Born with their Trauma

ONE

Vin followed Ezra's gaze. The boy sitting in a corner of the saloon, nursing a beer and reading a journal, had ridden in two weeks earlier. Since then, he'd spent a lot of time in that corner, whenever he wasn't doing odd jobs around the town and throughout the surrounding area. Vin hadn't seen him exchange more than a few words with anybody. As part of his usual checks, he'd asked Inez what she knew but all she could say was that his name was Sal and that he seemed to be a polite young man. Vin judged him to be smart too, given that he kept out of the saloon on paydays and Saturday nights, when trouble all too often come looking for a victim.

That afternoon, the place was almost deserted. Things had been quiet for a while, which was why Vin was whiling away time in a half-hearted game of poker. He rarely won for long against Ezra, so he always bet lightly, but there was pleasure to be had from watching Ezra's skill and he was invariably good company. It had taken Vin, who'd never much liked confidence tricksters, a while to appreciate Ezra's subtler qualities but now he enjoyed the time they spent together as much as any. He wasn't sure the pleasure was mutual, given that one of his entertainments when time hung heavy was to bait Ezra, but that afternoon they were both as relaxed as they ever got.

Ezra shuffled the cards proficiently, smiled at him and called out, 'Care for a game, young man?'

Vin watched Sal's response out of the corner of his eye, curious to see what he'd make of the offer. It was rare for men like them to extend an invitation to a greenhorn - JD would have leapt at the opportunity to join them a couple of years earlier - but he'd never seen any sign that Sal wanted to join in anything. The boy considered the offer and Vin recognized in his consideration an internal debate, all too familiar, on which course of action would cause the fewest ripples. An instinct stirred deep down and lodged an almost unconscious marker that something wasn't right.

Finally, Sal got to his feet, touched his hat and headed for the door.

'I'd sooner keep my money, thanks.'

Vin grinned as he passed.

'Won't get nowhere hustlin' him, Ezra.'

It was a throwaway remark. Sal had no money, so the offer could only have been kindly meant.

Sal didn't return until hours later. Vin had done his late afternoon round, been to the barber for a shave and read a few pages with Mary before he came back to resume his idling with a freshly bathed Ezra. Without looking at them, Sal ordered a beer from Inez, took it to his corner and began to read a book. There were plenty of bartenders who would throw a man out for spending as light as that and then occupying a table all evening but Inez was far too kind-hearted, spoiling him with leftovers instead. Vin had met plenty of both sorts of people in his early years out on his own and he'd known from the start which sort she was. He would have put himself out when her past had come looking for her even if Buck hadn't been trying to get killed at the time.

Vin gave Sal no more thought until a sudden movement on that side of the room caught his eye. A man had stumbled into Sal, slopping beer all over the floor in the process. Vin knew all about the man. His name was Fergal Bryant and he was headed for a ranch further west with two companions who were every bit as hard on the eye as he was. Vin knew that bad men didn't have to be ugly but most of them were and it wasn't hard to see why. Men who got into fights every other day soon acquired the broken noses, missing teeth, sightless eyes and cauliflower ears that spoiled their looks.

'Hey, you little shitsack, watch what you're doing!'

Sal looked up at his challenger calmly. Vin knew every thought and feeling that crossed his face as he decided what to do. He'd been there so often himself when he was that age, taller but just as slight as Sal, ill-equipped by nature to take on men of Bryant's bulk. Whatever Sal did, Bryant would make an issue of it, spoiling for a Saturday night argument on a quiet Wednesday evening.

'I didn't move, mister.'

Experience had obviously taught him that a little trouble sooner sometimes saved a lot later. If he rolled over, the man would pick on him for the rest of his stay. That was how Vin had slowly grown into a man who did the telling, not the being told. Sal made as if to resume reading.

Bryant knocked the book out of his hand.

'I say you did, and you owe me a goddamned beer.'

Sal glanced around, weighing up the situation, and Vin wondered what he would do. Bryant was a small-time bully, eager to pick on an easy target, but he was in his middle years and way out of condition. He wouldn't be impossible to beat, all things being equal, but Sal didn't look confident that all things would stay equal. Still with the same calm deliberation, he picked up his book and made to leave.

'You still owe me that fuckin' beer,' Bryant insisted.

'Kiss my ass,' Sal said quietly and continued on his way.

Bryant grabbed him by the shoulder, a fierce pinch intended to leave its mark.

'A beer or outside.'

Sal held his gaze for a moment, and then nodded towards the door. Moments later, Bryant's companions followed them out. Vin looked at Ezra, who gave a humorless smile.

'It seems somewhat unjust that our young visitor should find himself without a second.'

Vin grinned. Ezra never answered a question, spoken or unspoken, in plain language if he could avoid it but they couldn't have been more in tune on the sentiment. Vin had no intention of fighting Sal's battles for him but enforcing fair play was another thing. They moved silently to the door and watched over the top.

Sal waited for his opponent's first move, easily avoiding the lunge when it came. While Bryant was still regaining his balance, he landed a swift one-two on his jaw. Bryant soon pulled himself together, surely seeing that it wasn't going to be the casual put-down he'd expected. Sal lost no time in proving himself fast and accurate, with a solid defense that Vin suspected had been learned the hard way, but his light build inevitably meant that his punches lacked power. He would probably lose against a fitter opponent but Vin judged that he could outlast Bryant, provided he had the sense to stay out of reach.

Sense was something the boy showed in abundance and, within minutes, Bryant was panting heavily. His blows became more erratic and his balance less steady. Vin watched as Sal waited for a chance, goading his opponent with a series of jabs, and then throwing everything he had into one final hook. The blow took Bryant down, leaving him groggy, but he stubbornly held on to consciousness.

Sal was standing sideways to the saloon, dividing his attention between the fallen man and his friends. He carried no gun and, even if he had, he would have needed to be fast to take on three men spread so far apart. As soon as one of Bryant's friends began to move, Vin's mare's leg was in his hand. He aimed over the door and left Ezra to do the talking.

'Let's leave the odds as they are, shall we, gentlemen?'

His tone made it sound like a polite request to pass the salt.

Bryant rose slowly to his feet, glowered at them, and then stalked off with his companions. Maybe, if he had to live in the town, he might have taken it further but he clearly deemed it too much trouble in a dust bowl that he was only passing through.

Sal picked up his book from where he'd laid it on the sidewalk, nodded his thanks and headed towards the boarding house.

'We can only hope that will be the end of it,' Ezra said.

Vin considered that. While it was true what Buck had said one time, that a fight in those parts meant a gunfight, there was nothing wrong with a good old fistfight. In his view, fists were a good deal more appropriate for resolving a dispute over a spilled drink than bullets. He certainly didn't intend to let any man shoot an unarmed opponent, man or boy.

'Mebbe I'll hang around a while, make sure they don't get any ideas.'

Ezra flashed his gold tooth in a smile, telling Vin that he'd just been hoodwinked. Ezra'd had no intention of leaving Sal exposed to reprisals but why do himself what it was so easy to get Vin to volunteer for? Vin grinned back, not bothered about taking an extra watch and harboring quiet admiration for how effortlessly Ezra was able to manipulate people, even friends. He wouldn't have minded being better at that himself, but he'd always been a straight-down-the-line type and wouldn't have known how to change.

TWO

A week or so after Sal's fight, Vin was riding back from the Indian reservation alone. He'd taken a detour through one of his favorite parts of the local country, where a creek tumbled over a rock face. Although barely deserving the description waterfall, it was very pretty.

He was walking his horse alongside the creek when, through the trees ahead, he glimpsed a swimmer in the pool below the falls. In all his visits, it was the first time he had ever seen anyone in a spot that he had come to regard almost as his own personal property. He stopped to watch, still under the cover of the trees. It was an unwise place to bathe because the noise of the falls meant that a bather stood no chance of hearing anyone approach. He smiled as he reflected that the swimmer probably thought the place as deserted as he had.

He urged his horse a few strides closer, curious to see who it was and then surprised to recognize Sal. He'd taken no more notice of the kid before the fight than of any other new face in town but, impressed by his ability to take care of himself, had paid him a bit more mind since.

Surprise didn't come close to covering his reaction when the boy stood up.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Vin watched him emerge dripping from the water. The skinny torso tapered from bony shoulders, past a set of ribs like twin xylophones, down to narrow hips that framed a faint triangle of sparse hair... and nothing else.

He was still staring when Sal began to towel himself down.

Himself?

Vin pulled out his spyglass and studied the figure more closely. No breasts, not even the tiny ones of a girl before she reached womanhood, but no cock either. He rode as near as he dared and then looked again. He felt his eyes open wide in astonishment. There, hooded by what looked like a woman's sex, was a small cock. It was of a size that he would expect to see on a boy some years Sal's junior. He sat there, stunned, trying to piece together what he was looking at.

He'd never heard of anything like it and it was hard to shake off the amazement. It might have been impossible, except that he'd once seen a buffalo that was... wrong. He'd been astounded but Gaagii, one of his Navajo friends, assured him that it wasn't unknown. In the days when buffalo swarmed across the prairies in their millions, it seemed that most everything that could interfere with the processes of nature had done at one time or another. That one had looked like a cow with a cock but Gaagii had seen another one that he said looked like a bull without a cock. He said that the way the beasts acted didn't always match how they looked either, as if something had got well and truly mixed up.

Vin was still staring when Sal was dried and dressed. He reckoned to live and let live, but he was also an inquisitive and imaginative man. He'd spent many a long hour studying the world around him and so, although he would never pry into another person's affairs without good cause, his fascination was not as out of character as it might have seemed to a casual observer.

Over the next few days, he kept a watchful eye on Sal. Now that he knew that something was awry, he detected some telltale signs in both behavior and appearance that confirmed he hadn't been seeing things. Sal was a good-looking boy, with glossy black hair, sharp brown eyes and olive skin making a well-matched package. Perhaps it was slightly unusual for a man of that coloring to have no visible beard growth but that had never occurred to Vin before and Sal was young. On the other hand, he might have made an attractive girl, maybe beautiful with long hair and a pretty dress. His voice was as androgynous as his looks, soft for a boy and deep for a girl, and it gave away little more about his origins than his sex, with a slight drawl that couldn't decide if it came from the South or the West almost masking a Spanish heritage.

