Discoveries

Once they arrived at Jeremy’s Wyoming ranch, Jeremy thanked his foreman, Wade Dawkins, for all of his work during his extended absence, and he made a mental note to reward him with a generous Christmas bonus. He also introduced Wade and Randy to Brad and Brandon, explaining that the younger man would be working the ranch with them as soon as he was all healed from the wounds he had suffered “in an automobile accident.” The Dawkinses—and even Vern Wooten—fell in love with Brandon and Brad immediately and took them under their wings, and Randy took a special liking to Brandon.

The next day, as Brandon and Randy tossed a football around in the front yard, Jeremy and Wade sat on the front porch, bringing each other up to date on their recent experiences, though Jeremy spared his foreman some of the more salacious details of his past two weeks.

“Could I ask a favor of you, Jeremy?”

“Of course, Wade. You know you can.”

“It’s Randy. I really don’t care that he’s gay, but I’m new to this, and I’m just not sure how to talk to him about it. Do you think you could—”

“Just be his father, Wade. That’s all he wants from you. Of course, I’ll talk to him any time he wants, but to be perfectly honest with you,” said Jeremy, nodding toward the two young men in the yard, “it looks to me like Randy has already found his confidant.”

“Hitch up, men,” Wade called to Jeremy, Randy, and Brandon. “We can’t keep Mrs. O’Toole waiting. Jeremy and Wade had decided that it would be good for Brandon and Randy to spend some time volunteering to help other people in the community. “It’ll do them some good to get their minds off of their own problems and focus on helping others,” they agreed, and they could think of no better place to start than with Mrs. Mattie O’Toole. So, they loaded into the truck to drive over to her house and introduce the boys to her.

As they stepped up on Miss Mattie’s porch, Jeremy turned to Brandon, “Oh, Brandon, I left a bag of stuff for Miss Mattie in the truck. Would you go get it for me?”

As Brandon ran back to the truck, the rest of the men entered the house, which smelled of cookies baking in the oven. “Such a fine looking boy,” the lady commented on meeting Randy. “Where’s the other one?”

“Brandon just ran back to the car for a minute. He’ll be here directly.”

“Well, you men make yourselves comfortable here in the living room while I go to the kitchen and pull the cookies out of the oven.” Without any prodding at all, Randy snapped to the occasion, “Let me help,” making his dad proud.  Miss Mattie graciously accepted the offer, more because she relished the company of the “fine young man” than from any actual need for his help.

With Miss Mattie and Randy in the kitchen, Brandon entered the house and laid the bag on the floor next to Jeremy. Thinking that it would be impolite to sit down before the lady of the house returned, he coasted over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle.

As the lively grandmother strolled back into the living room carrying a tray of cookies, Randy trailing close behind, she looked up, caught a glimpse of Brandon by the mantle, dropped the silver tray, and gasped, “Oh, my lord!”

The octogenarian had no reservations about standing up to a couple of bank robbers, but the sight of Brandon completely threw her for a loop. Once she recovered enough to speak, she pointed to a framed picture on the mantle and directed Brandon, “Bring me that photograph, young man.” As Brandon complied, as politely as he could amid the confusion, Mattie O’Toole motioned for everyone to gather around, and once they had, she turned the frame around and held the picture of the beautiful young lady up to Brandon’s face.”

“Oh, my god, Brandon,” gulped Randy. “She looks just like you. She could be your sister, bro.”

“Or his mother,” panted Wade. “Miss Mattie, do you really think…could she be…could Brandon be her son?”

Once Miss Mattie recounted how her granddaughter had run away when she got pregnant and Brandon explained to the elderly lady that his birth mother had given him up for adoption in Texas, everyone pitched in to reconstruct the timeline and piece together the possibility.

A couple of weeks later, Brandon received the results of the DNA test that Nick Scarpelli had arranged. Positive. Brandon was indeed Miss Mattie’s long-lost great grandson, the heir to her ranch and a direct descendant of Wyoming’s first female governor.

About the same time, Brandon received another noteworthy communication, an E-mail from Tommy, his short-term roommate at A&M. The note informed him that Delta Upsilon Mu fraternity had folded because it had lost too many members and could no longer attract new pledges. Apparently, the fraternity’s president, the pledge master, and four pledges had missed nearly every one of their classes and had to drop out of school. When Brandon relayed this news to Jeremy, he flashed on the two stevedores from New Orleans who had flown on to College Station after dropping him off in Tyler, but he thought it best not to speculate too much.

