PEG BOY (15 page)

“My god,
Santiago, you have an unbelievable cock! It is wonderful!”

They broke
camp at sun-up. As the light gradually came to the valley, the countryside
began to sparkle with the reflected light from the dew. As the sun rose the
mist evaporated. From the top of a hill they saw the smoke of a far-away settlement.
The river flowed lazily meandering through the valley, bringing some of the
snow’s water to the rich soil. Already tiny flowers had begun to blossom at the
first signs of the approaching Spring. The river divided the valley like a
ribbon dropped by chance.

“The smoke you
see is Lathrop. We’ll be there in about three hours. If you’re lucky, my friend
will not have left yet.”

Francis Weston
was intrigued by his boy-companion who was silent and mysterious, a
contradiction of himself. Santiago had offered himself totally the previous
evening. He had been loving and sensitive, and knowledgeable of the ways of
love. Each time Francis looked at the boy he saw a pensive and sometimes-sad
expression with pain and fear in the eyes that showed through when the boy was
not aware he was being watched. Francis wanted to ask the questions he had come
close to asking, that morning. Santiago’s evasions seemed to point at something
the boy was trying to hide and Francis was not sure he wanted to know what that
was. He did not believe Santiago planned to join his father in San Francis as
he had said.

When they
reached the river’s bank they stopped to eat and rest.

“Santiago, I'm
not trying to pry when I ask you questions, but I am curious as to why you are
traveling alone. You said your father is to meet you. How could he let a son
alone in the wilderness? Tell me..., has your father deserted you?”

In a cold tone
Santiago answered in such a way that made it clear there should be no further
discussion about the issue beyond what he was about to say.

“Father was
killed by three men. A valuable possession was stolen. I knew they would kill
me too. I ran away.” He mentioned nothing about the map or nugget or of the
gold-dust hidden in his belongings.

“How did you
get away?”

“I offered sex
to one of them. I got him drunk. When he fell asleep, I left.”

“What about
your father?”

Santiago did
not want to talk about his father, avoiding the thought of the body being left
in the woods for the wild animals. He was sure the men had not buried him. He
had tried to find the body when he had returned to the site, but had been unsuccessful.
Perhaps it had already been dragged away.

“I think the
body was left in the woods. I did not find it when I looked. Perhaps they
buried him, but I do not think so.”

“Did they hurt
you?”

“One made me
do things with him. The others wanted their share of me but the big one kept me
to himself. He tore me inside. I bled but it stopped. I have healed, as you saw
last night.”

Santiago was
getting weary with the questions and he was determined to say little else.
Francis tried more probing but the boy remained secretive. Francis decided not
to pursue the inquiry, sensing Santiago’s resistance to further questioning.

The general
store in Lathrop was operated by Ramón Moraga. Santiago was pleased the man
spoke Spanish. He had come from Mexico City and although dialects were
different, they understood each other.

Moraga led
them to a small room at the rear of the store, where he lived. He prepared a
meal that they ate as Moraga and Francis talked while Santiago listened. The
two friends exchanged news. Moraga seemed about the age Don Emilio had been.
Santiago liked the man because of his easy manner and gentle smile. Even his
eyes reminded Santiago of his father’s, for they too were deep-set and the
brows were bushy as his father’s had been.

After Francis explained
who they had met, and that Santiago hoped to return to San Francisco, Moraga
informed them he had planned to leave in two days and that Santiago was welcome
to accompany him and could stay with him until them. There were chores needing
to be done and Santiago would be fed and paid a few dollars for his efforts.

Santiago did
not want to stay longer than necessary, for he feared word would reach the
town, of the killings.

“Thank you, Señor.
You are kind. But I need to get to San Francisco quickly. If you could draw me
a map or give me directions, I will be on my way tomorrow.”

Moraga admired
the boy’s independence.

“You have
pressing business there?”

“I must get
there to notify some people of my father’s death. The priest at the mission
will know what to do.”

He thought a
small lie would not hurt. He had no intention of seeing the priest or of being
returned to distant relatives. He was free and on his own, and that was what he
wanted.

