Colt raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as Mason led him to the edge of the small clearing. He stopped and smiled to himself at Colt’s gasp beside him.
Mason understood the reaction. He’d responded the same way the first time he’d discovered this spot. It was high enough that it made a perfect lookout over his property. Seeing all seventeen thousand acres wasn’t possible, but he could take in the vastness and the wild ruggedness of the land he was fortunate enough to call home. He could see the Laramie River as it twisted and snaked north and south, the ranch houses and barns, the homesteads farther along the river, swaying hay and alfalfa fields that would soon need to be harvested, wild horses grazing on a broad plateau, the bison grazing below their overlook, and beyond to the east the Laramie Mountains jutting toward the sky with patches of snow on their peaks.
“I never knew this existed,” Colt said, his voice reverent.
“A game trail,” Mason offered. “I found it a few years before my dad passed, after a particularly nasty argument about the direction of the ranch. I’d just needed to get away, and Cuervo pretty much led the way. I guess you could say Cuervo found it.”
“Good horse you got there.”
Mason couldn’t agree more. Cuervo was the best horse he’d ever had and likely ever would.
Colt stepped back from the edge of the lookout and lowered to the grass, crossing his legs.
Mason sat down but leaned back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him.
Silence fell between them for a long moment. The only sounds were the swish of their horse’s tails, and the rustle of leaves on the gentle breeze.
“What happened to you?” Colt asked. “When your dad sent you away? To North Dakota, you said?”
Mason stared out over the land and recalled that dark time.
“He shipped me off that next morning. After . . .” Mason fell silent for a heartbeat. Neither of them needed to rehash that day again. “My aunt and uncle lived on the Grand Forks air force base. He was a training instructor. I think my dad thought I needed that kind of structure and influence more than he needed an extra pair of hands to work the ranch. It backfired on him though.
“I hated being there at first, but then I grew to love it. They didn’t even bat an eye that I was gay and taught me so much about being confident in myself, in whoIwas, how strongIwas. Sounds funny, probably, but I grew a spine.”
Mason plucked a blade of grass and twined it through his fingers.
“Dad didn’t quite know what to do with me when I came back. He wanted me to toughen up, as if that meant I couldn’t be gay because only soft boys were gay. But he sure never expected me to come back tough andstillgay. The first time I stood up to him after I’d returned had thrown him for a loop. I said, ‘You wanted me tough, well, here I am. And yeah, I still love dick. So, deal with it and get on with getting on.’”
Colt started laughing. “You did not say that to your dad!”
“Sure did.” Mason grinned.
The look of shock on his dad’s face had been priceless. If only he’d had a camera at that moment. Then his dad’s shock had morphed into pride. He smiled, clapped Mason on the shoulder, and said, “Well, we best get on with it, then,” and that had been that. Their relationship was never fully repaired, but they’d found a common ground—apart from Mason’s vision for the future of the ranch.
“Once he realized gay was who I was, not something I was deliberately doing to spite him, I think he respected me a little more.”
“I can see why,” Colt said with a note in his voice that sounded a lot like awe.
Mason met Colt’s eyes, and for a fluttering heartbeat, he was fourteen years old again, and they were in their secret spot where the river snaked sharply and a grove of aspen and maple trees shielded them from the outside world. Colt lowered his gaze to Mason’s mouth.
“And you?” Mason’s voice sounded breathy to his ears, but it couldn’t be helped. Not with the way Colt was looking at him like Mason was his next meal. “What happened after you left?”
Colt shifted to take in the view before turning back to Mason. He shrugged. “Nothing bad, luckily. Mom found another kitchen job at a dude ranch in New Mexico almost right away. We stayed on there until my brothers and I graduated high school, and then we all went into law enforcement at the same time.” He grinned. “That’s where we met Nick.”
“So, you’ve known him a long time.”
“Ten years about.” Colt nodded and then chuckled softly. “Mom quit around then and retired to Florida with a guest she’d met at the ranch. They’ve been there, happy, ever since.”
Colt sounded wistful when he talked about his mom. Mason remembered how kind Mrs. Stonebraker had been. She’d always had a smile for him and a way of making him feel special.
“I’m glad things worked out for her and you and your brothers.”
Colt’s mouth tipped up, a brief hint of a smile, and then he settled back on his side, propped up on one elbow. Companionable silence fell between them. Colt plucked at bright green blades of grass, one of the horses snorted, and leaves rustled softly on the gentle breeze.
“So . . .” Mason grinned. “We’re all alone up here.”
“I know I said mixing business and pleasure wasn’t the best idea, but—”
