This story is set in the Summer of 1921
1-William
The wide-brimmed hat and cotton clothing I wore did little to shield me from the hot, July sun. It seemed to do its utmost to boil my brain and burn my skin underneath as I worked to remove weeds and control pests. I’d inherited farming from my father and now ran the small acreage alone with the help of a couple of hired hands in the busy seasons.
Of course, that had not been the plan, at thirty-eight years old, I was a widower and had no surviving children. We had only been wed for six months when she... they... At that moment, the post rode through thankfully interrupting my thoughts.
Taking my tools with me to break for lunch, I dropped them by the old shed and turned to walk the short distance to the end of the lane. Opening the cast iron box, I retrieved solicitation for detective novels, an advertisement from the grocer in town, and a letter from a stranger.
Inside the house, I rested at the kitchen table, a warm breeze was blowing in the wooden screen door and out the raised windows, ruffling the plain curtains gently. I paused halfway through a sandwich and pickles and examined the envelope again.
-To Mr. William Fuller, from Parson James Roberts.
The name didn’t mean anything to me, but the town did. Gainsbourg was north of here about twenty miles. Opening it brought no good news.
“Greetings in the name of our Heavenly Father,
I’m writing to inform you of two things. One: Of the recent passing of your late father Jeremiah’s long-time friend, Samuel Brownlow. Both he and his wife died of pneumonia in June. The second concerns their son, Nathaniel. He was fired from his apprenticeship as a bookkeeper. I brought him on here at the parsonage to give him some guidance, but he ran off. I last saw him on the street and rumor is that he has been at the workhouse. You are the closest thing to family that he has left. I pray there is something you can do for him.
Parson J. Roberts”
Feeling an instant sense of loss at the news of Uncle Sam and Aunt Judith, that’s how I referred to them when I was small, I recalled them fondly. It wasn’t until I was much older that I remembered them having a child. I went back over parts of the letter. Fired. Ran off. Workhouse. Nathaniel was an only child and seemed spoiled the couple of times I met him. Now, with this, he would be reeling. Resolving for what promised to be a test of will, I scarfed down my food and prepared to leave the following morning.
2-Nathaniel
“Look alive you worthless pieces of shit, you can do better than that!” the guardian spat at our backs.
I ground my teeth to bite back my retort and kept at the stupid task of breaking rocks into smaller rocks. It was grimy, sweaty, dusty work in a place that was even more grimy and filthy. Only two hours left, and I can get a beer to forget this whole day for a short while. My hands stung from the repetition of using the crude tools and I stopped for merely a moment to inspect my bleeding palms. A harsh shove was accompanied by sharp words.
“Who do you think you are? Think you’re supposed to get a day’s keep for subpar work?”
I rounded on him. “I worked plenty, all some people do is spit through crooked teeth all day,” I goaded.
As suspected, he grabbed me by the collar and spoke in a menacing tone, “Teeth huh? You know, you don’t need any of yours to do this kind of work.”
That statement brought me up short, but before I could gather my wit, a voice I didn’t recognize called my name.
“Brownlow. I’m looking for Nathaniel Brownlow,” it was coming from some tall man coming our way. He looked oddly familiar.
The hand on my collar didn’t loosen. “What do you want?” the guardian spat.
“To talk to Nathaniel,” the man said, looking me in the eye. He had the calmest features. Opposite from most men I knew.
“Well, he’s not done with his day’s work yet, in fact, he’s in a deficit,” he grinned wickedly at me with those sickly teeth.
“How much?” the man asked.
“What?” the guardian asked, puzzled.
“How much does he owe?” the tall man repeated.
“Let’s see. A day’s keep is about 10 cents, he’s behind, so that’s 5 cents. Let’s make it 50 cents.”
“What?” I started.
“Done,” the man said, reaching into his pocket and counting out 50 cents.
Finally, the bastard let go and I shrugged away from him. He took the coins on offer and grinned as he walked away.
