Fine as Frog Hair

Russ and Trey drove into San Antonio for the Holiday Rodeo the week before Christmas. Trey was riding in the barrel races, so they arrived fairly early, which was just fine by Russ. He'd never been to a rodeo and this gave him a chance to look around, check things out. The smells hit him first. Critters and leather, grease and spices, smoke and straw. It was all there, all mixed together in a smell that should have made his nose wrinkle, but didn't. Even the perfume of hairspray and cheap eau de toilette mixed with Old Spice and Stetson wasn't bothering him. This was too cool and he wanted to see it all.

The first booth he came to was selling tack and the one beside it saddles and he found himself entranced by the leatherwork, imagining the various saddles on his Chocolate. He couldn't wait to ride her, although the whole ''breaking'' process intimidated the heck out of him and, frankly, scared him a little. He didn't like the sound of the word. His Chocolate did not need to be broken, thank you very much. Still. Riding her would be a joy.

He stopped to get himself a beer and something called a helotes, which turned out to be corn on the cob, cooked in its husk and then served with butter and something red and spicy. Man, it was good, even if it did burn the roof of his mouth off. Still, he licked his fingers clean once he was done eating, making sure to get all the flavor.

''Hey! Kid! You enjoying the local flavors?'' Marty sauntered up, beer in one hand, smoke in the other, looking all the world like someone playing dress up, in his multi-patterned shirt and starched jeans. ''Try the funnel cake. It's good.''

Russ nodded and grinned. ''I'm going to try one of everything. I just had a hello-taz, pretty good.''

''Mmm... helotes. Yum. Trey's mamma? She can sure make them up nice. Used to have them all the damned time. Is he riding today, do you know?''

''Yeah he is -- barrel racing. He's not riding a barrel though -- he'll be on Pud.'' He'd told that joke to Trey just this morning and gotten some sweet laughter for his troubles.

Marty chuckled, rolling his eyes a little. ''Yeah? Hopefully he'll come out of this time without hurting anything. Hell, maybe this time he'll win.''

''Hurting anything?'' Russ chewed on his bottom lip. ''He didn't say it was dangerous. People don't die doing this, do they?'' He didn't mean to be a worry-wart, but it hit awful close to home, what with Ginnie's funeral and all.

''Hell, no. Worse that can happen is he'll take a fall and break a wrist or an ankle. Nothing serious.'' Marty winked, dark eyes teasing. ''Those barrels don't bite back.''

He chuckled, relieved. ''Well he'd better not fall, or we might have to rope you into helping out around the ranch.''

That got him a laugh. ''Oh, right. I so don't think so, Yankee. Hard work's not what I was raised for.''

Grinning he had to ask, ''Does that mean you aren't going to help me muck out the stalls?''

''Yes indeed it does.'' Marty tilted his head. ''Hey, you got good seats?''

''You tell me.'' He held his ticket out to Marty because he didn't have a clue.

''Eh, not bad, but not as good as mine. Come on, you can watch with me and Kerr, cheer our boy on. I got good money on him.''

''Thanks. You bet on Trey? Which one's Kerr -- the redhead or the blonde with the huge...'' he paused for effect, ''Hair?''

''She's the little brunette with the Porsche and the chichis the size of New Jersey.'' Marty led him on through the gates, handing over two tickets. ''And of course I bet on him. Hell, he's the best barrel racer not gone pro 'round here.''

''Cool!'' Russ bounced on the heels of his feet. ''What's the prize for winning -- I mean for Trey, not you.''

''Couple three hundred bucks, maybe five. He'll donate it to the Horse Rescue people. He always does. Silly bastard.''

Russ smiled softly. That sounded like Trey. ''What would you do with the money?'' he asked.

''Spend it. That's what money's for.'' Marty winked and pointed to their seats. God, he never knew whether Marty was teasing or not.

He shook his head and looked around. There were a lot of people here and the arena was pretty big. He wondered if Trey ever got stage fright, so to speak. The first horse settled up between the barrels, a pretty brown horse that held a tiny blond girl, pink hat firmly seated on her head. He grinned at the pink hat. ''She's all of what? Eight?''

''Maybe twelve. This is the tail-end of the kids' competition. Our boy's about three-quarters through the show, right after Gina McIntire.''

''Gina McIntire?'' He raised his hand to catch the eye of the guy selling what turned out to be sausage rolls. He got two and passed one to Marty.

''Thanks.'' Marty unwrapped the top and started nibbling. Damn, that was suggestive, even from a straight guy. He'd have to buy Trey one. ''Gina is the one who'll beat him, if anyone does. She's damned good and she hates Trey with a passion.''

''Hates Trey?'' That seemed hard to believe, Trey was about as easy going as anyone he'd ever met.

''Yup. She has since he turned her invitation to the homecoming dance down when we were sophomores. Girl can hold a grudge.''

He laughed. Oh, that was classic. ''That's it? Just that?''

''That's enough. These girls have memories like elephants.''

''I'd think that would make batting for the other team sound more attractive,'' he teased. Marty really was the straightest man ever.

''Shit, Yankee. I've seen naked men -- knobby fucking knees, no titties, dangly bits, ugly feet -- Give me a pretty, dressed-up and powdered lady any day.'' Marty chuckled, waggled his eyebrows.

''Well there's no accounting for taste.'' He managed to keep his face serious for about ten seconds before he started to laugh.

They chatted and watched, Marty explaining what was going on, what the point system was. Every now and again Marty would introduce some girl -- the man had slept with every female in South Texas. He supposed he should be grateful Marty was straight or all the guys would be taken.

The runs through the barrel course were pretty quick, the crowd booing any time someone lost their hat. It didn't seem like any time before Trey was up, him and Pud looking fine in black leather and royal blue trimming. Russ sat up at the edge of his seat, heart just thumping, as if he were the one about to race. He'd never seen Trey and Pud race -- God, they were beautiful, quick and sleek and dark.

Trey beat Gina's time by two full seconds, both horse and rider showing off for the crowd. He clapped and hollered -- he couldn't have been prouder if he'd run the race himself. Trey did donate his winnings, just like Marty said he would, looking happy and sure as he waved.

Russ found himself having to look away and think cold thoughts. Trey sure looked sexy on that horse, all decked up. When he looked back, Trey was watching him, grinning and tipping his hat. He grinned back, nodded. Man, this was fun. It was good.

Marty nudged him with one shoulder. ''Y'all have supper at Ruth Chris' tonight, on me. A thank you for winning me a certain bet.''

''Cool. Thanks, man.'' He figured Marty could afford to drop a couple hundred on a big dinner at the most expensive steak house in town. It sounded like a good time. ''They serve champagne there?''

''They do. Watch out, though. It makes Trey giggly.''

''I'll keep that in mind.'' What maybe Marty didn't know was that lots of stuff made Trey laugh and Trey laughing? That was one of Russ' favorite things.

''Y'all have a good time. He'll be bouncing, old man loves racing. I'm going to hunt up Kerr.''

''Do you know which way to the stables?''

''Down the main stairs and keep heading left. You see that long, square red-tiled building? That's the main stable. You'll be able to find Trey there.'' Marty pointed, face covered in what Trey would call a shit-eating grin.

He shook his head -- Marty was incorrigible. Russ figured he was basically a decent guy though. ''Thanks.''

He headed off in the direction Marty had indicated, making his way slowly through the crowd. He found Trey in the middle of a bunch of people, clapping him on the back. There must have been ten dozen Stetsons bobbing and bouncing, the shine of bolo ties twinkling. He hung back a little, watching Trey in his element. The man looked good, happy.

The dark eyes were shining as they landed on him. ''Russ! Yankee! Come on and meet everyone.''

He smiled and ducked his head, headed into the group of cowboys.