  "That was the name of Dale's race horse."

 

"Was?  Was he injured during the race and had to be put down or something?"

 

"No," he told him wryly.  "Although sometime I wish he had been."  He hastily added, "Pretend I didn't say that.  I don't really mean it, but he CAN be a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.  Almost ALL the time."  In response to Brian's puzzled look, he explained, "After Dale died, your uncle couldn't bear to look at him anymore, so Sarah asked us if we could board him for them.  He's been at our farm ever since.  But no one can handle him very much, much less ride him."

 

Brian's mouth hung partially open in surprise.  "Not even you?"

 

Justin shook his head.  "No...I go anywhere near him and he starts chuffing and flaring his nostrils in aggravation..."  He blushed with a grin as Brian plastered a pointed gaze at him.  "Sorry...but it's true."  He sighed as his face sobered.  "I don't think my father's too thrilled about us taking care of him, but the Walkers pay us enough to do it and we have the room.  Plus, Vic mainly takes care of his feeding - and he somehow manages to let him groom him, too, although you can never let your guard down around him.  He's a real wild one."

 

Brian nodded.  "What about Dale?" he gently pressed.

 

Justin let out a breath.  "Well, it was the fourth race of the day - around two, I think.  And the place was packed that day.  Dale was shooting for his fourth straight win on the circuit and was undefeated.  There was just something about his rapport with True Blue that made everyone stand up and take notice, so he could really draw the crowds in.  He and I had just reached the starting gate, and I can remember him flashing me this smile and giving me a thumbs up before he waved over at his parents.  They used to attend every race he was in."

 

Justin gazed out through the clearing of the cedar trees, almost as if he were going back into time as he continued softly, "His parents were so proud of what he had accomplished.  Dale and I were positioned side by side at the starting gate that day, like we often were."  He smiled.  "Of course, normally by the end of the race he was pretty far ahead of me.  I can't tell you how many times I would come in second to him at the track."

 

Brian sat quietly next to the younger boy, almost reliving the moment through Justin's eyes as he began to finally learn what had happened.

 

"Anyway, we started the race and we were neck and neck for about the first half of the lap.  But then, as usual, he began to pull away from me and Headstrong.  Normally I would have been fairly close behind him.  But that day..."  He bit his lip.  "That day, I wound up in third place, behind someone else instead."  He sighed.  "Maybe if I had kept up with him that day like I usually could, none of it would have happened."

 

Brian removed his hand from Justin's knee to reach over and clasp his right hand in his.  "None of what, Justin?" he asked him softly, noticing the look of distress and guilt on his face.

 

Justin turned to stare at him for a moment before he told Brian, "Maybe he wouldn't be dead now."

 

"Justin, Aunt Sarah said it was an accident," Brian reminded him softly.

 

He nodded.  "Yeah," he reluctantly agreed.  He let out a heavy breath.  "But was it?" was the shocking reply.

 

Brian frowned as his grip tightened imperceptibly.  "Justin, what exactly happened that day? Why would you say that?"

 

His eyes assuming a faraway look, Justin disclosed painfully, "His wheel.  His left wheel.  The fucking thing just fell right off."  He winced as he recalled the moment that the sulky had pitched over onto its side and Dale had promptly been thrown off.

 

Brian stared into Justin's face as he watched his eyes cloud over.  "He...He might have actually survived, since he was wearing his helmet," he added as Brian firmly held onto his hand.  "But then...he...he was," he sucked in a deep breath and let it out.  "He was trampled by the other horse coming up behind him.  The ambulance that was always kept on call removed him from the track right away and worked on him all the way to the hospital. But there was nothing that could be done.  His windpipe was crushed by the weight of the horse, and he had suffered several broken ribs and a punctured lung."  He shuddered at the thought as Brian tugged him closer to his body and slid his arm around his waist comfortingly.

 

"That must have been awful," Brian murmured.  He could feel Justin trembling beside him as he nodded.

 

"Yeah," he whispered.   "We all went to the hospital as soon as we had Headstrong secured at the stable.  But by the time we got there, he was already gone."  He pressed his lips tightly together as he turned to stare into Brian's face.  "Mrs. Walker was so upset.  She was sobbing loudly in the ER, and nothing my mother did could console her.  But Mr. Walker...Your uncle just sat there like he was in a trance.  It was like he had no emotion on his face at all, almost like his purpose for living was gone.  It was like a light had been extinguished in him; like he was an entirely different person. And...He's been like that ever since."  He blinked before his lips turned upward.  "At least until you got here."

 

Brian smirked.  "Well, I do bring out the best in everyone."  He shared a grin with Justin until he noticed his lover's expression cloud over again.  His face changed into something more solemn as he asked, "Justin, why did it sound like you were questioning whether it was an accident before?  Are you suggesting it was something else?  Surely it was investigated."

 

Justin nodded.  "Yeah.  They interviewed all the drivers - that's what they call the harness racers," he explained as he noticed Brian's look of confusion.  "And they talked to all the maintenance people and even viewed the footage of the race itself.  But there was nothing to suggest it was anything but an accident, and that's what the coroner ultimately ruled was the cause of death."

 

Brian pulled Justin a little closer to his body as he pressed, "But you still have doubts.  Why?"

 

Justin struggled to explain.  "I don't really know. It's just that it didn't feel right; it still doesn't feel right.  Dale was always so careful about preparing for a race.  He always wore a helmet, protective goggles, and even knee pads.  He was so meticulous about checking the sulky before he harnessed True Blue to it.  And he always did a final walk around the entire apparatus and checked for any loose or damaged parts before he climbed on board.  He kept a religious maintenance schedule, and it always looked brand new.  He had never had any problems with it before. That's why this doesn't make sense at all, Brian.  How could he have missed something as major as a loose wheel?"

 

"I don't know," Brian admitted.  "Maybe it wasn't loose before he started the race.  Maybe he hit a rut in the track and it jarred it loose."

 

"Maybe," Justin conceded, although he still had his doubts.  "But not very likely.  The surface of the track is always raked before a race to smooth over anything like that, and it's one of the best-run tracks in the state.  I just don't understand how something like that could have come loose that quickly, even if he DID miss it somehow.   It just defies logic.  How did it go from being secure to being loose enough that it fell all the way off?"

 

Brian shook his head.  "Did you bring this up to Uncle Will or Aunt Sarah?"

 

"No," Justin admitted regretfully.  "I figured the Racing Commission Board would investigate it thoroughly and that they knew more about what to look for than I did.  And Mrs. Walker was so upset after it happened that I didn't have the heart to insinuate it might have been intentional.  And your uncle...well, he clammed up so tightly after it happened that no one could reach him."  He closed his eyes briefly before letting out a tense breath.  Turning to Brian, he advised him, "Do you know he still can't visit his grave?  They buried him in the family plot at the back of the farm.  But as far as I know he's never been out there to see it.  I've seen your aunt out there several times with Solomon.  She always brings him flowers from their garden and makes sure that the grass inside the fenced-in area is cut; Vic or I do that for her.  But I'm pretty sure your uncle has never been there."

 

"Well, he certainly doesn't come off as the sentimental type," Brian countered.  "So it figures."

 

"No, that's not exactly true," Justin insisted.  "He wasn't always the way he is, Brian.  You've started to bring out something in him again."

 

Brian brought Justin's hand over to his cock, letting him feel the hardness beneath.  "You bring out something in me."

 

Justin blushed deeply as he felt the pulsating shaft, hot and silky under his touch.  "Brian..." he murmured in embarrassment.

 

Brian grinned in amusement over how easy his lover was, his tongue rolled into his cheek over Justin's reaction.  He felt Justin give his cock a brief squeeze before, to his disappointment, Justin brought their hands back to rest on top of Brian's thigh.  His face turned serious as he asked Justin softly, "You really think Dale's accident might have been deliberately caused?  Someone would actually do that?" 

 

Justin sighed.  "It's possible," he admitted.  "Racing can be a cutthroat business, especially when money's involved."

 

Brian's eyes widened slightly.  "You've seen that?"

 

Justin nodded.  "Oh, a lot of them don't come out and SAY they would do something to ruin your chances of winning.  And most drivers are very ethical and have a great deal of responsibility when it comes to their horses and to other drivers.  But money can change people a lot - and not all to the good.  I haven't been racing all that long, but Vic has. And the stories he tells me - about horses being drugged so they're unable to race, bets being made to throw races...and equipment being sabotaged so either a horse can't run at all or the rider suddenly comes down with an illness...Yes, I would say it IS possible that it was sabotage."

 

Brian shook his head sadly.  "Unbelievable," he muttered.  "All for a fucking horse race."  He gazed over at the boy who had become so important to him.  "You've won a lot of races yourself, Justin; aren't you worried that something could happen to you, too?"

 

Justin swallowed hard.  He'd be lying if he said that thought hadn't crossed his mind from time to time.  But what choice did he have?  It was their main source of income, the only way they stayed afloat.  They certainly couldn't live on the money his mother's honey crop brought in or on the basis of his father's accounting acumen.

 

"Justin?"

 

He lifted his gaze to look into Brian's worried eyes.  "I've thought about it," he finally admitted as Brian's grip on his hand tightened.  "But you can't live like that, worrying day to day about something that might not ever happen.  And we need the money," he added simply.

 

"No amount of money is worth your life," was the fervent reply as Brian leaned in closer to Justin's face, becoming engrossed in the blue eyes staring back at him.  "Justin, I..."  He wasn't sure what he wanted to say at that moment, or even how to express how he was feeling.  But he DID know that this boy was engendering feelings in him that were both deep as well as fucking terrifying, kind of like scaling the highest cliff.  Unable to say aloud what he was feeling, he chose, instead, to try and show him as he leaned in and gently placed his lips against the full, plush lips, feeling Justin's small pants of breath washing over his mouth.  This kiss was gentle, sensual, and lazy, but he hoped that it expressed to Justin everything he wanted it to as he finally pulled back to stare into his eyes again, their hands still clasped between them.

 

Justin sighed, noting the darkness fast encroaching.  "I...I have to get back," he told him with deep regret.  "I promised my mom and dad I wouldn't be gone too long, and I need to try and get a good night's sleep before the race tomorrow."  One side of his mouth turned upward as he added wryly, "If that's possible, that is."

 

Brian grinned.  "Are you saying I'm a bad influence on you, Rex?"

 

Justin laughed.  "Rex?  That's a new one."  He stared into Brian's eyes as he admitted softly, "Yeah, you ARE a bad influence on me...in a good way."

 

Brian didn't need any further invitation to steal another kiss for several seconds until, with great reluctance, he pulled back.  "Okay," he finally whispered as he reached up to tenderly tuck some stray hair behind Justin's ear, knowing if he was to maintain any level of civility and tolerance with Justin's parents - especially his father - he'd better not rock the boat too much.  Besides, he knew his uncle would be looking for him soon.  He had made up some lame-ass excuse earlier that he was 'going for a walk.'  Even to his own ears, that sounded pretty ridiculous.  He certainly was no nature lover; at least, not unless it involved spending time in a grove of trees making love to this beautiful boy. And he decided that that was what it was - making love.  To merely peg it as 'having sex' or 'fucking' wasn't really doing it justice.

 

He rose to slowly stand up and extend his hand down to the other boy; Justin clasped his hand in his as Brian helped him up, stealing one more quick peck on his lips before the two of them walked over to begin getting dressed.  Brian noticed Justin wincing as he bent down to shrug into his pants, jamming his briefs into one of the pockets.  "I should have warned you about that," Brian told him.  "You're going to be sore tomorrow.  After all, you always are when you're using muscles you've never used before," he said with a wink, causing Justin to blush again before he groaned at the thought of riding in the race tomorrow.

 

"How sore?"

 

Brian smirked; secretly proud that he was cause of it.  The idea of Justin never having been with anyone else made him feel inordinately smug as well as pleased.

 

"Oh, about as sore as someone who's had a broom shoved up their ass," he replied with a grin.  "A BIG broom."

 

"Fuck," Justin growled.  "Do you know how hard those damn seats are on a sulky?"  Just the thought of being jostled around on top of one of those unforgiving leather seats was making him cringe.  Pulling on his shirt he stood facing Brian, grasping his shoes and socks in his hands as he looked around for his treasured gift.  At least Brian wasn't laughing at him; he supposed that was something.

 

Brian smiled.  "I'll get it," he told him softly as, now clad in his jeans but still bare-chested and without shoes and socks, he walked over and retrieved the leather sketchbook.  Returning to Justin's side, he extended it outward to hand it to him, only to grab Justin's wrist as the younger boy reached out to take it.

 

"Brian...I really do have to go..."

 

"I know," he assured him as he pulled him closer.  "What time is your race tomorrow?" he asked softly.

 

"One o'clock."

 

Brian nodded.  "I bet it's amazing to watch one of those races; I'd love to be there to watch you."  To watch OVER you, he thought silently. But he wouldn't say that out loud.  Perhaps he didn't need to, though, as Justin flushed in pleasure.

 

"You would?"

 

Brian nodded again.  "Yeah.   I guess there's no way I could talk my uncle into going, though; especially after what you just told me.  And there's no fucking way that I could drive."  Somehow he suspected that his aunt wouldn't do it, either, although he imagined he could be quite persuasive where she was concerned.  Something told him, however, that in this backwater of a town what the husband says still goes, at least in the Walker household, so he knew as strong a woman as his aunt was, she wouldn't go against his uncle's wishes.  "Damn.  I'd really like to be there, Justin."

 

Justin's face fell; he, too, would love nothing better than to have Brian there watching him race.  Tomorrow was shaping up to be a beautiful, early summer day, and Headstrong was right on mark lately.  He had enough of a strong bond with the horse to know when he was on his game, and he could tell; they would do well tomorrow.  Unless someone unexpectedly enters the circuit tomorrow that he's not familiar with, he stood an excellent chance of coming out on top again.   Racing always got his adrenalin pumping; with Brian there, it would be an incredible day.  "I wish you could be there, too," he whispered sincerely as Brian's fingers caressed his wrist.

 

All of a sudden, Brian had a promising epiphany.  "Vic's going, isn't he?

 

Justin's face broke out into a hopeful smile.  "Yeah...he's going to be hauling the horse trailer tomorrow.  And Emmett wants to come watch the race, too.  So..."

 

"So I think I can hitch a ride with them - don't you think?" Brian finished the statement for him, grinning at the thought.  Perhaps afterward he and Justin could privately 'celebrate' what would no doubt be another win for him, too.  After tonight, he knew one encounter would never be enough with this boy.  He suspected a lifetime of encounters would never leave him fully satisfied.

 

Justin nodded, his face breaking out into a radiant smile that almost made Brian's heart stop.  "Yeah!  I'm sure he wouldn't mind at all!"  His face sobered, however, as he asked, "You think your uncle will let you come, though?"

 

"He'd better," Brian growled.  "He's been working me like a fucking dog ever since I got here.  I deserve a little time off.  I think I can convince Aunt Sarah to help me with my cause.  What time do you think Vic and Emmett will have to leave?"

 

Justin bit his lip.  "Well, since he's bringing Headstrong, he has to get there a little early.  Maybe around 11:30?  That's about the same time that we're leaving."

 

Brian nodded.  "Sounds good.  That should give me enough time to take care of some chores, too; that should satisfy my uncle somewhat."  He winced at the word 'chores.'  "Shit, he's already turning me into a damn hillbilly!"

 

Justin laughed as he pulled Brian closer to him.  "Maybe...but you are one sexy hillbilly," he whispered, his voice low and silky.

 

Brian pushed his tongue into the corner of his mouth.  "I am, aren't I?" he agreed as Justin grinned at him.  "Care to refresh my memory?"

 

"You're insatiable," Justin decided as the other boy swooped in for one, final kiss. Tongues dueling and two pairs of thoroughly-ravaged lips later, they reluctantly broke apart.

 

Only when it comes to you, Brian thought silently as he smiled over at him.  "Go," he urged him as he let go of him.  "Go before I decide I need to take another ride."

 

Justin blushed at the thought as, clutching his precious gift, he nodded and turned to go, glancing back after several feet to see Brian watching him.  Brian made a sort of shooing motion with his hands and called out, "Git along, Little Doggie," as Justin rolled his eyes and with a grin slowly walked away.  "I'll see you tomorrow," he called after him confidently as Justin nodded; soon he disappeared through the thick expanse of trees.

 

Brian stood there, his thoughts a jumble of emotions, before he slipped his shoes and socks back on and, shrugging into his shirt, headed in the same direction as Justin, wondering how he was going to sleep tonight as well. 

 

 

 

 

 

Justin groaned as he limped into the shower.  Brian had been not been exaggerating yesterday when he had warned him how sore his ass would be the next day after they had fucked.  Even though Brian had been inordinately gentle with him, every swish of his hips, every forward movement of his legs, caused him discomfort.  Brian certainly had been correct about it, also; it DID feel like a large broomstick had been shoved up his ass.  He winced as he stepped into the combination bathtub/shower.  That was a pretty close analogy, he decided, as he turned the water on and stood back just outside of range until it had warmed up sufficiently.  The feel of Brian's cock inside him was still with him, even now.  He remembered at the time that he felt like he couldn't possibly be able to accommodate such thickness, such fullness when Brian had thrust inside him.  But somehow he had.

 

He blushed as he stepped under the hot water while memories of what he and Brian had done yesterday sprung to his mind.  Yes, it still hurt like hell at the moment. But in a way, he was proud of that fact.  It was solid proof that what happened yesterday hadn't been a figment of his imagination; it had really, finally happened.  And while he felt pretty miserable right now - and wondered how in the world he was going to tolerate being jostled around on top of the sulky seat - he wouldn't have traded last night for anything.

 

His parents had eyed him curiously as he had come back home; he could almost see the unbidden question on their lips, but to their credit, they hadn't said anything.  Somehow he suspected that they knew full well he hadn't gone swimming alone, but they had left their suspicions unsaid, merely nodding at him as he had come through the back door into the living room and suggesting that he retire early so he would be refreshed and ready for today's race.  Fortunately, the soreness hadn't quite set in until this morning, so he was able to act fairly normal last night as he had nodded back at them and stiffly ascended the stairs to the second floor.

 

Now as he trudged back into his bedroom, waist wrapped with a white towel, he wondered if yesterday had been such a good idea - or at least the timing of it.  No, there was no way he regretted it, he decided with a smile, as he sat down on the bed and reached for his racing outfit that he had laid out on the bed earlier.  His smile widened and his heart fluttered at the thought.  Yes, it had been damn painful at first. But once he had broken through the pain and had felt the first inkling of just how mind-blowing the experience would be, it had been...magical.  That was the only way he could describe it.  Now he felt an even deeper bond with Brian, and he knew, somehow he just knew, that Brian had never treated another boy the way he had been treated.  He had made him feel special; everything Brian had done yesterday had made him feel special.  He leaned over just enough to pull the red leather sketchbook from the nightstand where he had placed it last night, running his fingers over the smooth, luxurious surface.  He couldn't believe Brian had presented him with such a spectacular gift.  He couldn't have presented him with a more perfect expression of how much he cared about him than if he had read his mind.  Just knowing how much thought he had put into finding the right gift for him filled him with so much warmth and pleasure. 

 

No, there was no way that Brian had ever done something like this for another boy; he could feel it.  Carefully, lovingly, he placed it beside him on the mattress as he began to get dressed.  He would be wearing his standard racing attire today - a white, black, and periwinkle-green, lightweight, nylon racing jumpsuit and his yellow and green racing helmet, the colors indicative of his family's crest.  He was quite superstitious when it came to racing day - he had worn this same outfit for every race since he had first started, finding it a little embarrassing that he could still fit into it even now after three years.  He rolled his eyes wryly.  Apparently any 'growth spurt' he might be hoping for was over now.  But it had brought him great luck before, so he wasn't about to break with tradition now. 

 

He had not had a chance yet to speak with either Emmett or Vic, so he had no way of knowing if Brian had succeeded in his plan to be there for his race or not. Just the thought of it, though, made him extremely excited.  He couldn't think of anything so nerve-wracking - but also exhilarating - as seeing Brian up there in the stands, cheering him on.  And he had to admit - he would love to show off his racing skills to impress him.  Because next to his art, he was only in his true element when he was out on that race track, feeling like he was free of constraints and one with his horse.

 

Finally managing to tug himself into his jumpsuit, he picked up his fiberglass helmet and proceeded painfully down the hallway toward the stairs.  He could hear his parents talking, probably down at the kitchen table, as he bit his lip to try and control the soreness in his ass while he descended the steps.  Standing at the bottom, he took a couple of calming breaths and straightened up his posture before walking down the short hallway to the kitchen.

 

Jen smiled at her son from the stove as she scooped up some gravy to place it into a Corelle bowl to accompany her homemade biscuits.  "There you are," she said.  "Go take a seat; I just finished fixing your breakfast." 

 

He nodded with a smile of his own as he gingerly took his place at his normal spot, right across from his father who was sipping some coffee while he gazed at part of the paper lying in front of him.  "Sleep well, Son?" he asked politely, secretly wondering exactly what had transpired yesterday evening, but choosing to remain silent about it, at least for now. 

 

Justin didn't want to lie, but then again, he didn't think his father would think too kindly to the reason why he had hardly slept at all.  Being physically uncomfortable - and dreaming about a certain, gorgeous boy - hadn't served too well for a restful night's sleep.  So he nodded instead as he told him, "Yeah.  I slept fine, and I'm all set.  After breakfast I'm going out to double check on Headstrong and make sure he's ready to go, too."  He also hoped that he would run into either Vic or Emmett.  He wanted to make sure that Brian had had a chance to speak with them about going with them today.  Please let his uncle say yes, he couldn't help thinking as his mother walked over with the bowl of gravy and placed it down next to the basket of biscuits warming underneath a red-and-white checkered towel. 

 

"Good idea," Craig replied in approval.  "How's he been acting lately?"

 

Justin smiled.  "He's been doing great.  The practice runs have been around his top average speed.  I have a good feeling about today's race," he told him confidently. 

 

"Glad to hear it," Craig told him with a nod, trying hard to concentrate on his son and not on the fact that they could definitely use the money.  He had to confess; he didn't know what they were going to do once Justin headed off to college. He had finally resigned himself to it happening, however; he realized he and Jen couldn't keep their only responsible son here at the farm, mainly because he happened to be their chief breadwinner at the moment. 

 

Justin nodded back at him as his mom passed him the basket of biscuits, his thoughts focused on getting finished with breakfast as soon as possible without appearing overeager.  Fifteen minutes later and his discomfort temporarily forgotten, he excused himself from the table and headed outside toward the stables, a smile breaking out on his face as he noticed Vic tending to True Blue out in the paddock.

 

"Hey, it's Mr. Fly Like the Wind," Vic kidded him as Justin approached.  "Ready for the race today?  Should be a good day for it." 

