We met Walt the day we were moving into our new home. We’d finally saved enough to buy a place on five wooded acres outside of the town of Salida, Colorado, up into the hills a little way off Highway 50, which eventually crosses Monarch Pass. It wasn’t a huge home, but we didn’t need huge; instead, the property had a small meadow out front, fantastic mountain views, privacy, and peace, to go along with the abundant wildlife, and was something we’d wanted to do for years.

‘We’ is my husband Richard, and me, Rayne, and finally, at age thirty-three, we’d been able to realize our dream. We were in front of our new home, a two-story, three-bedroom log and timber frame structure of 1950’s vintage, unloading our stuff when Walt drove past on the gravel road out front. Seeing the two pickup trucks and the U-Haul parked out front, he slowed and turned up the long drive.

One of the pickup trucks was mine and the other belonged to Seth, a good friend I’ve introduced in an earlier story and somewhat regular partner in threesomes with Richie and me – a favorite because he’s sexy, sweet, and strongly bisexual, like my husband. In fact, he was helping in part because he’s a great friend (who owns a pickup), in part because he’s too sweet to say no, and the rest probably because he figured we’d all wind up in the shower together after a sweaty day of work before we all ended up in the same bed.

Richie had left his Jeep at the U-Haul rental place and he and Seth were deep in the truck when Walt pulled up behind it. I was coming out the front door of the house and watched him unfold his tall, denim and chambray-clad frame from the truck seat as he pulled his cowboy hat over a thick forest of graying hair. We walked toward each other as he introduced himself and I did the same. The two guys had heard his door slam and come out of the truck, and as Walt completed his introductions I admired him.

He was probably a total hunk in his day and was still a big, rawboned, handsome, and very masculine man, and I found myself attracted to his weather-beaten, rugged good looks and his neat, close-shorn beard. His hand, when he’d shaken mine, had engulfed it like a catcher’s mitt and had been firm and callused, further testimony to his ruggedness and evidence that he’d likely never had a desk job. I had the sense that he’d had to restrain himself to avoid crushing my hand.

Despite his obvious years he still had wonderful posture and moved easily, graceful for such a big man, and he seemed to tower over Richard, who is a bit over six feet; Walt had to run six-four or five, at least, even with the cowboy boots off, and his thick arms and chest and broad shoulders made him look huge! His jeans and worn chambray shirt looked like they’d seen hard miles too, and his hat had developed the kind of character that only time, weather, and serious use can create. His bright blue eyes, undimmed by time, didn’t hurt his attractiveness at all!

He explained that he lived “just up the road” and had seen us on his way home from a grocery run to the Walmart in Salida and had dropped in to say hello and “be neighborly.”  We chatted and got acquainted, telling him about ourselves and how excited we were to be moving in, explaining that it would be Richie and I moving in and that Seth was a friend helping us move.

We found out that he had formerly owned a cattle ranch, about 2,000 acres plus another thousand or so of leased BLM land on the other side of Monarch pass near the town of Gunnison. He’d decided to sell a few years earlier and retire to enjoy his life when neither of his kids had shown any interest in maintaining the ranch and had been doing some traveling with his wife until she’d died roughly a year ago after a brief illness. He didn’t get specific, and we respected his privacy. His son and family lived in Dallas and his daughter, still single, near Atlanta, both working in the “tech industry,” which sounded like a mystery to him.

We told him a little about ourselves, and as we talked he jumped in and began to help us unload and carry things into the house. We were surprised but grateful, and I think we were all impressed with his strength, moving large, heavy items with ease. I know I was, especially given his age! He’d helped us for maybe forty-five minutes when I thought to ask if he had any cold things in his groceries.

He looked startled. “Oh shit! Uh, pardon my French, but I forgot all about that. I have ice cream and a few other things – in a cooler, of course, but I should get them home.”

