Easing through the woods, Isaac watched and listened to every sound. It was late in the day, the safest time to be out, he assumed, for most skirmishes seemed to happen in the early morning hours. He knew he had to keep his distance from them, avoid the soldiers and their leaders if he did not want to be forced into the war. Something he had no desire to become a part. It was stupid, the whole goddamn thing. A war that divided the nation, and all of it over owning slaves. He’d have no part of it and living in the old mountains of North Carolina afforded him the cover he and his family needed to stay out of it.
But he did have to hunt, provisions being scarce. Moving around rock and tree, easing along the bed of streams that wound down the mountains, flowing over rock beds or cascading down a vertical rock face, me made his way deep into the woods, searching for whatever game he could find. Every step was deliberate, each bare foot easing down on the ground not making a sound. He avoided moving limbs of trees or bushes, watched where he left tracks and always kept his gun ready.
The day was quiet except for the sounds of the woodlands. The rustle of wind through the trees, the buzz or chirp of some insect and the song of birds, calling out to each other. It was a relief to Isaac, for too often in the past months he could hear the echo of cannon fire or the sharp report of guns being fired. He hoped the only gun he heard go off was his own, which would mean meat on the table.
He eased along a deer trail then down a slope to where he knew a small clearing lay, half-way up the mountain side. He worked his way around to be downwind of it and worked his way to a large tulip poplar and crouched down behind it. Scanning the meadow, he saw small birds darting down into the tall grass and wildflowers, and butterflies bouncing up and down on the wind currents. But there was nothing worth aiming his gun. He was going to cut straight across the small meadow but decided to stay in the cover of the woods, working around to the high side till he came to the small stream that formed one of the boundaries of the meadow.
A rustling in the wood, a white flash bouncing out of sight and he held still, completely silent till the deer stopped. Then he gave slow pursuit.
He got home after dark and found his father gathering wood. Over his shoulder was the deer. It was smaller than it should be, but the war had taken a toll even on the wildlife of the woods. Within the light of the lantern hanging from the porch, he set his gun down against the rail and eased the deer down on the stone that was the landing from the porch.
“I got a small deer” Isaac said to his father, who walked up carrying an arm load of wood.
“Well, get it cleaned and cut up. It’s getting late.”
Isaac didn’t know why his father had to be this way. He showed no empathy or compassion. Always concerned with appearances, or what chore needed doing or reprimanding one of them for the least infraction of his rules. Isaac remembered his grandmother often getting onto her son. She called him something he couldn’t remember now, some word that described his nature. All he could remember was how hard the word ended. Short, blunt, like his father.
He couldn’t be that way. He couldn’t be so commanding. His father often criticized him for being like his mother. Too soft, weak, or when angry, calling Isaac a sissy-boy. Isaac didn’t like the name, the way his father threw it at him, but he knew, deep down, it was true in some way he didn’t understand. He tried for years to please his father but in the last couple, the war tearing the country apart and they having to keep a low profile, he no longer cared what his father thought. There were more serious things to be concerned about instead of his caring about how others felt, and his father thinking it a weakness.
When he finally came in from dressing the deer everyone else were fast asleep. He eased through the main room of their two-room cabin, one his parent’s bedroom where John Brown, the baby slept too, and the other the main room, one side the kitchen with a table for eating, and on the other the two bunkbeds that lined the wall, one for Mary Elizabeth and Abe and the other for Jeremiah and him, his the lower bunk being the oldest.
Over the next few days, his mother used the meat sparingly, stretching it out in stews and or small portions she prepared with other dishes of vegetables and dumplings. Isaac helped his father add a section to their small barn, taking wood from the old Whitaker place down Bear Creek Lane. The family had abandoned the place last summer saying they had had enough and were moving up north away from the threat of war. Since then their place had been pilfered of the two windows from their cabin, the old wood stove and any belongings left behind. For Isaac and his father, all they wanted was the wood. They had taken much of the interior boarding from the walls and the floor and had begun to take the exterior siding. They had also taken one side of the barn, including the poles used to support part of the roof, letting it fall against the remaining wall.
The next morning, a Sunday, arrived and they woke to the rumbling of cannon fire off in the distance. Smoke billowed up in the west. Everyone stayed inside most of the day. The fire in the wood stove was extinguished so no smoke could betray their location. The battle between brothers went on for three days, sometimes sounding close, sometimes sounding as if it was moving away. The smoke on the horizon rose in multiple locations and Isaac wondered if the whole world would go up in flame.
A week had passed and there seemed to be a calm settled over the mountains. There had been no cannon fire, or the sounds of soldiers marching through the region, or the billowing smoke of a battle which lasted for four days since the start. Isaac and his father resumed work on the barn, digging holes for the three poles they would use to hold up a new section of roof. It would cover a new hen house and a place for the hogs to be brought in at night. They had lost one to a bear three months ago and knew it would probably get worse; as long as the war raged on.
They worked till mid-day, till called to come in and eat. Talk around the table had been subdued since last weekend. They ate in silence, holding out their plate for someone to spoon more food on it, or simple reaching across the table for what was in arm’s length.
Once finished his father took down his gun, telling Isaac it was his turn to hunt. Then he told Isaac to go to the Whitaker place and pull some nails and see if there were any hinges left in the barn they could use.
“Yes, sir” Isaac replied as he went for his small cotton bag his mother had made for him, one he used for hunting, or carrying tools such as the hammer inside it, hoping to came back with it filled with nails.
He followed the familiar trial down to Bear Creek Lane, then strolled leisurely down the old dirt trail, his feet so calloused he barely felt the rock lying on its surface. It took over an hour to walk to the turn off that led to the old Whitaker place, and he began to move more cautiously, listening to any sound that was out of the ordinary. He not only did not want to stumble upon soldiers from either the union or the secessionist, but he preferred not to stumble on anyone from the region. The last few years he found he wanted to be alone, preferred it to the company of others. It felt safer, away from those judgmental eyes.
It was a feeling that crept up on him, slowly developed, some aspect of his own person that he knew to be different. He was eighteen, and for many, he was wasting his best years as marriageable material. For a couple of years girls came to their cabin to search him out, flirt with him in a way that he found embarrassing. He knew what they wanted. It was just something he didn’t want from them. Then there were the other guys around his age. He had been friends with a few, hunting and fishing together, camping out on the mountain to their south where a stream dropped over a cliff face and formed a pool deep enough for swimming, and going to school for a few years. But he found himself looking at them with a longing that scared him. Jasper with his broad-shouldered upper body and dark hair, or Mark with his light brown hair and tall lanky body, or…
This list went on till nearly boy around his age was on it. He knew what they called it, this desire for another man. The church said it was an abomination, and those who did it, sodomites. The boys had other terms and every time he heard them joke about it, he felt more and more alienated till he began to avoid them. Where his life was heading, he didn’t know, for now it took constant effort to keep food on the table and his family safe, and hidden away from the war.
Easing down the trail, weeds and small understory trees taking it back, he came into the small clearing where the cabin sat. Or what was left of it. There were just enough walls left to keep the roof from collapsing to the ground and the floor was open to the ground. He knew it was salvaged too much, so he circled around to the barn that sat behind it. He passed the outhouse, the one structure no one had touched and heard the wasps flying around inside it. Another reason to leave it alone.
The side the roof had been allowed to collapse faced him and he saw the old door on front had been taken since his last visit, hinges too, much to his dismay. He eased up to the front and peered inside, filtered sunlight casting beams of light across the interior, making the shadowed corners even darker. Stepping inside he went to the side wall where the least scavenging had occurred and lit his lantern in order to see where the nails.
There was a gasp behind him. Somewhere in the back corner and he spun around, heart racing, sure he had walked into a trap. He was afraid he’d see several soldiers, guns drawn, ready to shoot him or worse, take him for the battle lines. He only saw two legs protruding out of the dark corner. He held the lantern up higher and took a step closer. The light moved up the leg till he saw the body leaned against the wall, then finally the eyes looking back at him. So wide they seemed to be mostly white. He froze, not sure he saw this person correctly. He looked like a secessionist soldier with the gray coat he was wearing. The shirt underneath and the pants were wrong. They were civilian, not regulation garments.
“Can you help me?” the soldier stammered, each word taking great effort.
Then he saw the blood. It was soaking through the shirt at the stomach, and there was blood smeared on the coat and wetting one leg of the pants. He was surprised the soldier hadn’t bled out from the looks of it. Suddenly he forgot his own fears, the anxiety of being found and moved to the injured soldier. He pushed the coat open and lifted the shirt finding the hole where a bullet had penetrated the flesh. Blood oozed out of the hole and he put the soldier’s hands back on it.
“You have to get it out” the soldier stammered, and Isaac saw he was holding a small knife in his other hand.
“What? No…I can’t.”
“You have to…or just slit my throat so I’ll die faster.”
“NO!” Isaac exclaimed as he sat back on his heels watched the soldier shivering as if cold. The hand holding the knife slowly dropped down and he saw the soldier had passed out. Working quickly, trying not to think about what he was about to do, he pulled the soldier’s coat off, then worked the shirt off, tearing it into strips to use later as bandages. He eased the soldier flat on the ground and hung the lantern directly overhead to get the best light possible. Then he heated the blade of the knife.
