Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 22:51:31 -0700 (PDT) From: Roddy Schmidt Subject: Bradley's Blizzard Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. The story contains graphic descriptions of sex between persons of the same gender. Anyone who is forbidden by law to read such material must stop now. This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive solely for the enjoyment of its readers. No part of this story may be reproduced, cut, pasted, or otherwise transmitted or distributed without my expressed written permission. Copyright application has been filed. Brad's Blizzard Bradley It started out as a crappy day. First I was late getting away from school. I had planned to leave promptly after my 1 o'clock client ... but he had `other issues' and this being Christmas Break and we wouldn't be seeing each other for almost a month... Luckily I was completely packed. My stuff was in the car and all I had to do was get to the the airport. With all the panic after 9-11 even Southwest was having us arrive two and a half hours before our flights left. I was booked on Flt. 1366 nonstop to El Paso. Our weather looked good, but there was a prediction of a winter storm moving down from Canada and something about warm moist air coming off the Gulf that should collide late tonight. It was bad enough driving at night, I didn't need precipitation to contend with too. Our flight was right on time. Good Ole Southwest. We left the gate at just about 5:00 p.m. The flight time was only an hour and a thirty-five minutes, but we gained an hour because of the time zone, so it would only be around 6:00 local time when I arrived, another 30 minutes to get the car and on the road... I would be dark. The flight was uneventful until we got into the pattern and then the Captain came on the intercom and advised us it might be a choppy approach. A light rain was falling. We had made good time, actually gaining about 15 minutes. We'd touched down at 5:20. I made my way to Hertz to see what they had for me. I make this trip often so they are pretty good to me and I have a lot of credit miles. My normal routine is to take whatever they need in Ruidoso and ferry it for them and then when I come home bring back whatever they need for the inventory here in El Paso. I pay the minimum one-day rate and we both come out well. It is lots cheaper than trying to get public transportation. Tonight the Station Manager advised me of the weather conditions. So far, the storm was stalled a few miles south Albuquerque and and was still west of I 25. They expected a break and were actually predicting blizzard conditions by midnight if not before depending on what the warm air did and how fast it collided with the cold front. All this was a bit beyond my ken, but I tried to feign both interest and care... All I wanted to do is get to my cabin and veg. It had been a tedious semester and I wanted to get in some skiing after a good three or four days of sleep. The Station Manager said that all he had were two Bronco's and both had four wheel drive and that would be the most needed in the inventory and he hoped I didn't mind... That's what I have at Ruidoso on his lot waiting for me. This would be my first trip to the cabin since we settled the rest of my dad's estate. My brother and his wife live in California chose to keep the beach house at Santa Cruz and I was more than happy to have the Ruidoso place. It had been the first vacation home my folks ever owned. While it looked rustic, it really had all the amenities. My dad had been a tinkerer and so there were lots of nice little things about the place... Besides the great fireplace in the gathering room, he had also installed a gas furnace so we'd never have to wait until the fireplace could heat the house. It was great because the heating was almost instantaneous once turned on. He also had rigged a butane operated generator in the event of power failure to run the essentials, like blower fans, freezer and refrigerator, well pump. We cooked with gas... The thermostat kept the house from ever freezing whether we were there to attend it or not, so we didn't have to worry about frozen pipes and stuff. There were also ample kerosene lamps, in the event of power loss; my mother had seen to that. All these things were racing through my mind. I had packed an extra shipping container of odds and ends that I wanted to have: extra towels, some of my favorite kinds of utensils, since this would now be totally my hideaway now... I'd already made a couple of alterations last summer when I knew this was to be mine, but now it was. By the time I got out on I 10 the mist had turned into a drizzle. The streets were slick and all the Christmas lights made it interesting to drive in the late dusk. I switched the radio recommended by the Hertz Guy since it was supposed to give the best weather reports, and proceeded to make my way north. I decided to stay on the Interstates and major highways as long as possible given the weather report. Although it was longer than taking State 54, but given the prospect of snow... I elected to make my way west to Las Cruces and then up I 25 north to 70... With the rain it took me about an hour to get to Las Cruces. As I swung onto I 25 it began to rain even harder. The farther north I traveled the heavier the rain got until about 5 miles south of 70 it was coming down in sheets and I was forced to slow my pace so I could find the turn off. Traffic was sparse in either direction. About a mile south of the turn off it looked like there was someone on the side of the road thumbing a ride! Besides being damn cold he had to be wet, soaked to the skin. As I approached him I could see he had an Army type duffel bag and a back pack. Jeezus, what is anyone doing out in weather like this? I pulled on to the shoulder and lowered the window and asked him if he needed a lift. He nodded his head and I told him to stash his bags behind the seat and climb aboard. He climbed aboard and sat there dripping . My first question was where are you going in weather like this... to which he answered, "Albuquerque, yeah, Albuquerque..." with all the conviction of a totally stoned teenager. I had to pay attention to the road because 70 was coming up soon. Just then a travel alert came over the radio and said that the storm was picking up speed and was moving south and east much more rapidly than had been anticipated. Albuquerque was already under blizzard watch and I 25 would be closed below Belen within the hour. The travel advisory stated the blizzard watch was for an area as far south as Las Cruces and as far east as Roswell and that only necessary or emergency travel should be attempted. I pulled on to the approach to 70 and on to the shoulder. My young friend was about in tears. He just sat there for a moment stared at the floor and the puddles that were running off his clothes. I asked him what he wanted to do and explained that I was on my way to Ruidoso. There was nothing between where we were and Las Cruces or White Sands and there wasn't all that much in White Sands. Albuquerque didn't seem like much of an option. He just sucked in his breath and stared at the floor. I explained my situation. I was on Winter Break from school I was going to my cabin just outside Ruidoso. He was welcome to come with me for the night, because right now, given the weather the way it was, I would be very grateful for the company, and I could see about getting him to Albuquerque as soon as the storm cleared. That was the first time I really got to look at him. I had turned on the map light to show him where I was going, where we were and how far he was from anywhere. Shit! He looked about 16 or 17 and he'd really taken a beating. His lip was puffed on left side, but his right side had shiner that was getting angrier by the minute. He had welts on his cheek and neck. All I could say was, "What the hell happened to you?" It was then that he really began to cry. He fought back the tears as long as he could, but he dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes tight and the tears squeezed out rolling down his tanned cheeks to mingle with the rivulets running off his cap... He started to open the car door. "Hey, man, wait... where are you going to go? You can't go back into that..." He just sat there, his chest heaving, trying to regain his composure. "Hey, hey... you are OK for now. You need to get dry that's for sure and we've got at least a couple of hours drive, but I can turn up the heater in the car and you don't have to get chilled." I desperately tried to think of something that would break the ice here. He looked at me and all he could say was, "My father, my father..." "He did this to you?" He just nodded. "He kicked me out... I have no place to go... what's going to happen to me. Everything I have left is in my bags back there... I have no place to go...and I won't go back." "Are you running away?" "What else can I do? He kicked me out!" "He did this to you? Do you have anyone, your mother...?" "She's dead, there's only him and me... He hates