Desolation

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I wish to thank Miguel Sancchez and Clark for their work editing and improving this story and Rock Lane Cooper, and George Grassby for their encouragement and support.

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DESOLATION

CHAPTERS FIFTY-NINE TO SIXTY-THREE

final chapters

By Phil Ford

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

The bee hives were robbed for the last time of the year during the first week of November. They didn't yield a record harvest of honey, but it averaged four hundred gallons per hive for the year; a remarkable feat for this desert. Paul was very satisfied with himself. It had taken the efforts of all the men to accomplish, aside from building and the reduced work done farming and with only the breeding herd to maintain.

"I don't think we can handle any more hives," Paul insisted. "When they swarm in the spring, we can sell off the new hives or cut back on the number of times we rob them. If we cut the times we rob them, we'll just get the same amount of honey. We'll tie up a lot more money buying hives and frames, and spend a lot more for gas because they'll be farther away on the newer property."

It had taken a lot of work just to sell such a large amount of honey. "Why don't we offer the hives to people for fifty percent of the honey, and provide the space and equipment to extract it. You and Frank just oversee the operation," Bob suggested to Paul. That would get them out of the actual work involved but still leave a large profit for whoever did the work. The vineyard would need more work the next year, so more time would be available to take care of it.

Quent had done both mechanized pruning and harvesting in the past. The first few times pruning the vines needed to be done by hand. Production was higher with hand pruning every year. Doing it mechanically was still an experimental task. If there were enough warm days during the winter, they might be able to get a lot of it done with everyone working.

"I was hoping to hire some women to work at the winery," Bob said. "We only helped a few find jobs through the laborers center. Single women with children needed jobs here and couldn't move easily. They might help pruning the vines if we hire some now."

"I can put up a notice at the community center and Sally's tomorrow if you want me to" Clavo offered. "You may get a few men looking for better jobs, too."

In early November, the weather was in the seventies. There was some rain every few days, usually as a slow drizzle and while it fell the temperature dropped to the sixties. The smell from the last robbing of the hives reeked strong and sweet. Paul passed around glasses of his grandfather's old recipe honey mead. Like the honey, it had a strong sweet taste.

"We have enough extra honey to make quite a bit of the mead, if you like it" Paul offered. "I've never seen it sold anywhere, but I've liked since I was a kid."

The boys seemed to like it best. It was a little sweet for beer drinker's taste. "How much did you make?" asked Tim. Forty gallons was the answer, enough to last a while, enough to decide when and how much more to make.

The boys had a Halloween party just a few days earlier. Friends of several of the men came, too. Nothing very wild happened, just a marathon of horror movies and a very full house. Most of the football team had come, along with a few older boys. Some were older brothers and some were friends of Johnny Mac's or Gary's. The whole younger group moved their party to the bunkhouse after midnight. One side was the unused house that was still intact, with bunk beds, couches, and a TV. The big table was gone but more remained in the cook house section along with the exercise equipment and anything that would duplicate what was already moved to the house.

A few girls came, but were driven home when the party moved. The underage group went without any alcohol at the house, for appearance sake, but some was waiting in the fridge at the cookhouse.

The adults had a great time with their guests just as the boys did. The costumes were the best a bunch of country boys could come up with. There were a lot of pirates, Indians, and of course, cowboys. Other partygoers were more unique. There was a mummy, a ghost, an Egyptian and a roman in a toga. It had been a success but the cleanup was still to be completed. The bunkhouse was still a mess. It was quickly cleaned up and November got off to a good start.

Dan had bought a little two man boat with a trolling motor that would fit in the bed of the pick-up. With the honey all brought in, he and Tim went to the lake to try their luck. Since there wasn't a boat ramp at the lake, the little boat was perfect. At a point not very far from their usual fishing spot they could drive to the waters edge. Tim grabbed handles on one side and pulled it back out of the bed. Dan grabbed handles at the other side and they slid it into the water.

The boat took them to spots that couldn't be fished from shore because cattails or water plants blocked and tangled any line cast in. The fish finder that came with the boat helped, too. "Do we have our usual bet?" asked Tim. "Yeah, biggest fish and most fish gets a blow job, win both and the loser has a sore ass tomorrow," Dan replied.

"You're developing a talent. I wasn't sore at all, last time you won both. I might even be starting to like the receiving end the best," Tim admitted.

"If I think you're losing on purpose, it'll be cowboy tongue torture for you buddy," Dan threatened.

They began casting along the edge of the water plants. After an hour and a half the sun was getting low and it was time to load up and head home. They were doing better than their old Saturday morning trips. Maybe it was the fish finder or maybe it was the boat. They had twenty eight keepers in the live well. Tim got biggest and Dan got most, so they were even on the bet. "We're going to fish the lake clean if we keep this up," Dan warned.

"Let's just order some fry and stock it like we did with the stock tanks and ponds. We can even put some feeders out for them," Tim replied. They had to pull the plug and drain the live well to get the boat in the truck, but refilled it with a bucket for the ride home.

Scotty and Quent were outside the pantry room in the garden shed, where it had been moved, cleaning veggies from the garden and greenhouse when Dan and Tim drove up. It was dark but light from the shed and through the overhead door told Dan they were there. He flipped on a floodlight to get the boat down from the bed, pulling it forward to drain the water again, first.

"I figured you'd already have supper cooking by now" Tim stated. "It's six thirty now, what's up?"

"We had a lot of fall veggies ready to pick and it took a while. Look at all this broccoli and cauliflower. We still have summer produce in the greenhouse and a lot of oriental veggies are ready to pick, too" Quent answered.

"Do you want to do a fish fry for supper? I haven't started anything, yet" Scotty asked. It was agreed and Scotty left to fire up the big gas fry pot. He'd make hushpuppies and some other things for the meal while the three of them cleaned and filleted the fish.

Just like a drill sergeant, Scotty began assigning tasks to the hungry looking men. One group cut potatoes, one made coleslaw, another boiled water for corn on the cob, a fourth broke up cauliflower and broccoli to batter and fry, a fifth did the same with okra. Scotty mixed the batters and the hushpuppies. Supper for twenty two either took a lot of time or a lot of hands all working to get it ready. The deep fryer was the type used to deep fry turkeys, the one Tim had used for years. Fish always went in first and potatoes went last, leaving the oil cleaned up and the flavor of the fish drawn from it, neutralized by the other fried foods. Each basket full only took about three minutes to brown. It took as long for the water for the corn to boil on the stove as it did to cook all the fried food above the big gas burner.

Clavo came in a little late to be given a task. He got to sit back and do nothing for a little while and the nothing he chose to do was to get ahead of the others on alcohol consumption. Clavo rarely ever drank to excess. His whole life was being in self control so he could be there for others. That was his purpose. No amount of alcohol could help him. His problem was that his self image didn't include him being human. He only had time to get three drinks down before supper was ready but the tastes clashed and he didn't eat much.

Bob could feel the tension in Clavo when he came home each day. He felt it melt away when they made love and on the occasions he was too tired, he still lost sleep because Clavo tossed and turned all night. Clavo would insist everything was fine when asked, but Bob was accustomed to communicating on a silent level after years around Martin and Snow. Bob needed Clavo's tender touch because just as it healed Clavo from the pain of his day, it healed Bob from a lifetime of pain one small step at a time.

