Chapter 235


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.

You may download the CHEROKEE TONT for free at this link. Dowload it, install it, then enjoy seeing tfe TSAIAGI names in this story. This font is included in thfull version Send an e-mail for it .
    "I can't believe that little Pam is a grown up, married woman. Chris, I have known her all of her life. I used to baby sit with her when our mothers went into Tahlequah for a few hours. Chris, I have even changed her diapers." Ugitsiha was taking it hard. She loves her young cousin as much as I love my son, RD. I suppose that all parents go through similar emotions when their babies grow up. It was new to me. I had a new sensation in my body that I had never expected.
    The trip to Tahlequah Oklahoma is just over twelve hundred miles via Roswell, New Mexico. The roads have been widened so my speed was increased exponentially. I know of a small truck stop on the road through Clovis, New Mexico that serves great food, and lots of it. We left Tucson at seven in the morning and arrived in Clovis at twelve thirty, a distance of five hundred and fifty eight miles. I have said before that my Travelers© are made to travel, not take up space on a highway's slow lane.
    The three previous days had been very long. Even Roddy had worked hard alongside of his mother and me as we made the last minute preparations for RD's and Quemela's big day. When I snuggled into bed next to Ugitsiha I don't think that I moved all night long. I had a very vivid dream that stayed with me as we traveled. During lunch Roddy looked at his youngest brothers and began to sing in Tsalagi. Ugitsiha joined him. I knew the song, it was from my dream. I began to sing along with the other two.
    "I never heard that song before my dream the past night. I guess it is an oldie," Roddy said quietly.
    I looked at my son and wondered. "I too had a dream last night where that song filled the air around me. Cullen James was the center of the dream."
    "Ùdyi wahya is the young wolf on the tapestry. He is the one feeding on a pile of dead rats. The dream vision that all of us saw is for us to begin to prepare our young son to join the great Shoemowetochawcawewahcatowe in battle. He is only twenty one months old, but already he knows many of his letters in Tsalagi. Sometimes he speaks entire phases in the ancient tongue. My aunt Beulah is astounded by him. She says that he is gifted to the greatness of his father and that he will be a great chief."
    I asked her how long he had been speaking in phrases. At twenty one months most babies can not even speak entire sentences, and those are very short—about four of five words at most. She told me that Cullen James has been speaking more and more over the past three months. She told me that all of the women were aware of his gift, but that they decided to wait to tell me because I am an excitable person.
    I gave her a sideways look and rolled my eyes. "You are, daddy. You get all mushy when me or my brothers do something cute. You even get all mushy over RD. Mom has told me that it is because you love us so much, and I am grateful for that 'cause I love you too.
    "You get gushy over Chrisy and Jimmy. I think that they should be your real sons. You never adopted them, but you should, you love them that much. You adopted Cory before you met me and you love him in ways that you can love no other. Sometimes I wish that I was Cory…" I placed an arm around his shoulder and pulled him up from his seat. It was time to get back on the road, we still had about seven hundred miles to go.
    I hate the ninety two mile stretch of road from Clovis to Amarillo, Texas. The first forty mile stretch is a decent road, as far as two lane cow trails go, but like a cow trail it is surrounded by bull shit. Well most of the cattle are she cows, but there are the neutered and old bulls in the large feeder lots located along both sides of the highway. I kid you not, when one drives to the top of a small hill on the rolling plains road the view in the depression before you is to be seen to be believed. I have often thought that some of my boys have a green cloud lingering behind them when they are flatulent; there is a real green cloud of methane gas hanging over the thousand acre feed lots located between the hills around Hereford, Texas.
    At Sumerfield the road turns into a four lane divided cow trail. That allows for some speed through the gas cloud. Methane is very explosive and I have often thought that a spark from an engine could start the world's largest barbeque in an instant. The road passes through several small towns, or should I call them speed traps. Even a police escort over that section of roadway does no good—there is just too much slow moving traffic in those towns. From Amarillo on east the travel is on four lane, divided Interstate 40 so the speed increases.

