ChapterFive
The Abbott men were headstrong.Which wasn’t a terrible quality in a person when it came to certain things. Being stubborn wasn’t always a bad trait. Tenacious people were determined, decisive, and passionate. They usually had clear boundaries and persevered when others of lesser intractable natures—me, for example—give up or hide. On the flip side, being mulish also led those same determined souls into trouble. Take this hairbrained scheme of Will’s. There were a thousand reasons to shoot it down. The biggest concern of mine was getting caught and having the sheriff called out to arrest us. Will would be tossed back in jail for violating his parole and my mother would suffer needlessly. She had already endured so much in her life. I refused to bring more agony down on her. Which was part of the reason I kept my queerness to myself. Mom and Kenruh had weathered more than their share of heartbreak and grief.
Still, knowing all of this, here I was riding through the dark night, Will’s arms tight around my waist, as we forded the Jante at a low point and entered Hollow Wind Ranch land. Will was jabbering away as we trundled over the grassland. Obviously, this was his element. His excitement was palpable. He told me about when he was young, and he did this at this time and that at that time when he was in high school. Most of his exploits were borderline criminal. Many included booze or pot or wild women…and a few wild men. Every time he would mention a male name, I would grow that much more tense. Then he would kiss the side of my neck and tell me that they all paled in comparison. Which was utter bullshit, but it sure sounded nice. I might be some virgin know-nothing from the rez, but I did know when someone was blowing smoke up my ass. It was doubtful that I held a fucking candle to the city boys he’d been with before me.
We slowed about twenty miles into the trip. I cut the engine on the ATV, plunging us into darkness.
“We have to walk the next couple of miles. If we ride in, they’ll hear us coming.” I shifted on the seat, my ass making the vinyl covering creak. “We can still turn around. This is stupid.”
He pressed his lips to my cheek, right next to the corner of my mouth. “Stop worrying. It’ll be fine. I’m pretty good at gaining entry into places that people think are secure. In and out and back in bed in an hour.” His hands slid down to cup my junk. I drew in a shaky breath. “We’ll be so hyped the sex will be twice as good.”
That was impossible. The sex had been life altering. “If we get caught—”
“Oh my God, Yellow Horse. We won’t get caught. This isn’t my first B and E.” He gave my dick a hard squeeze then wiggled backward off the ATV. I sat there, hands on the handlebars, staring out over the rolling pasturelands, the Jante now far behind us. We were so deep into McCrary land now that there was no way we’d be able to claim we’d just wandered over by accident. “Perry.” I looked to the left. His face was half shadows. “It’ll be fine. Live a little.”
He held out his hand. If my grandmother had been alive, she would have warned me about the many forms that Satan took to tempt a good man. This version right here with the blue eyes, pink shoulders, cocky smile, and long, hard body was my personal demon. As I slid my hand into his, I could feel the hellfire licking at my ass.
We walked for quite some time like that, hand-in-hand, until we could make out the faint shape of a pole barn. We were still some distance from the main house. Hollow Wind was a much larger spread than Prairie Smoke with over twenty thousand acres. This area was a winter feeding lot. The large barn held round bales that would be rolled out for the reddish-brown Gelbvieh cattle with the HWS brands.
“Looks pretty quiet,” Will whispered, his fingers leaving mine.
“This area is for winter feeding,” I replied, my eyes darting over the barn. “There shouldn’t be anyone around. First and second cuttings are done and baled.”
“Cool. Let’s go check it out.” He jogged off. I stood my ground for a moment then like many a man before me, I followed that devil. We were pretty brazen as we sauntered up to the sixty by ninety building. It was a light colored barn, perhaps tan or even white, it was hard to say with the moon sneaking behind a cloud. Two massive sliding doors faced the direction we’d just come. There were no windows. Hay bales didn’t need to see out.
“Okay this is going to be easy,” Will said as he jiggled the padlock on the sliding barn doors. “Just give me a minute.” He fished into his front pocket and pulled out what looked to be a lock pick tool.
“What is this, Mission Impossible?”
“I do kind of look like Tom Cruise.”
“You wish.”
“I wish I had his money.” He started fiddling with the lock. My nerves were stretching tighter and tighter with each passing minute. I was not cut out for a life of crime. Pretty soon I’d be tossing chunks. “Stop muttering under your breath. I got this. Just chill. Think about whispering to horses or sexy Roman gladiators.”
“All I can think about is going to jail. Is that thing even legal?” I waved a hand at the lock pick tool he was so deftly using. I refused to ask where and how he’d acquired his skills.
“In most states they are. You’d have to be caught actually picking a lock, or something like that. We won’t get caught because we’re already done.” He gave the padlock a firm jerk, and it popped open. I gaped at the sight. Will gave me a self-satisfied tongue pop then slung one of the doors along its tracks.
“I’m impressed at your criminal talents. I didn’t think you could do it.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” He pocketed his tool and slid through the man-sized opening. I followed. “Shit that is a lot of hay.”
Hundreds of hay bales, most the six by eight foot size that we also used at Prairie Smoke. The aroma of the cut grass was sweet and thick. I breathed it in, hoping it would ease my jitters. It did. Just a little.
“I bet they could stash all kinds of stolen shit in here between the bales. You work that right wall and I’ll do the left. Make sure to shine a light up and down the stacks.”
Will snuck off, his flashlight phone app moving up and down with each step. There wasn’t much room to maneuver along the walls. The bales had been placed as close as possible to get as many as they could into the barn. With perhaps a foot or less, at certain spots, I wiggled my way along. Mice scurried off as the light touched them. Ten or so minutes later, we met back up at the front of the barn, my nose itchy from all the dust and dander in the air.
“Did you find anything?” I asked my cohort in crime.
“Nothing but mouse shit and bird skeletons.” He leaned an arm to a hay bale, the light from his phone dimming as he crammed it into his front pocket. “I thought for sure we’d find something. There are other barns though, right? Closer to the house and stables.”
“Well, yeah, probably but there is no way we can—”
His mouth crushed against mine. With a bit of gentle insistence, I let his tongue slip in. And then I was lost. I reached for him, he touched my hip, and all reason fled. My eyes drifted shut and all there was in the world was Will.
And a sudden burst of light and a sharp male voice. “What the exact hell is going on in here?” I jumped away from Will, whipped around, and tried to see who had caught us so neatly. A thin beam of light from a pocket-sized LED flashlight stayed on our faces. Will lifted his hands into the air. I followed suit still holding my phone, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I know you. You’re Aaron Yellow Horse’s grandson.” He lowered the light. I stared right at Shepherd McCrary, the youngest of the three McCrary brothers who owned this ranch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yeah, he knew me and my grandfather. Kenruh had dowsed for his family many times. The McCrary’s also would make an annual appearance at one of our pow wows just to pretend that they were good, accepting Christian folk. Only we knew better. They never hired Native hands and were quick to toss slurs of a homophobic and racial nature in private. Outside a horse blew out a breath. No wonder he’d rode up unheard. Of course Will and I had been sucking face and didn’t hear the soft jangle of tack over the blood racing through our ears. “Perry Yellow Horse. Does your granddad know that you’re a homo?”