Chapter 6

 

 

THE next two weeks flew by and so did the landscape as they left the northern edges of the Great Plains far behind. Somewhere along the way they’d crossed the Continental Divide, and Gideon thought he could tell by the different climates out here that they were in the Pacific region now, where the weather was influenced more by the great ocean than by the Great Plains. They passed through Owhyee and didn’t spot another living soul until they reached Winnemucca, past mining towns big and small until they reached what a woman in dungarees told Gideon was the Humboldt River.

“You ain’t far from home, are you, ma’am?” he asked. She rode astride, which plenty of women did out where city folk weren’t around to judge ’em. In this part of the country, the cities weren’t much to speak of anyway.

Her hand dropped to the rifle that hung from a strap on her saddle’s pommel. “Don’t matter to you how near or far I am,” she said, frowning.

Gideon chuckled, trying to be polite about it. “We’re just headed west, thought if you wanted some company we could move along at a pace for a time, if we’re going in the same direction.”

“We ain’t,” she said, but the words were gentler now. She was moving west, her horse’s gait enough slower than Star’s that Gideon realized again just how much Jed had managed to push the pace for them. A wide track peeled off by a creek, a shallow tributary to this pretty, meandering river. “Our family’s place is up that way. Good day to you, boys,” she said, and reined aside.

“See, Jed?” Gideon whispered before she’d gotten too far away. “Another decent enough white.”

“I believe that many white people are decent, Gideon. Some, much more than that,” he said, and the sideways glance he slanted made Gideon’s mouth stretch into a wide grin. “It is the whites who are not that trouble me and my kind. There are many of those, too.”

Gideon couldn’t hardly argue, so he didn’t. Instead he struck up a conversation even Jed seemed willing to warm to, about their first gals: first time seeing a woman naked, first fucks—first kisses, which Gideon already knew was his. What they liked and disliked about women carried them the whole day and blended seamlessly into what they liked and disliked about men. Here, Gideon was more hesitant about spelling things out. It still seemed strange, having a man he was comfortable enough to talk to about the subject. He’d bedded—or at least been blown by—enough men, it oughtn’t to feel strange talking about it. But Gideon realized there’d only been one boy, back when he was barely a teenager, he’d felt close enough to want to ask, and even to want to explain how strange and scary and rich all this lust for men felt. So they shared some silences, too, with just the clomp of Star’s hooves, shifting stones, rushing water, and the wildlife that thrived along this river’s edge.

They shared each other, every night. Some mornings now, too, when Gideon could interest Jed in the notion.

The big mining towns, they gave wide, wide berths. They steered clear enough of Rose Creek and Tungsten, Mill City and Rye Patch, towns that were marked more by the smoke from the smelting plants and the track that crisscrossed the land, rail lines that brought in coal and timber, food and equipment, and hauled out ore. After he and Jed passed a big, beautiful blue lake, some of the land they crossed was dry enough that it barely supported crickets and scorpions, much less sheep or cattle. Dry salt flats caught sunlight like mirrors, making his eyes squint and his skin tan darker. Jed’s, too, he thought, which surprised him. For some reason he’d thought Jed’s skin was as dark as it could get the day they’d met in Livingston.

Worthless land made for lonely land, which suited Gideon just fine. Jed, too, by the look of him. They spent their nights on shared bedrolls, sometimes with a fire and sometimes without, sometimes dressing after their loving and sometimes just rolled close together, skin on skin, sure they were far enough off the paths of any but the most determined or desperate trappers that the risk of getting run across was small. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Gideon was sure that would be him doing the not-caring, that Jed looked out for them always, and he was glad Jed knew this wild land well enough to know when they could afford the pleasure of sleeping naked together. Some days were hard walking, and some days Star slowed them down when they went too long between finding rivers or streams and thirst bothered her. Gideon worried about that a little, but Jed seemed to feel it without Gideon having to say, or recognize it in Star’s plodding steps, because soon enough he’d find sign of a spring or a creek, even just a burble of water coming up from the ground to make a pool plenty big for refilling canteens and letting Star drink her fill.

He’d thought he’d gotten to know Jed well enough from nursing him through that time of infection and fever, but he’d learned so much more of the man on the trail: his strengths in the wild, his way with hunting and foraging and caring for Star. He had such quiet ways, but sometimes, something would drive him to talk, to share a story of his own. The Shoshone had respected him and how he looked in that dance… he knew his own body well, and he had learned Gideon’s plenty fast. Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—they’d stop on the trail when they ran across water, and if the weather was nice and there were trees or shrubs along the bank to keep them from being visible through a spyglass, Jed would just drop to his knees, or into that familiar native squat right in front of him, open his pants, and suck him dryer than the salty ground they trekked over.

He almost never let Gideon pay him back, not in the middle of the day like that. But sometimes, less often, if Gideon woke when Jed roused himself, Jed would let him suck him before they started their day. Those mornings were Gideon’s favorites, and he thought Jed walked with a smoother, lazier gait when he’d allowed Gideon to tend to him.

It was on a sunny afternoon after one of their more pleasurable mornings that Gideon was reminded that not everything was as tame out here as it seemed. They’d stopped at a trickle of water that might, in a few months when the weather turned and snow was falling on the mountain tops, be called a creek, but for now it was just a faint line of water running along the ground. Star sucked it in as best she could, and Gideon was standing with her, his back to the sun, when something niggled at the pit of his belly. He turned, looking for Jed, who he found on his knees nearby, his pack on the ground in front of him, but his head turned so that he was staring at something in the scrub.

Maybe it was his unnatural stillness. While Gideon was now accustomed to his friend’s taciturn nature and his spare and necessary movements, Jed was so still that Gideon wasn’t certain he was even breathing.

Or it could have been the strange sound he heard, one that had slowly crept into his awareness over the past few seconds. It was low and fast, like the buzzing of a nest of bees, but more distinct, and it didn’t take his brain but a second to identify the noise.

He stepped away from Star, taking two steps toward Jed. Jed didn’t move, but he said in a hiss, “Gideon, don’t—”

Gideon ignored him, drawing his pistol unthinkingly as he saw the threat: coiled in the faint shade of the scrub bush was a snake, its tail shaking its bone rattles, its head raised on a long arc of body. It hissed at the same time that Jed did, and drew back, ready to strike.

Gideon didn’t give much thought to firing, save that Jed was damned close to his line. Not too close for comfort, though, not with his shooting skills. Gideon blinked, giving himself a few seconds to look around in the aftermath, searching for any other signs of danger. The snake lay several feet away, its long body uncoiled now, blown backward by the impact of the bullet that had shattered its head. The tail still rattled as the body twitched, but the sound was less ominous now.

