Pas de Deux

[Graybread]

Join Maid of Marvels and myself on a journey of sexual discovery between a widower and his older sister.

This is a closed thread. Comments and critiques are welcome by PM.
We hope you enjoy it.

Gray and Maid


James Freeman was sitting in front of the open grave, next to his daughter Beth, who was holding his grandson Jimmy Jr. On the other side was his older sister Elinor. In the casket was his wife Joyce, of twenty-three years.

The headaches had started only two months ago, and now she was dead. A brain tumor the Doctors had said, inoperable.

He still had his beautiful daughter and his chubby little grandson. Only problem was they lived in Seattle. Beth’s husband worked for some big Software company up there. Then there was his sister Elinor, she and her husband lived in California. James guessed they’d both had enough of smelling cattle manure and long cold winters. Elinor still owned part of the family business, she just insisted that any profits been turned back into improvements of the ranch.

 

[Graybread]

James

All the family friends had either left or were standing back at the ranch house waiting for James, to give their last condolences. James stood there watching the two men shovel dirt into the hole. He looked over at the markers of his mother and father as well as those of both his grandparents. Knowing he too would be laid to rest here along with the them.

“Come on James,” Elinor said twining her arm through his and leading him away. “I think Jimmy needs to be feed.”

Beth slipped her arm through his other one as they walked back to the house, the baby on her hip.

“So when do you leave,” he asked his daughter.

“Tomorrow noon,” she replied. “But I can stay longer if you want?”

“No, you get back to your husband. Besides, I think Aunt Elinor is going to stay a couple more days. Aren’t you sis?”

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor took Beth and Jimmy Jr. to the airport, James and his daughter having said their farewells at the ranch. She figured he could use the down time. The past few days had been a whirlwind of friends, family, neighbors -- even people he'd done business with over the years since dad passed on and even before. All offering kind words of sympathy and telling little stories about things they remembered about his wife.

James and Joyce were pillars of the community. Joyce was like a special breed of Welcome Wagon. She was first to knock on a door with a casserole and one of her famous pies or cakes when folks moved in. Always there to lend a hand with a birth or a sickness and even a death. She volunteered for everything -- even did a few hours at the county hospital each week. On Tuesdays, she worked at the public library and did her weekly grocery shopping right after. She was, one could say, a fixture.

They had been a couple since high school, marrying as soon as they graduated. In all that time they never spent a day apart nor had their love for each other diminished over time. Truth was, Elinor didn't know how her brother was going to manage without his wife. And that really worried her.

As the big red Ford pickup rumbled up the drive toward the old farmhouse, Elinor found herself looking around. There hadn't been much time to do that in the flurry of activity surrounding the funeral. Maybe she could get James to walk down to the creek with her this afternoon. They could have a quiet picnic and just talk and swim like they used to do when they were kids.

Funny how folks always reverted back to childhood memories when they hit on bad times, Elinor thought as she put the old F-150 in gear and shut her off. She pushed the door open with her foot and jumped down, stretching the kinks out of her body. Gotta give it to James. She didn't know how he drove this monster day after day and was still able to walk.

Elinor had grown used to comfort in her time away. She had married Jake right after college and they'd moved to California. She owned a health food shop and he was an accountant. Other than the occasional trip down Memory Lane, she hadn't missed the ranching scene over much. It was kinda nice not smelling manure and animals all the time, she chuckled. On the downside, she had to deal with city smells and smog even in her suburban community.

Maybe that's why she was such a health and exercise freak. Then again, that's how she'd kept her figure, too. She wasn't bad for forty three. In fact, she only weighed five pounds more than she did in high school, which put her at roughly one hundred and twenty and at 5'6", she was still a head-turner. Even her boobs had stood the test of time (and gravity). But enough of that she thought with a grin. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she headed for the house and her brother.

 

[Graybread]

James

James was sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee. He was thinking more than drinking. Thinking about Joyce mostly, and what he was going do without her. Sure, he could always find somebody to come in and clean the house, maybe even cook for him. But that’s not was on his mind. Not a day went by that he hadn’t told Joyce that he loved her. Probably told her that five or ten times a day. He had meant it every time as well. She had been his rock, his anchor in every storm. When the bottom had dropped out of the beef market, and the bank threatened to call the note due on the new corn silo, she had taken a full time job just to help make the payments.

Bastards, he though. Didn’t need that silo anyway. Them damn bankers are the ones who talked me into buying it.

There always was and would always be the love hate relationship between banker and rancher. When times were good, the banker was your best friend, but when they got bad, the banker was the first to be looking over the value of your property.

If it hadn’t been for Joyce, they probably would have lost the place. The new silo did increase profits finally, when the market came back up. He still had to deal with the bankers though, just to have operating capital every year. For the last five years his yearly profits increased, which made it a lot easier to deal with them. Even with the rising costs of fuel, insecticides, and herbicides, he showed a profit. He always thanked Joyce for her commitment to him and the ranch.

He smiled when he heard the old Ford pull into the yard. He rose and took a clean cup off the cupboard shelf and poured Elinor a cup of coffee.

“’Spose I should adjust that clutch one of these days too,” he said aloud to himself.

Elinor had been his best friend growing up. Even being three years older than he, she had played with him as a youngster, teasing him or helping with his school work. It was had to have playmates when you lived as far from town as they did, so they made do with each other. They did what all country kids did as children. They had their chores like picking eggs from under the hens in the coop every morning, and they had one milk cow, which at the age of eight, became his full time chore. But they had their fun times too, like riding the calves when they got big enough, or playing in the hay loft. It was Elinor that had dared him to jump into the hay wagon from the top of the hay loft door. When he said he was scared she gave him a gentle nudge that sent him flying. It took six weeks before his arm came out of the cast. They used to run down to the creek on hot summer days and swim naked. Momma took Elinor to town one day and bought her swim suit when she was twelve, they never did swim naked after that. Even he was told to wear an old pair of cutoffs, when they swam together, which he seldom did.

It was about that time that things started to change. Elinor started growing up, developing into a young woman. She spent less time with him and more time with Momma in the kitchen. He, starting spending more time with Dad, learning the daily life of the ranch hand. But he still liked to spend time with Elinor, when they could. He must have been in his twelfth or thirteenth year, Elinor must have been seventeen then. He caught her coming out of the bathroom in just her underwear.

“You got boobs,” he had said to her, “just like Momma.”

She punched him in the arm before slamming her bedroom door. It was after that, that he began to take a new interest in his sister. He began to look at her differently, trying to look down her blouse when he could, or up her skirt when they rode the bus to school. It was when he entered High School and met Joyce that he lost interest in her, she was after all, just his sister.

“Back so soon,” he commented as Elinor entered the kitchen. “They get off okay?”

He pushed the cup of coffee toward her as she sat down.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"They got off fine," Elinor answered, eyeing the cup of coffee suspiciously. "Beth says she'll call when she gets home."

She picked up the cup and sniffed. "This isn't that chicory blend I brought you, is it?" Of course she knew it wasn't by the smell alone and her brother at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish when he shook his head no.

"Dammit, Rigby. I quit smoking a year ago, don't make me give up my caffeine, too."

The other thing he'd had to give up, though not by choice -- Joyce -- hung unspoken between them like a wrecking ball aimed at their hearts. Elinor hadn't meant to hurt James, she was just concerned for his health. A pang of guilt wrenched at her and she stood, walking around the table toward him.

