Take the Long Road Home - 4. Chapter 4

TROY

I held my breath, afraid Morgan would get up and leave. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about the other boy that drew me in. We barely knew each other, but the pull was magnetic– so strong it made me word vomit my worst fear.

Morgan cocked his head to the side, and his tongue peeked out to wet his upper lip. “If you don’t remember the details, how are you sure that you killed him? Maybe it was an accident. You said Tyson rushed you. Maybe you sidestepped, and momentum kept him going, and he slipped off the edge?”

I sighed. I’d gone over this exact scenario a million times in my head and discussed it to no end with my therapist. I still had no answer. The fact of the matter was, I couldn’t remember any details. “That’s what I told everyone. I want to believe it, but—”

“But nothing. If you believe that’s how it happened, then it’s the truth.”

My eyes filled with hot tears. Angrily, I brushed them away with the back of my hand. “How can you be so confident?”

“Because if I’m not, everything will unravel.”

Morgan stood and reached for me. I let him pull me up, and we stood face-to-face. My heart raced as Morgan stepped into my personal space, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. I’m not sure which of us closed the distance, but as our lips brushed together, my whole body shivered.

The kiss was almost chaste. Our lips barely whispered against each other, and yet, it was the best kiss I've ever felt. Not that I had a lot to compare it to.

When we pulled apart, Morgan rested his forehead against mine and whispered, “Why am I so drawn to you?”

I shrugged and pulled back just enough to look into those dark amber eyes. “I don’t know, but I feel the same.”

Morgan dropped back onto the couch, one leg stretched the length of the cushions. I flopped down in front of him with my back to his chest. After wiggling a bit to get comfortable, we settled with my head nestled on Morgan’s shoulder. We laced our fingers together over my chest.

“There’s something you should probably know about me,” Morgan said. I could feel the tension starting to coil within him.

“You don’t have to tell me anything just because I dumped my baggage on you. I’d never pressure you like that,” I assured him.

“I know. But if there’s something between us, and I think there is, then I want to be truthful with you.”

I frowned. “I feel it too. I’ve never clicked with anyone so well from the second I met them. You just feel right. I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Me too. I feel the same way. That’s why I need to tell you the truth. If you decide you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll leave and move on.”

I squeezed his hand. “Nothing you tell me will make me push you away.”

He huffed as if the sentiment was ridiculous. “What if I told you I’m not Morgan Porter?”

I blinked. “Who—who would you be?”

“Morgan Porter was my ex-boyfriend’s older brother, who died when he was eight. My real name is Miles Kenney. My parents aren’t dead, they’re in jail. My uncle was real. He did take me in when I was ten after my parents' sentencing. There weren’t any other family who could take me in. My dad’s parents died before I was born. My mom’s parents were awesome. I spent a lot of time with them until Granddad died when I was four. Grandmom declined quickly after that. She’d been having a lot of health issues, but Granddad covered for her, and we didn’t know. She was gone six months after him.”

Morgan took a deep breath, looking for courage to continue or finally relaxing. I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. I kissed his knuckles. He continued, “I didn’t know it, but my grandparents left everything to me in a trust. I saw the paperwork once, and it’s not a life-changing amount. I’ll still need to work, but it would be enough to cover college costs if I decide to go. If not, then I could still draw a monthly allowance, and the balance would be released to me when I turn twenty-five. The lawyer who set it up was the executor, and when my uncle found out there would be a monthly payout from the trust to cover my living expenses, he agreed to take me in.”

I could relate to having a trust fund. Gramps and Grandma had set one up for each of us kids. Tyson’s was split between Meg and me after he died. It was a substantial amount. They had invested the ranch’s profits wisely, and after establishing the breeding program with my dad, any excess profits went into the trusts.

“Do you want to go to college?” I asked.

Morgan shrugged and replied, “I was getting ready to start my junior year of high school. So, as for college— I think that’s a pipe dream at this point. I doubt if I’ll have access to whatever is left in my trust fund if I’m living in a jail cell.”

“Why would you be in jail?’

Morgan took a shaky breath and blew it out so forcefully that I felt my hair ruffle. “Because I killed my uncle.”

My jaw dropped as I sat up and turned to look at him. “Say what?

I listened as Morgan relayed how his uncle saw him kissing his boyfriend and went ballistic, going so far as to throw him out of his house. While Morgan may have accidentally tossed his asshat of an uncle over the railing, he didn’t do it on purpose.