“You all right?” he asked as he walked over and nudged the severed snakehead away with his boot. There was still enough venom in that mouth to do either one of them in, and he wasn’t going to risk one of them stepping on it. Jed’s silence drew his head around in worry. “Jed?”

Jed pushed to his feet, moving stiffly, and his voice was also different, dull and a bit breathless.

He swallowed before he spoke. “The snake spirit—”

“Was too close to my Indian spirit,” Gideon cut in, annoyed.

Jed was staring at the snake, his eyes wide and his face pale. But he nodded. “Yes, it was too close. I—thank you, Gideon.”

They stood for a time, just staring at the snake as its death twitches slowly subsided, until Star broke the tension with a whoof and a stomp of one of her hooves as she dug into the small puddle of sandy mud. Gideon looked at her and the strong emotion drained away. What a damned fool way of almost losing Jed, after all the effort he’d put in to keeping him alive in Livingston.

He was still holding his pistol, but the barrel had stopped smoking. Carefully, he slid it back into its holster and stared at his right hand. He’d always been proud of his skills for the show and for the odd hunting trip, but he’d never been quite this grateful for them before. He rubbed his hand along the side of his pants to wipe away the sweat.

“You are a skilled marksman,” Jed said quietly. He had moved to stand beside Gideon, and he reached out slowly, taking Gideon’s hand in both of his. He used his fingers to spread Gideon’s hand open, and rubbed at the palm with his thumb, causing an altogether unseemly reaction to course through Gideon.

“I’ve told you how many stories, and you’re only now believin’ me?” he asked, trying to sound aghast. But most folks loved to talk, and very few could have made that shot.

“Only now have you given me cause. Again, I owe you my life.”

Gideon wanted to gripe about Jed’s lack of faith in his word, but right then Jed leaned over Gideon’s hand and even though Gideon had no idea what he was going to do, it had the feel of some sort of promise or obligation that Gideon didn’t like. He tugged his hand back, catching one of Jed’s wrists in the process and pulling the smaller man against him. “Weren’t nothing you wouldn’t have done for me if the situation was reversed and you’d had the shot,” he said gruffly even as he hugged Jed close. “But you’d probably have done it quieter,” he teased, laughing as much to ease his own tension as to lighten the moment.

Jed didn’t laugh, but Gideon could feel the answering smile where Jed’s mouth touched his cheek as Jed returned the hug. They stood that way for a while as the fear passed, and their hearts stopped pounding against each other. When Jed finally pushed away, he asked, “Is that what you do in your show? Shooting like that?”

Gideon smiled back, squeezing Jed’s hand before letting him go. “Some of it, yeah. Ma started teaching me to shoot when I was big enough to lift the gun—small ones, at first. She has a Derringer rig that she wears when we travel, and it was the first thing I learned to shoot. I’m not as good as my sisters, though—the twins are going to be stars in their own right. They can shoot the bee off of a flower and never touch the petals.”

Jed’s face expressed his doubt, so Gideon nodded. “I ain’t exaggeratin’, Jed. I don’t, usually, just so you know. They’re that good.”

Jed nodded and his lips twitched in his almost-smile, but his eyes were serious. “I think your skill with the gun is more than good enough for me,” he said. “Thank you.”

Gideon swallowed and nodded. “You can thank me for dinner, too. That there rattler’s about the best meat we’ve run across in a couple of days now.”

“Thank you for dinner,” Jed said, unaccountably sober and serious.

Gideon cleared his throat, uncomfortable with that kind of praise. “I think I’m rested enough—how ’bout you? Ready to move on?”

Jed did chuckle then, but he didn’t argue, picking up his pack and the snake’s long body as Gideon rounded up Star. But as they left the water-hole, Gideon took one more look at the bloody puddle of snakehead, reminding himself to clean his gun when they stopped for the night.

After that day, Gideon was more mindful of the dangers of this untamed land and of the simple pleasures of the trip. He spent a whole lot of time enjoying God’s country, and Jed’s chanting, and all the ways they’d been learning to pleasure each other.

His various educations—about Jed and Jed’s body, about the wild and living easily in it instead of making it a battle between his citified habits and mother nature—took up nearly two weeks and, he guessed, five hundred miles, getting them from the reservation of the Shoshone, through the rest of Idaho, across rocky deserts and salt flats, through wild rivers and peaceful valleys, and almost to Carson City before tension of any kind finally set in between them. Gideon was the one who started it. He wasn’t sure where the words came from or why they came out the way they did, but as the town grew in the distance, he heard himself ask Jed if he was going to ‘act civilized and take a bath in hot water and sleep in a real bed.’

It wasn’t the question itself, which he could have laughed off as a joke, but the tone of it, which even to his own ears sounded needlessly harsh.

Jed slowed his pace and turned to look at Gideon, his features twisted into a frown. “Why are you angry, Gideon?” he asked, the words slow and measured. “Have I done something you dislike?”

Gideon felt the heat as his skin flushed. “No,” he said quickly. “I just thought—well, we’re coming up on Carson City, and I’d like to stay the night there, maybe get a warm bath.”

Jed looked at him, the frown clearing away but leaving his features blank. After a few seconds, he said, “You can do whatever you want.”

Gideon drew a deep breath, mulling the words over long enough to realize what he was really asking. “I want you to come with me,” he said.

Jed looked away and toward Carson City. “You want me there even though you know I would not be content to linger.”

Gideon sighed. “No, of course not. But I think you’re judging us too hard. I got you taken care of in Livingston, didn’t I? You think I can’t do it here?”

Jed didn’t say anything for a while, and Gideon wondered how much he’d upset the other man. He also wondered what he was really doing—but he didn’t have to wonder on that for long. They were getting close to a city, and he wasn’t lying—he wanted a hot bath and hot food cooked with staples and supplies, salt and flour and biscuits all fluffy, dripping with butter and tart with salt. He wanted to sleep in a damned bed for once and not have Jed look at him like that desire made him weak, because it flat-out didn’t, no more than Jed’s ease under the open sky made Jed weak. They were just different—raised different, educated different, and there wasn’t nothing wrong with that. There shouldn’t be, anyway. But he wanted Jed with him, too. He wanted Jed with him as much as possible, to store up the memories for the time after they reached San Francisco and went their separate ways.

