The Stolen Suitor (3 page)

And standing there in the cemetery up on the hill in Clyde’s Corner, looking around at all the familiar faces, all the green grass and trees and surrounding mountains, and especially at Trix, so lost and broken, and Janie, who was barely old enough to understand, Chris had had clarity for one of the first times in his life.

He knew what he wanted. He was going to marry Trix, be a father, and settle down in a permanent home. He might never be a
real
rancher. But Trix was good at all that stuff, and he was smart enough to help the ranch business in other ways. Plus, he’d be here in Clyde’s Corner, where he could help his dad and keep an eye on his folks as they got older.

That
was what Chris wanted.

And he was not going to allow Jeremy Crassen, or any other guy, to fuck that up.

JEREMY
looked at himself in the mirror in the dim light of his bedroom and tilted his head to the side, pursed his mouth into kissy lips, and winked. “Hey,” he said, as throatily as his virgin throat could croak out. Like he had that day in the Merc, he pretended he was Gary Prince.

He could hardly believe he’d actually gone through with it—especially that line about
cream
, which had come out of nowhere. Afterward, thinking about what he’d done, he’d about died of embarrassment. But the point was, he’d done it. Now he just had to work on getting used to being flirty like that.

“Hey!” Jeremy tried again with more of Gary-slash-Ben’s confidence. He tucked his shoulders back and stuck out his chest.

Girls do that, you dork. You’ve got nothin’ to stick out.

Right. He squared his shoulders and stuck out his ass instead. It looked like he had to go to the bathroom.

He flopped down on his bed with a groan.

What the fuck difference does it make how I look? Chris Ramsey will never even see it.

Chris was avoiding him. Jeremy had gone back to the Merc three times this week, and every time, shortly after he entered the store, he’d looked around for Chris and found the guy had vanished. That older woman, Minola, was always at the register instead.

Why? He hadn’t been mean or rude that first time. Yeah, he’d tested the waters a bit, and he’d probably been obvious about it. But surely it hadn’t been that traumatic!

Then again, he’d tested the waters and gotten a bucketful in the face. There’d definitely been interest in Chris’s eyes and maybe under his apron as well? Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Chris knew Jeremy knew he was gay? And he didn’t like it?

Jeremy sat up, feeling a tiny spike of pleasure at the idea that Chris Ramsey cared what Jeremy Crassen thought. Generally, people just ignored him. Actually putting effort into avoiding him meant… meant he mattered. Wasn’t that a step up?

His imagination spun out…. Chris cornering him desperately in the canned-corn aisle, pleading with him to stay away from the Merc because Chris couldn’t handle the agonizing temptation, sort of like the way Edward had avoided Bella in that vampire movie, only without the smelling part.

He snorted a laugh and got out his notebook to write it down.

The door of his bedroom burst open and Eric strolled in.

“Knock!” Jeremy said, without looking up.

“’Kay,” Eric said agreeably, even though he never did and never would. He flopped down on Jeremy’s bed, making the slouched mattress squeal on the old box springs.

“What do you want?” Jeremy looked up from his notebook.

“Bored,” Eric said. “Wanna smoke a bowl?”

“No,” Jeremy said automatically. It wasn’t that he was categorically against weed. But it left him feeling tired and crappy when he came down, and he’d be useless for the rest of the day. Eric was useless enough for both of them.

“You’re so boring,” Eric said with a huff.

“Is ‘boring’ the only word you know? Where are your partners in crime? Henry and Mike?”

“Aw, they’re all working and shit.” Eric took his foldable switchblade out of his pocket, tossed it up in the air like a ball, and caught it.

“Fools.”

“I know.” Eric snorted. He caught the knife. Threw it up again.

“I thought you were supposed to be cleaning up your act anyhow.”

Eric shrugged. “Hey, what do you think of Trix Stubben?”

Jeremy put down his notebook and looked at his brother. Eric’s face was a bit too carefully neutral. “I think she’s pretty. And classy. And nice. And about a million miles away from any of your girlfriends.”
Not cheap, slutty, and stupid.

Eric tossed the knife up again and caught it. “Do ya think she
could
like me?”

Jeremy didn’t have an answer for that, not one Eric wanted to hear anyway. “Do you like
her
?” he asked instead.

Eric rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I wanna carve her name in a tree and pick out my weddin’ dress.”

