Saddle Up by CJ Bishop

CHAPTER 3

“The Wedding”

Heff found his old room untouched, the same as he’d left it five years ago. It was no secret that Mandy had hoped he’d move back to the ranch—she told him often enough. Some of his clothes remained in the closet, mostly old jackets and some flannel work shirts. The rest that he had left behind were packed away in small, airtight plastic tubs. He ignored the tubs and fingered the shirts. Flannel had never been his style, but he’d worn it a lot while living on the ranch. He didn’t think it flattered him at all, but…

It sure as hell looked good on Garland.

What didn’t look good on Garland? The man could put on a dress and still look smashingly handsome and masculine.

Heff didn’t want to think about how “good” Garland looked. The days of swooning over the man were long gone. Though still handsome as fuck… Garland Zayne was no longer swoon worthy. Because as a teenager, Heff hadn’t only swooned over his good looks… but the entire package, inside and out. Back then, there was something more to the man. For a time. Whoever Garland had been—or who Heff had thought he was—vanished into thin air, never to return. What he saw before him now, was merely a handsome illusion of the former man.

With a sigh, Heff closed the closet and went to the bed. He removed his shoes and jacket and laid down, convinced sleep would take him the second his head hit the pillow. It didn’t. He stared at the ceiling—the same ceiling he’d stared at as a teen while fantasizing about the cowboy down the hall.

You lied to him. Heff blinked when his eyes stung. You said you had friends… a life… back in Maine. That was only partly true. His “friends” were more like acquaintances who chatted pleasantly if they happened to run into one another… but not so closely acquainted that Heff could call them up in the middle night because it was storming outside, and he was afraid to be alone. As his passion for writing grew… his social life—what there was of it to begin with—dwindled.

There was nothing for him in Maine.

There’s nothing for you here, either.

How could he think that way? Mandy and Frank’s dream was here. Their blood, sweat, and tears had gone into this ranch.

Not just theirs.

Garland had been there—bleeding and sweating right alongside Frank, taking the lows with the highs, never backing down from the challenges and obstacles. Maybe Garland Zayne wasn’t the man Heff remembered from before, but he was still the man who had busted his back to get this place on its feet. He had earned ownership of the ranch—sole ownership, regardless of what the will stated. Heff was happy to let him have it… if only Heff could walk away. The stipulation in the will continued to puzzle him. Mandy and Frank were intelligent people; they had to have known the ranch should rightfully go to Garland. He would’ve understood if they’d given him a fraction of ownership, if only to ensure he’d have a place to go if he ever needed a home. But this? What had possessed them to include such a… crazy… clause? Heff had learned some things from Frank, but he was no rancher and certainly didn’t possess the same wealth of wisdom as Garland.

He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes as he released a heavy breath.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbled to himself and closed his eyes. “Stop thinking.”

Sleep did come and whisked him away, not into a peaceful abyss, but warm, nostalgic memories dressed up as dreams.

…………………………….

Garland remained in the living room until movement ceased on the second floor and silence filtered down from upstairs. He waited another fifteen minutes before climbing the stairs and approaching Heff’s old bedroom. After listening at the door and hearing nothing, he eased the door open a few inches. The boy lay on the bed, fast asleep.

It felt surreal, seeing the young man back in his old room. Garland hadn’t expected him to come to the ranch after the funeral, certain Heff would instead rent a motel room in town. There was no need for him to be here—in respect to the will. They weren’t divvying up property and belongings. Nothing to sift through to decide who got what. It was an all-or-nothing deal; they both got everything or nothing. And it was beginning to feel like it might be nothing.

Garland stared at Heff.

I will not lose that ranch—if I have to hogtie the little fairy and lock him in the damn basement.

The little fairy. Why had he said that?

You didn’t want me to hear your queer little sob story.

Or that?

The thing that scares you most, is that I will never look at you that way.

Or that, for fuck’s sake? Where did that come from? Because it sure as fuck wasn’t on his mind to say when he opened his mouth to speak. Heff Wilder did not want that from him. The boy despised him.

Unfairly so?

Fuck no.

The best thing for them both would be for Heff to return to Maine. But no Heff… no ranch. And it wasn’t in Garland to stand back and watch everything that mattered to him just slip through his fingers.

He’d done that once in his life.

Once was enough.

Too much.

“Sorry, kid,” he mumbled. “But you’re staying right here… whether you like it or not.”

……………………………..

Heff enjoyed this dream-memory. It was Mandy and Frank’s wedding day—the happiest day of his sister’s life. The very first time Heff met Frank Zayne, saw the way he and Mandy and looked at one another, he knew they were soulmates. Their marriage would stand the test of time.

At the ceremony, Mandy didn’t have a traditional Maid of Honor—she had Heff. He was her best friend and had been all his life. She couldn’t imagine anyone else standing up there with her as she pledged her heart and her life to the man of her dreams. Heff didn’t hesitate. He didn’t care that some might think it strange for a boy to take that place of honor. He would deny Mandy nothing on her special day.

From the coveted spot nearest the bride, he watched with tears in his eyes as she and Frank recited their vows—written from the heart—and finally kissed… sealing their love forever.

