Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2006 14:12:49 -0400
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: HOBO TEEN - 4

Copyright 2006 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Hobo Teen" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As
in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the
story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at
carl_mason@comcast.net

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.

This story is highly indebted for its inspiration and many of its details
to the book Riding the Rails; Teenagers on the Move During the Great
Depression by Errol Lincoln Uys.  New York: Routledge, 2003, and the
award-winning documentary film by Michael Uys and Lexy Lovell, Riding the
Rails, produced by WGBH Educational Foundation, Boston, 2005.


CHAPTER 4

(Revisiting Chapter 3)

Leaving two of their group behind to search for the remaining victim and
retrieve Cajun Billy's body, the little band placed Cy on a blanket and
carried him to the home of the village constable.  (Neither Pauli nor the
stolen goods were ever found.)  Known as a fair man who had taken a live
and let live policy towards the hoboes in his midst, the constable loaded
Cy into his old Model T and together with Archie and the former Army medic
left for the county hospital.  When they arrived, Cy was barely alive.  At
that, the physician in charge commented loudly that they did not admit
"transients" and was turning away as the World War I veteran grasped his
arm and said something to him that the others couldn't hear.  Rather
shamefaced, the doctor reluctantly growled that Cy should be taken into the
emergency room and that Archie could wait.

(Continuing Our Story - Cali and the Bangor Rat)

For two days, Cy hovered between life and death, undergoing some serious
surgery.  Archie rarely left his side.  (Indeed, had it not been for a
crusty old head nurse who insisted that he be fed, the redhead might have
starved.  She also personally brought him some clean clothes and arranged
for him to shower.  Evidently, the hospital administrator had no intention
of tangling with her!)  On the morning of the third day when the Gloucester
teen suddenly awakened, he found himself looking straight into the smiling
face of his Maine buddy.

"Wha..." Cy rasped hoarsely.  "Easy, bud, you're ok," Archie whispered,
signaling the nurse and reaching for a glass of water.  For the next few
minutes, he stayed out of the way as medical staff did their thing.  As the
last of them departed, he held Cy in his arms.  The tears running down his
face, Cy looked up into Archie's eyes and said simply, "I remember."  "It's
over, Cy; no permanent damage was done; we lucked out."  "We lucked out?"
Cy asked in some confusion.  "Yep," the redheaded one asserted.  "We were
able to get you to a hospital.  While the administrators are SOBs, for some
reason the other doctors and the staff like us.  You've gotten super care -
probably due to the nurses appreciating my manly physique!"  "Ha!" choked
Cy.  "Probably because they got to see my world-class meat!  They didn't
have to cut anything, did they?" he gasped in some alarm.  "Nope," answered
Archie.  "Just repaired things..."  Looking up, he saw an orderly bringing
a tray over to the bed and snorted, "See?  First-class service!"  Gazing
contemptuously at the broth, tea, and jello, Cy muttered, "I'm sure as hell
glad they don't hate me!"  Aided by a kindly old doctor who spoke with him
on several occasions, Cy's recovery was steady from that point on.

On the next afternoon, Archie brought up a topic which was obviously
difficult for him.  His face sad and his voice halting, he said, "Cy, I've
got a problem."  "Yeah," Cy responded lightly, "You're broke, you've got to
work, and I'm going to be a while getting back on the road.  Anything
besides that?"  His redheaded buddy exhaled and, in spite of himself,
grinned wryly.  "Other than the fact that you're my friend and I don't
leave friends in the lurch, I guess that just about sums it up," he
mumbled.  "Believe that I've tried my best to take care of things, Cy," he
spoke more forcefully.  "In a couple of days when you leave here, you've
been invited into the home of the butcher and his wife.  Their boy died in
1918 at the battle of Chateau-Thierry in France. They want you there...for
as long as you want to stay.  No charge...no obligations...

"Trouble is, buddy, I don't think you'll want to travel alone for a while.
Hell, I don't even think you should travel alone for a while!  Ridin' the
rails ain't easy, no matter how you cut it - and it's a long ways between
here and San Diego.  Here I kinda struck out," he continued. "I just
couldn't find anyone our age who is able to wait around for a week or two."
Cy shook his head in a gesture of understanding.  "I did come up with one
possibility.  About a year ago, I met this guy up in Wisconsin.  Ralph's
around forty...forty-five, I guess.  I came across him again the other
night in the jungle.  He had the same kid with him both times.  The kid's
almost twelve now...name's Cali.  They've got troubles."  "What's the
problem?" Cy asked...not especially interested in the talk about an eleven
year-old.  "Well," his buddy continued," Ralph's a nice guy...a really nice
guy.  Smart, does a lot of good for people, but he has one failing.  He
doesn't really like...you know...adults.  When a kid starts to (and Archie
fumbled for a word)...change, Ralph's kind, but he still tells him to get
lost.  Cali sure looks like a kid, but my guess is that he's on the edge of
puberty...if he's not already into it...whether he knows it or not!"  "And
you think he ought to become my buddy?" Cy asked with just the slightest
sarcasm.

"Dunno...  That's up to you.  I can tell you, though, that he's smart as a
tack.  He's been with Ralph for at least three years, and he knows more
about being on the road than I do.  I couldn't get him to say too much, but
my guess is that he also knows bout as much about sex as I do - and likes
it...our way!"  "Oh, come on, Archie!  He's a punk - and Ralphie's leavings
at that!  I don't like using little kids any more than you do!  What are
you asking me to do?" Cy growled in no little exasperation.