Everyone else made up for Clavo's lack of appetite. They had no problem drinking beer along with the food; the flavor didn't clash like mixed drinks. Seeing Clavo drinking, Bob thought it might loosen his tongue. "You guys help me find out what's wrong with Clavo. You know I'm not great at conversation anyway and all he tells me is that everything is fine," Bob asked of Tim and Dan. Bob really was a man of straight talk, straight questions, and straight answers, often confined to the simple words yes and no. Even things he did often came as a surprise because for him there was no need to talk about something when you could just do it and then say 'OK, here it is.' It wasn't bluntness but a naivety in his nature. Just as Clavo gave up enough information to reveal that he thought he was failing as a priest, he passed out. Bob carried him back, undressed him and put him to bed.

"I've been Catholic all my life and Clavo is the best priest I've ever been around," Quent said. Others echoed his sentiments. Bob never returned from the bedroom. He curled up beside Clavo and holding him in his arms, he fell asleep.

The water in the pool was warm. The heater had been cranked up for a couple of weeks now and with the cooler days it took it back to the summer temperatures. Quent had found some night blooming jasmine for the patio that filled the space with its perfume. It was a nice change from smelling honey all day. The patio had gotten a few improvements. There were more lights, but it was still incomplete. It did give enough to see at a comfortable level and was easy on the eyes. Tim got the basketball goal up so they could play half court or just make practice shots. Scotty added a little waterfall that carried water back from the filters into the pool and kept a constant sound echoing through the room. He got everyone to help build a hearth and brick oven like there was at the cookhouse. It was much larger. The chimney rose through the overhang of the house at the midpoint of one side so the roof could still move back. The test would come over the winter, seeing if it was enough to heat the space through cold spells. Shaun used his computer skills to create play lists with favorite songs each guy picked out. He had them labeled for different moods and they went through the lists randomly.

Tim got his wish and had added two more pool tables. Sye and Dave built a long bar that went near the center, opposite the ovens. The patio was open and spacious even with everything they had added. Most of the guys had drifted off but Dan, Tim, Scotty, and Quent hung around and jumped in the whirlpool.

"There is an Episcopal Church just outside Desolation," Scotty pointed out. "Jason said he stopped there one afternoon and talked to the priest. It has a school and some other buildings. Most of the members are from one family, the McLemores."

"That might be an answer for Clavo," Dan replied, "The Episcopalians seem to be more accepting of gays or at least that's what is in the news."

"I delivered at their place for the Co-op," Tim started. "They have a lot of land and a lot of houses out there. Just like Bob, in the past, I'd leave the bill and it was paid by a trust."

CHAPTER SIXTY *

Thanksgiving and the Christmas season were approaching. There was enough extra space to accommodate more guests than household members. Dan invited his sister and offered her a ride on the jet since Eric and Joan would be coming to visit their sons, too. The plane ride must have been the clincher because she agreed to come.

Clavo spent several weeks talking with the Episcopal priest after Jason made the introduction. Their talks had a calming effect on him and he returned to being himself again. Some of the McLemores visited the ranch and they lived a quiet life outside the attention of the community as well. Four men had come each time, Dave, James, Charlie, and Dan McLemore. They were all big men, taller than Dan or Tim, and Dan McLemore was taller than Johnny. Ages weren't discussed but Dan thought they were all a little older and near their early forties.

"Between our two bunches we seem to own most of the land around here," Dave, who acted as the head of the family, spoke up. "There isn't much use for this desert scrub, but it makes a nice privacy fence."

They moved to the pool tables and the conversation was punctuated by the sound of balls colliding. Clack, "So what's the story on all these windmills?" Clack, "They beat oil wells and cattle for making money." Clack, "Oh really, and how do the grapes and the bees fit in?" Clack, "Well, we have more vineyard space planted than Gallo and with honey we can make some bucks, too."

"So, you're all partners," asked Dave.

"Yeah, I own forty nine percent and the men own fifty one percent, together," Bob answered.

"That's not really what I was asking. James and I are partners. Charlie and Dan are partners. Do you get my drift?"

"We don't have any loose ends. If we had a lonely cowboy on the ranch, we'd all feel obliged to help him find a buddy. We try to be invisible. Lance had some problems a while back, though."

"He's the horse trainer. We might need his help if we could work out a deal." Dave was a nice guy. He could get his point across without using too many words, in the cowboy way. Dave said they'd been in Desolation nearly twenty years and had other homes. The McLemores were a big family. Only a few kids were still in school, and in the sixth grade. The rest were in college or had graduated. Each time he came over he and James brought another male couple along, but always just four of them. Bob began to wonder if there were any McLemore women. Dave didn't ask many questions so Bob didn't either.

Lance spent time each week with two of the younger boys helping them train some cutting horses. Jason always went with him, never letting him out of his sight. He learned more about the horses watching Lance and the boys and participated occasionally. He still insisted he preferred his horses to run on two or four wheels, though.

Quent brought in live trees just before Thanksgiving, a big one for the patio and smaller ones for each apartment and the den that he said would survive the lower light levels inside. They were all desert tolerant and would be planted along the creek after the holidays. Every tree didn't need to feed bees; some were just for pleasure.

Most of the guests arrived Wednesday evening. The plane arrived with Dan's sister, his niece and nephew. It brought Paul's parents and Frank's brother who flew to Dallas from California for the flight to the ranch after a ride to Meacham Field. One of Quent's brothers and Scotty's brother rode together for the visit. Clint had a son we hadn't heard from for a long time, just called Junior. He drove up in an old pickup that looked like it wouldn't make it into town, after getting directions from Miss Sally. Everyone else coming lived in Desolation.

Scotty had them all stringing cranberries and popcorn for the trees between getting acquainted. The bar was put to good use, too. The only sour spot was when Dan's sister had a rant about him becoming, as she phrased it 'cath-lick'. About six, Clavo and Bob left; Clavo's little brother had been sitting on the porch of the rectory for hours. When the three of them returned, with Clavo driving his brother's car, the sound of sleet coming down on the roof began.

Bob returned a few minutes after Clavo. He passed out several sets of tire chains for the four wheel drive pickups saying, "You better put these on now because it will be a lot more unpleasant in the morning." Clavo would have to say Mass and the remaining guests would need a ride if the roads were iced over. There were only enough chains for three pickups. It would have been six pickups with two wheel drive, but a truck that can't steer is useless on icy dirt roads. Pitching in, the guys had them ready in a few minutes.

Tipo, Tipton Davis, Clavo's younger brother was shaken from failing to find him and the long wait. He hadn't told Clavo he was coming. "I can't make it home for Thanksgiving but I'll see you for Christmas," he had told his parents without any explanation. They understood Clavo's absence. A priest usually wasn't home for the holidays unless he served a larger parish where the priests alternated their days away. Christmas was impossible to take off but one could be away for Thanksgiving and one could be away for New Years Day. A mission had only one priest for several churches. After warming up and meeting everyone, Tipo was more relaxed. He drank a few beers, which he couldn't normally do, and they had him feeling better, too.

