WACO’S
LUMMOX
By
Waddie Greywolf
Chapter
60
Coyote and the
North Star ~ “And it’s no, nay, never, no more. Will I
play the
wild rover? No never, not ever, nay never, no more.” ~ Irish Folk
Tune
~ St. Patrick’s Day
“No, I
won’t
give you a cigarette. I love you, because you’re my brother, but
I won’t supply you with something you no longer have a right to.
You’re gonna’ be a slave before much longer and cigarettes ain’t in no
master’s budget for his slave’s needs. You won’t have no needs
‘cept’n what yore’ master determines you need. Besides, you know
I done give ‘em up several years ago. I ain’t got one to give
you, no how.”
said Douglas Puma Tin Penny to his older brother Coyote John.
“Sad to say,
he’s right, brother.” added Brody Eagle Tin Penny. “Better you get over
the habit here in jail than go crazy as a slave and have your
master do something bad to you. I never took up smoking, so I
don’t have none to give you, neither.”
John Tin Penny
knew better than to challenge his younger brothers. They were
lawmen, both worked for Sheriff Lassiter and had for quite a
while. They were happy and comfortable with their jobs and
wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize them.
“Look, brother,
you’re lucky we even come visit you. You’re dead to the rest of
our family. Our old man won’t let your name be spoken no more in
his hogan. You’ve embarrassed yore’ boy. He’s ashamed of
you and don’t want nothing to do with you. That shouldn’t come as
no shock to you, but we know you don’t care what he thinks. You
turned your back on him a long time ago. ‘At’s a real pity, too,
he’s turned out to be a treasure; a man among men. He’s loving,
responsible, hard working and a credit to our tribe. Our old man
is sure he will become a great leader of our people one day.
Brody and me,
we agree with him. I’d give my gotdamn life for that boy.
It’s hard to believe that kid sprang from yore' sorry loins.
Furthermore, you’re damn lucky that cowboy you stabbed didn’t
die. If'n it hadn't a' been for some major players in our Grange,
you’d be up on murder-one charges. We’ll be there for your
trial, but we won’t stand up for you as character witnesses. Our
old man told us we’d be as dead to him and our family as you are, if’n
we do.”
“You men heard
any rumors. You got any idea what’s gonna’ happen to me?” John
asked almost contritely.
“Naw, yore’
guess is as good as ours. You’ll probably be sent to a Cheney
work camp and that’s where you’ll likely stay until you die.
Sorry, but
them’s the facts of life, brother. H’it ain’t easy on us, but we
come to see you because we wanna’ spend some time with our brother
before you go. Once you’re gone, we won’t never see you again in
this life. We brung you some cookies and cake our wives made up
for you. Share them with your cell mate if you wish.”
“Him?” John Tin
Penny said with certain disgust motioning to his cell mate, Monty
Dundee, a young, twenty year old
kid who was in jail because he loved a rich and powerful rancher’s
daughter and was accused of raping her. He didn’t. The kid
was innocent. The girl refused to testify against him. She
was the same age as him and a willing participant, but her daddy was a
rich, powerful rancher and a rabid fundamentalist. He threatened
her with her life if she didn’t cooperate with him to put the boy
away. She adamantely refused, but the Christianist D.A. felt
there was enough circumstantial evidence to convict the boy
anyway. Monty was probably due to be sent to a Cheney camp, too.
“He don’t git
nothing.” Coyote John told his two brothers, “I say what he gits and
what he don’t. He’s ma’ bitch. He does what the hell I tell
him. I never thought I’d come to enjoy fuck’n a man, but I gotta’
say his ass is a lot hotter’n my hand. After I trained him to
suck my dick the way I likes it, he’s better’n most a’ them old two-bit
whores
I used to have to pay ta’ git ma’ dick sucked. They used to gag
and complain about how big I was. They wouldn’t take me all the
way. I got him trained real good. All I gotta’ do is snap
my fingers, and he hits his knees. Takes me all the way to ma’
balls without gagging. I kin fuck his face or his ass as hard as
I want, but he won’t never complain. He knows better. He
knows I’ll kick his ass if he does. He licks ma' balls and sucks
my ass like like a heifer cleaning her new born calf. You want
him to suck you
off? I’ll have him lick yore’ ass clean for a cigarette.
All I gotta’ do it tell him.” John assured them.
Doug and Brody
shook their heads in disgust. “Naw, brother, you know we don’t do
that kind a’ shit. We didn’t come here to have your cell mate
suck us off or lick our butts. What kind of monster have you
become? You mean to tell us you forced yourself on a straight
kid, ‘cause you’s bigger and stronger than him?” Brody asked with
contempt in his voice.
“Hey! I’s
jes’ warm’n him up for what’s coming, bro. He’s gotta’ learn how
to do it when he’s a slave.” John defended himself. “I’s jes’
break’n him in for his master. You know a good-looking young man
like him is gonna’ be some bull-master’s favorite.”
“And like ever’
thing else in life, you think you’re exempt. Time for a reality
check, bro. You better start showing that kid some
compassion, Coyote. Whatever gods there be in the universe, I can
guaran-damn-tee-ya’ they don’t take kindly to men like you what are all
the time taking advantage of others and don’t give nothing back in
return. C’mer, kid!” Doug called to the young boy.
“Here, take this cake and them cookies. Eat ‘em while we’re here
so’s our brother don’t bully ‘em from you. My brother’s got more
for him.”
“Thank you,
Sir. Much obliged.” The boy took the two packages and
returned to his bunk to eat.
“You’re more’n
welcome, Son. Sorry about our brother. We ain’t assholes
like him.”
Doug turned back to John and spoke, “My advice to you, bro, is you
better start suck’n the kid in return and throwing your legs in the air
for him. You gonna’ be travel’n down the same road as him in
a very short period of time. Then, you’re gonna’ be forced to do
it, jes’ like you done forced him.”
“Naw, I
ain’t. I’d rather die than suck a man’s dick or git fucked in the
butt.” Coyote John stated flatly. Doug and Brody looked at him
for a moment in stunned silence. They couldn’t believe the state
of denial in which their brother was allowing himself to wallow.