Speaking calmly and trying to keep his cool, Archie admitted that his mind
agreed with Cy, but something deep down said he ought to at least take a
look at this kid.  Cy looked at him straight on and said that he owed him
that...and a hell of a lot more.  Archie was a friend - and always would
be!  Where could he find this...kid?  "If you'll move your legs a bit, you
can see him," chortled the redhead.  Unbeknownst to Cy, a cute little blond
waif had stolen into the ward and was peering up at him through the bars at
the bottom of his bed.

Half kidding, the kid wheedled in the practiced tones of an experienced
hobo, "Gee, Mister, I need a job.  Can you help me out?"  Falling into the
game, Cy asked, "And what can you DO, little one?"  Completely serious now,
blue eyes continued brightly, "Well, sir, I know all about riding trains, I
can scare up more food in less time than almost anybody, I cook and don't
eat much, I can take care of your clothes and, believe me, I can take care
of you...and anyone else you tell me to...real g-o-o-d."  Noting that
Archie was having a sneezing fit, Cy grinned (despite himself) and asked,
"What do you think I oughta do, Sunshine?"  "Well, sir, from what people
tell me, you're a good guy.  I'd like to work for you.  How about letting
me stick around for a few days - say, until you get moved in at the
butcher's - and then decide?"

Despite his initial feelings - and a deep-seated distaste for the way in
which those men called wolves or jockers by the hoboes used younger kids -
Cy had to admit that he found the sunny disposition of the little blond to
be absolutely infectious.  Grinning at Archie, he added, "Ok, Cali, you've
got yourself a deal!"

(Village Hospitality)

"Hsst!  Cali!  Stop bugging Mrs. Logan!" Cy had growled at Sunshine as the
butcher's good wife retreated from the bedroom once again.  It didn't
matter much what she tried to do, be it fluff the pillows on Cy's
featherbed, bring him a cup of coffee, or share some village news.  Cali
would immediately try to position himself between the portly woman and his
boss.  When she tried to win him over, e.g., invite him to Sunday dinner as
a guest or suggest that he might sleep on a pallet in Cy's room, she was
promptly informed that it didn't really matter.  He insisted on paying for
a meal with $2.00 that he had begged at the back doors of her village
friends.  Bottom lip out, he told her that he really LIKED sleeping in the
barn...with some of his old friends!  It was when she approached the bed
with a basin of hot water and towels, however, that it really hit the fan.
"MA'AM!" he said firmly, wresting the washbasin from her hands, "Cy is near
full grown.  It would be more fitting in a Christian home if I washed him."
Poor woman...  She only wanted her son back from the trenches of France!
Poor Cali...  When he got his first real look at what lay under the
bedclothes, he turned red as a beet, lost his power of speech, began to
drool on the sheets, and refused to get more than one inch from his hero
unless he absolutely had to use the facilities out back!  Immediately, he
accepted Mrs. Logan's offer of a pallet on the floor next to his hero's
bed.

The mother of all crises occurred the very next evening.  Mrs. Logan had
drunk her nightly glass of "apple wine" (more accurately, pretty damned
hard cider!) and gone to bed early, pleading fatigue.  Beginning to doze
off (with the Logans' snores in the background), Cy became aware that Cali
had climbed up on end of the bed.  Evidently, he was naked.  NAKED!?  The
curly haired one was instantly awake!  As he crawled up towards Cy, it was
apparent that Cali had made heavy use of Mrs. Logan's bar of English
lavender soap.  Further, his short, blond hair was so clean and shiny that
it squeaked!  Reaching the top of the bed, he turned around and backed up
until his plump little buttocks weren't all that far from the older lad's
face.  In the darkening room, his crack shone as if it had been polished;
his anus blinked seductively.  Trying hard not to screech, Cy roughly
grabbed the waif, turned him around, and dragged him under the covers.

At first, the slender blond was indignant.  "Why'd juh do that, yuh big
lug!"  Then his body suddenly went limp and he burst into tears.  "Boss!"
he WAILED in abject misery.  "Don't yuh like me?  I spent all afternoon
cleaning up.  Blinky even helped me to clean out inside over at the jungle.
I don't smell, do I?  Oh, please, Boss, tell me that I don't smell!  Don't
send me away.  If I smell, I promise to really scrub next time!  PLEASE
don't send me away, Cy!"  Although the boy's cries gradually faded into a
babble of terror and misery in which separate words were barely
distinguishable, Cy could tell that he repeated "Please don't send me away"
and "I love you" several times.

The Gloucester lad held the little guy tight in his arms, bent down, and
kissed him square on his forehead.  "How could I send my little brother
away?" he whispered.  "I love you, too.  And, Cali, if you smell, you smell
good."  Tickling the tyke until he giggled, he continued, "I smell flowers;
I smell a campfire.  Hey, I just got a whiff of Archie.  You saw him off,
didn't you?  You smell good, little brother."  Brushing the tears away with
the back of his hand, Cali's face broke into a smile that illuminated the
room.  "That's my Sunshine," Cy whispered.  With that, Cali flung his arms
around his big brother and joyfully spent the night in protective custody.
Nevertheless, in his relief, Cy missed a look that flashed across the
younger boy's face for just a nanosecond.  If Big Brother thought that
Little Brother had given up on getting access to that big sausage, he had
another think comin'!
                               *** Before they knew it, it was time to
leave the home of the good couple that had sheltered them, as well as the
jungle that contained many new friends.  Even though Cali had inveighed
against hitchhiking, telling Cy over and over again that it was one hell of
a lot more dangerous than catching out, Cy wasn't sure as yet that he was
strong enough to ride the rails.  Thus, they stood with their bedrolls at
the side of U.S. 20 West, some miles outside Albany.  His thumb high in the
air, the Gloucester boy smiled a little sadly.  If he were to go in the
opposite direction, he would eventually find himself riding down
Commonwealth Avenue in Boston.  He had to wonder what adventures lay to the
west.


To Be Continued