Scotty had ovens going everywhere. He had prepared a lot of food over the last few days. He had pies and dishes to bake already prepared and frozen, ready to go in the ovens. Quent was helping and both their brothers joined in. Paul cooked a goat and a small pig in the pit at the cookhouse, for the whole previous night. They had an assembly line going, making tamales. There were ten huge turkeys in the brick ovens and the hearth was proving its value for heating the patio. Dan was in the lead of all the remaining men, decorating the trees; except for Tim who was keeping the music playing and his glass full. Dog smiled his biggest dog smile and kept his gaze moving around the room hoping someone would toss him a tasty treat.

The clear Plexiglas of the patio roof had darkened but as the ice built up it began to reflect back the area lighting in a glowing white. It was much more luminous than ever before and gave a false sense of daytime. Joan joined in with Scotty in his preparations. Eric expressed a desire to learn how to make tamales though, and fell into the assembly line. The blues and golds that reflected from the hearth added to the mix and as the tree lights were turned on more colors sparkled. Each apartment window and the den held a tree besides the big tree near the center of the space. The smooth surface of the pool reflected light back, too.

While Dan's niece and nephew joined in decorating the trees, his sister sat at the bar near Tim and in her foul mood, she got sloshed. Tim tolerated her and with a couple of drinks her mood did improve.

After all the lights were strung, Tipo snuck out to his car and retrieved a large box. With Clavo's help, they began unwrapping newspaper from the objects inside. It contained their grandparent's crèche or posada. "I got this from the attic the last time I was home, to bring to you," Tipo told Clavo. They selected a large flat stone on one side of the fountain as the best place to set it up. The rock was soon covered with the delicate figurines and more remained in the box. Shepherds got placed on a higher rock with their sheep. Houses and villagers went on higher and lower rocks. Pilgrims appeared to be climbing rocks and the golden color of the rock matched their vision of Bethlehem. The final detail was to adjust the spotlight intended to shine on the splashing water so it shone on the manger in the stable.

Clavo stepped back and tears ran down his cheeks. "I wish Nana could be here to see this. It's beautiful and she loved it so much."

"We all miss her and Granddad," Tipo responded.

Paul steamed one large pot of tamales for everyone to munch, but the rest and all Scotty's food was covered and put away or in the walk-in fridge. Only a few things would be cooked the next day. They got the tables and chairs set up. The trees were finished. Everyone kicked back, but Dan's sister had to be carried to bed.

The morning was brighter still than the evening before. At six-thirty the smell of coffee overpowered the lingering smells from the meal preparation. Outside, eight inches to a foot of ice covered everything. It was granular and loose as if ejected from a snow cone machine a minute earlier. It crunched under Bob's boots as he made his way out to start the trucks. Clavo had to get to the church early to turn the heat up. Dan's nephew who had slept in the spare bedroom of his apartment woke Dan and Tim, coffee in hand. Two trips with three trucks got everyone to the church, with a slight delay finding clothes for Junior, except Dan's sister who swore it hurt to move. It took a few more trips as a taxi service to gather up others unable to make it themselves. The service was scheduled for eight thirty but the last load arrived at ten. All those waiting filed into the church from the parish hall as the trucks approached.

The organ was blaring out through the room with an unfamiliar organist at the keyboard as Bob, Dan, and Tim, entered. They made their way to the front after a wave from Tipo, but looking around the church, it was full. It had never been more than half full, even after Gary's family joined. The paid their respects to the altar, genuflecting, and slid into the pew. The processional music started before they settled in and a side by side double procession flowed into the church.

Clavo and Father Tim with their shepherd's staffs were the last to enter. Clavo began, "We welcome our brethren who join us this day to give thanks to the Lord." From that point on it followed the normal course of a Mass, but the readings were all sung, and what Father Tim said in English Clavo repeated in Spanish standing beside him. It was a beautiful service. After it ended they all went to the parish hall to wait for the ride home, but the ice had melted from the roads.

By noon most attending the service were at the ranch. The food wouldn't be served until two. Lance was wandering around taking pictures of everyone. Near the front door, it opened and his parents came in. He snapped the picture of them but his knees buckled and Jason caught him. He overcame his initial shock and passed the camera to Brian.

Bob was sweating profusely and his hands were trembling. After an uncounted number of introductions he interrupted the banter and excused himself.

"He's never been around so many people when he had to talk to them, you know," Maria told Clavo as they watched him leave the patio. His face had gone white.

"I need to get into comfortable clothes anyway and I'll check on him," Clavo replied. When he entered their bedroom he went straight for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and brought a small pill to Bob. "Take this, big guy. It will help you get through all the confusion."

"I don't think I can take answering the same questions one more time. It feels like I'm not giving the right answer and they keep asking me the same things again. I keep looking for the spotlight shining in my face."

"I'm sure it doesn't help much that there is such a strong family resemblance among the McLemores. When everyone starts eating the questions will stop." Clavo was trying to reassure and comfort him. "Let's change clothes and hang in here a while before we go back into the mob."

Brian, flanked by Hayden and Jared, and followed by Junior, were getting a lot more pictures. They'd downloaded the camera to the office computer twice already. Junior had borrowed clothes from the boys and though his speech was still pure West Texas cowboy, he cleaned up real good. He looked like a magazine model in the borrowed clothes and they'd spiked up his blonde hair in their own style. He was like a puppy; just lacking the tongue hanging out of his mouth. The sparkle in his eyes hid the dark times and hard life he'd known forever.

Clavo came out of the bedroom alone, guitar in hand. He didn't play alone for more than a few minutes. With others joining in, the time until Scotty had the food lined up in a buffet, passed in a heartbeat. It was ready early, a little after one, because bread and dressing was all that required more than heating up. Rachel McLemore was a trained chef and spent most of the time talking to Scotty since she'd been at the house. She was impressed with his skills that crossed all the barriers between home style southern cooking, Mexican, and classic French cuisine. Tim served the wines and kept glasses full of sweet tea for those who preferred it.

The ever present fear that the melted sleet would refreeze as solid sheets of ice covering the roads and making travel impossible hastened the departure of most guests when the meal was finished. Some guests stayed on to spend the night, like Scotty's parents. The jet wasn't leaving until Sunday. The McLemores declared that it was their turn come Christmas and everyone should come. Gary's family, with Maria and Charlie and their children and grandchildren were among the last to leave. Laura and Patti left earlier. Miss Sally and her crew left earlier, too. Some of them probably had another meal prepared at home, in the Texas style where you eat and enjoy it all the way to Sunday.

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE *

In the following days after Thanksgiving passed, it became apparent that Junior was there to stay. He had a minimum of possessions in his wreck of a truck and half of the front seat was occupied by his saddle. "Clint, can you give me a place to stay until I get on my feet." He'd never called Clint dad. "Grandma died and Granddad went to the nursing home. There's no place for me in Lubbock anymore." He was nineteen and his mother who worked in bars had long ago disappeared from his life after going through eight or ten men in a couple of years. If she was alive only God knew where she was.

"How'd you know where to find me?" Clint inquired.

"This address was on the last child support check over a year ago and I took my chances coming here. Your checks paid the house payment for most of my life but when Granddad went to the nursing home Aunt Laverne had a fit. 'That little bastard ain't getting my momma's house' she said and put me on the street. This was my only chance I had of finding a place to stay."

Clint bought him new clothes but all western wear. Dan got Jared to go with them the next Saturday to Midland and he bought him what a nineteen year old boy needed. Dan had taken a shine to him anyway. He was really a sweet kid. He fell right in with any ranch work, no matter who he was working with, and would join Brian at the community college in the spring.

He was a true fisherman and all four of the younger boys caught the fever from him. They'd spread out with Dan and Tim on the Saturday trips to the lake, switching out who was using the little boat. December is a great time to fish. Most of the days were pleasant and there were no bugs falling in the water so the fish were hungry. Miss Sally was happy because the bait man had to come more often.

Christmas passed with less fanfare. Paul, Frank, Mario, and Juan went to Mexico to their family home and stayed several weeks. Haden and Jared flew home with their dad when he brought Dan's nephew, who came alone for Christmas and returned when he had to go back.. The meal at the McLemore's was a lot like the Thanksgiving meal at the ranch.

Clavo had taken an interest in the Cessna that hadn't left its hangar in years. Mechanics came from Odessa and got it running well enough to fly back there, where they went over it with a fine toothed comb. Bob, Haden. and Jared, both had their pilot's license as did several of the McLemores. The Cessna hadn't been used because it carried a total of eight and the ranch needs usually called for more space. When he had Haden and Jared fly him to Alpine right after Christmas, his reasons became apparent. It wasn't a far drive from the ranch to Alpine. His brother Tipo was going to school there at West Texas State and they were bringing him back for the weeks until the spring semester began.

Clavo paid his tuition and had his address listed as the ranch so he would become a Texas resident. The fall semester had him still listed as out of state because it required a six month residency to take effect, but for spring his tuition would drop dramatically with his new status. With Shaun, Junior, and Brian riding along, they got a chance to see the college when picking Tipo up. On the flight home, with a fairly full tank, they flew around checking out some of the new property. GPS locators helped them determine where the pieces were but windmills were easy to spot. Haden dropped them down to get a good view of the scenery.

"This is a lot easier than horseback," Brian observed, "Even following the tracks for servicing the windmills is pretty rough going in a pickup. Maybe we'll get some time to work on the roads this summer." Junior was spellbound seeing the vastness of the ranch and the forest of windmills. He sat next to Tipo and they leaned together to look out the windows. On the ground again, they taxied right into the hangar.

Dan and Tim had spent the day fishing. It was idle time before calving began or crops needed tending. They had the little boat in the water and had taken a break lying on a blanket because the live well was full. The winter rye was green all around them and the sun almost brought the temperature to hot there lying on the ground. Tim was leaned back against the cooler with Dan's head in his lap dosing away. Dan didn't quite snore but every once and a while he made little noises as he dreamed. Tim sipped his beer running the fingers of one hand through Dan's hair while he watched the tiny waves hit the bank. They never had these touching times of physical contact outside the house before, but there were no eyes to see them here on the bank.

A blue heron dove into the water going after a fish right in front of them and startled Dan awake. He rolled his eyes to look up at Tim and said, "I guess I fell asleep on you, sorry babe."

"No need to be sorry, it felt really good having you here with me. I love days like this." There was an old log just out from shore packed full of red eared sliders catching the sun. They looked around some when the heron splashed and the men spoke, but their eyes slowly returned to slits and none moved. Three white tails drank from the far bank. With their thirst satisfied, the buck rattled and rubbed on a tree trying to get the velvet off his new antlers. The two does were full bellied carrying their spring fawns. Tim pulled Dan up into a kiss and they scattered. "I love the taste of you," he told Dan, "You're my favorite flavor."

They drained the live well, replugged it, and lifted the considerably lighter boat into the pickup bed and filled the well with water again to keep their catch alive. "Who won the bet this time?" Dan asked.

"You won most and biggest so I give the blow job and get the sore butt," Tim answered.

"I'll be gentle" Dan told him.

Miss Sally plunged her hand into the live well. She felt around a little and pulled out a four pound cat, holding him in a tight grip between her thumb and forefinger by his bottom lip. With his tail thrashing, she dropped him into a basket in the minnow tank to keep until she went home. "I'm going to try to cook it a way Scotty showed me, coated with almonds and sort of oven fried with a sauce called Béchamel," she said. "I might even invite company over."

"Go easy on the bait man, Miss Sally," Tim said.

"I won't hurt the youngun' but a lady needs her fantasies," she replied.

Junior and Tipo were out the door checking out their catch as soon as they drove up. "We'll clean them, guys," Junior offered.

"Great, but feed the scraps to the chickens, OK" Dan requested.

Dave McLemore was there when Dan and Tim went into the patio. For late afternoon, it was becoming a very sociable house now. Bob was sure that was what his mother had in mind when the main part was built originally but her illness and death had changed all that. The McLemores contrasted sharply from the men at the ranch by being well educated but the common thread of a West Texas ranching background drew them together. Each group had planned to spend the New Years apart for now.

Dave was getting information on the wind generators, but mostly just there for a friendly visit. Dan took a seat at the bar next to Clavo and Clint and Tim moved behind the bar. It had become his new favorite spot and he seemed to spend more time sitting back there than he did with a cue stick in his hand lately. It just fit him. Two of Dave's boys, Brian, and Shaun, were playing pool anyway. The third table had balls scattered and two sticks leaned against the side.

Junior and Tipo came in apologizing to the others for taking so long and ran to Tipo's room 'to get the fish smell off them'. Coming back again fifteen minutes later, they were both red faced and dripping from the shower. Tipo had on long board shorts and was shirtless. Junior had on a threadbare ripped tailed red cowboy shirt with the sleeves cut out and no snaps done up, with a pair of daisy-mays that looked like they were cut before he'd filled out good. Both their chests were nicely cut. Junior had real definition and a deep cleft between his pecs that showed he'd been no stranger to hard work or athletics. It was a good bet his physique came more from hard work, though.

The other four were more moderately dressed for a January day in Texas. In the desert, it might have been warm earlier and suddenly get below freezing after the sun went down. Dry air gains and looses its heat in a hurry. Kenneth and Nate, Dave's boys, were drooling as the looked over at Junior and Tipo. When Junior stretched over the table to reach for a shot, both his cheeks hung below his shorts. A longer stretch might have revealed even more.

Nate's mouth fell open. "I think I forgot to buy him underwear when we went shopping," Dan observed.

"No, I bought him boxers and briefs," Clint replied, "But he said he got used to going without because it cut down on laundry."

"The look on Nate's face tells me he'd like Junior to eliminate laundry all together," Tim said with a chuckle.

"He might take after his dad in more ways than looks," Clint replied, "And appreciate a little attention from other guys. We ain't talked about that yet."

"Well, Tipo does but he's not quite ready to talk about it yet. That's why he's here with his big bro instead of back in Santa Fe right now," Clavo explained. "My family just wouldn't understand my being gay. Tipo was the exception. I think he knew he was gay before I realized I was, but he still hasn't said so out loud. We have more brothers and sisters who aren't gay to make grandchildren for dad."

"Where are Hayden and Jared?" Dan asked.

