TEXAS LONGHORNS
By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 27

I went to the Double R and cleaned myself, showered, and inserted my plug. I was ready for my master in about forty-five minutes. Not a new record for me, but a good time. I wanted to be ready when Master Waddie arrived. I didn’t have to wait long. He knocked lightly on the door. I went to let him in. I opened the door, and when I saw him he took my breath away. How could I have forgotten how attractive he was to me? I was with him all day. We were only apart for an hour. He smiled, and I invited him in. I closed the door and set the latch. I returned to him, slowly dropped to my knees in front of him and kissed each of his big boots. “Git up here, Boy, in your master’s arms, and show him your love,” he growled at me.

I was in Master Claymore’s arms in a second and kissing him with everything in my heart. Damn, the man could say the right thing at the right moment to get my everything lain at his feet. I didn’t give a shit if our love lasted more than the night, I felt love for him at that moment. The ‘L’ word was never mentioned between us until he spoke it. How else would you define what we felt for each other, lust? Perhaps, but somehow, jumping into a master’s arms to show my lust for him just didn’t quite get it for me.

He continued to kiss me with no sign of wanting to break apart. His right hand moved slowly down my backside to my butt. I knew where he was going, but he didn’t rush. He moved slowly until his big hand found my plug. He gently and slowly began to fuck me with it while still making love to me. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I never felt more wanted and appreciated, or wanted a man as much as I wanted Master Claymore at that moment. He refused to break off his kiss but kept playing gently with the plug in my ass. I could feel a climax building within me. I didn’t want to come yet. I tried to pull away from our kiss, but he was almost a third larger, and he held me even tighter in his arms. He continued to kiss me until I realized he wasn’t going to let me go. I suddenly understood what he wanted. He wanted to dominate me. He wanted to control this moment no matter what happened. If I sprayed my load all over him he didn’t care, but it was important for him to have me submit to him.

It was so simple, and yet, it was wonderful. I felt like I was setting myself free, giving my trust over to him. I relaxed, stop struggling, and gave myself to him. He felt it the minute I did, and he kissed me even harder with more passion. He began fucking me just a bit more deeply with my plug, and once again, I felt a climax boiling up inside me. This time I just accepted the consequence of whatever might happen. I continued to make love to him, and he drank me in like a thirsty man who just found an oasis in the desert. He was playing me and my body like a master musician, and he knew I was very close. I didn’t try to pull away. I let myself go, and I exploded all over him and his leathers. I got very little on me. Still he continued his kiss until he was ready to break it off. When he did, he kissed me again tenderly. “You jes’ learned a lesson, didn’t chu,’ Honcho?” he asked.

‘Oh, my God, he just called me ‘honcho.’ That’s my dad’s favorite name for me,’ I thought. My heart leaped to my throat, and I almost lost it.

“Yes, sir,” I said meekly in an unstable, barely audible voice.

“And what did you learn, Boy?” he asked almost in a whisper as he stole another kiss.

“To respect, trust, and submit to my master, sir; to give him control when we’re together,” I replied.
TEXAS LONGHORNS
“Good Boy, that’s exactly what you should’ve learned,” he said tenderly and gently kissed me on my forehead.

“Do you fear giving me control, Son?” he asked quietly.
                                        
“Lord, no, Master Claymore. I find it comfortable. I feel as safe with you or safer than I do my own dad. You would never harm me,” I replied.

“That’s right, Son. It’s part of the trust you just spoke of. You must trust and respect me to do the right thing for us. Have I failed you so far? Either with a rope or here in your coach?” he asked.

“Not in the least. On the contrary, I’ve wanted everything we’ve done together. I feel free when I give to you. I realized today, I was doing it last night, and I loved it. I realized this afternoon I was giving you everything I had when I tossed my rope because I wanted to please the man I come to love. I also ain’t afraid none to tell you I love you, Master Claymore,” I said boldly.

“Neither am I, Son. I wouldn’t be teaching you these simple manners if’n I didn’t love you and thought they might improve you as a man. I can tell you, in all good faith, I love you and always will no matter how brief our time together. What we had last night, today, and right now will never leave our hearts. It will become a healthy part of us to carry though life,” he said.

“You know I’ve become your slave for our time together, don’t you, Master Waddie?” I asked him softly with my eyes cast downward. He paused for a moment before he answered.

“I know you have, Casey, and I’m awful damn proud to accept your gift. I’d be downright proud to be your master, even for a short while; however, before you fully decide to give me this gift of yourself as my slave, you must consider, a part of you will always and forever remain as my slave. A part of me will always be your master, and we will always recognize each other that way. It’s a part of an unbreakable bond between two men more ancient than recorded history. I never asked to be with you to make you my slave, even for a little while. Are you sure it’s what you want, Son?" he asked like it was something I should not take lightly. It was important to him, and he expected it to be equally important to me.

“With all my heart, Master Waddie. While I know I’m not the slave for you, I would very much appreciate being your slave for whatever time we have together,” I replied.

“All right, then, lay yourself out prostate before me, request to pay homage to my boots; then, as always, you must ask for what you want,” he instructed me.

I didn’t hesitate to lay myself out before him with my arms straight out from my sides. I was lying on the carpet of the coach, and he made sure his big, black boots were on either side of my head. “Please, Master Waddie, I would be most honored and proud to pay homage to your boots. Will you, please, consider granting me the privilege, sir?”

“I will consider it, Boy, but first, bring your hands up and place them under my boots, and then, I will give you permission,” he said.

I did as he asked. He raised the front of each of his boots as I laid my hands beneath them. He gently but firmly lowered them on top to hold them fast. My penis couldn’t have been more hard. I thought the damn thing was going to break or rip my foreskin. Blood was rushing to all extremities of my body, and I felt like I’d been set on fire. It was a powerful moment to feel my hands under his big boots; under his guidance; under his control; however, I never felt more comfortable or right with a decision in my life. This was something I wanted; no, it was something I needed to experience and become.

“You may now pay homage to my boots, boy,” he said gently.

I licked, tasted, and cleaned the toe of each of his handsome boots. When I was through, I kissed each one hard, pressing my lips into the leather so he might feel it on his foot. I raised myself slightly not daring to look up at the man I would ask to become my master. “Master Waddie, would you please consider taking this humble, inexperienced cowboy for your slave, sir? I would be most proud and honored to give myself to you, sir,” I said.

“I will accept you as my slave, Boy. If you choose to accept and acknowledge this man as your master, pay homage to my boots once more,” he said.

Once again I lovingly kissed each boot. I was about to come again. I hoped I could control it. “Master Waddie, I’m about to come again, sir,” I said.

“Raise yourself and shoot your seed on my boots, Slave-boy,” he growled his command. That's all it took.

Damn, once again he knew exactly the right words to say to trip my switch. I unloaded the biggest load I think I ever shot onto the toes of his big, black boots. It made a wonderful greyish-white contrast to the starkness of his boots.

“I am now your master and you are my slave, Boy. Now, your first order from you master is to git me one of them beers you had Cowboy buy you at the store today. I’ll set here and drink it while I enjoy watching you lick and eat your spunk off'n my boots.”

“Yes, sir, Master Claymore. Did cowboy tell you about the beer? It was suppose to be a surprise for you,” I asked.

