Date: Tue, 3 Sep 2002 08:00:42 -0700 (PDT) From: Waddie Greywolf Subject: "Cabbage Patch Cowboy Part 2" DISCLAIMER: WARNING This is a work of adult fiction which was written by and adult for the amusement of other adults. If you are under eighteen years of age or have objections to this type of expression, please stop reading now. The author will not be held responsible if you continue reading beyond this warning. (Codes: M/M M/b t/t Gay Incest Anal Oral True) Questions/comments: waddiebear@yahoo.com Copyright 2002 Waddie Greywolf ============================================================================== Cabbage Patch Cowboy Part 2 Fall 1939 It was a rainy evening in early November when her parents and younger sister took her to the bus station. She waved to her folks from the window of the Continental Trailways bus. She settled back in her seat to read. The bus wasn't crowed and no one was sitting in the seat next to her. She wedged her small handbag next to her in the seat. She sat her other reading material in the pullout cloth compartment in front of her. She turned on the overhead light and began to read her magazine. She started an article in Mc Calls about how a woman could make herself more attractive for her husband. "Her husband, . . ." she thought. Would the young man who asked her to marry him when he returned from the war, survive. She hoped with all her heart he would. She vowed to pray each night for his safe return. Her young man, her high school sweet heart, came home on leave from boot camp in his uniform and looked more wonderful than she remembered him. He always stood proud and strong but there was just something about his uniform, all squared away, that made her want him all the more. She found herself getting more moist than usual and had to pad herself more. He was so attractive to her and she couldn't drink enough of him in. She didn't want to wait. She wanted to get married and have him that night if she could. She was ashamed of herself for letting her animal thoughts rule her senses. He was different from most men. He reasoned things out a bit more. What if they got married, she got pregnant on their wedding night and he didn't make it back. She'd be left to raise his kid alone. She'd have a hell of a time finding another man. He couldn't do that to her. He loved her too much for that. She was young. If he didn't return there would be plenty of time to find a man she could love and find happiness with. How selfish would he be to hold her to a bond with a dead man. She knew he wasn't trying to get out of marring her, he genuinely loved her and wanted the best for her, with or without him. He was so sincere about his feelings he ask her father to sit down with him and discuss their situation. He was respectful and caring enough that he asked her dad if he might have his blessing to ask her hand in marriage? Her parents thought the world of him and never worried about her when she dated him. His dad was even more convinced he was the man for his daughter. He told her so, too, wiping tears from his eyes. "I sure hope that boy makes it back, Darlin,' for all our sakes. Your ma and I love him almost as much as you do. It'ud break our hearts if something happened to him. He's a fine young man, sweet heart. They don't make'um any better'n that boy. We've come to think of him as our son." He made a lot of sense about having to raise a kid on her own but she wouldn't have minded raising his child by herself. Just to see the smile on the child's face that his and her love made would have been enough for her. She'd never loved anyone like she loved him. She gave herself to him the night before he left to be shipped overseas. It wasn't his idea. He wanted to wait, he promised her Dad. Her dad understood his wishes and backed him up. She begged him. He thought that was as bad as them getting married. "If we're gonna' do that we may as well get married. It's certainly not `cause I don't want to Darlin' it's just that there's a right way and a wrong way a' doing things." He was right again as usual. She even felt more frustrated. If he would just be a bit more spontaneous; throw caution to the winds. When he was convinced he was right he could not be swayed easily. She knew he was right, he always was the strong, level headed one between them. They complimented each other that way. She was bubbly and free spirited while he was strong willed and staid: slow to anger but strong in love. She pleaded with him. He could wear protection, she didn't mind. (He wasn't about to tell her that her dad had slipped him a couple of Trojans for his wallet, just in case; then smiled and winked at him.) He'd been so good all through high school not to push. He never tried to take advantage of her. He told her there would be a time for love and when the time came they would be together, but not until then. He wasn't overly religious; although, he had strong faith. It had nothing to do with religion, it was his belief system that was systematic and orderly. He told her if they waited, it would make that day all the more sweet for them. When they were dating, he never tried to feel her up when they were parked and kissing a little. She had to laugh at herself, she wished he had many times. They'd go out, park and neck and then he'd take her home at a decent hour. If he told her parents he'd have her home by ten-thirty, she was walking in the front door at ten-thirty. Her dad never looked at the clock when she was out with him. Her parents knew him and his folks well and approved of him dating her. They knew she was safe with him. They thought as much of the young man as she did. They were looking forward to having him as a son-in-law in their family. He came from a fine family and was one of the most well thought of young men in their town. She was hopelessly attracted to him. She had fantasies of raping him. One in particular that she loved was tying him up after removing his clothes. She would have him on his back with his hands tied to his sides and his ankles tied tightly together. She would stand back admiring her handy work as he came to from the light sedative she slipped in his cherry-phosphate; her, a soda fountain Mata-hari. He would awake to see her with a questioning look but he couldn't say anything because she had his mouth taped shut. He would look to see he was bound and struggle to get free. She would hold up one finger and shake it back and forth to tell him `no-no.' Then when she had his attention she would take off her clothes one piece at a time doing a strip tease for him. "You like that don'cha stud? Is the circus coming to town `cause I see you raised the pole for the center ring?" She would finish her strip tease, then begin to lick his huge masculine body from one end to the other settling last for the little area under his balls, his balls and then his tent pole. She would drive him crazy licking and kissing and getting her mouth juices all over his large shaft, to ready him for riding. Finally, she'd lower herself onto him and moan and groan how good he felt and tell him she was gonna' ride him like a cowgirl with a new set of spurs. That would certainly get his attention, she smiled to herself. He was so good looking and not only the boys talked but the girls would giggle and ask each other just how big it was. All the men wore boots and levis to high school and somehow they would get their jeans as tight as possible. When he sat next to a girl, it's all she could look at. More than one girl damn near flunked a course from not paying attention. Even a couple of the questionable male teachers would make sure he sat on the front row. He was so comfortable with who he was it never bothered him to have people stare at his crotch. He'd catch another guy checking him out, catch his eye and wink at him. They would blush crimson because he caught them. He would then smile like, "Hey, buddy! It's all right, thanks for checking me out." To her he was the most handsome young man in their school; their town; their state; no, the world! She put it to him. "Have you ever . . .?" she asked blushing, expecting him to tell of his many conquest. "I never have. I want you to be the first. If I'm to be your first shouldn't you expect that of me? I love you that much." She cried at his pledge to her but they couldn't see the future. "What if, . . . and you've never known a woman? "Then I will die true to you, sweetheart." "No! No! I won't let that happen. These are difficult times we're living in and we can't plan for the future so plans and ideals have to be reconsidered. Please! Please! To lose you and never have the memory of even one night with you is not acceptable. I can't do that." She sat back in her seat and pushed the button to recline. She turned the reading light off and put her magazine away. She closed her eyes and remembered seeing his body naked for the first time. He was not the least shy about her seeing him and for some strange reason she wasn't the least nervous for him to see her. His assuredness and thoughtfulness comforted her. She knew he would take charge and guide them through their first time. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Dear. I'll make love to you, only because you begged me to, but promise me you'll wait for me." "I promise, love. I promise." "And not a word of this to your folks. I love them too much to have to explain. They'd never believe that you talked me into it. You know as well as I do it's always the guy's fault. I'm not trying to put a damper on out time together but I love your folks." "Can you forgive me for not knowing too much about how this goes? My mother tried as best she could to describe it but she wasn't comfortable talking with me about it so we stopped. I'm afraid I don't know a lot. One thing I do know, is I love you and I need you." "That's why I wanted our first time to be the first time for both of us because we'll learn and grow together. I've never made love to a woman before but I know how it's suppose to go. My dad's told me all about it. Let me lay you back and see if I can take us where we want to go. I'll try my best to please you, sweetheart. I promise I'll be gentle and won't hurt you. I know I'm probably a little larger than the average man so I want to be certain you're not uncomfortable at any time. If you have any difficulty let me know. I may be a bit clumsy at first but I'm sure God and nature meant for us to be together." His voice was gentle and she trusted the young man without question. She lay back expecting to be mounted immediately and was surprised to find his big body laying next to hers. He began kissing her gently while rubbing his hand over her. He was so gentle and seemed in no hurry. He pulled her on her side facing him and their bodies touched as he held her tightly. He felt so good, strong and clean. He had a faint smell of Lilacs. He made her feel safe and wanted in his arms. He began to use his mouth all over her. She never experience such ecstacy before. Her mother told her a little but she never told her it could be this good. Her mother gave her the impression you lay back and grit your teeth until they're through. Don't ever expect him to help you get your's. He won't. All men climax, get off, roll over and go to sleep. Somehow, she didn't think this man saw sex the way other men did. He was gently kissing her again. He gently rubbed the full lips of her vagina with his hand while still kissing her. She had never felt anything so wonderful. She not only picked the strongest alpha-male in their class, she unwittingly pick a man who sensed how a woman felt and he was not going to force himself on her until they both were in agreement that they could wait no longer to feel him inside of her. He started inserting his fingers feeling her moisture coat his fingers. She tried masturbating with various objects but his fingers felt better than anything she'd ever used. She didn't want to seem too forward but damn his gentle probing was feeling good. How could he be doing this his first time with her? He was reading her mind or playing her body like fine tuned instrument. Her body resonated with his touch. He leaned toward her and kissed her. "Sweet heart, don't feel like you have to hold back because of modesty. What you and I do here, will only be between us. I feel you wanting to meet my fingers but you're worried what I'll think. I love you, Dear. You could do nothing wrong in my eyes." She melted under him. She felt her body become rubbery all over and then . . . she just couldn't help it . . . . she raised her hips to meet his three fingers inviting him deeper and he obliged. He made sweet love to her for almost an hour until she began to shake under him. He felt her one more time and she had reached a peak. She was ready for him. He was waiting for her to ask. She wanted him so badly. "Now, please, love! Take me! I need to feel you in me. All of you." He positioned himself and slowly began to move the big head of his dick in and out. It began to sink more and more into her. She moaned and looked him in the eyes. He didn't take his away from hers. He wanted to gage the effect he was having. If she registered any pain he would stop and retract. She didn't. She grabbed a buttock in each hand and began to pull him more into her. He was about half way in when he came to a wall. His sweet heart was indeed a virgin. "I have to break through, Darling. Kiss me and you do it for us. I'll hold it steady and you break it for both of us. Can you do that, sweetheart." She smiled to him and nodded her head `no.' "I want you to take it from me. It's important to me." They kissed and he began to apply more pressure. He felt the tissue stretching. Suddenly she bucked her hips forcefully upward toward his invading shaft. It was her signal for him to take her. Using his dick as a sword he lanced her virginity. She wouldn't let him stop there. With her hands she pulled him the rest of the way into her. They stopped and he lay his head beside hers. She was weeping. "Have I hurt you, Darling? I'll withdraw." "Don't you dare." She laughed a little. It's just so beautiful. You've made it more wonderful than I could imagine. Your dad must have really had some long talks with you." He laughed. "He told me that women are not like men. That's obvious but dad explained that a woman should not be rushed. Like a fine red wine shouldn't be drunk before it's time and then, only if it's allowed to sit and breathe for thirty minutes or more. He told me to remember that and I would do fine. Dad told me to make it best for both you have to consider a woman's feelings and what she's giving for the pleasure of both. I've only tried to do that, love. But there's more to follow. I'll watch you until I sure you're comfortable. If I hurt you in the least tell me. If it isn't good for you, it's not going to be good for the man who loves you. "Are you . . . ?" "You have all of me, my Darling, and you are so beautiful and special. You feel so wonderful and good to me. Your love has made me welcome." He made the sweetest love to her. So softly and steadily but she found herself wanting more. For him to take her harder. How was she going to ask him without appearing crass? `Don't ask him, show him,' she thought. She began to moved her body to meet his every thrust but began to push up to him harder; inviting him to take her harder. He responded, she relaxed and opened to him. She spoke to him. "I don't know, . . . if I can, . . . hold back much, . . . Darling, take me! Take me! And he did. She exploded as she felt him empty into the condom deep within her. It was the most euphoric experience of her life and her body sang beneath his. It sang a song of pride and thanksgiving to the kind, gentle, caring , and loving young man that had made her first time more than wonderful; more than special; he made it their's. It was so wonderful and good, yet, she felt an emptiness. Part of her, perhaps her maternal instincts, felt cheated. Certainly she couldn't fault him for anything. He was all she dreamed he might be and far, far more. She should be carrying his ejaculate within her, . . . but they had agreed. He withdrew and made love to her, telling her how beautiful she was and how wonderful and special she had made the first time for him. He kissed her and told her of his love for her. He went to the bathroom to remove the condom and piss. He washed himself, came back and she excused herself. She was sitting there and noticed the full condom in the waste basket. Should she? Without thinking she reached into the waste basket took it out and held it. She dipped her fingers in the thick greyish white fluid, came out with a glob and shoved it as far into her as she could. It probably wouldn't take, she thought to herself, but if it does, I'll have his baby to remember him by. She opened her eyes as the bus pulled into another small town for a rest stop. She felt herself. She was wet. She had to use the rest room." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * She arrived in Dallas and was met by her Aunt Agatha. Aunt Agatha had two grown daughters, living at home. One worked for Neiman Marcus and the other at the Methodist Hospital. Her cousin Zelma had worked at Neiman's for several years and was a floor supervisor. She offered her a job. She couldn't turn it down. A chance to work at Neiman Marcus for a girl as young as she was almost unheard of. They usually hired older mature women. Zelma was one of the youngest there. She would live with her aunt and cousins in a spare guest room while living in Dallas. She insisted on paying room and board. She would have to do that if she lived somewhere else. She started work for Neimans and she did well. She was well liked by staff and customers alike. She was polite and helpful to everyone. She even won over the older ladies. She missed one period. Then two. Then after missing her third she began to notice a slight bulge. She was trying to keep it from her aunt and cousins but it's hard to keep morning sickness quiet. Her clothes weren't fitting right. She was so happy yet she was melancholy. She had gone against his wishes and did what he was so afraid for her to do. Had she been too impulsive? Had she done the right thing? The evening came, they were having dinner and one of her cousins, Clara, asked if she'd gained a little weight. "Shut up, Clara. Eat your dinner, Dear. She'll tell us when she's ready." Aunt Agatha gently but firmly dictated.. "Yes, Moma." Clara