Most conclusive was the fit of his pants, which he didn't appear to have thought of padding out, but then Vin had never noticed that before either. Thinking on it, he realized that a man was apt to notice if another man seemed to have more than his fair share down there but was unlikely to think twice about an unfortunate who might be lacking.

For the first time in his life, Vin struggled to keep his mouth shut and mind his own business. Aside from respecting Sal's privacy, which he most certainly did, he wouldn't have felt easy discussing what he'd seen, even with Gaagii. It was one thing to look at a dead buffalo and talk about its odd body parts but it would embarrass him to talk about a person's body in the same way. So, as usual, he watched and listened but said nothing. It wasn't until the following Tuesday that events took on a life of their own. Headed for the outhouse out back of the saloon, he passed Sal's corner and, though empty, it set him thinking again. It was his uncharacteristic preoccupation that made him walk straight into Sal, who was cutting through the alley.

Before Vin could stop it, his gaze had strayed from face to groin and back again. For the first time since reaching manhood, he felt what had to be a visible blush hit his cheeks. Sal's face paled and his eyes narrowed in alarm. The reaction jolted Vin out of his daze. He'd been too caught up in curiosity and fascination to give much thought to what such a deformity might mean for its bearer. To some it would be the mark of sin or, worse still, of the devil. He'd be hard pressed to think of too many white people who'd treat the matter as casually as Gaagii had.

After a second or two of flustered thought, he looked around to make sure they were alone.

'I saw you in the creek,' he said, keeping his voice low. 'Ain't none of my business. Understand?'

Sal's eyes opened wide with surprise, but he said, 'I'll move on.'

'Not unless you want to.'

Sal nodded slowly. He turned to leave and then turned back again. 'Thanks.'

Vin watched him walk away, hoping that his reassurance would be enough to keep the kid in town. He examined his reasons for the feeling, knowing that he did not want to see anybody hounded for an accident of birth but knowing too that there was more to his hope.

THREE

On the Thursday morning, Vin was sitting outside the saloon when Sal drove past. His elderly but willing sorrel gelding was hitched to a wagon piled high with lumber and he took a north-easterly direction out of town. Vin considered that and guessed that he was headed for what had been Cody Porter's place. A new family had moved in and was already bringing in stock.

He'd promised himself, as much as Sal, that he wouldn't interfere but was losing his battle to keep the promise. Considering the motivations behind his interest, he wasn't feeling too proud: he was curious, something he usually equated to nosiness, and he was horny, something he found surprising but not in the least shocking. Eventually, after pondering for more than half an hour, he gave in to temptation and saddled his own gelding. He doubted he'd catch up anyway, given that he would likely abandon the cart tracks if they passed close to the old Porter house.

As it turned out, they didn't and he had no trouble following the trail to where Sal was working in a remote corner of the ranch. He reined back under the cover of some trees on a ridge and watched the distant figure drive fence posts into the ground with a sledgehammer. He was a hard worker, leaving a line of posts as straight and true as the most demanding foreman could expect.

Vin saw him look back at the posts, then smiled as he realized he was counting them. He followed suit and made it eighteen. Sure enough, Sal banged in another two before taking a break, sprawled out with his back against the last one. Vin scanned the country in all directions before riding over. Sal looked up from under the brim of his hat, his expression unfathomable. He didn't seem surprised or annoyed, the reactions Vin had been prepared for.

'What're you doing here?' he asked.

Vin dismounted. 'I don't rightly know.'

'You think I'll do whatever you want to keep you quiet?'

It took a moment for Vin to see what he meant. He frowned, opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again when he realized that some men would do exactly that. Although he had harbored some vague hopes when he followed Sal out to the Porter place, he hadn't intended to coerce him into fulfilling them and it hadn't even occurred to him that the boy might expect him to. Realizing that had been naïve, he returned to his horse and prepared to leave him be.

'Are you riled because you wouldn't... with a boy?'

Vin looked back at him, considered the question and then gave his answer quietly. 'No.'

'You're not riled or you would?'

'Both.'

Sal broke into a smile. 'I knew you were a decent fella.'

'I ain't feelin' all that decent right now.'

'Because you want a closer look at what you saw that day at the creek?'

Vin nodded, liking the boy more with each exchange.

'Don't feel bad about that. People pay to see a mess like me.'

Vin took a couple of steps nearer again. 'You ain't a mess. I saw enough t'know that. Kinda skinny, but you ain't a mess.'

'You like boys?'

Vin shrugged. 'It's been known. I like girls too.'

'Broad-minded then?'

'Reckon I like t'think so.' That was true. He did.

'Some fellas think I'm the best of both worlds.'

Vin hadn't consciously thought that, but it wasn't too far wide of the mark.

'You mind 'em thinkin' that way?'

'Depends on the fella.'

Vin raised a questioning eyebrow, playing along with the tease.

'I'd let a fella like you do whatever he wanted.'

Vin frowned. 'Don't sell yourself short, kid.'

Sal smiled. 'Only because I already know I'd like it.'

The merry twinkle in his eyes told Vin that he had made a judgment on what kind of treatment he could expect and that it truly would be his pleasure. The gaze grew lewder.

'I'll bet you've got something a bit bigger between your legs than I have.'

It was getting bigger by the second, Vin thought just as lewdly.

'Let's see.'

Those two words told Vin that Sal was not as compliant as he sounded. He might have been required to show his unusual private parts plenty of times but turning the tables demonstrated that he knew he was not being coerced this time. Content to oblige, Vin unbuttoned his pants and let his cock fall free of them.

Sal whistled. 'Nice.'

'Thanks.' He cupped a tender hand behind Sal's head. 'It'll get bigger yet, if y'all treat it right.'

Sal touched his tongue to it, tracing a cool circle around its head and then a smaller one around its eye. Vin watched hungrily, recalling other times long past when he'd felt the illicit pleasure of a boy's touch. The white ones had always been in remote spots, at mines or trading posts where there were few or no women. He had never regarded a boy as a poor substitute for a girl but, knowing that most men did, he went along with the etiquette that made it acceptable in such places. Now he was taking a risk, doing it when there was no need and where there would likely be no forgiveness. Perhaps only knowing how much Sal had to lose from disclosure made him so bold. As he'd promised, his cock swelled under Sal's expert stimulation.

'Does yours... work?' he asked huskily.

Without stopping what he was doing, Sal reached down to unfasten his pants. The little cock sprang through the fly, as small as ever but as stiff as Vin's.

'Nice.'

Sal looked up sharply and backed off enough to speak. 'No, it's not. It's pathetic.'

Vin pulled his cock away from the warm haven it had found and hunkered down sadly.

'It's different, is all. We're all different.'

'Easy to say when you got something like that in your pants.'

'You're kinda killin' my mood.'

Sal looked puzzled. 'Why? You don't have to lie. I know what I am and I know why you're here.'

'Hold up, kid. I ain't lyin' and you don't know nothin' about what I like.'

'I bet you like this.' Sal ran his thumb around the slick head of Vin's cock.

Vin smiled in spite of himself. 'All right, so mebbe you know somethin'. But I like this too.' He caressed the little cock. 'D'you?'

Sal looked down before nodding, suddenly seeming shy. Vin guessed that few men had bothered to ask what he liked. Settling himself comfortably on the ground, his back against the fencepost as Sal's had been before, he guided the mouth back into place and watched through half-closed eyes as the kneeling boy worked a foreskin with each hand and a cockhead with his tongue.

'You're good.'

Sal winked, as if to confirm he already knew that.

Vin put his hand over the top of Sal's for a few strokes and then took a hold of the little cock for himself. He rolled the foreskin cautiously, getting the measure of the tiny girth and limited movement compared with his own.

'That all right?' he asked, recognizing in his need to ask that he felt a bit out of his depth.

'Uh-huh,' came Sal's reassurance from around his cock.

They said no more, concentrating on the pleasure of the shared touch. Unable to remember the last time he'd had such expert lips around his cock, Vin doubted that his rhythmic stroking came anywhere close and yet, although it still got no bigger, the little cock couldn't have been harder. As he felt the tension rising in his body, he saw it mirrored in Sal's rigid muscles. He usually warned women when he was about to come but realized in an instant that there was no need to warn Sal. Instead, he just groaned as he filled the eager mouth. His balls had barely emptied when he felt Sal's seed spatter his palm. Burying his face against the back of Sal's neck, he managed a murmur of thanks.

They stayed like that for a minute, Vin trying to pass on some of his self-assurance to the boy who, trembling beneath him, suddenly seemed so very young. He inspected his hand, only to find that their ammunition was far more alike than the weapons that fired it.

'Looks normal, huh?'

'It's you that keeps on about what's normal, not me.'

'Don't try and hide what you're thinking. There's no need.'

'All right. Yeah, it looks normal.'

He pulled Sal down alongside him and traced the contours of his private parts with none of his earlier awkwardness. Now that the cock had softened and shrunk, what remained again seemed more girl than boy. He let his fingertip run along the slit below the cock. It felt much the same as a normal woman's front passage, but drier and smoother skinned.

'Which do ya piss through?'

'Same as you.'

'Still... if y'all like the fellas, why don't y'act like a girl. I reckon you could pass for one on the outside, an' the right fella could get used to how you are.'

'Because I'm not a girl.'

The answer was matter of fact, with no trace of the irritation that Vin had half expected to hear.

'But...' He didn't need to point out that Sal wasn't exactly a boy either.

'I'm not a girl,' Sal repeated. 'I don't feel like one any more than you do.'

'I jus' thought it'd be easier.'

'I know. But it's not.'

Vin nodded, aware that he was hardly in a position to advise on something that he knew so little about. The way he was suggesting seemed easier to him because he wouldn't care if a lover's body was unusual but he was already too close to a noose for comfort, without taking up with a boy and outraging all the decent folk flooding into the territory. Someone in Sal's position would surely have thought every option through a thousand times. If he said it was out of the question, Vin had to believe him. When Sal leaned closer, he put an arm around him.

'You're real comfortable with this, aren't you?' Sal asked. 'Fellas usually walk off right after.'