“Honestly, Son, he didn’t. When I walked into the house this afternoon, he had two six packs of my favorite beer he was trying to hide from me before I saw them. I knew immediately who they were for and why. If’n he hadn’t a’ tried to hide ‘em, I wouldn’t ‘a paid it no never mind. I played like I didn’t notice anything, and he thought I was none the wiser,” he said.

I went to the small fridge in the kitchen area and got him a beer. I popped it for him and took it to him. He was already sitting on the couch with his legs spread and his arms resting of the back of the couch. He had my come all over his fine looking boots. I got on my knees, but I didn’t forget my manners. “Please, Master Claymore, sir. May your slave clean your boots and your leathers for you, sir?”

“I think you should, don’t you, Boy?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, sir, I agree. It’s my mess, I should clean it up for you, sir.”

“Exactly, Son,” he replied, smiled, leaned back and took a big swig of his beer.

I cleaned every drop of my come off of him. It was different somehow. I felt like I was no longer doing it because I respected him, but I was now doing it because it was my duty and responsibility as his slave to take care of my master. My dick was still hard. I don’t think it went down the entire time Master Waddie and I were together. After I finished and he was satisfied, we moved to the bedroom as quickly as possible. Master Claymore was as anxious to get into my ass as I was to have him visit for a good long spell.
 
“Damnation, Slave! My balls‘er turn’n blue they be aching so bad. Let’s us get my old cock up yore’ butt pert-damn quick, Boy. We need to git chu’ fucked. I feel the need for another good, long peaceful county fuck'n come’n on, Son. Maybe two, two and a half hours of some intensive butt fuck’n to relax us and set our hearts at ease with each other. You know, most of the men in our family believe two men what are jes’ falling in love with each other and having lots ‘a good, hot sex are calmer, more focused, and more accurate with their roping. You heard what Big Jim said earlier. I’ve personally seen it happen several times, and it’s happen to me a number of times. It happened to us today in that arena out there. Two men in love jes’ can’t be beat. They’s like them Greek warriors of olden days what went into battle with their mates by their side and fought heroically so’s their partner would be proud of them. They were difficult to defeat. So, hang onto yore’ ass, my handsome new slave, this is gonna’ be a long, deep-dick'n, fuck tonight. You’n me, we got us a rodeo to win, and I’m damn sure gonna’ do my part to make sure we do,” he declared.

He laughed and gave me permission to remove his codpiece. I lubricated his long penis, he popped out my plug and slammed his shaft to the hilt into my butt. My ass immediately melted like butter on his big cock. He was so right. His comfortable penis filling my hole had the most relaxing calming effect on me. Damn, this was where I needed to be, on the receiving end of Master Waddie’s cock. I settled in for a long night’s fuck. Once again, we talked a little as he fucked me.

“Master Waddie, when I rode up to you and Mr. Yates on my pony this afternoon, I heard the last of a conversation you were having with him and you told him, ‘But, alas, he belongs to another man.’ What did you mean by that, sir?”

“Dan asked me if there was a future for you and me. I told him ‘no.’ I told him we both realize it, but it weren’t gonna’ stop us from sharing what little time we might have together. I explained to him there was a couple ‘a reasons. First of all, is our age difference. If’n I was even ten years younger, if you consented, I’d cast all reason aside, I’d toss a rope around your pretty little cowboy ass and take you for my permanent slave in a cow-town minute. I would love you like no other; however, I can’t turn back my clock ten years, so it’s out of the question. Then I told him the main reason was, alas, you already belonged to another man, and you do, Son. You jes’ ain’t realized it yet, but perhaps you will in time. I’m a’ hoping it don’t take you as long as it did me. Maybe that’s the reason providence brought us together. We both know it’s only for a little while, but we have something to give each other, maybe a lesson to be learned from one another.”

“You could only be talk’n about my dad. Ain’t that right, Master Waddie?” I asked as he took another long stroke into my ass.

“Yes, Son, I am. Right now, you belong to yore’ daddy. It might not always be that way, it may change in the future, but for now, he owns you, Casey, as much or more than I own you right this minute. Before you go throw’n up a bunch of defensive arguments, hear me out, listen to what I got to say. You asked yore’ daddy some time ago to make you his, and he did. Whether he did it consciously by design or yore’ relationship just naturally progressed that way, it don’t matter none. That man’s in love with you, Son. He’s already done claimed you for his own. I remember seeing you together and watching you rope.

"Y’ain’t only his Son, Casey, you’re his everything. You’re his reason for being. You slowly became his possession; however, somehow, I don’t think he set out with that in mind. Neither did he do it alone. It just happened. We all are sure we know what we want when we're younger. Y'ain't no different. You was just a kid. You didn’t know what chu’ was doing at the time. You felt his pain and you reached out to him. You love him and felt you needed to give yourself to him. You became his and then you grow’d up. Once you reached maturity you began to think you were more on an equal basis, and perhaps he didn’t need you so much. You decided you needed to spread your wings and fly a bit. For you it was a normal response.

"Ever’ young’un has to leave the nest some time. It’s a part of the flow of life. H’it’s only natural for a young man to wanna’ be out on his own to explore the world.  Well, that’s what chu’ be doing right now, while that man’s at home without his treasure; without the treasure you gave to him as surely as you gave yourself to me this evening. He had to let chu’ go, because he knew if he didn’t you might never come to your senses and come home to him. He had to take the gamble. He didn’t have no other choice. He knows you have to discover for yourself you belong to him and no other, and you will. It’ll take a little time, but not a lot, I’ll wager.

"I could be wrong, but I think you need to be owned by a man, Son. I can tell by the way you respond to me, you need a man to serve. You’ll never be happy doing anything else. The man you will serve will probably be your dad, Casey. If you accept him as your master, you will become his slave. You won’t have as clearly defined roles as we have in our family, but basically, it’ll be the same. Now, that ain’t as bad as it may sound. Them things is jes’ words. If they don’t apply to you, or you don’t want them to apply to you then, they’re meaningless. You been living the same role with yore’ daddy for seven years as you are with me, tonight. I’m jes’ taking the place of yore’ daddy for a while, but that ain’t bad neither. I’m loving every minute of it, and I think you are. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir. Is that why I feel so comfortable with you, Master Waddie? Is that why I know you’re totally different from my dad, and yet, I have the same feelings for you as I do my dad?" I asked.

“Yes, Son, it is. Yore’ daddy and I are different. We’re different men; however, part of us is the same. We expect you to allow us to control you. No matter how you dress it up, no matter how you define it, it’s still control, and we don’t even have to demand it. You’re so anxious and willing to please, you automatically give us control. There ain’t no confusion in yore’ mind how you must act or what you must do to please us. You took a little taste of my recycled beer this morning because you thought it might please me. I’d be a damn liar if’n I said it didn’t, but you didn’t have to. I told ju’ from the start, I wouldn’t ask nothing unusual from you. I would’ve never asked you to do it.

"You were willing to do something totally against your nature to prove your sincerity and devotion to me. Bottom line, Son, you’re most comfortable when you feel you can give the man you’re with total control over you, but again, that ain’t a bad thing. It’s a very good thing. What would us men, who must be in control do without someone who has a deep need to be controlled. It’s yin and yang, Son. One needs the other to be complete. Without someone in my life to control, I’m incomplete. Likewise, without someone in yore’ life to control you and serve, you’re incomplete. You’ll never be happy without it.”