 

Justin nodded from his place on the other side of the fence, making sure to stay far enough away from True Blue so as not to get him riled up. While Vic seemed to be able to work with him - like he was doing now as he brushed his coat until it gleamed - he and Dale's former horse just didn't seem to mesh for some reason.  It was a little disconcerting, since he had always prided himself on his ability to communicate so well with the horses they boarded on their farm. With this one, however, it was as if the horse thought he was his enemy.  He would never understand it.  He had tried diligently to make friends with True Blue soon after Dale's accident, but after coming close to getting trampled a couple of times, he finally came to the conclusion that it wasn't meant to be.  The horse got along well enough with Headstrong and the other horses they bred and boarded, but except for Vic, no one could handle him.  He thought Headstrong would have been a better name for this horse, rather than the one he raced. 

 

"Yeah...Ready as I'll ever be," he replied as Vic nodded, continuing to brush the coarse hair. 

 

"Uh...Vic?" 

 

"Yeah?" 

 

"Have...Have you talked to Brian lately?"

 

His back to his young friend, Vic was able to successfully hide the amused smile from his face as he casually replied, "Why do you ask?" 

 

Justin's face flushed.  Why was he making such a big deal out of it?  It was just a casual question.  Maybe it was because it WAS a big deal - to him, at least.  "Well, because, I just thought that..."

 

"...That he might want to hitch a ride with Emmett and me so he could watch you race today?" Vic answered as he turned to Justin with a smile.  Justin nodded shyly, relieved.  "He might have spoken to me about it..."

 

"Vic..." he pleaded.

 

The older man grinned.  "Yeah, okay, he did," he confirmed to Justin's delight.  "And I told him I would be happy to have him ride along with us.  Had to tell him that he'd be riding in the back of the truck, though. But strangely enough, he didn't seem to have a problem with that."  He squinted through the bright sunshine at Justin as he added teasingly, "Must really be love, then." 

 

Justin turned red as he clutched his helmet in his hand.  "Vic..."

 

Vic laughed.  "Don't worry, Justin.  I won't tell anyone."  He looked over fondly at his friend before he added softly, "But I don't think it's any secret by now that he cares about you...and you him." 

 

"You...you really think so?"  He couldn't keep the hopefulness out of his voice.  It was one thing to believe it himself; it was quite another for an objective party to feel the same way. 

 

Vic nodded as the two of them heard the door to his trailer open with a bang as Emmett came bounding out, dressed in a pair of shiny, black pants, his salmon pink pair of alligator boots, and a white, short-sleeved tee-shirt with the words, I'm From Alabama - Let's Get Drunk, written in big, bold, magenta-colored letters. 

 

"Hey, Uncle!" he chirped as he walked up to them and stood next to Justin by the fence.  He smiled warmly at his friend.  "Hi, Baby!"  He eyed the custom-fitted, periwinkle-and-white jump suit Justin was wearing and clucked appreciatively.  "My, my, my...that outfit certainly gets part of ME racing..."

 

"Em," Justin mumbled in embarrassment, his cheeks turning pink as Vic chuckled softly.  "It's what I always wear to my races." 

 

"Well, then, no wonder you're always winning; all the other jockeys are probably ogling you instead of paying attention to the race," he decided.

 

Justin grinned.  "I think most of them are straight," he pointed out.  "Besides, trust me; they can be pretty bloodthirsty when it comes to winning and losing.  And they prefer to be called drivers, not jockeys, by the way." 

 

Emmett nodded.  "Hmm...Drivers. I like that.  Sounds much more forceful. But at any rate, the outfit suits you, Sweetie."  He looked over at his uncle and the object of his attention. It was the first time he had gotten an up-close look at True Blue.  "My goodness, he's a brute, isn't he?" he exclaimed, his mouth hanging open.  Just the horse's head looked as big as his torso.  The horse was sleek but very strong looking as he shifted his head a little restlessly from side to side while Vic continued to groom him.  "They make them big here in Kentucky, don't they?" 

 

Vic smiled as he turned to peer over at him.  "Well, this one is a little larger than most - and about twice as obstinate, too."  He finished up with his task as he wiped his hands on his jeans.  "There you go, Boy," he murmured soothingly as he gave the horse a small pat on his rump.  True Blue whinnied slightly as he began to slowly lope away. 

 

"You think he'll ever be tamed?" Justin asked as he watched the magnificent animal amble away from them.  He was a beautiful horse, so majestic and proud.  He marveled at how well Dale could handle him when he was alive.  Ironically, the horse had something in common with Dale's uncle:  once Dale had died, it was as if they had both undergone a significant change in personality.  Both of them, in their own way, still mourned for him, just like he did.

 

Vic walked over and shut the gate behind him as he turned to watch True Blue grazing several feet away.  "Hard to tell," he decided.  "Sometimes a horse doesn't want to be tamed.  Sometimes they shouldn't be tamed." 

 

"But Dale could always handle him - and you can, too," Justin pointed out, just a little disappointed that he couldn't do the same.  "I wonder why he won't let ME near him."

 

Vic shook his head.  "I wish I knew," he told him as he placed a hand on his shoulder.  "It may have to remain one of life's great mysteries."  He smiled.  "We'd best be getting your own horse into the trailer, Justin.  I'll be heading out with him to the track shortly." 

 

Justin nodded, feeling his heartbeat quickening.  He knew if Vic was going to leave shortly, that meant that Brian should be here soon, too.  "Is Brian meeting you and Em here at the stables?" he couldn't help asking, even though he cringed a little at the tone of anticipation in his voice.

 

Em's eyes widened.  "Brian's coming with us?" 

 

Vic nodded.  "Don't ask me how, but his uncle gave him the okay to come with us to the race."  He would have loved to have been involved with THAT conversation.  He was still astounded that Will had been persuaded to let Brian go out to the track.  But looking at the pleased look on Justin's face, he was glad that he agreed to it.  "I'll be over at Headstrong's stall," he told the two boys who nodded.

 

Emmett grinned over at Justin like a fool as he saw Brian approaching from behind him. 

 

"What?" Justin asked.  "I had nothing to do with it."

 

His friend's smile became even wider as he told him with a tilt of his head, "Well, then, I guess you won't care about who's coming over here right now." 

 

Justin could feel his heart thumping in his chest; it was close to the way he always feels during the exhilaration of a race, but not quite.  It was more than that.

 

"Well, I think I'll go see if Uncle Vic needs any help," Em decided suddenly.  He smiled at Justin and winked at him before he turned and walked toward the stables just as Justin heard a familiar, melodic voice sound behind him.

 

"Hey."

 

He turned around to look at Brian, resplendent in a pair of snug-fitting, black, stone-washed jeans, a black, short-sleeved shirt with white trim and faint, gray pinstripes, silver belt buckle and black leather boots.  For a brief moment, he wondered if it had been such a good idea having this big a distraction sitting up in the stands watching him, but he wouldn't have missed sharing this experience with him for the world as he smiled back at him.  "Hey, yourself.  Vic told me your uncle gave you the okay to come.  I have to admit I'm a little shocked." 

 

Brian quirked one side of his mouth up wryly.  "That makes two of us," he told him.  "But I got up as soon as their fucking rooster started that damn crowing at 5 a.m. to start doing my chores to try and get into his good graces.  And have you ever milked a cow before it's even light out?  It's damn cold in there...And I found out Checkers doesn't like being awakened from her beauty sleep." 

 

Justin giggled; Brian was beginning to sound more and more like he had always lived here.  He wasn't about to mention that, though.  "You're becoming a true cowboy now, Brian," he told him with a grin.  "And a pretty good-looking one at that."  He couldn't help ogling the way that Brian's jeans molded to his body like a glove.

 

Brian waggled his eyebrows as he walked closer.  "Think so, huh?  Just 'pretty good'?" 

 

Justin smiled over at him shyly until he could find his voice to simply say, "Yeah, well, maybe more than that."

 

Brian's eyes swept over the form-fitting, satiny outfit Justin was wearing.  It had to be custom made by looking at how well it fit him, and the colors were quite flattering to his skin and his eyes.  "I could say the same thing about you," he murmured appreciatively as his eyes lifted to meet Justin's.  "Ironic how you're the artist, because it almost looks like someone painted that on you. I didn't realize until now what I've been missing not being able to see you race," he told him huskily.  "You look hot in that." He curled his lips under and leered at him. 

 

Justin blushed deeply.  "I'm...I'm glad you like it.  It was made especially for me to race in," he confirmed.  "All the drivers have them done; it helps give them a little bit of an edge speed wise when they race." 

 

Brian nodded only half-listening; he was too busy staring at his beautiful lover.  Lover.  After yesterday, that had taken on a whole new meaning.  After getting his first taste yesterday, he knew he was going to have an insatiable appetite when it came to this particular boy. 

 

Justin cleared his throat, noticing his father emerging from the back of the house.  "I...I'd better get going," he told Brian reluctantly.  "My dad's going to be here any minute, and he always gets antsy to get going on race day as soon as my mom comes out." 

 

"Brian!" Vic called out just then, finishing hitching up the horse trailer to the pickup now that he had Headstrong inside; Justin and his parents would be towing the sulky behind their own vehicle.  "We're ready to go!" he told him as Brian nodded.

 

"Well, I would say break a leg," he said with a smile.  "But in this case, that's probably not wise."

 

Justin grinned.  "No - break a leg and horses don't go very well together in the same sentence."  His face turned regretful then; he had just seen Brian again after what happened between them yesterday, and now they had to say goodbye already.  He knew it was going to be wonderful knowing Brian was up in the stands rooting for him today, but he also knew it would be hours before he would have the chance to see him again alone.  "Uh - I'd better get going; and Vic and Em are waiting for you, too."

 

"Yeah," Brian whispered in disappointment, glancing over to make sure that Justin's father wasn't noticing them yet.  Not wanting to press his luck or take a chance, however, he abruptly gripped Justin's wrist and tugged him over beside a large tree trunk, out of view of everyone else.

 

"Brian..."

 

"Shh...I just wanted to wish you luck today; although I'm sure you won't need it."  He pulled Justin into his arms and plastered his lips against his, hearing a slight gasp of surprise escape the full, luscious lips of the other boy as his tongue slid out to take full advantage of his opportunity.  He smiled against their kiss as Justin's free hand slid around his neck to pull him even closer.  Only the sound of Justin's impatient father calling for him managed to rouse them from their embrace a few seconds later as Justin hesitantly pulled away. 

 

"I...I have to go," he told Brian, slightly out of breath and panting softly.  "I'll see you later?" 

 

Brian nodded in assurance, a wistful smile on his face as he stared back, mesmerized as usual, at his companion.  "You bet.  We'll have our own, private celebration later - after you win." He winked at him as he let go, Justin flushing at the thought.

 

He nodded with a smile before slipping out from under the tree, grateful that Brian remained hidden where he was.  His father seemed more congenial lately, but he suspected he was still wary of his and Brian's relationship.  Calling over to his father, he hurried over to his place by the stables.

 

"There you are," his father replied in relief as he glanced around the area where Justin had come from; sure enough, just as Justin feared, he appeared to be looking for something - or someone.  Apparently not seeing anything, however, his father turned his attention back to him.  "All set?" he asked as Justin nodded.

 

"Yeah, I'm coming," he told him as his father turned to go.

 

"Your mom's on her way out," he reported as he placed his hand on Justin's shoulder.  "We'd better get going." 

 

Justin nodded, stealing a glance backward as they walked together, thinking he saw just a glimpse of Brian's profile before they turned the corner of the stable and he was out of sight.

 

---

 

Same Time - Across Town

 

Doug Kesterson took another drag from the marijuana joint, feeling the smoothness slide down his throat as he sat with his back against the bottom of the couch, his feet crossed at the ankles.  A box of half-eaten, cold delivery pizza was lying beside him as the shaggy, blond-haired teen asked, "So how much are you putting on your brother today?"

 

From his place next to him, Jared snorted.  "What the fuck makes you think I'd be betting on HIM to win?" 

 

Doug rolled his eyes as he passed the joint over to his friend.  "Well, maybe because he's the odds-on favorite today like every other race?"  He eyed his friend carefully.  "Just what happened to get you kicked out of your house yesterday, anyway?  Just because the two of you got into it again?  Hell, that happens all the time."  His friend was always griping about how he and Justin were constantly squabbling over something.  All he knew this time was that Jared had called him up early yesterday morning before he was even out of bed to ask if he could crash with him, at least for a few days.  He had been decidedly glum and curt on the way back to his apartment, only issuing an occasional grunt or shrug of his shoulders when he had tried to ask him some questions.  He figured that now that it had been over 24 hours - and they were both feeling nice and mellow after smoking some of the joint - that perhaps his friend would finally open up to him.  "Well?" he prodded.

 

Jared sighed, not sure how much he wanted to tell Doug, even if he WAS his best friend.  The whole episode was still pretty embarrassing, and a vast blow to his normally healthy ego.   "I don't want to talk about it," he finally grumbled as he took another toke of the weed and exhaled before handing it back to Doug. 

 

"Aw, come on, Jared!  I know you!  There's no way your old man would have kicked you out of the house unless it was something really bad.  Did it have to do with that hot guy that lives next door?  You two didn't go out and steal a car or something, did you?"  He knew he had hit on at least the partial truth as he noticed Jared bristling and his face turning red.  "Oh, shit!  Did you?"  Jared had told him quite a bit about Brian Kinney - how 'smokin' hot he was, how he had been sent to live next door at his aunt and uncle's house due to some legal infractions back home involving car theft and drag racing, and how he had been a great lay.  Of course, he had no way of knowing that was a blatant lie; Jared wouldn't have dared tell him that Kinney had turned him down.  The worst part of all, though, was getting rejected for his younger brother.

 

"No!" he growled.  "We didn't steal a fucking car!  I don't NEED to steal one, remember?  I already have one I'm working on in the barn." Well, he did, anyway, before his father made him leave. 

 

Doug took another toke before he asked, "Then what, Taylor?  Come on, tell me!  I'm letting you live here, remember?" 

 

Jared sighed as he debated just how much to divulge - and how to make himself appear as the wounded one.  "It did have to do with Kinney," he began, his mind working furiously as Doug nodded with fascinated interest.  "But it wasn't anything illegal - unless you call cradle robbing a crime." 

 

Doug furrowed his brow in confusion.  "Cradle robbing?"

 

Jared nodded as he reached over to retrieve his half-finished beer bottle and take a large swig before putting it back down.  "Yeah...seems my little brother has become infatuated with Kinney.   And when I refused to bottom for the asshole, he went after someone more convenient who would." 

 

Doug's eyes grew large.  "No shit."  Jared nodded.  "Man, surely Kinney knew you would never bottom for anyone." 

 

"I know," Jared agreed as he wiped his lips with the back of his tee-shirt sleeve.  "He was dreaming; it was never going to happen."  He shrugged.  "So I told him it was his loss and to leave," he added.

 

Doug shook his head.  "But I still don't get why that would make your old man kick you out. Seems to me that Justin should have been the one in trouble, not you - or at least Kinney, for fooling around with him."

 

"Yeah," Jared replied, his jaw clenched as he recalled how he was summarily dismissed like yesterday's garbage.  "Well, my brother's a good liar.  He claimed that I had started a fight with Kinney at the town social, and our father believed him over me."

 

"What?!  Why?" 

 

The words began to tumble out now, one lie after the other.  "Because the little squirt was interested in Kinney himself, I told you, and he was jealous that he was showing ME attention at the social that night instead.  After I told Brian before that I wouldn't bottom for him, he came up to me at the midway and was trying to hook up with me again.  He said he would do anything to be with me, and that he was sorry he had turned me down," he told his friend smugly.  He snorted.  "Guess he realized that Justin would be just a poor substitute.  But I wasn't interested by then," Jared claimed as he smirked.  "I don't do repeats - and once he turned me down after he gave me a blowjob, he wasn't getting another chance with me." 

 

"Good for you," Doug praised him.  "But that still doesn't explain what happened," he pressed.  "Why did the two of you get into a fight then?" 

 

Jared paused for a moment to organize his thoughts before explaining, "I caught Kinney roughhousing with my brother out back behind the building.  Looked like after I rejected him, he was trying to force Justin to do something that he didn't want to do.  I saw Justin push him away and then take off toward the back door to go inside, no doubt to get away from him.  Kinney started following him, and I rushed after him to make sure Justin didn't get hurt."  His friend arched one eyebrow at him questioningly as he explained, "Hey, he drives me nuts, but he's still my brother."  Doug nodded as he went on to explain, "I caught up with him inside near the bandstand and we had words.  I wound up punching him out," he bragged, thoroughly caught up in the lie now.  "I found out he's not much of a fighter, too; had him down on the ground in no time." 

 

Doug laughed. "I would have loved to have seen that! But that still..."

 

"I'm getting to it," Jared hastily continued.  "Well, my father saw the whole thing and felt like I had embarrassed the shit out of him by getting into a fight in front of everyone.  And then that idiot nephew of Vic's - you know, our handyman?"  Doug nodded as Jared added, "Well, his nephew who's staying with him for a few weeks was at the social, too, and came over to our house after everything had happened and tried to act like it was all my fault somehow!"  He shook his head in disgust, playing his part to the hilt now as he got his second wind. 

 

"What the fuck, Jared?  What did he say?" 

 

Jared laughed derisively as he stole the weed back from his friend's hand to take another puff.  "Get this!  He told them that I was going around spreading rumors that Kinney was beating up on Justin and trying to force himself on him because I was jealous and wanted him back!  What a crock of bullshit!" he growled.  He let out a heavy breath.  "But it was me against my brother and Vic's nephew; even Vic made up some lies and agreed with him, probably because it was family."  He handed the joint back to Doug as he brushed his hand through his hair.  "Who knows?  All I know is my father said he was tired of dealing with all the drama and didn't need all this 'distraction' right before the race today.  And since Justin does all the racing in the family, guess who had to take the fall?   Good, old Dad wasn't about to let his bread ticket slip through his fingers!  So here I am, living in the lap of luxury," he concluded as he laughed, but it was a hollow, derisive laugh.  "Sitting here, smoking weed with you and sleeping on your rat-infested couch."    

 

"Hey..."

 

Jared shook his head.  "I'm just kidding with you," he assured him as he let out a heavy sigh.  "I appreciate what you did; I still can't believe it, though." 

 

"Damn, that sucks big time!" Doug growled, his eyes blazing with indignation.  "I can't believe your Dad took his word - and that other guy's - over yours." 

 

"Yeah, me, neither."  He handed the joint back over to his friend as he stood up with his beer and took another swig.  "And I don't even have my fucking car to work on anymore, either; not unless I go back there with my tail between my legs, and I'm not going to do that.  I did nothing wrong." 

 

"Maybe it'll all blow over in a few days."

 

Jared turned around to peer down at his friend.  "Doesn't matter.  Even if my father begged me to come home now, I wouldn't.  It's too late."  He bit his lower lip in thought.  "I have to figure out a way to get some money coming in.  I might go down and talk to Scooter and see if he needs a mechanic at the gas station."  Scooter was the father of one of his former high school classmates who owned the only gas station in town. 

 

"Maybe. But even HE uses one of those analysis computers for repairs.  And he's ASE certified.  Even if he DID hire you, you'd probably wind up doing mostly oil changes and being the cashier." 

 

"Gee, thanks for that fucking testimonial, Kesterson; I really appreciate that," Jared retorted, knowing deep down that his friend was probably right.  At least if he did get a job there, though, he might be able to use one of the spare berths to work on his car that he had to leave back home.  That hurt worst of all.  Without his car to work on, he felt like he was almost missing one of his arms.  "So what do YOU suggest, genius?   I'm not going to apologize for something I didn't do."

 

"I didn't say you should.  But you still need some money coming in to live on, even if you ARE going to stay with me.  So...For now, we're heading down to the race track."

 

"Are you out of your fucking mind?  I just got through telling you..."

 

"I know what you told me!" Doug responded curtly.  "But where else can we make some quick cash?  There're other drivers who might win today, you know; look at Robbie Andrews.  He's almost won the last couple of times."

 

Jared snorted.  "The key word is almost.  He was at least three lengths back last time, and you know it." 

 

Doug extinguished the cigarette in a glass ashtray on the floor next to him before he stood up to join his friend.  "Well, even if he places, we'll get some money back." 

 

Jared huffed in disbelief.  "Did you see the odds in the paper yesterday? He's barely at 4-1."

 

"Well, that's a better payout than if your brother wins."

 

"I know; that's what I'm saying!  There's no reason why he won't win.  We'll be throwing our money away, and I have fucking little of that to begin with."

 

"Come on, Jared! Take a chance!  It's time somebody knocked your brother down a peg. He can't keep winning forever.  Besides, what else do we have to do today?  We always go...And not just to bet on the asses out on the track, either." 

 

Jared couldn't help smirking over that; unbeknownst to most of the strait-laced patrons who attended the harness races, the Red Mill was a great way to find at least a decent fuck in either the bathrooms or around back under the grandstands. The bleachers where everyone sat weren't the only things that were 'exposed' at the race track; plenty of queers presented their fetching wares to other queers out back under the grandstand while the horses were racing.   He was feeling particularly tense in light of everything that had happened, and apart from the booze and the weed, there was only one other way to alleviate that problem.

 

He shrugged.  "What the fuck?  Let's go." 

 

---

 

Wiping her hands on her apron, Sarah walked over to the barn's doors, hearing the sound of metal rapping on metal.  Carrying the plastic, oval platter with a pitcher and two glasses of lemonade, she approached her husband and sat down quietly on a nearby bale of straw, carefully placing the platter down on another bale beside her.

 

Sensing her presence, Will stopped banging on the tractor with his wrench and set it down on the dirt floor beside him, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.  "Piece of junk," he muttered.

 

"No luck?" she asked him softly as she poured some of the cold lemonade into a plastic glass and handed it to him.  Nodding at her gratefully, he took a large gulp of it first.

 

"No," he admitted.  "I can't even get the spark plug pulled out to look at it, much less clean it off."  He shook his head.  "How come whenever Brian gets on it, it starts right up?" 

 

She smiled.  "Maybe he just has a magic touch," she decided.  Her smile faded a little as she added, "By the way, I think you did the right thing by letting him go to the races today.  He's been cooped up in this house for so long that I think it might do him some good."  She paused.  "And I think he really wanted to see Justin race.  I remember he's pretty amazing on a horse..."

 

Will held up his hand.  "I don't want to discuss racing, Sarah. You know my feelings on that.  It's in the past; let's keep it that way, okay?" 

 

Sarah took a deep breath; she knew what the likely response to her question would be, but she had to ask it anyway.  "Just like Dale, you mean?"  Her suspicions were confirmed immediately as she observed her husband's face darken. 

 

"Damn it, Sarah!  What did I just say?"  He growled as he glared over at her.  But beneath the anger there, Sarah could see something else as well:  hurt and pain. 

 

"You told me not to talk about racing. Okay.  But that wasn't all our son did, though, Will.  Should I forget about him, too?"  Her husband was stonily silent as he turned to stare out the open barn door, lost in thought.  "Well?  Will, talk to me, for God's sake.  Should I? Is that what you want?"  Her eyes filled with tears.  She knew she would never do that no matter what he said.  She simply couldn't.  She wiped some wetness away from her cheeks as she sniffled softly.

