Buckaroo

Chapter 1
Buckaroo

Buckaroo

By

Professor

Scott Radford was excited for the first time in a long while. He and his cousin Michael were to go to the rodeo tonight.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and surveyed himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door and scowled. His mirrored image was not bad to look at, but Scott was dissatisfied with it just the same. He wished, not for the first time, that he was taller. Scott was five feet, four inches in height with sandy brown hair and brown eyes. Unlike his father, Scott was small in build, a fact accentuated by his lack of height. His father, Scott Radford Senior, had been fully six feet, four inches in height with a well-built body to match, along with black hair and blue eyes.

Unfortunately, Scott thought he had inherited all his mother’s physical characteristics and none of his father’s. Worse than this, he did not look his age which was seventeen, soon to be eighteen but more like thirteen. Although puberty was definitely behind him, Scott did not suffer from acne to any noticeable degree nor was it necessary for him to shave on a regular basis. He pretended to do so but had the nasty feeling that his family knew it was pretense.

Thinking of his mother and the unprepossessing physical characteristics which he’d inherited from her, his mother’s photographic face flashed before Scott’s mind’s eye as it was depicted in his parents’ wedding picture. The photograph showed his parents standing outside a small church smiling broadly in to the camera his father clad in a Marine Corps uniform and his mother in the traditional white satin dress of a new bride. Patricia Radford’s smile had something in it which suggested to her son that she couldn’t quite believe that she was getting married.

Staring at his reflection and wishing he could change it, Scott spoke his thought aloud. “Mother, you always look like the poor girl in some stupid women’s novel who just can’t believe her good luck!” Scott angrily yanked the bathroom door open and strode down the hall to his room, remembering as he did so that he should have worn his bathrobe. If his aunt saw him now she would complain about his lack of modesty. Scott entered his room and slammed the door behind him, remembering just a second too late that he shouldn’t do that either.

Scott’s Aunt Natalie was a stickler for proper behavior. She was the kind of woman who, in an earlier day, would have worn white gloves when visiting her friends in order to expose their lack of interest in dusting. For all that, Natalie was not an unkind woman, as Scott knew well, yet the thought made him scowl again. As a small child he’d been treated kindly by his aunt. Scott’s parents had been killed in an automobile accident when he was two years old. It was a circumstance which had caused Natalie to be far less strict with Scott than with her son, Michael. This was because he had begun his life in his paternal uncle’s home as an orphaned lamb, a description used by his aunt when explaining Scott’s presence in her home. Throughout his remaining babyhood she had continued to call him her “precious orphaned lamb.” At other times she also called him “lambkin,” which was a shorter version of the original nickname. Natalie only stopped using these nicknames when her husband pointed out that people might think she was making too great a difference between her son and nephew. Even so, Natalie could never bring herself to be to stern with Scott. She had never spanked Scott when he’d been naughty, which had been often. But as he grew older her tearful disappointment in his bad behavior was, in his opinion, a thousand times worse than any spanking. Furthermore, his uncle’s pompous lectures on good behavior were, in their way, just as bad. Scott would have preferred to go alone to the rodeo but his aunt and uncle had insisted that Michael should accompany him. They did so because of Scott’s habitual habit of getting into trouble in one way or another. He was the closest thing to a black sheep in his family.

Lawrence Radford, on the other hand, was a successful business executive who was highly respected in his community and who adored his wife Natalie. He was also very proud of his only son, Michael. He considered his nephew Scott’s presence in his home as a trial sent to test him and not as an opportunity to share his good fortune, as his wife supposed. As a rule, the Radfords were always respectable, even during their adolescence. Scott’s cousin Michael never got into trouble, not even at home. He always did whatever he was told without too much fuss. It seemed to Scott that Michael always wanted to please his parents and he worked hard to achieve that end. This was helped by the fact that he was a genius. This enabled Michael to achieve the highest marks in academics and his physique helped him in athletics since he was well-built and six feet in height. Unlike Scott, Michael had inherited the black hair and blue eyes which were normally characteristic of the male members of the Radford family. Michael’s height also enabled him to play basketball and to become a track star at school.

Scott, on the other hand, never did anything he was asked to do without at least some objection, if only for appearance sake. Soon after reaching school age, Scott had begun to acquire his reputation for rebellion. He hated studying and showed it. His grades in school were average at best or below. This fact did not trouble Scott until his senior year in high school when he conceived the idea of joining the Marine Corps. The idea first came to Scott while he was working at the local diner. Scott had been working as a dishwasher there till one day when one of the waitresses had unexpectedly quit and he had substituted for her. It had been a busy day and the owner had been desperate for a replacement, and so Scott had been promoted from the kitchen to the dining room. The lunch hour was the busiest time of the day. Even so, Scott found time to notice two of his customers. One of them was a Marine Corps Recruiter and the other was a potential recruit. The recruit Scott had thought looked no older than himself. He had watched them as often as possible that day and had noticed the friendliness which seemed to exist between the older and younger man. Despite their obvious age difference, they seemed completely at ease with each other. Seeing the Marine recruiter reminded Scott of his father. He knew from his parents wedding picture that his father had served in the Corps. From the memory of his father as a Marine it had only been a small mental step for Scott to decide to join the Corps himself. He had wanted to be like his father before him, one of those “few good men.” However, it was not to be, thanks to Scott’s bad academic record. There were, of course, other branches of military service which he could have joined but they didn’t interest him, only the Marines.

His interest in the Marines was not only because of the Corps recruiter he’d seen or because of his father. His interest in the Marines had also been sparked by his resentment of homosexuals. In his new job Scott had encountered an occasional homosexual and had been disturbed by the fact that they seemed to be drawn to him. He noted against his will that he always received lavish tips from them, and their eyes always seemed to follow him around the dining room after he’d left their table. Scott believed that only real men ever joined the Corps. There were no faggots in its ranks, no thinly-disguised little mama’s boys like his cousin Michael who always did whatever they were told. In the Corps Scott thought he would be recognized as a real man and no fag would ever dare again to look at him with eyes of invitation. Scott never once considered the possibility that he would be turned down by the Corps. His rejection had felt as though someone were telling him that he was not a real man and would never be. It had been a nearly crushing blow to be so rejected but Scott had survived.

He did so because Scott had discovered a new interest to replace the Marines and that was cowboys. Cowboys didn’t learn their profession from books, Scott decided, but by becoming real men. They were men who thought nothing of riding unbroken horses or enraged bulls. He further supposed they had little or no interest in books. Scott had become aware of cowboys through a television rodeo which he’d seen the day after his rejection by the Marine Corps. He always tried not to dwell on the immediate aftermath of his rejection because it made him blush. He had gone home that day and flung himself on his bed and wept his eyes out. His aunt had found him there and had done her best to comfort him and he had been momentarily grateful. Later he changed his mind after over hearing his aunt discussing his reaction to the Marine Corps’ rejection of his application with one of her friends. “Our Scotty is still very much at heart a little boy!” She had sounded pleased at the idea. Scott had stood at the top of the stairs listening to his aunt’s conversation, unable to move at first because he was so shocked by her words. Then as she continued, Scott was too enraged to retreat to his room immediately. He heard her say, “You know, Karen, in a way Scotty is the only baby who’s ever lived in this house.”

Karen said laughing, “Oh, come on, Natalie. Don’t forget Michael!”

“I’m not forgetting Michael at all. But the truth is, even in his cradle Michael was as solemn as a judge, while Scotty was unmistakably a baby from the first day he lived in this house.”