    Just short of four hundred miles east of Amarillo brought us to US Highway 69 where we cut north northeast to Muskogee, Oklahoma. Traveling around that town to the city's northeast side we picked up State Highway 15 which brought us into Tahlequah. Actually we didn't go into Tahlequah, but to a small town to the south. That built up area that nestles along the Illinois river is not on any maps, anywhere. It is not an incorporated township and it does not have a post office of its own, but my family calls it home.
    We drove up to the house where Ugitsiha grew up under the watchful eye of her mother, Ahwiagina. At six in the evening—we had been on the road eleven hours, including our lunch stop over at Clovis, New Mexico. Our first duty was to get the little guys out of Traveler Too© so that they could work off some of their abundant energy.
    Cullen James is toddling along at an advanced pace. He just won't act his age, I think that he is a forty year old small person in a baby's body. Three year old Cory Stevens hit the ground running. He was investigating everything in his sight. C.J. started to follow him then suddenly stopped. He looked at the sun setting in the western sky and began to chant. I looked at Ugitsiha, she gave me a blank look in return. An old man sitting on his porch at the house next door began to chant along with Ùdyi wahya and beat on a small, flat drum. Aioli Wahya stopped his explorations and sat down, cross legged next to his little brother.
    Rodney joined his brothers and began to sing along as a crowd began to assemble. Many of the older members of the crowd turned to face the sunset and picked up the chant. Suddenly Ugitsiha gripped my hand and began to chant along. After a moment or so she turned me to her and quietly continued the chant in English. "The day grows old as our wisdom increases. Oh Great God, we give thanks to you for all that you have created for us. Our lives are full, our hearts burst with joy at Your presence. Make us strong that we may defeat your enemies."
    I was moved to the core of my being. My knees began to quake as she carefully guided me to the ground behind my three sons. I had heard that song during my cleansing visions in January. I was laying in the grass near Rodney's two boys at play as the song filled my mind from some unknown source. Ugitsiha told me that the song had been sung at sun down when she was a small girl. She had no knowledge of why no one sang the song in recent years. She did tell me that the song was in a very ancient dialect that most of the people in town did not know. I just stared at the back of my young son's head and marveled at the gift that God has given to the world.
    Several people that had joined in the song looked from me to Cullen James. "He is the Kuckunniwi. Son of the great Shoemowetochawcawewahcatowe. I looked at Kuckimniwi in wonder.

    Rodney did not want to stay in the house of his elisi. I could understand. He is young, the death of someone so close to a child of his age takes a toll on the psyche. I asked him where he would like to spend the night. He got all puppy eyed and told me that he wanted to spend the night alone with me in Traveler Too©.
    One of the neighbor ladies brought in a large pot of pinto beans with a ham hock. Another lady brought a large skillet of sliced and fried potatoes, while another brought us a large pan of hot cornbread. Ugitsiha prepared a half dozen green onions from the garden in the yard. She found a bottle of super hot tabasco peppers and sent Rod into Traveler Too's© refrigerator for a gallon of milk and an open carton of butter sticks. A fresh and hot apricot cobbler appeared along with a half gallon of French vanilla ice cream for our desert. We had a meal fit for a king of the road.

    After dinner Roddy disappeared for a few minutes. When he returned he had an over stuffed folder filled with papers. The pages were drawings and plans that he and his father had laid out for the glade where he plans to build his house for his young bride. I am not ready to face the reality of his moving into a home of marital bliss in only thirteen more months.
    At ten o'clock the two of us retreated to Traveler Too© for a good night's rest. Neither of us wanted sex, we wanted to be together as father and son. I held the naked boy close to me as we talked late into the night—we were still running on Tucson time which is two hours behind Oklahoma's time in June.
    "I saw that puppy on a pile of rats on that big tapestry and it made me wonder. Now I know that it is C.J., I thought that it was me. I don't like rats. What do you think it means, daddy?"
    "I don't know for sure. I think that it means that C.J. will be a powerful fighter against the enemies that God puts us up against. In your dream did you see Cullen James as a wolf pup?"
    "Yes, daddy. He looked just like you as a puppy."
    "He was kind of cute, like me."
    "You're better looking."
    "Flattery will get you everywhere with me, my beautiful boy." We drew closer to one another. I drifted in and out of sleep for sometime. I felt Roddy stir beside me, "What do you think of the name Kuckunniwi? I feel like I am being told to call him that."
    "I like it is a Cheyenne meaning little wolf. In my dream he is a wolf puppy." Roddy nestled his head on my chest and we both fell asleep.