 

Will sighed heavily, his anger dissipating as he felt his wife's sorrow.  He reached inside his overall pocket to locate his handkerchief as he turned to reach over and gently wipe some of the tears away from her cheeks with it.  "Of course I don't, Woman," he replied with mock gruffness.  "You know that." 

 

"Do I?" she whispered painfully.  "Will, I know how much you loved him..."

 

"More than my own life," he replied, his voice breaking as he looked away.  "That boy was my world...along with you," he assured her as he peered back at her.  "If I could have taken his place..." He pursed his lips together firmly, feeling the pinch of tears behind his own eyes; but he was not going to cry. It wasn't his way.  "It all happened so fast, so very fast," he murmured finally as his mind went back to that day.  "When he waved to us, he looked so happy.  He was going to win again, Sarah.  Just like he did every time; I knew it. But you know what?  I would have traded anything, I would have done anything in my power; I wouldn't have even cared if he was cleaning up after the horses rather than racing them, if I could only have even one more day with him now."  He exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers not even feeling the cold, wet condensation encircling the lemonade glass that he gripped tightly in his hand.

 

"Don't you think I feel the same way, William?" she asked him curtly as he lifted his eyes to peer into hers.  "But he's gonel.  He's not coming back.  And I know it still hurts even after all this time.  But not talking about him and refusing to even say his name out loud won't change things.  I want to remember our son when he was alive, Will.  I want to be able to take his photos out and look at them; to look at his trophies that he won, to reminisce about the good times we had together as a family.  He was so proud of what he had accomplished, not just in racing but in school, in Boy Scouts, in his swimming meets.  Horses weren't the only thing he had a passion for.  And no one else can understand all of that except you.  Don't you think it's finally time to start remembering him when he was alive instead of his death?" 

 

She smiled over at him sadly as he sighed mournfully.  "Will, I know that you will never forget our son.  But I think it's time that we start moving forward and think about happy memories of him, not all this sadness." 

 

Will swallowed hard, the lancing pain still ever present in his heart.  But he knew deep down that his wife was correct.  Nothing would bring him back to them.  But perhaps, just perhaps, it would be cathartic to do as Sarah says - to remember some of the good times with him. And there had been a LOT of good times.  For that, at least, he would always be eternally grateful.  He looked into his wife's eyes as he smiled slightly.  "You know...He had the goofiest smile of anyone I have ever seen.  I think it was because he had that one, crooked tooth..."

 

She smiled warmly at the memory.  "Yeah...that one in the upper right side of his mouth that he never would let the dentist pull.  He called it his..."

 

"...Lucky tooth," Will replied as she nodded.  "Said he only started winning after we threatened to take him to Doc Kesterson to have it taken out.  I remember."  His smile became a little wider as he recalled with a grimace, "For a while, I thought he was going to name True Blue after it.  But I told him that "Lucky Tooth" didn't sound too impressive to me for a race horse."  He grunted.  "Would have probably given the announcer fits, too, when he announced the winners."

 

She grinned.  "Probably.  Although I've certainly heard worse."  Her husband used to take perverse pleasure in pointing out the exotic, if not downright ridiculous names that some owners named their horses as he looked over the morning newspaper's betting page prior to one of Dale's races.  At least their son had had the common sense to name his horse after the town's favorite basketball team instead of an upper molar.   

 

Will nodded.  "Yeah."  He sighed. "Those were good times with him, Sarah.  Weren't they?" 

 

She reached over to twine her fingers with his as she replied softly, "Yes, they were." 

 

Will studied the hand in his, listening to the comforting, familiar sounds around them that he knew so well:  the occasional, low moo from Checkers nearby with her calf, seemingly getting bigger by the day, the chickens in the coop just outside the barn, softly clucking as they scrounged for food in the dirt, the calls of several varieties of wild birds that enjoyed visiting their bird feeder and bird bath daily, and the faraway, excited bark of Solomon, who was no doubt up in the woods on his daily jaunt like he always was - before he scampered back home just before dark for his evening supper.  In a lot of ways, everything was much the same that it had been when Dale had been alive - all except for one, very important piece.  But he knew there was no going back; his wife was right.

 

"Sarah?" he called to his wife as he turned his attention back to her.

 

"Yes, Will?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with just a bit of hope.

 

He smiled at her.  "Do you know where our film projector is?  The one that shows the old 8 mm movies?" 

 

Her eyes glistened as she nodded, realizing instantly what that meant; it was much more than her husband wanting to relive old times.  "Yes, it's down in the basement."

 

He nodded.  "Well, when Brian gets home from the race later today, I'd like to set it up.  I think it's time that he meets his cousin and some of his other kinfolk...don't you?"  He clucked softly as he noticed his wife's face.  "Now don't be starting up with the waterworks again, Missy," he gently scolded her.  "I just thought it might be a good way to pass the time, that's all.  Don't go making too much out of it."  She wisely nodded in agreement.  "And maybe we can break from our normal healthier eating tonight and have some of your leftover blackberry cobbler with some homemade, vanilla ice cream.  Think we have all the ingredients on hand for that?"

 

She squeezed her husband's hand.  "Yeah, I'm sure we do...And I can't think of a better reason." 

 

He nodded once more.  "Well, then, let me be for a while.  I'm going to try and coax this rattletrap machine into starting if it's the last thing I do." 

 

"Yes, sir," she whispered as she stood up to leave, studying her husband's proud profile as he turned around and picked up his wrench to try again.  She leaned down to kiss her husband on his cheek before, with one last squeeze of his hand, she let go.  "I'll get everything ready." She stood there watching him, her heart just a little lighter, before she quietly turned and exited the barn.

 

---

 

Same Time at Red Mill...

 

"What are you doing back here?" Jared hissed at his friend in alarm; he had been looking for Doug for the past 45 minutes in the quickly burgeoning crowd now filling up the stands.  He had looked everywhere else - ever since they had arrived and Doug had excused himself to go to the restroom - but after he didn't come back to join him near the grandstand he had finally started out on his own to find him.  He would have never expected him to be back here near the stables, however.  "You want my Dad to see us here?" 

 

Doug shrugged.  "What's the big deal?  He's not my keeper - or yours.  He made that clear when he kicked your ass out - thanks to your brother." 

 

"Don't remind me," Jared retorted, the sting of being thrown out of his own home still fresh in his mind.  "But no one's supposed to be back here unless they have a pass.  And I don't want to wind up with my ass in jail tonight, so let's get going before my father sees me, okay?" 

 

"Yeah," Doug groused.  "I bet your bratty little brother would just love that."  He turned around to begin following Jared, only to pull up short as they passed one of the horse stalls and a shiny plaque attached to the wall caught his eye.  He couldn't help walking over to take a peek at it as his eyes widened in disbelief.  "What the fuck...Would you look at this?" he sneered as Jared walked up to stand beside him, recognizing the closest stall as the one that Dale's horse used to occupy when he was on the racing circuit.  "When did they put THIS up?  They have a fucking memorial to him now?  Shit!  If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame or the Grand Old Opry, instead of a horse jockey who just happened to get lucky!  Can you fucking believe this?!" 

 

He shook his head, his mouth agape in astonishment as he read the inscription on the bronze-colored plaque. It was approximately two feet by two feet square, with a raised likeness of Dale riding True Blue at the top and a lengthy description of his feats at the track beneath it, along with a short description detailing his untimely death three years ago.  At the bottom of the plaque was a synopsis of his impressive winning stats while he had been on the harness racing circuit.  Except for two races at the very beginning of his career, he had won every other race he and his horse had ever entered. 

 

Jared skimmed over the shiny surface with his fingers, reading the extensive report about Dale's racing record.  He had to admit - the likeness of his friend and True Blue on the plaque was uncanny, and it brought a lot of old memories to the surface.  He and Dale had been close friends back then; he had always enjoyed being in Dale's company.  He was very intelligent, witty, and athletic, and had a good head on his shoulders and was very responsible; but he also had a fun-loving, free-wheeling spirit to him, also.  They used to take ATVs up into the mountains at breakneck speed, or climb up on one of the ramrod straight trees that ringed his family's swimming hole to see which one of them could dive from the highest perch.  Typically, Dale won that challenge; he was always a little more of a daredevil than he was when it came to heights.

 

The two of them had spent many nights lounging under the inky, star-filled sky, drunk and high as kites as they tried out Dale's latest batch of hooch that he had concocted from a makeshift still that was kept in a secluded corner of the Walker's storage shed.  Both of them suspected that Dale's father knew all along about the still, but chose to overlook it, probably viewing it as some harmless, teenage rite of passage.  And Dale's father would have never even realized that the sickly-sweet aroma he was smelling from time to time was the distinctive aroma of a good batch of weed that he had managed to snag from one of the boys at school and was sharing with Dale behind the barn.  Yeah, those had been good memories...

 

"He always thought he was so much better than the rest of us," Doug brusquely stated beside him, interrupting his thoughts. 

 

Jared frowned as he turned to face his friend.  "I never thought that," he told him quietly.  "He was a pretty decent guy." 

 

"He was full of himself," Doug countered.  "He thought he was above us."

 

"Where did you get that from?"

 

"Well, he turned YOU down, didn't he?  I guess after he won all that money, he figured he could buy any guy he wanted then." 

 

Jared shook his head.  "Yeah, he DID turn me down," he admitted, remembering he had mentioned it to Doug not too long before Dale's last race here.  And he had been plenty hurt about it at the time, too, at least temporarily.  The two of them had already been solid friends before, but one night after they had tried out Dale's latest concoction and smoked some high-quality weed and he was feeling mellow and emboldened, he had propositioned his friend, only to find out that he was straight as an arrow. Dale had never really mentioned girlfriends before - and he had never seen any girls out at the Walker farm - so he had just naturally assumed he swung the other way - his way.  He had been sorely mistaken, however, discovering that Dale was just inexplicably, painfully shy when it came to members of the opposite sex, despite his popularity and fame, and he had wound up with a slightly bruised ego that night as well as a painfully hard boner. But it was only fleeting; he couldn't blame Dale for that.

 

He blinked as he came back to the present and looked over at his friend.  "Yeah, he turned me down," he repeated.  "But it was because he was straight, man.  It wasn't anything personal." 

 

Doug harrumphed.  "Well, I still say he was conceited.  He kept talking about buying some fancy horse farm in town with all his winnings - like he was throwing it all in our face." 

 

"No, no, that's not it at all," Jared explained.  "He wanted to use his money to buy that beat-up, old dilapidated farm the Simpsons used to own on the other side of town - the one that had all the land with it?"  Doug grudgingly nodded.  "He wanted to buy it so he could fix it up and use it as a training facility for harness drivers.  That was his goal eventually - to show others how to succeed on the circuit like he had."

 

"So what happened to all his money after he died?" Doug pointed out.  "I didn't see his parents getting rich off all his winnings." 

 

"They didn't," Jared reported as he glanced around uneasily, knowing every second they stayed there was risky.  "After he died, they only kept enough to help with the funeral expenses and then gave the rest to charity.  His old man couldn't bear to touch any of his money after he died." 

 

"How grandiose of them," Doug quipped sarcastically.

 

Jared stared at his friend in confusion.  He had never heard such bitterness toward Dale and his family from his former schoolmate; he had never realized how envious he had been of him.  Where had this come from?  He didn't have a lot of time to consider it, however, as he spotted his father at the far end of the stables.  "We've got to get out of here!" he told him urgently as he grabbed Doug's arm.  "There's my dad!  Let's go!" 

 

"Okay, okay," Doug grumbled as the two of rushed toward the other end of the stables, just in time to avoid being detected. 

 

---

 

"Whew, that was close," Jared exclaimed as they stood just inside the main entrance a short time later.  "Let's go place our bets; the race should be starting soon."  He dug into his pockets to find the last twenty he had.  "I hope this is a lucky one," he murmured.  "You still planning on betting on Robbie Andrews to win?  I still say Justin's going to beat him today."

 

"Naw...not a chance," Doug told him, sounding distinctly self-assured.  "I'm telling you!  Your brother is finally going to see some competition today. Bet it all on Andrews to win; it's a sure thing." 

 

Jared eyed him doubtfully, but the idea of his brother finally going down to defeat provided him with a certain sense of self-satisfaction, so he finally nodded.  "Okay," he told him as the two of them headed toward the betting windows.  "You'd better be right about this; this is my last twenty, man." 

 

"It's a done deal," Doug told him confidently with a smile.  "We're going to eat good tonight."

 

Jared laughed as he followed his friend to the nearest booth and placed his bet.

 

 

 

One Hour before the Race...

Brian surveyed the bustling grandstand in awe.  Nearly every seat was already filled, even though the first race wouldn't be for almost another hour.  He had to admit; he had been a little skeptical about whether this sort of event would hold his interest, but there was an exciting energy to the place.  He watched as several jockeys; no, drivers, he recalled Justin saying, led their horses around the perimeter of the track in practice; others were either grooming them or just standing next to them as they conversed with each other.  He strained his neck in hopes of seeing Justin, but to his disappointment, so far he hadn't seen any sign of him.  The smell of cigarette smoke, boiled peanuts, beer, and various concession stand items filled the stands.  He wrinkled his nose at the pungent aroma of what smelled like horse dung mixed in with all the other smells.  Not surprising, though; everywhere you looked there were stables housing horse after horse and trailers of every make and model.

 

His eyes finally settled on a trailer with the name "Windswept Farm" written on it in script letters, and his heart skipped a beat.  It was parked next to one of the stables, so obviously Justin must be nearby somewhere.

 

 

"Can't go back there without a pass," Vic replied quietly beside him; Emmett had gone in search of some fried pickles, one of his guilty pleasures, after pecan pie, anyway.  Brian had looked at him aghast at the mere thought, but Honeycutt had merely offered him a silly sort of grin and shrugged before he scampered off in search of his prize.

 

He turned to look over at the older man with a frown.  "What did you say?"

 

Vic smiled.  "If you want to see him, you'll need one of these or they won't let you back there."  He reached inside his pants pocket to retrieve a rectangular-sized, laminated piece of bright orange paper, with the words 'Stable Entry Pass' written on it.  He handed it to Brian as he nodded his head toward the trailer.  "Headstrong's in the 4th stall on the right."  Brian hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get Justin into trouble or make him nervous by his presence.  He also wasn't sure how Justin's father would react to him hovering around him just before the race.

 

"Well, go on," Vic prodded him.  "I'm sure he'd like to see you before he races. And...If you are thinking about his father, well, he has this long-standing superstition about not being back at the stables beforehand.  He spends his time before the race in the grandstand clubhouse with Jennifer.  You can set your clock by him; he will be out precisely fifteen minutes before the race, and will walk over to his reserved seat over by the finish line.  So you don't have to worry about him."  He winked.  "I'll even save your seat for you.  You won't want to miss Justin in his element."

 

"I'm not worried about his father," Brian told him gruffly.  Secretly, though, that was precisely his concern, not so much for him but for Justin.  He didn't want to make things harder for him. On the other hand, he wasn't about to stop seeing Justin, either, no matter what his father thought about their relationship.

 

Trusting that Vic knew what he was talking about - and wanting badly to see his lover - Brian nodded as he rose from his seat ten rows up and proceeded down the concrete aisle to the ground level.  It took him a few minutes - including some tense seconds as the armed, uniformed security guard studied his pass before motioning him through - before he headed into the straw-covered stable toward the fourth stall on the right.  As he neared his target, he noticed a plaque hanging up close by, and stopped for just a few seconds to read the inscription, surprised to realize it was about his cousin, Dale.  He was suitably impressed by his cousin's track record and his accomplishments; apparently, he had been quite a formidable competitor.  His main attention, however, was drawn to the familiar voice he could hear from several feet away as he smiled in recognition, his pulse quickening as he approached Headstrong's stall.  A simple, wooden bench was perched just beside the stall door, with a couple of water bottles sitting on top next to Justin's helmet.

 

"That's it," Justin was cooing to Headstrong.  "You're looking good, Boy.  You're going to do just fine today," he was saying softly.  "That's my pretty boy."

 

Brian pursed his lips together to keep from laughing as he walked up to the stall gate and peered inside.  Justin had his back to him as he petted the majestic-looking animal and whispered encouraging words to him; he could hear Headstrong chuffing softly as Justin spoke. Apparently, his lover had a magical effect on all kinds of male species.

 

Justin turned around as he heard the stall gate squeaking a few seconds later, and his face lit up into a surprised but delighted smile.  "Brian! How did you get back here?"

 

Brian closed the stall gate behind him as he walked up and slid his arms around the smooth, satiny fabric of Justin's racing uniform, linking his arms around the small of Justin's back.  "Vic gave me his pass to use," he explained as Justin nodded.  The two of them automatically moved closer together, Justin's arms sliding around Brian's neck as the two of them kissed, their lips parting so tongues could tangle to taste each other's unique essence.  A soft sigh of contentment escaped Justin's lips as Brian angled his head to deepen the kiss, his hands slowly traveling up and down Justin's back.

 

Brian's hands were flat against the younger boy's back and felt hot against the thin, slick fabric as their bodies ground together; he had to bite back a moan of his own as his dick twitched in response to the sensation of denim on satin.  Finally, with great reluctance, he broke off the kiss to stare into Justin's eyes, eyes that continued to captivate and enthrall him.  "I just wanted to see you before you raced. I know you're going to do great out there today," he told Justin earnestly as he lightly held him in his arms, his voice soft but confident as he smiled at him.

 

Justin beamed, blushing in response as he replied, "Thanks.  I still get nervous before each race, though.  You never know what's going to happen out there."

 

Brian's face clouded over for just an instant; he didn't want to think about something going wrong.  He had to be positive, for both him as well as Justin.  "Nothing's going to go wrong, Hot Shot. You've got your lucky charm here with you today, after all."

 

Justin's eyes widened as if in surprise before he smiled.  "How did you know?" he asked as he reached inside his pocket and retrieved a small rabbit's foot on a beaded keychain and waved it in front of him playfully.

 

Brian laughed.  "Not that, you asshole!  Me!"  He curled his lips under as Justin nodded with a smile.

 

"Ohhh, how could I forget that?" he deadpanned with a grin.  He paused for a second before he told Brian, "I knew what you meant, you idiot!  And just for the record, you ARE my lucky charm.  You were from the start.  Well, almost from the start, at least once we got past a few things."

 

Brian snorted as Justin grinned back at him impishly.  "Well, I'm glad we took care of those issues," he told him. He couldn't help smiling over at him softly, however, as he informed him, "I'll be sitting about ten rows up in the center section with Vic - and Honeycutt."  He grimaced.  "He was gone when I left - something about going in search of fried pickles."

 

Justin laughed as his eyes lit up.  "I love fried pickles!  I'll have to buy you one to sample out of my winnings after the race is over."

 

Brian looked horrified.  "Uh...no...Going to the town social and seeing all sorts of odd bake sale items being auctioned off was more than enough trauma for me."  He stared into Justin's beautiful face as he curled his lips under like a little boy and told him, "You are right about one thing, though."

 

"Just one?" was the innocent-sounding reply. He yelped as Brian smacked him on one, satin-clad ass cheek.  "Hey!"

 

"You deserved that, you cheeky little shit," Brian told him.

 

"Well, you got the cheeky part of it right, anyway," Justin told him, clearly enjoying himself.

 

Brian harrumphed.  "Okay, just for that snarky comment...Never mind."

 

"No, tell me!" Justin begged, somehow needing to know what Brian was thinking.

 

Brian sighed.  "I was just going to tell you that you WILL have winnings when you get done; you just won't be using them for those disgusting, fried pickles."  He shuddered at the thought.  "At least not for me, anyway. And if you wind up eating some of those monstrosities yourself afterward, then..."  He left the sentence hanging.

 

"What?" Justin pressed as he squeezed the sides of Brian's waist to urge him to talk; surprised when the older boy actually giggled and flinched at his touch.  "Oh, my God!  You're so ticklish!" he shrieked in mischievous delight as Brian grabbed his hands to stop him.  Justin laughed at the twisted look on his face.

 

"If you ever divulge that deep, dark secret to anyone, I will take your Jockey shorts and pull them down over your fucking face," Brian promised him.

 

Justin grinned with unconcern as Brian pulled him against him, locking their hands together behind Justin's back.  "You'll have to get them off me first," he replied with a sexy, little smile that made Brian's body tingle in anticipation of doing just that.  "Now let's see, what were you saying?" Justin asked innocently.  "Oh, yeah, if I eat fried pickles after I win today..."  He tilted his head expectantly.

 

"If you eat any fried pickles after you win today, don't expect me to kiss you until after you've brushed your teeth - and used mouthwash; twice," Brian firmly told him.

 

Justin shrugged.  "What makes you think I'd even want to kiss you then?" he asked.  "I'll have tons of money after the race; I could find some other guy to..."

 

Justin didn't get to finish his statement; one second later, he heard a sort of growl escape Brian's mouth as the other boy promptly plastered his lips against his to show him what he would be missing if he did.  He whimpered at the passion and intensity in that kiss as his fingers tightened their grip in Brian's clutch. He actually felt slightly dizzy in reaction, until at last Brian detached his lips from his with a decided popping noise.

 

He smirked over at him smugly.  "That's how I know," he told him simply, noting the dazed look on Justin's face and the sweat on his brow.  "First time someone's worked up a sweat just over me kissing them, though," he bragged as Justin snorted back at him.  He laughed as he reluctantly let him go, noticing Headstrong fidgeting behind them.  "Looks like someone's getting impatient."

 

"Don't be so damn cocky," Justin chided him.  "I can wait until after the race to kiss you again," he told him.

 

Brian guffawed.  "Not me; the other male in the room." He indicated Headstrong with a nod of his head as Justin blushed.

 

"Oh," he said in realization.  "Yeah, he's normally out on the track by now, but someone distracted his driver this time."

 

Brian shrugged with a grin.  "Admit it, Farm Boy.  It was so worth it - at least to you."

 

"So incredibly humble as always," Justin commented dryly.  He straightened out his clothing, now bunched up in intriguing places.  "Yeah," he admitted then.  "I think he minded it more than I did."  He reached to grab Headstrong's reins and his gloves lying nearby as the horse whinnied softly in anticipation, knowing what those gestures meant.  "I really do need to get him ready for the race, though," Justin explained.  "He still needs to be hooked up to the sulky."

 

"And YOU need to have time to inspect it thoroughly," Brian reminded him firmly, not willing to risk having anything happen to Justin like it had with his cousin.

 

"I have plenty of time," Justin assured him.  "And I always do a complete walk around to check it out, too, so it'll be fine," he informed him as Brian nodded in relief.

 

"Well..." Brian found that he hated to go; he thought Justin looked a little flushed as he stared over at him, but he thought it merely had to do with their 'pre-race' activities.  "I guess I'd better get back out there, then," he told him regretfully.  He did fervently want to see Justin race; everyone that had spoken about it just raved about his skill and grace out on the track, and how he and Headstrong worked in tandem as a team so perfectly, and he couldn't wait at last to see it for himself.