me... " More tears. "Look, I don't know exactly what this is all about, but I know this much... how old are you anyway?" "Sixteen, I'll be seventeen in April" "Even so, right now we've got to get you to a safe place. You are welcome to come with me. I can't leave you here anyway and there is nothing around here for miles. Who in hell left you off in this God forsaken place...?" "Nobody, I got a ride out Mesilla up to the U in Las Cruces. I tried to find my friends at school... the University... but they'd already left for Christmas Break. I just started walking... they live in Albuquerque. I didn't know what else to do." The last came out in a muted wail... "The University? Your friends are ... I thought you said you were 16?" "I am. I am in GT... I take classes there half day. They were my friends, at least I think, thought, I don't know...they are the only real friends I have... It's not their fault, I did it myself. I knew better." "Look, this isn't the time for self recrimination... we have some decisions to make. We can talk about it later if you want, but right now, are you comfortable going with me to Ruidoso, to my cabin? I promise you will be safe. If the telephone is still working... hell, you can use my cell phone... we'll call somebody and work something out. I don't have anything planned, I may even drive you to Albuquerque myself..." "Do you mean it?" "Mean what?" "Staying with you." "Hell yes I mean it. It beats sitting here beside the road waiting for a blizzard to come down on us. There are two bedrooms. There's food, well not all that great, but enough we won't starve for a day or so... So, Let's go, OK". He nodded and looked out the side window... lost in his own thoughts and fears... I got back on the road and headed north west toward White Sands and Alamagordo. We rode in silence for awhile. He finally told me his name was Bradley. I told Bradley to rummage around in the box marked excess baggage and there might be some towels near the top, and for him to pull them out and dry himself off as best he could. The car was getting a bit steamy. I'd cranked the heater up and was getting a bit warm myself. He dug out the towels and dried his hair and pulled his soaked parka off. I had him throw it behind my seat. His flannel shirt wasn't all that soaked, but it was damp. He had on a T-shirt and I suggested he take his flannel off and lay it out over the back of the seat behind us and maybe it would get dry. His white T-shirt was fairly soaked but began to dry as we drove. As we got to the outskirts of Alamagordo I asked him when he had eaten last and he said he didn't remember... "Are you hungry?" He stared straight ahead... "I don't have a lot of money... I need to conserve what I have... " I interrupted him and said, "That's not what I asked... I have enough money to feed us, ... "I'll pay you back... somehow, someday..somehow." He began to tear up. "Hey, we haven't even eaten yet... let's not get all worked up about that right now. I could use some coffee and a little something to take the edge off..." "I don't really have to eat yet, I can just stay in the car." "Look, let's get a few thing straight between us... we need to be straight with each other... My guess is you haven't eaten all day... You are probably pretty hungry right now... I had lunch, and I can eat something... so let's cut through the shit. I'd like to get us some dinner. I'll find a gas station, you try to find a dry shirt, and if you don't have any, there is a ski sweater inside my small bag. It will be a little big, but that's the style now days..." He looked over at me, and for the first time since he got into the car, he almost smiled. He nodded his head... "thanks." I eased off the freeway onto the entrance to Alamagordo. The rain was coming down heavily and there was just the hint of slush... not quite sleet, but some more solid stuff in the rain. It was getting colder. I noticed a State Trooper at the Texaco on the right side of the road and I slipped into the parking area. The traffic was extremely light and only a few cars were out on the street. Even though I had plenty of gas, having used less barely more than a quarter of a tank, I decided to top off. I told Bradley to try to find some dry clothes and change while I filled up. He rummaged through his duffel bag whose contents were dry and pulled out a shirt. He went into the Sac `n Pac and I filled up. When I came inside, the Trooper was warming himself with coffee and I asked him about the road conditions ahead. I told him where I was going and he agreed that 70 was the best way to go and definitely not try the shorter route through Cloudcroft. He said that since 70 was a major east-west artery it would most likely be cleared as much as possible. He offered to check the conditions up north and we went to his cruiser as he called for the weather by radio. The blizzard had reached Soccoro and seemed to be stalled or moving very slowly again; unfortunately that meant it was dropping heavy, wet snow and the temperature was dropping so that the roads could get slick. The forecast said it would be midnight or later before it probably crossed significantly east and reached Ruidoso, but it was definitely coming. We had a good chance of beating it to the cabin. I thanked him for his help and he went back to drinking his coffee. I needed to relieve myself so I went into the Men's Room where Bradley was stripped to his waist and attempting to clean himself and carefully examining his wounds. This was the first time I actually saw him in the light. He looked young... he had a cute face and his hair was jet black and wet it sort of naturally spiked up. He was gingerly bathing his face. He wasn't all that muscular, but in good shape for his age. No six pack, or definition, but soft and cute to the point you just wanted to cuddle him. He was putting deodorant on and I looked him in the face and he saw that I noticed his bruises. He didn't say anything but continued to get into a clean T-shirt ... He stood about 5' 8" or so, height and weight were nicely proportional... maybe just a thin layer of baby fat. Trim, he was not, but his physique suited him and his age. He gave the appearance of fastidiousness and he had scrubbed his face until it shone. I couldn't help but like what I saw. He had fair skin, slightly tanned, probably from P.E or maybe just left over from summer... He had dark brown eyes and his face looked like it was used to smiling, but tonight he was more sober. I asked him how he felt and he replied about as good as he could under the circumstances. I told him he could take his time, and reported to him what the Trooper had told me about the blizzard. He just looked at me and sort of shrugged. We walked out and I inquired if the Furrs' Market farther up the street might still be open, and the grandmotherly type behind the counter said more than likely, since they stayed open until midnight most nights, but with a storm coming they would be there until people stopped coming. Nice thing about small communities up in this neck of the woods... She said she'd heard me talking to the Trooper and she added she had been listening to the weather radio and they were predicting a really bad storm by morning. She said that portions I 25 was now closed and that if we intended to make Ruidoso we didn't have a lot of time to waste. I agreed and we left. We went to Furrs' and I laid in a load of groceries now that I had a visitor to feed. The store wasn't crowded yet, but it was doing a brisk business, probably more than usual. Lots of people were buying water, candles, etc. I bought steaks, some butterfly pork chops, five pounds of ground round, butter and a dozen and a half of eggs. Staples, I'd laid in over Thanksgiving when I was here. I even had half a baked turkey in the freezer. We got some bread and butter. I got a gallon of milk and some buttermilk ... I love pancakes and I hate to make them just for myself. They had some nice lean bacon slabs and I got nearly four pounds, thickly sliced and the gave me the two ends. Bradley dutifully pushed the cart around and even made some good suggestions via the "do you have any..." I tried to get him more involved with things he might like to eat, but he just said he'd be content with whatever there was. I could tell he was feeling self conscious about his battered condition so I got some produce for salad. a couple sacks of apples and a sack of potatoes and we checked out. Bradley was very helpful putting things into the cargo area. It was obvious he had done this before. He even rearranged some of the items that, in his opinion, the bagger had not done properly. He made sure the eggs were secure, the bagels close to the top as well as the bread and bananas so they wouldn't get crushed. I just watched him as he took over. We headed back to the highway. When we came to the Golden Corral I pulled in and surprisingly it was fairly empty. We went through the line and discovered that the special was all you can eat steak and buffet. We both smiled about that and of pigged out. I was a little afraid