“Then perhaps
I could leave sooner and accompany you,” Moraga said. “I could use your help!
Francis, for the week that I will be gone, would you tend the store?”

“I’ll stay for
as long as you wish, Ramón.”

It was decided
that they would leave in one day’s time. Santiago preferred traveling alone but
the man’s company, his protection, and his knowledge of the route were
valuable. There was an added attraction. Santiago found Moraga sensual. Francis
had mentioned that Ramón also liked boys. So he knew he would enjoy the
journey.

That night
Santiago slept the first part of the evening with Francis then he went to
Moraga’s bed and found the man fully awake.

“I have not
been able to sleep with the thought of you in the other room. I have been
praying to God that he would send you to me.”

“Love me?”

Santiago said
the words and it was both a plea and command. He clung to Ramón after they had
satisfied each other and their clasp did not loosen until Santiago awoke in the
early hours to return to Francis’s bed. The men shared the boy several times
during the night and Santiago loved being held by Ramón, who increasingly
reminded him of his father.

Moraga had a
way of lifting one eye-brow whenever he found it necessary to emphasize a
point. Santiago had seen the same mannerism in his father and he had been
fascinated by it. Each time Ramón looked at Santiago, he found him looking back
and they began to smile at each other so that soon, the smiles turned into
laughter. Santiago liked being with Ramón because of his sunny disposition and
he suspected Francis to be a little jealous.

The buckboard
was loaded with empty sacks, barrels, and boxes needed to carry the supplies to
be purchased. By noon they had climbed out of the valley and were into the
hills. Santiago learned that Ramón and Francis had been born in the same town.
The two families had moved away together to escape poverty and to seek more
opportunities for their sons. For a short time the two boys had become lovers.
They soon decided it was better to be friends, and the relationship reverted to
its old form.

Ramón asked
many questions about Santiago’s past and of his recent activities. Although
Santiago trusted Ramón more than anyone he had met until now, he still did not
feel his dark secret safe. He came close to disclosing it several times, but
each time his distrust prevailed.

They lapsed
into silence. Sitting side by side they were comfortable with the quiet and
peace of their own thoughts. Ramón saw Santiago as a boy who had not yet
achieved manhood but who was already faced with the responsibilities of it. He
could see the troubled lines in the boy’s face. There were moments when
Santiago was distracted from his thoughts by the spectacular countryside, and
at those times Ramón saw a childlike quality come into the boy that made him
seem almost happy. Soon the thoughts returned and the boy’s face would become
somber again. Like the sun behind a cloud Santiago’s radiance would be lost.

As the day
wore on the sky became overcast and the air turned cold. Santiago moved closer
to Ramón and the man held him about the waist. They saw the hills patched with
snow where sunlight had not reached. The passing clouds cast large shadows and
Santiago watched them speed from horizon to horizon, crossing the countryside
like phantoms. Whenever Moraga noticed Santiago not lost in himself he drew him
out to speak of his life in Peru. The boy spoke freely when he talked of his
parents and it was obvious that he loved and missed them deeply as evidenced by
tears. When he returned to his life in California, the boy withdrew.

Mount Diablo
guide them. It had been in the northwest when they had begun the journey. By
evening they were nearly in line and by the following evening the mountain was
behind them. Ramón thought they would be in San Francisco by the following day.

It was true
that Ramón found it difficult to keep his eyes off Santiago. The boy was too
beautiful to be ignored. But more than the feeling of wanting him physically,
Ramón found himself thinking of Santiago as a friend. The boy was sensitive to
the shift in the relationship and he was pleased with it and grew fonder of the
man for liking him for more than his body.