obeyed. Aunt Agatha smiled lovingly at Clara then her. She knew, she thought. No use denying it, besides they're my family. They love me. "I'm pregnant, Clara." The two girls were thrilled for her and so was her aunt. She was honest with them and told them what she'd done. She told them everything about how she had to talk him into it, . . . to her removing his sperm from the condom. The two girls thought it was delightful and scandalous, but Aunt Agatha didn't comment. She told her she was happy for her. She could tell something bothered her aunt. She would ask her later. She knew Aunt Agatha would take her secret to her grave if that's what she wanted and put the fear of God into her two daughters to do the same. Aunt Agatha was her favorite aunt. She could always talk to Agatha as friend to friend and not feel as if her aunt would judge her in anyway. Agatha had raised her own daughters to be responsible and polite but not to let anyone push them around. It was getting on towards bedtime and her cousins had to retire. They were working tomorrow. Tomorrow was Saturday but she had the day off. She could stay up a while longer. Her aunt was cutting up some old clothes into squares for her quilting society. She got up and moved over to the hassock next to her aunt's chair. "May I give you a hand, Aunt?" "Certainly, Dear. There's a pair of sharps in that basket and you may use this as a templet." She took the templet from her aunt and began to cut squares. "You would've told me if you'd secretly married the young man, wouldn't you, Dear?" "Oh yes, Auntie Boo." It was her childhood, endearing name for her beloved aunt. "Well, I suppose he'll be a little more than surprised when he returns and finds he has a child and has no choice but to marry you." The thought hadn't entered her head. Her aunt wasn't scolding her nor chastising her, she was simply pointing out a fact; something she hadn't considered. In her denial of her sense of wrong doing she saw him thrilled and pleased that she loved him enough to take the initiative. She wouldn't allow herself to consider other reactions. "What if he does come home and feels differently. His travels may have made him not want to settle down. We have no idea what those poor men are going through over there." She thought to herself. "I guess I didn't think it all the way through, Aunt Boo. I acted on the passion of my love for him at that moment and felt so cheated that his seed was not within me. I wanted to have his baby. I love him so much, Auntie Boo." She started to cry, knowing she had done the wrong thing. Her stalwart aunt comforted her and consoled her. "There, there, Dear. What's done is done. Can't change the past. Let's live for the future. I'm so sorry I asked that question so soon. I guess it had weighed heavily on my mind. It was inconsiderate of me child, forgive me. I apologize. I'm being a meddlesome old aunt." "No! No! Auntie, you had every right to ask that question; you of all people. I love you so dearly that I would only want to share this with you. I know Clara and Zelma will be discreet." "If they know what's good for them." Her aunt winked at her and chuckled. She didn't have a mean bone in her body. The two of them sat there and talked `til almost midnight. Her aunt was supportive but kept asking her if this is really what she wants. "What other choice do I have, Aunt Boo?" "I'm certainly not suggesting you do it but there's always giving the baby up for adoption." "I don't know if I could do that, Auntie Boo." "Well, you have time to reach a decision. Consider your options and what you may lose if you keep the child. He may become angry and accuse you of having the child to entrap him. He might not say a word but always feel that he didn't have a choice in the matter. You took that away from him. In a way, my Dear, to put it indelicately, you've snipped his testicles off. You've robbed him of his male magnanimity; his need to be a man. He may think, `If she made that decision on her own, what does she need me for?' He would have every right to feel that way. He was right to use a condom. He wanted a child to be a decision you both made. I don't know the young man, but I, for one, rather admire him for that. By asking you to agree for him to use a condom he wasn't leaving you out. But you've left him out of your decision to have his child. You agreed he would use a condom and you went against his wishes. He certainly would have every reason to ask himself if you superseded a decision you both agreed on, could he trust you as a partner and a wife? As hard as it is for me to tell you this, it would seem to me, you have done a fine young man, a great disservice. He trusted you to love him enough to abide by a decision he contracted, not only with you, but your parents as well. Are you willing to risk losing a man like that when you and he can have other children? God forbid, but suppose he doesn't come home. It's a lovely sentiment to want to have his child but it sounds to me like he loves you enough he didn't want to place you in that situation. The man was right, there are few men willing to take on someone else's child to raise when there are many single women who will give him children of his own. By the same token, there are few men who would love their intended that much to try to insure their happiness if he didn't make it back. Sounds to me like you have a pearl of great value in him. The worst case I can imagine is that he might believe you've been unfaithful to him and made up this story to snare him and saddle him with a child that isn't his. You're action, as scandalous as my girls seem to think, is a bit out of the ordinary for a young girl to do especially when he agreed to it only using a condom to prevent this from happening. You have no real proof the child is his. Perhaps the length of gestation period might convince him but he still will never know for sure if you might have had relations with another man within days of him leaving. I'm not suggesting you do one thing or the other, sweet heart. Think about it. Let's talk some more. I hope for your sake and the sake of the baby, you'll consider all options and what might be best for both. You'll not only be making a huge decision for yourself but for the child as well. You should feel comfortable with any decision you make. If you don't think you could be comfortable giving the baby for adoption, consider the consequences. Above all, pray. The Almighty is use to us fallible humans finding ourselves down a road we might not have chosen had we looked harder at the street signs. Trust in him and your own sense of right and wrong and you will make the right decision. All I can say is, I hope he does come back and marry you, he sounds like a wonderful young man; one I would be proud to see you marry." "He is, Auntie Boo, but I'm afraid I've failed him and he may not want me when he returns. I suppose when you think about it, you're right, we can have other children but there's only one of him. It's not going to be an easy decision." "No it won't, my child; however, what ever your decision the girls and I will stand behind you a hundred percent. You have our love." She cried in her auntie's arms as she kissed her goodnight. She worked until her last month of pregnancy. She asked her cousins and aunt to keep her secret from the rest of her family. She planned to have the baby in Dallas and either give it up for adoption or go home. Her aunt insisted she stay with them with the baby if she wanted but she didn't want to put them out with a screaming baby. Although, she thought secretly her Auntie Boo would love to help care for a baby. Her cousin who worked at the Methodist Hospital had participated in finding homes for babies outside of the bureaucratic red tape and endless waiting of an adoption agency. It was illegal as hell but in those days there weren't as many checks and double checks. Nurses could change documents without anyone being the wiser. It was simple. She wouldn't know the family the baby was going to and they would make all the necessary arrangements. The head nurse in obstetrics would simply put the name of the receiving parents on the birth certificate and there was no question. If the baby was healthy they could take the baby home that day. It was best if she not know who nor where the baby was placed but they promised a good family for the child. Likewise, the receiving parents would never know her name nor where she lived. The time came and she was admitted under the name of the woman who would receive the child (she was never told the name she was admitted under) On July tenth, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. She asked to hold him before they took him. She undid the blanket to get a good look at him. He was beautiful to behold. He even had his father's dimpled chin. Platinum blond hair. He was prefect, except on his right big toe there was a small mole and on the inside of his right leg he had a small port wine stain birth mark in the shape of, she couldn't believe it, a tiny cowboy boot . She ran her finger gently over the birth mark and mole and closed the blanket. She kissed him gently and reluctantly gave him to her cousin. The head nurse knew that her mother's sister's boy and his wife were looking to adopt a baby boy. He couldn't have children. He had mumps as a child and they settled in his testicles rendering him sterile. He had been tested n many times and they found no active, motile sperm. She contacted them immediately. They rushed to Dallas and the hospital to received the baby. The birth certificate had both their names on it as the legal birth parents. Simple! Done! The baby went to a new life and she went home to her aunt's. She never told anyone but her aunt and two cousins. They would carry her secret to their grave. She stayed with her aunt and went back to work. She made several trips home during the war years and went home to see her young man and welcome him home. He returned from the war a hero. He was the second most highly decorated man in WWII. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 1942 through 1945 Waddie had lived in a room downstairs, across the hall from his ma and dad's big room. He stayed in their room in a crib until he was about two. Then it was almost like he had been abandoned to this huge room across the hall. It was a natural transition as seen by his parents but there seemed to be unnatural fears of rejection and separation that existed in the boy's heart His whole world to that point was the two people he trusted to provide comfort and care; his ma and dad. He quickly learned to love his dad more. His ma took necessary care of him but showed him little attention or affection. He longed to be held by her and told he was a good boy or be read to. His brother and sister were too busy with their young adult lives to show him much attention and when they did it meant another rejection for him to have them go so abruptly. If it weren't for his dad the child would've lapsed into severe melancholia or worse, autism. He looked forward to the evenings when his dad would spend time with him, reading to him and playing. His dad asked his mother. "Do you ever play with this baby. He seems starved for affection when I come home." "Of course I do. He's in my lap or I'm playing with him all day long. He just likes you better than me, that's all. I can't play with him all day, I've got things to do around here taking care of all of you." Morgan would just shake his head. Waddie felt like he'd been thrown out of paradise into the cold scarey world when he was moved across the hall. It was a big room and the ceilings were over twelve feet high which gave it an ominous feelings; one of dread and foreboding. It seemed like it went on forever and the shadows that would play against the walls and ceiling from the old hackberry tree in the yard made grotesque figures and shapes. He quickly learned that if he covered his head he couldn't see the horrible shapes who were surely plotting his doom. Waddie was trying hard to be a good, brave, little `cowpoke,' as his dad called him, but that damn tree kept talking to him. It wasn't as bad as when they first moved him in there. At least he had a little better grasp on life and decided to stay for a while. He was now almost four years old. He was bright, intelligent, sensitive with an insatiable apatite to learn about things; how things worked. He love animals and seemed to have an affinity for them. It was scarey in the big room but he'd been up against that damn tree before and it hadn't gotten him yet despite all it's threats. On cold wintery nights the wind would blow back and forth to make the old tree shake it's branches about like a woman shaking her hair after washing it. The old hackberry would complain to him. It would moan that it was hungry. It's voice would get louder, grumbling that it's stomach was empty; it hadn't eaten in a couple of years and what it most desired, it's favorite meal, to make it strong and thrive again, was a cute little four year old boy. It would tell him it knew he was in there and if it didn't come and take him while he slept in peaceful dreams then it would wait patiently until one day he felt brave enough to climb it. Then without notice it would open wide it's jaw between the branches as it shook, causing him to lose his balance and fall directly into it's huge, empty maw. Then it would quickly close around him, never to be see nor heard from again. At first, as most young boys his age, he would be confused by the darkness inside the tree and start to cry. That was the sound the evil hackberry yearned to hear within it's body. That sound was the trigger frequency that would start it's sticky digestive fluids, a sticky sap, to begin to ooze out of it's walls eventually covering the child. They boy would soon recover his bearings. He would be frightened of the dark and trying to feel his way around within the tightness of his captor's digestive chamber. He couldn't sit down. He could feel the sticky fluid begin to surround him filling the cavity of the massive tree's trunk. The more he struggled the more sap he got on himself. He began to yell, then scream but no one heard him. No one can hear the lost children within the thick wood outer shell of the tree. It told him not to worry that soon he would be part of it and he too could travel from it's deepest roots to catch the warm summer sun atop it's highest branches. The old hackberry began to sing a song to him, a hymn of thanks and gratitude to the boy. Thanking him for giving his life, so the evil tree might thrive. It would explain, in a stoic manner, how he was about to become a part of it and it's gratitude to him that it would live another decade feeding on his young, delicious, succulent body. They would live together as one. (Wicked trees aren't too original but they're very Zin.) He felt helpless, immobile. He could feel the sticky sap rising to his chin. He couldn't yell any more nor scream. The digestive juices had all ready seeped into his porous skin and tranquilized him to accept, . . . to give in. "Nothing will ever hurt you again, my boy . . . abide with me, my tasty man-child, it sang. Close your eyes, it's easier if you don't struggle, that's it, . . .relax, and let me EAT YOU LITTLE BOY! "Daaaady! Daaady! Aaaaiiiiieeee Oh, . . . .Oh, . . Daaady! It's eating me, Daddy! Oh Daddy, it's eating me! I can't get out, Daddy. It's eating me! It's eating me! Oh, Daddy . . . . "Hey, . . .hey, . . .hey, . . .cowboy!" Morgan soothed and assured is son. Morgan would sit down on the side of Waddie's bed, pull the boy to him and hold him, soothing and comforting him. Waddie would collapse into tears of fear, anger at himself, and relief that his dad was there to give him comfort. "There, there, cowboy, Daddy's here. Daddy ain't gonna' let nothing happen to his little buckaroo. We need him for the big roundup in the spring. Couldn't let nothing happen to him. How would we round up all them dogies." Waddie would be wide awake by that time, crying softly, hiccuping, then crying some more. He was ashamed he'd once again let that awful tree and it's influence on his dreams scare him so badly that he had to yell for his dad. He thought he was getting better, stronger, less fearful, and he was, but that damned old tree, . . .if it would just stop talking to him. He set his jaw, he was gonna' have a talk with that awful old tree tomorrow. "Is that damn hackberry tree after you again, Son?" "Uun-huh." Waddie answered amid tears and hiccups. "You want me to cut that darn thing down? I will if you want me to." Waddie thought about it for a minute then shook his little head `no.' "You don't want me to get rid of it?" It was really tempting but he knew he had to learn to face his own fears. Again he shook his head, `no.' Waddie had learned when he set his jaw, everything around him could go to hell in a hand basket but his resolve would see him through. "I'm gonna' have a talk with it tomorrow." he said determinedly. Morgan was proud of his son and kissed him lightly behind his ear. It was a sign that Waddie was taking control of his life. The kid had seen enough high strangeness with his ma, Willie and Dorothy to shake him to his core. He knew from the beginning he was not `one of them.' He didn't know enough words to describe the feeling but he understood it perfectly. They projected onto the child that he was separate. Only to be tolerated; a necessary nuisance. He intuitively reasoned if he was to survive, he'd better grow up fast or they would consume him before the damn tree. That strength of purpose cross applied to the tree. He was determined neither would feast on his soul! To hell with that damned old tree, anyway! Sometimes his family scared him more than the tree. "You're gonna' have a talk with it . . ." This was a creative approach. Morgan was stunned at Waddie's resolve. He had to hear more about this. "Yes Sir." Waddie didn't elaborate. "Can you whisper to Daddy what you're gonna' tell it?" "I don't have to whisper, Dad. I don't give a damn if it hears me or not. I'm gonna' tell that big ugly son of a bitch if it don't stop talking to me and trying to scare me to death, I'm gonna' piss on it every day until it dies. When it dies, I want it to know it was me what killed it. I want to make sure it dies a slow, horrible death, poisoned by my piss . . . I'll teach that piece a' shit it ain't gonna' eat me." Morgan chuckled to himself