I stood massaging my hands carefully as the man began, “Mr. Brownlow, care to step out into the air and talk for a moment?”
I nodded and followed him past the poor souls I’d worked alongside for weeks now. We passed the front office porter, and went out the main doors. It was warm, but we were shaded by the side of the brick building.
I faced him and prodded, “Well, who are you?”
“My name is William Fuller. My father and your father were friends,” he started. The surprise on my face must have made him pause. “I don’t know If you remember me but-”
“Yeah, I remember you. Just because you paid that bastard off doesn’t mean anything. No one can tell me what to do. I’m eighteen and can do fine by myself,” I told him sternly. I was not about to be taken advantage of again. That was all people wanted anyway and I had learned it was better to go it alone.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re right. I just came to check on you...”
“I’m fine!” I shouted reflexively, still annoyed from earlier.
“And to see that you were being treated fairly.”
“Pfft. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Nathaniel,” he stepped closer to me, and my heart skipped a beat. I wasn't sure why he made me nervous. “When was the last time they let you bathe in this wretched place?” at my silence he continued. “I know the food is terrible if one can call it thus, and judging by that encounter I just witnessed, things were not going ‘fine’. There aren’t many options after this.”
I dropped my head knowing he was right.
“Come stay with me on the farm in Oakfield for a few weeks. If you absolutely hate it, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
I looked at the man, William, as I contemplated his proposition. His skin was smooth and sunbaked. The hat on his head barely hid the wild waves of brown hair spilling out from underneath. When my gaze nearly drowned in eyes so dark brown, they were nearly black, I shook myself.
“Alright, yeah.”
3-William
I went with him back inside to make sure there wasn’t a problem with my taking Nathaniel away. There wasn’t. Instead, they seemed glad to be rid of him. I didn’t know what had happened in the month since his parents’ death, but it had surely seemed to harden him.
“You’ll get nothing but trouble out of this one,” the porter was saying, "You mark my words.”
I ignored them and once Nathaniel was done, walked briskly out with him.
We left for home right away because in my haste I had neglected to leave anyone at the farm to look after things overnight. Also, If we hurried, we would arrive back shortly after supper time.
In the bright sunlight, and full color of nature about us, poor Nathaniel resembled a homeless beggar off the street. He was skinny. The clothes he had donned in exchange for the striped uniform he wore earlier, had holes and layers of dirt and dust on them. I mentioned the bath earlier to persuade him, the truth of it was apparent now. The boy needed help.
Nathaniel didn’t talk much during the trip, even when I tried to refresh his memory of when we were kids together. My family had spent Thanksgiving Day with him and his parents and we had played cowboys and Indians until the sun went down.
He did not seem to care for the story, or even seem to be listening. Rather, he sulked on his side of the bench of the wagon pulled along by my one of two faithful draft horses. On a break from riding, I produced a snack of bread and cheese. He snatched it from me and was halfway through it when I cleared my throat, “Ahem,” and waited for the manners I was sure he hadn’t lost.
“Yeah, thanks,” he returned, having the decency to look chastened.
“You’re welcome,” I returned. It was clear to me he was no wild delinquent. He needed kindness and a firm hand. If I could get him to stay long enough, he’d be alright.
We arrived with the setting sun as I predicted, and I stopped the wagon in front of the barn.
“I’ll tend to the horses and wagon, then we can rustle up something to eat.”
As I did this, he poked about–showing a mild curiosity in the surrounding farmland. I didn’t linger but showed him inside, and prepared supper.
As we ate a decent meal of cold chicken, bread, and canned vegetables, I heated water on the stove. While weekly baths were the fashion, the aroma currently filling the small kitchen was something I was looking forward to being rid of quickly.
Nathaniel ate as a child starved, and my mind drifted back to that horrid place with its ‘guardians’, muck and mistreatment. It wasn’t suitable for any human, no matter the circumstance.