That evening
as they sat by the campfire they saw several other fires in the distance and
the sound of music and singing voices came on the wind. Ramón heard a melody
that he knew and joined the singing. Santiago listened, his head in Ramón’s
lap, looking at stars sprinkled like powder across a blackened dome. He
remembered having done the same with Fidel. The time seemed so long ago! He
felt years separating those times from the present, yet it had only been three
months and the memory felt like it belonged to someone else. When the music
stopped, Ramón continued singing songs that he remembered from his boyhood.
Santiago recognized some and closed his eyes to see his mother singing them.
Almost as though Ramón had read his mind the man began to play with the boy’s
hair as his mothers had once done when she had sung to him. It was some time
before Ramón noticed the tears. He said nothing about them but continued his
songs and then began a lullaby that had been his favorite. As he did so he
picked up the boy and carried him to the bedroll, covering him with kisses. He
argued with himself as to whether he should pursue his passion and decided
against it. Moraga wanted Santiago to understand that he cared for him for
other reasons than for what he had between his legs.

F
ew
had realized the dusty and flea-bitten little island of Yerba Buena would
become one of the world’s jewels. In 1835 the port was frequented by roving
seafarers, Russians, and a few traders, all a rough lot. It was the year that
the first dwelling was erected by William Richardson, the port’s first harbor
master. Not far from what would become a notorious section of the settlement was
its first saloon that served ship-captains, seamen, clerks, and other
merchants, traders, and drifters.

The year 1845
found thirty families comprising the village’s permanent population. The town
saw much fluctuation in its economy during this period. A Governor’s Decree
restricting trade with foreigners sent the whaling industry elsewhere and the
port fell into obscurity.

By the time
Sutter’s Mill became a focus of world attention, the mania of
gold fever
had swept across the globe. The town’s section bounded by Clay Street, Grant
Avenue, Broadway, and the waterfront had already developed into a nest of crime
and corruption. Town fathers targeted this corrupt area for special attention.
The true beginning of the city’s birth was January 24, 1848.

When news
arrived at the little settlement that gold had been discovered on the American
River only a few of the town’s 900 inhabitants remained behind. During the
months of June and July of that year, 250,000 dollars in gold dust was taken
out of the Sierra foothills. News traveled around the world and by New Year’s
Day of 1849 there were an estimated 6,000 miners at the diggings, and San
Francisco was an encampment of tents with a population of 2,000 excited,
fever-stricken
strangers.

Those who were
not miners were merchants interested in cashing in on the boom by charging
extraordinary prices for the shipment of goods and services. One of these
services was the catering to the miner’s leisure time. Dance halls and saloons
were everywhere. Gambling houses and opium dens were as readily accessible as
any other service. As the population grew the need for law enforcement
increased. Vices sought out their common bonds and those who partook chose a
common area in which to play. These establishments began to proliferate near
and around the waterfront and the area that would later become known as the
Barbary Coast, began as a hoodlum’s hangout called Devil’s Acre and Battle Row.
These places were blocks of buildings bounded by Kearney, Montgomery, and
Broadway Streets. Within these streets thugs roamed with clubs and knives, and
no one was safe from attack. It was to this area that Santiago Cali was drawn.

A heavy fog
made everything almost indistinguishable. The evening was filled with shadows
of movement and muffled sounds as they docked at the foot of Pacific Street,
having taken a ferry to cross the bay. Ramón Moraga had used every argument and
offered every temptation, and still Santiago refused to consider returning with
him to Lathrop. The boy had set his mind firmly. It was also obvious that
Santiago was anxious to part company in spite of how much he may have liked
Ramón, as soon as they stepped on shore and he saw the lights and heard the
dance-hall music. Moraga was able to entice Santiago to stay a while longer
with the promise of a meal. He had grown fond of the boy and knew he would miss
him. He also knew there was nothing to be done to change Santiago’s mind.

“What will you
do, Santiago?”

“First I will
get a bath!” He smelled himself below the arms and his face grimaced. They
laughed.

“There is
something I must put into safekeeping then I must see the priest to tell him
what happened.”

“But you can
not do that tonight! Please, stay with me for one night. I will probably never
see you again. It would mean a great deal to me!”

Ramón asked
with such sincerity that Santiago could not refuse. What would one more night
mean to him before he could explore the places that so fascinated him, if it
meant that it would make Ramón happy! Santiago nodded agreement. Ramón was so
pleased that he clapped his hands and this made Santiago laugh even more, to
see Moraga so child-like.