to eat too much because I certainly didn't want to get sleepy driving... I also loaded up on coffee. We had a good meal and Bradley very graciously thanked me for the fine dinner, and allowed that it was the best meal he'd had since his mom died. I looked at him hoping to elicit more conversation, but he just put his seat belt on and looked out the side window. When we approached the entrance to the highway the Trooper was sitting on the shoulder. I rolled the passenger window down and asked him if there was anything new I needed to know, and he said that they had closed I 24 just south of Soccoro and it seemed the storm had started moving south and east a little faster than earlier reported. He advised me to stay on 70 and get into four wheel drive early even though it might be less economical. He said to watch for plows and sand trucks because they were beginning to pick up light snow. I thanked him and we drove off. We drove in silence, both in our own thoughts. Bradley finally said, "For a psychologist, you don't ask many questions..." I replied, that "tonight I wasn't a psychologist, but just a guy helping another guy in a storm." He smiled and said, "OK., ... I got kicked out of my house because my father thinks I am the anti-Christ." "I beg your pardon..." "My dad's a Church of Christ pastor in Mesilla... he thinks I'm the anti-Christ. I told you I was in GT and take classes at NMSU half a day... well, some of the courses I took made me think and I started questioning the Bible. He wanted me to stop taking those classes and stick to reading and praying for guidance. There were some other issues too..." his voice drifted off and he stared straight ahead, and when I looked over at him, he averted my quick glance turning toward the side window. "My mom died three years ago. He wouldn't let her get the help she needed because he didn't believe in some of the stuff they wanted to do... Its not like we didn't have the money or anything, its just he wanted to pray about it but she needed medical help. He's not against all medicine or stuff, but he believes that prayer is more important. My mom had pneumonia and he believed in fresh air even when she was so sick and one night she just died in her sleep. I ... I can't... find it in my heart to forgive him... He just kept prayin' that God would deliver her, and then he said it was God's will... " Tears were spilling over his cheeks... I didn't know what to say, and all I could think of was "I am sorry, I am so sorry...", but it was pretty obvious that `I'm sorry' wasn't going to get it. "After the funeral I didn't have anything left. She was my best friend. It's hard to have normal friends when your dad's the Hell's Fire and Brimstone Preacher yellin' at everybody about how sinful they are. I couldn't even pray... I was mad at God... if there even is one. ... Are you religious? Are you a Christian?" "Yeah, I consider myself religious, but probably not in the same way you do... and I do consider myself a Christian, but again probably not by your definition." "What do you mean? Maybe you'd be surprised what I believe... of don't believe. Just because you have that stuff pounded into you from the minute you are on this earth doesn't mean you always believe it." "True, true. What I meant was, that yes, I'm religious, I believe in God and order in the universe and natural law, but I don't see God as some big Bearded old Man out there somewhere that is the master puppeteer... If you want to be philosophical about it I am more like a Deist. As far as being Christian, I am a cultural Christian... I grew up in a Judeo-Christian milieu and those are my values, but that is almost accidental. Do I believe in Jesus, as a man, a teacher, someone around whom a whole philosophical religious phenomenon grew? Yes. But is he the only Son of God? I'd have to be honest and say, no. I think there have been other manifestations of the Incarnation... I'm not sure that really answers your question, but it is the best I can do off the top of my head." "I'm not surprised. When I was taking classes at NMSU I had professors who said almost the same thing. It makes complete sense to me. You probably believe in evolution too, don't you?" "Yes, it makes infinitely more sense to me... but that does not mean I don't think that the Creator God didn't work through evolution. I can still make a case for divine evolutionary creation..." "I tried to tell him that once... that's when he called me the anti-Christ. He then went on to accuse me of all kinds of other things too..." We drove along in silence. "What do you think about homosexuality?" "What do you mean?... That's sort of vague... Do you mean do I think there is such a thing? I do, look around you. Do you mean `do I condone or condemn it?' Neither. It is a condition of humankind and what I am reading in biology, not just confined to the humankind. I'm not sure how you are asking the question." "Yes you are... Is it O.K. or not?" "Again, O.K. or not, for whom? What people do in the privacy of their own lives is not up for debate. It is fine for some people. It is not fine for others. It is not a right or wrong That's like asking is being left handed wrong... I mean, look at the preponderant majority who are right handed... are blue eyes good or bad... being homosexual is a condition, it is not a preference or choice. It is a very private kind of thing. ..." "The Bible says it's wrong, that it is an abomination..." "That same Bible has some other things in it that I don't agree with either.. for instance, I don't think that in war it is justifiable for the conquerors to split open a pregnant woman's womb and dash the fetus' head on a rock. You have to take those things in the context of when they were written and what the circumstances were... :" "Have you studied the Bible?" "As a matter of fact I have. I have a rather serious interest in it and have spent some summers in Seminary's studying the Bible. And, my father was an Air Force Chaplain." We rode in silence again. The rain was getting lighter and there were more flakes than rain. There was beginning to be accumulation on the sides of the road but the road itself was just wet. We encountered sand trucks spreading a thin layer of sand in the more low lying areas. There was very little traffic. I don't think we passed more than three cars in those 30 miles or so... ""Aren't you going to ask me why he kicked me out?" "No. If you want me to know you will tell me..." "He read a letter I wrote to a friend, the one I tried to go to before you picked me up." I let it drop. Silence. "I thought I was in love with him." Silence. "I wrote about some pretty explicit feelings..." Silence. "I told him how I felt after we had been together.." Silence. "He told me I was an abomination in God's eyes and in his. He took a cane to me. He beat me and I just took it..,," "Bradley, I am sorry he said that to you. He may be your father, but I can tell you that the God I believe in does not consider you an abomination. I believe you are loved or accepted by God however you, or any of us are. The love of God, if there is such an entity, has to be unconditional or It isn't God. What we as mortals do in the name of God is not always what God intends, regardless of how righteous we think we are. As far as I am concerned, what your father did was more an abomination in God's eyes than whether or not you loved someone or even made love with someone of your own gender." "So, according to you, if I am Gay, God still loves me?" "Yeah, maybe even more than others, because very often Gay people, or as I would rather refer to them as, Homosexual people, need God's love more. God knows they have to take a lot more shit than the predominate heterosexual population does..." "The guy I took Sociology from said about the same thing. At first I wished I could have him talk to my dad, but it wouldn't have done any good. He won't listen to reason. Anyone who doesn't accept the Bible the way he does is wrong, a child of the Devil and going to Hell and there are no two ways about it." "Did you ever think that maybe if he ever entertained a thought or two like that his whole belief system would come tumbling down?" He looked at me and grinned! Then a stab of pain came across his face and he winced. "Man that hurt, but I think you got something there." The rest of the trip was chatter time. What seemed like years of pent up ideas came tumbling out. Some of his ideas weren't all that maturely thought through, but they all had the germ of insight and truth. Like so many bright young people he was torn between the values of an arcane, archaic system and what he could plainly see in reality. Empiricism again attacked Religion... By the time we got to the edge of the Mescalero Apache Reservation saucer-sized flakes were coming down. The road was still easily passable, but it would be only a matter of time before it would stick on the road and the moisture was already beginning to freeze. The temperature was dropping fast. The trees were groaning under the weight of the wet snow. The sheer beauty of it