They looked at each other and broke up laughing.
“You will if you
wanna’ survive, but if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll git,
brother. They don’t have to kill you to git chu’ to do what they
want. Masters have ways of breaking you jes’ like they break a
pony to a saddle. They’ll have you on yore’ knees begging to make
love to their dirty old boots, so’s you can clean the horse and cow
shit off ‘em with yore’ tongue, and make you beg to suck their dick or
fuck yore’ ass. I hate to say it— no I don’t— I’d give my last
nickel to see yore’ cocksure attitude taken down to the level of
reality where the rest of us live. You know h’it really ain’t so
bad down here once you git used to it. Only then, when they’ve
broken you into a whimpering mass of flesh, will they start to rebuild
you into the salve they want and need you to be. Once that
happens, once you're broken, you won’t give ‘em no more
problems. You’ll be a nice,
peaceful, obedient slave, ready to serve their needs at the snap of a
finger.” Brody told his older brother.
“Naw!
Won’t never happen to me, little brother!” bragged Coyote John with a
insolent smile and a toss of his head.
“That’s what
they all say, brother.” Doug said with a grin. “Good luck with
that. Lemme’ know how it works out for ya. On the other
hand, don’t bother, I know how it’s gonna’ work out. They’ll give
you a time period to be broken; three, maybe six month. If’n you
ain’t broke by that time they’ll just git a pair of calf clippers, tie
them two balls a' yore'n up real tight so's they's no blood to speak
of, and
relieve you a’ them low hang'n baby makers you’s so proud of." he
added, then spoke to Monty, “Tell you what, Son, we’ll talk with the
sheriff and see if we can get chu’ put into another cell.” Doug said to
the kid.
“Thanks, Sir,
but I’m all right in this cell. I know what to expect here.
It might be worse somewheres else.” Monty allowed.
“We can put you
in a cell by yourself, Son.” Brody encouraged him.
“Please, Sir, I
don’t wanna’ be alone. I’m all right. Mr. Tin Penny don’t
hurt me none. Once I learned what he wants and how to please
him, h’it ain’t so bad.”
“You sure?
You ain’t jes’ say’n that ‘cause you’s afraid of him, are you?” pressed
Doug.
“Naw, Sir, I’m
sure, Deputy Tin Penny. I was once, but I ain’t no more.
John don’t scare me none.” he replied. “Thanks for the treats,
Sir, I really appreciate them.”
“You’re welcome,
Son. We’ll bring more next time.”
The deputies
left and walked out of the station to Doug’s truck.
“Why’d ju’ tell
him he was going to a Cheney camp, brother?” Brody asked his older
brother.
“‘Cause dad
don’t want him know’n what’s really gonna’ happen to him. ‘Sides,
after what he done to that kid he deserves to worry some, don’t chu'
think?” Doug asked.
“Yeah, I guess
you’re right, but I thought it was all a done deal.” said Brody.
“It is s’far as
I know. I heard the sheriff talking with the new judge just the
other day, and he confirmed it. Coyote John’s done been bought
and paid for. His trial what’s coming up is only window
dressing. The Grange and Ramrod Long paid the right people and
greased the wheels of power. I understand he’s going to Angus
Goodnight’s ranch as a cowboy slave, and you know who Mr. Goodnight’s
new ramrod is?” Doug stated as a rhetorical fact.
“Yeah, Jimmy Joe
Russell, the older brother of the cowboy our brother damn near stabbed
to death.” Brody slapped his knee and the two deputies fell out
laughing together. “Coyote ain’t gonna’ suck no dick or git
fucked up his butt, my ass!” he added. The two big Indian men
slapped each other on the back and laughed harder.
“You jes’ know
that old cowboy’s gonna’ open up our smart mouthed older brother’s ass
so wide we’ll be able to drive this gotdamn truck through it without
worrying we’re gonna’ hit the sides.” Douglas was laughing so hard he
almost hit another truck.
“Easy, brother,
you’s gonna’ get us killed.” laughed Brody.
“J’ever seen the
dick on that old cowpoke?” Doug asked his little brother.
“Naw, don’t
recollect ever have’n the occasion.” laughed Brody.
“They don’t call
him ‘hoss’ for nothing, little Brother.” Doug hit the steering wheel
with the flat of his hand and laughed some more. “He won’t stop shoving
that big thing down our brother’s throat ‘til he either hits bottom or
an inch pops out Coyote’s butthole.”
“Stop, brother!”
Brody was laughing so hard. “Why are we laughing at our poor brother’s
fate?”
“Why not?
Look at the pain and suffering he’s caused our family. Look what
he done to our nephew. John always was the greatest hope of our
dad. Dad let him git by with shit he’d never let you and me git
away with. It took me years to figure out dad done us a favor by
reining us in and making us toe the mark. I’m glad he done
it. We could a’ ended up like John. I jes’ always thought
he loved Coyote John more’n us. T’weren’t that a’ tall.
John was his first, and he spoiled him rotten. He didn’t make the
same mistake with you and me. The old man wised up after the
Coyote. He loved us enough to make damn sure we didn’t grow up
like him. I’ll always be grateful to our old man for that.”
“Y'ain’t never
told me that before.” Brody complained.
“T’weren’t no
need ‘til now. I know sometimes you got the idea our old man
didn’t love you as much as John.” accused Doug.
“Yeah, you’re
right, but after what you jis' done told me, I don’t’ think that way no
more. Thanks, brother.” Brody said sincerely. “Jes’ wish there
was some'um we could do for the kid.”
“It’s already
been taken care of, bubba.” Doug smiled knowingly at his little
brother. “I thought you knew?”
“Naw, I ain’t
heard nothing.”
