Chapter Text
Bradley squinted through the dust as he approached the ranch. In the distance, he could just make out the shape of a few outbuildings, a nice barn, and a modest farmhouse. Damn he hoped this would work.
“C’mon,” he muttered under his breath, pushing his horse Smokey forward with his heels.
The poor mustang was exhausted after the days of hard travel but hopefully if Bradley played his cards right he could at least rest in the barn here for a few days. He pulled his hat down lower on his brow, fending off the late-afternoon sun, and walked towards the farm house.
Bradley swung his legs over his horse and jumped off, hitting the ground hard and wincing. He took a moment to glance back at Smokey, who should really be called ‘dusty’ by now given how coated he was in Texas’s ever present sand. He half heartedly swiped some of it off the horse and himself and tugged his stetson hat off, clutching it to his chest and becoming aware of the sweaty state his hair was in. Oh well.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
As always this last year, thoughts swirled through his head: would they recognize him as a boy, or just a freak? Would they notice the roundness of his jaw or just see the fact that he was a cowboy plain and simple.
“Hi there,” a tall woman clad in a house dress answered the door. She was wrinkled but kindly looking, almost like a grandmother. It made Bradley’s heart pang for his own parents. “What can I do for you?” she asked with a smile.
“Hello Ma’am,” he answered, pushing his voice to deepen and nodding back because his own mama had raised him right. “I’m out here looking for work, mind if I speak to your husband?”
The woman’s face twitched and she examined Bradley, glancing at him from head to toe. He imagined she saw the holes littering his tattered shirt and worn jeans, the rangey horse standing behind him that Bradley had trained himself, and the beaten down tack he wore. He hoped that she didn’t notice anything else.
“Sure son, come on in and let me grab him,” she said.
Bradley let out a sigh of relief, he was in, at least for now. His expression must have shown on his face because the woman’s expression softened and she added, “you can put your horse in the barn out back for now.”
Once she turned away Bradley faced Smokey and grabbed his reins, leading the tired horse over to the barn.
He patted the gelding on his roan shoulder and exclaimed, “you hear that? Fresh water and hay for you tonight.” Unsurprisingly, Smokey didn’t reply but Bradley thought he saw a hint of gratefulness on his face. Or maybe he was going crazy in the usual way of a cowboy who’s spent too much time alone with only his horse for company.
Bradley nudged open the gate of the barn with one hand and led Smokey into a cramped stall with the other. Sure enough a half full bucket of water sat in the stall and Bradley watched as Smokey eagerly shoved his nose in it. He pulled the saddle and bridle off of the horse and draped them over the low wall then began the walk back up to the farmhouse.
As he walked, he could have sworn that he saw a blonde-headed figure darting past around the corner of one of the other outbuildings but he couldn’t be sure. Bradley shook his head and pushed onwards, maybe he just needed his own glass of water.
When he arrived back to the front porch of the house the door was pulled open before he had a chance to knock.
A gruff man, short and portly, stood holding the door. “Come in,” he muttered and Bradley nodded sincerely and followed along behind him.
The inside of the farmhouse was nice, neat and clean in the usual way of a prideful housewife but also furnished with slightly-better than average things. A large silver belt buckle sat on a shelf that had clearly been polished and a hand woven rug was hung on the wall. Bradley’s eyes widened, this was certainly nicer then the house he’d grown up in.
The man gestured for Bradley to take a seat at the wooden dining table and he did, removing his hat as he pulled out a chair.
“What’s your name son?” the man asked, sitting down opposite him.
“Bradley, sir,” he answered. His fingers twitched at his sides nervously. He bit down hard on his lip, praying the man didn’t notice the lack of facial hair on a boy of working-age.
The man nodded thoughtfully, running his hands over the dark stubble crossing his own face. “You looking for work?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Bradley said, figuring his wife must have not filled him in. “I’m not much good with numbers,” he admitted. “But I can read and write and mend a fence just fine and I’m a fine hand with horses too,” he added.
The man grunted. He swung a wary eye over Bradley’s worn state of appearance. “Where’d you come from?” he asked.
Bradley swallowed hard, he knew rancher-speak for ‘what’s your story’ when he saw it and his mama had taught him not to lie, but even so he had to bend the truth if he ever hoped to make it.
“Up north, I’ve been around horses and cows my whole life but I never knew my father on account of him gettin’ shot down when I was a baby and my mama passed from sickness this year so I headed west looking for work,” He said.