"You know I just worry about you, James. That's all," she said in her bossy voice, pulling her little brother close.

Maybe it was the letdown of activity. Maybe it was just touching someone who loved him almost as much as his wife had. More than likely it was a combination of both and many other things all rolled into one, but James was suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of his loss as he grabbed his sister in a bone-crushing bear hug, burying his face against her.

His body was wracked by great heaving sobs, but it was his plaintive wail that nearly broke her heart. She felt so helpless and all she could do was hold him gently, smoothing her hands over his hair. Over and over as she rocked him.

"It's okay, love," she crooned softly. "Let it all out. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."

Elinor didn't know how, but that seemed to be what everyone always said. Only time would ease the pain of her brother's loss. In the face of it all, Elinor felt that anything she said would only sound trivial and maybe even contrived, so she did the only thing she knew to do and that was to hold him and love him.

 

[Graybread]

James was an austere man when it can to his emotions, always hiding them below the surface, but now he couldn’t contain them, it was such an intense cluster of overwhelming feelings. At first, there was the shock of Joyce death, then the disbelief that she could be gone from his life. Why her he kept asking himself. Then there was the quilt, maybe he could have seen it sooner, or taken her to a different doctor, something to stop her from dying. Finally, there was the anger, the rage. She was such a good woman, had helped so many, why was she taken. He wanted to lash out at somebody. The doctors and nurses, the hospital, anybody, it just wasn’t fair.

He let the tears fall, the emotions drain away, as he held his sister. She was the only one that he could trust with his emotions. She understood. For a long time he just held her, until the sobbing stopped and he gained control again. He held her close, putting his lips next to her ear.

“What’s for dinner,” he asked.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor had let her own tears fall unbidden as she held her brother. It seemed like ages before his sobs finally eased and he gave out a heavy sigh. Good, she thought to herself. He's let most of it out at last.

When he asked what was for dinner, she feigned shock and let him go like a hot potato, pinching his arm hard. It certainly had broken the tension if nothing else. "Alpo is too good for a dog the likes of you!" she scolded. "Now go wash your face while I take a look to see what you've got."

All week they'd been eating casseroles, cold cuts, salads and other dishes provided by the neighbor ladies. She didn't know about James, but she was simply not in the mood for any of that. Elinor didn't normally eat red meat much anymore, but today she was going to.

Taking two neatly labelled (in what was obviously Joyce's flowery handwriting) Porterhouse steaks from the freezer, she tore off the wrapping and quickly disposed of it while setting them on a plate to defrost. It wasn't that she was trying to throw her sister in law away with the freezer wrap, but she wanted James to eat and enjoy his meal and didn't want anything to dampen it. There would be enough reminders of his wife that would pop up unexpectedly without adding this one.

"Steak?" James asked incredulously.

Elinor turned at the sound of her brother's voice and stuck her tongue out. "Yes, steak. I eat red meat once in a while you know."

"Oh yeah? When did you have it last?"

"Erm... " Elinor chuckled and James laughed. They both knew it had probably been years no matter what she said in protest.

"If you don't want steak, I can probably get some sprouts and Tofu at the market in town and... "

James grabbed up the dishtowel and waved it at his sister in a sign of surrender then gave it a spin and flicked her ass with it.

"Ow! Why you!" Elinor looked around for something to retaliate with. Perfect! She turned on the water and grabbed the spray nozzle from its nesting place on the sink. Turning it on James, she squirted him full in the face. "Take that, you cad!"

"No fair! I'm telling... " he whined, just like he used to do when they were kids, the memory of it making them both laugh. "Hey, Rigby?"

"Yeah, Jimmy John?"

"Race you to the swimming hole."

James didn't wait to see if Elinor would follow. He was out the door and running before she could say yea or nay, the grin on his face growing bigger and bigger as he ran -- especially when he heard the slam of the screen door and his sister's voice calling from behind as he knew she would.

"Get back here you rat. No fair! You had a head start!"

 

[Graybread]

James

“Come on Rigby, you can run faster than that,” he yelled over his shoulder.

James knew he was too old to be racing down the path to the swimming hole like he was ten years old again. But then, that’s exactly why he was doing it, to feel ten years old again. To forget the last few days, the last few months, hell, to forget the last twenty years, he just wanted to shuck it all right now and be free of all the emotion, the pain, the sorrow, and just be ten years old again.

He reached the swimming hole first of course, and sat down to pull off his boots and socks, next came his shirt then his Levi’s and underwear. He jumped in the water and turned around just in time to see his sister strip off her blue jeans and shirt, then her bra and panties, and jump in next to him. They splashed around in the water, wrestling and trying to dunk each other. He was bigger and stronger than she, and there was no way she couldn’t push him under, but he had no trouble with her. He would hold her under for only a few seconds then she would pop up trying to force him down, and just to be fair, he would let her. They laughed and giggled and sputtered, just like they had thirty years ago.

To James, it felt natural to be like this again, with Elinor. When they were younger, she had always been there for him, no matter the problem. It felt like that again, when she had held when he couldn’t contain his sorrow any longer. She had done the same years before for different reasons; it seemed she was always there when it really mattered.

They splashed and played for only ten minutes or so, but it was enough to release the pent up emotions again, and to feel young once more. Finally, he stopped and looked at her. Her hair was matted and rivulets of dirty water were running down her face.

“Enough Rigby,” he said. “I’m ready for that steak now. Whadda ya say, you still know how to cook meat?”

“You still like it rare,” she asked.

“Yup,” he replied.

“Then there isn’t much to cooking it, is there.” She laughed.

He took her hand and led her out of the water to there discarded clothing.

“Ya know, Rigby, you still look like you did in high school,” he said looking at her naked body. “Must be that organic crap you eat? Me, I got myself a pot belly,” he added trying to push his gut out as far as he could.

“Pah,” she laughed, slapping his hard stomach. “You work to hard to get a pot gut.”

They bent and picked up there clothes and tossed them over there arms as they started back to the house.

“Is this right Rigby? I mean us….like this?” he asked, indicating them both being naked.

“Do you think it’s wrong,” she asked looking up into his face.

“Well………not exactly wrong. But mamma would sure have a hissy,” he chuckled.

They walked back to the house, their clothes draped over their arm, hand in hand, brother and sister, like they were seven and ten years old.

“If ya want, I can throw a couple of mesquite logs in the barbeque pit, while you shower. We can cook the steaks outside……….Thanks for being my sis, Rigby.” he said to her.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor showered quickly. It had been ages since she'd swum in cedar water and she'd forgotten how smooth her skin always felt afterward. It made her smile -- something she hadn't done enough of lately.

She dressed simply, just an old tee and some cut-off shorts, a quick brush and a toss of her hair. A glance in the mirror told her she'd "do in a pinch" before hurrying downstairs. She knew her brother was probably still fiddling with the fire and she wanted him to go up to shower before they ate.

Watching him from the patio door, she couldn't help but wonder how he'd do without Joyce to look after him. Oh, he'd been the man of the house, but he'd always looked to his wife for advice and a gentle nudge in the right direction from time to time. Maybe he'd come for a visit, though she didn't think he'd leave the ranch for love or money just now. (As if he ever did.) At any rate, she was always only a phone call away. Moving quietly, Elinor walked up and slipped her arms around her brother from behind.