His aunt’s last statement had made Scott blush hotly and he wished that he had locked his bedroom door before giving way to his grief about the Corps. By giving way to his grief he had convinced his aunt that he was still a little boy. Scott had wanted to go downstairs and confront his aunt and assert his manhood. Instead, he had crept back to his room and locked the door. Then Scott had lain on his bed channel surfing hoping that something on TV would distract his mind from thoughts of the Corps. He had surfed until he’d found the rodeo. Thus his hope had come true. The televised rodeo had helped Scott to forget his humiliation and soon he was daydreaming about becoming a star rider of bucking horses and charging bulls. In the days and months following his discovery of cowboys, Scott had done his best to dispel the idea from his aunt’s mind that he was still a child but he was by no means sure he’d succeeded. He had made casual references to his growing necessity of shaving sometimes twice a day but his aunt had made no comment. Her silence made Scott feel especially uncomfortable because he suspected she was laughing behind his back at the very idea of him shaving at all. Scott’s cousin was not so circumspect, he laughed openly at the idea of Scott having to shave twice a day.

Michael discovered early on Scott’s sensitivity to his lack of physical maturity and teased him unmercifully. But he was always careful to do so when his mother was elsewhere. Therefore, Natalie never knew of the ever-increasing enmity between her son and her nephew. She imagined that they felt like brothers toward one another. From the day Scott had entered their home, Natalie had taught Michael that he must look after his cousin as though Scott were a younger brother, because of his misfortune. Michael was expected to do this despite the fact that he and Scott were practically the same age. Natalie was pleased that her son did what was expected of him. She never suspected that her expectation had planted a seed of resentment which, in due time, would make Scott and Michael enemies for life.

Scott was aware that his aunt thought of him as the youngest member of the family and he resented it. But he felt there was little he could do about it except try and convince her that he was maturing despite the lack of physical proof. Perhaps, Scott hoped, she would believe in his maturity after his eighteenth birthday. After all, he would on that day be an adult in the eyes of the rest of the world, if not in hers. In the meantime Scott did all he could to learn about the modern-day cowboy, going so far as to buy some Western style clothes out of various catalogs with the money he earned at the diner. Unfortunately, his job at the diner came to an abrupt end when Scott lost his temper with a customer who he had thought was trying to proposition him, and he had deliberately dumped scrambled eggs in the man’s lap. Scott had discovered afterward that the man was a regular customer at the diner and a friend of the owner.

As things turned out, Scott had been fired a week before the rodeo was scheduled to arrive in town. He had made his plans to attend it but even before he’d been fired, Scott had begun to run short of money. Scott had cursed himself for having spent too much on elicit beer and cigarettes. He was all the more angry with himself because he’d been so proud of having successfully done something not only illegal, but even more importantly, something he’d known Michael wouldn’t have dared to do. Once again as so often in the past, his aunt came to Scott’s rescue. She supplied him with money for the tickets on the condition that Michael should accompany him to the rodeo to keep Scott out of trouble. Prior to his having been fired, Scott had begun to hope that his aunt at least believed a little in his maturity. However, the very fact that she had insisted Michael should accompany him to the rodeo suggested to Scott that his aunt still thought he needed a baby sitter.

He scowled, and looking toward his bedroom door he murmured, “I’m not your precious orphaned lamb anymore, Aunt Natalie!” Then Scott stripped off his towel and began to dress quickly. He was whistling under his breath one of his favorite country music tunes, George Strait’s “Fort Worth On Your Mind”. Scott broke off his whistling remembering how his cousin Michael disliked country music.

Michael preferred classical music, specifically Mozart. He was so fond of Mozart that he was taking piano lessons in order to eventually learn more about his favorite composer from the perspective of being a musician. Normally Scott wouldn’t have cared about Michael’s feelings but tonight he wanted to get to the rodeo with a minimum of trouble. It would be great, Scott thought, to spend the night among people who were as real as dirt and as much fun as making mud pies. This thought made Scott laugh. This night, he thought gleefully, he would let his hair down and Michael could like or lump it! But first they must get to the rodeo.

Scott opened his dresser and took out a clean set of white jockey shorts and a matching tee-shirt. For an instant as he laid them on his bed he was uncomfortably reminded of the pull-ups which his aunt used to make him wear to bed, and he blushed. For a long time Scott had wet the bed and his aunt had required him to wear protection at night until he was thirteen. While this problem had lasted Michael had never lost an opportunity to humiliate Scott. He openly suggested that Scott should be made to wear diapers rather than pull-ups. Scott angrily shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts and fixed his attention instead on the jeans and Western-style shirt with snaps which he took from his closet and laid out on his bed with a grin of anticipatory pride at the thought of wearing them. The jeans and shirt were jet-black and Scott was very proud of them. However, his real pride and joy were his high-heeled buckaroo-styled boots which were black, too. Scott felt that they would give him a feeling of greater height and the look of a real cowboy and this thought pleased him enormously. He finished off his Western costume with a black leather belt whose silver-plated buckle sported a bull’s head.

After dressing, Scott walked proudly downstairs ready to make the night his own. The evening began on a sour note however when his aunt told Scott that he was the cutest cowboy she’d ever seen. She had spoken in the tone that an adult would use when addressing a small child who was going out on his first night of trick or treat. Scott gritted his teeth, holding back an angry retort; soon he and Michael were on their way.

The coliseum was already filling when they arrived. Scott stared around at the crowd, conscious of the fact that he and Michael were alone. Neither of them had a girl clutching their arm in excitement, nor were they part of a family group. It suddenly occurred to him that anyone seeing them together might think they were gay. This thought made Scott take a step away from his cousin’s side.

Michael looked at him sharply and asked, “Where do you think you’re going, Scotty? Wherever it was, just forget it, because I promised Mother I’d stick to you like glue and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Michael’s declaration of intent infuriated Scott and he unwisely retorted, “Yeah, I know, and Mikey always does what Mommy says don’t ya’?”

“You leave my mother out of this little cousin, it’s not her fault you’re a juvenile delinquent! You just remember what I said and don’t try any of your tricks.” Scott bit back any further retorts but he became determined to lose his baby sitter as soon as possible.

As it turned out Scott didn’t have to lose his cousin because Michael was, in a manner, kidnapped by his piano teacher, Sandra Tolliver. The crowd parted and a short, overweight woman nearing thirty with stringy blond hair and wearing thick glasses came rushing at them and would have passed on by but for Michael calling to her.

“Hello, Miss Tolliver! I never expected to see you here.”

She stopped and came back to them. Breathing hard she said, “Normally I wouldn’t be here but I promised to bring my nephew, Joey, and I wish I hadn’t because now I’ve lost him! He insisted on going to the bathroom alone and I gave in because he so hates to be ?babied’, as he puts it.” Sandra stood thinking for a moment then asked, “Could you and your cousin help me find him, Michael?” As she made her request Sandra looked at Michael with a hunger in her eyes that had nothing to do with food.

Scott smiled to himself thinking of how Sandra Tolliver yearned after his cousin. Scott thought with a familiar pang of jealousy that Michael could have any girl he wanted, while he himself was always ignored by any and all the really good-looking girls. They always seemed to look through him as if he were not there, even if Michael wasn’t present.

Michael frowned, obviously trying to think of a graceful way of getting out of granting his teacher’s request. “Have you notified coliseum security?”

Scott, seeing Michael’s dilemma, felt inclined to laugh. Michael, sensing this, glared at him.

Sandra shook her head no, saying, “I don’t want to involve them if I can avoid it because my sister-in-law would never let me hear the end of it. She didn’t want to let me bring Joey in the first place.”

Michael looked at Sandra with poorly-concealed annoyance. She took no notice of it. Instead, sensing hesitation, Sandra pleaded, “I’m sorry to bother you but I’m at my wits’ end. My sister-in-law will kill me if anything happens to him, and my brother won’t be too happy either.”

Scott said quickly before Michael could speak, “For us to do any good, we ought to split up.”

Sandra shot Scott a grateful look and said, “You’re right! Let’s do so now.”