"They said they were going exploring on the ranch with two more of Dave's boys," Clavo answered.

"There must be a lot of things to explore in the horse barn, then, because their truck was parked behind it when we got back and it's still there," Tim replied, turning a monitor toward the front of the bar. "Bob's security people installed all these wireless cameras the other day. There are more around and in the horse barn than any place else because of Lance. Most of them point toward doors or gates and have motion sensors. They do infrared at night, too."

"Damn, I didn't know about that yet," Clavo exclaimed.

"I'm not sure anyone but Bob does yet, but I thought I had a new TV to watch here at the bar and turned it on. There are two hundred cameras that come up twenty to a channel and then on individual channels. I found a new icon on the computer and it has the cameras there too. There's this monitor, one in Bob's office, and one in the shop office in the barn. Because the trial is finally coming up next week after being postponed so many times, the lawyers made him put the cameras in. We could see a lot more of the inside of the horse barn, but that might be a bad idea. There's a red light on for the hay loft of the horse barn." Tim pointed to a row of numbers across the bottom of the screen and said the red lit cameras had motion detectors activated.

"We'd better wait until they come back before we tell these boys about the cameras," Clavo said.

"No kidding, these can be controlled to move and zoom by any computer on the ranch. They record everything, too."

Dave and Bob must have caught some of the conversation. "That set up is pretty high tech for Desolation," Dave commented.

"Hell yeah, I'm more of the big bad barking biting guard dog type guy, myself," Tim responded.

"We had some of the framers looking for jobs with us. Dex and I have an architectural, engineering, and construction firm here and in Dallas," Dave revealed.

"Did you hire any of the men?" Bob asked.

"No, out here we only have about thirty men working and most of them are family, in the military sense of the word. Trust me, homophobes would never fit in with our men."

"My guess is we've got some cross breeding going on between the Esterhazy Ranch and the McLemore Ranch right now," Tim chuckled.

"How many kids do you have anyway?" Dan asked.

"James and I share a house with my cousin Charlie and his partner, Dan. All together we have twenty seven, but fifteen are ours and twelve are theirs. I have one girl, but she's teaching French and Italian in Austin now. There are one hundred and thirty seven children in our family on the ranch. Most are between eighteen and twenty six, but thirty two are younger. The youngest are eleven now,"

"How did that happen? I haven't seen too many women over there," Dan asked.

"For a long time our business has been helping people who can't have children find a way to have them. In a way, you could say we have nearly three million children because that's how many we've helped bring into this world. Look at Kenneth and Nate. They are my sons with the same genetic mother, born on the same day in the same hospital at the same time. They look identical, but they're not twins. All my children and James' children had the same genetic mother who donated her eggs and we hired surrogate mothers to carry the babies. Nine of ours are not ours genetically, but adopted."

"How did you end up doing that?" Clint asked.

"After college I spent some time in Central America and went to work at the medical school when I came back. Wanda and I worked for two doctors who were fertility specialists. God, we were poor. Her family ranched in McLennon County north of Austin and mine ranched south of Abilene. The doctors started it. They set up a foundation and got a lot of money. She got her MD in obstetrics and I got my PhD. One doctor died from a heart attack and the other died from AIDS in the early days. We ended up running the foundation. We were all connected as friends and a few like Charlie are real McLemores, but they all changed their names after we moved out here. We tried to close down the foundation once but now we only meet once a year to oversee what's been done and let others do the work. It would be nice if we could get into the wind power business since we have a lot of land."

The boys at the horse barn came back in then and the conversation changed. Bob told them about the new security cameras saying no one had watched what they were doing but telling Jared to delete the files so no one would see them. He came back from Bob's office a half hour later.

"Damn, those were some hot videos, too bad they had to be deleted," he observed.

"You know these guys could all ride together to Alpine for college every day. It's only sixty five miles and the SUV would carry all of them," Dave suggested.

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO *

Dean was on a tear in Dallas. Christmas had been a great time for business and he wondered how many presents ended up filling a crack pipe instead of going under a tree. He had a huge wad of cash, nearly thirty thousand dollars, in early January. Business had been really good. Aside from cash, his personal stash was enough to last him two months smoking all he could handle. He kept most of the cash and his stash in a climate controlled storage room he rarely visited and subsided on what his current business provided, plus his paycheck from work.

Dean even had a motor home he got for eight thousand at a steal that he really paid for with four thousand worth of crack that cost him a thousand out of pocket. That was just business and the way business worked in his thinking. It was parked at a recreational vehicle storage lot on Lake Lewisville. He had a hitch to pull his car behind it, too. The rent by the week motel was getting old but allowed him to move around easily. He switched cell phones a lot, too, keeping the numbers that made him money and forgetting the rest.

He still held a grudge against Laura. Sure, he'd gotten his money eventually, but the time while he was broke and the time it took him to get his customers back, pissed him off. Every time something fucked with his world, he got pissed at Laura again even though she was long gone and had nothing to do with his grief.

In January, he was doing a deal and Johnny law came knocking on the door in the middle of things. He eased out the balcony door and jumped to the ground a story below. He'd parked three blocks away and walked over for the deal. He lost a taste, a 'muestra,' that was lying on the table, but no more and no cash. Finding his car, he made his way first to his storage room and retrieved his cash and his stash. His next stop was at Lake Lewisville where he hooked the car to the back bumper of the motor home and drove north east toward Turner Falls. He never left anything in the motel room so a return there was pointless.

"You never know if they've been watching me or my customer," he said to himself. His plan was to become invisible for a while or to simply become someone else, someplace else far from Dallas. Stopping at a Wal-Mart along the way, he deleted the numbers from his phones and bought new ones with prepaid chips. He hid some cash in several places and put some on several cards that would spit the cash back at any convenient ATM whenever he needed it. All his stash went inside a full box of laundry detergent under the sink because he knew dogs would only smell the soap. Even his pipe went inside, sealed in a small plastic baggie. "No use to split up the dope," he thought, "Cause if they find a little, they'll keep looking."

Turner Falls was dead in January. You hide best in crowds, so he turned west toward the ski resorts in northern New Mexico. It was like shopping for produce; go for what is in season. He had no beer in the RV, just cokes. It was a long drive. Near Eagles Nest, he found an RV park with all the hook-ups and hot showers to boot. There were only about a dozen RV's there and some were just parked. He found a lonely spot near the back and unhooked the car; parking it off to one side. He'd gotten beer and some groceries at the last town of any size. He connected the electric, the sewer and water, and lastly the cable for the TV. Sure, he'd need to fill a few propane tanks, but this would be real homey. He shut all the curtains and got out his pipe.

Laura hadn't given a thought to Dean in a long time. She dated occasionally. She visited the ranch. She was becoming comfortable with her life and the stability she found in Desolation.

The trial of the contractor finally came up near the end of January. He was charged with conspiracy to commit murder which carried up to a life sentence. Most of his former employees were called as witnesses along with everyone who had been present when Lance was nearly beaten to death. The main witnesses were Lance, Jason, and the contractor. When it was finished after several weeks, the consensus was that there was no reason to believe Lance was gay. He'd never done anything to give cause to those accusations; they were just rumors. In the minds of the jurors, Lance's sexuality held more sway than the actions of the men against him so the contractor was convicted and given a five year sentence. His employees were visibly pissed by the verdict, but his legal fees had left him bankrupt and unable to get back in business anyway. He would have been broke even if he was found innocent.