"Hey! Watch out, you'll get burned!" he protested, though none too convincingly.

"Hey!" she countered. "You're right!" Knowing he meant the barbecue pit, she winked and touched her forefinger to his butt. "Tssssss!"

"Flattery, Mrs. Daniels, will get you everywhere. I think the fire's going pretty good."

"Looks like. Now get your hot self upstairs and showered before dinner."

Elinor smiled wistfully. It seemed, if only for a moment, as if they had gone back in time. She, the bossy older sister, and he the dirty and always in need of a wash, younger brother. Why couldn't things just stay simple like that? Why did everything have to go and get all complicated?

Following her brother inside, she watched as he slowly climbed the stairs before turning back to the kitchen. Once there, she put some green onions in a glass of water on the table, followed by a plate of sliced cucumbers and tomatoes fresh from the garden. The potatoes were almost done baking and Elinor was pleased to see a small pot of chives on the windowsill.

"Lovely!" Elinor said, looking around for a pair of kitchen shears. She'd wait to put the steaks on til James came back downstairs.

 

[Graybread]

James

James climbed the stairs smiling. It had always been fun growing up with Elinor, even though at times she could be a bit bossy. He reckoned that was the way of older sisters. He entered the bathroom and turned the shower on, stepping back to take his clothes off before realizing he had none on. He shook his head as he pulled the curtain back and stepped under the spray. He let the water wash over him before gabbing the bar of soap and rubbing it into his hair. Taking the lather from his hair he washed his face with it and the stubble on his chin and jaw. He then started at his armpits, then worked his way down his body. Leaning against the wall he washed his feet last, running his fingers between his toes. He stood under the water for a few minutes letting it rinse the lather away.

He stepped out of the shower drying himself as he looked in the medicine cabinet mirror. He turned his head sideways, then to the other side before picking up the red and white stripped can of Barbasol and applying it to his face. He didn’t know why he had shaved, he never shaved this late in the day. He shrugged it off as he headed toward the bedroom to dress. He put on an old pair of Levi’s and a plaid shirt with flaps over the pockets and little pearl snaps to keep them closed. He pulled on his most comfortable pair of Tony Lamas and headed back down stairs.

“Clean,” he yelled as he hit the last step. “Ya ready for them steaks Rigby.”

“If you are,” she yelled back.

“Slap em on,” he said entering the kitchen.

Elinor picked up the plate holding the steaks and they walked out the back door.

“Leave em moo’in,” he said as the first steak sizzled on the hot grill.

“Kick’in and moo’in coming up.” She laughed as she tossed the second steak on.

“Ya know, this here man’s work.”

“What, heating up a piece of meat?”

James caught himself blushing, taking the meaning of what she had said the wrong way.

“You want to do it,” she asked handing him the long fork.

“No, your doing fine,” he said putting his arm around her shoulder.

“Humph,” was her only reply.

They let the steaks cook until the juice rose to the surface, then Elinor turned them and let them cook for a few more minutes. Hot and sizzling she forked them and put them back on the plate carrying them into the house. They sat at the table and taking a steak each began to eat.

“Ummm perfect,” James mumbled around the hot piece of steak in his mouth.

“Man’s work,” Elinor commented, snidely, smiling across the table at him.

They sat and ate in silence for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts. James thinking about when she would leave, and what he would do when she did.

“So when’d you say you was leaving,” he said breaking the silence before stuffing a forkful of baked potato in his mouth. A touch of melancholy in his voice, his eyes looking down at his plate.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor knew that the reality of Joyce's death would finally sink in once her brother was completely on his own. Of course he'd be in touch with his daughter Beth, and she was never further away than a phone call or an email -- neither of which were things that James was overfond of doing. It had always been her sister in law that initiated contacts on his behalf. She sighed and took a sip of water before answering.

"I can probably manage a few more days, James. I'd like to stay longer, but it's time for the store's quarterlies and the auditors are due in next week. I'd postpone, but... " Elinor shrugged. James knew all too well that the IRS didn't like waiting for what they thought was due them -- even if it wasn't.

"Uh huh."

"Listen. Why don't you come back with me? You've never seen my store and Jake would be more than happy to have another man around the house. And so would I."

"Well... "

She knew her brother would decline, and rather than pressure him, Elinor decided to change the subject to one that was near and dear to her heart. "Look. No need for decisions right now, James. Hurry up and finish your dinner. What I wouldn't do for a hot fudge sundae."

James looked up at his sister and grinned. "Puff's?"

"Gods! Is that place still open?"

"Yup."

Talk about old home week. Elinor was overcome by yet another wave of nostalgia. Puff's was a drive-in ice cream joint where they'd all hung out as teens. It was the place to be. She never imagined it would still be open after so many years. "Do they still dance in the parking lot?"

 

[Graybread]

James

“Ha,” he laughed. “Dance…if that’s what you want to call it. Kids don’t know how to dance anymore. But the hot fudge sundaes haven’t changed.”

When they’d finished eating James helped with the dishes, just like he done every night with Joyce. He and Elinor hopped in the old red Ford and drove to town, to ‘Puffs’. It was Friday night and the parking lot was mostly full, pickups cruised around the lot. Teens hung out in groups, some dancing to the music that blared from the loudspeakers suspended from the corrugated overhang. James found a parking spot between a brand new Mustang with two pretty blonde girls and a big Dodge Ram pickup, with two pimple faced boys in it.

“Nice truck, old dude,” the passenger in the pickup said.

“Old dude….” James sputtered, “Why you….”

“James, stop. I think he was giving you a compliment,” Elinor said reaching over and taking his arm.

A girl on roller-skates rolled up to the truck. “Hi Mr. Freeman…Hi Mrs.….” She froze as her eyes landed on Elinor. “I’m sorry Mr. Freeman…I forgot.” Her face dropping.

“It’s okay….Janie, is it?”

“Yes Sir,” she answered meekly.

“This is my sister Elinor. She’s here to help for a while…Two hot fudge sundaes please…big ones…with lots of hot fudge. Enough to put ten pounds on me,” he said, smiling up at the girl.

He felt Elinor squeeze his arm again at his attempt to ease the girls discomfort at her faux pas, at the expense of his own discomfort, his own pain.

Shortly she retuned with two of the biggest hot fudge sundaes they had ever seen, loaded with an abundance of hot chocolate.

“On the house, Mr. Freeman…compliments of Puffs.”

“Thanks Janie,” he said taking them from her, handing one to Elinor.

“So…is this how’s it’s going to be? People giving me free stuff just because Joyce died,” he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice as he watched Janie skate away.

“James, no…she’s just being nice. Don’t be like that.”

“I suppose,” he said, breaking the crust of hot fudge and scooping the sweet vanilla ice cream in his mouth. “I suppose.”

They sat and ate their sundaes, his mood improving with each spoonful, watching the kids have fun, dancing, laughing, teasing each other. Finally, a song played that Elinor thought they might be able to dance to.

“Can you still jitterbug…like Mama showed us,” Elinor asked, eyeing him mischievously.

“Old dude,” he quoted, “Let’s show em how it’s done Rigby,” he said pushing the door open on the truck.