Vin looked into the earnest brown eyes and then smiled. 'Spent a lotta time around Indians, an' they ain't so straight-laced as white folk. Wouldn't walk off right after with a girl, an' I don't see a lot of difference.'

There was a long pause before Sal spoke softly. 'I was a girl.'

Vin kneaded the slender shoulder underneath his hand encouragingly.

'Up until a couple of years back. When the changes came, they weren't the right changes.' He gestured at his flat chest and small but perfectly formed cock. 'I never felt right being a girl, but how the heck do you explain that to anybody? Then I got this and I knew for sure I was a boy.'

Vin nodded, finding each new disclosure easier to accept than the last as he absorbed just what an unusual boy Sal was.

'That's when things turned sour.'

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Vin had known there was trouble in Sal's life and expected to be drawn into it. He would probably have tried to help anyway but there was no way that he'd take what he just had and then tell the boy to get lost.

The story that Sal told was a sad one. A girl then, christened Salma, he'd been the daughter of two Dominican cousins who crossed the Caribbean in a small boat in search of a better life in New Orleans. His mother died when he was a child, leaving him to care for a man whose second marriage was to the whiskey bottle. By the time he was twelve, he was managing a homestead single-handed, while his father drank or gambled every penny that came into the house. Despite his best efforts, their debts mounted and they were facing ruin by the time he was fourteen.

'And then, on top of everything else...' The memory of the confusion and misery of those times filled Sal's eyes. 'I mean, you just don't expect to grow a cock when you're supposed to be a girl. And it's not like I had anybody that gave two bits to talk to about it.'

Vin squeezed him closer. 'It ain't always an easy ride when things go t'plan. It musta been hell.'

'It got worse. I did something real dumb.'

'Yeah?' Vin's curiosity was piqued again.

'I joined a circus.'

Vin couldn't see what was so dumb about that, going on the road and leaving your father's drinking binges and debts behind you.

'Doin' what?'

'Doing nothing.' A long pause. 'I was a freak, a half and half.'

Just as he thought he was getting used to Sal's life, that startled Vin. It made his skin crawl to think of the boy exposing himself to the prying gaze of strangers.

'That what you meant about folk payin' t'see ya?'

Sal nodded.

Vin thought back to the only carnival he'd ever seen, years earlier and way back in Texas.

'On show in a booth?'

'You've paid to see them too?'

Vin heard a mixture of resignation and disappointment in the question. He smiled, careful to let the honesty shine through in his answer.

'Not hardly. I shelled out a dime to see a two-headed rattler once.'

'Gaffed?'

'Huh?'

'Fake?'

'Well, the darned thing had two heads but I'd bet my life it wasn't born that way. Y'all could see where they'd sewed two of 'em together. Got m'dime back though.' He grinned. 'After I asked real nice.'

Sal tried for a smile but it was a poor effort.

'Most of what they put on show are fakes, and some of the human freaks are sick or crazy or simple. The midgets are all right, but they're not much of a draw unless they're real small, like General Tom Thumb. And then there are the once-in-a-lifetime acts like Chang and Eng.'

Vin raised his eyebrows, not recognizing the last two names.

'The Siamese twins that died a few years back. Joined together here.' He tapped his navel. 'They had a real act, back before the war mostly, doing acrobatics and suchlike. Made a darned good living before they retired. I wouldn't have minded doing something like that. I tried to come up with my own act but Mr. Roffey, the showman, wasn't interested. I was worth more just...'

Vin knew nothing of any joined-together twins but he nodded and stroked Sal's hair. He didn't need to be told what a freak of his kind would do: expose himself in public and provide personal services in private.

'I wish...' He cleared his throat. 'I wish I hadn't jus' done the same thing to ya.'

Sal looked up at him, his eyes bright with emotion.

'You didn't. Heck, I can't help being what I am and you can't help wanting to look. But I wanted what we did, just like a regular person. That's normal, isn't it?'

There was a note of desperation in the question, a longing to be just like anybody else. Vin smiled, quietly amused by the fact that a man and boy together could seem normal to this boy when it would appall so many others. He had no need to contrive an answer though, given that he did indeed believe it was perfectly normal.

'Oh, yeah, that's normal, all right. Might not be right in some folks' eyes but it sure is normal.'

Sal snuggled closer, seeming to take as much pleasure from the embrace as he had from the sex. It was a minute or two before he spoke again.

'Trouble is, I was a real draw - had fellas lining up for me. Mr. Roffey wouldn't let me go when I got sick of it. I ran off a few months back and I've been running ever since. He must figure it's worth paying Mr. Wilson to keep after me because there's still money in showing me.'

'He'd make you do it?'

'Oh, yeah. It's not always like that - there're good sideshows but there're crooks in any game.'

'Don't I know it.'

'I didn't catch on till later but the good ones wouldn't have given me the time of day. There're so many half-man half-woman fakes around that people get tired of them. There's money in the real thing but you've got to show a freak and it's not decent to show the bits of me that aren't normal. The kind of outfit that does... well...' He sighed. 'I'm all out of ideas. That's why I used my own name here. I liked the look of the place, and I saw you fellas had things tied down tight, so I decided - if he doesn't find me, I stay on as myself but, if he does, I go back.'

Vin considered that. He had no intention of letting Sal be taken against his will but could already see the problems piling up, not least that it would draw way too much attention to what they had just done... and what he hoped to be doing again. Gunmen knew how to read people better than anybody - a man's life could depend on judging a situation right - and he wasn't at all confident about keeping a relationship from any of his friends, especially the likes of Chris and Ezra. Sal read his thoughts easily.

'Steer clear of me. It'll be best all round. If you wanna see me that much, make it like today.'

'I'll try but my friends are pretty sharp.'

'If it comes to that, I'll move on. I don't want to make a blue fist of your life, like I have mine.'

'You'd be too late. I've done some dumb things myself.'

Sal looked up inquiringly.

'It don't matter. But I shoved m'nose in your business so I only got myself t'blame.'

FOUR 

Vin only realized that he'd been waiting for trouble when it came. Three weeks later, he was listening to a tall man with doleful eyes question Inez about a sixteen-year-old boy he was supposedly trying to track down for his father. Vin had said nothing to Inez about Sal's problems but wasn't surprised when she claimed no memory of anyone matching the name or description given. Having run once herself, she was never quick to volunteer anything about anybody, and a boy who turned up looking as hungry as Sal had didn't seem a likely son to a father who gave a damn. When the man went back out onto the street, she looked anxiously over at Vin, checking that he'd heard what had passed. He gave a slight nod before taking the back way out.

It so happened that he knew exactly where Sal was that day because he was helping Chris build some new corrals. Independent as always, Chris did almost all the work on his ranch himself but, on the odd occasion that he couldn't manage without an extra pair of hands, he usually paid for help rather than impose on a friend. Vin suspected it was also a kind gesture to a youngster struggling to make enough to eat and fast building a reputation as a hard worker in the process.

There was nothing that Sal considered beneath his dignity, provided it was honest and put a few cents in his pocket. Vin had no problem with that, having resorted to manual labor himself when circumstances demanded it and preferring Sal to sell his sweat than his other services, although he suspected it was the prospect of unwanted attention more than the principle of the thing that kept Sal, when his belly was empty, from falling back on the skills he'd learned in the sideshow. In the weeks they'd been together, he'd discovered that Sal was hungry for more than food. He yearned for affection, however it was expressed, and the accidental discovery of his secret had freed him to seek it from Vin without increasing the risk he faced.

Vin faded out of town with the consummate skill of a fugitive, heading south to the creek and only turning west once he'd reached the safety of the sandy streambed. He covered a couple of miles at a steady trot, silvery plumes splashing around him, until he was confident that any pursuer would have given up and then struck out north-west towards Chris's spread. By the time drew near, he'd thought the whole thing through countless times. He could have let events take their course, hoping that no one would give Sal away and that the visitor would move on before his return to town. The trouble was, he didn't see the whole town being as discreet as Inez and he didn't see a man riding on before morning either, without seeking out a hot meal and a soft bed. It seemed better all round to keep Sal away than to risk him riding straight into his pursuer.

Sal was helping Chris to cut poles to length with a two-handled saw as Vin rode up. They were working in apparently effortless harmony, although Vin figured that Chris must be holding back because there was no way Sal's wasted frame could possibly match him for strength.

There was something reassuring about the familiarity of Chris's reaction to his arrival. He stood, bold and straight as always, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand and reaching for the gunbelt that hung not a yard from his lethal right hand. His hand stopped moving as soon as his eyes adjusted to the sun over Vin's left shoulder. Vin rode up as casually as he could manage.

'Vin.' The usual understated greeting but then a raised eyebrow. 'Trouble?'

Chris watchful and Sal relaxed. It was the wrong way around, Vin noted distractedly, but then he tried to throw himself into the role he'd been rehearsing.

'I don't know,' he lied. 'Sal?'

Sal's face filled with anxiety. He knew damned well that Vin wouldn't ride out to see him while he was working with Chris if he had a choice.

'Yeah?'

'There's a fella in town askin' about ya. Says he works for your pa.'

He'd decided it was best to stick as close to the truth as he could. It wasn't all that strange for him to ride out and let the kid know, given that it was a fair day for a ride anyhow.

Sal's eyes flitted wildly between Vin's face and the ground. It was tough to expect him to play a role on the spot, with no time to prepare.

'I haven't got a pa.'

It was a reasonable answer that gave Vin something to work with, while suggesting that he knew little about Sal.

'You got any idea who he is then? Long streak of misery with a snakeskin hatband.'

Sal's pause seemed natural enough, maybe thinking who it could be or maybe thinking what he wanted to admit.

'Yeah. I quit a job a while back because the boss wasn't paying me. I took what he owed me when I left. Just what he owed me - honest. It wasn't much but he sent this fella after me.'

Vin guessed that was a part of the truth that Sal hadn't told him before. He'd needed money to run and Roffey probably hadn't got around to paying him for his time in the sideshow.

'Well, best you don't go back into town tonight, I reckon. Mebbe he'll ride on come mornin'.'

Sal looked edgy. He wanted to talk it through but dared not say more in front of Chris.