He had been pulling nails out and laying the loose boards on the floor in a neat stack for what seemed like hours. His bag grew satisfyingly heavy. He had found a storage bin in back and taken the hinges and now he had his bag nicely weighted with nails. Even though the barn was shaded by the trees, and the mountain air cool, he was sweating inside the stale air of the barn. While he worked, he was trying to work out what to do. Should he try to get the soldier back to his family’s cabin and knew instantly that was the worst thing he could do. He wondered about taking him down the mountain to the village where the only doctor for miles around was located, but knew if he did, he risked the safety of the village, and the safety of the soldier. The only option left was to keep him hidden till he recovered enough to leave on his own.
He had checked on him often, inspecting the wound, changing the bandage once. At times he sat for a few minutes just staring at him. Unshaven, a scraggily beard trying to grow in, and he wondered at the soldier’s age. He was so unkempt, clothes so worn and frayed, and the soldier’s face showed him to be gaunt and he wondered how bad it was for the soldiers. Was it this bad for all the secessionist? Was it like this for the Union’s soldiers? He just didn’t understand it, this fighting for such an immoral thing: owning another man.
But he saw something else. The masculine nature of the man. His bare upper body, although lean, showed musculature that wasn’t evident when clothed in that oversized coat. He looked at the rise and fall of the chest as the soldier slowly drew breath. His eyes roamed over the bare torso till he stared at the nipples. The small circle of each. Further down he looked at the recessed navel with the folds of skin within, a remnant of the past attachment to his mother when in the womb. Isaac reached out, hand trembling, and held it over the stomach, inches away from the bandaged wound. He wanted to touch him again, but this time in a different way. He wanted to feel him. The firmness of the skin. The warmth of it. Then he stood and staggered back, nearly loosing his balance as he fought with himself, struggled to get his emotions under control. He bent forward, a hand on each knee and took a deep breath while staring at the floor, then he looked up again. Looked upon as his ward, someone to take care of.
The soldier needed cleaning up, a change of clothes and food. All would be problem, for he couldn’t just take what he needed from home, knowing they were struggling themselves. Then he formed a plan as he began to remove nails.
He had done most of the walls in the room and was about to go into the next when he heard the soldier stir, cough a couple of times then moan from the pain. Isaac moved to him as he tried to sit up.
“Keep still. You’ll start to bleed again if you don’t.”
“What time is it?”
“I’d say it is about four or so in the afternoon.”
“And, where am I?”
“You don’t know?”
The soldier tried to laugh, coughing instead. He lay flat and slowed his breathing then looked over at Isaac.
“I only know I ain’t going back.”
Isaac nodded without saying anything. He knew the tone, the defiance behind it, the realization how utterly insane everything was.
“Did you get the bullet out?” The soldier asked and by his tone Isaac knew he was afraid it was still in him.
“Yes. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t deep.”
“Good.”
“Hey, you need rest and food. I don’t have anything on me but if you can wait till tomorrow I can…”
Isaac realized the soldier had fallen back asleep. He had to go to get home before supper, but he worried the soldier would try to get up and leave before he could get back. He shook him awake, the soldier mumbling something he couldn’t understand.
“Stay here out of sight. Do you understand? Just stay and I’ll be back in the morning with some food.”
The next morning Isaac told his father he was going hunting, that he needed to be out in the woods. It was something the two of them understood, something one or the other did whenever worry or anxiety was getting the best of them. Isaac knew his father wouldn’t question him on this need. It was the way of the men of the mountains. To take their troubles into the wilds and leave them there. Or at least pretend to.
Isaac got his bag, placed a jar of cool water in the bottom wrapped in an old towel, then filled it with bread, some salted meat and butter. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he dared to take and would be a start. He would use the old towel for bandages, telling his mother he lost it in the woods. The jar would let him get water to the soldier. And his large breakfast would let him give up all the food for the soldier.
Recklessly, he raced down the mountain, along the lane and back to the barn. But as he approached, he slowed, and proceeded cautiously, checking to make sure no one was around. Easing through the door, he went to the back corner and found it empty. For a moment he panicked, wondering if some soldiers had found him and taken him away. He saw the coat was still lying on the floor. Turning to go look outside he saw a shadow move toward the door then the soldier come into the frame, hunched over holding his stomach.
“I told you to keep still” Isaac exclaimed as he went to help him inside.
“Sorry, but I had to take care of business.”
Back into the corner, Isaac brought out the food first and watched the soldier as he consumed it like the starved man he was. Once finished Isaac begin to remove the bandage. He worked gently, getting the fabric pulled free, using water on the dried blood. The soldier watched him, his blue eyes shining in the light of the lantern as they followed his every move.
“Ambrose…my name is Ambrose.”
“Isaac.”
“Isaac; thanks for everything.”
“It’s the right thing to do” Isaac replied, burning with embarrassment at the compliment. “You need to bathe, but I’m scared to take you down to the creek. Not until this heals some.”
“Creek?”
“It’s down below a short distance. Most of it is shallow but old man Whitaker created a pool in it for bathing.”
“Whitaker?”
“They were the family that lived here, before taking off for the north. Rest now and I’m going to get you a change of clothes.”
Isaac went down the mountain till he came to a couple of houses and a small church. He knew the pastor, a widow now, lived in the house closest to the church and the other belonged to Miss Hanks, the old maid who helped take care of the pastor and the church. He knew he shouldn’t do it. It’d be stealing, but this was a desperate time and he knew no other way. The old pastor was about the same size as the soldier and probably had clothes he hadn’t worn in a long time. He remembered how every time he rode up the mountain to polytheize, he was dressed in different clothes. No one else on the mountain had such an abundance of clothes, and to his mind, the soldier needed clothes, and the pastor couldn’t possibly need all that he had.
He circled around back where Miss Hanks wouldn’t be able to see him if she were home, and he eased a window up and crawled through. It was a bedroom, but he knew it wasn’t the pastor’s. It looked like a young girl’s room and he remembered the pastor had a daughter, married now, living in Richmond or Raleigh. He checked the old wardrobe anyway and found it full of men’s clothes. Most were dress shirts and pants, but he found a few items that were not formal. He took a shirt and pair of pants, folding them up and stuffing them into his bag. He checked the drawers looking for undergarments but found none.
He went into the small hall, just a triangle of a space with doors on two sides and open on the third into the living and dining area. He went to the other door and found it was the pastor’s room. He searched the drawers, finding undergarments, socks, and even a stack of handkerchiefs, which he swiped several. In a bottom drawer he found linens for the bed and took one to make bandages and a pillowcase to carry everything back to Ambrose. In the kitchen he found some fruit, salt cured meat and a jar of jam, which he placed in the pillowcase. On the table ready to be folded were towels and bath clothes and he took one of each, covering the food with them. Then he searched for soap.
It felt like he had been in the house too long, and he eased back into the girl’s bedroom, out the window, sliding it back down, and slipped back into the woods.
Back at the barn, he laid out the food, the change of clothes and everything else.
“Where did you get all of this?” asked Ambrose.
Isaac looked down, unable to face him, knowing how it’d sound if he admitted to stealing from the pastor.
“Please, don’t ask me that.”
Ambrose smiled, nodding his head, “Okay, it’ll be your secret. We all have our secrets.”
‘Sometimes more than one’ Isaac thought as he slipped his bag over his head to hang off his shoulder. “I have to go. I’ll try to get away after lunch and if that wound looks good, I’ll help you bathe down at the creek.”
Ambrose nodded and eased back against the wall. “Thanks Isaac and right now all I want to do is sleep.”
“That’s good, you just rest up and I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
Isaac did the chores his father laid out, sat down for dinner with the family, then slipped off. He came to the barn, cautiously as always, for he knew hiding a Confederate soldier was something that could get him jailed or killed. Ambrose was asleep in the back corner, not even stirring when he walked in, which worried him at how easily it would be for him to be discovered.
He kneeled and studied the sleeping form. His emotions swirled around empathy, fear, concern, and longing. Ambrose was such a forbidden fruit; a secessionist, soldier of the Confederacy and he was a man. He reached out to touch him, just wanting to feel him, reinforce the fact he was real.
“Hey, you’re back” Ambrose uttered as he began to stir. Isaac moved his hand to the bandage as if that was his intent all along. “How does it look?”
“Much better. Does it still hurt?”
“Hell, yes” Ambrose replied, smiling up at Isaac.
“Well, it looks pretty good. You want to see about a bath down at the creek?”
“Yes. I feel so filthy I can hardly stand myself. Hand me my coat, will ya?”
Isaac picked up the filthy coat, wondering why Ambrose wanted it. It was a hot summer day and the idea of a coat was stifling. He watched Ambrose work his hand inside a pocket on the inside, going do deep he was nearly to his elbow. The hand came out with a small cloth roll. He watched Ambrose gently unroll till he saw a small shaving soap and a razor folded into its handle.
“There ain’t no mirror around so do you think you could give me a shave while we are at this creek?”
“Yes, I’d be glad to do it for you. I’ll get the clean clothes and towel and we can be on our way” Isaac said as he picked up each item, including the soap, all stolen from the pastor. Then he helped Ambrose to stand. Once balanced, with his help, they made their way to the creek, taking their time negotiating the grade. The old path was grown up but still visible in the undergrowth and leaf litter on the ground and they soon came to the small pool, the perimeter created by tightly stacked rock. Water seeped through, but it was slow enough to allow the pool to fill with most of the water cascading over the rock. Laying everything on a large boulder nearby, Isaac watched Ambrose ease to the water’s edge and take off his pants.
“You need some help?”