“The old judge
knows what went on. The kid’s innocent. They were both
consenting adults, but what Monty don’t know is he knocked up Charlie
Ruggles’ daughter. She’s carrying his baby but refuses to have an
abortion. It ain’t because of her daddy and momma’s religion
neither. She loves the boy and wants his baby. Ain’t
nothing Ruggles and his wife can do about it, because of the strict new
laws and their beliefs about abortion. So Ruggles figures he’ll
muscle the boy away with his power and money where them kids can’t git
to one another, and that’s exactly what’s gonna’ happen; only, not for
the reasons Ruggles thinks. If the kid was to walk free, he’d be
a dead man in forty-eight hours. Ruggles is that powerful.
He don't believe in aborting a baby, but he'd have a man what done
some'um he don't like killed in a heartbeat. Talk about a
hypocrite. Old Judge Potter ain’t no fool. He’s been
keep’n the boy in jail to protect him.”
“What’s gonna’
happen to the poor kid?” Brody pressed.
“Monty’s done
been bought and paid for, too. The Grange and Ramrod Long took
care of it months ago. He goes for his hearing right before our
brother. Anderson will sentence him from five to ten years
indenturement to
pay off that Christianist bastard Ruggles to keep the boy out of
harm’s way. Most probably he’ll serve five years as a slave
and be on probation
another five years if he keeps his nose clean.”
“Holy crap!”
exclaimed Brody shaking his head like he didn’t agree with it.
“Yeah, you got
that right, brother. It’s holy crap all right. Them fuck’n
bible thump'n fools think they can git away with anything as long as
they
got the money to back up their crazy shit and Ruggles has got plenty of
it.” Doug agreed. Then added, “Monty’s going to the new
Potter/Goodnight ranch under Angus’ little brother, Shane. That
won’t be such a bad life for him.” said Doug.
“I hear'd me
some
good things about that ranch. At least he won’t be going to one
of them horrible Cheney death camps.” Brody said.
“The
Potter/Goodnight ranch has the reputation of being a plum place for a
slave. Shane Goodnight and his ramrod treat their slaves like
human beings. H’it ain’t no country club; a man’s gotta’
work, and he’s still a slave expected to do whatever a slave
must. They’s still gonna’ be expected to suck dick and git butt
fucked, but they ain’t mistreated; they eat good, and they’re well
taken
care of. You git a bunch of slaves together from different
ranches, and you can always spot a Potter/Goodnight slave. He’ll
be the healthiest, cleanest, best dressed, finest looking, well turned
out slave among ‘em. I hear tell they won’t let a slave off their
ranch less'n he passes inspection from his masters. Them men take
pride in their ranch, and it shows. They’s been rumors
several freemen what’s been down on their luck and need a place to stay
for a while to keep from being picked up as vagrants or homeless and
thrown into a Cheney camp are working for them as temporary
slaves.
They ain’t treated no different from the real slaves. They have
to
accept life as a slave with all it implies, and they ain’t above no
slave jes’ ‘cause they’s a freeman. They’re expected to submit to
their masters and perform the same work and rituals as the
slaves. Hell, they get three meals a day decent food, and they
get a warm, dry, clean place to live. You can bet them
fancy boots you be wear’n if’n it came down to it, you’d see me
two-step’n my red-man cowboy butt up the road to the Potter
ranch. I’d suck them men’s dick, bend over, spread my ass cheeks
with both hands, tell ‘em to take all they wanted, and whistle
like a pig for ‘um while they’s do’n it. I’d work my Apache butt
off for them men if they promised me three squares a day and a warm,
dry bed
to sleep in.” Doug told his little brother.
“Brother!?”
Brody exclaimed, then laughed. This was a new revelation his
older brother never shared with him before.
“What?” Doug
pushed back, “H’it shore’ as hell ain’t hurt our nephew none.
I don't hold ma'self no better'n him. He’s loved and
appreciated. He works his butt off for Ramrod Long
and Master Charlie, but it’s ‘cause he wants to and not because he’s
afeard for his life. H'it ain’t something I’d like to do, but I’m
jes’ saying if’n it came down to it, I wouldn’t be too damn proud or
high and mighty I couldn’t adjust my sights to survive. Our
brother is gonna’ be facing the same situation only he ain’t got no
choice in the matter. As far as I’m concerned, that makes it all
the more sweet.” grinned Douglas to his brother. Brody agreed
with him and they shared another laugh at their older brother’s expense.
* * * * * * *
John Tin Penny
set down slowly on the bunk next to his cell mate.
“Why’d ju’ tell
ma’ brothers you didn’t want another cell, kid?” John asked Monty.
“I told ‘em the
truth. I don’t wanna’ be alone. I been alone all my damn
life. My granddaddy let me live on his property, but he ain’t
never give a shit about me. He wouldn’t even let me live in his
house. I had to live in a lean-to shack on the back of his old
barn since I’s five years old. He ain’t come to see me since I
been in jail.”
“We ain’t never
talked much. Why you in here, boy?”
“I done fell in
love with the wrong woman. I fell in love with Shanna Ruggles.”
“Charlie Ruggles
daughter?” asked John. Monty nodded. John let out a low
whistle. “Tough man.” he shook his head.
“Yes, Sir.
I thought me and Shanna was gonna’ spend our lives with one another,
but I guess that ain’t gonna’ happen now.” he lamented.
“So, you ain’t
afraid of me no more?” John grinned at him.
“Naw, Sir.
To be honest, I lied to your brothers. I weren’t never afraid of
you.”
“Not even when I
bark at you, or I’m rough with you.”
“You ain’t so
rough, and I’m used to you barking at me. You’s like a toothless
old hound dog.” Monty grinned at him, then added, “Yore’ bark is a hell
of lot worse than yore’ bite, but I been in this cell with you for damn
near six months. I done figured out what it takes to please you,
and the rest of the time you leave me alone.”
“You all right
with it?” John asked like he was surprised.
“I weren’t at
first, but after a while, I learned to like pleasing you. It was
something
to do to pass the time. Besides, being with you was better’n
being alone. If I didn’t wanna’ do it I could’ve told the
deputies what you been doing, and they would’ve moved me to another
cell like yore’ brother’s offered. Since neither of us got long
to go, I’d rather stay here with you than being alone or having to
worry about somebody
new. At least I know how to please you.” Monty sounded
sincere. Coyote John couldn’t help but openly laugh at the young
man’s brazen honesty. He had to know more.