The old man’s eyes widened. “Ain’t that a damn shame,” he muttered then he nodded and extended a gnarled hand to shake, “you’ve got yourself a deal boy,” he said.
Bradley grasped his hand eagerly and smiled, “thank you very much sir,” he responded.
The man huffed, but didn’t seem to mind the formality. “Get yourself on over to the barn and I’ll send for some supper,” he said, adding, “come back up here tomorrow and I’ll get you started.”
Bradley nodded and took his leave. When he got back to the barn he could barely hide his grin though. Smokey popped his head over the stall wall with an inquisitive look and Bradley chuckled, “looks like we’ll be livin good Smokes’,” he muttered.
Bradley plopped down on a pile of old straw in the corner and leaned his back against the wall, setting his stetson down beside himself. He glanced at the old barn - its shingles were in need of repair and if the old man wanted to keep more horses in here he’d have to expand it but it was enough and it was home for now.
He sighed, letting his eyes slip closed as his head tipped back against the wall in exhaustion.
He was awoken not very long after to the sound of footsteps. Bradley’s eyes snapped open and he glanced around, disorientated for a moment until he remembered where he was. His eyes landed on a tall blonde figure.
“Hey,” he mumbled, recognizing the other boy from earlier.
He looked about Bradley’s same age if not a little older, wearing long sleeves and without a hat on. His muscular arms held a bowl and a flask.
“You the new hand?” the guy asked, coming over to Bradley with his brows raised.
“Sure am,” Bradley answered, not phased by the slang term used for hired help.
The boy nodded, “alright,” he muttered, sitting down in the straw next to Bradley. He held out the bowl, “my ma made this for you.”
Bradley took it gratefully and dove into the soup. It was hot, rich and thick with potatoes. He almost moaned at the taste after living off of jerky for months. “Tell her I say thanks,” he managed to get out in between bites. The blonde chuckled.
When he’d finished demolishing the soup, which he couldn’t be bothered to be concerned about in the company of another cowboy, the other boy offered him the flask.
Bradley smirked as he took it and held it to his lips. At the first taste of extremely bitter and sour liquid he recoiled though. He coughed hard and winced, turning bright red.
“You West Texas boys don’t play around,” he choked out, tempted to spit the rest of the vile liquid out.
The blonde laughed, a deep hearty laugh which shook his broad shoulders, shoulders that Bradley found himself watching.
“No we sure don’t,” he replied, “but you get used to it.”
He reached out and took the metal flask from Bradley’s hands and raised it to his own lips, downing several sips without even a hint of a flinch from the harsh taste. Bradley nodded, impressed.
They passed the flask between themselves for a while, lapsing into silence except to chuckle at Bradley’s weak attempts at drinking the stuff. There wasn’t much to say anyways, maybe the other boy had heard Bradley’s sorry tale from his father or maybe he hadn’t but either way they both knew times were tough.
They kept passing the flask until it was nearly empty and Bradley was beginning to feel light headed. In the growing darkness of the barn Bradley watched the other cowboy drink, sip, smile, and relax, in a kind of peacefully-exhausted state of mind.
Soon enough though a voice from the farmhouse was shouting, “Jake! Come on back!”
The blonde, Jake, smiled one more time and tipped the flask to his lips, emptying the rest of the contents into his mouth. His eyes shown golden as they landed on Bradley’s face in the dim lighting. Jake drank and lowered the bottle from his lips real slow like, almost as though it wasn’t the whiskey he was trying to savor.
Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows outside the barn like a ghost and leaving Bradley to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.
What he hadn’t imagined, Bradley knew the next morning, was how strong that goddamned liquor had been. The constant headache he’d had since he woke up early in the morning was a reminder of the night before.
He trudged up to the farmhouse, doing his best to brush the stray bits of straw off of himself as he went. Once he’d gotten to the porch though, he could hear an argument going on inside. He paused outside the door, frozen and listening.
“The boy needs a proper girl!” the old woman’s voice shouted.
“Ma it’s-” a voice that Bradley recognized as Jake’s chimed in.
Then the old man cut him off, “there’s plenty of time Margret,” he said, “besides Jake needs time to sow his wild oats before he can get married.”
Bradley heard a loud huff and then the sound of retreating footsteps. Cautiously, he knocked on the door.
“Oh come on in,” The woman-Margret, huffed.
