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    MacGreg
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Dissonance - 5. Kind of Blue

By Travis' description, Cooper Ranch had once been 10,000 acres strong. But due to drought, various financial mistakes through the generations, and his father’s untimely death from heart failure three years prior, the family acreage had dwindled. Most of the land had either been sold to neighboring ranches over the years or auctioned off by the bank to pay for outstanding debts. Now, the ranch encompassed a meager 2,000 acres along a stretch of county road in the foothills of the Sawatch Mountain Range, spreading across rolling terrain scattered with scrub oak, Ponderosa pine and wide-open, short-grass pastures decent for raising cattle.

Nearing the property from the main road, Ben caught sight of the ranch’s namesake carved onto a large lodgepole pine post that straddled the entrance. Passing beneath it, he strained his neck to watch it go by, impressed by its stateliness, feeling as though they were entering into some long-forgotten tale of the wild, wild West – which, perhaps, they were. Rumbling across a large cattle grate, the Dodge headed down a long muddy driveway leading to an old two-story clapboard ranch house.

From a distance, Ben could see that the blue-gray house was dilapidated, weather-worn, in need of a new roof and new paint. There were several outbuildings in the surrounding area, including a barn and a larger white structure, possibly horse stables, which appeared equally derelict. Snow was rapidly melting in the afternoon sun. Patches of brown grass poked up through the thin white blanket which covered it. A few reddish-brown cows with white faces lazily poked their noses around, finding the grass. “It’s like summer out there,” Ben mumbled, more to himself than to anyone.

“Yep, that’s Colorado,” Travis responded. “It can snow a blizzard one day and melt like a flood the next. You just never really know how it’s gonna be, especially with early Spring here.”

Several vehicles were parked in the expansive gravel-and-mud driveway at the front of the house, including an old rusted late-80s Ford Bronco that had two flat tires. Travis pulled in near a large cottonwood tree, and everyone gathered their belongings together and followed his lead up to the porch.

“Are you sure your family won’t mind us showing up like this, uninvited?” Audra asked, voicing the question that Ben had wondering himself.

“Nah, they love company,” Travis assured her.

The front door swung open, and a tall, husky man stepped out dressed in a black Henley shirt, tan Carhartt pants, and leather work boots caked in mud. His close-cropped hair was dusty blonde which matched the thick beard covering his face. Running out from behind his legs darted a black and white border collie who immediately dashed over to the new arrivals, sniffing and jumping and yelping in excitement. Ben bent down on one knee to greet her, and she pushed her wet nose against his chin, lapping him with her tongue.

“That’s Derry,” Travis said.

“Hey, Derry,” Ben whispered, scratching her behind her ears. Her musky canine scent made him miss his own two dogs, more than he had been already.

“And this is my brother, Curtis.”

As the introductions were made, Ben stood up and shook Curtis’ outstretched hand. The older man’s grip was strong, his gaze pointed as he eyed Ben with a brusque stare. Immediately, Ben sensed that he wasn’t entirely happy to make his acquaintance. But Curtis opened the door further and motioned them inside. They stepped into a wide foyer crowded with coats and hats on hooks and a myriad of shoes and boots on the floor.

The house was rustic, early 20th-century, with red oak floors, exposed ceiling beams, and wide wooden archways. Everything looked and smelled old, a combination of ancient timbers, dust and furniture polish. The décor was shabby yet clean with basic, utilitarian furnishings, a few potted plants, family photographs, ceramic pottery decorating a cherry wood fireplace mantel in the front room. The steps of the staircase leading to the second level were scuffed and worn from years of shoes treading up and down. In the open dining room hung an antique crystal chandelier shimmering in the sunlight, casting tiny rainbows across the room and into the foyer where they all stood.

A woman entered in from around the corner, wiping her hands on a clay-splattered apron as though she’d just gotten up from a potter’s wheel. She looked to be in her late fifties, of slight stature, with light strawberry-blonde hair pulled up into a loose bun atop her head. Wisps were settled down around her sea-green eyes. Ben knew without needing an introduction that this was Travis’ mother. “Hello,” she said to Travis. “You’re home earlier than expected.”

“Yeah, well, Uncle Ed was being a prick again,” he replied.

Curtis laughed. Mrs. Cooper glared but turned her attention to the new arrivals. “Looks like you made some friends while you were away.”