When I was done, I hauled the tin tub next to the sink and began filling it with water with a short hose. I retrieved a set of clothes that looked to fit him, as well as possible, a small towel, and a cake of soap. After adding the hot water to the tub, I lit a lantern and explained, “I’m going to go check on a few things, I’ll be back later.”
With that, I turned and walked through the front door. I busied myself for the better part of an hour doing essential chores that were not done before leaving this morning and others that could not wait—milking Bessie and locking the chicken coop. After feeding the dogs, and having a short walk, I came back to the house. Marching up the steps, I entered and stopped short. Nathaniel stood clearing the table, in my clothes looking older. Different.
I tried not to stare at the dramatic change. Gone was the dirty vagrant and in his place stood this person. Nathaniel had his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing pale slim forearms. His hands, though blistered from the labors he was subject to, were lithe and small. Damp curls of wheat-colored hair hid his face, until he turned to me…
“I can’t carry that by myself.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked stupidly. Struck momentarily witless by the eyes that were the color of a clear blue sky.
“The tub. I was going to dump the damned thing, but it won’t move with just me,” he repeated.
His words drew my attention to his mouth. My god, against his fair skin, they were pink like the inside of a strawberry. My mouth in turn went dry, but I mentally kicked myself. “Ah, I'll show you where we can pour it.”
We lifted it together and dumped it out away from the house and livestock. As I carried it back we walked in a comfortable silence until we approached the house again.
“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” I offered.
Nathaniel glanced up at me and nodded. He looked peaceful for the moment. Better not to tell him that the day started at 4 o’clock.
4-Nathaniel
William was right. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a proper bath, and that one tonight was fantastic. Even better was getting to sleep in a real bed. No matter, this was a temporary arrangement. He would be like all the others, and I would leave. Maybe try Chicago this time. Still. He had a nice face though. Watching his strong forearms work as he wielded the reins of the wagon, and his muscular form stretch and bend as he unhitched the horses had me somewhat glad that I had come. Even if nothing were to come of it, the scenery was nice.
-Knock, knock, knock! “Mornin’ Sunshine! Breakfast,” William’s muffled voice spoke through the door.
“What?” I mumbled, raising my head to look out of the window. I blinked at the nothingness. Still dark. What time was it? I dropped my head back down to the sweat-soaked pillow in disbelief. I thought I had escaped being woken at ungodly hours when I left the workhouse, now this.
“Nathaniel! Food is getting cold.”
Curse it. As I sat up and slowly began dressing, my movements behind the door announced that he had accomplished his task of waking me. I refused to concede more than that. After stopping by the water closet, I joined him in the kitchen, the glare affixed to my face.
“Mornin’,” William repeated.
“It’s not morning,” I complained, sitting down at the table. There was a bowl of steaming porridge, toast, and some eggs. My stomach growled as I took in the smell of sweetened meal, melted butter and fried eggs. He sat down with two glasses of milk and beckoned me to eat. Not realizing how hungry I was, I ate my entire portion in no time. It was filling and did help to temper my mood. He cleared the dishes and sat back down.
“Alright, I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a farm before, but it’s a lot of work. Cows to milk, horses to see to, chickens to feed, the crops to tend...” at my blank stare, he shifted direction, “I can teach you things as we go. Lunchtime is usually...”
“So, I’ve exchanged one workhouse for another? You’re going to try and boss me like the others? Well, you can’t. They couldn’t tell me what to do. Not those buggars at the warehouses, not the Parson, not that bookworm, and definitely not you!” In a rage, I pounded my fist on the table rising to my feet, “I’m eighteen years old, nineteen in three months, so don’t you go making rules for me!”
I turned to go back to the bedroom I had slept in, but something in the calm tone of his reply stopped my leaving,
“You’re right. You’re eighteen, and a man now. You are in command of your own life.”
I squared my shoulders and turned back to him; it seemed I had made my point.
“You’ve done very well for yourself, I might add. In fact, I take back what I said. You don’t have to stay here. You can leave today, but you march out of here with the same belongings you came with,” he said sternly pointing a finger towards the door.
