---

In a mental haze, Neal left the hospital and drove to the café to tell Betsy that his eye was okay and that Mr. Ogden had hired him. He was elated to have a job, embarrassed that it was paying so much, confused about his reactions to Mr. Ogden, and still more confused about the conversation between Maria and Mr. Ogden while the two of them were bandaging his head.

As he thought about it, he began to feel that a snare had been set and he'd been the unwitting rabbit caught in it. 'As I think about it, Betsy was acting strangely when I found that ad. I have a feeling that she knew about it beforehand. And Maria saying she was so glad I was finally there - like she had been waiting specifically for me. I wonder why Mr. Ogden was sitting with the sheriff at the back of the room when I went in to identify my attacker. He must have already known who I am. I kinda got the feeling that he was putting on an act when he asked my name when he introduced his kids. I feel like he'd already decided to hire me before I ever showed up at the ranch. This is all so confusing, it makes my head hurt. I gotta stop thinking about it.'

Betsy had her nose buried in a text book sitting at a table in the rear of the café. There were two couples sitting in booths near the front engrossed in their own little worlds. None of them looked up as he entered.

"Hey, Bets," he called as he stepped inside.

"You can see. Oh, Neal, I'm so glad." She said as she glanced up at him. Her eyes widened when she saw the new bandage on his forehead. She jumped up, ran to him and grabbed his arms. "Jeez! You've been wounded again. I thought you were going to an interview, not a battle." The couples looked to see what was happening and then ignored them. She led him back to the table where she was studying. Neal sat down and leaned back in his chair.

"It's just a little cut. It's nothing."

"Did you get the job? What's it like out there at the ranch? How'd you get the cut? Your eye is all bloodshot. Talk to me."

Neal chuckled at her barrage."Yeah, I got the job. It pays so well that I can continue on my Masters next spring." He paused and looked down at his hands pressing against the table edge. The confusion of thoughts and emotions threatened to engulf him. He pushed them away.

"So how much?" Betsy asked.

"Four hundred a week," he whispered.

"Holy cow. He really does want you," she exclaimed.

He looked up at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"N-n-nothing. Just that he must be impressed with your credentials," she dissembled. "I'm so excited for you that I'm just babbling." She enthusiastically threw her arms around him giving him a big hug.

Her comment only added to his emotional distress, but it was too much to deal with, so he ignored it for the moment, shrugged her off and sat down at the table.

"Something happened to me that really spooked me, Betsy." He spoke in a whisper. "It's so embarrassing. I don't know if I can talk about it." He ducked his head. "I'm so mortified. I could just die." He threw his head back staring at the ceiling and whispered. "Dear God, I wish I could deny it, make it not true."

Betsy leaned over and put her arm around his neck. "Hey! Nothing's that bad. What happened?"

He dropped his forehead to the table, and didn't answer. Betsy massaged his shoulders.

"Well, if you won't tell me, let me guess." She continued speaking just barely above a whisper. "You went out to this ranch where you met the gorgeous Mr. Ogden ,then you come back looking like a lovesick puppy. Did it take a knock on your head for you to finally figure out you like men?"

Horrified, he simply stared at her. Finally, he managed to gather his wits and said in a harsh whisper, "I am not queer. I've never even looked at another man."

"Hey, I know that guys check each other out in the shower to see how they rate. Girls do the same thing except in a different area."

"I know that," he snapped at her.

She sat down, grasped his hands, looked him in the eyes and said, "I'm your best friend, Neal. I've known you for a long time. I've watched you around other girls. You just don't treat us like other guys do. You're kind, sweet, caring, but you've never been interested in me as a female." She was quick to add, "That doesn't mean I like you any less, maybe more, 'cause I don't have to fend off sexual advances with you."

He raised his head and stared at her like she was speaking an unknown language. As he looked at her, he thought, 'I love her, but it's true, she has never made me feel like I felt when I was near Buzz Ogden.' That, too, confused him. He was really having a hard time dealing with it. "I've never been attracted to a man. Men don't turn me on," he protested.

