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monaboyd Apr. 1st, 2006 09:05 am)
sassywitch.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Apr. 1st, 2006 09:05 am)Title: Western Lovers: Cowboys and Archeaologists
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sassywitch
Pairing: BB/DM with a smattering of VM/LT and DW/OB
Rating: NC-17, to be on the safe side.
Summary: Billy is a man to be reckoned with. Can Dom heal his wounded soul and his own in the bargain? Could Billy make him forget the bitter lessons of the past?
Feedback: Feedback is my writers crack, which is not to be confused at all with plumbers crack.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. These men whilst adorable and perfectly happy to slash themselves, their actual relationship is something that they only know. This story is adapted from a series of books that I adored when I was younger written by Elizabeth Lowell.
Word Count: 2,600
A/N: A huge thank you todylan_dufresne for the inspiration, the prodding and the beta. My grammar sucks so she had to suffer it so nobody else would. Chapters will be posted on Saturday's and Wednesday's, whilst it's not completely finished yet 27 of the 28 chapters are done.
Dominic Monaghan drove into the Double L's dusty ranch yard, and after pulling into the shade of a large spreading tree, he shut off his ancient car's engine. The first thing he saw was a cowboy that seemed to his own diminutive size, as big as a barn door, standing on the front porch. Unconsciously, his hands clenched on the wheel, betraying his instant unease in the presence of men in general, and bigger, well built men in particular.
The ranch house's front door opened and closed with a loud bang. When another equally work hardened man in boots and jeans came out of the house and began walking toward towards Dominic, carrying a geologist's hammer, his heart began to beat a frantic tattoo in his chest. Over toward the corral, a third cowboy was climbing onto a horse. The man was so big he made the horse look like a kids pony.
My God, Dominic thought, don't they have any average size men out here? Crowding that thought came another. I can't spend a summer close to these men! But then, I won't have to. I'll be at the Arwen Canyon site.
Someone called out from the house and Dom recognized Liv's voice, letting out a soundless sigh of relief as the first big man turned immediately and went back inside at the sound of his name. Viggo Mortensen, Liv's husband.
As a bit of Dom's uneasiness faded, he recognized the second man. Sean Bean, Liv's half brother. He was coming towards Dom, slipping the hammer into a loop on his leather belt as he walked. Hastily, Dom got out of his car, as he had learned in the past few years not to show his distrust of men, especially bigger men, yet he still couldn't force himself to be close to any man in a confined space, particularly a car. His only defense, meet them on equal ground, or if not truly equal, at least not confined and able to escape if the necessity arose.
Before Sean got to Dom, another call from the house stopped him. He waved to Dom, said something he couldn't understand, and went back into the ranch house.
A sudden burst of activity outside the corral caught Dom's attention. A horse had its head down between its' forelegs, its back steeply arched, and it's body was uncoiling like a released spring. A few spectacular bucks later, the horse's beefy rider lost his grip on the saddle. Flying inelegantly through the air, he hit the ground, rolled to his hands and knees, and came up onto his feet with a lunge. He grabbed the bridle close to the bit and began beating the horse with a heavy quirt. The horse whinnied in terror, and tried to escape, but was helpless against the cruel grip on the bridle.
Without stopping to think, Dom started toward the terrified horse, yelling at the man to stop. Before he had taken three steps, a man in a light green shirt, he hadn’t noticed before, vaulted the corral fence and landed like a cat, running lithely toward the brutal cowboy, gaining speed with every stride. The running man was smaller and unarmed, hardly a fair match against the huge, beefy man wielding a whip.
Behind Dom, the ranch house door slammed and more men came running. Another man, stocky and aging, with grey thinning hair ran out of the barn, saw what was happening and yelled, "Careful, Ramrod! Serkis' quirt has lead shot in it!"
Serkis wheeled to face Billy Boyd, the Double L's ramrod. Serkis flipped the quirt over in his hand, wielding the thick leather stock as a club rather than using the whip end against Billy. When his thick arm lifted, Dom screamed out, and men shouted. Only Billy was silent. He closed the last few feet between himself and Serkis as the lead weighted quirt came smashing down.