An early and a late ice storm or cold spell were normal for Texas even if it was eighty degrees every day during the rest of winter. They usually hit in March right after all the tomatoes and the gardens were planted. In a rare year no storm or cold front hit and things could have been planted the first part of February, but this was a normal year. The sleet on Thanksgiving was the early storm and the late storm was barreling out of Canada and due to hit on the twenty seventh, just before the last day of the month.

The sand hill cranes had been poking around in the desert looking for a bite to eat for two weeks already. Without a weatherman to tell them the forecast they headed south again feeling the approaching storm. At one time the Whoopers (Whooping Cranes), or part of them, joined their smaller cousins, the Sand Hill Cranes, in the desert before their flight to the Platte River in Nebraska on their way to the Arctic shore. The Whoopers now went in one small group of a little over a hundred and circled the lakes surrounding Dallas and Fort Worth. Their millions had vanished and the Sand Hills were a smaller flock, but still an impressive sight.

Dean hoped to escape the ice by going south. He drove back into Texas and went through Lubbock and then Midland followed by Odessa. A highway sign for Desolation steered him off his course. He saw the sign for Desolation Lake and found an isolated spot near the water to park. He unhooked his car and drove into town because he hadn't carried any beer with him while driving. At the Gas'n'Go he went straight for the beverage section and was disappointed when there was no beer and grabbed a two liter bottle of coke. Paying for it he asked, "Is Laura working today? I haven't been here in quite a while."

"She works at the bank now and has for a long time," the girl at the counter replied taking his money. Outside, he asked the first guy he saw how to find a beer store and got directions. He took note of the bank across the street. The storm started before he was back at the RV for an hour. He settled in thinking he was lucky not to have been on the road as it built up on everything in his sight. This storm carried a wet ice creating a solid sheet where it fell.

For three days the roads and even the paths outside homes were a solid ice sheet. The phones were out except for cell phones; and with the phone lines out, so was the satellite TV. Huge icicles formed on anything, seeking some path and guided by gravity. A coating, perhaps Teflon, kept the wind generators turning; but they showed some signs of ice on the rotors. In Desolation where larger trees grew with the water from the lake, branches snapped and power lines fell to earth. The Esterhazy Ranch had lights glowing and warm air circulating with a direct connection to the power. Even the McLemore place had gone dark.

Football cleats make walking on ice a possible chore. You can count on cows to calve at the worst possible time and cleats stomped and trudged between the barns and the house uncountable times. Propane fired heaters blowing warm air across the open space dried newborns like the summer sun, but hands still felt the chill from the trek down from the house. The loft was still as cold as hell and hay had to be dropped down the scuttle for feed and bedding.

A calf lying on dry hay next to its mother was warm and fine. Hay didn't stay dry, or clean. A little Bobcat loader got the wet stuff out the door into a pile, but shoveling it up, and the trip in and out, were hell. Horses had to be tended, too. Their shit was dryer and was piled in a corner of the stall with new hay spread on the floor.

"You can't let ice build up on their feet and hooves or you'll hobble them", ," Lance kept reminding them. Most of the cows didn't fare as well. Only those with calves or about to calve were in the barns. They had shelter and food and a heater in the water troughs providing enough to drink, but working them when men and horses and cattle couldn't walk was out of the question. You can't chance breaking the leg of a thirty thousand dollar cutting horse or prime breeding stock, but men could heal up.

"We should have stayed in the dorm and we wouldn't be here to do this," Junior bitched, adding a few colorful cuss words.

"What did you do in Lubbock?" Brian questioned.

"Hell, it would freeze over there for weeks. My aunt sold my horse three years ago though, so I sat warm in the house," he answered.

"You got a warm body to cuddle up with here," Hayden commented.

"Yeah well, me and Tipo do a little more than just cuddling," Junior shot back.

"You and Shaun swap spit plenty," Tipo added.

"We swap more than spit" Shaun had to say.

"I know and it's got a nice flavor, too. I like the taste of Junior best, but if he don't treat me right I might just visit you two and try another sample," Tipo teased. He almost fell in spite of the cleats but several hands reached out to steady him on his feet and they reached the barn. They ragged on each other from their first cup of coffee that morning and it was time now to get the work over with. Johnny and Gary with the help of Jay, Clint, and James, had the horse barn nearly finished. At the cow barn they were just in time to help a new calf get its first view of daylight.

Miss Sally had sent her help home when the ice started coming down. The schools were closed. The co-op was closed. Her generator kept the store able to be open for any emergency needs and she had plenty of gas. She had a cot in her office, mostly for her, but at times one of the girls had a spell and needed to lay down for a bit. She kept changes of clothes in case she got dirty and her bathroom even had a shower. The bell on the door would tell her if anyone came in so she made the best of it by watching TV.

Laura struggled, walking in the ice covered grass to the bank to open it, but the key pad was electric and wouldn't let her open the door with her keys. She turned around and returned to Patti's house.

"This is no fun, no fun at all," Dean said out loud to himself. He'd changed propane bottles and had two more full spares. It was still chilly in the RV. A strong wind would come up and it rocked from side to side. He had the curtains open looking down at the lake. Some ducks were huddled under a bush with their heads tucked under their wings but better off than having their feet frozen into the ice that covered the surface of the lake. They were perfect coyote bait if the coyote could get around. He hit on his pipe again and forgot about the cold.

"Did you talk to Dave? Are they doing all right?," Tim asked Bob.

"They're surviving. They have generators but none big enough to keep things working and not enough gas if they did. With plenty of propane and firewood, they'll be OK until it melts," Bob answered. "We put gas valves in most of the rooms for space heaters in case the power was out. You'd think they'd have thought of that when they built their homes," Dan responded.

Everyone was taking shifts at the calving barn and most of the others were asleep. It was a month into the calving season and a lot of cows were due at any moment. Only Clavo was exempt because of his duties at the church. Scotty and Quent checked the greenhouses every day, but they did shifts at the calving barn, too. The shifts would continue for over a month more. Only the weather would improve.

When Johnny and Gary got to the last stall, the little mare's stall, she had a surprise for them. Nuzzling under her was a foal. It looked just like her except for a five pointed star on its forehead. They left her alone and went to get Brian because she was his horse.

"Hey Brian, come with us," Johnny said almost sternly. Brian didn't hesitate because of the tone of Johnny's voice. Gary didn't crack a smile either and all the rest followed to see what was up. Inside Johnny said, "Go look in the last stall on the left."

Tears were streaming down Brian's cheeks because he knew that was his mare's stall and was sure something had happened to her. He peered over the top rail and started jumping up and down, yelling "Ye Ha!" In the stall, she nuzzled his hand and he said, "Blondie, you didn't tell me you were pregnant." He checked over the foal and it was a little filly. "She must have gotten with one of the studs when nobody was looking." The trained cutting horses were all geldings, but they had bought a couple of studs and some brood mares the previous spring. "I'm calling her Desi's Star or Desi, short for Desolation," he proclaimed.

