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The weather this winter was awful, far worse than it had been a couple of years ago. It was cold and harsh, merciless to all live beings. The once-wild and chilly lands of Minnesota had become a snow-covered, lifeless expanse. It seemed even the animals were too scared to venture out of their dens, and people, even more so, stayed inside their homes, waiting for warmth to return. Those brave enough to step into the icy desert of snow and death risked never coming back home. Dutch, Hosea, and little Arthur were among those brave souls. Arthur had been only thirteen when they picked him up, embittered and grubby, on the streets of a dusty, crowded town. Nearly a year had passed since then. The first few months were the hardest – Arthur was scared of them, didn’t trust them, and said nothing to make their communication any easier. But gradually, their relationship improved, transforming into a bond of trust and reliability, much like that between parents and their child. Arthur stopped keeping silent about his fears and needs, sharing what troubled him as a fourteen-year-old kid. Both Dutch and Hosea were extremely happy about this change.
But right now, they were making their way through a snowy shroud, almost blindly. They needed to find shelter for the night—or perhaps even a couple of days—as quickly as possible. The horses were freezing, neighing indignantly and shaking their heads nervously. The riders were no better off; Dutch felt as if icy crystals were already forming on his mustache. Arthur, sitting in front of him, was wrapped in two blankets and squinting against the snow that pelted his face. Fortunately, the boy hadn’t started chattering his teeth yet, unlike Dutch. The cold had seeped straight into his bones. Dutch cupped his hands over his mouth and breathed out warm air, rubbing his palms together. The hot breath quickly turned into steam. Just don’t get sick.
Hosea led them, lighting the way with a lamp. Silver Dollar trudged heavily, snorting each time the tops of the snowdrifts reached the horse's belly. For a moment he stopped, and Dutch also slowed The Count down. He couldn’t ask what was the reason for their break - howling wind would drown out any shout. Suddenly, Hosea turned left and spurred Silver Dollar, making the horse gallop faster. A spark of hope ignited in Dutch's heart, and following the older man's example, he spurred his horse and raced after Hosea. Within a few minutes, the outlines of a cabin began to emerge through the white veil of the snowstorm, and Dutch allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The cabin didn’t look as if it could shelter anyone also hiding from the storm, but vigilance couldn’t be lost. Finally, the men dismounted, and Dutch took Arthur off the horse.
“Go inside, and I’ll take care of the horses!” Dutch shouted through the wind, giving the boy a nudge and handing the supply bag to Hosea. The older man nodded, and he and Arthur went to the front door. Only when they disappeared inside did Dutch shift his focus to the horses. Taking the reins of The Count and Silver Dollar, he led them to the decrepit barn. It was cramped, damp, and smelled of straw, but it was better than nothing and at least somewhat warmer. Dutch fed both horses and patted their strong necks.
“You did great, boys,” he said, then took the bags and hurried toward the house.
The warm yellow light from the fire burning in the fireplace was already visible through the windows. Dutch slammed the door shut behind him with a crash – the piercing wind immediately died down, howling mournfully outside. It was still cold inside, but as the fire in the hearth grew stronger, it began to warm up. Arthur sat on a small sofa by the fireplace, diligently opening cans of stew. Noticing Dutch, the boy jumped up from his seat and ran over to him, taking a small part of the load from the man.
“Th-thank you, Arthur,” Dutch said through chattering teeth as he made his way toward the fireplace. “And w-where’s Hosea?”
“I’m here, Dutch," came the voice from the next room. Arthur, realizing he no longer needed to respond, returned to his task, and soon three cans of food were lined up by the fireplace.
“It’s good you found this cabin. How did you find it, by the way?” Dutch asked, warming his hands by the fire.
“I decided to try my luck… Actually, it’s not on the map. A guy at the saloon was talking about a place in the area where he likes to spend time with his lady,” Hosea said, lowering his voice so Arthur wouldn’t hear the last part, “I just happened to remember it in time.”
Dutch smirked, shaking his head.
“It looks like we won’t be sleeping on that sofa.”
“Come on,” Hosea snorts, laughing and giving the man a light elbow jab.
Dutch laughs, but his laughter gradually turns into a wet, raspy cough, and he covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes starting to tear up. Dutch feels Hosea's intense gaze on him, and soon he also feels a warm hand pressed against his forehead.
“You’ve caught a cold”.