Billy didn't flail with his fists or duck away from the blow. The edge of his left hand connected with Serkis' wrist, and the quirt went spinning up and away, flying end over end through the air. Simultaneously, the Ramrod's right fist delivered a short chopping blow to Serkis' heart. Billy pivoted, slammed an elbow into Serkis' diapraghm and sent another chopping blow to his neck as the bigger man bent over, folding up, all fight gone. Before the quirt even hit the ground, Serkis was stretched out full length, facedown in the dirt, unmoving.
Torn between disbelief and shock, Dom came to a stop staring at the Double L's Ramrod. He shook her head trying to understand how a man who was more than six inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter than his adversary had begun and ended a fight before the bigger man could land a blow. As though at a distance, he heard Viggo and Sean go by him, moving more slowly now.
"Nice work, Billy," Viggo said.
"Amen," said Sean. Then to Viggo, "Remind me never to pick a fight with your Ramrod. Somebody sure taught him how to play hardball."
Billy said nothing, for he was far more interested in calming the frightened horse than in talking about the brief fight.
"Easy girl. Easy now. No-one's going to hurt you. Easy….Easy."
As Billy spoke, he approached the sweating, trembling mare. When he saw streaks of blood mixed with the horses lather, he swore, but the soothing tone of his lilting, Scottish brogue never changed, despite the scalding nature of his words. Slowly, he closed his hands around the reins and began checking over the mare.
As Billy's hands began to move over the animal, she began to calm down, and not once did the Ramrod look toward the motionless Serkis. Billy knew precisely how much damage he had done to the brutal cowboy; what Billy wanted to know was how badly the horse had been hurt.
Sean sat on his heels next to Serkis and checked for visible injuries, quickly discovering there was nothing obvious. After a few moments, Sean stood and said, "Out cold, but still breathing."
Viggo grunted. "Any permanent damage?"
"Not that I can see."
"He won't be swinging a quirt for a while," Billy said without looking up from the mare. "Not with his right hand anyway. I broke his wrist."
"Too bad it wasn't his neck," Viggo said. "You warned him last week about beating a horse." Viggo turned to Bernard, who had yelled the warning about the quirt to Billy.
"Bring the truck around. You're on garbage detail tonight."
"Where to?" asked Bernard.
"Helm's Deep."
"Forty miles out and forty miles back, damn near all on dirt roads," Bernard grumbled. "In the old days, we'd have dumped his carcass on the ranch boundary and let him walk to town."
"Not on the Double L." Viggo said, stretching lazily. "My great granddaddy once killed a man for beating a horse."
Slowly, Dom retreated, walking backwards for a few steps before turning and moving quickly towards his car. Though he was a student of human history – Anasazi history, to be precise – he wasn't accustomed to having history lessons served to him raw. He didn't like having it pointed out that the veneer of civilization was quite thin, even in modern times, and it was especially thin in big, rugged men.
I shouldn't be shocked. I know better than most people what men are like underneath their shirts and ties, shaving lotions and smiles. Savages and Outlaws. All of them. Outlaws who use their strength against those who are weaker.
A vivid picture came to Dom's mind – the man called Billy coming over the fence, attacking the bigger cowboy, reducing the larger man to unconsciousness with a few violent blows. He shuddered.
"Dom? What happened?"
He looked up and saw Liv standing on the front porch, cradling a tiny baby in her arms.
"One of the men was beating on a horse." Dom said.
"Serkis." Liv's mouth flattened from its usual generous curve. "Billy warned him."
"He did more than that. He beat him unconscious."
"Billy? That doesn't sound like him. I've never seen him lose his temper."
"Is he your Ramrod?"
Liv nodded. "Yes, he's the Double L's foreman."
"Green shirt, ginger hair, small?"
"Small?" She asked, surprised. "I don't think of Billy as small."
"He's a lot smaller than Serkis."
"Oh I guess so." Liv nodded. "Is he alright?"
