Chasing Dreams Out West - 1. Chasing Dreams Out West

Dear Mr Renard Wood,

Congratulations on your successful application to read English Literature at The University of Brighton. This is an unconditional offer. Enclosed are your student housing forms which must be returned to the university housing office as soon as possible…

There it was. The letter I’d been waiting for all spring. There was the letter that made my parents proud to bursting of their only son. The letter that was going to shape my future.

“Oh darling, isn’t it wonderful?” My mother beamed. “An unconditional offer! They must have been so impressed with your interview.”

“It’s awesome.” I glanced down at the letter again, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s really awesome.”

*

“What do you mean, you’re not going?” I stared at my best friend Darren in shock. He shrugged and held out his own acceptance letter. There was an embossed logo from Edinburgh University on the header.

“Edinburgh is a different sort of school, and I think the program there is better.” He smiled. “I’m gonna go live in Scotland for a while, get away from the parents.”

“But…”

We’d applied to university together, and over the last year and a half of knowing each other, Darren and I had built up the most wonderful picture of how our time at university would be. We’d live in the same halls, and then move out into a little, probably run down, but quirky apartment in the city during second year. We’d drink in old man pubs and giggle, wear pink glitter and hot pants on Halloween, and visit every gay bar in a city full of gay bars looking for our Mr Right’s. But now, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Don’t sweat it Ren.” Darren knocked my shoulder, stuffing his letter back into his messenger bag. “We’ll still Skype and Facebook and stuff. We’ll both be home every holiday anyway.”

As we walked into our joint favourite seminar, I watched my friend as he found us our usual seats and kicked mine out for me. Whatever he said, the distance would matter, and it wouldn’t be the same.

*

I looked around my room, and wondered how I’d ever thought I’d needed everything in here. Three suitcases full of clothes, and a fourth of school stuff and books. There was no way I could take my entire library with me, so I’d taken all the books I actually needed for school, plus my top five favourites. I fingered the spine of Like People in History, and figured it too could come with me. Every time I read it, I got depressed afterwards, but it was a great book.

“Ready honey?” My father stood in the doorway. “Don’t get all sentimental just yet, your mum’s on the verge of tears as it is.”

“OK dad.” I leant into his hand on my shoulder and sighed. Originally, Darren and I were going to drive down together, help each other unpack our gear in halls and go and buy cheap wine and get merrily sloshed on our first night away from home. But Darren had left four days ago, and all I’d had since was a short text saying that Edinburgh was awesome.

I packed my four suitcases into the car, and sat in the back for the two hour drive to the city on the water. Term started in two days. We found the right part of the multi-site campus, found the correct building and I moved my four suitcases into halls. I’d been looking forwards to going to university the whole of my school life, but as I waved my parents off, I couldn’t help feeling I’d made some massive mistake.

*

“It’s just fucking stupid.” I flicked the pages of my book idly, dog earing this copy of Wuthering Heights much faster than I had my last school copy. My peers stared at me across the table in slight horror.

“You don’t like it?” A girl with short dark hair asked. “It’s a classic.”

“Old does not necessarily mean better.” I sighed. “The whole thing is totally implausible right from square one.” I was fully aware that pretty much everyone else in my study group loved the book with a passion, but I ploughed on. “Most of the story is being told by a maid, and yet she is repeating verbatim, conversations at which she was not present. Why would she be telling all this to some newcomer anyway, and the whole stupid romance thing is pathetic.”

“What?” The loudest and most forthright of my peers arched her perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“They either love each other or they don’t, but this back and forth nonsense is just plain silly. This is a book written by someone who was never in an actual relationship purely for the enjoyment of other people who’ve never been in actual relationships.”

Three of the girls stood and the opinionated one looked down her perfect nose at me.

“Like you’d know anything about relationships with women.” She turned, and left.

I had thought in a city as obviously homosexual as this one was, students would be a little more tolerant. But students were students, and the social make-up of the campus wasn’t particularly different to what it had been back at college. At the fresher’s fair I’d seen all sorts of crazy alternative kids, boys in long skirts and girls with punky hair. But I had found out none of them lived near me, they were all at the art campus closer to the city centre. I was rubbish at art.

I was discovering too that I was rubbish at English literature, or at least the sort of English literature the university wanted me to be good at. Three weeks into term, the shine had worn off. I loved books, I loved to read, and I loved to talk about the stories that I enjoyed. As a child I had enjoyed reading more than anything else, and I loved the way books could make you feel, the stories you could get so involved in that you’d forget everything else.

I desperately wanted to forget everything else. My best friend had moved to the other end of the country, and I still hadn’t really bonded with anyone on my course or in my house. We chatted and laughed, but it was idle and shallow, and none of us were really invested in each other. With the beginning of October fast approaching, people on my course were starting to plan their first essay assessment, my house mates were planning their Halloween outfits, and I was checking Darren’s Facebook status with increasing regularity. I hadn’t heard from him since the end of fresher’s week, but there were photos on his wall of him with a bunch of other cute and colourful gay guys outside of a bunch of different clubs.

No one on my course seemed to think like me. I left the student union café and wandered across the road to the university library. It was a tiny, pokey building, and after ten minutes of browsing the dusty shelves I decided I’d much rather take the bus into town and visit the city library instead. I hadn’t found a new book that really held my interest in ages, and I sat on the top deck of the bus and daydreamed about what I might find.

I’d be browsing the gay fiction section, and my hand would land on a book. A corny, stereotypical Disney moment – there would be another guy there, wanting the same book. We would smile, maybe agree to share, trade numbers, go for coffee. We would have loads in common and I would meet his friends. Maybe we’d kiss, maybe we wouldn’t, but I’d suddenly have a new social circle, girls and boys who thought like me. It was too good a daydream to last.

There was a different book by one of my favourite authors in the library, so I took The Man Who Fell In Love With The Moon home with me, and curled up in my room with the curtains closed against the sudden rain, and let myself become completely immersed in a world flavoured with dusty land and sun, a landscape of yellow and blue, dotted with black horses and the bright red of Indian Paintbrush.

*

My returned essay hit the desk with a harsh slap, the red markings glaring at me from all over the page. I flipped to the last page and stared at my grade. At fifty-one percent, it was barely a pass, and certainly well below my predicted levels of getting Firsts in all my assessments. My lecturer tapped the paper as he passed my desk.

“I wanna speak to you about this.”

I sighed. This was not going to go well.

“Renard…” He had to glance at his notes to remember my name. “I was very disappointed in your essay on Wuthering Heights. Your tone was wholly negative throughout.”

“You never said we had to like the book,” was my tart response.

“True.” He settled behind his huge mahogany desk and arched an eyebrow at me. “But for any argument you have to represent both sides in a fair and equal light. I doubt you can do that using phrases such as…” He flicked up the corner of my first page. “…’Katherine’s obsession with Heathcliff is ridiculously obsessional.’ Your task was to analyse the way their relationship was portrayed through the use of spoken language, and I think you’ve failed to grasp the concept rather.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You showed such promise at your interview, it’s a real shame.”

“I hate that book.”

“So I see. Shakespeare is coming up next.”

“And when do we get to study anything modern?” I growled. I had spent the whole of the last four years studying ‘classics’, and along with Jane Eyre, Dickens and the rest of the Bronte sisters, I hated them all. “I’m not here to repeat my A-levels.”

“Next year.”

“After Christmas?”

“No. I mean second year.”

“I can’t wait that long.” I rubbed my fingers over my forehead. “When do we get to write something?”

“That’s not part of the course anymore. The unit got dropped.”

“You’re kidding?” I huffed. “Is there any point in me being here?”

“With grades like this?” He threw my paper at me and I slapped it to the floor. “No.”

*

“It’s five o’clock already?” My housemates James stopped on his way up the steps to our front door. “It’s not even Friday.”

“I think I’m failing.” I took another long drag from the neck of the wine bottle.

“Harsh man.” He shrugged. “Get up or get out, you know how it is.”

“Yup.” I thought of Darren, the length of the country away, enjoying himself too much to even return a fucking text message from his former best friend. “That’s what they tell me.”

That night, only slightly tipsy, I re-read my favourite section from The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon, while lying upside down on the single bed that came with my room. The halls on our part of the campus were not nearly big enough to even think about fitting a double bed into. The single, plus the tiny desk and miniature wash basin took up all the space there was in the room. Instead I imagined being in the little cave with Shed and Dellwood Barker, looking out over the great American plains, listening to the old cowboy talk about moves moves, and wondering what it would be like to kiss the lips of a man who spent all his days in the wind and sun.

*

Of all the Shakespeare plays to study, we got stuck with fairies and love triangles. I kept on wanting Oberon and Puck to make out like they had on stage at the Globe. Even though I didn’t like Shakespeare, Darren and I had cheered. The boy playing Puck had been super cute. But I still sat in class and daydreamed about herds of cloud buffalo across the plains of Idaho.

Reading week was the first chance to go home, the first chance for a break, and the week before Halloween. I was told on the last day of term to get my head down and produce a decent essay over the break. I didn’t want to stay, but I didn’t want to go home.

Simply put, university just wasn’t the way I had always thought it would be. The imagined heaven of making friends and going out, balancing that with wonderful literary discussion and expansion of horizons I had always wanted didn’t exist. Or it didn’t exist here. When I logged on to check Darren’s Facebook, I found the life I was supposed to be having: friends, parties, a cute picture taken on the grass outside his campus of him and his friends all engrossed in their copies of the Norton Anthology. I left him a smiley face, and sighed.

Half my housemates were going home, the other half were staying to either work or get wasted or a combination of both. I didn’t want to produce work that wouldn’t make me happy, but I also didn’t want to write another essay that was simply going to get me shot down mid-flight. I doubted Homosexual Subtexts in A Midsummer Night’s Dream was compatible with the topic we’d actually been given. I had no idea what I wanted to do, but I knew I didn’t want to stay this miserable for the next three years.

I spent a day in town in the library, writing and rewriting my paper until my fingers were sore, and ended up with nothing to show for my efforts but a blank word document and a space bar that was now only working half the time. I hand wrote five hundred words about buffalo and horses in the American frontier and found myself lost in the image of living outside in the great wide world. Back in my dorm, I didn’t fancy another night alone with my hand, so I put on my best jeans and a cool button down shirt and went out.

It was too early to be dancing without being self-conscious. I got a JD and coke and sat in a vinyl booth with a little table. A while later I got joined by three guys probably in their late twenties and early thirties. We chatted easily over the music and drinks.

“I’m at university.” I explained to the oldest of the three guys who had shuffled to sit closest to me.

“You’re a fresher?” I nodded to him. “Aww man, there’s nothing like it! I remember it so well.”