    Roddy can be as quiet as an Indian when it suits him. I did not feel, or hear, him when he slipped from our bed the following morning. My first aware moment was the smell of hot coffee that he had brought out from the house for me. I started to drink the hot liquid when Roddy grinned at me, "Would sir like cream with his coffee?" I looked down to see a very impressive erection and asked him if I should pump it or would he. He lay back on the bed with his worldly center pointing to the ceiling. I wrapped my hand around him and began to loving stroke him. I moved to him and kissed him as I continued to give him pleasure. He stiffened up and rose from the bed. I grabbed the cup full of coffee and placed it before his fountain in time to not miss a drop.
    I offered him a drink of the mixture. He looked at it then took a sip, "Not bad, not bad at all. You will have to make me a special cup of coffee later." We jumped into the shower as we heard ourselves being called inside for breakfast.

    Clean and dressed in buckskins and calf skin moccasins we headed out to the house. At the rail in front of the house stood our horses. Roddy's white stallion with the red hand print on its left shoulder stood next to the golden horse that Cory had given me for a wedding gift. Roddy had named his horse Lightening Fire. I call my horse my Golden Beauty.
    Ugitsiha had large, fluffy biscuits ready. I took a knife full of the freshly whipped honey butter and spread it on a hot biscuit then popped it into my mouth. A bowl of hot, finely crumbled sausage with creamy gravy sat at the center of the table. Roddy dug into the hot food as I picked a grapefruit from the fruit bowl on the table. I sectioned the grapefruit and shared the slices with C.S. and C.J. Cory Stevens scrunched up his nose then took another bite. Cullen James ate his whole slice and asked for another one.
    Ugitsiha had a small amount of a biscuit with a spoonful of gravy on each plate for the boys. I took a biscuit and split it in half. I put a large amount of gravy on one half then buttered the other half. I reached for the milk and poured myself a large glass and began to eat.
    Ugitsiha was trying to feed Cullen James. "Nooooo, daddy feed me," he said as he looked into my eyes. I moved my chair closer to him and picked up the spoon. I placed a bit of the gravy into his mouth and he squealed in delight. "Good, daddy." Warm fuzzies raced through my body as I marveled at the tiny boy.
    After breakfast I gathered all three of my precious babies to play on the floor with me. I have become a dotting father and I love to be with my sons. I still love each and everyone of my family and I try to fit time in for each single boy as often as possible. A quiet knock on the door brought Roddy to his feet. I heard him talking in Tsalagi at the door and I heard a man's voice responding to him. I figured if I was needed I would be called so I continued to frolic with my guys.
    Roddy had gone outside for a moment. When he returned he told me that we needed to get our asses in gear if we planned to get any work done on his new house. He passed his mother a box laden with food and told her that old George had stopped by. Ugitsiha placed the box on the table and gave Roddy a big hug then gave me a kiss.
    Roddy had an Indian skid—two poles with a blanket wrapped between them—attached to Lightening Fire's harness, neither horse was saddled. The skid carried all of our provisions for a week at the glade. It looked as if there were enough provisions for the rest of the summer. However, I could not see what was actually on the skid, everything was wrapped with a heavy tarp.

    We rode for more than a mile through the pristine scrub oak forest before rising into a forest of white Oak and Maple. We broke out onto a large, wide glade of forty acres surrounded by a tall forest of thirty to forty foot tall tress. The forest is full of game and edible fauna, everything needed to keep a person alive. A gentle flowing creek ran across one corner of the glade and it was filled with fish of many varieties.
    I thought back to the first time that I had seen this glade.

From chapter 227: Rodney and I had ridden our horses to that land and sat under the shade of an orchard of peach trees, cherry trees, and apple trees that he and his father had planted when the boy was five years old. Rodney would point and show me where he would one day build himself a house where his sons could play and grow.
    He had shown me a stand of white oak and old growth pecan trees that were growing wild. He explained to me that those trees were choking each other out and that they would die if five or six more years. I asked him if he would like my help in thinning them out. He held my hand and told me that when the two of us could take two months away from everything that he would like my help.
    He took on a whimsical look and told me that he would like for Cory and RD to help him cut the trees and rough cut them to dry for a season. He said that the wood would be stronger and that it would make a fine house. At the edge of the property line between Rodney's land and Cory's land sits a rock outcropping that was no good for cultivation. Rodney picked up a huge boulder of about eight inches around, well remember he was just eleven, and showed it to me. He had a few hundred of the stones marked for a fireplace for his house and many more for the rubble stone foundation.