“I think we both were victims of unfortunate circumstances,” I said. “You may have wanted your uncle dead, but you didn’t plan on him cracking his skull open on a rock, just like I didn’t plan on throwing Tyson off a cliff. Look on the bright side— if there’s a club for murderers, we’d both be able to join.”

Morgan’s chest rumbled with laughter. When it stopped, he said, “Do you think the penitentiary has a local chapter? Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't involuntary manslaughter still come with jail time?”

I shrugged, then bit my lower lip. I had a suggestion but wasn’t sure how he would take it. I decided to jump right in with both feet and let the chips fall where they may. “Look, Morgan, er, Miles. I think my dad could help you. He’s the type of person who looks at all angles and options before taking any action. You should have the chance to finish high school and go to college if you want. Your dreams shouldn’t be crushed because of one mistake.”

“I don’t know. I have to think about it. As much as I want to go back to the real me, I’m not sure who he is. I spent the last six years trying to get through each day one at a time, so it never occurred to me to think about my future. What are your dreams?”

I sighed. “My destiny is taking over the ranch.”

“I hear a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”

I took a deep breath and said, “I’ve always dreamed of becoming a famous artist. I know it’s silly. The odds of that happening are slim to none, but I like to think about it. Gramps once told me that you can love something with all your heart, but if it has a hold on you, it can drag you under if you love it too much. He got me a poster of a bird taking off in flight, and under it was the quote: ‘If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.’”

“So, why can’t you go after your dream? What’s holding you back?”

I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but as they say, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’. “My dad was recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s. It’s still in the really early stage, and his doctor says he can be stable for a long time before it starts progressing, or it may be mere months before it starts getting worse. All I know is that he’s going to need more and more help. I have to be here for him. Running the ranch is my future.”

“Oof. That’s a lot. The last thing your dad needs to be burdened with is my problems.”

“Even with what’s going on with him, I know he would be willing to help. Just think about it.”

“I will.”

I smiled, then looked out the window, surprised to see the shadows lengthening. We needed to get going. Dad didn’t mind if I stayed out all day, but if I was going to miss dinner, he wanted to know before I left. I hadn’t planned on being gone so long, and if we weren’t back by supper, he’d organize a search party. The ranch was so spread out that if something happened to anyone, time and distance could mean the difference between life and death.

I stood and pulled Morgan up. As he got his balance, he tugged me forward until we were nose to nose. This time, his kiss was deeper. I nearly melted as his tongue licked the seam of my lips. I didn’t hesitate to let him in. He tasted like all the goodness in life.

After a minute, I reluctantly broke away. “We need to get back. I told Dad we’d be home for supper. If we’re not, he’s going to call in the cavalry.”

Morgan pulled me in for one more smoldering kiss before letting me go. I closed the door and made sure the locks were engaged. Both horses danced as we mounted and took off at an easy canter for the first few miles.

We made it back just as Dad was stepping onto the front porch. “Boys, you’re late,” he said with a frown.

I slid off of Duncan and tugged the reins over his head. “I know, Dad. I’m sorry. We lost track of time. We’ll be in after we take care of the horses.”

Morgan added his apology.

As Dad turned to go back into the house, he added, “You both have clean-up duty for the next week.”

“Fair enough,” Morgan answered.

Having walked the horses the last half mile, we got them into the barn and had them situated in no time. As Aggie was now going to be Morgan’s to ride, we settled her into a stall next to the other mares, while Duncan easily went into his bachelor pad.

No one said anything as we slid into our seats at the table. Nole and Pete smiled when they learned we had earned the privilege of clean-up for a week. I didn’t mind. It was extra time I got to spend with Morgan.

Over the next few weeks, Morgan learned the ins and outs of ranch life. He and Pete rode out every day, mending fences and moving cattle as needed. I had school, and while I was a decent student, it pained me knowing that Morgan was forfeiting his education. Even though I was only sixteen, I recognized the value of a high school diploma. College wasn’t for everyone, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. Dad never put pressure on me, one way or the other.

It wasn’t long before the warm Indian summer days were gone, and cold Canadian air filtered south. It was no surprise when Dad announced we’d be rounding up the herds and bringing them closer to the ranch for the winter. We had roughly seven thousand heads spread out over fifteen square miles. At least a couple of thousand would be going to auction, and we needed all hands on deck.

