Montana

A reporter from our local paper found out that each flax flower only blooms for a day. She wrote an article about it, and then a big shot reporter from Billings wrote an article about the flower seasons and uses of flax, and even before the fall harvest, we had extra orders we hadn't expected.

We worked so hard, we didn't really have time for anything else. I still woke up every morning at 5:45 to milk the cows and check on the horses, but everything else was flax, flax, flax, from the time the sky lightened until it was too dark to work. The days went by as the weather changed, and changed again. As much as vague urgings tried to wander into my mind at night, my day was singularly focused on the farm and the new work created by the flax. Planting, watering, checking, harvesting, bundling, drying, threshing, packaging, shipping, planning, planting again.

Clay was still teaching me after sundown, although Kevin took over more and more of the teaching when I started studying for my GED. Kevin apparently whizzed through school, and his light-hearted manner worked more for teaching me than Clay's concentrating frown.

Every day after my 'school work', Kevin and I made dinner. Kevin was an amazing cook, which was something, because we'd been living on Clay's plain burgers for way too long. Kevin told me what to do, usually chopping vegetables and things like that, and I did it. We cooked pasta carbonara, and tons of other Italian dishes, sixteen different types of Asian inspired stir fry, Greek foods I'd never heard of—and could barely pronounce—but loved to taste.

There was something special about all the prep time we spent in the kitchen. Kevin with his dark hair, which had grown longer, would fall down around his face when he looked down at something he was cooking. Our kitchen was big, but somehow I always managed to be close at his side, barely brushing my hip against his, or reaching for the same thing at the same time. He definitely gave the instructions, and I just blindly followed them, but I enjoyed it, all of it, not just because it was new and different, but because it gave me some extra time with him.

After our late dinner, all three of us usually settled in to watch TV every night. After the first year, Clay went out occasionally to the bars by himself on a weekend night if something special was going on. He was the only one over twenty-one. Kevin and I were still too young to go.

Harvesting flax was a lot different from corn or anything I'd ever done. But we didn't just get used to it, we thrived on it.

After that first season of success, Old Cooter decided he wanted to move to a warmer climate and he let us buy his land. He had two farmhands over there who already know what they were doing. It was a win-win situation.

Clay spent a lot of time over on Cooter's land, which left Kevin alone with me more. We got a new horse, a small bay who Kevin named Arabelle, and I called Ari. She was sweet and well-behaved. Kevin taught her how to stamp out her front foot, three times in answer to simple math questions where the answer was three. Clay thought that was pretty stupid, but it still amused me every time Kevin asked Ari what was one plus two, or seven minus four, and Ari would stamp her answer.

Clay got a new contract, and we started working even longer hours, seven days a week.

It was mid-winter, on a brittle, clear, windy, bitterly-cold day about an hour before sun down. Kevin and I had cleared a small path from the chicken coop to the outbuildings. We were way out between the machine shed and the remains of the old, dilapidated, original barn, shoveling a path in the snow. He had his back to me. I stopped to admire his form. His strong back and perfect ass, flexing and bending as he lifted the heavy shovels of snow. He was so incredibly beautiful, big and strong, in his red parka, dark blue gloves, grey scarf, and snug jeans. I planted my shovel in the snow and just leaned on it a second, enjoying the sight of him. I took a small step back, slipped over a rock or patch of ice, and went down hard on my ass with a loud bang.

"Ooof. Fuck!"

Kevin turned around. He was over me in an instant. "You all right?"

I knew I twisted my ankle pretty badly, but I was tough. "I don't know. I'm more embarrassed than anything."

"Happens to the best of us."

I felt a tiny throb in my left ankle, but I figured it was nothing. Kevin put a hand out and helped me up. A shooting pain zinged up my ankle. I went down. "Holy shit," I said.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's my ankle," I said.

He got his shoulder under my armpit and helped me up. "Ya think it's broken?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It's probably just a minor sprain." We hobbled together about three feet.

We both stopped and stared at the house. We could just barely see the top of the roof in the distance. It was almost a mile away. The household only had one truck and as usual, Clay had it.

"Listen," Kevin said. "That's too far for us to walk back in the snow. The best way to get you home is by horse."

We both looked to the barn. Not far, but it might as well have been in Siberia for how I was feeling. Kevin looked behind him and half-carried me until I was leaning against the side of the machine shed.