Michael shot an angry look at Scott but made no further objection while Sandra gave them a description of her nephew. She suggested they should meet at the coliseum entrance after an hour, or sooner if their search was successful. Scott did not bother to listen to Sandra because he had no intention of searching for any kid. Instead, he stood impatiently waiting for the chance to escape his cousin. Finally it came and he slipped away into the crowd feeling Michael’s eyes boring into his back as he went. Scott wandered happily through the crowd, at first just glad to be away from Michael and not paying much attention to where he was going.

That is, until he found himself standing near a loading chute watching in horrified fascination as a huge black bull was made ready to enter the arena. The bull stamped and bellowed and Scott felt queasy just listening to him. He could not imagine any man wanting to ride nearly a thousand pounds of enraged beef for nothing but money. After all, the bull could, if given the chance, pound his rider to a bloody pulp with his hooves or impale him on his horns. Scott was forced to admit to himself that no amount of money could have made him do it.

He glanced down at his Western clothes as this thought passed through his mind and suddenly felt ridiculous. Scott felt that he had no right to wear them. He was not a cowboy. He was instead just a kid pretending to be something he wasn’t and would never be.

As though to emphasize this idea in his mind, the deep voice of a man spoke from just behind him and Scott jumped. “You thinkin’ you’d like to ride that old bull, best think again, Buckaroo, cause he’s a mean one!”

Scott spun around and looked up at one of the biggest men he’d ever seen in his life. The man was six feet, four inches tall and he had a heavily muscled body to match his height. He also had thick dark hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to look through whatever he was gazing at to some point beyond it which only he could perceive. His face was so deeply tanned that Scott could not tell his age. He might have been anywhere between thirty and sixty years of age. Scott decided that there was something familiar about the man but he couldn’t think of just what at the moment. He was too confused to recognize the resemblance between the stranger and the Radford family. Like Scott, he was dressed in Western-style clothes, but on him they were completely appropriate. This was because they were obviously work clothes and not simply designed as an appeal to vanity. The man’s shirt and jeans were black, as were his boots. But his shirt and jeans looked well-worn and his boots equally so. The plain quality of the man’s clothes was further emphasized by the broad black leather belt secured around his waist with a brass buckle whose bull’s head was badly tarnished. However, unlike Scott, the man wore a black Stetson hat with a rattlesnake skin band ornamenting it. The hat, unlike the rest of the man’s clothes, looked relatively new. He said smiling slightly, “The moniker’s Hank Bear. What’s yours?”

“Scotty, I mean...uh...Scott, sir.” Hank held out his work-hardened hand and Scott shyly proffered his. As Hank took his hand, Scott felt like a little boy since Hank’s easily enfolded his smaller and softer one.

“Glad to know ya’, Buckaroo! Where’s ya’ folks? Taint safe for a kid like ya’ to be wanderin’ round here all by ya’ lonesome cause there’s some pretty rough coyotes that hang around a rodeo.”

Scott looked at the man wanting for an instant to object to the name of “Buckaroo” because it somehow made him sound like a kid. After all he wasn’t a kid, Scott wanted to say, and what’s more he was old enough to take care of himself even at a rodeo. But there was something about Hank Bear which told Scott that neither his objection to nicknames nor his age would impress the man. Therefore, he said, “My folks are dead. I came to the rodeo with my cousin. We’re out looking for a kid who’s supposed to be lost.”

“What does this here kid look like?” Hank’s question filled Scott with embarrassment since he had no idea. He wished fervently that he had paid attention to Miss Tolliver’s description of her nephew. A painful silence grew between them which Hank broke by saying, “I reckon you forgot what the kid looks like, is that how it is?”

Scott started to reply, but at that moment a rodeo rider who looked to be not much older than him, came up to them. Scott was surprised to see that the young cowboy was no taller than himself, though he had a wiry athletic strength which Scott lacked and his clothes looked as worn as those of Hank. He was dressed in blue Levis and a matching shirt. His boots were tan in color, not black. Scott heard the jingle of spurs as he walked. Beneath his tan Stetson, Scott noticed the cowboy’s hair was bleached to a light brown. “Hey, where you been, Big Man?” the young stranger asked, “I been lookin’ all over for ya’. It’s nearly time for the show to start and they’re lookin’ for ya’ and I....” The younger man broke off, frowning when he saw Scott.

Hank said, “I ain’t forgot bout the show, Slim, but Buckaroo here needs some help. Seems there’s a kid who’s gone and got himself lost and....” Hank broke off as a security guard stepped up beside them.

Frowning sternly at him, he asked, “Is your name Scott Radford?” Scott replied that it was and the guard went on, “Well, your cousin and his friend are waiting for you at the coliseum entrance. They found the other little boy and now they’re worried about you.”

Scott felt himself blushing hotly with the realization that the guard thought of him as a child too and wanting to escape the situation he said quickly, “Okay, I’ll go and find them.” He started to move away when Hank put out a restraining hand.

“Been a pleasure meetin’ ya’, Buckaroo. This here’s my partner, Alvin Smith, so’s ya’ can see why he’s called Slim.” Slim nodded slightly in acknowledgment of the introduction and looked Scott up and down with cool gray eyes as Hank was saying, “Come ?round after the show tonight and we’ll show ya’ the other side of the rodeo fence.”

Scott felt a thrill of pleasure at these words for he recognized them as an invitation to join these two cowboys in their world. He felt sure that it was a world which few, if any, outsiders ever saw. He replied excitedly, “Sure, and thanks! Where do I meet you?”

“You just wait for us in the main parkin’ lot and we’ll find ya’.”

Scott nodded affirmatively and hurried away. Therefore, he did not see the glare of resentment Slim shot Hank nor did he hear him say, “Listen here Hank, I ain’t nurse maidin’ some half growed’ kid after this show just cause you took a fancy to him.”

“Hell, Alvin, you’re more touchy than any female I ever knowed in all my life! I just thought we could show the kid a good time and have one ourselves, too, that’s all!” “All right Big Man, but just remember my brand is on you and I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine with anybody!”

“Quit ya’ squawkin’, Slim, I sleep with men, not little boys.” An intimate smile passed between the two cowboys after Hank said this and the argument of a moment before was forgotten.

Unaware of the reaction he had provoked, Scott felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he saw Michael obviously waiting impatiently for his return. In the crisis of the moment Scott forgot all about Hank and Slim.

Michael said, the moment Scott reached him, “I’ve been waiting here for nearly a half hour. Where were you?”

Scott ignored Michael’s question and asked, “Where’s Miss Tolliver and her nephew?”

“They’ve gone home. Miss Tolliver decided this was no place for her nephew; he was propositioned in the men’s room, or so he claimed. I’m not surprised because I’m sure this place is swarming with losers and perverts! They always come out at night like snakes on the hunt. Where did you get off to?”

“I met a couple of cowboys and they want me to meet them after the rodeo.”

“Well, you can forget that because we’re going home.”

“What do you mean, going home? You mean without seeing the rodeo?”

“Are you deaf? You heard what I said; I’m not waiting around while you play cowboy with a couple of thugs more than likely wanted in every state in the Union! In fact, I’ve had all of this stupid rodeo crap I can stand. What’s more, I’m tired of being everybody’s fetch and carry dope, so you can leave with me right now or you can just catch a ride with your cowboys. That is, if they’ll let you on their rocking horse, but I doubt it because you don’t look old enough to ride!” Then without another word, Michael turned his back and stalked away.