“Nah…I’ve lost so much weight I can barely keep them up” Ambrose replied as the pants fell around his ankles. He pushed his underwear down till they fell around his ankles and he stepped out of them, naked, with Isaac’s eyes watching. Ambrose eased down into the pool, the water rising to his knees, then his thighs and finally just below his waist. He waded over to the rock wall and sat down, grimacing as he did so.
“You okay?” Isaac asked, starting to stand up.
“Yes, I’m fine. I may need help getting back to my feet.”
Isaac stared out over the valley pretending not to be watching Ambrose. But in the corner of his eye he kept him in sight. He felt his heart racing while he watched Ambrose bathe. The lathering up, then the rinsing away the grim revealing the fair skin below. At times, Ambrose turned just right, and he could look between the spread legs and see the cock hanging between them. Cutting his head slightly to better focus on it, see this revealing by another, he looked at the shape of it with its loose skin over the head. He’d been around other boys, skinny dipping in one of the creeks, and he had fought his inner demons, a desire to just look, but it had never been this great. It was a torment.
“Isaac?”
“Yes, Ambrose.”
“Could you shave me now?”
He’d have to get close, stand right in front of Ambrose. So close he could see every detail of his body, and he worried whether, or not he could do it and not give himself away.
“Yes.”
“You want me to move over to the bank?”
“No, stay where you are, and I’ll come to you. You shouldn’t move more than necessary.”
He moved close to the bank and considered just rolling up his pants but knew they would still get wet when wading over to Ambrose. He undid his pants and eased them down, slipping each foot free. Then he slipped his shirt off and as he laid it onto of his pants, he saw Ambrose looking at him. He wondered what Ambrose saw, how he considered him. Did he just see another young guy whose body wasn’t fully filled out, still some of the lean teenager evident in his torso? Trying not to think about it too much, he eased into the pool wading toward Ambrose. In the middle of the pool the water came to his waist, soaking his underwear, making the white fabric transparent. Ambrose will be able to see me, he thought as he worried about how he was fighting not to get erect. Don’t think about it, he chided himself over and over, as he tried to stay focused on the razor Ambrose was holding out toward him.
“Most soldiers just grow a beard…” said Isaac about to ask why Ambrose didn’t let it grow out.
“Yep, but as you can see mine doesn’t come in worth a damn, and truthfully, I don’t like the feel of it. Why do you keep yours shaved off?”
Isaac smiled at Ambrose then shook his head.
“Same reason as you. It looked like shit when I tried to grow it in.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Damn, a year older than me. But if you want a beard try again. A friend told me once it would come in thicker when I got older.”
Standing to one side of Ambrose, Isaac built up a thick lather in his hands then began to smear it over the chin and jaw. He kept his eyes focused on what he was doing but he could see Ambrose looking at him. Looking toward his crotch. It made the thoughts come back to him. This closeness to another man. One naked, fully exposed, and he, with his wet underwear, might as well have been naked. He had to distract himself, think of something else.
“This friend? Was he a soldier with your regiment?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you think he is at now?”
“Dead.”
“What…oh…I’m sorry.”
“He got hit in that battle, was dead before he hit the ground. I tried to get to him but got shot myself.”
“I guess you lost a lot of friends down there?”
“No, I only had the one. It was just Curtis and I…” Ambrose’s voice trailed off and Isaac didn’t know what to say and let the silence build between them. Then Ambrose began to speak in such a low voice Isaac had a hard time hearing him.
“Curtis wasn’t like the other guys. God, he was such an innocent. If anyone should not have been forced to be a soldier it was him. When we were in camp those first few days it didn’t take long for us to realize we…were different from the other boys.”
“Different? How?” Isaac asked but he sensed some awareness of what Ambrose meant. This difference he too felt.
“We…well. We were just not all fired up to fight, like the others. And after a couple of weeks the others began to ignore us, made us wait till last in the line to eat or use the showers. They…just didn’t want anything to do with us. But we didn’t want to be around them either, so we stayed separate from them, set up our tent away from the others, and…”
When Ambrose didn’t finish, Isaac held his chin up and began to drag the razor over it.
“Hold still a minute” Isaac muttered as he slid the razor around the curves of the lips and down over the chin. When he finished, he saw Ambrose was crying, silently, tears trickling down his cheeks.
“How long did you guys have together?” Isaac asked, his voice quivering, not sure what he was feeling in this moment.
“Five months. Just five short months…almost to the day” Ambrose replied in a dead tone, then looking up at Isaac, his voice firmer, “don’t enlist in this war. You stay out of it. Run if ya have to.”
“I’m not.”
Ambrose nodded his head, smiling weakly at Isaac, then leaned forward, holding his head out over the pool.
“Rinse my head of all this soap.”
Isaac slowly poured water over Ambrose’s head, and with his hand shaking, dared to use it to work the suds from the hair. The soft hair slipped through his fingers, and he wanted to bend down and put his nose to it. To see what Ambrose smelled like, all clean of the grim of war.
Stepping back, he tried not to look at Ambrose too closely, tried to keep his eyes focused on the face that suddenly looked tired, weary from the exertions of simply taking a bath.
“Isaac, help me up, will you? I suddenly feel exhausted.”
Isaac waded up to Ambrose, going to his weakest side and helped him stand. They waded back across the pool and carefully back up on dry land.
“Get your clothes on and grab mine for me. I’m too tired to put them on. Just help me get back up to the barn.”
It took twice as long to make it back to the barn where Isaac helped Ambrose lie down in the dark back corner. Naked, laying prone on the floor, Ambrose drifted off to sleep. Isaac laid his clothes next to him and raked the hair from his forehead. He looked at the naked body, this boy a year younger than himself. It was so cruel to think of what Ambrose had endured. The battles of this asinine war and the loss of someone obviously very special to him. And for a moment, he let the idea form that he could replace Curtis. He could be someone special to Ambrose. He felt the desire for this to happen, some vague notion of what it would mean. This desire to be with another man.
He left the barn and headed home as the sun was low in the western sky, barely above the ridgeline. Shadows were long and growing longer, darker, as the minutes passed. He got home in the faded light of dusk and the house quiet, only light shining through the two small windows, letting him know someone was home.
Over the next week, Isaac slipped off when he could, bringing more food. Ambrose continued to heal and grew stronger. They didn’t talk about Curtis, instead Ambrose asked about the mountains, what is was like to live here, for he had come from southern Georgia which was flat with marshland and swamps. They talked about how the war seemed to surround the region, battles happening up in Virginia and over in Tennessee to the west and word often arrived from the east of the same back in the Piedmont of North Carolina. Rumors of Union advancements arrived every couple of days, down in Mississippi and along the coasts from Virginia all the way down to Florida. Ambrose told Isaac there was no way the Confederates could win. They were patched together and lacked the weaponry of the Union. And morale among the men he had been around was dismal.
Much to Isaac’s dismay, Ambrose had often bathed before he got to the barn, sometimes sitting outside letting the sun dry his hair, but after a few days he once again shaved the beard trying to come in.
What neither could admit was how they circled around each other, avoiding the feelings between them. Ambrose was afraid of getting close to anyone and worried what would happen to Isaac if they did get close. Isaac on the other hand, was just not experienced enough, lacked the daring to pursue anything with Ambrose. So, the days passed with them getting closer but always stepping back just when the opportunity to go further presented itself.
During the nights, Isaac laid awake for hours, his mind in turmoil trying to understand this longing he felt, this desire for another man. Ambrose was in his fantasies, the daydreaming of running off together or finding themselves alone somewhere free of the fear of getting caught, willing to act out on their desires. And in his dreams there was Ambrose, naked, moving on top of him, touching him, bringing him pleasure, then there was Ambrose on top of him, bleeding profusely as Confederate and Union Soldiers unloaded their guns into Ambrose’s back while he screamed for them to stop. He would jerk awake, sit up about to cry out as sweat poured down his face and chest.
It was a Saturday morning, Isaac in the barn helping his dad build nesting boxes for the hens, that they heard the sound of horses coming up the lane toward their cabin. His father laid down the hammer and ducked through the low door to see who approached. Isaac knew it couldn’t be good. No one around the mountain had as many horses as he heard and their gallops were that of well-bred horses, not those of their neighbors. He set the box down they had been nailing together and followed his father out.
Six Confederate soldiers, one an officer, rode up to the cabin, then seeing them coming from the barn, eased their horses around and walked toward them.
“Good morning. Are you Mr. Lowers?” asked the officer.
“Yes, what is this about?”
“We’re looking for a soldier who deserted. A man by the name of Ambrose Buckner. He’s five ten, light brown hair and wearing the coat of the Confederate Army, although we think his shirt and pants were civilian.”
“I’ve not seen any such person.”
Isaac felt his stomach knot up as his heart beat so hard, he feared the soldiers could hear it. He moved a step behind his father, trying to make himself small, unnoticeable.
“What about you, boy? Have you seen anyone that might be our man?”
Isaac hesitated, far too long, trying to avoid the officer’s gaze.
“Go on son, answer the man.”
Looking up at the officer and taking a deep breath to control his voice he finally responded.
“No, sir. I’ve not seen anyone other than a couple of our neighbors.”
“I see” replied the officer, then he looked around the property at the small cabin and the barn with his leaning roof line. “Do you have any idea where a man might hide in these parts?”
Isaac’s father stepped closer to the officer, took his hat off holding in front of his stomach.
