Bullheaded

flight. It’ll be great to get home.”

    W HENEVER they returned to the ranch, Johnny felt more relaxed at each stage of the journey. He was no star, but Cody was, and the strain of monitoring every expression and impulse to touch was tiring when they were at an NBR event. He enjoyed the flight on the prop plane to the Santa Barbara Airport. It was a small plane, and no one took any notice of the two cowboys sitting with their broad shoulders pressed together. Someone from the ranch would have left Cody’s truck for them, and all they had to do was find it in the lot.
    Cody would always drive, or possibly speed was a better way of describing it. Maybe it was good they spent so much time on the road, or Cody would have spent it in traffic school instead. After following Route 101 toward Santa Rafael, Cody would turn onto the winding road that led up into the hills where the ranch was. He always drove with one hand, the other hanging out the window, steering past the row of houses where the ranch hands lived with their own families, over the log bridge, and right up to the big house. Even though they lived in the bungalow a couple hundred yards farther on, Cody still thought of the place where his parents lived as home, and stopped there first.
    Johnny got out and stretched, feeling stiff more from being confined in the airplane than the ride from the landing field. “It’s nice to be back.”
    “You’re allowed call it home.”
    Cody held out a hand to him but Johnny didn’t take it. They’d been together for two years, but he wasn’t used to touching Cody in front of anyone yet, let alone his parents. Johnny was still on public behavior.
    “I’m still getting used to the idea.”
    “I bet Mom has supper ready.”
    “I miss her cooking.”
    Letting his shoulder nudge Cody’s as they walked to the screen door, Johnny felt the final stage of relaxation come over him. Being on the road with Cody was great, but he had to watch himself. Here it didn’t matter so much if he made a gesture that might come off a little too feminine. Even Cody’s dad didn’t seem to care or notice.
    Through the front screen door Johnny could see straight down the hallway to the back door, which also stood open to catch the breeze. The smell of chili and cornbread made his stomach grumble and reminded him how hungry he was.
    Cody let the screen door slam, and the tall, thin figure of his dad loomed into the dim hallway at the sound. “Val, the kids are home.”
    “Just in time for supper. Wash up, boys, or no dessert,” a female voice called out.
    Cody grinned and whispered the words, “Can’t wait for dessert,” before going to the kitchen to hug his parents.
    The kids. It was their calm acceptance that made Johnny feel secretly at home, although he wasn’t quite able to say it aloud just yet. It still felt weird. He paused to look into the living room. The furniture was just ordinary ranch stuff, but on a custom stand by the fireplace stood the King trophy saddle Cody’s mother had won at her last rodeo over twenty years ago.
    “Want to bow down and kiss it?”
    “I thought that was just for when you want to make Cody swear on it.” Johnny let Valerie Grainger pull him down to plant a kiss on his cheek.
    She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and stood there admiring it with him. “That saddle is better than a Bible for swearing on. It’s how I taught Cody to always tell the truth.”
    “It’s a beautiful saddle.”
    “It really is. Cody used to think it was silly I made a shrine to it, but he’s just the same now about his buckle collection.” She waved a hand to the wall-mounted display case filled with gleaming metal. “It’s good to have you home again, dear.” Val patted his arm and released him. “Supper’s on the table. We’d better get in there before the boys vacuum it up.”
    The kitchen was a big room, fitted out for hands who had worked hard to relax in and eat without worrying overmuch about manners or tracking dirt in. Val herself dressed like any ranch worker in jeans and a worn plaid shirt that suited her athletic frame, her long hair caught back in a careless ponytail as she loaded food into serving dishes.
    The lamps were lit even though it was still light out, giving a warm, homey glow to the room. At the long table, Davis Grainger was seated at the head, while the two top hands sat on a bench on one side, leaving room for Cody and Johnny on the other.
    After washing his