“In a way, it sounds kinda scary, Master Waddie. Until I met you, sir, I ain’t never though about nobody controlling me, but I won’t deny I needed to give myself to you tonight. I need to be under your control. I’m most comfortable with another man that way. I think I’m beginning to see your point. It makes a lot a’ sense. What you say may be right, Master Waddie, but I don’t think I’m ‘in’ love with my dad, sir.”

“You are, Son, you jes’ don’t realize it yet, but chu’ will. In a way, it’s kinda like you pointing out to me and waking me up to how Titus feels about me. I probably would ‘a never noticed unless he hit me up side the head with a two by four and told me he was in love with me. That jes’ ain’t Titus’s way. I might have missed out on the opportunity of my lifetime were it not for you. I have a feeling this trip is gonna’ bring it all home to you, and it’s gonna’ make things more clear. Absence makes the heart grow fonder is a true statement. It’s gonna’ wake you up to the treasure you got at home, waiting for you. Yore’ daddy is your treasure, Son. Tell me, why do you wear that plug in yore’ butt, Boy?" he asked.

“Because my daddy likes it. It pleases him, so I learned to wear it for him. I brought it along, because I thought it might please some other man I might go with, like you,” I replied.

“It certainly does please me. I understand why it turns yore’ daddy on. It makes my old cock hard and rips me a new asshole ever’ time I see that thing in yore’ little butt. I think it’s a damn good idea, and if Titus becomes my slave he’ll learn to wear one; but why do you wear it every night, Son, whether you have someone with you or not?”

“How do you know that, Master Waddie?” I turned my head to him in surprise.

“Just answer my question, Boy. Is it true or not? Or am I full of shit?” he firmly demanded.

I paused before I answered. I couldn’t lie to the man I just accepted as my master. I wouldn’t want to lie to him anyway. “Naw, sir, you ain’t full ‘a no shit,” I replied.

“Truth is, you can’t sleep without it, can you, Boy?” Master Waddie grinned at me.

How could he know that about me? I was bemused, embarrassed, and a little unnerved by his insights. I immediately broke into tears. He was getting a little too close to home. How could I be that transparent to this man? He held me tight and comforted me. He continued to fuck me so sweetly, I was sure he was trying to heal my soul through his fuck’n. I swear the man’s penis was medicinal. I got myself together. I knew I didn’t need to fear being totally honest with the man who owned me. After a good while I replied, “You’re right, Master Waddie, I’ve slept with it ever’ damn night I been away from home. I tried one night to go to sleep without it, and I jes’ couldn’t. I tossed and turned until the sun come up. I got up, greased up my plug, shoved it up my butt, went back to bed, and immediately fell asleep. I slept half the day. I jes’ gave up trying to sleep without it, sir.”

“And, why do you think that is, Son?” he asked.

“‘Cause it reminds me of my daddy. Because it pleased him. I don’t feel so far away from him when my plug’s in my butt. I can almost feel him in bed beside me when I’m wearing it. Oh, dear God, I see what you’re getting at. It’s nothing more than what I’ve been doing with you. I do things your way and for you to please you. If I wasn’t doing them for you, and I was at home right now, I’d be doing them for my dad.”

“You’re learning fast, Son. You’re gonna’ git there with no problem. I have no doubt. Yore’ plug sort of acts like a baby’s pacifier for yore' butt, don’t it? You jes’ be suck’n on it with your other end,” he said and laughed as he took another long, slow slide deep into my ass.

Master Waddie knew what I needed. I needed a good, long, deep, intensive fuck’n that night. It was the longest, single fuck’n I ever had in my life; two hours and twenty-six minutes, and I loved every minute of it. We repeated it the next night and every night we were at the Broken Arrow. Then we continued it at his son’s ranch outside a small West Texas town called Chapel Creek. Master Waddie worked with me. He talked with me by the hour. He taught me to neither be afraid nor ashamed of being subservient, and I should be proud to serve a good man, especially my dad. He told me it wasn’t a weakness but a great strength to be able to understand my deep need to give control to another man; however, I must be careful and not give myself to a soulless man, or as he called them, a meat machine. I told him about my brother and Colonel Dunbar, and he said the Colonel was a classic example of a soulless man. He’s nothing more that a meat machine walking around trying to suck other folk’s souls from them. The more Master Claymore taught me, the more I loved and trusted him.

I was concerned about his road buddy, but he told me not to be, he knew what he was doing. He was beginning to pay more attention to his road partner’s reactions to him, and thanks to my telling him my observations, he came to realize what I said about Mr. Titus just might be true. If Mr. Titus was willing, Master Waddie would ultimately claim Mr. Titus for his slave; however, he firmly believed the universe brought us together for a reason, and he only had a limited amount of time with me to be my master; then we would go our separate ways, but as long as I accepted him as my master, his slave would sleep with him. I assured him I did accept him as my master and thought of myself as his new, untrained, but willing slave.

He carefully explained to me there were things he needed from me no one else could give him right then. I knew from the way we made love and the way he firmly but commandingly took from me what I so readily gave to him, he was drinking deeply from the fount of my love. He explained more of the things I needed from him, and he was always right. I never found a flaw in his logic or explanations about anything. We bonded for that brief period of time, and we still carry it with us today. He was right, a part of me is still his slave, and to my joy, he never allows me to forget he is still my master.

He was so right about how our love would effect our roping. It amazed even me. We rodeoed like we fucked, with strength, conviction, dogged determination, concentration, precision, and grace. We were in love with each other. He was my unquestioned master, and I was his slave. Nothing or no one in the world mattered to us for those few days. No one could touch us. I had an epiphany during those days, why Spencer Winchester was so sure my dad and I would win the rodeo the day after the night dad first let me suck him off? Spencer Winchester knew I gave myself to my dad, dad accepted my gift, and we were in love. I remembered the feeling which passed between my dad and me. Then as now, no one could touch us that day. It was because I gave myself to him as surely as I gave myself to be Master Waddie’s slave; he accepted my gift, and I became his. He owned me that day. I was not only his son but also his possession. I belonged to him and no other. Master Waddie was right again. My beloved cowboy dad became my master.

* * * * * * *
Master Waddie and I won both days at the Tucson rodeo and took top prize money for team roping. We were thrilled and everyone at the ranch celebrated with us.  Dan Yates was happy. We entered as cowboys representing the Broken Arrow ranch. I won second place in the calf roping event and some more money. Master Waddie was really proud of me, just like my dad would’ve been.

* * * * * * *
I ran into my brother’s dad at the rodeo and introduced Mr. Claymore to Rance. I was surprised they already knew each other and rodeoed together many times in the past. Rance watched us rope. He was wowed by Master Waddie’s and my times. He was proud of me for coming in second in calf roping. Rance got me aside during lunch one day. “That big cowboy’s fuck’n you; ain’t he, Son?” he asked. He grinned real big like he was happy for me, “If’n you ain’t give’n up yore’ fine cowboy ass to to the big man, yore’ a gotdamn fool, Boy, and I know’d my brother didn’t raise his boy to be no fool," Cousin Rance said and laughed.

“Yes, sir. Ever’ damn night I been staying out to the Broken Arrow. He fucks me a couple a’ hours ever’ night. He fucks me sometimes one or two more times during the night,” I bragged.

“Holy shit! H’its a miracle you got an asshole left,” my cousin said and roared with laughter, “Hell, h’it’s a wonder you can sit a pony. ‘At’s why you’re winning, Boy. You two been exchanging a little bit of each others soul as Dwayne said Lamar calls it. You be in love, Son. On you it looks good, Boy,” he said.

