The Farmer's Son

Chapter 51 The Return of Cowboy Ray

A sky of burnt orange stretched from horizon to horizon above swaying corn when the tan truck pulled up to the house. Sitting on the porch steps waiting, Alan stood as Ray stepped out. Head down and hat pulled low, Alan could not see Ray's eyes, but the forceful slamming of the truck door said enough.

What happened to get Ray there, Alan already knew.

Earlier that day, Sal had seen the men gather in the General Store and leave as one. Given the current situation, he's taken an educated guess as to what they were up to, and as they rolled out, he got on his CB radio to Geary Jr. In the field on his combine, Geary Jr. headed right over, collecting Jamie, Curtis, and other friends along the way.

"We kicked up a lot of dust and made a lot of noise," Jamie had told Alan over the phone. "We wasn't nearly enough to even the odds, but what we lacked in numbers, we made up for in confidence. A lot of us had Pa's in that roadblock, too, you know. But there comes a time in every man's life when he's got to take a stand for something he believes in, right?"

It was thanks to them that Ray had made it home in one piece, if not in the best mood. He thumped his back hard against the door, digging his heel into the dirt as he hung his head low. Under the buzz of insects, in the warm, sticky, humid air, Alan leaned on the door beside him in silence.

"Is it worth it, Alan?" Ray asked, his strained voice almost lost under the rising and falling drone of insects. "Is it worth it, trying to become a part of a community that'll only ever see the worst of me?"

Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Alan braced one leg on the truck behind him and lifted his gaze to the sky. "Pa called earlier," he said. "He heard what happened. By now, I bet everyone has. He left a message for you."

Ray throat moved as he swallowed hard, thinking he knew what was coming.

"He said, you tell Ray, when he comes back, feeling like he don't belong, like he's not wanted, you tell him that he's already a part of the community—the next one, those who will inherit what you see around you now. So, it don't matter if the old fools run you out. Because you can take a man out of the corn field, but you can't take the corn field out of a man. All paths through the field—"

"Lead home," Ray murmured softly.

Alan chuckled. "You get it." But as Ray lowered his head again, Alan bent his to look under the bill of the hat. "There's something else bothering you, isn't there?"

After a few moments' silence Ray spoke, voice barely audible. "I can't help thinking that this is what it would have been like, if people had found out about me and Joel—or even about Joel and Tommy."

"Or me and you?"

Ray's head, if possible, dropped even lower. But beside him, he heard a chuckle.

"You think I haven't thought about that?" Alan asked. "I did. Then I didn't let it stop me."

"Maybe you should have," Ray said quietly.

"Never," Alan said, flicking his finger against the bill of Ray's hat, knocking it up.

Reaching up to catch his hat before it fell off, Ray's head finally lifted, and Alan took the chance to lean in and press his lips to Ray's in a kiss. Ray gave a sound of surprise, but Alan put a hand behind his head, holding him. After a few moments, Alan broke away.

Foreheads together, Ray sighed. "I'm still the reason the town is divided," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Alan said, with a smile, rubbing his fingers through the dark, sweat damp hair at Ray's nape. "It's not every man who can make a son stand against his father. Guess you were trouble after all, cowboy."