Chapter 229


Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitioiusly,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.

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    It breaks my heart to see a boy cry. I have surrounded myself with tough teenaged boys, but deep inside they are boys. I saw him before I heard him so I walked toward him. Earl was wailing, not crying, not bawling, but really letting his emotions flow. His broad shoulders were shaking. His knees were pulled up against his chest and he had his arms around his lower legs with his head resting between his knees.
    I sat down beside him. He looked up and started then he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hands. He stared directly into my eyes and the flow broke forth once again. I put an arm out and he moved into me. "You, you…you probably think that I am a baby."
    "I think that something has you upset. It is good to cry once in awhile. Gets all of that pain out of the system."
    He pulled his earphones from his ears and offered them to me. I listened to a classic oldie—'I wanna to go home, where I belong. 'Cause now I'm just a lonely teenager.'—that always brings tears to my heart. I hugged him tighter to my side, "Do you want to go home, EJ?"
    "My old man and me had words, bad words. I love football and he thinks that is all that there is to high school. He's a drunk, dad. He can't keep a job. He hits my mom and my little brother. At least when I was there he wouldn't hit Tiger Bear. He knew that I could tear his head off, and I would too. Tiger Bear is only nine and he can't take care of himself. He hides under his bed when the old man comes home all lit up.
    "Mom's not much better. She slaps the little Tiger for almost everything and for nothing at all. Does that make sense? She smacks him 'cause he can't finish all of his food. She smacks him for missing a sock under his bed on laundry day. She even smacked him when her boss called to tell her that business was slow so she could take the day off. That wasn't Tiger's fault.
    "Dad, it's Christmas. We never have much, but I love to see my little buddy get new stuff. He comes into my bedroom with a new toy and wants to play for hours. I tried to get them to talk back there at Thanksgiving and you know what my old man said to me? He said, 'Good food. Call us when there is more free meals.' Then they got up and left. Tiger was playing with Kardal when the old man walked over and grabbed him up by the arm and told him to get away from the rag head before he got camel shit on him."
    I squeezed him extra tight in reaction to his statement. "You saw him, huh?" he asked.
    "Kardal ran from the dinning room crying. I sent his brother, Tahir, after him. Neither of them came back for awhile. I never knew what upset the tiny monster."
    "You love those kids don't you?"
    "EJ, I love all of you. You are the one upset and crying right now. I am going to try to make it all good for you. I have to fly into Tucson on Friday, would you like to go with me?"
    "Fly? Like in a plane or something."
    "Well it beats flapping my arms and it is hard to catch an Eagle going my way. I thought that we might go in Travel Hop©."
    "That would be so kewl. I never flew before." I sat with him for a little longer. We weren't there for sex, we were there to mend a broken heart.

    It was our last week at Camp Christopher. I wanted to spend every moment of every hour of every day with each and every boy that had come to spend the greatest holiday that I could think of for them. I keep hearing how much fun they are having and how they do not wish to ever leave. That is mostly the adolescent in them speaking out. Children never want to leave a place where they are having fun. However, they had to return to their schools and get back into their books.

    My final week at the upper camp was interrupted Friday. I had to pull myself away for a few hours for a trip into town. I would like to play all day, just as the boys do, but business must be attended too. I had a very excited EJ strapped into a seat aboard Travel Hop©. Not only was he taking his first flight, he was going to visit with his parents and try to make amends with them. I only wanted the best for the family.
    Bryan set Travel Hop© down at the parking lot across from the house. I know how irritating the sound of a helicopter can be, but I was working very hard to get my neighbors that lived below the cliff behind the house to allow me to build a small elevated helipad back there. Something on the level of the tennis courts atop the large garage where I parked the Traveler Trio© when they weren't in use. But enough of that, I don't have a helipad back there yet so I was reduced to walking across the street to my house.