“Not for long, sir – well, that ain’t right true, neither – I’ll always love Master Waddie; however, he’s on a motorcycle run with his biker family. They’re taking off for Key West, Florida right after the rodeo. I’m head’n on down the road. ‘Sides there’s a real good looking man about his age, who’s in love with him, and wants to become his slave.”

“Take love where you find it, Boy, even if it’s only for a little while. Don’t never deny yore’self a chance to love somebody. Them good memories will stay with you the rest of your life. I know'd about the men at the Broken Arrow. I been out there several times. They got a different way a’ look’n at things, a different way a’ living, but I can’t fault ‘em none. Seems to make a lot of sense to me. They sure as Hell stay together once they’s bonded. They must be doing some’um right,” he declared.

“I agree, sir. I told Mr. Claymore if we didn’t have other obligations I’d jump at the chance to become his permanent slave,” I said.

“You done already asked that big man to be your master; ain’t chu,’ Son?” he asked and smiled at me knowingly.

“Yes, sir, I became his slave last night. I gave myself to him, Cousin Rance. I wanted Master Waddie to be my master for the time we have together,” I replied.   

“H’it don’t matter none whether you’re his slave for a night or ten years, what’s important is you both felt the need to bond, and you done it. Good for you, Son. I’ll tell you something I don’t never want chu’ tell’n my boy. If’n Lamar weren’t my boys chosen mate and things turned out different, if he and I were alone together, I would claim him for my own, send him for slave training with Master Waddie’s family, and make him my permanent slave. I'll tell you some'um else. If anything was to happen to Larmar, God forbid, I wouldn't hesitate to make my boy my slave,” he said firmly and I believe him. I never heard Cousin Rance say anything with more conviction.

“Really, sir? You mean it?” I asked in awe.

“Damn straight, Boy! I ain't jes' blow'n smoke up yore' butt, neither! God’s honest truth! I come to love my boy as much as yore’ daddy loves you, and I never wanna’ do without him. As it turns out, Lamar’s become his master and orders him to take care of his daddy. Even when he’s home, he sends his boy into me several nights a week to take care of me. Says he loves to fuck him after I come in him so’s he can push my seed further up in him. He says Dwayne’s a better fuck after he takes care of his daddy. When Lamar’s home, Dwayne don’t take a shit without first asking his ‘husband’ if’n it’s okay. They don’t call it master and slave but it’s the same damn thing Master Waddie’s family practices. Dwayne and Lamar just use the word 'husband' instead of 'master' but in their minds it's the same. I know Master Waddie's son, Gip Claymore, pretty well. He’s sheriff of the next county over from the county where me’n yore’ daddy grow’d up. He comes to a couple of the rodeos every year with his boys where we supply the stock. I been to his ranch. He’s got a nice place,” Rance told me.

“Cousin Rance, sir, I’d appreciate you not telling my daddy about any of this. I’m gonna’ tell him about Mr. Claymore being my roping partner, but he don’t need to know the other. I’ll tell him in time. I want him to know what I’ve learned about myself and him as explained to me by Master Waddie.”

“You know me better’n ‘nat, Boy. I’d never talk about another man’s business with nobody. Ain’t none ‘a my concern, no how. You’re a grown man now, Casey. You’s out in the world doing your own thing. You're right, he don’t need to know the details; however, here's something to remember. Your daddy ain’t be’n no celibate monk, ya’ know? He’s been plowing yore’ little brother’s ass like it’s the lower forty, and he’s late get’n his crops in," Rance said in his best cowboy hyperbole. We shared a laugh, then he had to get back to work.

* * * * * * *
I phoned dad my last night at the Broken Arrow to tell him my news. “Longhorn ranch,” I heard my dad's voice.

“Dad, it’s me, Casey,” I said.

“How are you, Son, we was beginning to git a mite worried, we ain’t heard from you for a while.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m fine, Dad. Better’n fine, I won the Tucson rodeo with my partner, and I won second in calf rope’n,” I said.

“Congratulations, Son, that is good news. Who’d ju’ team up with?” he asked.

“An older gentleman I met here at a ‘rodeo friendly’ ranch I’m staying at for the rodeo. Remember the older cowboy, Mr. Claymore, and his partner who used to beat us all the time? It’s him, Dad.”

I noticed a pause, and my dad was silent on the other end for a minute.

“Dad?”

“Great, Son. I’m sorry my brain got a hiccup there for a minute. Waddie Claymore’s always seemed like a good man. He’s always been nice to me’n you.”
 
“He is, Dad. He’s on a motorcycle run with his family of bikers. They’re on their way to Key West, Florida and stopped by the Broken Arrow ranch because the owner’s are good friends of theirs. Mr. Claymore saw me at a gas station and thought he recognized me. They pulled in and showed me the way out to the ranch. The men who own the ranch have been really good to let me board Rocky and park the Double R on their back lot. Mr. Claymore’s regular partner, Mr. Winston, ain’t with him on his bike run. He weren’t gonna’ rope in the rodeo ‘cause he didn’t have no partner,” I explained.

“Glad you’re having a good time and meet’n some nice folks. Mr. Claymore’s a fine cowboy. You can learn a lot from him, Son,” he said.

“I have, Dad. He taught me a lot of roping tricks what’s improved me lot. He’s a generous man with his rope’n tips. We rodeoed together for several days now, and I’ll miss him for a partner when they leave. I really miss you, Dad. I wish you were here with me,” I started to tear up. He heard it in my voice. He was silent for another moment, and I knew he probably had a lump in his throat.

“I miss you, too, Son,” he said in a cracked voice. I could tell it got to him. “Where you going next, Honcho?” he asked.

“Ain’t real sure, Dad. Ain’t made up my mind. They’s a rodeo in most major towns in the West here for the Fourth. Mr. Yates, the owner of the ranch, said they’s going to the Prescott fourth of July rodeo and invited me to come along. He said it was pretty big and had top prize money for rope’n. I may tag along, they been so good to me,” I said.

“Sounds good, Son. Wish’t we could ‘a  made some of them rodeos, but they’s jes’ a little too far for me to travel.”

“I know, Dad, but that’s okay. I love the ones we got to, and we will again.”

“I hope so, Son,” he said.

“Gotta’ run, Dad, they jes’ rang the triangle for chow. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, Son.”

I hung up, sat there and cried like a baby. I was glad Master Waddie was there to hold me in his big arms and comfort me. I told him I was beginning to believe what he told me about belonging to my dad.

* * * * * * *
My time at the Broken Arrow with the men of Master Waddie’s extended family was certainly an eye-opening experience for me. While I didn’t fully understand their ways, I was beginning to see some benefits of their brand of relationship. They certainly formed, what seemed to me, the strongest of bonds between two men I ever witnessed. I certainly found it comfortable being Master Waddie’s slave. Maybe what Master Waddie was telling me was true. Maybe I did belong to my dad. Of course I belonged to him, he was my dad for Christ sake, but Master Waddie was suggesting a deeper meaning to our relationship I never considered. I decided to accept Master Waddie’s invitation to travel with him and his biker family to his hometown for their Fourth of July rodeo. He wanted me to follow him and Mr. Titus on their bikes, but I knew he and his family were capable of traveling at much faster speeds than I could in the Double R. I told him to ride with them, and I would find my way. I had all kinds of maps with me and saw no problem getting there. He didn’t like that idea. “Can yore’ coach pull two ponies, Son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, with no problem,” I replied.