 

Justin nodded back at him as Brian opened up the stall door, poking his head out to make sure that Craig wasn't making an unexpected guest appearance; he was relieved to see that apparently Vic knew what he had been talking about - there were a few drivers leading their horses outside, but no sign of either Justin's mother or father.

 

"Is the coast clear?" Justin asked amused in a stage whisper.

 

Brian rolled his eyes as he turned to look back at the other boy grinning at him.   "Yeah, your father is apparently still at the clubhouse; Vic clued me in earlier. Good thing he's so predictable."

 

Justin nodded as Brian held the stall door open to allow him to lead Headstrong out into the main aisle of the stables.  "Well, I'd better get going," Justin told him as Brian nodded.  "Oh, hand me my water, will you?" he asked Brian.

 

Brian nodded as he walked over to retrieve a half-full, plastic bottle of water. Handing it to Justin, he stared into his face.  "You sure you're feeling okay?" he asked him as Justin took a couple of big gulps of the liquid; he swallowed his desire as he watched the other boy's Adam's apple bob up and down against the pale, supple skin.

 

"Yeah," Justin told him as he wiped his mouth.  "Just nerves," he assured him.  "I always get a little tense just before it's time."  He took a deep breath before letting it out.  "I, uh, guess you'd better walk on ahead, just in case my father decides he wants to break from tradition today."

 

Brian nodded.  "Yeah.  We've just now reached the 'he's no longer wanting to kill me and he's tolerating me' stage.  Better not press my luck, then."  Brian looked around furtively, glad that the horse partly obstructed everyone else's view. Leaning over, he gave Justin a quick kiss on the cheek as he whispered, "Go get 'em, Farm Boy.  I'll be up there watching you, so make it good."

 

Justin blushed as he nodded with a smile, feeling excited about Brian finally getting the chance to see him race.  "I'll see you afterward?" he asked softly.

 

"You bet," Brian told him before, with a quick squeeze of his shoulder, he murmured, "Count on it.  See you later."

 

"Later," Justin whispered back with a smile as Brian turned and slowly walked toward the front of the stables.  He turned around when he got to the end and, with one short wave, he headed out toward the grandstand.

 

"Come on, Big Fella," Justin told the horse as he watched Brian go.  "Time for us to show him what we've got."

 

Headstrong seemed to somehow understand him as he bobbed his head up and down seemingly in agreement as Justin laughed.

 

"Showoff."   His body charged with adrenalin, he felt another, brief flicker of dizziness wash over him.  He hadn't told Brian that he had experienced one other, similar episode about fifteen minutes ago before he showed up.  What the fuck?  He wiped his brow with his gloved hand and stood there for a moment until the feeling passed, before, pressing his hand against his forehead to try and shake off the odd feeling he had, he tightened his hold on Headstrong's reins and resumed his walk toward the track.

 

---

 

Vic nodded with a smile as Brian walked back up to join him.  "Find him okay?" He really didn't have to ask, though; he could somehow tell by the look on Brian's face that he had.

 

Brian nodded as he handed the pass back to him.  "Yeah.  Thanks," he murmured a little self-consciously. Was he that transparent when it came to Justin?  He supposed by this time he was.  He couldn't help it, though; there was just some quality about Justin that made him react to him, that made him want to be with him 24/7 and want to protect him.

 

Vic smiled.  "Glad to hear it.  How's he doing?"

 

"Seems  a little nervous," Brian reported. "But I noticed he's the odds-on favorite, at least according to the betting stats."

 

Vic nodded.  "He always is," he told him as he looked out onto the track to see Justin walking over to his sulky with Headstrong.  "He's quite the competitor, and he always has had an affinity, a natural instinct, for it.  It didn't take me long to pass on what I knew to him.  He took it and ran with it - and never looked back."

 

Brian followed his line of sight, his heart skipping a beat as he noticed Justin leading Headstrong over to their sulky to get ready.  "You mean since Dale died," he corrected him quietly as he turned to look at Vic.

 

Vic sighed.  "Yeah. That was a damn shame.  That kid was such a talented rider - and a nice boy to boot.  He didn't deserve to have what happened to him.  And...Your uncle's never been the same since."  He turned to look at Brian.  "Although...Lately I've seen just a bit of his old self; mainly, I think, because of you."

 

Brian frowned.  "Me? Why?"

 

Vic studied him.  "Because I think in a lot of ways you remind him of Dale. Oh, not physically; you really don't look anything alike.  But in mannerisms. Dale was a nice kid, but he always had a bit of a rebellious streak in him. He was kind of like French bread:  crusty on the outside, but soft on the inside."  Vic smirked as Brian rolled his eyes.

 

"Great. Always wanted to be compared to something stale."

 

Vic smiled.  "I think you catch my drift."

 

Brian glanced out at Justin to see him attaching the sulky to Headstrong as he quietly told Vic, "Justin filled me in on what happened that day."  He turned to look at him again.  "What do YOU think?  Do you think it was just some freak accident?  Or do you think it was something more?  Justin told me this horseracing business can be very cut-throat."

 

Vic snorted.  "Cut-throat doesn't begin to describe it.  Some of those drivers down there wouldn't think twice about poisoning one of their competitor's horses, just to get them out of the way.  They don't care about anyone or anybody except themselves and their greed. And Justin's definitely their main obstacle to that right now."

 

Brian's heart thumped with concern.  "So you're saying it wasn't an accident," he surmised grimly.  "Justin mentioned the same doubt to me.  He said Dale used to be so careful with his equipment before every race."

 

Vic let out a ragged breath, rubbing his hand across his face and momentarily pressing his lips together before he nodded.  "Yeah, he was.  VERY careful.  He knew how important that was."  He sighed.  "I don't know, Brian.  It's possible it could have been either one.  But I know from talking to Justin about it that's he's not convinced it was an accident - and neither am I.  It just didn't make sense. But they never found any proof that it was anything but an accident, so that was the only ruling they could make."

 

Brian nodded as he gazed down at Justin. From up here, he looked confident as he walked around the sulky to inspect it, but also vulnerable.  A lump of foreboding formed in his throat.  He knew he was being ridiculous - after all, Justin had been racing for a few years now without any problems - but then again, he hadn't known or cared so much about him then.

 

"He knows what he's doing," Vic reassured him quietly by his side as if he were reading his mind.  "He'll be fine, you'll see."

 

Brian nodded as he let out a tense breath.  Just then, Vic's nephew came bounding up the steps, holding onto a beer in one hand and a paper tray of his prized, fried pickles in the other. His eyes were shining with excitement as he sat down on the other side of Brian.  "Look what I found!" he cried out triumphantly.  "Want one?" he asked as he held it under his nose.

 

Brian crinkled his face in distaste.  "No way," he told him as he eyed the battered food. There were four, wedge-shaped pickles nestled inside; at least that's what he assumed they were.  It was hard to tell WHAT was under all that brown, grease-soaked coating.

 

 

"You don't know what you're missing," Emmett sing-songed as Vic grinned at him from the other side.  "These are a southern delicacy - I call it Hillbilly caviar," he told Brian as he picked one up and promptly dunked into something that looked suspiciously like ranch dressing as he held it out toward him, deriving way too much glee out of it, too, in Brian's estimation.  To Brian, it could have been a chocolate-covered cicada; that might have been tastier, in fact.

 

Brian thought he would gag.  "I'll take your word for it, Honeycutt," he told him as he shuddered.  He saw Emmett shrug just before the other boy bit into the crunchy spear and licked his lips as Brian tried to concentrate on Justin's actions down on the track.  He watched intently as Justin finished up his inspection and reached to pull his helmet and goggles on, now completely protected from head to foot.  He frowned in concern, however, as he noticed Justin reaching to grip the edge of the seat as if he were steadying himself.  "Did you see that?" he asked Vic.

 

"What?" he asked as he snagged one of his nephew's spears and dipped it into the sauce.

 

"Justin looked like he was dizzy for a minute or something.  It looked like he was swaying a little."

 

Vic turned to gaze down at his young friend, noticing Justin swinging himself up into the seat.  "He was?"

 

Brian nodded.

 

"He looks okay now. Are you sure?"

 

"Yeah, it sure looked that way," he maintained, but he noticed that Justin appeared to be okay now.  He watched as his lover turned just then to look up into the grandstands, right in the middle section where the three of them were sitting.  He could see his head slightly turning from side to side as he looked around until a wide smile broke out on his face and he raised his hand to wave at them.

 

Brian couldn't help smiling back as he gave him a 'thumbs up' sign of encouragement.  Justin nodded as he turned to give the reins a slight tug and Headstrong and the sulky began moving toward the starting gate that was anchored to the rear of a white pickup truck located at the beginning of the starting line.

 

His heart racing in anticipation, Brian raptly watched as they trotted over to the middle of the starting gate to line up with the other horses; a number '6' was attached to Justin's right shoulder to identify his place at the gate as he trotted up to the next-to-last position and came to a stop.  The horses all shifted impatiently in their places at the countdown to start the race began on the scoreboard.

 

The loudspeaker began to crackle as it came to life, and a sense of excitement permeated the crowd as they began to speak in an almost hushed tone of voice, almost as if they were holding their collective breaths.  "All drivers to the starting gate," the male voice instructed as the crowd noise slowly increased in anticipation.  "Thirty seconds."

 

Brian found that he, too, was holding his breath; he watched as the remaining horses trotted up to the gate. They all stood side by side together before a horn sounded and the truck slowly began to creep forward, the horses trotting at the same pace behind it for several yards until the wings of the starting gate folded up and the truck separated from them to veer away into the grassy median.  He watched as the horses began to pick up speed, the drivers flicking their whips, not against the horse but against the metal of the sulky, apparently in a signal for the horse to speed up.

 

 

"And they're off!" the speaker roared to life as the crowd began to cheer and their voices began to lift in excitement.  Brian's heart began to pound as his eyes never wavered from the lithe, green-and-yellow uniformed driver speeding gracefully down the track, just ahead of the other drivers.  Headstrong's mane flew in the wind as his strong legs began to pick up speed.  Brian marveled at how Justin could be practically lying down in the seat as he sped around the track, but he knew it was normal posture and he appeared to be in full control of his movements.

 

 

His throat was dry as he watched with unwavering attention while Justin and another driver a short distance away turned the first curve of the track, practically side by side.  He frowned; they looked way too close to him.  "Do they always race so close?" he called over to Vic without taking his eyes off his lover.

 

Vic nodded.  "Yeah, that's normal," he reassured him.  "Once they get around the next turn, the field will spread out when the slower horses fall back."

 

Brian nodded, feeling a little better.

 

"Come on, Baby!" Emmett shouted as Justin began to pull ahead slightly just then.  "That's it!"

 

Brian licked his lips nervously, almost feeling like HE was racing at the moment.  "Come on, Justin," he whispered with bated breath.  "You can do it, Farm Boy..." He had to admit - Justin was amazing out there.  Despite his slighter build, his command of the situation was formidable.  No one seemed to control the horse the way that he could; Headstrong seemed to know instinctively what he wanted before it needed to be done.  He let out a sigh of relief as the other sulky driver that had been perilously close to Justin fell back ever so slightly as they rounded the next curve, just as Vic had predicted.

 

---

 

From their place in the opposite grandstand, Doug Kesterson watched the race with disgust.  "Shit!" he muttered in dismay, wondering how this could be.  "Your brother's ahead!" he growled to Jared, who was sitting next to him.

 

Jared shook his head in aggravation.  "I fucking told you, you asshole!"  An older couple near them glared over at him due to his language, but he just ignored them.  "I told you that Justin would win, didn't I?  Why did I let you talk me into betting against him?" He sighed heavily.  "Shit, man!  That was my last freaking $20, and now it's gone!"

 

"Chill!  There's still a chance," Doug told him as he watched the drama down below unfold with ever-increasing doubt and disbelief.  He didn't understand.  This was not supposed to happen this way.  Damn it, Andrews; get your ass in gear! he silently berated the other driver who was a couple of lengths behind Justin.  What the fuck?  This wasn't right.  "Nooooo," he whispered, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

 

Jared watched in exasperation, his brother apparently heading for yet another win.  "Damn you, Doug!" he yelled at him amidst the noise surrounding them.  "I should have never listened to you!  Look what you've done!  Now I have nothing!"

 

"Just wait!" Doug insisted as, all of a sudden, he noticed Jared's brother seeming to hesitate and Headstrong appearing to slow down.  "Look!" he cried out as he pointed down at the track and grabbed his friend's arm for emphasis.

 

Jared watched, perplexed. Justin seemed like he was swaying in his seat almost, and Headstrong apparently was picking up on his indecision. The horse was slowing just a bit, just enough for Robbie Andrews and his horse to begin to catch up with them.  "What the hell?" he asked to no one in particular, finding that he wasn't nearly as jubilant as he should have been over the race tightening up. This wasn't like his brother to falter like this.  "What is going on down there?"

 

---

 

From down on the field, Justin felt his head begin to swim as Headstrong dutifully trotted rapidly down the track that he knew so well.  The crowd noise and the clip-clop of the sulky made the dizziness reappear, and he grabbed blindly onto the seat with his free hand to try and brace himself.  He didn't notice at first that he had relaxed his hold on the reins, normally a signal for Headstrong to begin slowing down.  When he saw Robbie Andrews coming up out of the corner of his eye, however, and the grandstand speaker announcing that they were now neck and neck coming down the stretch, he pressed his lips firmly together in resolve. He was NOT going to lose this race because of some weakness on his part!  Not for his family's sake - who were depending on him to win - and not with Brian watching him race for the first time.

 

Forcing himself to concentrate, despite the dizziness and sweat now trickling into his eyes underneath the racing goggles, he tugged on the reins.  "Come on, Headstrong!" he shouted as the horse took off faster, just as Justin had hoped. The horse almost jostled him so much at that point that he almost fell off; however, he managed to grab onto the sulky just in time to remain upright.  He turned his head to see Andrews just a few feet behind him, flashing him a smug sort of grin, and that merely increased his determination not to give the arrogant SOB the chance to triumph over him.  At least not today.  "Go, boy!" he shouted to Headstrong as the horse picked up his pace a bit more.

 

As they approached the home stretch, he noticed he and Andrews were now almost parallel to each other. The noise from the crowd, and the excitement present in the voice over the loudspeaker were deafening as they neared the finish line, as Justin's dizziness increased.  Just a little more... he pleaded as the two of them rapidly headed toward the end.

 

---

 

From their special box seats, Jennifer and Craig were standing on their feet, both of their faces creased with worry. They, too, realized that something was terribly wrong. It was obvious in Justin's position in the sulky seat and his hesitation before he pulled on the reins and shouted for Headstrong to move that there was a problem of some kind.

 

"What's going on?" Jennifer called over to Craig, who watched their son intently with ever-growing worry.  "I don't know," he told her tersely.  "But something's definitely wrong."  He watched as Justin and the other driver rumbled toward the finish line, the other boy close on his heels.  Unlike Justin's normal races, it was evident that this would be a sort of 'Hail Mary' finish; it was anyone's guess who was going to win this one.

 

"I'm going down there," Craig decided as he turned to start hurrying down the aisle situated next to them. Jennifer quickly followed, both of them watching the last few seconds of the race playing out before them and both holding their breaths as they hurried down the steps at the same time.

 

---

 

"You're going to be eating my dust, Taylor!" Robbie Andrews yelled over at Justin as their horses raced toward the finish line.

 

That only spurred Justin on more, though, as his lips pressed together and he gave Headstrong's reins one, last flick with his wrists.  That's it, he thought with pride as his horse found one, last ounce of strength to increase his lead ever so minutely, finally pulling ahead just as they came to the finish line.  It was only by the barest of margins as they crossed the mark, but it was enough to claim victory.

 

As the crowd erupted in excitement, Justin's felt his head swimming with disorientation and his eyes rolling back in his head as he promptly toppled from the sulky, directly down onto the hard, dirt surface of the track.

 

 

 

With everyone standing on their feet to observe the photo finish, a collective gasp rose from the crowd in the grandstand as Justin unceremoniously fell from the sulky.  It was through a combination of pure luck and skill on the part of the other drivers that he didn't get trampled by one of the other horses as the other competitors either came to an abrupt stop or rushed by him past the finish line.

 

Headstrong stood there, still attached to the sulky, as he paced restlessly on his feet, somehow sensing that something was horribly wrong with his owner now lying lifeless on the ground beside him.

 

"Give him some room!" Craig yelled to the others huddled around his son as he came rushing up to kneel down beside him. 

 

A crackle could be heard over the loudspeaker as the announcer urgently intoned, "Dr. Kesterson, Dr. Kesterson! Emergency medical situation on the track.  Dr. Kesterson, to the track immediately." 

 

Jennifer came rushing up to her husband's side and gasped at her son lying motionless by her feet.  "Oh, my God, Justin!" she cried out as she knelt down next to her husband, who was unsnapping their son's helmet from under his chin to gently pull it off his head; their son's tangle of sweaty, blond hair spilled out to cradle his head, but as Jennifer shook her son's shoulder there was no response.

 

"Justin...Honey...Wake up!  Please!" she implored as she looked over at her husband. Now that the race was over, everyone else crowded around the scene nearby to gawk, obliterating everyone's view, including Emmett, Vic, and Brian, who had witnessed the entire, horrible scene from their place in the grandstand.

 

As soon as Justin had fallen, however, Brian took off like a shot out of his seat, pushing his way past Emmett in seconds as he practically ran down the middle aisle, taking the steps two at a time as he reached ground level in record time.  Heading straight toward the track, he roughly shoved aside anyone who happened to be in the way.  Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Justin's side as he plowed through the crowd; nothing and no one. 

 

Craig looked up as a shadow loomed over him and Jennifer; he was not entirely surprised to see Brian standing there, but he WAS a little surprised to see the worry clearly etched all over his face.  He knew the boy had planned on attending the race with Vic and Em, and by now it was no secret that his son and this older boy were 'involved,' whether he approved of their relationship or not.  Still, he was not quite prepared for the anxious look on the other boy's face as he stood beside him.

 

Brian met his gaze unflinchingly for a couple of seconds before, as if a dam had broken, Brian knelt down on the other side of Justin's body as he looked in horror at the pale, sweaty face. "Justin..." he murmured in dismay.  He reached over to brush some damp hair away from Justin's face.  "Come on," he urged softly, deliberately tuning out everything else around them - the people, the sounds, the murmuring of others standing nearby.  Right then, it was just the two of them.  "Wake up, you drama princess," he scolded him gently.  Please wake up...

 

He began to lightly stroke Justin's cheek with his thumb.  "Has he moved at all yet?" he asked softly as he continued to keep his eyes locked on his lover.

 

"No," Jennifer shook her head as she told him sadly, her eyes moist with tears; they began to hear a beep-beep-beep sound nearby then, signaling that the ambulance on standby was backing up toward them, as Dr. Kesterson, the doctor on call during races, rushed up to them with his medical bag. 

 

"He has a pulse," Craig reported hopefully as the doctor opened up his bag and knelt down next to Brian, his fingers pressed down on his son's pulse point under his wrist.  "Come on, Son," he urged softly. 

 

Brian continued to stroke Justin's face as the doctor pulled out his stethoscope and, unzipping the front of Justin's racing uniform, placed the end against his chest.  The three others held their breath as the doctor listened intently for a few seconds before nodding.  "Heartbeat is strong," he reported as the others breathed a slight sigh of relief.  "But he's suffering from bradycardia.  His heart is beating more slowly than normal," he added in way of explanation as the others looked at him in confusion.  "What happened, exactly?  I was back in the stables treating one of the horses when I heard the loudspeaker."

 

"He fell off his horse just as soon as he reached the finish line," Craig reported. 

 

Brian reluctantly removed his hand from Justin's face as he clasped Justin's hand instead, taking some solace in the warmth he felt there, as the doctor inquired, "Any idea why?  Was he bumped or jostled in some way?"

 

Craig shook his head.  "No, nothing like that.  But he did seem to sway in his seat on the home stretch, and I noticed him grabbing onto the seat as if he were trying to keep himself upright just before he fell." 

 

"He was sweating a lot before," Brian volunteered as he stared into Justin's face, beads of perspiration still present on his forehead.  Their time in the stable previously came filtering back to him.  "He seemed like he wasn't feeling well before the race, too."

 

Craig and Jennifer both frowned in confusion.  "How would you know that?" Craig pressed.

 

Brian pursed his lips together before he sighed.  He had to tell them, no matter what the circumstances might be.  "I saw him before the race - in the stables," he explained as he finally lifted his gaze to peer into Craig's face.  The man's jaw was set in a hard line.

 

"How did you get back there?" Justin's father asked.  "No one can get in that area without permission." 

 

Brian hated to rat out Vic, not sure how Craig would view that, but he felt he had no choice. He had lied enough in the past; he wasn't about to start down that path again now.  "Vic let me borrow his pass so I could talk to Justin before the race."  Just as he feared, he noticed Justin's father visibly tensing in response to his statement.

 

"He shouldn't have done that," Craig told him tersely.  "Justin needs to concentrate before a race - not be diverted by distractions."  Brian sighed heavily, knowing this wasn't the time to get into a battle of words with Justin's father, even though he bristled at being termed a 'distraction.' 

 

"Craig, please," Jennifer interrupted before Brian could respond, clearly irritated.  "We can talk about this later.  Justin's what's important right now." To his credit, Craig grudgingly nodded as she turned to Brian to ask, "What did you mean earlier, Brian?" 

 

Brian's hold on his lover's hand tightened imperceptibly as he explained, "I was talking to him in the stables and he seemed to get a little dizzy.  He was also sweating quite a bit, even though it wasn't really that hot in there.  He just told me he always got a little nervous before he races, so I really didn't think that much about it."  Now he wished he had; if it could have prevented this, he would have done anything.

 

"Doctor?" he pressed.  "What do you think is going on?"

 

Kesterson shook his head.  "Hard to say.  He needs to be examined at the hospital; I'm not equipped to do that thorough of an examination here."  The back doors to the ambulance opened as two paramedics walked over to the lingering crowd, wheeling a gurney between them.

 

Brian swallowed hard, realizing this was a very serious matter as the two other men knelt down next to the doctor, who began to provide them with his initial findings; he looked up as a worried-looking Vic and Emmett rushed up to them.

 

Emmett's eyes filled with tears as he clapped his hand over his mouth.  "Oh, Baby..." he murmured, a feeling of protectiveness overwhelming him as he looked at the ashen, still face of the younger boy. "What happened?" he asked Brian, who shook his head helplessly and shrugged.

 

"I can take Headstrong back to the stables," Vic volunteered as Jennifer nodded at him gratefully; she reached over to grab Craig's wrist then as he opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to give Vic a tongue lashing over allowing Brian to use his pass for the stables.  He glared over at her briefly, but fortunately held his tongue as she silently shook her head, deciding he would discuss it with Vic later.