“Well, hard to say. These woods have caves in them and there are a few places abandoned by their owners that are empty. In fact, there is one just a short distance down the road. The old Whitaker place…”
Isaac quickly interrupted, “ but father, we’ve been down there recently salvaging boards and nails and there was no one there.”
“True” his father replied, then looking up at the officer, asked “how long has this boy been missing?”
“He deserted two weeks ago about eight miles away, over to the west.”
“Well, if he arrived here in a couple of days, then we would have seen him…I think” Mr. Lower replied, his innocence revealed in his tone.
“Well, we should check it out. Where is this place?”
“It’s back down the lane about three miles or so, off to the right. There is a grown-up lane that leads to what is left of the cabin and barn.”
“What about the caves” Isaac interjected suddenly, his voice sounding anxious, but to the others it seemed like an excited response, as if he was trying to help. “I mean, there is a cave above the church, about half way up to the peak, and if you follow the lane up from here about a quarter of mile there are two big caves, one above the lane and one below, not a hundred yards off the lane.”
“He’s right, your boy may be hiding in one of the caves. They would be safer, for the old Whitaker place has several of us salvaging material from it from time to time” Mr. Lower added.
“Do many know of these caves?” the officer asked.
“As far as I know just the locals.”
“We played in them when we were younger but none of us go to them much anymore. A bear was in the one over the church for a while, so we had to leave it alone.”
“A bear you say” the officer laughed, then turning toward his men, “maybe the deserter went there, and we’ll find his bones” making the soldiers laugh with him.
“It’s just a thought” Isaac muttered, and the officer looked down at him.
“Well, it’s a possibility we aim to check out. I think we’ll go up the lane to those two caves first, then work our way back down to that Whitaker place and the other cave. It’s above the church, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
The officer turned his horse and the soldiers followed his lead. They galloped down the narrow trail back to the lane. Isaac heard the galloping turn and head upward, rounding around their cabin and up along the lane.
“Father?”
“Yes, Isaac?”
“I’m sorry.”
It was all he said before he ran to the cabin, raced to his bed and dragged out his belongings in a box beneath it. He stuffed clothes and other personal effects into a pillowcase, then ran through the kitchen grabbing up some salted meat and dried fruit. As he ran toward the door, his father came into the frame.
“What are you doing? Do you know something about this soldier they be looking for?”
“Father…don’t ask…please. Just know I can’t let this happen. It ain’t right” Isaac replied as he pushed past his father and raced down the trail to the lane.
He ran. Ran harder than he had ever done so before. He tripped and fell, skinning both elbows and ripping his pants, but he didn’t look at his injuries, did take notice how the blood oozed from his knee or from his elbows. He just ran.
The barn looked quiet, peaceful, with bird song and buzzing of insects, but Isaac noticed none of it. He ran down the overgrown trail toward the house, circled around to the barn and ran till he was inside, panting for breath, looking at the startled Ambrose mid-shave.
“We have to go. We have to go now” Isaac exclaimed his voice breathless from running.
“What do you mean” Ambrose asked as he stood up slowly, suddenly worried, for he was sure he knew what was wrong.
“They’re looking for ya…some officer and some soldiers. They’ll be here soon.”
Ambrose wiped his face and put his razor into the cloth and rolled it up. He put his few belongings in the pocket of his pants. Looking around quickly he saw his old clothes, including the Confederate coat.
“We have to do something with those. We can’t let them know I was here. We have to keep them guessing.”
Isaac grabbed them up, stuffing the shirt and pants into the pillowcase and slipping the coat on, for it was too bulky to fit with the other garments and his things.
“Come on, let’s go. I know a way down the mountain. We’ll go down then north.”
“Wait…why are you helping me?”
“Please Ambrose, not now. We have to go. We can talk later” Isaac replied, grabbing Ambrose by the hand and dragging him toward the door.
Down the trail back to the lane, Ambrose struggled to keep up with Isaac, who ran down the grade recklessly. They went about a quarter of a mile before Isaac cut off the lane and went down the side of the mountain. Ambrose followed, catching himself on the trees to keep from going head over heels, as they raced down the mountain. Isaac zig zagged down, following some imaginary path Ambrose could not see. Running too fast to talk, Ambrose just followed him, knowing if anyone knew this mountain it was Isaac.
They came to a creek right at the foot of the mountain and made their way upstream. It was slow going with the rock in its bed slick, every step a chance at a sprained ankle.
“Why are we going up this stream. It so difficult and…”
“In case they come back with hounds” Isaac replied, cutting him off.
Finally, after what seemed like a mile in the stream, Isaac climbed up the far bank and turned to help Ambrose out.
“How’s that the wound? Is it bothering you?”
“Not really. It’s the laying around for two weeks that is getting to me” Ambrose replied trying to lighten the mood.
“Well, come on, follow me.”
It was so dark they could barely see before Isaac said they would stop. Ambrose had no idea how far they had come. The only time Isaac had slowed was in the stream bed and later when they stopped to take a break at another stream for water.
Isaac pulled out the meat and fruit he had grabbed on his way out and laid it out.
“I wish we could build a fire, but we’re too close to where they could be.”
“Where are we? Do you have any idea?”
“Yes…we’re in Tennessee.”
They ate in silence, both too tired and anxious to know what to say. They leaned against a rock and laid the coat over their legs.
“It’s going to start getting cool at night and…”
“Isaac, we’ll worry about the weather later. Okay?”
“Okay” he replied as they settled down by the rock.
The night cooled down and Ambrose woke to find Isaac snuggled up next to him. One arm was wrapped around his chest and Isaac’s body was nestled up to his own. It was a comfort; one he had not had for some time and he lay his head down and drifted back to sleep.
The next morning was cool, the air dry and crisp, the first hint of fall approaching. Isaac rolled over and saw Ambrose was up, staring out into space. He wondered if Ambrose knew he had snuggled up to him in his sleep. He didn’t know how to act, if Ambrose would say something, fearing he would, but knowing he’d be disappointed too if he didn’t. He wished he knew how to openly approach him, to confess his feelings. He was sure it was the relationship Ambrose had with Curtis. But he also knew it might be too soon, even if Ambrose was open to such a thing. When he had woke sometime before dawn and found himself snuggled up to Ambrose he had panicked. Moved quickly over turning his back to him. Then, for a long time, he lay awake wondering what would have happened if he had stayed in that position. Let Ambrose wake to him snuggling against his body.
Now, he sat up, feeling disappointed that some opportunity was missed by pulling away.
“We need to get some food. I don’t think I can walk all day without something in me” said Ambrose without turning around.
“At the next stream we’ll stop and eat.”
“Eat? Eat what?”
“You’ll see” replied Isaac, smiling at Ambrose when he turned to see if he was serious or joking.
They raked the area of any sign of their having slept there and headed north. They walked till they came to a creek. It was mid-morning and the sun was well above the eastern horizon. Isaac set his things down and rummaged around in the pillowcase, pulling out string and a small metal box that held fishhooks. Ambrose watched him look at the small trees, picking a limb on one that he cut off and trimmed of all its smaller branches and leaves. Starting about two feet from the end, Isaac carefully wound the string around the branch till he got to the end, then he knotted the string, leaving several feet dangling loose.
“You have fishing tackle. Should have known” Ambrose finally commented as he watched Isaac tie the hook to the end of the string.
“Help me find something for bait. Crickets, grasshoppers, worms…anything that can be hooked.”
Isaac settled behind a narrow band of cattail and fished just clear of them while Ambrose sat under a nearby tree, watching. For some time, it seemed as if Isaac wasn’t going to catch anything, then the line pulled taut and sliced through the water, zig zagging back and forth. Isaac let the fish run, wear itself out before pulling it to the bank. It was a large bream, with a green stripped body and dark round eyes. He tossed it up on the bank, rebaited his hook and eased it back into the water. This time the bait had barely sunk from sight when the line went taut and raced straight out. Isaac held the pole as it bent to nearly breaking before the fish turned and went parallel to the bank. Then it splashed the surface revealing it to be a trout.
After tiring the trout, Isaac eased it to the bank and tossed it with the bream. He baited the hook again and flipped it back into the creek in the same spot as before. It settled out of sight and he lifted the pole till there was little slack in the line. For several minutes the bait lay undisturbed but just as Isaac was going to move it over the line went taut and zig zagged back and forth.
By the time Isaac had used up the bait, they had six bream and two trout.
“If you’ll build a fire, I’ll clean the fish” said Isaac as he gathered up the fish, hooking them through the gills to pick them up.
It was after noon, the fire put out and coals buried, when they set out again. They walked north, cautiously working around open fields and meadows, avoiding every house and staying off the main roads. It was getting late in the day, when they came to a place that overlooked the valley below. In the middle of the green of fields and woods, they saw it was a small town. A steeple was evident in the middle, as well as an official looking building made of brick with large white columns on the front. Smaller buildings went out from them in a straight line in each direction creating the town center, four blocks total. Surrounding it were houses.
“Ambrose?”
“Yes Isaac, what is it?”
“You think we could get some paper and an envelope so I can get a letter to mom and dad?”
“Do you think it wise?”
“No…but…”
“You have any money?”
“forty-eight cents.”
“I have some too, but that is more than enough to buy some paper and an envelope. Not sure the postage with the war and all but that is more than enough. You know your letters?”
“Yes” replied Isaac.
“Well, just go into the town, act like nothing is wrong, and buy what you need. Take the shortest route and don’t talk to anyone unless ya have to. There should be store near that big building or church and I bet the post is in that big building.”
