Accept the Unexpected

I was sipping my first beer at a little bar within walking distance of my office, waiting for Jeff. We met in Army basic training at Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri, in January 1971, and became close friends. Since our names started with the same letter, Stevens for me, and Simmons for Jeff, we ended up in the same 15 man squad, and bunk mates.

We found we shared a lot of the same history even though he grew up in California and I grew up in Maine. We were both brought up to work until the work was done, and it didn't matter if it was a 15 minute chore or 15 hour backbreaking job. This kind of work ethic endeared us to our drill instructors immediately. If there was a dirty, nasty or just uncomfortable task assigned to our unit it was given to Jeff and I. We didn't complain, we just did it fast and complete, then we had our fun. We were the cut ups, making everyone laugh no matter how tired they were.

Initially, we introduced ourselves while we set up our bunks and footlockers according to a diagram, and talked about what we expected from basic training. We discussed a rumor we heard, that anyone volunteering for jump school would not be shipped over seas to Vietnam with everyone else. I remember talking it over with Jeff. We weren't sure what jump school was, but it definitely sounded better than the alternative.

Its not that we were scared, but hell, who looks forward to being on the wrong end of a gun sight. So we decided to take the chance if it was offered. The very next day it was announced and we raised our hands. We were immediately rewarded with an extra 100 push ups every day to prepare us to learn military parachuting. Looking at each other, we burst out laughing and started pushing the base towards China. It still makes me smile and chuckle, but I have no idea why.

After basic training, we were sent to San Antonio to become medics. Every day we spent together we became closer and closer. We didn't look anything like each other, but we could have been twins. At 5 foot 9, 165 pounds, I was dwarfed by Jeff weighing in at 210 and 6 ft 4. Our kinship became a little freaky when we began reading each others thoughts.

It was first noticed by one of our instructors during an exam when we had the exact same answers and even got the same questions wrong the same way. He wanted to know how we cheated, because Jeff sat at the end of the row and I was assigned to the first seat of the next row. We assured him we didn't, but that was the answer he expected from us whether or not we cheated.

The instructors got together to discuss the situation, and decided the exam had to be retaken while Jeff and I were in different rooms. Even though it was different versions of the exam, the results were the same. Although, they decided we didn't cheat, they didn't know what to do with us.

While, we on the other hand, knew exactly what to do, we started playing poker, and cleaning up. It wasn't unusual for each of us to each win more than 200 bucks a weekend. It doesn't seem like much now, but when your pay is only 100 dollars a month, it feels like a fortune. We even started to lend money to guys that were short before payday. For every ten dollars lent, we got 15 back. We knew it wouldn't last, so we saved every dime. At the end of the ten week course we had saved over 2000 dollars each. Not too bad for a couple of buck privates.

We finished our medic training, went on to jump school and were assigned to the 82nd Airborne stationed at Ft. Bragg, N.C. It was here that our link was tested and needed the most.

Shortly after we arrived at Ft. Bragg, we learned we were going to Vietnam. Not as combatants, but as support for a group temporarily assigned to teach the South Vietnamese how to use the new anti tank weapons. While we were there, our base was attacked with mortars and small arms fire.

We grabbed our rifles and jumped into neighboring foxholes. After the mortar barrage, it was pitch black, and dead silent, and that's when I got scared. I stared out into the darkness, looking for any difference I could find. Fortunately, and unfortunately, I saw it, standing behind Jeff's foxhole, with a long knife. I had just one thought: "Duck". Jeff heard me even though I didn't make a sound, and dived for the bottom of his hole as I let loose on the Vietcong soldier, stopping him in his tracks.

That was our one and only contact with the enemy. The rest of our temporary duty was uneventful, and we returned to Ft. Bragg without ever mentioning the incident again. We finished our tour in 1975, and I never heard from Jeff again, that is until 2 days ago. Jeff called me out of the blue, saying he had been trying to track me down, and wanted to meet me to discuss something very important. So here I am after 35 years waiting for the closest friend I ever had.

I was facing the bar, away from the door when Jeff stepped into the room. We still had our connection, because clear as day I heard him ask, " Okay Bill, where are you?". So I mentally answered him , "I'm around the corner, at the end of bar, behind the fat guy with the Yankee cap." I instantly recognized his laugh and he mine as he made his way through the crowd.

Jeff looked like a cowboy with his hat, boots, jeans and plaid shirt. If anything he looked even bigger now. He probably weighed close to 250 now, but he wasn't fat. His arms and chest stretched the shirt fabric tight. His hair had a touch of grey, and there were lines around his eyes. The smile though, that was as big as ever. Almost every female head in the bar, turned to watch as he made his way through the crowd. There was something incongruous though, it was the briefcase he was carrying, it just didn't fit.

It was an emotional moment for the two of us, meeting again after all this time. Anyone looking at us hugging and carrying on, probably thought we were a gay couple, but we didn't care. As far as we were concerned, we were the only ones in the bar, and we were still jumping out of airplanes.

We sipped our beers, and reminisced about the old days, and what we did after our discharge. I explained I went to college with my savings to get my business degree, and have been working in offices ever since, was married to a great lady and had two boys and six grand-kids.

Jeff started his story, by saying, its a long story, but it's a great one. When I got out of the Army, I bought myself a used pickup truck, and built a small cover for the bed. Eventually, I drove myself to southern California, by way of the Florida, and Texas beaches, sleeping in the back of the truck.

I needed to be in wide open spaces especially at night. The night of the attack in Vietnam was still causing nightmares. I owed my life to you, even though you said it was no big deal, it was to me. Rationally, I knew I hadn't seen much, but that didn't stop the nightmare. I knew I wouldn't be around if you weren't there, and that thought haunted me.

I spent a month on the beaches around San Diego, relaxing, enjoying the freedom, watching all those bikinis bouncing up and down. One day I picked up the morning newspaper to find a job. I was getting more and more depressed at my options: used car salesman, office help, electrician helper, dishwasher. Then I saw it, a small ad in the corner, handyman/ranch hand needed. I called the phone number, a lady answered, explained the job and gave me directions to find the ranch after she confirmed I was still interested.

It took me nearly three hours to find the dirt road cutoff she described as her driveway. To call it a dirt road was an exaggeration. The ruts connecting the potholes made the 15 minute drive a shaky proposition, but somehow my poor truck and tooth fillings made it.

The driveway went between, over and around the boulders, until finally I saw the buildings as I crested the last hill. It was a small valley with a barn on the left, nice sized ranch style house in the middle and a small shack arranged in a semicircle. It was a brown sun burnt valley dotted with low green sage brush and the occasional joshua tree.

As I got closer I could make out the remnants of a horse corral to the right of the shack with a trough that had seen better days. The driveway entered the yard between the corral and the barn. The whole scene reminded me of some old western movie.

At any moment, I expected Roy Rogers to leap out, jump on a horse, and gallop off into the mountains leaving Gabby Hayes stumbling across the porch. Of course if he did, he would be about 180 years old, and looking just as rugged as the countryside.

After parking the truck, I stepped up to the porch while the boards bent and creaked in protest to my size. I knocked on the door, and it was answered by a nice looking woman in her mid 30's, I think, wearing a flannel shirt behind overalls. I couldn't tell a thing about her figure, but her face had a nice slightly tanned girl--next-door kind of appeal. Her best feature was her penetrating blue/green eyes, like a deep mountain lake.

She introduced herself as Rachel, and invited me inside. After stepping inside and blinking against the darkened room, I looked around to see an old stone fireplace between some bookshelves, with a primitive styled couch and chair, a couple of small end tables and a small desk and chair in front of the only window.

She gestured and I sat on the couch while she sank into the chair. I then proceeded to tell her about myself, and some of the jobs I had before joining the Army, hoping to impress her enough to earn the job. She looked deep into my eyes while I talked, presumably to see if I was being honest.

When I stopped, she finished her introduction. She inherited the ranch from her father who passed away over a year ago. Maintenance around the ranch, became too much for her, so she had placed the ad. She asked me if I knew how to ride a horse. I told her no but I was willing to learn. She then informed me what she could afford to pay me, but would pay it in cash. My salary was based on a five day work week and included insurance, with free room and board. Then she asked me if I was still interested. After hearing my answer, she stood up and took me on a quick tour of the property.

We stepped into the barn, and my nose told me one of my first tasks was going to be a threesome, me, a shovel and a wheelbarrow. Scattered along the walls were various odds and ends from old horse shoes to rusty dusty saws, axes, pitchforks and a few things I didn't recognize.

There were horses in two of the six stalls. From those old westerns, I knew one was a line backed dun, and the other was a three colored pinto, beyond that I was ignorant. It was very obvious that the pinto was a mare. The dun was a stallion, hoping for a little nooky, showing off the pride of his species. Both horses were clean and fly free, surprising me until Rachel informed me there wasn't much water nearby so there weren't any flies.

Behind the barn was a pile of manure that resembled a small mountain, another task I predicted. We walked over to the shack, "This is the bunk house", she said, and my home to be. I peeked in and thought to myself, the cover on the back of my pickup was looking better all the time.

Rachel left me there to get settled while she went to make dinner. The bed had a mattress that was only a few inches inches thick, looked ancient and weighed a ton. I remembered seeing a pair of gloves in the barn, so I went to get them. I wasn't about to touch that thing without them. I carried it out and draped it across the corral fence. The fence swayed under the new weight, leaned over, but stayed up. I grabbed a broom from the corner, swept out the place. Layers of dust, dirt, insect carcasses and the odd mouse corpse were removed .

When I washed off the small table, I noticed the water stains and looked up to see light shining through a couple of places. My next job was obvious, I needed to fix the roof if I wanted to stay dry. I rummaged around in the barn, until I found a rusty old rug beater, a few wood shingles, and a ladder. The rug beater looked like a heavy metal tennis racket with a wooden handle. I leaned it up against the mattress, hoping to even out the railing, but it didn't work, the mattress was too heavy.

I climbed the ladder up to the roof, and edged over to replace the missing shingles. The sound of me hammering the nails into the roof brought Rachel out to see the source of the commotion. I didn't realize she was watching until I climbed down and saw her walk back inside. I replaced the ladder and got ready to do battle with the blanket that passed for a mattress.

I tied a rag across my face and grabbed the beater. Just as I was about to swing, raucous laughter interrupted me. Rachel was holding onto the porch wall with one hand, and her side with the other. "What's the matter? Are you afraid the mattress will identify you?" Even I chuckled then, but it all stopped with that first smack. With every swing the fence section moved back and forth, waving like a flag. The cloud from the mattress resembled a dust storm inside a vacuum cleaner. I tried to convince myself it was just dust. But thoughts of dead skin and dust mites crept in, and renewed my efforts until the cloud started to dissipate.

I stepped away from the beating when Rachel called me in to eat. She took one look at me, and told me to jump in the shower. I saw why when I looked in the bathroom mirror. I was a dark dusty beige reverse raccoon. Whiter around the eyes, and under my nose, where my sunglasses and mask covered me. My dust covered clothes would have been perfect desert camouflage. I stripped and jumped in the shower, then heard the door open as she came in. "Here's a towel for you", then the door closed again. I finished quickly, stepped out, and grabbed the towel from the side of the sink.

I was drying off my hair, when the door reopened, and she stepped in." Oops, sorry I didn't realize you were out already, your clothes are in the washer, here's a robe" I wasn't sure who was blushing more. I remember thinking, was it an accident, or was she checking me out? Then I looked at the robe she left for me, a silky soft short pink kimono with an oriental garden scene on the back, not exactly my size or style. Even though it was wide enough to go around me, it definitely wasn't long enough to cover all of me. From any distance at all it was obvious that a man my size was not supposed to wear this robe.

I decided to see what would happen, so I put it on and walked back to the main room. Rachel blushed again as soon as she saw how it fit me, and it took all my will power to keep the front of the robe from levitating. I followed her into the kitchen to help her set the table, when she asked me to get a plate and glass for myself from the top shelf. As I reached up, I heard a gasp and realized the bottom of the robe rose significantly and she was getting an eyeful.

The dinner was a simple yet tasty dish of beef, potatoes and green beans with homemade bread. We made small talk about the ranch, the weather and ourselves learning more about each other as we went along. She got up from the table and left to flip over the laundry into the dryer. She was gone for a few minutes so I asked if everything was okay. "Just gonna be a couple of minutes until the spin cycle finishes." she replied.

I got up from the table and quietly walked around to find her back to the door, bent around the washer holding tightly against a corner until she threw her head back and choked back a moan. I had to leave quickly before the view got me an erection this robe would have no chance to hide, but it wasn't easy. Back at the table, there was a noticeable flush to her face, and a quicker breathing pattern, but I didn't mention it.

We finished eating and I helped her with the dishes, even returning them to the upper shelf to see if there was a repeated response. This time the gasp was louder and more long drawn out, and I knew why. Although I wasn't sporting an erection, I had grown significantly and the robe only covered half of me when my arms were down. And almost all of me showed when my arms were up, but I pretended ignorance. My performance was much better than hers, as she kept looking at what the hem line revealed.

We walked outside and sat on the porch to watch the sunset, while my clothes dried. I adjusted the opening of the robe as discretely as I could, but it didn't help much. We watched a few wild horses, and deer creep down from the hills presumably for water. Rachel asked me why I was working on my day off. So I explained I had little choice in the matter. It was to be my home, and the best time to fix a leaky roof, was when it wasn't raining. As far as the mattress was concerned, there was no way I was going to sleep on that infested mattress without cleaning it.

After dressing in my own clothes, I was about to return the robe, when my hand brushed along the bottom and found a major wet spot that had an obvious source. All I could hope was that it would dry before she noticed. I folded the robe so the wet spot was inside and walked back to the main room.

I handed the robe back to Rachel, thanked her for the great meal and clean clothes, and headed back out to put the mattress and my gear into the bunkhouse. I looked back and saw her on the porch as she unfolded the robe and ran her hand along it to smooth it out. It only took a second for her to find that spot. She rubbed her fingertips together noting the soft slippery thick consistency. She sniffed then licked her fingertips, before she walked back inside.

I finished moving in just as the sun was starting to set, so I sat on the porch and watched the sky turn orange, then change ever so slowly into a smoky rose before fading into darkness. Once the light was gone, someone flipped a switch and turned on the stars. Thousands, maybe millions, of dots of light shining like I had never seen. Rachel came back out just as a series of falling stars raced across the horizon. We just sat back in awe and watched the show together, not talking, not wanting to spoil the moment. Eventually, I got up, thanked her again, and said good night as I headed back to my shack.

I woke to the clanging sound of an iron triangle before the sun was even peeked over the mountains. I got dressed and walked up to the house, knocked on the open door frame before stepping inside. She turned around from the stove, with a big smile looked at me and said, "That's the last time you will ever knock on that door. As a member of this family you just walk in."

She was wearing another flannel shirt, this time tucked into a pair of tight fitting jeans. Her hair was pulled back away from her face into a pony tail. Now that I could see it, she had a very nice figure, nice full chest, slim waist and slim rounded hips. I could only wonder how she was able to hide it yesterday.

Oh the impure thoughts I was having as she moved around the kitchen, if only she wasn't my boss and probably ten years older than me. I was glad to be sitting at the table so she couldn't see the effect she was having in my jeans. The soft rounded tops of her breasts as she bent over only added to my discomfort. She told me I would get my first riding lesson after breakfast, then she paused before finishing her sentence, so I could see the rest of the ranch.

We saddled the horses, as she explained the secret to riding a horse is the way you sit. "You grip with your knees and move like you are having sex in a rocking chair, back and forth not up and down. We climbed aboard the horses and walked them around the yard towards a rocky cliff.

Beyond the corral was crack in the ground, hidden by low growing sagebrush. Riding up I saw it was much bigger than it first appeared. It must have been all of 30 feet long, 15 feet across, and 10 feet deep. Along the bottom of the crack was a creek, more like a trickle of water, that disappeared back into the ground within six feet after the end of the crack.