“Well, then I’ll ride with you, and we’ll pull our ponies,” he said like it was the perfect solution. It didn’t dawn on me for a minute, ‘cause I thought he wanted to take one of the ponies from the Broken Arrow to his hometown. “You gonna’ leave you bike here at the ranch, Master Waddie?” I asked.

“No, Son, my Harley’s the other pony,” he said laughing at me.

“You sure you wanna’ do that, Master Waddie?" I asked. He looked at me, smiled, and raised an eyebrow.“Yes, sir, Master Waddie. Your slave would enjoy the company of his Master, sir,” I replied remembering my manners.

"'At's ma' Good Boy," he replied and grinned from ear to ear.

He rode his bike up the ramp into the trailer the night before we left and secured it with bungee-cords. All we had to do was load Rocky early the next morning. Master Waddie decided since he wasn’t going to be on his bike, he’d be more comfortable in his Western clothes. It didn’t matter to me, he was just as good looking either way. I did, however, notice he stored his leathers in my bedroom. He grinned real big at me when he walked out. I got his message and smiled back. Before we left the Broken Arrow, I told Master Waddie about my blue contact lens and my plan to wear them to his rodeo so it would hide my violet eyes should I accidentally run into my granddad. He thought it was a good idea. I put them in the next morning to go to breakfast. He really did a double take when he saw me. “Damn, them contacts really make your eyes a deep blue color. I like yore’ violet eyes, but them things really make your eyes look striking. I guess 'striking' is the word I’s looking for,” he said.

“Ya’ think they’s too obvious, sir?” I asked.

“No, just to anybody who’s used to seeing yore’ pretty violet eyes,” he replied.
 
The day starts early on a ranch and everyone was up and ready to ride by the time the sun was coming up in the East. We went into breakfast and everyone had a comment about my eyes. I explained over breakfast, since my dad had such bad feelings about his dad and I never met him, if I accidentally ran into him, I wanted a chance to meet or observe him before I let him know who I was. They all agreed, all things considered, it might be a wise idea.  

“I ain’t real sure the biker I met twenty years ago was yore’ granddaddy, Son,” Master Waddie said.

“Wait a minute,” Dan Yates said, “Cowboy, you remember that good looking biker what came to the ranch for a couple of days when Gracie was born. (Gracie was a baby elephant) He was riding with Rondo and Banger’s group. You roped with him several times and said he was a fine roper. He had violet eyes,” Dan Yates said.

“Yes, sir, I remember him. I’d forgotten about him. You’re right he did have violet eyes, damn near the same color as Casey’s, and he weren’t jes’ a good roper, he was a damn fine roper. He could keep up with both of us as I recall,” Cowboy allowed.

“‘At’s right, I roped with him, too, several times. I’d forgotten about that. He was damn good. Is he the biker you were talking about, Waddie?” Dan asked.

“Yes, sir, he has to be the same man; went by the name of Job. I remember him being here. Zane and I roped with him. He was damn good. Sounds more and more like he might ‘a been your grandpa, Son,” Master Waddie confirmed.

My heart sort of fluttered, and I suddenly felt light headed. All the blood drained from my head, and my scalp seemed to crawl away in different directions.

“You all right, Boy? You're white as a sheet?” Big Jim asked from across the table.

“Yes, sir, I think so. I jes’ didn’t give it much thought the other night when Master Waddie told me he rode with a man years ago what had violet eyes. It does sound like it might ‘a been him.”

“I wouldn’t worry none if I was you, Boy, nobody’s seen him in about ten, maybe fifteen years.” Mr. Yates said.

Big Jim, Mr. Titus and several other bikers remembered him, and they agreed it was at least that long ago since they last saw him. It made me wonder. If it was my granddad, and he was riding with a group of men, who were by any definition outlaw bikers, he couldn’t have been so naive he didn’t know what was going on with them. They were men, who, by the bylaws of their family group, owned other men and engaged in male sex; he must have known and accepted it, or at the very least, come to a new understanding. I knew in my heart these men wouldn’t suffer a tight ass crazy religious bigot for a second.

* * * * * * *
I asked Mr. Yates if I could pay him something for my food, board for Rocky, and space for the Double R.

“No, Son, we’s jes’ glad to have you. We enjoyed watching you men rope. Just be sure you drop by and stay a while on yore’ way back. There’s always a place for you at our table," he said and gave me a hug. That really touched me, and I wiped away a tear.

“Thank you, sir, I’ve really enjoyed myself. I greatly appreciate you and Cowboy’s hospitality,” I said.

“Well, you’re welcome, Son; however, it might be nice if you left something for Mrs. Russell in her tip jar on the back porch.”

“I will, sir, I replied and added, "the food was excellent.”

I left Mrs. Russell a fifty dollar bill in her tip jar, and we were on our way. It’s a long haul from Tucson to El Paso. Even though we left early in the morning I didn’t know if we could make it beyond there. You have to drive across the state of New Mexico. It was about a six to eight hour drive if you drove straight through, but I had to think about Rocky. I’d pull off at a roadside park every two hundred miles or so to get him out of the trailer. Master Waddie and I would walk him a little. Taking time for Rocky, pulling extra weight, and the slower pace of the Double R, we didn’t pull into El Paso until five thirty that evening. It was great having someone ride with me, especially Master Waddie. You get to know a person pretty well when you’re traveling with them. We had damn near twelve hours to get to know each other. He was good to give me a break driving. I’d drive a couple of hours, we’d walk Rocky, then change drivers. I told Master Waddie about my dad, and the letter his younger brother wrote him while he was in Nam. Master Waddie just shook his head in disbelief when I told him about my Uncle Seth Quee roping and tying up my granddad to make love to him the night before he left.

I told him my original family name, and he was even more amazed. I told him about my brothers and what we had to go through with the Colonel. He asked me who was staying with my dad while I was gone, and I told him my little brother. He told me about his life, and it was real hard for me to believe some of the things he went through. His life took him from the highest pinnacle to the lowest possible depths. I knew I loved Master Waddie, but it didn’t bother me knowing we would soon part. He probably would go on to love someone else, hopefully Mr. Titus; however, during that ride to his hometown, I gained something almost as valuable as a lover or a mate, he became my friend.
    
Master Waddie knew of a motel on the other side of El Paso where he said his buddies would be staying, and they had several RV spaces you could rent. He was right, all his buddies were at the motel. We stayed there for the night, and there was plenty room to walk Rocky. Master Waddie stayed with me, and fucked me three time that night. He was welcome to the fucks. I was grateful to him for throwing them into me. He relaxed me so much I’d fall into a deep dreamless sleep afterward, to say nothing of the song in my heart and the smile on my face the next morning.

It wasn’t nearly as far from El Paso to the small town Master Waddie was from. It only took us about six hours to get there. Before we got there he ask me not to call him Master Waddie except when we were alone. I ask him if Mr. Claymore would be all right. He smiled and nodded. He explained, while his boy Gip knew everything about him, his wife, two sons and two daughters didn’t. His boy rode with him and his family for a while before he decided to settle down, get married, and have a family. He was a deputy sheriff for several years until the people of the county got pissed-off at their sheriff. Gip Claymore never ran for office. People all over the county were calling him to find out if he would become their new sheriff if they elected him as a write in candidate.

Gip didn’t have anything to lose and agreed. He was elected by a massive write in vote. It was a landslide. He took ninety percent of the votes in the county. The old sheriff claimed the election was illegal, and he wasn’t going to acknowledge the results. He claimed it didn’t matter he only received ten percent of the vote, he declared the ninety percent write in votes for Gip Claymore were illegal, unacceptable, null, and void. The city council went to him and told him he would vacate the position or face arrest and prosecution. They told him the write in votes certainly were legal, and he lost. He quietly stepped down, and Gip was sworn in as their new sheriff.

Gip’s kids were grown. His oldest boy was twenty-two and the younger was twenty. He had a daughter who was home from college for the summer who was my age. His other daughter was the youngest, she was nineteen. He was married to the same woman, Cindy, for almost thirty years. They were very happy together; however, Gip was raised by his granddad and the influence of his dad, whom he thought was his older brother until he was almost grown. Gip figured some things out for himself, and confronted Waddie with what he discovered. Waddie wouldn’t lie to his son and told him the truth. They both agreed not to let Waddie’s dad Buck Claymore know Gip knew he was his granddad. Needless to say, with the influence of those two men in his life, he was as much a rounder as his granddad. He enjoyed getting his cock sucked by a man and fucking a good tight cowboy ass every now and then. He was also like his granddad in one other respect. He never cheated on his wife with another woman.

Master Waddie warned me about his boy. “You’ll fall in love with him right away. He’s more like my old man than I ever was, and they used to call me ‘Buck junior.’ No one who ever met my dad didn’t fall in love with him immediately. Gip’s the same damn way. He’ll have you wrapped around his little finger so fast you won’t know what happened,” he said and laughed.

Master Waddie’s brother bikers were already there. They arrived about a couple of hours ahead of us, and were relaxing under the shade of some large trees. It was a beautiful ranch. It was clean, modern, and neat as a pin. It was obvious Gip and his boys were serious ranchers. They must bust their butts to keep a place this nice looking year in and year out. Master Waddie told me it was his dad’s place before it was Gip’s. Buck Claymore left the ranch to Waddie, but he didn’t want it. Gip asked his dad if he could run the ranch and live there with his budding family. Waddie just gave the ranch to his kid.

Later, I found out Master Waddie owned a couple of other ranches not far from Gip’s ranch two of his other dads left him. We pulled up, I grabbed my hat from behind the seat and Master Waddie grabbed his. Out of the barn came a big man almost as big as Master Waddie lumbering across the way. He looked like a younger, slightly smaller version of Master Waddie. He had the neatest little gut on him that was only slightly noticeable. It made him look like a hard working man who enjoyed his food. He had the biggest grin on his face as he saw us standing next to the Double R. He went to Master Waddie first.

“Dad! Damn it’s good to see you! It’s been too long, damn it!” he exclaimed. He hugged and kissed Master Waddie right on the mouth. Master Waddie didn’t hold back. Gip took one look at me and looked at Master Waddie. “How, the Hell do you do it, Old Man? How do you get the pick of the litter ever’ damn time?” he asked and Master Waddie roared with laughter.

“Gip, this here young man is Mr. Casey Longhorn, my rope’n partner for the Tucson rodeo where we won the big prize money. Casey this is my son, Sheriff Gip Claymore,” Waddie introduced us. Gip was pumping my hand and the next thing I knew I was being held in his arms, and being kissed right on the mouth just like he kissed his dad. I didn’t hold back either. He finished, and put me at arms length to get a good look at me. Then he grabbed me again, and held me close to him.  

“Is my old man do’n right by you, Son? Is he keep’n that little cowboy butt of yours filled ever’ night like a good saddle buddy should?" he blatantly asked.

“To the brim, Sheriff Claymore, for two hours at a throw. He shore’ ‘nuff can scratch my deepest itch, sir. Fucks me good, too!" I declared. Gip threw back his handsome head and laughed. Master Waddie was right again. The sheriff had me right in the palm of his hand. My cock was already hard. He took one look at my crotch and grinned real big. “Is that for me, Cowboy?” he asked with a big Texas grin.

“Afeared so, Sheriff. I apologize for not being able to control it. Sometimes it’s got a mind of its own, sir,” I replied.

Gip laughed. “So does mine, Boy, so does mine, and right now it’s yelling at me to rope and hog tie my old man, steal you away, and git my ole cayuse into your sweet little butt as fast as I can,” he said and roared with laughter.

“Can I help, Sheriff, I can toss a rope pert-damn good?” I offered.

Sheriff Gip Claymore fell out laughing. Master Waddie was laughing at us. “Damn, Son, you be one fine look’n cowboy!” he allowed. Gip looked at his dad and spoke, “I don’t know how you do it, you Old Geezer. Where’n the Hell ju’ find this piece of Gold?" he asked.

“He’s my neighbor in California. We live ten miles apart, within spit’n distance of each other. I roped against him and his dad for several years. They ain’t beat me’n Bob yet, but it won’t be long. I met him in a gas station on the way to Dan Yates' ranch and showed him the way out there. We ain’t spent a night apart since,” my master bragged.

About that time Gip’s two boys came up from the barn, and Gip’s wife, Cindy. She was followed by Gip’s two daughters who came out of the house to meet me. He introduced me all around. His wife was a small woman, but all of Gip’s kids were huge. The older boy was going to be bigger than his daddy, and he was hot. He was one of the finest looking cowboys I’d seen in a while. When we shook hands something passed between us, and we both knew about the other. He winked at me, and I blushed. They called the older son Little Gip, but he was far from little. Little Gip’s younger brother was named Waddie Buck. He was obviously named after his granddad and his great-granddad. The younger sister was named Linda Sue and the older sister was named Ruby Rose. Master Waddie’s biker family came over to greet us. Gip instructed me to get my pony out of the trailer and follow him to the barn. I let the ramp down for Rocky, and he immediately backed out. He turned, and I petted him. Gip was a horseman and ran his hand down Rocky’s side. Rocky didn’t shy away. He sensed Gip knew what he was doing. Gip pointed the way to the barn, we turned, and started walking.

“Don’t you put a bridle on him?” he asked.

“Naw, sir, I never do unless we’re working. He’ll do anything I tell him,” I replied. Gip’s kids were making over Rocky, and I just whistled to him. He came immediately and followed Gip and me to the barn. Gip was amazed. Gip found some oats for him and make sure his automatic drinking cup was filled and working. Rocky seemed happy enough, and we returned to join the others; however, not before Gip grabbed and kissed me in the barn. This time his hand roamed down to my ass and had himself a good feel.

“Woah, dogies! That’s a pretty little ass, Cowboy. I’d shore’ 'nuff love to get me a piece a’ that while yore’ here, if’n you’s a mind to, of course,” he said.

“I don’t think you have to worry none about me having a mind to, Sheriff; however, you haf’ta’ ask my master's permission, sir,” I said and grinned.

“My old man got chu’ talked into give’n yourself to him already?” he asked and laughed.

“Yes, sir, but we know we have to separate after the rodeo, here. I have a great respect for your dad. Out of love and respect for him and his way of live’n, I just wanna’ be his slave for the time we’re together. I asked to be his slave. I wanted to see how I’d feel,” I explained.

“And, how do you feel about it, Son?” he asked.

“Pert-damn good, Sheriff. I'm comfortable with yore' old man as my master. I told him if we didn’t have other obligations, and he was the master, I’d jump at the chance to become his slave,” I allowed.