'If he's asking around, someone'll talk,' Chris pointed out. 'Why wouldn't they, if he says he's helping your pa look for you?'

'I'll ride back,' Vin offered. 'Say you moved on when you finished up here.'

'No, he'll only come back later,' Sal said softly. 'I can't keep moving on for ever.'

Chris gave him a long, hard look that Vin knew all too well. He knew he was being lied to and he couldn't figure out which part was the lie. Few men would devote unlimited resources to pursuing a small debt, so moving on until the pursuer tired of the chase was a sensible option. There was no way that Chris could know how much a man might hope to gain from catching up with Sal, which was likely to leave him thinking that Sal had stolen more than he admitted. The penetrating gaze turned on him. Vin kept his gaze steady, attempting something far harder than shutting Chris out and trying instead to look as if everything was as it seemed. That in itself was a risky strategy, given that distancing himself from Sal might give Chris less faith in his story.

Without any background knowledge, it was one of the messy disputes that Vin knew Chris hated as much as he did. As peacekeepers, they were called on to deal with them all the time and it was rare to find a tidy solution that suited everyone. They could tell Sal to give the money back but that was hardly fair and he'd long since eaten it anyhow. They could protect him while he told his pursuer to get lost, but for how long afterwards? They could bring the case before the judge on his next visit, but how much authority would a verdict carry once the judge had moved on? No, in Vin's book, minor disputes were harder to resolve than the kind that could justifiably be sorted out with a bullet. He'd happily resort to that if someone tried to drag Sal away by force but he couldn't do it legally if the person claimed to be taking a thief back to face justice. Eli Joe had shown how easy it was to play that card. If it went that far, he'd end up following on his own terms and shoving the barrel of his gun down Roffey's throat. He was a little surprised to realize that he was already reconciled to doing just that, if it proved the only way to put an end to the man's tawdry plans for Sal.

'How much did you take?' Chris asked.

'Fifty-two bucks.' Sal tried for defiant but sounded defensive. 'For a year's work. To the day.'

A dollar a week, paltry by anyone's standards. Was that what he'd been promised? Had it sounded a lot to a young boy with nothing but debts? What was left after buying an old horse wouldn't have kept the pair of them for long, that was certain.

'You stayed a year without pay?' Chris asked suspiciously.

'I got food and a bed. It was better than what I left behind.'

Chris frowned. 'What kind of work?'

'Entertaining.'

When Chris glanced at him, Vin knew how he had interpreted that. It came as no surprise that Chris knew as much about that side of life as he did but he wished it wasn't so close to the truth. Still, a dollar a week plus room and board sounded plausible for a boy doing that kind of work.

'You give me your word that's all there is to this?'

Sal shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pondering the question. Vin already knew that he wasn't a good liar and Chris wasn't an easy man to lie to. Finally, he shook his head.

'It's not just the money. He wants me to go back.'

It was Chris's turn to think. Vin didn't expect him to push Sal much further, thinking he would decide that he knew all he needed to know. The trouble was that even the limited admission increased the risk that Chris would make connections that Vin would prefer him not to make. On the other hand, if Sal had run from that life, perhaps Chris wouldn't realize that he was more than happy to provide for free services that he no longer wanted to provide for cash.

'So, all you've done is quit and take what was owed to you. Your word?'

This time, Sal nodded readily. 'I'm not a thief.'

No one in town had any reason to doubt that, given that he'd been half-starved when he arrived and hadn't eaten a square meal until he managed to persuade Mrs. Potter to let him fix her roof for nothing but meals while he was working.

Chris gave him a tight smile. 'I never thought you were but Vin's right. You can stay here for a while and finish up these corrals. I'll go and send this fella packing. Vin, how about you stay out here too and bag something for the kid to eat? Unless you got other plans in town.'

Stunned by his sudden good fortune, Vin almost missed his cue.

'Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.'

He was pleased to hear his voice sounding far more casual than he'd dared hope, willing to help someone as usual but not overly excited by the prospect. Chris barely gave him a second look, as he started his preparations for returning to town. Not half an hour later, they were watching him merge into the twilight.

'I'm no good at this,' Sal said softly. 'I wanted him to know everything before he stands up for me. He might...'

'Feel different if he knew? I doubt it.'

'Not enough to tell him though.'

No, not that much. Vin thought about it.

'That ain't got nothin' t'do with what I think of Chris. It's jus' that I found out a long time ago that it's better t'keep your business to y'self, unless you got a reason not to. I'da told him if I'da thought he needed t'know but what you got in your pants, and what we do with it, ain't got much t'do with this fella chasin' you, has it?'

Sal shrugged. 'He wouldn't be after me if I was normal. Maybe you wouldn't want me either.'

'Don't make things harder than they already are. I don't do this all that often anyhow, and mebbe I wouldn'ta noticed a normal kid.' He emphasized the word 'normal' to show that he was quoting Sal rather than making a judgment. 'But that don't mean it's the only thing I see in ya. Ever thought I might reckon you done well t'handle everythin' as good as y'have?'

'Do you?'

'Hell, yeah.' Glancing around to make sure they were alone, he grabbed a handful of Sal's butt. 'Not t'mention that you're real cute, or y'would be if we could jus' put a couple more pounds on y'bones. I best rustle up some supper before y'all fade away.'

Much later, sitting by the campfire that he'd lit out of habit even though there was a stove in Chris's shack reminded Vin of another night with a very different companion.

'Where are you?' Sal asked.

Vin came back to the present with a start. 'Aw, nowhere much. Jus' rememberin' somethin'.'

'Someone?'

After a moment's hesitation, Vin nodded his admission. 'Lady by the name of Charlotte.'

'Were you her beau?'

Vin smiled. He suspected the word came from the days before Sal's second birth as a boy.

'Ain't sure you call it that when the lady's already married.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Was she nice?'

'Real nice.'

'Pretty?'

'Real pretty too. You ever think about girls?'

Sal shook his head. 'Not the way you mean. I've wondered about that. Most fellas who came to be with me had wives. Maybe I turned out wrong because I thought I was a girl.'

'Mebbe, but then again mebbe not. Some of them fellas probably jus' kept a wife so's nobody asked questions they didn't want asked.'

Sal frowned. 'That wouldn't be fair on the ladies.'

'Don't mean it don't happen though.'

'I guess not. I never thought of that.'

'All kinds o' folk, Sal. Some of 'em look different, bit like you do, but some of 'em look regular, more like me. But I can tell y'this: not every fella likes the ladies. You ain't the only one. Come to that, not every lady is so all fired up about the fellas neither. Being a wife to a man who don't want too much in that line might suit some of 'em down to the ground, for all I know.'

Sal shifted closer, confident enough to seek affection where once he would have waited for Vin to offer. Vin drew him closer still and kissed his forehead. Sal lifted his face to take the next kiss on his lips.

'None of those fellas made it feel like you do though.'

Vin was pleased with the compliment but didn't delude himself that he was anything special when it came to love-making.

'There'll be others do the same. You jus' had a bad start.'

Sal looked dubious.

'You wait,' Vin promised. 'It'll hit ya like a herd o' buffalo when it happens.'

When Sal's face saddened, Vin instantly knew that he was hurt by the suggestion that what they shared might be lacking.

'It ain't gonna be true love every time, Sal, so don't expect it. If y'like a fella and he's good t'ya that way, take what y'can get while y'can get it.'

'But... but you do care for me a little, don't you?'

Vin laughed softly and gathered him into a more passionate embrace. 'A good bit more than a little. Anyhow, that was the last of the wood so now y'all have t'keep me warm instead.'

He steered Sal inside, shucking off his jacket as he did so, but left the door open so that he'd stand a better chance of hearing anyone approaching.

They'd been suckling contentedly on each other's cocks for a while, right through one climax, a rest and then well on the way to a second, when Vin tensed. Sal picked it up immediately.

'What?'

'Horses. Two, I think. A ways off yet.'

Sal listened for a few seconds then frowned. 'Sure?'

'Yeah.'

They buttoned their pants and then Sal watched nervously as Vin buckled his gunbelt.

'Maybe I should have a gun?'

'Can you shoot one?'

'Game, sure, but men...'

'Now's not a real good time t'learn,' Vin said gently. 'Murder'll play worse than stealin' if y'all get it wrong.'

He took a swig from the ladle in the bucket on the table, swilled it around his mouth and spat it through the doorway. He thought it most likely the riders were friends and didn't want his breath to smell of Sal if he got close. Sal watched him do it, look puzzled for a moment, but then chuckled and followed suit. They stood in the shadow of the shack and watched as two silhouettes slowly coalesced in the moonlight.

'They ain't hidin',' Vin pointed out reassuringly. Then, a moment or two later, 'It's Ezra an' Nathan.' As soon as they were within earshot, he asked, 'What's up?'

'That fella lookin' for you,' Nathan replied, looking at Sal. 'He knows you was working out here with Chris. Mrs. Potter told him. She didn't mean no harm by it, thought she was doing you a good turn, but she told Inez and Inez told Ezra and... well, here we are. We ran into Chris but he carried on back to town, what with three of us being out here and it being railroad payday.'

'The one piece of good news we have,' Ezra added, 'Is that Mrs. Potter directed our visitor by the only route she knew, through Baker Pass, so he should be an hour or two behind us.'

Vin nodded. The news could have been better but could easily have been worse.

'He thinks Chris is still out here?'

'Presumably,' Ezra said. 'You have a plan?'

'Jus' thinkin' out loud. I reckon he's plannin' on pickin' Chris off from a distance and then makin' a grab for Sal. If he don't know who Chris is, or that he's got us t'back him up, it'd look easy enough.'

'Perhaps, but it seems a considerable investment, not to mention risk, to recoup a minor theft.'

'I didn't steal anything,' Sal insisted.

'My apologies. To recoup a minor business loss.'

'He wants me to go back.'

'So Chris told us.'

Vin heard the skepticism in Ezra's voice. It wasn't that he was smarter than Chris, just that their minds worked in different ways. Looking for a dollar value behind every decision, Ezra couldn't see what made Sal more valuable than the dozen other desperate boys that Roffey would be able to find in half a day in any city. With little interest in money and intimately acquainted with the seedy side of life, Chris could easily imagine plenty of other motivations for an unprofitable focus on a particular boy. They both lacked the vital information to understand the true motive.