"All right, buddy. I'm going to the barn, and I'll be right back." He turned around and jogged to the barn. I watched him go. I wanted to hang my head. This was my fault. I was seventeen, I should know better than to be mooning over my best friend while I was out on the farm. That's how accidents happen, obviously.

I waited a few minutes, looking down and blowing on my hands. When I heard hooves I looked up, and there was Kevin, riding Eagle-eye.

I expected him to bring two horses, riding one and leading another, but that's not what he did. He swung down off Eagle-eye and came over to me. He helped me hobble over to her. I patted a friendly hand on her flank and realized it was going to be a bitch getting up. Apparently Kevin realized it at the same time too.

"Okay," he said.

He stood close behind me, put his hands on my hips and took all my weight as I put my good foot in the stirrup. I swung my leg over, and I was up. He stared for a minute. I scooted way forward, and he easily got on behind me. Eagle-eye grunted at the extra weight. Kevin snuggled up his hips next to me, reached around for the reins, and made the tsk-tsk sound he always did when working with her.

I held myself rigid, my cheeks on fire in the whipping cold, embarrassed from my fall and from my enjoyment of the feel of his thighs against mine. But my ankle was killing me, and after a few seconds the tension of holding myself like a board was too much. I melted into him, my back loose against his front, my neck and head a boneless puddle against his shoulder. I reveled in the feel of his forearms against my sides and the warmth of his gloves near the front of my waist.

The ride back was short.

He got down first and helped me a little as I slid down onto one leg. We hobbled up the front steps.

The warmth of the house and the hard seat of the kitchen chair never felt so good.

I couldn't get my boot off.

Fuck.

"Ah, Kev, I need help."

He looked at me.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly."

He knelt in front of me.

Now my ankle wasn't the only thing that was swollen. I was glad I was wearing a long jacket.

He grabbed my boot, and I clenched my hands into fists.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He yanked my boot off in one swift motion and fell back on his ass.

"Yaaaaaaggggh." I had tried not to scream. No such luck.

Kevin got back up, knelt again and tenderly touched my ankle.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Oh God. He's finally touching me, and please God, touch me all over, but not there. I sweated inside my coat.

He kept touching me, the electricity driving me mad.

"Stop touching me, Kevin," I whispered.

He must have misinterpreted the cause of my grimace, because he tried to cheer me up.

"Hey, now your ankle is almost as swollen as your head."

"Very funny."

He got up. He opened the cabinet under the sink and took out a bucket.

Oh no.

He started filling it with ice.

Oh, God no.

I closed my eyes. I opened them. He added water to the bucket. He brought it in front of me. Rolled up my jeans.

"Sorry, dude," he said.

Then he took my leg and plunged it in the bucket.

"Aauuuuggghhh!"

I tried to pull my foot out, but he put pressure on my knee to keep my leg in there.

"God damn it, Kev," I said, my eyes watering. "That hurts worse than twisting it."

"I know, I know. Twenty minutes in, and then you can take it out."

Clayton came in, stamping his feet. "What's Eagle-eye doing out in the snow? Oh, fuck."

"Hey, boss."

"Wha'd you do?" Clay said to me.

"I twisted my ankle," I said, ducking my head. "No big deal."

"How'd you do that?"

Well you see, I'm gay. And a year ago, we hired this hot guy. And I haven't done anything about it. And today I was staring at his ass so hard I fell over.

"Well?"

"I don't know. I was shoveling, and I slipped on a patch of ice. It's no big deal."

"Kiddo, you gotta be careful on a farm," Clay said.

No shit.

"I'll go put Eagle-eye away," Clay said and walked out.

The only good thing about this was Kevin still had his hands on my knee, and his chest pressed as close to my upper leg as the bucket would allow.

"Has it been twenty minutes yet?" I asked with as much humor in my voice as I could muster.

Kevin laughed. He let go of me and got up.

Damn.

"I'm gonna go back to shoveling"

Double damn.

He left.

My ankle hurt like a son of a bitch. I closed my eyes and tried to distract myself. I knew that being on a horse with Kevin and having him plunge my leg in a bucket was probably the most physical contact a guy as shy as I was would ever get with him. I hung my head and sighed. I talked to my ankle.

"You know, ankle. It was almost worth it."

It was the next day when my ankle stopped throbbing enough that I thought to thank Kevin.

"Dude, don't mention it, I'd do anything for you, you know that."