 

 

---

 

The grandstands were a constant murmur of voices now as everyone stood there in shock, wondering exactly what had happened.  The race results flashed up on the screen just then, verifying that Justin had, indeed, won the run, followed by Robbie Andrews and then another, relatively unknown driver coming in a distant third. 

 

In the midst of the shock and confusion, Jared stood next to his friend, just as stunned as everyone else.  He had just watched his brother falter in the backstretch of the race, moments before he reached the finish line and promptly tumbled off the sulky and onto the track in a motionless heap, just barely avoiding being trampled upon by a couple of horses directly behind him.  "What the fuck..." he murmured in confusion, his brows narrowed in disbelief as he watched his parents rush to his side.  He pursed his lips tightly together in irritation as well as a twinge of jealousy as he recognized the Kinney boy hurrying over to kneel next to Justin as Doug's father, the doctor, was summoned to the track.

 

"Yeah," Doug Kesterson muttered beside him.  "The little shit won anyway," he grumbled as Jared turned to look at him in astonishment. While he was still quite angry and resentful with his father and Justin over what he perceived as an injustice toward him - this was still his little brother.

 

"What the fuck, man?  This is my BROTHER, you asshole!  He just fell off a fucking horse, and you're worried about your twenty bucks?  Just what is WITH you?" 

 

Doug bristled.  "Don't go getting all high and mighty with me, Jared!  You're the one who moved out over what happened, remember?   Andrews was supposed to win, not him.  Damn, stubborn kid...I knew I should have..."

 

His voice trailed off as Jared frowned at him, a terrible suspicion beginning to form in his mind.  No, he couldn't have.  He wouldn't have...would he? 

 

"What do you mean, Andrews was supposed to win?" he asked, his voice hard as he stared over at his friend, everyone else standing nearby fading into the background. 

 

He noticed Doug's face flush before he stammered, "I...I just meant it was his time to be knocked down a peg, that's all.  It was time for him to lose for a change." 

 

Jared slowly shook his head.  "No...No, I don't think that's what you meant at all.  I heard you before; you said 'the little shit won anyway.  Just what did you mean by that?"  He thought back about discovering his friend earlier out in the stables, close to where Justin was keeping Headstrong before the race, and how uncomfortable Doug had seemed at being found - and how bitter he had acted toward Dale, too.  Had he somehow done too convincing a job of winning Doug over to his side with his previous lying at the cost of his brother being hurt?  Was he that loyal to him and vindictive toward Justin?  What had he done?

 

"Doug, what did you do to him?" he demanded urgently as he stared down at his lifeless brother surrounded by his parents, Kinney, Doug's own father, and other bystanders and track personnel.  He watched as an ambulance began to back up toward the group, recognizing Vic and his over-the-top nephew, Emmett, rushing up as they knelt down next to him.  He turned to stare at his friend, noticing a distinctive air of both defensiveness and guilt, perhaps, etched on his face.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Doug retorted as if he were insulted.  "How could I have had something to do with that?  I'm up here - he's down there!"

 

"Don't be so dense with me, Doug; you know what I'm talking about!" The more he spoke, the more convinced he was that his friend had, indeed, done something earlier.  "When I found you before, you were in the same stable where Headstrong was; I know which stable Justin keeps him in during the races.  You did something to cause this, didn't you?" 

 

"You're fucking delusional."  Doug averted his gaze, however, the heat of guilt blooming on his face as he stared down at the scene below them, seething inside that his plan did not go as he had hoped.

 

"No, I'm not," Jared insisted as he watched Doug's father examining Justin.  Suddenly an insidious, horrible thought seeped into his mind. He had grown up around horses, and through Dale and Justin's involvement with horseracing he was all too familiar with the seamier side of the sport, especially when high-stakes betting was involved.  Normally when something happened, however, the malevolence was directed at the horses, not the drivers.   But Headstrong appeared to be fine; Justin was the one who seemed to have been affected.  "Tell me, damn it," he demanded firmly, everyone else too absorbed in what was occurring down on the track to pay them any mind.  "Tell me what the fuck you did, Kesterson, or so help me..."

 

"Not here," Doug finally hissed as he grabbed Jared's upper arm and began to pull him toward the aisle, receiving a few glares as he stepped on a couple of feet and bumped into some of the other patrons as they sidled past them. 

 

Jared shook his head in stunned disbelief as he followed his friend down the aisle to ground level, shadowing him as Kesterson led them over to a large, white, brick concession building.   Jared cast one last glance over at his brother before turning to follow Doug behind the building, predictably finding that they were alone.

 

"Okay, Doug, now out with it!" Jared demanded as he leaned up against the back wall of the building.  "What the fuck did you do to him?  Is he...?"

 

Doug bestowed a barely-concealed look of disdain upon him.  "No...Fuck, no!  He's not dead if that's what you're about to ask.  I'm not THAT stupid."

 

"That remains to be seen," Jared replied.  "I'm still waiting to hear what you did." 

 

Doug sighed.  "Duh.  My dad's a doctor, remember?  He has access to all sorts of medicine."

 

Jared's blood ran cold.  "What kind of medicine?"  His brother was severely allergic to all sorts of medications; he often reacted quite differently from others did that took the same drugs who never had any side effects from them.  His grandfather had been the same way; only it seemed to have skipped a generation and didn't reappear until Justin had been born.  "Doug, damn it, what medicine?" he repeated a little louder when his friend didn't appear forthcoming in answering.

 

Doug shrugged as if it were no big deal.  "I just slipped a little bit of tranquilizer into his water bottle, that's all. Don't get all uptight about it.  He'll sleep it off after several hours and be good as new."  He grimaced.  "I just wish the little fucker hadn't managed to finish the race, though. I should have put a little more in there, I guess," he added with a little laugh.  "The horses never seem to mind."

 

Jared looked at him in shock.  "Are you out of your fucking mind?  He's allergic to all kinds of medications, you idiot!"  Before Doug could move, Jared had him pinned up against the wall; he grunted as his head hit the hard, painted surface. "Which one was it, Doug? Which one did you give him?" 

 

"Hey, I did it for you!" Doug huffed out in resentment.  "What do YOU care?"

 

"He's my brother, damn it!" Jared growled.  "Now either tell me what you gave him, or I'll march your ass right over to your dad and tell HIM what you did!" 

 

Doug held up his hands.  "All right, all right!  I just slipped him a little Special K, that's all, okay?  How was I supposed to know he'd react like the living dead?" 

 

"You gave him ketamine?"  He shoved the other boy so hard his body slammed back against the wall.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I gave him just a little in his water, just enough to make him disoriented!  I did it for YOU! I did it to even out the playing field a little!" Doug maintained as he scrambled frantically for an explanation.  "You're the one who told me how they mistreated you and kicked you out!  What Kinney did to you and how your father took your brother's side! Why is your nose so out of joint, then?  You should be grateful to me!"

 

Jared stared daggers at him for several seconds before he finally let him go.  "You asshole."  His jaw twitching in anger, he turned to leave, needing to get back to his brother to let someone know what was going on and what he had been given.

 

"What's wrong with you?  I did it for you, Jared!" Doug continued to spout as he called after him.  "We're in this together, don't you see that?  We're both exactly alike." 

 

Jared shook his head.  "No," he told him quietly as he turned around to stare at him.  "We are not alike. You'd better pray that my brother is okay, or..."  He left the threat unsaid as he turned and hurried away.

 

---

 

"Okay, on three," one of the paramedics instructed as the two men prepared to carefully lift Justin up onto the gurney. A stabilizing board had been placed beneath him and his head held immobile by a brace as a precautionary measure as they transferred him to the gurney and prepared to wheel him away.

 

Brian reluctantly let go of Justin's hand so the men could do their job as he began to follow them toward the ambulance.

 

"Brian..."

 

He turned to Vic, who was standing there holding Headstrong's reins, and spoke up as if it were already decided. "I'm going to the hospital," he explained, his eyes filled with worry.  "I need to make sure he's going to be okay."

 

"That won't be necessary," Craig spoke up beside her.  "His mother and I will be there with him. We'll call Vic and tell him when we find out more about his condition."

 

But Brian wouldn't be deterred; he couldn't be with Justin, see Justin so full of life and so vibrant with him back in the stables, and see him now like he was, lifeless and still, not without making sure he would be okay.  He wasn't about to leave him now.  "No," he told him, swallowing his pride and his dislike of this man as he added, "Please.  Let me come with you."  He turned to Justin's mother to try and reason with her, knowing that she, at least, would be more sympathetic.  "Mrs. Taylor, I have to be there." 

 

Jennifer eyed him intently.  She was all too well aware of this boy's budding relationship with her son, and while she still wasn't quite sure how lasting it would be, Brian did seem deeply smitten with Justin.  She only hoped that it was genuine emotion at play here, and not just some temporary infatuation.  There was something in Brian's face that told her it might just be the real deal.  Not bothering to confer with her husband, she nodded.  "You can ride with us to the hospital."

 

"Jen, you have got to be kidding!" Craig growled.  "Will and Sarah will be looking for him to come back right after the race!  We can't just take him with us!  He's not our responsibility!"

 

"I'm sure Vic can explain to them what's going on, and they'll understand.  After all, they've been through the same thing, remember?  They of ALL people should understand." 

 

Craig sighed; he had to grudgingly admit his wife had a point.  He could recall all too well what had happened after Dale had been injured and how much Sarah and Will had seemed to appreciate all the emotional support they had received at the hospital. This, however, was different.  Back then there wasn't some teenage boy trailing after their son.  "I'm not sure..."

 

"I'll be glad to fill them in, Craig," Vic told his boss.  "And I'll keep an eye on things back home. Emmett can help me."  Emmett nodded, thoroughly besotted with Brian's need to be with Justin. 

 

Craig shook his head in resignation, knowing time was critical for his son and that he was fighting a losing battle.  "Okay, okay," he grumbled finally.  "Let's get going," he instructed the paramedics as the two of them began to wheel Justin toward the back of the ambulance.  Brian looked over at Jennifer, who nodded with a slight smile as the two of them followed closely behind.

 

"I hope this isn't a big mistake," Craig told his friend softly as he turned to go, fishing in his pocket for the keys to the truck.

 

"He really cares about him," Vic assured him.  "He needs to be there, and something tells me Justin needs him there, too.  You're doing the right thing."

 

Craig let out a deep breath and nodded.  "I hope you're right about that; we'll keep in touch," he told him quietly as he hurried to catch up with Brian and Jennifer.

 

Vic placed a hand on Emmett's shoulder.  "What a mess.  I hope that boy's going to be okay."

 

"What do you think happened to him, Uncle Vic?" Emmett asked, his face full of concern for his friend as Justin was slid into the back of the ambulance.

 

"Well, I don't know for sure," Vic told him as they watched one of the paramedics hop into the back with Justin and close the doors.  A few seconds later, the whine of the emergency siren filled the air as the ambulance began to head off the track and toward the front gate.  "But I have a feeling this was no accident." 

 

---

 

Jared threaded his way back toward the crowd; even with what had just transpired, there were more races to be run and more money to be won or lost, so no one appeared in any hurry to leave.  It took him several minutes to make his way back to the front of the building and over to the track, just in time to hear the ambulance siren start up and see the vehicle pulling away with his brother apparently inside.  "Damn it," he growled as he stood there in indecision, rubbing his hand through his hair restlessly.  No doubt his parents had already left, too; he noticed they were no longer out on the track where he had seen them earlier.  In fact, the drivers for the next race were already leading their horses and sulkies out toward the starting gate.  "Everything's back to normal," he muttered.  But he knew that was far from the truth.  Now, the question was - just what would he do with 'the truth?' 

 

---

 

Thirty Minutes Later

 

"Hey, Vic," Billy Renfro greeted the older man as he opened up the wooden gate to Headstrong's stall and stepped inside to look around.  Having been Sheriff of Woodford County for almost twenty years now, the 50ish, slim, salt-and-peppered haired man had seen his share in the past of shady goings-on here at the track, but whenever he got a call to come here it always sent a chill down his spine.  Yes, there had been plenty of 'accidents' along the way - some of which were just that, accidents - but there had also been a fair amount of mishaps that had wound up being much more nefarious in nature.  After learning that the person involved today was the young man he had grown to admire the past couple of years for his talent on the track, however, his suspicious radar was on high alert. 

 

Vic smiled as he walked over to shake Renfro's hand.  "Hi, Billy," he replied.  "I figured you would be the one to come out here today."  He and Billy had known each other for several years now; you didn't live in Woodford County and work in law enforcement without getting to know a lot of the seasoned, veteran drivers fairly well. They came in handy whenever a little digging was in order to find out the truth about a possible crime that had been committed here at the track, and throughout the years, Billy had found Vic to be extremely reliable as well as truthful. 

 

"How's your protégé doing?" he asked as he continued to look around the stall for anything that might seem remiss.

 

"Not sure yet," was the terse reply. "Doc Kesterson tended to him right after the injury, and the ambulance took him on up to Lexington General.  His parents are there with him now. They said they would call me with an update, but so far I haven't heard anything."

 

Renfro nodded.  "Did you see what happened out there on the track?"

 

Vic nodded.  "Yeah.  My nephew, Emmett, and I - along with another friend of Justin's - were all watching the race from up in the grandstand when it happened.  He seemed to sway a little in the seat and then he toppled right out of the sulky, just as soon as he crossed the finish line.  We all went rushing over to him to check on him...and found him unconscious."

 

Renfro hurriedly jotted down some notes the old-fashioned way, into a small, spiral-bound notebook, before he looked back at Vic.  "Your nephew and this friend - where are they?  I'll need their statements as well." 

 

 

"Well, Emmett should be back shortly; he offered to bring the horse trailer and the truck over to the back of the stables so I could load Headstrong.  I told Justin's parents that I'd take care of Headstrong while they're gone. And Brian - that's Justin's other friend - he went to the hospital with them."

 

Renfro nodded.  "Okay, I'll wait around until your nephew gets back to get his statement, and then drive onto the hospital to talk to this friend of Justin's and his parents.  Anything else you can think of? Anything that appeared out of place, suspicious?  He didn't get bumped or anything like that on the track to make him lose his balance?"

 

Vic shook his head; he knew exactly where the sheriff was going with that statement.  Thank God he hadn't seen anything like what had happened with Dale.  It still didn't make it any easier to deal with, though.  He swallowed hard at the image of Justin lying there immobile that was still engrained into his mind.  "No, I didn't see anything like that.  There was one thing, though..."

 

The sheriff's eyebrows lifted in curiosity.  "Yeah?"

 

"Brian, his friend, came to see him back here in the stall before he went out to race," Vic explained.  "And he told us that Justin seemed a little disoriented then; all sweaty and a little dizzy.  Justin attributed it to just pre-race nerves. But now, I'm not so sure." 

 

Renfro nodded.  "I'd better head over to the hospital, then, to speak with this other boy.  You said your nephew would be back soon?"  Vic nodded back at him as Renfro eyed the room before his gaze settled back onto the horse.  "Headstrong seem to be okay?" he asked as his eyes examined him for any signs of discomfort.

 

Vic nodded.  "Yeah, he appears fine. Although I think he knows something has happened. He's a little restless right now.  You may think I'm crazy, but I think horses have a sixth sense about these types of things, and I think somehow he knows that something's wrong with Justin.  The two of them share a very close bond." 

 

"Well, I'll have to take your word for that," Renfro replied.  "I know they've won a hell of a lot of races - and that always tends to cause a lot of resentment among other people."

 

"I hope you're wrong about that," Vic told him quietly.  "Either way, it's a serious situation.  But if I had to choose how it happened, I would much prefer to find out it was just an unfortunate accident."

 

"Yeah," Renfro told him grimly.  "Me, too. But I have to check out all the possibilities."  I'm going to take a look around the stables; if I don't see your nephew before I head over to the hospital, I'll come out to the farm later and get his statement, okay?" 

 

Vic nodded.  "Sure thing, Billy."  He turned to stroke Headstrong's neck reassuringly as the sheriff swung the stall door open and stepped out into the main walkway.

 

Renfro stood there, his beady, dark-brown eyes studying every stall, every wood beam, every bench; before his eyes fell upon the worn, weathered wooden bench sitting a few feet away, two water bottles - one nearly empty and one apparently unopened - sitting on the end.  Reaching inside his pocket to pull out a pair of disposable, latex gloves and a large Ziploc bag, he walked over and picked up both bottles one at a time and slid them inside the bag before sealing it up. 

 

---

 

"Emmett!"

 

Emmett turned just as he was about to slide into the driver's seat of his uncle's truck, noticing with surprise that Jared was rushing over to him.  He pressed his lips tightly together in irritation, still perturbed over the other boy's duplicity and treatment of his younger brother, and how he had used him to torment him.

 

"This is a surprise," he told him curtly as Jared ran up to him.  "What do you want, Jared?  Want to gloat because your brother got hurt?  I assume you know about it."

 

"Are Mom and Dad at the hospital?" he asked breathlessly, not even bothering to reply to Emmett's question.

 

"If you must know, yes; where else would they be? Do you know your brother was unconscious?  Of course, being thrown off a sulky would probably do that to a person.  Or do you even care?"

 

Jared's eyes flashed; he supposed he deserved that, though.  "Will you listen to me?  We don't have time for this, Emmett!  I know what happened to my brother!  He was drugged.  I have to tell them what happened and what was used!" 

 

Emmett's mouth hung open in shock.  "What are you talking about?"

 

Jared huffed in disbelief.  "Did you hear me?  I need to get in touch with my parents right away!"

 

"They're at the hospital," Emmett verified.  "But Uncle Vic's inside the stable with Headstrong.  He could maybe get in touch..."  He didn't have a chance to finish his statement before Jared whirled around and ran furiously toward the stable where Headstrong was being held.

 

---

 

"I know, boy," Vic murmured as he stroked Headstrong's neck. The horse somehow knew that something was amiss; whether it was his appearance at his side after the race - or whether he somehow sensed the drama that had occurred after Justin fell - the horse was pawing restlessly in the stall as if he knew something dreadful had happened.  "It's going to be okay," he soothed him as he patted him on his flank.  At least I hope so...

 

"Vic!"

 

He turned to observe Jared rushing up to him, out of breath.  "Jared," he responded curtly.  "What do you want?  I'm busy here."    

 

"Emmett told me I could find you in here. I need to talk to you...And the sheriff." 

 

---

 

Thirty minutes later - Lexington General Hospital

 

Justin's parents, along with Brian, sat impatiently in a trio of padded, vinyl-and-wooden chairs in the ER waiting room. They had been told to remain there until Justin could be examined after answering several preliminary questions.  Thankfully, Dr. Kesterson had accompanied the ambulance and was inside with him; that provided a little reassurance to them.  But only incrementally. Each of them was greatly concerned over the young man currently lying in the hospital bed just beyond the set of swinging, double doors. 

 

"What is taking so long?" Jennifer finally murmured, unable to stand it.  "We should have known something by now."

 

Craig reached over to squeeze her shoulder.  "I'm sure Doc Kesterson will be out as soon as they know something." 

 

She sighed as she glanced over at Brian; he was sitting hunched over in his chair, his palms on his knees with his head hanging down.  He looked totally whipped; pretty much like she felt at the moment. She hated this helpless feeling, and she suspected he wasn't accustomed to feeling that way too often.  "Brian?" she called over to him softly.

 

He lifted his head to peer over at her, his eyes haunted and his face drawn.  "Do you need me to get you something?" he asked.

 

She shook her head with a smile.  "No," she told him.  "I was just wondering how you're holding up." 

 

He sighed.  "I'm okay," he told her.  "I...I just wish they would tell us something, too." 

 

She nodded, just as the front entrance doors swished open and Sheriff Renfro came walking in. Her heart began to beat quicker as he noticed her and made a beeline toward the three of them.  "Jen, Craig," he greeted them tersely with a small tip of his sheriff's hat as they stood up. 

 

"Sheriff," Craig responded as they shook hands and Jennifer nodded politely at him.  "I guess you heard what happened to our son."

 

The sheriff nodded as he looked curiously over at the boy sitting next to them.  "Yeah, that's why I'm here. I'm sorry to hear about Justin. Any word on how he's doing?"

 

They both shook their heads.  "Not yet," Craig told him.  "Have YOU found out anything?"

 

"Nothing concrete," he told them.  He held up the large-sized Ziploc bag containing the two water bottles.  "But I found these outside Headstrong's stall a little while ago. I'm going to have the hospital run some tests on them.  I've had them dusted for fingerprints, too; I'm going to run a search for a match back at the precinct when I get back." 

 

"Justin drank some water just before he raced," Brian disclosed as he stood up, his mind swirling with a horrible possibility.  "Do you think...do you think someone laced his water bottle with something?" 

 

"You Brian?" the sheriff asked pointedly as Brian nodded.  "You were with him at the stables just before he raced according to Vic, right?"

 

Brian nodded. 

 

"You didn't observe anything unusual then?  No one that seemed out of place or didn't seem to belong there?"

 

Brian shook his head, feeling the heat of Craig's stare on him.  He knew that man still didn't quite trust him.  "No.  But I'd never been to one of Justin's races or been in the stables before, so I'm probably not such a good judge of that."

 

The sheriff nodded.  "Well, I'll run a fingerprint analysis on the bottles just in case I can lift a good set from them."

 

"Sheriff..."

 

"Yes, Son?"

 

Brian glanced over at Justin's parents before he told the other man, "My fingerprints will be on one of them.  Justin asked me to hand him one of the bottles to drink just before he headed out to the track.  I...I have a record."  He shifted a little uncomfortably on his feet, feeling the man's scrutiny on him.  It used to be he wouldn't have cared what anyone thought about him having a record; he would have almost been proud of it, in fact, as a sort of rebellious badge of honor.  Now, however, he found that it made him feel awkward and almost like a pariah instead.  When had that changed?

 

The sheriff's eyes widened slightly in curiosity.  "What sort of record?"

 

Brian inhaled a breath and let it out.  "I was caught drag racing a stolen car a few months ago.  I was placed with my aunt and uncle on probation instead of going to jail.  Sarah and Will Walker."

 

"The Walkers are your kin?"

 

Brian nodded.  "Yeah.  Aunt Sarah is my mother's sister."

 

"You don't say," he murmured.  He had always had a bit of a crush on Sarah Walker; they had gone to school together.  "She makes a mean blueberry cobbler," he told him with a slight smile as Brian nodded; somehow not surprised that he knew that.

 

"I just thought you should know," Brian informed him.  "But I also want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt Justin.  I...I care about him."

 

Jennifer and Craig exchanged a look between them as Jennifer shook her head as if to tell her husband not to make a scene. 

 

Renfro nodded.  "Well, I'm obliged to you for letting me know.  I'm going to need a full report from all you folks about what you saw, both before and after the race."

 

"Of course," Craig told him as he peered over at Brian.  "We'll all give you whatever information you need.  But first we need to make sure our son is going to be okay." 

 

"I understand," the sheriff told him.  "I'm going to head down to the lab to have these checked out, then."  Nodding at the trio, he turned to walk toward the elevators that would transport him down to the basement. 