Sheepishly, he pried open the door and tiptoed inside, not wanting to intrude on family events. That didn’t seem to be a problem though because the old man laid eyes on Bradley and immediately sent him back out into the fields to mend fences.
Bradley dipped his head respectfully, “yes sir,” and he was back outside.
Mending fence, he thought to himself as he walked back to the barn to gather Smokey, was the cowboy’s church. A constant on any ranch you went to, it was a nearly daily chore and one that was never finished.
Bradley fetched Smokey from the stable, swinging his lean body up onto her with ease and heading off at a trot along the various fence lines to look for breaks.
He jumped off the horse when he spotted one, ducking down to his knees to pull the barbed wire tight again with his leather-glove clad hands. He was so immersed in his work that he jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Gah!” he yelped then cringed when he heard how high his voice had gone.
Jake didn’t seem to notice, he just chuckled.
“My pa sent me out here to help you,” he offered by way of explanation.
Bradley nodded, forcing a stoic look back onto his face again. “Alright, hand me that roll of wire would you?”
Jake passed it over, his thin, nimble fingers brushing against Bradley’s wrist. He shuddered involuntarily, turning away from Jake and towards the fence so the other cowboy wouldn’t see his flushed red face.
They worked in companionable silence for a while until Jake broke it, a pattern that Bradley was picking up on.
“So,” the other man started, “where you from in the north?”
“New Jersey,” Bradley answered.
Jake whistled low in his throat, “Jesus, so you come a hell of a long way huh?
Bradley didn’t bother to admonish him for using the Lord’s name in vain, afterall his momma would call what he was doing right now sinful if she was still alive. Instead he nodded, not saying anything.
“I’ve never left Texas,” Jake admitted, ducking his head. “But I want to,” he added quickly.
This sparked Bradley’s interest, “where would you go?” he asked idly.
“Anywhere,” Jake answered, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “Maybe the Oregon territories, somewhere wild and open…”
Bradley hummed, “that sounds nice.”
He knew boys weren’t meant to talk like this, to speak of beautiful places or secret dreams but Jake had started it and the other boy seemed not to mind any of Bradley’s strangeness.
They worked the rest of the day and into the evening until the sun faded and it became too dark to see the fence. Then Jake left to go to his farmhouse with a wave and Bradley disappeared to the stables.
That night as he lay in his pallet of straw and listened to the soft sounds of the horses he almost missed Jake’s company. He lay awake thinking for a while instead.
The first time Bradley dressed as a boy was the week after his mother died. She was a widow and Bradley was an only child so after he buried her in the church, there was no one coming to look after him. He was fourteen.
He’d pulled on trousers and a thick jacket with the pretense of finding work since no one would hire a girl. But then…he still didn’t know what to make of it but it was as if something came over him. The clothes felt so right, like he’d been waiting for them his whole life. So Bertha became Bradley and he set out westward looking for work.
During the year that it took to make it as far as Kentucky, Bradley had been too preoccupied to worry about what sinful things he was doing dressing up as a man. Afterall his secret had to remain hidden so he never took the men’s clothes or the tight wrappings around his chest off. And now, he knew-he just knew that he couldn’t go back.
The sun rose bright and early, the cawing of birds overhead waking Bradley. He groaned, rolling out of his pile of hay and emerging from the stable rubbing his eyes.
When he wandered up to the farmhouse he found Jake waiting for him, blue eyes shining with excitement as he sipped from a flask of coffee.
“Bradley!” the other boy called out. “C’mere, my pa says he has a special task for us.”
Bradley swallowed, working to deepen his voice before he spoke. “What is it?”
Jake grinned, “we’re goin out just the two of us to scout new rangeland for the the cattle.”
Bradley smiled despite himself at Jake’s look of child-like excitement. “Sounds good,” he murmured.
Jake’s father emerged from the farmhouse a moment later, scrubbing a hand across his beard as he spoke, “your to cross the river to the east behind the bend and scout around the valley, find out if the grass looks suitable and if there are any indians lurking about,” he drawled.
Bradley didn’t miss Jake’s wince at the cutting sound of his father’s voice but he ignored it and pushed onwards. “Yes sir,” he replied, tipping his hat at the older man.
They saddled up the horses in the stable and moved east. Jake was practically thrumming with excitement as they rode.
“This’ll be the farthest I’ve ever gone,” he exclaimed.