He thought about Jed making this trip back alone, to his more familiar territory in the Dakotas, and knew Jed was fine with his own company, completely competent to handle himself and most things that came his way—hell, Gideon thought, annoyed, he’d probably get back from San Francisco in half the time it took him to get there, with Gideon and Star dragging him down—as long as he was careful about snakes. Gideon had thought on that watering hole more than once as the days passed, wondering whether that rattler would have struck, if it would have got Jed. As comfortable with nature as Jed was, Jed was no more a part of it than any man, and all it’d take was a wild pig or a rattler, a scorpion or the wrong kind of spider in his bedroll, to end him. The man darned well ought to learn to appreciate cities and the relative safety of them.

Eventually, as the buildings grew more distinct, and the homesteads and fenced cattle pastureland they’d been passing gave way to smaller farms, then houses with smaller barns and big kitchen gardens, Jed said quietly, “I enjoy our time together. But do you think we would be able to be together in a town? Your people are not tolerant of what we do together, alone, and not just because I am an Indian. We are both men—that might be better with an Indian, a savage,” he said, and there wasn’t even any twist of irony in his voice, “but it could still mean our deaths if we were found out. Is a hot bath and a bed worth risking our lives to you?”

Gideon looked at him, thinking about his words. “Sure ain’t,” he answered, letting the annoyance show in his voice. Of course it wasn’t. “But we camped with them Shoshone, and as far as I know they didn’t figure nothing out. Did they?” he challenged, and watched Jed closely for deception.

Jed cast him a sideways glare. “No, they did not. But then, we only slept. You are telling me you want to lie in a soft bed that you pay for… and only sleep?”

Gideon clenched his teeth against his answer, because Jed had him caught out there, six ways from Sunday. Yes, he wanted a soft bed, and he wanted Jed and their hard cocks, right there in it. “All right, I admit it,” he grumbled, lowering his voice. Kids were out working in the kitchen gardens, and while the pair of them walking along didn’t earn many glances—the acreage still pretty big and the gardens well back from the road to keep from tempting travelers to help themselves to a free snack—being careless was a surer way to make Jed right than anything else could be. “I like the thought of us in a clean bed, soft sheets that smell like soap instead of sweat and horse hair. I like the thought of lying there with you, with a locked door—’cause whether you like it or not,” he said, poking Jed’s arm for emphasis, “when we’re out in the wild without a locked door, that’s its own kind of chance. It’s just a risk in your world, where you feel comfortable. Well, Jed, I’ve lived twenty years in cities and traveling between ’em.” Here he lowered his voice even further. “And I ain’t never even got a gal caught out if she was of decent folk, where someone seeing her with a man like me would get her in trouble. I sure as hell ain’t never got caught with a man, and yeah, I reckon I’ve had my share of those. Right inside the city limits. Right inside respectable hotels and boarding houses and homes, Jed.” All right, it had only been one home, with that one feller who’d been a bachelor and had his own place and had clearly been lusting after Gideon during the shows. The guy had come to every performance, hadn’t missed Gideon even once, and after a couple days’ careful feeling out of each other, the feller had been sure enough to invite him home “for supper and friendly conversation.” They hadn’t eaten a bite of food and hadn’t talked much either. But still, he was trying to make a point here.

“Nothing you can say would ever convince me you feared for your safety in the wild, during our times together,” Jed said, his voice as quiet as it got when he was chanting.

“I never did,” he agreed. “Because I trusted you, and trusted that you knew what you were doing.”

He let Jed chew on that for a time, as the lots got smaller and the road got wider; soon enough they’d have to turn off it to skirt north or south of the town center, or this road would take them right into the heart of it. Besides, he really did think Jed might be over-reacting. Jed was right that they’d need to be careful—very careful. But Gideon knew all about how to do that. “You take a fork in the road, and I’ll follow you,” he said after a while. “We can skip the city, find us a general store on the edge of town to stock up and move right on through. But it would mean a lot to me, Jed, if we stayed in town. If you stayed with me.”

Jed looked at him then sighed. “We need supplies,” he said by way of an answer. “But please, Gideon, remember that many of your people simply do not like my kind. You cannot talk everyone into your way of thinking just by being,” he waved a hand, “charming.”

Gideon wanted to crow at that compliment, but he tried hard not to let his victorious smile slip out, because it’d be a damn shame and just plain wrong to boot, to rub Jed’s face in the pleasure he took from this little win. Besides the pleasure he hoped they’d share in creature comforts like baths and somebody else’s good cooking and clean sheets, he was enjoying this, the winning. Lordy, but he was a selfish git sometimes. “I’m not looking to change every person in Carson City,” he said. Hell, he even meant it. “I’m just looking for a place that don’t mind catering to whites and redskins alike, that’ll let me buy a bath and a good, hot meal we didn’t have to cook ourselves and a decent room. My charm and my money can get us that.”

The road widened, as he’d predicted, then it widened some more, just past a turnout for the electric train that clearly brought working folks downtown or on through town to the smelters north of here. He didn’t reckon folks working the Comstock load up in Nevada’s Virginia City would actually live this far off, but you never knew. Management might.

Jed veered toward the south side of the street, where the late afternoon sun cast long shadows off the buildings. They were walking against the flow of traffic a little, but it made no nevermind: this time of day, folks bustled every which way.

“Need a good livery first,” he said. “Need to get Star put up.”

Jed nodded but didn’t say anything. He did point, half a block later, to a street that went off at an angle, and the thicker smell of manure and hay must mean this was livery row. Or one of them. “There’s thousands of people live here, Jed—Bill’s brought the show through here before. It’s the state capitol you know, and I heard it told that half the silver they pull out of the Comstock lode, up north of here, comes straight here to the U.S. Mint. I’ll bet one of them silver dollars you showed me in Livingston came from the Carson City mint.”

His effort at friendly conversation didn’t seem to calm Jed any: some days, it didn’t, so on those days Gideon shut up or talked to his horse. He shut up now and led the way, eying the liveries on this street: it looked like there were five or six to choose from, but it was just as likely that some of them shared the same corral yards.

The first would be the most expensive, just because it was nearest the main street into town, but he was looking for the one that was the best kept. He found it in the third, in a dry paddock with good drainage, and straw still scattered around it that was clearly used to soak up horse piss and make it easier on the stable kids to fork out the muck. The building looked sound and recently painted. The doors didn’t squeak when kids darted in and out, leading horses or their owners around. And the man who ran it had a good look about him, warm eyes and an even-seeming temper. His eyes stayed warm, even after he’d taken in Gideon’s companion.

“Afternoon,” Gideon said.

“Afternoon,” the man replied. “That’s a right pretty filly you’ve got there,” he added, which only increased Gideon’s estimation of the man’s talent with animals.