“Yeah, I guess
you do at that. You got pert-damn good at please’n me. Why
weren’t you never afraid of me, and what’s this shit about me
being a toothless old hound dog?” Coyote John demanded.
“You never
could a' forced me to do what I done for you, John. I done it
‘cause I
wanted to.” Monty said quietly.
“Don’t make me
laugh, boy. After I beat you to a pulp, you would a’ done any
damn
thing I wanted. You's jes’ smart enough to cooperate.”
“Mr. Tin Penny,
mean'n no disrespect, but you never would a’ laid a hand on me if’n I
didn’t want you to. I
gave in because I didn’t wanna’ hurt chu' none.” Monty said in a
nonconfrontational tone.
“What the hell
are you talking about, kid? I's half again the size you is.
I could whup yore’ ass with one hand
tied behind me and still make you service me.” John insisted.
“I let you think
that, Mr. Tin Penny, but it ain’t the truth. I could’ve defended
myself, and you never would’ve touched me.”
“Not only are
you a coward, you’re a bald faced liar, boy!” Coyote John stood and
turned on the young man like a rabid dog.
Coyote John and
Monty Dundee were the only men in the jail at the time. They were
way back in a separate holding cell for prisoners awaiting trial.
It was a much larger cell than the usual two men cell. It
measured twenty feet deep by thirty feet wide, but only contained
a couple of bunk beds. It was part of the old jail before they
built the newer sheriff station. It was kept and
intended as an overflow community cell from the newer jail,
but since the new laws made almost every man who got into trouble a
slave, there wasn’t much overflow. The cell they were in was
well away from the main jail and was hardly ever used anymore.
Once the guards shut them down for the evening, John and Monty were
very
much alone. Once in a great while, a guard would poke his head in
to check on them after midnight, but not very often. That’s how
Coyote John got away with forcing himself on his young cell mate for
six months. John drew back
and hit Monty with the back of his open hand and sent him flying across
the huge cell. Blood formed at the corners of Monty’s mouth; he
just looked up at Coyote, slowly smiled, and wiped it away on his shirt
sleeve. Monty's smile sort of rattled John Tin Penny. It
wasn't the response he expected. Then, his cell mate stood
up. It was more like Monty unfolded from a boy into an imposing
presence of a stalwart young man.
“If you’re so
damn good, lemme’ see what you got, boy!” John lunged for the kid, but
Monty swiftly moved out of the way. John missed him altogether.
“This ain't
right, Coyote. Don’t make me
do this, Mr. Tin Penny. Let’s just fergit about it and go on the
way we was. I shouldn't a' said nothing, sir. I don’t
wanna’ hurt you none, John.”
“The hell you
say! Calling me a toothless old hound dog. Us Indian men
ain’t like you cowardly white boys. We got our honor to
uphold. C’mon, my little white trash, skull-pussy, slut-butt fuck
toy, show me what chu’
got!”
taunted Coyote John.
John turned to
step into a big haymaker. He swung, but the kid ducked, and
faster than John could recover his balance Monty whirled on one foot,
brought his other foot up in a loose but graceful pirouette like it was
the most natural thing he ever did in his life and squarely landed
the heel of his size ten cowboy boot right in the back of Coyote John’s
head further propelling him forward and slamming his forehead against
the concrete cell. He was out like a light and sank to the floor
in a heap. Monty went to him, gathered him in his arms and
started gently slapping his face to bring him around. The boy’s
eyes started watering and a couple of his tears dropped onto Coyote’s
John’s face.
“Mr. Tin
Penny? Coyote! I’m sorry, sir. I told ju' I didn’t
wanna’ hurt chu’ none. Please forgive me, John.” he spoke softly.
Coyote John came
to and saw Monty holding him, sheding tears and asking his
forgiveness.
He went nuts, jumped up and moved away.
“You sorry
little bastard! You's jes' lucky that time. I’ll kill you,
you son of a bitch, cut chore' balls off and eat 'um for supper.”
John hollered at him.
“I don't think
so, Mr. Tin Penny, I grow'd quite attached to ma' balls, but for
yore'
sake, sir, please, don’t make me hurt you no more. If you attack
me,
John, I will defend myself.” Monty pleaded.
Coyote John
didn’t wait to think. He had a splitting headache from his
contact with the wall, but once again went for Monty. This time
he
tried to fake him out, and instead of taking a swing he brought up his
right boot to kick the boy in his groin. Monty caught his boot
with both hands on its upward swing, and with seemingly little effort,
twisted it
sharply. It caused John to lose his center of gravity, and he did
a complete flip in midair. He landed on his chest knocking the
air out of him. He make a big ‘ooofff’ sound as air rushed from
his lungs, and he lay flopping like a fish out of water trying to get
his breath. Monty had his knee in his back in an instant, grabbed
a
handful
of John’s hair, used it to raise his head and rapped it against the
concrete floor. It make a big smacking sound. Coyote John
was down for the count a second time.
John awoke again
in Monty’s arms with more of the young man’s tears falling onto his
face. He was a bit slower to respond, but set up, shook the
cobwebs from his mind, and turned to look at the kid like he was
perplexed. Coyote John’s biggest problems were, he had a hard
head and he was a
slow learner. He decided to have one more go at the kid, jumped
up and took another swing. Monty took the punch in both
hands, fell backward, brought both boots to John’s middle and propelled
him over his head. Once more John hit the concrete wall, dropped
to the floor with the weight of his body on his head and was out.
John was out for a good while. When he came to, Monty wasn’t
holding him. He was sitting in his bunk with his head in his
hand. He didn’t try to say anything to John. Coyote John
picked
himself up and every bone in his body ached. He started for Monty
again. The boy stood to defend himself, but John waved him off.
“‘At’s it!
‘At’s enough! I’ve had it, kid. You win. You licked
me fair and square. I ain’t never been beat in a fistfight
before. Where the hell did ju’ learn shit like that?” John asked
sincerely.
