Clouds and Rain

hand for Gable to give him his plate.
    “‟Kay,” Gable conceded, not looking at Flynn. He waited just long enough for Flynn to fill up his plate and then dug in.
    Flynn had to admit that dinnertime was always a bit strained, but judging from Gable‟s eagerness, his cooking was very much 11

    Zahra Owens

    appreciated. Flynn figured Gable just wasn‟t much of a talker. For him, though, being on the road meant he‟d often just had himself for company, so now he had a listening ear, he found he couldn‟t stop talking.
    “So many women took care of us boys when Mum died,” Flynn revealed, munching on his own plate of pasta. “I was the baby, so I was always around them when they were making dinner. Learned to cook all sorts of stuff, and once I was old enough to operate the stove, I experimented on them, with mixed results.” Flynn chuckled when he remembered those times.
    “Sorry about your mom. At least something good came out of her death then,” Gable answered, momentarily forgetting his manners and speaking with his mouth full. He swallowed and then looked at Flynn, a hint of a smile on his face. “I don‟t think I‟ve ever eaten this well in my own kitchen.”
    Flynn‟s heart leapt at the compliment. He tried not to show it, not wanting to do anything to make Gable stop talking. “Thank you,” he answered instead. “Want some more?”
    Gable handed him his plate and Flynn gave him another serving.
    “Where I really learned to cook was in the city, though,” Flynn continued. “Not a lot of jobs for ranch hands there, so I had to adjust my sights. The only thing they needed plenty of when I arrived there was short order cooks.”
    “Did you like living in the city?” Gable asked.
    Flynn shrugged. “It was certainly different. And, well,” Flynn hesitated, “a lot more opportunity to sow my wild oats, if you know what I mean.”
    “But you returned to the country?”
    “I had my reasons,” Flynn said dismissively. It was no surprise that the rest of the meal was spent in their usual silence.
    Gable didn‟t speak again until they had done the dishes and were sitting outside on the porch. The sun was setting and clouds were moving in, turning one side of the sky ominously dark, while the other side was painted in reds and oranges. Gable had his busted leg up, 12

    Clouds and Rain

    resting on yet another footstool, and Flynn was sitting on the steps, his back against a thick wooden post that held the roof up. He wasn‟t directly looking at Gable but he could, without straining himself, if he wanted to—and he did steal a look now and then, just to be sure the older man was relaxed and content. This seemed to be a position they both felt comfortable with, and whenever there was no need for them to interact, the tension between them seemed to dissipate.
    Flynn wasn‟t totally happy with the silence, though. It meant he was left alone to think, and whenever he did that, the image of Gable under the spray of the shower invaded his mind and made his body react. He tried to will himself to relax and think of other things. He simply had to face it that since they couldn‟t even carry on a decent conversation, making passes at each other was entirely out of the question. Besides, for all he knew, Gable was straight. Flynn had never noticed Gable eyeing him. Then again, that didn‟t prove anything.
    Flynn sighed. Life was a lot less complicated in the city. He had almost forgotten why he had been in such a hurry to leave it.

    “LOOKS like it‟s going to rain,” Gable murmured from his chair on the porch.
    “They didn‟t say anything about that on the radio this afternoon,” Flynn replied.
    “Those weather guys don‟t know what they‟re talking about.
    Trust me. I know what the sky looks like out here just before a thunderstorm. I hope it won‟t spook the horses too much. Can‟t afford to lose any.” Gable sighed and contemplated the sorry truth in his own words. If some of the horses broke through a fence and started running, there was no telling how much damage would be done. When it had been two of them working the ranch, one could mend the fence while the other rode out with the dog in search of the horses. Now he couldn‟t ride out too far cross-country anymore and Flynn didn‟t know the area well enough to do it. All they could hope was that it was just a mild summer rain and that it wouldn‟t do more than make the horses huddle together near the lean-to.

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    Zahra