thinking, "Oh God, I can't wait `til Buck gets home." He hugged and kissed Waddie, telling him he supported his plan one hundred percent. Just don't let his ma catch him pissing on it. Morgan gently put him back to bed and couldn't resist the magnetic pull of Waddie's love for him. Morgan crawled in beside his boy. "You know what, cowboy?" "What Dad?" "I'm so proud of you. Your mother says I shouldn't be sleeping with you like this when you get scared. I wasn't going to, but fuck it. You ain't gonna' let that damn tree push you around then I ain't gonna' listen to her neither. Be all right with you if Daddy stays here with you for a while? Daddy was getting a little scared a while ago himself and the thought ran through my head, `where would I feel the safest if I got really scared.'" "You get scared, Dad?" Waddie turned to his dad in surprise. "Everybody gets scared sometime, Son. It's normal. So, you see, you're normal." "Where would you go if you got really scared, Dad?" "I've thought about it a lot lately and I could only come up with one place where I know I'd be safe." "Yeah . . .where's that, Dad?" "In your arms, cowboy." "Oh Daddy." Waddie said in frustrated voice. He thought his dad was pulling his leg. "No! No! Now hear me out . . ." Morgan paused, "we come from God, . . . right?" "That's what they teach me in Sunday school. I believe we do but I can't remember anything before here." "Who would be closest to God as far as coming from and going back to." Morgan asked. Waddie mused for a minute. "A baby and an old man." he replied. "Exactly. So you see, you're closer to God than I am and he looks after little children even though they can't see him. My thinking would be if he's looking out for you then maybe I'd be safe too. See what I mean?" "Yeah, Dad! That makes sense to me. That makes me feel a hell of a lot better, too." Waddie lay there for a minute thinking. "Daddy?" "Yeah, Son?" "If'n you get scared you can come to me and I'll ask God to keep both eyes on us. One for you and one for me." Morgan got a lump in his throat and couldn't swallow. He almost choked when he tried to speak. Finally he got it out. "That's so damn sweet of you, Waddie. I'm proud to call you my son. I promise you, if I get scared, you'll be the first person I run to and by the way, cowboy, . . .I love you." "Love you, too, Dad! Now go to sleep. Don't be afraid, Daddy. God's here now, he'll watch over us." Morgan lay on his side as involuntary tears ran down his cheek onto his pillow. "Thank you, Sir." Morgan thought in prayer, "don't get much better'n this . . . .and, Sir, while I got your attention, . . .I know I asked the same thing earlier, but I was a' hoping an extra prayer might help. Please send you angels to watch over my brother, Buck, where ever he is. Please God, bring him home to us. There's a little man laying next to me who needs a good buddy and I have a feeling my brother Buck will fill the bill. Thanks Sir." * * * * * * * * * * About the same time Waddie was moved to the other bedroom, Morgan had to close down the auto repair shop due to lack of business. He owned the building. His uncle left it to him. Morgan got a better job as a switchman on the Cotton Belt railroad. The bad thing was he had to be gone on train runs three and sometimes four days a week. This left plenty of time for the terrible troika to do their worst. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Willie Lump Lump Waddie lived in that room for almost two years, then his ma kept after his dad to turn that room back into a guest room and put Waddie upstairs in his own room. Morgan reluctantly agreed after being nagged day in and day out for two months. Willie, Waddie's step brother, lived upstairs. It was his kingdom, his complete domain. Waddie was never allowed to go upstairs. In his imagination Waddie began to think of the second floor as the land of his majesty, King Willie Lump Lump. (a name Waddie gave him from one of his children's books) Willie had a haughty attitude about himself and possibly entertained the idea everyone should feel blessed that he was in their presence. He came with his ma and made it perfectly clear from the first that he was there under duress. Willie thought it his royal duty to tie a rope across the entrance to the stairs to make sure his "little brother" couldn't make it to the second floor and invade his territory. Waddie's sister Dorothy lived downstairs in a huge room back of the kitchen. Originally it was a maids room. Morgan made quick work of having the rope removed but not without some trauma. He called Willie downstairs. Willie had a way of walking that was determined. He slowly descended the stairs and stood with his arms folded looking at Morgan like, "You requested an audience, peasant?" "What the fuck is this?" "It's a rope across the stairway, what's it look like?" "Why is it here, Willie?" "Because I put it there!" "For what purpose, Willie?" "To keep that little bastard from bothering me." Morgan flashed, jumped the rope onto the stairs, grabbed Willie by the neck, and drew back his big fist. His wife, Judy, came screaming, "Morgan! Morgan! I told him he could do it! Don't hit him, Morgan!" Judy lied to protect Willie. She saw Willie putting up the rope but never questioned him. "One thing at a time, woman!" Morgan barked at his wife, "I'm gonna' warn you only one time, Willie! Next time, I'll put you in the hospital `cause I won't stop beating on you until your lights go out! I better never, ever hear you nor hear of you calling my son, a bastard, again. Got that!!" Morgan loudly yelled in Willie's face. "You're certainly one to talk you pompous little ass hole! Do you understand me, Wille?!" "Yes Sir." Morgan didn't let him go. "Now, . . . you will apologize to me and Waddie for calling him a bastard. Don't look at your ma, Son! This is between you and me. I'd do this to any son of a bitch that called him that. You refuse to apologize and all three of you can start packing immediately." Morgan saw Judy nodding to Willie to apologize. "I'm sorry, Waddie, I called you a bastard. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, Morgan I called your son a bastard." Morgan let the boy go and spoke to him over his shoulder as he walked away. "You've got five minutes to get that damn rope down and any hardware on that stairs. Don't you never put a rope across those stairs again. Oh, and another thing. We're putting Waddie in the big room at the end of the hall. He's gonna' live upstairs with you. I know you don't give a shit about him but you will treat him with respect, Willie! That's not a request, boy! Understand? Whether you like it or not, he is your brother and you damn well better start treating him like one." "Yes Sir." Willie was busy taking the rope down and ran to the back porch to find a screwdriver to remove the brass eye hooks he carefully put there. He had them out in no time. Morgan was on his way back to check as Willie got the last screw out. "Now, you get some wood filler from the shop. Fill those holes and when they dry you sand them smooth. Got that, Willie?" "Yes Sir." Willie scurried off like an emotionally wounded little rat to find the wood filler. Suddenly, H.R.H. King Willie Lump Lump the first, realized he was going to have that damnable little runt living upstairs with him. There goes the neighborhood. His life was ruined. That awful little kid who everyone dotes over will pester him constantly. He had to come up with a plan quick or his privacy would be compromised. They say history repeats itself. Once more the handwriting appeared on the wall. A grim pronouncement. Willie felt like he'd been weighed in the balance and found wanting. He was! Guilty as charged, and . . . his kingdom divided! * * * * * * * * Before Waddie caught on to how life worked; how mean and cruel some folks can be, he worshiped Willie. All kids want to be like their big brother. Waddie wanted to be just like him. Waddie adored him, but the son of a bitch wouldn't have anything to do with him. He'd never allow Waddie to get close to him. For a young pre-school kid on a ranch with no other kids your age around can be a pretty lonely existence. Waddie was alone a lot on the ranch and looked forward to at least sharing some things with his brother. "We got the same ma," Waddie kept thinking, "that should account for some feelings of brotherly love." He couldn't understand how Willie could be so cold, calculating and cruel. What had he done to make Willie hate him so. Waddie made him birthday cards and valentines. Willie wouldn't even open them. He'd toss them in the trash knowing Waddie would find them and it would break his heart. Willie never gave Waddie a Christmas or birthday present. He never even gave Waddie a card. He wouldn't give Waddie the time of day. People sometimes do to other people what they wouldn't do to a stray dog. Waddie confronted him after Willie had done such a terrible thing. He wanted to know. He felt he was due an explanation. "Wille, why don't you love me?" "I just don't!" "But why, Willie? I ain't never done nothing to you." "I don't have to give you a reason, runt! I just don't like you." Willie barked loudly at Waddie. "But Willie, . . . brothers are suppose to love each other." Willie