I gulped, my possessions were meager, and we were miles from anywhere.
“No one can tell you what to do? Well, judging by the state I found you in yesterday, someone should be,” he stood to his feet. It made me keenly aware of our size difference. Not only was he broad and deep-chested, but his voice and the way he was speaking now made him more imposing.
William strode towards the door and with one hand on the handle turned. “My offer stands, but as long as you act like a boy, you’ll be following my rules.”
My mouth gaped as I stared at his disappearing back. Boy? The hell? No one had called me that in, well, no matter. Pacing the floor now, I ran my fingers through my hair, before pulling at it in my frustration. I wasn’t about to leave now before the sun was up, with no provisions and no clear plan or direction. It was fine, I’d follow along for a while until I’d devise my next moves.
5-William
The sun was just coming up when I heard Nathaniel come into the barn. It was a 50-50 chance on whether he’d go or stay, I reckoned, so I wasn’t that surprised when he appeared. I indicated the rake hanging on the wall,
“There’s an extra hay fork there, the horses’ feeder needs filling.”
He did not protest but simply grabbed the rake and began doing as I bid. I instantly thought of his bruised hands.
“Wait,” I walked to a pail I kept small supplies in and retrieved a pair of leather work gloves, “Here. Try these.”
He put them on and inspected them. They were too big, of course, but they would better allow his hands to heal. I nodded and left him to it, while I gathered supplies for the day. This was going to be interesting.
Over the next few weeks, we fell into a comfortable rhythm. There was a teacher-student air most of the time, and he caught on quickly. If he’d finished something that was assigned to him, instead of lazing about, he would come find me and pitch in. Nathaniel even cooked from time to time. I teased him about it containing poison, but he scoffed at me to hide a smile. Everything seemed to be going well until one such morning we were in the kitchen having our breakfast and coffee when I heard the distinct cluck of one of the hens. I looked through the screen door to see one of them strolling towards the porch as though seeking her own breakfast. I turned to Nathaniel. “Did you lock the coop last night?”
“Hmm? Yeah,” he answered sleepily. I was beginning to think he’d never be used to these early mornings.
“You sure?” I prodded.
“Yes! Like I always do,” just then, the hen’s movements caught his eye through the door, and he went still.
I gave him a look that promised more was to come but went outside to make sure nothing had gotten in during the night. The chickens were fine, the only thing amiss was a neglected gate latch. He stood behind me with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.
“The gate is there to guard against predators. Wolves, wild cats, bears. Do you like having chicken and eggs?” I scolded.
“I’m sorry alright, you’ve got a million of the blasted things anyway,” his voice trailed off as he turned away.
“What did you say? Sounded like sass to me. Boy, go fetch a switch.”
He looked at me gobsmacked, “You’re joking.”
“I assure you I am not.” I replied sternly,” I’ll be in the barn.”
I sat and waited on an old stool for what felt like too long. Maybe he wouldn’t do it. It was a little outrageous really. Maybe this whole thing was a waste of time. Sure no animal was hurt, but he had to know to take things seriously and I had to keep to my word. As I was about to stand to go about chores, Nathaniel came in, face beet red. In his hand was a slender branch he must have gotten from the willow tree by the creek.
“Come here,” I commanded. He did, although he appeared angry with a clenched jaw. I took the switch from him. “Over my lap, boy.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest but closed it again when I narrowed my eyes at him.
Nathaniel hesitantly arranged himself over my lap as instructed, his buttocks ready for the lashes. I ignored the warmth and weight of him against me. Instead, I placed one hand on his upper back for balance, and with the other…
-Whap!
-Whap!
-Whap!
He squirmed but made no sound. I ignored the warmth and tightening in my shorts as I continued,
-Whap, Whap, Whap
-Whap!
“I said I was sorry!” he whined.
“It’s not your forgetting, it’s for your attitude.”
-Whap!