The song wasn’t exactly big band swing music, but it was close enough. He led Elinor to the crowd of teens dancing. They parted as he and Elinor walked to the center of the group. He put his hand on her waist, taking her other hand in his they began to dance. It wasn’t a perfect jitterbug from the ‘40’s, more of an east coast swing, their Mom had taught them when they were teens, but still a jitterbug in it’s own fashion. All those dancing stopped and moved back forming a circle around them. Yelling and motioning to others to come and watch. He led Elinor into an underarm turn, and then a reverse turn. She laughed missing a step, but the memories coming back. The kids started applauding and cheering them on. James getting more elaborate with the steps as his memory came back.

“Go old dude,” he heard from the crowd.

He led Elinor into a free spin, taking her hands when she came around and going immediately into a double underarm. The crowd cheered again, laughing and clapping. The music ended, but not the cheers.

“Again,” someone yelled. “Play it again.”

The same song started over at the cheering of the crowd. James looked at Elinor, nodding his head. She nodded in return, laughing.

“Show me how, old dude,” the pimple face teen said, standing there, holding the blond girls hand.

James looked up at him, a slow smile crossing his face.

“Three steps out, three steps back, rock step,” James said, showing him the steps.

Before long, the parking lot was full of kids attempting the new dance, laughing and cheering. Twenty minutes later, James pulled Elinor out of the crowd.

“This ‘old dude’ has had enough,” he laughed, trying to catch his breath.

“Thank you James…thank you for the memories,” she said hugging him.

The drive home was pleasant, both of them humming the tune, chatting about the old times, their youth.

Three days later James took Elinor to the small airport, where she would take a connector flight to Omaha, and then on to California. He hugged her close, not really wanting her to go, but she needed to get home, take care of her own business.

“Til soon,” she whispered in his ear, kissing him on the cheek.

He took her face in his hands, his eyes sad and lonely, pooling with tears.

“I love you Rigby,” he said, kissing her mouth quickly, “now go.”

He turned her, pushing her toward the door and the plane. He didn’t see her walk through the door, as he walked away, nor did he see her turn her head back to him, a single tear running down her cheek.

He stopped at Harpers bar instead of going home. He was in need of a good stiff drink.

“A Bud and a shot,” he said to the bartender.

“Sure James, on the house,” the bartender said.

“No damnit, take my money,” the anger flashing in his eyes, as he pushed a twenty across the bar. “And keep em coming.”

Six hours later, James finally made it home. This was the drunkest he had ever been. He collapsed in bed, still dressed, vomiting on the pillow, unable to make it to the bathroom. He was amazed the next morning, as he clean up the mess, amazed that he had even made it home. He head ached like it never had and his stomach churned, trying again to invert itself.

Over the next three months, he busied himself for the coming Nebraska winter. The winter would be hard, as it always was, blowing across the sandhills of Cherry County, the temperatures dropping to below zero for days at a time. With 4,000 head of Herefords on the open range he needed to make sure he had enough silage, enough hay to keep them going through the cold. They would congregate at the wells and he needed to make sure all the heaters worked or the water would freeze. The coyotes would be on the prowl as well, looking for a meal of prime beef. He kept the Winchester 30/30 in the rack of the back window of the four-wheel drive pickup. The old red ford would never make it through the snowdrifts that were to come. As the temperatures began to drop, he started carrying a half-pint with him, just to keep warm, he told himself.

The dishes piled up in the kitchen sink, and the trashcan overflowed with empty TV dinner trays. James continued to busy himself as the snows began to fly, the half-pint becoming a pint, then a full quart, as the freezing weather moved in. A blizzard rolled across the hills one November night and he had to take the tractor out to make it threw the four feet of snow.

He kept in touch with his daughter, and with Elinor, telling them he was fine, the winter was hard as usual, but he would make it. That he was getting ready to put up the Christmas tree, just like he and Joyce had always done. Beth begged him to come and see them for Christmas, but he declined, saying he had to much work to do. He bought gifts for her and her husband, and several for the baby, mailing them off a month ahead of Christmas.

Elinor suspected he wasn’t fine, she could hear it in his voice. She knew him too well for the lies to be convincing.

James brought the Winchester in the house to clean, he had shot several coyotes and the rifle needed cleaning. He laid to on the coffee table in front of the couch, breaking it down, running the rod through the barrel, sipping at the quart of whiskey sitting there, Christmas music playing on the radio. Once it was clean, he reloaded it, leaning it against the edge of the couch, looking over at the tree.

It was Christmas Eve and the tree was just the way Joyce had always decorated it, with red bows and twinkling colored lights. He picked the bottle up to take a drink, but it was empty. He looked at the bottle, the tears welling in his eyes.

“Goddamn you,” he screamed, throwing the bottle against the wall, smashing it into a hundred little pieces. “Why,” he screamed at the ceiling, his anger turning to rage.

He stumbled to the Christmas tree, kicking at it, ripping at the bows and the twinkling lights until they went out. His rage consumed him as the tears flowed down his face. The tree completely destroyed he collapsed on the couch, sobbing into his hands.

“Why goddamn you….why did you take her…you son-of-bitch,” he wept.

His rage, the depression overtaking him, the loneliness flowing through like the bitter wind outside, biting gnawing at his core. He wiped at the tears, turning his head, his eyes falling on the 30/30 leaning beside him. He reached down, cocking the lever, pushing a round into the chamber. He placed the butt of the rifle on the floor as he placed his mouth over the muzzle, his finger going to the trigger.

The phone rang, and he sat there, posed, letting it ring. The answering machine kicked in finally. It was Elinor.

“James…are you there?....It’s me, Rigby….Well I just wanted to call and wish you Merry Christmas and…and tell you that your loved….Well, ok…Merry Christmas…I’ll call tomorrow…and don’t forget to call Beth…she loves you too.” CLICK

His finger slid off the trigger as he let the rifle fall to the floor, the sobs racking his body.

“Let me go James…there is another that loves you now. Let me go so I may rest in peace.” Joyce’s voice whispered in his mind.

Was he hallucinating now, he wondered? He stood and stumbled to the bedroom, collapsing on the bed, falling into a deep sleep.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor's concern for her brother became an obsession. She had begun to call daily -- sometimes he answered, most times he did not. His daughter, Beth, didn't seem to be having any better luck.

"I'm pregnant again, Aunt Elinor. This time I'm high risk. I can't take the time to go even if it was in our budget. I don't know what to do."

"Don't worry, Bethie. I'll tie up some loose ends and see what I can do. I'm just as worried as you are. Now go rest and take care of yourself. I'll call you at the end of the week."

Replacing the phone in the cradle, Elinor buried her face in her hands. Loose ends. If it wasn't so damned pathetic she'd laugh.

Things weren't exactly going well on her own homefront. Jake had been unusually distant since she came home from Joyce's funeral. The auditors had arrived and did their thing in record time -- no problems and her shop was showing a profit. Not a big one, but a profit nonetheless, enough to hire a second employee.

Elinor thought it would give them a chance to spend more time together at last. James' loss had brought some hard realities home to her and she had sworn to make the most of the time she and Jake had. After all, you never knew what was around the corner.

So there she sat with more free time on her hands than she'd had in years and Jake who seemed to have less than ever. He was going in early, coming home late. It took a while but finally the alarms began to sound and she had confronted him just after Thanksgiving.

She should have seen it coming -- even blamed herself for a minute or two. Jake had met someone. Said it was not her fault -- that it was nobody's fault. Things just "happened". It wasn't that he didn't love her anymore. He did... but. Elinor laughed bitterly. Right... There was always a but.