As Travis made the introductions, she extended a hand to each of them. Apologized for the dried clay on her fingers, explaining that she’d been throwing pottery all morning. “Please do make yourselves at home,” she said. “We love company. It’s been too quiet around here lately.”

“Thank you,” Ben replied with a smile.

Travis and his mother turned away into a quiet conversation while the rest of the party stepped farther into the house. Derry continued to prop her white paws up on Ben’s legs, demanding his attention, and he gladly obliged.

“So how long you here for?” Curtis inquired with arms crossed. His question was more of a statement. He eyed each of them with recognition.

“Just a few more days,” Ben replied. Thought about adding "unfortunately" but changed his mind.

A silence followed but was soon interrupted by the tapping of footsteps descending the stairs. On first impression, Ben would have guessed the girl to be eighteen or nineteen – a petite yet curvaceous young woman with dyed raven-black hair traveling down the length of her torso and a fire-red lace bra barely hidden beneath a thin cream-colored tank top. Her fancy cowboy boots clunked noisily on the wooden treads with each step she took.

About a third of the way down, she stopped, gripped the railing, and stared wide-eyed at Ben. “Holy shit!” she breathed. “You’re Ben Mansfield!” Quickly, she clunked the rest of the way down and flung herself at him, sending him backwards a step. He fought to maintain balance as she nuzzled her face against his ear.

Travis plucked her from him with an apology. “Go graze somewhere for a while, Kat,” he commanded, propelling her toward the hallway. She turned to glare at him but obeyed, straightening herself out before strutting away. Upon closer inspection, Ben realized that she was much younger than he’d first thought. Sixteen, maybe. “That’s Katy,” Travis explained. “She’s a handful.”

“I’ll second that,” Curtis mumbled, following after her. “She’s probably gone to call all of her friends.”

Mrs. Cooper prompted Bryan and Audra to follow her upstairs to get settled into a guest room while Travis and Ben remained behind in the foyer. Derry lay contentedly on the floor between them with her nose pressed to the cool wood. From somewhere in the house, the mellowed chime of a grandfather clock resounded. Ben listened for further signs of life – Katy, Curtis or perhaps another family member whom he'd yet to meet – but aside from the clock, the house sat in comfortable silence.

Travis stood with arms crossed, embodying a devil-may-care attitude that caused Ben to fumble over his own thoughts. He wondered if Travis was aware of the tremendous effect he was having on him. Figured that the guy probably knew exactly what he was doing. “So,” Travis started, breaking his reverie. “Shall I take you to your sleeping quarters?”

“My sleeping quarters…?” Ben echoed. “Sounds medieval.”

“It is.” Travis grabbed Ben’s snowboard from its perch in the foyer and headed out the front door, Derry close at his heels. Hefting his carry-on bag onto his shoulder, Ben exited the house and jogged to catch up. They walked together toward a row of three small bunkhouses that lined a pathway behind the horse stables, interspersed with serviceberry and chokecherry shrubs. Each building was identical, with screened-in front porches, single-pane crown glass windows, clapboard siding painted to match the main house, and metal chimneys poking up through slightly gabled rooftops. All units were in need of new paint and structural repair, but there was a rustic charm to them, as though they’d provided shelter to a century of cowboys and held countless stories within their walls.

Travis pushed roughly against the front door of the first building to open it, and they stepped into the semi-darkness of a freezing room. After flipping on an overhead light, Travis set the snowboard down on a small circular oak table surrounded by four mismatched chairs. The bunkhouse was just one room with a tiny bathroom off to the rear. The walls were flanked with twin beds, four total, metal lockers stationed between each one. The starkness reminded Ben of military boot camp: crude and utilitarian. Against the far wall stood a wood-burning stove, cast iron skillets hooked on the wall, a pile of logs stacked nearby. Aside from the beds, tables and mismatched chairs, there was no other furniture and no other sign of occupancy. Ben couldn’t imagine anyone living there.

Travis spread his arms wide to display the room like a game show host. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s… very quaint,” Ben replied. Dropped his carry-on bag onto the bare mattress of one of the creaky beds. “Are others sharing my abode?”

“Just a few ranch hands,” Travis replied. “They get a little rowdy sometimes, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

Ben looked at him skeptically. Wondered for a split second if he was telling the truth but then thought, There’s no fucking way this room has recently been occupied. “You’re full of shit,” he insisted.

