He stands by himself on the other end of the porch . Why is he there not interacting at all with the others? Is he the gay one that the other guys make fun of? I know all too well how that feels. I wave at him, and as he walks down the steps, the others laugh and make kissing sounds, smacking their lips together, as he walks towards me.
Shooting pain in my heart.
Will walks with an ambling gait across the asphalt road, steps up the curb that's around the edge of the shed-row and comes over to where I’m standing. Naked from the waist up his upper body is slender but the muscles in his arms, chest and abdomen are well defined. His shabby jeans are tight and reveal his bony hips and what appears to be the profile of what else he is packing beneath them. The pants are just long enough to reach around the tops of his scuffed up brown boots
“You a rider”, I ask?
“Bug boy, still got my ten pound allowance,“ he says.
(Let me explain, a “ten pound bug boy,” or beginning apprentice jockey, carries ten fewer pounds than the weight assigned, until he/she wins five races.)
“I’ve got three horses to gallop in the morning“, I say. “If you can give me a hand, maybe I can let you ride them in the afternoon”.
His blue eyes light up and a big grin comes over his face. “You bet”, he says and sticks out his hand for me to shake. It's strong, leathery, hard calluses on the palm, like the hand of a much older man.
“What’s up with the guy at the stable gate?” I ask Will.
“You talking about Chubby O’Connor?” he replies.
“Yeah, wanted to know if I was a faggot. Told me when I first came in that he had to see me when I was finished setting up my stalls. Went back up there right before the horses got here and that’s what he wanted to know.”
“He asked every guy around here that. He doesn’t like queers”, Will tells me. “He’ll be watching you even closer after he sees you with me”.
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“A rumor, and lets just leave it at that for now,” Will says. He hangs his head and seems so sad. His reaction reminds me of how I feel when guys would tease me about being gay.
I tell Will, “OK, no more questions asked. But I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”
“Maybe some day,” Will says. “See you in the morning”, as he walks with his head still hanging down back to the bunkhouse.
“See you then “, I reply.
Thoughts of Will keep my mind occupied during the rest of the morning. Is tomorrow going to be strictly business, or are those innocent looking blue eyes and boyish grin telltale signs of other intentions.
Shooting pain in my heart.