"His wrist is broken."
"Billy's hurt? Oh my God, I've got to-"
"Not Billy," Dom interrupted quickly. "Serkis is the one with the broken wrist."
"Oh." Relief changed Liv's face from strained to pretty. "Then Billy will take care of it. He's had medic training." She looked closely at Dom. "You're pale. Are you alright?"
Dom closed his eyes. "I'm fine. It was a long drive out and the road was rough. Now I know why. I was going back in time as well as miles."
Laughing and shaking her head, Liv shifted the sleeping baby and held out her hand to Dom. "Come in and have some coffee. French roast, Columbian beans, with just enough Java beans blended in to give the coffee finesse as well as strength. Or we've got some of that God awful tea you like so much."
Dom's eyelids snapped open. The smoky blue of his eyes were vivid against his still pale face. "I'm hallucinating. They didn't have French roast in the old west did they?"
"I don't know, but this isn't the old west."
"You could have fooled me," Dom said, thinking about the outlaws and brawls, and a man with the lethal speed of a cat. But despite his thoughts, he allowed Liv to lead him across the porch and into the cool ranch house. "Your Ramrod would have made one hell of an outlaw."
"In the old days, a lot of good men were outlaws. They had no choice. There wasn't any law to be inside of." Liv laughed at the expression on Dom's face. "But don't worry the bad old days are gone. Look in our side yard. There's a satellite dish sucking up all kinds of exotic signals from space. We have television, a VCR, radios, CD players, personal computers, a dishwasher, microwave, washer and dryer. The whole tortilla."
"And cowboys swinging quirts full of lead shot," Dom muttered.
"Is that what Serkis did?"
Dom nodded.
"My God. No wonder Billy lost his temper."
"What temper? He looked about as angry as a man chopping wood."
Liv shook her head unhappily. "Poor Billy. He's had a tough time Ramrodding this crew in the past year."
"'Poor Billy' looked like he could handle it," Dom said beneath his breath.
"The ranch is so remote it's hard to get good men to stay. I don't know how we'd manage without Billy. And now that we've found museum quality Anasazi artifacts in Arwen Canyon, the pothunters are descending in hordes. Someone has to stay at the site all the time. Sean has been doing it but he has to leave tomorrow for the Andes. We're going to be more short handed than ever."
"The Andes, huh? Great. Everybody deserves a vacation," Dom said, cheered by the thought that there would be one less big man on the ranch.
"Sean isn't exactly going on a vacation. One of his colleagues thinks there's a mother lode back up on the flanks of one those nameless granite peaks. That's the one thing Sean can't resist."
"Nameless peaks?"
"Hard rock and gold. Billy calls Sean 'The Granite Man' but swears it's because of Sean's hard head, not his love of hard rock mining."
Liv tucked the baby into an old-fashioned cradle that was next to the kitchen table. The baby stirred, opened sleepy grey eyes, and slid back into sleep once more as Liv slowly rocked the cradle.
"How's the little man doing?" Dom asked softly bending over the baby until his short blonde-streaked hair, blended with the honey finish of the cradle.
"Growing like a weed in the sun. Milo's going to be at least as big as his daddy."
Dom looked at the soft cheeked, six week old baby, and tried to imagine it fully grown, as big as Viggo, beard stubbled and powerful. "You'd better start domesticating this little outlaw soon or you'll never have the chance."
Liv laughed in the instant before she realized that Dom was serious. She looked at her friend for a moment, remembering the class she had taken from Dr. Dominic Monaghan, artist and archeologist, a man who was reputedly gentle natured, a good man who closed himself away from everything but his studies and his students. At the time, Liv had dismissed the comments as gossip as they had become firm friends, but now she wasn't so sure.
"You make it sound like I'll need a whip and a chair," Liv said.
"Those are customary tools for dealing with wild animals, and men are definitely in that category."
"Not all men are like Serkis."