'Yeah, well, if we can fix it so he takes a shot, that'll solve our problem.'

'You seem pretty eager t'fill him full of lead, Vin.'

Vin looked up at Nathan. They'd talked often enough and long enough that it was hardly surprising that he would question what was an uncharacteristic willingness to provoke a confrontation. He opted for a smile to lighten the mood, aware that, if he hadn't gotten so attached to Sal, he'd be more relaxed about one man causing trouble around town.

'Don't forget I already got my ass hauled off by a lying son-of-a-bitch claimin' t'be the law.'

Nathan smiled, but Vin knew he remained unconvinced. That was the problem with letting people get to know you. After a while, they started seeing things when you didn't want them to.

'I'm jus' sayin' that I'll be the bait, if he wants t'take it. Mebbe the two of you can get a jump on him without firing a shot but that's his choice, ain't it?'

Ezra gave one of the humorless smiles with which he often greeted new developments.

'Indeed. That sounds like a plan to me.'

They spent a while setting it up just right, with Vin to feign sleep inside while Sal took on a bedroll on the porch. With luck, Wilson would get bold and try to grab him from there. Seconds later, he'd be looking down the barrels of three guns.

Once they were ready, the wait began. Vin could hear Sal's nerves in his fast, shallow breathing. His fear was infectious, bringing an uncomfortable tension that Vin rarely felt before a fight. Ordinarily, he'd think nothing of one man against the three of them but, ordinarily, he wouldn't have so much of himself invested in the person that they were protecting.

For the second time that night, he heard hoofbeats. He gestured to the others, patted Sal's shoulder comfortingly and then drew back inside the shack. He listened intently, hearing every tiny sound of the night and deceiving himself that he could distinguish Wilson's movements when he knew it impossible at the distance. Eventually, he caught a real movement, in the scrub off to his right. He waited, frustrated by his poor position but pacified by the knowledge that Ezra and Nathan were poised to take the man down if he failed to intercept him as he tried to seize Sal.

A shot punctured the stillness. Sal gasped.

'What the...?' Vin muttered, trying to see around the doorjamb.

'He shot me.' Sal sounded startled, more than anything else.

'You all right?'

'Yeah. It's my leg.'

'Can y'move?'

Sal thrashed around feebly.

'I don't think so. I feel... funny.'

Vin could guess what Sal was feeling and there was nothing funny about it. A bullet seemed so small when held in a hand that it was hard to imagine how it wreaked such havoc in a body. Even the most hardened of men could be incapacitated by a shot that was never going to kill them.

He weighed up his options. If Wilson's plan was to draw him out into the line of fire, it was a good one. Perhaps he had known whom he faced in Chris Larabee and decided not to take the risk. Trading bullets at a distance was safer than trying to outdraw him on the porch if Sal managed to cry out. In Wilson's place, Vin would have crept up soundlessly, gagged Sal and faded into the night, but Wilson must have doubted his ability to achieve that. Still, in spite of the gut-wrenching worry he felt for Sal, he was pleased to have the decision taken out of his hands. Ezra and Nathan were no longer under any obligation to try to take the man alive.

Wishing he'd realized Sal was a target for a bullet not a kidnap, he set about returning fire. He loosed shots into the bushes at random, firing blind - something he would have told Sal never to do if he had armed him earlier that evening.

'Try'n get inside,' he called to Sal as he shot.

Sal rolled onto his side and began to pull himself closer, his leg trailing uselessly. He balled up when a bullet missed him by inches. Careless of his own safety, Vin leapt forward and dragged him through the doorway.

'What the hell's he playin' at? He'll kill you if he ain't careful. What good will that do him?'

'I think his orders have changed. Maybe Mr. Roffey's decided to cut his losses. Mr. Wilson doesn't need me alive any more.'

'Huh?'

'Remember the two-headed rattlesnake?'

'Wha-?' Vin shuddered as Sal's meaning sank in. 'He can't put a corpse on show.'

'Not just any old corpse. The tragic remains of the boy-girl that the world spurned.' Sal's words mimicked the kind of posters that showmen pasted up on buildings in towns and cities across the country. 'Maybe I killed myself in despair. Or maybe my condition killed me. He can do whatever he likes. It's not as if I'm a regular person.'

With a sickening jolt, Vin understood the haunted look in the eyes that looked sadly up at him. They'd witnessed things as horrific, albeit on a smaller scale, as the massacres of Indian friends that still left him sleepless whenever something stirred the depths in which they lay submerged but never forgotten. He shuddered again, envisioning all too vividly Sal's tender body preserved by a taxidermist's art for a crowd to gawp at even in death. No one would doubt that the freak had been abandoned by the woman who bore it and taken in by the man expressing so eloquently his sorrow at its passing. A tide of protectiveness swept through him, as he resolved that there was simply no way that was going to happen. But Sal's voice was weakening.

'I... I think... I'm going to pass out.'

Vin held him close, murmuring senseless words of comfort, too shaken by the unexpected turn of events to play his part in the gunfight thundering around the shack. Having surely realized that he was up against at least two other assailants, Wilson was most likely thinking more about reaching his horse than snatching Sal.

Vin could hardly connect even those few stray thoughts, knocked sideways as he'd never been before. It was more than just his fondness for Sal, or the responsibility he felt for his safety, and it had little to do with Wilson, a man willing to kill for money like countless others. Instead, he thought of Roffey and his sordid trade. What had Sal called what he did? A blowoff? Behind the scenes, after the women and children had left, men were given the chance to see and touch bodies - some like his and others far stranger. Vin had already been uneasy at how similar his interest might have been to theirs and now he felt tainted by the association with a kind of man who'd just as willingly look at that body dead. He clutched Sal tighter, as helpless to defend him as Chris had been to avenge his family when the extent of Ella's madness was revealed.

He hardly noticed that the firing outside had stopped. The first he knew of it was the shack door opening but he'd have been far too slow to react if the tall figure had been thin like Wilson instead of broad like Nathan. Only then did he become aware of his pose, of his arms cradled around a limp body and his cheek pressed against a damp forehead. Nathan's gaze flickered over him for just a moment, before the spell was broken and he knelt beside Sal to examine him.

Ezra stepped into the doorway and hesitated, his long shadow stretching into the shack as he took in the scene and then dissolving into the blackness as he moved aside to let the moonlight flood in again. Vin couldn't gauge his reaction from his manner.

'Wilson will cause no more trouble.' His tone was no more revealing. 'How is our young friend?'

Only then did Vin take in the new threat to Sal's life, this time in a less literal sense.

'No!' Hearing the panic in his sudden protest, he tried to rein it in. 'Not here, Nathan.'

Nathan looked at him, confusion in his wide eyes but reassurance in his deep voice.

'We can get him into bed once I've got him fixed up. For now, the light from the door's a help.'

Vin looked down at the dark stain across the top of Sal's thigh, turned black by the moon's silver glow. He knew as well as any that a major artery ran from the body into the leg there: a man could easily die from loss of blood if it was ruptured. He didn't know what to do for the best.

'Ain't no one here but us,' Nathan went on, as he quickly unbuttoned Sal's pants.

The suggestion was that they'd see nothing they hadn't seen before, an assumption that would soon be proved false. Still, there was no point in protecting Sal's secret at the cost of his life. Knowing he had already betrayed his own knowledge of it, and who knew what else besides, he gave in and watched helplessly as Nathan worked down pants and drawers together in one well-practiced maneuver. The wound, a ragged hole in the otherwise flawless flesh, drew his horrified eyes but he knew from the sudden stillness that Nathan and Ezra were looking elsewhere. Following their gaze, he saw that the moonlight was throwing every contour of Sal's crotch into sharp relief. They'd have to be blind not to notice that the body parts every other man guarded so carefully were absent.

Nathan snapped out of his daze in an instant, returning to the crisis that had made him strip Sal so abruptly. His only concern, for as long as it took, would be to do all he could for the casualty.

Ezra took his time over studying Sal's confused anatomy. Most men's cocks would shrink back pretty small if they took a bullet and the blood started to flow. Only the very tip of Sal's peeped out from between the folds of flesh on either side of it. Without it, they might have thought him a girl in disguise. With it, they'd be hard pressed to know what to think.

'You had a good enough look yet?' Vin snapped at him.

Ezra raised his eyes slowly. 'I have not seen its like before.'

'Its like?' Vin snarled. 'It's a he.'

'Is that so?'

'Go and argue someplace else,' Nathan said, folding his coat into a support for Sal's head and elbowing Vin out of the way. 'This is gonna be hard enough, without your noise.'

'Can't I do nothin' t'help?'

Nathan shook his head and spoke tersely, focused on his patient. 'There's a dozen things I could use but we ain't got any of 'em out here. Best thing you can do is get that stove lit and put some water on t'boil. Once I got the bullet out, I'll need t'clean up the wound good.'

Vin strode off to find some more wood for burning, glad to be doing something, however trivial. To his irritation, Ezra followed him.

'What're you doin'?'

'I was intending to offer my assistance. Am I to understand that it is unwelcome?'

'Suit yourself,' Vin muttered ungraciously.

'I usually do.' Ezra calmly set about the search for wood. It was several minutes before he broke the silence. 'I find myself curious, Mr. Tanner. It seems that you have hidden depths.'

His lilting tone was hard to read and Vin wasn't in a patient mood.

'Now you listen up, Ezra. I've had just about enough of narrow-minded Easterners bringin' their pig-headed ideas out West with 'em. Time was, a man could mind his business and expect other folk t'do the same out here. What I do in my own time is my own business - you hear me?'

Ezra blithely ignored the impassioned demand.

'I can't say that I welcome being characterized as an Easterner but I suppose I must make allowance for your limited geographical knowledge of the world beyond the Mississippi.'

'Whatever.'

Ezra's expression grew more serious. 'I accept that there are aspects of my character on which we have all learned not to depend. However, I do not accept that narrow-mindedness is a fault of mine, nor that you have ever been given reason to assume that it is.' He raised his eyebrows. 'Have you?'

Vin stared at him, thrown by the question. Eventually, he admitted, 'No. I can't say I have.'

