markwildyr.com,
Post #103
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| The Spring at Dragon's Back - Courtesy of nps.gov |
Ready for
some more Huntinghawk? We left Hawk and Ramon at Dragon’s Back, sleeping off the
effects of their mutually difficult day. Let’s see what happens next.
*****
HUNTINGHAWK
Hawk was ready to leave
with the morning star, but he brewed coffee and let the boy sleep a few more
minutes. They’d make better time if the youth was rested, but the Indian wanted
to start before the sun warmed things up too much. Ramon woke and apologized
for keeping Hawk waiting. As the boy turned away for his morning piss Hawk studied
the kid. Ramon was built wide at the shoulders but incredibly thin in the waist
and hips, reminding him of the flamenco dancers Hawk had seen in Mexico. They
were like willow whips, strong and flexible.
Hawk’s headache returned
when he clamped his Stetson on his head and started out, but the dizziness
seemed to have gone. When they left the water behind, no one would have been
able to tell that they had been there. The headache was worse by the time they
reached Hawk’s old Dodge pickup but had subsided to a steady throb when he
pulled into the driveway of his small adobe house. He went home instead of the
office because he didn’t know what to do with the boy. Once inside, he phoned
headquarters to report what had happened. Amadeo Tomé, the forty-year-old local
Indian in charge of the Rezagados,
was no fool and could read tracks better than most, so Hawk told the story
straight except that he made Ramon a local kid out hunting who stumbled on him
by accident. Since he was off duty the next two days, Hawk promised to take it
easy and report to the local clinic if he got to feeling worse. Taking it easy
was not a difficult promise to keep. He told his guest to make himself at home
and fell into bed. Hunger woke him late in the evening. He pulled on an old pair
of sweats cut off high on the thigh and went into the living room.
Ramon had laundered his
clothes in Hawk’s old washing machine and sat in the living room wrapped in a
towel watching the small television set while his clothes dried. His eyes
widened, silently begging forgiveness at his audacity for using Hawk’s
possessions.
“It’s okay, kid,” he
assured the boy. “Told you to make yourself at home.” He winced as he took a
step.
Immediately, Ramon got to
his feet and insisted Hawk sit down while he found something for them to eat. The
youth came up with a meal of tuna fish sandwiches, chips, and Mexican beer. During
the meal around the kitchen table Hawk learned the boy was eighteen, came from
Durango, Mexico and was trying to join his older brother somewhere in Colorado.
Hawk watched the play of muscles in the boy’s slender torso. It was a curious
thing to take so much notice.
“Ramon,” he said, getting
to his feet and limping into the living room, “we’ve got to decide what to do
about you.” Hawk sat heavily in a chair and pulled up a bare foot to examine
the a foot that had been bothering him all day. “Damn!” he cursed, discovering
a thorn buried behind the ball of his left foot.
Ramon was at his side
immediately, examining the injured foot closely. The boy took charge, asking
for a needle and disinfectant, going for the items while Hawk moved to the sofa.
When Hawk was stretched out, Ramon knelt at the end of the divan.
“Try not hurt Hawk bad,”
he said softly. “But splinter deep. Hurt some.”
“I’ll try to handle it,”
Hawk said with an amused smile. He watched silently as the boy sterilized the
needle with the flame from a kitchen match. The smile slid from his lips when
Ramon started digging. A few moments later, the boy held up a thorn.
“Got it! Hurt bad?”
“I’ll live,” Hawk said,
closing his eyes as Ramon applied disinfectant to the wound. He let out a soft
groan when the boy started massaging the foot. It hurt pretty good, Hawk
decided. He must have dozed because when he woke, the boy’s mouth was on the
inside of his thigh. Hawk’s eyes flew open, but otherwise he did not move. He
looked down his torso as the boy’s hand slid beneath the cutoffs. To Hawk’s
surprise, he responded. Ramon inched his way up Hawk’s thigh, leaving a moist
trail with his tongue.
“Ramon!” he yelled. “What
the hell are you doing?”
The boy came up to regard
him with wide, frightened eyes. “T-try to thank Hawk,” the boy stammered. “O… okay?”
he asked uncertainly. When Hawk made no reply, he lowered his head.
Hawk could not believe
the sensations he experienced for the next few minutes. His indignation and
outrage died beneath Ramon’s ministrations. Hawk’s mind denied what was
happening; even his body relaxed in enjoyment… until his orgasm hit. For a
moment, he thought he’d been struck by liquid lightning.
“Where’d you learn to do that, kid?” he
gasped.
Ramon gave a broad smile. “Patron. He make Ramon do it for him. Io okay?”
“Great, but let me get
this straight. Your patron made you
do it for him.”
“He teach when Ramon has
fourteen years. He do good for mother and brothers and sisters because of what
Ramon do for him. But… but he die in accident. So I come here for work.”
“He taught you this?”
“Yes. Not so good with
him, but like with Hawk. Hawk much man.”
“Ramon, you don’t have to
do anything for me. But what do you get out of it? I mean, I got the climax of
my life, but what did you get?”
“Ramon get most beautiful
man, El Guapo.” The boy smiled again. “Is true. I see you without
clothes on desert, I know this man different. Mexican? Maybe not. He more rojo, red, you know. Big muscles. Wide
shoulders. Much man.”
“So you like to do it?”
“Is okay with patron. Not at first, but finally Ramon
don’t care so much. But with Hawk? I like. Ramon do it again?”
“No,” Hawk said sharply. “Maybe
later.”
Ramon gave his dazzling
smile. “Good.”
Hawk mentally shook his head,
amazed at the fondness he felt for the boy at that moment. He had never
experienced any sort of attraction for another male, except for the proper love
for his father and older brother. Once he had severely beaten a fellow logger
when the man groped him when they took a leak together in the woods. Now he
wondered if he had acted out of fear.
*****
Looks
like they’re compatible. Glad to see the kid took some kinks out of Hawk’s
rope. But wait… there’s more next time.
Now my
hopes for Cut Hand and Johnny Two-Guns. I also believe the STARbooks-published
River Otter, Echoes of the Flute, and
Medicine Hair are still up. I sure
would like to get the final book in the Cut Hand Series, Wastelakapi… Beloved, published, but it’ll take some help from
readers to get Dreamspinner interested.
My contact
information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email: markwildyr@aol.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr
Twitter: @markwildyr
The
following are buy links for CUT HAND:
And now my mantra: Keep
on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!
Until next time.
Mark
New posts at 6:00 a.m. on the first and
third Thursdays of the month.
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