Dom made a sound that could have been agreement or disbelief as he began stroking the baby's cheek with a gentle fingertip, careful not to awaken him. He admired the perfect, tiny eyelashes, the snub nose, the flushed lips, the miniature fingers curled in relaxation on the pale cradle blanket. Gradually, he noticed more of the cradle itself, how the grain of the wood had been perfectly matched to the curves of the cradle, how the pieces had been fitted together without nails, how the wood itself had been polished to a gentle satin luster.
"What a beautiful cradle," Dom said softly running his fingertips over the wood. "It's a work of art, where did you get it?"
"Viggo made it. He has wonderful hands, strong and gentle."
Dom looked at the cradle once more and the tiny baby lying securely within. He tried not to think how much he would have liked a child of his own. Years ago, Dom had abandoned the thought of a long term relationship with anyone, but the thought of being a father one day still haunted him.
"If Viggo is gentle with you and little Milo," Dom said quietly, touching the pale blanket with his fingertips. "You're a lucky woman and you have one man in a million."
Before Liv could say anything more, Dom stood and turned away from the cradle, blinking back sharp tears.
"I think I'll take a rain check on that coffee. I want to get my stuff unloaded before dinner."
"Of course. We're putting you in the old ranch house, where all the artifacts from the site are being kept. Just follow the road out beyond the barn. When the road forks, go to the right. The old house is only about a hundred yards from the barn. Dinner is at six. Don't bother to knock. Just come in the back way. The dining room is just off the kitchen and both rooms have outside doors. We all eat together during the week. Sundays the hands fend for themselves. You'll eat with us."
Dom looked at the long, narrow room just off the kitchen. Two rectangular tables pushed together all but filled the room. He tried to imagine what it would be like to eat surrounded by big, male bodies. The thought was daunting. Dom took a slow breath, told himself that he would be spending nearly all of his time at the site in Arwen Canyon, and turned back to Liv.
"Thanks," Dom said. "I'll be back at six, whip in one hand, chair in the other."
Chapter 2
Author:
sassywitch Pairing: BB/DM with a smattering of VM/LT and DW/OB
Rating: NC-17, to be on the safe side.
Summary: Billy is a man to be reckoned with. Can Dom heal his wounded soul and his own in the bargain? Could Billy make him forget the bitter lessons of the past?
Feedback: Feedback is my writers crack, which is not to be confused at all with plumbers crack.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. These men whilst adorable and perfectly happy to slash themselves, their actual relationship is something that they only know. This story is adapted from a series of books that I adored when I was younger written by Elizabeth Lowell.
Word Count: 2,600
A/N: A huge thank you to
dylan_dufresne for the inspiration, the prodding and the beta. My grammar sucks so she had to suffer it so nobody else would. Chapters will be posted on Saturday's and Wednesday's, whilst it's not completely finished yet 27 of the 28 chapters are done.Dominic Monaghan drove into the Double L's dusty ranch yard, and after pulling into the shade of a large spreading tree, he shut off his ancient car's engine. The first thing he saw was a cowboy that seemed to his own diminutive size, as big as a barn door, standing on the front porch. Unconsciously, his hands clenched on the wheel, betraying his instant unease in the presence of men in general, and bigger, well built men in particular.
The ranch house's front door opened and closed with a loud bang. When another equally work hardened man in boots and jeans came out of the house and began walking toward towards Dominic, carrying a geologist's hammer, his heart began to beat a frantic tattoo in his chest. Over toward the corral, a third cowboy was climbing onto a horse. The man was so big he made the horse look like a kids pony.
My God, Dominic thought, don't they have any average size men out here? Crowding that thought came another. I can't spend a summer close to these men! But then, I won't have to. I'll be at the Arwen Canyon site.
Someone called out from the house and Dom recognized Liv's voice, letting out a soundless sigh of relief as the first big man turned immediately and went back inside at the sound of his name. Viggo Mortensen, Liv's husband.
As a bit of Dom's uneasiness faded, he recognized the second man. Sean Bean, Liv's half brother. He was coming towards Dom, slipping the hammer into a loop on his leather belt as he walked. Hastily, Dom got out of his car, as he had learned in the past few years not to show his distrust of men, especially bigger men, yet he still couldn't force himself to be close to any man in a confined space, particularly a car. His only defense, meet them on equal ground, or if not truly equal, at least not confined and able to escape if the necessity arose.