“Parts of it.” His friend chipped in.

“Yeah well, that’s kinda the point. Make the most of these years buddy. They are the ones where memories get made.”

I blinked at him, and then promptly and inexplicably burst into tears.

“Oh! Whoa!” His hands were big and soothing on my back, pulling me against his side. “You’re much too young and pretty to be crying this early in the evening.”

I sniffed and wiped my hand across my face.

“I hate university! I always thought I’d love it, I’ve been looking forwards to it for years, and I hate it here!”

“Rough man.” The friend tried to smile.

“That sucks.” He kept on rubbing my back until I stopped crying. “You really hate it?” I nodded. “Then go on an adventure.”

“Huh?”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Family who depend on you?”

“No.”

“You got your student loan money left?”

“Yes.”

“Go on an adventure.” He nodded. “You’re eighteen, you only get to be this free for a certain amount of time. If your dream isn’t here, then by all means go and hunt it down.” His smile was beautiful. “What do you dream about?”

“Cowboys.”

“There you are then. Now bring back that smile and dance with me on your last night in the city.”

It was a big assumption to make, but it turned out he was right. So I danced with him, we made out for about a half an hour, and that night I got to sleep in a big double bed in a room with actual plush carpeting.

*

I gulped as I handed over my ‘for emergencies only’ credit card. Any money I spent on it would be withdrawn from my savings account, where the bulk of my student loan money was currently sitting, waiting to be spent on rent, food and school books.

“And did you pack your bag yourself?”

“Yes.” I looked down at my single suitcase. My five favourite books, plus The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon, were packed with as many changes of clothes as I could fit in around them. I had two pairs of All-Stars, and I was wearing my only pair of leather boots and the sheepskin flying jacket my parents had bought me in reward for my A-level exam results. Boys who got all A’s got to choose RAF replicas.

“You excited?” I glanced up at the incredibly neat woman behind the desk. “A one way ticket to New Jersey. You got family out there?”

“Um…”

“Have fun.” She handed me my credit card, passport and boarding pass and I watched my bag trundle off to the plane.

I had bought a single one way flight to the first destination in the US which had been available and less than a thousand pounds. So I was flying into Newark Liberty International Airport, just west of New York, and thousands of miles from home. As I got on the plane for the eight hour flight, it dawned on me that I had no idea what I was doing.

*

“What are you gonna do when you get there?” Dellwood Barker poked the fire with a long stick and relaxed back against his saddle. “It’s a long damn way for a sightseeing tour.”

“What would you do?” I turned to Shed, who was sitting crossed legged on the scrub grass, gazing out into the distance. He was still and silent for a long moment before answering.

“I went looking for my father, for my heritage. I knew I had to look, I had no other choice. What are you looking for?”

I touched the grass under my feet. There was sand under my fingernails and my skin was slightly grubby from having been outside all day.

“My dream. I went to where I thought it would be, and it wasn’t there.”

“That happens.” Shed turned to look at me, and I was struck by how beautiful he was. I wanted to kiss him.

“When you were a boy, what did you dream of?” Dellwood asked gently. He had the kindest face of anyone I’d ever met.

“Like every other little boy, I dreamt of the West.” I smiled to myself. “Horses and cowboys as far as the eye could see.”

“Well then.” Shed stood up and touched my shoulder. I looked up at him, then past him to the giant moon. “You know what you need.”

“I do?”

Dellwood was standing too, kicking out the little fire, taking Shed’s strong brown hand.

“Yes Renard. Like every other pretty boy, you need a horse, a cowboy, and a good roll in the hay.”

I blinked, and they were gone.

*

It had been the cheapest motel near the airport, and I had taken the shuttle service from the airport towards the direction of town with my single suitcase, and walked across the parking lot in the hot dusty air to the little front desk. Everything I knew about checking into a motel had been gleaned from movies, but gave the nice smiling lady twenty dollars for the night, and she gave me a key and took a copy of my credit card for insurance. I smiled and promised not to throw any mad parties. I had slept fitfully on the plane, and it was still too early to eat, so I simply took a hot shower and curled up in bed for a couple of hours.

As it started to get dark, I took off in the direction the lady behind the desk had pointed me in, heading for the glowing neon signage of a Denny’s. I ordered a six dollar burger meal from the saver menu, and wondered what on earth I was doing here.

I had some money, but exactly how much, I wasn’t sure. I certainly couldn’t afford to stay in the motel for very long, even at only twenty bucks a night. There was no escaping the fact that in six days, I would be missed. My housemates would wonder where I was, my essay wouldn’t be handed in, and once I’d stopped turning up to class for more than three weeks, the university would probably call my house. My parents would be freaked I had left the country without telling them, or anyone else for that matter. It dawned on me that unless I turned on my phone, I was completely alone in the world, and no one knew where I was. The thought was strangely liberating.

Since it was my first night in the US, I supplemented my burger with a two dollar pancake stack, and allowed my mind to drift around the red and yellow restaurant. There were a few dozen people eating their dinner: three families with little children, one of these groups was obviously English and just arrived on holiday, because they looked tired like I did; a few couples, a table with two guys sitting together, but I couldn’t tell if they were good mates or something more; one or two single diners, a guy in a ball cap who looked like he drove a truck or a train and didn’t much like his job; and a group of what I assumed to be Mexican’s all eating and sharing food in the booth across from me. There were about six of them, all talking apparently at the same time, very fast in Spanish. Part of my brain reflected that they would have made an excellent set of character sketches, because despite being all completely Hispanic, they all looked so different.

The one who caught my eye the most was a man in his early thirties with very dark skin and a faded blue bandana around his neck. He was equally as loud as all his friends, but there was something in the way he smiled and laughed in the group that drew me to him. You could tell he was a nice guy.

I’d taken as much money out at the airport as I had dared and had it changed into a wedge of lovely green papery notes. I counted off a few for the bill and tip carefully, not wanting to flash a bunch of cash in front of a bunch of strangers. It was hard to imagine that the amount of money in my wallet wouldn’t last very long at all. If I was going to stay here, I was going to need a job and somewhere cheaper to stay. Dellwood Barker in my head grinned at me, and I wondered where and how I was ever going to find work, living accommodation and a hot guy all in less than the space of time it was going to take for my brain to convince the rest of me to go back home and start being sensible.

“Tomorrow?” One of the Mexican men was asking the kind-looking one. “Lucky you.”

“A job is a job.” Another chipped in. “Even if you have to work with horses.”

“What’s wrong with horses?”

“I’d rather fix fences.” The speaker replied. “Horses are dangerous at both ends and loco in the middle.”

“Your loss.” The man smiled and laid down some money for his share of the bill. “Ahí nos vemos.”

I blinked. Horses. Job. Cowboys. Pretty cowboys who might smile and have rough skin and soft lips.

More importantly, my brain reminded me, Job.

I left the money sticking out from under my plate and left the restaurant. It wasn’t far to the motel, and I found myself walking half a dozen paces behind the man with the horse related job lined up. He stopped, shoulders up, and there was the brief flare of a match. I caught up.

“Hey.” I smiled. Before university, I had always been really good at talking to new people, and I decided to employ all my good personably skills as I held out my hand to him. He shook it, strong and firm, and smiled back.

“Hey kid.”

“Can I ask you a question?” We were walking again, and I made sure to stand in just the right place to avoid his cloud of tar and smoke.

“Well sure.”

“How do you find a job around here?”

He stopped, and stared at me, like he’d been expecting something else to come out of my mouth.

“What’s a nice white boy like you want with a job?” He arched an eyebrow, but his tone wasn’t derogatory. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Money, freedom…” I shrugged. “The American Dream?”

“How old are you?” We’d reached the motel, and he sat down on the low wall which ran around the car park.

“Eighteen.”

“English?”

“Yes.”

“Permit?”

I didn’t need to query him, I simply nodded.

“You can come along with me in the morning. We’ll find you a job.”

“Really?” I was surprised. “I mean, thank you but…”

“Why would I help you?” I nodded, and my new Mexican friend smiled. “I got a little brother like you: he’s short and smiles too much. Someone has to look out for fools and children.” I figured it unwise to ask about which category I fitted into. “Truck leaves at five am. Be here.”

“Thank you.” I couldn’t believe how lucky, or stupid, I was. “Um… I’m Renard.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alejandro Juan Esperanca. People call me Ali.”

“Cool. Thank you Ali.”

“Don’t be late little brother!” He waved as I headed back towards my room, and I smiled to myself at the endearment he used. I was the oldest child among my family, including my cousins, and it was nice to think that, even if only incredibly briefly, there might be someone out there to look out for me.

*

I woke from another dream featuring Dellwood Barker, albeit this time with far fewer clothes, to be completely disorientated by my surroundings. It had taken me long enough to get used to waking up in my dorm room, but in the motel I woke and panicked, adrenaline racing around my system for thirty awful seconds when I had no idea where I was, and my brain was completely unable to link the pounding noise with the direction of the door.

I stumbled up, checked I wasn’t poking out of my boxers, and started pulling on my jeans as I opened the door.

“Hey little brother.” The scent of coffee made me want to be sick, but the overpowering aroma of baked goods fixed that. “You got ten minutes to get yourself out there.”

“Ali, you’re a god.” I finishing zipping my fly and pulled on a t-shirt, then a thin sweater. Everything else I owned was still packed into my suitcase. He sat on the corner of the bed dissecting a donut while I brushed my teeth and raced around checking everything. I combed my hair with my fingers and grinned. “Ready.”

“Nice and quick.” He handed me the other donut. “Come on.”

We handed in our keys at the reception desk. I scoffed my donut and got crumbs all over the fleece collar of my flying jacket. Yawning, I sat on the wall, and sipped the coffee even though I thought it tasted like turpentine and old boots.

“Cream and sugar?” Ali frowned at the look on my face. “I should’a known.”

“No, I mean, yes, but…” I sighed. “I overslept. You got me breakfast and woke me up. You’re taking me to find a job. You’re already some kind of saint, and it’s only been nine minutes since I was unconscious.”

“You really are like a little brother Ren.” He ruffled my hair, which had no effect, because it was messy anyway. “You apologise a lot and thank everyone for everything.”

I smiled. My parents always said I had many interesting qualities, but being polite, courteous and honest were all ones I was proud of.

Ten seconds later a very beat up green transit van pulled up in front of the motel. The slide door opened to reveal one of the guys from the previous evening, and three other Hispanic men, all of whom looked slightly tired, slightly suspicious and rather puzzled when they saw me. For the briefest second, I was scared, my mind running through all those stories, apocryphal or not, about boys and girls abducted, raped and abandoned at the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. But it passed when Ali ruffled my hair again and introduced me to the driver who leant out of the window to see what all the fuss was about.