That last swat made him squirm. It was like he was fleeing the sting by pressing into my lap. But wait. Was that my imagination, or did I feel an answering hardness. Christ.
I dropped the switch and pushed him up, “Maybe you’ll think better before sassing me again.” His face was even redder than before but contained something I could not name. Something more than embarrassment. “Chores.”
He nodded and left the barn.
6- Nathaniel
The whole day after my whipping, I was in a state. Not only was I in disbelief that it had happened, but at my reaction to it. The way he ordered me, it was like he made me do it. I wanted to obey him. When he had me on his lap, I thought of being any place but there, because it aroused me so much. I even imagined I could feel him hardening beneath me. It was in my mind, wasn’t it? I was not supposed to feel this, it was dangerous. Still, the desire was there.
Often throughout the day, I found myself in such meanderings, but I kept to myself as much as I could and tried not to forget any chores for godsake. Dinner was awkward, well, awkward for me; William seemed his normal self. Rather exhausted, from the day, I went to bed earlier than usual.
I forced myself to sleep and was soon visited by Mother and Father in a dream. It was a memory from my childhood only different. We had gone to the park on a Sunday and there were several friends playing in the grass. However, when I looked about for my parents, they were gone. I called out for them again and again. It was not the voice of my younger self, it was me now. I frantically searched the park, but no one was there. When I was sick with tears and frightened because I was alone, there appeared the outline of a man. He was tall and wore a wide-brimmed hat. I couldn’t see his face, but he reached out and embraced me. The stranger made me feel warm and safe, so I was able to stop crying. Then, everything went black.
7- William
I was sitting up reading, unable to sleep, when I heard it. Muffled sobs were coming from Nathaniel’s room. I walked quietly to his door and carefully pushed it open, I half expected him to shout at me for barging in. He was asleep, though he appeared restless; he had kicked his blankets to the floor. There were tears streaming down his face and he called out for his parents. It was heartbreaking.
Stepping into the room, I leaned over the bed and reached out with a hesitant hand. Another cry made up my mind and I brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. He was so lovely even like this. I chose to ignore the fact that he lay there in naught but a pair of my undershorts.
Making shushing noises, I hoped he would settle. He did eventually and I picked up his blanket and covered him back up. Satisfied that he would sleep better now, I left the room and closed the door behind me.
Once undressed and laying in my bed, my eyes lighted on my late wife’s image in a small frame. It was the last thing I saw every night and the first thing I saw in the mornings. She was beautiful with light brown hair and green eyes. The ten years she’d been gone had not faded her memory. Sure, I had tried courting since, but nothing ever worked. Hell, I got along better with my hired hands than women.
I turned and shut my eyes hoping to visit Daisy in sleep once more. Why did Nathaniel have to be so handsome? So… So bratty. My cock stirred at the memory of that spanking, and this time I didn’t resist. I reached under the covers and put a hand to myself. Remembering his slim body draped over me, responding to the punishment I gave.
I’d had to stop the whipping then, otherwise, there would be no excusing the effect on either of us. I knew what some men got up to in bath houses and back rooms of saloons; I had partaken.
Most men I found in those places were rough, rugged or married looking for something taboo. It was the act for me, not the men. Until now. None of them moved me like Nate.
I stroked myself up and down at the thought of those rosy, pink lips and that curly blonde hair. He was so small. So fine. Beautiful even. The thought of kissing that perfect mouth and divesting him of his clothes to reveal what other treasures he hid, pushed me to bursting.
Gripping myself harder and I moved my hand faster. The other hand reached down to softly squeeze my tightening sack. Unable to hold back any longer, I tensed and sighed deeply as I spent myself messily on my stomach. I reached to the floor for the kerchief I kept in the pocket of my trousers and wiped myself. Tossing it back down, my eyes fell on the framed portrait again. I smiled and drifted into a peaceful sleep, for I knew what the inscription read on the back.
-To my William,
From the moment I saw you and to eternity,
All my love, Nat-
The story continues with Farmhand - Plowed