"Apparently Mr. Ogden does. Have you ever really been turned on by a woman?"

Neal sat back looking like she had slapped him. He didn't answer.

"Neal, it's no big thing. Just accept it and deal with it. Get on with your life." When he just continued to stare at her, she prompted, " So tell me, what's Mister Ogden like?"

It took him a moment before he weakly smiled, but then he blushed recalling the interview. "I'm sure he thinks I'm an imbecile. I made a complete ass of myself. I tripped on the carpet in his office and fell, hitting my head on a chair nearly knocking myself out," he said touching his head and blushing deeper thinking about how he had felt lying in Buzz's arms.

"You're blushing? What did he do?"

"He picked me up like I was a child and sat down on the sofa with me on his lap. His housekeeper bandaged my head while he held me." He stopped as he relived the moment, then looking horrified he wailed, "I'm a grown man for Christ's sake." He covered his face with his hands for a moment, then looked up at her."I don't know that I should tell you this."

"What? Come on, you tell me everything. You can't help yourself, that's just the way you are."

"Stop saying that."

She grinned at him and impishly wrinkled her nose at him. "So tell me."

Neal thought about refusing, but knew he wouldn't. Betsy was right; he always confided in her. "His smell," he whispered.

"What, he stinks?"

"No, you silly." Neal's eyes unfocused as he stared off into space. "His scent - clean, but like he's been sweating… and leather. He'd been out horseback riding. That scent got into my brain, that's was what made me stumble."

Sagely nodding her head, Betsy smiled. "I think you've fallen in love."

Neal gasped like he had just had a bucket of ice water poured over his head and slipped back into denial.

"Please. Don't say that. It can't be. I'm a man," he harshly whispered and stood up. "He's a man - one of the most masculine men I've ever met. It cannot be. Men do not fall in love with each other."

Resolving to put the whole event out of his mind, he abruptly pushed his chair back under the table telling himself, 'I wasn't queer yesterday and I'll be damned if I'm going to be tomorrow. I've gotta get out of here and get my head straightened out.' He walked away before Betsy could protest. Pausing at the door, he turned back to face her. "Well… thanks for listening to my ravings." He managed a weak smile. "Gotta go pack my meager belongings. Tomorrow is moving to the country day." With a flourish he opened the door and stepped out into the September afternoon.

"Neal, be good to yourself. Take care," Betsy whispered, watching him leave. 'Knowing Neal, his denial of his feelings is going to cause him problems.' She picked up his untouched coffee cup and put it in the tray to be washed.

As he strode up the sidewalk, a teenage kid with dark brown hair in cowboy boots, Levi's, white tee shirt and a black Levi's jacket pushed off the front of a red Mustang convertible and swaggered toward him. Neal paid no attention to him. As Neal started past him, the boy reached out and snagged his shirt sleeve.

"You must be Neal Martin? Holy Shit! Someone really did beat the crap out of you."

Neal ignored the comment as he released his sleeve from the kid's grip Realizing the kid was the older Ogden boy. Even with his dark complexion, straight dark-brown hair and brown eyes, the boy closely resembled his younger sister. Neal noted he was smaller than his younger brother."You're Billy Ogden," he said, offering his hand.

Billy ignored it.

"So how did you recognize me? Neal asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"Maria described you. There can't be that many guys around with their heads bandaged."

"Oh… of course."

"I don't need a baby sitter. Hell, you're not much older than I am."

Neal startled at the vehement non sequitur. No, he wasn't that much older than Billy, but he felt years more mature than the boy standing in front of him, but he wanted to get along with him so he was diplomatic. "I'm twenty-two, you're seventeen. No, that's not much difference, is it?"

Billy gave a quick shrug and changed directions again. "What did my dad tell you about me?"

It was Neal's turn to shrug, looking into Billy's eyes. "Not much. You loved your mother. You miss her."

Billy looked away, silent for a moment, then blurted out, "It was his fault you know… that she died."

"I didn't know that." Neal felt the boy's anguish.

"If he'd loved her like she needed, she wouldn't have been killed."

