Earth and Sun, Cedar and Sage

Earth and Sun, Cedar and Sage © Copyright Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward, 2009

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
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Suite 244-149
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of
the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com
Cover Design by Mara McKennen

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Released in the United States of America
December 2009

eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-343-8

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

HORTER

days and colder nights made for slow going on the trail, but

Gideon  Makepeace  didn’t  mind,  and  he  knew  his  companion  didn’t
either. Any excuse to be out of doors and away from the judging eyes
of civilized white folks was reason for celebration for Jedediah Buffalo
Bird, even with temperatures cold enough to nip at their toes through
leather  boots and  wool  socks and  bite  hard at  his  wrists where  they
were bare between coat  and gloves. The winter chill in  the air made
this  part  of  the  Arizona  territory  even  more  crisp  and  clear;  every
morning  they  woke  to  white  frost  that  blanketed  the  barren  ground
like snow and blue skies so clear it made his eyes hurt to stare up into
them.  The  icy  frost  hollered  “Winter!”  at  him,  and  he  thought  of
Christmas coming.

It might almost be upon them now, though Gideon had lost track

of time since they’d left the Pacific coast, and he didn’t know exactly
what day it was.

He glanced over at his companion and felt his heart go all mushy

at the serene look on those handsome, foreign features. The eastern
sun had only just climbed high enough that it wasn’t in their eyes any
longer; Jed’s hat shaded his face, and that squinting scowl had faded
now that the man wasn’t half-blinded.

“Storm coming in,” Jed said, his first real words since they’d

broken camp this morning. He’d hummed for a while, those deep

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guttural words of his people that meant nothing to Gideon’s head but
somehow still spoke to his soul. The Injuns, they’d had something that
Gideon’s white culture lacked; that “something” was a big part of what
made Gideon love this man so.

“I reckon,” he said, agreeable.

“Cold,” Jed added. “We might see snow.”

Gideon didn’t care overmuch. If they were caught in the wild

they’d dig in, find a cave or make a lean-to under a tree, build
themselves a nice big fire and have the weather as an excuse to cuddle
close together. Not that they looked for excuses; they were still too
new to each other, and just a look or a smile could inspire want in the
other. But they’d picked up a stage route on the east side of the desert,
and the excuse would be helpful if they ran into people. “We’ll bump
into a town soon enough,” he said. He was itching to know what day it
was. Itching for a hot bath, too, if there was one to be had.

Jed frowned at him. He smiled back, fascinated by his beloved’s

expressive features. “Don’t be like that,” he chided gently. “We’re just
passin’ through; they won’t give you any trouble.”

Jed’s mother had been a Sioux, his father an unknown white man

who’d  visited  the  worst  of  crimes  upon  the  woman.  It  was  the  rape
that  had  given  Jed  his  Indian  name,  Buffalo  Bird—for  the  birds  that
planted their eggs in the nest of another for the other family to rear.
Jed  might  be  a  half-breed,  but  he  carried  his  tribal  blood  high,  with
thick  black  hair  and  warm  brown  skin,  and  the  flatter  face  that
reminded Gideon a little of them Chinese. His eyes, though, were blue
like  a  stormy  sky,  and  when  Gideon  looked  at  them  for  too  long,  he
forgot  everything  hard  about  the  world.  Jed  honored  his  Indian

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

traditions too, wearing his hair long and keeping his eagle feather
carefully tied to his saddle blanket.

“Give us both trouble,” Jed said flatly.

Gideon didn’t argue; it was a waste of breath he could ill afford in

this chill, and he honestly had no idea how townsfolk in these parts
would treat his man. “If they do,” he said simply, “we’ll move right on.”

Jed frowned again, and Gideon flashed him a smile that he’d been

assured could charm the birds right out of the trees. It seemed to have
little effect on Jed, just increasing the furrow between his dark brows
and deepening the lines beside his mouth. Gideon secretly thought
that Jed resented being appeased, but before he could tease, he heard
the barely audible hum from the back of Jed’s throat, hyuh-uhn-uhn-
nya, and he wondered what ghosts or spirits Jed was calling on.

Not much later, Gideon started seeing signs of civilization: dirt

tracks veered off this main road, wide enough for wagon ruts, and
cleared fields along both sides of a swollen river lay fallow this time of
year. “Where do you reckon that water’s coming from?” Gideon asked.
They hadn’t seen rain since they’d turned away from the roads at the
stagecoach stop in Victorville.

“Sky,” Jed said.

Gideon felt a grin tug at his lips. Jed’s outlook on life was simple,

pure, even, and it went a long way to calm Gideon’s youthful energies.
Before he could get to asking Jed to be serious with him, he heard that
barely audible hum again, hyuh-uhn-uhn-nya. Didn’t seem right that
Jed had so much faith in the unseen when his gods had done so little
for his people.

The temperature continued to drop over the next hour even as a

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

watery sun climbed toward its zenith, and soon enough they lost even
that faint heat; the clouds Jed had remarked on had caught up to them,
thick and dark and moving in fast from the west, bringing with them a
chill that ate right through the back of his oilskin coat. The thought of
rain made him glad they had a chance of a roof over their heads; Jed
would call him soft, and he was. He’d grown up in luxury, compared to
Jed. Life in a traveling show had been hard and lively, but you carried
your wagons or train cars with you, so you never had to sleep too
rough. “Won’t make it,” Jed said quietly.

Still, the threatening rain was barely spitting at them by the time

the  outskirts  of  a  town  revealed  themselves  through  sheep-mown
grass  and straight  fence  posts. When  they passed  the  city limits  sign
that  read,  “Welcome  to  Kingman,  Population  375,”  Jed’s  chanting
faded  until  Gideon  could  just  barely  feel  it  in  his  bones.  At  the  first
picket  fence,  it  stopped  altogether.  Gideon  kneed  Star  over  just  long
enough  to  tap  a  lean  thigh  and  promise  with  his  eyes  that  together
they’d take whatever came.

Not five minutes later the road bent alongside another branch of

the river, and he saw buildings up ahead, and a passel of kids huddled
out  front  of  what  must  be  the  schoolhouse.  This  wasn’t  some  half-
abandoned stage stop, but a real city, and the kids who’d just been let
out of school lagged despite the icy rain, talking about Christmas and
avoiding  the  work  that  waited  for  them  at  home.  He  felt  a  thrill  of
excitement,  because  real  cities  had  real  bathhouses.  “Hey!”  he  called
as they pulled alongside the school. “Where’s the livery around here?”

Three boys broke from the gaggle of kids and ran for the fence,

and the biggest one pointed down the street and volunteered, “Right
that way, mister. Other side of town.” His eyes were big and wide and

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

glued to Jed’s dark skin and his long, black hair. “You a real Injun?” he
asked, hushed.

Gideon grimaced while Jed nodded. “Yeah,” Jed said. Then he

flicked the reins and rode on.

“Thanks, kid,” Gideon said, and he clucked Star into a trot to

catch up.

This town’s main street curved with the riverbank forty or fifty

feet away. Even that distance looked too close, with white water
running high. Right fine buildings all stood on the eastern side of the
street, some of brick or stone, others of wood.

He smelled the livery, or the manure pile sure to be in back of it,

before he saw it, and tilted his head. “There you go,” he said when it
came into view. The thick, black smoke of burning coal competed with
the clean smell of horse manure, and he heard the rhythmic, heavy
clang of steel on steel: must be a smithy here.

“Could get Pony shoes while we’re here,” he said.

“Never needed shoes yet,” Jed repeated his oft-worn phrase.

“Never lived in a real city before,” Gideon reminded him. Jed’s

pony was smart and as well-schooled as his own trick mare he’d
raised and trained from a yearling. “I keep telling you, you leave it
unshod on cobblestone streets and it’ll go lame.”

Jed blinked. “No promises he’ll be on cobbles long enough to go

lame.”

Gideon sighed; whenever Jed felt the pressure of too many white

eyes on him, he got snippy. But it wasn’t like Gideon could blame him.

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He kicked his foot over the pommel and slid to dismount, tossing

Star’s tied-together reins up over her head in a practiced move. The
rain was getting heavier, as cold as a witch’s tit, but the smithy had a
tin awning that stuck out a good twelve feet, plenty of room for them
to ease their horses in out from under the weather. Jed stood back,
though, and waited in the light, cold rain. “Afternoon,” Gideon said.

The smith, a short brawny man at least twice Gideon’s twenty

years, barely paused in his beating of orange-hot steel. “Stalls rent for
a quarter a day,” he said. “That’s for hay, no oats.”

Gideon took a step closer. “I’m more interested in a bath, to be

honest, for me and my friend here.”

He watched the smith look up, caught the narrowing of his eyes.

“Bath around here might be too expensive, if you know what I mean.”

“I’d pay just about any price I can afford,” he said, keeping it

friendly. “Been on the trail a week now, and it’s damned cold.” He
shivered involuntarily and rubbed his gloved hands together to warm
them up. The heat from the smith’s forge almost reached to where he
stood.

The smith nodded. “Water in the corral’s free, if you pump it

yourself.  Store  your  tack  in  the  shed  alongside.  Bathhouse  is  on
Denney Street, thataway,” he directed with a nod of his head. “Might
be  a  boarding  house  that’ll  take  him  on  Alder,  but  maybe  not.”  He
sighed  and  stretched  tall,  and  then  used his  tongs  to  pick  up  the  hot
steel  off  the  anvil  and  drop  it  into  a  tub  of  water.  Steam  hissed  and
sizzled. “If not, come back by after you’ve ate and cleaned up. He can
stay here in the loft, if worse comes to worse. Wouldn’t put man nor
beast out on a night like tonight.”

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“Thank you kindly,” Gideon said sincerely, “but I’d rather keep

him with me.” At the smith’s frown, he went on, “I heard a rumor there
was trouble here and there. Don’t want him to get caught on the
wrong side of someone’s worry.”

The smith’s frown faded a little and he nodded. “What with

rumors of uprisings down ’round Fort Apache, people are a little more
het up than they need to be. And we don’t see too many red-uns this
far into the mountains. Best stay close to him.”

Gideon flashed a grin at Jed, who was sure to have heard every

word, and on whom this kind of generosity was almost completely
wasted. “Much obliged. I’d be happy to bring you back some biscuits
from wherever the best place to eat around here is?”

At that the smith grinned, and even Jed would admit that they’d

reached a friendly understanding. “Mrs. Colton’s, two doors from the
bathhouse, other side of Denney Street.”

Gideon reached to shake the man’s hand and tried not to wince

at the firm grip, and then he followed his pointing finger to the corral
at  the  side  of  the  stable.  The  rain  looked  thicker  now  and  felt  even
colder for his brief respite. “Jed, hurry it up,” he said as he stripped off
Star’s saddle while Jed walked on over to open the corral gate. “Hate
to put you out there, girl, but if we stay the night I’ll pay for a dry place
for you,” he promised her. The smithy looked at him like he was loony,
but he got that a lot; saddle and bags over one shoulder, he tugged off
her  bridle  and  stepped  back.  “Thank  you,”  he  said,  giving  her  a  sign.
She  lowered  her  head  almost  to  the  ground  and  pawed  lightly  with
her right hoof. “Back up. One, two, three….” She backed up a step each
time he spoke, which always entertained folks who wanted to believe
she could count. “Good girl. Follow Pony.” He smiled when she tossed

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

her head and turned away at a trot.

“I’ll be.” The smith whistled low as Star trotted over to where Jed

stood and through the open gate. “I ain’t seen the likes of that since….”

“Since the last wild west show you saw? That’s right.” Gideon

smiled proudly. He knew he was a nice tall drink of water himself, but
the blacksmith was clearly more impressed by his mount. “She’s a
trick horse.”

“How’d you come by her?” the smith asked, his eyes bright with

curiosity.

Gideon hefted his gear and rubbed at his nose. “Well, sir,” he said

easily, “I’m her trick rider.”

“I’ll be,” the smith said again, and he looked at him with

friendlier eyes. “He a showman too?” he asked, pointing at Jed’s back.

Gideon hesitated. “He’s got his tricks. Thanks again.”

He hopped over to open the shed where Jed had brought his

saddle blanket, bridle, and leather bags, and they stepped in to drop
their tack. “Plenty of water in the trough,” Jed said, and then he tilted
his chin up toward the sky. “More on the way.”

Gideon just barely resisted clapping him on the back. “Let’s see

about that hot bath and some food, then.”

It turned out that anything they could buy in daylight hours was

easy  to  come  by,  as  long  as  Jed  had  him  a  white  man  willing  to  be
responsible  for  his  behavior.  They  refilled  their  saddlebags  at  the
general store, but Gideon managed to talk Jed into a bath before they
tried for a restaurant. “I promised the smith I’d bring him back some
biscuits,  and  I’d  like  ’em  to  still  be  warm,”  he  said.  “He  seemed  like

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good people.”

Jed, his smooth face giving nothing away, simply nodded toward

the bathhouse sign.

The bathhouse was simple wood clapboards, but inside the walls

had  been  plastered.  Insulated,  too,  by  the  warmth  of  it;  his  nose
started itching the second they closed the door behind them, and his
skin  tingled.  The  chaperone  was  a  prim-looking  young  man  who
turned  out  to  be  a  local  preacher’s  son.  The  kid  stared  at  Jed,  and
Gideon saw him doubling the price in his head. But he paid it, trying to
be  pleasant  even  as  the  boy  said  shortly,  “Half  price  for  him  to  use
your tub once you’re out of it, but you have to use the little one in the
corner.  They  can’t  use  any  others.”  Gideon  glanced  to  the  smaller,
rickety  tub  and  sighed.  Jed  wouldn’t  even  think  of  it  as  much  of  a
slight.

That nixed any plan Gideon might have had of helping Jed get

clean  too.  “No,  thanks,  he  can  have  his  own.”  At  Jed’s  quick  glare,  he
added, “I don’t want to wait for him when I’m done.” He took the tub
next to Jed and stripped down behind a curtain, hanging his clothes on
a  hook  and  wrapping himself  loosely  in  the  bath  sheet while  the  kid
filled  first  his  tub,  then  Jed’s.  Steamy  water  made  him  forgive  the
presence  of  the  preacher’s  boy,  and  he  sank  into  the  warmth  with  a
groan  as  little  chills  of  pleasure  raced  over  his  skin.  He  listened
intently  for  Jed  to  enter  his  own  bath,  heard  just  the  quiet  splash  of
water and not a peep to indicate pleasure, even though Gideon knew
Jed  was  just  as  cold  as  he  was,  and  even  though  he  knew  Jed  loved
being clean and free of tiny boarders even more.