“Ma will be happy to hear it.” Jeremy doodled on the back of his notepad.

“What about
Chriiiis
?” Eric said it in a singsong voice that made Jeremy’s fingers itch to smack him.

“What about him, Dog Breath?”

Eric stopped tossing the knife and looked at Jeremy. “Shut up. I saw him and Trix at the movies last night.” Eric’s face did this weird thing, like it really bothered him, but he didn’t want Jeremy to know.

“You did?” Jeremy wasn’t too happy at the news either. “Were they acting like a couple? Maybe it was just a friend thing. ’Cause they were friends in high school.”

“Definitely not just friends. Ramsey had his arm around her waist, and he paid for her movie ticket, and afterwards, he opened the car door for her.”

Sheesh. And this detailed report was from Eric, a guy who was so oblivious, he couldn’t tell you if the mailman had come, even though he’d been sitting on the porch all afternoon. A guy who once didn’t notice his boot was on fire.

“So? Even if they are dating, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Doesn’t mean Trix is gonna marry the guy.”

“Trix ain’t the type to date around for no good reason. ’Specially now that she’s got a little girl to think about.”

Jeremy couldn’t argue with that surprisingly sensitive assessment.

“So, do you really think he’s a fag? Ramsey, I mean?” Eric asked hopefully. “’Cause if he ain’t as gay as the day is long…. Well. No way I’m gonna beat him out for Trix. Don’t see why I should even try.”

Why
should
Eric even try? Why should Jeremy? Why would Chris ever look at him twice? The townsfolk had made up their minds about the Crassens long ago.

From what Jeremy understood, Mabeline Crassen—Mabe Stucky at the time—had been quite the wildcat when she was young. She’d made no secret of the fact that she liked men, and a wide variety of them. She’d been very pretty back then. There was an album in the living room with pictures of her at eighteen. She’d had red-brown hair down to her waist and was as slender as a reed. She’d been from a poor family and lived in a trailer park at the edge of town—in the same trailer Mabe, Eric, and Jeremy now lived in and had ever since his grandparents died. Men hadn’t had any qualms about taking advantage of her generosity and spreading word around town. At least, that’s the impression Jeremy had gotten.

But then Mabe married Frank Crassen. Jeremy loved his father, but there was no denying that the man had been a dreamer and had made some stupid decisions. Hating his work at the meat-packing plant, he’d gone along with a “get rich quick” scheme a friend of his had cooked up—and found himself facing twenty years in prison. He’d gone in when Jeremy was only seven years old.

Your old man’s a jailbird. Jailbird! Jailbird! Dirty criminal.

The fact that Frank Crassen had died in prison just a few years later, killed for—according to the warden—defending a young newbie, didn’t seem to matter to people. It mattered to Jeremy. His dad hadn’t been perfect, but he’d died a hero.

No one in Clyde’s Corner expected much from Eric or Jeremy. And Jeremy wanted nothing more than to get out of this stupid town and move someplace where people didn’t know his past, where he could just be Jeremy and not Jeremy
Crassen
. He couldn’t even hear his own name in his head without the sneer that typically went with it.

“So do ya think he’s a homo, or what?” Eric prodded Jeremy’s knee with his elbow.

“Sure, he’s a homo. He’s got white teeth,” Jeremy said bitterly. He opened his notebook to a blank page and began writing possible character names for a janitor in his new book. He let his bangs fall forward, blocking out the sight of Eric. He didn’t think Eric really disliked gays. He just talked ignorant. But it still stung.

“Dude!” Eric laughed. “I know, right? But… seriously. I know that stuff Ma said doesn’t make him gay, but… could he be?”

“I don’t know, Eric.”
Yes, I think he is
.

“Are ya gonna find out? Are ya gonna do your end of it?” Eric pushed.

Jeremy didn’t answer.
Ferdinand. Frank. Fossie. Frances.

“Jer!” Eric grabbed Jeremy’s pen and snatched it away.

“Stop it!” Jeremy knew he sounded eight years old instead of twenty, but he didn’t care. He pushed the hair out of his eyes in hopes of spotting the pen, but Eric had already stuck it somewhere. “You suck! What do you want me to say?”

“Are you gonna do it?” Eric repeated, looking very serious and intent. “Can you at least find out for me if Chris really is gay? I need to know.”

Jeremy gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I’m gonna do it. Or at least try. You know how much I want to go to college. And if this plan of Ma’s works out, you two will be able to handle things on your own.”