"I don't know even how she died," Neal said.

"All he cares about is his stupid business. If he'd cared as much about my mom she'd still be here." Billy's bravado started crumbling.

"Let's go inside and sit down and you can tell me how your mother died," Neal said, as he gently took his arm and guided him into the café; the boy let him. Betsy started to ask if they wanted something, but Neal discreetly motioned her away. Once they were settled into a booth, Neal asked, "When did it happen?"

"I was fourteen."

"That was three years ago." Neal said.

Billy nodded. "I think she'd come into town to see my real father. He's a movie director. Then she went horseback riding. They said it was an accident… that her horse slipped and fell into a ravine. The sheriff's posse and Dad found her and brought her back."

If Neal hadn't been a stranger, Billy probably would probably have kept up his bravado. He laid his head on his folded arms and sobbed. Neal moved around beside him and put his arm around his shoulder. He sat quietly waiting for Billy to get it out of his system and pull himself together. After a couple of minutes, the sobbing slowed and stopped. He sniffled a couple of times and sat up. Neal pulled his arm back. Billy scrubbed at his face. "I'm not crying. I don't cry. I'm angry, that's all."

He raised his head, his face still wet with tears, and looked defiantly at Neal, realizing at that moment Neal would never be a stranger again, and that he'd exposed his vulnerability. "You won't tell my dad," he said, no question involved.

Realizing what the boy was going through, Neal replied, "It's just between you and me."

Billy wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve, then nudged him with his elbow. Neal slid out of the booth and stood. Billy, once again the smart-alecky kid, gave Neal a one sided smile as he slid out of the booth. "You may be okay," he said, again cocky as he swaggered to the door. He turned as he opened it and cocked a pointed finger at him. "Hey, stay out of fights."

Neal grinned at him, then stared at the door after Billy left. 'I'm in love with this kid's father.' It was a thought out of nowhere that wreaked havoc with his mental equilibrium. For a minute or more he didn't move. Betsy watched him, worrying about what he was going through. He finally physically shook himself and waved to Betsy as he again left. Betsy followed him up to the window and watched him wander down the street toward his pickup looking like a war victim with a bandage around his head, and arm in a sling, and his good hand shoved in his pocket.

* * *

Neal lay awake in the small bed with its worn out mattress in the corner of the little efficiency apartment over an old garage. He'd been awake for hours watching the minutes tick by on his alarm clock. His mind refused to turn off. So much had happened - too much for his brain to absorb so quickly. As he stared into the predawn darkness, his mind replayed bits and pieces of conversations from the day before.

"He really does want you," Betsy had said.

And then Buzz, "Damn, I didn't expect you to look this bad."

And Maria saying, "He is tan guapo, Buzzy."

And Buzz answering with a whispered, "De veras, Mamacita. Yes. He is a precious angel"

Then Buzz looking him straight in the eyes saying, "I think you're perfect---" and then attempting to cover that over by adding, "for the job."

'Why had Betsy been so nonchalant and casual in urging me to call for an interview? Usually, she would be very excited and pushy. I should have suspected something then. How had Buzz known I'd been beaten? Why wouldn't he have assumed it was injuries from an auto accident? He hadn't even asked about how it had happened, and he had known about the condition of my eye. Why had he sat in on the identification of my attacker? Betsy had said that Buzz had been in the café asking about him the day before the interview. Betsy must have told him what that had happened to me. I wonder if Buzz manipulated the whole situation. Why would he do that?

'I wonder why Buzz held me in his arms rather than just laying me on the sofa or leaving me lying on the carpet. He called me a beautiful angel in agreement with Maria. Could Buzz possibly feel about me like I feel about him? Nah, I'm just projecting my emotions and desires on the situation. Buzz is widowed and has three kids. He's straight. But still, the whole situation's curious.'

Neal fondled himself to full hardness while fantasizing about Buzz riding up on his horse dressed like a working cowboy, so manly, so handsome, then he reached a thunderous climax thinking about lying in Buzz's arms.