With nearly two months passed, Brad recovered rapidly from his physical injuries and even made friends with Sheriff Nick Scarpelli, swapping war stories about being cops in the urban trenches. He still suffered from selective amnesia, though, and did not recall all of his initial experiences with Jeremy, a.k.a. Jack.

Rob, the college student Jeremy had shared with Samantha in the hotel in New Orleans, became a frequent visitor, completing his graduate studies in Colorado and his sex education at Jeremy’s ranch in Wyoming, where he found no shortage of willing tutors.

The second week of November, Jeremy said to Brandon and Brad, “Let’s go for a ride.”

“OK, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

They drove west on I-80 to 15th Street and then east on Willett Drive to the University of Wyoming Sports Complex, where they watched the football team practice for that weekend’s game with BYU.

“This is great!” said Brandon. “How did you know I was a big football fan?”

“I didn’t, but I was hoping you were. Let’s go say hello to the guys.”

“Huh?” Brandon was amazed that they could get into the locker room with the players. As they were sashaying down the ramp into the locker room area, Brandon spotted several plaques bearing Jeremy’s name and a couple of pictures of him in a University of Wyoming football uniform on the walls. “You played here?”

“I told you I had connections.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Oh, my god!” exclaimed one of the players. “Isn’t that Bullet Travis?”

Brandon could not decide which excited him more: the sight of all those gorgeous jocks, many of whom were now naked, just out of the shower or on their way to it, or the fact that all of them seemed to know who Jeremy was. Either way, the tingling in his groin told him he had come to the right place.

“Listen up, guys,” announced the coach. “I’m sure you all know Bullet Travis. Hell, you probably watched every game he played when you were kids. Well, he’s asked to say a few words, and I didn’t think anybody would mind. Hell, I sure don’t. Bullet—.”

“Hi, guys. Who’s gonna win the game this weekend?”

“Cowboys! Cowboys! Cowboys!” chanted the entire team.

“Good. That’s what I wanna hear. I know you guys are gonna cream their asses, and I’m gonna have a little reward for you. I’m inviting all you guys to a little barbecue at my ranch with some of the best Angus beef you ever tasted. We’ll have all the fixin’s, plenty of liquid refreshments, and maybe a little entertainment. You can bring your dates too.”

Cheers went up among the players, and Brandon smiled broadly at his buddy’s generosity.

“There’s one thing I want you guys to do for me, though...besides win the game, that is.”

“Sure, Bullet,” said the team captain. “Just name it. You know we’d do anything for you even without the cookout.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

The captain beamed over the fact that Jeremy knew his name.

“I want you guys to meet a couple of people,” said Jeremy. “This is my very good friend Brad,” said Jeremy pulling Brad close to his body. “And this is my new cousin Brandon.” (He called me his cousin, thought Brandon, beaming at the endorsement.) “Come January, Brandon’s gonna be a student here at UW. Now, as you can see,” he said, rubbing his hand over the young man’s well-defined chest and arms, “Brandon’s quite capable of taking care of himself, but you’ll forgive me if I’m a little over-protective. So, I’m asking you men to look out for him. You’ll also find that Brandon is very smart, and I’m sure he won’t mind providing a little tutoring from time to time. Then again, probably none of you guys needs any tutoring, huh?”

That little tease nearly brought down the house as one player after another started poking the guy next to him and trading fraternal insults.

Steve, the team captain, stepped forward and shook Brandon’s hand. “Whaddya say, sport? Wanna be an honorary UW Cowboy?” Brandon beamed again.

“Jenkins!” barked the coach. “Go get your new teammate here a jersey—number 7.”

“Right away, Coach.”

“Number 7?” Brandon asked. “Isn’t that the number Jeremy wore when he played here? I saw the photos on the wall.”

“That’s right, kid.”

“One thing, Coach. Why do all you guys call him Bullet?”

Putting his hand on Brandon’s shoulder, the coach answered, “Because when he played quarterback here, nobody could run faster or throw the ball farther than Jeremy Travis. He still holds several school records. That’s what those plaques are for. Bullet Travis is a legend on this campus. Trust me, son, these guys would do anything for him, and ain’t nobody gonna mess with Bullet Travis’ cousin.”