“You’re not going with me?”
“If word has reached this far, then they’ll be looking for the two of us, not one lone traveler. Just make up a name for yourself and leave your belongings with me. If anyone ask tell them you’re from Virginia heading to Missouri.”
They moved close to the town, keeping across a creek that separated it from the base of the mountain. Isaac left the pillowcase with Ambrose, bathed his face and matted down his hair and headed into the town. It was quiet, only a few people out. Horses were tied off at the town hall and he saw a sign for the post out front along with the other offices within, including the sheriff’s office. As Ambrose indicated the very first building past the town hall was a general store.
Back in the woods with Ambrose he crafted a letter to his parents. He told them again how sorry he was to leave like he did, but he had to do it. Then he lied, told them they went north, which was true, but then said they would go east in Tennessee till they cleared the war then head back south for Mexico. Ambrose and he were sure someone would read his letter before his parents saw it and even if they didn’t believe him, they would have to act on it.
He strolled back into town, not as nervous as before, and put the letter into the post, went back to the general store and bought food with his remaining money, provisions that would hold up in their traveling. Everything wrapped up, he went north out of town meeting Ambrose in the woods. Then they headed north, toward Kentucky then onward to Canada.
They traveled till nearly dark, both wanting to get as far away from the town as possible, knowing the exposure could be a problem. They slept fitfully, both tossing and turning, any contact between them awkward. When they finally drifted off it seemed like for only a few minutes when they were awakened to the sound of gun fire, then the thunderous explosion of cannon fire. It was still dark, only the moon’s reflective light giving enough illumination to see. They gathered their things and eased along the side of the mountain. Their progress was slow, Ambrose constantly wanting to stop and listen out. When daylight finally broke over the mountain, they could see the smoke rising up from the valley below them.
“We’re too damn close” Ambrose whispered to Isaac, who nodded in reply.
They stayed below the ridgeline, working their way along till they came to a rock outcropping. It rose out from the side of the mountain, its upper edge clearing the treetops below. Ambrose, then Isaac, eased out on it, crawling on their stomachs. Slowly, careful of every move, they made their way to the edge overlooking the valley.
Isaac was stunned at the scene below. A couple of fields had dead soldiers laying across them, and smoke billowed up from the trees around the perimeters. Cannon fire blasted from one side then then the other, overpowering the constant pop of rifles being fired. One field began to burn from the south, the wind whipping the flames thirty feet in the air.
“Come on, we have to go back” Ambrose whispered as he slid down from the edge.
“Go back? What? No…”
“Just a little ways, back to where the ridgeline was lowest so we can get on the other side of this mountain.”
“But can’t we keep on moving forward and just get some distance from them. They are down in the valley…”
“Down in the valley? Only what we can see, and if it were me, I’d send soldiers up here to pick off the other army. Up here to this rock.”
That night, somewhere in Tennessee, down off the mountains, they set up camp near a small lake, staying in the woods out of sight. Ambrose had told Isaac that the battle was a small one, just a skirmish between two small groups making Isaac realize how much he under-estimated the ugliness of it. The madness of it.
Once it was dark, they stripped and eased down to the lake to bathe. They swam silently in the dark waters, the surface reflecting the silvery light of the moon. There was a distance maintained between them, each listening out, too anxious about being discovered to consider anything else.
“We should get out” Ambrose whispered, and Isaac followed him to shore and back into the woods. In the small clearing where they had set up, moon light filtering through the tree canopy, Isaac could see the pale glow of Ambrose’s nakedness, the lean body and he felt something break inside him. This feeling of just letting go. He’d been so anxious, fearful from the moment they left till now. The running away, then seeing the battle. Men his age, or younger, lying dead in an open field. Just fodder for the war. And till now, he feared the judgements and with Ambrose, the rejection that could occur if he admitted how he felt.
He moved up to Ambrose who was about to bend to pick up his clothes. A hand on one shoulder he moved up close, let his body press against him. He felt the warmth of it, the smoothness of the skin and it began to arouse him even before he knew whether, or not Ambrose would reciprocate.
“Ambrose” Isaac whispered, not sure what to say. How to ask for what he wanted; not even sure what it was.
Ambrose froze for a moment then pulled Isaac’s hand around his chest, pulling them together even tighter.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…I have been for a while. Just didn’t know how…”
“Ssshhhhh…I know” Ambrose interrupted Isaac then turned around to face him.
Isaac felt the press of lips to his own, and he opened to them, kissed Ambrose in return. He ran his hands down the long lean body, the skin smooth and soft to his touch. He felt the hands on his own body, rubbing his back, moving down cupping each cheek, then back up his back till one cupped his neck and the other moved to his chest. It raked over his nipples and he realized their hard erectness at the touch. It rubbed downward and his breathing grew harder as he felt it pass over his stomach. He pulled back and gave it room when it raked through the pubic hair, then he felt fingers glide over his cock, rub along its length then toy with the head. He gasped at the manipulation, the feel of someone touching him. He pushed against Ambrose’s abdomen as the hand grasped him and stroked downward.
It was his first time. First time to seriously kiss another. First time completely naked and touching another. It was the first time someone touched him, made him more aroused, manipulated his cock till he was panting, ready for anything. He eased to the ground with Ambrose’s guidance, willingly, wanting to please him. To do anything Ambrose wanted of him. He’d do it, for it was what he wanted, more than anything in the world. Ambrose laid him on his back and moved on top.
Isaac felt the weight of Ambrose on top of him. The heat that was trapped between them. The smooth slide of skin over skin. He felt his erection press into Ambrose’s stomach. He felt it move slickly over his skin and he struggled not to pump his hips more. A hand took him, stroked him till he was gasping for breath, then he felt the hand release him. Fingers manipulated his nuts, worked them in their sac, then tugged on them making him shudder and spread his legs more.
Then he felt the hand move lower, felt the fingers touching him along his ass, rake along the line from his nuts down to his opening, rub over its tightness then press against it. He brought his knees up, instinctively spreading them more, opening to Ambrose’s touch. This touch that pushed against this most private part of him, this entrance to his body. He shivered with the pain of stretching open to the finger that penetrated him. He felt it move inside him, the twisting and turning within his tight opening, loosing to it bit by bit. Then he felt two fingers, then three making him shudder and push toward them.
“Ambrose…please” he moaned, as he hugged him tightly.
Then he felt the blunt round head of Ambrose’s cock pushing against his opening. Pushing against his tightness till he opened to it. Slowly, gently, Ambrose took him. Pushed inward till he felt the fullness of penetration. This fullness of another man’s cock buried inside of him and he tried to push upward to take it deeper.
Isaac shuddered and moaned as Ambrose slowly fucked him. Gently pulling outward, then slowly, gently, pushing back in. He felt every inch slide through his opening, with its gentle tug. His own cock ached for release from the movement of one body against the other. Ambrose kissed his neck, mouthed his ear then tugged on the lobe. He shivered, then cried out for Ambrose not to stop. Lips moved along his jaw then pressed against his open mouth as he felt the increase in pace, Ambrose moving within him faster and faster. There was the bump of Ambrose against his ass with each deep push inward.
Ambrose fucked Isaac harder, pushed inward roughly, and Isaac begged him to keep going. Rising on his hands, Ambrose piston cock into his depths, going faster and faster. Ambrose’s rhythm grew ragged, then suddenly shoved inward all the way as he cried out. Isaac felt Ambrose’s release, the flexing of cock inside his body, and he knew he was taking Ambrose’s load.
Ambrose eased down on top of him, body heaving for breath, hot and slick against his own. For Isaac it was too soon. He wasn’t ready for this to stop. He hugged Ambrose and rolled him to his back as he sat up on top. He still had Ambrose’s cock in his ass, and he moved on it, felt it stop going flaccid, instead become erect again. He moved on it in a natural rhythm, up and down, feeling it slide deep within then slide outward. Ambrose’s first load lubed it, allowed it to move slickly inside of him. Taking his own cock in hand, he stroked to his own rhythm. Up then down on Ambrose as he stroked his own cock till his hand was moving wetly along its hardness.
“Isaac” Ambrose whispered as he felt him knock his hand away and take his cock. It stroked him, faster and faster. He increased his pace, moved with urgency on Ambrose. He began to thrust his cock through the fist that gripped him. He’d drop down on Ambrose then push forward. He felt the burn of his leg muscles and the heat of his body from his exertions. Sweat trickled down his face and body. It dripped from his chin. He didn’t slow but increased his pace for the surge of release coursed through him. He bucked and cried out as he felt his first ejaculation. Ambrose moaned and pushed upward, hard, nearly rocking him off and he felt once again cock flex inside his body, pumping its load into his depths. He shuddered and rocked his hips on that cock as his own kept spewing his load, till he was spent and too exhausted to continue.
They eased back to the lake and bathed each other, wiping the sweat and cum from their skin. Then they swam in circles around each other, their teeth gleaming in the moonlight as they smiled about what they had done. Back at the camp, although they didn’t want to dress, they knew they had to be ready to run at a moment’s notice. Settled on the ground, Ambrose held Isaac, their bodies laying in parallel to each other. Ambrose held Isaac in a loose embrace with his face nestled up the back of Isaac’s neck. As the sound of an owl echoed across the landscape, they drifted off to sleep.
They woke at dawn, the early morning light finding a path through the tree canopy to hit them in the face. Ambrose woke first and lay still, waiting patiently for Isaac to wake. The muscular body shifted then the arms came out, stretched up as Isaac yawned large.