“This is Ren, he’s going to come out to the ranch with me.”

“Has he got two dollars?” I hurriedly found two crumpled notes in my front pocket and handed them to Ali, who handed them with his own to the driver. “Get in perezoso.” He jerked his thumb to the back. “We’ve not got all day.”

*

I fell asleep on the drive, leaning on Ali’s shoulder. I woke to find him smiling at me, shaking my arm gently.

“Nearly there.”

“Cool. Where are we going?”

“Goldenfields Farm Horse Boarding Stables. Stand up straight and smile.” He took a dusty worn looking cowboy hat from the floor as the door was pulled open. “And wear this. You’ll look the part little brother.”

We scrambled out of the van, two pairs of boots in the yellow dust in front of a big wooden sign proclaiming the entrance to the ranch. One suitcase and one worn out and patched duffel bag between us.

There were two girls walking a pair of fine looking brown horses out towards a pasture. Seeing us, one turned and shouted back down the path towards the main building.

“MA! The new ranch hands are here!”

“You have worked with horses before right little brother?” Ali glanced quickly at me as we started walking up the long drive.

“No…” I watched the two horses as we passed them, and glanced at him worriedly. “Aw crap.”

“Let me do the talkin’.”

*

In the end, getting hired was easy. We were met by an obviously stressed out lady of middle years in two-tone jodhpurs and a comfy looking rugby shirt.

“You brought a second guy? Thank heavens, our only other stable hand quit yesterday too. We’re so short staffed. You boys can leave your bags at the main house. If you’re good and you like it here I’ll show you where your rooms’ll be this evening.”

“Thank you senorita.”

“Welcome. I’m Debbie Kel-MacCaulaugn, but everyone calls me Ma.”

“Alejandro, this is Renard.”

“Lovely. All the horses need to be turned out. You’ll find the yard map on the wall in the main barn. Then hay and breakfasts. If you need anything, ask Davis. There are cups, coffee and a kettle in the little office, I’ll see you later.”

She took our bags and waved us off, and I followed Ali to a long barn full of horses and the acrid scent of horse urine. There were thirty horses in that first barn, plus a dozen or so empty stalls, and there were two smaller barns, neither of which was more than half full. There were however, maps on the wall linking each horse to a stable number, and each of those stable numbers to a field. I had no idea what I was doing, but I held the ropes of the two dapple grey ponies Ali handed me while he put head collars on two more before following him out. He had studied the map, and seemed to know exactly where we were going.

I walked between the two big animals, feeling scared that I was going to lose a hand or a foot, and making sure I didn’t go anywhere near their hooves or their mouths. They walked out with us easily enough, and Ali took off all the head collars super quick before shutting himself out of the pasture. We headed back for more horses. After the sixth trip, I had watched carefully enough to know how to put on and take off a head collar, and as we were leading the final pair of horses, these big strong red-brown creatures with white feet and long glossy manes, I saw someone else leaving one of the little barns with three horses on various lengths of rope, heading to a pasture near where we were going. I didn’t trust the horse I was with one bit, but then I didn’t trust any horses, so I didn’t pay much attention to him until I was walking back.

He’d let the horses go, but he still stood in the field, watching them. As I stared, one horse, a big pale creature with dark markings on its feet, nose, mane and tail, ran over to him and stopped dead, his muzzle pressed against the young man’s sternum. The stranger chuckled softly and clicked his tongue to the horse, rubbing fingers through his mane and over his ears. I was amazed. He touched the horse like they were the same, spoke in a common language, and when he turned to the fence, the horse followed him, then stood at the side of the corral and brayed once as the man bid him goodbye. The stranger stood and waited for us at the end of the row.

“You must be Alejandro and Renard, I’m Davis. Ma said you were starting in the big barn.” He stretched, revealing a tantalizing inch of firm, hard, tanned stomach. “Can you take the pick-up out and start giving out hay?” He turned to me. “You can come with me and finish turning out the little barn.”

I took the head collars Ali had been holding, and he shook the back of my neck gently as Davis turned away.

“Be good little brother. Don’t panic.”

“’Kay.” I trotted off after the handsome cowboy. Davis moved surprisingly fast for someone who looked like he was strolling. He waited for me at the entrance to the smaller barn.

“You bring Sota from box four. He and Dingo go together.” I wondered if I would ever learn the name of fifty-odd horses. “Come on, there’s feed after this and the horses won’t wait all day.”

“Sorry.” I nipped into the stable and blinked up at a horse much bigger than all of the others. He had giant fluffy hooves and a neck about three foot thick. “Bloody hell.”

Davis was chuckling, and while the sound was lovely, I didn’t like the fact he was laughing at me. I couldn’t reach Sota’s ears, but the horse was quite interested in me, so I hopped up onto the half height wall at the front of the stable and he came to nuzzle at my chest. I pushed his ears through the brow band of the head collar, and then swung over the wall to stand on the other side, holding the rope.

“Neat. OK, come on.”

“Is Ma really someone’s mother?” I asked him as we walked out in the sunshine. Both Ali and I had discarded our jackets a long time ago.

“You must have seen Amy and Mel as you were coming in?” I remember the two girls with the lovely brown horses. I’d already learnt from Ali their colour was called chestnut. “Those are her daughters. We’re so short on staff she’s been getting them to help in the mornings and evenings, but they should be at school.” He smiled. “They always have to turn out their own horses, and lucky for them you two turned up to take over.”

“What happened to the last guy?”

“Sanchez quit. I think he got poached by a smaller barn up near South Amboy that was offering a cushier sort of lifestyle. William went home to Costa Rica to be back with his wife. I think he’s opening his own yard down there. We were all set for him to go, but then Sanchez just up and left while we were looking for a replacement, and I dunno what we’d have done if two of you hadn’t turned up this morning.”

“So you’re not a stable hand?” I lead Sota into the field first, and Davis shut the gate after us.

“No. I manage the practical side of the barn and I’m head Western trainer. This morning I’m helping you guys out so you know where everything is.”

“Oh.”

There was a lot more to learn on that first day than I had ever anticipated, and when we returned from the field, Davis showed me the colour coded chart in each barn displaying feeds for each horse.

“There are four colours of buckets.” He threw me a stack of rubber flexi-tubs. “Young mares get pink, older mares get purple. Boys get green and old men get red. Different feed mixes go into different buckets. In the evening feed there are some horses that have drug supplements. Those are written in the last column.”

“What are the numbers for?” I ran my finger down the seemingly random string of digits next to each horse’s name.

“The order you have to feed them in, each field is different, each horse is different too.” He saw the look of panic that crossed my face. “You’ll earn who they all are quick enough. Come on, owners start coming in at nine. We have work to do.”

Pink and green feed buckets had four scoops from different bins of varying sizes, and the ones for the older horses had some feed that was the same, and some that was different. I stood with the hose and soaked down the feeds as Ali arrived back with an empty trailer.

“I’m sure Ren can explain the feeding system to you. I have exercise to do.” Davis nodded quickly. “Take a break after you feed before you start on the stables.”

“Si.” Ali touched my shoulder as Davis walked away. “You OK little brother?”

“I think so.” I looked down at the host of buckets. “But I can’t remember who any of the horses are.”

*

Never have I been more tired. The end of the day was dinner which Ma served to us in the main house after sundown. I had been on my feet for thirteen hours, apart from the ten minutes during lunch I had spent trying to massage one foot after I had ended up with a horse standing on my toes. We had worked hard, all day, and even though my body was aching, my brain was whirling. There was so much to learn, so much detail that I, as a kid who had sat on a horse once when I was about ten, hadn’t even known to look for. Every horse was different; despite the fact they all made the same mess.

After feeding we’d skipped out fifty stables between the two of us, put new wood shavings in the ones which needed it, combed out the beds, cleaned, rinsed and filled all the water buckets, filled the hay mangers, made up the dinners for the evening, and eventually brought the horses back in and put them to bed for the night.

People had been in and out all day. Riding lessons, people who hacked out around the farm, or went further afield and returned after hours happy and tired. They were mostly Western riders, though about a third of the owners had turned up with jodhpurs and hard hats. Lots of them were chatty and friendly, and had stopped to speak to us, ask about their horse. They told stories of their beloved ponies and wanted to know if he/she had eaten their breakfast and been good when lead out to the field. Some of the owners ignored us, tutted over their state of their stable and treated Ali and I like we were second class citizens, but they were rare among the general populace.

I had watched Davis every chance I could.

Ma fed us chilli beef and beans and I ate in a sort of droopy manner, unable to find any more energy. Ali had knocked my shoulder when we’d first come in and made me take off my hat. I’d forgotten that I was wearing it.

“You did well today.” Ma smiled as she sat down. “Davis says that you know what you’re doing.” I glanced at the cowboy, but he was looking at his plate. “And that you’re a fast learner.” She gestured to me with her fork. “Ten dollars an hour plus room and board, we’ll keep you both.”

“Yes please.”

“Gracias senorita.” Ali grinned and shook the back of my neck quickly. “Well done little brother.”

“We put your stuff in the room at the back of the house.” Amy said, pouring out glasses of water for her sister to hand round. “Ren, you’re up in the attic.”

Mel huffed.

“I always wanted that room.”

“And yet you insist on having a room with a window which faces Bosco’s pasture.” Ma shook her head. “There is no pleasing a teenage girl.”

“Which is your room?” I asked Davis.

“I don’t room. I have a trailer out back.”

“Oh.” It made me slightly disappointed that I wasn’t likely to run into him coming out of the shower.

“You write your hours in the big red diary in the yard office and you get paid on a Friday. We’ll need you guys seven days a week until we get a third hand part time to cover you. I don’t suppose you know anyone?”

Ali smiled, but shook his head.

“I’ll keep an ear out.”

“I appreciate that.” Ma stopped mid-sentence. “I think you might need to take him up to his room before he loses the energy to climb the stairs.”

I blinked, realising she had been talking about me.

“I’m not that tired.”

“Uh-huh.” Ali ruffled my hair. “Come on little brother.”

My room was on the small side, but there was a double bed and a window which looked out over the east side of the house. I dumped my suitcase and stared wistfully at the bed.

“You did well today Ren.”

“Thanks.”

“Go get your shower. I’ll grab you for breakfast. See you tomorrow little brother.”

*

Every day was hard, but no day was harder than the first one. I was exhausted often, but I never again nearly fell asleep at dinner. I started getting into the routine: remembering horse’s names, and fields, figuring out who had to come in and out first and who ate what. I met more riders and chatted with them, trying not to show my ignorance. There were two other trainers besides Davis, both women, one who taught English style eventing and one who taught both English and Western dressage. They were smart and kind and doted on their horses.