Their shift was the shortest and the first of the day, with eight of them at once, because they cleaned the stalls and more importantly, fewer births occurred during those hours for inexperienced hands to deal with. At noon only one of the boys, Jared, watched the cows while the rest ogled over the foal Yes, it was the first foal born on the ranch and it would have been more appropriate for a brood mare to step up to the plate. Instead, the little mare took the lead.

On the afternoon of the third day the temperature rose to seventy and the ice melted away. Laura opened the bank when the power was restored and Miss Sally left her store in other hands. She drove home in the carnation pink Chrysler Imperial her husband had bought her for her thirty fifth birthday. It had push button shift. She had a new SUV for trips to town, but going to the store she always drove the Imperial. Old Charlie had even bought two he kept for parts in case hers needed repairs, some twenty years back. The forecast low was fifty, so it wouldn't refreeze.

The lake was three feet higher after the melt. Dean was still on safe ground. He took his car on a cruise around Desolation, stopping to watch Laura at the bank through the window. She talked to Tim with him leaning against the counter for nearly and hour before a customer came in and he left. Dean followed until he got to a sign at a crossroads saying 'dead end road' in the direction Tim was headed, so he turned. The red pickup would be easy to spot. He made a run for beer and returned to the RV at the lake.

It was Friday and Clavo went to do his first mass of the week. Dan and Tim had been doing the afternoon shift at the calving barn. It was full on spawning season and they switched out shifts for Saturdays to fish. Bob and Jay were doing the four AM to eight AM time period and gladly took the later shift. Clavo was happy he'd be waking up next to Bob the next morning, when he found out. They had been on different schedules for over a month.

Bill Miller drove out to the lake just to get out of the house. He could see the RV parked on the back side, so he drove around to check it out. "Someone might have frozen to death in there," he said to himself. He knocked on the door. Curtains were drawn and he couldn't see inside. No one answered so he knocked again.

Dean opened the door zipping up his pants. It was just for show. "Sorry, I was taking a nap," he said. In reality he was putting his pipe and stash away.

"I was just checking to see if you were all right," Bill replied.

"I'm fine here. I didn't want to be stuck on the road during the storm so I took the road to the lake when I saw it and parked here. I had plenty of propane. I'll be heading west tomorrow."

"Take care, then," Bill told him and went away.

Dean really wanted a hot shower since his water heater was electric and he had done without for a few days. Tonight he'd stay put on the off chance roads were still freezing over. He'd missed any weather reports.

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE *

"I'll meet you at the lake in a few," Dan told Tim, "I need to help get this calf pulled and I'll follow you. Stop and get bait and we might be there about the same time."

The girl at the store acted like she didn't want a damn thing to do with touching minnows. She wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, either. First, she started dipping in a tank with no minnows, and then she was after the wrong kind. Tim was wondering if she could count to ten, much less twelve since minnows sold by the dozen. He thought, "Maybe she's smart after all. If she hates getting minnows and makes it hard on me, she might think I'll buy them when someone else is working. Fishing won't wait until a shift changes for you to buy bait."

Dan was leaned against the bed of his pickup when Tim pulled up. "Miss Sally took a few days off since she slept at the store through the storm. She didn't want anybody doing without. The girl who got the minnows for me was a pain in the ass and it took a while," Tim explained.

"Yeah, plenty of people need a job and the wrong one gets it," Dan replied.

"Sally says the pretty ones sell the most even if they're not too smart. Guys buy more things or buy things they don't need. Laura said one guy came every day and topped off his tank when it only held three bucks worth just so he could say hi."

They slid the boat out of the bed and put it in the water. Dan was never sure if the spawning fish went for the bait because they were hungry from exertion or because they were feeding on the eggs other fish laid. Tim thought they did the fish a favor by taking the ones without a strong urge to spawn. "If they'll go for food instead of breeding when they only get one chance a year, something's wrong," Tim would say.

Dean recognized the red truck right off. People are creatures of habit, he thought. He was disappointed someone else was there. If some fucker would kill him for a ten dollar rock, messing this dude up as payback to fuck up Laura's life would be nothing. He hooked up the hitch to his car and drove away in the RV. Another Saturday would give him a chance to get even. It was just a matter of timing.

Dan watched Tim casting and reeling in his line. They'd caught enough fish using crappie rigs and pulling in three at a cast most of the time. The live well was full plus a stringer hanging over the side. The best places were the inlets where creeks and channels entered the lake and where spawning fish went upstream to lay their eggs. Tim was trying to even up their catches because Dan was three fish ahead of him. Dan just watched him. Tim would bite his bottom lip when he cast the line out.

"You took my spiders away. You took them out of my dreams and out of my thoughts," he told Tim.

"What? You know I'll get rid of any spiders that bother you. All you have to do is ask," Tim responded, casting the line out again. Tim didn't know the meaning behind the words.

"I love you." Dan couldn't say anything else. His monster had been gone for a while. Life hadn't been perfect with all the stress of the trial, but he knew Tim had taken away the monster that had haunted him all his life. He had no thoughts of suicide anymore. At last he was happy.

"Hell, I love you, too, babe. I still don't want to loose the bet though." He cast again.

Junior and Tipo were right there volunteering to clean the fish again, but with Brian and Shaun to help them. "See, you take fish home to a woman and she gets pissed off. She tells you to clean them or leave them outside cause she ain't cleaning no fish. You bring them home to men and they clean them for you. It's a weird assed world" Tim observed.

"I don't see any weird asses around here, just cute ones," Junior replied.

"If I blindfolded you, could you tell if it was my ass or someone else's?" Tim questioned.

"Of course I could. I already know you all by the smell of your cologne, your deodorant, your shampoo, and you all have a special smell when you sweat. I have a good nose. I couldn't tell you apart by touch because I never felt of your ass," Junior responded. "But it is a cute ass."

"Give that boy a prize, Dan."

Clavo had an announcement when he came home; he was being confirmed as an Episcopal Sunday night and ordained an Episcopal priest the following Sunday. He was leaving the Catholic Church. "I couldn't be Clavo and a Catholic priest at the same time. As an Episcopal I can be both at the same time. Father Tim and Malachi are moving back to Dallas and I'm taking his place."

"He told me a month ago," Bob confided.

When Granny Mitchell heard about Clavo's move, she said, "We came to this church because of Clavo. You dance with them what brung you." She put her foot down and the whole family was following Clavo to the new church. They were all in attendance for his confirmation and his ordination the next week.

That next Saturday Dan and Tim fished together again. All the boys fished from the bank. Dean drove by to check, but never stopped. He'd spent a night in a motel in Alpine and found an RV park there the next day. The pine trees were a nice change in desert scenery, even if they were short. Dean only briefly viewed the scenery. Most of his time was occupied with the curtains shut as he smoked his glass pipe.

Sex for Dean was fun before he started smoking his pipe. After that, he either couldn't get hard or he stayed hard. If he fucked, he could bring himself to the edge but never get there. He fucked like a gelded proud cut stud horse. His equipment was a match, anyway. He could only get off by himself. Someone could watch but they couldn't help any. Mostly he jacked like any other guy but he could get it in his mouth and use his tongue to help take him over the edge. Even doing that it might take him an hour between hits on the pipe to achieve his goal.