“Good morning” said Ambrose.
Isaac turned to him, kissed him on the lips then with whispered “good morning”.
“We should eat something and get going.”
Isaac frowned; the reality of their situation returned to him. “Yes…let’s get moving.”
For the next four days they hiked hard, covering as much as ground as they could, all the time, moving northward across Tennessee. They avoid towns, houses in the countryside and the smoke of campfires. While crossing some low ridgelines they had to hide for most of one day waiting on some Union troops to pass by. It took them five days to cross the state, although they did not know this for two more days.
While traveling, each night, after cleaning up and having something to eat, they would end up in each other arms, sometimes just holding each other talking quietly about one or the other’s childhood. Eventually, each night they removed each other’s clothes and Isaac took Ambrose once again, urging him on, pleading with him to fuck harder, not wanting it to stop.
One night they came to a small lake nestled in a valley. There were no houses on it and by the configuration of the fencing, it appeared to be privately owned by one individual. While surveying the perimeter they found a small barn and the masonry piers of where a house had sat at one time, the burned timber and barren ground revealing it was fire that destroyed it. The barn was dilapidated, the roof caved in on one side. Where plants and moss covered one side, the other was fairly dry with a platform the owners had used to keep stuff off the dirt floor. They set up on it, stripped out of their clothes and headed to the lake.
It was dusk, only the faintest of sunlight left when they waded out up to their chest. They swam in large circles feeling the exertion of their arms and the greater fatigue of their legs. Back in the swallow waters they bathed each other, soaping up hair and washing backs, then eased into the deep waters to rinse.
“Ambrose, the water is too cold; I’m freezing.”
“Me, too. Let’s get back to that barn and start a fire.”
“You think it’s safe?”
“Inside the barn no one will see the fire.”
Inside the barn they finished drying and slipped on their clothes because the cooling night was discomforting. They gathered up old barn wood and limbs from the surrounding woods and quickly had a fire burning inside the barn. With the door pulled to, the wind didn’t blow the smoke around the interior, instead letting it rise out of the open roof. The temperatures dropped but the fire gave the interior some warmth, letting them relax on the platform while they ate some of their meager provisions.
“We need to get some food soon.”
“Isaac?”
“Yes.”
“You know sooner or later we will have to find work and make some money. We can’t keep…”
“I know. How far away do you think we need to be from home…”
Isaac’s voice trailed off as the realization of leaving home, probably never to go back, once again came to him.
“Don’t think of it.”
After eating, they settled down, Ambrose lying on his back, head in Isaac’s lap who was leaned against the wall. They sat quietly, Isaac twirling his fingers in Ambrose’s hair, for a long time. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. When Ambrose sat up for a drink of water, he let his legs hang over the side.
“The fire is dying down” Ambrose uttered in a low voice.
Isaac scooted off the platform, gathered up some of the wood and stroked it up again, this time larger, flames rising as high as his head. The heat radiated outward, further warming the space. He moved back to the platform and stood in from of Ambrose. He removed his shirt causing Ambrose to sit up straighter, smiling while watching the shirt open along the front them slip from the shoulders. Tossed on the platform, he removed his pants, then his underwear till he stood naked in front of Ambrose.
“Do I look okay? Am I as good as…”?
“SSSHhhhhh…” Ambrose interrupted, jumping to his feet putting a finger to Isaac’s lips. “Yes.”
Ambrose kissed him, on the lips, along the jaw feeling the stubble where Isaac needed to shave again. He kissed then tongued the right ear, whispering into it, “You have made me feel whole again.”
Isaac’s hands came to Ambrose’s waist bracing himself as he felt those lips move down his neck, across his chest to the right nipple. He felt the tongue rake across it, the lips that pressed around it and gave a little suction, then the pain-pleasure of a nip that made him shiver. Hands slid down his sides, his thighs, then one back up between them till it held him. stroked him to erection as those lips moved down further. He cried out as those lips slipped over the head of his cock and took him.
Ambrose pleasured him, took him till he thought he would cum. Then he watched Ambrose stand and remove his own clothes. He watched the removal of each garment, Ambrose unhurried, removing each slowly, till he too was naked.
“Isaac? Will you do me?” Ambrose asked as he reached out and took him by the hand, leading him up onto the platform. On his back, Ambrose pulled Isaac to move on top and he wrapped his legs around the narrow waist as he felt Isaac’s cock slide up along the left thigh, then touch him, press against his tightness. He moaned while clinging to Isaac, pulling them together. “Push it in me…please Isaac.”
Isaac felt the resistance, then the squeezing of the head of his cock as it breached Ambrose, penetrated through his tightness and with a slow, gentle push, sink into Ambrose’s depths.
In the past few days there had always been a hurried nature to their fucking, this urgency to reach climax. Partly driven by fear of discovery, and partly by the unleashing of their own desperate desires. This time, with the radiating heat of the fire pushing back the cool air and the sense of finally being completely isolated from anyone else, the sense of being in some wilderness, just the two of them, they fucked with slow unhurried desire. A desire for it to last all night if possible.
Isaac moved within Ambrose, gently sinking inward all the way, pushing against his body, grinding his hips against him. He tried to go deeper, further inside Ambrose each time, savoring the feel of this connection between them.
Ambrose clung to him as he piston inside him, thrusting deeply. The feel of his cock pushing through the tightness of Ambrose’s opening and the hot softness of his depths drove him to fuck, to keep working his cock for their mutual pleasure. He heard Ambrose uttering something, the words all mumbled together. He kissed his neck, nipped at the skin and took Ambrose’s hands, pushing them up over their heads. He held them down, pinned Ambrose to the platform as he increased his pace.
“Isaac…harder…fuck me…harder…” Ambrose uttered, his voice getting louder.
Isaac moved his hips faster, rose higher, and drove down harder. He fucked Ambrose with greater intensity, not in a sense of urgency but in a growing need to increase the pleasure of their fuck. To bring their aroused states higher. He piston inside Ambrose faster and faster till the platform squeaked with their movements. The sound of it reflected their rhythm, added to the sensual effects. It drove Isaac to fuck harder, increasing its rhythmic sound. Harder and harder, rocking Ambrose roughly over the platform, he fucked.
Ambrose was undulating beneath him, working hips to push upward as he drove inward. Hands moved over his back, down to his ass, pulling him to go as deeply as he could, which was no further. He was hammering Ambrose depths as far as he could already.
He knew from Ambrose the positions that afforded different sensations, those that made him see stars when he had taken him. He shifted over Ambrose, grabbed his legs behind the knees and pushed each up and down, folding the long lean body in half. Ambrose’s ass lifted, angled perfectly for his fuck, and he drove back into him. Pushed his cock all the way inward and he fucked. Fucked hard, bouncing off Ambrose’s ass. He heard the grunts, the moans, then the pleading for him not to stop. To fuck harder.
He felt Ambrose shudder beneath him as he heard the cry, the primitive nature of it, and felt the spasm around his cock as he hammered Ambrose’s depths. He looked down to see Ambrose spattered in cum. Wads trickling down his face, pools of it on chest and stomach. The smell, now familiar, hit him. This scent he associated with Ambrose, and their intimacy. He slammed his cock all the way inside Ambrose, pushed to go deeper, as his own cock released its load. He felt every ejaculation. It took his breath and made his entire body shudder.
Then they lay intertwined, naked, cum smeared between them as they watched the fire burn down, only glowing coals casting a dim red light in the old barn.
After their breathing settled down and the fatigue of their exertions made them so weary, they were nearly asleep, Ambrose made him get up and led him to the lake, both still naked. The cool night air made them shiver, goose bumps covering their skin. The cold water made them shiver more as they quickly cleaned up.
Back in the barn, Ambrose stroked the fire back up, adding more wood. They dressed and lay on the platform, their bodies nestled together. They were silent, just letting their exhaustion settled over tem till sleep overtook them. The next thing either of them would be aware was the sun shining through the roof and the slight warming of the air.
“What time is it?” Isaac asked as he stirred awake.
“Not sure but I’d say it is mid-morning.”
“Jesus we’ve overslept.”
“Relax. We don’t have someplace to be, do we?”
“No, I guess not.”
“But we do need to figure out what to do. Winter is coming and we can’t be caught out in it like this. We won’t survive.”
“Where do you think we’re at now?”
“Not sure. Kentucky…maybe.”
“We could go to Chicago. It’s large enough we might be able to find work, and blend in.”
“Chicago? That would take a month, at least, to get to. That is if we’ve been keeping a northernly path.”
“Let’s find out where we are then we can plan.”
“So, we walk up to the next person we see and ask?”
“No, we go into the next town and see what their paper says as to their location.”
They traveled for five more days, circling small villages of houses and barns, or the lone house. On the afternoon of the sixth day they came to a town. It had a city hall, three churches, and a bustling five block long downtown. Isaac strolled into town, concealing his nervousness, and went to a general store. Inside at the front counter he found the local paper. The latest on the war effort filled the upper half of the front page. Underneath the banner with the paper’s name, was the date and the city and state.
October 11, 1862
Summerset, Kentucky
“Excuse me, would you a map of Kentucky for sale? I’m traveling through and seem to have taken a wrong turn.”
“A map? No, afraid not. Where are you heading?”
“Chicago.”
“Chicago? That is some distance to travel.”
“Yes, sir. Would you know the best route from here?”