They entered a
small saloon not far from the docks. Moraga ordered meals and a tankard of ale
for each of them. As they ate Ramón noticed Santiago’s eyes fully entranced
with all that was going on. Sitting at a window that looked out into the
street, the boy was mesmerized and talked continuously. Ramón was surprised to
see him blossom so, as it was not what he had become accustomed to seeing in the
past three days. But he was happy to see that Santiago was having a wonderful
time.

When they
finished, Ramón suggested they go to the rooming house he always used when in
town.

“Ramón, could
we walk around a bit to see more, before we retire?”

“Let us get
the room first, Santiago. If we wait longer there may be no rooms left. We can
walk around later.”

The rooming house
was across from Portsmouth Square, a wooden-frame building that had been
erected after the most recent fire and it was still not completed. Santiago
carried what little luggage he owned, setting the two bags and bedding in the
corner. Ramón paid an extra charge and purchased a bath for both of them. The
owner brought several pots of boiling water and looked questioningly at the boy
when Santiago immediately stripped and plunged into the metal tub. Mr. Kaufman
had reservations about the two, as he had seen Ramón come and go with different
boys before. He suspected what was going on and did not approve. Still, the
room was paid for and one had to learn to mind one’s own business and ignore
all sorts of strange goings-on when one owned such an establishment.

They dressed
in fresh clothing and Santiago felt renewed, the way he used to feel when, as a
little boy his mother bathed him and sprinkled him with toilet water. Ramón had
such toiler water and he chased Santiago about the room splashing him. Ramón
said that he now smelled better than the other boys they would see and that
Santiago could well be their competition.

The two walked
around the Square and even at this hour of the night, activity was like that of
day. Between the hours of four and eight everything ceased for
siesta
.
The town came alive again in the evening as shop windows blazed with the light
of whale-oil lamps hung everywhere. Even in cool weather, windows were open and
occupants sat at the sills and called out to the throngs that passed.

Hawkers roamed
the streets with wares and children followed, playing possum, trying to sneak
whatever they could steal from the carts. The sounds of night drifted across
the town and mingled with the cry of gulls and the silent fog that moved in to
muffle the noises like a damp blanket.

It had rained
that afternoon and the streets were muddy. Walkers were ankle-deep in muck.
Everyone wore high boots. Walking north on Kearney, Ramón and Santiago went to
the brightest and loudest part of town, the very place Santiago and his father
had walked through less than three weeks before. This time he was with someone
who understood what went on there and Santiago felt free to look and ask
questions. He observed the boys who stayed on the outskirts of the triangle,
which was the least desirable location of those streets used by male
prostitutes. Here, the saddest and most used boys sought less-than-desirable clients.
He observed Ramón inspecting each boy as they passed. Each doorway had an
occupant. Each street corner had its own group of boys. Some seemed to be
socializing as they laughed and shoved each other like little children. But the
child-like quality of their play ended as soon as they noticed the approach of
a potential client. Boys broke from the group to exchange a few words, then
either walked away with a man or returned to wait for another.

Santiago and
Ramon were scrutinized by each boy they passed. Santiago could see that the
boys assumed he had just been picked up and he became excited at the thought of
being seen as one of them. He noticed how each boy they passed had his own way
of making himself available. He saw that some looked more like women. Some
looked too young, like school-boys out of class. There were others whose eyes
were so filled with hatred that they frightened him and he wondered how anyone
would take the risk of buying one of these boys!

Others were
beguiling young men without the hardness that the street imparts. A few looked
as if just beginning their quick-lived careers. There was a glimmer in their
eyes that made his pulse beat rapidly and he was filled with a rush of
excitement and he was both thrilled and frightened. One boy in particular
caught his eye. The lad, who was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, was dark
complexioned and probably of Indian lineage. His deep-set eyes looked
hauntingly from an almost-harsh face and his combined beauty was most sensual.
Santiago was attracted. The boy-prostitute acknowledged Santiago’s presence
with an animosity that exists only between rivals.

Ramón
suggested that they go to a club he knew. At the end of a trash-strewn alley
they came to a door. There were no signs or any other means of identification
and the door was heavily reinforced.

“I come here
whenever I am in town. You may find people here who could be helpful to you.
They are like us!”

Ramón knocked.
They were scrutinized by an eye that appeared in a small opening in the door.

“Ah, Ramón...,
come in my friend! It is good to see you again.”

They were led
past a heavy curtain that sheltered the interior from prying eyes. The club was
decorated in plush tones of red velvet with gilded candelabras. Light was
reflected by the many mirrors adorning the walls. Small tables were scattered
about and many were occupied. In a small alcove a musician sat with a guitar
playing softly as men danced with men.

Santiago was
spellbound by the place. Some men appeared feminine, with lace at their sleeves
and throat, their clothing much too dainty and fine for male attire. They were
led to a table. Santiago’s eyes adjusted to the light. They were soon joined by
a beautiful young girl who immediately warmed to Ramón.

“So, my sweet,
you’ve come back to me I hope? No, don’t tell me you’ve only come to buy
supplies. Let me believe it was for me that you have returned! When will you
take me away from all this?”

Ramón laughed
as he reached to slap her rump. “Carmine, I will take you away from all this
and bring you with me when you develop the muscles necessary to chop wood and
do the other things a frontier woman would be expected to do!”

The girl
screamed, putting both hands to her face in terror. “How could I ever do that?
Do you take me for a common woman?”

Ramón pinched
her again and this time she slapped his hand playfully, then took it and placed
it solidly at her crotch.

“This is the
only log you will ever get me to come close to, my dear.”

Carmine turned
oh her heels and sauntered off leaving Ramón laughing and nodding his head in
disbelief.

“He really is
a good person beneath all the paint!”

Santiago
stared at Ramón in disbelief.

“He...? You
mean she is not a woman?”

Ramón took
Santiago’s hand. “This may be the start of an education for you. Try not to be
too critical and allow things to happen. Be open! You will find that the world
is made up of many strange and unusual people and each has his place, just as
you do. Some are detested, but they still belong to the world.”

“What is this
place?”

Santiago
leaned closer, asking the question in a whisper, having seen none like it.
Carmine returned with drinks and set them down in front of Santiago with great
ceremony.

“Well...,” she
said in an exasperated tone. “Must I introduce myself to your beautiful boyfriend
or will you be a gentleman, Ramón?”

Ramón stood
and bowed at the waist, taking Carmine’s hand. “May I introduce Santiago Cali.
Santiago, this is Carmine. She has only one name because in San Francisco there
is only
one
Carmine.”

He passed her
hand to Santiago, who was surprised to feel a rough palm. Carmine curtsied and
flashed her eyes at him, blowing him a kiss. Santiago was at a loss for words and
so he took her hand and shook it, not knowing what else to do.

“I can see
this one has been in the hills too long. He will need coaching, Ramón!”

Carmine
returned to the bar.

“Did I do
something wrong?” Santiago asked.

“No, Santiago.
You did nothing wrong. What appears strange to you is merely an affectation
Carmine finds useful to distract his dislike for himself. Pay no attention.”

Santiago had
never seen men dancing together so intimately. Surely he had seen men dancing
with men, but this was different! These men touched and made love while they
danced. He saw them kiss and was shocked and intrigued all at once. How would
it feel to move to the melody in another man’s arms?

Ramón saw
Santiago interest in the dancing couples.

“Come, dance
with me!”

Santiago knew
he wanted to. But what would others say? What would they think?

“I will need
to be careful so that I do not step on your toes, Ramón. I am not a dancer. But
if you are willing to teach me, I will learn.”

Ramón led
Santiago onto the small dance floor and as soon as the boy was in his arms he
felt Santiago tense, obviously uncomfortable having others watching them even
when knowing that most were looking at him because they found him attractive.
The admiration could not override his discomfort. He caught a glimpse of
himself in a mirror and saw a boy with dark eyes and flowing hair, clad in tightly-fitting
pants that showed off a superbly rounded ass, clearly the most beautiful person
in the club!