I got my school assignments for the next week. It wasn’t unusual this time of year for classrooms to be half-empty because all the local farms and ranches were busy with winter preparations. Thankfully, most teachers kept the assignments light. The kids left behind saw it as a mini-vacation. They watched movies and had plenty of free time. I didn’t envy them. I’d much rather be out on the open range than cooped up in a classroom.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Morgan asked as we double-checked our gear.

“I rode along on my first round-up when I was five. I wasn’t much help, but I remember feeling so proud to be ‘one of the guys’ and how thrilled I was to tag along. Tyson was pissed he couldn’t go. He caught the flu the day before we left. When I came back, all my socks and underwear had holes in them.”

“What an ass.”

“Eh, I guess I couldn’t blame him. I would’ve been tempted to do the same had the tables been turned.” I pointed my chin at his bulging saddlebags. “You got everything you need?” We would be gone for at least three, if not four or five nights, depending on the weather and how well the cattle cooperated.

Morgan grinned. “I think so. If not, I guess I’ll do without.”

I snickered, then gave the cinch a final tug before mounting Duncan. Dad’s whistle pierced the air, and everyone headed his way. There were eight extra hands he’d hired for the round-up. All of them had done this with us before. Morgan was the only greenhorn.

Dad had already given everyone their assignments. Morgan and I were with Carson and a few of the hired hands. We would be going north, herding a couple of thousand head of cattle into the temporary paddocks that would be set up while we were gone. If anyone thinks it’s easy work, they need to think again. Trying to move that many stubborn cows over several miles is like trying to wrangle a dozen feral barn cats at the same time.

When Dad gave the signal to head out, Carson whistled for Lucy and Ethel, two of our herding dogs, and they trotted ahead, tails furiously wagging. In addition to being the ranch foreman, Carson also trained the dogs. He had a way with them, and everyone agreed we had the best teams of dogs in the state.

Dad and his crew headed south, while Nole and Pete took charge of the eastern and western sides of the ranch. Each team had two dogs accompanying them. All in all, it was a good crew, and everyone knew their job.

We set off at an easy pace, following the dogs as they led the way. It took a couple of hours to locate the massive herd we needed to bring in. I could tell by the tension in Carson’s shoulders that it was going to be difficult.

I pulled Duncan to a stop next to Carson. “Whatcha thinkin’, Boss?”

“They’re more spread out than I’d like.” He pointed to a group of thirty or so animals. “I need to check them out. There are a few lame ones in that bunch. That’s going to slow us down. I’m hoping we don’t have to put any down.”

Every year, a few cows were euthanized for poor health or injury. It was the law of nature. Several years ago, a good number of cows had to be put down due to Brucellosis, an infection that causes spontaneous abortions in cattle. That had been a rough year for the ranch.

“Morgan and I can go check it out.”

“Okay. I’ll take the rest of the guys and do a thorough assessment of what we’ll be looking at. I hate it when these shitheads spread out like they own the place.” Carson laughed. We all knew that cattle have a mind of their own.

I trotted over to Morgan. “Come on. We’re going to check on that group over there.” I pointed at the cows bunched up together.

We approached them slowly, so as not to spook them. I scanned the little mini-herd, trying to spot any major issues. Two cows caught my eye. Silently, I pointed them out as I grabbed my rope. Morgan nodded. He urged Aggie forward, and the cows scattered. I honed in on the one who tried to run, but could only manage a clumsy wobble. It was easy to throw the rope around her head. Duncan steeled himself as the rope pulled taut, halting the cow’s attempt to escape.

I jumped down and approached her slowly, murmuring sweet nothings. Once I was close, it was easy to see what her issue was. A huge abscess bulged on the side of her leg just above her left hind foot. I walked back to Duncan and pulled a kit out of my saddle bag.

Morgan dismounted and asked if I needed help.

“Try to distract her. I’m going to lance the abscess to drain it. I think she’ll be okay once the pressure is relieved.”

Morgan stood by her head, scratching her ears as I opened a betadine swab. I cleaned the surface of the massive lump as best I could. Then I flicked my knife open, wiped it with another of the swabs, and swiftly poked the swollen flesh and jumped back as a massive gusher of pus and blood shot out of the newly created hole. The cow bucked and mooed loudly. Duncan kept the rope taut, preventing her from going anywhere.