 

"Well, I think we've waited long enough," Craig decided as he turned to look at his wife.  "I'm going to go talk to someone to find out what's going on."  He turned to peer over at Brian in hesitation.

 

"What?" Brian couldn't help responding a little defensively.

 

"You didn't see anything else that happened before the race, Brian?" 

 

Brian eyed him unflinchingly.  "No.  If I did, don't you think I would have told the sheriff that?  I don't have anything to hide, Mr. Taylor.  I meant what I said before.  Do you think I would have admitted that I had a record if I was trying to hide something?"

 

"I don't know," Craig told him honestly as Jennifer grasped his arm in silent warning that he was quickly getting out of line again.  "You might if you were trying to deflect suspicion away from you.  I'm not sure what to make of you just yet.  I just hope my son's faith in you is justified, and you didn't have anything to do with what's wrong with him."

 

Jennifer looked at him aghast.  "Craig!  Are you crazy?  He wouldn't do that!  Apologize to him!" 

 

Brian's mouth hung open in disgust.  One step forward, two steps backward... He looked at the other man sadly.  "I don't expect an apology from you," he told him quietly.  "I don't expect anything from you.  And I don't care what you think.  Justin knows the truth; that's all that matters."

 

"Well, obviously something happened out there.  And I don't think it was just some sudden illness that occurred.  I think it's something a lot more sinister than that.  Apparently the sheriff does, too."  He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth restlessly.  "Despite what you might think, Brian, I love my son.  There's already been one serious incident that happened at that track; how do we know this wasn't a second attempt? I'm just trying to protect my son." 

 

"Well, at last we agree on something," Brian retorted as he shook his head, noticing Jennifer flashing him a sympathetic look.  He sighed.  "Look, this isn't getting either one of us anywhere, Mr. Taylor.  Can we table the mutual un-admiration society until we find out how Justin is?" 

 

Just then he noticed the sheriff disconnecting from a cellphone call as he turned back around and walked back over to them.  "Stay right there," Renfro told them tersely as he walked over to the registration desk and spoke to a woman sitting there.  A few seconds later, the woman nodded as she got up from her chair and disappeared inside the ER examination area. 

 

"What the...?" Craig wondered as they stood there in confusion, wondering what was going on.  About a minute later, they watched as Doc Kesterson emerged from the emergency room doors and headed over to them with the sheriff.

 

"Any word on Justin?" Jennifer asked urgently to the doctor.

 

"Well, he's semi-conscious now, which is a good sign, and his condition is stable.  I was just coming out to tell you that. They still don't know what happened, though. They're waiting for some diagnostic tests to come back; that will hopefully shed some more light on what's going on." 

 

"That's why I summoned you," Renfro informed him. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he told him, "I have it on good word that someone slipped Ketamine into Justin's water before the race." 

 

Brian's eyes grew large; he knew exactly what that was - and what it could do.  "Someone gave him Special K?" 

 

The sheriff's right brow arched in curiosity.  Apparently this boy had either done a little experimenting himself at some point - or he had hung around with someone who did.  "Yeah, looks like it." 

 

"But how?  Why?" Craig asked him, shocked.  "Justin's allergic to all sorts of things! Any amount could have killed him!" 

 

"Maybe that's what they intended to do," Brian told him in disgust as he peered over at the sheriff.  "Who told you that?" he queried, not afraid to be direct.  Whoever it was, he decided he wouldn't be shy at all about throttling him with his bare hands - after he made sure that Justin was going to be okay.

 

Renfro turned to the doctor, his eyes soft with sympathy.  "Lyle..."  The two of them had both gone to school together and were friends from way back. 

 

"What's going on?  I'd like to know that answer myself.  Craig's right - with Justin's allergy history, any dose could have killed him." He had treated Justin since he was a baby; he was one of the most allergy-prone children he had ever treated, and he kept a virtual encyclopedia of information regarding which medications he couldn't tolerate. 

 

The sheriff took a deep breath.  "Lyle, I'm sorry to have to tell you this."  He straightened up his uniform cap before he told him, "Your son's been taken into custody on suspicion of assault - and theft." 

 

"What? What are you talking about?"

 

"He admitted to Justin's brother that he had put the ketamine in his drink - after apparently stealing a supply of it from your medical supplies at the track."

 

Jennifer gasped; she wasn't sure what was more surprising - the fact that someone had intentionally drugged her son; that it was the doctor's son who had done it, or her older son had acted honorably in revealing what had happened.  "Doug?  You're talking about Doug?"

 

Renfro nodded.  "Yes.  Jared told your caretaker, Vic, what Doug had told him and Vic located one of my deputies at the track.  After talking with your son, the deputy discovered Doug trying to leave the scene and brought him down to the station for questioning.  He hasn't been formally charged yet; but based on what Jared told my deputy - and pending the results of the fingerprint and pharmacology tests that will be run - he may be subject to charges at some point."

 

Craig and Jennifer both started over the mention of their other son's name.  "Jared?" Jennifer asked.  "Jared told your deputy about it?" 

 

"Yes," Renfro confirmed.  "Apparently they were both at the track together today."

 

"I...I don't believe this," Doc Kesterson murmured in shock as he shook his head.  "My son - he wouldn't do that.  He doesn't even know your son, does he?" he asked as he turned to look at Jennifer and Craig. "What reason would he have to do that?" 

 

They shook their heads mutely, unable to give him a good answer.  They didn't understand any of this.

 

"I just can't accept my son would do that," the doctor told Renfro.  "I don't understand." 

 

"I'm sorry about this, Lyle," Renfro told him regretfully.  "But until we can get to the bottom of it, we'll have to hold him in custody, at least until there's a bail bond hearing." 

 

Kesterson nodded in resignation.  "As soon as I make sure that Justin is going to be okay, I'll head over to see him.  I'll find out exactly what happened - and if he's responsible..."  He let his statement go unfinished; truthfully, he wasn't sure what he would do. He knew he would be profoundly disappointed no matter what.  But it wouldn't be the first time his son had been in trouble with the law, unfortunately; there had been previous incidents of vandalism and other minor crimes.  He just never expected he would do something so vile as this, however.

 

"Can we see him, Doc?" Craig asked him.  No matter what had happened regarding Kesterson's son and their son, they still trusted him implicitly. 

 

Brian peered at the doctor hopefully, wanting, no, needing desperately to see Justin, but knowing deep in his heart that he would be lucky to get that privilege, especially with his family there. 

 

Kesterson nodded.  "Yes, I think his condition has stabilized sufficiently to allow visitors. But only for short periods of time. And make sure he's not overexerted. He needs to rest and regain his strength."  He paused.  "If his condition IS due to...Ketamine poisoning...there's really nothing that can be done except monitor his condition at least overnight and make sure he's comfortable.  The effects should wear off within a day or two.  With his allergies, though, we'll need to keep him at least overnight for observation."

 

Justin's parents nodded as they prepared to follow the doctor back into the emergency room.  Brian's face fell, just before Jennifer stopped and turned to face him.  "I'll get you back there to see him somehow," she vowed to him as he nodded in gratitude. Craig peered over at him for a moment silently before he and Jennifer turned and followed the doctor back into the examination area.

 

"I'll need to get a complete statement from you, Son," the sheriff told Brian as he nodded.  Lightly grasping Brian's elbow, the man steered him over to a fairly deserted area of the waiting room. Flipping open his notebook, he began to take down Brian's statement, asking occasional questions as Brian began to explain what he knew, periodically stealing a glance toward the double doors and wondering how soon he could get in to see Justin.

 

---

 

"In here," Doc Kesterson advised Jennifer and Craig as he turned to head into a room off to the left; Justin's parents were extremely relieved - as well as somewhat surprised - to see Justin turn his head to look over at them as they entered his room, his upper body slightly elevated in the bed.

 

"Justin," Jennifer cried out softly as she rushed over and sat on the edge of her son's bed to reach for his hand and hold it.  "How are you feeling, Sweetheart?" 

 

Craig walked over to stand next to her.  "How are you, Son?" Craig asked softly, noting the still ashen look to his son's face.  "You gave us quite the scare."

 

Justin swallowed, trying to work some moistness into his dry throat.  "Still...a little dizzy," he managed to croak out. 

 

Jennifer turned to look at the doctor.  "Can he have some water?"  Doc Kesterson nodded.  "Not too much," he advised. 

 

She reached over to grab a plastic glass of water with a bendy straw in it.  Holding it under his lips, Justin took a small sip of it before laying his head back as if exhausted. 

 

"What...what happened?" he managed to ask.  Even in his still-disoriented state, he didn't miss the look that passed between his mother and father.  "Mom?" he asked as he looked at her.

 

"Honey...this can wait..."

 

Justin shook his head.  "No, Mom.  T...Tell me." 

 

Jennifer bit her lip anxiously as she looked over at the doctor, torn as to what to do.  Not only was she hesitant about upsetting her son, but the father of her son's apparent antagonist was there in the room, making it doubly awkward. 

 

Dr. Kesterson sighed as he walked over to Justin's bed, effectively relieving Jennifer of her dilemma.  "Justin, something was evidently slipped into your water to make you disoriented, confused, and dizzy.  That is why you felt that way; why you still feel that way. But it will pass in a day or two, just as soon as it's out of your system. You're going to be fine," he assured him. 

 

"My water?"  He asked with a frown.  How could that be?  Someone wanted to hurt him?

 

The doctor nodded regretfully, taking it quite personally.  How could he tell the boy he had treated since childhood that his own son wanted to do him harm?  And why would he want to do that anyway? Even HE didn't have the answer to that.  "Yes, Justin.  At least that's the story.  Sheriff Renfro collected a couple of water bottles outside Headstrong's stable, and is having some tests run to confirm it."

 

"What?" he whispered hoarsely as his mother let him take another sip of water.  "What was it?" 

 

Doc Kesterson paused.  "It was ketamine."

 

"Horse tranquilizer?" he asked as the doctor nodded.  His face clouded over in sorrow.  "Why? Who...Who would do that to me?" 

 

The doctor took a deep breath before responding, "Someone, who I think, was jealous of your talent. Someone with a jaded sense of loyalty perhaps."

 

"They know...who did it?" 

 

Craig cleared his throat.  "Justin, the doctor said you need to rest. This can wait.  You're safe now.  Just lie back and try to relax.  We'll be right here at the hospital if you need anything, but for now you need to regain your strength and let the drug pass through your system.  Right, Doc?" he asked the doctor pointedly as he looked across the bed at Kesterson, making it clear he did not feel now was a good time to tell his son the whole story, even if Jared had apparently done the 'noble' thing for a change. 

 

"He's right, Justin," the doctor agreed.  "I told them you needed your rest."

 

"But..."

 

"Justin, honey, please," Jennifer told her son.  "Just do as the doctor instructs.  There will be time to sort this all out later.  We're going to let you get some more rest now, but we'll be right outside in the waiting room, okay?" 

 

Justin sighed as he finally nodded.  Jennifer leaned over to give her son a kiss on the cheek as Craig squeezed his shoulder briefly in support. "Get some rest, Son. We're...glad you going to be okay."

 

Justin nodded as they turned to go.  Just before they could leave, however, he spoke up again before his condition pushed him back down into slumber. He still felt groggy and tired, but he had to know one last thing.  "Mom?" 

 

Jennifer turned to face her son.  "Yeah, Sweetheart?" 

 

"Brian..." he whispered.

 

Jennifer looked at Craig briefly before replying, "Yes, Justin? What about him?"

 

"He...He was at the race...To watch me.  Where...Where is he?  Back at...at the farm?" 

 

Jennifer had to smile slightly at that question.  "No," she told him.  "He's out in the waiting room. He came with us to find out how you were.  He's been really worried about you, too."

 

Justin's heart skipped a beat.  Brian was here, at the hospital!  "I...I want to see him," he told her firmly.

 

Craig sighed as his wife peered at her son sympathetically. She figured that would be the response, and she did promise Brian she would find a way to let him see Justin... "Honey, Brian's not going anywhere; you need to do as the doctor asked and get some rest first..."

 

Justin squirmed in the bed in agitation.  "No!" he said more loudly this time.  "No, I need to see him...please... "

 

"Justin, be reasonable," his father entreated, but Justin shook his head stubbornly.

 

"No...I won't rest until I get to talk to him..."

 

"Doc, maybe you can talk some sense into him..."

 

The doctor considered the pros and cons. It was obvious his patient wasn't going to do as they said until he could talk with this other boy; he could tell he was becoming agitated.  "Justin, it would be best if you would get some rest first."  Before Justin could open his mouth back up to protest, however, the doctor added, "But I have a feeling you won't do as I ask until you see him.  So I'll allow him to come back here - but just for a few minutes.  We'll be moving you up to a private room upstairs in a little while anyway, and then you can have visitors stay with you longer - as long as you don't overexert yourself.  Do we have a deal?" 

 

Justin readily accepted as he nodded back at him.  The doctor smiled before, taking Jennifer and Craig by the elbow, he led them out of the room and back into the hallway.

 

"Are you sure this is wise?" Craig asked the Doc and Jennifer as they stood just outside his door. 

 

"You think he would take no for an answer, Craig?" Jennifer asked him.  "You know how he is when he gets like this.  He won't rest at all until he sees Brian.  And I happen to think that Brian would be a calming influence on him right now."

 

"I'm not so sure about that," Craig countered.  He sighed.  "But yes, I know our son; and I know that he won't do as he's instructed until he gets his way with this.  We need to tell Brian, though, not to get him worked up about what happened.  That needs to be off-limits.  Besides, we don't know for sure if what we heard was correct or not."  He grimaced.  "Jared hasn't exactly been very trustworthy lately.  Who knows if he's telling the truth or not?" 

 

Doc Kesterson shuffled his feet awkwardly.  "Craig...Jennifer...I can't tell you how bad I feel about this.  If my son did have something to do with what happened..."

 

"We don't blame you, Doc," Jennifer assured him softly.  "Craig and I know only too well how your children can be a major disappointment at times."  Craig nodded at him in agreement as the doctor peered back at them gratefully.

 

"Thank you," he told them sincerely.  "I'm going to head over to the police station in a few minutes as soon as I hand over care to the ER doctor on duty.  I'll make sure he is fully informed about Justin's condition, however, and that all his known allergies are listed in his medical chart."

 

Jennifer and Craig nodded as they parted ways, the doctor heading over the ER station as they walked back toward the exit doors. 

 

As soon as they headed back outside into the waiting room, Brian jumped up from his chair, his face full of expectation mixed in with a little worry.  "How is he?" he asked urgently as he peered over at them as they walked over to him.

 

"He's fully conscious now," Jennifer told him as his eyes lit up with relief.  She smiled at him.  "And even though he's been told he needs to rest, he's refusing to do that...Until he sees you first."

 

Brian smiled.  "I can see him, then?" 

 

Craig sighed.  "Yes, but only for a few minutes.  He'll be moved to a regular room sometime soon, and he needs his rest."

 

Brian nodded, eager to go back to see him.  "What room is he in?" he asked urgently as he started to move away.

 

"Just a minute," Craig told him. Brian had to bite back a groan of annoyance as he turned to face him.  "He knows someone slipped the tranquilizer into his water, but nothing else; at least not about who might have done it.  I think it's best he not be told that yet. There's no need to get him worked up about what happened, and we don't even know if Jared's telling the truth yet or not.  For all we know, HE could have done it," he admitted sadly.  But it was the truth.  Jared has a great deal of hostility built up over his younger brother and this other boy.  As much as it pained him greatly to think about it, it was a possibility. 

 

Jennifer gasped.  "Craig, surely his own brother wouldn't..."

 

"I hope not," Craig hastened to tell her.  "I hope he's being up front about this whole affair. But until we know for sure what happened, there's no point whatsoever in speculating."  He peered over at Brian.  "I want your word, Kinney, that you won't discuss that with him.  Do we have an understanding?"

 

Brian huffed a little in irriration, but finally nodded.  At that moment, he would have pretty much promised this difficult man anything as long as it meant he could see Justin.  "Fine," he told him.

 

Craig nodded. "Very well, then. He's in Room 7."  Brian was moving toward the doors before Craig had even finished speaking.

 

"I hope we're doing the right thing," Craig murmured as he and Jennifer watched him disappear behind the double doors.  "I still don't really trust that boy around our son."

 

Jennifer placed her hand on Craig's shoulder.  "I don't know for sure, either," she admitted.  "But...I really think he does care about him, Craig.  Justin's almost a man now; he has to make his own decisions. We won't always be there to protect him from getting hurt." 

 

"I know," Craig conceded as he stood there, lost in thought.  He sighed.  "Let's go get some coffee.  I think it's going to be a long night."

 

---

 

Brian's pulse quickened as he neared Justin's room.  Pushing the partially ajar door open a little wider, his eyes immediately locked onto the slight figure lying partially upright in the bed, his eyes closed as he lay quietly on his back.  Walking into the room, his footsteps reverberated softly on the hard, tile floor as Justin's eyes fluttered open in reaction to the sound.

 

"Hey," he called over to him softly, unable to keep the soft smile of relief off his face. 

 

"Hey," Justin returned as Brian walked over and sat down in the chair just recently vacated by Justin's mother.  Scooting it closer to the bed, he peered into the still-too-pale face of his lover.  At least Justin was now awake and speaking, however; that was a vast improvement from before.  He reached out to clasp the hand that Justin extended toward him, savoring the touch of warmth that reassured him that he was, indeed, here, alive, and apparently going to be okay. 

 

He smiled tenderly at him, their hands intertwined together on the mattress between them.    "How you are feeling?"

 

"Like the room is spinning; it's not all bad, though; I can see a couple of you right now." 

 

Brian grinned.  "Well, I'm not sure you're up to handling that treat just yet."  His smile faded a little, however, as he admitted, "You scared the hell out of me when you fell off that sulky."  He swallowed. "I should have paid more attention when you mentioned you were dizzy before the race.  Maybe if I had gone after the doc when you had started feeling bad..."

 

"Brian...You...You couldn't have known...Not your fault," Justin croaked out as he reached for his half-full water cup.  Brian used his other hand to retrieve the cup from the portable tray and hold it under Justin's lips so he could take a couple of sips before placing it back down.  Justin odded at him gratefully.  "Brian?" 

 

"Yeah?" 

 

"Doc told me what happened."

 

Brian nodded.  "Yeah...I know."  His face darkened.  "I can't believe someone would do that."   He reached over to tenderly brush some hair back from Justin's eyes.  "The doctor mentioned how allergic you are to a lot of medicines.  If you had had a severe reaction to the tranquilizer..."  He shuddered, leaving the dreaded thought left unsaid.  It was too much to even comprehend.  He was just enormously relieved that Justin was apparently going to be okay.  His hand tightened slightly in Justin's grasp.  "I'm just glad that you're going to be all right," he told him softly with a slight smile.

 

Justin smiled back at him as he used his hand to pull Brian toward him with a surprising surge of strength.  Knowing instinctively what Justin wanted, Brian willingly pressed his lips against the other boy's, seeking reassurance in their kiss that Justin was, indeed, very much alive.  As they broke apart, he gazed into the now clear-blue eyes.  Licking his lips and feeling inexplicably nervous, he began, "Justin, I..." 

 

Justin's eyes widened slightly as he gazed at Brian's face and waited for him to continue.  What was he trying to say to him?  "Yes?" he prompted after a few seconds.

 

Brian wanted desperately to tell him how much he meant to him, how he had realized when Justin was hurt how deeply his feelings ran for him, but as Justin stared back at him with those amazing, blue eyes, he found his courage suddenly disappearing.  Taking a deep breath, he told him instead, "I should go so you can get some rest. The doctor said you would be moved to a regular room soon, and then you can have longer visitations.  Don't worry; I'm not leaving the hospital.  I'll be right outside."   

 

"No!" Justin pleaded.  "Stay...please..."

 

"Justin..." He sighed.  He never could say no to his boy.  "I promised your parents I wouldn't stay but a few minutes.  I'm lucky your father even let me back here," he reminded him.

 

Justin groaned in frustration, knowing that Brian was right on both counts.  "Just...Just a few more minutes?" he entreated.  "Please, Brian..."  His hold on Brian's hand tightened in a subtle move for him to stay. 

 

Brian quirked one side of his mouth up.  "You're a persuasive little fucker, you know that?" he chided him softly.  He brought their hands up to his mouth to kiss Justin's knuckles before placing them back down onto the bed between them.  "Okay," he agreed at last as Justin smiled sleepily at him.  "But just a few more minutes; or else your father no doubt will be in here pushing me out." 

 

He used his thumb to slowly stroke Justin's hand as he watched his lover struggle to stay awake.  "It's okay," he told Justin softly.  "Close your eyes, Farm Boy.  I'm not going anywhere."  The smooth, melodic tone of Brian's voice soothed Justin as he let his drowsiness overcome his desire to stay awake as his eyelids fluttered a couple of times before he finally closed them.  Several seconds later, his even breathing indicated he had fallen back asleep. 

 

Brian sat there for several more minutes, continuing to gaze into his face and feeling enormously relieved that he was going to be all right, until with extreme reluctance he removed his hand and quietly scooted back from his chair to rise to his feet.  Taking one, last look at Justin to make sure he was sleeping comfortably, he finally turned and exited the room, his thoughts already filled with the next time he could see him again.

 

 

One Hour Later - Walker Farm

 

Will scowled as he glanced over at the rooster wall clock above the sink, his cup of coffee long forgotten; it was clear by the way darkness was fast approaching that it was well past the time when the afternoon races at Red Mill would be over, but still no Brian.  "Where IS that boy?" he growled at Sarah, who was sitting on his right side.  "I knew it was a mistake to allow him to go."

 

"You think something's wrong?" Sarah fretted. She had peered out the front door over at the Taylor farm a few minutes ago, noticing there were no lights on or any obvious sign of activity. Normally by now, they would have returned home from the day's races.  And her calls to their landline phone went unanswered.

 

Will's jaw was set in a hard line as he muttered, "Well, I know one thing. Someone's going to have a lot of explaining to do when he gets home. And it'll be the LAST time I allow him to go to the races to be with the Taylor boy."  Both of them were well aware of the budding relationship between their nephew and the youngest Taylor son, and it was obvious that Brian hadn't expressed a desire to attend the races because he wanted to see the harness racing.  "There's always nothing but trouble down at the racetrack, Sarah," he told his wife, his lips pressed into a tight line as he recalled the last time they had been there. 

 

Sarah reached over to grab her husband's wrist.  "Will, please.  Don't jump to conclusions until we know what's going on." She sighed.  "It's days like these when I wish we had another way of contacting them."  Like the two of them, however, the Taylors had never really seen a need for a cellphone.  So for the time being, until they could find something out, they were left to wonder.  Although..."Will," Sarah asked softly, "you think we should call the sheriff's office and see if he knows anything?"

 

Will rolled his eyes in disdain.  "Now who's jumping to conclusions, missy?"

 

"Well, there has to be a reason why...."  She jumped as she heard a rapid series of knocks on the back door a few feet way.  "Lord have mercy!" she exclaimed as her heart began to pound in surprise.  She began to get up, only to have Will motion for her to remain seated. 