“I know how to get you part of the way there, but you’ll need to ask directions when you get into Indiana. Let me see…” the owner replied as he pulled out a piece of brown wrapping paper, then a pencil which he used a knife to sharpen. Isaac watched him draw a circle, labeled it Summerset, then draw lines outward, one heading west, then one north and another northwest. Pointing at Summerset on the map, the owner began to explain the directions, writing labels for each major intersection or point of interest.
The hand drawn map in hand, Isaac and Ambrose took a chance and followed the narrow road that snaked west. They hid behind trees and bushes whenever they heard someone approaching, four Confederate soldiers on horseback heading east and two wagons heading west. It was near dark when they finally arrived at their first destination. A church sitting next to the road, its steps landing right at its edge, where the road intersected another one. It was wider, the dirt showing more track, human and horse, and the narrow bands of wagon wheels. It was the road to head north on and they made their way till darkness, hiding in a barn that did not have a house nearby.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, the morning slowly beginning, as darkness was pushed west when Isaac and Ambrose hit the road heading north. They would keep a hard pace, avoid others as much as possible, stealing food when they couldn’t capture or catch their own. Ambrose kept track of the days, each one a journey completed toward their destination.
They settled into a casual manner with each other. Intimate in a way Isaac could not have imagined earlier. Not even his parents showed such caring and gentleness as Ambrose showed him. Nights, when Ambrose fell asleep first, he would stare at him, wondering how this Confederate soldier came to be in his life; smiling at how glad he had. For over three weeks they traveled, crossing into Indiana, seeking shelter during the cold rains and avoiding other people. It became harder to do as they neared Chicago. The road became heavily traveled but it was apparent if they just walked along like others, no one paid them any attention.
They knew they were getting close by the smell in the air. The smell of slaughterhouses and factories hung heavily in it. Sickening in its sweet foul smell. And trains ran frequently on tracks that lay parallel to the road. Their thunderous approach that made the ground quiver when they passed and the loud whistle, audible for miles, never failed to startle Isaac. After weeks of walking, on the afternoon of November 7, 1862, Isaac and Ambrose strolled into the city.
Snow covered the ground and the wind off the great lake was bone chillingly cold. They made their way to factories, the places where they might find work. It took nearly two days, but they found work. Isaac at a blacksmith’s shop, shoeing horses and keeping their stalls clean. Ambrose found a job at a small general store that was within one of the worker’s villages. He was to stock shelves, keep the floor swept and run errands, but never allowed to handle the money. A few days later he found a tavern that hired him to work weekends, helping the bartenders and throwing out the drunks.
After receiving their first pay, they went in search of a place to live. They would stay in Chicago through the winter, keeping a low profile and saving up as much as they could. It was on the edge of town, a place that had been built to be hotel that they found lodgings. The hotel had gone bust and the new owners rented out the rooms to workers, rent paid in cash each month, with no questions asked.
It was just after noon and Ambrose sent Isaac to find linen for the bed, knowing the general store he worked had none. He went to the general store, then a bakery next door, and down the street to this little restaurant he had never gone in before, although customers talked of it. And he made one more stop on his way to the home Isaac and he would share for the winter.
Isaac made it to their new place first. He made the bed, noting the sad shape of the mattress, but glad of it. It was better than the hard wood floors or dirt floors of the barns, or the open ground in some woods. He stood in the middle of the small room doing a survey. The double bed, a small table next to it with a kerosene lamp. In the corner was one straight back chair and on the opposite wall and wardrobe, one door missing revealing the hanging section. There was not bathing facilities or a sink in the room, only a chamber pot sitting underneath the bed. For a bath, their landlord recommended Miss Harris’s Tavern across the street. He admitted it was a brothel and a bar but for a small fee they could have access to a room upstairs for bathing. Isaac wondered how soon Ambrose would be back for they planned to go over that afternoon.
At the window, he watched at the bustle of the city. The wagons loaded with various products, being pulled through the muddy street. Men and women hustling in each direction. Shouts, curses, and the occasional whistle. It was madness, so much happening in such a tight space. After days of living in the city, getting a feel for its rhythms, how things work, he still couldn’t use to all the people. All this humanity confined to such a small place.
But he knew those below would think it shear madness what was occurring in this room. This living arrangement between two men. He didn’t have the words to describe it, how to even begin. But without prying eyes upon him, he knew it felt right. Ambrose felt right in his arms, or when they had sex, or by his side when they had been walking mile after mile, through woods, across streams and along roads. But he also knew they would have to be careful. Avoid any kind of revealing of their relationship.
He laid on the bed, the first time off his feet since lunch and closed his eyes to rest. Just a few minutes is all he needed he told himself, as he relaxed on the bed, the mattress soft underneath him.
“Isaac. Isaac.”
Ambrose was standing over him, smiling, as he blinked his eyes trying to wake up. He eased into a sitting position and realized it was late in the day, the window in shadow. The room glowed with the kerosene lamp and on the floor, candles sat either side of a blanket. In the middle of the blanket he saw the spread of food. Cuts of meat, cheese, and a loaf of bread. There was a bowl of soup, whose rich smell made him aware of his hunger. And in the center of it all, a tall narrow vase with one white flower, its green leaves hanging over the vase’s top.
“Ambrose, what are you doing?”
“Ssshhhh…, let’s celebrate. We deserve it, don’t you think?”
Isaac looked with awe at the spread, never seeing anything like it before. Something Ambrose had done for him. He smiled, grabbed Ambrose by the wrist and pulled him down on the bed, kissing him.
“After we eat, and go get a bath, I think we should do something else” said Isaac, the meaning clear to Ambrose. They had been on the streets since arriving, sleeping in alleys or under wagons and stairs, therefore there had been no chance of intimacy.
Sounds of arguments, yelling down the corridor, and to their left the unmistakable sound of sex, the bed banging against the wall. But through everything, Isaac and Ambrose paid it no mind. They sat next to each other, having their dinner, at times feeding the other. Once finished and candles blown out, they went across the street and acting as if money was more of an issue than it was, agreed to share a bath to save a few pennies. The woman who drew the bath laughed at them as they eased in the tub opposite each other, the suds settling around them.
“Would you boys like me to wash your back” she had asked, in the most insinuating voice that made Isaac blush.
“I’m afraid any of your services are beyond our reach at this time” Ambrose had replied, which made the woman laugh, tell them next time, as she walked out of the room leaving them to their bath.
They smiled at each other and Isaac felt Ambrose slip a hand up his leg, then toy with him, make him grow erect.
“Stop Ambrose. Stop. Wait till we get back to our room” Isaac whispered; afraid someone would overhear. Ambrose laughed as he sat back, knees rising out of the water.
“Doesn’t it feel good to have a warm bath for once?”
“Yes” Isaac replied as he began to scrub.
Back in the room, the lamp turned down low casting a warm yellow glow, Isaac pushed Ambrose to sit on the bed. With Ambrose’s eyes upon him, he removed his clothes then crawled up on Ambrose’s lap. He pressed his nakedness against him, combed his fingers through still wet hair then pushed forward till Ambrose was looking up at him. He kissed him, open mouth, passionately, as he undulated against the still clothed body, making his cock get erect.
Ambrose rolled him onto the bed moving on top. He removed his clothes as Isaac touched him, hands moving up legs, over the growing erection and underneath the shirt, fingers gliding over bare skin. After fumbling to get his pants off, Ambrose moved down on him, lifting one leg and twisting him at the hips. A hand went between them, toyed with his erection, tugged on the tightening sac then moved further down till it was rubbing over his tightness. A finger pressed against it, stretched it open till it was working within the soft heat of his hole. Ambrose took his time, gentle with every move, as Isaac felt himself relax, stretched till the tightness was gone and three fingers easily piston inside him.
“Fuck…fuck me, Ambrose” he uttered, fighting to keep his voice down.
He felt the thick penetration of Ambrose’s cock as it sank slowly into his hole. Inch after inch sliding through the ring of his opening till he felt the fullness of it. Cock buried all the way inside him. He moaned and pushed with his hips trying to get it deeper. A hand took his chin and lips pressed against his own, as cock began to move within his hole. The slow pull outward, then the pleasure of the push inward. He clung to Ambrose, undulated his body to increase their pleasure. He shuddered when he felt the tonguing of his ear. He cried out when the pace of their fuck increased, Ambrose’s hips bumping firmly against his ass. The bed rocked with the increase in rhythm, squeaked in time to it. Ambrose pulled free and got him to flip over. Lying on his stomach, ass angled upward he felt the penetration and push inward, then the familiar movement, pulling outward then pushing back in, over and over. He grunted with every deep push and begged Ambrose to keep going. Ambrose hovered over him on hands and knees and he felt the outward slide of cock through his opening till it was empty. He felt the penetration as it punched back through. He ground his own erection into the mattress and pushed up to take the thrust of cock inward, till bodies smacked together.
Ambrose slowed, moved down on top of his back and he felt the heat trapped between them. The slick sweaty skin against his own, as Ambrose ground hips against his ass with cock buried all the way into its depths.
“Isaac…take me…take…” Ambrose uttered, his voice trailing off into a grunt, then a drawn-out moan.
Isaac knew Ambrose was coming. He felt the shuddering and heard the familiar exclamations. He lay still letting Ambrose continue till spent. Then he felt the full weight of him on his back, the slow exhalation against his neck, then a soft whisper.
“Isaac, do me.”