As he came down, guilt began to eat at him. 'What would Buzz think if he knew that I just jacked off fantasizing about him? Damn, I must be a queer if I fantasize about him while jacking off.' He sat up and held his achy head. 'I can't let anyone know this, especially not Buzz - no, he's Mr. Ogden. He'd fire me on the spot and throw me out of his house. I'd be lucky if he didn't accuse me of trying to pervert his kids. What am I going to do?'

Wiping himself off, feeling disgusted at what he'd just done, he tossed his skivvies into the pile of dirty clothes in the bottom of his closet and stopped in front of the full length mirror attached to the bathroom door. Staring himself in the eyes, he answered himself aloud, "Well, you're just going to have to watch yourself until you can figure out what to do about your newly discovered desires."

Never had he had a day like yesterday. Despite all that had happened, he remained unaware that his life's course had forever changed.

>><><><<

It was nine o'clock when Neal, full of resolve, arrived at the ranch. The back of his pickup contained all he owned. Nothing would fluster him again, and Mr. Ogden would never know what really had happened to him yesterday - why he'd stumbled and fallen. He'd be damned if he would let it happen again. For the moment, he successfully forgot the conversation between Maria and Buzz while they had bandaged his head.

Maria opened the big oak door with a big smile on her face. "Bien Venido, Neal, este ya es tu casa, so you don't need to knock again. Bien venido."

He couldn't help but give her a big hug as she welcomed him telling him it was now his home, too. He picked up the bags he'd set down to ring the doorbell.

"Gracias, Maria. Con mucho gusto. En donde esta‛ Fireball?"

"Oh, she is sleeping. That dog is good for nothing, except for loving." Maria thought nothing of Neal answering her in Spanish. It didn't dawn on her that Neal had understood her conversation with Buzz the previous afternoon, or if it had she'd have still thought nothing of it. She was perfectly fine as long as her Buzzy was happy.

Dori came skipping around the corner, stopped and looked at him. Suddenly feeling shy, she meekly said, "Hi," then turned and ran back through the house, yelling, "He's here! Neal is here."

Maria smiled and said, "Ay, que niña. Un momento she is a young lady, el segente she's still a child."

The yell woke Fireball who came bounding in to greet Neal. He sat down on the floor and pulled the dog into his lap as he rubbed his nose in her neck, not giving her a chance to lick his face.

Buzz stepped out of the office door next to him. Neal was startled, but steeled his resolve. He would not be so silly again like yesterday. He smiled up at him. Buzz pulled the dog away scolding her and then turned to Neal and offered his hand. Smiling, he pulled him to his feet. Neal blushed at the contact, but took it in stride. Maria led Fireball away leaving the two men alone.

"Neal, welcome. How's your head?" He asked, seeing that all the bandages had been removed. He examined the wounds above and below his eye that had required stitches and again fumed, wanting to hurt the man that had done this. "Here, let me take those bags." He grabbed the two bags before Neal could protest and said, "Follow me. We'll get you settled in."

Neal followed empty-handed, gaping again at the huge living room as Buzz led him through it. He'd walked through it yesterday, but had paid no attention to it. "Wow, this is the biggest living room I've ever seen!"

Buzz loved the grand old adobe home his forefathers had built back in the late 1700s, and loved showing it off. "This part of the house was built in the old hacienda style. This room was once the central courtyard. There was a second oak tree as big as the one in the front yard growing here. There was also a well with an old bucket for pulling up water. My dad had the well filled, the tree removed and the entire courtyard roofed over. My parents entertained a lot."

Leading Neal with the three kids following, he moved towards a hallway to the right of the main entrance hall. "At the same time that Dad roofed over the courtyard, he had this wing built. All the bedrooms are out here."

They stepped into a long glassed-in lanai. The roof was made of vigas, straight slender peeled logs that spanned the room supporting the roof, and latillas, sticks laid side by side on the diagonal in a zigzag pattern, spanning the space between vigas in the old pueblo style like the rest of the house. Down the back wall to their left were five doors spaced intermittently. The right side was all French windows looking out onto a spacious lawn.

