Empty Saddles

Beta by LP, all remaining mistakes are mine.

By this time tomorrow, Bill would be starting the long, slow process of rotting in the county jail. Hayes could only hope that, through popular opinion and support, Bill would gain pardon before he found himself at the end of a gallows drop.

Hayes wouldn’t be there to witness the fate of his lover, of course, since he would be the victim. But Hayes would die no martyr’s death. Instead he imagined that every year the townsfolk would hold a parade to celebrate the slaying of the no-good, scoundrel, horse-bane Hayes.

Hayes rolled onto his back unable to get comfortable. The bed was sagging beneath him. The ropes needed to be tightened again. It was a pitiful fate that he wouldn’t even be allowed to wallow in comfort.

He got up and removed the layers of blankets. At least it would give him something to do to help pass the time. Once he finished adjusting the bed he made a circuit of their home looking for any repairs he could do to keep his mind from thinking about what was going to happen when Bill returned.

In a way this was really Sawyer’s fault. Sawyer couldn’t go within five yards of a horse before sweat broke out on his prim, pallid brow and his namby-pamby moustache began to droop. So naturally, he owned a whole ranch of them, because that’s what everyone does when terrified of something—they move out west so they can surround themselves with it.

Sawyer was mocked for his fear from one end of town to the other. Just about everyone wanted to see him get into his fancy carriage and go back where he came from. Even Hayes had made a few choice comments to Sawyer about the matter. Bill, of course, had silenced him with a look and a gesture that threatened to disclose Hayes’ own shortcomings in that department. Because, well, Hayes wasn’t too fond of horses either.

It was the teeth. They were far too big for something that supposedly ate only grass. As a child an aunt had forced him to confront his fear by feeding one sugar cubes. Tiny, tiny sugar cubes. Not only had the horse gnashed its teeth and rolled its eyes at the frightfully inadequate sugar offering, but it tried to steal his hand along with it. He had wailed, and cried, and clutched the cubes to his chest to save his skin when the horse had let out a mighty and vindictive sneeze, covering his small frame in the resulting spittle and snot.

He’d never been the same.

           

Sawyer must have had his own reasons for his fears, but since Hayes had withheld empathy thus far he was determined not to reveal his own weakness. Unfortunately that was going to be difficult now that he’d challenged Sawyer to go riding tomorrow. Sometimes his temper got him into the worst of troubles. This time there was only one logical way to get out of it—overcome his fear so that only Sawyer would look like a sissy. So that was how he found himself at his closest neighbor’s ranch, which just happened to belong to Sawyer, doing his best to become accustomed to being so close to a horse. Size was relative, he’d told himself. He was a man now and so the teeth would be smaller and therefore bound to be less frightening.

This theory had not proven as true as he’d wanted it to.

Which was why he was home, and Bill and the others were out rounding up all of Sawyer’s horses.

Running out of ways to distract himself, Hayes gave up and climbed back into bed. At least now it was a comfortable place to be miserable. He was snug as a bug in a—under a magnifying glass in all honesty.

His stomach growled. He’d skipped lunch. He wondered if Bill would grant him a last request before he throttled him into the next kingdom.

Hayes heard the lock turn in the door and his body tensed in apprehension. He’d been miserable about the wait, but now it hardly seemed long enough.

It seemed like Bill took an eternity to hang up his hat and remove his boots.

“Did you get all the horses?” Hayes was afraid to ask but he did anyway, prompted by a small, fiendish voice that insisted concern would portray him as a better person and thus one worthy of keeping above ground.

“Yes.” Bill removed his jacket which was part of his normal routine, but then he began undoing the buttons on his sleeves which wasn’t. It was a bad sign. “Don’t get up. We need to have a talk.”

That was a worse sign.

“Sure, Bill, what about?” He heard his voice crack and he wished he’d just stayed silent.

Unlike Hayes, Bill was good at silent. A skill he demonstrated as he fetched his pipe and tobacco, and as he brought a chair to sit in front of Hayes, who was still curled up on the bed—in hindsight Hayes realized that made him look guiltier than anything else, like a dog that sits on the porch with a woebegone expression after it’s got into the chickens again—but it was too late to do anything about that now.

Although watching Bill pack his pipe did give Hayes some relief. It would be near to nigh impossible to strangle him when Bill’s hands were so occupied.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Bill asked.

“Earlier?” Just because Hayes knew he was caught didn’t mean he was ready to sign the confession.

“No games. A stable hand saw you.”

“Ah.”   

“Care to fill me in on why you let all of Sawyer’s horses go? I know you don’t like him, but this seems mean spirited for—”

“That wasn’t it at all.”

Smoke rolled out of Bill’s mouth as he waited for an explanation. He would wait like that all day if necessary.

“I went down to see the horses,” Hayes said. “I had some apple bits to feed them.”

Bill’s eyebrows rose at that. He took a puff on his pipe before slowly nodding his head.

“That don’t explain why you opened the gate,” Bill said.

“I wanted to go inside.” Hayes took a breath. “To prove I wasn’t scared of them.”

Bill took a long pull on his pipe, the smoke curling around his words as he spoke. “A section of Sawyer’s fence was down, had been for over a day, those horses were itching to get out of that corral.”

“I didn’t know.”

Bill nodded. “This is about that reckless, one-sided feud you got going on with Sawyer and we both know it.” He set his pipe down on the night stand and stood up.

Hayes’ heartbeat quickened. “It wasn’t.”

“You were quick to make fun of him about his fear of riding, now you don’t want him figuring out you’re just the same.” Bill gave him a look hard enough to make Hayes drop his gaze. “Now you don’t have to worry, since you won’t be fit to sit in a saddle, not for a few days at least.”