It didn’t take long and Isaac had Ambrose on his back while holding each leg against his chest. He was fucking Ambrose, driving his cock into his depths. He worked his hips back and forth, so focused on the feel of his cock in Ambrose’s ass he didn’t feel the cum trickling down his thigh. The bed rocked furiously with their fuck, noisily banging against the wall. Ambrose cried out and pushed his hands against the wall, pushing his body to Isaac, trying to get greater penetration.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Isaac. Harder…harder…please” Ambrose uttered as Isaac thrust into him.
Isaac pushed Ambrose’s legs down folding him in half. He held them down as he fucked, furiously working his hips up and down. He bounced off Ambrose’s ass, hammered his cock into its depths, till the need for release was overwhelming. His entire body tightened. He gripped the back of each knee tighter. He felt his cock grow thicker, more rigid, and he shoved it into Ambrose’s depths and came.
For five months, they stayed in Chicago, working different jobs as they needed. There were long hours, days that went by when their exhaustion so great they were barely able to feed themselves before crashing in bed. But through it all, the hardships, the scares of possible discovery, both as men fleeing the war and as lovers, their relationship became more intimate, closer. They began to know the other’s mannerism, when they were upset about some slight or trying to keep a secret, some silly thing to protect the other.
May of 1863 arrived cold, but the winds had died down, and they packed up their belongings and joined a group heading north to Winnipeg. Westward would have been better, but there were signs of the war effort even in Chicago, and they wanted away from it. The group were trappers and men taking horses to sell. Isaac and Ambrose secured a job with the latter, agreeing to ride horses up while leading a small group with them. Even on horseback, the trip took them over a month to arrive in Winnipeg. They negotiated a deal on two horses from one of the men. The least desirable of the bunch but still most of their money they had saved up.
They stayed a few days, rested up, then set out for the Dakota Territory to the west. They rode their horses more gently than before, covering several miles less each day. But they were in no hurry, and it amazed them the great flat expanse of the land. At night the sky was brilliant with stars. It took them nearly two months to get to the region, arriving on the afternoon of August 6th, 1863 at a small trading outpost. Upstairs were rooms for lent and next door in one of only three building was a saloon that also served food.
They knew their ultimate destination, had discussed it at length, making guesses at travel times and how best to get there. In the outpost, they didn’t want to linger too long, but they needed money, food and rest from travel. They took jobs, Isaac at a tannery who worked behind the saloon under a lean to and Ambrose in the saloon itself. They worked all the hours they could get, Ambrose sometime late into the night when a group rode into town ready for food and strong drink.
On Sunday’s they lounged in the small room they had lent, reading the old newspapers that arrived weeks, month even, out of date, looking for news of the war back in the states. After two weeks, horse rested and ready to travel onward, they set out, heading south, then west. For days they fought the boredom of the vast prairies along the mountain ranges to their west. Once they found a path over the mountains, they battled weather that changed drastically without notice. Snowing one minute, rain the next. In the valleys, they raced across the arid land as best they could, rationing water and food. Then the came to a ridgeline that gave them a view of the end of country. Before them the dark blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean. After over thirteen weeks they finally arrived at the busy harbor town of San Francisco on November 14, 1863. Isaac was now twenty, his birthday the 19th of October. Ambrose would be nineteen in January of the next year.
The gold rush was over, and the city had settled into a normalcy that spoke of trade and commerce in the young state of California. Within two days they had jobs, and a place to live up in the hills overlooking the bay.
Eight Years Later
The early morning light bathed the room in a soft glow of light. The bed, with its white linen and thick quilt was folded and wrapped over the two bodies beneath. They stirred slowly, with one arm coming up then another, stretching outward. There was a muffled voice, then a small laugh with a cry of stop, don’t, the guest will hear us, knowing it was impossible for them to do so. The quilt flipped over and Ambrose sat up next to Isaac who lay on his back smiling up at him.
“Good morning” said Isaac.
“Good morning.”
“Is Zeke working this morning?”
“Yes, and I heard him come in about an hour ago.”
“So, we don’t have to get up right this minute.”
Ambrose lay back and up against Isaac.
“No, we don’t. Besides, there are only two guests.”
“I thought there were five here last night?”
“There was, but three left early this morning to catch a stagecoach heading down south somewhere.”
Ambrose slipped his hand down Isaac’s chest, stomach, till he was moving underneath the loose underwear. He grasped the erection within, and Isaac pushed through his fist, giggling like a mischievous schoolboy. A hand touched Ambrose’s thigh, then moved upward till it was working within his underwear, taking the growing erection and manipulating it till fully hard.
Ambrose leaned over and kissed Isaac.
“Get naked” said Ambrose, lips grazing over Isaac’s.
“You do the same.”
They pushed underwear down, kicked it off, then Isaac moved on Ambrose, pushed him over on his back. He moved on top of him and let their bodies rub against each other. Cock sliding along the side of cock, stomach undulating against stomach and lips pressed to lips. He lifted Ambrose’s legs and slid gently inside of him. A gentle push inward, a pull outward, then another push inward, going deeper and deeper till he felt Ambrose take all of his cock.
Ambrose moaned loudly, boldly, letting it echo around the small bedroom as Isaac began to fuck, to work his hips feeling the pleasure of this movement within him. They were reckless, letting the bed rock noisily, then hammer against the wall. Their room was at the back of the small hotel they now owned. Separate from the guest rooms they no longer worried about being overheard. No longer feared someone hearing them while having sex. Ambrose had grown noisier, louder, his cries echoing around the room and through the walls. Isaac fueled these outbursts by fucking him harder, driving into his depths, pushing his pleasure till they wrestled over the bed, tore the covers from it, and let it rock and slide around on the wood floor.
“Fuck…” Ambrose exclaimed as Isaac pulled out then pushed back in. Then Isaac rose on hands and knees and fucked with long hard strokes, bouncing his hips off the upturned ass.
There was no hurry. No fear of being discovered, hadn’t been in years. Instead their pace increased with their desire, the arousal that led to their release. Isaac keep up his rhythmic thrust into Ambrose, pushing inward, grinding his hips against him, then pulling outward. Then he pulled free, got Ambrose in a different position, on his side, one leg pulled up to his chest, and he pushed back inside him. The bed rocked side to side as he worked his hips, driving his cock into the loosened hole. He glided through the opening slickly, letting it milk his cock, stroke up his aroused state. He felt the build up of release, so he slowed, pulled free again and got Ambrose on his stomach.
It was their favorite position to finish with, Isaac on top, grinding cock into Ambrose’s depths. Their bodies undulating against each other easily with sweat slick skin and Isaac holding Ambrose in place, arm around his neck and the other used to hold down his wrists above his head. Pinned down, Isaac fucked his ass, pushed into it with a slow rhythm that allowed his build up to release to take time, to develop slowly. He fucked till exhausted with his exertions, then he pushed in, all the way and came.
Isaac rolled over on his back, pulling Ambrose with him. He scooted around and down between Ambrose’s legs where he took him in his mouth. Slowly he moved down the hard cock, lips tight around it. He knew Ambrose was close. Always was after being fucked. He worked his lips up and down the hard shaft, tongued the head, at times trying to bore into the slit where he tasted it, the precum that pooled at it. Ambrose shuddered, hands gripping tightly to the bed, as he encircled the tightening sac with his fingers. He tugged on it, tightened the nuts together and making the sac turn an angry red.
“Oh…OH…OH…ISAAC…”
He felt the cock thicken, shudder in his mouth, then fill it with cum. He swallowed the wads as more and more filled his mouth. Once the cock stopped flexing, spent of its load, he held it up with his mouth over the head and milked out the remaining cum. As he licked the head clean Ambrose began to push him away.
“Stop…stop…stop you devil” Ambrose exclaimed, making the two of them laugh as he as rolled over next to him.
They lay panting for a long time, their skin cooling as the sweat evaporated. Ambrose sat up first, playfully popping Isaac on the stomach.
“Get up, we have work to do.”
“Yes, sir” Isaac replied, smiling at Ambrose as he sat up setting his feet on the floor. “You think he’ll arrive today?” His tone softer with the question.
Ambrose knew who he meant. Knew every time he had asked over the last week. Jeremiah, now seventeen, was on his way west to work with them. They were not sure when he left the mountain, but knew he was to take the train to San Francisco, now that it had finally became a transcontinental line. Ambrose had lost his parents during the war, but Isaac reconnected with his once they had arrived in the city. Over the years, letters went back and forth, with news of Abe and Mary Elizabeth getting married, Abe remaining on the mountain and Mary Elizabeth moving to Charlotte. John Brown was twelve and attending school and their parents still carved out a living on the mountain. Jeremiah’s presence was going to be a test of sorts. A confirmation of things suspected. Isaac knew it was risky but he also knew, from Jeremiah’s letters, how his brother asked of Ambrose and his excitement of coming to stay with them. Of his siblings it was Jeremiah that seemed to hold the bond between them.
For Ambrose and Isaac, life together had many hardships but once they were able to open the hotel, initially with only eight rooms, now up to twenty-eight, a sense of security came to them. The community around them seemed to take their living together in stride, never questioning it. There had been women to come calling, attempt to lure one or the other into a relationship, but that had slowly stopped two years ago. They were part of the community, fellow businessmen who helped others in need. But for Isaac and Ambrose it was more than just being part of the business community, it was the fitting in. Isaac had said more than once he felt like he could finally breathe.
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