Jed didn’t quite snort behind him, but he did whisper loud enough for only Gideon to hear, “Good businessmen say that if you bring in a twenty-year-old nag.”

Gideon shot him a glare but didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t help Jed’s mood any for Gideon to go mouthing off at him around white people. “Thank you for saying so,” he said to the livery man. “We’re just in town for the night, me and my guide here,” he said, waving his hand back toward Jed. “I’m angling for a hot meal, a hotter bath, and someplace with two soft beds in a room that won’t mind him traveling with me.” Better to just lay it all out right now, before he parted with any of his money if local attitudes turned out to be more like Jed expected them to be than Gideon did. “And a comfortable place for my horse. She’s been traveling pretty hard.”

“You c’n find that here, sure,” the man said, and stepped up to them both. “Name’s Bob Gray,” he said. “Board and feed are fifty cents, an extra ten for oats at breakfast.”

“That’s right fair,” Gideon said, even though he knew he could probably haggle the man down some. “I’m Gideon Makepeace, and this here’s Jedediah Buffalo Bird. He’s trying to get me to San Francisco.” He scratched Star’s cheek and considered exactly how far she’d walked on these shoes. “You got a farrier here? She’s got a lot of miles on her, could stand to have the shoes checked. Don’t want to have her throwing one on the trail if we can avoid it.”

Bob nodded. “Don’t know what kind of time he has, but I’ll check. You want restaurants, bathhouses, and a hotel that won’t give your guide trouble, just stay east of Curry Street and south of William.”

Gideon glanced dubiously around himself. “Where exactly are they?”

Bob chuckled. “You walked in on Washington Street, or ran into it off of William, if you came in from the east. Government buildings, the stock exchange and the like, are all on Curry Street, west of here.” He lowered his voice, as if he disapproved. “Folks can be a bit more uppity in that part of town, think they’re better’n plenty. Carson Street is about eight blocks thataway. You’ll have plenty to choose from. Good Chinese food here, too. Just follow your noses, boys, and step in wherever smells the best. If they got a problem with any color, they’ll usually have a little sign in their shop windows. But since the mint closed, good business people are aiming to keep their business more than their own bad attitudes.”

Gideon liked Bob better all the time, so he set to exchanging news and gossip with him as he pulled Star’s tack and curried her down. Jed found himself a spot in the shade by the livery, but he stood tall, hands hanging loosely at his sides. As unthreatening a picture as he imagined he could be, Gideon thought, and almost felt bad about convincing Jed to come into town.

“Bob?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he moved around Star with the curry comb. “I’ve had some trouble, some places, ’cause I’m traveling with a redskin. He’s a good man, and a better guide, and I really don’t want to find more trouble like that here. You sure I won’t?”

Bob glanced over to where Jed stood, and looked himself at the picture Jed made. Jed’s eyes were hidden by his hat brim even though Gideon knew he was on the alert and would be taking in every movement around him. “I’m sure,” Bob said, like he meant it. “Most folks are decent here. I’m still sorry we lost the mint. The Treasury had a whole contingent of US Marshals, kept the peace better than any place I’ve ever known, and they’re used to people traveling through. Try the Edmundson Hotel. Tell the proprietor I sent you. She and her husband are Quakers, and just about the most decent folks you could ever run across. She ain’t a bad cook either,” he said, but then he cleared his throat and grinned a little. “But, uh, hers ain’t gonna be the best meal in town.”

“I’ve been eating pemmican, wild onions, and pine nuts, Bob,” Gideon replied, laughing. “She’d have to be a real bad cook to make me want to run back to more of that.” Bob seemed to find that funny enough that he slapped Gideon on the shoulder, startling him. He stepped around as Gideon lifted Star’s hooves, checking the frog and the growth of the horn over her shoes. He’d checked her hooves every day, but familiarity meant his eye wasn’t the best anymore for judging. The farrier would take care of her. Gideon promised to look up the farrier after they got settled in for the evening, and he left Star in Bob’s care before he gathered Jed up out of the shadows.

As they left, he looked back to see Bob stroking Star’s neck and his horse nudging at the man’s shoulder over her stall door. Natural born flirt, his horse. He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Jed murmured, “Horses learn from their masters.”

Gideon rolled his eyes up then over to look at his friend. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Jed glanced around, and Gideon thought he saw a little color flushing those dark cheeks. Still, Jed answered firmly, “I do not need to be loved by a horse.”

Gideon laughed, knowing Jed well enough now to know that the man was intentionally misunderstanding the conversation. It warmed him, that Jed was here with him, and that Jed seemed like he wanted to be, now.

The Edmundson Hotel was located off a side street, in a tall building that sat alone. It looked a little worn, definitely needed a new coat of paint, but it was clean and the yard around it was tidy. A large vegetable garden filled most of the backyard, and as they approached, Gideon spotted people working in it, young’uns from the look of it.

Inside was bright and cheerful, made more so by Mrs. Edmundson and her oldest boy, who looked to be in his teens. Mrs. Edmundson couldn’t be more than forty years old, tall and plump, too, while her boy was as thin as a reed. They did give Jed a second glance, but only that, and when Gideon asked for a room for both of them, there were only a few questions about Jed’s manners, which Jed answered himself.

“I don’t mind you sleeping on the floor,” Mrs. Edmundson said to Jed, “but if you’re going to, please don’t be telling people. It gives my beds a bad name.”

“I will sleep in the bed,” Jed said, nodding to her. “If you allow it.”

“Of course we allow it,” she said, smiling at him, and Gideon warmed to the woman. “We’re all God’s children, aren’t we? You sleep wherever you wish, Jedediah, just so long as you don’t let people think it’s because the beds are too hard.”

Jed blinked, and Gideon smiled, pleased to hear the warmth in her voice. “You get a lot of Indian customers, ma’am?” Gideon asked.

She glanced at him, her smile unwavering. “We do, yes. The Stewart Indian School is down south of here. Lots of families come to visit their children. Some of them, having to travel so far to see to them… anyone loves their children that much is welcome here!”

She said it proudly, and Gideon was proud of her. But as he grinned at Jed, he saw the stiffness in his friend’s body and the strong lines of his face that fairly radiated his tension.

Mrs. Edmundson didn’t notice it, or if she did, she let it pass; as she turned to Gideon, her tone stayed as warm and friendly as it had been so far. “Your room’s on the second floor, toward the back, room 12. There’s just the one bed, but it’s plenty wide for two, especially if you’ve been on the trail all the way from Livingston! My, I wouldn’t relish that walk.”

“It’s been a pleasure, really,” Gideon said. “I’ve seen parts of this country I never had before.”

“Young men,” she said with an indulgent smile. “Dinner’s served at seven. Tonight it’s pork chops and potatoes, butter peas, biscuits, and gravy. I’m not as good as some of the places down the block, but you’re both welcome to partake with us in the dining room.”

“We’ll be there,” Gideon smiled at her. “Now—where’s the closest bath house?”

“There’s a good place three blocks over—run by some Chinese people, with hot water and clean tubs. There are others a little nicer, maybe, but they’ll rob you blind.”

They followed her directions and found it quick enough. It was a good place, Gideon thought, as he sank into the first hot bath he’d had in—longer than he cared to remember. The only problem with it was that he was separated from Jed. The main room was sectioned off with curtains and blankets draped over long rope lines. It allowed for privacy, which was probably a good thing most of the time. But Gideon had grown accustomed to watching Jed bathe of an evening, and he sorely missed that view.

He took his time, relaxing languidly in water that came up to his chest, and a gangly Chinese boy kept popping through the curtain with a big kettle to heat it up for him. Gideon decided he was just about in heaven until he realized he was paying extra for every warm-up. Still, it was worth it. He even took the time to shave, appreciating the feel of the blade sliding over the relaxed, warm skin of his cheeks and under his chin, and glad to be rid of a good week’s beard growth. As he dressed, he wondered where Jed was, if he was still enjoying himself. The thought of it, of Jed in a tub of warm water, his skin slick and shining, his eyes closed in pleasure—Gideon shifted, trying not to think too much about it.

He finished up, dried, and dressed before his imagination could get away from him. The simple pleasures of life were often the best ones, and he felt sinfully good to be warm and clean. He stepped outside the bathhouse into the crisp evening air, giving his mind and body a chance to cool off. He’d expected to be waiting for Jed—and was annoyed to find the other man standing in the shadows of the porch, his long hair damp and drying in the slight breeze that blew in as the sun dropped low in the sky.

“You can’t just relax and soak away the day in a bathtub?” he asked, as annoyed by the idea that Jed had rushed through something as pleasant as a bath as he was relieved that no one was bothering Jed out here on the street.

“I was afraid you had drowned,” Jed said as Gideon approached. He stepped forward, the corners of his lips twisting up a little. “I did not want to have to explain to your father how I’d gotten you across a thousand miles of this country, only to lose you to drowning in a public bathhouse in Carson City, Nevada.”

Gideon snorted and patted Jed’s shoulder, touched by the idea that Jed would have delivered the news and not left his folks to wonder. “My folks would understand that.”

Jed looked surprised, even after the stories he’d heard of Gideon’s parents, but Gideon had been talking all his life; he knew how to save something for the next show and the next town, and he knew how to keep what ought to be personal and private to himself. It made him wonder what he might’ve held back from Jed, what things he’d want to make sure and tell him, before they hit San Francisco and went their separate ways.

They stopped by the livery so Gideon could have a quick chat with the farrier, who assured him that Star’s shoes were in good shape but she could stand a good trim and cleaning. The farrier agreed to see to Star by the time they’d finished breakfast tomorrow. That business concluded, Gideon asked, “You ready for that nice woman’s home cooking?” Without waiting for an answer, he steered Jed by the shoulder just to feel the drying silk of long hair brush against his knuckles, until Jed ducked away from him.

“Cheaper than finding another place,” Jed said agreeably. “And perhaps her cooking, from what we’ve heard of it, will make you appreciate mine more when we return to the trail.”

Gideon hoped like hell that Jed was wrong about that.

Mostly, Jed was. Mrs. Edmundson’s cooking wasn’t the best he’d ever tasted, but it was familiar and flavorful and used all the things a man just didn’t pack and carry on the trail: flour, sugar, big pats of butter to melt over hot biscuits, honey dripping off a comb in a jar. The pork chops were a little dry, but they were well salted and well seasoned, and it made Gideon smile to see Jed eating pig now, when a pig had almost done him in.

After dinner, they headed out to pick up supplies, partly to get it done and partly because Gideon wanted to move around among people for a bit, get a feel for city life. Mrs. Edmundson had frowned at them as they left, warning them that saloons were trouble waiting to happen, and Gideon promised her that they were good folk and wouldn’t bring any trouble her way.

Sunset was settling in when they found a general store Gideon liked the look of, and they went in and poked around briefly, Gideon counting out his dwindling travel money carefully for more coffee, more bullets, flour and salt—he could make pan bread, as long as they had meat drippings, and Mrs. Edmundson’s biscuits had made him miss bread on the trail. They still had a few days of wilderness travel left, though the closer they got to California, the more Gideon felt like dragging his feet. He was going to miss the show if he slowed up too much, and he might anyway. He’d end up riding hard down the California coast—or getting his money out of the Wells Fargo Bank in San Francisco and finally taking the train—to catch up with his people in Merced, or wherever the show stopped next.

“Okay, we’ve got supplies,” Gideon said, toting the burlap sack. “Now how about a drink?”

“A drink?”

Gideon pointed toward a saloon where music and light and laughter spilled out the open doors, and grinned. “Yeah, Jed, a drink.”

It was here Gideon learned that Jed didn’t like saloons. Gideon hadn’t thought much about it. He’d packed whiskey for cold nights on the trail, and he’d shared it with Jed. Jed didn’t drink often nor did he drink much, but he wasn’t a teetotaler.

But when Gideon nudged him and pointed to the saloon that seemed cheerful and not too crowded and was definitely calling to Gideon’s need for social company, Jed frowned and shook his head. “If that is what you want, I will go back to the room,” he said. “Alcohol and white men are not a good mix for my people.”

Gideon stopped in mid-stride and turned to look at his friend. “You stay out of saloons?” he asked. The idea was as foreign to him as church on Sundays.

Jed arched one eyebrow and tilted his head, clearly amused. “There are very few of them on reservations,” he answered slowly. “The ones I have been in have been in your towns and cities. They usually lead to trouble of some sort.” He leaned in a little closer. “If you feel the need to find someone to stay with for a while, I can find some way to pass the time.”

“Stay with?” Gideon asked.

Jed’s smile broadened even though he didn’t seem all that amused. “Be with,” he said. “That is what your saloons are for, are they not? To meet people to spend time with? To—lie with?”

Understanding was a relief—and a twist in the gut. “You think I want to—didn’t we just talk about this, before we came into town?”

He didn’t realize he was speaking so loud until Jed took a step back and looked around, his smile gone. “We spoke of much,” he said, his eyes moving along the street and sidewalk, nodding to people who were looking at them. “We did not speak of saloons.”

Gideon sighed. “Jed, saloons are noise and music, maybe a card game, barmaids in frilly dresses.” He waved a hand, trying to explain something that was as obvious to him as the nose on his face. “They’re people, Jed. Friendly folk looking to pass time in a crowd.”

“Yet another reason I don’t like saloons, probably,” Jed said. But he touched Gideon’s shoulder. “Go on. Get a drink. Enjoy the people. I will….” Here he looked around again and lowered his voice in a way that made the saloon pale by comparison to what was being offered, “I will wait in the hotel.”

Gideon caught his breath again, torn between the two options. Before he could make a decision, a voice called out from behind him. “Hey, are you a cowboy?”

He ignored it, until he saw Jed’s eyebrows arch and his gaze fix past Gideon’s shoulder.

“You, Mister Cowboy!” The voice was decidedly feminine and partly because of that and partly because of the look on Jed’s face, Gideon turned.

She was pretty—long brown hair that was pulled back and up under her hat, but curls fell loosely and unevenly to make a frame for her face. She had big eyes, bigger than Jed’s, and her lips were full and smiling. She was leaning against the support beam for the roof over the boardwalk, her arm crooked around it so that her lace-gloved hand was above her head and holding her steady. Provocative, and pretty, and staring right at him as if there was no one else around. She smiled at him, blinking slowly. “I’ve never met a real cowboy before,” she said, her voice warm. “And you even have an Indian friend! Come here and talk to me, tell me all about living out here in the West!”

He took two steps before he realized he was moving, and when he stopped, he heard Jed’s soft chuckle from behind. He looked over his shoulder to see the Indian flash a grin at him before saying, “Pass the time. You know where I will be.”

“Uh….” He watched Jed, still standing there waiting for a reply, then glanced at the pretty girl, torn. Not for the reasons Jed was probably thinking, but still. “Hold up, Jed,” he whispered, and stepped toward the gal. “Guess I’m a cowboy, ma’am,” he said, and like he always did, added, “I work in a wild west show, best trick rider and bronco buster you’ll ever see.”

Her smile widened, and so did her eyes. “My brother and I just stopped here from the train. We’ve been moving so fast since Chicago I feel like I haven’t got to meet a single regular person.”

He grinned wider, entertained. “I ain’t a regular person, not by far. Ain’t from around here either, in fact. I been—”

“You! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

One glance at the big eyes and the curly brown hair told Gideon this must be the brother. The gal hadn’t mentioned he was older, protective, nor big as a tree. “Just answering the young miss’s question,” he said, aiming for genial. He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Gideon Makepeace, and I—”

Whatever else he might’ve said got lost when the tree trunk shoved him in the chest, hard enough to push the breath from him and land his back up against the wall of the store. “Hey, now!” he said, holding up his hands. “Weren’t looking to disrespect the lady or cause no trouble.” But it looked like the brother had his own ways of blowing off steam on a long, boring trip, and Gideon was as good a target for him as he was for the woman. Darn it all.

The tree trunk stepped forward, grabbing him by the lapels and shaking him, and Gideon felt his blood come up, ready for a fight. Might even be fun, though Jed would probably have to pick the pieces of him up off the damned ground.

“Bobby! Bobby, you quit that this instant!” the gal scolded her brother, but the brother shook him one more time, hard enough to rattle his teeth, so Gideon grabbed back and shoved, and just like that they were flat on the boardwalk and rolling toward its edge. Gideon’s whole plan became putting the brother on the bottom in the horse manure if they rolled onto the street. The pair of them were grappling way too close to get in any good licks, and suddenly there were hands on them, Jed’s and the woman’s, grabbing them and, Gideon supposed, startling the brother enough to settle him down a mite—or make him afraid a wild punch would land on his sister somewhere. He pushed off to one side and sat up, holding his sister tightly by one arm.

“Get away from here, you slick sonofabitch,” the brother said.

Gideon, resisting the urge to laugh, jumped to his feet and held his hands up in front of him. “Was just leaving, mister.” Still, he turned and smiled at the sister. “Ma’am.”

He turned on his boot heel and grinned at Jed, who was glaring fiercely at him. “Definitely need that drink now, Jed!” he proclaimed.

Jed let them get into the street and a few steps away from the pair before he grumbled, “This is why I do not like cities.”

“Hey, at least that didn’t have nothing to do with you being Indian,” Gideon replied, already laughing it off now that the danger of law getting involved was past and his blood was running high. “There’s all kinds of ways to enjoy a town, Jed—hell, that there was one of ’em! Gets the blood pumping, makes you feel alive.” Jed looked at him like he was a lunatic as they continued across the street, but Gideon was damned sure Jed understood what he was saying. Maybe not about a dust-up with a stranger, but he knew of some native things that might compare. “Say you sneak up on a friend or some fella from a neighboring tribe. Say you get close enough to flick his ear. That’s sort of a game, right? But it’s a little shaming him, too.”

Jed nodded, wary now like the last thing in the world he wanted was for Gideon to prove his point. “Well, that was a little bit like that. Sort of a game, but that fella, he was trying to shame me. I didn’t mind,” Gideon said, just to be clear, “’cause I knew he was in the wrong—”

“I’m sure he thought the same of you,” Jed cut in dryly.

Gideon shrugged. “Don’t matter if he did. Or if he did, it just means we both won.”

Jed shook his head again, clearly disapproving of the whole idea. “You like danger.”

“No,” Gideon corrected, “I like fun.” He lowered his voice a little and grinned. “Think you know that by now.”

They had reached the other side of the street right in front of the saloon while they talked, but Jed still seemed wary. Less condemning, maybe, but still wary. “You should go,” he said, nodding toward the light spilling out of the saloon. “Enjoy the people, Gideon. But please, no more fighting.”

He slapped Jed on the back. “Fair enough. I’ll just have one drink, listen to the music for a bit.”

“And I will be at the hotel.” Jed didn’t say anything seductive or make any promises, but he did look at Gideon for an overly long moment, and Gideon decided that yeah, one drink and a few minutes of noise would be plenty.

He licked his lips and smiled, wanted to reach out and touch Jed’s hair. But he wasn’t fool enough to do that. “Okay,” he said and hopped onto the boardwalk.

The saloon was all he expected of it, noisy and crowded, filled with cigar smoke and the smell of spilled beer, women’s perfume, hard-working bodies, and money changing hands. Gideon had no interest in gambling. He just sidled up to an empty space at the bar and ordered a whiskey, unsurprised to find it watered down a little. He had some left in his pint bottle in the room; he could sip that if he was of a mind. But right now he just wanted to soak in the crowd, and he started a friendly conversation with a fellow to his left, who’d come in on the eastbound train from San Francisco.