made a believer out of the most cynical... It was a wonderland. I cranked up the cell phone and called Hertz... six rings, it cycled me into call forwarding... "Hertz Rentals, Ruidoso." I told Mr. Steitz where I was and asked if it was alight with him, I'd bring the car in tomorrow first thing if I could get out, but I thought it better to unload and sit it out overnight. He agreed and said that if it was the storm everyone was predicting that I shouldn't worry about it until it was safe to come in... no one was going to rent cars anyway... Hertz El Paso had called and alerted him to let them know when we arrived safely. When I got to the entrance of the turn off for the Inn of the Mountain Gods I slowed down and put us into four wheel drive. The road where I had to turn to go back into the cabin was a very sharp right turn and I had to be careful to stay on the road. The snow was nearly a foot deep and I was careful to stay in the middle of the road. Three more miles of winding snow-covered dirt road and we were there... Even though the moon was far from full, the white of the snow reflected an eerie glow over the meadows and open spaces. Finally, we came to the bend where we could see the cabin. The roof was piled high with snow. It wasn't drifting yet since there was virtually no wind, so the porch was clear after about the first foot under the roof... I made a U-turn in the drive way and backed the Explorer as close to the front steps as I could and set the hand brake. We got out and I went up and unlocked the front door. It was cold inside. I flipped on the lights. We still had electricity. I went to the thermostat and turned up the heat. The furnace kicked in nicely and it would be just a few minutes and we would have heat. I went to the fireplace and turned the gas lighter. I always stack a fresh load of logs whenever I leave so all I have to do is light up when I get here. The flames started quickly and the dry wood began to burn. I opened the damper and we soon had a roaring fire. Bradley unloaded the Explorer and carried the groceries into the kitchen. He even began to put them away. I checked out the cabin to make sure everything was in working order. The tarp was still snugly tied over the half cord of wood up on the back porch. I could see that between the `measurement trees'...we had two tall Ponderosas that stood exactly 8 feet plus couple of inches apart. It was as if they had been planted, (given their height, it would have been some two centuries ago), for stacking cord wood between, and that's where we'd had our wood delivered and measured for as long as I could remember... There was a good two more cords out there. Olie Mathison must have delivered since I was here last at Thanksgiving. Explorer unloaded I secured the cabin. I left the downstairs shutters closed and made some hot chocolate. We sat on the floor pillows in front of the now roaring fire. I had to put the screen up in front to prevent pop outs. The great room was more than toasty ... We shed our shirts and took off our shoes and put them by the front door... (old family tradition, don't ask me why...) We sipped hot cocoa and stared at the fire. Small talk. Finally, ... "You about ready for bed?" "Yeah, I think so." "Want to take a hot shower before you turn in? There's plenty of hot water now, I just tested it when I made the cocoa." "Sounds like a good idea." "The guest room is up there on the left" With that I directed him to the bathroom upstairs. The shower bath was upstairs, downstairs we had another bath that had an antique tub with claw feet and the `necessary' commode with a pull chain and an antique free-standing basin. There was red flocked wall paper and gaudy crystal lamps and brass fixtures... That was a family tradition. We had one of those in every house my parents' owned. It was my mom's only concession to antiques... My dad called it the "Whorehouse Pissoir". Upstairs, it was the modern bath with a nicely enclosed double sized shower with two hand held nozzles... the first `improvement' I made when I knew the cabin would be mine. I had the shower over tub pulled out and put a tempered glass enclosure around the whole area. As soon as I felt comfortable spending the bucks it was plumbed and ready to turn into a steam room. The bathroom was between the bedrooms over the kitchen area. The balcony allowed you space to look into the great room as well as let the heat rise and warm the upstairs. There was a queen sized bed in my room, and a pair of single beds in the guest room. The rooms were mirror identical except for the closet placement... the closets ran the full length of the room under the slope of the roof. I usually left a Ruidoso wardrobe up here including underwear and socks which allowed me to bring other stuff I needed or wanted for a given trip. This time I had brought a plastic locker with towels, and some utensils that I wanted up here. The new Maytag over-under Nautica washer and dryer were stacked here in this bathroom too which made it very convenient. The dryer was gas and the motors were on the emergency circuit served by the the generator if necessary. I told Bradley that he'd find his towels there in the closet on his side of the bathroom. I told him to turn on the towel heater on the wall for a treat and he came out and looked at me over the railing like I was from Mars. Another little `luxury; my dad liked. When I heard the shower run for awhile, I climbed up the stairs and went to my room. Bradley had left the doors open between the rooms and I watched him as he stood before the mirror over the basin brushing his teeth and checking his wounds. Since I didn't want him to think I was spying him, which I guess I really was, I let him know I was in my room by asking if he'd like some Bactine for those abrasions. His eye was nicely blackened and beginning to close now... the lip was a little better, but still puffy. The welts on his neck were still angry as were the bad, bad bruises I'd noticed on his back. I could only guess what his bubble butt looked like under the towel, but I could see that the backs of his calves were pretty bruised with diagonal stripes. Bradley said he'd washed them and really didn't think it would be necessary since none of the skin was broken. I found a bottle of Witch Hazel and suggested he try that, which he did and then asked me if I'd do his back. After I did his back, he dropped the towel to do I did his butt. He pulled the towel back up (after I glanced in the mirror to check him out) and said "Thanks, that feels a lot better." He turned and went into his room, climbed into bed and turned out his light. Again he left the door between us open... I brushed my teeth, took my shower and climbed into bed. I left the door open too! I didn't have much trouble dozing off, but in my haze I could hear Bradley sobbing. I got to full consciousness and listened. He wasn't wailing or anything, but it was a distressing cry... I'd left the little night on in the bathroom so with the spill and the moonlight I could see he was curled in a semi fetal position with his back to me on the bed closest to the bathroom. Since it was very warm he had only pulled the sheet up part way and one leg was out on top... he appeared to be sleeping in the raw. I pulled a caftan out of the closet, one my mom had made for me... she didn't like grown boys/men running around in the nude regardless of how they liked to sleep... and I pulled it over my head. I went into Bradley's room and said, quietly, "Are you OK?... Are you hurting?" At first there was no response, then a very low, "I'm OK... I just can't sleep, that's all." He didn't turn toward me... I was about to leave when he said, "I do hurt .. could you just ... hold me?" He was lying half under the sheet with the one leg out on top. It presented a very provocative picture even in the dim light. He wasn't wearing shorts... My heart melted. I climbed on his bed on top of the sheet covering him and lay close to him. I put my arm over his arm letting it hang down over his chest. He immediately lifted his arm out from under the sheet and took my hand and pressed it to his chin and chest pulling me closer to him making almost full body contact... we lay in a spoons position. This was getting to be more than I could handle. He tried to stifle his sobs and said, "Thanks, I'm really not this much of a baby..." My response was, "You'"You've gotta be hurting... those welts..." He cut me off with, "The welts hurt, but not as much as inside." I had a cacophony of emotions competing in my body... nature was only to quick to respond. What was I going to do? I can't let him know how desperately I want him, I have to protect him, from me, from the world, from himself. I tried everything to keep from getting boned up... The harder I tried to keep it limp, he would do something to counteract my attempt...he pushed his butt back into my crotch... I know he had to be able to feel what was happening to me... we said nothing. He sobbed quietly and I just held him trying to soothe his hurt and my pain... We lay lie that for