    Roddy led us to the far edge of the forest and settled us in on a flat spot between the trees and the stream. His first duty was to release Lightening Fire from the skid, he asked for my help He told me that it was easy to build the skid and to load it, but unhitching if when it was fully loaded was altogether another matter. I turned my head to stifle a chuckle, my boy is growing up, his grammar proves it.
    Once the horses were unburdened Roddy moved to a large pile of split wood at the edge of the tree line. He gathered up four split logs into his arms and took a large handful of kindling in each hand. On his previous visits he had built a small fire pit encircled with rocks. The fireplace had stones set so that a metal grate could be placed there for cooking above the fire. He had even added a small chimney with a grate across it for heating a can of food, or a small pan.
    It was into this pit that he placed the kindling. He drew tiny dead leaves from a nearby dead plant and placed them to the center of the fire pit. From under a rock near the flu opening he removed a piece of flint and an old broken knife hilt. As he struck the flint to the steel sparks sprayed into the dry tender. He softly blew on the area where the sparks lay on the dried leaves, in a moment he had a small flame going. Very slowly he added more of the dead leaves then held the burning brush under the small pile of tender that he had placed in the center of the pit. Roddy is good at building a fire. He stacked his tender in a tepee shape and let it build to a solid flame. He then added the smaller of his firewood and let it ignite before he stacked the final four split logs to the top of his small fire.
    In the mean time I had been busy. I located the semi-circle frame made of heavy wire. I wiped it down with a clump of wet moss then pushed each end into the ground, making sure to centered the catch hook at the top. I wiped down the long heavy wire piece that we hung the coffee pot, or other small pots, above the fire with.
    I retrieved the coffee pot from our store of supplies on the skid and filled it with the fresh water of the creek. I was not overly concerned about the quality of the water for the coffee; it would be throughly boiled, rendering it safe. I would test the water before any cooking was done. A fresh water spring is located about two hundred feet inside the tree line where we could get all of the fresh drinking and cooking water we needed.
    I placed the stem of the percolator into the coffee pot then hung the assembly onto its hook above the flames. I placed a round paper filter into the bottom of the grounds basket then filled it with fresh coffee grounds and fitted it into the pot then locked the top into place. Okay, a percolator with paper filters is not standard fare for our type of camping, but I have to have coffee that does not need to be chewed.
    Roddy had busied himself with locating his tools. He drew out a heavy axe and dragged the poles from his skid to a place that he felt was suitable for our temporary shelter. He looked about for short and stout saplings for the supports. He made quick work of felling three supports and two long poles of about ten feet in length. He sharpened the ends of the long poles from the skid and one of the poles that he had just cut. Together we pushed them deep into the earth and bowed them forward.
    I held the long poles as Roddy pushed the short, forked saplings into the soft ground. Using leather strips I secured the long poles to the saplings. Roddy took a length of hemp twine and tied it to the end of the long pole then pulled it out and tied it to a stake in the ground that he drove in at a forty five degree angle. We repeated this process two more times then we lashed the final ten foot pole through the forks in the saplings with more leather. We had a sturdy frame for a lean too in only a few minutes.
    Roddy had brought the canvas to use as a covering for our temporary shelter. He didn't want to spend the time cutting long grasses and reeds for the shelter. That choice also prevented the concentration of insects into our living space. I believe that Roddy made his choice to protect me. He knows that I can commit insecticide very easily. I love it when he looks out for me.
    Roddy informed me that I was a better blower than he was and left me to air up the queen sized air mattress and spread out the sleeping bags. He grabbed his small tackle box and ran to a favorite spot of his along the small stream. I made our beds and set our cooking utensils near the fire pit. I located the ten gallon Lister Bag and started for the freshwater spring.
    Roddy caught up with me before I reached the spring. I was glad to have him along. Ten gallons of water weighs about eighty pounds, but the canvass bag that we were filling makes it difficult to transport. Roddy is a wonder when it comes to things of the woods. While I filled the bag with fresh water he cut and stripped two small saplings. He wove the green bark strips into a net tied to each of the four foot long poles. He placed his small skid under the Lister Bag as it continued to slowly fill.
    It was about fifteen minutes before the bag was filled. I secured the top of the bag as Roddy made sure that the bag was on the skid correctly. The two of us each took a grip on one of the poles and together we dragged our burden back to our campsite. Roddy scurried up the Oak tree that we use to hang our water and food away from foraging animals. He climbed out onto a three inch thick branch and caught the rope from the Lister Bag as I tossed it to him. Together we hoisted the bag to hang about three feet from the ground and tied it off.
    Our next task was to forage for our food for dinner that night. Roddy placed his bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulders. He had his hunting knife strapped to his waist and stood there looking at me. "Well, get your gun, daddy. We may run into something dangerous.." I love this boy.
    We found a small clump of wild onions and close by was a plant that produces a potato like tuber. We gathered dandelion greens and cress as well as some wild growing, small tomatoes. Roddy pointed to a fern like plant and dug up two good sized carrots. He carefully looked over three areas of mushrooms before selecting a half a dozen inch wide buttons. As we made our way back he suddenly stopped and moved to a small bush covered with tiny red peppers. I know that those peppers are super hot, but they really enhance a salad.
    Back at our campsite Roddy dug into our stash of supplies. He pulled out a linen cloth and produced two strips of venison jerky and two apples. I poured a cup of coffee and dug into my noontime fare.