Before Sean got to Dom, another call from the house stopped him. He waved to Dom, said something he couldn't understand, and went back into the ranch house.
A sudden burst of activity outside the corral caught Dom's attention. A horse had its head down between its' forelegs, its back steeply arched, and it's body was uncoiling like a released spring. A few spectacular bucks later, the horse's beefy rider lost his grip on the saddle. Flying inelegantly through the air, he hit the ground, rolled to his hands and knees, and came up onto his feet with a lunge. He grabbed the bridle close to the bit and began beating the horse with a heavy quirt. The horse whinnied in terror, and tried to escape, but was helpless against the cruel grip on the bridle.
Without stopping to think, Dom started toward the terrified horse, yelling at the man to stop. Before he had taken three steps, a man in a light green shirt, he hadn’t noticed before, vaulted the corral fence and landed like a cat, running lithely toward the brutal cowboy, gaining speed with every stride. The running man was smaller and unarmed, hardly a fair match against the huge, beefy man wielding a whip.
Behind Dom, the ranch house door slammed and more men came running. Another man, stocky and aging, with grey thinning hair ran out of the barn, saw what was happening and yelled, "Careful, Ramrod! Serkis' quirt has lead shot in it!"
Serkis wheeled to face Billy Boyd, the Double L's ramrod. Serkis flipped the quirt over in his hand, wielding the thick leather stock as a club rather than using the whip end against Billy. When his thick arm lifted, Dom screamed out, and men shouted. Only Billy was silent. He closed the last few feet between himself and Serkis as the lead weighted quirt came smashing down.
Billy didn't flail with his fists or duck away from the blow. The edge of his left hand connected with Serkis' wrist, and the quirt went spinning up and away, flying end over end through the air. Simultaneously, the Ramrod's right fist delivered a short chopping blow to Serkis' heart. Billy pivoted, slammed an elbow into Serkis' diapraghm and sent another chopping blow to his neck as the bigger man bent over, folding up, all fight gone. Before the quirt even hit the ground, Serkis was stretched out full length, facedown in the dirt, unmoving.
Torn between disbelief and shock, Dom came to a stop staring at the Double L's Ramrod. He shook her head trying to understand how a man who was more than six inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter than his adversary had begun and ended a fight before the bigger man could land a blow. As though at a distance, he heard Viggo and Sean go by him, moving more slowly now.
"Nice work, Billy," Viggo said.
"Amen," said Sean. Then to Viggo, "Remind me never to pick a fight with your Ramrod. Somebody sure taught him how to play hardball."
Billy said nothing, for he was far more interested in calming the frightened horse than in talking about the brief fight.
"Easy girl. Easy now. No-one's going to hurt you. Easy….Easy."
As Billy spoke, he approached the sweating, trembling mare. When he saw streaks of blood mixed with the horses lather, he swore, but the soothing tone of his lilting, Scottish brogue never changed, despite the scalding nature of his words. Slowly, he closed his hands around the reins and began checking over the mare.
As Billy's hands began to move over the animal, she began to calm down, and not once did the Ramrod look toward the motionless Serkis. Billy knew precisely how much damage he had done to the brutal cowboy; what Billy wanted to know was how badly the horse had been hurt.
Sean sat on his heels next to Serkis and checked for visible injuries, quickly discovering there was nothing obvious. After a few moments, Sean stood and said, "Out cold, but still breathing."
Viggo grunted. "Any permanent damage?"
"Not that I can see."
"He won't be swinging a quirt for a while," Billy said without looking up from the mare. "Not with his right hand anyway. I broke his wrist."
"Too bad it wasn't his neck," Viggo said. "You warned him last week about beating a horse." Viggo turned to Bernard, who had yelled the warning about the quirt to Billy.
"Bring the truck around. You're on garbage detail tonight."
"Where to?" asked Bernard.
