Pardo's hands were rough against Potee's skin. It wasn't rough unpleasant, it was rough as in strong and powerful hands accustomed to reins, ropes, and making cowhide do what the cowboy wanted the cow to do.

"This where it hurts?" Pardo asked.

He slapped some liniment into a slight discoloration in his left butt cheek.

"Well, it didn't hurt there, but it does now. Where'd you earn to give a massages. Harry's lube and tire shop? I get it. You learned while you was branding cows?"

"Don't get fresh with me. I'll give you what for," Pardo said.

"Explain why you're naked again? You do know your dick is hard, don't you? I'm not saying it isn't a very nice dick, but you don't have plans for where you're going to put that thing, do you?"

"It's all part of my plan. I'm going to get you hot and bothered by massaging you in places where it will do you the most good, and then I'm going to ride your ass, Cowboy."

"Makes me wonder why I don't come here for massages more often," Potee said.

"Me too," Pardo said.

"Move up this way a little. A little more. More. That's what I thought. You got something growing out of the dark patch of hair there," Potee said, using his mouth on Pardo.

"I'm not going to be any good if you keep doing that for long. I need to get my spurs on."

"Ride 'em, Cowboy," Potee said, letting Pardo pop free of the warm confines of his mouth.

"You get any better at that and we're going to spend way more time in our room and a lot less time cowboying. You have me where you want me, now, Potee. I need to get off."

"Ride me, Cowboy."

Potee didn't feel any closer to Pardo than when they linked up and Pardo made long luxurious thrusts that had him nibbling at the back of Potee's neck. His arms stretched on top of Potee's arms and he moved in and out with a tight hold Potee kept on the part of him that mattered most.

He'd never felt hotter or more supercharged than when he was inside of Potee. Their friendship had only grown and their love making was more intense than the tentativeness of their early linking. Pardo often thought about how hard Potee worked on trying to get him up his ass. No matter what position, the thickness made Potee feel like he was trying to sit on a log. Once they achieved a breakthrough, Potee became an acrobat. The nights became a love fest with Potee giving as good as he got, and when he grew, Potee grew all over, and there came a time when Pardo felt a little like he was trying to sit on the log, but like all good things, as they lived, learned, and exercised the lust that drove them to distant the goods twice, three times, and a few nights four wasn't enough, but they tired before they got enough, and falling asleep while making love meant waking up making love.

Potee had skills that drove Pardo mad, even when he did his best to duplicate Potee's enthusiasm, but in time they could turn each other on with a glance and neither of them doubted that they'd get where they were going.

Once the loving was done and they laid side by side, they often talked about the love, the happiness over being together, and how easy being together had become. Touching, holding, and allowing their bodies to intertwine was the key to the closeness they craved. Pardo was heavier than Potee, but he wasn't heavy. His tight muscular cowboy body had no time to add weight.

Potee was as tall as Pardo now. He'd gained thirty pounds, but it was all up and down on a slender five foot ten frame. Pardo loved nothing more than having the twenty-year-old stand in front of him as he ran his hands from his shoulders to his size nine and a half feet. Like most cowboys, Potee was tight, defined, and free of fat, unless the substantial salami between his legs went soft, which wasn't a condition he'd become accustomed to.

Once Pardo was touching the smooth boyish skin on his man, Potee's dick stood straight out and Pardo let his lips brush it, taste it, suck it in ways he never did before and needed to do now. The only boy he sucked on was Reilly Tunes from the ranch next door. They'd gotten drunk one weekend and Reilly got Pardo in the hayloft on his father's horse ranch.

Reilly was the favorite of all the girls at school. He was a year ahead of Pardo when they decided drinking was the doorway to new discoveries. Once Reilly got his jeans off, he had Pardo giving him what for with his surprisingly sized dick. This became a habit he couldn't break. A couple of times Pardo was screwing Reilly on the ladder, unable to hold off long enough to reach the hayloft. Neither of them had been hotter, and with a few drinks, they had no modesty.

One day Reilly said, "Got to suck me before you fuck me tonight."

"What?" Pardo wasn't sure that wasn't a little more queer than he was prepared to get.

Reilly was longer and not nearly as wide as Pardo, and there wasn't a problem sucking it, but it was the idea Pardo had to get beyond. When Reilly shot a load down his throat, Pardo lost his erection and never got it back. He wasn't expecting it, although he knew what happened when you stimulated your dick for long enough. He wanted to screw Reilly bad enough that he would eat his cum, but he didn't think he liked it.

The day after Reilly fed him his cum without warning, Pardo went to where Reilly was working in one of the pastures. He threw him on the ground and he fucked Reilly without lube, which Reilly needed a lot of to get Pardo's dick as far up there as he liked it. By the time Pardo was done, Reilly had cum all over himself a couple of times. Pardo wanted to fuck him again, but he couldn't get it up again.

Reilly Tune was okay. It was relief. He knew boys who did each other. Farm boys watched farm animals getting it on all over their farms. By the time a farm boy was nine or ten, he was looking for a boyfriend to get it on with. Once they tried it, they rarely stopped, and he'd been fucking the son of the owner of the first ranch he worked on shoveling the shit out of the stables. That kid would come to the stables and Pardo would fuck him in the back of one of the stalls. Some days they used several stalls before the kid went to the house.

Pardo knew what he liked and as soon as Potee showed an interest in linking up, they'd been doing it ever since. Now, after they'd used up a good portion of the night, Pardo worried about something happening to the man he loved, while he rode Del's mustangs.

"Don't. I want to talk, Potee."

"This isn't going to be another of those, I don't like you riding mustangs conversations."

"You could get hurt. How am I going to feel if you get hurt, Potee?"

"My dick will still work. No matter what, my dick works. My brain don't always work, but my dick always does. Never lets me down."

"Look, Del's got horses he needs broken by Saturday. What if I find a cowboy who wants to earn that hundred a horse Del pays? Can I look?"

"No, Pardo."

"I ain't going to sit still to watch you put your skinny ass in danger. I love you more than I've loved anything. I don't want it to end. Don't you understand that."

"More than you loved Ranger … or Topper?" Potee asked.

"That's dirty pool, and you know it. They're horses that never let me down. You are..., you're... I love you, damn it, and I don't want you hurt. I don't know how to say what I feel. I'm a cowboy. We get the job done without a lot of talking. If we had to talk about it, we'd never get anything done."

"Look, Pardo, you got to back off a little. You can hold me, but you can't hold me so tight. I'm a cowboy. I don't know how to say things I need to say either. Love ain't got nothing to do with it. I come up here to be with you, but I ain't you, see. You got responsibilities and you treat me like I'm a prince. There are things I got to do, see. I can't tell you why I got to do them, but I got to do them. I'm going to do them. I'll do my best not to get hurt. I haven't gotten hurt, and if I get hurt, we'll talk about it. You got to let me do this. Those horses are wild things. I was a wild thing when you brought me up here. You put your brand on me, and your love keeps me alive. I want to be with you. Let me do this."

Pardo leaned to kiss his man.

"I love you so much," Pardo said.

"I know you do. I love you just as much as you love me, but I got to do this."

"Don't you ever leave me, Potee. I couldn't take that. I love you so much," Pardo whispered softly into Potee's ear as he nibble on the lobe.

"I ain't going nowhere, Cowboy."

They'd not gotten enough loving in that night, but Pardo wanted to hold Potee. He needed to hold him close. There was the idea that one day he might not be able to reach Potee. One day he feared he wouldn't be able to hold the man he loved. That scared him, and Potee let himself be held. He wanted Pardo to know he'd always be there for him.

No, Pardo didn't understand Potee's need. He accepted he had the need and he wouldn't be the one to stand in his way. He could talk to Del and tell him to never tell Potee when he brought the mustangs to be broke, but he wouldn't, because he loved Potee and he wanted him to be happy.

Gunner never returned to the Lazy R. If he returned, Potee would have given up breaking mustangs. He wouldn't be part of taking another man's job, even if the man was as vile as Gunner.

Two or three times a year, Del had mustangs he promised to someone. He kept the best horses for cattle herding. He provided broke horses for men who made a living taking folks horseback riding.

Pardo's and Potee's love settled in for the long haul. They loved each other, and that was that.

*****

One day as Potee was breaking three more mustangs Del sold to a nearby riding stable. Dr Anderson came to examine the horses before Potee broke them. Once he gave his approval, the sale would go through without a hitch.

Today, Dr Anderson gave Del the kind of idea it was hard to get out of his head.

"Boy looks good on your horses. He'd be a hit at the rodeo. Young, handsome, and he rides like he knows what he's doing. Rodeo is always looking for the next star. You could sponsor him, and they'd say, "Potee of the Lazy R coming out of chute one," Dr Anderson said.