 

Scooting back from his chair, Will walked over to the backdoor and flipped on the outside light, pushing back the filmy, ruffled, ivory-colored curtain on the top part of the door to observe Vic Grassi standing there.  "It's okay," he informed his wife as she nodded.  "It's Vic." 

 

She sighed in relief.  "Good, then they must be back, then," she decided as Will opened the door to admit the other man.

 

"Vic," he greeted him politely as he walked in and nodded over at Sarah as she stood up.  Will looked outside the door for Brian, but found no one else there.  "We were beginning to wonder what was going on.  Where's our nephew?  Don't tell me he's still over at the Taylor farm; I told him to get back as soon as he could." 

 

Will and Sarah both noticed an odd expression flicker across Vic's face as he replied, "That's why I'm here.  No, he's not over at the farm," he told them.  He paused for a few seconds.  "Now before you go getting all worried," he hastily added, "Brian is fine. But he's at the hospital in Lexington with Justin."

 

"What?!" Sarah exclaimed in shock.  "Why? What happened?"

 

Vic let out a deep breath, knowing this wasn't going to be easy for them to hear.  "Let's sit down, shall we?" he suggested as the three of them walked over to the kitchen table a few feet away and took a seat. 

 

"Vic?" Will prodded impatiently as soon as they sat down.

 

Clasping his hands together tightly, Vic began to explain what had transpired at the track earlier, watching Sarah's face turn pale in horror and Will's eyes darken with steady fury.

 

---

 

"You're saying the Kesterson kid confessed to tampering with Justin's water bottle?  Tranquilizer?" Will could barely spit the words out.  "Deliberately?" 

 

Vic nodded.  "Yeah. That's at least the story Jared is claiming.  Being Doc's son, the boy would have certainly had access to the ketamine."

 

"Oh, dear God!" Sarah cried out, dabbing her eyes with the end of her half-apron.  "I...I can't believe this!  You think Justin is going to be okay? He's such a sweet boy.  Will, if anything happens to him, too..." Her unsaid words hung in the air; Will was silently thinking the same thing as he reached over to squeeze her hand.

 

"Now, don't go thinking the worst, Sarah," he told her quietly, a painful lump in his throat over the thought.  It was almost like going through the entire tragedy with Dale all over again.  He looked over at Vic.  "You did say Justin was unconscious but breathing okay when he was taken to the hospital?" he probed.  "That's all you know?" 

 

Vic nodded regretfully.  "Yeah, other than I know Brian was hitching a ride with Craig and Jennifer to the hospital.  He felt like he should be there.  He wanted to be there," he explained.  "And I told him I would come over and let you know what's going on.  I'm sure Craig and Jennifer will bring him back home, once they know that Justin's okay.  I...I hope that's all right with you.  There really wasn't time for him to think about it too long, since Craig and Jennifer wanted to get to the hospital right away."  Vic peered over at them to explain, "He cares a great deal about Justin, and I could tell he was really worried about him." 

 

"We're beginning to realize that," Sarah told him with a smile.  She glanced over at Will, who curtly nodded at her. Even though he didn't say a word, Sarah still knew what it meant.  "It's okay," she told Vic.   "He did the right thing.  I have a feeling they couldn't have stopped Brian from going even if they wanted to."  She sighed worriedly.  "I wish we knew how Justin was doing, though. I've met the Doc's son, Doug, before.  He always seemed like a wild sort of boy....But I would have never expected him to do something like this.  I just don't understand."

 

Vic shook his head.  "The Doc is such a well-respected man around here.  It defies belief.  But it goes to show, you can do your best to raise up your child the right way, but it doesn't mean they won't get into trouble if they fall in with the wrong crowd."

 

"You mean Jared," Will interjected sharply.  "That boy always has had a mean streak in him."  Although, he could recall that the older Taylor boy hadn't always been that way. Back when he was friends with their son, they would occasionally get into some rowdy fun - typical of being out in the country with limited resources in which to entertain oneself - but it seemed like once Dale died the oldest Taylor son had turned toward a more vindictive, rebellious crowd of boys.  And he had become particularly competitive with his younger brother, too, once Justin had gotten older. 

 

"Well, for once Jared did the right thing, though.  If he hadn't come and found me - and talked to the deputy about it- we might never have known what happened." 

 

"You don't think he had something to do with it himself? I've seen that Kesterson boy over at the Taylor farm a lot - at least until Jared was kicked out the other day." 

 

"I don't know," Vic told them honestly.  "He could be saying what he did just to deflect some of the blame from himself. I know he's been jealous of Justin's relationship with your nephew.  I'm still not convinced  he's totally blameless here." 

 

Sarah's eyes grew wide as Will nodded mutely, lost in thought.  "Surely you don't think he would hurt his own brother?"

 

"I don't know," Vic replied.  "I would like to think he wouldn't.  But I really don't know this time.  He was really upset when he was kicked out of the house after the town social."

 

Will took a deep breath.  "Vic..."

 

"Yeah?" 

 

Will held on tightly to his wife's hand for strength.  "Did...Was there anything that came up about a connection to what happened to Justin today...and what happened to our son a few years ago?"  He had to know, as painful as it was.

 

Sarah was horrified at the thought.  "Will, they said Dale's death was an accident..."

 

"That's what we were told," her husband told her curtly, his eyes narrowed.  "I don't believe it.  I didn't believe it then and I don't believe it now, especially after what's just happened.  It's too big a coincidence, and it happened on the same track.  I don't know this Kesterson boy very well, but I do know he's the same age that Dale would have been, so they had to know each other from school; it's too small for him not to.  What's to say he wasn't both jealous of Justin now and our son then?  Huh?  Is anyone checking that out? Because if they're not, I don't care WHAT they told us.  I'm going to insist that they do." 

 

"Will..."

 

"I mean it, Sarah!  I want justice for our son!  Until we get some answers, I'll never believe how someone as conscientious as our son could have been the victim of a careless accident."  He turned to their guest.  "Do you know whether they're going to ask this boy about our son's accident?"

 

Vic shook his head regretfully.  "No, Will, I'm sorry. That's about all I know.  I expect Craig or Jennifer will be calling the house any time, though, to give me an update.  If I hear anything else, I'll be sure to let you know right away."  He scooted back from the table.  "I'd better get going," he told them.  "Emmett's back at the house, and I need to make sure everything's locked up before it gets too dark." 

 

A sudden thought occurred to Sarah as she asked, "Headstrong?"  She knew Justin was by far more important, but she also knew how much the Taylors had come to depend upon not only their son, but also the horse to sustain their income.  "Did he get hurt, too?"

 

"He's fine," Vic assured her as Sarah nodded.  "Seems a little agitated; he's probably wondering where Justin is. But he's okay; I brought him home, and he's back in his stall."

 

"You're a good man, Vic," Sarah told him with a smile as the man blushed over the compliment.  "Thank you for coming over and telling us what's going on.  I'll be praying that Justin recovers quickly." 

 

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Vic told her with a smile as he turned to go.  "Will," he added in acknowledgment of the other man.  "I'll call you if I hear anything else."

 

"You do that, Vic," Sarah told him as the two rose to stand.  She walked over to the door to let Vic out before turning around and letting out a deep sigh.  "Poor Justin," she murmured.  "He doesn't deserve this.  He has to be all right." 

 

Will walked over and impetuously pulled her into his arms as he swept her up into a gentle embrace.  "I know, Missy," he told her softly as she sniffled against his plaid shirt.  "I know." 

 

---

 

Same Time - Fayette County Sheriff's Office

 

Billy Renfro glanced up from his seat behind his desk as Doc Kesterson knocked on the open doorframe.  "Lyle.  Come on in," he told him softly as the older man walked over and sat down across from him.

 

"How's my son?" he asked quietly as soon as he was seated.

 

"Not very talkative," Billy reported as he wiped his brow with an old-fashioned, white handkerchief. The old county courthouse - where the sheriff's quarters was located - was over a century old, and the air conditioning system was passable at best; at least on good days.  Today, however, the system that normally rattled like crazy whenever it was pumping out cold air was strangely smooth, meaning the compressor wasn't kicking in. As a result, only lukewarm air came out of the registers, making his small, nondescript office fairly stifling, even on this temperate day.  "He pretty much clammed up once he got here. Says he wants an attorney before he says anything, which is his right." 

 

The doctor shook his head sadly.  "Billy, you know my boy has been in trouble before, and is certainly no angel. But I just can't see him trying to hurt Justin like this.  It just doesn't make sense to me."

 

Renfro shrugged.  "I've been in this business long enough to know that even those we think we know well can do things we would never expect if they think they have the right motive.  He and that other Taylor boy are pretty close, aren't they?  Rumor has it that he's been staying with him at his apartment in town. That true?" 

 

The doctor nodded his head.  "Yeah...he's been there for a little while now.  Apparently Craig got tired of his boy's antics and told him to either grow up or get out, and he wasn't willing to take responsibility for his actions, so he left." 

 

Billy nodded.  "Yeah, that Jared is no angel, either."  He paused for a moment.  "I've asked for a rush on the fingerprint and chemical analysis of the water bottles we collected. So we should know fairly quickly whether or not your son's fingerprints are on the bottle if he left any, along with Jared's; since they've both been in minor skirmishes before, I wouldn't put it past them to have collaborated on this together." 

 

"What about the Walker's nephew?" the doctor inquired.  "He's been in trouble with the law, too.  He told you as much." 

 

Billy nodded.  "Yeah, I had him checked out.  What he told me is true; he's currently on probation for vehicle theft, and is in the temporary custody of the Walkers until at least the end of the summer.  The fact that he came clean about his record leads me to think he's on the up-and-up and not involved with what happened, though; that, and the way he's been so concerned about the younger Taylor boy.  He could be playing me," he admitted, knowing he probably shouldn't be telling the doctor all this about the case.  But this wasn't a big-city precinct; it was a small, hole-in-the-wall outfit where everyone knew everybody's else's business.  And this man had been his friend for a long time.  He wasn't about to mince words now.  "But I've been doing this long enough to be a good judge of character, and something tells me that Kinney didn't have anything to do with it."

 

"But my son did."

 

Billy nodded.  "Personally?  Yeah, I'm sorry, Lyle, but I do think he's involved somehow.  Maybe Jared, too.  I'm going to reserve judgment for now on that."

 

"Billy...God, you don't know how much it hurts me to have to ask this.  But...What about the Walker boy?  What if there's some connection between these two incidents?  It defies the odds as just a coincidence," he admitted.  He hated to think his son could be involved with both crimes, but what would be the odds of two sulky drivers being stricken at the same track?  He supposed it could happen, but he always did think something was remiss with Dale Walker's death, even if he DID sign off on the death certificate stating it was an accident.  They couldn't prove otherwise - the pharmacology results from the autopsy had come back clean - but what if his death was the result of some other method?  Or what if they simply hadn't run the right drug panel? They wouldn't have necessarily checked for ketamine; typically that wasn't done.  What if he had missed something, and his son WAS involved somehow?  He closed his eyes briefly in dismay; fearful that perhaps his worst nightmare might be coming true. But he had to know the truth; they ALL had to know the truth.

 

Billy hesitated for a moment.  "Well, I'd be lying if I didn't say I've been thinking about that a lot since Justin's accident earlier today," he finally admitted.  "Obviously you have, too. Are you saying you don't think it was an accident after all now?"

 

"I don't know!" Kesterson cried out in anguish.   "But...But if my son had anything at all to do with either one of these accidents, God help me, but I need to know.  We all need to know; especially the Walkers.  If my son had anything at all to do with their son's death...I don't think I will ever be able to look them in the eye again."

 

"Lyle, they admire and respect you. They would never accuse you of culpability in their son's death. We cannot control everything our children do - or what outside influences they are exposed to." 

 

Lyle rubbed his hand through his hair and sighed.  "But this is their child's death we're talking about!" he cried out before letting out a deep breath to try and relieve some of his tension.  "Can I see my son, Billy?  I promise you...If he had anything at all to do with either Justin's accident OR Dale's death, you won't need an attorney to get the story out of him."

 

"Lyle, you can see him - and I appreciate what you're trying to do.  But if he IS guilty of either crime, I would be remiss if I didn't advise you to wait until he has an attorney present for his own good." 

 

The doctor nodded sorrowfully as he stood up to shake the sheriff's hand.  "Thank you, Billy.  I see your point.  I'll keep that in mind."

 

The sheriff stood up from the other side of the desk.  "How is the Taylor boy, by the way?" he asked softly.

 

The doctor smiled.  "He's stable and has been moved to a private room.  He'll be held for overnight observation, but if he progresses as expected, he should be able to go home tomorrow.  The effects should wear off within a day or two." 

 

Billy nodded.  "That's good news," he told him as the Doc nodded back at him.  "Okay, I'll take you to see your son now." 

 

Walking over to his friend, he placed a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder, knowing that no one was going to be a winner this evening.

 

---

 

Lexington General Hospital - Next Morning

 

"Jen," Craig whispered to his wife as he sat down next to her in one of the patient visitor chairs in Justin's private room.  He gently nudged his wife's shoulder as she lifted her head sleepily at the sound of her husband's voice and smelled the aroma of the coffee held in front of her.  Nodding her thanks, she reached for the paper cup to take a sip, gazing over at her son lying in his hospital bed - and the young man whose head was currently resting on Justin's chest, their hands linked together on the mattress.

 

She smiled at the sight, noticing both boys were sleeping presently. Once their son had been moved here to his second-floor, private room, Brian had been practically glued to his side.  As she had figured, Brian had wound up being a calming influence on her son as she watched them murmuring together earlier; occasionally she would see a soft smile break out on one of their faces, and at one time Justin blushed over something Brian had said as he sat by his bedside. But the looks between the two of them left no mistake that both boys were glad to be in each other's company.

 

Craig, to his credit, had seemed to accept the fact that their son needed Brian there with him, and had taken a seat several feet away with her against the far wall to allow them some semblance of privacy.  He had even slipped out for a while earlier in search of a guest phone where he could call the Walkers to make sure they were aware of their nephew's whereabouts and to apprise them of Justin's condition. 

 

Justin finally had to be told to go to sleep after a couple hours of nonstop, quiet conversation between the two of them.  Now, he appeared to be resting quite comfortably, leading her to hope that he would, indeed, be allowed to go home sometime this morning. 

 

Craig sipped his coffee, the tiredness of the past several hours seeping through all to the way to his bones.  He heard Jennifer let out a slow breath, as he peered over at his son and the boy who continued to remain an enigma to him.  He still wasn't sure of Kinney's motives, but he had to give the boy credit.  He had stuck by Justin's side since the moment he had fallen off the sulky, and had been forthcoming in volunteering information about his prior troubles with the law.  Of course, that could have just been his way of saving his skin. But he had to weigh that against Jared's statement that Doug Kesterson had been the one to tamper with Justin's water.  Everything seemed to point toward the doctor's son as the culprit. And he couldn't deny that Justin was obviously enamored with this boy.  Good or bad, then, it seemed that Kinney was here to stay, at least for the short term.  What would happen later this summer, however, when Brian had to leave?  He hated to see his son's heart broken, and he suspected that is what would happen. 

 

"Penny for your thoughts," Jen whispered then as their eyes met.

 

He sighed.  "Where do I start?" he told her softly, careful not to disturb the two boys still sleeping several feet away.  He rubbed his face with his hand.  "I think at least we'll be able to take Justin home today."

 

Jennifer nodded.  "Thank God.  When he fell off that sulky..."

 

"I know," Craig replied.  "I was thinking the worst, especially when he didn't wake up."  He pursed his lips together thoughtfully.  "I'm sure he'll need to rest for a few days back home.  I guess we'll have to get Vic to exercise Headstrong for a while.  Not sure how we'll get everything else done around the farm, but we'll find a way."

 

Jennifer reached over to squeeze her husband's hand.  "At least Jared spoke up in support of his brother this time," she pointed out.

 

Craig nodded.  "Yeah.  I hope it was out of love for him, and not over fear that he would be implicated along with Doug, though."

 

"I'm sure it was," Jennifer told him with conviction.  "Despite everything's that happened, Craig, he still loves his little brother."

 

"Yeah, I guess," he conceded as he peered over at the two boys.  "I'm still not sure what to make of that boy, though," he told Jennifer as he continued to study Brian from across the room.  "But apparently we're stuck with him hanging around our son.  I'm afraid Justin's going to wind up being hurt, Jen."

 

"Maybe," she admitted as she peered over at the two boys whose hands were clasped together, even in sleep.  She smiled softly.  "But I think they both care a lot about each other.   Whatever happens at the end of the summer, all we can do is be there to support our son. He will have to make his own decisions.  He's not a little boy anymore." 

 

"No," Craig whispered, a lump in his throat.  "No, he's not." 

 

Their conversation just then was interrupted by the doctor on call walking into the room, a salt-and-pepper haired man by the name of Jonas Snyder.  Nodding at them politely, he approached his patient's bed, amused as well as touched by the open display of affection between the two boys.  Gently shaking Brian's shoulder, he waited for the dark-haired boy to sleepily lift his head and blink his eyes at him before he quietly spoke to his patient.  Brian reluctantly dropped his grip on Justin's hand to scoot back from the bed to give the doctor more room.

 

"Justin?" the doctor called out politely but authoritatively.  "Mr. Taylor?  I need to examine you."

 

Justin stirred in the bed and groaned slightly before his eyes fluttered open.  He appeared disoriented for a few seconds as if he didn't know where he was, before his eyes settled on Brian, who smiled back at him.  Their eyes locked on each other's as Justin recalled what had happened before he looked over at the doctor and nodded. 

 

"If you all will excuse us for a few minutes, I'd like to examine Justin privately," the doctor explained as Jen and Craig rose to their feet, taking a few seconds to stretch backward to try and remove some of the fatigue. 

 

Brian, too, rose from his seat, taking a moment to reach over and squeeze Justin's hand briefly.  "I'll be right back," he promised him as Justin nodded.

 

Shuffling out of the room, Brian stood a little awkwardly out in the hallway, leaning against the wall opposite Justin's parents.  Finally, after a few moments, he spoke up.  "Uh....I'm assuming my aunt and uncle know where I'm at." 

 

Craig nodded.  "Yes, I called them a little while ago and told them what happened.  I told them we would bring you back home as soon as possible."

 

"Thanks," Brian replied softly as Craig acknowledged his response with another terse nod. 

 

"It's we who should thank you, Brian," Jennifer told him with a smile. 

 

Brian frowned.  "Me?"

 

She nodded.  "Yes.  I think Justin's been able to rest more easily, knowing you were here with him."  She noticed the other boy actually blush in response as he nodded, their conversation interrupted as Dr. Snyder came walking back out of Justin's room. 

 

"How's he doing, Doctor?" Jennifer asked as he stopped in front of them. 

 

The doctor looked at his chart for a few more seconds before closing it.  He smiled.  "Everything's looking good.  Your son apparently had a restful night and is progressing as expected.  He can be discharged this morning, provided he go home and rest for a few days until he's feeling completely normal again.  He is not to do anything strenuous for the next 72 hours, though, and if he feels any sort of dizziness or nausea - or anything else out of the norm - you should contact us immediately.  But I think he will be just fine in a few days.  He should schedule a follow-up appointment in a couple of weeks with his family physician, however."  He swung his stethoscope over his neck before adding, "I'll have the discharge papers prepared."

 

"Thank you, Doctor," Jennifer murmured gratefully in relief as the doctor nodded.  She didn't point out to the doctor how ironic it was that he wanted Justin to be examined in a couple weeks by the father of the boy accused of causing his problems in the first place.  She didn't blame Doc Kesterson for what his son might have done, but she had to admit it was going to be pretty damn awkward just the same.  She wondered, too, what was going on at the sheriff's office, and what they had found out.

 

"Doctor?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Do you know anything about the toxicology report they were going to run on our son's water bottles from the stable?"

 

"Yes, they did come back from the lab," the doctor reported.  He hesitated.  "I'm not sure actually that I'm at liberty to disclose the results, since there is an ongoing police investigation involved..."

 

"Doctor, that is our son," Craig told him curtly.  "I think we have a right to know, police investigation or not."   

 

The doctor eyed him thoughtfully for a few moments, feeling the heat of everyone's stare on him, before he nodded.  "Very well," he told him.  "The lab did find traces of ketamine in the samples just as the police suspected." 

 

Brian's jaw twitched in anger as his fingers dug into the fleshy palm of his hands.   As he stood there, he realized  the only problem was, he didn't know whether to be angry at just Doug Kesterson, Jared, or both.  He still didn't trust Jared, and he wouldn't put it past the other Taylor brother to have had something to do with Justin's injuries, despite his attempt at playing hero.  He did know one thing, though; if he ever saw Doug Kesterson out on the street or anywhere near Justin, he would beat him to a fucking, bloody pulp, troubles with the law or not. 

 

Craig nodded tersely, his blood boiling over someone intentionally poisoning his youngest son.  "Thank you," he told him as the doctor nodded before turning to head back down the hallway.  "That boy is going to pay for what he did," he growled.  For once, Brian actually concurred with him as he nodded his head silently in agreement.

 

"Craig..." Jennifer grasped his arm.  "Not now; not here.  Let's concentrate for now on getting Justin home, okay?  I don't want him getting upset about what happened."

 

Craig let out a deep breath, trying to diffuse some of his anger.  "Okay," he finally agreed, his lips pursed tightly together.  "But if he IS guilty of hurting our son, that boy is going to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law; I don't care HOW much I might respect his father.  There is NO excuse for what he did."

 

Jennifer nodded.  "Come on," she urged him and Brian.  "Let's go tell Justin the good news about his discharge."  Impulsively, she reached over to grab Brian's arm as she tugged gently on him in a subtle invitation for him to lead.  He nodded at her as they all turned to head back into Justin's room.

 

---

 

Two Hours Later...

 

Sarah glanced up from her place on the back porch as she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, noticing Brian walking down the dirt road they shared with the Taylor farm next door.  "Will!  Brian's back!" she called out to her husband, who was out in the barn. 

 

Wiping his hands on his jeans, Will rose from the wooden stool he had been sitting on to walk outside, just in time to see his nephew trudging over from the adjoining property.  It was apparent from his drooped shoulders and the lines around his nephew's eyes that he was worn out. 

 

Sarah rushed off the porch and made a beeline straight toward her nephew.  "Brian!" she called out as she swept his taller frame against her smaller one and wrapped her arms around him comfortingly.  "We're glad that you're home."

 

She pulled back to look up into his eyes.  "You look exhausted," she commented as Will came walking up to them.  "How's Justin? Did he get to come back home?" 

 

Brian nodded as he rubbed his hand over his mouth tiredly.  "Yeah, he's up in his bedroom resting.  He wasn't too happy about that," he reported wryly, "but his mother and father insisted."  He looked over at Will, who nodded in greeting.  "Hi, Uncle Will.  I...I hope it was okay for me to stay at the hospital last night while Justin was being checked out." 