“Yeah, my old man’s that way; however, once he decides on someone to be his slave, he don’t never look at another man. If’n yore’ his slave, he might loan you out once in a while to a buddy, but he’ll be there to watch. He might decided to let some man suck his dick what’s got the hongries fer ‘em, but he’ll have you right there watch’n. He’d never do nothing behind yore’ back. So, I have to ask my old man if’n I can fuck ya,’ huh?” he smiled then laughed.  

“Yes, sir. I c'ain't do nothing without my master's permission, sir. It just wouldn't be proper,” I said looking him in the eye and winked.

Gip roared with laughter, stole another kiss, put his arm around me a we started walking back to the rest of the group. “If’n I’m a’ gonna’ be split’n that little ass of yorn, you don’t have to call me ‘Sheriff Claymore,’ Son, ‘Gip’ will do jes’ fine.”

“Would you mind if’n I called you ‘Sheriff’ or ‘Sheriff Claymore,’ sir?” I asked.

He smiled and grinned at me. He knew it was a hard-on for me to think on him as a lawman. “Sure, Son, I understand. It might be nice coming from you and know’n why. Does another man own you, Son?” he asked.

“Master Waddie tells me so, but I don’t know, Sheriff. I ain’t made up my mind about that.”

“Is it yore’ daddy, Cowboy?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I replied and looked at him a little amazed.

“Does he give you love? Does he see to all your needs? Does he scratch yore’ itch for ya’? Is he firm, but compassionate and understanding? Has he ever loaned ju’ out to one of his friends or relatives?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. He’s all of them things, and ‘yes’ he’s loaned me out to my bothers and our cousin,” I said.

“Then he owns you, Son. You’re his property, or you would be in the eyes of my dad’s family. You might not attach the same names to your roles, but basically, they’re the same. It’s the difference between tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee,” he declared and laughed.

“That’s the same thing Master Waddie and some of his family have been telling me,” I said.

“Well, my old man’s got some miles on ‘em. He’s been to Hell and back. He’s pretty wise about a lot of things, but he’d never insist you believe ever’ damn thing he tells you. If’n I know him, and I do, he’s gonna’ let chu’ make up yore’ own mind. He’s just gonna’ help you understand some things,” Gip said.

“That’s what he’s doing, Sheriff, and I love him for it,” I agreed.

We walked back to the group. Master Waddie, and a couple of his family helped him get his bike out of my trailer. Everyone was standing around talking, and I pulled Master Waddie aside. “Mr. Claymore, I’m still git’n use to these damn contacts, and they’s beginning to feel uncomfortable. You think it might be all right if’n I removed ‘em for a while, sir?” I asked.       

“Don’t see why not, Son. I doubt seriously yore’ grandpa’s gonna’ come riding up to the sheriff’s home. He might come for the Fourth of July barbecue Gip gives ever’ year after the rodeo, I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Gip, he’d know,” he replied. I thanked him and went into the Double R and took out my contact lenses. After I washed my eyes and face and put some drops in my eyes, I returned to the group.

Gip turned around to look at me and jumped like he’d been shot. “Hoe-lee shit!” he exclaimed. “Would ju’ look at 'tat boy’s eyes. Only ever saw me two other men with eyes like that. Why were you wear’n colored contacts, Son, and hide’n them pretty violet eyes. They’s almost unbelievable,” he asked.

“It’s a long story. We’ll tell you about it a little later, sir,” I responded.

“There’s a good man, I know him well, he’s stayed at the ranch here with us a couple of times when he’s been in town. He’s the ramrod for a rodeo wild stock company, but his eyes are a lot lighter color than yours,” Gip said.

“Would that be Rance Harding, sir?” I asked.

“Damn, you know him, Boy? No, wait! With rare eyes like that, I done learn’t me enough genetics and breeding at ag school to know traits like that runs in families.  He’s yore’ kin, ain’t he, Son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. His mother and my granddad were brother and sister. He’s first cousin to my dad and me,” I replied.

“Well, I’ll be damned. He ain’t the only one around with ‘em. Old man Langtry, who's top waddie or head foreman for the biggest ranch in our county has ‘em. He always comes to our rodeo to rope with a couple of his ranch hands. He’s got them eyes the same color as yorn, Son. Is he kin to ya’?” Gip asked.

I felt Master Waddie’s arm go around me. He turned me and started walking away from the group to be alone. He spoke to Gip. “Come over here, Son, where we can talk in private,” he said. Then he spoke to me, “It’s all right, Son, go ahead and tell Gip. He ain’t gonna’ tell nobody. My boy knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“He be my granddad, Sheriff,” I replied.

“I don’t understand, dad told me your name was Longhorn – oh, I see – yore’ daddy done went and changed yore’ last name.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“But, wait a minute, I’m sure old man Langtry done told me both his boys were killed in Vietnam,” Gip said.

“My dad lost both his legs, but he’s very much alive. He gits around on his store bought legs jes’ fine; good enough to rope and ride. What ranch is my granddad the foreman of, Sheriff Claymore?” I asked.

“The Lazy 8, one of the biggest work’n ranches in the Southwest. Covers a goodly portion of our county. J’ever hear’d of it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I answered without giving away how much I knew about the Lazy 8 or that I was part owner. All sorts of thoughts ran through my head. ‘Why ain’t Sticker never said nothing to me about his ranch foreman having violet eyes like mine? Well, you know Sticker, he’s a cowboy. He don’t tell more’n he has to about his business and private life. He don’t talk about other people none, neither. He don’t gossip, and he don’t make up stories. How much do you really know about Sticker? Not much.’

“Old man Langtry comes to the rodeo ever’ year and ropes with one or two of his ranch hands. They usually be the best ropers of the waddies work’n for him. He’s got one middle aged man who’s darn good. His name’s Thurston Sewell. They won two years before the last rodeo here. Me’n dad won last year; beat the pants off of ‘em.” Gip lowered his voice, “To tell you the truth, I could be dead wrong, but I suspect there’s something going on between old man Langtry and his partner. They’s real smooth with their rope’n. They ain’t the fastest in the world, but what they lack in speed they make up for in accuracy. Most of the other teams mess up. They didn’t have great times at either rodeo, but they made their toss," Gip said.

"About this time ever’ year he loses a number of hands. I don’t know why, the Lazy 8 pays the best of any ranch in the country and they don’t seem to have no problem replacing the ones they lose. Maybe they jes’ get tired of working for him. I can’t say. I understand he’s fair but a no nonsense Top Waddie. I’ve hear’d tell you don’t never wanna’ try’n bullshit him none. He expects a good day’s work for good day’s pay. He comes to the rodeo to look for new hands. He’s hired any number of cowboys who are jes’ local kids coming in for the rodeos. I think they have some romantic notion of living the life of a cowboy, but after they work at it for about a year, day in and day out, it ain’t so romantic no more. I don’t know why I call him old man Langtry. Hell he ain’t as old as dad, and I don’t think of dad as being old. I think Langtry’s in his early fifties. He probably ain’t but a year or two older’n me. So, lemme’ guess, Young Man – you be wear’n them contact lens to change the color of your eyes so’s he won’t be put’n two and two together? I got me a feel’n he don’t know about you. I’ll bet chu’ don’t even need contact lenses to see good,” Gip said and grinned.

“You’re right, sir. You’re real good, Sheriff. I ain’t never met him, and my dad goes ballistic ever’ time I mention anything about my granddad. I jes’ wanna’ meet him and be around him for a while to see for myself what he’s like. I ain’t never had me no granddad, sir. I feel kinda cheated when I know I got one, but I ain’t never been able to meet him. My mom’s dad died shortly after I was born, and my grandma on her side died when I's three. If he thinks my dad’s dead, I doubt he knows anything about having a grandson," I said.
 
“That’s kinda heavy, Son, but I think I can understand how you feel. I don’t know if dad shared with you how I came into this world, but they’s only twelve years difference between me’n dad’s age. I grow’d up think’n he and Gip Justin were my brothers, and my granddad was my daddy. I think granddad was gonna’ tell me shortly before he died, but I stopped him. I told him I already knew what he was gonna’ tell me, I guessed it a long time ago, but h’it didn’t make me no never mind, he was my daddy as far as I was concerned. He was, but I guess I’m luckier than most, I had me two daddies. The point in all this is, I never knew my real mom.

"Dad’s told me about her and so did my granddad when I asked him. They told me she was a beautiful, wonderful woman who just let the wrong man have his way with her. He wanted kids and couldn’t have none, so he took a fresh condom dad used fuck’n his brother in the man’s barn one day. Dad threw it in the trash. After dad and his brother took off, the man got it out, untied it, pulled it on like he was gonna’ use a rubber to fuck his wife. He cut the end out of it, and when he shot his infertile semen, it pushed dad’s active sperm into her. She got pregnant with me from dad’s sperm. She died give’n birth to me. Even today, I wonder what she was like,” Gip lamented.

This man standing before me was an intelligent, sensitive man whom I found myself falling in love with, but it was different from my love for his dad. I wondered if that was what Master Waddie meant about loving more than one person at a time, they’re just different loves.

Gip continued, “Old Bubba Swansey, he done went and leased old man Langtry’s ranch, then later bought it from him when he sold ever’ thing. Langtry bought his'self a Harley and went out there like dad and me to git away from ever’ thing. Bubba told him about the Claymore boys, one coming back from Nam, the other try’n to escape the draft, buying bikes and hitting the road. They say that’s what give him the idea. I don’t know. We ran into him a couple a times out there on the road. He sometimes rode with our family group, dad’s and mine, but he went by the name of Job then. I don’t think dad ever’ knew his real name.

"I never did until he introduced himself to me one day several years after I decided to stop riding with the family. He reminded me where I met him and the name he went by. I asked Bubba a couple ‘a years ago what happened. He told me the old man threw his oldest boy out of his house –  that must a’ been your dad – he threw him out when he was only sixteen for gittin’ a young girl pregnant. Then he caught his boy and Bubba suck’n each other off in his barn,” Gip was giggling so bad he could hardly tell the story, “Bubba laughed and told me he’d been hide’n the little green snake with the Langtry boys, the Harding boy, and another neighbor boy by the name of O.C. since grade school.

"They’s jes’ kids play’n around with each other, cept’n old Bubba, he never quite grew out of it,” Gip giggled again and started his dad laughing, “That dirty old cowboy, he still wants to play hide the little green snake with me ever’ damn time he comes to town for the rodeo,” Gip said disgusted, looked at his dad, and winked, “Less’n we’uns take you to the rodeo under heavily armed guards, and old Bubba gits his'self a gander at chu,’ he’s gonna’ figured some’um out, some way or another to git that big bull prick a’ his up yore’ young cowboy butt. You won’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell, Boy. Why, old Bubba’ll eat chore’ pretty little ass for breakfast,” Gip declared. Master Waddie and Gip broke up laughing. The way Gip told it, I thought it was pretty damn funny, too.

"Anyways, Bubba done told me Langtry was a Hell on wheels evangelical deacon of the Baptist church down where he come from. I guess his youngest boy done some’um terrible to his dad. Bubba done told me he roped and tied his dad up, made love to him, made him come several times, but he didn’t let his old man throw him out. He had Bubba come git ‘em, and he walked out on him vowing never to return. He done like his brother, lied about his age, and joined the Marines to go to Vietnam to be with his brother. He stayed with Bubba until he went to boot camp. He done went and got his'self killed the first couple of months he was over there.

"Bubba said it really did a number on the old man. He damn near went nuts with grief the way he handled ever’ thing and how he treated his boys because of his rigid beliefs. He never had a chance to set it right with them. He went into deep depression and wouldn’t do nothing around the ranch. He wouldn’t go to church no more neither. Before, he was there ever’ damn time the doors were opened. His church family tried to help him, but he ended up kick’n them and preacher out of his house one day, saying all manner of blasphemous things to them. They never went back.

"Finally, he sold ever’ thing he owned and went out to search for his forgiveness. Bubba says Langtry thinks maybe he’s got a grand-kid out there some'mers, but he don’t know if’n it’s a girl or a boy. According to Bubba, ever’ body hated him. Even his sisters and brother wouldn’t have nothing to do with him because of his pious beliefs. He’d visit with ‘em, then start calling ‘em sinners and preach’n to ‘em try’n to save ‘em. It’s real rude for somebody to do that sort of shit because they think they’s more saved than you. Bubba told me ever’ one in the whole damn town knew about his boy git’n married, but not a one would tell him a thing. That was one ‘a the reasons he bought a bike, was to travel’n see if he could find his grandchild. He never found nothing. Not a clue. About ten, maybe eleven years ago he applied for a job as a regular cowboy, a waddie, on the Lazy 8.

"The owner put it under new management and the new manager was a cowboy his'self. He gave Langtry a chance. Langtry parked his Harley in the barn, threw a waterproof tarp over it, and h’it ain’t never been out since. The manager weren’t real pleased with the previous foreman and called Langtry aside to ask him if he thought he could handle the job. The rest is history. Bubba might be able to tell you more, Son. I don’t know for sure, but I think he keeps in touch with Langtry. Bubba always works the Lazy 8 during spring and fall roundup time. He makes extra money and plays cowboy with his boys. Bubba always sees him and talks with him at the rodeo. Bubba and his boys always come to our Fourth of July party and once't in a while Mr. Langtry comes with his rope’n partners. They’s always welcome,” Gip said.

I thanked Gip for the information. I didn’t have to ask, I just knew he would keep it under his hat. “What ya’ think you’ll do, Son?” Gip asked in a concerned voice.

“I don’t know, Sheriff. I’m gonna’ take things one step at a time. I’m shocked, but at the same time, I’m thrilled. I guess I’m also a little afraid. I’m gonna’ sleep on what chu’ done told me. The Fourth is Friday. I have four days to think about it and talk it over with my master. I know he’ll help me. I know he has to go his own way after the rodeo, but he done told me the other night he thought some higher power in the universe brought us together for a reason. So did big Griz at the Broken Arrow. Master Waddie tells me I helped him and now he’s helping me. We got us four days to practice our roping, and that’ll take my mind off of it. I’d like to talk with you some more about it when you have time, sir,” I said.

“Sure, Son, anyway I can help. I know this c'ain’t be easy for you, but you be in good hands with my old man. They don’t make’um no better’n my dad, Son. I think what chu’ need is another long session with that big cowboy in yore’ saddle. Let him git chu’ good’n relaxed, with his big cock way up inside ju’ root'n around and talk it over with him. Hell, wish’t I could be a fly on the wall,” Gip exclaimed.

“Maybe you can, Sheriff,” I replied.  


End of Chapter 27 ~ Texas Longhorns
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Mail to: Waddie Greywolf <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
04/01/2005
09/24/2016