Del heard the doctor's words. He looked at the veterinarian, while he thought about it.

Frontier Days in Cheyenne were coming up. They had the biggest rodeo competition around. Del liked going for the exhibits. When he saw something he found interesting, he took Pardo to see it. He always stayed for the rodeo. He liked the rodeo. Having a rider representing the Lazy R sounded good. Potee had become pretty good at bronc busting.

One of the overnight riders reported to Pardo at the crack of dawn one morning.

"Cows took down a section of fence on the east side of the north pasture. We drove the cows away from the break, but it would require some work to replace the fence."

Once up and dressed, Pardo told Potee what he needed him to do.

"Go over to the bunk house. Get Swifty and Clyde," Pardo said to Potee. "Then, get Cookie to be fixing up some bacon and egg biscuits while you're getting the horses ready. I'll need you to go out with them, because I'll want to talk to Del and send a couple more men to help the three of you."

Pardo stopped by Del's, drank another cup of coffee while telling the boss about the break. Pardo rode out to take a count on the cows in that pasture. See if they needed to chase any.

That afternoon Del rode out to get a count on his cows and see if the repairs were made. The owner of the Lazy R stopped on a rise overlooking the section of downed wire. The first thing he saw was Potee riding back toward two cowboys setting up fence posts as they finished he repairs.

Del admired the kid. He admired Thunder. That was a horse and a half. Potee looked like he belonged on that horse. At one time, Thunder was too much horse for the kid. They were a matched set. Now. They went together like tea and China. Potee swung out of the saddle to help set one of the fence posts that wouldn't go into place. Thunder didn't move once Potee's feet hit the ground.

Thunder stood fast, waiting for Potee to get back in the saddle.

"Back in the saddle again," Del sang to himself, as he watched Thunder taking Potee down the rest of the fence line. That completed the repairs and Del turned his horse toward the house. He'd seen what he came to see. Pardo would give him his count on the cows when he came in and Del would compare it to his own count.

Del had Pardo and Potee to dinner a couple of times a month. Sitting across from Potee was deceptive. At the table in the house, he still saw Potee as a kid, but he wasn't a kid any longer. He was as big as most of his cowboys, and he moved like a cat, He had a presence Del hadn't noticed before. It was Thunder. Del had always watched Thunder. Lately, he stopped watching the horse. He saw Potee now. It was probably the first time he saw the man who replaced the kid he raised from a colt.

"I watched you today, Potee."

"You did. Where was I?" Potee asked.

"You were helping those cowboys set up one of the fence posts just before you finished."

"Oh, I was riding the fence line when that happened," Potee said.

"You do a fine job. I don't tell you that enough, Potee. You're a good cowboy," Del said.

"And I'm chopped liver?" Pardo asked.

"You're my foreman. If you weren't good, someone else would be my foreman," Del said.

Pardo laughed.

"I trained him, you know," Pardo said.

"I know you did and I never believed that scrawny kid would become a cowboy. I'd have bet on him leaving out of the Lazy R a long time ago," Del said.

Del Champion had the team he wanted in charge of the everyday activities on the Lazy R. They did the job the way he wanted it done. Even during roundup, they did what needed to be done without him being involved. Del didn't mind riding out to see what he could see on days he had time, but he never felt like he had to ride out to check on his cows and his cowboys.

Pardo had been Del's right hand man before he made him foreman. He trusted Pardo. His judgment was good. He didn't have as much to worry about with Pardo on the job. It left him free to do the things owners should be doing. The ranch was as much about paperwork as it was about labor.

Potee sat with his leg over the arm of his easy chair dressed in his nearly clean socks and boxers he put on that morning. He scraped at the bottom of the bowl he'd brought up filled to the brim. He brought one just as full to Pardo.

"Want some more? I can't get enough ice cream," Potee said.

"No, I think Topper would prefer I stop with just one bowl full," Pardo said.

"You aren't heavy, Pardo. I like every inch of you, Cowboy. You ain't got no fat on you."

"The way you pile my plate up with food, I'm fighting a losing battle. How many three hundred pound cowboys you seen?" Pardo asked. "If you saw one, he'd be walking. His horse done gave out."

Potee laughed.

"I ain't gained no weight in the five or six years I been here."

Pardo didn't bother to explain the middle age spread to Potee. He was fighting a losing battle with his waistline. Working hard, he stayed in fair shape, but his weight was slowly going north. He didn't want it to get out of hand.