Jake had knelt before her as she sat stiffly in the chair listening. "I'm so sorry, El. So, so sorry." He didn't try to hide the tears that flowed down his cheeks. Cheeks she had caressed and kissed more times than she could count over the years. She pulled her hand back when it automatically went to ruffle through his hair, to soothe his sadness. He moved out the following day.

Elinor didn't cry at all. She was confused and hurt. But most of all she was angry. Mad not sad. It had become her watchword over the last little while. They were due to finish up the agreement for division of property this week. The store was hers alone. The house -- well, he agreed to let her have that, too -- Mr. Magnanimous, Himself. Their joint stocks and investments would be split. Severed. In two neat little pieces. Just like her heart.

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone again, dialing the number she knew almost as well as her own name. Ringing... "Answer. Please answer. Please" Elinor's heart caught in her throat when she heard his voice.

"Hello?"

"James. It's Rigby. I need to come home."

 

[Graybread]

James

James woke twelve hours later from his drunken slumber. He stripped as he made his way to the shower, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. He stood under the hot water, letting it warm his soul. He shook his head as the water splashed into his face. He finally grabbed the soap and took a proper shower. Getting out he stood in front of the mirror and shaved. He picked his shed clothes up as he went back to the bedroom to dress, tossing them into the hamper. Once dressed in clean clothes he walked to the living room, he knew the mess he would find. His heart sank as he looked at the ravaged Christmas tree, Joyce’s tree.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he spoke aloud, to Joyce.

He got a couple of garbage bags and started to clean up the drunken disaster. He saved the bows from the tree and what lights he could, but the tree itself was gone. He picked up the glass from the broken bottle, and the Winchester went back to its proper place in the gun rack of the pickup. Then started in the kitchen, washing dishes, carrying out bags of trash. He even caught himself humming some Christmas songs. Six hours later the house looked as if nothing had happened, as if Joyce had been there all the time.

He called Elinor and Beth, wishing them both a Merry Christmas, also lying to them, telling them he was fine, just busy with all the work around the ranch. There were times that one or the other had called, sometimes he answered and other times he was out working.

The days slipped into weeks and the weeks into months. Spring was in the air, although snow was still heavy on the ground. James hadn’t touched a drink since Christmas Eve nor did he have the desire. His attitude was much like the land around him, filled with anticipation and wonder of the coming spring. It would soon be calving season, one of the busiest times on the ranch. He’d have to hire some extra help. Probably the same men he’d hired for the last few years.

As the days went by the air warmed perceptively, and he caught sight of the Canadian geese flying back north to their summer nesting ground. He’d stand and watch them as they flew overhead, knowing a new generation would be born before long, the geese, the calves. He smiled to himself at the thought, A new generation, a new life, it was much the way he felt also. He was going to have a new grandbaby soon also. That thought brought an even bigger smile to his face.

He was standing in the kitchen preparing supper when the phone rang.

“Hello? James. It's Rigby. I need to come home.”

James could hear the distress in her voice, and knew something was wrong. Not alarm or immediacy, but he knew her so well he could hear the underlying stress, the inflections in her voice. He didn’t hesitate with his response.

“Of course Rigby, certainly you can come home,” he replied. “Just let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll pick you up.”

The conversation was short, she could tell him what was wrong when she got there. When he hung up the phone, it struck him that she had said ‘home’. California had been home for years, but she wanted to come ‘home’ now. The old cliché, “Home is where the heart is,” crossed his mind.

Maybe she can stay longer this time, he thought.

As he threw the steak in the fry pan, he thought of all kinds of reasons for her to stay, she could do the bookkeeping, she was better at that than he was. Joyce had always done it before, and besides, the old house needed a woman in it. It had been Elinor’s home before his anyway, if only by a couple years.

She belongs here, he thought absolutely.

He caught himself whistling as he flipped the steak in the fry pan.

“Besides, she cooks better than I do,” he said to himself.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Over the next few weeks, Elinor put most of her things in storage, and since Jake didn't seem to mind -- as if he had a say -- put the house up for rent. The clothes she needed now were packed and ready to ship, the ones she didn't were in storage. She had handed over the keys of the shop and left numbers to be reached at any time of day or night. Gloria Anderson would run the shop from this end until she made a final decision about it.

For all intents and purposes, she had tied up her loose ends and was free to go. The final hearing wouldn't be for a few more months, and nothing concerning the divorce was in dispute. She was free to go. Free.

The "Fasten Seatbelts" sign went on and the voice of the pilot announced that they would soon be landing. Home, Elinor thought to herself. I'm going home.

Elinor waited until most of the passengers had left the plane before she stood, not wanting to get caught in the crush despite her eagerness to see her brother. James had held to his word and not asked what was going on. Frankly, she wasn't sure she was quite ready to rehash the whole ugly business just yet and was grateful he wasn't one to press. There would be time enough to talk about everything once she was settled in.

Her face lit up when she saw him. James had lost some weight and there was a sadness in his eyes that seemed to fade when he grinned back and returned her wave. Screw propriety, Elinor thought as she ran the last few yards and fell into his arms. She hugged him tight -- the way Gram used to do -- and he complained the way they all did when she squeezed their stuffing out.

"Let a guy catch his breath, Rig" he gasped.

"Get over it, James. And get used to it. Now let's get my luggage and go home."

"Always the bossy one" he mumbled, but the crooked smile on his face told her that he didn't mind at all.

 

[Graybread]

James

A flutter of butterflies took wing from the pit of James’s stomach when he saw Elinor come through the door. He took no notice of it, she had always made him feel that way, even when they were children. He ginned and waved back at her. It seemed that a weight had been lifted just with the smile on her face.

She fell into his arms and hugged him. He hugged her back just as hard, his face nuzzling in her hair. God it felt good to be holding her again.

“Let a guy catch his breath, Rig” he gasped.

“Get over it, James. And get used to it. Now let's get my luggage and go home.”

“Always the bossy one,” he replied, reaching down and taking her hand as they walked through the small airport. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

They both were quit on the long drive home, wrapped in their own thoughts.

“It’s been a good spring,” James finally said breaking the silence. “Musta been close to two-hundred calves born this year. Only lost a dozen or so to coyote’s maybe. They paid for it though,” he added thinking about the rifle that hung on the rack behind his head.

“You got em all rounded up,” Elinor asked.

“No, not yet. Still got a couple hundred head down in the bottomland. I had Wil Wright fly his piper down there the other day. He says they are scattered all over the place. Can’t go charging in with planes and four-wheelers though.”

“Sand Hill Cranes…….,” she asked letting the question hang.

“Yeah, damn bird people say I can’t disturb em. Say the only way I can go in and get the cattle is on horseback. Hell, it’s my land, our land,” he corrected himself turning to look at his sister. “And I can’t even work it the way I want. If there was money in it, I raise cranes. Maybe they need more cranes to deliver all those babies being born in the world.”

“Those are storks James, not cranes,” Elinor said with a drool look on her face.

“Storks, cranes, same difference. Hey, I got an idea,” he added after a pause. “Why don’t you come down with me and the boys while we round up that last bunch of beef. All we have to do is ear tag em, castrate em, and let em go again. Should only take a week or less.”

“On horseback, you must be kidding.”