“When you’s a
kid alone in the world you learn to survive, Mr. Tin Penny. We
had Taiwanese neighbors when I lived on my grandpap’s farm. I
became good friends with their kids. I learned their
language. They were like brothers and sisters to me. Their
granddad taught us ritual exercises called Tai Chi Chuan. I got
very good at it.”
“Is that the
funny look’n dance you do a couple a’ times a day.”
“It ain’t no
dance, Mr. Tin Penny. It’s Tai Chi. It’s a martial arts
exercise. Anyway, when their dad taught them martial arts based
on the Tai Chi, he included me. In his country, he was a grand
master of Taekwondo based on the ritual exercises I learned as a
kid. I earned a black belt. It comes as natural to me as
breathing. Ain’t no man what can lay a hand on me what I don’t
want him to.” Monty stated as fact and not trying to brag.
“Is that them
orientals what come to see you on visit’n day?”
“Yes, Sir.
They’s about the only family I got.”
“You mean to
tell me— all this time— for six months— you been let’n me butt fuck you
and you been suck’n me off because you wanted to?”
“I didn’t want
to, Mr. Tin Penny. I ain’t no more a homo than you are, but I
also
didn’t wanna’ hurt you none. I done figured we was gonna’ be
together
for a good while so I’d try to make the best of it. It was easier
for me to adjust to you and let you think you’s the bull of the woods
around here than it was for me to cut chore’ balls off and shove ‘um
down yore’ throat. Like I done told ju’ I know what you like now
and how to give you pleasure. Besides, you got better as time
passed. For a hardheaded old Indian, you ain’t such a bad lover
when you put chore’ heart into it.” Monty grinned at him.
“I guess I
deserved that. You’re right, I am a hardheaded cuss. I
guess this means it’s all over between us.” John lamented.
“Only if you
want it to be, sir.”
“Well, you did
sort of cut ma’ ball off and hand ‘um to me.” John grinned through his
pain.
“I ain’t real
proud of it. I didn’t enjoy it. I hurt a man I care
about. Nobody needs to know but us. I ain’t gonna’ tell
nobody. Just look on it as my way of showing you what you come to
mean to me. I would a’ gone nuts in this fuck’n place without
you.”
“Daymn! I
hurt in places I ain’t never hurt before. My daddy done tried to
teach
me a lesson years ago. He told me if’n a man whups yore’ ass, you
best make him yore’ friend. I always thought I’s smarter’n ma’
old man, and I told him I didn't never have to worry about that, 'cause
there weren’t no man what could ever whup my ass.
I’m beginning to think ma’ old man weren’t so dumb after all. I’m
sorry I said them awful things about you, Son.” John said contritely.
“'At’s all
right, Mr. Tin Penny. I’m sorry I called you a toothless old
hound dog. Y’ain’t toothless at all.” Monty chuckled.
“But, I’m still
an old hound dog, huh?” Coyote John grinned.
“Yeah, but you’s
the best look’n and horniest old hound dog I ever done seen.” Monty
smiled, “C’mon, Mr. Tin Penny, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make
you feel better. Here, lie back and lemme’ help you with yore’
Wranglers.” Monty offered.
Coyote John lay
back, Monty undid his big belt buckle and pulled his Wrangles down
around his boot tops. He started making love to John’s big cock
and didn’t stop until he’d swallowed all of Coyote John’s spunk.
As he lay there enjoying the afterglow of Monty’s blowjob, as the young
man did his usual careful cleaning of his cock and putting it away for
another day, John thought how much sweeter it seemed this time, and
yet, he lost the fight... or did he? He wasn’t sure. Did he
lose the fight but win the battle? Was there really such a
thing? He knew he felt something different, but he couldn't
define
it. Monty’s blowjob was just about the most satisfying sex he
ever had in his life. He had to admit to himself, the kid was
damn good. He began to fantasize and wonder what it would be like
if Monty was his slave? How would he treat him? He thought
about it all evening and got an erection that wouldn’t go away.
“Son, I need
some more of yore’ fine butt this evening." he quietly told
Monty, "I got me a big on
hard-on what won’t go away. I promise, I’ll fuck ya’ real good,
jes’ the way you like.” Coyote sounded like he was almost
begging.
“Sure, Mr. Tin
Penny, help yore'self, climb in ma' saddle. Take yore'self a good
long ride. Since we go to court tomorrow, h'it jis' may be our
last.”
John was more
gentle with Monty than he ever was before and fucked him like he was
trying to make it as good for the boy as it was for him. He
didn’t stop or try to get his until he heard Monty groan and empty his
balls twice into an old towel they used. Then, Coyote took
Monty strong and hard; he took what he needed and Monty shot his load
again when John fired his hot seed into the young man’s ass. They
lay hooked together for sometime. John didn’t seem to be in a
hurry to withdraw and would gently and lovingly take a deep stroke into
Monty’s ass from time to time.
“Thanks, Son,
that was our best yet.” Coyote John heard himself saying.
“You's pert-damn
good, Mr. Tin Penny. My three for
the price of yore’ one? I’ll take that bargain any day.
Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I thank God you’s such a
horny old hound dog. You done gimme’ more’n your load with that
fuck, sir. I’m gonna’ miss you, John.” Monty said
quietly. He
felt so drained and relaxed Monty drifted off to sleep with
Coyote John still deep inside him.
“I’ll miss you,
too, kid.” John whispered as he bussed a kiss behind the boy's ear, and
gently withdrew when he heard Monty
began to snore softly.
* * * * * * *
The courtroom
wasn’t packed with people. Few had any interest in Coyote John
Tin Penny but his family, and the only ones in attendance were
his dad, the Chief, two of his fellow chiefs and John’s brothers’ Doug
and Brody. The Indian men set in stoic silence. The old man
neither looked at him nor acknowledged him. Coyote John had
no friends. He never formed close attachment to anyone. He
was subconsciously afraid of relationships of any kind. The only
person he could count as a friend was the young boy, barely a man, whom
he assumed he was forcing sex with for the last six months, but came to
find out the kid was more together than he was. He never
experienced anyone like Monty before. John had a strict set of
templets he used to size people up to get what he wanted from them,
then when he took all he needed, cast them aside to find someone else
to
suck the life from. Monty didn’t fit any of his molds.
