It was the beginning of June. I was fifteen that year. School would be out for the summer in a couple of weeks. It was one of the rare days that I didn't get off the bus at Neil's. We'd had an argument about something inane and he wasn't talking to me, so I watched him stomp off the bus and trudge down the road, never looking back. I let out a heavy sigh and prepared to get off at my own stop.
The moment I walked around the house and saw Tom's pick up parked askew with the door hanging open I knew something was wrong. I hesitantly opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. My hackles raised at the smell of blood in the air. At the bottom of the stairs lay a bloody shirt. I dropped my books, picked it up and ran up the stairs to Tom's room, not knowing what to expect. I froze when I saw him leaning against the edge of the window staring out at nothing. His arms were covered in dried blood and there were smudges of it on his face and chest. The front of his Levi's were soaked with it. I crept over to him. He never looked at me. He just stared out the window. His eyes were vacant.
"Tom? Are you okay?" He flinched. "What happened? Why are you covered in blood?"
At first I thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he sighed. "Joe's dead. That damned Longhorn bull gored him."
"Oh, God, no. "I whispered. "Poor Neil." I'd thought about what it meant not having a father and mother. I guess because I was so young when I lost them I'd never felt any big loss. Tom was all I had ever had and he was all I needed. But Neil had just found his daddy five years ago and now he'd lost him. I keenly felt his loss. And Tom's. He and Joe had been the closest of friends. No one was closer to someone than those two were. I think that Tom losing Joe was probably as bad as a woman losing her husband or vice versa.
I stepped up to Tom and put an arm around his back. He turned and crumpled onto me and we wept. At fifteen I still hadn't started my growth spurt. I staggered with him over to the bed. He collapsed onto it. I sat next to him, wrapping my arms around the big man letting him lay his shaggy head on my shoulder. For a long time his crying sounded like a mewling , once in a while it turned into a high keening. I held him and silently wept for his lose, for Billy's lose and mine. Eventually he calmed. He still clung to me, occasionally a shuddered would pass through him.
"You need to get out of these clothes and shower." I told him. He just nodded his head against my neck and didn't move.
"Come on, Tom, I'll help you." He sat up rubbed his face with his palms. Then just sat and stared into nothing.
I nudged him. He looked so lost. I got up and lifted one of his legs, grabbing the heal of his boot, I pulled it off, then his sock. I repeated the same thing with his other foot. I felt like some kind of pervert as I admired his feet. They had a tuft of hair on the top of the instep and on the top of each toe. I wanted feet like his when I matured.
I got him to stand up and I unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned his Levi's. My finger's grazed his pubic hair. I started getting a woody. Ignoring it, I pulled his pants down. I had to lift each leg to slide the pant leg off. He just stood there, a hand on my head to keep his balance, offering me no help.
I dropped the jeans in a pile on the boots with the bloody shirt. Taking his hand I led him into the bathroom. After adjusting the temperature, I pushed him into the spray. Again he just stood there. Exasperated, I shucked out of my clothes and got in with him. Lifting a blood covered arm, I soaped it. I used my nails to loosen the blood caked in the hair. He even had Joe's blood under his finger nails. Before I dropped the first arm, I made sure there was no blood on it anywhere. And then I did the same with the other.
I washed his hair, and watched the water run red as I rinsed it. I gently soaped and rinsed his face and neck, and then his body, too. I inspected him for any more traces of blood, turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry him off. He suddenly came to life. Taking the towel from me he dried himself. I took another towel and dried myself. Picking up my clothes I headed for my room to dress.
It's funny, standing naked in the shower, my hands all over his body I never got really hard, but the moment I thought about it afterwards, I had a difficult time buttoning up my Levi's.
Tom had dressed and combed his hair by the time I got back in to check on him.
"You doing okay, Tom." I asked.
"Yeah."
"Should I try washing these clothes?" I stood looking down at the bloody heap.
"Burn 'em. The boots, too."
As I started to bundle them up I noticed him take his Colt 45 out of its holster and check the bullet chamber, and then stuff it back into the holster. I dropped the bloody clothes and wiped my hands on my pants.
"What are you going to do?"
"I got something to take care of."
I was frightened that he would use it on himself.
"I'm going with you."
"No, you stay here."
"Like hell I will. I'm going with you."
"Alright then, come on."
We went out to the pickup. It looked like there had been a war in it. The vinyl seat, the floor board, and the steering wheel were all covered in Joe's blood. Tom ignored it and got in. I grabbed a towel that he kept behind the seat and laid it over where I had to sit.
He took off like a bat out of hell down the dirt road, and crossed the cattle guard toward Joe's spread. He came to a screeching stop at the corral. Taking the Colt 45 out of his holster, he got out of the truck and walked to the corral.