awhile, how long I don't know, but it seemed like forever. When he finally stopped sobbing and his breathing came measured and slow, I tried to ascertain if he was asleep. I raised myself to try to look at his face. As soon as I moved he clutched my arm closer to him and scooted back closer against me. It was getting warm in the room. Not only from the heat from the fireplace but from the rising passions in my loins. I had not considered how late it was to have built such a large fire. It was just now peaking and since heat rises the bedrooms would be plenty warm, maybe too warm for good sleeping. I moved to get up. Bradley stirred... "Are you leaving?" "No, I'm just going to crack some windows. It is getting a bit hot in here, it may be what's keeping you from falling asleep." "Oh... will you come back?" "Do you want me to? Would you like something to help you sleep? I think I have some "Nighttime Tylenol" if you think that might help... and it might sort of dull the pain..." I went to the window between the two beds... I lowered the sash from the top about two inches. It was still snowing. The rain had long since stopped. The world had been turned lumpy white and soft... He did not move his position. I got a cup of water and two Tylenol and offered the little blue pills to him. He popped them back, slugged the water and said, "Thanks"... I set the paper cup on the nightstand, on which lay a very well used leather covered Bible. I walked to the other side of the bed and resumed my position beside him, again in the spoon position, except I kept a bit of air space between us this time. He said in a low voice, "Hold me..." I put my arm over him again and he immediately pulled it and me to him but this time he gently kissed my fingertips... We lay there quietly each listening to the breathing of the other. He began to doze off, but he held my hand almost uncomfortably tight. I was getting uncomfortably tight in another region of my anatomy too. We both must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew he raised and lowered himself and rolled over to face me. He had shed the sheet altogether by now and his naked body was lying next to me crotch to crotch. He flung his free left leg over me and snuggled down on my chest. His left hand rested on my right ass cheek. By the time this little maneuver was complete I didn't have enough skin to close my eyes and I lay there looking out over the room and wondering where this was all going to end. Needless to say, I slept very intermittently if at all. Bradley on the other hand, with the help of his exhaustion coupled with the Tylenol slept soundly. During the very early hours, before dawn, he began to erect.... He didn't move his pelvis.. he really didn't have to, but his corona was just under my testicles and it proceeded to get harder and harder. With no more than licking his lips and a bit of `mmming' the inevitable happened. I almost lost it myself. He had a copious nocturnal emission all over the front of my once clean caftan... As he faded I began to feel the effect of the room chilling and pulled the light coverlet over us. Bradley slept soundly. Now I clutched him close... The beauty of this innocence was doing a job on my head. I fell asleep and didn't wake up for at least two hours when the light from outside began to flood the room. I'd not drawn the draperies because the moonlight gave us enough light to make out shapes in the room yet provided enough dark to sleep, but now, even with the heavy overcast and the snow dumping on us, it was very light. Gently, I slipped out of bed, covering the beautiful sleeping man-child, and crept over to close the draperies. Gently, I stooped over and kissed him on the forehead, and then ever so gently on the lips. I staggered into the bathroom. The now cooled tile floor brought me wide awake. I gently closed the door to the bathroom, washed my face, relieved myself and went into my hardly used bedroom. I found some muk-luks in the closet, grabbed my cell phone out of the charging cradle and padded downstairs. From the balcony going down I could see out of the clearstories that about four or five feet of snow had fallen. I checked the front door. I opened the main door only to see through the storm door that the Explorer was but an indistinct mound of white. The snow was up to the mid panel on the storm door. I began dialing Mr. Steitz. My cell range is beautiful. There are three different towers across our back meadow and the line of site is less than a mile... It rang and rang, but no answer. On a hunch, I looked up the cell number for Hertz and tried that. Bingo. In three rings, "Good Morning, Ruidoso Hertz, how may I help you?" "Mr. Steitz, this is Rod Schmidt, just checking in. I've got about 4 or five feet off my porch..." "Yah, that's what it is here too. Nothing is moving. 70 is closed but they think it will be open around noon. Don't worry about a thing. I'm closed anyhow. Talked to Olie this morning about 7:30... (I glanced at the clock: 9:45!...) he said he would try to plow Pike about noon or as soon as he could get his equipment out there, but he wasn't going to worry too much, since I told him you were safe and all." "Thanks. I didn't see any lights on my way out last night, but then I wasn't exactly looking for anything..." ""Nah, I don't think anyone is out there yet... The locals, that live farther in, of course, so he's gonna plow anyway. Just keep warm. We lost the telephone about 5 this morning, but they say it will be back this afternoon sometime. Nothing is open except essential services. Just stay where you are and keep warm. Do you need anything? I could have Olie bring you something..." "No, but thanks anyway. I stopped in Alamogordo and laid in fresh stuff... I've got enough to last us a few days." "You bring somebody with you?" "Not exactly, I picked up a hitch hiker and ..." "Dammit, Dr. Schmidt... when you gonna learn? You can't be doin that all the time. It's dangerous." "Hey, not to worry, this one is harmless, besides he's only about 17." "Oh shit, Roddy, you're not doing something stupid are you?" "I hope not Mr. Steitz, but I don't think so either." "Well, OK. I'll have Olie stop by and check on you. Have some strong coffee for him when he gets there. You know how he uses his `medicine' to keep him warm and we don't need no zig-zags all the way to Florin's..." "Gotcha. Thanks. I'll talk to you later." I went to the fridge to start getting breakfast laid and saw Bradley stumbling into the kitchen. He had wrapped himself in the bed sheet and it looked like a shroud come undone. He looked rested and for the first time, I saw what a cheerful face he really had. The lip was puffy, the eye closed still, but somewhat better and the welts on his cheek and neck glowed dark red. "Hi Guy... sleep well?." "Yeah, I did. Thanks." He searched my face as though looking for some clue or expectation of recrimination... "You OK? What's up." "I'm sorry about last night..." "Hey, man, you had one helluva day. There is nothing to be sorry about. We just have to go on from here. What are you up for for breakfast?" "You know what I mean..." I looked at him for some kind of clue... he was staring at the floor and then to below my crotch where the cum stains were a lot more visible than I realized until my gaze followed his eyes... "No, Bradley, I don't know what you mean... I held a man in my arms whose life had been shattered and who had been badly beaten both inside and out... There is nothing to be sorry for... or about..." "He is right... my dad.. I am an abomination." "Stop that! Not in this house you are not an abomination, not to me, not to God and not even to you! Why would you even think such a thing? How can what God creates be an abomination?" "You know... look at your ... whatever you call that thing... the evidence is there." "Really? How do you know that's all yours?" He looked at me sharply... "Because it's on the outside and is to low for you..." "You are jumping to a lot of unmerited conclusions here... Let's talk about it after we've both had some coffee. What do you want for breakfast?" "I don't understand you... at first I thought, ... I know you... I am so confused... Just exactly where do I stand with you?" "Right now I'd say about 7 feet away, by the fridge, confused about what I don't know and making me uncomfortable. What else do you want to know." "Are you gay?" Pause... "No, I am not Gay. I am an homosexual person. I don't like those short hand appelations that include too much and don't say enough. Do I enjoy sexual relations with members of my own gender? Yes. Are you asking me if I wanted you last night.? You're damn right I did. It was all I could do to concentrate on the fact that you were under my protection... that I could under no circumstances take advantage of this situation. Was it hard?, no pun intended, but yes to both... You are a very attractive young man. But last night was not the time nor the circumstance for me to act on any of those impulse feelings." "I tried to seduce you... how can you say that it doesn't matter? I wanted you. I am just like what my dad says I am... I am a lecherous perverted abomin...." I cut him off with, "This is the last time I am going to say this, Bradley, I do not want you to use that term about any human being in my house again, and most especially regarding you! You are not an abomination. Horny perhaps. You are at the perfect age for it. Vulnerable, absolutely. Needing love, it goes without saying, but most of those things can be said about lots of guys your age, and right now you have all of that in spades. You have been violated by someone who should have protected you, who should have loved you. I don't want you to use that term again. Do we understand each other?" I was getting more upset than I wanted to be... "I'm sorry... it's just... You... you held me like you... I felt you....