    I keep my Caddy Escalade in the west bay, by the door to the house. In the far bay of the three car garage sits Cullen's limousine. That was the bay that once held a service pit for my big Traveling boy. That pit gave way to another six bay garage under the house where some of the boys store their cars, my old Jeep is also down there because some of the boys enjoy taking the heavy duty vehicle up the back side of Mt. Lemon where only the sturdiest of four wheel drive vehicles dare to go. I am talking boulders as big as cars and vertical climbs that hedge on flipping a vehicle front over back.
    Next to the bay where I keep the Caddy are my two babies. I moved them up from the large garage below the hill. A tunnel from the house down fifty feet to the garage was impractical. I didn't like having to walk down the street each time I wanted to drive one of my boi magnets. A boi magnet was exactly what I was looking for with EJ. I had a feeling that he would not be returning to Camp Christopher with me. That would mean that he and his family were going to spend some time together, that would be great.

    There is always some little guy with a soft cloth in his hand giving my boi magnets a thorough wipe down. I do live in the desert and we do have a lot of dust, everywhere. As I opened the door of the Olds 442 I had to stop and retrieve a note that was stuck in behind the chrome horn ring of the steering wheel. I sat behind the wheel and let my emotions waft over me as I passed the note across to my wide eyed passenger. He was settling himself into the padded bench seat and running his hand over the ancient interior. He had never even seen a car with a steel dashboard and no vinyl padding. Let alone one that was older than both of us were.
    He took the note from me and read aloud, "I love you bunches and bunches, daddy." It was signed by Kardal. EJ took my hand and simply said, "Me too, dad." I gripped the steering wheel. I love my boys and I have told you that very often. When one of my boys spontaneously tells me that he loves me I get a little choked up.
    I looked over at EJ and made a snap decision. My business could wait for an hour or so. I backed the Olds out of the garage and lowered the rag top. I helped EJ into the double crossover aircraft seat belt and made sure that it was tight and secure. I asked the dispatcher for his best shot at a clear path to the freeway. He asked me if I wanted to greenlight it all of the way. I wrapped my hand around the gear shift lever and told him yes. I told him that I was going to run hot—red and blues with siren. He laughed at me and told me that he felt that I could afford whatever traffic fine I might receive. I quipped back that they had to catch me first.
    I rolled down the hill through the residential area west of the house. I am always alert to children running out into the street. Once I rolled onto a four lane street I left twin streaks of rubber underneath a very thick cloud of tire burning power. My lights and siren were going at their loudest and brightest as motorists seemed unsure about the white convertible barreling through their town.
    As we charged through the first traffic light I caught a glimpse of the flashing strobe light atop one of the tall support poles. From that I knew that the dispatcher had activated the EVS—emergency vehicle system—and that all of the lights on my path would be green to me with sufficient time for opposing traffic to be clear. I maintained my speed at fifty miles per hour, any faster than that I would outrun the EVS.
    I made my way up the ramp onto the freeway and was surprised to see that all traffic had moved to the far left lane and that I had a clear shot straight down the seven miles to the intersection with the freeway leading south and to my hilltop. I had no intention of stopping at the hilltop, it was just a good turn around location. EJ was typical of boys that I have taken the speed ride south with. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide with excitement. I was getting off watching him getting off on the thrill ride of his life.

    The Olds needed a good blow out. I drive him about once a month, but he needs more than that. He got a good workout as we were clocked by two DPS officers as traveling at one hundred and sixty two miles per hour. That was on the trip down. On the return trip I took the tach up to a sweet six thousand RPMs, DPS told me that I had passed one hundred and eighty miles per hour. To bad, so sad, I had to slow down as I once again approached the new intersection that blended me into I-10's west bound traffic across the westside of Tucson's downtown area.