'And may I assume that you were confounded when you first saw what we have just seen?'

Vin thought back to the day at the creek, when he'd had time to adjust to the revelation in private. 'Mebbe,' he conceded. 'Kinda.'

'Then you surely must allow that it comes as something of a shock?'

'I reckon.' Regretting his haste, he asked quietly, 'Can I depend on ya, Ezra, f'this?'

When Ezra's smile returned, there was a rare warmth in it. 'As surely as if your paramour were the loveliest young lady in town.' Perhaps to confirm his acceptance of Vin's earlier correction, he added, 'He is, of course, a very handsome young man. It is because of his unorthodox physique that he is being pursued?'

Vin nodded.

'Someone has been profiting from his circumstances?'

He nodded again.

Ezra scowled and returned to his search for wood.

By the time they'd boiled the water, Nathan was ready for it. Vin was relieved, but not surprised, that he showed his usual diligence over his unusual patient. He didn't rest until the wound was cleaned and dressed, and Sal was comfortably settled on Chris's bed in the corner of the shack.

'Thanks, Nathan.'

He felt sick when Nathan turned a long, hard stare on him. For some reason, he hadn't expected problems from that quarter. There was a tense silence before Nathan spoke.

'How old is he, Vin? Fifteen? Sixteen? You got no right... just because he ain't normal... that don't give you the right...'

The sickness swirled around in Vin's stomach, seasoned with some anger and a trace of guilt. Nathan's was a reaction that, strangely enough, he hadn't foreseen.

'I didn't-'

'He ain't some freak for your entertainment.' Ezra winced, clearly feeling the accusation on Vin's behalf. 'What the hell were you after? Best o' both worlds?'

Vin absorbed the words slowly, understanding how his actions might look that way - and unsettled by the familiar phrase - but offended that a friend could think it of him. Even as he reacted, part of him was asking how it was different from the groundless accusation he'd just leveled at Ezra... and whether he was as innocent of the charge as Ezra had been. He would have liked to walk away from the argument, which would probably be the safest thing all round, but had no intention of leaving Sal.

'I don't have t'answer t'you,' he growled.

'No, I guess you don't at that,' Nathan growled back.

'Gentlemen, gentlemen,' Ezra protested. 'Before we say anything we might regret...'

'Stay out of this, Ezra. And don't you start thinkin' how you can make a buck out of him neither.'

'So much for maintaining a pretense of civility,' Ezra sighed. 'As it happens, I would far sooner exploit flaws in the brain than the body, and it has been to my advantage that the former are so much more plentiful than the latter, but I believe you will find that the young man was more than happy to become acquainted in this case. It is not as uncommon...'

Nathan was having none of it. 'Don't you treat me like an idiot, Ezra. I know it ain't uncommon - I just can't believe that you took advantage of him, Vin, you of all people, when he needed help. How're you any better than the ones that were after him?'

Vin would have been a lot angrier if he hadn't seen that Nathan's outrage stemmed from concern for Sal, misplaced in his view but better than hatred or judgment, not to mention that there might be some truth in the accusation. Sal was young, and maybe what had gone before didn't make what he'd done right. He couldn't see it though, recalling how he'd enjoyed learning at the hands of kindly elders and how most of the young men where he'd done his learning went on to be husbands and fathers without a second thought. One or two chose the other path, living with the women, but Vin had no reason to think that there were any more of them than there were white men hiding what they did from those who would lynch them for it. It seemed a good way to him, in that it was less common for young girls to wind up in the family way before they'd found a husband and their husbands brought experience beyond their years to the marriage bed.

Besides, if his only motivation had been fascination, surely he'd have felt the need to tell other people about it sooner or later? That was what usually happened, whether for the pleasure of gossip alone or to make money from the curiosity of others. He'd felt curiosity, then arousal, then concern and finally affection, still leavened with arousal. The sequence seemed entirely reasonable to him and no cause for shame.

He settled for a question.

'He's sixteen. You tellin' me you didn't know what you wanted to do with your cock at sixteen?'

Nathan's glare grew darker but he said nothing. Vin knew he'd hit a nerve and he suspected it wasn't something he wanted to push too far. He tried to back off.

'It don't matter either way. He knew what he wanted and I didn't make him do nothin'. If you don't believe that, we'd better take different trails come mornin'.'

There was another long silence. Vin hated the tension that hung in the air, so different from the quiet times that he usually shared with his friends.

'Life coulda been tough for him, Vin. I ain't sure you know how bad things can be that way.'

The words seemed to confirm what Vin had begun to suspect. Nathan was speaking for himself, remembering things that had been done to him and casting a friend in the mold of an old enemy. He was wrong to suggest that Vin didn't know how bad such things could be, but right in that he hadn't learned about them the hard way. Although he'd been with half a dozen men by the time he was Sal's age, it was always with his enthusiastic consent. It was as much a part of everyday life in the tribe he was living with at the time as hunting and smoking leaves. He wasn't sure how much to say, or how much difference anything he said could make, but he tried again.

'We do talk, y'know. He ain't a child - sometimes life makes you grow up real fast.' He looked at Nathan, willing him to believe what was the truth. 'I know about the bad stuff, and none of it has anythin' t'do with me. He needed somebody t'care about him.'

'You can care for somebody without doin' what you been doin'.'

Vin flared up before he could stop himself.

'Jus' cause you didn't like it, don't mean every fella feels the same way.'

Seeing Ezra's eyes roll heavenwards, Vin clamped down on his temper. He didn't want to lose a friend and he needed to make Nathan understand that he had never done, and would never do, anything to hurt Sal. Although he'd been fascinated by what he saw, he'd done nothing that he wouldn't have done with any attractive and willing youngster if the right circumstances arose. He knew his easy acceptance of that owed a lot to his unconventional upbringing but he also knew now that Ezra had seen plenty of it too, whether or not he'd chosen to participate.

'If I might make a suggestion,' Ezra chimed in. 'Perhaps we might wait for the young man to regain consciousness. If you are still concerned that he is being... led astray, Nathan, we could explore the matter further at that time. At present, it seems futile to debate the point.'

Given that it was the only reasonable course of action, there were no objections. Vin slept badly, waking two or three times an hour to check that Sal was still breathing. Each time he listened, Sal sounded more settled. He knew from having watched Nathan nurse many casualties that he now expected his patient to survive and so his anxiety slowly began to subside. Even so, it was hard waiting until long after sunrise for Sal to stir.

'Vin?'

He was touched beyond measure for his name to be the first hoarse whisper on Sal's lips.

'I'm right here.'

He took Sal's hand.

'Am I all right?'

'Looks that way. You took a bullet in the top of your leg but Nathan's fixed you up pretty good.'

Sal lifted his head weakly and examined his bloody pants. He frowned up at Vin.

'Don't be goin' on the worry. You're with friends here.'

Vin hoped that was true. He looked over at Nathan.

'Yeah, you lost a fair bit of blood but it wasn't nothin' that couldn't be put right. You gotta rest up, mind, but don't be frettin'. You got a bed here for as long as you need it.'

Sal nodded and then tried to smile.

'You manage to put anything else right while you were down there, doc?'

Nathan stared at him, seemingly lost for words. Vin knew he was shocked by the casual reference to something he expected to be a shameful secret. He replied with something he'd said countless times in Vin's hearing.

'I'm sorry. I ain't a proper doctor.'

Sal's smile faded. 'I went to see a proper doctor once and he said he couldn't put me right either.' He sank back onto the lumpy straw-filled pillow, murmuring as if to himself. 'But it doesn't seem to matter as much now as it did.'

Vin tenderly squeezed the hand he was holding. Nathan was right that you could care for people in lots of ways but sometimes there was no substitute for showing that a body could be a source of pleasure. He could talk for hours without finding an argument as persuasive as his hard cock in that respect. He'd shown Sal that an ordinary man, not one seeking the titillation of a sideshow exhibit, could find him attractive - not just as a novelty but over and over again.

From his point of view, it was hard to say who was the hunter and who was the hunted. If things had been different - say he'd got a ranch and could justify hiring a boy to help out around the place - he'd have taken Sal in as easy as taking a wife. The trouble was, he was no farmer and a man riding with a pretty young boy for no reason was asking for trouble, sooner or later.

Vin didn't release Sal's hand until he had drifted back into peaceful sleep. Eventually, reluctantly, he lifted his eyes to meet Nathan's gaze again.

Nathan studied him thoughtfully, clearly less sure of his position than he had been.

'I don't know,' he replied to the unasked question. 'It still don't seem right t'me... but...'

'Give it some time?' Vin suggested. 'I ain't askin' you t'like it but mebbe...?'

Ezra began to deal a game of solitaire. 'At least accept that no malice was intended?'

Nathan nodded with more certainty. 'Hell, I can't believe what I said anyhow. I know you better than that, Vin. I'm sorry for sayin' you'd set out t'hurt him.'

Vin inclined his head ambivalently.

'Stuff can still hurt, whether a fella means it or not. Ain't gonna complain about y'carin'.'

'I was just shook up, seein' how he is and realizin' how y'knew, why you was actin' how you was, all at once. An' I was angry about what's already been done t'him.'

'Yeah. I know.'

He wouldn't be able to put Nathan's words out of his head as if they'd never been said but he could understand what had led him to utter them. The feelings behind them were as natural as his, and he had to find the same respect for them as he wanted Nathan to find for him. Only the knowledge of how deeply Nathan cared for Sal, whom he hardly even knew, made him sure that he would manage it. Whatever Nathan might have said about Vin's actions, he had never - not once - referred to Sal as anything other than the boy he believed himself to be. Vin wouldn't be forgetting that unconditional acceptance in a hurry.

FIVE

Sal bounced back from his narrow escape with his usual resilience, physically scarred but emotionally unfettered for perhaps the first time in his life. Vin felt some admiration for the recovery but then saw in his response a kind of conceit, given that he'd always tackled life with the same combination of determination and cautious optimism. One reason that Sal's company was so comfortable for him was their many similarities but, at that particular moment, he was again reflecting on one of their differences.

