Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

"Look at that! Look at that, Mr. Lattimore." Kit was grabbing Lattimore's arm and bouncing up and down on the rough board of the stands.

Rodeos were the greatest entertainment you could get all across the West in those days. Those and traveling shows like Wild Bob Hickok's. Kit had never been to one before, and Lattimore turned in his seat and laughed at how much like a child Kit was being in his reaction to the rodeo. He'd lay him over on the seat and fuck him right here if half of southwest Wyoming hadn't come out for this.

They were watching a lithe young cowboy, who the menu card tacked on the nearby post identified as Howling Hank, buck around the ring on a horse that was snorting and rearing to beat the band. Hank was howling too, which Kit thought might have something to do with his name. Kit couldn't quite make out some of the names on the board. They didn't seem to be ones a mother would give a child, but what did he know? This was as far from Rawlins as he'd ever been. In any event, Kit watched the young, blond cowboy with special interest, because he didn't look much older than Kit was himself. Kit could fantasize about that being him. Traveling the world with the rodeo. He couldn't think of anything better.

His eyes really bugged out, though, when the bull riding started with the featured cowboy, Rodeo Bob. The man must have been destined for rodeo fame, Kit thought, from the time his mama had given him his Christian name. Kit could see why he got top billing. He stayed on the bull longer than the other man Kit saw ride a bull that day, and his bull was angrier and bucked more, kept red-hot angry by two clowns teasing and tempting him as he bucked Rodeo Bob around the ring—that and the strap they had bound tightly around bull's nuts.

The bull charged the edge of the ring right where Lattimore and Kit were sitting, and Kit reared back in fear and knocked the beef jerky pack Lattimore was holding out of his hands and down under the open stands.

"Wooeee!" he yelled, both scared and exhilarated, as the bull veered off at the last moment.

Lattimore started to admonish him about losing the beef jerky, but Kit looked so much like an excited child that he couldn't.

The clowns pulled out of the ring after one pulled the strap from around the bull's belly, and the animal quieted down. The audience applauded the skill of Rodeo Bob, giving no credit in the bull's loss of ire to the clowns having stopped harassing it.

Kit turned to Lattimore, eyes wide open and face flushed. "He's the best, ain't he, Mr. Lattimore? He's the fuckin' best."

"Yes, he's good," Lattimore agreed, his mind actually concentrating on how much pleasure he'd get out of fucking Kit that night.

"Oh, look, another bull rider," Kit exclaimed as he turned his attention back to the ring. "But he looks like he's dark brown, Mr. Lattimore. Don't he look dark brown to you? Have you ever seen a man who was dark brown like that?"

"Yes, he's dark brown, Kit," Lattimore said. "Don't see many this far north, but, yes, there's darky cowboys. A slew of them came into the West from the South after the war. Freed but not knowing what to do with themselves. He's too young to be one of those, but probably from a darky daddy and an Indian squaw mammy. No white women would have let a darky from the war touch them."

"He's good too," Kit said, but soon added, "but not as good as Rodeo Bob." He watched the black cowboy, identified as Black Tex on the board, careen off the bull in an arc that put his ass on the ground. The clowns cajoled the bull away from him, as the cowboy scampered up, seemingly unharmed despite the delicious sound of alarm that had gone through the crowd when he went soaring, and hobbled off to the side of the ring.

Lattimore remembered his beef jerky was gone. "Go to the food trailer and get me more jerky, Kit," he commanded.

"Yeah, sure, Mr. Lattimore. Sorry for losing it for you."

When Kit got down from the stands, he got the notion to look for the jerky that had gone under the stands before wasting Mr. Lattimore's money by buying a new pack. He could just wipe them off and save Mr. Lattimore the money. No thought of keeping the money crossed his mind, nor was there any thought that Lattimore might not want jerky that had been in the dirt under the stands along with anything else that had been thrown under there. Such thoughts were a bit complex for Kit to get his mind around.

When he went under the stands, though, he saw two men standing close together. They were kissing and rubbing their hands on each other's bodies. This didn't particularly disturb Kit, of course, because he'd been doing some of that himself with Lattimore and a few of the other ranch hands over the last couple of months. It didn't disturb him when one man pushed the other down on his knees in front of him and started to unbutton his jeans either. He'd had that done to him too.

But it did make him knit his brow when the guy wouldn't go down on his knees but, rather, broke away and walked off along the line of the stands to a break in them and back to the circle of wagons where the ticket and food wagons and a couple of game wagons were.

Kit pulled away from the stands. The man who hadn't gotten what he wanted walked right by Kit and into the circle of wagons. Kit gasped. It was Rodeo Bob. And he looked angry. Rodeo Bob, the biggest attraction at this rodeo wasn't getting what he wanted—what he deserved as the rodeo star. Would he be so angry that he didn't ride anymore? That would be a real shame, Kit thought.

He followed behind the man as Rodeo Bob moved to the second line of wagons. He was opening the door of one when he turned and saw Kit standing there.

"Yes, what the fuck you want?" he growled.

"I saw you under the stands."

"So fuckin' what?"

"I can give you what that man wouldn't."

Rodeo Bob looked Kit over—really looked at him for the first time. He liked what he saw.

"Come into the wagon then."

Kit decided this must be Rodeo Bob's own wagon. Mr. Lattimore said that they put the wagons on flatbed rail cars to move from major city to major city and pulled them with horses from there to the smaller towns. This must be Rodeo Bob's trailer because posters showing him on a bucking horse were plastered all over one inside wall of the wagon.

Rodeo Bob sat on a bed built into one side, his legs spread, with Kit kneeling between his thighs, and groaned as Kit serviced his cock to ejaculation.

"Pretty good, kid," Rodeo Bob said after he was finished and was standing and buttoning up his jeans. "Gotta go get ready for my next ride now, but you were pretty good. Here, here's a free ticket to our next rodeo down in Fort Collins, Colorado. I gotta go now."

"Fort Collins? Ain't never been there. I don't think—"

"It's what I have to give you. That's enough for a blow job. You liked it as much as I did, and you asked for it."

Kit looked somewhat bewildered. He hadn't expected to be given anything for the pleasure of pleasuring the rodeo star, and he didn't know why Rodeo Bob still seemed riled up.

Rodeo Bob left the wagon, leaving Kit holding a ticket to something that was way, way out of his world. The rodeo star had thereby made two mistakes. He'd given that ticket to Kit, and he hadn't specifically told Kit to leave the wagon.