Scott watched him go, standing with fists clenched at his sides and grinding his teeth in frustration. He wanted to kick Michael’s butt and once he was down, to stomp his face in to the pavement but he did nothing until his cousin had disappeared. Scott knew he should follow Michael in order to avoid trouble at home, but he had come to the rodeo to enjoy himself and he was determined to do just that. As he went in search of a seat in the stands Scott wondered how Michael would explain his cousin’s absence at home. Scott grinned sourly and murmured to himself, “It’ll be all your fault stupid what else.” He found a seat in the middle of a row next to a young couple with a fretful baby. He considered looking for another seat but the rodeo had begun and he didn’t want to miss anything so Scott stayed where he was. He watched in awe as Hank rode a bucking black stallion that looked gigantic to him. Hank’s ride was successful and Scott cheered him on until his voice cracked. He felt fearful when the bull riding began. All the bulls seemed enormous and filled with rage. Scott sat on the edge of his seat when Slim’s turn came to ride his bull. Scott thought he made it look easy though in his heart he knew it was not. Once again, as he watched Scott decided that bull riding wasn’t for him. Slim successfully finished his ride too and left the arena grinning broadly and waving his hat joyfully in the air. Scott watched him go feeling a momentary kinship with the younger rodeo rider. The two of them were small in build, the one toughened by his chosen profession the other still slight and inexperienced, but for that moment they were alike in their enjoyment of success. During the rodeo the baby grew increasingly fretful and wailed miserably. Scott did his best to ignore him but found it hard-going. Occasionally he caught the odor of soured milk overlaid with talcum powder and ordure. The husband seemed to be having a good time but not so the wife and baby. An argument broke out between the couple which Scott also did his best to ignore but it wasn’t easy. The argument concerned the wife’s belief that her husband cared nothing for the baby. It became so acrimonious that the wife rose and stalked away in a fury and the husband soon followed, cursing savagely as he went. The baby’s fretful wailing seemed to echo in Scott’s ears long after they were gone. The sound of it reminded him that he was alone in a place far from home surrounded by strangers. It also reminded him that even in his home he was not wanted, at least not by everyone who lived there. In that way he and the baby Scott thought uncomfortably had something in common. The rodeo ended and the crowd began to stream out of the coliseum and Scott was borne along with it like a chip of wood caught in a strong river current. Scott wanted to stop and think about what he should do now that the rodeo was over but he was carried helplessly along by the crowd. Part of him wanted to go in search of Hank and Slim, in order to except their invitation to see the rodeo circuit from the other side of the fence, as it were. Another part of his mind wanted to go home and protect himself from whatever accusations that Michael might have leveled against him with his aunt and uncle.

The crowd had begun to thin and Scott was almost alone when he decided to go in search of Hank and Slim. It was then he saw Michael moving purposefully toward him. In a flash of intuition born of experience Scott surmised that his cousin had gone home and had been sent back to collect him. As a consequence, Michael was looking murderous. The thought of being brought home by his cousin like a naughty little boy infuriated him. Scott swore savagely and vowed that he would not go home until he was good and ready. Thus the scales of fate or destiny were tipped in a direction which he could never have imagined.

Enraged, Scott turned to lose himself in the crowd and found himself facing Hank Bear. The bronco rider was grinning broadly and holding an open beer bottle in one hand. Slim walked beside him one arm thrown carelessly over his shoulders. Slim was saying, “You’d better go easy on that fire water Hank or you’ll have somethin’ different to worry about than arthritis.”

“Quit worryin’ Slim, I know how much I can drink and I been doin’ it for longer than you been alive.” Slim opened his mouth to argue some more but at that instant Hank saw Scott. He reached out and caught Scott’s arm. “Hey, Buckaroo, where ya’ goin’? I wanna’ show ya’ what a rodeo is really....”

Scott, following an impulse interrupted him, said, “Will you help me? I need to hide.”

Hank stared at Scott blankly for a second then he said grinning broadly,”Sure, we’ll help ya’, Buckaroo! You just follow Slim here and he’ll tuck ya’ out of sight before anybody is the wiser.” Slim looked as though he wanted to argue but at a sharp look from Hank, his protest went unspoken. He simply shook his head and started to move away, angrily gesturing Scott to follow him but stopped again when Hank said, “Here, Slim, take the Firewater with ya’.” Hank reached in to the pocket of his jeans as he spoke and pulled out a cork and thrust it into the mouth of the bottle. Adding as he did so, “I’ll go give Martha a call and let her know we’re comin’ home tonight and meet ya’ back at the van.”

They moved off with Scott, who took one quick look over his shoulder and saw Hank waylaid by Michael. The sight of them together made him feel uneasy. What answers to Michael’s questions was Hank giving and would they satisfy his cousin? Scott doubted it. Hank Bear might be a rodeo champion but his cowboy skills would not impress Michael. He would simply see an aging man who had wasted his life riding wild horses and homicidal bulls for precious little money, which would have, in its turn quickly disappeared, thanks to wild victory parties and even worse perversions.

Slim walked on, increasing his pace with every stride, and after an instant’s hesitation Scott followed. With each step, Slim’s spurs rang on the pavement and the sound seemed to give expression to his unspoken anger. Scott pressed forward to Slim’s side not wanting to lose his guide in the crowd.

Slim stopped suddenly and turning to face Scott, he said, “Look, kid, I don’t know what trouble you’re in at home and I don’t care. But let’s get somethin’ straight iffin’ you plan on taggin’ along with us. That means you’ll do whatever we say, no matter what.”

“Oh, sure, Slim, whatever you say.” Scott hastened to assure him as they moved on by adding, “I’ll do anything you want, Slim, I promise!”

“Is that so? Well, you just remember that when the time comes, cause I will!” As Slim said this, they reached the van. Scott saw that it had traveled long and far, being covered in dust. The van was painted black which made the dirt of the road stand out even more. Slim pulled out a set of keys and opened one of the passenger side doors and said, “Climb aboard, kid, while I go see where Hank got off to.” Scott levered himself into the rear of the van. Slim handed him Hank’s bottle of firewater. “Hang on to that till I get back and don’t try it, ?cause the stuff is to strong for a kid who’s mouth is still wet with mama’s milk.” Slim smiled slightly as he added this last, then moved away at a fast walk.

Scott watched him out of sight then he turned his attention to the bottle in his hand. He stared at its contents wondering if, in fact, the liquid was beer. The liquid was dark like some beers but it did not froth or foam when he shook it. Instead, the liquid simply splashed sluggishly against the sides of the bottle and against the cork that sealed its mouth. Holding the bottle close to his eyes, Scott decided that its contents looked more like muddy water than anything else. Slim’s words of warning came back to him as he stared at the bottle as he picked idly at a fragment of label which still adhered to it long after the original advertised contents had gone. He particularly remembered Slim’s reference to mama’s milk. So even here, Scott thought, There’s somebody who thinks I’m a kid! Suddenly this idea was too much. Without further thought on the matter, Scott pulled the cork out of the bottle and thrust its mouth against his own. The dark liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed quickly, trying not to taste it. It burned its way down his throat and into his stomach like a liquid torch wielded by an enemy such as his cousin Michael. Scott then lowered the bottle gasping because of the pain, and hastily shoved the cork back in to its mouth hoping that his new friends wouldn’t notice what he’d done. The jingle of approaching spurs told him that he’d been just in time. Slim came into view closely followed by Hank who was weaving slightly on his feet. Slim walked around the van and climbed in behind the wheel and Hank got in on the other side though not without some difficulty. Then he looked back at Scott and said, “I got rid of that cousin of yourn’. I told him I seen ya’ go off with a couple of girls just after the show. I would’ve said two boys only I’s afraid he’d bust a blood vessel iffin’ I did.” Hank threw back his head then and laughed uproariously. Slim scowled and Scott blushed furiously. Hank, seeing their reactions, said with annoyance, “I was just jokin’!”

“Stick to ridin’ broncs, Big Man,” Slim replied, as he drove the van rapidly out of the parking lot. “That’s somethin’ you know how to do.”

“Thanks for the advice but there’s somethin’ else I know how to do.” Hank replied in a low voice.

“What’s that?” Slim asked in an indifferent tone.

“I know how to beat your ass, Alvin! And I will iffin’ you ain’t careful.”

Scott listened to this conversation in growing alarm, which Slim noticed. He said grinning, “Best drop it, Big Man you’re scarin’ the kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Scott replied hotly.

Slim’s grin became demonic as he asked, “How much of that firewater did ya’ drink, kid?”

Scott felt his cheeks growing hot as an uncomfortable silence grew in the van. It was broken by Hank who turned in his seat and snatched the bottle from Scott and asked, “Why’d ya’ give my firewater to the kid, Alvin? What’d he do to ya’?”

“He didn’t do nothin’, Hank, I just....”

“Did ya’ tell the kid not to drink...?”

Slim interrupted harshly, “Sure I did, but I’ll bet ya’ he started guzzling the minute I was out of sight!”

“But ya’ didn’t tell him why not to drink the stuff, did ya’?”

“Yeah, I did, Big Man. But he didn’t listen did ya’, kid?”

Hank turned in his seat and looked sadly at Scott asking, “Did ya’ drink any of the firewater, Buckaroo?”

“Yeah, I did but only a couple of swallows, because it tasted awful.” Hearing this, Slim began to laugh so hard that the van began to weave back and forth.

Hank yelled, “Quit ya’ cacklin’, fool and find a parkin’ place! We gotta’ talk ?bout this fore we go anywhere else.”

“What’s to talk about? You know what that stuff does.”

“Just do like I say, Alvin, or so help me I will beat your ass and I ain’t forgot how.”

Scott would have interrupted the argument at this point to say he wanted to go home because he was feeling sick but the pain in his stomach which had started not long after leaving the rodeo was now too great for conversation on his part. The pain had been steadily growing until Scott felt he would soon pass out. Unable to communicate his desire in any other way, Scott groaned aloud.

Slim said, “Hell’s bells, it’s started.”

The last thing Scott heard before he passed out was Hank saying, “Step on it, Slim, there’s a rest stop up here on the left.” Then Scott sank into darkness filled with confusing nightmares. In one of these nightmares he felt himself lying on the ground with his eyes closed, clutching his stomach which felt as if it were on fire, while Hank and Slim stood over him arguing. He heard Slim say, “It ain’t my fault, I told him not to do it!”

“Sure ya’ did, Alvin! Ya’ just forgot to mention what it would do to him if he did, didn’t ya?”

“Hell, Hank, how could I tell him that? You know he wouldn’t have believe me!” “Probably not, but that ain’t the point, is it? ?Cause ya’ could’ve put the bottle in the glove compartment but instead ya’ gave it to this kid knowin’ what he’d do!”

“Hank I swear, I....” Slim’s words were interrupted by an open handed slap across his face that sounded to Scott like a pistol shot. This was followed by an instant of silence. Then Scott was astonished, in the midst of his pain, to hear Slim/Alvin crying like a broken-hearted child. He was positively blubbering and begging Hank to forgive him. “Please, Hank, I didn’t mean it. I was just jealous, that’s all, I swear! I couldn’t help it! Ya’ know how crazy I am bout ya’ and when I saw this kid in his fancy dude clothes and the way ya’ looked at him and talked to him, why, I just lost my head!”

“Quit ya’ blubberin’! Ya’ right, I know how crazy ya’ can be but that don’t matter now. What matters now is what we do bout this kid!”

“I’ll do whatever ya’ say, Hank, I swear!”

“Ya bet ya’ will, cause iffin’ ya’ don’t I’ll put a curse on ya’ and the next bull you ride will stomp a hole in you big enough for a cattle truck to drive through, get me?” “Yeah, I do, Hank, and I’ll do what ya’ say!”

That particular nightmare ended with Scott curled up in a fetal position on the ground while puking his guts out. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He also filled his pants at the same time. All the while Hank had knelt beside Scott murmuring that he would be all right because it would all be over soon.

The next nightmare had involved Scott discovering that he was lying naked in the back of the van covered only with a saddle blanket. His beautiful Western outfit was gone, including his prized boots. He had tried to sit up and go in search of his clothes but had been overcome by nausea so great that any movement for him had become impossible. In acknowledgment of this fact, he had simply groaned in despair and passed out again.

When next he woke, Scott opened his eyes to find Hank kneeling beside him, holding a carton of milk with a straw sticking out of it. He held it out to Scott, saying, “Come on, Buckaroo, drink this. It’ll make your tummy feel lots better.”

Scott looked up at Hank thinking he looked gigantic within the confines of the van. At the back of his mind Scott told himself he should protest Hank’s wheedling tone and his use of the word “tummy.” But his mouth felt dry as paper and tasted foul. So instead he thrust a hand from beneath the blanket which still covered him, intending to take the milk but found he was too weak to hold it.

Hank beamed reassuringly at Scott and said, “Ya’ just suck on the straw, Buckaroo, and I’ll hold the carton for ya’!”

Scott could see the carton sweating and knew the milk would be cold. He swallowed convulsively at the thought of its coolness and his throat burned anew. Then without further thought he opened his mouth and began to suck feverishly on the straw, his protests momentarily forgotten. He did not care that he was drinking his milk like a toddler too clumsy to hold his own drink. All he cared about was the coolness which slid smoothly down the scorched path of the firewater into his stomach, thereby helping calm the storm in its depths. But how long would the calm last, and if or when the storm should return, what would it do to him? More importantly, what had it already done? After emptying the carton, Scott lay back in the van and tried to concentrate long enough to ask these questions and others but sleep overtook him and against his will his eyes closed.

Sometime later, how long Scott wasn’t sure, he heard the back door of the van open and Slim spoke right above him. “Hell, Hank, I never thought that stuff would....” “Don’t lie, Alvin, ya’ had a pretty good idea what would happen, and ya’ know it!”

Scott was disturbed not only by this conversation but by the fact that Hank’s voice sounded different. It somehow sounded younger and deeper. Scott heard someone climb in beside him and he felt afraid until he heard Hank say, “You get ?round front of the van and keep an eye out and I’ll try and wake him up and get him dressed.”

The back door closed and Scott opened his eyes and looked up at Hank who seemed to have grown even more since he’d fallen asleep. His body seemed to fill the rear space of the van, making Scott feel small and helpless beside him. Smiling, Hank said, “Good, you’re awake! That’ll make things easier.”

Scott was surprised to hear nervousness in Hank’s voice but he forgot about it when he looked closely at Hank’s face. It was still deeply tanned but the weathering of sun, wind, and age had gone. He looked to be in his late twenties, possibly as young as 25, Scott thought, his stomach filling with the ice of fear. But what he was seeing was impossible! Nobody could get younger at will. The Fountain of Youth was a myth. Hank’s firewater was just his name for whiskey or moonshine. It had nothing to do with regained youth.

All these thoughts flashed through Scott’s mind as he sat up and the blanket fell to his waist. Hank reached out and gently pulled down the blanket and Scott moaned in terror at what he saw. Puberty was no longer behind him. It had become a distant goal once more. His genitalia were devoid of hair and his penis was that of a young boy who could have, as yet, no adult interest in sex. Scott heard himself say, as though from a great distance, “Nooo, nooo!” Then he started to scream.

Hank pressed a hand over his mouth, saying, “Listen, Buckaroo, don’t panic, it’ll be all right, I promise! All ya’ gotta’ do right now is sit still and listen and I’ll try and explain what’s happened.” Scott moved his head, signifying he would listen and Hank sighed with relief and released him. Then he said, “That’s good, ’cause what I’m gonna’ say will sound crazy, but I swear it’s true.” Hank leaned back against the side of the van and began his story. “I reckon you’ve heard of the Fountain of Youth?” Scott nodded affirmatively and Hank added, “And I reckon you think it’s a legend. Well, it ain’t.”

Scott couldn’t help asking, “How do you know?” and was profoundly shocked by the high pitch of his voice. He thought frantically, I sound like a little kid but I can’t be because I’m a man!

Hank was saying, “Ya’ see, I’m a Seminole and we’ve always knowed where the fountain was. Three or four hundred years ago a Spaniard named Ponce de Leon tried to find it but he couldn’t do it. Only the Seminole know where it is and not even all of ?em. My granddad was one who did and I’m another.”

Scott felt a tide of frustration threatening to overwhelm him and he could not help saying, “I don’t care about all that. All I want to know is how to change me back.”

Up to this moment Hank had been looking sympathetically at Scott as he talked, but at his last words a look of deep and abiding anger filled his face. The anger was so great that it made him look dangerous. There was a pause while Hank mastered himself.

Scott took further stock of the situation. I’m helpless, Scott thought, until I can somehow undo the damage to my body. It would not under the circumstances be wise to alienate Hank or his partner.

Then Hank spoke in a voice so quiet that Scott had to lean forward to hear him, “All right, boy, iffin’ that’s the way ya’ want it, that’s the way it’ll be. No more stories, just the facts without any soft soapin’.”

“What facts?”

“Just this, ya’ took what weren’t yours to take! It’s what your kind have been doin’ to my people ever since ya’ came to this land!”

“I don’t understand...what...?”

“And I reckon you figured you was man enough to have it! But you ain’t, are ya’?”

“I...I’m...eighteen...I mean....” Hank laughed and the derision in his voice filled Scott with shame and silenced him. Against his will he hung his head and a big tear fell into his lap and he stared at it with horror.

Hank reached out and with one finger pushed Scott’s chin up, saying roughly, “Look at me!” Scott did so reluctantly and felt queasy under Hank’s hard stare. Grinning like a wolf, Hank said, “Here’s those facts I was talkin’ bout. Fact is, you drank some of the water from the spring your people call the Fountain of Youth and so you ain’t eighteen anymore. My guess is you’re bout nine years old.”

“But why? I only took a couple of swallows...”

“A couple of swallows? Ya’ fool, ya’ don’t drink that water like soda pop or beer!”

“How do you drink it, then?”

“I drink it the way it’s supposed to be drunk. I sip it along and along, the way my granddad told me, till I got all I wanted this time around.”

“You mean, you’ve done this before?”

“’Course, boy, ya’ didn’t think tonight was the first time?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really think.”

“Then that proves ya’ ain’t a man, ?cause a man thinks bout what he does, fore he does it!”

“All right, I was wrong. How soon will it wear off?”

Hank stared at Scott an unreadable expression on his face, then replied, “All in good time, so quit worryin’ bout that ?cause we got other things to do.”

“What other things?”

“Well, first we gotta get you dressed in somethin’ other than a horse blanket.” As he said this last, Hank reached over the top of the rear seat of the van and brought down a large shopping bag. Scott stared at the bag suddenly filled with fear. What did it contain? Hank reached into the bag and brought out a pair of boxer shorts with cowboys riding bucking horses printed on the front. He tossed them to Scott saying gruffly, “Put ?em on, and hurry up.”

Scott scrambled into the shorts, glad to hide his diminished genitals from view even in childish underwear. The boxer shorts were followed by a pair of jeans that were a little tight but Scott was able to button them after some difficulty. The jeans were topped off with a Western-style shirt with snaps. They were blue and Scott felt miserable remembering his black outfit. His misery was increased as he slid a matching pair of blue socks on his feet. Hank then handed him a pair of plain brown low-heeled boots which Scott slid on to his feet as though they were shackles.

Once Scott was dressed, Hank opened the rear door of the van and they got out. Hank did so with practiced ease while Scott had to jump awkwardly down. He landed and staggered a little from the impact until Hank reached out and steadied him by placing one enormous hand on his shoulder. His grip was hard enough to inflict pain which caused Scott to decide that Hank Bear was not a man to be trifled with. This idea was confirmed a moment later when Slim stepped from behind the van.

Grinning maliciously, Slim asked, “Thought you was gonna’ get him dressed?”

“He is dressed.”

“No, he ain’t. The little fella’ ain’t got on what I bought him special!”

In two strides, Hank reached Slim and grabbed him around the throat. Scott watched in terror as Slim tried feebly to break Hank’s grip. Hank said between gritted teeth as he tightened his grip until Slim’s eyes bulged and he made horrible gagging sounds, “Now you listen to me, ?cause I’m gonna’ say this only once! You forget ?bout what you bought and why until and iffin’ I say so. Iffin’ ya’ don’t, I’ll do what I said ?bout cursin’ your next bull! You just occupy your time thinkin’ bout how we’re gonna’ explain this kid to Martha.” Then Hank released Slim, who fell to his knees gasping for air.

Feeling sick, Scott looked hastily away from Slim’s efforts to regain his feet and saw they were in the parking lot of a rest stop. It was deserted except for themselves. A steady stream of automobiles was passing on the interstate but none of them stopped. Staring at them, Scott wondered just how long he’d been unconscious. How many hours? How many days? He looked for his watch and saw that it was gone like everything else he’d owned. That thought made him want to cry. How far was he from the house which he’d called home and would he ever be able to return to it? Scott wondered what time it was and what his Aunt Natalie might be doing. For the first time he dimly realized how much she’d loved him and how often he’d taken her for granted.

He looked at Hank and asked in a timid voice, “Please, what time is it?”

Hank looked at him with eyes of blue ice and said, “It’s time for us to be goin’.” Scott turned toward the van and took a couple of steps then was brought up short by Hank’s hand on his collar. He jerked Scott around and propelled him toward the bathrooms, saying, “You go in yonder and use the facilities for we go. I don’t wanna’ have to buy any more clothes for you just now. Slim, you go with him and make sure he don’t slip off.”

The thought of flight had not entered Scott’s head until that moment. Suddenly, Scott hearing Hank, conceived the idea of getting back home to his aunt and uncle, who would, he was sure, be able to find a way to undo the damage to his body. They had rescued him once long ago and they would do so again. He had only to get back home and all would be well. Considering his situation, it was a childish notion. Scott did not recognize this fact because he had failed to take in to account the changes wrought upon his mind by Hank’s firewater as well as those already manifested in his body. All Scott considered was the fact that his aunt and uncle had always resolved any and all problems in his life and he was sure in the taking of a breath they would do so again. Now all he had to do was find or make an opportunity of escape.

As though he had divined Scott’s thought, Slim seized his arm in a vice like grip and pushed him toward the bathrooms. Once inside, he shoved Scott toward a stall and entered one himself. The moment had come Scott decided, to flee. He slipped out of the stall and walked quickly to the door. Behind him, Scott heard Slim say, “Come back here ya’, little slime ball!” Scott yanked the door open and would have darted outside but Slim grabbed him from behind and spun him around to face him. Then lowering his face to Scott’s, he said, “You get in here and do your business and forget about runnin’ off ?cause it ain’t gonna’ happen!”

Scott replied in a scared but determined voice, “I’ll get away and get back home and then I’ll....”

“You’ll do what? Tell your folks bout what’s happened to ya’? That’s a laugh, you little fool! You’re forgettin’, they won’t know ya’! After all, the last time they saw ya’ you were eighteen and now it looks to me like you’ve got bout nine years to go for ya’ get back to where you was.”

Scott stared up at Slim hating him while his heart filled with despair. It was true, he thought, Aunt Natalie wouldn’t know him. At best she would think him a kid of the neighborhood trying to play a prank and at worst she’d turn him over to the police as a problem for them to handle. She simply would never understand his present situation. And as if that were not enough there was Michael’s hostility to him. Scott sighed heavily, realizing that his disappearance would be greeted with pleasure by his cousin. He could not expect any help from that quarter. Scott hung his head letting the thought of escape slip from his mind.

Slim, seeing Scott’s resignation, laughed and added, “You’d best remember that Hank and me are the only friends ya’ got. That bein’ so, it don’t make sense to go pissin’ us off.”

They left the rest stop after Slim had washed out Scott’s old clothes and hung them up to dry in the back of the van; then they drove on at a high rate of speed. Scott sat in the back seat staring over his shoulder at his adult clothes, at first hating the sight of them. The longer he stared at them the more they seemed to belong to someone else rather than him. Then it occurred to him that Slim need not have preserved them. This thought caused Scott to wonder why he’d done so. After some more thought, Scott decided he’d done it because he and Hank wanted to undo what had happened. This thought comforted Scott to such a degree that he settled down in the back seat and fell asleep. And so the miles rolled away beneath the wheels of the van and Scott’s old home slipped farther and farther behind him. He slept on lulled into unconsciousness by the humming of the tires.

Occasionally Hank would look back at him from the front seat and sigh, all anger forgotten, his face filled with pity. Simultaneously, Slim outwardly ignored them both; his eyes fixed on the road, but within his mind, a flame of jealousy scorched his soul. Scott was roused by the jostling of the van as it traversed a dirt road, throwing up a thick cloud of dust which Scott thought was like a curtain drawn between his unhappy past and his uncertain future. Finally the van rolled to a stop in front of a large rambling ranch house. The original structure had been added to in a haphazard fashion, giving the house an ugly appearance, which was nevertheless home-like. Scott was surprised to see that it had a tin roof.

Slim switched off the engine and the three of them sat still for a moment staring at the house until a woman as large as Hank came out on to the porch. Scott thought her the most muscular woman he’d ever seen. Martha had her brother’s hair and eyes. Her face was also deeply tanned. She stopped at the edge of the porch and stood looking at them with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. Scott heard her say, when Hank opened his door, “Well, I see ya’ll made it back again.”

Hank made no immediate reply; he simply got out of the van and opened the back door for Scott. He climbed out, not without some reluctance and followed Hank to the house. Martha watched them come without comment until Hank placed a foot on the bottom step of the porch. Then she said, “Ya’ can just hold on right there, Hank Bear, ?til I know just where and how ya’ got yourself a kid this trip!”

Hank opened his mouth to explain but Slim stepped forward and forestalled him. “He didn’t. I’m the one who done it.”

“You, Slim? I don’t believe it! Ain’t you the one who run off from home ?cause he got tired of lookin’ after kid brothers and sisters?”

Slim nodded affirmatively and Hank added, “The kid drunk some of granddaddy’s water.”

This explanation caused Martha to blanch as if she’d been slapped. Then, collecting herself, she asked grimly, “How much?”

“A couple of swallows, the kid says.” Hank replied.

“Well, ain’t that just dandy!” Martha said. “Come on in the house, brother, and let’s decide what’s to be done. You kids stay out here till we’re done talkin’.”

Slim flushed with anger at this order, but meeting Martha’s eye, he said nothing. Instead, he went and sat down in the porch swing while Scott seated himself on the top step. Inside the house there was a low murmur of conversation which Scott tried to hear but couldn’t. He argued with himself that he should simply go inside and insist on participating in the discussion which he was sure concerned his condition. After all, he was really eighteen, no matter what his appearance said to the contrary. Instead, he remained seated on the top step feeling small, helpless, and very lonely. In his old home Scott would not have hesitated for a moment to assert his rights. However, here in this new world, he felt he had no rights except those which others might or might not be willing to bestow. Scott stared out at the yard which consisted of patches of brown grass alternating with bare sand. He watched forlornly as a black and tan hound with long ears drooping slunk around the corner of the house and crawled under the van, apparently in search of shade. Scott looked at Slim in mute inquiry as to what, if anything, should be done about this. Slim returned his look with a face of stone. They had arrived in early morning but now the day was growing hot.

Finally the screen door swung open and Hank came out smiling. He stooped and pulled Scott to his feet, saying, “Come on into the house, Buckaroo! Aunt Martha is fixin’ us somethin’ to eat and she wants ya’ help in the kitchen.”

Scott looked up at Hank, wanting to ask questions, but seeing his smile he could not bring himself to wipe it away with an ill-timed inquiry. Therefore, he allowed Hank to lead him into the house without protest. They passed down a long hall which ran from the front to the back of the house with rooms opening off of it on either side. The kitchen was at the end on the left.

Martha greeted Scott with orders. “Stand over yonder next the sink and start pealin’ them pataters’.” Scott stared at her blankly not having ever peeled a potato in his life. Martha frowned at him for a moment, Scott thought, trying to decide if he was being disrespectful. Then her frown vanished and she laughed. “I was forgettin’, Buckaroo, ya’ a city kid and most likely ain’t done nothin’ in a kitchen in ya’ whole life but make a mess.”

Scott blushed with embarrassment and Slim, entering the kitchen behind him, laughed. Scott clenched his teeth and said quickly, “I’d be glad to learn Mrs....uh...Bear. I mean, if you’ll teach me.”

Martha smiled at him and said kindly, “I’m Hank’s sister, honey, not his wife. You just forget about them taters. You ain’t gonna’ have time to learn bout peelin’. Tell ya’ what, though, you just go yonder to them drawers and get the spoons and stuff and set the table. Slim can peel them taters. That way he’ll have somethin’ else to laugh about.” As she said this last, Martha shot Slim a look so stern that it silenced his protest and for that instant Scott thought he looked frightened.

Then Scott forgot Slim’s look in considering the significance of Martha’s words about his lack of time to learn new things. Did that mean he would be returning to normal soon and going home? Scott wanted to ask her outright but, as with Hank, he feared to make her angry. He must have Hank’s help if he were ever to get back home and that of his sister too, if need be. Scott fulfilled his assigned task to the best of his ability, finding the cutlery without help and feeling absurdly pleased with himself.

Martha stopped Scott only once to tell him to pull his pants up before they fell down. “I know kids nowadays like to show their underpants to the world.” She sniffed as she stirred something on the stove. “But not in this house!”

Scott hastily tightened his belt, noting with slight alarm that he was now using the last hole in it. As he did so, Slim shot him an evil, knowing smile behind Martha’s back.

The Bears ate their meals at a large round table which stood in the middle of the kitchen. Martha filled Scott’s plate with fried chicken, black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes and gravy. She added a homemade biscuit and a glass of iced tea. Scott felt hungrier than he had in a long time. He busied himself with his food while the grown-ups talked amongst themselves. He did not notice the surreptitious looks sent his way by Hank and Martha. Scott did feel Slim’s eyes on him once during the meal but when he looked up the latter looked hastily away.

Once lunch, or dinner as the Bears called it, was over, Scott went back to the front porch and sat down on the swing. He felt out of place in the Bear home. Scott looked the part of a child but within his mind he was still eighteen. Listening to Hank and Martha discussing the management of their ranch made him want to become a part of their life, but a child had no important part in the management of a ranch. This thought made Scott smile sardonically when he remembered how he’d hoped for a chance to show his manhood to hank and Slim. This desire had led, in the end, not to glory but to humiliation. Scott put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Against his will, big tears rolled out of his eyes and between his fingers. Fearful of being discovered crying, Scott stuffed his fist into his mouth to stifle his sobs.

A moment later he jerked his hand out of his mouth and sat up straight. Scott stared wildly around looking for the source of the ghoulish laugh that had roused him from his despair. He found it.

Slim was standing at the end of the porch demonically grinning at him. He said in a quiet voice more frightening than a scream of rage, “I snuck out the back door so’s ya’ wouldn’t hear me. What ya’ cryin’, about, boy?”

“That’s none of your business!” Scott replied in a voice which sounded petulant even to him.

Slim’s grin did not waver. He climbed onto the porch and walked to where Scott sat and leaned over him putting his hands on his shoulders and thrusting his face close to his. He said in a whisper, “Supposin’ I was to make it my business, boy, what then? What ya’ gonna’ do about it?” Slim tightened his grip on Scott’s shoulders until he gritted his teeth against the pain. “I asked you a question, boy, and I want an answer!”

The screen door swung open and Hank burst onto the porch. He reached Slim in two strides. Slim released Scott and started to swing around but Hank caught him and lifted him off his feet and flung him off the porch. Slim landed in the yard on his back and lay still for a long moment, winded by the impact. Hank stepped to the edge of the porch and spoke in a voice icy with contempt, “I thought I was takin’ a man into my bed but then I thought I’d got a boy instead. It was disappointin’ but I said okay, help him find his manhood then you’ll have what ya’ wanted in the first place. Seems I was wrong again, it wasn’t no boy I got! It was a two-legged snake who pretends to be a man so’s he can strike at any poor soul that gets too close! When ya’ get your wind back, you get off this ranch and don’t let me see ya’ again! Iffin’ I ever do, I’ll keep the last promise I made ya’!”

Slim staggered to his feet, his face a mask of rage. He shook his fist at Hank and screamed, “All right, then! Keep your Buckaroo and a big supply of that devil’s brew of yours! You’ll need it till your precious Buckaroo grows up again!” Slim laughed hysterically. “But maybe you won’t want him by then! Iffin’ it was me, I couldn’t get excited about a man whose diapers I’d changed!”

Scott had sat stunned throughout these exchanges, unable to believe what he was hearing. Scott stared at Hank, who stood unmoved by Slim’s words, his feet planted firmly apart with his arms crossed on his chest. The image before Scott suggested the epitome of masculinity and yet Hank had just declared himself to be homosexual. Scott moved his eyes from Hank to Slim and saw the latter man standing with his head hanging low and tears splashing on his clenched fists. The thought flashed through Scott’s mind like a bolt of lightning, They’re lovers and this is a lover’s quarrel! It was all too much for him suddenly and Scott began to wail, calling out for his Aunt Natalie. She would kiss his hurt and make it better just as she had always done.

Natalie Radford stood in the middle of her nephew’s bedroom staring at the neatly made bed and hating it. All of Scott’s possessions were uncharacteristically in their proper place. The room was as spotlessly clean as her son Michael’s and just as empty. Michael had gone off to college and Scott had disappeared on the night of the rodeo, never to be seen again so far as she knew. All that had happened weeks before, how many, she no longer remembered. How could Scotty leave home without even saying good-bye? Michael’s own departure did not make up for Scotty’s. He had bluntly told Natalie that he was glad to go. Natalie had wanted to ask him why but could not bring herself to do it.

Michael had read her thoughts and laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s not your fault, you can’t help the fact I was born a genius and that dear cousin Scotty was born a dolt! After all, most people prefer stupidity to genius. You might say it’s just human nature.”

Natalie had cried out then, “The house will be so empty without you both!” Michael had laughed again and said, “No, it won’t because dear cousin Scotty will be back just as soon as he realizes how nasty the world is outside this house! I promise you, Mom, he’ll come crawling back here begging for another chance to sit in your lap and have you make things all better; that’s just what you want!” Having said this, Michael had stalked from the house, slamming the front door behind him.

Just as Natalie had feared, the house had filled with emptiness and silence. Lawrence was away on an extended business trip and so Natalie was left alone to brood on the past. She had tried to avoid this preoccupation but as the days passed, her resolve weakened. There came a time when Natalie found or made excuses for entering her nephew’s room. She avoided that of her son’s room because it reminded her of Michael’s angry words about his cousin. Thinking of Michael, Natalie sighed, admitting reluctantly that she had somehow failed with him perhaps because he intimidated her. Only Lawrence had been able to meet Michael on his own ground. If he’d done so more often, Natalie decided, maybe things would have been better.

The doorbell rang downstairs, interrupting Natalie’s thoughts and she went on leaden feet to answer it. She opened the door to find a powerfully-built man dressed in Western-style clothes standing on the threshold. He removed the Stetson hat he was wearing and asked, “Are you Natalie Radford?”

“Yes, I am. What do you want?”

“Well, ya’ see, I’ve uh, come to explain bout what’s happened to ya’ nephew, Scotty.”

“Oh, God, he’s not dead? Please say he’s not dead!”

“Oh, no, ma’am, he ain’t dead, nothin’ like that! Gosh, I’m awful sorry bout scarin’ ya’ like that. Martha told me I’d make a hash of it and I reckon she was right.” Natalie had swayed on her feet and might have fallen had not the man caught her by the arm. He said quickly, “My name is Hank Bear and I need to explain what this is all about. Could we go in and set down?” Natalie nodded and led the way to the living room.

Once they were seated Hank said, “Ya’ see, it’s like this. Scotty ain’t dead but he’s changed.”

“Do you mean he’s had some kind of accident?”

“No, ma’am, not exactly. I mean he’s changed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, ma’am, I was afraid ya’ might not. I guess the only way for all this to make sense is to show ya’ just what I mean.” So saying, Hank put two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.

The sound startled Natalie but she forgot it when she heard the front door opening. Natalie turned toward the sound, her mind filled with the fear of a home invasion. She forgot it too when she saw a young man enter the room carrying a baby in his arms. He was dressed in a beautiful black Western outfit topped off with high heeled boots of the same color. The outfit looked vaguely familiar to Natalie, though she could not think why. The baby was dressed in a Western outfit as well. It was baby blue in color and the tiny boots had bells on the toes instead of spurs on the heels. The baby also wore a white cowboy hat with a rocking horse on the front. Natalie said endeavoring to be polite, “What a cute outfit for a pretty baby.”

Hank said, “Yeah, ain’t it? My partner here got it for him.” The young man seemed not hear this conversation; he ignored Natalie and fixed his eyes on the older one in mute inquiry. Hank stood up and pointed to the baby saying, “That’s Scotty, he’s come home.” Natalie stared at the baby and at Hank and back again. “This here is my partner, Alvin Smith. I call him Slim. Put Scotty down, Slim, and let him walk and ya’ just pay attention to where he goes, ma’am. It’s sure to tell ya’ who he is better than I can.”

Slim lowered Scotty to the floor and Natalie leaned forward in her chair without realizing she was doing so. Within her mind a slide show of the past was now running. Natalie saw her nephew standing in this room on the day he’d come to live with them. He had not yet reached his second birthday. This baby appeared to be about the same age and he looked astonishingly like her darling Scotty at that age. It was all just a coincidence, Natalie told herself, a cruel coincidence.

The baby stood for an instant on shaky legs at first, simply looking round the room. Then he caught sight of Natalie and started waddling rapidly toward her, his arms outstretched. Natalie watched him thinking that walking was a new discovery for him. His desire outstripped his skill and he fell, landing on his hands and knees. For an instant he swayed back and forth in danger of losing his balance and looking as if he wanted to cry. Then he began to crawl.

Michael’s words came back to Natalie, “I promise you, Mom, he’ll come crawling back here begging for another chance to sit in your lap and have you make things all better; that’s just what you want!” Natalie leapt up and scooped Scotty from the floor saying, “It’s all right, Scotty darling! Aunt Natalie is here and I will make everything all better!” Scotty cooed with pleasure as she reseated herself and she asked Hank to explain the miracle of her nephew’s return. Hank did so while Slim shifted embarrassedly from one foot to the other, ignoring Natalie’s offer of a chair.

When he’d finished, Hank stood up and said, “I reckon we’d better be goin’, ma’am, but I gotta’ say I don’t feel as bad about it all as I did.”

Natalie replied instantly, “You shouldn’t, because I certainly don’t.”

Slim looked surprised at this but Hank did not. He smiled and said, “Yeah, well, I reckon things worked out the best way for everybody all around. One other thing for we go, iffin’ ya’ need some of my special water just let me know and me and Slim will bring it right along.”

Natalie smiled her thanks and Hank ruffled Scotty’s feather-soft hair, saying, “So long, Buckaroo. Ya’ behave yourself and Aunt Natty here will get ya’ a nice rockin’ horse.”

Then the cowboys went out, closing the front door softly behind them.

 

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