Rowan '06: What We Get

Vin touched his finger to the brim of his hat as he left, edging away from the bar, on his way out the door.

Chris nodded. Buck never stopped talking, let Chris say their goodbye. Across the room Ezra raised a brow from behind his solitare game of cards, a mere nod even smaller than Chris', nothing unfriendly, nothing remarkable.

Vin set his shoulders, stepped out into the brightening day.

To the livery was easy going. It was early yet, most folk up all ready to their business, the rest come to find the day in another hour or two's worth of sun. Vin tried not to think on things, on mere-ness and decisions and how long they'd all been here, now.

The livery smell was still fresh and sweet this early, the stalls newly mucked and hayed when dawn was first tucking night away to its bed. Horses grumbled and shifted, hellos and familiar gruffs and Vin let his fingers trail over the velvet noses that stretched out, curious, to investigate his passing.

Once, a time ago, he'd pressed Ezra to the far wall, bit the man's neck, both rutting fast and hard and they came but good, dizzy and smiling and thank you kind sir, mostly strangers.

Vin remembered that smell, sugar-spunk salt and horseshit and the spit-grain that was grinding between Peso's teeth, not all that far from them. Ezra's scent lingered, too, spicy perfect musk all dense and wet and it'd made him hot all over again.

They'd been in Four Corners a few days, each.

Had been before Chris rolled in, before Nathan found his trouble. Just two men passing through the same place for a short distance, eyes knowing, much more than mere nods, quick and hasty and fingers fast in their pants soon as they got in the dark secret shade of the midday livery.

When they'd joined up for the village, Vin had chanced Ezra a few times more; Ezra had responded, asked nothing, and both enjoyed what they gave.

Peso ambled up, folded his lips back, pink-white gums and yellow teeth. He whinnied sharply, waited. Vin produced a sugar lump stolen from the breakfast table and Peso took it, chomped happily. Vin pushed his fingers back, stretching away from his palm, let Peso chew against the hard calloused flesh until the sugar was gone.

They'd never spent a night, but they'd spent plenty of stolen time.

Time filled with unspoken things and urgency and a driving hunger that had at last found appeasement.

Time before agreements and decisions and figuring out how long they'd come to stay.

Saddling up went quick- always did. Vin kept things simple- always had.

Vin walked Peso out into the dusty air, already warmer from the sun that crept and crept into the pale blue sky, long slants of shadows cutting across the road, dark purple. He mounted, fluid, familiar, set Peso off with a nudge from his knee and a click of his tongue.

They trotted, even in town, who cared. Took off for a spot he knew he liked, where a ma was weaning three frisky coyotes he wanted to check on.

Somewhere he could be alone, when really, alone was the last thing he was anymore.

The last thing he wanted, anymore.

After Vin had heard thirty days and had thoughts in his own head about this town and sticking a bit he'd found Ezra. He hadn't resisted wrapping his hand around Ezra's cock and jerking the man to come so pretty like he did; hadn't resisted pushing his dick to the soft-skin hard-muscle lower belly he'd craved on his tongue like Peso's sugar lumps, thrusting only but twice before he came.

Then he'd explained plain and without hesitation that if they both figured on scratching into this place for a permenant-like way of being, that what this small thing here that they had going needed stopping.

Trail rides and not-so-lone cowboys and maybe ranchers, even, could keep to thisaway and not have the same considerations for staying safe and making living easy. But Vin wanted to stay put for awhile, didn't want trouble, liked Ezra just fine and they were already getting to be friends and that was plenty good for him from here out, and what'd Ezra have to say.

Ezra had, in Ezra's damnable way, agreed.

They'd stuck- to Four Corners- stayed out well past thirty days and kept sticking. Vin hadn't pushed Ezra into any wall or table or even the dry grit water-forsaken ground since even before that first thirty was up, now long ago.

Vin had what he wanted. Easy times, easier to stay, easiest way to remain in a place for a longer spell and not worry over who knew where and what, and who kept with you and who might up and leave, and what men who became friends might find out and what they had to be prevented from ever knowing. Vin preferred to live without such snarls.

The desert opened up around him, wide and true and unchanging. The wind was colder out here, less dusty. Vin breathed it in, filled his lungs until they ached, shifted and got comfortable in the saddle. He squinted back the sun and -did not- wonder on what it'd be like to have Ezra riding with him, if he'd ever changed his mind and his ways and gave themselves something- something else, more.

A red-brown spire of sandstone was his mark and he wheeled Peso wide, the two angling northward where before it'd be a straight shot west. The sun made the spire seem doubly tall, its shadow a perfectly even match staining the ground.

Vin kept on, alone, and later when he got back to town he'd unsaddle, get himself a meal, maybe deal in with Ezra but probably sit with the other boys a stretch then turn under for the night. It'd be as he'd asked, originally- easier. Easy as it got.

He'd stand out in the dusk golden flame sky by himself, maybe spark a smoke, maybe spark his harmonica. He could take his time, take himself where he liked, stay here where he now lived without the worry that comes when a man gets too attached or attached to the wrong kinda things, in the eyes of such a town. Enough he had friends, men watching his back. Enough he could pack in, ride out on the morrow, not look back and no one slowing his pace or decision.

What he'd wanted.

Cold serenity.

end