The gauze curtains that separated them were almost like a peep

show tease. Gideon tried to ignore it, and soon enough the water

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started  to  cool,  so  he  set  to  scrubbing,  watching  Jed’s  shadow  move
across  the  thin  fabric.  When  Jed  stood,  leaning  to  get  his  bath  cloth,
Gideon could see the curve of his small ass and the shape of his legs
through the seam of the curtains. Jed wasn’t tall, but he was perfectly
formed  and  was  easy  on  the  eyes,  and  what  bits  Gideon  was  able  to
catch  a  glimpse  of  made  him  think  of  the  other  bits  he’d  get  to  see
when they were alone. Gideon had to let Jed leave the bathhouse first,
just so he could will his gallant reflex down. His long coat only hid so
much, and the preacher’s kid would get a glimpse of him before he’d
donned it anyway. His body scrubbed clean and wearing his fresh set
of clothes, he thanked the kid and shrugged on his coat, took a quick
glance in the mirror, decided he might want to get a shave before they
left here, and then stepped back into the cold to find Jed.

Jed was coming out of a side street, his head down and his coat

pulled tight around him. His hair was wet but loose, hanging down the
back of his coat and steaming in the cold air. There was a bright spot
on  one  cheek,  and  Gideon  thought  at  first  that  the  cold  must  have
wormed back into his bones already. He had his coat buttoned up tight
and  his  hands  under  his  arms,  and  after  a  quick  glance  to  Gideon’s
face,  he  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  boardwalk,  falling  easily  into  the
subservience everyone expected to see in him.

Too easily. Gideon wanted to catch his chin and force him to

stare  forward,  to  act  the  proud  man  Gideon  knew  he  was.  Then  he
noticed  thin  dark  line  of  blood  at  the  corner  of  Jed’s  lip.  “What
happened?”  he  asked,  low  and  angry  because  he  knew  already  what
had happened. And they’d hardly been in this town an hour.

“Nothing you need worry on,” Jed said just as softly. “Let’s go.”

“Jed,” he pushed, stepping in close—too close. Jed backed up a

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step, and Gideon had a second of worry that Jed was actually scared of
him. He felt it sometimes, Jed’s natural wariness of white folks
extending unreasonably to him. But Jed went on, his voice tight.

“Not here,” he said, cutting his eyes to one side then the other, to

see who was around. “Let it be.”

Gideon stared at him, barely curbing the urge to argue.

Somebody had pushed Jed around on his way to or from the outhouse,
from the smell wafting out of the alleyway. Damn all small towns. This
was  why  they  were  headed  to  New  Orleans,  a  huge,  sprawling  port
city with so many different kinds of people, folks wouldn’t think much
about  one  half-blood  Indian  and  his  white  horseman  friend.  He
needed  to  get  Jed  somewhere  safe  like  that  and  away  from  western
towns like this one whose city fathers likely still remembered the last
of  the  Indian  wars  and  still  panicked  at  every  sign  of  struggle  even
now.

He thought about going back there himself, finding the bastards

who had tried to shame his lover, but not only would that make Jed
angry with him, it could endanger them both. Reluctantly, he drew a
breath of the cold air and got himself under control.

“Lead on, Jed,” he said. “But we’re getting something hot to eat,

first.” Jed barely nodded at him, but he stepped off the boardwalk and
together they sprinted across the street. The restaurant was busy but
not too crowded, and the woman running it recognized that Jed’s
money was the same color as Gideon’s. They were allowed a table in
the back corner, but that was all right with Gideon. Actually, it was
pretty fine, since it shared a wall with the kitchen and was pleasantly
warm. He leaned his shoulder against it, soaking in the heat while he
looked around at the local folks and passed the time. He didn’t try to

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talk  to  Jed.  Jed  wasn’t  much  of  a  talker  at  the  best  of  times,  but  the
man flat-out wouldn’t converse in a crowd like this—especially after
whatever  had  just  happened.  There  must  have  been  twenty-five
people in this big room, and any one of them could take issue with Jed
even  being  here.  So  Gideon  honored  his  wishes  and  listened  in  on
strangers’  conversations  instead,  learned  who  was  about  to  have
another  baby  and  who  was  spending  too  much  time  in  the  saloons.
There  was  plenty  of  talk  about  Christmas  three  days’  hence,  so  he
decided to buy a sheet of paper and send his folks a letter before they
moved  on.  When  their  dinner  specials  arrived  he  dug  in  and  forgot
about the other patrons, because the food was hot and rich and tasted
better than anything they could have put together over an open fire on
the trail. He could tell that Jed enjoyed it too, even though he made not
a sound and barely lifted his eyes from his plate. The dark splotch on
his  cheek  was  fading,  and  he’d  wiped  the  trickle  of  blood  away  with
his napkin.

“Good food,” Jed said as they ate, which was almost more than

Gideon had expected.

“Got to ask the waitress to wrap up some of those biscuits,” he

said as they finished up, and Jed nodded again, took his knife, and split
three open, slathering butter over them before he set them on the
edge of Gideon’s plate. When the girl came by, Gideon nodded. “I’ll
take these with me, if you’ve got something to put them in?”

“Be happy to, sir,” she said, grinning appreciatively. She was

young and pretty, clearly confident in her bearing and, from the look
in her eye, confident about men too. He smiled back, showing his even
teeth, because you caught more flies with honey and because Jed liked
to pretend he was jealous, now and again. She swept the plates away,

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and Gideon caught Jed’s tiny frown and grinned wider.

The girl returned with the smith’s biscuits in a scrap of

cheesecloth,  and  Gideon  paid  their  bill,  adding  a  little  extra  for  their
waitress who had been fair with Jed, keeping his coffee mug as full as
she’d kept Gideon’s. As they stepped out onto the boardwalk and into
a  harder  rain, Jed  turned  and  started  back  toward the  livery.  Gideon
caught  him  by  the  arm  of  his  jacket  then  stepped  in  close  to  say
quietly, “We’re checking out that boarding house.”

Jed looked up at him, his face unreadable in the gloom. “Waste of

time,” he said shortly. “We should get back on the road before it grows
too dark to see.”

“We’re not living rough tonight,” Gideon said flatly. He’d be

damned if he’d let some son of a bitch intimidate Jed into a night in the
cold and wet. “I’m clean and dry and I intend to stay that way. Warm
would be nice too.”

Jed didn’t argue; he rarely did. But he wasn’t happy, and Gideon

knew that by the tension in the straight shoulders. He could hear Jed’s
words in his head—waste of time—but Jed followed him along with
little more than a sigh.

“Well, where do you expect him to sleep?” Gideon asked several

minutes later when it was clear that the woman who ran the boarding
house was not going to be swayed.

“Outside with the other animals,” she said shortly, glaring at

Gideon with a distaste he recognized. It was one directed at show
people from time to time, usually when the local folks were drunk and
rowdy, and often as not by the good Christians who’d stared wide-
eyed at his mama’s show the night before. He and Jed had that look in

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common, he thought passingly as he tried to get his temper under
control. “I run a respectable establishment,” she went on, her voice as
cold as the sleet coming down outside. “No dogs, no drunks, no
heathens. If you want a room, that’ll be—”

“I don’t, thank you,” he said shortly, turning away before she

could finish.

Jed had the good grace not to say “I told you so,” but what he did

say hurt far worse. “You should have stayed.”

“And left you out in the rain?” Gideon groused.

“You in the rain too gonna make me dryer?” he asked reasonably.

Always reasonable, which Gideon had to admit, was likely the way Jed
had stayed alive to reach the ripe age of twenty-seven. “Besides, I
heard the blacksmith. I’ll be dry tonight.”

In a livery loft. Gideon wanted to spit. Except really, it probably

wouldn’t be so bad. It would have to be dry for the hay, and the horses
below would help to warm the place up. If they layered hay around
them, he’d be warmer than he would have been alone in the boarding
house. He grinned. “I’ll take a loft with you over the best hotel, any
day,” he whispered, just to get a rise out of the man. He got it, and he
“oofed” when Jed whapped his belly with the back of his hand. “Come
along, Jed, ’fore something I value freezes and falls off of me.”

They ran along close to the buildings, staying under as much

cover  as  possible  because  the  sleet  was  coming  down  hard  now.  It
collected  on  the  ground  in  slushy  puddles,  slick  against  their  boots’
leather soles and shining in what lights shone out the glass windows
of  storefronts  that  were  still  open:  saloons  and  a  gambling  hall,  the
restaurants and what must be a whorehouse at the end of the street,

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well past the livery. Jed didn’t say anything, but his head came up and
he eyed it in silence.

“I wouldn’t let you bed down there even if they would,” Gideon

said, no little jealous himself.

When they approached the livery, Jed picked up his pace. “The

horses,”  he  said  by  way  of  explanation,  and  he  broke  into  a  run  that
took  him  across  the  street  in  the  rain  and  right  through  a  puddle  of
mud.  Gideon  turned  up  his  collar,  tugged  down  his  hat,  and  then
followed just in time to see Jed climb up on the corral gate while the
blacksmith waved madly at them from a gap in the big barn door. He’d
closed up shop, it looked like, and stood ready to leave in a ten-gallon
hat and a too-long oilskin coat. Gideon saw the anger in the set of Jed’s
shoulders, but Jed didn’t risk any words. Turned out, he didn’t have to.

“They’re all right,” the smith said when Jed and Gideon slid

through the door and out of the rain. “I put ’em up when the sleet
come down. Mister, I never did see a horse schooled like yours. I
thought maybe the Injun’s had some schooling too, since it stuck close,
so….” He shrugged. “I had an empty stall.”

Gideon shot Jed a victorious smile, the one he reserved for proof

of decency among white people. He didn’t get to use it often, but he
always enjoyed when he did.

Jed ruined it by saying, “I have coin,” which earned them both a

frown.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to hoodwink you boys.”

Gideon pulled out the biscuits he’d brought back. “How about we

pay you with the gift I already promised?” he asked as he flashed a
grateful smile. “Don’t mind him,” he said a little lower, but plenty loud

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

for Jed to hear. “He ain’t used to good people.”

The smith nodded without comment and took the cheesecloth

with the biscuits. “See you got your baths.”

“You said you might let us bed down in your loft tonight?”

“Said he could,” the smith replied. “Missus Barder’ll take you.”

Gideon’s jaw was starting to ache, he’d been clamping it so

tightly since his exchange with the biddy in the boarding house. “If it’s
all the same to you, sir, I’d rather pay you twice her going rate for your
very fine loft than pay that woman a penny to piss on me if I was on
fire.”

The smith was already chewing on one of the biscuits, and the

short guffaw he let out sent a little spray of crumbs out to dapple his
beard.  Gideon  shrugged  while  Jed  tried  to  look  like  he  didn’t  know
what the hell was going on. The smith flicked his beard a time or two
and carefully combed his fingers down its front, clearing most of the
crumbs.  “Yeah,  she’s  got  some  mouth  on  her.  But  you  can’t  hold  it
ag’in’  her,  boys.  She  had  a  son  in  the  army,  lost  him  over  Wounded
Knee.”

Jed’s head swiveled back around. “I heard about that,” he said

quietly. “Many dead.” Gideon used a finger and thumb to work his jaw
back and forth. The dead could have been Jed’s relatives—on either
side. “Condolences, but I wasn’t there. I’ve never killed any man,” Jed
went on.

The smith looked up at Gideon before he cut his gaze to Jed, who

was standing still in the doorway, head turned to watch the sleet.
“Good to know,” he said, and he took another bite of his biscuit. “All
right. Just don’t go tellin’ folks or I’ll hear about it from half the town.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Tomorrow, if y’all decide to stay on, there’s a place couple of miles up
the road, just off the track northeast of here. Some old boy thought
he’d struck it rich, but we get more gold out of that river over there.
Half a dozen buildings, a few miner’s shacks, it’s all abandoned. People
camp there from time to time, when the weather’s like this, but I
reckon you can find a place that’d be warm and dry.” He looked out at
the weather again.

Gideon looked, too; the sleet had picked up. “Thank you kindly,”

he said. “I don’t fancy being out in this tonight, and I don’t reckon Jed
does, either.” He turned to his lover, hoping he was right.

“Thank you,” Jed said to the blacksmith, and slowly, warily, he

extended his bare hand. The smith looked surprised, but he shook,
more gently it seemed than he’d taken Gideon’s.

“Your horses are in the stall in the back corner. Ladder’s just

inside the door.” The smith cut his eyes to Jed once more and said
more quietly, “He’ll be all right here if you want to try another
boarding house. Don’t nobody bother folks I let under my roof.”

It was a sincere offer of protection and Gideon smiled. “Thanks. I

appreciate the offer, but I’d just as soon stay close to Star. You know
how these smart horses can be.” The smith grinned, understanding
worry about a good horse probably far better than he’d understand
worry about an Indian brave in a cowboy hat and duster.

“No lanterns up there, once you boys settle in,” he ordered

briskly. “Take the one by the door to find a place. Makes sure the
wick’s out and hang it back by the door for me.”

They gathered up their gear before heading up the ladder to the

loft. As he had hoped, the hay was packed high along the eaves, and

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

the place was free of rats. It took little effort to make up a big bed, and
it was cold enough that if anyone got up the ladder before they woke,
the person would think little of them sharing body heat and blankets.

As Jed was spreading the bedrolls, the smith called up from the

lower floor. “We’re closing up for the night, but I’m going across to the
saloon for a drink or two and some chow. If anyone comes in, they can
reach me there. I’d be obliged if you’d let them know.”

“Least we can do,” Gideon called back truthfully, walking back to

the ladder so he could peer down to the other man. “You’ll be back
here later?”

The smith grinned up at him then pointed to the back of the

livery. “Room’s nice and cozy. Nothing as warm and comforting as my
horses.”

Gideon couldn’t help but grin, and despite himself, he glanced

over his shoulder toward his lover. “I can’t argue that.”