"Helm's Deep."
"Forty miles out and forty miles back, damn near all on dirt roads," Bernard grumbled. "In the old days, we'd have dumped his carcass on the ranch boundary and let him walk to town."
"Not on the Double L." Viggo said, stretching lazily. "My great granddaddy once killed a man for beating a horse."
Slowly, Dom retreated, walking backwards for a few steps before turning and moving quickly towards his car. Though he was a student of human history – Anasazi history, to be precise – he wasn't accustomed to having history lessons served to him raw. He didn't like having it pointed out that the veneer of civilization was quite thin, even in modern times, and it was especially thin in big, rugged men.
I shouldn't be shocked. I know better than most people what men are like underneath their shirts and ties, shaving lotions and smiles. Savages and Outlaws. All of them. Outlaws who use their strength against those who are weaker.
A vivid picture came to Dom's mind – the man called Billy coming over the fence, attacking the bigger cowboy, reducing the larger man to unconsciousness with a few violent blows. He shuddered.
"Dom? What happened?"
He looked up and saw Liv standing on the front porch, cradling a tiny baby in her arms.
"One of the men was beating on a horse." Dom said.
"Serkis." Liv's mouth flattened from its usual generous curve. "Billy warned him."
"He did more than that. He beat him unconscious."
"Billy? That doesn't sound like him. I've never seen him lose his temper."
"Is he your Ramrod?"
Liv nodded. "Yes, he's the Double L's foreman."
"Green shirt, ginger hair, small?"
"Small?" She asked, surprised. "I don't think of Billy as small."
"He's a lot smaller than Serkis."
"Oh I guess so." Liv nodded. "Is he alright?"
"His wrist is broken."
"Billy's hurt? Oh my God, I've got to-"
"Not Billy," Dom interrupted quickly. "Serkis is the one with the broken wrist."
"Oh." Relief changed Liv's face from strained to pretty. "Then Billy will take care of it. He's had medic training." She looked closely at Dom. "You're pale. Are you alright?"
Dom closed his eyes. "I'm fine. It was a long drive out and the road was rough. Now I know why. I was going back in time as well as miles."
Laughing and shaking her head, Liv shifted the sleeping baby and held out her hand to Dom. "Come in and have some coffee. French roast, Columbian beans, with just enough Java beans blended in to give the coffee finesse as well as strength. Or we've got some of that God awful tea you like so much."
Dom's eyelids snapped open. The smoky blue of his eyes were vivid against his still pale face. "I'm hallucinating. They didn't have French roast in the old west did they?"
"I don't know, but this isn't the old west."
"You could have fooled me," Dom said, thinking about the outlaws and brawls, and a man with the lethal speed of a cat. But despite his thoughts, he allowed Liv to lead him across the porch and into the cool ranch house. "Your Ramrod would have made one hell of an outlaw."
"In the old days, a lot of good men were outlaws. They had no choice. There wasn't any law to be inside of." Liv laughed at the expression on Dom's face. "But don't worry the bad old days are gone. Look in our side yard. There's a satellite dish sucking up all kinds of exotic signals from space. We have television, a VCR, radios, CD players, personal computers, a dishwasher, microwave, washer and dryer. The whole tortilla."
"And cowboys swinging quirts full of lead shot," Dom muttered.
"Is that what Serkis did?"
Dom nodded.
"My God. No wonder Billy lost his temper."
"What temper? He looked about as angry as a man chopping wood."
Liv shook her head unhappily. "Poor Billy. He's had a tough time Ramrodding this crew in the past year."
"'Poor Billy' looked like he could handle it," Dom said beneath his breath.
"The ranch is so remote it's hard to get good men to stay. I don't know how we'd manage without Billy. And now that we've found museum quality Anasazi artifacts in Arwen Canyon, the pothunters are descending in hordes. Someone has to stay at the site all the time. Sean has been doing it but he has to leave tomorrow for the Andes. We're going to be more short handed than ever."
"The Andes, huh? Great. Everybody deserves a vacation," Dom said, cheered by the thought that there would be one less big man on the ranch.
"Sean isn't exactly going on a vacation. One of his colleagues thinks there's a mother lode back up on the flanks of one those nameless granite peaks. That's the one thing Sean can't resist."
"Nameless peaks?"
"Hard rock and gold. Billy calls Sean 'The Granite Man' but swears it's because of Sean's hard head, not his love of hard rock mining."
Liv tucked the baby into an old-fashioned cradle that was next to the kitchen table. The baby stirred, opened sleepy grey eyes, and slid back into sleep once more as Liv slowly rocked the cradle.
"How's the little man doing?" Dom asked softly bending over the baby until his short blonde-streaked hair, blended with the honey finish of the cradle.
"Growing like a weed in the sun. Milo's going to be at least as big as his daddy."
Dom looked at the soft cheeked, six week old baby, and tried to imagine it fully grown, as big as Viggo, beard stubbled and powerful. "You'd better start domesticating this little outlaw soon or you'll never have the chance."
Liv laughed in the instant before she realized that Dom was serious. She looked at her friend for a moment, remembering the class she had taken from Dr. Dominic Monaghan, artist and archeologist, a man who was reputedly gentle natured, a good man who closed himself away from everything but his studies and his students. At the time, Liv had dismissed the comments as gossip as they had become firm friends, but now she wasn't so sure.
"You make it sound like I'll need a whip and a chair," Liv said.
"Those are customary tools for dealing with wild animals, and men are definitely in that category."
"Not all men are like Serkis."
Dom made a sound that could have been agreement or disbelief as he began stroking the baby's cheek with a gentle fingertip, careful not to awaken him. He admired the perfect, tiny eyelashes, the snub nose, the flushed lips, the miniature fingers curled in relaxation on the pale cradle blanket. Gradually, he noticed more of the cradle itself, how the grain of the wood had been perfectly matched to the curves of the cradle, how the pieces had been fitted together without nails, how the wood itself had been polished to a gentle satin luster.
"What a beautiful cradle," Dom said softly running his fingertips over the wood. "It's a work of art, where did you get it?"
"Viggo made it. He has wonderful hands, strong and gentle."
Dom looked at the cradle once more and the tiny baby lying securely within. He tried not to think how much he would have liked a child of his own. Years ago, Dom had abandoned the thought of a long term relationship with anyone, but the thought of being a father one day still haunted him.
"If Viggo is gentle with you and little Milo," Dom said quietly, touching the pale blanket with his fingertips. "You're a lucky woman and you have one man in a million."
Before Liv could say anything more, Dom stood and turned away from the cradle, blinking back sharp tears.
"I think I'll take a rain check on that coffee. I want to get my stuff unloaded before dinner."
"Of course. We're putting you in the old ranch house, where all the artifacts from the site are being kept. Just follow the road out beyond the barn. When the road forks, go to the right. The old house is only about a hundred yards from the barn. Dinner is at six. Don't bother to knock. Just come in the back way. The dining room is just off the kitchen and both rooms have outside doors. We all eat together during the week. Sundays the hands fend for themselves. You'll eat with us."
Dom looked at the long, narrow room just off the kitchen. Two rectangular tables pushed together all but filled the room. He tried to imagine what it would be like to eat surrounded by big, male bodies. The thought was daunting. Dom took a slow breath, told himself that he would be spending nearly all of his time at the site in Arwen Canyon, and turned back to Liv.
"Thanks," Dom said. "I'll be back at six, whip in one hand, chair in the other."
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very strong beginning. i'm curious why they don't just fire Andy, if he's mean to the horses. is there a reason why they keep him on?
and it's going to be interesting finding out just how Dom learned to be so afraid of being in close quarters with larger, more powerful men.
i'm looking forward to the next step!
kerry =)
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Dom's story is very sad but he plays his cards pretty close to his chest, so it'll be a while before you learn his full sad past. Billy's isn't much happier but he has dealt with it in a completely different way.
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Reaaly looking forward to read all of this!
-Lorelai
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