    I slipped off onto the access road that parallels the freeway then turned off onto West Grant road. I could have gone on to the Miracle Mile exit, but dispatch reported that the twelve cameras along the freeway showed a stalled car off to the side of the road that was creating a traffic backup. I rolled along sedately as I took several turns from Grant Road to align myself with Ft. Lowell and on to EC's house. Sure there are other ways of going, but each one had heavy traffic and many traffic lights that I didn't want to encounter. After our speedy trip south and back I wanted to keep rolling as much as possible. Sitting at a traffic light could make me tense up.
    When we turned the corner to EC's house we saw a police car sitting out front with its lights still flashing. A fire department Para-Med unit was approaching from the opposite direction. I drove up onto the unkempt yard and parked amongst the weeds and trash barrels full of empty beer cans. I turned on my red and blues and let them flash. We could hear the anguished cry of a small child wailing inside the house. I stepped from the Olds and placed my badge case on a chain around my neck. EJ darted from the car and ran into the house as a police officer tried to stop him.
    I followed EJ and told the officer to let the boy go to his brother. Inside the scene was tragic. A young boy in tears clung to EC's neck. On the floor lay a woman of about thirty. From the amount of blood pooling on the floor around her I knew that her ebbing life could be measured in heart beats. The paramedics worked feverishly with the woman while another placed a plastic splint on the arm of the small boy.
    A paramedic placed a towel over her face. He told us that the woman was dead, but that they had to take her to the hospital for a doctor to pronounce that. Both of the boys let out a wail that broke the china dishes in the kitchen cabinets. "MOMMY!!!" EJ cried as the little Tiger Bear echoed his cry. I had an arm around EJ as I looked into his little brother's sad face. There was nothing to be said or done at that point so we followed the gurney bearing their mother's body from the house.
    As the body was being placed into an ambulance an older model pickup truck jumped the curb and skidded to a halt in the driveway. An obviously inebriated man staggered from behind the wheel with a can of beer in his hand. He looked at his two sons and asked them what they had done this time, who did they kill. He looked at me with a blank look on his face then recognition took over and his look became a scowl.
    "You're the faggot that took my boy away from me and turned him queer." He pulled a gun from behind his back and pointed it in my direction. Two more police cars came to a screeching halt in front of the house and the officers came up on the scene with their weapons in hand.
    I was softly talking to the man that I assumed was the boys' father, Mr. Crouch. My earbud came alive with Andy's voice, "Back off, Chris. The man is dangerous. The police radio traffic puts him at a convenience store shooting. He shot and killed the clerk and a twelve year old boy. When he left the store he was confronted by the boy's friend that was guarding their bicycles. The boy got a bullet in his shoulder for his actions.
    "The police have been chasing him for about eight blocks. He is a killer with nothing to loose," Andy concluded.
    I didn't stop. I did not want to see the man shot down by the police in front of his boys. I drew closer as I continued talking softly to Mr. Crouch. He looked at his sons then leveled the gun at my face. By that time I was in striking distance. I threw my body into the air and did a round house kick. My left foot took the gun from the man's broken hand and wrist, while my right foot connected with his jaw, sending him to the ground. I will be forever grateful to Spike for teaching me that move.
    The police moved in on the man and forced him to stay on the ground. When they tried to handcuff him they discovered the ulna bone of the man's right arm sticking out of his skin at the wrist joint. His legs were shackled and his left hand secured to his leather belt before the paramedics stepped in to splint his arm. A strap was placed over the man's head and tightened under his chin to support his broken jaw.
    A woman in her early thirties ran toward the boys and grabbed onto them. "Oh you precious dears. Both of your parents… Well, not to worry. You are going home with me and that is the end of it."
    "Dad, don't let her take us," EJ called out I looked at tiny Tiger. He was hiding behind his big brother with a look of sheer terror on his, already traumatized, little face. "She hates our mom and she hates me 'cause I'm gay. She wants to put me in a camp where they cure queers and make them Soldiers of the Cross. I already know Christ and He ain't like the devil she worships."
    "Don't judge her or the way that she worships. You will not be going with her so shelter Tiger and help him to gather some clothes. We will return to the mountain and take him with us."
    "You won't be taking them anywhere. I am their next of kin and I have rights."
    "Your rights were severed when Mr. and Mrs. Crouch signed papers giving me the sole custody of Earl and the right to adopt him. They also made me the guardian of Tiger in the event that anything should happen to both of them."
    "Pshaw. That won't stand up in court. I am their next of kin."
    I turned away and walked over to the Olds to retrieve my computer case from the back seat. I booted it up and logged into an account. A message was waiting from Bull. I sent it to the small thermal printer and handed the print out to a police captain that had come to the scene.
    "Well Sir Chris, again you have all of your Is dotted and your Ts crossed. You may take the boys away from here. We know where to find you. We will need to talk with the little guy, what's his name?"
    "His family calls him Tiger Bear, but his legal name is on that document." We shook hands and I herded the boys into the car. Tiger wanted to sit next to EJ so I made sure that they were both buckled safely into the back seat and drove away.