Eric got a funny look on his face, like someone put guilt, joy, and fear in a shaker jar and cranked that bitch hard. “Guess I haven’t been pullin’ my weight. It’s just… I can’t stand workin’ at the meat-packin’ plant.”

“I know.”

“Why do ya wanna go to college so bad for, anyway? You can be a writer right here, can’t you?”

Jeremy gave him an “are you nuts?” look. “No one’s going to take me seriously as a writer when I’m just some hick from Montana with a high-school diploma. Even if I think I have something to say, who’s going to listen? And I can’t write about being a poor Montana teen forever. I need to
see
more. I need to meet people from other places, experience different things. And I’m totally flying by my ass hairs when it comes to writing. Think how cool it would be to learn from someone who really knows what they’re doing.”

“Yeah,” Eric agreed. He scratched one pit. “You deserve that, bro.”

Jeremy shrugged. “People deserve a lot of things they don’t get. Dad deserved a second chance. And Trix deserved to have John live. Right?”

Eric looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. “Let me know about Ramsey, ’kay?” He got up, tossed the stolen pen on the bed, and strolled out of the bedroom.

Jeremy grabbed the pen and went back to doodling, scribbling hard. Chris Ramsey was as out of Jeremy’s league as Trix was out of Eric’s. But Jeremy didn’t have to get Chris to marry him. He only had to get him to want sex.

Mabe had certainly gotten men to drop trou for her in her prime, so why not Jeremy?

It was a shitty thing to do, to try to out a guy who wanted to marry a widow, but Chris didn’t need Big Basin Ranch. He had the Merc. And he’d gone off to college and graduated. He’d had all the advantages Jeremy had never had. Besides, if he was gay, he shouldn’t be marrying a woman anyhow. Jeremy would be doing everyone a favor.

But if Jeremy was honest, he was being entirely selfish. This wasn’t for Trix or Eric or even his mother. Jeremy had dreams. He had plans. He wanted to get out of Clyde’s Corner, get a college degree, and be a writer.

That’s what Jeremy wanted.

“NO,
Chris!” Trix shouted. “Don’t let him get near the—”

There was a rough pounding through his entire body as the horse broke into a gallop. Chris hung on to the reins, the saddle horn—anything he could get his hands on. But suddenly they were in the air, the horse and Chris together, and then, tragically, the horse and Chris separately. Chris was aware of the horse jumping over a low stone fence in his peripheral vision and then—
wham!
—he hit the ground.

An “
Ugg!
” escaped his lips along with his last breath of air, apparently forever. He lay in the dirt on his back, staring up at the blue Montana sky and trying to get his lungs to work again.

“Chris!” Trix ran up and leaned over him, her face concerned. “Are you all right? Sorry, I should have warned you. Manchester loves the clover on the lawn. It’s best not to let him get close to the fence, or he’s tempted to jump it.”

Christ blinked up at her.
Some air here? Help?

“All ya had to do was pull him back. I thought you said you knew how to ride!” Trix sounded partly befuddled, partly indignant, and altogether too amused for Chris’s tastes. “That was a spectacular fall, though. I’ll give it a nine.”

“Help!” he managed as his lungs finally got back to work. He rolled onto his side and tested his arms and legs. They worked, thank God.

“Oh, land’s sake, you’re fine!” Trix scolded-laughed. She took one of his arms and helped him to sit. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve hit the dirt like that. My dad always said that’s why Montana has such nice, soft earth.”

“Soft?” Chris managed to croak out. A little more sympathy was warranted, he felt. It was scary not being able to get his breath, and he felt like he’d been kicked by a mule.

“Stand up. You’ll feel better.” Trix tugged again, encouraging Chris to get to his feet, which he did. Reluctantly. “Stomp around a bit. Make sure nothin’s broken,” Trix suggested blithely.

“Oh sure, stomp around. And just hope my head doesn’t fall off my broken neck,” Chris joked, though he sort of meant it.

“Big baby. Come on, test those legs!”

Chris tapped one boot and then the other. His legs felt fine.

“Good, now wiggle your ass!”

“To see if my back is hurt? Or you just want a thrill?” Chris teased, but he shook his hips all the same. His back was sore, mostly in the shoulders, which had hit first. One elbow was seriously unhappy. But nothing felt broken.