Travis stood expressionless, stoic, hands resting on his hips as he tried to convince Ben through body language that he was telling the truth. But his smile peeked through. “You’re right,” he said, throwing an arm around Ben’s shoulders. “I’m just fucking with you. We don’t have ranch hands right now. There’s only Arturo, and he lives in one of the other bunkhouses.”

Once again, his smile was disarming. Sliding his arms around Ben’s waist, he pulled him into a long, soft kiss. It was in such contrast to the mad, intense kiss on the mountain pass, it took Ben a second to adjust. Eventually, he relaxed in the embrace, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Travis’ jeans, returning the kiss as sweetly as it was offered. But he lingered in the man's embrace for only a moment before disentangling himself and nudging him away.

Travis narrowed his eyes and sighed. “This again?”

Without a reply, Ben ran a hand through his hair and concentrated on a large knot in the wood planking of the floor.

“You’re all mixed signals,” Travis continued. “One minute, your body language is telling me ‘go’, the next minute, you’re pissed that I’ve come near you.”

Ben nodded but couldn’t meet his eyes. Yeah, he was all mixed up. Twenty-four hours ago he would have punched the shit out of anyone suggesting that he’d soon be standing in a barren bunkhouse kissing a cowboy of his own accord, without even a film crew nearby. What the hell are you doing? he demanded of himself.Toby Conroy is a goddamn fictional character. He’s not you. You’re not him. Yet there lingered an interweaving of personalities between Toby and Ben – real and fabricated, fictional and true – that melded together in ways that Ben could not comprehend.

"I do want this," Ben eventually muttered, feeling anxious, still unable to meet Travis' gaze. "I just... I don't know why I can't relax... It feels natural but unnatural at the same time..."

Not waiting for further explanation, Travis grabbed him by the hand and swiftly led him from the room. Derry followed fast at their heels as they crossed over to the next bunkhouse, which on first appearance looked to be an exact replica of the first bunkhouse, but all similarity ended at the front door. Inside, the large room was devoid of cobwebs and mismatched furniture. Instead of four twin beds there was one large bed covered in flannel quilts, its headboard constructed of hand-hewed lodgepole pine. Next to a makeshift kitchenette area was an old leather sofa, chenille recliner, several wooden crates stacked together holding an extensive collection of CDs and vinyl records. A small television and vintage stereo system occupied the top of a bookshelf that was crowded with binders, books, and miscellaneous papers.

Ben knew even without asking that this bunkhouse belonged to Travis. Stepping further inside, he glanced around, absorbing it. Oddly, hung beside an impressive set of elk antlers was a large abstract oil painting in bright hues of yellow and orange, offering an artistic addition to an otherwise unpretentious room. What pulled at his attention the greatest was a high shelf showcasing a scattering of dusty rodeo buckles attached to wooden backers. Pulling one of the small boards down, Ben studied the ornate design of a silver and brass buckle that had the words “Chaffee County 2001” engraved on it.

“Rodeo cowboy, huh?” Ben asked.

Travis lingered in the doorway, appearing self-conscious at his browsing. “Yeah,” he said. “Amateur stuff. Calf roping.”

“That’s cool. Did you ever bull ride?”

“A few times. But I wasn’t cut out for it. Only assholes ride bulls.”

Ben placed the buckle back on its shelf and said off-handedly, “Yeah, Toby was never really cut out for it, either. Even though he wasn’t an asshole, not really…”

“Toby…?” Travis echoed.

Ben turned to him. Realized that he thought Toby was a real person. “Just a character I played. He tried his hand at bull riding but never really made it.”

“Are you talking about this ‘Roustabout’ movie? The one everyone seems to be buzzing over?”

Ben nodded.

“Maybe I need to see this film.”

“If you want.” Their eyes connected and painfully lingered, but Ben broke the reverie and returned to the initial conversation. “So do you rodeo anymore?”

Travis’ body slumped an inch as his gaze dropped. “Not since my dad died,” he replied. There was disappointment in his voice. Sadness, grief. Ben immediately regretted his question. Hadn’t intended to stir up dismal thoughts. Hoping to turn the mood around, he asked, “How long have you lived in this place?”

Travis seemed relieved with the change of direction and replied, “Curtis and I shared it together when we were younger. Had twin beds over there.” He pointed to where the leather sofa now occupied space. “We thought we were such hot shit back then, hanging out with the ranch hands.”

“Where does Curtis live now?”

“In Salida, about twenty miles from here. His wife’s a critical care nurse at the hospital.”

Ben nodded. Stood with hands on his hips and further surveyed the room. “Shit,” he eventually said. “I would’ve killed for a place like this as a kid.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure you were a spoiled brat at that age.”

“Is that what you think?” Ben laughed. “That I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?”

“Weren't you?”

“I’ll have you know, my family spent many holidays when Audra and I were growing up serving food to the homeless and sharing birthday cakes with senior citizens. My parents thought it was important to keep us grounded.”

Travis raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed by this proclamation. “Interesting. Any other humbling experiences you’d like to share?”

“Far too many to bore you with.” Ben sifted through the crates of records, noticing a very eclectic taste ranging from Buck Owens to R.E.M., with the heaviest collection comprised of classic jazz. He pulled out Dave Brubeck’s Bossa Nova U.S.A. and studied the cover for a moment. There were dozens of such records: Ella Fitzgerald, Erroll Garner, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane. It was an impressive collection, and Ben didn’t consider himself a music connoisseur. “Guess you like jazz, huh?” he asked.

“Love it.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t have guessed you for a jazz type.” Ben continued to look through the crates. Everything was neatly alphabetized. Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue caught his attention, and he quickly pulled it out. “Man, this is one of my favorites!”

“Yeah?” Travis pushed himself away from the door and plucked the record from his fingers. “I wouldn’t have picked you for a jazz fan, either.”

Ben looked at him sideways, grinning. Travis gently slid the record from its sheath and reverently placed it on the turntable. ‘So What’ began to play. Aside from a few slight crackles beneath the needle, the vinyl recording sounded perfect – deep, rich, full. “I didn’t think anyone even owned vinyl anymore,” Ben commented.

“It’s one of my things,” Travis stated. “I’ve been collecting records, mostly jazz, for a while now. Second-hand stores in Denver, yard sales around here. Occasionally, I break down and buy something more expensive online, like this one.”

Ben whistled. “Online? A cowboy who’s computer savvy, too?”

Travis strolled over to the small refrigerator and returned carrying two cans of Coors. “I’m not a total hick,” he informed him.

Ben accepted the proffered beer and popped it open. “You told me just last night that you are.”

He playfully scowled. “About a lot of things, smartass. Not everything.” He took a sip of the beer and then added, “There’s internet access in the stable office if you need to hook up. And a printer.”

Despite his aloofness while driving over the pass, he’d obviously overheard Ben’s conversation with Melissa. Although Ben knew he should have put duty first – called Melissa straight away and told her to go ahead and email him all the crap she yearned to send him, which she probably already had – he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. At that moment, he wanted to focus all of his attention on the ranch. And on this thing with Travis – whatever the hell it was. “Thanks, but not right now,” he said.

“You sure?”

Ben nodded. “Hollywood can wait a day or two.” Or forever, maybe.

Travis grinned. Held his bottle up. “Well, let’s make a toast then… to snowboarding, Miles Davis, and new friendships.” He tapped his bottle to Ben’s, and they locked gazes in a silent communication. It was an indication of something much greater than mere friendship developing between them, something much more profound. And at that moment, Ben honestly did want to punch something, anything, just to clear his head, but the beer was soothing and the company was intriguing, and for that moment, it was enough.

Again, thank you for reading.
Copyright © 2017 MacGreg; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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More good writing. I look forward to watching Ben and Travis' relation grow. I'm betting it will be "two steps forward, one step back." Thanks. Jeff

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On 12/03/2016 07:01 AM, JeffreyL said:

More good writing. I look forward to watching Ben and Travis' relation grow. I'm betting it will be "two steps forward, one step back." Thanks. Jeff

Thanks, Jeff! You are right about the "two steps forward, one step back" theory...

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This story is like a good meal--full of layers of flavor and I keep salivating over the next course! The dance between Ben and Travis has me simultaneously shouting "Get your head out of your ass, Ben" and savoring the tension and anticipation of what's to come. Again, the pace is perfect. You reveal just enough to move the story forward, while piquing our interest and making me want the next chapter now! Very nicely done. Just one minor error stood out to me. You used 'affect' when it should have been 'effect'. Sorry, but I can't remember what paragraph it was in. I look forward to the next chapter!

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Just terrific. Ben is figuring it out, and we get to watch. Travis likely knows his way around skittish animals, this guy is just another he has to mould, and gentle. Get story!

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Loved the tension... from Curtis... to the bunkhouse. It settled beautifully when Travis took bed to his abode, like Travis knew exactly what to do to help Ben sort himself. Interesting, the abstract on the wall, and the vinyl collection. You showed us a complexity in the cowboy, and you did it subtly... good work... cheers... Gary....

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I like how they're getting to know each other and realize they're a bit similar. They keep on surprising each other.

 

I love Travis and Curtis' mom; she's really sweet and doesn't mind at all that three total strangers came into her home to stay for a few days! lol

 

I'm sure it'll be a very interesting few days at the ranch! :P

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On 12/03/2016 12:07 PM, Valkyrie said:

This story is like a good meal--full of layers of flavor and I keep salivating over the next course! The dance between Ben and Travis has me simultaneously shouting "Get your head out of your ass, Ben" and savoring the tension and anticipation of what's to come. Again, the pace is perfect. You reveal just enough to move the story forward, while piquing our interest and making me want the next chapter now! Very nicely done. Just one minor error stood out to me. You used 'affect' when it should have been 'effect'. Sorry, but I can't remember what paragraph it was in. I look forward to the next chapter!

Hey Valkyrie, you're awesome with your editing suggestions. I made the change. :-) I'm glad that the pace and the "dance" between Ben and Travis is piquing your interest. That is definitely the intent. Next installment has been uploaded. Cheers - Mac

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On 12/04/2016 01:19 AM, Mikiesboy said:

Just terrific. Ben is figuring it out, and we get to watch. Travis likely knows his way around skittish animals, this guy is just another he has to mould, and gentle. Get story!

Love the analogy of Travis gently moulding a skittish animal. There is some truth in that! There are twists and turns to come as we move along on this journey. Thanks again for your feedback. - Mac

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On 12/04/2016 12:50 PM, Headstall said:

Loved the tension... from Curtis... to the bunkhouse. It settled beautifully when Travis took bed to his abode, like Travis knew exactly what to do to help Ben sort himself. Interesting, the abstract on the wall, and the vinyl collection. You showed us a complexity in the cowboy, and you did it subtly... good work... cheers... Gary....

Hey Gary, thanks for the feedback! Travis is a complex character, who will continue to unfold as we go along, as will Ben. All people have individual stories and complex backgrounds of experiences that mould them into who they are, and that's what I hope to elucidate with these characters. Cheers - Mac

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On 12/04/2016 01:39 PM, Lisa said:

I like how they're getting to know each other and realize they're a bit similar. They keep on surprising each other.

 

I love Travis and Curtis' mom; she's really sweet and doesn't mind at all that three total strangers came into her home to stay for a few days! lol

 

I'm sure it'll be a very interesting few days at the ranch! :P

Hi Lisa, I agree, Mrs. Cooper is beyond amenable for having 3 unknown guests show up on her doorstep. Don't know that I would be. :-) Glad you like how Ben and Travis are starting to get to know a little more about each other. Similarities are unexpected but bonding. Thanks for following along. Cheers - Mac

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There is a richness to these two. An unexpected shared interest in jazz. The abstract artwork and general feel to Travis' personal space. Ben's willingness to put aside Hollywood. Despite the tension betwixt them the sense is companionable.

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On 12/12/2016 06:53 AM, dughlas said:

There is a richness to these two. An unexpected shared interest in jazz. The abstract artwork and general feel to Travis' personal space. Ben's willingness to put aside Hollywood. Despite the tension betwixt them the sense is companionable.

When you think you have nothing in common... but discover you do. Unexpected surprises. Thanks again for taking the time to read this story, dughlas, I appreciate your comments. - Mac

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This is an awesome story; like good whiskey, this is far too fine to gulp down. As I have been doing...must take a break, before I binge. Travis is clearly the strong one, whatever money or celebrity Ben might possess.

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On 12/17/2016 01:56 AM, Parker Owens said:

This is an awesome story; like good whiskey, this is far too fine to gulp down. As I have been doing...must take a break, before I binge. Travis is clearly the strong one, whatever money or celebrity Ben might possess.

Ha, I love that you've compared reading this story to sipping a fine whiskey. I can appreciate that! Thanks for the kind words, and I hope you'll continue to follow along on the journey.