I smiled at him. “Of course! I’d offer you the use of our refrigerator, but it’s only been plugged in for a few minutes so it’s not cold. Thanks for all of your help, Walt, it was wonderful to meet you.”

“You too, I look forward to having you as neighbors.” He shook hands with Richie and Seth again, but when he took mine he just held it. I looked down at his hand; it was big, with thick fingers and knobby knuckles, and the skin on the back was weathered and carried a few age spots, rough and hard where he held mine. Still, it looked powerful, like he could easily crush my hand if he chose, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. “Hey, listen, since y’all have such a mess here to deal with, why don’t you come on up to my place for dinner? I’ll throw some burgers on the grill or something… nothing fancy, but you won’t leave hungry.”

We looked at each other and agreed, thanking him for his thoughtfulness. We’d planned to drive to one of the few restaurants in Poncha Springs, the closest option, but this sounded better and was much closer. We settled on 7:00 to 7:30, allowing us time to finish unloading and get cleaned up, and got directions to his place – addresses don’t mean a lot out there.

He left, and we knocked off a little after 6:00 to get ready. Our new place has a large shower stall in the master bath, and we broke open a box or two to find towels, soap, shampoo, etcetera. Richie was the first one naked and he jumped in the shower and started the water as Seth and I finished undressing.

Richie is taller than Seth, but Seth is broader and has more bulky musculature – I’ve compared Richard to a Greyhound or Great Dane and Seth to a Bull Mastiff before, and it’s an apt analogy; Seth also has a larger, thicker cock, although my husband is well-represented in that area as well.

I reached out and seized Seth, gently stroking his flaccid length, impressed once again by how thick and heavy it always felt in my hand. “Been a while since we played…”

He nodded. “Too long. We live too fucking far apart.” It was true; he lived near Montrose, over two hours west of us, the road sometimes impassable in winter. Luckily, he passed through our area somewhat often on trips to Denver or Colorado Springs.

I could feel him beginning to harden in my hand, and he began to lightly stroke my sensitive nipples, one hand for each. Like his cock, my nipples responded positively, and I shuddered with arousal. Richie, probably beginning to feel left out, said, “Hey, you two, you’d better get in here if you want hot water – new place, no telling how long it will last.”

He had a point; we knew none of the idiosyncrasies of our new home. We joined him, my nipples erect and tingling and Seth’s majestic cock now standing straight out in front of him, still stiffening and rising. I was wet before I ever stepped beneath the shower spray, but now my exterior became just as wet.

Richie looked at us, and down at Seth’s growing erection. “Horndog! Can’t keep your hands off my wife for a damn minute, can you?”

Seth laughed and grabbed Richie by the balls. “Guilty as charged – you know me, always horny. Rayne was there, but I’d have done the same to you.” He pulled Richie to him and they kissed. I think that was the thing that still surprised me the most, them kissing; I was used to them – to all three of us – fully enjoying each other sexually, but seeing them kiss always seemed strange to me, and I don’t know why. They’re both good kissers…

Seth and Richard are also both strongly bisexual, something they’d discovered when they’d roomed together in college, and they had enjoyed a sexual relationship for the remainder of their college years. I found out about it only by accident, when Seth had let something slip the first time we’d enjoyed a threesome together. I’d been shocked to find out, but the fact that Richard had lied to me about his past and his preferences did more damage to our marriage than the bisexual aspect, which I could accept and even learn to embrace.

He’d insisted he never lied, never mentioned it at all, but I’d pointed out that a lie of omission was still a lie. He’d been sick about it, agonized and begging me to forgive him, and we’d eventually patched things up. I think the fact that I’d accepted and eventually encouraged his bisexuality had astonished him, but it was a part of who he is, and I didn’t want to change that. For his part, he’s accepted that I’m a very sexual, frequently horny slut that thoroughly enjoys having two men to play with and fuck occasionally, so it was a good bargain for both of us.