(tears)... "Bradley, I wanted you. I want you now as you can probably see, but Guy, this just isn't the time nor place or circumstance... Please, try to understand. You are as attractive to me as any human has ever been. This is difficult for me too... but it just can't be. We've got a lot on our plates here and it is not a simple situation. We've got to get you settled in a safe place; we've got the abuse of your father to contend with... if for no other reason, we can't contaminate this relationship by .... Look, as soon as we can I have to get you examined by a physician to document your injuries. That is going to be a complete examination if you catch my drift...." He just looked at me... searching for some meaning to all of this. "Bradley, right now I am very angry at that psalm-singing hypocrite you call your dad... and I intend to make him pay. And don't start quoting, 'vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord...' It very well may be, but I'm going to make that bastard pay and pay good. He hurt someone I love and I am not going to let him get by with it, and if I can be the agent of the Lord who accomplishes that, then so be it and I will enjoy the experience!" "You love me?...." "Ah, ... he cut me off. "You said you love me. ..." "Bradley, how can I help but not love you? You , you.... you can't lie next to a person and watch them sleep, weep with them and have all the feelings toward them that transpired last night an not love them. .... God I'm not making very good sense here... Yes , I love you, but ... we have to deal with that later. Right now.... He cut me off, "You love me...nobody has ever said that to me but my mom..." and with that he opened the sheet he was wearing and came running to me with his white cum stained cape, half-hard penis flopping from side to side and threw his arms around my neck and buried his head in my neck and shoulder, squeezing me in a literal breath taking bear-hug with the sheet en-wrapping the both of us. It was a tender, yet humorous moment. It was also a provocative moment. His body was pressed to mine and our pelvises literally ground into each other producing the obvious result. I took both of his arms and pulled him away to a safer distance. I stared into his face as he searched mine... "Bradley, I love you, let there be no question about that, but having said that, there are some limitations we are going to have to observe ... at least for awhile... You are sixteen. I am an adult, a professional psychologist at that. Were I to have any kind of sexual relationship with you it would be rape, not just statutory rape, but rape...R-A-P-E... there is a significant difference in our ages, our experience our power, our status... Please, I don't want to go into this right now... in fact right now I want you to go up, take a shower before I make moot all my grand philosophizing right here on the kitchen table!" "I love you too, you know..." "I know... I can tell... (he, like I had a raging hard-on that stuck through the slit in the sheet... "now what do you want for breakfast?" "Who can eat now? You said you love me... you mean it too, don't you?" "Yes, I mean it, now please..." "I'll do anything you want...I'll eat anything you want... My father calls me Bradley, what few friends I have call me Brad." , and with that he bolted up the stairs, like the child he was, the sheet flying out behind his outstretched arms like a sail flapping behind him. I heard the shower run as I prepared our breakfast. By the time I had the bacon done and the eggs scrambled ready to pop into the pan, he was down again, brightly scrubbed and polished. "What can I do to help? I'll set the table... do you want me to make toast?" "Yes ..." and I poured the eggs into the pan and sprinkled the grated cheese and chives over them. Breakfast was something out of a Felini movie. His mind and conversation bounced in a thousand directions. Before I could adequately answer a question he had three more posed. It was a wonderful experience. The house telephone rang... I couldn't remember having it activated... It was Olie, telling me that he'd be plowing the road within the hour. He told me Mr. Steitz had had my telephone activated. We had telephone service again, it had been restored just minutes ago. He inquired if I had seen the wood... I had... he asked if I needed anything. I told him no. He said the snow had all but stopped for now but that there could still be a light dusting when it got dark tonight. He assured me the roads would be passable... I said I'd have coffee ready... We rang off. Brad cleared the table and I started to stack the dishes in the dishwasher. He was amazed at the amenities of the `cabin'. I told him that it was my parent's favorite place, and mine too, and how my family spent entire summers here... sometimes my dad would go back to work, and leave us up here and come again when he was able to get away... This was our `home' for almost five months of the year if you added up all the days we spent here during school breaks... We raised our first horses here...He said his dad was too cheap to have a dishwasher... Brad insisted on shoveling off the front porch and brushing off the Explorer so we'd be all ready when the snow plow guy came... he did the area around the back door so we could get more wood in too. The fire in the fireplace had died to just glowing embers, and it was cooling off. We needed to re-lay the fire. Which he did with all the enthusiasm of a Boy Scout building a camp fire... I called my long-time friend P.T. the local physician and explained about Brad's beating. He said to bring him in as soon as I could, but to call first because he would do the exam at the hospital and to meet him there. He asked me if I had a Polaroid camera and film, and if so to take pictures or bring it to the hospital or he'd have to get one on the way. I remembered my mom's in the hall closet. I'd bring it, if necessary I could get film in town. I explained the situation to Brad, and for the first time, it began to sink in to him just how serious this could be. He wasn't reluctant, but did show some reticence to the idea. I found my mom's old Polaroid just where I expected to in the closet by the front door and there were two unopened boxes of color film plus it looked like there was some film in the camera. The film was out of date, so I tried a couple of pictures of just stuff in the kitchen and outside the front door. After adjusting for the light exposure, the film seemed OK. I told Brad that we'd need to take pictures of all the areas that he had welts and bruises. He didn't mind the face, neck and chest area and even his legs, but I also told him I needed pictures of that `cute bubble butt' too, because he had some bad strokes there. He complied and then spun around and said you might as well take this too... he had a single very bad black and blue diagonal welt across his groin area just above the hair line running down to his leg. The blow missed the right testicle by a fraction of an inch. He also had a round bruise, now blackening on the other side of his pelvis from just above the hairline to the line formed by his leg going into his crotch. When I asked him what the hell had cause that, he answered, "The toe of a boot, what else?" I laid the drying, developing pictures on the table and told Brad to get dressed. I could hardly fathom what had happened and was jolted by, "What are you getting so upset about? This is mild compared to some I've had... I'm used to this by now, in fact I know how to duck so the strokes glance off and hardly hurt. The first time he did this to me, I couldn't even walk... I had to stay home from school for two days... my mom had to write a letter so I didn't have to take P.E. so no one would see how bad it was... That's when he caught me jacking off..." I really didn't want to hear this, but somehow I knew it would be better if I heard it from him first, rather than in front of P.T. Brad told me how his father had seen semen on the floor of the bathroom one day that Brad had missed cleaning up after masturbating. After that, his dad would check his sheets and even his shorts for the tell-tale `'pecker tracks'. Brad lived in constant fear of being beaten for even the hint of `abusing himself' even if it were by nocturnal emission. What made it so bad, was that even when Brad's mom was still alive but too sick to do the laundry, it fell to him the responsibility to do the wash... he noticed that his dad often had the tell-tale `cum spot', "the kind you get after you've had sex and you `put it away'...They were especially prevalent after his dad had been out making `visitations'. And some of them happened when his mom lay sick and dying... yet Brad was upset because he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive his father... I wanted to cry ... Brad dressed again and about that time we could hear the snow plow moving toward us out on the road. We opened the front door and were treated to the diesel smoke belching snow blower creating a swath down the roadway. Olie would go out to the county line and come back and clear both sides in one round trip. We watched him first pass the driveway then back up and turn in clearing a path up to the front door. Olie cleaned off the park space in front of the house... not exactly county road work... but... He came in for the cup of hot coffee I'd promised. I had made some "San Antonio blend that I brought up from H.E.B. with cinnamon and the aroma was wonderful in the crisp air... I forgot about the pictures and Olie saw them almost immediately... "Jeezus H. Christ! What the hell is this? Is this the kid Steitz said you had stashed away up here? God Damn, man, who did this?" Brad blushed briskly and I apologized for having Olie see these gruesome pictures, but he said, he knew I'd picked up a hitch hiker and all you had to do is look at this kid and you could see, "someone kicked the shit out of `im. Damn, man, you goin' to the sheriff with this?" "Well, I already called P.T and he's going to meet us at the hospital. We're going to leave as soon as we are done here." "I think you better." He gulped the last of his coffee "You guys git goin', I'll check with you later." With that he took his cup and spoon to the sink, ran water in them, and on the way out said, "God bless you kid, at least you can't get a better friend. I've known him and his family since he was a little shaver. You just do what he says and it'I'll be all right. God Damn!" Brad was solemn for a minute then broke out in a kid-silly giggle. I called Mr. Steitz then P.T and we cranked up the Explorer. By the time we got back to Highway 70 the highway itself was clear and well sanded. Tonight it would be black ice for sure and the trucks were sanding it down well. I drove straight to Hertz and exchanged vehicles. My bright fire-engine red Explorer had been as usual, dutifully cleaned and stood dripping from the spray wash. I signed the contract and gave Mr. Steitz my credit card and we were on our way. It was good to get back into my own car... I had a kick-ass radio that got stations from the moon... My GPS was working and the leather seats felt like butter. Brad liked it but was surprised at its color. He figured me more for like the one we came out in ... forest green. I pulled into the hospital parking lot and we walked into the emergency. P.T. was waiting for us and we went in to an examining room. I was asked to step out and a nurse interviewed me regarding the circumstances as I knew them. P.T and another male attendant took Brad. We were there for some two and a half hours. I was beginning to worry... Finally, P.T. and Brad came out and they seemed to be in a jovial mood. P.T. asked me about the pictures, and I produced them. He asked the nurse behind the desk to get a date stamp... she got something that had a big `Received' and the date stamped in red and Doc put his initials on the back of each picture. He then had the nurse take them and copy them on both sides. Meanwhile he asked if he could talk to me privately. Brad had no objection. P.T. ordered some salve and gave Brad the prescription and told him to where the Pharmacy was. I asked if he would need money and P.T. said no... it would be on the bill. When Brad left, P.T. began to tell me about what he'd seen. He also told me that this was not the first such beating that Brad had received. He said X-rays had revealed healing and old broken ribs and even several bone bruisings. The reason it took so long was that he had to do a C.A.T. Scan that ruled out the further need for an M.R.I. Brad's physical condition, other than the beatings, was good. He was well nourished and remarkably healthy otherwise. P.T. confirmed what I already knew, that he was a very bright and resourceful kid. The big question was what to do about him. We talked about some options. Brad was from another county jurisdiction and to date no charges had been filed but it would be necessary to inform his home county that the allegations had been made. Then there was what to do with Brad in the mean time. P.T. was very direct. He wanted to know what I wanted to do. I was candid. I was very fond of this kid, but it would be impropritous for me to be his guardian right now. We both agreed to that, but where could he go? He had no living relatives other than that father. I was beginning to hatch a plan, but it was too nebulous to deal with at the present moment. I explained that to P.T. and he agreed that the best move right now would be to come back when the storm had cleared and we both could think this through. I told P.T. I was out to get the bastard... and he agreed, but the question was how?... but he also added knowing our combined deviousness, we could probably work out something that would protect the kid and stick it to the old man at the same time. He said he'd sit on it for a couple of days. We agreed to meet again after the storm cleared. Maybe Monday or Tuesday I still wanted to ski. P.T. thought that was a plan and that he was going to be up Tuesday, which normally was his day off, or sooner depending on how many flat-landers were breaking bones... We left it at that. Brad came back with his salve. I asked P.T. about how to pay for this, and he said at this point it was a County matter pending `criminal investigation'... Brad looked at me and I just nodded not to worry. By the time we left the hospital it was getting into dusk in a hurry. We were in the waning short days but hadn't hit the nadir yet. Each day got shorter and shorter and the light left us later and later. I decided to go to the Furrs' for a couple of rotisserie chickens. The leftovers made great salad toppings and even soup. Brad said that sounded great and we hied off to the market. On the way home Brad held the warm chickens in his lap. We chatted about everything, yet nothing, avoiding the afternoon. Finally, we got home. Both sides of the road were now cleared and there was a light dusting, like powdered sugar or flour on a brown cake. We left tracks wherever we drove. Brad stamped our names in the snow before coming in... I laid dinner, Brad helping all the way. He tore the lettuce sliced some carrots. I mixed a couple of boxes of different kinds of scalloped potatoes together and got them going and started steaming the broccoli... We'd have ice cream for dessert tonight. Finally, Brad asked what was going to happen to him... he said it with a gloomy dread... He knew leaving was inevitable, but how soon and to where... he was getting more anxious as we talked. I began to tell him about my scheme. I had two foci... one I was going to make his old man pay, and I was going to keep Brad safe. That much was sure. Armed with the the report from the Protective Services today and the possibility of serious criminal prosecution, I figured I could scare the old man into paying to keep Brad in school away from him, while at the same time turning over parental rights .... I wasn't exactly sure how that would play out, but I knew between P.T. and me and maybe Dr. Maesta in Albuquerque, my old professor-mentor-friend, we could work something out. I told Brad I was not above blackmail or deception. My plan was to be living together permanently by the time he turned 18 and graduated from high school. In the meanwhile, there was always here... this cabin... we could be here together during school breaks or whatever. I hadn't worked out yet where Brad would be taken care of, but I had a plan for that too and when I had it fully in place, I'd tell him. Meanwhile, we were going to enjoy a couple of days of skiing if he was up to it. All he could say, was, "I've never skied before, I don't have any equipment.." before he broke out in a wild grin and said, "Man, that would be awesome"... The television was lousy so we watched an old Video... we went to bed; he in his, I in mine, but as a precaution, I got a clean caftan before I climbed into mine. The heat was better regulated tonight and the rooms were cool enough for sleeping.. It wasn't until about 2:30 or 3:00 that I realized I wasn't in bed alone... spooned up to me, buck-assed naked, with my arm clasped to his chest, lay my love.... There were no pekker tracks in my bed in the morning... all we did is sleep, together, up close... We didn't bother with church on Sunday. We slept in, made popcorn and watched T.V. We talked of cutting a Christmas tree and then did... we went into the forest on the side of the house and chopped our own. We spent the rest of the day going through the attic for stored decorations that hadn't seen the light of day in some 5 or six years... We drove into town and bought fresh cranberry, and made cranberry-popcorn ropes. We also bought tinsel and the tree was a masterpiece. We both shed a tear or two, since it was the first tree for both of us since our mother's had died and a whole flood of memories kept us in our own silent worlds. Brad was less subtle about sleeping with me that night. He just came in after his shower and plunked himself on `his side of the bed'. Again, I struggled for sleep because of insufficient of skin to close my eyes... we made it through the night, but got up early to ski. We met P.T. on the slopes and while Brad was off in the Snow Bunnies class, we refined and launched our plan. It was agreed, that I'd bring Brad in every few days for observation and consult to make our case. I would go back to Mesilla and confront the old Bastard. P.T. would have a lawyer draw us up papers that even if they wouldn't survive in court would be so embarrassing and damaging he might capitulate.. worth the try at least. The plan entailed my visiting the old man in jail after he'd been incarcerated on a child endangerment charge, present him with the plan to support Brad, turn over custody and stay the hell out of the kid's life. When we got home that night and an exhausted boy climbed into the downstairs tub to soak... I told him about the plan. His only comment was, "He'd gladly sign the papers to get rid of me... whether he'll pay the money or not, I seriously doubt it, but you never know... Do I have to go back?" "To confront him? No, but I'd sure like to have the company on the drive back and forth... besides isn't there anything you'd like from your room or something...we'I'll have the whole back of the Explorer and we can take the back seats out and leave them here and you could fill it up " He thought for a moment and said he think about it. He awakened when the water cooled sufficiently to notice and I told him to go to bed I had plans to make. The best laid plans of mice and men... for once worked out almost perfectly, if you can make such an appraisal this this mess... I met the old Bastard in the county jail after presenting my paperwork and `evidence' from Lincoln County, with all the affidavits, copies of the pictures etc. The assigned case worker had to have supervisorial help when we got to the `agreement' but even that moved along... New Mexico is a poor state. If a `good and working solution' can be worked out, with the interests of the minor maintained then well, It certainly wouldn't do any harm to try... especially, if I'll pay for the medical costs incurred and the county won't have to.... With yet another affidavit attesting that I had cleared the county's scrutiny, I was led back to a very distraught and pathetic creature sitting in a cell eagerly looking to see who the stranger was who wanted to speak to him about his `problem'. I announced my self and presented him with my card: Dr. Roddy Schmidt, Department of Psychology... I made little effort to be cordial or conciliatory. I got right to the point. I had his son, He was in jail. He could clear this mess up by signing the papers I had for him and maybe he could get out of jail. Had he talked to his attorney...? He had barely been rousted this morning. He didn't need an attorney, he had done nothing wrong. I laid it on the line. I didn't give a rat's ass what he thought he had or had not done. We had the evidence and if he thought he could survive what the State and two counties were going to throw at him, then fine. We'd see him in court and ..."I promise you I will see that this case and all its gruesome details would be plastered in every news media in the state... His golden goose had been cooked. And just for grins and giggles, I'd expose his `visitation' exploits where it would do him the most good or whatever however he chose to read it. He feigned ignorance. I lied and said that his just this last Tuesday night his visitee had developed serious second thoughts especially after I had confronted her with his current criminal situation. I had no idea where I was going with this. It was one of those who blinks first situations. And he blinked. "There's nothin'...." "Fine, I'll have her husband visit you too." and I got up as to leave. "No, no wait, what do you want from me? I don't have a lot of money." "I was just by your house less than an hour ago. Bradley is collecting some of his things to take with him to his foster home. Don't try that bullshit on me, Brother..." "You can't search my house!" "Uh, Brother, Does it occur to you, that who ever is at your house with your son has the authority by virtue of the fact that it is both a crime scene and your son's home and that any evidence found, including your spotty underwear, can and will be used to drag you down? Think about that Brother... you white-washed tomb, you hypocrite. You defile and defame every God-Fearing Christian on the face of the earth. My father was a minister, not that it matters to you. I know what Ministers can be, you sorry son-of-a-bitch, you don't deserve to be called a Pastor." He began to bawl, sorry specimen that he was... "O Lord, I have sinned..." "Shut up your fucking hypocrite! Don't try that Jimmy Swaggert shit on me. You got the wrong guy in here. Now either sign or I am out of here and you can rot for all I care." He begged and squirmed but was only too eager to sign his son away. He balked at the $850 a month child support and I began to gather up the paperwork again and he asked me what I was doing... I told him, "what the hell does it look like I'm doing, you don't want to pay, I'm leaving. The deal is off." "I'll sign, I'll sign... where do I sign for that?" "OK, Brother, just listen and listen good. You fight any of this, you miss one payment even by one day and you are dead in the water. Ask your lawyer what the statue of limitations is on this charge. Try to leave this state and we start right back where we started from... I'll have a lawyer tell you where to deposit the checks. You will sign over all... ALL, do you hear me, all your pension and insurance benefits at your death. You play fuck around with me and I'll see you not only hang but be exposed to the world. Do you read me?" "Please, I was just doin' what a fath...." "Save it, it is wasted on the likes of me. You are a self-serving liar and hypocrite preying on people more ignorant than you are. The law is on our side, Brother and you even try to mount a religious defense in this case and I will show you what it means to have every liaison you ever had with every woman in this county and where ever else you sold your snake oil exposed. Do you understand? "I do, I do... but have you no compassion? I..." "I have the same compassion you had for your son, Brother hypocrite, the same compassion you had and I am going to exercise it the same way." I gathered my papers and prepared to leave. "Are you just going to leave me here? How do I get out?" "Call one of your girlfriends or their husbands and get them to help you. Or better yet, get a lawyer, but just remember this, try, even try to overturn these agreements and you will be the most well known parson in this part of the State and maybe even the nation... I've got the pictures... didn't I show them to you, signed by the doctor who examined your son... and the C.A.T. Scan... as I opened yet another manila folder. He turned away, sobbing, mouth drooling, wringing his hands. I picked Brad up. He had taken the front wheel off his bicycle, gathered his remaining things and had them waiting in the foyer of his house. He had a special smile about him and I asked him what was so great and he told me he'd found an album of his mother's that had been tucked away since she died. His father had forbade him to look at those `graven images'... All he'd had for over three years was a single picture he'd managed to smuggle into his Bible that had been taken when he was 7 or 8 years old. Brad was placed with my professor-mentor-friend Dr Maestas at U.N.M. He will live there until he turns 18 and can receive his emancipation. So far, his father has weathered the minor storm in his life and as so many of these preachers do, made just enough `confession' to make his ignorant congregation continue to support him. He knows that he dare not miss a payment nor cause any waves. The hassle he went through to get out of jail and keep the incident quashed, proved to him we meant business. He has yet to contact Brad except to deposit the check each month to Brad's account. We had a glorious Spring Break in Mexico together, and this summer here in Ruidoso has been great, despite the jitters about the forest fires across the highway... We look forward to our second `White Christmas".... Brad went back to NMSU for a an Academic Fair during the Spring, but did not contact his father nor go out to Mesilla...