Coyote set in the alternate prisoner box as Monty’s court appearance
was first on the docket.
Monty’s oriental
family was there, but his grandfather didn’t bother to come to
town. He didn’t care if the boy got himself into trouble.
He expected it. The boy came from bad blood. Whatever
happened to Monty was no skin off the old man’s nose. It was good
riddance as far as he was concerned. It just meant the end of a
bad chapter in his life. One he never wanted to read again.
In the courtroom were several ranchers and cowboys. There were
several cowboy slaves sitting in the slave gallery whispering quietly
among themselves. Everyone stood as Judge Anderson came into the
courtroom. He got things underway, but it was more procedure than
testimony. Monty Dundee was sitting in his prisoner box and
watched as the courtroom drama unfolded. He glanced at John a
couple of times, and once, John looked at him and smiled his
encouragement. What the young man heard was nothing resembling
justice.
“Who is the
plaintiff against this young man?” the judge asked.
“Mr. Ruggles,
your honor.” the counsel for the prosecution stated and motioned to the
big cowboy rancher in the chair next to him with his arms crossed like
Sitting Bull with a big glower look on his puffy face. Ruggles
wore Wrangler’s too tight for his waist, and it made his belly extend
and hang over his belt in a disgusting manner. Ruggles was the
epitome of a rich, successful rancher who no longer had to do the hard
work on a ranch that kept most ranchers trim and fit. The hardest
work Ruggles did was pushing away from the table, and lately he didn't
do a lot of that.
“As I understand
it, counselor, Mr. Ruggles is not the person with whom the young man is
accused of having sex, or am I missing something here?” everyone
in the room laughed. Ruggles didn’t laugh. He was an
ignorant,
tight-ass, superstitious Christianist fundamentalist in whose world
there was little room for humor.
"No, your
honor. The defendant is accused of having illegal sex with his
daughter.” replied the dim-witted lawyer.
“Why was it
illegal? As I understand the case, they were both of legal age
and
consenting adults.” Anderson knew the answer, he was just pulling the
attorney’s strings to watch him squirm.
“That’s true,
your honor, but they weren’t married. Mr. Ruggles beliefs are
hard-line Christian fundamentalism. Sex outside of marriage is
considered a mortal sin and is illegal, but more than that, it’s
obvious Mr. Dundee forced himself on Miss Ruggles.”
“Really?
That’s interesting. Tell me, Counselor, how many times did you
have to watch ‘Legally Blonde’ before you passed the bar? May I
remind you in a court of law nothing is obvious. It must be
proven beyond a doubt. What proof do you have the defendant
forced himself on Miss Ruggles? Where is Miss Ruggles? Do
you plan to produce her as a witness?” Anderson pushed the attorney.
“No, Sir, your
honor. She refused to testify against the defendant, but it
doesn’t matter, Judge, recent legislation was passed that outlaws
premarital sex.” stated the lawyer smugly like he slammed the door in
the judge’s face.
“I’m well aware
of recent laws, Counselor, but the reality of the situation is how do
you police people to keep them from having premarital sex? Sex is
a basic animal urge and as much as the fundamentalist would like to
separate themselves from the natural world with their exaggerated
claims of religious superiority, it still remains a scientific fact we
are all
basically animals. In this case you have only hearsay. It’s
her word against Mr. Dundee’s, or, if you will, Mr. Ruggles’ word
against
the young man’s.”
“We have a
written statement signed by Miss Ruggles and notarized that states he
forced her to have sex with him, your honor.”
“Oh, well, why
didn’t you say so?” Anderson asked with considerable sarcasm in his
voice. “Nothing says ‘guilty’ quite like a notarized statement.”
Anderson looked at the lawyer daring him to say a word. He
continued. “I’d like to see the defendant in my chambers.
Deputy, please escort Mr. Dundee.” the lawyer for Mr.
Ruggles started for the judge’s chambers and the public defender
appointed for Monty started to follow. Anderson turned and looked
at them. “Alone, Gentlemen!” he barked at the two attorneys.
“But Judge
Anderson that’s not...” the dim-wit attorney for Ruggles started
to challenge the judge.
“It’s my court,
Counselor, I can do any damn thing I want. Sit your ass down,
cool your heels, and wait
for me to return.”
“Yes, Sir.
Sorry, your honor.” he acquiesced.
The judge set in
his comfortable chair behind his desk as the deputy ushered Monty into
his office.
“Sit down, Son.”
Anderson motioned Monty to a chair. He set down in one of the
chairs in front of the judge’s desk. “You may leave us, Deputy.”
the deputy turned, walked out of his chambers, and closed the door
behind him. “Have you wondered why you spent six months in jail,
Son?”
“Yes, Sir, but
so much has changed with our government, people’s rights and freedoms,
I don’t know if a speedy trial is part of the judicial system anymore.”
“Intelligent
young man.” Anderson said as if to himself. He continued, “It is,
and it isn’t. That conflicting statement comes complete
with a two dollar explanation, and believe me, Son, it ain't worth
more' n two dollars." he smiled warmly at Monty, then continued, "In
many cases it’s left up to the
judge’s discretion. You were arrested under Judge Potter’s term
on the bench, and he decided to let me handle your case for
good reasons. He stipulated you would not come before the court
for six months. He wanted a chance to see if things would calm
down, and he could get the charges dropped. We’ve had a public
defender and two legal aids working on your case to try to reach some
agreement with Ruggles out of court, but to be perfectly honest with
you, it’s my opinion the man’s clinically insane. He’s a crazy
man, but he’s
also a very wealthy and powerful crazy man. There’s nothing more
dangerous
than an ignorant, insane redneck with money, Son. Remember
that. In the world before our current theocracy took over, Judge
Potter would not have signed a warrant for your arrest, and he would’ve
been right. Neither would I, for that matter, but we’re not there
anymore. We’re living in a world that is highly stacked against
the common man who has little or no money. Those with money can,
and often do, walk over people who are not guilty of anything more than
being in love with the wrong person. Do you see where I’m going
with this, Son?”