The smith waved a hand and walked out of sight. A few seconds

later, Gideon heard the side door to the barn squeak open then closed,
and the thunk of the small wood brace dropping into place. He shook
his  head,  wishing  more  people  could  be  like  their  good  Samaritan
down there. Then he pushed himself up and walked lightly back to Jed,
ducking his head to avoid the rafter beams. He set the kerosene lamp
carefully  on  the  wood  floor,  moved  his  saddle  bags  to  one  end,  and
dug  around,  pulling  out  a  few  things  for  the  night  before  he  knelt
down beside the makeshift bed. “Full belly,” he said, pitching his voice
low. He dropped down to his ass and tugged off one boot. “Dry place
to lay our heads.” He pulled off the other boot and shrugged out of his
coat,  throwing  it  atop  their  oilskin  to  hold  in  more  heat.  “Warm,”  he

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

added, and he stretched out on the soft-piled hay, wriggling to get
comfortable.

“Mmm hmm,” Jed said. “I’ll sleep well tonight.”

Gideon hoped they both would. “Settle in. I’ll take the lantern

back.”

“Your boots are already off,” Jed said as he bent to pick up the

lantern.  Gideon  watched  him  go,  the  stark,  narrow  shadow  that  was
his  body,  his  hand  that  carefully  held  the  lamp  aloft  looking  more
golden  than  usual.  The  image  made  him  think  of  what  he’d  heard
earlier.  Wounded  Knee.  He  knew  about  the  battle—more  like  a
slaughter,  though,  from  what  he’d  heard.  Over  a  hundred  Indians
killed, women and children too. Far fewer Army men, maybe twenty-
five. And that rooming house lady had the bad luck to be the mama of
one of them. He sighed, aching for the pointlessness of it all.

Jed disappeared down the ladder, and a second later the

darkness settled in, heavy and welcome.

Boots thumped back up the ladder, and he heard stumbling and

stifled a snicker when a loud thump was followed by curses in Sioux.
“Not funny,” Jed said from very close by.

“Very funny,” Gideon replied, and he moved forward to make

room.

Somehow Jed managed to crawl over him without falling down a

hay chute or damaging any part of Gideon that he particularly liked
and soon enough was settled in behind him. A strong hand slid down
his back, familiar and gentle, before moving away. “Don’t ask me,” Jed
said before Gideon had drawn a full breath. Warm, familiar man
behind him, the smell of lover and hay… he wriggled around until they

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

lay face-to-face and rested his hand gently on Jed’s hip.

“If we were in a bed, I could skin you right out of those clothes

and roll you onto your belly and love you like you deserve,” he
whispered.

Jed huffed a breath and whispered back, “If we were on the trail,

I could do the same.” But he edged a little closer, and his nose brushed
Gideon’s just before his lips did. He tasted of coffee and butter and the
spicy flavor of Jed himself, of passion and heat and home. Gideon had
never  expected  to  find  that,  and  to  have  found  it  here  in  this  man—
well,  he  couldn’t  have  planned  for  a  more  dangerous  discovery.  But
lying next to his lover, he just didn’t care. Gideon tangled his fingers in
long, coarse hair as he plundered, taking that flavor and the essence of
the man, this man, into himself. When they broke for air, he held Jed
against him, feeling the quick beat of Jed’s heart through the shirts and
underclothes that separated them. For a few seconds, he admitted to
himself that he’d been stupid not to go on and find someplace private
to  hole  up;  nothing  was  finer  than  having  Jed’s  skin  against  his,
holding Jed against him, and losing his sense of where he ended and
Jed began.

“I need you,” he murmured, “bad, Jed.”

Jed tensed, and his heart beat even faster. “Not here,” he

answered, pushing Gideon away. “You’ll have to go one night—”

“No,” Gideon interrupted him and pressed in for another kiss. As

their lips met again, he pushed against Jed, rolling him onto his back.
He worked a hand between them, managing a good tug on the edge of
the worn twill pants Jed wore. The buttons came loose, and Gideon
wormed his fingers into the opening and through the layers of

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

underdrawers to touch warm skin and soft, fine hair.

“Gideon.” Jed pushed at him, trying to draw away. “Not here.” But

the words caught as Gideon touched the rising column of warm flesh
and his hand found the grip that would make Jed writhe.

“You can be quiet, hell, you don’t ever make noise,” he said

against Jed’s ear. “Roll onto your side, and I’ll just spoon in right
behind you.”

As Jed started to protest, he tightened his hold on the cock in his

hand and Jed jerked, pushing up into his grip. There were some things
that not even Jed could be calm about. He did try to resist, protesting
as well as he could between the hisses and gasps for breath that he
drew around Gideon’s kisses and tugs on his cock.

“It’s dark as the grave, Jed,” he whispered, trying to plead and

reassure his lover all at the same time. “Somebody could walk right
over us and not see.”

Jed’s hand finally found his wrist in the dark, pulling hard on it.

“No,” Jed hissed. His grip was tight enough to hurt, surprising Gideon.

“Nobody’s here,” Gideon pressed, trying to pull free of Jed’s hand.

“Nobody will know—”

“Gideon.” The word was low and hard, a pitch that only Gideon’s

mother  had  ever  used  with  him.  Perhaps  it  was  the  memory  of  her
that  made  him  stop  abruptly,  which  gave  Jed  time  to  wrench  away
from  him  and  scoot  out  of  reach.  In  a  whisper  so  low  even  Gideon
barely heard it, Jed said, “You know what strangers would do.”

“I know it’d almost be worth it,” he whispered back, not quite

meaning it but more than willing to take this small risk. Not many

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

folks  would  venture  out  in  this  storm  when  they  didn’t  have  to,  and
even  if  they  did,  he  was  sure  they’d  hear  the  creaky  barn  door  blow
open  long  before  anyone  could  make  their  way  inside  and  up  that
ladder.

“Fool,” Jed hissed, and Gideon hesitated. Jed sounded real mad.

“Jed?” he asked, brushing his fingers against Jed’s arm.

“Shut up,” Jed replied, putting himself back together with quick,

hard movements that rustled the hay around them and let in enough
cold air between them to take the edge off Gideon’s need.

He sighed, wondering if he should just roll over and bring

himself off, but he wanted Jed, willing and warm against him, naked
and welcoming. He wanted to make up for what had happened in that
alley, whatever it was that Jed wasn’t going to talk about. He wanted
to protect his lover and reassure him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, rolling onto his back and drawing his

hands onto his belly. “I just—I need you.”

Jed was still now, his clothes apparently righted. “You have me,”

Jed said, and his tone was less sharp. “But not for that, not here. Too
dangerous.”

“All right,” Gideon sighed. “I hear you, Jed.”

He stayed still, thinking about that cold, cold rain to try and quell

his defiant loins, not even reaching out. After a while, Jed eased back
over, closing the space between them, and pulled the cover up over his
head. Gideon turned his head so he could smell Jed’s hair, pulled the
stiff blanket up over his ears, and let out a deep sigh. Jed was probably
already sleep, and Gideon had best join him. Dawn would come cold

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

and early.

* * *

WOKE

slowly to cold feet and the sounds of voices, the smells of

hay  and  horses.  Still  more  asleep  than  awake,  he  thought  about  his
daddy’s horses and riding in front of noisy crowds, and dreams almost
dragged  him  back  under.  But  something  wasn’t  quite  right,  and  the
not-right of it tickled at the edges of his mind. First he sniffed, taking
in  more  horse  and  hay,  then  he  shifted,  and  his  morning  erection
brushed against his soft winter underdrawers, reminding him of what
he hadn’t had last night. He winced and reached out, but all he found
was  empty  bedding,  more  hay,  and  the  bare  boards  of  the  loft  floor.
And that brought him out of sleep and into morning.

Tossing the blanket down, he drew a fresh, deep breath and

coughed as cold air shocked his lungs and pretty much every other
part of his body. The temperature had dived in the night, freezing the
water right out of the air and leaving it dry and painfully cold. The
light didn’t help; it was well past dawn and the loft was far too bright
after the darkness and warmth under the blankets and burrowed into
the hay.

But Jed was out there somewhere, and he had never edged in

close last night, that he remembered, but he vaguely remembered
Jed’s restlessness. That was worrisome.

He stomped into his boots just to get some feeling in his toes and

stuck his hat on his head before hurrying down the ladder. Seemed
like quite a few people about for such a cold day; two boys oiled tack
in light of the barn’s open double-doors, and a girl in coveralls swept

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

the packed earth of the barn hall. Jed was mucking stalls, his long hair
braided  back  and  his  sleeves  rolled  up.  He’d  been  working  long
enough  to  have  a  light  sheen  of  sweat  even  in  this  weather,  and  his
coat was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t seem to be aware of Gideon,
and as Gideon drew closer, he understood why: Jed hummed, the soft
rhythms of one of his songs. He said those chants cleared his head for
honest labor, and Gideon had no reason to doubt it. He stood for a few
seconds, just listening and watching. He could do this for… too long, he
realized  as  the  crunch  of  heavy  boots  on  the  dirt  floor  finally
permeated his ears and he turned to find the smithy nearing him.

“I can see why you’d want to keep him close,” the man said,

tilting his head toward Jed. “Good worker, damned good.”

At the sound of the smith’s voice, Jed had turned, straightening

when he saw Gideon. Gideon smiled at the smith, looking past him to
catch Jed’s eyes, noticing the dark circles under them. “Yes, he is,” he
said quietly. “Better than I deserve, I reckon.”

Jed’s lips twitched; Gideon saw it because he knew to look for it,

but no one else would have.

The smith shrugged doubtfully. “Name’s Clement, by the way. If

you work like he does, I could use you boys for a day or so.”

“Doing what?”

Clement hooked his thumb backward. “My place is back there.

Roof damned near blowed off in the storm last night. If he gets this
place cleaned up and you and my girl see to the horses, me and my
boys there could patch up the roof before the next storm blows in.”

“You know when you’re expecting it?” Gideon asked.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

“Doc Taylor’s rheumatism says we’ll have a sunny Christmas,”

Clement said, “but not long after we’ll see a lot worse than this.”

“I’ll—” he hesitated and changed “ask him” to, “I’ll tell him. Jed,”

he called, and he waited for Jed to give him that look. “You close
enough to done here that you’ll come eat breakfast?”

“Bring something back, you don’t mind,” Jed said, and he turned

back toward the stall, keeping more than his usual distance. He was
really pissed about last night.

Gideon didn’t waste time over breakfast, ill at ease that he was

here  while  Jed  was  working.  He  grabbed  biscuits  and  bacon  for  his
lover  and  headed  back  to  the  livery  to  find  Clement  and  his  boys
already  at  work  on  the  roof.  The  sound  of  nails  biting  through  tin
made Gideon’s teeth hurt, and he hoped it wouldn’t take long.

“Those for me?” Jed asked, pointing his chin toward the biscuits.

He was spreading fresh straw in the stalls and loose stalks had caught
in his hair and clothes. It was an effort not to reach out and touch, but
Gideon managed to settle for just brushing Jed’s hand as he handed
him the food.

“Beautiful day,” he said as Jed ate. “Almost too nice, bright

enough to blind you. Cold, though. Reckon the ice is going to stay on
the ground for a while.”

Jed nodded and swallowed then said softly, “Nice day to be

traveling.” There was a sharpness in his tone, either a demand or a
rebuke, Gideon wasn’t sure which.

“Soon enough,” Gideon said. “What needs doing?”

Clement came back by the time he and Jed had worked the man’s

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

six horses and then haltered and walked the horses being boarded
here. “You boys about done?” he asked.

Gideon looked up at the bright sun, noted how high it was in the

sky, and nodded. “Reckon so. Good horses you’ve got here, Clement.”

Clement smiled, proud. “Yep. So what’ll you boys be doing

today?”

“Well,” Gideon said, “you said there might be some place to hole

up for a bit?”

“Yeah.” He looked around to where Jed was brushing one of the

other horses. “You’re welcome to stay here.”

Gideon tried to think how to say it but in the end, he just gave up.

“Christmas is coming,” he said lamely.

Clement blinked. “You boys don’t seem like the type for

celebratin’ Christmas.”

“The angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news

of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day
in  the  city  of  David  a  Savior,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord.’,”  Jed  quoted,
and Gideon could see Clement stiffen, could tell the man didn’t quite
know  how  to  take  that.  Jed  saw,  too,  and  trailed  off.  “Catholic
missionary  school,”  Jed  said.  “Got  introduced  to  God  when  I  was
thirteen.”

Gideon didn’t smile; he’d heard Jed say “your god” before, plenty

of times. But Jed didn’t say that to strangers, out of respect or healthy
fear, Gideon didn’t know. And he realized he ought to ask about that
too.

Clement seemed surprised but thoughtful, and in the end he just

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

nodded and offered a puzzled smile. “Well, I reckon that abandoned
mining camp would be all yours.”

That would be good. If they found a place dry enough with a

chimney for a fire, they could settle in comfortably for a few days.

“If it don’t work out up there, you’re welcome back here,” he said.

“And my offer stands; I’ll pay you for your time if you want to work a
few days. Or just his, if you’d rather rest up.”

“Thanks,” Gideon said, glancing to where Jed stood watching

them over the back of the horse. His face was expressionless but his
eyes, tired and red, held worry. “But I think he could use the rest more
than me. I’ll check in with you in a couple of days. After Christmas.”

Jed blinked and the worry was gone, replaced with the calm

acceptance Gideon was used to.

They made their way to the local store, picking up a few things

they didn’t normally keep on the trail: eggs, a couple of potatoes, and
an onion. The storekeep told them where they could buy a chicken, if
they were of a mind, and Gideon nodded his thanks.

“Chicken?” he asked when they left the store. “Been a time since I

had a good piece of chicken,” he added hopefully.

“Waste of money,” Jed said, and Gideon sighed; Jed wasn’t wrong,

and they had two thousand miles of road between them and New
Orleans. The money he’d deposited at the Wells Fargo branch in
Sacramento wasn’t going to last forever.