 

Will snorted.  "Would it have done any good to tell you no, Brian? You would have gone anyway; I know you. Stubborn as a mule."

 

Brian opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it.  He really wasn't in the mood to argue, and besides; his uncle had a point.  He would have gone regardless, just to make sure that Justin was okay.  He shrugged instead.  "I wanted to be sure he would be all right," he explained.

 

"Of course," Sarah cooed reassuringly as she flashed a warning look over at her husband.  "I'm so glad he's going to be okay," she told him as she released him from her embrace.  "I left some breakfast warming in the oven from this morning; come on and I'll fix you a plate.  You must be starving." 

 

"Thanks," Brian told her with an affectionate smile.  "But I'd like to go take a shower first and change."  He looked over at his uncle.  "...And I guess I have chores to do, too."

 

To his surprise, though, his uncle shook his head.  "Those can wait a while," he told him tersely.  "Best be doing what your aunt says first.  Head on in and freshen up.  You can work on chores this afternoon and get caught up."

 

Brian nodded as he turned and headed up the back porch steps and into the house, leaving Sarah and Will momentarily alone.

 

"I'm so thankful Justin is going to be okay," Sarah murmured as she briefly looked skyward in gratitude before her eyes fell onto her husband's enigmatic-looking face.  He was deep in thought, his brows furrowed and making the wrinkles on his sunbaked skin even more pronounced.  "Will?  What is it?" she asked in concern.

 

Will blinked as he settled his gaze on his wife.  "Just doing some thinking," he told her.

 

"About...?" 

 

Will sighed deeply, almost mournfully as he told her what he already suspected, "About our son.  And what really happened that day.  This is too big a coincidence. I'm going to call Sheriff Renfro and see what's going on."

 

"Will, we don't know if there's even..."

 

"I understand that, Sarah," he replied tersely before she could finish, his jaw set with determination.  "But we will. We will."  Before she could say anything else, he turned and headed into the house. 

 

---

 

 

One Hour Later...

 

Brian stole a glance over at his uncle in the barn as he sat on a bale of straw, wrench in hand while he attempted to coax some more life out of his uncle's antique tractor.  It had decided to die on his uncle earlier this morning, and he had grudgingly asked him if he could take a look at it and 'work his magic' on it, in his words.  He had to grin a little at that description; at least his uncle seemed to think he was good for something. He had to admit he had been surprised earlier when he hadn't complained about him missing his chores. But he was making up for lost time now, however, telling Brian that the south field needed tilling once he got the tractor started up again.

 

His uncle was currently sitting on the dirt floor in front of an overturned push mower a few feet away, using a long, metal file to try and scrape some dried grass clippings from the sides.  From all the banging and grunting he was doing, however, something told Brian he had more than cleaning the mower on his mind.  "Uncle Will?" he called out.

 

His uncle stopped his momentary activity to peer over at him.  "Yeah?" 

 

Brian took a deep breath.  "I...I couldn't help overhearing you earlier...on the phone."

 

"Is that right?  What did you hear, Brian?"

 

"It...It sounded like you were talking to the sheriff...about Dale."  He could see his uncle tensing up then, which told him he had hit the mark.  He was afraid for just a moment that his uncle would promptly clam up and refuse to say anything further, but to his surprise he didn't.

 

"Maybe I was," was the concession.  He had gone inside while Brian was upstairs to call Sheriff Renfro about his suspicions.  Apparently Brian had been able to overhear what had been said.

 

Brian nodded.  "You think there's a connection between what happened to Justin and my cousin, don't you?"

 

Will placed the file down onto the ground to face his nephew.  Before, he would have just brushed him off and not said anything. But what Sarah had said to him before about having to face what happened - plus what had transpired with Justin, along with his nephew's willingness to face up to his responsibilities - made him rethink that strategy.  He knew not talking about his son wouldn't bring him back - nor lessen the pain.  In fact, he was beginning to think it just made it worse.  "I don't know," he told him truthfully.  "But I think I owe it to my son to find out if there is."

 

Brian nodded.  "Did you talk to him about the toxicology results?  About what Dr. Snyder told us this morning?"

 

"Well, he wasn't going to openly discuss it, but when he found out I knew about it already, he figured there wasn't any point in denying it.  But he wouldn't tell me anything about what he had found out from Doc Kesterson's son.  Said it was confidential.  The only thing HE would say was that the Doc was there earlier and talked to his son, but nothing more than that."  His voice dripped with disdain as he scowled.  "I hate how the criminals always get preferential treatment instead of the victims."  His eyes widened a few seconds later as he realized what he had said.  "I...What I mean is..."

 

"It's okay," Brian interrupted him softly.  "I understand.  Besides, I wouldn't exactly say I got off scot free anyway." 

 

His uncle crooked one side of his mouth up slightly at that statement before his face turned serious again.  "I want the truth about what happened to my son, Brian.  For a long time, I thought if I ignored it, it would go away and that it didn't matter what happened.  Dale would still be dead." 

 

"But..."

 

Will held up his hand to stop Brian from speaking.  "...But I think this is too much of a coincidence; I want answers now.  I don't want anyone else to get hurt.  Justin could have been killed today - just like Dale was."  He took a deep breath and let it out.  "Too many of us have already been hurt."  He paused as he looked over at his nephew, so reminiscent in appearance of his own son.  "I want his case reopened and reexamined, and I won't rest until that's done.  I won't be silent any longer.  I owe that much to my son - and to the Taylor boy."

 

Brian nodded.  "Uh, Uncle...speaking of Justin..."

 

Will noticed his nephew seemed uncomfortable for a change.  "Yes?" 

 

"Justin can't do anything very strenuous for the next few days until he's feeling better. And with Jared no longer at the house, I...I thought they might need some extra help."

 

"Oh?" Will replied nonchalantly, knowing exactly what was coming. "Well, Emmett's a strapping boy, and his Uncle Vic is there, too.  I'm sure they'll manage."

 

"Well, Vic will have his hands full taking care of the horses, especially with having to exercise Headstrong and all, and Emmett's not very used to the routine over there.  I'm sure I can handle my chores here as well as some of theirs.  I'd like to help them out until Justin's fully recovered. It's the neighborly thing to do, isn't it?"

 

To his relief, Brian noticed his uncle cracking a smile, despite the serious subject matter they had just been discussing.  "What?" Brian asked a little defensively.  It sounded perfectly logical to him.

 

"Brian, if you want to go see how Justin is doing, you can do it as soon as you get my tractor started and the south field tilled.  He's not going anywhere, but the land won't till itself." 

 

Brian eyed him sheepishly, feeling his face warm.  Was he that transparent?  He guessed that he was, at least when it came to Justin.  Rather than trying to contradict his uncle, then, instead he nodded, grateful that at least he wasn't going to forbid it. Truth be told, he would have sneaked out and gone to see Justin anyway; the need to see him and make sure he was okay was almost palpable.  He couldn't think of anything else since he had gotten home. 

 

Turning back to the tractor with renewed determination, he had it started within a minute, leaping on it as soon as he was sure it wouldn't sputter again and come to a stop.  In no time, he was bumping along on top of the tractor seat, his thoughts focused on a blond-haired boy next door as he hurried toward the south field to commence his work.

 

---

 

Windswept Farm - Late Afternoon

 

Brian took the back steps two at a time up to the Taylor's back porch, unheeding of how eager he seemed.  But he was; he couldn't wait to check on Justin and make sure he was doing okay.  He was sure he would have heard if he had suffered any sort of setback, but he still couldn't wait to see him. 

 

As soon as he stopped by the back door, he had to smile at the sound of the other boy's voice filtering from the house through the screen door. 

 

"I am not a cripple, Mom!" he heard him growling.  "I am not going to lie on this couch forever." 

 

"Justin, it's not forever!  You heard what the doctor said.  You have to take it easy for the next few days."

 

"That doesn't mean I have to lie here and have you spoon feed me and fluff up my pillow like some invalid!"

 

"Justin, why are you being so stubborn?" 

 

Brian snickered.  They're just now finding that out?  He decided to help Mrs. Taylor out by knocking forcefully on the back screen door then, hearing her tell her son she would be right back and not to move.

 

"Wouldn't think of it," he heard Justin mutter sarcastically from the living room as footsteps sounded.

 

Jennifer peered through the screen door and sighed in relief.  "Thank God!  Maybe you can talk some sense into him," she muttered as she swung the door open.  "He's in the living room."

 

Brian grinned.  "I heard.  Um...I wanted to see how he was doing...and to offer my help with the chores; that is, if you need me to.  I thought with him being laid up for a few days that you might need the extra help."

 

Jennifer smiled at Brian gratefully, touched by his thoughtfulness.  "That's very kind of you, Brian," she told him.  "But I think we're okay for the moment.  Craig's out back with Vic, feeding the horses, and Emmett volunteered to walk some of them.  So I think they can handle it for now. But that's very thoughtful of you.  I will keep that in mind."

 

Brian nodded.  "I'll be glad to help any way I can," he told her softly. And he would; for Justin's sake. He would do anything for him.

 

She nodded back at him.  "The best thing you can help me with right now is to go talk some sense into my son."

 

"Mom, who is it?" Justin called out from the living room. 

 

"You'll see," she told him mysteriously, a smile on her face.  

 

"Tell me now, or I'm coming in there and find out."

 

Brian chuckled as Jennifer sighed in exasperation. 

 

"No, you're not; you're staying put," Brian told him firmly, his voice raised so he could clearly hear him.

 

"Brian?"

 

"Stay where you are; I'll be right there," Brian commanded as he peered over at Justin's mother. 

 

"Good luck," she teased.  "I hope you have better luck with him than I did." 

 

Brian grinned. "Thanks."  He turned and headed down the short hallway toward the living room, his pulse speeding up a bit at the notion of seeing Justin again.  As he reached the front of the house, he found the other boy lying on the couch long ways, a tray sitting neglected on the coffee beside him.  He noticed that Justin's breakfast was only half-eaten, along with a half-empty glass of orange juice, so he knew immediately that his lover wasn't quite as recovered as he might want everyone to believe.  A couple of pillows were propped up behind his head, and a crocheted, blue-and-cream colored throw was covering up the bottom half of his body, which was clad in a faded, light gray, t-shirt.

 

Brian walked over and sat down on the edge of the couch as he peered down at his lover; he was heartened to notice that Justin's eyes were clear and his face had more of its natural color.  "Are you being a difficult patient, Mr. Taylor?" 

 

The blond's eyes flashed.  "She's treating me like a fucking invalid, Brian!" 

 

"Language, Justin!" Jennifer scolded her son from her place at the kitchen table. 

 

Justin sighed heavily.  "Brian, you have to break me out of here," he pleaded as he lowered his voice so his mom couldn't hear.  "If I have to stay in here one more minute, I'm going to go nuts!" 

 

Brian reached down to tuck some errant hair back from Justin's face, his fingers trailing lightly over the slightly stubbled skin of his lover's cheek.  "Justin, you took a bad fall yesterday and that drug is still in your system.  Whether you like it or not, you are going to have to take it easy for a few days.  Do you want to wind up back in the hospital again?"

 

Justin reached up to grab Brian's hand to grip it in his.  "But there's a difference between taking it easy and being held prisoner!"  His eyes bored into Brian's beseechingly.  "At least convince her to let me go out on the back porch - and find me my sketchpad and some pencils so I have something to do." 

 

"Which one do you want, Your Highness?" Brian teased as Justin glared up at him. 

 

"You know which one," he told Brian softly, feeling his face warming as Brian stared at him.  "The red one.  The one...That you got me." 

 

Brian smiled, secretly pleased that Justin thought so much of it.  "Okay. I'll go talk to her and get your sketchpad.  But you stay here, got it?  Is it up in your room?" 

 

Justin threw back the coverlet eagerly then, obviously anticipating success.  "Yeah, yeah, on the dresser. But hurry, okay?  I'm liable to petrify here if I have to stay on this couch much longer."

 

Brian smirked as he reached down and squeezed Justin's cock briefly through his sleep pants, thrilling at the hot flesh pulsating under his touch.  Justin groaned in response as it swelled in Brian's fingers.  "Well, part of you is definitely still functioning properly," he commented huskily as he let of Justin's hand and stood up.  "Be right back." 

 

With his long legs he took the steps two at a time, concerned that Justin would try to follow him.  It didn't take him long to find the red, leather sketchpad, lying on top of the bedroom dresser.  It was lying open as he reached for it, and he stopped as he studied the amazing drawing Justin had done of Headstrong running around in the pasture by the stables.  The sketch was so lifelike and detailed; he could almost feel the horse's strength and hear his pants of breath as he galloped.  Knowing instinctively how utterly shameful it would be for Justin not to pursue such a talent, he closed the book up before grabbing a nearby box of graphite pencils and proceeding back downstairs to plead Justin's case to his mother.

 

---

 

"Thank you," Justin sighed in contentment as he sat next to Brian on the back porch's swing a few minutes later, their thighs lightly touching and the other boy's arm loosely curled around his shoulder.  He could actually get used to this sort of 'recuperation,' he decided.  "This is so much better." He held his sketchpad and box of pencils in his hand as he rested them on his lap.

 

"Much," Brian murmured as Justin blushed over the sultry, smooth tone of his voice.  He leaned down to kiss Justin on the cheek as he pulled him closer against his body.  Justin leaned his head against Brian's shoulder and closed his eyes, his art supplies temporarily forgotten as he savored the warmth of Brian's body next to his and the strong beating of his lover's heart while they rocked back and forth slightly in the wooden porch swing, the gentle creaking of the chain somehow comforting and familiar.  Jennifer -  assured that Brian would watch over her son and make sure he wouldn't do anything foolish to jeopardize his recovery - had taken advantage of Brian being there to walk up to her bee hives to collect some honey; the sounds of an occasional horse whinnying or a cow mooing from the Walker farm next door, or a bird chirping every once in a while were the only audible sounds at the moment. With Craig, Vic, and Emmett out at the stables, they were surprisingly alone, at least for the time being, which suited both boys just fine.

 

"I remember the first time we sat here,"  Brian murmured as Justin smiled in recollection, his eyes still closed.  "It was in the moonlight; shit, the moon seems so much bigger out here in the sticks!" he groused as Justin chuckled softly over his comment.  "But what I really remember so vividly was...how much I wanted to kiss you that night.  And how I got my wish; finally." 

 

Justin lifted his head and opened his eyes, Brian's face mere inches from his.  "So did I," he admitted.

 

"You know," Brian told him softly.  "For someone who was inexperienced at the time, you turned out to be a damn good kisser, along with some other talents I discovered later."

 

One side of Justin's mouth crooked upward in amusement.  "Really? Want to refresh my memory?"

 

Brian grinned.  "Here?  Now?  In broad daylight?  You want your father to go retrieve his hunting rifle?"

 

Justin laughed.  "My father doesn't know the first thing about a hunting rifle," he told him.  "And if he happens to come by, then I say...Fuck 'im."  He moved closer to Brian, placing his right hand on the side of Brian's face as his fingers slowly stroked his strong jaw.  "I know the best remedy for my recovery.  Kiss me, Brian." 

 

"Well, never let it be said that I hampered anyone's recuperation," Brian murmured. He meant it to be said in jest, but as he gazed into Justin's eyes, he found himself, as usual, completely captivated. Just what was it about this boy that enthralled him so?  Using his arm around Justin's shoulder to turn his body more toward his, his eyes lowered to dwell upon the full, slightly parted lips that beckoned so invitingly before his mouth descended upon his lover's, both boys' tongues sliding out to deepen the kiss.  Brian thought he heard Justin sigh into his mouth as he groaned in response, Justin's arms sliding out to wrap themselves around the hard, muscular body as they molded against each other.  This time, unlike that first kiss on this same swing, there was no hesitation in either boy as they continued to kiss, completely oblivious to anyone and anything else...

 

"Uh...ahem." 

 

Only the melodramatic clearing of someone's throat nearby caused the two boys to break apart at last as they stared over at Emmett now standing on the porch in front of them, a smirk on his face as he grinned back at them.  "Well, I see someone's recovery is progressing rather nicely," he declared, a twinkle in his eye.  "Don't wear him out, though, Kinney." 

 

"Did you need something, Honeycutt?" Brian's hand remained curled around Justin's neck as the younger boy's face turned pink in embarrassment.

 

"Just fetching some lemonade for my uncle and Justin's dad," he told them with a grin.  "I would ask if you need anything...but something tells me you already have everything well in hand."  His grin became wider as he turned and headed toward the back screen door.  "Later, boys," he snarked as he disappeared inside.

 

Justin burrowed his face in Brian's neck as Brian laughed.  "Now don't go getting all prim and proper on me now, Farm Boy."  He placed his hand under Justin's chin to tilt his head up and look into his eyes.  "As much as I hate to say it, Emmett's got a point, though.  You ARE supposed to be recovering.  You've been out here long enough.  Maybe you'd better go upstairs and lie down for a while. I wouldn't want to be accused of cutting off your oxygen supply." 

 

Justin smacked him on the chest as Brian chuckled.  "Brian!  I'm just sitting here!  Fuck, you're as bad as my mom!" 

 

Brian's face turned serious.  "I mean it, Justin," chided him softly.  "Just do it for me, okay?  I think both of us are forgetting that you just got out of the hospital this morning.  You may THINK you're fine, but the shit that asshole put into your water bottle has to still be in your system.  Everyone is pitching in, so you need to take advantage of that and get some rest like a good little boy."

 

"I'd rather you take advantage of me," Justin replied as he wound his hand around Brian's neck and began to pull him closer, his intention of getting another kiss crystal clear.  It took every bit of willpower on Brian's part not to encourage him - those lips looked far too seductive at the moment - but somehow he managed to place his hand, palm down, on Justin's chest and push him away as a pout appeared on the perfect lips. 

 

"You are not making this easy on me," he murmured in reproach.  He stood up then, almost knocking Justin over onto the swing, and placed his hand out toward him.  "Come on.  I think your father is just now starting to tolerate me at best, and I don't want to fuck that up, okay?  Now do as I'm asking - and I'll come up and see how you're doing again later."

 

Justin peered up at him and smirked.  "You'll come up later - to my bedroom?  This might turn out better than I thought."

 

Brian rolled his eyes as he grabbed Justin by the wrist and pulled him up.  "As tempting a thought as that is, I don't think that's a good way to get into your parents' good graces.  I'll tuck you in, but you'll have to make do with your Checkers, Jr. for a bed companion for now."

 

"That stuffed cow?" Justin complained as Brian began to tug him toward the back door.  He huffed in disbelief as Brian chuckled. 

 

"Hey, I did a lot of work to get you that cow, Mr. Taylor.  Now get going."

 

Laughing, Justin followed him inside.

 

---

 

Several minutes - and one more kiss later - Brian finally left Justin lying on his bed upstairs after extracting a promise he would, indeed, try to get some sleep for the time being.  He only secured it from the younger boy after assuring him he would be back around dinnertime to check up on him again.

 

The screen door banged behind him as he walked outside, encountering Jennifer sans her beekeeping outfit, clutching some honey she had collected from some of her beehives.

 

"Justin resting?" she asked as she walked up onto the porch to join him.

 

Brian nodded.  "Yeah, he's upstairs lying down.  I told him I'd come back over later to check up on how he's doing."

 

Jennifer smiled.  "Thank you for keeping him company, Brian.  We're going to have beef stew and some homemade biscuits for dinner.  Would you like to join us?" 

 

Brian smiled, pleased by the idea.  "Thanks," he told her sincerely.  "Let me check with my aunt and uncle first and I'll let you know."

 

Jennifer nodded.  "Dinner's at six.  We'll be looking for you." 

 

The increasingly loud sound of a vehicle coming up the dirt road connecting the Taylor farm to his aunt and uncle's caught their attention just then as it approached.  A sheriff's logo and rooftop lights identified it as belonging to Sheriff Renfro as the nondescript, dark sedan slowed down and came to a stop in front of the farmhouse. 

 

As Renfro emerged from the car, Vic, Craig, and Emmett came walking up from the stables, alerted by the sound of the car arriving. 

 

"Jennifer," Billy greeted Justin's mother as he tipped his police cap at her politely. She nodded, a little apprehensive, as he walked around the car to be met by the other three men by the back gate. 

 

"Sheriff," she called out to him as she exchanged a glance with Brian.  "You remember Brian from yesterday?"

 

Billy nodded.  "Sure do."  He turned to Craig, Emmett, and Vic.  "Fellas," he addressed them as Craig and Vic nodded back at him. 

 

"What brings you out here, Sheriff?" Craig asked.  "You find out something else about what happened yesterday?"

 

He shook his head.  "No, sorry. That Kesterson boy has clammed up tighter than a drum, now that he's facing serious jail time if he's guilty. Even the Doc couldn't pry anything out of him, although Lord knows he tried.  But I would like to speak with your youngest boy if he's available and get his side of the story."

 

Craig squinted in the bright sunshine.  "I'm not sure he's up to that just now, Sheriff," he told him as he glanced over at his wife.

 

"He's lying down upstairs in his bedroom,"  she confirmed.  "He's been told to take it easy for a few days.  But if you think it's that important..."

 

"I do," Billy told her.  "I need to know what he saw and experienced yesterday since he is the victim here."

 

Jennifer nodded.  "Okay, I'll go up and get him.  But can we talk in the living room instead of out here?"

 

"Of course," the sheriff told her as they all turned to go. Brian hesitated, knowing he needed to get back to his aunt and uncle's farm if he had any chance of returning for dinner later.  "Uh...if you're done with me, Sheriff, I need to head back over to my aunt and uncle's house."

 

The sheriff nodded.  "Sure, son.  Oh, and tell your uncle I'll be heading over there after I'm done with Justin.  He wants to talk with me."

 

Brian could guess what that was about as he nodded and turned to go. A few minutes later, he found himself walking by the Taylor's stables, observing Dale's horse grazing in the attached, fenced-in pasture.  True Blue looked both intimidating as well as majestic; a force to be reckoned with. But as he looked over at the animal, he watched him lift his head to peer over at him with large, deep brown eyes, almost as if he were trying to communicate with him, and he couldn't help responding to him.

 

"You know what happened back then, don't you, Boy?" Brian found himself murmuring to the horse; the animal's ears stood up as he slowly began to amble toward him. Brian's heart began to pick up pace as the impressive beast neared, towering over him now with only the fence separating them, but strangely enough he didn't feel any fear or trepidation.  The horse that Justin often described as out of control and distinctly untrainable was displaying none of that at the moment.  Brian almost felt a sort of kinship with this stallion. They had a lot in common in a way, actually; both unwilling to be bridled and controlled, and both appreciating the need for independence and freedom.  "If you could only talk," he told the horse as it blinked back at him slowly and whinnied softly in response.

 

Tentatively, Brian reached out his hand to the side of the horse's head and began to slowly stroke him.  "Don't worry," he told him soothingly, not thinking how ridiculous it seemed to be carrying on a conversation with him.  "We'll find out what happened."  The horse eyed him quietly now before, with a sigh, Brian turned and headed back toward his aunt and uncle's farm.