“Oh Jesus!” Morgan gagged.

Yeah. I probably should have warned him about the smell. I tried to breathe through my mouth as the river of goop slowed to a trickle. The poor cow stamped her foot a few times as the rest of the abscess drained. I filled a syringe with an antiseptic/antibiotic fluid and flushed the wound before spraying it with another antibiotic solution. As a final insult, I took a can of spray paint and marked her flank with a fluorescent green X so that the vet could check her.

We finished checking the rest of the group, and other than a few cuts and scrapes, there was only one cow I wasn’t sure about. I’d have Carson take a look and let him decide.

By late afternoon, we had regrouped. Carson checked on the cow I pointed out and ended up marking her with a line across her back. She most likely had a torn ligament and wouldn’t make the long walk to the ranch. She would be put down before we headed out in the morning.

As the shadows grew long, we made quick work of setting up our tents. Not long after Carson got a fire roaring, we heard an ATV approaching. Mrs. P had her hands full prepping food for everyone, but she was a pro. We’d get a delivery every evening with dinner, breakfast for the following morning, and snacks.

Joe, one of the hired hands, waved as he got off the ATV and loosened the straps of the cooler fastened to the back. “Chow’s here!” he declared, setting the cooler by the fire. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We shouted our thanks as he roared off toward the ranch. As Carson lifted the lid, the tantalizing scent of chicken hit us. My stomach rumbled. Carson handed out the sandwiches, each labeled with our names. The chicken sandwiches Mrs. P made were still warm. Mine oozed with gooey cheese and grilled onions.

Morgan groaned as he unwrapped his and sank his teeth in. If I weren’t so hungry, the sound would have gone straight to my cock. As it were, we inhaled our food like a bunch of vultures. Even Lucy and Ethel scarfed down their kibble.

I let out a loud belch and sighed. The first day of any round-up always seemed the longest. We cleaned up our mess, putting the discarded wrappings into a plastic bag and stowing them in the cooler. After breakfast, we’d leave all our trash inside the cooler, and Joe would make his rounds to all four camps, collecting them so Mrs. P could fill them up again.

As we relaxed, I could feel the aches and pains that accompanied a long day in the saddle. My mind drifted as I stared at the flames flickering before me, and my eyelids grew heavy.

The squawking of Carson’s long-range radio jolted me out of my stupor when I heard Dad’s voice. I listened as Carson gave Dad a quick rundown of our day and what we could expect to accomplish tomorrow. I smiled when Carson handed me the walkie-talkie.

I assured my father that all was well before wishing him goodnight. After helping clean up, Morgan and I crawled into our tent, tired, but too wired to fall asleep.

“When did you realize you’re gay?” I asked, lying on my back with my hands behind my head, staring at the peak of our tent.

Morgan was on his side facing me, with one hand tucked under his head. “I didn’t have a single a-ha moment. I always gravitated toward guys. My high school was pretty liberal, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“I wish it had been that easy for me.”

“Why? What happened?” Morgan’s free hand rested on my chest.

“Sophmore year, I asked Declan Myers out after thinking he was flirting with me. He was a senior and very much straight. He decided to announce to the entire student body that I liked dick. My school isn’t as liberal as yours. I was the target of bullying. It affected my mental health, and on top of still reeling from Tyson dying, I wasn’t in a great place. Dad noticed, sat me down, and pulled a confession out of me. He told me he loved me no matter what and that he'd deal with matters at school. I don't know what he said during his meeting with the principal later that week, but Declan was missing for several days. Rumor had it he'd been suspended. The whole school also had to sit through an assembly hammering home the anti-bullying policy that should have been enforced all along.”

"I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

"It's fine now. Declan graduated, as did his friends. A few other kids have come out since then, so I'm no longer a novelty. All the bullshit has blown over.”

"Still, it must've sucked.”

"That's when Dad suggested I talk to a therapist. I FaceTime him every other week during my study hall. The school provides me with an empty office so I can have privacy.”

"That's really good.” Morgan yawned and blinked a few times.

My eyes drooped, and his yawn was contagious.

"We'd better get some sleep,” I murmured.

We gave each other a sweet goodnight kiss, and were asleep as soon as our eyes closed.

Tomorrow would come soon enough.