“All right then,” he said, trying to be agreeable. “Let’s go.” He

swung up on his horse while Jed grabbed his own horse’s halter and
started out on foot, his boots a quiet shuffle through the rocks on the

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

road. It was a beautiful day, still bright, but cold enough to leave ice on
the  ground  and  sprinkled  along  the  landscape.  It  glittered  from
shadows  and  the  limbs  of  trees,  giving  the  world  a  sparkle  that
seemed  just  right  for  Christmas  time.  He  blew  into  his  palms  and
glanced over to Jed, who had stuffed his hands, reins and all, into his
pockets,  and  pursed  his  lips.  He  didn’t  know  whether  to  sneak  back
into that town and buy Jed a new pair or beat the tar out of whoever’d
done this and take Jed’s gloves back for him. Either way, he reckoned
Kris Kringle knew what to deliver for Christmas morning.

They found the place easy enough, just off the track, as Clement

had said, a collection of low buildings set close enough to the river to
hear  the  constant  rush  of  it.  The  banks  and  surrounding  hills  were
steep  and  rocky,  which  explained  why  some  farmer  hadn’t
homesteaded  this  place.  As  they  neared  the  compound,  Jed  walked
ahead, his hand on the knife he carried at his hip. Gideon stayed back,
still mounted, his rifle across his thighs but easy to aim if he had to.

Jed walked along the fronts of the buildings, peering inside but

never moving out of Gideon’s sight. As he walked back toward Gideon,
he nodded. “Just us, I think. Smells of wood smoke, and there’s manure
over there that doesn’t look too old. Reckon someone camped here a
few nights back, but they’re gone now.”

As he caught up Pony’s reins, Jed nodded toward the building

farthest away and in the worst state of decay. “Not sure about that
barn,” he said.

Gideon grinned. “I’ll keep Star with me. You?”

“Same,” Jed said. “I like that place.”

The house must have belonged to the owner of the mining claim,

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

because it was clearly better built than the five shacks around it, and
the  front  window  even  had  real  glass  in  it,  just  like  in  town.  He  was
surprised nobody had scavenged that for themselves. Jed shouldered
open  the  front  door,  and  they  peered  around  inside,  found  bits  of
furniture too worn or heavy to have been carted away, and the signs
that  whoever  had  passed  before  them  had  picked  this  place  too;  a
mattress in decent repair lay near the chimney, and a heavy iron pot
sat on the hearthstones. “For you,” Jed said as he rolled it over.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky by the time Gideon had

the place tidied up and suitable for living. When he stuck his head out
the front door, Jed’s horse and rifle were nowhere to be seen. Maybe
he was hunting grub.

More plundering of the nearby shacks yielded a straw broom

and old rags, and two main rooms of the house were as clean as they
could be when Jed returned. Jed stopped in the doorway and looked
around, his eyebrows climbing in surprise.

“You were gone a long time,” Gideon replied without censure. He

worried though, when Jed went hunting alone; too many folks saw an
Indian with a weapon and imagined raiding parties and dead bodies.
The Indians he’d known, three men and a woman who traveled with
Bill Tourney’s Traveling Western Show, a few he’d bumped into up
north, and now Jed, had less interest in killing than most white folks
did. More respect for life too. Gideon shook his head and turned back
to the fireplace where he’d lit up a sticky pine bough to test the draft
on the chimney.

“Got rabbits,” Jed said, but he stepped up close and knelt behind

Gideon, laying one hand on his shoulder.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

“Rabbits’ll be damned fine,” Gideon offered in return, reaching to

cover Jed’s hand with his. It was cold. “So what are we going to do
about your gloves?”

“Nothing to do,” Jed said, and Gideon sighed.

“You should have told me then,” he griped. “We’ll get ’em back.”

“It’s not—”

“We’ll get ’em back,” he said, harder. Letting someone steal from

Jed felt worse than letting some son of a bitch steal from him, because
Jed couldn’t really even defend himself without seeing the inside of a
jail or worse. “Next time we go into that town, you show me who took
’em.”

Jed nodded and pushed his cold hand up under Gideon’s collar,

leeching warmth from him that Gideon was only too glad to give.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, tilting his head forward to give

Jed more bare skin to touch.

“Wasn’t important.”

“It’s important to me, Jed.”

“No, it’s not.”

“What? I—”

“No,” Jed said, a harder word than he’d spoken in weeks. “If it

was, you wouldn’t risk everything just to get your leg over. You
wouldn’t risk folks dragging me through the streets behind a horse,
maybe getting yourself hanged, just because you want to come!”

“I…” he paused, realizing just how mad Jed was at him for last

night. “It wasn’t that much of a risk,” he said stubbornly. “And I

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

needed you, Jed.”

Jed’s lips thinned into a hard line. “No man needs anything

enough to risk that.”

Gideon couldn’t quite argue, but he couldn’t quite agree, either.

He’d never felt for anyone, man or woman, what he felt for Jed, and
sometimes Gideon felt like he did need to consummate it just that
badly. “You should have—”

“What?” Jed asked. “Told you it was stupid? I did. I was ready to

hit you, if that was what it was going to take.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were that mad.” He was ready to go on,

to let Jed know he really was that sorry, but Jed moved his hand off his
neck and around to cover his mouth.

“You know now. And you won’t do it again.”

Gideon sighed. It was hard, loving a man, and one older and

wiser  than  him.  Hard  too  that  the  man  he  loved  was  a  half-breed,
hated or feared by whites who had no damned right to feel either, not
when  it  was  the  white  folks  who’d  caused  all  the  trouble,  running
Indians off their land. He hadn’t really thought about it much, and he’d
been  real  friendly  with  the  braves  and  the  squaw  in  the  traveling
show.  He  hadn’t  believed  any  of  the  shit  most  people  did  about
Indians, that they were good for nothing, violent heathens. He’d never
known  folks  more  civilized.  But  he  hadn’t  thought  much  about  how
hard it was for them, either, worse than for the darkies, in some ways.
Hell,  a  black  man  could  carry  a  gun  and  own  property  these  days.  “I
won’t do it again,” he said, meaning it. “You tell me, and I won’t do it
again.”

Jed nodded once, satisfied. “And if I tell you the gloves aren’t

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

worth a fight?”

Gideon grinned. “I ain’t that nice.”

Jed sighed but nodded his acceptance, and Gideon turned on the

hearth to gather his man in close. Jed had to give up some things, too,
for  this  thing  they  shared,  like  his  acceptance  of  the  way  too  many
people  thought  they  could  treat  him.  Not  if  Gideon  Makepeace  had
anything  to  say  about  it.  The  pine  bough  flared  at  that  moment,  and
the smoke drew nicely up the chimney.

Well before sunset the room was warm enough that Gideon had

his coat off and a tin mug of fresh coffee in his hands. Jed had skinned
and cleaned two of the rabbits, and they were cooking in the small fry
pan he carried, along with some potatoes and onion. They had spread
their  bedrolls  over  the  mattress  and  carted  in  enough  wood  to  keep
the  fire  going  strong  through  the  night.  Jed  was  in  the  old  kitchen
settling  the  horses  now;  through  the  door  into  the  kitchen,  Gideon
could  hear  his  partner’s  low  voice  and  slow  words,  the  tone  of
affection he used on animals and Gideon and little else.

Outside, dusk was falling, and if he stood by the window and

craned his head back, Gideon could  see the first of the stars through
the glass window that faced out toward the river. They should cover
this  window,  he  thought,  for  warmth  and  for  privacy  should  anyone
else  come  along,  but  the  view  was  something  else.  He’d  found  Jed
standing  before  it  three  times  already,  just  staring  out  at  the  steep
hillside and spindly trees that climbed up the river’s banks.

When he heard the shuffle of booted feet on the rough board

floor, he grabbed up the potholder and poured another mug of coffee
for his lover. Jed came through the door, closing it behind him to keep

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

in the heat. His hair hung loose now, one side falling over his shoulder.
It gleamed in the soft light of the fire and the light off the two candles
Gideon had lit, and Gideon thought of how it would look spread out on
the mattress, thick and cool and soft. Even better was the thought of
what Jed would look like naked and spread out on the mattress, his
dark skin warm under Gideon’s hands. No way Jed could object to it
here, in the middle of nowhere with no one around.

“Horses are set for the night,” Jed said, coming to stand near the

fire. He held out his hands to it, reminding Gideon of the theft of his
gloves. He wondered what else the bastards had taken from his lover
and the unfairness of it sparked his temper again.

“Here,” he said, holding out the mug of coffee. “Hot and fresh.”

Jed took it with a nod of thanks, his long fingers wrapping

gingerly around the warm metal as he sipped. After he swallowed, he
leaned forward, catching up the wooden spoon he used for cooking
and stirring the food in the skillet. “You need to move it around,” he
chastised, pulling the pan back from the flames. “It will burn.”

Gideon watched him toss new herbs that he’d collected

somewhere out there into the pan, fascinated as he always was by the
many things Jed knew. “Where’d you learn to cook?” he asked, sitting
back against the warm bricks of the hearth. Jed didn’t cook often
unless they were on the trail, but when he did it was always good, and
hearty too.

Jed shrugged, turning the skillet with a sort of skill that came

from practice. “This isn’t cooking,” he said. “This is keeping you from
cooking.” He looked over with a tiny grin, but Gideon just raised his
eyebrows expectantly. “My ina—my mother—mostly,” he answered

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

quietly, and Gideon squirreled away the new word. “Prepare
everything first, ready it for a short fire,” he said like he was quoting
someone. “In the winters, we learned how to make food fast and make
it last as long as possible, so we tried to make it taste as good as we
could.”

“On the res?” Gideon asked, even though he knew already. Jed

only used the word “we” when he referred to his years with his family.
“You miss being there?”

Jed was quiet for a while, and Gideon wondered if he was going

to answer. Eventually, Jed stood and unbuttoned his coat, sliding it off
his arms, and said, “I miss many things about that life. But it is of little
value to miss something that can no longer be.”

Practical, so damned practical, but it made Gideon’s heart ache at

what his lover had lost. It wasn’t much, to hear Jed tell of it, but there
had clearly been love there, and having had so little besides that didn’t
seem to make the missing of it any less. Gideon pushed himself up and
moved to Jed, taking him into his arms. Jed startled at first, but he
settled quickly as Gideon pulled him close. “Value ain’t the issue,” he
said quietly against Jed’s hair. “I can’t be a kid again, but I can still miss
those times with my folks, after a show, when they were wound up on
a good performance and happy and everything was a joke.”

Jed tilted his head up so that he was looking at Gideon’s face.

“Tell me,” he said, as he often did. “Tell me about your family.”

Gideon smiled down at him and bent his knees a little to kiss him

on the lips. He brushed their cheeks together, tickling Jed’s smooth
face with his three-day growth of beard. “You know more than you
want to about them already,” he said as he drew back.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

“No, I don’t,” Jed said, and rested his hands on Gideon’s hips. “Tell

me.”

Gideon smiled, all too happy to share a good story—to say

anything, really, that made Jed’s eyes light up with interest, like he
was making pictures out of Gideon’s words. “Let’s see. I ever tell you
about Coaldale?”

Jed shook his head and eased out of Gideon’s arms to shake the

frying pan, and Gideon sat back down to the warm hearthstones. “Big
place,  run  mostly  by  the  Panther  Valley  Mining  Company,  I  think.
Thing I remember most about the men in the audience was how pale
they were, from working underground all the time; that was the first
time I  really put  that together,  I think.  They had  skin like  little boys,
and  I  remember  thinking  that  they  were  prettier  than  the  gals.”  Jed
cocked  his  head,  a sure  sign  that  he  was  listening intently.  “I  guess  I
was  nine  or  ten,  first  time  we  rolled  through  there.  Bill  Tourney’s
Traveling Western Show must have been the first of its kind to hit that
there town, the way the audience acted. They were as excited by the
horse-riding shows as they were by the peep show Mama was in.” He
smiled fondly in memory and looked across to Jed, who watched him
so intently, he didn’t even blink.

“Daddy was working these two white horses, one mare and one

gelding.  Theresa  Miller,  the  costumer,  had  torn  up  some  dancehall
dress  she’d  run  across  and  used  the  feathers  for  a  shaft  on  the
browband of each horse’s bridle, made ’em look all dandy, like circus
horses. Daddy had schooled them real good so they’d lope easy and of
a  pace,  and  he’d  jump  from  one  to  the  other.  Toward  the  end  of  his
performance,  he  stood  up  on  Brandy  and  stretched  one  foot  out  for
Miller—he was gonna have one foot on each horse’s back, see. Well, I

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don’t  know  if  it  was  somebody  in  the  audience  or  what,  but  Miller
shied  away,  and  Daddy  ended  up  straddling  him  but  facing  his  ass-
end,  while  Brandy  danced  sideways  alongside  them.”  He  laughed  at
the  memory,  at  his  own  fear  over  something  gone  wrong  and  the
cheers  from  an  audience  who  thought  he’d  meant  to  do  that.  “So  he
saves  it,  right?  He just  goes  with  it,  and  still holding  Brandy’s  rein—
which  was  damned  dumb,  if  you  want  my  opinion—he  does  a
handstand on Miller’s hindquarters, whistles at them both to stop, and
throws the reins off so he can somersault off the back to land on his
feet. Brandy practically sat on her haunches to stop for him, and Miller
did  the  same.”  He  chuckled  a  little,  remembering.  “That  mare  loved
him almost as much as Mama and I did.”

He looked over to see how his story had landed, glad to find a

soft smile on Jed’s face. His eyes were shining, too, a lot like Gideon’s
daddy’s had when he’d gotten those two horses out of the ring. “The
crowd went crazy, jumping up and stomping their feet on the boards,
cheering  like  it  was  the  second  coming,  and  Daddy—”  he  paused,
overcome  by  his  own  laughter.  “Daddy  was  doing  pretty  much  the
same damned  thing. Mama’s show was  the last event of  the evening,
so she was there with me before she headed on over to the peep show
tent, bundled up in one of Daddy’s raincoats with her show dress on
underneath,  her  face  painted  so  pretty...”  He  stopped  to  draw  in  a
breath and get his own amusement under control. “I don’t know if she
wanted to laugh or cry, but she wound up doing both.”

“That must have been a sight,” Jed agreed.

“It was,” Gideon said, remembering. “You know, that trick went

over so well with the crowd, he worked on it for a month after, and he
never could repeat it.”

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

“Why not?” Jed asked, near breathless, and the sound of pleasure

in his lover’s voice made Gideon’s heart swell.

