Vince yawned loudly, making a big show of stretching and rubbing his bleary eyes. Howard looked up from his cooking. The poor guy looked knackered. He was pale, well paler, and he had dark rings under his eyes. When Vince looked up, Howard was still staring at him so the younger man forced a smile;
"You know, I don't reckon Fossil's got no right making me go up there at night with no fire. I swear I almost froze my ass off."
"Hmmm." grumbled Howard, prodding again at the bubbling beans and trying desperately not to think about Vince's frozen ass.
"I can't wait to get my own place so I don't have to take none of Fossil's crap no more."
"I'm saving for somewhere too; me and Hannah. She's my... we're getting married when I get down off this mountain."
Vince nodded but something about his smile faltered, just for a second, then he said;
"Still, I can't wait to not be under Fossil's control anymore."
On the outside, Howard remained entirely unchanged but inside, his mind was puzzling Vince's reaction. It was almost like he'd completely ignored what Howard had said, where as yesterday, he'd latched onto any utterance from the sullen man in the desperation to form a conversation. It was almost like he was angry or... jealous? But Howard quickly shook this feeling off, telling himself; 'he's probably just tired'.
Neither of them spoke for the rest of breakfast, the weird silence dragging on and on until Vince grunted some form of thanks, dropped his tin plate and went to saddle his horse. Howard was still tidying away the dishes when he heard the familiar sound of distressed neighing and the pained shouting of instructions, which told him Vince had mounted his unpredictable horse. Then, without a word, he was galloping off into the distance. Howard watched him while he rode, his skinny form bouncing on the galloping horse and a weird empty feeling hit the pit of his stomach. Cleary he hadn't enough beans.
--
Howard didn't know what to do with himself. After cleaning the dishes, cleaning his clothes, and what must have been hours worth of whittling, he was totally out of ideas of how to kill the everlasting boredom. He wanted to be up herding, at least then he'd have some kind of job to do. Just then a loud crack of distant thunder rumbled across the mountain range and Howard's eyes were drawn instinctively to where he thought Vince would be. The skinny, rodeo-boy wouldn't have a clue what to do if the sheep got spooked, he was sure of it. Luckily, the storm didn't come to much and finally, the sound of hooves on compacted dirt told Howard, Vince had returned.
"There was a coyote today." Vince said, leaping from the horse and tying it up. "Had it's eye on a nice bit of mutton, I reckon. It was stalking them out for ages."
"You shoot it?" Howard muttered, glad to find Vince was in a chatty mood again. He didn't think he could have handled that awkwardness again.
"Yeah, one bullet, right between the eyes." Vince beamed proudly but there was something telling about the way he tugged on his hat and Howard said;
"You missed, didn't you?"
"Screw you."
Howard smirked.
"What's for lunch?"
"Beans."
"Oh what? Again. I'm sick of damn beans. When our delivery comes this afternoon you better ask for soup."
"I don't like soup."
"But I can't just eat beans. I swear to God, I'll begin to look like a flaming bean."
"Mm."
"I'm serious. No more beans."
"I've cooked them now."
"Fine, but after this, no more, got it?"
"Well, I ain't ordering soup. I don't like it." He was adamant. He remained adamant throughout dinner and was still adamant right up until he was handing over the list for new supplies, complete with the new order of 'soup'.
--
Vince returned to the clearing and was surprised to find no one there. Oh this was all he flaming needed. Didn't Howard know he'd been working his ass off all day? All he wanted was to come and get a meal a warm meal, maybe have a wash.
Much later, when it was already dark, Howard returned.
"Where the hell have you been?" Vince shouted, getting up angrily. "I'm starving here. Been working hard all day and when I return all I find are some lousy beans! I thought we weren't getting no beans no more." Howard said nothing, he just stormed past and as the moonlight shone on him, Vince caught a brief glimpse at the gash in the side of his head. He gasped; "What happened to your face?"
"Came across a bear." Howard muttered, quietly, "The horse spooked and threw me to the floor."
"You okay?"
"Hmph. Been out searching for the food. All I found was beans."
"You're a damned fool." Vince exclaimed, ripping off his neck scarf. "You should've come back as soon as you were hurt."
"Yeah, well, I knew you'd be moaning about the beans so..."
"Don't be a jerk. Trying to make this out to be my fault" Vince almost shouted, as Howard stormed to the fire and began to fan the flames like a madman.
"Howard."
Howard ignored him, fanning and preparing the pots.
"Howard."
More fanning; more preparing.
"Howard!"
"What?" the older man snapped eventually, making the other man jump.
"Sit down!" Vince sounded so angry that Howard just sat dumbly. "There you go." he said soothingly, dipping his scarf into the boiling water and pressing it gently to Howard's gash. He winced and then, as it suddenly dawned on him how close Vince was and just how intimate this action seemed to be, he swatted at him. Removing the scarf from Vince's skinny hand, he dabbed the wound himself. Vince looked a little hurt (after all, he'd only been trying to help) but Howard successfully quashed the small feeling of guilt that had crept up inside him.