"When you came here, you hardly came up to my chin. You're as big as me now. You've put on a fair amount of weight. You're maybe one fifty-five. You keep packing it away, and in the next couple of years, Thunder is going to start bucking you off again," Pardo advised his man.

"I take it you don't want another bowl? You can't scare me out of not having one more."

"Del said he is going to have some mustangs for you tomorrow. He told me to have you come in for lunch at the chow hall, and he'll have the mustangs brought around about one."

"You could ride in with me. We'll eat and you can watch me in action," Potee said.

"I see you in action every night, Cowboy. I don't want to watch you risking your neck."

"I know. I know. I've heard it all before. I like it. I don't know why I like it, but I like it."

"I know you do and you told me not to bother you about it, and I don't. That doesn't mean I won't worry myself sick while you're doing it. I don't need to see it."

"You do not. I've never seen you sick, Pardo."

"You can't see my insides. Take my word for it. You breaking broncs is not my favorite thing."

"I know. I know."

"No danger if you know what you're doing," Potee bragged.

"Yeah, I know. One day you're going to find yourself on a horse who'd rather die than be ridden, and you'll be in a fix. I'd rather not see it. You can tell me all about it over dinner tomorrow night. There's a new Chinese place in Laramie. Del says it's authentic Chinese and quite good. I'll come in early and we'll take a ride into town, after you finish with the mustangs.."

"That truck going to make it into town and back?"

"There's nothing wrong with my truck. It gets you to town and back anytime you want to go. It hasn't got ten thousand miles on it yet," Pardo said.

"You drive it twice a month. The paint is faded and it ain't the miles, it's the road you go down."

"Oh my god, a cowboy philosopher. Lord save me from know it all cowboys. The truck is fine. If you don't break your leg, we'll get to town and back fine."

Potee laughed at the idea he'd break his leg. He knew what he was doing. He was good at it. He wouldn't break his leg.

Pardo did ride in around lunch time the next day, after getting a message from Del.

Del and a half dozen cowboys, Dr Anderson, and five mustangs were scattered around the corral, waiting for Potee to finish his lunch.

Pardo tied Topper up in front of the chow hall and he went to stand beside Del.

"You sent for me, Boss?"

"Yeah, let me watch this first. Cool your heals. You had lunch. Nice ham salad. I put it on bread. Made a sandwich. Try that and come back. Potee already talked to the horses. He won't be long once he gets started."

"Ham salad. Make a sandwich. I can see you really needed me. Glad I rushed in to see you," Pardo said as he walked toward the chow hall

When Pardo came out eating a ham salad sandwich, Potee was walking a dark brown mustang in the corral. He'd already ridden him and he'd walk him for a few minutes before going to the next one.

"Hey, Cowboy, fancy meeting you here," Potee said.

"Not my idea. Del called for me."

"He does that a lot. You're his security blanket," Potee said, moving to the next horse.

This horse took a bit more time to break. He tried to rub Potee's leg on the corral fence, but Potee knew that move and he kept his leg out of the line of fire. With a few more leaps, some kicking, and shaking, the horse began walking around the corral. Potee's right leg was up around the saddle horn. It was convenient if not comfortable, but he wasn't ready to get down yet.

"He is good, Del. He really looks good," Dr Anderson said.

Pardo leaned to watch his man do what he did. He did look like he knew what he was doing. Maybe all the worrying he did was wasted time. Potee liked breaking horses, and he was certainly better at it than Gunner, as far as the horses were concerned.

Pardo spent a couple of years avoiding being at the corral while Potee was breaking horses. From that time forward, Pardo did watch. He did his best to enjoy it, but he couldn't say he liked it. He was doing the supportive thing, and Del decided that Potee was a first class cowboy and a damn sweet bronc buster.

It had been a while since Dr Anderson first mentioned Potee and the rodeo. The idea never left Del Champion's mind. Because of Pardo, he let it rest in his mind and didn't do anything with it. While he was making plans for the days he'd spend at Frontier Days, he stopped and picked up the entry form for the bronc riding competition.

"I picked this up today in Cheyenne. I won't get him to fill them out, but if you get him to fill them out, I can think of worse moves. I'll sponsor him. He can't help but be a hit at Frontier Days."

Pardo looked at the top of the form. He looked at Del and he wasn't sure what he'd do with the entry forms.

*****

Pardo sat in his easy chair writing on a clipboard he often used for paperwork.

"What is your real name, Potee?" Pardo asked.

"You never asked me my name before," Potee said.

"Yeah, I know. I'm asking you now. It's something for Del. Name, Potee?"

"Winston Crossly Porter if you must know."

"No wonder you want to be called Potee. Why Potee?"

"Friend couldn't pronounce R. It came out Potee. Everyone started calling me that."

"Instead of tormenting someone with a speech impediment, you joined him. That's nice."

"If one of the guys thought of it, they'd have done that, but no one did and I became Potee."

"How old are you? You've been here almost six years."

"I'm twenty-two last birthday. What is this?" Potee asked. "I'm not joining the army, am I?"

"You're in the cowboy army."

"Well, don't be joining me up with nothing I don't know I'm joining, Pardo."

"Two weeks from Saturday ... You never been to a rodeo, Potee? Two weeks from Saturday Frontier Days start in Cheyenne."

"No, I've never been to a rodeo. I heard of the rodeo. It's a cowboy thing."

Pardo slipped the paper off the clipboard and handed it over.

"Frontier Days? Event, Bronc Riding. Name, Winston Crossly Porter. What is this for?"

"It's an entry form. Del wants you to represent the Lazy R in bronc riding at the rodeo. He got the entry form to enter you against a dozen other bronc riders."

Potee read the other questions on the form.

"You're about to go to one as one of the bronc riders."

Potee broke Del's horses because they needed breaking. He'd never thought of it as entertainment, but it must be entertaining for someone if it was a rodeo event.

There was something in riding the mustangs. Potee figured a horse was a horse, and you either rode him or you didn't. So far, he'd ridden all the horses brought down off the high prairie. Didn't amount to much. He was a cowboy three hundred and sixty-five days a year. He broke broncs three or four days a year.

For the next two weeks, Potee was full of questions about the rodeo.

Pardo didn't mind the questions. He'd been going to the rodeo since before he rode a horse. The clowns and fancy horseback riding was what he liked best as a youngster, but since he was ten, he was a fan of the bronc busters. It was the event that appealed to him most of all.

There were events for riding, roping, and cowboys even wrestled steers. It was all good clean fun if you weren't put off by horse shit. It was the only thing more plentiful than cowboys. Pardo never even noticed the smell until he got older and shoveled shit for a living when he was sixteen.

"Bronc riding, after the horses and the girls, is why folks go to the rodeo. As events go, it's the most popular event. I guess I heard of Jim Shoulders before I was ten. I suppose if there wasn't a Jim Shoulders, there wouldn't be a rodeo. I think he won sixteen championships. If there is a cowboy's cowboy, Jim Shoulders is him," Pardo said, driving onto the Frontier Days fairgrounds.

He parked the faded old Ford-100 among seven other early arrivals in the parking lot.

"It's big," Potee said, looking around. "No one here?"

"In an hour or two, there will be five thousand cars and trucks parked here. If I get here early and park up front, I don't have any trouble finding my truck."

"That where they hold the rodeo?" Potee asked, looking at a stadium next to the parking lot.

"That's it."

"You think I'm ready for this, Pardo. I mean, I never been to no place this big. I just break mustangs for Del. I don't know if I belong here with real cowboys," Potee said.

"I'd stack you up against any bronc rider, Potee. You sit a bronc as well as any cowboy I ever seen. Besides, you're my man, and I wouldn't take you nowhere you didn't belong. You belong here, and you know how I feel about you riding broncs."

"That's what I can't figure," Potee said, following Pardo into the middle of the arena inside the stadium where the bronc riding would be held.

"Del says you're good. Dr Anderson says you're good. I got to admit you are good. My liking it or not liking it has nothing to do with who you are, Potee. You need a chance to strut your stuff."

"I ain't much at strutting, Pardo. I kind of like doing my job and taking a shot at your cute ass every now and then. Strutting, not so much,"

"Yeah, well there is no event for that, Cowboy. You drew Night Flight. You drew chute five. This here is chute five. Right before they start the bronc riding, they put Night Flight into this chute. This is the gate for the chute. The horse goes in here," Pardo said, opening the gate.

"It's so small. A horse would hardly fit in here," Potee said going inside.

"If they had more room, they might hurt themselves. They're only in here for a couple of minutes. They close the gate, and when you're ready, the gate opens and the horse goes into the arena."

"It's so small," Potee said, closing the gate and standing inside the chute.


Send Rick an email at [email protected]

Chapter Eleven Coming Soon

Back to Chapter Nine

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"Accidental Cowboy" Copyright © 2024 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer