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As everyone turned back to the tables laden with good eats I stepped closer to my stepfather who seemed lost in thought staring at the ground. He's a big man - towered over me by a good six inches since I was only five foot ten and he was probably seventy pound heavier than me - most of it fat these days. His size used to intimidate the hell out of me.

I noticed Mom hadn't moved - still watching the two of us. I smiled at her and turned back to him. "Monday morning you and I need to set down some ground rules to proceed by."

He looked up and nodded. "You'd be right to fire me. If roles were reversed that's what I would do to you."

"Then you're lucky that you aren't me," I replied, then turned to rejoin Sammy, but when my stepdad called out my name, I stopped and turned back to him. I didn't say anything, just waited for him to speak.

Finally he looked me in my eyes and said, "You're a good man, Jack. I've been wrong the way I've treated you all these years."

I studied him a moment, wondering if he meant it, then decided he just might and said, "I wish you'd realized that twenty years ago. I would have loved to have had a dad that I could love who loved me."

He dropped his eyes, nodded and mumbled, "Sorry," then shuffled towards Mom, who smiled at me before taking his hand and leading him away.

I didn't wonder what she saw in him. I could see for myself that he was still a fine looking man, and I knew that he mostly treated her and their four sons well. I sighed and watched them for a moment before turning back to Sammy.

When I sat down beside him, he studied me for a moment before saying, "I never saw moves like that before. Damn, he never had a chance."

I shrugged. "He and his damned rope were the main reason I learned how to defend myself. You remember all the rope burns I had as a kid. Hell, he's still doing it to his grandkids."

"Did you ever notice that he never tried roping me?" Sammy asked.

"Come to think of it . . . yeah. How come?"

"It wasn't until I was in college that I commented to Dad about it. Dad told me that after he'd watched your stepdad rope you, he told him that if I ever came home with rope burns, he'd take that rawhide rope away from him and use it on him."

"Hmm." I knew it did no good to wish someone had been there for me like that, but I still kind of wished it.

"Do you still have scars on you back from him whippin' you that time?" Sammy asked.

It's curious how one can put something like that to the back of one's mind and almost forget it ever happened. When Sammy asked, I instantly relived the whole incident. My stepdad had chosen to believe a wetback rather than me about something that had been broken in the barn, and had beaten me with his rawhide rope for lying to him. He taught me that day to tell him what he wanted to hear rather than tell him the truth. Since I've grown up and I'm out from under his control, I tell it like it is, whether he likes it or not.

"I never think about it anymore." I unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it off my back as I turned away from him so he could see. "Do I?"

I felt his fingers lightly brush over my back following the ridges of scars. "Damn, Jack, why'd your mom and Gran let him get away with this?"

"They never knew about it. I kept my back hidden from everyone but you. It just became a habit to keep it covered."

"So, who doctored you?"

"He did . . . with a lecture every time about lying to him." I didn't say anything about his threat to kill me if I ever told my mother or Gran.

"God damn, Jack."

While we sat there side by side, his shoulder rubbing against mine - close - like all those intervening years had never happened, I relived the times my stepdad doctored my back, acting like he cared about me while lecturing me about lying and how no one liked a liar, while lovingly reminding me not to let Mom or Gran know about my back, making it sound like if they knew that I'd lied to him they'd disown me or something as terrible. Thinking about how insidiously he posed the threat took me back to my twelve year old mentality. I shuddered at the memory.

It was good to be back with Sammy. I felt fortified by his presence. Sometime later when we were alone we'd talk about things, but for now we were together again and that's all that mattered.

He interrupted my thoughts by asking, "Have you noticed that most of the men folk aren't wearing shirts?"

I studied my family - except for Sammy's dad, my stepdad and one of my over-weight uncles - all the men had their shirts off. All the women were in shorts, some wearing halter tops. "So?" I asked.

"Let's do the same. Let's see what happens when they see your back."

"Sammy, you're still a trouble maker."

"Come on, Jack, it's time that bastard you call 'Stepdad' got his comeuppance."

I thought about it a moment and decided 'Why not.'

J.C. wandered over to us with a chunk of beef in one hand and a soda can in the other. "Ain't chu guys gonna eat? Sure is good."

"Didn't Dad make you a plate?" Sammy asked as he picked him up and sat him on the tailgate.

"Yeah, but this is all I wanted," he said, holding up the chuck of meat.

"He's a carnivore like his daddy," I commented.

Sammy elbowed me in my ribs. "Jay you gotta eat more than meat if you're going to grow up big like me and Jack here."

"I ate some of that other stuff, but I like this best. You should try some, Dad." He offered it to his dad.

Sammy grasped his son's wrist and raised the chuck of meat to his mouth and took a bite. "Mmmm, that is good. Come on, Jack, let's go chow down."

He stood and lifted J.C. off the tailgate, took the soda can from him and led him over to the tables where Dad Bowden sat with Gran, Mom and my stepdad.

They all smiled a welcome except my stepdad, who ducked his head and paid total attention to his plate of food. Mom said, "You two men go get a plate of food and come join us. There's plenty of room at this table."

I turned away with Sammy right behind me, heading for the tables laden with bowls and platters now near empty of food. There was just a couple of cupsful of Mom's potato salad left. It's easy to tell her's from anyone else's, because her's is yellow with lots of French's mustard, and lots of chopped dill pickles and chopped onion.

I cleaned out the bowl onto my plate and glanced at Sammy piling meat on his plate to see if he noticed. Sammy looked over the table's contents, then looked at my plate and glanced up at me with a hurt expression. It was like we were right back to being teenagers again. "Oh, alright, I'll give you half of it," I muttered. Like I hadn't planned to from the beginning.

He beamed at me. "Thanks, Jack. Your mom's potato salad has always been my favorite."

Karny chose that moment to come up to the table with Cass. She looked at the empty bowl then at our plates with the big dollops of Mom's potato salad. "Well," she sneered, "I at least got to taste it."

"I'm sure it was a big healthy taste," I sneered back.

Cass was behind me and I felt his hand caress down my backside. "Jesus, Jack," he muttered, "How'd you get these scars?"

I turned around, which put my back towards Karny, who let out a loud gasp and screeched, "Who in hell did this to you, Jack?" loud enough to get everyone's attention. She grabbed my wrist pulling me towards Gran's table.

"Leave it be, Karn," I growled, as I quickly set my plate on the food table to give me a free hand to pry loose from her grasp. I headed for Sammy's pickup to get my shirt. Shit, I wondered what I'd been thinking letting Sammy talk me into taking my shirt off. I didn't need this attention.

"How old were you when he did this to you?" Her voice was still loud enough for everyone to hear her. Why the sudden caring from her, or was this another way she was twisting the knife of her sick humor?

I froze, then turned around slowly. I could hear intakes of breath from the tables behind me. I glanced at my stepdad who had shrunk down in his chair, but was staring daggers at me. Gran had stood. Mom was craning to see what was going on.

"He was twelve," Sammy said as loudly as Karn. He was staring daggers at my stepdad.

"Jack, come here." That was Gran's command voice.

"Let me get my shirt."

"Leave your shirt be and come here. "

I was suddenly six again and feeling like I'd gone and done something wrong. Like a whipped puppy with my tail between my legs, I hesitantly moved towards Gran's table, quailing when I glanced at my stepdad's malevolent scowl. I could hear him in my head telling me he was going to kill me. My brothers had gathered behind Mom and Gran. Realizing that tears were running down my face, I felt even more ashamed - guilty. With my right hand clasping my left wrist, I dropped my head even lower and whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it."

Gran grabbed my arm and turned me around. "Oh God, Jack. Why didn't you tell us when this happened?"

I stood there shivering unable to answer, knowing that my stepdad was right there. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again." The dichotomy in my brain let me hear what I was saying in a little boy voice, and at the same time I was trying to break out of the thrall I was locked in. How do I explain that I knew I was a grown man with nothing to fear and at the same time I was that little boy frightened into silence by my big cruel stepdad? A part of my brain wondered how he could still affect me like this.

Gran wrapped her arms around me making little soothing shushing sounds, speaking to the little boy that still hurt so badly. "It's okay, Jack. I won't let him hurt you ever again. It's okay, Son. It's okay."

It had become a group hug with Sammy, my brothers and even Karny. I glanced at Mom, who had a look of horror on her face. I heard my stepdad sneer, "Shee-it, even as a grown man he's still a little pussy."

That snapped me out of it. I let out a big breath, shrugged away those seeking to comfort me, and turned on my stepdad who was stretched out on his chair with his ankles crossed, swilling a beer. "Stand up, you son of bitch," I commanded.

He laughed and sneered at me. I kicked his stretched out legs and he fell off the chair, banging his head in the process. For a big man, he could really move fast when motivated. I'd just motivated him, and he was on his feet aiming a flying fist at my face before you could've said, "Boy howdy."

What the S.O.B. didn't seem to understand from our previous encounter was that I was even faster. He was flat on his back before he completed his swing. I was angry. I'd had my fill of all the years of his snide comments and put downs, all the undeserved whippings and other punishments. I kicked him in his ribs before he could start to get back on his feet. "That was a pussy's attempt to hit me," I said, intentionally using his own word. "Would you like to try again?"

He groaned as he got to his feet.

"God, talk about a pussy, come on, Ol' Man, show us all what a big pussy you really are. Come on; give it your pussy best." I turned my back on him as if I was going to walk away.

He roared and ran at me, intent on grabbing me as he knocked me to the ground. I ducked and whirled, grabbing his wrists and assisted his momentum in carrying him over my head as he flipped, heels over head, landing flat on his back again. He landed hard enough to knock the breath out of him. I planted my foot on his neck firmly enough that he knew it was there. He grasped my boot top with both hands and stared at me, daring me to go ahead and crush his windpipe. Mom had hold of my arm trying to pull me away, afraid I would kill him. I said, "I promise I won't hurt him anymore than he asks for, Mom. Let go of me." She did, and stepped back.

"Now, tell me who the pussy is, Ol' Man."

He stared up at me, still holding onto my leg as if he could prevent me from applying pressure.

"Would you like to try again to prove that it's not you?" I lifted my boot from his neck and he let go of my leg. "Get up, Pussy."

Donny ran past me to help his dad get up. The moment he was on his feet he snarled at him, "Get away from me." Donny, looking like a kicked puppy, crept back over to stand with his brothers. I felt sorry for him, for he, more than his other brothers, worshiped his father.

My stepdad hadn't yet figured out that he wasn't going to get the best of me. He looked at me with a sneer, his nose was bleeding again. He wiped his arm across it, looked a bit surprised to see the bright red smear, then looked back at me. I got the feeling he was still seeing the submissive child I once was. He was in for a surprise.

"Tell you what, Ol' Man, I won't put you on your back again. I'll even let you take the first swing at me. You like that idea?" I'd stepped up close to him. He slowly raised his fist. I knew he was snake fast and moved aside as his fist flew towards my face. I dug my fingers into his solar plexus. The air whooshed out of his lungs as he looked surprised that I was still standing in front of him. But he didn't give up. He rounded on me again and again. His blows never made contact and each time he received a hit, a jab or a chop. I wondered if he was aware that he was taking a punishment that he wouldn't really feel until tomorrow. Tomorrow he was going to be black and blue, and so sore he'd have trouble even moving.

I slowly wore him out and he still hadn't given up. He was barely standing as he gasped for breath. I said, "Look, Ol' Man, why don't you just quit. I'm not going to let you touch me, so give yourself a break. Actually, I'll make it easy for you, I'll quit."

I turned my back on him and headed towards Sammy, I heard a collective gasp and turned as he made another grab at me. I simply side stepped and let him trip over my foot. He sprawled face down right at Gran's feet. As Sammy handed me my shirt, Gran poked my stepdad's shoulder with her toe to get his attention. "You should be ashamed of yourself - he was only twelve years old. Even then he was more a man than you'll ever be." She turned her back on him and walked away with Mom at her side. My four brothers followed and in just a few seconds only Sammy and I were left.

He rolled over and sat up. He still didn't look defeated, but I knew he'd feel it tomorrow. He looked up at me with a grimace. "I have made a huge mistake," he said. "I totally underestimated you, Jack. Gran is right." He looked introspective as he sat there nodding his head. I offered him a hand. He looked at it, then up at me. He grasped it and I pulled him to his feet. He nodded to me and said, "Yeah, Gran is right." He dusted himself off as he turned and strode off towards the house three quarters of a mile up the mesa's slope.

One of my cousins came up to us and said, " Have something to cut the dust," as he offered us a couple of cans of Coke.

"Thanks, Eli," I took the cans with a grin of appreciation and handed one to Sammy who also thanked him. We headed back to the food table, picked up our abandoned plates and finished piling food on them, then headed for Sammy's tailgate to sit and eat in privacy. Josh was sitting at a table holding one of his little twin sons who was sound asleep. He motioned with his head for us to join him.

"We're going to go talk, Josh. We'll join you later."

He winked and grinned.

While we stuffed on the delicious food, we talked about ranching things - how we could use a bit more rain, the round up and branding that was coming up the end of the month - that kind of thing. What we didn't talk about was us.