Bradley nodded, it would be about a week long journey, maybe a week and a half if something went wrong, god forbid. The warning about Indians from Jake’s pa rang fresh in his ears and he muttered, “we’ve gotta be careful though, we don’t know what’s out there..”
Jake’s smile dropped a bit.
The horses moved well, Smokey had rested up in the few days he’d been here and not on the trail west riding long hours. Around them, the landscape seemed to open up in a storm of summer green mixed with desert yellow. Wildflowers burst through the scrubby grass with every step and the blue sky seemed to stretch forever above their heads.
It was true, Bradley mused to himself as they rode, that the landscape was the best part of being a cowboy.
His thoughts were interrupted after a few hours of silence by Jake pointing out, “there’s the river ahead, you wanna cross it and then camp for the night?”
Bradley grunted in acknowledgement, “good plan.”
As they got closer he could hear the roar of the river emerging from behind its cover of trees and green grass surrounding it. When they pushed through the trees the river before them was thrashing fiercely.
Bradley whistled lowly, “we’ve gotta find a spot to cross that ain’t gonna kill us,” he muttered.
Jake nodded, looking a little pale as he stared into the depths of the raging river.
Bradley snorted, “first time crossing terrain, cowboy?” he prodded, jesting.
“No,” Jake shot back, pouting. “Come on, let's find a spot to cross.”
They followed the river’s slight curved, stumbling through the trees and underbrush until Jake stopped.
“Here,” he exclaimed, pointing at the stretch of river in front of them.
Bradley hesitated, it still looked like it was moving fast, even though it was shallower.
“I don’t know-” he started to say but when he turned back towards Jake he found the other cowboy already pushing his horse forward into the water.
Jake’s mare took one uneasy step into the river, sank up to her knees, then squealed in alarm and rushed forward as if she was trying to jump the river itself. They landed wildly on the other side, Jake clinging to the saddle horn to keep from falling off.
“What the hell was that?!” Bradley shouted at him but Jake just righted himself, grinning and laughing like he’d lost his mind.
“What’s the problem?” Jake jeered triumphantly, “you never crossed terrain, cowboy?”
Bradley flipped him off then eased Smokey forward and the mustang carefully waded the deep river.
The sun began to sink lower on the horizon and the horses grew tired.
“Here,” Bradley offered, gesturing towards a flat prairie area.
Jake nodded in agreement, swinging off of his mare and hitting the ground with a thump. Bradley followed suit, letting smokey graze while he pulled supplies out of his saddle bags.
Both men were tired and quiet as they went to work setting up camp for the night. Bradley was grateful that Jake knew what he was doing, he might have been a rancher’s son but he must have been out in the wild a fair amount.
At last with the horses untacked and hobbled and a fire set up, Jake plopped down to the ground with his face barely illuminated in the young fire. Bradley sat down next to him, quietly keeping one eye on their horses.
It was quiet in the wilderness, only the faint sounds of the horses grazing could be heard. In the distance a coyote howled and a few others answered. Jake shivered.
“You think they’re far away?” the blonde asked almost in a whisper.
Bradley nodded even though he wasn’t sure. He found himself wanting to comfort Jake. “Of course they are,” he answered, “you know those howls travel far in the wind.”
They drifted back into companionable silence, each staring into the fire and entranced by the flickering glow of the yellow and orange flames. It made Bradley feel distinctly human, his thoughts drifted to his ancestors that came before him who survived by making fires just like this.
The night turned to inky blackness around them and Bradley was about to remark on the late hour to Jake when he felt a heavy weight drop onto his shoulder. He froze, stiffening as he turned his head just enough to confirm that Jake had indeed slumped against him, fast asleep.
Bradley’s heart beat fast in his chest, his palms grew sweaty. Surely it wasn’t right to let the other man sleep on him, to allow so much intimacy when they were practically strangers. He considered waking Jake up but he didn’t know what he’d say to him and he squashed the thought. Instead he carefully leaned back so his own head was cradled against the oak behind him and let his own eyes slip closed, the heavy and warm weight of Jake’s head resting in the crook of his neck keeping him grounded.
If that was wrong, Bradley didn’t want to be right.
He awoke the next morning sore and cold and alone. Bradley cracked his eyes open, finding Jake tending to the horses a few feet away. For some reason his heart calmed knowing that Jake hadn’t run off in the middle of the night.
Indeed, the blonde turned towards him and saw that Bradley’s eyes were open.