Across the altar, standing up as Best Man, Frank’s younger brother, Garland, fleetingly caught Heff’s eye. Heff had only met him for the first time that morning when Garland arrived from out west—Colorado or Wyoming. That first glimpse of the younger Zayne brother had done strange and wonderful things to Heff, igniting emotions and physical responses he’d never experienced quite so powerfully before. A few months shy of his sixteenth birthday, Heff instantly knew what his wish would be when he blew out his candles. Garland Zayne—his, forever and always.

Had Mandy or Frank told Garland that Heff was gay? He didn’t know, but a flurry of fantasies swirled inside his head… his heart… even as he stood there at the altar with his sister, Garland catching his eye. Did the man know what he was doing to Heff? The twinkle in his cerulean eyes and the slight twitch of his lips suggested he understood quite well.

He’s only twenty-three, Heff thought. Only seven years older than Heff. Frank was eight years older than Mandy. In two years, Heff would be eighteen. He could wait two years… if Garland could. Heff doubted he was lucky enough for Garland to be gay, and even if he was, there was little chance he’d wait two years for Heff, but it was fun to think about.

When it came time for Mandy to throw the bouquet, she winked at Heff and deliberately threw it to him, even though he wasn’t part of the group of girls standing ready to catch it. Everyone thought it was cute and sweet that Heff caught the bouquet. Heff was a little embarrassed, but just went with it. Things got more interesting when Frank slipped the garter off Mandy’s leg—snapping the lacy, elastic band right at his brother, who had clearly tried to remain out of the line of fire. No luck. But like Heff, he went with it—taking it one step further by approaching Heff, sliding his arm around his shoulders, and announcing they must be next. Then kissed him on the cheek. Heff almost fainted.

That stunt received a room full of laughter and whistles.

He was joking, of course, but Heff allowed himself a quick moment to imagine Garland was serious. And he knew the scene would replay in his head all night long and for days, possibly weeks or months, to come; the feel of Garland’s arm around him, the closeness of his body… the kiss. In his fantasies, Garland would kiss him on the lips and take him in his arms.

For days following the wedding, Mandy and Frank playfully teased Heff about his impending “marriage” to Garland. As before, Garland played along, often hugging Heff and making teasing remarks about their engagement. Heff couldn’t keep from blushing every time, but it was worth it just to feel Garland’s arms around him, hear him talk about the two of them as if they were an item. He gathered a treasure trove of “fuel” for his fantasies during those few days alone.

He still didn’t know Garland’s true preferences but assumed it would be too good to be true for him to be gay. But it didn’t stop him from fantasizing that he was gay… and secretly in love with Heff.

……………………….

Heff awoke to a dark room—and a mouthwatering aroma filtering up from downstairs. The scent of steaks frying on the stove. Venison steak. After five years, he still knew the difference between beef steak and deer steak. His stomach grumbled its response. Despite everything, he was starving.

Sitting forward, Heff faltered when a light blanket fell off him. He didn’t remember covering up when he laid down. Had Garland come into his room…?

Thoughts of Garland brought back the dream. The memory. Heff blinked and felt dampness in his eyes. His memories of the wedding and the following few days were some of his best ever. Frank and Mandy were giddy with the prospect of getting the ranch up and running. Heff was giddy with fantasies of Garland. And Garland… well, Heff didn’t know if he’d been giddy about anything at that time, but he was certainly in good spirits and fun to be around.

Heff folded the blanket and laid it at the end of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor. He leaned forward and rubbed his face, the wonderful sensations from the dream slipping away to be replaced by reality. Too much reality. Somehow, he’d held himself together throughout the funeral, during the meeting at the attorney’s office, and even facing off with Garland afterward. He hadn’t even cried himself to sleep when he came to his room.

It was the dream that did it… taking him back to a time when they were all so happy… and all together. The future had been filled with possibilities and hope. The prospect that it would all be taken away in just a few years hadn’t crossed any of their minds.

But it was gone. All of it. The Garland downstairs cooking in the kitchen… wasn’t the same Garland who had wrapped his arm around Heff and kissed him on the cheek, igniting so many wonderful manly sensations in a boy on the verge of manhood. Heff didn’t know the man downstairs. The Garland of his fantasies disappeared the day after Heff’s sixteenth birthday… and Heff never saw him again.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Heff buried his face in his hands, his throat working as he longed for Mandy’s presence, her wisdom and guidance. How the hell was he supposed to get through life without her? She kept him going when their parents died, always there for him. There was no one to help him through this, no shoulder to cry on, no arms to hold him. He was alone. For the first time in his life—completely alone.

Lying back down, he muffled his cries in the pillow, his hunger forgotten. What did it matter if he stayed here on the ranch or returned to Maine? Wherever he went… no one would be there.

Heff shook with sobs, clinging to the pillow, grief and sorrow consuming him. Garland’s words from earlier in the living room punched him in the heart… again and again.

Maybe … the thing that scares you most, is that I will never look at you that way.

Was he right? Heff didn’t know about that, but he did know it terrified him that no one left in this world would ever love him the way Mandy had loved him. Losing a love like that… it took something from one’s soul… and they died a little inside.

More than a little.