    After lunch we began our work. Roddy had a large spool of string in his saddle bags. We measured off the ground where he wanted to build his house and stretched the string between small stakes driven into the corners. Within about an hour we had the basic grid work laid out and a better idea of the actual footprint of a new four bedroom home.
    He had his plans for his house laid out on the food prep table. I looked them over then walked to the out into the stringed area. "Rod, baby, I think that you should have a larger master bathroom. May I make a few changes?" He agreed and helped me to move some of the strings around.
    The current plans for the master bath placed it against a center wall. I moved the string so that the bathroom would be on the outside southwestern corner of the house. I moved the outer wall of the house out ten feet making for a larger bedroom and adding five feet to each of the boys' rooms.
    I placed stones where the bathroom fixtures would be and told Roddy that the tub should be a semi-sunken jacuzzi with lots of jets for a stimulating bath. He asked if there would be a jet to stimulate his pride. I told him that there would be. I added string around the outside corner of the bathroom. I told him that this would be a small garden with a tall fence. I told him that the tub would have sliding glass doors that would open into the garden for a bath in the woods feel. He liked that.

    When the sun touched the tree tops to the westside of the glade we ceased our work for the day. We stored our tools and Roddy led Lightening Fire to the shelter. He removed the harness from his horse then brushed him down. He looked at me. I got the clue. I picked up a brush and began to brush down my Golden Beauty. Roddy took a large amount of the fresh alfalfa and spread it before each horse. They neighed their delight and began to eat.
    Roddy stripped naked and got into the stream above the horses shelter, but below our campsite. He carefully moved to a bank that was heavily covered with foliage drooping over and into the water. He found the upstream end of a heavy cord and began to pull it out of the water. He had set a trot line soon after we had arrived that morning. He had three two pound channel cat on the line. We sat about skinning and gutting the catfish.
    Roddy took out the deep ten inch cast iron skillet and sliced the tubers into it. He added butter, finely chopped wild onions, and some freshly picked herbs from the woods around us. He placed this on a wire grill that was left behind in the stones of the fire pit. He then set the cast iron griddle on top to serve as a lid..
    From the box of jerky and supplies that George had given Roddy before we left the house he produced tins of supplies.. He opened a tin and sprinkled out a thin layer of flour onto a tin plate. To that he added a bit of cornmeal then sprinkled it with salt and other spices. To an eight inch cast skillet he added a tablespoon of butter then placed four large breaded catfish steaks to the pan.
    For the next ten minutes I sucked on a horrible cup of coffee that had steeped on the fire for many hours more that it should have. Roddy looked up at me and grinned as he busied himself with the stirring of his potatoes and chopping the vegetables for a natural salad. He sent me to the supplies from the house to find a bottle of olive oil and a bottle of vinegar. I mixed the two liquids together then added some of the finely chopped hot peppers and a pinch of the chopped herbs.
    Roddy grabbed my hand and we knelt beside his stove to give thanks to our Lord for His abundant bounty. Roddy lifted the griddle form the skillet of potatoes. He scooped up a serving of perfectly browned fried spuds then added two four inch fish steaks to each plate. We took seats on the ground and began to feast.

    The pleasant sound of pubescent boys drifted to us before we heard the hoof beats of their horses. Two very pleasant looking boys rode up and stopped a hundred feet from us. We were greeted in Tsalagi then we invited the boys to join us at the fireside. "Wow, is that #lscnl?" the boy named GsQlso—blackbird—asked.
    "I caught three catfish on my trot line this morning. Would you like to have a piece?" Roddy asked the two fourteen year old boys. They didn't want their fish fried. They prepared two forked sticks each. They placed a thick fish steak on top of one fork then laid the other one over the top then tied the long ends together with long stands of greens stripped from the bamboo along the stream's edge.
    The apples were still slightly green on the trees in the small orchard. That did not deter Gy—otter. He pulled his knife and made a toss to the top of a tree, twice. He brought down two nice looking apples that still had a lot of green on them. He snapped his knife through a stand of small saplings then cleaned them of leaves and bark. He ran a twig through each apple and then balanced them above the flames of our fire. In a short time the two boys were eating their roasted apples and grilled fish.

    The shadows of the trees were growing longer as the day drew to its end. Our visitors wanted to go for a fast swim in a nearby pool of water. Roddy and I mounted our horses /gy!kn—bareback—and rode with the two boys upstream to their swimming hole. We came out of the woods just below the dam at Cory's place. I told them that we were on private property. They assured me that Chief Gowi had given them permission to swim in the small lake I know my Cory man, that sounded like something he would do.
    We moved to one side of the dammed water where the boys told us that we were out of the main stream flow and that the water would be warmer. "Are you really married to Adsila?" Otter wanted to know. Rodney answered that he was. "That is so cool. I ain't never had any real pussy. All I get is Blackbird's tight ass, but he does me real good too." My hopes were lifted. I wouldn't mind laying with the two boys for an hour or so, maybe all night.
    "You have a few years to go. You will find a girl and have sex all of the time," Roddy assured him.
    "I'm almost fourteen in two more days. You're twelve and married. What's it like to fuck a girl?"
    "I've never fucked a girl. I have to wait until my fourteenth birthday WlU%—Wilihama-told me that I should not have sex with any female till my birthday."
    "So what do you do to get off?" Blackbird wanted to know.
    "Same as you. I fuck with my friends and sometimes my dad."
    The two boys looked at me. "I heared 'bout you. You got that Choctaw Curse thing that give you a big dick. Cory got a big dick and I watched him and Tequasi do it. They said that your dick is bigger. Do you want to do me? I want you too. You can do Otter also." I was primed and ready.
    The four of us got with each other in every way that guys can get with each other. Both boys were full of sweet young batter and had no problem feeding me while Roddy opened their backdoors for my entry. Blackbird is fourteen and a half. He is well endowed. I took him to task first then he plowed into Otter while we nursed on each other.
    When Otter rolled to the side I moved on Blackbird. He spread his legs wide and rode me like an experienced pony rider. Otter was eager to go next, I did not disappoint him. Both of the boys lay with Rodney while I took to their young fountains for more of the nectar that I live for. About seven thirty the boys had to hurry home for their nine o'clock curfew, Roddy and I rode back to our camp site.

     Roddy covered the air mattress and sleeping bags with a large bearskin. As we lay together he suggested something to me that sounded very strange. I had never heard of bare hand fishing before. I mean sure, I had read about people that could stare down into the water and spot a fish and scoop it out of the water with their hands. I had seen Rodney do that on previous trips to his homeland. What Roddy was talking about is a practice that is only legal in four states. In Oklahoma it is commonly called Noodling.

    Roddy is not one to sit still. He looked over his house then headed back to his store of tools. He picked up a harness then attached it to Lightening Fire. He led the horse to a spot near an overgrown mound. Very carefully he burrowed through the overgrowth and reached inside. With some effort he managed to withdraw a wooden plow. The boy can pull magic out of the air. He pulled a steel blade from his pocket and set into a slot on the plow, securing it in place with pins and cotter keys. He affixed the harness to the plow then led the horse to a spot fifty feet from the house.
    "It is almost too late in the season to get anything growing, but it won't hurt to get the ground ready." I joined him and saw that the ground had been plowed in the past. A few passes over the area and it would be read to plant with whatever Roddy had in mind. I went to the store of tools that he had brought out earlier in the morning and found a wide headed hoe. I began to break up the large dirt clods and pull the growth away from the six inch deep furrows.
    Roddy asked me to use my hands to pull the grasses from a huge weed stand at one end of his garden area. I would rather have taken on the task with a scythe in my hands, but when I waded into the thicket I discovered his secret. The area was rife with bushy tomato plants covered with the ripe red fruit.
    He called to me to tell me to watch where I was walking. I looked at the ground and discovered that I had trampled down several huge onion plants. I carefully dug in the groung and withdrew onions of about four to six inches in diameter. He had planted white, yellow, and red onions when he had visited the previous summer. The green stems of the plants had toppled over with their heavy burden of new seedlings. They had grown where they fell.
    As I continued to remove the tall grasses I found garlic plants with hundreds of small cloves at the tips of their greens. I discovered a carrot patch lush with the tuberous vegetable as well as a healthy stand of radishes, both red and hot horseradish. Roddy came up to me as he wiped the sweat from his face. He looked about then knelt down to dig the most hideous looking root that I had ever seen from the ground. "Ginger root, daddy," he smiled at me.
    He helped me to remove the remainder of the overgrowth until we could see a garden well along in growth. He picked up a forked spade and dug into a bed of green foliage. He lifted a good sized potato from the ground. I grinned at him, "You have potatoes and chives, now dig up some sour cream and we will have baked spuds for dinner.

    We were ready for lunch. As we walked across to our campsite a pickup truck lumbered out to us. Old George dismounted and greeted us. Roddy jumped onto the back of the truck and tossed two bales of green alfalfa to the ground. George had an earthenware jug of fresh apple cider sitting on the front seat. He handed that to me and told me that I should set it in the water of the stream. He told me to place it in a spot that would remain shady all day and to secure it well with a bit of heavy twine. He and Roddy dragged the feed to the shelter that Roddy had erected for the horses. He handed Roddy a small package wrapped in white butcher's paper then he mounted his truck and drove away.
    Roddy ran to place the package on ths small food preparation platform that we had set up. He pulled a roll of aluminum foil from our supplies and then took a bar of soap. He stripped his breech cloth from loins then ran to the stream, I quickly joined him. We added to the silt of the stream as we helped each other to wash away all of the dirt and mud from our day's labors.
    Clean and smelling better Roddy led the way back to the fire pit. He unrolled two large sections of the foil and laid them on the table. Next he ethe package that George had brought out, it contained a pound of fresh ground, lean sirloin. He chopped the wild onions from our previous morning's forage and mixed them with a few crushed garlic pods from his garden. He mixed all of that into the hamburger then used the flat of his knife to smash four of the small, hot, red peppers then mixed the seeds into the loaves. He sliced the tubers and carrots and placed them onto two loaves of the hamburger mix. Next he sprinkled everything with a pinch of salt and some black pepper then folded the foil over and sealed the ends and edges. He placed the two foil packages directly into the hot coals of the fire. We were going to have hobo dinners for supper.

    I pulled the jug of cider from the stream and poured a small amount up for each of us while Roddy placed a fresh pot of coffee on the hook to perc. An after dinner coffee was just what I wanted. We choose strips of jerky and ate that along with ripe cherries from Roddy's orchard. I selected the smallest potato that I could find and peeled then rinsed it at ate it, I like raw potato. We plucked fruit from the trees and grazed until we both had our fill.

    I suffered along with my young son as I watched him reach deep into, what he told me were, catfish homes. Catfish like to find shelter under the roots of foliage that grows along the banks. Their roots thicken and form a nice shelter for all types of water life. Roddy was digging his arm under the roots of an old cottonwood tree.
    I grew alarmed when he stayed underwater for a very long time. The water was only knee deep, but his head was submerged. I went in to rescue my wonderful boy. I pulled his torso up and placed my hand under his chin so that his head would be above water.
    "Thank you daddy. I thought that it was my end there. Please keep my head above water so that I can breathe. I have a huge fish on my arm and I don't want to lose him."
    I did not like his answer, but it held hope. After a solid ten minutes he stood up. On his right arm was a catfish that had swallowed most of his arm. Roddy tossed the fish onto the bank of the stream and pulled his hand out, pulling the fish's stomach and a length of, inside out, guts. He tossed the guts into the water for the other fish to feast upon then climbed out of the water to kneel next to his fish.
    He removed his favorite knife that his father had made for him. With a quick cut of the sharp blade he had the fish's belly slit open so that he could remove the remainder of the internal organs. He tossed those into the water then placed his knife along the length of his catch. He flipped the ten inch long knife end for end three times then smiled at me. He laid the knife across the fish's head then spoke.
    "This old granddaddy is thirty four inches long and his head is eight inches wide. I would guess that he weighs about twelve to fourteen pounds. We are going to have some good catfish steaks from this fellow.
    "Daddy, can we go to Cory's house and put the fish in his freezer for when he and Sagi get here?"
    That sounded like a plan. We rode our horses upstream to Cory's love nest in the woods. The water in the creek flowed over the dam of Cory's small lake and then on down through the forest. I placed the horses into Cory's small stable and put out fresh feed and water for them before joining Roddy on the wide wooded porch off of the kitchen.
    Roddy had removed the fish's head and tail. He cut out the dorsal and side fines then he began to skin his catch. I offered my help, the old catfish was not about to get naked, even in death. After some struggled between the two of us we removed the skin. Roddy told me that he would leave the skin in the woods for the wolves to eat. I had to smile at him. I am the head of the Waya pack and I don't eat fish skins.
    The two of us went to the hot spring pool and soaked our sore bodies for an hour. Roddy cuddled against me and talked about all of his dreams. He is a typical boy in that he wants to do everything. He wants to live in the woods and raise children with Adsila. He wants to travel the world with me. He wants to go to school and learn to be a world leader. He wants to do all of the things that a boy can dream of, he even wants to fly a spaceship to Mars.

     Roddy wanted to show off the heads of our day's catch. We headed for the small store that serves as the center of information for the small village. Roddy presented his stringer of catfish heads to the men and boys that were gathered there. Most of them were impressed; however there was a one armed man that shook his head and clucked at us.
    "Better watch yersef there boy. Got my arm bit off by a Gar back there a while ago," he said.
    I thanked him for his advise and turned Roddy toward the door. "I thought that he lost his arm pulling an enemy soldier out of a foxhole, daddy."
    "He told me last year that he lost his arm when he got shot by a cannon ball. I have learned that he lost his arm as a boy when the jack slipped letting his dad's car crush him. He is an old man that doesn't think very clearly any longer. However he is right about noodling. I am not comfortable with what I saw this morning."
    "I know, daddy. I got sorta scared when I got held under water. I don't think that I will do that again."

    Roddy wanted to spend the night in Traveler Too©, he wanted to watch TV for awhile. We sat back on the soft sofa and put our feet up. We had taken the two little guys into the RV with us so that Ugitsiha could have a little time for herself. She told me that she was going to soak in the tub for an hour. My two babies played on the floor until both of them fell asleep. I carried them back to the bedroom and placed them on the bed then returned to the sofa and Roddy.
    Roddy turned his laptop so that I could read the screen. He was so mad that his face was deep, deep red. As I read what he was showing to me I grew incensed as well. "'Some of my students belong in institutions, away from decent children and away from normal society. There is one raghead in my class that has no business being alive, if the truth be known. He can't speak English with any form of intelligence.
    'If an eleven year old kid can be sexual then this child is a pervert. I have observed him through the past four years that he has been in our school and I asked the administration to not assign him to my class. I teach boys and girls good Christian values and this heathen won't learn.
    'A new student joined our class in January and he has become the object of the sexual abuse that Kardal exudes. I have asked to speak to Geoff's parents, but I have gotten no where.'"
    "That bitch doesn't belong in a classroom, daddy. She is sick." I agreed, but I had to admonish Roddy not to be calling her names.

    Saturday morning we all dressed and walked as a family to the village school house for Sabbath services. The small congregation meets in one of the classrooms each week and then they gather for a potluck lunch under the trees, weather permitting. I saw a large banner stretched across the wall above the chalkboard. In large bold letters it read

I asked one of the other church members about it. It stands for Let Something Good Be Said. I like it. Those are good words to live by.

    I was seated under the shade of a large Elm tree patting my full belly and watching my three sons run about in the grass. My concentration was suddenly broken by the sound of El Shaddai playing on the air horns of Traveler©. Cory had arrived. I will kill him, after I hold him close to me. I love my family, but my Cory man…he is my life.
    By the time that I reached the old RV Cory was helping Sagi with the kids. After Sagi exited the vehicle I was pleased to see RD lead Quemela down the steps. RD told us that the two of them could think of no better place for their honeymoon than in the woods of Pam's homeland.

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