After a week I got given seven hundred dollars in cash, which I rolled up along with the rest of my money and put into a sock, hidden inside one of my totally unused tennis shoes. I was going to have to buy more job suitable clothing at some point, and I was also going to need to work out what I was going to do about the fact I was on the wrong side of a rather large ocean without anyone knowing about it. I was also starting to have favourites among the horses.

Invariably these were ones who were soft and sweet to lead out in the mornings, or had funny little noises they made when you were about to feed them, or ones whose owners I had chatted with and learnt a little about. Despite his enormity, I loved Sota, whose name I had learnt was short for Minnesota, a family joke about him being small – for a shire horse. He was easily my favourite to turn out each morning. I always took him, and Ali didn’t make a fuss or mind, because he had favourite horses too.

There was an extremely large amount to learn, but I was getting better and better at it. Saturday was busy at the yard, because lots of owners who couldn’t make it to ride, often or at all, during the week came to spend all day with their animals. I was leaning against the wooden siding of the large barn in the sun, two minutes of relaxation and shut eye which Ali said I would learn to survive on, when Davis came around the corner with a pair of large western saddles stacked on his shoulder.

“Hey Ren, give us a hand.”

“Sure.” I took the saddle from him. I could, nearly, name all the important parts now. “What’s up?”

“No lessons for the afternoon, I thought I would clean the tack and go for a ride out, give the horses some fresh air and get them out of the ring.” He handed me a sponge, a soft cloth and put something that looked like clear boot polish on the ground between us. “I do love the scent of saddle soap.”

I copied him, because I’d gotten very good at that, and discovered soaping and cleaning a saddle was pretty much like polishing shoes, except larger. We didn’t talk much, enjoying the quiet and the passing sounds of horses and riders. I watched Davis work.

I spent a lot of my time watching Davis. The way he moved around horses was fascinating, and they treated him pretty much like he was one of them. But he was like that with people too, soft and slow and patient. I had watched him teach part of a class the previous day, something called reining, and even when the rider screwed up, he was supportive and kind, showing them where they had gone wrong, helping them get better. It was not hard to see he was a great teacher, and he knew his stuff, even Ali thought so.

“You’re sweet on that cowboy, aren’t you little brother?” Ali had shaken the back of my neck, an almost paternal gesture which I rather liked. “You got big moon-eyes on you.”

“Is it obvious?”

“Si.” Ali sighed. “But I doubt el vaquero has noticed: you’re not a horse.” Ali hadn’t said anything else, and I got the feeling has wasn’t much surprised and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

I memorised his features as we soaped and polished the saddles in the afternoon sun. Davis had blond hair cut short under his cream western hat, tanned skin and blue eyes approximately the colour of a summer sky. I watched how his fingers flexed as he soaped his saddle, and the way he bit his lower lip softly when he worked. He was beautiful. When he next glanced up, he caught me looking, and I blushed and turned away too fast.

“That’ll do.” He placed his cloth down and ran his fingers over the tooled leather. “Do you want to come? It’d be nice to have company, and then we can take a second horse out.”

“Um…” All week I had tried to avoid any actual conversations about any horses I had previously known or ridden. “I can’t.”

“It’s part of stable hand duties.” Davis smiled. “You’ll be fine.”

“No, I mean…”

“You can’t ride, can you?” Davis frowned gently. “And you’ve never worked with horses before.” It wasn’t a question, and I nodded glumly. Davis sat back, hands on his hips. “You did well for a green colt.”

“Am I fired?”

“No. But I’ll leave you another saddle to be getting on with. Have a nice afternoon Ren.”

Ten minutes later I watched him ride out with a newly polished saddle on the lovely pale horse who was his favourite. It might have been my imagination, but as he reached the end of the long path between the fields, he turned back to look at me. In the shadows under his hat, I would have sworn he smiled. He clicked to the horse, touched the long end of his reins to the animal’s neck, and suddenly they were flying.

Ten minutes later, I skidded into the main office where Ali was going over the feed supply lists to write up the order for Ma to deal with. He looked up at me with a grin and a questioning expression.

“You gotta teach me how to ride!”

*

Now that we had caught up with the jobs which had been left over from the yard being short staffed, the work was easier. I was much faster at mucking out, down to ten minutes a stall, though Ali did it slightly better in half the time it took me, and it was Mel who told us Ma wanted us to ride some of the lesson horses out on the trails when it was quiet.

“Lesson horses get ‘ring sour’.” Ali explained as we took two sets of gear from the tack room. “They go round and round in the sand school, doing the same things, being given contradictory inexpert commands, and it makes them grouchy. By taking them out on the trails, letting them walk and run and stretch out, we make them happier, and they stay good in lessons.”

“Who are we taking?”

“Davis said to start with Picasso and Patch, because they’ve been in the ring longest.”

Davis’s six horses shared two pastures across the way from each other. All his animals were different, each striking in their own way, and Picasso and Patch were gelding brothers. Ali called them paint-horses, and it was easy to see why, because they were stark white with lovely camel-brown patterns. Patch had just that, a big brown splodge over one eye, and very little brown on the rest of him, whereas Picasso looked pretty much like someone had thrown a bucket of paint at him.

I got Patch, who was slightly smaller than his brother, and I stood in the stable staring at the saddle, the horse, and then the ceiling.

“Ali?”

“Si little brother?”

“I have no idea what I am doing.”

Although I could see Davis was a great teacher, Ali was the most patient man I had ever met. The idea that eight days previously, I had been completely unaware of his existence was puzzling and shocking to me. Sometimes at night I would stop to wonder at how lucky I had been. So many bad things could have happened to me, should have happened if urban legend and newspapers were to be believed, but they hadn’t. I had met a nice guy, who had, without complaint or explanation, taken me in, helped me find a job and helped me keep it. We had, at first glance nothing whatsoever in common, but he was a decent human being, and he had assisted the little lost English boy he’d found, and I could not have been more grateful.

Ali showed me how to saddle up, check the cinch around the horse’s belly, lengthen the stirrups and fit the bridle. Patch took the metal bit without complaint, chewed it for a moment before standing in the stall, attached to the long reins I was holding, patient and quiet as a sleepy cow.

“Having a deep and meaningful conversation there are you little brother?” Ali tapped his knuckles against the stable door. He was already holding Picasso, all tacked up and ready to ride. “Let’s go.”

I watched him get on carefully, standing on one of the many wooden mounting blocks that were left lying, seemingly randomly, around the yard, swinging his leg over the saddle. I gulped. Other people got lessons, learnt how to ride in a safer schooled environment, whereas I was taking a strange horse out onto a trail for the first time in my entire life. I got on, found the stirrups, and stared at my hands.

“Ali?”

“Don’t panic.” With a few clicks of his tongue, he had brought our horses level. “Just hold the reins like this in your right hand, the tail end in your left. Bueno. Move your hand left to go left and right to go the other way. There’s leg pressure involved too, we’ll get onto that. Just follow me.”

“OK.”

The horses seemed happy to be out and even happier once we got onto the trails which ran through and around the fields and woodland out back of the town I still hadn’t even seen. They were used to working together, and Patch followed Picasso or walked up beside him, which allowed Ali more time to teach me what was going on. What surprised me most was I didn’t seem to need to do very much.

“He can feel me breathing?”

“Si.” Ali smiled. “He can feel the way you move your leg, your back… If you get tense, he’ll know.”

“How?”

“A horse is not like a car little brother, he’s a person, just like you.” he patted Picasso’s neck. “Only he’s more relaxed and doesn’t apologise as much as you. When you ride, your job is to keep balanced, not to give signals which confuse him, and listen to what he wants to tell you. If you don’t listen, you won’t ever be a good rider.”

“I doubt I’ll ever be a good rider Ali.” I sighed. “I don’t know how to listen to a horse.”

“It takes time, you’ll see.” He slapped my knee with his reins. “Trotting time, come on.”

“Oh hell.” Patch snorted and followed his brother. “I should not have worn these boxer shorts!”

*

I took a deep breath, and walked into the kitchen.

“Ma?”

“Hi there Ren. You’re up early. You want coffee now?” Ma smiled and reached for one of the numerous cheap and slightly chipped mugs that ended up everywhere across the farm. I had learnt to like coffee, with lots of sugar and cream in it.

“Sure. Thanks. Ma?”

“Hmm?”

“I was kind hoping I could go out this afternoon, into town? I’ll get everything done this morning and be back before feed tonight.” I shuffled my feet on the kitchen floor. No one wore shoes in the house, and my one pair of leather boots, never designed for this sort of abuse, sat in the hall next to Ali’s western’s looking sad and decrepit. I was dreading that she might refuse me.

“Well sure honey.” Ma poured the coffee and heaped in the sugar before she handed it over. “Tell you what: if you add in a trip out to Conselina’s Feed and Supply for me, I’ll let you borrow the truck.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Ma smiled. “Connie has ordered me in a special shipment of stable treats for my horses, and I don’t want to have to wait until next week’s delivery.” She started setting breakfast out on the table. “Now get eatin’. Those horses ain’t gonna walk themselves out.

*

Never, in my entire life, had I been more grateful that as my seventeenth birthday present, my parents had bought me driving lessons and a test. The farm truck I got to borrow was a beat up white Chevrolet Silverado, and I drove it all the way into town at about ten miles an hour, petrified I would hit something. I had learnt to drive in a Ford Fiesta, and my parents owned a Peugeot. Ma had drawn me a map to the Feed and Supply Store, so I headed there first and picked up a box of pressed grass stable bricks and a bunch of interesting flavoured salt-licks.

There were a couple of things I needed to get in town apart from the boots, and I pulled up in the parking lot of a big Walmart and abandoned the truck to walk towards a rather depressed looking payphone. Ali had changed a five dollar bill into quarters for me, and I fed them into the machine, and dialled.

“Brighton University switchboard. Do you know which department you need?”

“Admissions.”

“Thank you. Please hold.”

I waited, watching a group of what I suspected were high school kids pile out of a truck a bit like the one I had borrowed, laughing and joking their way into the big store.

“Hello. University admissions office, Daniel speaking.”

“Hi.” I took a deep breath. “I want to withdraw from my courses.”

“You’re sure?” Somehow, I had expected more of an argument.

“Yes.”

“No problems. You got your student number there?”

I reeled off a string of digits and listened to Daniel tapping information into his keyboard. He checked a bunch of security questions with me, and sighed.

“Well, you’re housing rent is paid up until the end of November, but if you’re not staying, I can let your room to someone on the waiting list.”

“Yes please.” I thought of my three other suitcases, packed and ready, sitting in the middle of the empty room. “Can you arrange for my stuff to be shipped home?”

“You moved out already? Shall I send your close-out documents to your parents address?”

“No.” I stared across at the truck, pale with the dust of the farm. “I’m not there.” I smiled to myself, since there was no one else to see. “I went on an adventure.”

I should have called my parents, but I was sort of dreading the idea, so I took my week’s wages and went looking for clothes which were practical, cheap and clean. In the aisle of denim flavoured things, I found the high school group still being silly and giggly. I could feel them watching me as I chose three pairs of boot cut jeans, all in fairly standard sizes, which would fit me easily. I smiled and waved as I left. Walmart apparently sold everything, apart from cowboy boots, but I got a couple of shirts, some t-shirts, a sweater for when it got cold, more socks and tighter fitting boxer shorts. Ali had been shocked when I’d told him what sort of underwear I’d been wearing on our first ride and had explained that if I wanted my balls left intact, then I’d better invest in something with a bit more structure and grip. Totalling up what I’d spent, I then blew twenty dollars on the kind of American candy that was incredibly expensive to import, dumped everything I’d bought in the truck, and crossed over the road to the little place I had seen offering web access at five bucks an hour.

I chose an empty computer, paid the nice man behind the counter and bought some lemonade to keep me company. My email inbox was surprisingly empty, just a bunch of promotions and special offers, and one email telling me I had missed a lecture. I didn’t much care. It took me three goes to compose the message to my parents, because one thing English and letter writing practice had never taught me was how to tell your beloved parents that you moved across the planet and quit university without telling them. I did not want to send it and stay online, that was for sure. There was no way I was dealing with the aftermath of this on a sunny afternoon.

“Damn it.” I hadn’t even noticed the girl next to me coming in and settling on the computer. “Not one reply. No interviews.” She sighed heavily, and began clicking around what I assumed was her email system, muttering to herself. I sent the email, closed my Facebook page without actually looking at it and logged off.

“Looking for a job?”

“Yeah.” She turned to me, looking my up and down. “How’d you know?” I recognised her as one of the group of teenagers from Walmart.

“Good guess. Part time?”

“Yeah. I’d actually like to buy my own one of these things,” she tapped the side of the computer monitor, “for school. It blows being the poorest of all your friends.”

“Hi, I’m Ren.”

“Hi. Stacey.”

“You like horses?”

“Yeah?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow at me. “Are you trying to ask me on a date or give me a job? Seriously I’d rather the latter.”

“Job. You know Goldenfields Farm?” She nodded. “Come out there and ask, soon as you can. Get there before six am and I guarantee you’ll get hired.”

*

“Ren! You’re an angel!”

I blinked, still not fully awake, heading for the coffee maker like a sleepy automaton.

“I am?”

“Yes.” Ma grinned broadly. “I just hired the girl you found.”

I blinked again, this time at the clock on the wall above ma. It was quarter to six.

“Damn.”

Stacey turned out to be exactly what we needed. Ma hired her to work Saturdays, alternate Sundays, and Friday evenings, which meant Ali and I could have a day off each, and we could actually go out Friday evening and have a semblance of a social life. Of course, I still had no idea how to have a social life having failed so badly to bond with anyone I met at university, but it was some kind of strange and blessed relief that in the morning, I would be able to sleep in.

That first day I helped show Stacey around, smiled a lot, and tried not to look stupid when I realised she knew a lot more about horses than I did.

“He’s got lovely conformation.” She was leaning on a pasture fence looking at a big black gelding called Rembrandt. He was owned by a lady who rode English style and did eventing: I’d met her once, and she had been pretty nice, if very focused on her horse and his happiness.

“He’s got lovely what now?” I stopped to look. We had been about to go out and scoop manure from Sota’s field.

“Conformation.” She looked at me like I was strange. “His shape, the way he holds his back and his head. Breeding.” I shrugged, and arched an eyebrow. “How is it that Ma employed you?”

“I’m good with a shovel. Come on.” Of all the horses, Sota was still my favourite, despite his enormity, and I let myself into his field with Stacey bringing the wheel barrow. The big shire whinnied and clopped on over to me, quickly beginning to nuzzle all my pockets in search of treats, mints and pony nuts.

“You OK there Ren?”

“I’m good.” Sota had reached the point where his massive wedge shaped head was about to push me over. “OK buddy, here you go.” I had bought a big packet of minty life savers, and stashed a few of them in the back pocket of my jeans. I fed one to Sota, and then one to his field-mate, before getting on with the job of poo-picking and raking the pasture. Even two weeks ago, I might have found the prospect of spending a sunny Saturday afternoon picking up horse-shit both boring and pointless, but I preferred it to clearing stalls, a job we all tried to get done as quickly and thoroughly as possible, and it was nice to get to know all the horses a little better.

When I looked at my life, I was surprised to see how much I was enjoying it, with the possible exception of what my parents were going to say the next time I got into town and logged onto my email. When Davis came walking towards us, head collars in hand as we exited the pasture, that feeling only got better.

“Come on you. Exercise time.” He half smiled, and threw the two head collars at me. “Well go get Patch and Picasso. You’re coming with me.”

The two paint horses whinnied at me when I got to them, but led in happily enough. I was confused when I got to the main barn and found Davis with his lovely pale horse as well.

“Er… how are we supposed to ride three horses with only two of us?” I glanced over to where Ali was busy making up the evening dinners. With three of us working, even though Stacey was still training, we were way ahead on jobs.

“Well, you’re gonna ride Patch, and I’m going to lead Picasso.” He took the lead rope from me. I couldn’t tell if it was deliberate, but his slightly calloused fingers brushed my knuckles. Davis’s face was unreadable. “This is Carmel, I don’t think you’ve met yet.” He petted the velveteen nose of the pale blond horse. “I’ve had him since he was two. He was my first horse.” The big quarter horse snickered and I walked Patch into the stable.

Fifteen minutes later I had remembered everything that Ali had taught me about tacking up, except how to tie the funny flat knot for the end of the cinch. I led Patch out to where Davis had already tacked up both horses, and stood waiting for me.

“Sorry.”

Davis shook his head, but he was smiling, if only a little bit.

“I forget how green you are.” He fastened the girth easily, and I tried to memorize the fast movements of his fingers. “Come on, up you go.” He linked his fingers together to create a step. “Jump on.”

“Oh hell.” I put my foot in his hand, realised it was the wrong one and swapped over. “Sorry.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you apologise too much?” Davis sighed.

I found the stirrup and grabbed the horn of the saddle as I swung my leg over. Davis wiped his hands on his chaps, and swung up onto Carmel’s back from the ground as easily as I would have fallen into bed. He took the lead rope from Picasso’s bridle and clicked the horses into a walk.

Just like before, Patch walked easily alongside his brother, and I tried to focus on my breathing, my seat position, my legs, keeping my heels down, keeping my hands still and my signals clear and consistent. It was a lot to think about. Riding with Davis was different from riding with Ali, but not because I cared what they both thought of me. With Ali, I knew I could rely on him to teach me, help me, and he understood exactly how little I actually knew about all things horse related. With Davis, I was nervous of his infinity superior skill, the fact that he was much more important to the integral running of Goldenfields than I was, and I was very aware of the tightening of my jeans. Davis rode in front, which gave me ample opportunity to study his back and shoulders, the strength of his denim and leather clad thighs gripping his horse, and it was easy to imagine wrapping my arms around his strong tanned torso, working my fingers up under his shirt to feel the hard ridges of his abs.

I was brought back to my senses to find him looking over his shoulder, watching me.

“You alright there?”

I blushed crimson, and dropped my gaze. Thankfully the design of the saddle hid my erection from direct view.

“S-sure. Sorry.”

“Can’t daydream in the saddle bud.” He glanced up and down at me quickly. “Put Patch in the lead, it’ll be good for both of you.”

“Um…”

“Ask him with your knees and give the reins a little shake, just gently mind.” Davis sounded faintly exasperated, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to discuss literature with him.

You assumed that he is uneducated and doesn’t read, The voice of Dellwood Barker spoke into my ear, That’s just mean.

I got Patch into the lead position. He didn’t especially want to, but once he was there his ears swivelled forwards, the pointed dishes flicking and twisting, and I felt the sudden difference in the way he held himself through my leg where we touched.

“Is he OK?” I twisted round to look back at Davis, and although I hadn’t moved my hands, Patch spun on his rear hooves fast enough to make me lose my balance. I clung to his mane.

“Don’t turn around.” Davis sounded much more annoyed now. “Have you any idea how heavy your head is? Turn him round and keep him in front.” We got going again, and Davis began to explain. “The lead horse is different. You have to remember they are still herd animals, still prey animals. It is the lead horse who absorbs the majority of the stress: he has to be first to react to everything, he has to be wary and cautious and protect the rest of his herd. Patch doesn’t often lead, so he’s not as good at it as his brother might be. You need to concentrate, and not be nervous. He’ll feel it if you are and then you’ll just wind each other up to the point where he’ll take off running and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

I gulped audibly.

“Breathe Ren. Think of something happy.”

I sighed. My mind swam, and then focused itself on the way Davis had looked up at me over the saddles we had cleaned the previous week, biting his lower lip, his eyes bluer than the sky. In the next ten steps, I felt Patch’s anxiety slacken off beneath me, and I smiled as I clicked to him, walking him on along the track which would eventually lead home. As the farm came back in sight, Davis drew level with me, Picasso wandering along behind us, and I was almost surprised to find the handsome cowboy smiling at me.

“What memory did you pick?” He clicked his tongue and began steering us down towards the farm.

“Umm…”

“Must’ve been a good one. You both went all soft and calm after that.” He grinned. “Come on, time to rub down the horses and then you can get to feeding. Ma’ll be serving up dinner soon enough.”

I patted Patch’s neck as Davis drew ahead of us, and leant over the horse as I whispered to him.

“Don’t tell him, hey bud? He might not be too glad to know he’s my happy memory.”

*

Ali knocked my shoulder, and shook the back of my neck gently to bring me out of my daydream. I glanced down at the feed buckets and discovered that while my brain had been preoccupied, my body had learnt to be on autopilot and I hadn’t screwed up and overflowed the dinners. My Mexican friend sighed, and took the hose from me, turning it off at the wall and coiling it away.

“You’ve been asleep ever since you got back little brother.” Ali began to stack up the dinners so we could put them onto the trolley and feed the horses. They were all in now, and it was nearly the end of our working day. I was equally excited and dreading dinner, because Davis would be there, and like the ride, every opportunity to see him was also a risk. “You still mooning over Vaquero little one?

“No.” I grumbled, starting to load up the feed buckets. “Yes.”

I didn’t want to sulk in front of Ali. I didn’t feel like I had the right, because he had done so much for me. Together we walked down the row of stables, dropping the dinner buckets over the half height doors. Ali added pills, supplements and painkillers as we went. I still couldn’t manage to read the chart properly, though I had finally worked out which horses had treats and toys and which didn’t. Some of the horses waited patiently with their heads over their doors, others brayed and kicked, snorting and tossing their heads petulantly.

“I think he’s noticed.” I said eventually. I couldn’t wipe the look Davis had given me from my mind when he had looked back to see me daydreaming and blushing. The worst thing was that I couldn’t tell anything about what he thought about it. I explained it to Ali. “It’s like my gaydar is broken or something.”

“Little brother…” Ali stopped and handed me the last bucket. I fed the little grey pony in the stall before I turned to him. “You worry too much. And this is a conversation we should have somewhere other than the farm. I’ll bet you and I can borrow the truck and go out Friday afternoon now that Stacey is doing so well.” He kicked the side of my shoes with one toe. “I know where we can buy you western boots too.”

“Ali…” I frowned, and he poked at the crease between my eyebrows softly. “You don’t have to waste your free time with me. You already got me a job and taught me to ride.”

“Boy, you’re a long way from being able to actually ride.” Ali laughed and shook my shoulder. “What are big brothers for eh?”

*

Friday ended up being a hectic day, because Ma gave us the afternoon off and the use of one of the trucks solely on the proviso that everything was done before we left and all Stacey, Mel and Amy would need to do was lead the horses in. We fixed up the stalls, gave the horses all fresh hay and wood shavings, and I cleaned the water buckets while Ali made up and soaked the dinners ready for the horses to return, and we put them in the corner of each stall. I swept around the yard, just for good measure, and Ali went to collect the truck and the keys from Ma.

Sota trotted to the edge of his pasture to nuzzle me, and I glanced down at my shirt to find it covered in bits of chaff. I stripped and shook out the cloth, and the shire took this as an opportunity to rub his soft nose and large face all over me. His breath tickled, little huffs and puffs against my bare skin.

“Hey you. Nice day?” Sota gave a soft little whinny and pushed his nose against my navel more forcefully. “Oi, steady on bud.” I wiped my abdomen and stepped back, right into someone.

“Sorry.”

I gripped my shirt tightly as I turned to find Davis standing behind me.

“Hey.” My chest was suddenly tight and I could feel blood flushing up my chest and neck. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“It was my fault.” Davis smiled very slightly at me from under his Stetson. “Evening up your tan?”

“Umm…”

“Ready little brother?” Ali was standing at the end of the row, keys in hand.

“Sorry.” I sort of half ducked, turned as I moved around Davis, staying facing him as I pulled my t-shirt back on and jammed my fallen hat on my head. “Bye.”

Sota snorted as I jogged up to Ali.

“You OK?”

“Yeah. Please let’s just get outta here before I die of embarrassment.”

In the truck, Ali pulled out and got us onto the main road, then headed south down Highway five-thirty-seven. It surprised me that the highway signs looked exactly like they did in movies; shield shaped, red and blue.

“Now why would you be embarrassed little brother? Vaquero was the one standing there ogling your back.”

“I was being drooled on by a horse.” I wiped imaginary Sota-leavings from my hands onto my jeans. “It’s hardly the manner one wants to be seen shirtless for the first time by… hang on.” My brain caught up suddenly with my over talkative mouth. “Ogling?”

“Si niño.” Ali smiled as he shifted gear. “He was watching you right enough.”

“You think he likes me?”

“Well he wasn’t looking at the horse. It’s an improvement.” Ali fiddled with the truck’s stereo for a bit. “We got a bit of a drive, little brother, relax.”

We chatted easily as Ali drove, and I listened avidly while he told me all about his family back home, his parents, grandparents, all the work he had done with horses on his grandfather’s ranch as a child. When I asked him why he had not stayed, he just said the money was better in the north, and one day he hoped to have enough saved up to move back home forever and start a proper business of his own, one he would be able to hand over to his children when he retired.

“There is nothing of abuelo’s ranch left. Between bad business deals and the bank, it was all gone before he died.”

We drove south for about an hour before turning right onto another highway.

“Where is it we’re going exactly?”

“Columbus Market little brother.” Ali grinned. “I’m gonna treat you to the best food money can buy.”

The market turned out to be a huge open air flea and farmers market and glancing around from the parking lot, I could imagine that anything and everything could be bought there. There was a lot of fresh produce on table stalls and carts, and I paid a man two dollars for an amount of strawberries which I was sure must have been enough to fill a small car.

“What are those for?” Ali raised an eyebrow. “You can’t wear strawberries.”

I thanked the green grocer and held onto the brown paper sac carefully.

“Think how pleased Ma will be when we come back from market and we bring dessert.” I grinned. “I’m really good at bribery-after-the-fact, trust me.”

Ali led me through the open part of the market, and there were two covered buildings which he said housed the permanent merchants who were there all four days the market was open. Considering it was a Friday afternoon in October, I was surprised at how busy it was.

“What we want is here.” Ali took a deep breath as we stepped through one of the big open roller doors. “That way.” He turned and grinned at me as we got close enough to wherever we were doing that I began to smell the heavenly scent of roasting meats. “You ever eaten Amish before?”

It was a food shop, deli and bakery run by an Amish family. Having only ever seen Amish people on television, I tried very hard not to stare, but the girl who served us at the little wooden table seemed normal enough, wearing a modest blue stripped dress with slightly puffy short sleeves, a white bib apron and matching cap over the back of her hair. Ali ordered for me and we were poured water out of an enormous clay pitcher the girl carried.

“So, you and vaquero.” Ali raised an eyebrow at me over the table.

“You could use his name you know, he’s not here. He can’t overhear us.”

“And calling the man by his last name is going to help in what way little brother?” Ali smiled gently, to show he was teasing me.

“Davis is his last name?” I blinked. True, when I had first been introduced to him, I had been expecting the ‘Davis’ to be preceded by something, but since over the last few weeks everyone had only ever called him that, I had assumed he was one of those guys with strange parents who were funny when it came to names.

“Of course.” Ali rolled his eyes. “What kind of parents would name their child Davis? An invoice arrived at the office for him, made out to ‘Mr J Davis’.”

“I wonder what the J stands for.”

“I wonder when you might decide to ask him out on a date.”

“Ali!”

The food arrived, and interrupted our conversation. I hadn’t paid much attention when Ali had been ordering, and our waitress placed in front of me a large plainly glazed ceramic platter piled high with barbecued ribs. My stomach rumbled loudly.

“Just in time!” She smiled at me. “Get some food in you boys. I’ll be right back with your salads.”

It was much harder to continue the conversation when we were both as hungry as we were and the food was as nice as it was. Ending up with fingers sticky with barbecue sauce wasn’t enough of a downside, because the meat pretty much fell off the bones and everything was succulent, delightful and perfectly spiced. I couldn’t tell if my mother would have been pleased or horrified at the amount of food I was able to put away, had she been able to witness, because as I had discovered on day two at Goldenfields, the sort of physical outdoor work that we did required a lot more energy than anything I had ever done before. When Ma offered us second helpings, there was no part of me now that worried if it was good for my figure, and I wolfed down whatever I was given.

Once we were a little over half way through, I took a break to wipe my fingers and eat some salad to balance up my intake of meat, before re-joining the conversation where we’d left it.

“I can’t ask him on a date. I don’t think he even likes me very much. And I have no idea if he’s even gay.”

Ali smiled.

“Little brother, he was watching you with that horse like a man on the edge of an orgasm. He studies you just as much as you study him.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Now why would I do that niño?” Ali ruffled my hair with a clean hand, our hats sitting on the spare seats next to us. “I want you to be happy.” He returned to his food. “Whatever happens, surely it’ll be better than moping around like a lovesick school kid.”

“I do not mope.”

“Yes you do.”

“What if I ask him and he says no?” I fiddled with my napkin, twisting the thick paper into a rope. “It’ll be so embarrassing.”

“Better to know.” Ali’s tone was decisive. “It would be better to know than to always wonder what might have been.”

Though I tried, Ali would not let me pay for my own food, and I decided that at some point I would come back here and buy him a present to make up for the fact he was an amazing friend, and I was just a kid who didn’t know what he was doing half the time. We walked from the Amish restaurant through the covered section of the market to the boot and shoe shop. It was like every other pseudo street trader I had ever seen, with piles of boxes, shoes covering the walls and everything labelled in messy black marker pen. Mostly they sold work boots and trainers, but there was a small section of cowboy boots and I chose the only pair they had in my size, which also happened to be brown, soft, and didn’t look like they had once been worn by a drug dealer. I also bought a pair of low height leather work boots with thick soles and washable sheep skin liners. At some point, it would be winter, and I didn’t want to freeze my toes off in the stables. Ali nodded approvingly over my choices.

“Tell me about your brother?” We had gone around the corner to a shop which sold socks, hats and sunglasses, because I owned four pairs of socks, three of which now had holes in and the fourth were almost able to stand up by themselves and run away. When Ali had been telling me about his family, the lack of mentions of his little brother had been conspicuous. “What’s his name?”

“Diego. He’d be about your age now.” Ali smiled inwardly. “He was the friendliest kid on earth, would never say no to anyone, loved pancakes in the morning, always wanted to take in every waif and stray he ever found. He used to beg mamá for a pet, even though we barely had enough money to feed ourselves most of the time. He smiled all the time, and always used to apologise for things, even if they weren’t his fault.” Ali reached out and shook the back of my neck gently. “He was smart. He was an awful lot like you.”

Was. As I watched my friends, all I could hear in his voice was the past tense. I gulped.

“What happened to him?”

“He was meeting me at work. Crossed the road and got run down by a car that didn’t even stop.” Ali picked up a pack of Dickies work wear socks. “You should buy these, they’ll last.”

“Ali…” I blinked hard, because I didn’t feel like I had the right to cry in front of him, not over this. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s what he said too. He always apologised too much.” Ali wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and for moment we were both still, and he held on tight. “Come on, we’d best start heading back if we wanna get you back in time to prep your dessert. You can drive.”

We were both quiet walking through the immense car park to where Ali had left the truck, and I looked over at my Mexican friend often. His brother was dead, when it had happened I wasn’t sure and I now I didn’t want to ask. The act of him calling me ‘little brother’ was more poignant now than it had ever been. Ali hadn’t had to help me, far from it. At the moment when I had first walked up to him I had been just any other ignorant white kid.

“Ali?”

“It’s OK little brother. It was four years ago.” Ali touched my hand on the gear lever. “You weren’t to know.”

“But…” I sniffed and dragged my hand across my eyes quickly

“Hey, hey…” Ali touched at my arm, and I pulled over onto the edge of the highway and stopped the truck. There wasn’t a great deal of traffic, and no one seemed to mind. “Don’t cry niño, nothing is worth those tears. Diego was happy, right up until the end. He would have liked you, I can tell.” Ali smiled gently. “I miss him every day, but it is good to be able to help someone like you, someone who needed el gran hermano.”

I nodded, and felt a bit better after that.

About halfway home I pointed to a group of shapes on the skyline.

“What’s that?”

“The amusement park. Six Flags.”

I watched what I assumed was a little cart going over the top of a rollercoaster before dropping out of sight. It looked like fun.

*

“Ren?”

I got my head out of the feed bin and looked back up the side of the barn to where Ma was standing, telephone in hand.

“Yes?”

“Sota’s owner called to say he couldn’t make it out this weekend, some family emergency, and he asked if someone could exercise him. You wanna do it? He likes you best.”

“Umm…”

“Davis will help you.”

“OK!” I beamed, and dumped the little scoop of hard high protein feed in the nearest pink bucket. “I’ll finish up the dinners and go get him.”

I stacked up the dinners and took a few lifesavers and Sota’s enormous head collar out to the field. He came over to the fence when I whistled, and I fed him a mint while putting on his head collar and getting him out of the gate. He was used to following me everywhere anyway, and came quiet and softly into his stall, where he instantly began nosing around at the oats, barley and molasses hanging treat his owner had put up in his stall. I had seen Sota ridden several times, and he was a majestic and beautiful creature. I had no idea if I could even climb on him; he was so much taller than Patch.

Pleased to have a bit of time in the stable, I brushed Sota down, picked out his enormous feet and combed through the white feathers that shrouded his hooves before dragging a comb, purposefully but largely ineffectually, through his thick mane. His tack was easy enough to find, and for such a large horse, he was very patient about getting dressed up to go outside. I gave him another mint, for being good, and got the bit into his mouth without any problems. Sota’s owner rode English, so his saddle was lighter and his bridle had extra straps that I wasn’t used to, but eventually everything seemed to be settled in the right places and the big shire whinnied and rubbed his nose on my abdomen expectantly.

“You all done?”

I turned to find Davis standing with is arms folded on the door of the stable. I wondered how long he’d been there.

“Yeah.” I looked up at Sota’s huge flank. “I have no idea how I’m going to ride him though.

“Well first things first, you aren’t going to. Come on; meet me in the sand school.”

Davis coiled a long woven red rope with a clip on one end. I stood with Sota, watching him.

“Lunging is a basic principle of horse exercise and training. It allows the horse to move while wearing all his tack, allows you to watch his movements in case of any injuries and for you, it has the added advantage of you being able to let him canter in a controlled manner without the risk of you falling off.”

“OK, so what do I do?”

I couldn’t work out what was better, to stand and follow Sota with my eyes as he first walked, then trotted in a neat circle on the end of the long lunge line, or the fact that in order to stay out of the way and instruct me, Davis seemed to find it necessary to stand less than six inches away from me at all times. Sota moved beautifully, and for a large animal by anyone’s standards he was such a graceful and fluid horse. The heat from Davis standing so close only heightened the experience, and as I turned in a tight circle, clicking to Sota and flicking the spare end of the lunge line, Davis’s hand ended up on my shoulder, turning with me, and forcing all the blood to either my crotch or my face.

I rehung the lunge line and worked Sota in the other direction for a while, and then Davis produced what I assumed was second lunge and a piece of string.

“Long reining.” He smiled, but looked away quickly. I got the feeling he was hiding under the wide brim of his hat. “The long reins attach to the bit and run through the stirrups. You use the string to tie the stirrups together, loosely, under his belly.” I did that, and returned to stand beside Davis where he stood, a length of rein in each hand, some six feet behind where Sota stood. “And then it’s like riding.” He clicked his tongue and shook the reins. “But without being on the horse.”

I walked behind Davis, watching what he did with his hands, using both the bit and stirrups to control where Sota walked, twisted and turned. After tracing a large figure of eight pattern around half the school he smiled, tugged slightly and stopped.

“Step in.”

I was shaking as I stepped over the long reins and into the space in front of Davis. His hands came past my ribs, holding the reins, and I took them, the heels of my palms just touching his fingers. He was breathing, deep and slow, into my ear and I shivered.

“Walk.”

I clicked my tongue and stepped forwards, moving with the horse, and Davis followed me. We wove around the figure of eight and I moved my hands softly, by inches, and in front of me Sota walked in his own hoof prints without a care in the world. When we stopped, there was the briefest touch along my back as Davis stopped but not quiet soon enough. I was definitely not the only one whose blood had rushed south.

“Yeah…” Davis’s voice was low and breathless. “You’re great, you can ride him now.”

“T-thanks.” I turned to look up at him, but in the moment it had taken me to remember how to breathe, Davis had dropped the long reins and walked away. I watched him go, and Sota took the opportunity to turn and nuzzle his big head into my shoulder. “Alright bud.” I stroked his nose softly. “I’ll come back to giving you all my love.”

Sota brayed happily.

*

“You rode really well.” Ali smiled at me as I lead the big shire back in.

We’d be feeding them in just under an hour, and it made no sense for him to keep going in and out. He seemed happy enough as I took his tack off, and the moment I was out of the stable took the opportunity to stretch before curling up on the rubber matting floor and rolling around in the wood shavings.

“Thanks. I think it was mostly Sota though. He’s way more talented than I am.”

Ali shook the back of my neck gently.

“You’re learning little brother. We’ll have you cantering across the fields in no time.”

“Ali…” I blushed at his teasing. “I’m gonna go clean tack.”

“Uh huh…” My friend smiled and sighed. “How dirty can vaquero’s saddles be?”

I stood in Davis’s tack room and looked at the saddles hanging on their pegs, bridles and other assorted bits of leather dangling alongside. Ali was right, and I had cleaned every saddle and headstall Davis owned. The leathers, black and brown, tan and buttery, shone out at me as I stood there feeling useless.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I didn’t turn around. The voice behind me swung from real and solid and belonging to Davis through my imagination to Dellwood Barker and back again.

“Ren.” He cleared his throat. “Can I take you out? Like on a date.”

That made me turn. Davis was standing in the doorway holding his hat in his hands, turning the brim nervously. I stared at him, and blinked.

“Please?”

“OK.”

“Cool. Friday. I’ll pick you up at four.”

I was going to say something about his house being about fifty feet from my room, but he was gone. I exhaled heavily and glanced down at my crotch, and the pulsing hard on trying to push through my jeans.

“You’re no use whatsoever…” I turned back to try and see where Davis had vanished too. “I got a date…”

*

“Where’s he taking you?”

“I have no idea.” I was up in my room, looking through my clothes and hoping I had something that was clean, and Davis might not have seen me in before. “You think I should just go as I am?”

“Well I think you look fine niño, but you have hay in your hair.” Ali’s quick fingers removed a strand of long dried grass from my recently brushed hair and I sighed.

“What if we’re going somewhere where cowboy boots aren’t allowed?”

“I doubt vaquero owns anything which isn’t cowboy boots. What about those cute basketball shoes you wore in the restaurant?”

I blinked, shocked Ali had remembered anything about what I had been wearing that first evening we had met, and then hurried to my suitcase. The only things left in it were the clothes I didn’t wear anymore and my top five books. The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon was lying by the side of my bed, looking thoroughly well read. I pulled out my red All-Stars and a pair of dove grey chinos. Ali nodded at me.

“Add something a bit more familiar. Didn’t you get a red t-shirt in town?”

I had, and it was, by some insane stroke of luck, still clean. The red shirt matched the shoes and had ‘cowboy’ emblazoned across the front in a curly font.

“Too much?”

“No. Perfect, little brother.” Ali smiled. “Have a shower and get dressed eh?”

I had showering down to a fine art of four minutes flat, brushed my teeth and scrubbed at my hair until it was dry and curling at the ends. It had gotten longer in last few weeks, though not nearly long enough to gather up and tie back or anything. I decided finding a barber might be a good idea soon. Hair brushed and sort of neat, I found a clean pair of boxer shorts, the fitted type which were good for riding and got dressed.

“Well don’t you look like the nicest clean cut boy in town?” Ali said as I opened the door. “You’ll do great.”

I tugged at the hem of my shirt nervously.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah little brother. It’s nearly four, go and have fun.”

“Thanks Ali.” I hugged him hard. “You’re awesome.”

I skidded downstairs, surprised by how much lighter my feet felt without boots on. Ma smiled at me and gave me a sneaky thumbs up. I wiped my palms on my chino’s again, and stepped outside.

Davis was waiting at the bottom of the porch steps, his truck sitting out front, and he glanced up at me and smiled from under his hat. He had changed; neatly pressed jeans, his boots freshly dyed and polished, his hat was different, cleaner, and he wore a black western show shirt with white piping and pearl button snaps. He bit his lip softly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I got down the steps without tripping up. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” He seemed surprised. “Shall we?”

It was very quiet in Davis’s truck and whenever I glanced across the cab at him, his teeth were set in his lip and he looked pensive and anxious.

“May I?” I gestured to the radio. “So where are we going?” Never in an hundred years had I thought that I would be the one being more forward in this conversation. I turned on the radio and found it already tuned to a country rock station, so I set the volume low and tried to avoid fidgeting.

“I bought two tickets to Six Flags Great Adventure park.” He looked at me quickly and smiled ever so briefly. “Ali mentioned you might want to go.”

“Really?” I was suddenly bouncing in my seat, an over excited puppy. “Thank you!”

“Glad I got something right.” Davis muttered quickly. “Mum and Dad used to take us every weekend in the summer, and when we were teenagers, we used to go pretty much every Friday. All our friends from high school; it’s was what we used to do, especially before we could drink.”

“What did you do at college, I mean, high school?”

“You guys call high school, college?” Davis arched an eyebrow. “Never mind, I’m sure I’ll get used to you being English eventually. I took classes in business, equine studies, outdoor activities coaching and sports medicine. I was stabling my horses at Goldenfields long before I started to work there. Ma’s known me since I first got Carmel. It’s been, eight years? Damn. After I finished high school I knew I didn’t wanna go anywhere else, I started out doing what you do. Then I got a student of my own, took over the Monday lessons, and when the old Western trainer retired, Ma offered me the job and I bought the trailer and now almost never leave.”

“Are your parents still around?”

“Yeah. They moved to South Amboy after I left home. I still see them pretty much every month, Sunday dinner and so forth. Mom is always bugging me to bring someone nice home to meet them.”

My heart swelled treacherously at his words.

“You were excellent with Sota the other day. Ali is training you up into quite the horseman.” He reached across and tapped the slogan emblazoned on my chest. “You ain’t there yet, but it won’t be long.”

“Thank you. I mean, you helped me loads with Sota, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That horse loves you, just as much as he loves his poppa.” We all called the horses owners their ‘mums’ and ‘dads’, it felt natural. “You’re doing right by him, and Patch. Calm and focused. Any moron could see you try hard with them.” We had reached the parking lot, and as I got out of the truck I couldn’t help but stare at the roller coasters silhouetted against the sky. “I’m glad Ma hired you.”

“Me too. Thanks.” I walked with him closely as we got to the gate, and I desperately wanted to take his hand in mine. Those last few inches seemed so crucial and hard to overcome. Davis handed over our tickets and the girl on the gate stamped our hands and smiled at me.

“Come on English, let’s go show you what proper roller coasters look like.”

We headed towards the busiest end of the park, where the skyline was a wash of huge twists, loops and turns. The park seemed packed with teenagers, families, couples and kids, and Davis moved through them all like he had been doing it all his life.

“Which one do you want try first?” He turned at grinned at me through the crowd, people moving this way and that. For a moment he was a vision, a perfect symbol of freedom and the west in his cream cowboy hat and clean black shirt. I blushed hard.

“Umm… I don’t mind.” I glanced about at the flashy signs and neon paints. There was one roller coaster which, while not as tall, looked petrifying. “That one.”

“El Toro? Good choice.”

We got in line for the perilous looking wooden roller coaster, and as we shuffled forwards I read the sign that proclaimed the ride to have the ‘steepest drop of any wooden roller coaster in the world’ and wondered what on earth I’d done. I hadn’t been on a roller coaster since I was sixteen, when Darren’s parents had dropped us off at Alton Towers for the day so we could amuse ourselves. I had been shit-scared before every big ride, and enjoyed myself thoroughly once there was no turning back, but Darren had needed to practically drag me on some of the bigger ones. Every ride at Six Flags was bigger than any ride I had ever even seen back in England. As we got closer to the front of the line and into the shadows of the big wooden coaster I shivered. The next time the train of carts came past, at breakneck speed, its occupants screaming in delighted terror, I jumped clean out of my skin.

“Hey.” Davis’s hand wrapped around mine. His skin was surprisingly soft for a man who worked so hard with his hands, and unbelievably warm. “You alright there?”

“Y-yeah.” I stared at his fingers as they laced with mine, then my eyes travelled up his arm and shoulder to his smile. “I always get really nervous before one of these.”

“We’ll take the cable car to the other side of the park after.” He bit his lip when he smiled, and it made my heart try to jump in a funny way. “Give you a chance to relax.

We ended up pretty much slap bang in the middle of the little train, and Davis handed his hat to the man in the booth with a nod. We climbed in and I brought the bar down over my lap and felt relieved when it clicked in place. Now there was no going back, I was excited more than scared. We ratcheted up a long slope, and after that, everything was a blur.

*

“Worth it?” Davis stuck his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans as we walked, and grinned from under his hat, shaking his head like a man with a small child. I bounced on the balls of my feet and kept spinning round to glance back up at the towering roller coaster.

“Yes!” I stopped to stare up at it. It was like every story I’d ever heard. Once you’d been on an American roller coaster, all others paled in comparison. “It was awesome!” I couldn’t help myself, and span around in circles until I got too dizzy and realised Davis had walked away without me. I ran to catch up.

“Whoa there little buddy.” Davis caught me around the waist and pulled my back against his chest. “You’re gonna get lost like that.” The world was brought back into sharp focus as Davis whispered in my ear. “Stick with me.”

I shivered and turned to look at him. There was a flash of a smile, he bit his lip again, but turned away. The space on my waist where his hands had been was suddenly cold.

There wasn’t a line for the cable car, and we wandered through the turn stiles and were waved into a waiting empty cable car by the slightly bored looking attendant. The car shook as it was freed from the brakes and we both sat on the forward facing side. Davis smiled at me.

“This is nice.” I smiled back, thinking how nice it would be to be actually alone with him, without him having to drive or both of us concentrating on steering horses. “How long does it take?”

“’Bout five minutes.” Davis looked at me like he knew what I was thinking. I touched the brim of his hat and he took it off and put it on my head. It was slightly big and I pushed it back out of my eyes. “I’m glad you said you’d come with me.”

“Hold up!” The door of the cable car was still open, and we hadn’t left yet. “Phew, just made it.” Another couple, a guy who looked no older than me and a girl with two blonde plaits and a denim miniskirt snuck into the car and the attendant locked the door behind them. They sat opposite us and smiled, but the spell was broken, and Davis had changed.

He took his hat back, drew the brim low over his eyes and sat back against the seat, arms folded over his chest. I couldn’t have a go at him for sulking, but it was hard not to be disappointed. I spent the time looking out of the windows and listening to the girl, pointing at all the different rides she wanted to try out. Ahead, I saw something I liked the look of, and touched Davis’s arm softly.

“Can we go on that?”

“The Ferris wheel?”

“Uh-huh.” Now it was my turn to bite my lip and smile hopefully. “That’s a lot bigger than the ones back home.”

“Sure thing Ren. Whatever you want.”

We let the other couple out of the cable car ahead of us, and as we walked away from the station, I was surprised to find Davis’s hand in mind again.

“Sorry about that.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I was kinda hoping to have you to myself for a while.”

“Davis?” I had the distinct feeling I might have been about to ruin my entire evening, but I’d been wanting to ask him the question all day. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Yeah, about that...” Davis led me towards the Ferris wheel. There was a queue, but it wasn’t long. “I think you’re beautiful.” His voice was low and soft, hard to hear and I leant closer. “And then I saw how you were with Ali, and with Ma and the horses. It’s not hard to see what a good person you are.” He took a step back and a deep breath. “I’ve no idea how it was you ended up over here with us instead of wherever it was you planned on bein’, but I’m sure glad that you have.”

“Me too.” I glanced up at the brightly lit Ferris wheel. Somehow in the time it had taken us to cross the park, it had starting getting dark. The sun was a golden stripe across the horizon. “I hope we don’t have to share this time.”

Davis bit his lip and blushed, and I wondered when I’d started having that effect on him.

Thankfully, we got a little cabin of our own on the Ferris wheel, and I sat and turned to look out of the barred but open sided gondola. Davis sat down heavily as we began to rise and I turned to him trying to show a confidence I didn’t really feel. There had been plenty of moments where, in my mind at least, a kiss would have been perfect. Moments like the one in the riding school where my body had thrummed just to be near him, ached for the want of his skin, but when he had pulled away. We were alone, but the Ferris wheel wasn’t exactly the most private of places.

“Ren?” Davis was leaning against the metal siding with one arm, smiling and glancing between me and the view. “You look kinda thoughtful in there.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His hand found mine, and brushed up my arm to my shoulder, raising goose bumps on my skin. “You’re getting tanned.”

“Not like you.” I held my arm out alongside his, comparing the difference in our skin tones, watching the light catch on his fine blond hairs. I put my hand onto his chest and felt his heart thumping below my palm.

“In time.” He gripped the metal bars which ran around the gondola, stroked his hand from my shoulder around to the back of my neck and leant forwards. He smiled at me, so I kissed him.

It was just the soft press of lips, his slightly chapped, and the scent of him, full of sweet sugary hay and fresh ozone, but by the time Davis drew back, I could barely remember anything other than that wonderful sensation. I reached out and touched his lips with the tips of my fingers. He chuckled softly and kissed my hand. I put my hand back on his chest, and his heart was beating faster. Gently, I explored the textures of his chest, his sculptured hardness, and the ridges of muscle under his shirt. When I glanced up, he was watching me open mouthed, his lips damp and pupils huge under half closed brows. I brought my hand back to my own lap softly.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

This kiss was as perfect as the last, but so much more, and after a moment of his lips I opened for his tongue, pulled him towards me as he dragged me against him and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as I ended up in his lap. He tasted excellent, and the kiss consumed me until all I could think about was how many layers of clothes were between us and how best I could try and get them out of the way. Davis vibrated with a groan and I could feel he too was hard and aroused in his jeans.

“Ahh… Davis…” I groaned against his collarbone as we parted, equally desperate for more and knowing that such a thing was not currently possible.

“Jody.”

“Huh?” I blinked and looked up at him, but he was smiling.

“That’s my name. I mean, my first name. Jody Davis.”

“Oh…” I hadn’t previously been aware Jody could be a boy’s name.

“Yeah, I used to catch a lot of shit for it, especially at school.” Davis took my hand in both of his, stroking my palm, trying to calm us both down before we had to get off the big wheel. “When I moved up to high school I just had everyone use my last name.”

“I see.” Despite how unusual my name was, I’d never avoided using it. Being called ‘Wood’ wasn’t exactly a great second option. We were coming back down now from the zenith of the Ferris wheel, we would have to get off soon. I shuffled my way off Davis’s lap. He grabbed my hand back quickly.

“Ren, do you wanna know something?” I nodded. “Secretly, I always kinda liked my name.”

“Can I call you Jody?”

“Please.” He smiled leant forwards and kissed me quickly. “I’d really like that.”

We held hands as we left the Ferris wheel, and after a few paces into the crowd, Jody slipped his arm around my waist and hugged me close to his side. I had never before kissed anyone and felt it meant anything, but looking up at him I knew that this kiss, this date, meant more than just the culmination of a passing fantasy.

In the crowd, I was sure I saw a handsome cowboy, with his arm around a young Native American man, both of them smiling, and I heard the voice of Dellwood Barker in my head when I smiled back.

So, did you find what you were searching for?

I leant my head on Jody’s shoulder very briefly, then tugged excitedly at his hand, distracted by the idea of ice cream, the carousel and by perhaps trying another food I had only ever seen on TV: a corn dog. I had flown away from home, from the university and academic life I had always thought I wanted, with no plan and no idea what I was doing. Through the kindness of people who had been strangers, I had found the life I had never known I wanted, and a man who I knew I didn’t want to let go of.

“You can have whatever you want Ren.” Jody kissed me swiftly in response to my request. “I love it when you smile like that.”

“Can I drive back?”

“Anything except that.” I wrapped my arm around Jody’s waist and he switched to holding my narrower shoulders. We fit together perfectly. “Anything.”