“Hell Rigby, its twenty miles down to the bottomland. I aint riding back and forth everyday. We’ll take the Winnebago down and pull the horse trailer. The boys can sleep on the ground or go home at night, like they did last year. You and I could just stay down there in the camper. You could do the cooking and the……cooking,” he said looking at her sheepishly. “Just think Rigby, nothing for forty miles in any direction ‘cept wide open space, clean fresh air, a night sky with nothing but a billion stars.”

James pulled the pickup into the yard and shut it off.

“Think about it,” he said. “It’ll do you go to get out in the middle of nowhere for a while.”

He got out and grabbed her luggage out of the back of the truck, and carried it toward the house. It felt good to have her home again, even if the circumstances weren’t the best.

It’s always better to share a cup of loneness with someone you love, he thought.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Thomas Wolfe said "You Can't Go Home Again" in a novel by the same name. Not only had Elinor gone home, she knew it was the best thing that she could have decided to do.

Unpacking done and dinner prepared, eaten, and then cleaned up after, James and Elinor went outside to watch the sunset.

"Is the Winnebago stocked, James?" she asked as her brother kicked off the porch swing and set them rocking. The sheepish look on his face and the boyish shrug of his shoulders told her that it was not -- or at least that he didn't quite know. Most likely it was the latter.

"Okay. What about propane to cook with? Charcoal for a grill? How 'bout a grill period? There's no wood for fires down in the bottomland -- or precious little as I recall." Elinor wasn't telling him anything he didn't know, just reminding him of stuff he wasn't used to thinking about. She rolled her eyes, giving him a pinch on the arm then rubbing it away.

"The way I see it, you'll starve to death while you're down there. I have to go just to keep you from wasting away. BUT... "

"But?" James voice came out like a squeak and that pleased Elinor no end. She always was the sensible one of the two and kind of liked lording that fact over him.

She'd already made a mental list of what they'd need while they were down there and had taken a quick look round in the old camper while James was showering. There was a box of dry goods and canned sitting in the pantry ready to go and she had gone through the freezer in the house as well.

The generator would keep the fridge going while they were there, but they wouldn't be taking much meat in case it failed. She could still make a fair fry bread and there were plenty of beans and legumes to go with. If they set up near that creek she seemed to recall, they might just end up with a fish fry or two also.

"Looks like you've got your work set out for you tonight, James. Some stuff can wait til morning, but there's plenty to get ready tonight. At least some carrying. I'll dust up after I change the bedding. Oh, and I opened the windows, too."

James arched his eyebrows and she grinned again. "I can't let you go down there on your own for Pete's sake. You'd never survive the week without me. Now let's get a move on."

Giving him a slap on his leg, she waited for the swing to take a backward stroke and propelled herself up and off. "Come on, Mr. Man. Camping isn't just a fun thing anymore you know."

 

[Graybread]

James

“All depends on who you’re camping with,” James retorted, sliding off the swing to follow her dutifully.

They spent the next couple of hours packing foodstuff into the Winnebago.

“Ya know cow pies make good fuel,” he said as he tossed a bag of Kingsford charcoal in the little cubby-hole beneath the camper.

“Uh huh.”

“Ok, so maybe trout ala cow pie isn’t so appetizing,” he admitted. “But it might give it that ‘mesquite’ kinda flavor,” he added.

“Uh huh,” she replied again.

James knew that tone, he knew his sister well. Many a time she had pulled him out of trouble, and just as many they found mischief together.

“That’s it I think,” he said, stepping back and dusting his hands.

If they ran out of charcoal, he knew there would be enough fallen cottonwood along the creek bottom to make it through the week.

“Ok, now that ya got me all tuckered out, what say we go sit in the swing some more,” he joked.

They walked around the side of the ranch house and onto the porch, sitting in the swing. The night sky was full of bright brilliant stars, millions of them. The milkyway stretching across the northern half of the sky. They sat there in silence, listening to the night sounds. The hoot of the ground owl and the peeping of the Kildare overhead, searching for insects. Far off in the distance, the lonely call of the coyote. James put his arm around his sisters’ shoulder and pulled her closer. She laid her head on his shoulder.

“I love this place Rigby,” he said, the sadness and loneness thick in his voice. “Don’t know what’s going too happened to it when were gone. Beth won’t come back and take it over.”

The arm around her shoulder pulled her a little tighter, the back of his fingers gently stroking the side of her face.

“You okay James,” she asked, worried, nestling into the hollow of his arm.

“I guess,” was all he said.

They sat there for another half hour or so, lost in their own thoughts, listening to the night, before James spoke again.

“I’m glad your here Rigby,” he said, almost a whisper.

“Mmmm,” she answered. “Me too.”

“No, I mean I’m really glad your here,” he said reaching across and lifting her chin with a crooked finger, looking down at her.

Quickly, softly, he leaned down and kissed her mouth gently.

“It’s hard being alone sometimes,” his voice quavered, his eyes wet and shiny. “I’m glad your home Rigby.”

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor placed her hand gently on her brother's cheek. They had both lost their lifemates; his through death and hers by divorce. The "Big D's", she thought ironically. "We can do this, dear one. It's you and me against the world... and tomorrow is a new day, a new beginning."

Standing up, she offered her hand and pulled him to his feet. "And tomorrow comes early, James. Let's hit the sack." He nodded and she slipped her hand through his arm as they walked slowly into the house, James pausing only to turn the latch on the door as they climbed the stairs in silence, neither of them speaking again until they had reached the door to his bedroom.

"Now go to bed, sleepy head. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," she said quietly as her arms encircled his waist. "We're gonna make it, James. Us Freemans come from strong stock. We're survivors." She wanted to say more, but she just couldn't find the words. She was the big sister and was supposed to be the strong one, but she was so tired of playing that role. So very, very tired. Even so, she knew she wouldn't falter where James was concerned. Not even for a minute.

He squeezed her tight, a typical James Freeman bear hug and grinned when she gave a mock squeal of complaint. "Dream sweetly, Rig. See you at four."

Elinor glanced at the watch on her wrist and rolled her eyes. "Less than five hours. Sleep fast, little brother. I know I'm going to."

She watched her brother walk into his room and went down the hall to her own. Growing up, the Freemans never closed doors and tonight was no exception to that rule as she sat on the edge of the bed and slipped her sandals off before standing back up to undress.

"Night, Rigby" her brother's voice carried the short distance to her.

"Goodnight, JohnBoyBillyBob" she replied as she slipped between the crisp percale sheets and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. Placing her fingertips gently on her lips, Elinor blew a kiss, the soft velvet caress of his lips from when he'd kissed her on the porch still lingering bittersweet between them.

 

[Graybread]

James

James slipped out of his clothes and laid them across the chair. It still bothered him to climb into bed alone. He did feel better knowing Rigby was just across the hall.

“JohnBoyBillyBob,” he snickered as he threw his arm over the extra pillow.

He lay there with his eyes open, staring at the pattern cast by the lacy curtains Joyce had put up. He had never cared for them but he wasn’t about to change them now that she was gone. He wondered why he had kissed his sister like he had. It puzzled him. Maybe he just needed to feel the warmth of lips on his. He could feel himself getting melancholy again and tried to shake the feelings. He forced himself to think about tomorrow, and the week coming up. He’d been riding off and on through the year, just to keep the horse in shape, but he knew he’d be damn sore after spending a whole day in the saddle.

Maybe I should get me one of them little four wheeled sports toys, he thought as he closed his eyes.