“Mornin’”, he said good-naturedly.
“Morning,” Bradley croaked back, his voice hoarse and rough from sleep. He could have sworn he spied a blush rising on Jake’s cheeks before the other man turned away.
He wondered if Jake remembered last night at all or if the other cowboy had just shifted away in his sleep eventually and woke up not touching Bradley afterall.
They went back to their work of saddling the horses and riding off. The day stretched long and hot ahead of them with the Texas sun promising a ‘sorcher’ as Bradley’s Ma used to say.
The men grew bored as they rode and stared at the endless horizon ahead of them. Jake at least entertained himself by talking just to hear the sound of his own voice.
“Ya’ know what those purple flowers are? I keep seeing em everywhere,” the blonde inquired.
Bradley shrugged, “could be lupin I guess.”
He startled when Jake shoved a handful of the flowers into his lap, having reached over and grabbed some. Jake just grinned when Bradley stared at him with wide eyes.
“For you,” the blonde murmured demurely like some kind of society lady. Bradley chuckled, storing the flowers in his saddle bag and hoping the other man couldn’t see his blush.
“Glad to see your spirits are still high,” Bradley remarked like the whole thing was just some joke.
“Yep!” Jake smirked, popping the ‘p’ exuberantly.
It was later in the day, drifting towards evening once they’d settled down again that Jake's line of questioning turned more real.
“You got a girl back where you came from?” he asked. His back was to Bradley and Bradley still froze where he was chopping wood.
“N-no,” he muttered, deciding for honesty.
Jake nodded slowly, “me neither,” he paused for a long time and Bradley thought that might be the end of it until Jake muttered, “there’s not many girls around the ranch I well-I don’t know..” He trailed off.
Bradley kept quiet, not wanting to spook Jake and not daring to hope too much either.
“There’s no preacher out here,” he prompted at last, “just me.”
That relaxed Jake, his shoulders sagged and he let out a breath. He spun around to face Bradley.
“I ain’t never felt what us guys are supposed to feel for a girl, maybe I just haven’t met the right one yet but maybe…there is no right one,” Jake breathed at last.
Bradley sighed, he knew that feeling so well it might as well be home by now.
“I understand,” he said, keeping his words simple and safe, not implying anything. He still didn’t fully know Jake and he couldn’t risk his real secret with anyone.
“You do?” Jake asked.
Bradley gulped down a deep breath before he said his next words. “I do.” he gestured for Jake to sit down next to him where he was building the fire and passed the other man his flask of whiskey.
Jake gulped it down eagerly to settle his nerves then leaned against a tree, his half lidded eyes never leaving Bradley’s form as he worked.
Shift, swing, chop, shift, he broke the wood into strips of kindling and arranged it on the ground for their fire. It was rhythmic, steadying, and it helped to calm Bradley’s racing mind.
He lit it with a match and watched it catch fire for a moment, avoiding Jake’s heavy gaze on him. He took a big sip from the flask and felt his head begin to swim pleasantly. He leaned back against the tree, eyeing Jake.
The blonde was inches away, his face turned through emotions quickly before a determined look crossed his expressions and then he was reaching out. Too close to be mere friendliness, too intimate to be friendly, too gentle to be friendly. Bradley didn’t stop him, not even for one moment.
Their lips met and Bradley was hit with a rush of sensations. Jake’s upper lip dusted with hair brushing against Bradley, something he’d never have for himself. The thick taste of whiskey on both their tongues. Then the sweet softness of Jake’s hand caressing the back of his neck, his hair, not minding the sweat and dirt there. Bradley pushed further into Jake’s mouth, inquisitive and exciting. He’d never done this either.
Then Jake was pulling away, a mildly confused and hurt look on his face. Bradley paused.
“You okay?” he whispered. It was well and truly dark now.
Jake stiffened, obviously battling a war between his emotions, his lust, and the copious amounts of liquor in his system.
“S’wrong…” he managed, his back turned away from Bradley.
Bradley choked on his own tongue. No, it’s not, he meant to say but he couldn’t get the words out. Maybe it was really wrong after all.
Jake turned away and laid down, a safe distance away with his back to Bradley. Eventually Bradley did the same, staring at the silhouette of Jake’s body in the darkness and wondering what it would be like to reach back out.
He fell asleep with his hand halfway extended towards Jake as if in a silent hope.
They awoke to a war cry.