If he had sex with women it was in some way, to get more rocks. Some women loved it and even thought the sex meant love, because it seemed to be all for their pleasure when he would never cum. He would just fuck harder and rougher, trying to get there, until exhaustion overtook him or he lost his erection. Friends weren't friends, they were customers, to help pay for more rocks. His world was all about himself and his pipe. His revenge was for anyone who messed with his plans. It was an hour's drive back to the lake. He would go hunting there again the next Saturday.

The sand hill cranes were back again. Most years they would be in Nebraska by this time, but some internal sense told them when the weather was right to continue their journey. They filled the sky over desolation for a brief moment. Their numbers didn't form the endless dark cloud it had once been. A few stopped to feed in the creeks and inlets flowing into the lake while others sought a meal somewhere in the surrounding area. On their return this time, one white bird with black wing tips was among them. The storm had separated it from its kin. Being familiar with its cousins, it followed along for the reunion on the Platte River.

Blondie's foal was a surprise and a lucky event. She gave birth for the first time, unaided and alone. She'd not been bred intentionally because of her small size and the large size of the two stud horses. The brood mares were equal in size to the studs and their breeding was documented with an expected due date. When the first foal was born to that group, it drew Lance, Gary, and Johnny away from the calving watch. The shifts had fewer men to help in the births and were forced to stay at the barn longer hours.

On the Sunday of Clavo's ordination, god or fate intervened. All the cows due to calve had already done so and the next group was moved up to the barns from the feedlots. None were due for another week on that Sunday. No mares were showing signs of impending delivery, either, so everyone attended the mass. At the end of the sacrament, the Episcopal Bishop announced that all those who had been instructed and confirmed by Clavo, needed only take one class to become confirmed as a member of their church. The McLemores would act as Godparents, as would Jason, for their confirmation.

On Saturday morning Dan was dealing with a breach birth. He had put on the long gloves that reached to his shoulder. The cow was bound by all four feet and her head to prevent any movement on her part. Dan pushed his hand inside and tried to reposition the calf. He'd tried several times. Time was limited after the water breaks. He took a cord and reached inside again, painstakingly securing a loop around the calf's legs. Tim was waiting.

"Go ahead and I'll join you at the lake when I finish here," Dan told Tim. "It shouldn't be much more than another hour. Get everything, load the boat, and buy the minnows."

He stopped by the horse barn hoping for some company, but they were busy with a foaling mare there, too. Blondie whinnied as he past by wanting attention. She nuzzled his hand with Desi by her side. Each time he tried to leave, she whinnied more until he just walked away.

The house seemed empty. Junior helped him load the boat saying he couldn't come because mid-terms were the next week and his shift started at noon. Dog wanted to play. He tried to coax Tim into a game of chase and kept nipping at his heels. He moaned, if you could call that particular dog sound a moan, as Tim went out the door.

Miss Sally was at the store to get his minnows. She always took weekends off, but the storm altered her schedule. He had to drag himself away. She had a need to talk but he had fish to catch. "I'll bring you some nice ones," he told her, walking away.

At the lake, he backed up to the spot they usually put the boat in the water. He opened the tail gate and then undid the braces to allow it to drop further. He slid it back. It looked as if he'd damage the boat if he let it fall to the ground so he could drag it to the water, so he stopped with one end resting on the ground and the other leaned against the bed of the truck. Dan would have to help. He got his fishing char positioned in his old spot nearby, drove the rod holder into the ground with his foot, baited and cast out his line, placing it in the holder.

"Beer, beer, gotta get a beer," he mumbled to himself. He grabbed one from the cooler and got the tackle box with the other hand. As he turned, there was that one lone whooper in the water right in front of his chair. He didn't move. He'd never seen a whooper before except in pictures. It was half again bigger than the sand hills. They were eye to eye for minutes, unmoving. The bird took flight and he followed it until he was looking straight up at the sky with his head tilted back.

"Crack," something hit him in the back of the head and everything went black.

Dean arrived an hour early. He hadn't really slept the last night. He laid down but never went to sleep. He could sleep later. The willow branch broke from the force of the blow when it made contact with Tim's head, like a bat that splits and breaks from the pitch on a home run hit. He tossed the bit that remained to the ground and picked up a rock the size of a basketball to finish his work. He put all his strength into dashing it into Tim's head. There was no more movement. He turned and casually walked to his car confident the deed was done. He'd seen Bill Miller park on the side he came in at, so he took the opposite direction going out. He did take a hit off his pipe before leaving.

The angle Tim held his head put the blow from the branch at the strongest part of his skull. The rock wasn't a rock, but a chunk of clay slightly softened by the moisture from the ice. It was malleable. The weight and force alone should have been enough to kill him, but it glanced off and he still drew breath.

Dan pulled up five minutes later. He felt his neck and found a pulse. He called the ranch and told Junior to get help to the north side of the lake near the red and white pickups. He had a blanket in the truck and covered Tim, placing his head in his lap. There wasn't much blood, only a trickle from the gash made by the branch. He poured out his heart and soul. Sobbing until a helicopter arrived and carried them both away.

The deputy from Lance's attack was on the scene along with five others before the helicopter arrived. Two blocked the roads going in. One took each direction and he went to Dan and Tim. All traffic in either direction was stopped and ID was checked and recorded, but Dean had already gone further toward Alpine.

Bill Miller gave his description to the deputy. He hadn't taken off his glasses as he usually did, looking through his binoculars. He always used them to see what the guys were catching and what bait they were using. Without removing his glasses, his view was limited and his eyesight was normal for a man his age. All he could tell them was the color of the car and that the guy was tall, dark haired, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. He hadn't seen the attack and didn't know what had happened.

At the sandy beach where the kids swam, the framer who scuffled with Jason was drinking beer and had been for a while even though it was early. He'd fought with his wife at six that morning after waking up because he didn't have a job. He left to find solace by getting plastered before he was forced to hit her. She had a bad mouth when she was mad. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans and his car, though a different model, was the right color. He plead his innocence. The deputy said, "We don't determine guilt or innocence. We put the facts before a jury and let them decide. God can sort it all out later." He emphasized that the man better pray Tim didn't die.

Hours later, after hooking up his car to the RV and heading west, Dean stopped at the check point at Sierra Blanca on I-10. He'd never traveled that far west and didn't know it was there. During one of his times loading his pipe, a small chunk fell on the floor unnoticed. A dog at the check point smelled it. They found over six ounces of crack in the detergent box under the sink, but never connected him to the events in Desolation. He wasn't on any list of suspects in Dallas either.

At the hospital in Odessa, Dan waited for news on Tim. Old Charley sat at his side and most of the men from the ranch waited, too. He'd had CAT scans and was in surgery. If he survived, it might be days or weeks before he came to, if at all. Dan's eyes had run out of tears. He just sobbed.

"Sometimes son, the only way we can make it in this world if we're different, is to be invisible, to hide in plain sight while the world goes on with its meanness and hate. We can't fix it but we can survive it," Charlie told him, revealing he understood more than was apparent. It was March fifteenth, the Ides of March.

the end