“I’m headed for San Francisco myself,” he offered. “Need to catch up with Bill Tourney’s Wild West Show. I work in it, y’see.”

The gentleman’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah? I saw that show when I was in San Jose last month. Fine. Damned fine.” His lips twisted into a sly smile. “Lots of attractions, if you know what I mean.”

Gideon grinned. No doubt the fella had seen his mama in the peep show, if she’d been one of the women working that night. Sometimes, with strangers, he thought he ought to feel more protective of his ma, knowing as he did that this gent and plenty of others probably polished their dicks thinking about her. But he’d grown up around it, and had decided many years ago that if all they did was look and think, then it wasn’t hurting nobody. His mama least of all. “You tip the ladies’ show?” he asked, offering a sly smile himself. “They work real hard to make a man smile.”

The man was really a gentleman, because he flushed a little at such direct reference. “Ahem.” He gave up the effort as quick as he’d tried to pull it on, though, sensing a kindred spirit. “Yeah—and worth the dollar, too. Those ladies weren’t just lovely, but classier than I expected. Warmed me on plenty a night,” he added, a whisper that barely carried above the noise of the crowd.

Gideon let his smile broaden, thinking about the dollar tip on top of the dollar entry fee. Good for Belle. It bothered him that the show had been running in San Jose so recently, though. They wouldn’t have stayed more than a few days there, then they’d have stopped in Palo Alto and ten days at most in San Francisco. They could tear down and pack out from any stop in a day or two, which meant he’d need to push harder on the last leg of their journey if he was going to catch them before they moved on. Still, it was nice, familiar, being surrounded by folks he didn’t know, each and every one of them with their own story to tell if he was of a mind to tease it out of them. He satisfied himself with George Rowland, the gent on his way back to New York after a summer taking in the sights of “this great county,” as Rowland called it. Gideon couldn’t deny it. He’d seen more of it this trip than he ever had before, or at least he’d seen it more intimately. He almost felt like a part of it, and he figured he owed that feeling to Jed.

He and George shared smiles and easy conversation as they eyed the pretty bar girls, but once he’d finished his drink he decided he was past ready for more quiet and intimate company. The urge to be with Jed grew steadily stronger, and thinking of San Francisco made him miss Jed already, so he pushed his empty glass across the bar, said his thanks to George for the company, and darted around the crowd dancing in the middle of the room to get to the door.

It was full dark now, but the lights of the saloons and open businesses combined with the scattered streetlights made finding his way easy enough. The night air was crisp and cool, and it cleared his nose of the smell of smoke and people, though he knew both would probably cling to him. Enough that Jed would notice, anyway. But then, Jed noticed everything about him.

He quickened his steps and found his way back to the Edmundson’s place in good time. The oldest son, Zachariah, was reading his Bible in the receiving room when Gideon walked in. He nodded politely but didn’t speak, so Gideon did the same.

Gideon eased into their room quietly, not believing for a second that Jed was asleep, not with the muted thunk of his boot heels on the carpeted hallway floor, the scrape of the key in the lock, the tiniest creak of the door hinges. But he was happy for Jed to pretend for him, if only so he could look his fill. A lamp burned on the table just inside the door, its wick turned low, and he closed and locked the door, leaving the key in so no one else’s could do mischief from the other side. Jed had taken off his shirt and stretched out on his back, and his dark skin contrasted with the clean white sheet that was pulled up to his chest. The darker points of his nipples made Gideon lick his lips, and the way that long, black hair spilled out onto the pillow made Gideon want to brush it with his fingers. Jed’s eyes were closed and his features lax with peacefulness—a sight to behold, Gideon thought fondly, deeply enjoying these few seconds of watching.

“You get tired, waiting?” he asked, his voice just barely more than a whisper. It was early enough that guests and the proprietors could still be up, and he didn’t want to raise Jed’s worries. His gaze traveled down Jed’s body, outlined under that white sheet, and paused at the only part of Jed he wanted to raise tonight. It looked like it was well on its way without any help from Gideon.

Fingers tightened, crumpling the sheet, and Jed drew in a deep, slow breath before he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “No. No, I did not.”

Gideon eased off his coat, hanging it over the door knob just to be extra careful—he’d checked the room for peepholes first thing, too, and found none, just a clean room with a wide iron bed, the side table where one of three lamps sat, two chairs, and the vanity. It really was a damned nice room to share, he thought as he hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and shrugged them off, letting them fall past his hips. “You lie there thinking about what we might get up to? How’s that bed, anyway?” he asked before Jed could answer the first question. Wasn’t like Gideon didn’t know Jed would deny having thought anything at all.

“Too soft,” Jed said, a not-quite grumble that made Gideon smile. Jed was used to sleeping on the ground, and from what Mrs. Edmundson had said, it sounded like plenty of Indians opted for the thick rug on the floor over a bed even when they did take a room. Jed rolled onto his side to prop his head on his bent arm, and there was no creaking of springs or bed frame; that was good. That was real good.

Jed didn’t say anything, but he watched, so Gideon took his time stripping down, liking that they had light to see by, liking that Jed’s eyes on him heated him up almost as well as Jed’s hands or his mouth or his dancing. By the time he’d shucked boots and shirt he was already hard, and he unbuttoned his fly quicker than he’d planned, easing his pants down carefully over his rampant cock and leaving just his cotton drawers. Jed’s gaze had drifted down to his hands, and Gideon liked how his eyes widened as he tented the cotton, widening further when Gideon undid the buttons and pulled it out. It was all Gideon could do not to palm it right there and then. He wanted… he wanted. He just plain wanted.

He took long strides to the bed and reached for the covers, peeling them back, unsurprised to find that Jed still wore his buckskin pants. No way would he have lain there naked and alone in a white woman’s hotel. Gideon pushed the covers to the foot of the bed and reached for the laces of Jed’s pants, slowing down now to enjoy the anticipation.

“Gideon,” Jed whispered, the word slow and airy. “We must be careful—please.” He shifted, one hand coming to rest on Gideon’s, pressing it into the bulge under the lacings. “This is not a safe thing—”

“We’ll be quiet,” Gideon whispered in return, even as his fingers kneaded at the hard flesh under leather worn soft as a glove and warm from Jed’s body.

Before Jed could say more, Gideon crawled carefully onto the bed, straddling Jed’s thighs. “Hell, you’re quiet as a church mouse, most times, and me—I know how to behave. I do,” he said, promising with his eyes and hoping he could deliver on it.