They sat in silence for a while, both just watching the low flames dancing in the night time, until Vince spoke up, predictably the first to lose is patience with the quiet.
"We gotta do something about this food situation. I ain't eating them damn beans again."
"We ain't got no choice." Howard grimaced, moving the scarf further on to the gash. Vince eyed the wound and nibbled his lower lip nervously but he managed to restrain his need to help.
"Well I ain't putting up with it. Can't we kill ourselves a sheep."
"We're supposed to be looking after them not eating them. Imagine what Fossil will say." More wincing.
"He won't say nothing. He won't even notice. Here." He prized the scarf from Howard's fingers. "Let me."
Howard was all ready to protest but as Vince's soft, almost feminine hands took over, it felt strangely natural. Vince mopped up the gash quietly, his tongue poking out adorably as he concentrated and when he pulled away, Howard felt lost without the contact.
Maybe it was because he was tired, maybe it was the lack of blood, maybe it was the low food-craving rumble in his stomach or maybe it was something else, something unnameable, but as Vince went to wash his scarf out Howard said; "I'll shoot us a deer tomorrow."
--
The boys carried on in this way for a while. Vince walking around moaning incessantly about the work Fossil was making him do. Howard cooking beans and whatever he'd shot that day, just so that Vince would not moan about the meals.
"He's got no right." Vince was saying as he was washing himself by the tent.
"Who?"
"Fossil. I reckon I'm commuting four hours a day. Go up there watch the sheep. Come back here, eat a meal, go back, watch them some more, come back, eat another meal, go up there and spend the night waiting for Coyote's to shoot."
"Or miss?" Howard muttered under his breath. He'd never seen another man so useless with a gun.
"I reckon it's against some kinda law." Vince announced eventually, coming into view buttoning his shirt slowly and Howard couldn't help but notice the translucent quality of the skin on Vince's chest.
"I'll go up." Howard offered, gaze returning to the food he was cooking.
"Nah, it's-"
"I don't mind. I'd like to sleep up there."
"That ain't the point." Vince said bitterly, resting on the log next to Howard, "We should both be sleeping in this camp."
"Well..." Howard stopped. He really had nothing to say.
"I'm happy to swap with you." Vince grinned, after realising that Howard wasn't going to finish his sentence. "But I've gotta warn you, I can't cook for shit."
Howard smirked; "Can't be worse than me though."
--
Vince felt weird as he watched Howard riding off that evening. It felt wrong. They should be here, together. Well, not together as such, but there's no way either of them ought to be sleeping up with the sheep.
--
Every night, Howard would return from the sheep, and every night he would find Vince bent over the fire, his hands cut to pieces.
"Can't use a tin opener quite right." he'd grinned, the first time Howard had eyed his hands suspiciously.
Now, Vince was strolling around, flicking his rodeo belt buckle, trying to draw maximum attention to it. Howard rolled his eyes, he'd resisted this bait everyday for a week but for some reason as Vince walked past him for the umpteenth time tonight, Howard finally succumbed to the metallic 'ping' sound as Vince's fingernail came into contact with the buckle.
"I don't rodeo much myself." he said.
"No?" Vince asked, sitting down too close to Howard.
"What's the point in riding some piece of stock for eight seconds?"
"Money's good."
"Sure enough. You know my old man, he reckoned that all rodeo riders were crazy."
"We are." beamed Vince. Howard eyed him sceptically, worried that Vince may try and prove his point and he did;
"Yee-hah!" he whooped, suddenly jumping up and leaping around like a maniac. "Woo. Yeah."
Howard laughed. There was something strongly endearing about Vince and Howard was beginning to feel more and more comfortable around him.
--
"I'm sooooooooooo drunk." drawled Vince, letting his whiskey bottle roll from his fingers onto the floor.
"Hmph." Howard groaned, flopping back against the log. "That's 'cause You ain't able to handle your drink."
"Screw you." Vince giggled, "You're just as wasted as I am."
"No. No. You're worse off."
"Am not."
"Are." Howard insisted pushing himself shakily to his feet and staggering perilously close to the fire. "M'gonna go up to the sheep." he slurred, before falling over a kettle and landing hard on his ass. Vince giggled drunkenly and then looked up at the stars.
"It's too late now. Just leave them. You can sleep down here tonight with me." Vince blushed, he tried to blame the drink for his slip up of word order; but he couldn't help but feel he should actually be blaming the alcohol for making him brave enough to say something he'd been thinking about for a while now. Howard's stomach flipped. Images, sickening, forbidden images, started flicking into his brain and he shuddered. He had to get away from Vince, who now was gazing at Howard, his face crinkled with confusion.
"You okay? You look pale."
"M'fine." Howard muttered. "I'll sleep here by the fire."
"Don't be a fool." Vince scorned, crawling to the tent and returning with a thick blanket. "You'll freeze when the fire dies."
"Won't."
He did though. And he was shivering, shaking and making undignified whimpering noises when he finally heard Vince's voice shout;
"Howard! Quit your whining and get in here."
Howard didn't need asking twice.