“Brandy wasn’t much for sideways running, for starters,” he said,

trying to remember the details. “Mama said she figured Brandy’d done
it that night just to save Daddy from looking like a fool out there. And
Miller got to hating the feel of Daddy’s hands that near his tail when
he was loping along, so he took to slowing down to a walk every time
he felt any weight back there. Daddy fell ass over end a few times,
landing in the dirt and staring up at Miller’s hindquarters, until he
finally gave up trying.”

“Were you able to do it?”

Gideon blinked innocently at him, and for that he got a flash of

white teeth, Jed’s smile stretched so big. “Yeah, all right,” he admitted,
waving a hand as he came clean, “I tried it a few times too. Until Daddy
caught me and took his belt to my backside. Told me I was lucky
Mama hadn’t been the one to catch me and that Miller or Brandy
hadn’t stomped me, and that a whipping was all I was gettin’.”

“Bob was a very wise man,” Jed commented quietly.

“He still is,” Gideon assured him. His daddy was only forty-four

and still worked the horse arena.

Something in the frying pan sizzled over and made the coals hiss

and spit, and Jed jumped to pull it away from the fire. Which ended a
damned fine private moment, at least until Jed decided he was ready
for another. Gideon had been thinking real hard on what Jed had told
him, about  taking risks with himself  and with them. What  had stood
out  the  worst,  though,  was  that  he’d  taken  a  risk  with  Jed,  that  his
need  had  overpowered  his  good  sense  and  he’d  put  Jed  in  danger,

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

made Jed fear during a time when he should have only felt pleasure or
love—like Jed had said, just to get his leg over. For that, his little
stallion was going to stay in the pen for as long as it took for Jed to
need him back.

They ate dinner soon after, the food as good as anything Gideon

had  had  at  a  restaurant.  Jed  didn’t  talk  when  he  ate,  something  else
Gideon suspected he’d learned growing up, but when he was finished
and the dishes wiped and cleaned and stacked near the fire, he settled
with  his  back  against  the  mattress  and  his  legs  stretched  out  before
him.  Gideon  studied  him  for  a  while  before  asking,  “What  you  said
earlier, about what would happen to us if we got caught. You weren’t
guessing, were you, or just saying something to scare me?”

Jed looked across the short distance between them, his eyes

shining in the firelight. “No,” he answered quietly. “I wasn’t guessing.”
He stretched out a hand and caught up one of his saddle bags, digging
in it until he found his pipe and tobacco pouch. As before, Gideon
waited, knowing that Jed would tell him in his own time.

After Jed lit the pipe and the smoke was rising lazily toward the

ceiling, Jed started slowly, “My ina’s people do not worry as much
about what happens between people under the furs. I did not fully
understand the way of things when we were taken from our parents
to the school, and the nuns did not explain such things.”

Gideon smiled, amused by Jed’s understatement.

“I… they separated us in the school, boys in one dormitory, girls

in another. Sioux children learn from each other, when our parents
cannot teach us, and most of us thought it was the way of things, and
like all things about our way of life was something that the nuns and

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

the whites thought was bad and wrong. So we were careful, and even
more careful when we could find time with girls.” He stopped to draw
on the pipe, and Gideon wondered passingly at how much time his
lover had spent in the arms of women. Surely if he found pleasure in
them, it was a life that would be easier than the one he and Jed had
chosen. But then, Gideon didn’t feel much like it was a choice, to him;
he loved what he loved, and what he loved was Jed.

“By the time I left the reservation as a man, I knew that I was not

to be married, not in good faith,” he went on. “I left with a friend, a
good friend who was like me.”

Gideon frowned, letting the words tickle around in his head

before asking, “Like you, as in half-white? Or…?”

Jed met his gaze. “Or,” he said. “He did not wish to take a wife,

either. Not yet.”

His tone was even, but Gideon saw the sadness in his eyes. He

moved over to sit next to Jed, taking the pipe first and drawing a
smoke before stretching his arm along Jed’s shoulders. “He at school
with you?” Gideon asked as he passed the pipe back.

Jed nodded, once. “We… we were close. Not like I am with you,”

he said, looking down at the pipe, “but in that way that young men are
when  it  is  all  new  and  exciting.  Heyoka  was  joyful,  too  much  so.  He
laughed at everything, believed that nothing could touch him. Or hurt
him.  His  father  had  seen  a  black  bear  run  off  an  intruder  the  day
before  his  birth,  you  see.”  Gideon  didn’t  see,  but  he  understood  how
important  nature  signs  were  to  Jed  and  his  people,  so  he  nodded
anyway.

“What happened?” he asked, even though he had a fair idea.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Jed sighed and drew once more on the pipe. He turned away to

blow  smoke  before  he  answered,  and  his  words  were  distant.
“Nothing, at first. We traveled for a while, taking work where people
would have us, mostly hard work for little pay. We enjoyed the world,
enjoyed those women who would have us, and enjoyed each other. To
Heyoka, everything was a joke, and he laughed even when people spat
on  us  or  took  what  was  ours.  His  spirit  totem  was  strong,  and  he
rarely saw danger in men. We lived off the land as we knew how, and
we  did  well,  for the  most  part.  But  when  we  came to  any  new  town,
Heyoka could not resist the pull of white comforts. We would go in to
get what we could afford, supplies, bullets for hunting, and to sell furs
if we had them. No matter how hard I tried, Heyoka would always find
a bottle of liquor. White men loved to get him drunk, loved to get us
both drunk, if they could.”

That thought was worse, and Gideon tightened his hold on Jed.

“Could they?” he asked.

Jed tilted his head, resting it against Gideon’s jaw as he

answered,  “Only  once,”  he  said  softly,  “but  that  was  enough.  I  never
took  their  offers  again  after  that,  and  I  always  tried  to  get  Heyoka
away  too.  But  he…  he  wanted  that,  like  too  many  of  my  people  do.  I
tried  to  make  him  see  that  it  wasn’t  good  for  him,  but  he  said  I
worried  too  much.”  He  drew  away,  squirming  a  little,  and  Gideon
relaxed his grip.

“It was nothing more than a trading post,” he went on, setting the

pipe  aside  carefully.  “We  had  taken  our  furs  in  to  the  merchant,  and
we  were  talking  price  when  another  man,  a  trapper,  saw  them  and
came over. He asked where we found them and then told me he would
pay  me  to  show  him.  It  wasn’t  far,  half  a  day,  but  Heyoka  wanted  to

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

stay behind.”

He pushed away from Gideon, and crawled to the fire to add

another log even though the blaze was already high and strong. “The
trip  took  longer  than  I  expected;  when  we  arrived  at  the  area,  the
trapper wanted to set traps. I helped him; it was worth more coin. But
it was close to dark when we got back to the trading post and—and it
was too late for me to stop it.” He was staring into the fire, his arms
crossed tightly across his chest. “He was drunk, too drunk, I hope, to
know  what  happened.  He  had  been  caught  in  bed  with  a  woman,  a
whore, from what I heard. She had taken Heyoka to bed, but someone
had come into the room, another man who fancied her. He’d claimed
Heyoka  had  raped  her,  because,  he  said,  ‘not  even  a  whore  would
sleep with a dog, no matter how  much he paid her’,” he said, distant
like he was quoting. “She did not disagree.”

Gideon ached to go to his lover, but he knew Jed needed the

distance between them. His voice was calm, carrying the peace of the
pipe, Jed would say, but Gideon heard the pain in it—and the fear.

“They had lassoed his ankles and dragged him around behind a

horse for… I don’t know how long. By the time I saw him, he was… I
did  not  know  his  face.  The  trapper  held  me,  made  me  stay  back.  He
said  they  would  do  the  same  to  me  if  I  tried  to  stop  it.  He  was  kind,
though, and kept me away from the hanging. Later, he helped me cut
Heyoka down. I made a tent for him as far from that place as I could,
cut  his  hair  and  held  it  for  a  year,  to  honor  his  spirit,  but  I  wonder
sometimes if his spirit still roams there.” He sighed and sat back on his
haunches, wrapping his arms around his knees. “The trapper told me
that  many  white  men  had  no  forgiveness.  I  knew  that  even  before
Heyoka was killed.”

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Gideon swallowed, watching his lover and hearing the words and

understanding. Heyoka had died a horrible death because he wanted
to  get  a  leg  over.  Because  he  had  done  something  stupid—not  even
something  as  stupid  as  Gideon  had  tried  to  do  last  night.  He’d  never
thought  of  his  life  as  being  blessed  or  good  or  anything  other  than
what it was. Like most people he knew, he’d had good things happen,
and bad.

But he’d never seen a friend of his or anyone he cared about get

killed because of something as harmless as wanting a poke.

It was hard for him to understand, but he knew Jed wasn’t lying

to  him  or  even  stretching  the  truth.  This  thing  had  happened.  He
remembered  Jed  looking  at  the  whorehouse  last  night  as  they’d
rushed  past  it,  remembered  his  own  comment  about  not  letting  him
stay  there,  and  Jed’s  response.  After  what  had  happened  to  Heyoka,
Gideon knew Jed had never walked into another one.

The distance between them was wider now, not just the physical

divide but the past and all the things that it held.

“It won’t happen again,” he said softly, needing to touch Jed. He’d

known Jed was older, had laughed at it when it suited, and been
frustrated when, like last night in the loft, Jed had used it as an excuse.
But it wasn’t an excuse. It was a hard-won knowledge that had come
with a price Gideon hoped never to pay.

After a time, Jed shivered and pulled his legs closer. “In my

dreams last night, it was your face I couldn’t see,” he whispered. “Your
hair I cut while my spirit cried.” He lowered his head so that his
forehead rested on his knees and his face was hidden.

Gideon moved before he thought, rising to his knees and

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

reaching for Jed, but even as he did, the lesson of the tale exploded in
his gut. He pushed to his feet and grabbed up his coat from the
mattress and walked over to the window. Outside, the moon was up,
casting light on the water and the ice, creating a glittering picture, like
something made of glass. He draped the coat over the window,
hanging it on several nails that someone had placed for just this thing.
With a little more effort, he pushed the remains of a heavy wardrobe
in front of the door, so that no one could get in without them hearing.

When he was satisfied that they were safe, he turned to find Jed

looking at him, his face expressionless in the firelight. “I’ll never do
that to you, not again,” he said taking several steps closer but stopping
out of range. He dropped to his knees then, his hands in fists on his
thighs. “I swear, Jed. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna risk putting myself
through it.” He couldn’t rightly say if he thought Heyoka or Jed had the
worse lot, in that mess. Least Heyoka didn’t have to hang around and
remember it.

Jed looked past him at the covered window and the barricaded

door. He looked back at Gideon and nodded once. Gideon couldn’t stop
himself from moving closer, even though he still didn’t reach out. He
waited until Jed offered, one slender hand touching his face, tracing
the line of his cheekbone then up over his forehead, tracing his
features. Memorizing them.

When Jed used both hands to touch, Gideon could stand the

distance no more. He slid his arms under Jed’s, lifting him to his knees
and drawing him in tight and hard. Jed trembled in his arms and then
clung to him with a desperation that was as frightening as the story he
had told. Gideon held him, breaking away only for as long as it took to
stoke the fire and throw on a couple of big logs that would burn

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

through the night. They shed boots but nothing more, and Gideon
ignored all thought of sex as he held Jed through the night, keeping
away the nightmares he’d invited in the night before.

* * *

WOKE

early, but not before Jed, who had gone out through the old

kitchen and led the horses out without making enough noise to wake
Gideon.  Gideon  found  him  outside,  shirt  off  and  undershirts  sleeves
pulled up as he washed in the icy water of the river. Jed looked better
though,  as  if  he’d  slept,  and  he  turned  to  Gideon  and  smiled  just  a
little. “I ain’t never gonna be dirty enough to bathe in that, Jed,” he lied,
shivering  just  from  the  sight  of  that  chill  water  glistening  on  Jed’s
arms and face. Jed just shook his head and smiled.

They spent the morning taking care of the basics, scrounging

food for the horses, cleaning the rest of the rabbits which Jed put on to
cook,  and  scouting  around.  This  abandoned  camp  had  plenty  of
creature comforts, and he was thankful for it. By lunchtime, they had a
big washtub pulled into their living room and another pot for water,
and  the  horses  had  been  watered  and  fed  and  brushed  and  were
hobbled out back of the house where scrawny bits of grass grew. They
settled  near  the  fire  for  lunch,  content  with  each  other,  the  peace  of
the place, and the soothing sound of the river outside the open door.

Jed heard it first, because his head came up fast and he set his

fork and tin plate carefully aside. “What?”

“Visitors,” Jed said, and he went to pick up his coat and pull it

back on.

“You’re still presentable without your coat you know,” Gideon

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

said dryly, but at Jed’s frown, he pulled his boots and coat off the hot
hearthstones and had both on before he could hear the sound of
voices over horses’ hooves.

“Yo the house!”

That was Clement for sure. “You want to go say howdy?” he

asked Jed.

But Jed eased back a step. “No.”

He might be wary, but Gideon wasn’t going to do anything to

make him more so after what he’d shared last night; he stood up and
walked to the open door to find Clement and a man he didn’t
recognize, but the star on his lapel spoke loudly enough. He stepped
out onto the porch, pulling the door to behind him. “Howdy, Clement,”
he said. “Right nice place you pointed out for me. I do thank you.”

“Welcome,” Clement said, as friendly as ever. Maybe more so.

“What can I do for you?”

Both men swung off their mounts and strolled over to stop just

in front of the porch. “This here’s Michael Finch,” Clement said,
making the introductions. “Sheriff, this is Gideon Makepeace, the trick
rider I told you about. His Injun’s around here somewhere.”

The sheriff looked around pointedly, and Gideon frowned.

“Problem, Sheriff?” he asked, ready to make one of his own. Jed hadn’t
done anything wrong; hell, he’d barely been seen in that town without
Gideon by his side and when he had been alone, he’d been stolen from.

“Don’t reckon,” the sheriff said slowly. “Clement here had a

thought for Christmas Day, is all, and I thought I’d ride out, maybe get
a look at this horse he’s been going on about.”

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Gideon returned his eyes to Clement, who wasn’t quite shuffling

on his feet. “Thought maybe you’d consider putting on a show, you
and that fine horse of yours, tomorrow? Be good for folks, you know?”

Gideon could see how it would be good for the townspeople, but

he didn’t see the benefit to him or Jed just yet. “Most folks do like to
see a show, yeah,” he hazarded.

“Well, if you’re interested, I could pass the hat, take up a little

collection for ya. Might ease your traveling. And I’m pretty sure we
could rustle up Christmas dinner for you.”

“Jed too?” Gideon asked, testing the waters here.

“That the Injun?” the sheriff asked.

Gideon nodded. “He’s a good rider, good roper….”

“Damned good worker,” Clement added his support.

The sheriff shrugged. “Reckon that’d be all right, if he minds his

manners.”

Gideon caught Clement’s frown and raised a hand to head off the

protests. “Jed!” he called, and they waited for Jed to stick his head out
the door. “You mind bringing Star around?”

Jed shook his head and silently slipped off the sunny porch. A

minute later, Jed led Star around the side of the house with just a hand
to her cheek. She minded him real well, and Gideon was proud of both
of them. “Square up, Star,” Jed said quietly, and she shuffled her feet a
bit. “Square up,” he repeated, until she stood in perfect form; he
scratched her cheek and whispered something to her in Sioux. Gideon
smiled; his gal was learning the native tongue better than Gideon was.
Jed stepped away and back to the porch, slipping back behind Gideon.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

“There she is, Sheriff,” he said. “Star. Say hello.” Star inched up

slowly, but to Clement, which amused Gideon to no end, and bumped
his chest with her muzzle. Clement grinned and reached to scratch
behind Star’s ears. “That’s enough, Star. Take a bow.” She took two
steps back then went down gracefully on her front knees, shaking her
head slowly before getting back up. Gideon grinned and called, “Good
girl, Star.

“What’d I tell you, Mike?” Clement said, as proud as if she

belonged to him.

“Pretty little thing,” the sheriff agreed. He was impressed, but he

didn’t want to look like a rube.

“That she is. So yeah, boys, I’d be willing to help liven up your

townfolks’ rest day. If you could help me with something.”

“What?” Clement asked, agreeable.

“Might be more a job for the sheriff. Jed had somebody take his

gloves right off him, just off your main street. I reckon you don’t
appreciate robbers any more than I do.”

The sheriff frowned. “Gloves don’t seem like a reason to get het

up,” he said, because Gideon clearly was. Behind Gideon, Jed shifted on
the porch, a warning, Gideon knew, and one that did give him pause.

“Not if they ain’t yours, I suppose,” Gideon said, curbing his

temper. “But I paid good money for ’em,” even though it’d been Jed’s
money he’d handed over to the shopkeep all those weeks ago, “and
we’ve got weeks of winter riding in front of us. I sure would
appreciate it if you collected them back for him, and maybe set those
hooligans to right about stealing from decent visitors?”

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

The sheriff wasn’t dumb; his lips thinned and he stared first at

Gideon, then back at Jed. “Come on, Mike,” Clement said brusquely.
“Don’t care who they steal from, it’s still stealing. You take care of it or
I will!”

Gideon resisted a grin; he was frankly astonished that half a

day’s good labor had made such an ally of Clement.

“I’ll see to it,” the sheriff said. “Injun, what’d—”

“His name’s Jedediah,” Gideon cut in firmly, earning another

frown from the sheriff and another grin from Clement. He could
almost feel Jed’s tension behind him.

The sheriff cleared his throat. “Jedediah, what’d they look like?”

“The gloves? They were—”

Gideon just barely resisted snapping, “The robbers.”

“Boys,” Jed said slowly, his voice low. “Old enough to need a

shave. Hair like Gideon’s, light. One wore a knit hat; the other had a
black coat.”

“Sounds like the Batson kids,” Clement offered.

“Yeah,” the sheriff nodded slowly, “it does. I’ll look into it if I see

’em before the show.”

“Be obliged if you’d look into it when the show starts. Make an

example of ’em.”

The sheriff frowned but nodded agreement, and Gideon called

that a win. Jed stepped forward for the first time and cleared his
throat. “We’d just sat down to eat. You want to join us? Warmer
inside,” he said, low and even. Gideon called that even more of a win,

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

in spite of the fact that they’d have to share their rabbit stew.

“Much obliged,” Clement said, grinning at the sheriff, “but I’ve got

work waiting for me.” He stepped up onto the porch and shook Jed’s
hand again, though, clapping him on the shoulder. Next to the burly
man, Jed looked almost like a china doll.

“We’d best be getting back to town,” the sheriff said, then slowly,

frowning a bit, added, “but thanks just the same. See you boys
tomorrow.” He swung up and reined out, and Gideon watched until
both men were back on the rutted little trail.

Jed had already returned Star to her lead line and moved both of

the  horses  into  a  different  area  to  search  out  grass.  He  followed
Gideon into the house a few minutes later, picking his plate back up.
“We  could  stand  some  oats,”  he  said  as  he  fumbled  with  the  spoon,
reminding  Gideon  of  how  cold  his  hands  must  be.  “You  think  it  was
wise, asking  them for  help? It’s  just a  pair of  gloves; no  need getting
the town upset about it.”

Gideon waited until Jed was chewing and then asked, “You think

it was all right for them to take those from you?”

Jed closed his eyes and swallowed before he said, “No, but there

are things far worse that can happen. Worst thing you can do is
embarrass them, not just the boys but their folks and their folks’
friends.”

Gideon smiled but not because he was amused. “You learned a

whole lot at that missionary school. Learned a lot about turning the
other cheek. I respect that, Jed, but I don’t like it. You deserve better.”

Jed blinked his eyes open then turned to look at Gideon. “I got

better. I got you. I’ll give up everything I got to keep you too.”

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

It was the longest declaration he’d made to Gideon of his

feelings, and it put out Gideon’s anger as easily as pouring water on a
fire. He stared at Jed, wanting to touch him, but knowing that if he did,
he’d not be able to stop himself. And right now, control, and proving
that he could exercise it, was more important. So he settled for saying,
“I love you too.”

But the need to be with Jed was growing, and after lunch, he left

Jed to clean up and pulled on his jacket, going out to work Star
through her tricks. He needed to talk to Jed about performing
tomorrow, but he wasn’t certain how his lover would react.

Working Star was a good distraction; most of the tricks he’d do

were easy enough, but he’d learned a few things from his father, and it
had been a while since he’d done them with Star. The more dangerous
ones required all his attention, which kept his mind off of Jed, and out
of his pants.

He was sweaty and tired toward late afternoon when he finished

rubbing down Star. He cleaned himself up, washing out his shirt and
using it on himself despite what he’d told Jed earlier in the day, and
then pulled his coat back on to ward away the chill. It surprised him
that he hadn’t seen Jed; even cold, it was too nice a day for the other
man to hole up inside; Jed would more likely haunt a porch than a
fireplace even when it was pouring down rain.

“You feeling all right?” he called as he walked into the house,

closing the door behind him. “It’s a fine afternoon—”

He stopped speaking as he turned and looked at the room. On the

far wall, across from the fireplace and near the head of their makeshift
bed, stood a cedar tree. It was small, and it stood in a burlap sack full

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

of  dirt,  roots  and  all,  Gideon  thought,  Jed  wouldn’t  kill  a  tree  for  no
reason. Jed had decorated it in colored strands of thread and ribbon,
torn-up  strips  from  one  of  his  bandanas  and  the  ties  he  used  for  his
hair, scraps of cloth from his woven saddle blanket, anything he had
that  was  bright.  There  were  also  red  holly  berries  and  a  couple  of
bright red apples.

A Christmas tree. The idea of it, the fact of it so unexpected made

him stand there, still and staring, until Jed’s voice broke his spell. “We
had these in school. The sisters thought it would help us understand
Christmas better, to have trees to decorate. We made our own
decorations. I didn’t have much—”

“It’s beautiful,” Gideon said, shaking free of his surprise and

more touched than he could say. “You did this for me?”

Jed shrugged, but color rose in his face and he looked away from

Gideon to the tree. “I have candles.” He gestured to the floor where he
was sitting, and Gideon saw that he was using his hunting knife to cut
several thin candles in half then paring down the wax to free the
wicks.

It was then that Gideon recognized the smell wafting through the

room from the fireplace: chicken. He looked to the fireplace where he
saw the skillet set back in the far corner where the heat was steady,
the top of it covered with a pot.

“That’s where you were yesterday,” he said, closing his eyes as

he drew in a deep breath of the rich smell.

“I thought about it, decided you were right,” he said calmly.

“Chicken would taste good.” He was working with his knife, and
Gideon dropped down beside him.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Beside the fireplace, the washtub they’d been using as a trough

sat filled with water; Gideon stuck his hand in and found it warm, saw
the pail sitting right in the coals where more water boiled.

It was no wonder Jed had been inside most of the day.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Gideon murmured, but he could

help but feel like a kid—at Christmas.

“It is your holiday,” Jed said, his eyes on what he was doing. “You

wanted to stay here, to celebrate it.”

Gideon watched him, smiling. “I wanted to stay here to be warm

with you. This is all icing on the cake.”

Jed frowned and glanced at Gideon long enough to say, “I didn’t

make a cake.”

Gideon grinned and walked over to cuff him gently on the back of

the head. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes,” Jed admitted, and he leaned back to smile at him.

He didn’t want to fidget, but the smell of good cooking off the

fireplace and the sharp smell of resin off the Christmas tree, and Jed’s
hard work to make him happy… well, it made him want to be grateful.
And since he’d sworn off his favorite way of showing gratitude just
yesterday, he sighed instead and knelt down in front of Jed. “This is
real nice, Jed. I thank you.”

Jed smiled at him, soft, and nodded.

“That chicken gonna be ready soon?” Gideon asked.

“No,” Jed said easily. “I only put it on after I got the wash tub

filled. Knew you’d want another bath, if you could. I’m surprised it’s

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

smelling so good already.”

“It is. I’m looking forward to it,” he said, nodding. “I got you

something too,” he added lamely, because what he was about to offer
wasn’t a present so much as an idea that he’d got, right when he’d
seen this place and been sure they’d stay through Christmas. “Don’t
know if you’ll want it now, though, to be honest.”

Jed raised his eyebrows, curiosity driving him. “I want it.”

Gideon went to his saddlebags and dug out the bundled herbs he

carried. He couldn’t use the fry pan, and in the end, he pilfered his tin
cup; it had a handle, after all. He took a breath to calm his nerves and
looked over. “You about done there?”

Jed looked at the candle stubs he’d cut apart. “As I can be.”

Gideon glanced toward the window, where the lowering sun cast

long shadows across the yard. “Need to put the coat up,” he said, then
set  word  to  deed,  carefully  covering  the  window  to  protect  Jed  from
curious eyes. When he turned back, he found Jed touching the bundle
of herbs in the cup, then sniffing his fingers. “Sage,” Gideon answered
the  question  Jed  hadn’t  asked.  “Cedar  needles.  Few  mint  leaves,”  he
smiled, “’cause I like the smell of the mint best.” As a kid, Gideon had
been  fascinated  with  the  Indians  who  traveled  with  Bill  Tourney’s
show, mostly because the men could throw a tomahawk and split an
apple  from  a  moving  horse,  and  the  woman  could  put  an  arrow
through either half of it.

Gideon wasn’t that knowledgeable about all this, he just knew

that the braves in the show had washed a lot of things, and burned a
lot of things—herbs mostly, and tobacco, but scraps of colored fabric
too—one color for each of the four directions, A’paho had told him.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Gideon wasn’t sure if he was honoring his man or insulting him, using
someone else’s chants. And he didn’t know, now, if Jed would tell him.

He took a deep breath, though, and started talking. “A’paho and

his sister, they’d burn sage and cedar to purify their tents, every time
we put up someplace new,” he said, and he picked up the tied-up
herbs to stick an end in the fire. The cedar caught and sparked, and he
drew them back, watching the flame intently for a few seconds, before
he blew it out and dropped the smoldering herbs back into the cup.
Smoke gushed, cedar oil as pungent as the sage, and Gideon looked up
through his lashes at Jed’s quiet, concentrating face. “They taught me
one of their chants in English, so I’d know what I was saying. That, uh,
okay with you?”

Jed’s mouth twitched, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes.”

“Four directions,” he said quietly. “East is the light of a new day,

the place of all beginnings.” He waved the burning incense toward the
east. “South is the sun at the highest point, a place of youth and
innocence.” He waved the cup toward the south, watching as the
chimney draft grabbed up the smoke. “Darkness comes from the west,
the place of the unknown. North holds the winter, pure and white, the
place of wisdom.” He followed with the incense, watching the smoke
waft every which way.

Jed said four words in his native tongue, words Gideon thought

he recognized, and then translated. “Body, mind, heart, spirit,” Jed said
softly. “The four aspects of our nature. Sun, Clan mothers, Spirit
Keeper, and the Star Nations, help us manifest our needs, and
remember who we are, what is to come, and why we walk this earth.”

It was as much a prayer as Gideon had ever heard from the tent

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

preachers  who  had  sometimes  traveled  with  Bill  Tourney’s  show.
Gideon  had  always  known  that,  but  it  took  on  special  meaning  now,
with Jed and the Christmas tree and all. Jed stood slowly and ran his
fingers  down  Gideon’s  arm,  past  his  wrist  to  ease  the  cup  out  of  his
hand, and nodded. “Kneel,” he said, and Gideon did, resting his weight
on his boot heels.

“I think your words are the words of the Tia-o-qui-aht,” he said,

“friends to the Sioux from further north. Canada.” Jed’s tiny grimace
came and went so fast, Gideon almost missed it. Then Jed moved the
cup in front of him, drew it up Gideon’s body from the floor to the top
of his head, and blew short breaths to make the smoke move toward
him. It smelled strong and heady, and Jed whispered words in Sioux
that Gideon didn’t recognize before he stood back and did the same to
himself.

“It is a blessing,” Jed said somberly, “to know the true way one

should walk.”

Jed walked over to the tree then, and used the embers off the

herbs to light the candlewicks one by one. The little flames flickered as
he placed them carefully, right at the ends of the tree branches. He let
wax  melt,  making  a  thick,  warm  drift  of  it,  then  stuck  the  candle
bottom into  it while  it was  still hot. The  biggest, he  set near  the top,
then held his hand a couple of feet above it for a minute, checking its
heat  to  make  sure  it  wouldn’t  light  the  cross  beam  above  it  on  fire.
Satisfied,  Jed  blessed  the  tree,  smudging  it  with  the  herb  smoke;  his
mouth moved, but Gideon couldn’t hear the words this time. He was
just  caught  up  in  it  all,  in  the  combining  of  English  and  Sioux,  of
prayers  and  rituals.  Jed’s  Indian  spirit  practices  had  made  white
religions  more  real  to  Gideon  than  any  traveling  preacher  or  church

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

prayer he’d ever known, because Jed’s practices seemed to put him
right at peace with the whole of the earth.

Gideon wanted that. He’d even gotten it, a little, first from the

Indians in the show and a lot more, from Jed. “Sounds like prayers,” he
said quietly into a silence broken only by the crackling fire.

“It is prayer, Gideon. That’s what ritual is: prayer. Actions with

intentions connect us to our ancestors, to the great spirits. I will wash
you now.”

It wasn’t a question, and Gideon didn’t mind anyway. He nodded,

some part of him deeply content just to be here with Jed.

“Take off your clothes.”

Gideon nodded again and stood up, hastily stripping out of his

clothes and laying them out by the mattress. Jed silently took his hand
and led him to the washtub, waving his arm to motion Gideon in. Jed
was  like  that  often;  he  didn’t  use  words  when  they  weren’t  needed,
and  much  as  Gideon  liked  a  good  conversation,  he  liked  this  even
more. He stepped in, wriggling his toes in the warm water, and knelt
down into the cramped tub. Jed set the herbs to his left, away from the
fireplace,  and  Gideon  watched  the  smoke  waft  toward  and  then  past
him, watched it mix in with the fire smoke. Then Jed dug out a bar of
soap he’d wrapped in a cloth, took off his own boots, pants, and shirt,
and knelt down beside the tub.

“Gonna get me all het up,” Gideon warned, annoyed with himself.

Jed’s frown turned suspicious, and Gideon waved a hand,

embarrassed. “I thought about sharing a bath with you like that, at
first, yeah,” he admitted, “but I know that ain’t the point of this. A’paho
said mothers bathed their children to honor them, that husbands

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

bathed their wives for the same reason.”

“That is one reason, yes,” Jed agreed. “I am honoring you.”

Gideon felt it again, that loosening in his chest and belly that

meant  things  to  him  he  didn’t  understand  yet,  just  recognized  as
important.  He  sat  as  still  as  he  could,  hands  on  his  knees,  while  Jed
worked around him, and after a time Jed started humming. The native
words  soothed  him,  made  it  easy  to  accept  the  soft  scrubbing  of  his
skin, the drag of the cloth over his neck and shoulders, down his arms
to each individual finger and back up into his armpits. Jed washed his
front  with  gentle,  slow  swirls  of  the  cloth,  scratching  through  the
sparse hair on his chest and belly, stopping only when he reached the
waterline right at Gideon’s hips.

Again, no words; Jed tapped his hip, encouraging him to rise up,

and  then  picked  up  the  cloth  again,  worked  it  around  his  thighs  and
into  the  crease  of  his  ass,  down  between  his  thighs  to  cup  and  clean
his balls, then his cock. He couldn’t not get hard, but a quick glance to
Jed  revealed  no  censure, and  he  spread  his  knees  as wide  as  the  tub
allowed so Jed could clean his legs, too.

Jed pushed at his shoulders to settle him back in the water and

used his cupped hands to rinse him, dropping handfuls of water again
and again over his shoulders and chest and back, using his hands to
smooth the soap away.

He felt about as clean as he’d ever been, and as content as he

could imagine being, even with his cock still hard between his legs.
“Can I wash you?” he asked, feeling a reverence that seemed unnatural
to the task.

Jed nodded and stood, held a hand out to help him to his feet, and

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

grabbed up the blanket they’d sleep under later to wrap it around him.
He watched as Jed finished stripping, surprised to find that he wasn’t
the only one with a rebellious prick, and he took up the cloth as Jed
knelt in the washtub.

He tried to remember exactly how Jed had done it and started

with his neck, sliding his long hair to one side. He was as thorough and
more  careful  with  Jed  than  he  was  with  himself.  Jed’s  stomach
tightened, but he made no sound, didn’t even a sigh as Gideon touched
his  hip,  bidding  him  to  rise  to  his  knees.  It  was  hard  not  to  linger
between Jed’s legs and strange to touch his hard shaft without lower
intentions. It was strange, but it was good too, and when he let go of
Jed’s  cock  to  run  the  cloth  down  over  his  thighs,  he  realized  he’d
started  up  Jed’s  chant  again,  without  even  knowing  what  he  was
saying.

He looked up to catch Jed smiling at him with such fondness that

Gideon couldn’t help but smile back. “Am I doing this all right?”

“Yes.”

Gideon nodded and stood up to strip off the blanket and hold it

out for Jed. “Uh, anything else?” he asked.

Jed stepped right up against him, wet and warm and clean,

wrapping him in the blanket that hung around his shoulders and
resting his hands at Gideon’s hips to nudge their groins together.
“Yes.”

Gideon sucked in a breath of anticipation. “We ain’t got to do

anything, Jed,” he said, affirming his promise. Giving his respect.

Jed just tilted his head to look at him, and the blue-gray of his

eyes looked almost black in the flickering firelight. “Yesterday, I asked

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

the spirits to guide me,” he said quietly. “I thought maybe I should
leave you, for both our sakes. But the spirits answered me today. I will
not leave.”

Gideon was frankly shocked by the straightforward words, but

he  realized  he  wasn’t  that  surprised.  Jed  was  strong,  maybe  the
strongest  man  he’d  ever  known;  it  was  part  of  what  Gideon  loved
about him.  Jed could leave him—would  leave him, if he  thought that
was  what  was  best  for  either  of  them.  It  scared  Gideon,  how  fragile
this love of theirs was, and how strong too.

“I hate that I made you ask ’em that,” he said earnestly, meaning

it.

“I know.” Jed leaned in to kiss him, and Gideon used all the

restraint he’d learned at his parents’ knee, working with spirited
animals and crowds of paying customers. He didn’t even put his arms
around Jed, not yet; he just stood there and let them work each other’s
mouths, slid his tongue into Jed’s when he was invited, shared spit and
love and everything he had to share.

When Jed broke the kiss and drew a few inches away, he was

panting slightly. Gideon was worse. “I do not want to make you
change,” he said slowly.

“Nothing in the world is a sure bet but change,” Gideon said. In

his twenty years he’d seen the shift from horses to trains and trolleys,
from  wild  lands  to  settled  territories  that  Bill  Tourney’s  Traveling
Western  show  had  traveled  through,  seen  gaslights  crop  up  in  the
forward-thinking  cities,  replacing  street  fires  and  chasing  away  the
night  from  homes  and  factories.  He  could  just  barely  imagine  the
changes that waited for him and Jed. “I just want to meet it with you,

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Jed,” he said, the words as heartfelt as any he’d ever spoken.

Jed’s arms tightened around him even though it made the

blanket fall off him and puddle on the floor. They stood there together,
naked and clean and warm, and Gideon chewed on his lips, waiting,
determined that Jed was going to guide them this time. At least this
once, they had the time and Gideon had the patience.

“Lie down,” Jed said after a moment, and Gideon did, stretching

out on the mattress and shivering without Jed’s warmth against him.

Jed moved to put the bar of soap on the edge of the hearth to dry

and  then  walked  naked  to  the  Christmas  tree  and  blew  out  the
candles. Gideon couldn’t help but look at his lover’s fine form, so trim
and  smooth,  no  lines  to  mark  the  sun  on  him  because  his  skin  was
already  brown.  He  was  proportioned  right  too,  even  though  he  was
small,  his legs straight  and  strong, his ass  curved  and lean, his  waist
narrow and his ribs widening up to flat, square shoulders. Gideon felt
himself  get  hotter  just  looking,  watching  how  Jed’s  long  hair  split  at
his neck and fell forward over his shoulders to reveal that long neck,
and  he  flat-out  could  not  understand  how  anybody,  man  or  woman,
could look at Jed and see anything to hate.

The candle on top of the tree, the one for the Bethlehem star, Jed

left burning. He walked over and knelt down beside Gideon, placing
his hand on Gideon’s quivering belly. “I will do for you now,” Jed said.

Gideon didn’t know quite what that meant, but he sure liked the

sound of it. He smiled and reached up, and Jed fell down on him,
matching their bodies from mouth to knee. It was so good, with Jed—
everything was so good. He put his hands on Jed’s firm ass, held tight,
and rubbed his hips back and forth, pleasuring both of them while

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

they kissed. Jed pulled back, propping on his straight arms, and looked
down at him before moving away for the little tin, and Gideon sucked
in a hard breath; Jed meant that.

He couldn’t get Jed to fuck him much, mostly because Jed liked it

the other way best, but Gideon had never said no, and he wasn’t about
to  now.  If  this  was  his  Christmas  reward,  he’d  take  it  with  a  smile.
Sure enough, when Jed returned to the mattress, he walked up into the
space  between  Gideon’s  ankles,  and  Gideon  kicked  his  legs  wide  to
make room for his lover. Jed smiled at him, his soft eyes shining in the
firelight  until  he  bent  forward  and  all  that  long  hair  fell  over  his
shoulders, hiding his face.

Gideon reached and buried his fingers in it, thick strands like tiny

cords of rope that were as soft and cool as any silk he’d ever felt. Jed
tilted his head and glanced up; then he bent lower and put his mouth
on Gideon’s shaft. Gideon couldn’t help it; he bucked up and groaned,
sliding his cock deeper into wet, sucking heat. This was better than
anything he’d imagined—and he had imagined a lot to warm himself
on cold trails.

Jed drew back, fighting his clutching hands, and swirled his

tongue over the head, and Gideon groaned again. He tried to swallow
it down but gave up in the end; no one was around to hear, and Jed
would tell him— He let go of Jed’s hair and propped on his elbows to
stare down at him. “You’ll tell me, if I do something you don’t like?” he
asked.

Jed replaced his mouth with his hand, holding his cock tenderly,

and looked up at him. “I like everything you do, in this,” he said.

“I mean—” Gideon swallowed, because the picture of Jed down

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

there between his legs did awful, wonderful things to him, “I want you
to promise you’ll tell me. If I get too loud for you or something.”

Jed’s face looked serious and sober in the shadows, and he

nodded. “I will tell you.”

“Jed,” he said, desperate enough to reach down and catch his

lover’s cheek, “tell me before you ask the spirits, tell me before you
think about leaving. I- I don’t think I could bear to lose you ’cause of
something I did. Hell, hit me if you have to, but give me the chance to
make it right.”

Jed held his gaze, his eyes serious. Then he turned, his lips

touching Gideon’s palm with gentleness. “I will tell you,” he said,
looking back to Gideon. “If you give me cause.” It was all the
agreement he was going to give, but all that Gideon could ask for.

Gideon dropped back flat to the mattress and shifted his hips,

hungry for more, and Jed returned to his task, but Gideon could hear
the  scrape  of  metal  on  metal  and  knew  more  was  coming.  Sure
enough, as Jed  tilted his head to  take more of Gideon’s  cock, his free
hand  pressed  up  underneath  Gideon’s  balls,  fingers  slick  with  the
grease. Gideon groaned and dug his heels into the mattress to lift his
ass up and make more room for Jed down there.

More suckling as two straight, narrow fingers breached him, and

little shocks of pleasure shot through him. “Jed, I—”

Jed lifted off him again, and Gideon realized his lover would

probably do that every time he started to talk. It was a damned good
incentive to get him to keep his mouth shut, he thought with a smile.
“This is my gift to you,” Jed said. “Let me give it.”

Gideon bit his lip and nodded, and Jed’s fingers pressed deeper

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into him, opening him slowly. “You ain’t careful,” he said, keeping his
eyes closed, “and I’ll come before you get far.”

Damned if Jed didn’t rise up off his cock again. “You do, and we’ll

start again. We have time.”

The words sent their own excitement through him, and Gideon

just let go and let Jed in, let him do whatever he wanted. Two fingers
became  three,  making  his  hole  loose  and  slick,  even  as  Jed’s  lips
tightened on the tip of his shaft. This was—he didn’t have any words,
which was probably a good thing. Jed’s free hand squeezed at his hip,
urging  him  to  thrust,  so  he  did,  riding  between  those  two  points  of
bliss.  He  was  getting  close  already,  and  if  just  two  days  without  did
this to him, it was no wonder Jed’s patience with him would run thin.

“Gettin’ close,” he warned anyway, and he got his answer when

Jed pressed forward, pulling the head of his cock all the way down his
throat and swallowing.

That was all it took: his muscles seized and his balls tingled and

he started spilling down his lover’s throat as that deep pleasure jerked
through  his  insides.  He  tried  to  hold  the  noise  down  to  a  quiet  yelp,
but  he  didn’t  think  he  was  successful.  The  lights  he  saw  sparking
might  just  be  the  candle  that  flickered  at  the  top  of  the  tree,  but  it
seemed like more, like a whole sky full of stars exploding in his head,
and all the while Jed’s fingers moved in and out, feeding his body more
pleasure than it knew what to do with.

He didn’t know how Jed could swallow with his cock so deep in

Jed’s throat, but it wasn’t a thought he spared much attention on. The
pleasure was too good, too real and rich, tingling from his toes up to
his hips, from his fingertips up to his heart. He lifted his head to see,

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

watched the fluttering curtain of Jed’s hair where it veiled his groin
completely, hiding the sight of his cock in Jed’s mouth.

Gideon loved that, too, that picture, all that hair… he sighed and

reached out with weak hands to cradle Jed’s head while he gasped and
whimpered and little spasms of pleasure raced over his skin, through
him and into Jed. “Jed,” he said, just because he knew Jed would lift his
head and look up at him.

Jed did, and his lips shone with spit or come, and even that little

detail, so simple and erotic, made it all better. Gideon swallowed then
coughed to clear his throat. “Come up here,” he croaked.