Jed was stiff at first and frowning up at him, trying to nudge Gideon’s hand away without making a fight of it, likely more because he feared a fight would be noisy than out of any concern he couldn’t win it. But Gideon used a couple of tricks he’d learned over their nights together. He stretched his fingers back and onto the sensitive space above Jed’s balls, pressing a little, rubbing a lot, and at the same time, he leaned forward and drove his tongue deep into Jed’s mouth, as far in as he could go. He knew he’d won when he felt the sigh and heard the faint—and cut off—moan.

Easing back to kneel over Jed’s thighs again, he went back to work on the buckskin’s leather lacings. “Want to give you what you’ve been givin’ me so many nights,” he said, barely more than a whisper and keeping his eyes on his hands. “But I ain’t so dumb as to think either one of us’d be any good at staying sensible if we did that.” Once he’d got the buckskin flaps open he tugged, gentle-like, until Jed lifted his hips, and stopped when he got the leather down around lean thighs. Gideon stretched out on the bed then, right on top of Jed. His cock rubbed against the hard plane of belly, and he rolled his hips, bringing their shafts up against each other, rubbing two sticks together to start a fire.

Jed’s hands grasped his butt, not gentle at all. “You think any of this is sensible?” he breathed, voice quieter now than it was when he chanted, and just as heavy with meaning.

Propped against Jed as he was, he turned his hands inward over Jed’s chest to twist his nipples. “No. No, it ain’t,” he sighed.

“No,” Jed murmured, and Gideon stared at the wet sheen on his lips from where they’d kissed. “We can do this,” he said, worming his hand between them and taking Gideon’s cock in it, stroking it slow, “but nothing else. Not here.”

This—this was good, Gideon thought vaguely as his pleasure climbed. It was almost more than he’d expected, anyhow. Jed’s touch was perfect now, practiced and just tight enough to draw everything up. “You—” He stopped, swallowed. “You want to go second, then?” Jed’s frown was brief, but the smile that followed it lingered.

“Yes,” he said, clearly glad that Gideon was respecting him even if Gideon wasn’t exactly understanding. Gideon watched Jed’s mouth move, though he couldn’t quite hear the sounds. Yes. You come first.

Gideon nodded and held himself over Jed’s body, looking down between them to admire it, looking further to watch as that dark, skilled hand that knew him so well stripped his shaft, up and down, not too slow and not too fast. Jed liked to pause at the tip and brush the slit with a gentle fingertip, and he did it at the end of almost every stroke. That simple touch undid Gideon tonight as it had so many nights past. He was panting in what seemed like seconds, and his body felt too big for his skin, everything felt so raw and ready. “If I start to make a noise,” he whispered, panting, “I’ll just kiss you, okay?” he half-asked, half-promised.

Jed nodded. His grip tightened, and his other hand wormed between them, taking up Gideon’s balls and rolling them gently in their sac, sending little sparks of pleasure everywhere. “You may kiss me now, as well,” Jed breathed back.

Gideon did, even though Jed was probably teasing him some. He kissed Jed, and he kept on kissing him, open-mouthed and wet and full of tongue and desire and a desperate need for quiet that made his throat ache with it. His body shuddered when the come hit him, and he felt the heat of it pour through his belly and out his shaft, felt the slickness as Jed gathered droplets of come on his fingers and slid them around the crown of Gideon’s quivering cock. His straight arms trembled, holding his weight up like this, and he knew if he dropped his body down, his come would rub between them, slicking their bellies and Jed’s hands.

So he did, still kissing, trapping Jed’s hands between them, and let his own hands work their way into the silk of Jed’s long hair while he panted his pleasure into Jed’s wet, open mouth. His skin tingled everywhere, toes curling, and his heart pounded like a drum.

His pleasure waned by tiny degrees. When he could think clearly again, he thought maybe he’d lied just a little, because he decided to slide down Jed’s body and take Jed with his mouth, tasting the bitterness of his own come from where their cocks had rubbed together, then tasting the thick bittersweet taste of Jed’s when Jed stiffened, his hips arching up off the mattress, his body curved like a bow while his cock pumped its load down Gideon’s throat.

He might have been panting louder than Jed when he finally lifted his head, and he smiled at the way Jed’s hands tangled in the bed sheet, twisting it up, holding himself so rigid and silent through his pleasure. He palmed the cock that was slick with spit and smiled up at Jed’s face even though Jed couldn’t see. Jed’s eyes were scrunched shut, his face pinched tight and hard as he gasped, open-mouthed. One last, tender tug up the shaft teased the last drops out of Jed’s cock, and Gideon bent back down to lick them off the head, taking the time to stare at the pretty little stallion in the lamplight, the way the dark head flared above that tight knot of skin, the way the shaft plumped out just beneath the head, the skin so smooth and gleaming.

Jed made a tiny questioning sound after a minute or more had passed, and Gideon let go of the shaft, laying it gently against the smooth belly. “See?” he said when he dragged himself up and dropped heavily beside Jed. “Locked doors and beds can be real good.”

Jed tilted his head to the side and blinked at him. “Yes,” he agreed, so simply that Gideon knew he meant it.

Gideon sighed, teasing his fingers through Jed’s hair. The lamplight made the clean strands shine, let him see the tiny tangles his fingers made, and he worked carefully to draw the long strands straight and smooth against the pillow. “I could get used to this,” he sighed.

“I—” Jed stopped, frowned, and reached for Gideon’s wrist, dragging it away from his hair and nudging it gently away from any other part of his body. “I could not,” he said, and looked away.

Gideon wondered if Jed meant the bed, the hotel room. But probably, Jed meant him. He pursed his lips and rolled onto his back to tuck himself back into his underdrawers. “You’d best lace up,” he said. He had to stretch to blow out the lamp, and the acrid smell of smoke in the darkness reminded him more of campfires than the saloon. Behind him, Jed’s movements made the mattress dip, and when Gideon settled back down, he dropped his hand to the space between their bodies, his wrist just brushing the supple leather that covered Jed’s hip.

He shouldn’t have expected this to be perfect, shouldn’t have expected Jed to say the right words—hell, Gideon wasn’t even sure what the right words would have been. He knew this Indian didn’t even like being in a town like this. This wasn’t no courtship, and it sure as hell wasn’t no romance. In a couple of weeks, he’d be headed south with the show and this Indian would be headed… wherever the hell it was he’d go.

With a soft bed underneath him and a familiar body next to him, it took him longer than it ought to have to get to sleep.