Dutch couldn’t tell if it was a question sounding like a statement or a statement sounding like a question. The man was about to protest, but Hosea’s eloquent sigh cut off any attempts.
Half an hour later, they are sitting by the fire together, full, dressed in dry clothes, and warm. Dutch is drinking his third cup of hot tea, occasionally complaining that it will make him need to use the bathroom all night and that he will freeze everything possible. While Hosea prepares medicine for Dutch from the herbs he gathered, he notices Arthur yawning, but the boy still maintains his energy and excitedly tells them about a moose he claims to have spotted on the way here.
“He was just enormous, Hosea!”
“Really?”
“Yes! Twice as tall as Dutch! And with white fur like…,” Arthur frowns, trying to find the right comparison in his head, and finally succeeds, “like The Count’s! Could you catch him, Hosea?”
“Well…” Hosea began, but Dutch abruptly cut in: “Of course, he could, but after such a storm, it’s unlikely there’d be any trace of his huge hooves left, Arthur.”
And staying in this area to hunt a moose isn’t the best idea, at least not right now. After what they did in the nearby town, it would be better for them to leave these lands as soon as possible. Besides, huge white moose are found almost everywhere, and Hosea could catch one for their son if it really becomes necessary. Arthur seems dissatisfied with the answer, but sleepiness overcomes him, and his eyes start to close as he begins to nod off. He gets up, wishes them both goodnight, and shuffles into the next room – the only one with a bed. Originally, Dutch and Hosea had planned to sleep side by side on the floor in the living room, but since the younger man fell ill, Hosea decided to move his sleeping place to the sofa, which was conveniently positioned across from the fireplace.
For a while, they sat in silence – the cozy quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire, the rhythmic pounding in the mortar as Hosea ground sage, mint, and thyme into a smooth paste, and Dutch’s raspy cough. Dutch’s face was flushed, and sweat had formed on his neck and forehead.
“How’s your throat?” Hosea asks, sitting down on the sofa next to his partner and taking the cup from his hands. Dutch doesn’t resist: he’s had enough of that damn tea. If he had known he would be forced to drink this brew in such quantities, he would have thought four times before getting sick.
“The same as half an hour ago,” the man honestly replies.
Hosea adds a rather unappetizing-looking substance to Dutch’s tea and hands it back to him, ignoring Dutch’s fearful and disgusted expression.
“Drink it.”
Dutch wrinkles but manages to finish it to the last drop and sets the cup down on the floor.
“Thank you, Hosea,” Dutch says quietly, with genuine gratitude in his voice, turning a tired gaze toward his partner. A slight smile plays on Hosea’s lips as he once again places his hand on the younger man's forehead, checking his temperature.
“When we get out of this backwoods, the first thing we'll do is buy you a proper scarf.”
“I have a proper scarf.”
“If it was proper, you wouldn’t be sitting here with a sore throat, dear.”
Dutch stubbornly snorts and gently takes Hosea's hand in his, bringing his partner’s wrist to his lips. He presses his lips to the soft skin, leaving a lingering, almost chaste kiss. How many times have these hands saved his life, whether in a dangerous shootout on the bustling city streets or in preparing unpleasant medicines that eventually helped the younger man recover.
“Are you trying to infect me with your germs?” Hosea laughs heartily and leans back against the arm of the sofa. He opens his arms in an inviting gesture and pats his chest in the same welcoming manner. “Come here.”
“Oh, as if you’d mind,” Dutch retorts playfully and nestles into the older man’s embrace, comfortably settling between his spread legs and resting his head on his stomach. Dutch wraps his arms and legs around him like a snake coiling its flexible body around a tree branch and sighs with relief as the familiar hands begin to run through his hair and massage his scalp. In Hosea’s arms, he feels at home, feels safe. His throat seems to hurt less now, and his head isn’t spinning from congestion and fever. The older man gently runs his fingers through the dark curls, soothingly moving from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck. Dutch is hot, in the literal sense – Hosea can feel the heat radiating from his body and hopes that his temperature will drop overnight. Their legs are a tangled mess. Dutch stretches out fully on the sofa like a big, contented cat. One of Hosea’s legs hangs freely, touching the floor, while the other is pressed against the back of the sofa. Hosea lifts himself onto his elbows to reach Dutch’s head and places a tender kiss on his tangled hair. Dutch lets out a long, contented sigh, as if he doesn’t know how to express what he feels in words. And it’s true – he simultaneously feels boundless love surging in his chest, a growing desire to hold Hosea tightly, and a dull ache pulsing in his temples. Dutch pulls himself up and with a quiet sigh rests his head on his partner’s chest, the warm, caring hands stroking his back in a steady rhythm. His eyes sleepily close, and soon Dutch peacefully drifts off, occasionally coughing in his sleep. Hosea, lulled by the man’s husky breathing, also slowly drifts into sleep.
He hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet, so he quickly opened his eyes when he heard approaching footsteps. A knot of tension tightened in his throat as Hosea looked around quickly, but the nervousness faded instantly when he realized that the source of the noise was the awakened Arthur. The anxiety returned anew – the boy had never seen the men who raised him in such a… position. In his fourteen difficult years, he had certainly heard that this was "wrong", "inappropriate", that it was a sickness that needed to be treated, and that one should keep away from such ‘contagious’ people. Right now, Hosea was most afraid of seeing disgust in Arthur’s blue eyes.
He looked at the boy, his heart aching painfully in his chest because the boy’s gaze showed no emotion. At first. Arthur looked from Hosea to the sleeping Dutch, and it wasn’t clear whether he was disgusted or disturbed by what he saw. Only after several agonizingly long seconds did Arthur swallow and whisper quietly:
“Hosea, I… I’m scared,” he said, looking down in shame at his trouser leg. The man exhaled in relief and looked at the boy with warmth in his eyes.
“What’s wrong, my boy? Why are you scared?”
Arthur hesitated before answering, wringing his hands.
“It’s… The storm outside, it… The wind makes the windows creak, and, well…” The boy sniffled in despair, hoping Hosea would read his mind or figure it out on his own. “Can I sleep with you and… and Dutch? P-please.”
Hosea’s puzzled expression immediately softened. Just six months ago, Arthur would never have admitted that he was scared. The man smiled, pulling his legs closer to make more room on the sofa.
“Yes, Arthur, of course. Just take a blanket and a pillow with you.”
Arthur cheered up and, after a few seconds, returned, clutching a warm woolen blanket and a pillow under his arm. He approached the sofa and awkwardly stood there, pondering where would be the best place to lie down with his sleeping stuff. There wasn’t much room – two adult men had almost completely taken up all the space, largely because Dutch had sprawled out like a starfish. Hosea didn’t want to wake him, but the situation left him no other choice.
“Dutch… Dutch,” Hosea shook his partner by the shoulders, and Dutch, waking up, stared slumberously at the man beneath him. It didn’t take long for him to notice Arthur as well, and now Dutch looked at the boy as if seeing him for the first time, with the same initial misgiving as Hosea. Arthur shifted nervously, blinking in confusion, not knowing where to go. “Come on, move over.”
Realizing what was happening, Dutch, without questioning but with a sleepy grunt, slid off Hosea and rolled over to his back, hugging the older man and pulling him close to his chest. The space became a bit more roomy, and Arthur quickly slipped into the newly created gap, generously sharing the pillow that was too large for just his head with Hosea. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite reach Dutch. The boy covered himself with the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Come on, kid, lie down already,” Dutch muttered, despite Hosea being in the way, noting how the boy was squirming and fidgeting in place. Eventually, Arthur settled down, burying his face in the older man’s chest and shaking slightly. Hosea hugged the boy, stroking his short chestnut hair. Arthur’s soft, hesitant question broke the silence:
“So, you’re together? As a couple?”
Neither Dutch nor Hosea knew how to answer that question... correctly. So, they said the only thing that came to mind – the truth.
“Yes.”
“Ah, okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, son.”
The evening ended strangely, but… well. Arthur wasn’t bothered by the news that his adopted parents were together both as friends and romantically. Perhaps they would talk about it in more detail in the morning, but for now, they all needed rest and a good sleep.
Hosea yawned and rested his head on Dutch’s shoulder, giving him a gentle kiss on the jaw. It had been a long time since he had felt such a pleasant thrill under his ribs, but now, surrounded by the two people he cherished most, the flame of joy and happiness burned brightly within him. Dutch hummed contentedly, burying his nose in Hosea’s golden hair and breathing in his familiar scent. He draped his arm over the two bodies and clasped Hosea’s hand, which was resting on the back of the quickly sleeping Arthur. Dutch intertwined their fingers and smiled, feeling Hosea’s hand squeeze back in response.