looked at Waddie like he was angry at him questioning him and then got a faint little smile on his face. "You don't qualify, runt!" Willie turned on his heel and walked away. Waddie had no idea what he meant. He didn't even know what runt meant. Waddie tried going to Morgan with his hurt and his dad told him to be strong and just not bother Willie. His dad didn't know how to balance fairness and put blame were it should be. Morgan was the only one in the house Waddie loved and trusted. He tried talking a couple of times with his ma and she told Waddie in no few words that he should remember his place. He was only a boy and Willie was almost a grown man. His mother made it clear that if he knew what was good for him he'd stay out of Willie's way and not bother her about it again. Willie's room was off limits to Waddie. He kept his door locked at all times. Even when he went to the shower he'd lock his door. When he was alone in his room doing nothing he'd keep his door locked to keep Waddie out. Willie would come home, talk to his mom or step dad, go to his room and lock the door so Waddie wouldn't bother him. When Waddie was still a small boy, three to five years old, there would be some hellacious lightening and thunder storms in their area of Texas. Being a frightened kid, Waddie was scared to death and wanted to crawl in bed with his big brother to have him comfort and protect him. Waddie would run to Willie's room only to find the door locked. He would knock and pound on the locked door, yelling to him. "Willie! Oh Willie! Please let me in. I'm scared Willie. Willie! Willie! Oh God Willie don't be mean to me. Please let me in." Willie never so much as cracked the door to tell Waddie to go away. He'd be crying his heart out, so afraid, laying by Willie's door, crying out for Willie to help him. Willie refused to acknowledge there was anyone outside his door. No one he cared about, anyway. Waddie would be in such hysterics he wouldn't see two big arms reach down, pick him up, hold him close, carry him back to Waddie's room, put him in bed, sleep with him and hold him for the rest of the night. His dad would kiss him, soothe him, and comfort him. Morgan would tell him what father's have told their kids for generations. The thunder is the devil beating his wife for putting too much salt in the bread. Then the next day Willie would rag Waddie's ass for being a sissy. A little girl. A namby-pamby crybaby. Afraid of a little thunderstorm. He was right, Waddie was terrified of them. Judy jumped Morgan in front of Waddie. "You're spoiling that damn kid by running to him every time he cries our at night." Morgan wasn't real pleased at Willie's performance; now this from his wife? How could anyone be so cold hearted and cruel and then have the nerve to castigate him or the boy. Morgan looked at Judy like he could've run a knife through her heart. "Don't you say another Goddamn word to me about how I raise my son! You're track record ain't so damn great you can go around giving others the benefit of your advice. Look what a cold, heartless son of a bitch you've created, Mrs. Frankenstein." Morgan gestured toward Willie. "You can think what you like but in my house you'll bite your damn tongue before you say anything like that again! Do you understand, woman?" She nodded her head and went about her business. "Further more, you better have a long heart to heart talk with that ass hole son of your's; that is, if you can find his heart. And, Willie, I'm tired of hearing you rag my boy when you won't give him the time of day. Better keep your bags packed Willie! The next time I hear you rag him your out of this house. No apologies accepted. You got that, ass hole?" "Yes, Morgan." "Yes! What, Willie?" "Yes Sir." Waddie's ma never came to see what might be bothering Waddie in the night. If his dad was gone a couple of days, he was on his own. There was no one to come to his rescue. However, children learn to adapt and survive. The worst thing to Waddie was the lightening. The rumbling and thunder he could abide although it was difficult to sleep. It seemed the lightening went everywhere. It could get him, he thought. Waddie discovered if he got in the back of his closet and stuffed a towel under the door that the lightening couldn't get through or so he thought. The closet was wider than he was tall so he made himself a nice comfortable bed in the back of the closet and hid it behind some big cardboard boxes he kept his toys in so his ma couldn't see it. Then when the storm started to come he ran to the closet, stuffed the towel under the door, curled up and went back to sleep. He never cried out again. Except one night, all hell was breaking loose. There had been tornado warnings for their area. Morgan ran to Waddie's room to take him to the cellar. He wasn't in his bed and Morgan's heart sunk to his feet. Where could he be? Morgan yelled at the top of his voice, "WADDIE!" He heard a faint voice reply. "In the closet, Dad." Morgan ran to open the closet as Waddie walked out. "What are you doing in the closet, Son?" "Getting away from the lightening." Waddie said sheepishly. "Use to do the same damn thing when I was a kid, Son. Good thinking!" Morgan grabbed him up and carried him to the cellar. It was one hell of a storm and Waddie was pleased to see his royal highness, was scared shit less. "Almost a grown man? Yeah, right!" Waddie thought but he didn't say anything. Waddie's dreams of having a loving, caring big brother slowly vanished. Waddie began to treat Willie the way he treated him. He ignored him. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Willie was a good looking kid. He looked enough like Morgan to be his natural son. Folks who didn't know just assumed that Willie was Morgan's boy. He was almost Morgan's height and would be when he finished high school. He had the same dark olive complection and coal black hair. Willie had one feature that use to scare the piss out of Waddie before he was use to him. He had a physical anomaly within his eyes. His irises were jet black. You couldn't see were the pupil began nor where the iris ended. It looked like he had two big black marbles for eyes. The doctors told his mother one child in three million would have that anomaly and it only occurs in males. The girls and even grown women of the town found Willie to be the most, handsome, exotic looking young man they'd ever seen. He was drop dead handsome, no doubt about it, and he knew it. Tall at six-two and the consummate jock. Played anything there was to play with balls attached. Word was, he was pretty good. Waddie wondered to himself if Willie was as good as he bragged. He was all the time telling the family how good a ball player he was. Waddie heard an old saying, "The King doesn't have to tell the peasant he's a wealthy man." If he's all that good why ain't a lot of other folks bragging on him. Waddie heard others say Willie thought he was a lot better than he really was. He had to be a pretty fair ball player because he played in the Texas minor leagues for several years. He even had a shot at the big leagues but something happened that he didn't get it. It might have been the federal felony conviction and the four years in Huntsville that his little brother helped him get. Willie's outer package may have been attractive but underneath he was a conniving, back biting, ruthless, bastard. He was livid after Morgan embarrassed the shit out of him and made him eat crow. Willie set his jaw the day Morgan made him apologize to him and that little son of a bitch that he would do his damnedest to get back at Morgan. He hated Morgan. Willie vowed to himself, Morgan would rue the day he did that to him and yelled at him for teasing that worthless little piece of shit. He would get back at Morgan anyway he could. What was the easiest target a coward would go for? Morgan's son, Waddie. He would do everything he could to make life miserable for Waddie. and covertly get `his son' to hate Morgan. He planned it, step by ruthless step. Willie knew his mother would side with him. She would've killed for him. He knew he could get his sister to cooperate. She was a bit frazzled around the neural circuits but she loved to play us against them. In this case, "them," being a helpless little four year old boy. Willie, was ten years old when Waddie was born. He was now fifteen and would go to high school in the fall. Willie had made it to the big time (he thought) and he was convinced that very possibly his body's waste gave forth no odor. Usually when a baby is born into a home with older siblings the child is more easily accepted. A brother or sister many times will become nurturing and protective even though child wasn't a full sibling. That is, if the family doesn't have a symbiotic passive/aggressive personality disorder syndrome with schizoid tendencies and a mother who was a full blown, certifiable, sociopath. Waddie always remained a stepbrother. He was reminded of it daily. Judy's other two children were the "real" fully acknowledged, bona fide, children in the house. Waddie was a half brother so he was worth half of what they were. He was told repeatedly he wasn't wanted. He was told nobody in the family wanted him there. They told him his dad was only being nice to him until they could find a orphanage to take him. Willie and his sister would laugh at him for crying because they hurt him so much. They treated him like a emotional punching bag . "Waddie was there," they thought, "vulnerable, and naive, why not make life miserable for the little bastard?" Willie's little insidious plan for vengeance against his step dad was underway. In their eyes, all Morgan was good for was to put food in their belly's and a place to live. Willie started by symbolically and emotionally cutting Waddie's balls off before they even had a chance to descend. There's nothing more rejecting or castrating than to be ignored. It says you aren't important enough to be acknowledged. You are nothing. Many times they treated Waddie like he wasn't even there. Like he didn't exist. Willie ignored him completely. Willie would walk away from Waddie while he was trying to talk to him. Willie's older sister, Dorothy, was an early blooming pubescent teenager. She thought she was twelve going on twenty-one when she came with her mother to live with Morgan. She tried to act more mature than she was for her age. She had a bit kinder attitude toward Waddie but she developed an almost sadistic joy in giving to the boy and then taking away from him again. She would be passively accepting of him in a loving manner then aggressively and unrelenting in her rejection. On rare occasions she would show him love and keep him dangling hoping for more then forget about him and her promise.. He never knew from minute to minute where he stood with her. She became a pathological liar. She would lie when the truth would do more good. The real sorrow was she came to believe her lies. Everyone saw this happening but did nothing to help her. In those days they didn't know much about personality disorders. The family hoped she'd outgrow it in time. She never did. Her only salvation was to find a man who would put up with her. Dorothy was many times mistaken for Elizabeth Taylor. While she didn't have lavender eyes she non the less looked more than a little like her. No one could understand how a lovely girl who became a strikingly beautiful woman could get so messed up mentally. Waddie knew exactly why but no one asked him. Morgan didn't have a clue because, Judy, his wife and Waddie's mother, kept it hidden from him for years. Waddie's ma was the same damn way. In some ways, Waddie thought she was worse. Judy went along with Willie's plan. She never wanted Waddie in the first place but Morgan begged her. She resented having to take care of Waddie. In her sick mind she looked on Waddie as Morgan's kid. Judy was still in love with her first husband. As far as she was concerned, they could do anything they wanted to Waddie. She never cared about him. He was totally Morgan's kid. If she never saw Waddie again she wouldn't care. Aside from being uncaring about her kid, Waddie didn't realize he was dealing with a classic sociopathic personality. What's a sociopath? Someone who has no conscience about anything they do to another person; emotionally or physically. The have little if any empathy for anyone who's been negatively effected by their behavior. Young children pick up on mental aberrations faster than adults. They may not know the fancy words or a diagnosis but they can tell it's there. Children are nearer the center of personality development pulling in a wealth of information to form their own personal identity. They get input from their peers, other adults, and even people they meet and talk to. If some of that information comes in and tells him it doesn't balance as acceptable input, they become suspicious, threatened and back away. Waddie got to where he couldn't stand to be kissed or hugged by his ma. She would be warm and loving one minute until she got what she wanted, then be cold and rejecting. She did it to Waddie time and time again. She did it to Dorothy and she, in turn, absorbed her mother's personality. Her only child she didn't do it to was Willie. Waddie was mystified. Why? Why not Willie? Waddie was to find out. >From the time Waddie moved into his room Willie barged in to do whatever he pleased. Waddie told him he didn't want him in his room. He didn't want to snitch but if he continue he would tell his dad. Willie grabbed the four year old boy in his bigger hands and began to shake him like a rag doll. "If you ever snitch on me you filthy little cocksucker I'll see to it you have an accident you want recover from. Then you'll be out my hair for good!" Waddie started screaming and crying. His dad was out of town and his mother never came to see what was wrong. That was just warm ups for Willie. Willie would do something around the place that Morgan told Willie over and over not to do. He'd get pissed off ready to take Willie to the barn when he'd smile sweetly. "Oh no, Morgan. You got it wrong, your precious son did this. Ask Dorothy or ma, they'll tell you." Morgan would ask them and they would swear they both saw Waddie do it. Morgan would stomp up to Waddie's room and practically drag Waddie to the barn. His son would be screaming and yelling . "Dad, dad! What're you doing? Why are you dragging me to the barn." "To give you a whipping." "What for, dad?" "You know what you did!" "No, Dad, I don't!" "Did you do `such and such?'" (whatever the offence) "No Sir! I didn't!" "Don't lie to me, Son!" "I ain't lying, Dad. You taught me not to lie! " "How did it happen then? It didn't just happen by itself." "I don't know, Dad. I don't know, but I swear to you, I didn't do it." "Your ma and Dorothy told me they saw you do it!" "Their not telling the truth, Dad. I never did it!" "I won't have a liar in my house. I'm gonna' whip you `til you admit you done it." Waddie continued to protest to deaf ears. Morgan wasn't going to listen to another word. He pulled Waddie's pants down, bent him over a hay bail with a horse blanket thrown on it, and started wailing on his son's butt with his big wide western belt. Waddie would cry and yell he didn't do it but Morgan told him he would whip him until he admitted it. Finally, it would hurt the boy enough he would be forced to lie and admit he did it begging Morgan to, please stop whipping him. And Morgan would. He would then talk to Waddie about truth and trust. It was the last thing Waddie wanted to hear coming out of his hypocritical dad. Preach one religion and practice another? Waddie lost all respect for his dad that day. Morgan was not prepared for the hatred in his son's eyes. Waddie had always looked at his dad with love and trust in his eyes. That was now replaced by fear, hurt, confusion and disillusion. The one time he ever had to take Waddie to the barn he immediately owned up to his mistake and promised he would never do it again. He never did. But now, . . .he was like a different kid. He admitted he did it why isn't be being contrite? He had hatred in his eyes, like he hates me for correcting him. I can't have this, I'm in control here. A wee small voice he couldn't quite hear spoke in a whisper, "You gave up control when you betrayed the child's trust. You condemned him without giving him the benefit of the doubt. Are you sure they aren't lying to drive a wedge between you and your son? Without his respect, you have no control. Furthermore, you don't deserve to have control over him if he can't trust you to trust him. Trust is a two way street, Morgan. Just because Waddie's five years old doesn't mean he is less deserving or incapable of your trust. Search your soul, Morgan. If Buck came to you and told you the whole town said they saw him do something and he told you different, who would you believe? Well?" Either Morgan couldn't hear or chose not to listen to his own voice of reason. "Well, I hated to do this but it had to be done." Morgan told him. Waddie refused to talk to him about it. He was emotionally confused and physically hurt. He trusted this man and now he whipped him to make him tell a lie. He looked at his dad and asked him, "You gonna' whip me again, Dad?" "No, why do you ask?" "For the lie you made me to tell you!!" Morgan didn't answer. He didn't want to hear the point his son was making. That scene was repeated five or six more times that year. Willie knew what set Morgan off and would frame Waddie. Willie's mom and Dorothy would go along with him. The more whippings Waddie got the less he cried. Then without a tear he would yell at his dad. "You had enough? You ready for me to admit I did it?!" "Yes Son, I'm ready to hear it." "Yeah, . . . well, . . . okay, Dad, I did it! There, you happy?" Waddie would say flatly without a trace of emotion. Once again Morgan would try to talk to Waddie. Waddie was almost five and was still a little boy at heart but he was growing up fast. Morgan would give the boy his standard this hurts me more than it hurts you speech. That day Waddie turned and looked at his dad with a look that sent chills down Morgan's spine. "Like hell, it does! You gonna' let me whip you now for that Goddamn lie!" Waddie noticed Morgan's dick was hard and a wet spot at his crotch. His dad was getting off on whipping his ass. "I'm not lying to you, Son!" "Bull shit! Why should I believe you? You don't never believe me. I tell you them son's of bitches