In the shower, with three wet, soapy bodies sliding around together, it didn’t take long to generate two very large, very stiff cocks. Richie becomes very rigid and upright when he’s aroused,  his cock pointing up at his chin; Seth’s somewhat longer, heavier penis points off toward the horizon but is equally hard, his thicker, more veiny shaft very impressive. I was enjoying rubbing against them, the sensuality of hard cocks, warm, wet skin, and firm muscles making me tremble with arousal. Lips sucking at my nipples and fingers exploring my pussy also played a major part, of course!

They teamed up to shampoo my hair, so I had four hands on my head and a hard cock nestled in my ass crack, another pressed to my tummy, and I was in heaven! It didn’t take long for Seth, who was behind me, to bend his knees, push his cock down, and then slide up and into me. I was very ready, but he felt HUGE, and I gasped with pleasure as he went deep, feeling every inch of him inside of me.

With Richie’s hand between my legs, he could feel Seth’s hard cock parting me and moving in and out, and he kissed me.

“Feel good, babe?”

“Oh my god! His cock feels enormous.”

He smiled and kissed me again. “Trust me, I know!”

It was true; I’d watched my husband take Seth up his ass on several occasions, so he knew exactly how big it would feel, even if he didn’t have a pussy. “Richard… please make me come.”

He knew what I meant, and began to stroke and tease my hard clit. I didn’t need Richie to make me come – Seth’s cock would do it – but it was just better this way, more sensation and my husband being a part of it. It didn’t take long until I was shuddering and cussing, in the grip of a powerful, wonderful orgasm.

As it passed, another building right behind it, Richie slid alongside me, his cock sliding on my hip as he moved around behind Seth. This allowed me to bend my head forward and let the water sluice over my hair as Seth continued to hold my hips and fuck me, and I knew exactly what my husband had in mind!

My assumption was confirmed when Seth, his lips at my ear, groaned, “Fuck yeah, give me that cock!” Both of my guys love anal sex, giving and receiving, and I knew that Richard was positioning himself to slide his soapy, slippery, hard cock into Seth. When Seth said, “Oh, fuck yes, that feels so good!” I knew that my husband was deep into our friend, who was deep inside of me.

It took a few strokes to get the timing right, nobody wanting to suffer from fallout, but when they synchronized it didn’t take me long to come again, Seth’s cock extra hard, huge, and straining due to having Richie up his ass. That’s the other thing – either of them taking the other from behind significantly hastens the orgasm of the one receiving, especially if I’m sucking him or, like now, he has his cock in me. I knew Seth wouldn’t last much longer, and he didn’t.

Seth had placed one arm around me and his other hand spread over my mound, and he pulled me back tightly against him and drove deep as I felt his cock begin to flex and pump inside of me, emptying his balls deep in my pussy. I came one more time, as I often do when I feel a cock coming in me.

Seth’s contractions during his orgasm, his tight star squeezing on my husband’s cock, set Richie off too, more quickly than he would have liked, I’m sure. He’d probably be mildly embarrassed about coming so quickly, but it had been a long time since the three of us had been together and he always finds it very arousing. He groaned as he spilled his cum in Seth’s backside, but I know he enjoyed it.

After, separated, cocks wilting and cum trickling from my pussy, we finished rinsing and shut off the water just as it began to cool. I grabbed a wet washcloth to try to wipe away the remainder of Seth’s drippings, but my husband grabbed my arm. “Don’t; I’ll get it.”

I smiled at him and kissed him. “I’d like that.”

Out of the shower, he set a towel on the top of the vanity and perched me on it before dropping to his knees between my legs. As he began to nuzzle me and clean Seth’s cum from my pussy, Seth draped a towel over me and started to dry my hair and then my back. I could get used to being the center of attention to two very handsome, horny, sexy, considerate men!

Richie eagerly lapped at my sex, sticking his tongue as far into me as he could and cleaning up Seth’s pearly-white load. He loves doing it, and I love having it done, and as it often does it made me come again. Seth watched us, lightly stroking my hard nipples as I fondled his semi-flaccid cock and squeezed his balls, slowly getting him hard, and by the time Richie had me cleaned up to his standards, he too had a newly raging erection. Licking me clean after sex almost always affects him that way.

I laughed – of course, I could because I’d come several times while they had each only managed once – and told them we didn’t have time for that now because our new neighbor and friend was expecting us. “You guys are just going to have to hold that thought because we need to get on the road. Get dressed, tuck those big cocks away for now, and let’s go!”

We did so shortly thereafter, taking Seth’s truck because he had mine blocked in. His had the added advantage of a broad front seat with an armrest that folded up so we could sit three across. Walt’s place “just up the road” turned out to be a little under two miles up our county road, another mile south on a second one, and then a right turn across a creek and a half-mile climb up Walt’s winding driveway. We parked in front of his home, a traditional log cabin of medium size with grey weathered logs and a green metal roof which was obviously new.

He hadn’t mentioned owning a dog, but a very alert and athletic red heeler came around the corner barking madly, his rapidly wagging tail at odds with his ferocious bark. When we opened our doors it turned out that his tail was the true indicator of his temperament – he was all a-wiggle with excitement and eager to make new friends. We’d left our dog, Hobo, a blue merle miniature Aussie (as everyone continues to call what are now recognized as American Shepherds) with friends in Salida until we could keep an eye on him while he got used to his new digs, something we couldn’t do while moving in. I suspected that he and Walt’s dog would get along famously.

Walt came to the door and led us through his home and out onto a stone patio out back. He didn’t have the majestic views of the 14,000-foot Collegiate Peaks that we did, but his view across the meadow and the stream below, surrounded by lesser mountains, was very beautiful. He officially introduced us to Darwin, his dog, (because Heelers are officially Australian Cattle dogs, as he explained) who turned out to be a total sweetheart that loved everyone but was utterly devoted to Walt.

A gracious host, he offered us beer or wine, or a mixed drink if we had a preference. The guys grabbed a beer, and Walt poured a glass of Merlot, which he was also drinking, for me. We talked for a while as the coals got hot, Richie remarking on Walt being “old school” and using charcoal instead of a propane grill, and once ready we had a choice of burgers or brats, and Walt got them going. Everything smelled delicious, and we’d all worked up an appetite with our moving activities… not to mention the sex!

While he tended the grill, he instructed me on where to find condiments, buns, chips, paper plates, etcetera, and asked me if I’d make a salad from the “fixins” in his fridge. I was happy to, and Seth came in to help, slicing tomatoes and onions while I put the rest together.

Everything came together just about on time, and we sat down to eat and continue our chat. The charcoal certainly did give things a nicer flavor, and the burgers were done just right.

He told us more about the ranch he’d owned, and I could hear in his voice how much he missed it, especially when he spoke of things he and his wife had done together while building it into a successful operation. It was plain that he still loved and missed her, and his ranch, and sometimes his loneliness came out in the things he said.

The new owners had been kind enough to allow him to keep two horses there, his favorite old gelding and a mare, and to come and go from the stable whenever he felt like it. They’d also promised to see to their care – along with their horses – when he couldn’t make it for any reason. They’d given him free rein to ride his old property, which he did, sometimes riding the fences as a favor to the current owners. When I mentioned that I enjoy riding, he invited me to go over to Gunnison and ride with him sometime, an offer I eagerly accepted.

Mid-meal, I rose to get the wine from inside and bring the guys fresh beers, and when I returned I saw Walt watching me. He said, “I hope nobody will take offense, but I couldn’t help but notice the wonderful things you do for a pair of blue jeans.”

I smiled and thanked him; who takes offense at such a nice compliment? The guys agreed with him, taking it gracefully as intended. I don’t have the kind of big boobs that get noticed, just small B-cup breasts, but I like that they’re firm and nicely shaped (or so I’ve been told, so not just my own opinion) and I have very responsive nipples, which do sometimes get noticed. Still, I think my best features are my butt and long legs, which I keep in shape by staying very active, so it’s nice when someone makes a positive comment!

When I’d gone in to get the drinks I’d seen a photo on the wall of Walt and a very attractive woman, both on horseback and now I asked, “The picture in there, is that you with your wife?”

He nodded, smiling, and I could almost hear the wistfulness in his voice when he said, “Yes, that’s my Maggie. She was a hell of a gal; I was so lucky to have her for all the years…” His voice trailed off, and he looked down at his plate, and I knew he was trying to hold back tears.

I tried to fill the void. “Is that her horse, the mare you said I could ride?”

It took him a moment, but he nodded and eventually cleared his throat and said, “Yes, Angel is hers. She loved that horse, and loved to ride; they were good together. I couldn’t let her go, but I’m a little big to ride her.”

Now it was my turn to well up, but I managed to say, “I’m honored that you’d let me ride her.”

He replied, “Maggie would be happy that someone was riding her, and glad to see that I’d found someone to ride with me. She’d like that.”

I said, “She was very beautiful.”

“Maggie, or Angel?”

“Walt! I meant Maggie, of course. Angel is pretty too though.

He smiled and nodded. “She was, inside and out. More than I deserved… Ah well, before things get too maudlin, tell me more about yourselves.”

He was smoothly giving himself time to recover, but we played along, telling him about our jobs, how we’d found our new home, what we planned to do around the place, and so on. As we discussed some of our planned projects, landscaping and such, he said, “I have a few pieces of equipment, stuff I kept from the ranch in case it might come in handy, in that shed out there.” He indicated a metal outbuilding that was much newer than the cabin. “Let me know if I can be of any help.”

We thanked him for his generous offer, hung around until we got a little buzzed, and thanked him for dinner before taking our leave. He seemed to enjoy having us there, and we enjoyed getting to know him. He seemed like a really good guy, but little did we know how good a friend he’d prove to be.

Richard was least buzzed, so he drove home. I put a hand on each crotch – theirs, not mine – and worked on bringing them back to their earlier glory. It didn’t take much before I had a hard cock in each hand, and when Richard pulled into our drive he sat and watched me and Seth swap spit for a while before turning off the truck.

“If you two can stop tonguing each other’s tonsils for a minute…” We did, turning to look at him. “Are we going inside to baptize our new home, or are we aiming for a truck fuck?”

We voted to go inside – and we did a thorough job of christening our new home with semen and pussy juices as we fucked half the night away in several rooms and many different combinations – but that’s a different story entirely because this one is about Walt. Besides, I already told you about Seth in my very first Lush story, which was about our first threesome, so you can go read that if you want more of him.

As for Walt, though, he became a closer friend than we ever could have anticipated. He spent a lot of time at our place, and we spent plenty at his, as well, and we all became very comfortable together. Darwin and Hobo became equally fast friends and were always excited to see each other, bouncing around us each time before taking off like a couple of streaks across the meadow to play in the woods.

For any project, we dreamed up, or any routine maintenance, Walt had ideas and equipment to make it easier. He drove his tractor down one day with a scoop bucket on the front to help us move some dirt around, reshaping the grounds around the house for better drainage, and again to help us spread some topsoil we had delivered for some planting beds.

He used it again with what he called a box grader dragged behind it to smooth our gravel driveway, filling some potholes and knocking down the ridge that formed between the wheel ruts. Chainsaw, “come-along” (which was a sort of hand-operated winch/pulley thing), generator so we could use some electric equipment out by the woods – if we needed it, he seemed to have it, and he often thought of things he could do with power equipment that we would have been stuck trying to do by hand. Our wheelbarrow and other hand tools didn’t get nearly the amount of work we’d anticipated… and dreaded!

Occasionally we’d come home from work to find him puttering around our place, finishing up something we’d started on the weekend. We felt sometimes like we were taking advantage of his good nature – and the fact that he was retired – but he claimed he needed to stay busy to be happy. Plus, that always strategically put him at our house at dinner time…

In return, we helped him with extra pairs of hands for a few things around his place, and we fed him a lot! I’m not a great cook by any means, but he said I was far better than him and he loved getting my ‘home cookin’, as he called it. I think as much as anything he loved not trying to cook for one, which is difficult, and not eating alone, which can feel very lonely. When we’d go into town to eat we would often invite him, because eating alone in a restaurant is loneliest of all – and we were growing to love the old man!

He and I made it over to Gunnison to ride his horses a couple of times, and he showed me parts of his old ranch and some of the small creeks on the BLM land. Both Angel and his horse, Huey, were gentle and ran to the pasture gate to greet him when we pulled up. That only further cemented for me his image as a kind and decent man, the fact that his animals were so devoted to him. He rode easy and tall on Huey, who was larger than Angel and easily carried Walt’s weight. His years in the saddle were apparent, and he looked very sexy in his boots, jeans, and white Stetson astride the big gelding.

He turned sixty-eight the same year we both turned thirty-four, so exactly twice our age. He said since there were two of us it worked out even and was touched that I’d made him a cake for his birthday. It was later that year that he asked if we’d keep Darwin for a few days because he’d be gone, without saying why. We were happy to, and Hobo was thrilled, but we wondered because before when he’d go away for a day or two, he always took Darwin along.

He brought Darwin over, along with his bowls and food, a bit before noon on a Monday when I was home but Richie was at work. To my surprise and eventual dismay, only then did he ask if I’d mind driving him to the hospital in Pueblo, a distance of about 120 miles, and picking him up later in the week, since they’d told him he shouldn’t drive himself home.

I agreed, of course! It was a small enough favor to ask after all he’d done for us, and my work schedule has that kind of flexibility. Trying not to be too nosy (since he hadn’t volunteered it) I asked, “Do you mind if I ask why you’re going to the hospital? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He apologized but said he’d rather not talk about it, and I respected his wishes. On the way – he had me drive his Grand Cherokee, and we took the dogs along for the ride – he was quiet. Then again, he’s often very quiet and stoic, but he seemed nervous, or possibly scared. And sad.

His mention of the hospital had me thinking the worst, of course, and part way through the trip, I put my hand over his where it rested on the edge of the console. “Walt, are you ok?”

He glanced at me, then turned his eyes forward again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for doing this.”

“Oh, Walt, of course! You know it’s no problem.”

We rode in silence for a few more miles before he quietly said, “No, I lied. I’m not ok. I have cancer.”

I felt my heart plunge to my stomach. Fucking cancer! My grandfather had died of pancreatic cancer in his sixties, so I’d seen its suffering and ugliness and the devastation of the useless treatments up close. “Oh, Walt! Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. I have to have surgery, which is why I can’t drive home.”

I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “Walt? Will you be okay, will you need radiation or anything, chemo…?”

“They don’t think so; they think we caught it in time.”

“Well, that’s good anyway, right?”

“I suppose.”

That sounded awfully defeatist, like he was giving up, which scared me. We were dear friends by now, and we both loved him, but it still didn’t feel right to pry. We probably went twenty miles without either of us saying a word, just listening to the music.

He had a classic country station on his radio, which was fine with me, and it was playing Garth Brooks’ ‘I’m Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old’ when Walt said, “That’s the fucking truth! You know, I never gave much of a shit about getting old until I lost Maggie, and now this.”

I put my hand over his and curled my fingers into his palm, and after another minute or two of silence, he said, “I have prostate cancer, Stage 2-borderline 3, they said. Fucking prostate cancer.”

“Oh, Walt! I’m so glad they found it in time.”

“I’m not so sure I am. They’re taking it out, all of it.”

“But that’s good, right? It could kill you otherwise.”

“Everyone has to die sometime.”

I’d seen the father of a friend, younger than Walt, dying of prostate cancer after it had metastasized to his bladder and bones, and he’d died an agonizing death even though heavily medicated. It had deeply affected his family. I said, “Not that way, not if you don’t have to.”

“So what do I do, spend the rest of my life pissing myself, my dick limp and useless? I won’t be able to get it up, ride my horses, or do anything… I’ll have to wear a diaper like a baby or have a fucking catheter in me, a bag... That’s no life. Christ… ”

“I don’t think it’s always that bad, is it? Did they tell you that?”

He shrugged and looked straight ahead. “They warned me it could happen, all that shit. Fuck, they said it might even make my dick smaller!”

“No… Really? How does that work?”

“I don’t know the mechanics, but that’s what they said. Fuck this shit…”

He’d never used the F-word much, so I knew he was upset, both angry and scared. “Walt, c’mon! You know they always have to warn you of all the bad things that could happen. That doesn’t mean it will. They scare the crap out of you with that stuff if they’re even going to pull a tooth or fix a bunion, for crying out loud! Blame it on the damn lawyers; I’m surprised you don’t have to sign a waiver to get a haircut.”

He chuckled at that and squeezed my hand.

I realized that his fear was not of the surgery itself, or of cancer-killing him; those he could accept. His fear was about being emasculated, about being anything less than the big, tough, independent, and very masculine man he’d always been. I wouldn’t see him that way; I don’t think anyone would, but he’d see himself that way, his sexual identity, his masculinity, in crisis, helpless for a time and diminished after.

“Well, I think you’ll be fine. So there!”

He tried to smile but just looked sad. “Well, I like your diagnosis, and you’re the prettiest doctor that I’ve had yet. Thank you again, for being here.”

“Of course. Do you need me to stay with you? I can if you need me.”

He smiled. “We brought the dogs, remember?” He was right. They’d been so quiet I’d forgotten they were back there; I couldn't stay. “No, no, you go home to Richard and take good care of the beasts, come pick me up on Thursday or Friday. I’ll let you know.” He hesitated before continuing, “I may need some help after, around the place. They said I can’t do much of diddly squat for six or eight weeks after.”

“Of course not! That’s a pretty invasive surgery, I think. You’ll need time to heal – and yes, of course, we’ll help, whatever you need.” We were entering Pueblo by then, and traffic was picking up. I had to keep my eyes on the road.

“I hate this shit.”

“I know you do. You’ll be fine, Walt; we’ll see to that.”

“You’re good friends, you and Richie. I’m glad you bought that house.”

“Us too, Walt. You’re the best feature that came with it.” When he squeezed my hand again, I asked, “Is it ok if I talk to Richard about this? I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

“No, it’s fine – you don’t keep secrets from him, you hear? Not on my account. I can’t talk to him about it, not like I can talk to you, but you can tell him.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. It’s fucking cancer, not something you did.”

“I suppose. I mean, I know that. You’re just easier to talk to.”

“I’m glad you did. You call us, or have a nurse call us after your surgery, ok?”

He nodded, and we rode in silence until I found the hospital and followed the signs to patient check-in. When I stopped under the portico and we got out, he opened the tailgate and gave each of the dogs some love before grabbing his small bag. After he set it down and closed the tailgate he turned, and I hugged him. He hugged me back tightly, crushing me to him in a way he’d never done before, and then turned and walked away.

I watched him walk slowly to the door, his broad shoulders and straight back unbent despite the weight of this frightening change to his life bearing down on him. He was a big, strong man, yet I had the urge to just hold him and tell him things would be ok. I didn’t have the sense that he was afraid of the operation or that he’d die during surgery, but that maybe he was terrified he wouldn’t, and would have to deal with the after-effects, feeling like less than what he was.

I swallowed, wiped my eyes, got back in Walt’s Jeep, and headed for home.