Married Cowboy

Married Cowboy By Drew Hunt John “Brock” Brockwell looked on with bemusement as his partner, Calvin Hamilton, wrestled a huge suitcase into the entry hall. Looking over into the kitchen, Brock said, “You forgot the kitchen sink.” JJ, Brock’s son, snickered, and Calvin raised his middle finger. Smirking, Brock continued, “You’re worse than a woman with all you’ve packed.” “You weren’t calling me a woman last night when—” “Too much information,” JJ exclaimed, clasping his hands over his ears. “Doofus.” Brock patted his twenty-year-old son on the shoulder. “Sorry, bud. But it was your idea to come with us.” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Brock was surprised his son, and his son’s girlfriend, had wanted to accompany them to a gay dude ranch in Texas. Or gay-friendly dude ranch as Maggie insisted it was advertised. Calvin shot JJ a look. “A cowboy cain’t turn down the chance of a goin’ home,” JJ said, overdoing the Texas accent he’d mostly lost in the years since moving to New York City. Brock nodded and simply said, “Uh huh.” For the past couple of months Brock had grown increasingly suspicious that something was going on. Whenever he asked Calvin about it, the man would look innocent, insist nothing was amiss, then deftly change the subject. The latest piece in the mystery puzzle was the extra-large suitcase. “You taking your briefcase as well?” Brock asked when his partner emerged from their bedroom again, brown leather briefcase in hand. Calvin had never done that before when they’d gone on vacation. “Just paperwork…new account.” Brock shook his head. The first piece of the puzzle to appear had been the box containing his old class ring suddenly disappearing from his underwear drawer. When Brock had asked Calvin if he’d seen it, various expressions had flitted across Calvin’s face before they’d settled on puzzlement and he’d admitted he hadn’t seen the box. “You never wear the ring anyway.” “True. I should get it resized or something.” “What?” Calvin’s reaction was…strange. “Doesn’t fit any more. Too many misses with the hammer I guess.” Brock stared down at his work-roughened hands. He was a contractor and hands like his went with the job. “You should be more careful!” Calvin said before making an excuse about an early meeting and leaving the condo, cell phone pressed to his ear. Brock found the ring box a few days later when he was reaching into the back of the drawer for his favorite pair of bikini briefs. The red underwear with its white piping always got Calvin going, saying they showed off Brock’s body. Brock had to admit that although his hands weren’t the best, his job gave him a good body, which was further helped by regular sessions at the gym. Brock was sure the ring box hadn’t been there before. He’d searched the drawer quite thoroughly. He snapped the lid open and looked down at the garnet and jasper setting, garnet and white being the school’s colors. The gold band shone on its velvet pillow. Brock remembered working his ass off during the summer before his senior year and then blowing a big chunk of his savings on an eighteen-carat gold band. The ring held bittersweet memories. He’d given it to Mary Ann, his high school sweetheart, when she’d told Brock she was pregnant. He’d put her ring on a chain around his neck. The chain felt like a millstone when both his dad and Mary Ann’s dad insisted their children do the right thing and get married. Years later when they got divorced, Mary Ann giving Brock back his ring somehow felt more real than the divorce decree. Brock tried the ring on once again but couldn’t get it past his first knuckle. Yeah, he really should get the ring enlarged. Despite having to hide his sexuality and play the part of a baseball jock, Brock had enjoyed his time in high school. Then Brock remembered that Calvin had had a shitty time at school. He mentally kicked himself for the thousandth time that he hadn’t said or done something back then to stop the abuse. Snapping closed the lid of the ring box, Brock put it back in his drawer, got undressed, slipped into the bikini briefs and went in search of Calvin, to once again make up for his inaction of more than two decades earlier. * * * * For the next few weeks, other odd things happened. Sometimes when he came into a room containing Maggie or JJ and Calvin, Brock got the distinct impression they’d been talking about him, as they quickly changed the subject when they saw him enter. Calvin seemed more attentive to him than usual—and the man was pretty touchy-feely at the best of times. Calvin would kiss Brock more frequently—even in public, he’d feel up Brock’s muscles more often, pay Brock more compliments. Calvin even told Brock several times a day that he loved him. Brock knew he wasn’t smarter than the average bear, so it took him a while to figure out that Calvin was working up to asking Brock to marry him. The Supreme Court had decided that same-s*x marriage was legal in all fifty states, and Calvin had been more than usually emotional that day. It was shortly after the SCOTUS decision was handed down that Calvin floated the idea that they should go back to Texas and spend a couple of weeks at a gay dude ranch about fifty miles from their old home town. At first Brock had resisted; he had no desire to go back. Parish Creek held almost nothing but bad memories. He had had no friends there, save the few guys he’d gone to school with. And they weren’t what he would call close friends. He’d gotten married and divorced in Parish Creek. His dad had died there; his mom had walked out on them there. The town was the place where his contracting business had failed and where he’d been declared bankrupt. His arguments that he couldn’t afford to take off two weeks from work were waved away by Calvin, who’d reminded Brock February was a quiet month in the construction industry. Brock had been tempted by Calvin’s talk of warm Texas weather. “Not like the ice and snow here.” Brock was finally won over by Calvin telling him that on a dude ranch, western clothing wasn’t just expected, it was pretty much mandatory. Even though Brock had never worked on a ranch, he’d ridden horses some in his younger days. Ever since, he’d self-identified as a cowboy, feeling most comfortable in cowboy boots, Wranglers, a western-style shirt, and a cowboy hat. And as an added bonus, the clothes turned Calvin on. * * * * JJ’s phone chirped, indicating an incoming message. He fished his phone out of his pocket and swiped at the screen. Tapping out a reply, he said, “Maggie says they’re a couple of blocks away.” They gathered up their coats, hat’s, and suitcases, and Calvin locked the apartment door behind them. “Looking forward to going home, cowboy?” Calvin asked Brock as the elevator descended. Brock shrugged. “New York’s home now.” Feeling his comment made it sound like he wasn’t looking forward to at least some aspects of the trip, he added, “Though any place you are is my home.” Calvin pushed Brock’s hat brim up and gave him a kiss. From the back of the elevator JJ began to make gagging noises and Brock flipped him the bird.