Oh, God. I've got it bad. Because that touch meant so much to me, and I knew it would have to last me awhile... maybe forever.

Chapter 4

It was like Kevin was a good luck charm, we had so much success on the farm. Our garden tomatoes on the porch grew bigger, the attitude of the whole house was lighter, and the constant buzz I got from being a seventeen-year-old with a secret crush, well, I ruthlessly forced down, and it gave me energy to spare.

I had just put Ari back in her stall when the grumbling sound of the motor in the background slammed into my conscious full force like having a ten story brick building dropped on my head. I ran to the open barn door and looked out.

Kevin!

He was riding the tractor.

"Kevin!" I yelled. But of course he was too far away to hear me.

I spun around and got Eagle-eye out, jumped on her bareback, and pushed her into a hard gallop.

"Hee-yah!" I yelled as I leaned forward near her neck, squeezing my thighs hard against her, urging her on with all I could.

I saw the potential accident in my mind, as vivid as a 3D movie and then some. The wind whipped my face. Panic surged through me, and Eagle-eye put out another burst of speed. But it was like when you see a cup drop off a table, and everything seems to go slow motion for a second as you realize you're not fast enough to get across the room to catch it before it hits the floor. You know it's going to shatter, but there's nothing you can do about it.

"KEVIN!!" I yelled again.

But of course, over the noise of that old tractor motor, there was no way he could hear me. He was headed toward the ditch at the northeastern part of our property, but the problem was the heavy rains from last week would have made that ditch into a gully. The tumbleweeds and leaf debris from the wind storm we had yesterday would cover it, and it was around a blind corner Kevin couldn't see from where he was.

All it would take is just a little bit of the tire to be more on ditch than on solid ground and it would cause a rollover.

The number one cause of deaths on farms.

Oh God.

And that old tractor didn't have a rollover bar.

I spurred Eagle-eye with my heels. "Come on," I whispered. "Faster. Faster! Come on, girl, he's almost at the bend."

We cut across the fields, and then suddenly nothing was in slow motion, it was in super speed. I was almost there! Yes! I made it.

Kevin craned his neck around and saw me barreling toward him.

I vaulted off the horse just as I heard a sickening pafff-swaaaft of a tire slipping. Five tons of John Deere tractor hovered miraculously on its side for a second, as if it couldn't decide whether to come back down on its wheels or flip over. I ran the last few feet there just as it flipped over into the ditch.

Oh, God.

"Kevin!" I yelled.

I laid down flat on my stomach.

"I'm okay!" he said.

The tractor was suspended upside down in the ditch. Thank God Kevin was wearing his seatbelt.

I started digging in the soft mud like a mad dog, scraping and flinging mud out of the way with a super strength I didn't know I had until there was enough room for me to get to him. I unhooked his seatbelt, grabbed him hard around the armpits before he even had his bearings, and dragged him out fast; his body left a huge mark in the mud. I rammed my shoulder into his midsection, picked him up into a fireman's carry, and ran for all I was worth.

I made sure Eagle-eye was running away with me.

Kevin was three inches taller, and about forty pounds heavier than me, but I made fast time away from that tractor until he started hitting me on the back.

"Dude! I'm okay, what are you doing?"

I kept running.

"Yo. Dude."

I dropped to my knees, put Kevin down, and threw my body on top of his.

"Noah, what the hell are you doing?"

"Did you smell gas?"

"No," Kevin said.

I lifted my head up and stared at him. My breath came out in huge, heaving, gasps.

"Dude. Ya gonna get off me?"

The tractor exploded.

I used my body to shield Kevin's.

A blast of heat wafted over us.

"Holy shit," Kevin said in my ear.

I braced my hands on the ground and raised up on my forearms, doing a sort of half push-up on him as I twisted my body around to look at the wreckage. One giant fireball.

We both spoke at once.

"Noah, you saved my life."

"Clay is going to be so pissed."

Kevin pulled my torso back down to him and grabbed my back in a huge hug. I started laughing hysterically.

"You're safe," I said between giggles. I couldn't stop laughing for a few seconds. Then I had the shakes. Adrenaline burn off.

"Yeah," he said.

I collapsed, my forehead knocking smartly into his. I heard thunder, and the whistling sound the leaves made when rain was very close, and then the heavens opened up and we were soaking wet. I turned around to look at the twisted, burnt, wreck of modern art sculpture that up to a few minutes ago had been our tractor. The fire was fizzling out in the rain.

