Lee Masters, a handsome young cowboy, is fired from his cattle drive when his sexual orientation is discovered. Frustrated and angry, he rides to a mountain lake where he meets a Dakota native named Tatanka, who is also exiled from his tribe for refusing to adhere to tribal custom for braves who prefer men to women. They strike up a friendship, which readily turns to love. Their family is completed when a young Indian, Sleeps With Dogs, insists they take him with them on their search for a home.
Their quest to find acceptance in either the white man's world or the native population is a difficult journey. Can two men who love each other find a place in the harsh reality of the western wilderness, or will they always be walking in two worlds?
“Ho, Ranger, This looks as gooda spot as any.”
Lee Masters reined his gray gelding to a halt on the banks of a small, mountain lake and looked around. The waters were blue and inviting. The clearing at the edge of the lake was lush with grass, protected to the north by pines and cottonwoods.
“Yep, this’ll do.”
Lee stretched atop his mount to take the kinks out of his back. It had been a long ride and a long night. He had left the high pasture camp ... actually forced to leave by the foreman the previous day at noon. Embarrassed and frustrated, he had ridden all day and all night. Now, he and his horse were bushed. As he sat there surveying the lake and the land, he wondered how he had gotten himself into this mess. It had to be the whiskey. If only he hadn’t gotten drunk. Then he wouldn't have gotten into it with that kid someplace where they'd get caught. Well, he wasn’t really a kid: just a young hot and horny cowpoke like himself.
Lee shrugged his broad shoulders and dismounted, stretched once more and began to unsaddle Ranger. He swung the hefty work saddle to the ground, after extracting the hobbles from the saddlebags and his rifle from the gunsleeve. He removed Ranger’s bridle, hobbled him and let him free to drink deeply from the clear, blue waters and wander off to graze on the lush grass.
The cowboy then unstrapped the bedroll from the saddle and rolled it out on the sandy beach. He stood looking at the saddlebags with his hands on his slender hips. Other than a shirt for wearin’ on Sunday, a bar of soap and cans of beans, they were empty.
Well, might as well wash these, he thought, referring to the clothes on his back. No one here to object to my body being out for inspection now.
Despite his bravado, Lee was still unsettled by having been discovered with the kid and having his sexual proclivities exposed to his cowpoke buddies.
He got undressed, laid his clothes on the edge of the lake, put his six shooter under his saddle with the rifle, grabbed his bar of lye soap and waded into the water. It was cold, as mountain lakes are. Despite the hot afternoon sun, he had goose flesh from his head to his toes.
Hearing a noise he turned and looked back to the shore. Standing not ten feet away was an Indian. He was at least six feet tall, slender but extremely well muscled. His prominent brown nipples stood in high relief to his well developed chest. As hairy as Lee was, this man was his antithesis, smooth with not a single strain of hair visible on his beautiful body, except for the thick, black braids that hung over his shoulders and onto his chest.