All the players crowded around Jeremy to ask for his autograph and hear stories about his days as the star quarterback and around Brandon to welcome him to the team. For the second time in his life, Brandon Miller had been adopted.

On their way out of the locker room, they were pulled aside by Steve, the team captain. “Bullet...uh, Mr. Travis....”

“You can call me Bullet or Jeremy, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

“Thanks, Jeremy. Uh, you said we could bring a date to the party at your place.”

“Of course!”

“Well, you won’t mind if I bring my boyfriend, will you?”

Jeremy smiled. “Of course not, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“You already have, sir...uh, Jeremy...you just didn’t know it.” He nodded in the direction of Jenkins, the team manager who had brought Brandon his jersey. Looking more closely now, Jeremy could see it in the way they looked at each other. “We haven’t told the guys, but I think now maybe it’s time.” Jeremy shook Steve’s hand, and congratulated him.

Walking back out of the locker room, Brad stopped to study one of the photographs. It showed Bullet Travis diving over a mountain of football players converging in a goal-line stand. Finally, after a long period of intense concentration, he blurted out, “Superman.” Then, he turned to Jeremy and poked him in the ribs, “Superman!”

“Brad, do you remember that night on Burgundy Street as we were walking to your apartment?”

“Yes, Jack. I remember. I remember.”

“Jack? You called me Jack?”

“Would you rather I called you Jeremy?”

“Oh, baby, you can call me anything you like.” And with that, Jeremy and Brad fell into a deep, long kiss.

As they had promised the Millers, the three of them—Jeremy, Brad, and Brandon—spent Thanksgiving at their farm in Texas. Though it had been a trying year, all of them felt that they had much to be thankful for. Brandon practically gushed over his new friendships with the cowboys on the ranch—especially Randy—and the Cowboys at the university, who had even promised to take him with them if—no, when—they made it to a bowl game. “Cowboys! Cowboys! Cowboys!” Seth Miller glowed in the opportunity to talk football with his son and Jeremy. Carol Miller couldn’t care less about football, but she delighted in seeing her family so happy.

For Christmas, the Millers joined the Leveques, including Amy, at the Travis Ranch. “You could have brought Paul,” Jeremy said to Amy. “It would have been OK.”

“Well, about that,” Amy replied, “we broke up.” Seeing the shock on Jeremy’s face, she continued, “Like you, Jeremy, we have moved on. None of us is the same person we were just a short time ago. Don’t get me wrong,” she hastened to add, “I still love him…just as I still love you…but it’s a different kind of love now.”

“So, what now?” Jeremy asked.

“I believe Mr. Right is still out there, but until he shows up, I’m going to focus on helping other people. Dad has decided to set up a foundation to support gay youths, and he has asked me to run it.”

“That’s fantastic,” exclaimed Jeremy, giving her a great big hug.

After opening their presents that White Christmas morning, Brad stood in front of the crackling fireplace and requested everyone’s attention.

“Mother, Dad, Uncle Seth, Aunt Carol, Amy…Jeremy and I have something to tell you.”

“Must be serious,” said Mr. Leveque. “What is it, son?”

“Jeremy...Jeremy has asked me to marry him. Of course, we can’t legally get married in Wyoming,” he added hastily, “but Wade Dawkins has agreed to perform a commitment ceremony, and we’d like you to be here.” The sudden silence concerned both Jeremy and Brandon. “Mother? Dad?”

“I’m sorry, Ford,” Marie Leveque finally responded. “This is just not the future I had always envisioned for my son, but if this is what you want, of course we’ll be here. Wild horses couldn’t keep us away!”

“Oh, Mother. Thank you. Thank you. I love you so much.” Tears formed in Brad’s eyes as he hugged his mother tightly.

“Welcome to the family, son,” said Mr. Leveque to Jeremy. Son. No one had called him that since his parents died. He liked the sound of it.

Marie Leveque broke Ford’s embrace and hugged Jeremy. Then, she kissed Jeremy on both cheeks and then lightly on the lips. “Oooh! Nice kisser!” she teased Ford. “I can see why you’re so fond of him.”

“Mottthhher!”

THE END

Note: This story takes place before the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage.