Then they went to their room, the gear puffing up dust as they dropped it.
“Oh,” Balta groaned, staring at the bed with longing. “We should shower first, huh? I’ll never get up if I sit.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure he was going to make it. “Go ahead. I’ll sit and wait.”
“Oh,doce.” Balta caught him before he sat down. “Wait. Come on.”
Gentle hands stripped off his clothes and boots, Balta clucking over Joa’s bruises. He brushed off the concern, but truly, it felt good, to be cared for. They made it to the shower, Balta all but holding him up, hands moving on his skin. Balta washed him carefully, getting blood off his scrapes.
“Baltazar.” He kissed Balta’s jaw in thanks.
“Mm-hmm. You’re all bruised, Joa.” Those hard hands were gentle on his leg, where the bull had hit him in the chute. “I will have to get you some ice.”
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Balta smiled up at him. “You care for me so well.”
He felt the heat in his cheeks. “You are…Balta,sim?”
“I am. But I am your Balta.” Balta stood, rinsing him off under the flow of the water, grabbing a towel once they were done. There was always one hand touching him, helping him.
He headed for the bed, stopping only to turn the air conditioning down. Balta lowered him to the bed, set the alarm for in the morning, and plugged their cell phones in. Then Balta slid into bed and snuggled with him.
“Will Coke be okay?” He knew that Balta didn’t know any more than he did, but, still, he asked.
“He will. Coke is a tough old bird, huh? That’s what they say, I think.”
“Sim, sim. That’s it.”
A tough bird, like Balta.
The old ones were cowboys down to the bone. They would always survive.
Please,Deus. Please. Let them always survive.