He'd been wondering for a while whether to ask about the part of Sal's unconventional anatomy that he had not yet explored. He felt the same urge to enter the opening as if it had belonged to a woman, and he was far too easy with his instincts to berate himself for the desire, but he did not want to upset Sal. He was tracing its outline pensively when Sal spoke for him.

'You can do that if you want to. Fellas always want to do it. I don't mind.'

'But do y'like it?'

'I always like you touching me, Vin.'

'But...?'

'I can't really feel too much there.'

'I didn't think so.'

'Why?'

'Most ladies like it right here.' Vin stroked his skin just above the opening, at the base of his cock. 'An' you ain't got nothin' there. I reckon you got this instead.' He caressed the cock.

Sal sighed. 'I like that.'

Vin grinned. 'I know.' He tenderly massaged the fleshy lips that swept down on either side of the cock, feeling the firm spheres buried beneath them that just had to be Sal's balls, and then let his hand drop past the front opening and around to the back. 'Them fellas ever try here?'

Sal tensed.

'Didn't like it?'

'Fella hurt me once... real bad... never let anyone do it again.'

Vin nodded. 'Yeah, it can hurt like hell.'

'Are you saying it doesn't have to?'

'Would I have asked ya if it did?'

'No.' Sal nuzzled shyly against his cheek. 'Have you done it then?'

Vin nodded.

'Had it done to you?'

He nodded again.

'Does it feel good?'

'Doin' it? Yeah, real tight. But havin' it done can be better still, 'cept I don't know if...'

'If it'd be the same for me? I'd like to give it a whirl.'

He leaned back, stretching invitingly so that his cock pointed skywards. Vin went and rummaged through his saddlebag, coming back with a small tin of ointment.

'This should do.'

'Do what?'

'The other fella didn't use nothin'?'

Sal shook his head. 'Just rammed it in.'

Vin grimaced. 'Need some practice t'take it like that.'

He rolled Sal onto his hands and knees, and then began to touch him tenderly, swirling the fragrant grease as he stimulated the sensitive skin and slipped the tip of his little finger teasingly into the entrance. To his surprise, given what he'd just said, Sal seemed totally relaxed.

'You ain't scared?'

'Of you? Course not.'

He smiled. 'Makes it a good bit easier. When y'feel my finger, push against it.'

'But won't I...'

Vin shook his head. 'You took care o' that a ways back, didn't ya? Jus' relax.'

Sal obeyed him without hesitation, opening wide to let his finger slide right in up to the knuckle. He probed carefully. He hadn't always been able to reach the spot with a finger but Sal was small so he expected it to be easy.

'What're you looking for?'

'Just a spot that feels real good.'

He twisted his hand to delve deeper.

'Ooh!'

Sal's sharp intake of breath told him he was there, even though he could barely feel anything beyond the soft tissue of the back passage. He traced small circles with his fingertip, recalling how the man who showed him the pleasure had told him to feel for something about the size of a walnut. Sal's was more like a peanut but it seemed to be working fine, judging from his sighs.

He reached for Sal's cock with his other hand. He'd barely encircled it when it spat little gobs of cum all over the blanket beneath them. Smiling at the memory of when his own young body had been primed to explode at the slightest provocation, he withdrew his finger and bent to kiss Sal.

'Y'liked it, huh? Makes y'feel good all over, don't it? Not just in your cock?'

Sal knelt up and flung his arms around him in a wild embrace.

'I never expected you to show me new stuff. Not after...'

All the others. Vin's mind finished the sentence for him.

'Yeah, well, they wasn't thinkin' on what y'might like, now was they?'

Sal clung tight, then whispered into his ear.

'Was I normal? Inside?'

Vin pressed a loving kiss on his cheek. 'Y'felt that way t'me.'

More or less. What did it matter?

Sal climbed onto his lap and sat on his weeping cock, cocooning it with the part of his body that Vin had been yearning for. He leaned back on his elbows, accepting the pleasure offered to him, watching the muscles ripple across Sal's chest, which was finally getting closer to slender than skinny, as he rose and fell. He didn't last all that much longer than Sal had, bubbling over with the desire that he felt every time they managed to find some privacy.

'I don't know when I last felt this good,' he sighed.

'I never have felt this good.'

The declaration would have made Vin sad, were it not for the profound happiness with which it was voiced. Any doubts he'd had about what he was doing evaporated in the knowledge that Sal's newfound confidence would help him to shape a better future, based on what he wanted and not what other people demanded from him.

SIX

'You seen what's rollin' into town?' JD shouted the news over the saloon door. Contrasting his news with the visit paid by the Nichols brothers, he expanded, 'This time, it really is a circus!'

Vin had been making one beer last an hour at a table in a dark corner. He drained the last half-inch and rose lazily to his feet, consciously aping what would once have been a naturally laconic response to such an announcement. He drifted outside, scanning the street casually for Sal at the same time as he took in the advancing spectacle.

Spectacle it was, with a long line of brightly painted wagons already halfway down the street. They must have washed down the cavalcade at the creek or the dust would have been too thick for him to see the vivid images of creatures that he'd only ever seen in Mary's books, if at all. All were shown wild and free in strange lands, not dirty and cramped as they surely were inside the stifling wagons. Still, he conceded grudgingly to himself, the animals that were in sight looked in fine condition. The horses pulling the wagons were tired but they were well-muscled, with coats that were only one grooming away from a nice gloss. Strange little dogs, their fur clipped into powder puffs, jumped through hoops and hopped about on their front and back legs in turn. A troop of acrobats tumbled along the street behind the dogs, surrounded by a gaggle of clowns parodying their feats in a way that Vin guessed was a lot harder than it looked.

Looking closer in admiration, he shuddered when he realized that few of the clowns were what Sal would call normal. Several were dwarfs and one... one was no more than half a man, not only lacking legs - common enough after the war - but cut off at the waist. Vin knew he had to be a freak by birth because no normal man could survive a wound that deprived him of half his vital organs. It was impossible to imagine his truncated torso but it was sure to make Sal's look nigh on normal. He couldn't stop himself staring as the clown swung athletically along between his bulging arms, barely slowed up by his abnormality. Feeling Sal at his side, he closed his eyes, dreading yet another obstacle to overcome. He wished he could force the circus to move on but he couldn't. He reluctantly opened his eyes, only to find Sal gazing excitedly at the entourage.

When it drew alongside them, Sal almost snatched a handbill from a pretty girl in a sparkly dress. He scanned it in a second and then grabbed Vin's arm.

'I've heard of this one. It's a good'un. Can we go?'

Sometimes, when he spoke like that, Vin recalled Nathan's concerns about the difference in their age and experience, but he knew that he was being asked for his company rather for his consent.

'Sure. If y'like.'

As he said it, he knew a tough decision lay ahead. If he'd been a gregarious man, given to socializing with the townsfolk, he might have felt safer but, although he was on nodding terms with everyone, his sudden friendship with Sal could not pass unremarked for long. Nathan had watched his every move for days before apparently accepting that he'd been wrong, both about his motives and Sal's vulnerability, but, even as his friend's concern shrank, his own anxiety about what he was doing grew. Although he would never harm Sal himself, he became ever more conscious of the fact that he might yet cause harm to come to him. His relief at the ease Nathan and Ezra had shown with the relationship was not enough to make him confident in the reactions of his other friends, let alone in the reactions of other people in the town. And, as if that wasn't enough, he doubted his ability to keep the secret from Chris once the corrals were finished and he was spending more time in town again. The unspoken connection they shared was too strong.

Finally, having looked at it every which way, he still saw only one chance: to spend their lives on the road, constantly moving on to stay ahead of suspicion. Although a nomadic life was fine by him, he didn't relish the notion of running away from anything. He'd had too many years of it and that wasn't the life he wanted for Sal. Every time he reached that point in his deliberations, he decided to cross the bridge when he came to it but he knew that might leave them both dead.

He barely saw Sal during the next twenty-four hours. The performance was set for two o'clock on the day after the circus hit town. It was to move on the next morning, with the town merely an unplanned stop on the way to California. He guessed Sal had spent the time loitering around the circus camp, yearning again for a life that had already chewed him up and spat him out once.

Vin turned to Nathan and Ezra for cover at the performance, as he had done several times when sitting with Sal seemed too hard to explain. They took seats behind Sal, with Vin stretching one booted foot forward between his legs but otherwise keeping himself to himself.

Ezra smiled indulgently at some children on the far side of the makeshift ring. 'It puts me in mind of the first time I saw a circus,' he said dreamily, 'Of course,' he added with carefully calculated condescension, 'That was in St. Louis and far grander than this one-ring affair.'

Most of the circus wagons had remained packed for the brief halt, so there was no Big Top and few of the usual trappings of a circus. Vin had observed the evidence of that fact, although he'd never seen a big city entertainment with which to compare the present offering.

Sal twisted to take issue with that. 'It's a good circus, Mr. Standish. No matter how many rings.'

Ezra smiled. 'Handsome is as handsome does, eh, son?'

Vin had noted Ezra's growing fondness for Sal, his appreciation of the boy's courtesy, which Vin guessed was an unforeseen side-effect of being raised as a girl even by a drunken father, and his fellow-feeling for such independence in the face of a tough start in life.

The ringmaster paid no heed to the modest venue when he announced the start of their afternoon's entertainment, with each phrase punctuated by a roll of drums. His rich baritone built up the circus into the greatest spectacle since the parting of the Red Sea, and Vin was surprised to find himself almost swallowing the hyperbole as performers swirled around the ring in the kaleidoscopic patterns of their opening procession. It was almost an assault on the senses of a man used to the quiet, dusty life around Four Corners, with beauty, skill and color present in equal measure. He was particularly impressed by the quality of horsemanship on show, the well schooled animals eagerly cooperating with the dancers who flitted so nimbly over their flowing forms. Only the wild beasts left him cold, the sight of a lion reduced to fawning by a whip repugnant to a man who'd seen its mountain cousins roaming the range in thrall to no man.

The clowns had a big part in the show and the kids loved them. Vin watched uneasily, ready to be offended on Sal's behalf but soon seeing what he meant about the difference between having an act and being an act. They were funny because of their antics, not because of their deformities. He supposed one was sort of a part of the other, but then what would his world offer them? It'd be hard for them to match an average man in physical labor whereas, in the ring, they shone. In the end, he took his lead from Sal, who clearly loved them just as much as the children did.