The fingers eased out of him, and he squeezed his butt cheeks

against the looseness there, and Jed stretched out on top of him. His
body felt stiff with tension, and Gideon didn’t like that at all. “Let me
suck you,” he breathed.

Even though his hips thrust involuntarily at the words, Jed shook

his head and then rested his cheek on Gideon’s chest. “We will wait,”
he said.

“How can you do that?” he asked, wonder and envy evenly

matched inside him.

Jed grinned. “Age. Experience. Patience.”

“More patience than I got,” Gideon said, willing to admit the

truth.

The quiet huff of breath, the barest of chuckles, startled him.

“That would not require much.”

Gideon tried to frown, just to return the joke, but it took too

much effort and went too hard against the pleasured affection he felt

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for this man. “You funnin’ me?” he asked anyway.

Jed’s nod made his hair spill and sway, tickling Gideon’s chest

and armpit. He flinched, reached past Jed’s head to scratch at the itch
and push some of that long hair back, and sighed as the smell of sage
mixed with familiar Jed smells wafted out of Jed’s hair. The scents
went a long way to reviving him, and he dragged a hank of it up to his
face, rubbed the silk of it over his jaw, and breathed in the smell that
was earth and sun and Jed. “Well, what can I do, then? While we wait?”

“You can just be, Gideon,” Jed said lazily.

Gideon didn’t know what that meant, but he wasn’t going to

argue  about  it.  He  also  wasn’t  sure  he  could  just  lie  here,  even  as
satisfied  as  he  was,  with  Jed’s  firm  little  cock  poking  his  hip.  But
before  he  could  decide  how  to  express  any  of  that,  Jed  started
chanting, and with his face and neck pressed against Gideon, it felt like
the sound echoed into his chest before it reached his ears. He sighed
and  held  Jed  a  little  tighter,  turning  his  head  to  watch  the  flickering
candle at the top of the tree and how the firelight caught out the colors
of the apples and ribbons.

Softer still Jed’s voice dropped, and the tone rose a few notes,

steady and strong, so that when Jed put his hand on Gideon’s thigh,
Gideon opened his legs wide, hopeful. Jed’s fingers slid back into him,
started a steady, slow thrust in time to his native words, and Gideon
felt that itch in his balls that heralded arousal.

“It is good, to be young,” Jed said, noticing.

He wished he was younger, because he wasn’t firming up as fast

as he wanted, but what Jed was doing to his insides felt so good it
almost didn’t matter.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

Maybe it didn’t. “Get inside me,” he whispered.

“You are not ready,” Jed said evenly.

A squeeze of his muscles sent a pleasure as sharp and fast as any

shot of liquor into him. “I think maybe I am,” he said. “I…” his mouth
was dry and his heart was pounding. “I think maybe my cock doesn’t
care, Jed.” He blinked up at his partner. “Get in me? Please?”

After a thoughtful pause, Jed nodded and pulled his fingers out.

“You are still tight,” he warned.

“Maybe. Gotta tell you though, I don’t think I care.” He wrapped

his legs around Jed’s waist when Jed slid onto him. He used his hands
to grab Jed’s butt and help position him, urgent now, hungry for it
even though his flagging cock hadn’t caught up to the rest of his body.

“Remember you said that,” Jed warned him as he hunched back

to line himself up. He pushed inside with a grunt that Gideon echoed;
all right, maybe Jed had a point there. But in spite of the pain, he
wanted more and he wanted it now.

Jed had his own pace, though—as always. He pushed forward,

but it was slow and steady, despite the pressure of Gideon’s heels on
his ass or the pull of his fingers on Jed’s upper arms. “Patience,” he
said when Gideon whimpered, “you will like it.” When he was flush
against Gideon, as deep inside as he could go, he held there.

“Move,” Gideon urged, wanting more.

“Feel it,” Jed countered. “Feel me inside you. Breathe, Gideon, and

feel me.”

He almost resisted, almost cursed Jed for his demands, but the

memory of the story haunted him, that and the ritual that made them

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as much a part of each other as this did. With effort, he drew a deep
breath and smelled the cedar and the sage, the soap and the scent of
Jed himself. Then he felt it, the steady, rhythmic pulse of Jed’s heart. It
beat against his chest where they touched, but more, it seemed to beat
inside him, where Jed was lodged and waiting.

“Breathe,” Jed said again, and Gideon did. The same smells, the

same rhythm, but something more. As Gideon studied on it, on the
drumbeat of Jed’s heart, he felt it in his own chest.

“We honor each other,” Jed whispered as he slowly drew back

just a little then slid forward. “We are one.”

Gideon drew another breath, and the smell of the herbs cleared

away  everything  but  the  feel  of  Jed.  His  cock  lay  heavy  on  his  belly,
and though it was ready and they both wanted it, it was not the thing
that  drove  Gideon  now.  He  wanted  this  for  Jed,  as  Jed  wanted  it  for
him. When Jed moved, Gideon felt it all through his body, in his heart
and  his  head.  They  breathed  together,  moved  together  even  as  the
need  for  each other  drove  them  faster.  Gideon  heard his  own  grunts
and  gasps,  but  they  were  matched  by  Jed’s,  and  by  his  soft  clear
words: “Breathe, Gideon, know me.”

He had never before wanted not to come as much as he wanted it

now,  never  before  wanted  something  go  on  and  on  for  as  long  as
possible. As the need for release grew, pushing up from his balls into
his  belly,  he  tried to  keep  it  at  bay,  reaching  down to  catch  his  cock,
trying  to  hold  it  back.  But  Jed  took  his  hand,  drawing  it  away  and
replacing  it  with  his  own.  “Spill  for  me,”  he  whispered.  “Share  this
with me and I will share it with you.”

Gideon stared up into the eyes he knew like no others and came.

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It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, ripping his soul out of

him and sending it to heaven, maybe, somewhere warm and soft and
smelling of cedar and mint and sage, with Jed as part of him, mixed
into him so that he knew his thoughts and fears and love.

He came back to himself to find Jed heavy on top of him, cock still

deep  inside,  the  ends  of  his  hair  tickling  Gideon’s  ribs.  His  legs  were
beginning  to  cramp,  and  he  shifted,  wondering  if  he  could  stretch
them  out  without  disturbing  Jed,  when  Jed  slowly  pushed  up.  He
smiled  as  he  stared  down  at  Gideon,  a  soft,  sweet  expression  that
made  Gideon  aware  all  over  of  what  it  would  do  to  him  to  lose  this
man.

“I love you,” he said, catching the back of Jed’s head and pulling

him down into a hard kiss. But as their lips connected, the kiss
softened, and he pulled Jed tight against him, savoring the feel of him.
This was as important, more important, than the coupling they’d just
shared. This was the love that he would never want to lose. His folks
weren’t religious people, but his mother had always said that the
special days like Christmas and Easter were all about love. Gideon had
never felt that more fully than he did right now.

As Jed’s cock eventually slipped free, Gideon sighed, the

emptiness like the cold outside. But Jed kissed his temple, his nose,
and his lips before drawing away. He moved to the bath, taking up the
cloth they had used and cleaning himself up before returning to the
bed where he carefully and gently cleaned Gideon, as he had earlier.

They lay together for a while, Gideon napping contentedly,

waking only when Jed roused him to feed Gideon with his own
hands—hot chicken and warmed bread, strong herb tea. Afterwards,
Jed blew out the last candle on the tree and tossed the bundle of herbs

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

onto the banked, slow-burning fire so that Gideon slept dreamlessly
with Jed close and warm against him.

* * *

“

.” Jed said it quietly and so easily that Gideon almost missed it.

He was already into his next sentence, the argument about showing
the people of Kingman that Indians had talents, that Jed could do more
than muck a stall or ride a horse bareback.

“…those kids that they have nothing to be scared of—what?”

Jed smiled at him. “I will do it,” he said, reaching for the coffee

pot. “If it will please you.”

Gideon smiled but only for a second. “It—it ain’t about pleasing

me, even though it would,” he said slowly, trying to think this through.
“I would like for you to do this with me. But… I….” He stopped, looking
at Jed, seeing the way he looked back, his eyes bright, his expression
curious and open, his body relaxed and friendly. “When we did shows
in  smaller  towns,  where  the  people  had  never  seen  an  Injun,  they
always  started  off  distrusting  and,  well,  scared  maybe.  People  fear
what  they  don’t  know,  Jed,  you  know  that.”  Jed  nodded,  not  arguing.
“But after we’d do a show, the first people who’d get questions from
the crowd were the Injuns. We always joked about whether we should
just do away with Mama’s show all together and get the Injuns to take
off  their  clothes,”  he  laughed,  and  Jed  shook  his  head,  but  he  was
smiling.

“You want me to do my ‘tricks’, as you call them, for these people.

For money.” He shook his head, and Gideon reached out, catching his
chin.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

“I want you to do what you do to earn their respect,” he

countered. “We don’t have to take the money, Jed, hell, we don’t have
to stay for the dinner. Truth be told, I’d rather come back here and
light up the Christmas tree one more time, eat the rest of whatever we
have warm, and lay with you against me warm and safe. But I want to
show these people that you’re more than a story in a newspaper. I
want to show them that you’re more of a man than they are.”

Jed looked down, thinking, and then he leaned forward, coming

in close enough to brush his lips over Gideon’s. “You want the gloves
back,” he said quietly.

Gideon smiled. “That too. But if you don’t want to make an issue

of it, I won’t. I’ll settle for keeping you safe, Jed. Keeping us safe.”

Jed stared at him for several seconds before he took Gideon’s

hand in his. “You mean that,” he said softly, staring at Gideon as if he
could see into his head. And maybe he could.

“I ain’t good at turning the other cheek,” Gideon said slowly. “But

I’d be worse without you.”

Jed nodded.

Star was a trouper. Not only did Gideon vault off her back and

land on his feet, upright, she licked Clement on the face and made him
blush a color that reminded Gideon of the apples in the firelight.

Jed was perfect. His tricks—which weren’t tricks at all, as Gideon

knew—impressed  everyone.  He rode  bareback,  then dropped  so  low
that he was  under his horse’s  belly picking up things off  the ground,
then he bounced stiff-legged from one side of his horse to the other as
he  gripped  the  pony’s  mane  and  reins,  remounting  at  full  gallop.
Afterward,  he  shied  away  from  questions,  but  Gideon  answered  for

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

him,  and  in  the  end,  Jed  agreed  to  dinner  at  the  restaurant,
compliments  of  the  town.  They  had  decorated  the  place  for  the
holiday,  bright  fabrics  and  festive  wreathes,  and  it  seemed  like  the
whole town had  gathered together, either here or at  the church, and
the company was good. The meal was good, too—but not as good as
the chicken Jed had made for him.

They left the town with full bellies, good wishes, and Jed’s gloves.

The sheriff had gotten them back before the performance and handed
them to Gideon with the warning that he wasn’t going to let there be
trouble. For a second, Gideon’s temper had flared, but then he’d
looked at Jed and remembered his promise. He’d thanked the sheriff,
and they’d gone back to talking about the show.

Afterward, the Batson boys had approached them. Gideon had

known them as soon as he saw them, not just by description but by
the way Jed had stiffened and stepped back. Afraid, but Gideon had
known that it wasn’t for himself.

The first boy, the tall one, bigger than Jed, had stepped up and

stretched out a hand and for a second that was as long as forever,
Gideon had thought he was going to hurt Jed, and he already had his
hand on his gun—

“Sorry we did that,” the boy had mumbled, looking down at the

ground. “Didn’t know you was a performer.”

“You ride real good,” the second one said, more eager than his

brother. “How’d you do that?”

Jed caught Gideon’s gaze, confused. Gideon shrugged. People

were like that; once they got all impressed with you, they just forgot
everything else.

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* Margaret Mills and Tedy Ward

* * *

“

ATE

leaving this place,” Gideon said two days later as he tied off his

bedroll to the back of the saddle.

Jed sighed. “No hurry,” he said quietly. “Clement said he’d pay us

to  work.”  He  was  staring  toward  the  river,  toward  the  place  where
they’d  planted  the  tree.  It  was  close  enough  to  get  water,  but  it
wouldn’t wash away or drown in the spring thaw. Jed had left most of
the  decorations  on  it--honoring  all  their  gods.  In  the  early  morning
sun, the ribbons were bright as spring birds, their colors shining in the
clear light.

It was a temptation. Gideon liked it here, liked this place, liked

Clement, and thought he could like most of the people who lived here.
Certainly he liked what he and Jed had shared here. What they had
become.

But he knew that this contentedness would travel with them; it

was part of who and what they, together, were.

And he had so much more to show Jed, to prove to him. “Might be

best to get out before the next storm blows in from the west,” he
offered. “We may be back,” he added softly, looking at the tree, at the
bright-colored bandanna that told him of Jed’s love. “But I want to
show you more, Jed. I want to find a place for us where you don’t have
to be afraid. And I don’t have to be afraid for us.”

Jed didn’t say anything, but after a few seconds he kicked his

horse forward. As Gideon set out behind him, he felt the soft chants of
the song and sang along, welcoming in the future and a new day.
Together.

ARGARET

ILLS

is a professional technical writer and editor;

branching into narrative fiction seemed like a natural extension of the
pleasure that writing has always been for her. A California resident,
Maggie enjoys hiking in the nearby hills, reading, walking the dog on
the beach, and writing with her co-author, Tedi Ward. Maggie met
Tedi in a writers’ group, and their personalities mix almost as well as
their characters’ do; they enjoy writing the kinds of stories they love
to read.

Her most exciting adventure involved a brief but thrilling skydiving
habit. Her next exciting adventure involves a trip to Yosemite National
Park where she’ll be hiking Half Dome with her husband of twenty-
five years.

Her web site is http://sites.google.com/site/wordprocesses/home.

EDI

ARD

has been a technical writer in the legal and academic

fields for many years. She lives in Georgia and enjoys reading, walking
her dog, and writing with her co-author, Margaret Mills. Tedi met
Maggie in a writers’ group, and their personalities mix almost as well
as their characters’ do; they enjoy writing the kinds of stories they
love to read.

When time permits, Tedi enjoys hiking, cooking, and reading, using
her commute to and from work to listen to audio books or the news if
she’s feeling particularly mellow about the state of the world.

Her web site is http://sites.google.com/site/wordprocesses/home.

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