Gay Short Story: Colorado Cowboys

Read the rest here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07J2KBGTF

Since the dark ages, my family has had a farm in the middle of nowhere in Colorado. The mountains and trees spread infinitely towards the horizon where the eyes can’t see and the nights are as clear as in Alaska.

We used the ranch for the cattle and getting timber from the nearby trees. We did it all as according to the laws and never did we have a problem with the local government. We were always environmentally conscious. Another thing is that, during the winters, we used to go to California where we could live some warmer days. Anybody who has been to Colorado knows how cold it can get in the winters. During the periods we were there, we would always live the farm in the hands of our local friends and strangers looking for temporary residence. 

Some of these people were cowboys looking to leave the life of the wilderness and independence from the urbans accommodations. They were usually a sturdy and self-centered lot who could pose fear to most people in the world.

It was during the winter of 2016 where I came back from a tour in South America and met a chiseled-featured rangy cowboy named Big Hill, who was leaning on the gate at the entrance of the farm. He seemed to have been there just admiring the distant mountains and lakes.

He was showing off his hard-worked body with a foot on the lower rail and sporting a stalk of oats in his mouth when I approached him with my Jeep Cherokee. He smiled and lifted up his hand to let me know he was aware of me. Someone else, a hunk bulky young man was close to Big Hill and keeping him company. He lifted his arm up to greet me.

“I had been informed of your arrival, Mr. Dylan,” Big Hill said to me. I got out of the jeep and walked towards him. As I got closer, he moved his oily cowboy hat back so that I could get the full picture and details of his face. His pupils were glistening as a sign of good welcome for me.

“That alright. I got tired of all the bugs and dangerous animals in the Amazon”, I grinningly said to him. “I decided to come here to evaluate if Colorado is also as dangerous as South America.”

“Heh, knowing Colorado, there’s probably a few hotspots where you can see animals who are more dangerous than those in South America”, Big Hill replied with a warm laugh. “But actually, I’m guessing that you came here because you wanted to take another trip up to the nearby mountains, right?” 

“How did you know? Hahahaha that’s what I always do when I get here.” I have been meaning to visit the mountains because I concluded that I needed to relax and the wilderness is the perfect place for that.

“Sad that you couldn’t bring your family with you, though”. Big Hill stated.

“Nope, they are still enjoying life in California. I didn’t even bother going there first since I knew they would prefer to stay there. It’s what they do every winter.”

“So, you are all by yourself?” Hill questioned.

“That’s right. What about your family, are they here?” I asked.

“Not, they aren’t here. They decided to spend their vacations in North Carolina this time. They wanted to see the beaches and spend some time there.”

“That means we are by ourselves here, then?

“Yup, the workers have not come here this time. I’m afraid you will have to make do with me. I will be your general handyman and cook for the coming weeks.”

 

“That’s fine by me,” I said.

“So, are you still up for the little adventure in the mountains instead of staying here?”

“Sure, can you go prepare the horses and everything else for the trip? We are going to sleep there and admire the night sky. The starts will be beautiful today, I imagine.”

“No problem, that will be easy. But, oh, how did I forget this? This is Long John. Mr. Dylan, meet Long John.”

After we shook hands, I asked myself why that was his true name. Most of the people that came to the farm never used their true names. The reasons for that varied, but the common motivation was that they were all trying to run away from their real lives. With enough probing and insistence, though, it was possible to get some info from their backgrounds. I knew some of Big Hill’s story, but I wondered where Long John came from. Considering that he was one muscled, blond of a male specimen, he probably had a difficult upbringing. He looked to be Scandinavian in origin and his accent was a typical southern one. The sun and the wind had not left marks on his face yet. He was very friendly to me and I liked that.

“I think Long John here wants to go with us. What do you think about that, Mr. Dylan? I think he would be a fine companion with us in the mountains.”

“Sure, I would like for him to come with us. That would be a blast.”

“That’s great, we are going to have a great time there.” Big Hill said as he sported a big grin.