Hayes’ eyes began to water. He was too old to be licked, but for some reason the universe seemed intent on showing him otherwise. Maybe to make up for all the times he was never punished as a child.

“Bill, it was an accident, honest.”

“You’d think,” Bill said as he sat down beside him. “Since you and Sawyer are both from back east that you’d be more sympathetic toward him.”

“Somebody that afraid of horses has no business owning so many of them.”

“He inherited them. And at least he’s trying to learn the business, not just selling them like most men in his position would do.”

“He’d be better off,” Hayes said, but he couldn’t meet Bill’s eyes.

“He gets a hard enough time from everyone else. Don’t need you adding to the mix.”

“Are you done?” Hayes’ tone was sharper than he’d intended. He could feel Bill’s eyes hot on him, but he didn’t dare look up.

“With the talking part I am.” Bill took a hold of the blanket and began to pull it off of Hayes.

“Wait.” Hayes voice was higher than normal as he grabbed Bill’s hand to stop the motion.

“You know you’ve earned it.” Bill’s expression was patient, as if he was willing to wait as long as necessary for Hayes to let go of his hand.

Hayes took a breath and gathered his defiance, the closest he can get to courage under the circumstances.

“If you say so.” His tone was bitter, but when he releases his grip he knows Bill will recognize it for the sign of consent it was.

Bill finished removing the blanket from Hayes and flipped him onto his stomach. He stretched out beside him and Hayes can feel the weight of an arm across his back while the other undoes the buttons on the front of his trousers.

Hayes only offers the slightest resistance as Bill slides the fabric down off his hips. The cold air against Hayes’ bared skin makes him shiver—not that Bill will let that be a problem for long.

Bill’s palm connects with his backside and Hayes makes a soft gasp. Embarrassed, he sets his jaw, determined not to make any more noise. That was important.

He wasn’t sure why exactly. Bill would go easier on him once he broke down. Prolonging it didn’t make sense, except that, somehow, it did.

The sound of palm striking bare skin was loud. It was one of the rare times Hayes was grateful to live in the middle of nowhere.

Bill was experienced at this, one strong arm delivering spank after spank while the other was there to keep Hayes still once it became necessary.

And it did become necessary. The first part of Hayes’ body to lose the battle was his hips. They rocked back and forth trying to shift the blows to a less sensitive spot. But Bill responded by adjusting his aim. Either that or there were no such spots left.

Hayes clenched his muscles and relaxed them. Nothing was helping.

“All right,” Hayes said, his tone gruff and a lie.

Bill said nothing, his hand continued to fall across Hayes’ aching bottom.

“I said all right, damn it.”

“I heard you the first time.” Bill was as calm as ever.

“I’m done.” Hayes tried to push up off the bed, but Bill pressed him back down.

“Are you?” And Bill—the bastard—chuckled.

“Yes, I am. You won, I won’t do it again.” Hayes’ legs were shifting hard now, any moment the motion was going to turn into kicks. He needed to end this while he still had some pride left.

“Glad to hear it.”

Hayes gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, all right? I shouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s right. You should never have started this feud.”

He wanted to argue that he didn’t start it, but they both knew that wasn’t true.

  

“I should’ve stayed back east. Married some rich thing,” Hayes said instead.

“I’m sure you should’ve.” There was no bitterness to Bill’s voice, as if he knew better than to take offense at what Hayes said when angry.

It might not be right, but it was one of the things Hayes loved about him. No matter what rotten thing he said, it just rolled right off of Bill. He might get taken to task for it, but he was never rejected.

And that was what got him. “Didn’t mean that,” Hayes said and whatever Bill’s response was became lost under the sound of his sobs.

Bill lifted him up and wrapped him in his arms. Hayes clung to him, his face buried in a shirt that smelled of tobacco, and sweat, and everything that was Bill.

“I’m sorry.” This time he meant it.

“Shh, it’s all right.” Bill rubbed firm hands up Hayes’ back. He pressed a kiss on top of his head.

Maybe he should have just settled down like his parents’ wanted. Married some upper class gal and made babies. Instead he’d let the pull of two fine blue eyes draw him out west, to a land of lawlessness and chaos. And horses.

But none of those upper class gals had ever made him feel the way Bill did.

“I’m not like Sawyer,” Hayes said, his voice muffled by his tears and Bill’s shirt.  

“You were.” And before Hayes can catch his breath to respond to that, Bill continues. “Not so much now.”

Which makes it ok again, so he doesn’t say anything, just relaxes into Bill’s arms, allowing himself to be soothed.

“You fix the bed?” Bill asks after a while. “It feels better.”

Hayes nods against his lover’s shirt.

“You always get stuff done when you feel guilty. Maybe you ought to do wrong more often.”

“Only if you agree to let me get away with it.”

Bill snorted. “Come on and help me with supper. It’s getting late.”

Hayes stomach grumbled at the thought.

“Here.” Bill took his hand and towed him off the bed and into the kitchen. “Why don’t I take you out riding sometime, just the two of us, give you a chance to get used to them.”

Hayes liked that idea. With Bill and in private, he might just be able to get over his fear. So that next time it comes up he’d be able to show Sawyer a thing or two.

But he’s wise enough to keep from speaking that thought out loud. Instead he turns his focus to helping Bill with supper. Bill looks out of place in the kitchen, like he’d be more suited to eating beside an open fire. Whatever Hayes gave up when he moved west to start a life with Bill, he knows Bill has given up just as much. But it’s ok, because where ever he ended up, in the East or West, there was no better company in which he’d rather be.