Buzz led Neal down the long lanai toward the end. He pointed at each door as they passed it. The first was the guest room, then Dori's, then Tim's, then Billy's. "They each have their own bathroom," Buzz informed him. "And this last one will be your bedroom. It was first the master bedroom, then it became my wife's study when I built on the new large master bedroom after my mother died. The two rooms share the master bath." Buzz glanced at Neal and wondered why he was frowning, but didn't ask. "The door on the end wall is to the new master suite," he said pointing to the end of the lanai.

He opened the door to Neal's new bedroom. As Neal stepped into the room Buzz motioned for his young ones to stay out. Neal's eyes widen as he took in the size of it. It was at least the size of his mother's living room. It was furnished with a hand-hewn oak double bed, a big over- stuffed club chair and a desk and chair that matched the bed. The natural flagstone floor was covered by a huge old hand woven Navajo rug. On the wall was a glass encased Navajo blanket from a much earlier period than the rug.

"Your own fireplace," Buzz said, pointing. There were several large handmade Indian pots around the Pueblo style fireplace in the corner.

Buzz opened a door just inside the room."This is a walk-in closet. The French windows," he said pointing, "open onto the patio, giving you access to the pool." Neal stepped over to the glass doors wondering why they were called windows and looked out at the swimming pool.

Buzz opened another door. "And this door leads into the bath," Buzz was saying. Neal turned and bumped into him. He grinned sheepishly, and stepped into the bright room.

Again, all he could do was gape. The room was twice the size of his bedroom. The floor was white unglazed porcelain hexagonal one inch tiles with random black ones. The walls were cobalt tile and glass blocks. The ceiling was one big opaque skylight. Neal gawked up at it. The room was so bright.

"I suppose this is a little over the top for an old adobe house, but I enjoy it. Here you have the shower." Buzz opened a glass door in a curved glass block wall. Neal peered in. It was big enough to hold four grown men. There were six showerheads, three above and three waist high. Neal imaged himself as a human car going through a carwash.

"That's the Jacuzzi." Buzz pointed to the huge oversized tub, "and that's the sauna," he said, pointing to another glass block enclosure. "And the toilet is through that door." He stood in the middle of the room turning as he pointed. Neal turned with him. "And the sink on the left is yours." The last wall Buzz pointed at was a floor to ceiling mirror. Two freestanding pedestal sinks stood against it with a small chest on either side.

Buzz smiled at him in the mirror. Neal blushed, feeling he'd been caught imagining the wonderful things he wanted to do with Buzz in this room. Buzz saw the blush and grinned, imaging what Neal might have been thinking.

"Thanks, Mr. Ogden," Neal said, stiffly. "What is the agenda today?"

"Well, first off, my name is Buzz," he said, wondering at Neal's sudden change of attitude. "Why don't you get settled in, then we can take a tour of the ol' place, have some lunch and maybe take a swim later. It's going to be a hot day. So… does that sound good?"

"Delightful," Neal replied unsmiling, dreading the rest of the day, yet eager for it.

"Good, I'll get Billy and Tim to bring the rest of your things in."

Buzz left. Neal sat down on the bed, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. 'I'm in way over my head here,' he thought, 'I should get out of here. But it's too late. I'm here and I'll have to make the best of it.'

* * *

"He gave you my mom's room, huh?"

Neal snapped out of his solemn reverie and sat up straight as Billy set a cardboard box and a portable record player on the bed. "That's what your dad said."

"She spent a lot of time in here reading and writing." Billy sauntered over to the fireplace, turned looking the room over and then at looked at Neal. "Doesn't look like it did when she was alive. He had Maria remove all her stuff… that he didn't destroy right after her funeral."

Neal wondered why Buzz would do such a thing, but figured it was none of his business. "You're lucky to have known your mother," he said. "My dad died when I seven. I barely remember him."

"Yeah? Well, I wish it had been him instead of my mom." Billy stuffed his hands in his pockets and swiftly walked out.