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Travis showed Ben the spare room, and then showed Ben his own room. I wonder which one Ben will spend the night in? :D

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On 01/16/2017 07:10 PM, Graeme said:

Travis showed Ben the spare room, and then showed Ben his own room. I wonder which one Ben will spend the night in? :D

Cold and barren bunkhouse... or warm and cozy bed with Travis...? Hmmm. ;-)

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Another nicely-written chapter. While I can make my way through about anything in the way of print, it's very nice to now and then be led around by the hand by someone with talent. I am enjoying the more subtle aspects of character deployment here, and the contrasts between the rustic location of the ranch and its rough exteriors and the more right-brained aspects of Travis's own interior. There is a bit of quicksilver in Travis, constantly on the move, but never quite clear in direction.
Ben's inner confliction over his feelings about Travis seem to match his overall mood about the direction of his life in general. In that respect, both of your main characters share something in common. Both seem to be lacking in something they need in life; both seem a little wary that there may be something brewing between them. Travis less so, and willing to make the first moves, but still with that small doubt about direction. Ben more so, more resistant to change and decisions, afraid of unbalancing his life even though he is not happy with the way it swings at the moment.
Watching Travis and Ben together is almost like watching a single character in front of a trick mirror. The reflection shows a different face, but there is much more in common here than meets the eye. Don't know about you, but I am having fun.

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On 02/25/2017 03:13 PM, Geron Kees said:

Another nicely-written chapter. While I can make my way through about anything in the way of print, it's very nice to now and then be led around by the hand by someone with talent. I am enjoying the more subtle aspects of character deployment here, and the contrasts between the rustic location of the ranch and its rough exteriors and the more right-brained aspects of Travis's own interior. There is a bit of quicksilver in Travis, constantly on the move, but never quite clear in direction.

Ben's inner confliction over his feelings about Travis seem to match his overall mood about the direction of his life in general. In that respect, both of your main characters share something in common. Both seem to be lacking in something they need in life; both seem a little wary that there may be something brewing between them. Travis less so, and willing to make the first moves, but still with that small doubt about direction. Ben more so, more resistant to change and decisions, afraid of unbalancing his life even though he is not happy with the way it swings at the moment.

Watching Travis and Ben together is almost like watching a single character in front of a trick mirror. The reflection shows a different face, but there is much more in common here than meets the eye. Don't know about you, but I am having fun.

Hey Geron, thank you for such an in-depth review! I appreciate your analogies of the rough ranch exterior in contrast to Travis' interior, and the mirror-like similarities you mentioned between Ben and Travis. They may seem worlds apart on the exterior, but inside, they have some similar feelings. Frustration, loneliness, angst. You are right that they're both in need of something... maybe each other... but neither of them can see that yet. Thanks so much for your comments. I appreciate you continuing this story. Cheers - Mac

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Hot and Cold....that's how Ben's running.....and the fact that he keeps comparing himself to Toby is a little disturbing....is he really into Travis or did he immerse himself in the role so deep that he can't get out of that mindset (like Heath Ledger and The Joker) 

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You bring us rich complex human beings, opening their baggage ...Slowly showing us the contents,. Good and not so good. 

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Your descriptions in this chapter are so vivid; the ranch, the house, Travis's little bunk house, I could see it all in my head as I read it. It's beautiful. Thank you.

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On 6/3/2017 at 2:11 AM, JayT said:

Hot and Cold....that's how Ben's running.....and the fact that he keeps comparing himself to Toby is a little disturbing....is he really into Travis or did he immerse himself in the role so deep that he can't get out of that mindset (like Heath Ledger and The Joker) 

You're not far off with that interpretation. However, I believe his feelings for Travis are genuine. Ben is easily distracted and confused with facing the truth. Thanks for reading and commenting (oh so long ago...)

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On 5/28/2018 at 9:16 PM, MichaelS36 said:

You bring us rich complex human beings, opening their baggage ...Slowly showing us the contents,. Good and not so good. 

Some contents of baggage are neatly folded, while others are a wrinkled mess. I hope to show the whole package. Thanks for your comment, Mike.

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On 3/15/2019 at 5:43 AM, Thorn Wilde said:

Your descriptions in this chapter are so vivid; the ranch, the house, Travis's little bunk house, I could see it all in my head as I read it. It's beautiful. Thank you.

Great! That's music to my ears. Thank you, Thorn.

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