The two hired Mexican ranch hands came running over. Carmen and Neil came out of the house, running to see what was happening. I had forgotten about Neil. His dad had been killed. God, how could I have forgotten that. He ran into my arms. I hugged him hard against me. I heard one of the hands yell something. Turning, I saw Tom in the corral with the Longhorn bull.
"Oh, My God." I yelled. Pulling Neil with me we ran to the corral. Carmen was right behind us weeping and praying to her Madre de Dios. The two hired hands were on the top rails prepared to jump into the corral.
Tom stood about twenty-five feet from the bull. Its head was down and it was snorting.
"Come on, you son of a bitch, let's see who dies next." Tom growled.
The bull pawed at the ground and snorted some more. I could see Joe's dried blood on one of its horns. We all held our breath. Suddenly the bull charged at Tom. He raised the 45 and aimed at the bull. What was he waiting for? Why didn't he pull the trigger?
The bull was about ten feet from him when he finally fired. A small hole appeared in its forehead. Tom didn't even flinch as the bull, even in death, continued to charge. Its feet failed it as it slid head first toward him. The bull's head landed on his boot. He stared down at it for a long time as its eyes dimmed, and then he kicked its head aside.
He turned to the hired hands. "Cut the head off and skin it. Then tie it to the back of my pickup and drag it out to an arroyo. Let the buzzards have the bastard. Put the head and skin in the back of my truck and I'll take it to the taxidermist."
Tom opened the corral gate and walked out. He looked at a loss as to what to do. I watched him as I held Neil against me. Elena walked up to Tom and took his hand. She led him into the kitchen and made him sit down.
Holding Tom's head against her, Elena stood staring at the ceiling with tears streaking her cheeks. She eventually looked down at Tom. "That bull killed my little boy, my son. I raised him from a little boy, you know." She then started shaking as she let her emotions loose.
Tom stood up and wrapped his arms around her. "I am so sorry, Elena."
"I know he was the love of your life, Tomas, lo siento, tambien." (I regret it, too.)
"It is true. We loved each other from the first day we met."
"I know, you were like these two. Always together. And now it is so sad. He is gone. And these two will have to go their separate ways. Que lastima." (What a shame.)
Tom didn't reply. He covered his face with his hands and laid his forehead on Elena's soft shoulder and let his tears flow. She patted his back and made motherly noises to him.
Neil and I stood in the doorway witnessing these broken hearts. Neil hugged me tight. "You're the only ones I've got now, Billy. You and Uncle Tom. And Elena. I'm so glad you came. I love you guys," he whispered. He let go of me and moved to the table where sat in a chair, drying his eyes. "My grandparents will be here soon. I guess after we bury my dad, I'll have to go live with them. I'm going to miss you so much. I miss my daddy already."
"You had your daddy for five years. And you're old enough to remember him for the rest of your life. I can't even remember what my daddy looked like when he smiled at me."
Neil stared at me lost in his own loss, not comprehending mine. I felt adrift, alone, lost. I shook myself and wondered what he was feeling.
"They are your grandparents, Neil. They love you. You'll be happy with them." Tom said.
"They don't love me. I look too much like my dad. They hated my dad."
Tom didn't know how to respond to that so he just ruffled Neil's hair and squeezed his shoulder.
I wandered out side to the pickup where I rested my arms on the side of the bed and stared at the bull's head that stared blankly back at me. I felt all hollow inside. I knew I should be in there comforting Neil, but I had no comfort to give. I wanted to cry, but my eyes remained dry. I wanted someone to comfort me. I knew Tom and Billy had lost so much and that I should be staunch and strong for them. In a while I would be, but at that moment I couldn't be; I had my own mourning to get through first.
* * *
We went to the funeral. Tom was a pallbearer. After we got back home Tom sat on the porch and told me how he and Joe had been best friends all his life. How he and Joe went off to college at the university in Albuquerque. There, Joe had met a girl and married her. They didn't get to see each other very much after Joe got married, even after he took over his family's ranch. And then his wife had died soon after Neil was born. Joe started coming over to see him again.
Neil's grandfather had hated Joe. He hadn't wanted his daughter to marry him. And when she died of complications from the birth, he blamed her death on Joe. They Neil's grandparents, took the baby, out of obligation to their dead daughter, but Joe was adamant that as soon as the child was old enough, he would raise his son himself and he told Tom he'd make damn sure his son didn't grow up to be a tight assed hypocrite like the two of them.
After Joe's funeral, Mr. Post, Neil's grandfather approached Tom about leasing Joe's ranch to him until Neil was of age. Joe had a will that forbade the sale of the ranch until Neil was of age to decide what he wanted to do with it. Tom agreed to the deal. He bought all of Joe's cattle and leased the ranch.
He'd taken the bull's head to a taxidermist and had the skin tanned. He hung the head over the fireplace and put the skin on the floor as a rug.
* * *
My world was changing. My best friend was gone. I was turning into a man. I was still kind of small, but my voice was deepening and I was growing body hair. My dick was becoming man-size too. I was building lots of muscle doing nearly all the work around the ranch.
Tom ignored me for the most part. I'd catch him eyeing me some times, but he would drop his stare and go on about what ever he was doing. I tried to talk to him, but he'd just tell me to mind my own business. He grew more morose and started drinking. He'd sit and stare at that long horned bull's head and just get more depressed.
Uncle John came out to the ranch a couple of times and they ended up fighting each time. So he eventually stopped coming out altogether.
Tom started drinking more. He had been growing more and more sullen. I was more alone than I had ever been. On the anniversary of Joe's death Tom sat at the kitchen table and drank until he passed out. I hauled his ass over to the sofa, laid him down and pulled off his boots. I covered him with a quilt and went to bed.
The next morning he was still dead to the world. I went out and took care of all the chores, took a bath and fixed myself some breakfast. I sat at the kitchen table and watched Tom sleep and sipped my coffee. I wished there was something I could do, but I was at a total loss. He woke about three that afternoon, and dragged himself upstairs to the shower. I put on a fresh pot of coffee. When he came back down he looked almost normal.
After that he didn't drink any for a couple of weeks, although he was still morose and sullen. He slept late every morning, leaving me to do all the chores. Sometimes, in the evening he'd help me but not often. The times he didn't help I'd find him hanging on the corral fence watching the sun set.
One morning we had to replace some fence posts. That's hard work, digging holes to set the new posts into. We both had our shirts off and sweating like workhorses. I had always openly admired Tom's magnificent hairy torso. Before Joe's death he would grin and sometime take a muscle man pose for me. But back then I was still a kid. This time he caught me looking and frowned. "Keep your eyes to yourself, boy. I don't need you undressing me every time you look at me."
He may as well have slapped me. He had never talked to me in a mean voice like that. I dropped my eyes and went about my work. I caught him eyeing me, and it made me feel like maybe I should put my shirt on to cover my nakedness. But it was hot sweaty work; I put it out of my mind and finished tacking the barbed wire on to the new post.
Later we went to the water tank for a swim. It was a hot afternoon. I was lying on the rim, which was about a foot wide, letting the sun and the soft warm breeze dry me off. I don't recall that I was thinking about anything in particular, but I threw a boner laying there in the hot sun. I was always doing that in those days. When I realized I was hard I looked to see where Tom was. He was sitting on the opposite side of the tank. He had his little flask in his hand. He was staring at me.
I felt excited and at the same time I suspected that he didn't want me looking at him after the incidence earlier in the day while we were setting fence posts. I had long ago figured out that Tom and Joe had been lovers. I knew it had to be difficult for him to be completely alone with no one to love. And although I wanted so badly to replace Joe in his life, I felt I was tempting fate by lying there flaunting my manhood. I rolled off the edge of the tank, dropped to the ground and put my clothes on.
As I slid my arms into my shirt sleeves, I looked up to see him standing like a Grecian god on the tank rim. He had a dark smoldering look on his face. He held my gaze for a few moments before I dropped my eyes, and hurried to button my shirt. When I looked up again he was gone.
I sat down in the cool dark shade of the tank, gathered my knees to my chest and wondered what had just transpired. Tom came around the tank fully dressed, telling me it was time to get our chores done. We rode home in glum silence.
We didn't talk to each other as we headed back to the house and got our chores and supper out of the way. I sat down on the porch waiting for Tom to come out and join me. After several minutes, when he didn't show, I went into the house looking for him.
That was the night that I tried to seduce him. I thought that night had turned things around for Tom. He'd let out a lot of pent up emotion. He'd been like him old self again. But the next morning it was back to the ol' morose depressed Tom. After that night, all communication between us was basic and minimal. What was really strange was that he didn't drink anymore. The bottle that he had been drinking from that night set in the middle of the table, untouched. I didn't remove it, nor did he.
* * *
During this time I discovered an interest in New Mexican history. I found a big old book in Tom's library published in the 1930's. It had lots of curious, but very interesting pictures in it. As I read I came across the name Post. A Theodore G. Post had married the last heir to a large Spanish land grant who in her own right was very wealthy. There were pictures of the couple and their little girl. And there were several pictures of the original family home set amongst huge cottonwood trees on the banks of the Rio Grande. I showed the picture to Tom and asked him if that was Neil's grandparents and his mother and if that was where Neil now lived. He affirmed my suspicions and then it dawned on me that Neil would probably never come back into my life. I sighed and put the book back on the shelf.