Thank God.

"Dude, ya gotta get off me, you're crushing my junk."

I laughed. He was okay. I don't think I have ever been so grateful for anything in my whole life. I pushed my glasses back up my nose. The frame was hot. I looked over at Kevin. He was okay. We were okay.

"Kev, you gotta stop eating your own cooking." I gave his flat stomach one light slap. "You weigh a fuckin' ton."

"Yeah, and I still do, thanks to you, hero."

*

Clay wasn't as pissed as I thought he'd be about the loss of the tractor. "I've been saving up for a new one. That thing was older than I am. We should have one that has all the new safety features."

Kevin made a huge deal of me rescuing him, telling the story to Clay over and over again until I finally had to give him a light punch on the shoulder to tell him to shut up.

"Seriously, Clay, it was like he was psychic. If he hadn't started to come for me before the accident happened, you'd have Kevin toast ashes on your mantle for sure. You should have seen him barreling down on me with Eagle-eye. It was like something out of a movie, totally fierce."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Clay said for about the hundredth time.

Kevin looked straight at me. "Yeah. I am now."

*

As always happens, winter turned to spring, and before we knew it, Kevin had been with us almost two years.

We had just finished another flax planting, and the spring day, which had been warm, turned into a scorcher. Kevin picked up the hose on the side of the barn that we use to water down the horses. He took off his cowboy hat, and his shirt, and laid them over the fence. Then he turned the water hose on, spraying it up in the air above his head, so it rained down on him like a shower. The sun was just beginning to set, the first streaks of pink high in the sky. Kevin was glistening, sweat and water. His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back. He looked like he was starring in the most obscenely delicious porno I had ever seen.

I watched as he rubbed the water into his hair and over his chest. His jeans plastered to him as soon as they got soaked. When I realized I was getting hard, I turned my back to him. I had been staring, for sure. What if he had opened his eyes and caught the way I was looking at him?

Then a huge blast of cold water hit me square in the back.

"What the hell?" I sputtered and turned around.

Kevin had a playful expression on his face, and his thumb over the spray, fanning it out to hit my face and torso.

"Yikes, ahh, that's cold," I said as I tried to jump away from the spray. But his aim just followed me.

"That's the point," Kevin said. "Too hot? I'll hose you down."

I threw my hat to the side. "Fuck that," I said. I rushed him, trying to get the hose away from him. He was still taller and bigger than me, so even though I ended up tackling him in the midsection, he didn't go down. Kevin just pushed the water near me, and it ended up in my face. I sputtered.

"I'll get you," I said. I ducked to avoid the most intense part of the spray. I ended up grabbing Kevin's leg, my hands slipping down the wet denim. The ground had become muddy beneath us. I gave a yank, and Kevin fell backwards, landing hard on his butt, and I jumped on top of him trying to rip the hose away. He rolled on top of me and wrangled me and the hose until he was able to shove the tip of the hose down my pants.

"Oh, fuck!" I said as cold water cascaded down into my underwear, shriveling up any evidence I had of excitement. "Damn," I said as I pushed him off me and rushed to pull the hose out.

"Mud fight," Kevin said. He tackled me, and I dropped the hose, which continued to make the ground beneath us further and further into a pond of mud. I bucked hard underneath him and managed to get out from under, but while I was slipping on my hands and knees, trying to get up, he tackled me from behind, lying on top of me with his arms wrapped around my head and neck in a wrestling half nelson pose.

"Uncle," Kevin said. "Scream uncle."

"No," I said. I bucked up underneath him again, and this time, without meaning to I ground my ass up into him.

He just pushed me into the mud further, and I had to sputter as I got some in my nose.

"What the hell is going on?" Clay bellowed.

We both froze. I spit some more mud out of my mouth.

"Ahhh, mud wrestling?" Kevin said.

"What are you two, six? Come on, get up and hose yourselves down. I'll put out Noah's studies for the day."

"Spoilsport," Kevin mumbled when Clay walked away. He was still on top of me. I was starting to get aroused again, and I was hoping the mud on my face would hide the fact that my cheeks were on fire.

Kevin rolled off me and laid in the mud for a second before helping me up. My mud-soaked glasses were hanging off my face, just barely hanging on by one bent temple bravely clinging on to my left ear. Kevin gingerly placed them back on my face and wiped some of the mud off the lenses.