Neal wondered what that had been about as he opened his suitcase. A big brown brindle cat jumped on the bed, checked everything out, then stepped into the middle of the clothes laying in the suitcase and lay down. Folding his fore paws under his chest, he looked up at Neal as if to say "I dare you to move me." Neal scratched the cat's chin.

There was a small knock at his door. Neal looked up to see Tim smiling at him. "Hi," he said. Tim grinned and took the greeting as permission to enter the room. He set down the box he was carrying and stood at the end of the bed watching Neal unpack with his one hand.

"You want to do something for me?" Neal asked. Tim nodded. "There's a big meatloaf lying in the middle of my clothes. Remove him, please."

Tim looked at the cat, reached over and scratched its ears. It turned on its outboard engines and purred loudly. "He likes you, Neal. How do you already know his name?"

Neal looked confused for a moment, and then it dawned on him. He laughed. "You're kidding. The cat's name is Meatloaf?"

"He must really look like one, you saw it first thing. Mom named him after one of Kliban's cats. He was a cartoonist. There's a book of his cartoons in the library." Tim grinned and asked, "Need some help?"

"Oh, I'm doing ok, but you can sit and watch."

"Okay." Tim said enthusiastically, picked up the cat and walked over to the big club chair, pulled it around, then sprawled in it with Meatloaf splayed out on his chest. Neal proceeded to put his clothes away. Tim watched and the cat revved its engines while staring at him. "Dad says you're a really smart fellow and that you'll help us get our grades back up." Tim said.

"Yeah, that's what I'm here for. Tell me, Tim, what do think is the reason you're not getting good grades in school? You used to be an "A" student." Neal took a stack of LPs out of a box and stacked them on the floor against a desk leg, giving Tim space so he didn't feel pushed.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I just kind of lost interest when my mom died."

"You miss her, huh?"

Neal stacked all of his schoolbooks on the desk. He had a slightly difficult time with only one good hand. The cast covered his whole hand up to above his wrist, only his finger tips were bare and they were taped to molded plastic splints.

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you feel like talking about it?"

"Nah."

"Well, I'm here… if you do." He picked up his portable record player and set it on the adobe bench that was part of the fireplace.

"Thanks, Neal."

Neal stopped and smiled at him. "Well, I think everything's put away."

He stepped into the closet and looked around. It was as big as the little bedroom he'd been renting, and was empty except for his few meager clothes. He noticed a door on the back wall and opened it. He was looking into another closet filled with Buzz's clothes. It smelled like Buzz. He took a deep breath. It made him light headed. He felt a stir in his pants. When he realized that the door on the far side of Buzz' closet opened into the master suite, he froze. He stepped back, closed the door and went back into his bedroom. Tim saw the weird expression on Neal's face and wondered what was wrong, but he didn't say anything. Neal tightened his shaken resolve and smiled at Tim. "Okay! Now let's go do other things."

Tim jumped up, dumping the cat on the floor. Meatloaf whipped his tail back and forth to let him know he was not pleased with such treatment, then something outside the window caught his attention and he went to investigate. Neal put his arm around Tim's shoulder as they walked down the hall to find the others. Tim smiled at him and asked, "We're going to be buddies, aren't we?"

"You bet, Tim."

"You can call me Timmy if you want." He was nearly as tall as Neal.

"Oh, I think Tim fits better on a big guy like you."

Tim grinned.

The rest of the day was a turmoil for Neal. Buzz was constantly there, in front of him, beside him, being attentive, touching him, a hand on his arm or shoulder, or the back of his neck. He was in heaven. He was in hell. He loved being close to Buzz, but hated the torment.

When it came time for swimming after lunch, Neal found a lounge in the shade to watch. It was wonderful how Buzz dove in and played with his kids. Even Billy for a little while forgot his resentment and anger. Neal laid his head back and watched Buzz through slit eyes. He had never thought much about men before. He'd been on the swim team through his high school years and his first year in college, and never really paid attention to the near naked men around him. Yet, he enjoyed looking at Buzz. It made him feel warm and kind of fuzzy inside - aroused. He closed his eyes and decided it was better not to look any more.

Sunday followed pretty much the same routine.