    It was almost lunch time. I called my business appointment to tell them that I had been delayed. They assured me that all was well and that they were prepared to meet with me. I drove into the underground parking of their building and led the boys to an elevator. We stepped off of the elevator car into the lobby of an exclusive five star restaurant. The maitre d' greeted me by name. I told him that I was a bit early for lunch, but that I needed some comfort food for the two boys who had just watched their mother die.
    We were led to my favorite table against the window. The view of my mountains is spectacular from that vantage point high above the buildings, light poles, and billboards. I told the boys to order whatever they wanted. Tiger wanted a hamburger with French fries, and oh, could he have some cheese on that? I rubbed his little head and told him that whatever he wanted was his. EJ wanted a fruit plate.
    I told the boys that I had to go downstairs to tend to some business. Tiger wrapped his thin arms around mine and begged me not to leave him. I had to acquiesce. I took my phone from my pocket and dialed the number then returned my phone to my pocket so that I could use my throat mic and earbud. I apologized for my delay in arriving. I offered them lunch at the Mountain View. I told them that it was early and that the restaurant was empty, save for the wait staff. They agreed to come up to join me.
    The lunch special for the day was braised beef tips with a burgundy laced sauce prepared by Çhé Reginâld. That man can do things with food that attack the palate. I had eaten his beef tips in the past and jumped at the chance to dine on them again. I did ask to substitute the baby asparagus tips, I have never acquired a taste for the green spears.
    With a meal consisting of a green salad, tips over noodles, baby carrots, and a small ear of corn, accompanied by several hot yeast rolls with butter, consumed I felt better. I was also feeling great with the signed business arrangement laying on the table.
    I had not ignored the two boys during my business luncheon. The were both showing very sad faces. I decided on something that was sure to get their attention. After dinner coffee was served. I allowed the boys to walk around the restaurant to look out over the city from the windows on all four sides. I told them to be quiet and to watch where they were going, people were filing in for their noontime meal. I ordered something that I knew would be hit with the boys.
    The maitre d' pushed a cart to our table. He poured brandy over the desert and prepared for us a flaming Crème brlûée. Tiger sucked up close to me as his eyes widened at the leaping flames. I told him that he was going to eat the hottest desert of his life. He was afraid that the flames would burn his tummy. I told him that we would put the flames out before he ate it. I concluded my business then sought out the boys for a trip back to Camp Christopher.

    With the boys in the back seat, away from the shelter of the windshield from the cool air I had to drive slowly. Tiger wanted to get up on his knees so that he could see, but I would not allow that. I put the top up and drove the Olds into the garage. I went through the house to place my new agreement in the small safe in my office then herded the boys out through the front door.
    Bryan was waiting by Travel hop©. I asked him to show off the ship to the boys. Tiger was excited to fly. He was asking EJ what it was like to be so high in the air. EJ was extremely animated as he told his brother about his worldly knowledge of the wild blue yonder. Bryan directed my attention to a box in the cargo bay. He eye talked to me as he explained that he had used the time that I was having lunch to make a trip to a toy store. He also purchased jeans and a shirt for Tiger to be able to dress like the other boys. His pièce de rásistance was a pair of cowboys boots. I asked him if he had eaten and he told me that he wanted to wait and have lunch with the boys at the camp. I told him to take off so that we could get there in time.
    I had expected Tiger to be excited by the flight. He didn't disappoint me. He had EJ on his knees as they looked down from the windows. Tiger couldn't believe that the small specks moving along the ribbon of roadways were really full sized cars. I wanted him to try on the boots to see if they fit him. I will have to give Bry a very special hug, the boots fit perfectly.
    Bryan sat Travel hop© down at the helipad at the upper camp. Naked boys ran out of the woods to welcome us back. Tiger was hiding behind EJ and pointing to the boy's goods flapping about freely. While we were being greeted the sound of the steel triangle and the call of "Chow" filled the air. We were just in time for lunch with the boys. I wasn't in the mood for food. I wanted my Cory man. I held his hand as we led Tiger to Kardal and the little ones. Both boys were very happy to see one another. Kardal led his friend through the food line as Cory and I headed for a table together for some sucky face.

    The boys had enjoyed the rodeo immensely. Nolan had watched me and all of the Ewf—Tsalagi—boys ride. He suggested that we give a demonstration to the steeple jumpers on western horsemanship. We invited the Chiricahua boys to join us.
    Cory had taught me to slide up to a standing position on my horse. I couldn't shoot, but I know who could. During my honeymoon with Cory we had spent a lot of time on horseback. Roddy never ceases to amaze me. For a boy of his sparse years he can accomplish more than most seasoned riders.
    Qd/-–Roddy –and 8QR–Tequasi –showed their bowmanship skills one afternoon. The two boys were riding their ponies as fast as they could ride. They would stand on the horse's back and slot an arrow then put it into a target every time. Cory suggested they couldn't hit a moving target. Never challenge a virile youngster like that. Cory smiled at me.
    A ten inch ball of hay was tied together with long stands of green grass. It was attached to a pony by a rope. RD rode that pony in a zig zag pattern as the ball of hay bounced about over the field, just like a rabbit on the run. The two boys rode their ponies alongside, keeping at least ten feet between their target and themselves. Roddy put ten out of ten arrows into the hay ball.
    Tequasi had nine out of ten, but his last shot led the target too much. His arrow pierced the tow rope severing it from the hay ball. Roddy is a young diplomat. He suggested the shot was done on purpose and that it was the best shot of the day. Tequasi started to protest when Cory spoke a single word in Tsalagi that I did not know. Tequasi smiled at Roddy and rubbed his head. They have been fast friends ever since.

    We spent as much time as we could on the mountain, but we finally had to leave. Saturday morning breakfast was over and the horses stood ready as the first rays of sunrise appeared on the horizon. The boys were mixed as we rode along the ridge of Fire Mountain. They all wanted to stay at the camp, but they knew that they had to return to school Monday morning. The weather had turned brutally cold overnight and the boys were eager to get to the main camp and a warmer altitude. The wind was blowing up from the flat desert to the north and as it climbed the mountain it carried snow flurries that sent cold chills through our bodies.
    We rode into the main camp at just past eight o'clock. Daniil came out to greet us and invited us to building B for hot chocolate and French pastries. The early morning temperature at the main camp was 52, hot chocolate sounded like a plan. The boys removed their gear from their horses and stacked it in neat rows. They led their mounts to the stables to remove the saddles and brush their animals down. Once the horses were watered, and otherwise, taken care of fresh alfalfa was placed on the ground for them. Then it was time for the boys.
    Roddy took my horse and groomed him as I stood where I had dismounted and talked to Nolan. At the edge of the rodeo grounds he had three large fires burning very large logs. Over each fire hung a thirty gallon kettle filled with water and dried pinto beans. He informed me that as soon as the beans came to a boil he and Tristan would spit a half a beef. He said that the beef and beans would be ready to eat about three o'clock. I had planned for the riding demonstration to take place at one.
    Roddy stepped up to my side and took my hand, "You are cold, daddy. Let's go get some coco and let me rub your feet."
    "You may get him some hot coco, little bro, but I get to rub his feet," Cory announced. I love for my boys to fight over me, to a point.

    I had special guests scheduled for noon so I told all of the boys to dress in boots, jeans, and western cut shirts. I told them that we would have a big chuck wagon dinner for our last evening together. That received a mixed response. The boys love the chuck wagon dinners that we had shared together, but they didn't like to think about it being their last night together. I met with the same response as I made my way through the other two dormitories.
    A few minutes past noon a chartered bus pulled up to the door of building C. I met the mariachi band as they filed off of the bus. I asked Tristan to show them where they could use restrooms and get something hot to drink then he was to show them to the small stage set up in front of the bleachers at the rodeo grounds. I suggested that the bus's driver pull over to a place toward and behind the bleachers where the band members could get in from the chill air and take a break. I didn't need to worry about the chill air, the day was warming up and by one o'clock it was in the mid sixties.
    At one o'clock the boys from the amassed schools began to move into the stands. I stepped up on the small stage wearing my leather pants, shirt, and moccasins. I used RD's headset microphone, "Boys, we have had a wonderful time with you here. You have made this the best holiday season that any of us have ever enjoyed. We want you to return home with memories of your vacation in the wild west, so without further ado I would like to introduce you to some southwest music from south of the border." The band ran onto the stage and played for twenty minutes before taking seats on the front rows of the bleachers.
    I learned that all of the young Indian braves could shoot their arrows with great accuracy. Six Chiricahua boys rode out onto the field and put on a show. I was impressed with their skills. They did somersaults and flips while maintaining their place on the backs of their running horses. The crowd went to their feet when Bodaway and Eknath rode at high speed from opposite directions toward each other. As they grew closer to the other one they stood on their horses backs and did a somersault, Bodaway going high and Eknath going low. They landed on the other's horse. They rode on as if that was the horse that they had started off on in the first place.

    I joined the riders in the beginning just to show the other boys that I wasn't such and old dude after all. I could only stand up and turn around. I can't shoot a bow and arrow on the ground, let alone from a moving horse. Cory rode beside me as he did hand stands on the back of his steed. Roddy won't be outdone so he started with the somersaults and then he and Cory switched horses at mid-field. Roddy's horse didn't like for anyone to ride him other than Roddy so Cory jumped off and ran alongside. As he drew up next to Roddy the boy took to a handstand and jumped over to the back of his stallion. Cory placed his hands on the flanks of his horse and jumped onto its back.
    All seventeen of the Indian boys gave us quite a show as they charged onto the field firing arrows into straw targets set about. Even Clayton gave an impressive demonstration. The weakest of the boys was young Steven. He has spent very little time amongst his mother's people and has only learned the skills that he has from the boys in my house. Mike did a respectable job, he had spent some time with his mother's people, until Revers began to taunt him for being gay.

    The Malaysian word amoq, which, when literally translated, describes the behavior of tribesmen who, under the influence of opium, became wild, rampaging mobs that attacked anybody in their path. The phrase became popular in England during the 17th century, when travelers would try to impress people with their knowledge of foreign cultures.
    The word has been accepted into the English language as amok. That was the word that could best describe the scene at the rodeo grounds as the rodeo drew to an end. Even our guest from the band were on their feet jumping up and down and shouting with joy.
    Roddy and his white stallion were the stars of the show according to the crowd's reaction. Everybody wanted to touch the boy and tell him how great he was.

    At last time that we all dreaded came. It was even colder on Sunday morning then it had been on the day before. The boys had loaded their personal belongings onto the back of trailers that were towed to their respective airplanes. All of us stood together as tears and kisses were shared before we had to part for a little while. I know that the gathering of all of the schools is something that all of the students look forward to. If I am to be honest the staff looks forward to the gatherings as well. I know that I do. My heart was breaking as I watched each boy climb the stairs and step out of sight into his plane.
    The toughest departure was watching Cullen board FI-2. Bryan had flown Travel hop© from the upper camp to the airfield so that he could sit in the co-pilot's seat next to Pete for the flight to England. I hugged Jimmy and cried on his shoulder then I did the same with Kostja. I held onto Cullen's hand when I hugged his lover. I walked with him to the bottom of the fold down steps and didn't let go until he had to bend over to keep our bond together. It may be unnatural for Cullen and I to share the kind of love that we have. He is the son of a sister that I never knew existed and I want to watch him grow up as much as I want to watch my own sons grow.
    Cullen reminds me very much of RD. It is commonly thought that one's personality is molded by one's environment. I do not agree with that. Environment plays a part, but genetics play a larger part. Neither Cullen nor RD ever met my dad, yet they share so many of his little traits that I just sit back and remember the man. I am told by others that Cullen, RD, and I share a lot of common quirks. Cory laughs at us when all three of us do something exactly the same in reaction to a situation.
    I missed most of RD's teenage years. I only met Cullen when he was fourteen, but as soon as I got to know RD I could see my dad in him as well as in Cullen. I feel as if my dad is still with me in the form of two very precious boys.

    I asked my family to go through each building and gather anything that was left behind. I asked them to turn down the thermostats and turn off the lights. Some of the boys went to the stables to muck the floors and make sure that the horses had feed. Long faces climbed aboard the school's buses and the Traveler Trio© for our return home.

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