Vin had been wondering for a while what the taut rope across the street above them was for. He'd watched a heavy-browed man supervise its installation that morning, along with another only a couple of yards off the ground, but hadn't felt inclined to ask. He sat straighter when the man entered the ring, barely recognizable with his black curls slicked back, his mustache waxed into points and his muscular body squeezed into a costume that would have caused a storm of protest had he worn it outside the ring.

It was a moment before Vin realized that he intended to walk across the rope.

Sal leaned back without taking his eyes off the man.

'Otto the Stupendous. He walked a tightrope over Niagara Falls last year, with a calf slung across his shoulders. He's even better than the Great Blondin.'

There was plain, old-fashioned, hero-worship in his voice. Ezra made a face at Vin, clearly relishing the idea of him doing something equally outlandish to compete for Sal's adulation. No chance, Vin thought, but he stared up with everyone else when Otto demonstrated his fleetness of foot. He made several false starts and wobbled precipitously when he was over their heads.

'He does that to make it look harder,' Sal said confidently.

'It works,' Vin admitted.

Sal was proved right when Otto the Stupendous went on first to walk on his hands and then to turn somersaults, all at so slow a pace that Vin couldn't see how he maintained his balance.

'I can't believe he ain't strung up a net,' Nathan said. 'Otto the Stupid, more like.'

'It's not as exciting with a net,' their expert told them, in a patient tone as if he was explaining something to a small child.

Only when he had exhausted every way in which a man could propel himself across a rope did Otto the Stupendous return to the false front of Mrs. Potter's store and float gracefully to the ground on a rope played out from a winch. He bowed with a flourish and then held up a hand to silence the deafening applause. He went over to the ringmaster and made a show of speaking to him. Vin had no doubt that was as rehearsed as the wobbles.

'Otto the Stupendous,' the ringmaster bellowed. 'Seeks an assistant.'

There was a stunned silence, followed by eager shouts from one or two little boys who were hastily gagged by their mothers.

'Surely someone has the courage...?' the ringmaster baited the crowd.

Vin watched Sal rise slowly to his feet, as if mesmerized. His instincts told him to shove him back into his seat but he couldn't do it. Even while his guts were tying themselves in anxious knots, he let the boy follow his heart into the ring. He wondered what Otto the Stupendous planned to do - it couldn't be good for business to show that anyone could walk a tightrope, even if that were true and Vin doubted very much that it was. He studied Otto's expression, judging that he was witnessing a well rehearsed routine. After gauging the suitability of his volunteer, the performer would decide what to do with him. That was probably what the second rope was for. He was speaking to Sal in a voice too low for even those in the front rows to hear. Sal replied earnestly and whatever he said must have been persuasive because Otto went and spoke to the ringmaster.

The drums rolled again.

'Otto the Stupendous.' Roll. 'Will now attempt.' Roll. 'To walk the tightrope.' Roll. 'With your very own.' Roll. ' Sal.' Roll. 'On his shoulders.'

The crowd gasped. Vin gasped with them.

'Is this wise?' Ezra asked, keeping his voice low in the hush that had fallen.

Probably not, Vin thought, but what the hell was he going to do? Walk right out there and say Sal couldn't do it? As if he'd listen anyway. It almost seemed a waste of time keeping Sal alive if he was so hell bent on getting himself killed in a different way.

Otto was winched onto Mrs. Potter's store first. Sal followed, looking just as easy threaded around the rope as his new mentor. Otto spoke to him again, probably giving a final opportunity to back out. Not a chance, Vin thought, Sal had waited his whole life to step into the limelight as a proper performer. He hopped up onto Otto's shoulders, so lightly that Vin hardly saw how he got up there, and sat, perfectly upright, as Otto prepared for the stunning climax of his act.

'If he falls,' Nathan muttered. 'I'll see that fella hang.'

Vin frowned. Hanging the man wouldn't bring Sal back. He wondered how dangerous it really was. Would Otto be able to catch hold of the rope as he fell? Would a fall from that height kill a man? Probably not, in truth, although he might need some bones setting afterwards. He swallowed painfully and wiped his sweating palms on his thighs.

This time, there were no false starts. Vin wasn't surprised: Sal must have been judged equal to the task but there was no sense in tempting fate. Otto walked calmly out to the middle of the rope, balancing over their heads while they all gaped up at him, and then just as calmly back again. Sal remained motionless the whole time but Vin could see that, far from being afraid, he was loving every second of the performance. Not until he was safely back on the store did Vin open his mouth to exhale, and even then it was a few seconds before his paralyzed chest muscles managed to complete the action. Gunfights were one thing but he wasn't cut out for the circus.

When his senses eventually caught up with events, he squinted at Sal. He knew in an instant that the boy had just been knocked flying by that herd of buffalo. Shit, he thought, if he could read him like that at thirty yards, how long would it have been before the questions started anyhow?

'Mebbe you was right, after all,' he said softly to Nathan. 'He ain't never looked at me like that.'

Nathan leaned closer. 'But he still ain't lookin' at the girls, is he? Like you said, he knows his own mind. But I reckon you helped him put some stuff behind him.'

'But if I was standin' in for his good-for-nothin' pa, I shouldn'ta done what I did.'

'But if you was a good friend, it coulda been just what he needed from you.'

Wanting to believe him, Vin appreciated the reassurance all the more in the knowledge that Nathan still thought it wrong for a man to lie with a man as he would with a woman. He valued the friendship that made Nathan curb his instinctive reaction to what they did together and the impartial thinking that made him able to accept that it might still be a good thing for Sal.

Looking over at Sal, all Vin saw was excitement - emotional and physical. He suspected it had never crossed Sal's mind that he might seek some sort of lasting bond between them. He smiled wryly. What world was he living in where he thought that possible? A circus, where dwarfs and half-men lived alongside tightrope-walking lunatics, might be the one place where folk didn't pay much mind to a man sharing his wagon with an adoring young boy.

SEVEN

That evening, Vin was headed for the saloon when the tightrope walker intercepted him.

'Good evening, Mr. Tanner. I introduce myself. I am-'

'Otto the Stupendous,' Vin said with a grin, holding out his hand. The man's uneven English was delivered in a thick accent that he thought must be from somewhere in Europe.

Otto smiled. 'Otto Viczian. I pleased to meet you.'

'Likewise.'

'I speak with you.'

''Bout Sal?'

'Yes. He want come with us but he worry about you. You are family?'

'Nope. Just a friend.'

The man held his eye. Vin could drop the shutters down as effectively as Chris when he was of a mind to, but he chose to make his gaze open. He already knew from watching the man with Sal that he wasn't immune to a boy's charms. Otto demonstrated his sensitivity when he spoke.

'I think he not know you want him stay.'

Vin let a slight tilt of his head acknowledge that was probably the case. In fact, his remarks to Sal about true love made it almost certain. He was no longer so sure that he didn't love Sal, even if this time the feeling had grown over time rather than stopping him in his tracks, but love meant wanting the best for him, not keeping him in a place where he might never be happy.

'Wouldn't bring nothin' but trouble around here. Can you do better for him?'

'Circus people stick together. Sometimes world bad place. Circus good place.'

'He's showed ya?' He glanced downwards to indicate what he would not voice.

Otto nodded. 'He told me of life in sideshow.' The contempt in his tone revealed that he saw a world of difference between a circus and a sideshow. 'To me, he beautiful.'

Vin smiled. 'To me, too. You take good care of him.' Having heard the fondness in Otto's words, he didn't feel the need to back up the request with a threat.

'It fine life. He happy.'

Otto offered his hand again and Vin took it sadly. He had no doubt that he was making the right decision but right didn't mean easy.

It was late that night before Sal finally seemed to get around to thinking how he might feel. Vin was lying, wakeful, in his wagon when he swung lightly over the tailgate. There was a brief silence before he spoke uneasily.

'I didn't think you'd want me hanging around you for ever.'

'I was watchin' ya. I don't reckon y'all got around t'thinkin' about me at all until about five minutes back.'

He knew that wasn't true, as Otto would not have known to speak with him if it was. The words were mostly a tease but also a reflection of his disappointment at being usurped so quickly.

'You riled?'

'Ain't never been riled with ya.'

'It's not like that, Vin.' Sal hesitated, clearly trying to find a way to drive his point home. 'You know how I feel about you. It's not about that. It's... it's just that I always dreamed of joining the circus when I was a kid and this is the real thing. I worked so hard to build a proper act before...' His voice caught with emotion. '...but now I can, with Otto.'

'I know. Don't worry, I ain't gonna stand in your way. I was already thinkin' on how we was gonna get ourselves lynched sooner or later. But, if this don't work out, you be sure an' find me. I don't reckon Mary Travis plans on leaving this town any time soon and I'll let her know where I am if I ain't here. You hear me?'

Sal nodded. 'But I think it'll work out.'

'Yeah. You gotta be due some luck.'

He sat up to claim a final kiss. Smoothing Sal's hair back from his face, he studied the shadows cast by his even features, picturing them in daylight and resolving to remember them. There could be no fond public farewell, so their parting was better done under cover of darkness.

'Thanks, Sal. It's been real good f'me.'

Sal clung tightly to him. 'It's been... everything for me. I'll never forget you. Long as I live.'

Vin reached up to the canvas furled at the back of the wagon, silently asking whether they might make love for one last time before parting. When, by way of answer, Sal stretched out on his cot, he let the flap drop into place. The night was half gone by the time he was satisfied that there was no act or sensation they had not explored. He did it mostly for Sal, sharing every scrap of experience so that he would be able to guide Otto into giving him whatever he desired, but for himself too, completing the stock of memories that would keep him warm when Sal was far away.

It was strange, he reflected as he steeled himself to let Sal walk out of his life and into Otto's, that he'd been perfectly content before the boy came into town, neither lonely nor frustrated, and yet now there was a Sal-shaped hole at the center of his life that he had no idea how to fill. Experience told him that he would move on but also that the journey might be slow and painful. He sighed, wistful and yet feeling more joy at what they'd shared than sorrow at its passing.

The End