is lying and you won't believe me. To hell with you, Dad!" Morgan hauled off and slapped his son hard across the mouth. He was immediately sorry for what he'd done but it was too late. The damage was done. Waddie didn't yell nor cry out from the hard blow to his face. He merely turned to his dad, looked him in the eye with a look of hatred so cold and strong it almost froze Morgan's heart. The five year old child looking at him, who should have the openness of love in his face looked like a hardened convict looking at fifty to life. Waddie spoke very purposefully to his dad. "I don't love you anymore, Dad." Waddie turned and ran out of the barn out into the pasture land behind the barns. He ran and ran until he was exhausted then fell to the ground and let it all out onto the Earth. He prayed to God to help him. He wasn't asking for wrathful vengeance, he just wanted his dad back. The old dad whom he loved, cherished, trusted and believed in. Morgan tried to follow Waddie into the field. He'd never seen the boy this upset. Of course, he realized he owed him an apology for smacking him one. He slowly came to where Waddie was laying in the field and could hear him heaving gut wrenching sobs. Morgan could see the red hand print forming on Waddie's small face. He knelt down and tried to pick his son up. Instead Waddie reacted violently throwing wild but strong punches that had some kick to them. "Damn you! I told you I don't love you anymore! Now, keep your Goddamn hand's off of me." "Waddie listen to me . . ." "I don't want to hear another pack of lies from your mouth. You've preached and preached to me to be truthful and then you drag my ass out here and beat me `til you make me lie. Well, you happy, Dad? You made your son into a Goddamn liar and he don't love you anymore." Waddie turned and ran off again toward the old barn. "Waddie," Morgan hollered after him, "you don't mean that. Come back here, Son, and let's talk." "Talk to yourself, Morgan! You're the only one you'll believe, anyway! Go ahead, Morgan! Tell yourself a lie! Tell yourself Waddie still loves you! Well, he don't! But you go ahead, if you can believe them son's of bitche's lies over the only one in that house that gives a tinker's dam about you go for it! You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you on the butt, Morgan!! " Waddie was walking to the barn now blinded by tears and Morgan decided not to follow him. Let him cool down and he'd be in for dinner. Waddie didn't come in for dinner. He climbed to the loft and arranged some hay bails, got some clean horse blankets, made himself a bed under the warm hay and intended to stay there all night. Morgan came out and yelled for him but he wouldn't answer him. He looked all over for him. Morgan could sense Waddie could hear him. "Listen, Son. I'm sorry I hit you. Daddy was wrong to do that. I love you, Waddie. I can't stand to think that you don't love me anymore. Come on in the house with me, Son. I won't try to talk to you no more. Just have something to eat, clean up and go to bed." Waddie didn't breathe. He wasn't about to do what his dad wanted. Morgan finally left and Waddie thought, "Good! Now I can rest!" He cried some more and thought. Rather than be passive this time he decided to fight back. Only one problem. He needed a champion! Some one to love him and believe in him! That sounded like a God request to him. Fine he hadn't talked with the Old Man in a while. He'll probably be happy to hear from him. He heard footsteps in the barn from a big pair of boots and Waddie recognized them as his dad's. He hoped he wasn't coming out to beg him to come in the house again. He heard Morgan climbing the ladder to the loft but he didn't hear him looking for him. He could see the light from the lantern. Then he heard Morgan near him. "Waddie, I brought out a couple of blankets. I'm gonna' sleep out here with you tonight. If you want to come share my blanket I'd love to have you by my side. I think you need your Dad to hold you and tell you how sorry he is for hitting you. You need to hear me say I love you, Waddie. Whether you love me or not, I still love you." Waddie, started crying again. Morgan almost couldn't contain himself from the pain and anguish in the boy's sobs. He knew that something was desperately wrong but he still refused to believe his son over the three in the house. Maybe this rebellion against punishment was a phase Waddie was going through. Waddie got up early before the sunrise and crept down the ladder from the loft. He walked to the house, climbed the stairs to his room., quietly closed the door, went to his closet , closed that door and settled in his dark, hurt proof, corner. He stayed there for almost two weeks. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It was summer. Two days before Waddie's birthday. His dad came to his room. Waddie hadn't come out since his whipping, not even to eat. His dad brought him trays. He never touched a thing. He had lost so much weight that his levis wouldn't stay on his hips. His face looked shrunken and hollow. Morgan was worried about his son. Waddie turned his back on his dad when he came into his room. He refused to look at him. Morgan asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. "Find a new home." Waddie replied flatly with no emotion. Morgan heart had all ready been broken but to hear this from a child he loved with all his heart was too much. He started to scold his son but there were no words that would come out. What could he say. Scolding would only drive him further away. Was Waddie really telling him the truth? Could all three of them be doing this to turn his son away from him? Morgan refused to believe anyone could be that cruel. Willie maybe, but Judy and Dorothy? Morgan could feel the resolute, desperate nature of his son's statement and it crushed him. He thought if he could just touch his boy he could communicate he still loved him. He went to reach for Waddie, he pulled away, ran for his closet and got in the back in the corner in a fetal position. "Don't touch me! Get away from me! I told you I don't love you no more and I mean it. Go away and let me be! I don't want a birthday from you or anybody. You're suppose to celebrate your birthday with folks you love and love you. Nobody in this damn house loves me and I don't love any of you either. Now, do me a favor and get out of my room. I ain't coming out of my room again. Let that bastard, Willie, try to frame me with something when I been in my Goddamn room all the time." Morgan looked at his son and knew if he hadn't all ready lost him, he soon would. "I'm sorry, Son." He said quietly. "No, you're not." replied Waddie softly, "or you would've believed me." But, Morgan really was sorry. He was hurting in his gut so bad he rushed to the upstairs bathroom and threw up his dinner. As he ran to the bathroom, he saw Willie standing in the door with a sneer on his face. Waddie wanted to love his dad but when his dad came around to play with him or spend time, Waddie rejected him. He told Morgan to go away. He didn't want nothing to do with him anymore. He didn't want Morgan touching him. He wouldn't even look into Morgan's eyes. Waddie drew further away from Morgan. He stayed in his room for weeks mostly in the corner of the closet. That's where Morgan always found him with the door closed. He hadn't come out of his room in two weeks. Morgan was frantic. Waddie wouldn't even respond now. He had nothing to eat in a week and a half and very little water. Waddie knew he was dying. He simply didn't care. There was nothing to live for without love. He'd go home to God. He knew he would love him. Waddie prayed to God to either let his dad believe him or take him back to heaven. He didn't want to live any more. This was an awful place down here where mean people hurt folks for no reason. I'm not a bad boy God, why do they hate me? Judy, Grindle's mother, could see the handwriting on the wall. Sociopaths aren't stupid people, they're just devoid of care. Many say they have no souls. To have a soul implies a conscience. She, nor her spawn had ever heard the word let alone possess one. She gathered her two wicked step children about her and told them to cool it for a while. Morgan's near the breaking point and if Waddie doesn't come around they may get thrown out. She thinks Morgan is getting suspicious. Waddie continued to pray in the darkness of his closet. "God, nobody down here loves me. Do I have to live without love, God? I was told you love me. That's hard for me to believe, Sir. Even if my dad don't believe me you know what the truth is and how mean my ma, Willie, and Dorothy are to me. I believe in you and love you. Can't you love me a little in return. If I can't be with you, God, send me an angel to protect me. I ain't asking for toys, a dog or a pony, Lord. I just need help, Sir! I need someone to believe in me and love me. Then these son's of bitches can't hurt me if I have love in my heart. Please, Sir." And God heard Waddie's prayer and answered it. He sent him the biggest, meanest, toughest, best looking, kick-ass angel he could find. Buck Clayton came home from the War. End Part 2 9/1/02 Copyright 2002 Waddie Greywolf Questions/comments to: waddiebear@yahoo.com