The smell of strong coffee brought him out of his sleep. The lacy pattern was still on the wall so he knew it early. He inhaled the heady aroma as he lay there for a couple more minutes. Was that buttermilk biscuits he smelled, and hamsteak? He smiled gently as he threw the blankets back and rolled out of bed. He slipped on his faded Levi’s and padded bare foot down the stairs.

“Up early,” he grinned. “That coffee sure smells good,” he said standing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his hands together. “Is that buttermilk biscuits I smell too?”

He grabbed a cup out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. Pulling a chair back, he sat down at the empty plate sitting on the table, sipping the coffee, watching Elinor cook.

“One egg or two,” she asked looking over her shoulder at him.

“Hmm....four should do it, up and runny. Just right for biscuit dippin,” he replied.

“What’s that sound,” she asked as she turned back to the stove, cracking the eggs one handed and dropping them in the fry pan beside the hamsteak. “Oh, it’s just the sound of your arteries hardening is all.”

He laughed as he sat there watching her cook. He had missed her over the years. Yes, they had seen each other every couple of years, but it wasn’t the same. He had always liked being around his sister, now maybe they could be together again like when they were young. His eyes traveled over her hair and down her shoulders. He glanced at the curve of her face when she turned sideways.

He smiled as he watched her. Maybe things might get back to the way they used to be.

“Ya ain’t gonna burn them biscuits are ya,” he said jokingly.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Elinor grinned as she slipped an oven mitt on her hand and took the biscuits from the oven without letting James see. "Damn," she swore. "Burned to a... "

"Hell, Rig. They don't smell burned."

"To a lovely golden brown," she snickered, loosing them into a dishtowel-lined basket and covering them over before placing them on the table. "Nuh uh," she warned, slapping her brother's hand as he went to reach. "Eggs will be finished in just... Oh, look at that. It seems, Your Majesty, that breakfast is now... " using the spatula that was laying beside the stovetop, Elinor served the ham and eggs onto a plate and set it down before him. "Served."

"Aren't you eating?" James asked as he split a biscuit, his second she guessed by the crumbs on his beard. She'd meant to ask him about that, he'd always been clean-shaven before... Well, before. No matter, Elinor liked the look of it on him. It made James look... distinguished. Not that she didn't already think he was handsome -- in her mind, he'd always been the best looking guy in town. In fact...

The sound of the timer ringing brought Elinor back from where ever her mind had begun to take her, and just in the nick of time, she chastised herself. "Did you say something, James?"

"Eating. Aren't you... "

"Oh... Yeah. I'm having soft-boiled," she had already run them under cold water and was scooping them out into a bowl. "More coffee before I sit?"

"Mmhmm... " Talking, grinning and eating all at once. It did her heart good. Yes, Elinor was glad to be home again. Very glad indeed.

An hour later, the dishes washed and put away and clothing stowed, Elinor and James were in the Winnebago and ready to roll. "Can we camp down by the creek?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," he replied with a grin as if it had been his idea right along. And maybe it had.

 

[Graybread]

James

It might have only taken half and hour, forty-five minutes at the most to drive to the river bottom in the pickup, but it took nearly and hour and a half in the Winnebago, pulling the horse trailer. The road was basically just a two rut lane through the sandy hills. The ranch itself was over 20,000 acres, bigger than a lot of the cities and towns in the state. Cherry county Nebraska itself was bigger than some Eastern states, which meant that the cattle herd roamed all over the ranch in search of grass. But being head animals they did tend to cluster together in small groups of 3 or 4 hundred, all 5,000 or so of them, give or take the 1,500 new calves this year.

The boys had already been gathering the small herds into several larger ones of around 1,000 each. With the spring grass they would stay together now, and it would be more manageable to cut the calves out for tagging, castration and shots.

While the boys brought the calves in, it was James job to do the tagging and necessary Vet duties. His mouth began to water at the thought of a delicious ‘Rocky mountain oyster’ dinner. He was also glad Elinor was along, she could at least relieve him of the computer duties. That had been Joyce’s job in years past. Everything needed to be documented, tag numbers, new born, shots and a start on the number of cattle that would be sold in the fall.

“Here we are,” he said, as they pulled over the small rise, and the cottonwoods came into view.

The green and white leaves of the trees shimmered in the cool breeze.

“Cotton be flying soon,” he added, “maybe catch a catfish of two.”

“When the cotton is flying the catfish are biting,” Elinor repeated the old adage. “Sounds good.”

James pulled the Winnebago near the stand of trees, about 30 yards from the creek. This time of year any heavy rain and the creek would rise dramatically in the low flat land. He shut the Winnebago off and picked up the walkie talkie pressing the button on the side.

“We’re here boys,” he said, “just getting set up.”

“Okay boss,” came the squawky reply, “we’ll be ready when you are.”

“I’ll get the laptop ready,” Elinor said rising out of her seat and moving to the back of the Winnebago.

“Sure thing,” he said as he went out the door heading to the horse trailer.

He led Rose out of the trailer and let her go with no tether. She would stay close idling grazing on the new grass. He rolled out the fencing and steel fence post to set up the small corral and chute he needed. The posts would drive easy into the sandy soil and it would only take an hour or so to set the whole thing up. Elinor came out and helped him carry posts and fencing where needed. Once the corral was up, they set up the sturdy wooden table near the end of the chute to hold the tags, the vet supplies and the laptop. Elinor sat down in the chair, ready for the first calves to come in.

“Don’t ya think something missing,” he looked at her slyly.

“What?” She asked, looking around the top of the table.

“How soon we forget,” he grinned at her. “Need a bucket to put them oysters in. I’ll get it,” he said going back to the Winnebago grabbing the five gallon plastic bucket, filling it half full of cold water, and picking up the two-way.

“Okay, start bringing em in,” he said into the radio.

“On our way boss.”

Elinor would have the ear-tagger ready with a tag, and the number recorded in the lap top. All James had to do was punch it in the calf’s ear and lay it back on the table.

They heard the bawling of the calves before they saw them. They didn’t care being separated from their mothers.

Jeff and his younger brother Bobby were bringing in about 15 or so calves. They forced them into the gate of the corral where James was ready to shut the gate. Then they were off to round up the next batch. James would force them down the narrow chute and shut the gate on them there. He would take the first calf at the end, punch the tag in the ear, reach through the chute, drop the empty tagger on the table, pick up ready made hypo, inject it into the calf, then, if necessary, castrate the calf. He would then open the end of the chute and let the calf go, letting it find its own way back to its mother. Some would run off, and some would just stand there bawling.

There was always a break between each group of calves brought in, giving James time to reload all the hypos and wash his hands of blood and sulfa powder. By the end of the day, they had done 118 calves, the sun was drifting down toward Wyoming and the breeze was getting cooler. Jeff and Bobby were there to help with the last 12, having stopped rounding up.

“Seems we got more heifers than bulls this year,” he commented, looking down at the half full bucket of nuts. “You boys staying the night or going home?”

“Heck no, to cold to be a sleepin on the ground,” Bobby chided. “Pardon the French ma’am,” he added looking at Elinor.

“Well take them oyster with ya, I’m too tired to mess with them tonight. My back killing me anyway. See ya in the morning.”

“Okay boss,” Jeff replied, picking up the bucket, “see ya in the morning.”

James and Elinor picked up all the things on the table and carried them back to the Winnebago. James collected some dead cottonwood and built a fire as the sun cast its last rays of golden light across the purple sky. The stars were twinkling already as the coyotes barked in the distance.

“You want steak for supper,” Elinor asked sticking her head out the door.

“Yeah,” he answered smiling, “and fried taters, cooked over cottonwood. I’ll get the grill.”

James walked back toward the trailer to get the grill. Rose nickered at him as he approached. Joyce had raised Rose from a colt and she had always been her horse.

“How ya doing ‘ole girl,” he said walking over to her, gently stroking her neck.

Rose nickered softly again as she put her head over James’ shoulder. The sound of a lone coyote drifted through the darkening night. James slipped his arms around the horse neck, resting his head beside hers.

“You miss her too, don’t ya girl,” he whispered as a tear fell silently to the ground.

They stood beneath the vastness of heaven and earth, man and horse, locked in the loss they shared together. It was only the nearness of a coyote that caused Rose to raise her head.

“I’ll get ya some oats,” he said, patting her neck.

James got an other bucket from the trailer, filled it with a couple of scoops of oats, sitting it down. Rose slowly walked over and stuck her muzzle in the bucket. He then grabbed the grill and stand and went back to the dying fire.

“Just right,” he said as he stuck the stand into the ground, placing the grill over it. “Fires ready,” he yelled toward the Winnebago.

“Still peeling potatoes,” came the reply.

James went inside and started slicing the potatoes that Elinor had peeled. Finished they carried the iron skillet and platter of meat outside. The meat sizzled when it hit the hot grill.

“You want to eat inside or out,” she asked him.

“Outside.”

Elinor threw an old gingham oilcloth tablecloth over their work table before she set it. James got the Coleman lantern out and light it while the meal cooked. They sat in silence while they ate, enjoying the sounds of the land and each others nearness. Having finished, they sat there for a while longer each wrapped in their own thoughts.

“Damn my back hurts,” he said breaking the silence. “Getting old I ‘spose.”

“Need a back rub?”

“Ill help with the dishes first,” he answered.

He flicked off the gas to the lantern and they carried the dirty dishes inside. As she ran water, he went back out and kicked sand on the fire, then went back in to help.

“Thanks Rigby,” he said leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

“For what,” she asked, plying innocence.

“For everything,” he said drying the last plate. “We wouldn’t have gotten near as much done today without you.

“Well maybe not, but a woman’s work is never done. What about that back rub?”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned, walking to the back of the Winnebago. “Let me take a quick shower.”

He kicked off his boots, removed his clothes and stepped into the tiny shower stall. She was standing there in her nightshirt and a towel in hand when he emerged. He took the towel and dried himself partially before laying face down on the bed. Elinor hiked up her nightshirt and climbed on top of him, sitting on the back of his thighs. Slowly she began to work the stiff muscles in his lower back.

“Mmmmm,” he purred like a big lazy cat. “God that feels good.”

She worked his muscles from his lower back upwards to his shoulders, his neck and down his arms. Slowly the soreness slipped away under her magic hands.

Finally she popped him on his naked butt, “finished,” she said, “feel better.”

He turned over to look up at her, taking her hands in his. Laying naked under his older sister. Not immune to the situation or the passage of time, his manhood began to creep up his belly.

Was it loneness, or just the need to satisfy the his sexual urge? Or did he want to share with his sister the ultimate act of love. He had always loved her, but never in this way. Why would this be different from other times? He needed her, he needed her in his life, had always needed her in ways he never understood. Even during his years with Joyce he had needed Elinor in some way? He felt like the small little brother of so many years ago, looking to his sister for the answers.

“Rigby,” he whispered, his voice, his eyes full of confusion. “Where do we go from here?”

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Overwhelmed by the emotions that were coursing through her, Elinor found herself unable to move away from James. Even when he turned over. Even when she sensed the growing hardness of his manhood mere inches from the soft, moistness of her femininity.

"Rigby,where do we go from here?"

Pressing a finger tenderly to her brother's lips, Elinor knew that she would lose all courage if they continued to speak. She didn't want to consider the wrongness of what she -- they -- were about to do... only the fact that it felt... right.

True, she was the eldest but there was more truth in the fact that he had always been the strongest -- whether he realized it or not. Right now Elinor Freeman Daniels needed her brother's strength to help them both elicit what they needed -- each other.

Crossing her arms in front of her body, Elinor reached down for the hem of her tee and lifted it up over her head. Letting it drop to the floor beside the bed in a swift motion that forestalled any turning back, Elinor smiled and leaned forward into the safe haven of James' arms.

Offering first the seduction of her soft, trembling lips, Elinor gasped when James captured it with such hungry urgency. He plunged between her parted lips, making sweeping, swirling motions inside her mouth as their tongues danced and curled, circled and darted back and forth, matching the slow, sensuous rhythm of their bodies as they writhed sinuously against each other.

Gasping for air, there was no surcease to their passion as she raised her body up and reached between them, guiding her brother's erection toward the nest of downy curls between her thighs as his shaking hands roamed over her breasts, his eyes flickering between them and her own.

When she slid him into the warm, wet heart of her; between the petal folds that opened as James tenderly entered her, embedding himself deeply, they cried out softly in joyous unison . Their wanting had became reality.

 

[Graybread]

James

In a crescendo of emotions, James wrapped his arms around his sister, as he slid into her, pulling her closer, tighter to himself. The years cascaded through his mind like a child’s flip book, faster and faster leading to this very moment. There was no wrongness in it, it was meant to be, him and her, brother and sister. Yes he had loved his wife, had loved her deeply. But, perhaps, somewhere deep inside her she knew this was his one true love.

He devoured her mouth with his tongue, drawing the breath from her. His fingertips dancing along the soft skin of her back, until he held the firm roundness of her bottom. He broke the kiss and looked up into her face; slowly he raised his hips off the bed pushing the full length into her. He held himself in her for a long moment without moving, simply taking in the joy.

He raised his head and gently, softly kissed one nipple then the next. He had waited so long for this without knowing it. She had been his succor, his mentor at times for so many years, but now they were one. He suppressed the urge to hurry, time was his now, his and hers. He parted his wind burned lips and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her sweet delicate nipple, hard against his tongue. Slowly he withdrew from her only to rise up again. There was no urgency in what he was doing, time had seemed to stop. He suckled, gently at her breast, his rough hands sliding down her thighs as she sat on him. His hips moving rhythmically, matching her own movements. He squeezed her thighs before his hands moved up her sides and once again around her back. He pulled her down again, capturing her mouth with his own. Gently he rolled her over onto her back, never leaving her body. Her legs wrapped around his.

“Rigby…,” he whispered in her ear.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Ohh, James... " She breathed his name like a gentle caress, matching his fluid movements slowly, deliberately; both prolonging and postponing the sybaritic denouement of their lovemaking.

Her fingers twined in his hair, Elinor coaxed her brother's mouth toward hers. Kissing him deeply, she luxuriated in the sensual glissade of his iron-hard tumescence within the slick softness of her sex.

Soon though, their rhythm increased. Bucking, arching, colliding in perfect rhythm, Elinor couldn't stay still. She answered James' thrusting hips with abandoned longing until that final glorious moment when her entire body was seized with a rush of sensation so intense that she shuddered uncontrollably. Crying out his name, Elinor convulsed around him, bringing him with her.