“I think so,
your honor, but it don’t look very good from where I’m sitting.” Monty
lamented.
“Believe me, it
don’t look any better from where I’m sitting, Son. I understand
completely, but what I’m about to tell you is the naked truth.
What I
decide today, at first, may seem unfair to you, but you will eventually
come to understand it is the best thing for you right now. I will
make my decision not only to satisfy the stupid law and calm Ruggles,
but also, to give you the maximum protection against the system and
Ruggles himself. He’s notorious for doing underhanded things and
getting away with it, because he wasn’t directly involved
himself. My decision will keep you alive, and I’m asking you to
trust me in this matter. I know in today’s world when a man asks
you to trust him, it don’t mean very much, but right now, in my court,
you don’t have any option but to trust me. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t
bother, but you’re young and just starting out in life. I wanted
a
chance to tell you privately I will personally be following your
case. I just wanted to try to ease your mind some. Unknown
to you, you already have some powerful, compassionate people in your
corner who are watching out for you and will see to your future.
Take my word for it, you may trust them. They're good people.”
Monty remained
silent. He figured he was going to get the ax. He came to
court with a slim hope he would be found innocent and set free, but he
was beginning to see the handwriting on the wall. For all of
Judge Anderson’s good words, Monty knew the man was going to sentence
him to slavery.
“Don’t I git ta'
say anything in my defense, your honor?” he asked like he was resigned
to defeat.
“Of course you
do, Son. I’ll give you a chance to say whatever you like to the
court or to anyone in the courtroom. You can say anything,
but I won’t allow you to use foul language. You will not use
profanity in my courtroom.”
“I understand,
your honor, I’ll be careful.” Monty promised.
“Good. Any
questions before we return?”
“No, Sir.
I know you’re just doing your job, Judge, and I understand you're
constrained by the current laws and political pressure. No hard
feelings.”
“Thanks,
Son. I appreciate that. You're an intelligent young
man. I know you'll do well where I place you. Just remember
what we talked about.”
They went back
into the courtroom. The judge heard testimony from Charlie
Ruggles and his attorney. He heard rebuttal and further testimony
from Monty and his attorney. He heard both side’s arguments,
summations and closing statements. Monty was sure Anderson forgot
to let him speak on his behalf. He didn’t. Just before he
was ready to announce his judgment in the case, he ask Monty to stand
in the prisoner’s box and told him he might say anything on his mind
but warned him again against using foul language in his court.
Monty took a deep breath.
“No matter what
is decided, here, in this court today, over which I have little or no
control,
I am innocent of these charges against me, and I will remain
innocent." Ruggles sneered and snorted in disgust at his words, but
Monty ignored him and continued, "It's a sorry comment on our society
when a man can be
imprisoned or found guilty and punished simply because he shared love
with another human being. It all boils down to something as old
as the folk songs what tell similar tales of rich, powerful men
thinking they have the right to dictate and manipulate other people’s
lives and tell them who they may or may not love. If there was
any crime between Shanna Ruggles and myself it was not from our love
for one another, but the insanity of her parent’s actions guided by a
religious
faith so narrow it allows little room for love of any kind. I
don’t expect this hearing to go in my favor, but I do have one final
option and for that I will address my words directly to you, Charlie
Ruggles. I issue a curse against you and your family with the
exception of the girl I love. She would never betray me or my
love for her. The court may accept the written statement you
submitted, but I
know in my heart it's a lie. It’s either a clever forgery, or she
was forced to sign it.
No matter how
much money you have or will ever have, Charlie Ruggles, it will never
make you more than what you are right now, an arrogant, ignorant, evil
little man
propped
up by your self-righteous beliefs in a customized version of a
myth. You are living proof, belief in a cruel god makes a cruel
man. May you suffer great loss and may you suffer greatly from
your hypocrisy and deceit. I pray to any and all gods, angels or
demons, who can
hear my voice to endlessly vex your spirit. May your soul suffer
eternal torment. I promise you, I will pray every night of my
life your immortal soul will be condemned to a hell so hot you will
burn in a lake of fire for all eternity.” Monty had no strong beliefs,
but he knew Ruggles was a small minded, ignorant, superstitious man who
placed great
stock in myths and harbored even greater fears about such things.
He thought since Ruggles put him in this position he would take this
chance to yank his chain one last time. It worked.
“Shut up!
Shut the fuck up, you dirty little bastard!” Ruggles yelled at the top
of his voice, “He can’t say that to me. I’m a God-fear’n,
law abide’n Christian man what’s been washed in the blood of Jesus
Christ! You know nothing of my god, you godless heathen!
Yore’ curse don’t mean shit to me! I ain’t on trial here, you
are! Do your duty, Judge! Shut him up!” Charlie Ruggles
jumped up and demanded loudly, pounding his fist on the desk in front
of
him. Anderson banged his gavel.
“Sit down, Mr.
Ruggles. Mr. Dundee has the right to say what he pleases.
This court still recognizes freedom of speech whether your religion
does or not. Another outburst from you like that, and I’ll find
you in contempt.” the judge demanded.
“You wouldn’t
dare!” challenged Ruggles.
“You’re in
contempt, Mr. Ruggles. I sentence you to forty-eight hours in
jail to cool off and a five hundred dollar fine.”
“You’ll be sorry
for this, Anderson! I’ll have yore’ prissy ass thrown off the
bench!”
Ruggles threatened.
“That’s ‘Judge
Anderson’ to you, Mr. Ruggles, and that little outburst,
disrespect, and threat will cost you seven days in a cell and a
thousand dollar fine!” ordered the judge. “Would you like take a
chance to find out what’s behind door number three? It’s up to
you, Mr. Ruggles.” Anderson sounded like a game
show host. Ruggles attorney got him settled down.
“Remove that man
from my courtroom, Deputies.” Judge Anderson barked and banged his
gavel. “Are you finished, Son?” he asked Monty.
“I am, your
honor. Thank you.” he smiled.
“You’re welcome,
Son.” Anderson winked at Monty. He admired the kid for playing
the dumb, superstitious redneck like a two-bit fiddle at a country
hoedown. The judge waited for Ruggles to be gone from his
courtroom before he announced his judgment. “It is with deep regret I
have to sentence this young man for something I know in my
heart is not a crime, but sometimes the hypocrisy of my job is
upholding current theocratic, faith-based laws that are contrary to my
beliefs as a human
being; however, it's to be expected when, as a society, we forget about
separation of church and state. The defendant will rise.” the
judge waited for Monty
to stand, “Montana Polaris Dundee, also known as Monty Paul Dundee, I
hereby sentence you to ten years indenturement as a slave. You
will serve five years and at the end of that period, if you have done
everything expected of you and stayed out of trouble, you may petition
this court for your freedom. If your petition is granted, you
will
become a freeman again, but you will be on probation for another five
years. The six months you already spent in jail will be counted
as part of your slavery time so you will have four years and six months
remaining to complete. You will be sold to the highest bidder for
your indenturement which has already been arranged.”
“Excuse me,
Judge Anderson, if it pleases the court, Mr. Ruggles would like the
opportunity to make
a bid for this slave.” interrupted Ruggles’ attorney.
“I’ll just bet
he would.” Anderson laughed, “Counselor, I hope you had the good sense
to inform Mr. Ruggles of conflict of interests. He can’t bid on a
man he’s directly responsible for making a slave. Thank God,
there's still a modicum of sanity in our country.”
“I told him,
your honor, but he insisted I try anyway.” shrugged the attorney.
“You’ve done
your job, Counselor. It’s duly noted, but denied!” said Anderson
firmly. “I have a high bid in my file for you, Mr. Dundee, of
forty-five thousand dollars. I was asked to keep the buyer’s name
confidential, and I will abide by his wishes. He bought you for
another man. You will become the property and slave of Mr. Shane
Goodnight and
work for the Potter/Goodnight ranch. Ordinarily, to appease the
plaintiff, I would award the amount of your purchase price to him, but
I have great latitude in my decisions about such matters. I,
therefore,
rule against Mr. Ruggles benefitting financially from your sale.
The phrase, adding insult to injury, comes to mind in this
situation.
Furthermore, I assure you, appeasing Mr. Ruggles is not a great
priority of mine right now. I feel it probably would be as little
appreciated as carrying coals to Newcastle.” everyone laughed.
The judge continued, “Therefore, it is my judgment the money for your
sale, minus fees and taxes be placed in an interest bearing account to
be administered jointly by your new owner Mr. Shane Goodnight and this
court. The money will
remain in that account until your manumission, for the sole purpose of
your readjustment to life as a freeman. In simple terms, the
money generated from your sale as a slave will become yours upon your
release from slavery to help you get started in life.
It is my great hope the
money might make the bitter pill of my judgment seem a little easier
for you to swallow, Son. I hope you remember my words from our
conversation in my chambers, Mr. Dundee. You are going to a fine
organization who will take good care of you. I have faith in
you, Monty. As far as I’m concerned you are a victim of
unfortunate circumstances and not a criminal. I hope you can look
upon my judgment as sending you to a job to work for four and a half
years, after which time you will receive your pay and be free to go
your way. You have captured the heart and imagination of this
court, Mr. Dundee, and I will be following your progress closely.
I wish you the greatest success and good luck, young man. I know
you won’t let me down.” the judge banged his gavel and ended Monty’s
court hearing. Monty
expected
worse, but he was convinced the judge was looking out for him and would
continue to do so. He could feel Coyote John’s eyes on him.
He turned, looked over and saw John smiling at him. John gave him
the thumbs up sign like he was happy for him and winked. Monty
managed a smile, and gave him a nod of acknowledgment. A
deputy came by Monty’s prisoner’s box and unlocked it.
“Come with me,
Son, your new owner and his ramrod are waiting to take you out to their
ranch.” the deputy spoke to him. As Monty got up and turned to
walked
through the door he looked the man in the eye.
“Mr. Tin Penny
and I spent six months in the same jail cell together.” he said softly
to the deputy. In that sentence he conveyed to the man a closer
bond than just cell mates. “May I say ‘goodbye’ to him,
Sir?” The deputy looked around and caught the judge’s eye.
Anderson heard what Monty asked the guard and nodded his head.
“Only for a
minute, Son.”
“Thanks, Sir, I
appreciate it.” Monty moved to the bars and spoke quietly. “I wish you
the best of luck, Mr. Tin Penny. I never told you, but I don’t
‘spect I have to, you know how I feel about you.” Monty said
quietly.
“Thanks, kid, I
may be a hardheaded old Indian fool, but I know what I come to mean to
you. Truth is, I’m pert-damn fond of you, too. I’ll never
forget you, Son. Thanks for all your gifts. If’n I had to
do it again, this old hound dog would still want you for my cell
mate. Adios,
muchacho. Vaya con Dios. Live a good, full, and long life.”
Monty thanked
the deputy again and follow him from the courtroom. Coyote John
watched Monty walk away. He felt like a part of his heart was
being ripped from his body. ‘What the fuck?!’ he thought, ‘Am I
having a heart attack?’ His heart was hurting, and he seemed to
be having trouble getting his breath. He breathed deeply several
times and for some damn reason his eyes started to water. He must
be allergic to something in the room; some man’s aftershave or women’s
perfume. He set there feeling about as empty as he could remember
and thought, maybe he hadn’t won the battle after all. Was what
he felt...? Naw, never happen, not to the Coyote.
The
deputy led
Monty out of the courtroom to a large hallway leading to the
outside. Waiting for him were two of the finest
outfitted, best looking cowboys he ever saw. He thought he
recognized Shane Goodnight because he attended several of the Grange
functions and remembered the big man as a good looking slave. He
heard about Shane’s emancipation. The deputy introduced Monty to
Shane. They shook hands. Monty knew of the slave ritual,
but didn’t know what to do. Shane looked into his eyes and saw
the boy was frightened and confused. He pulled him into a hug,
held him
tightly and bussed a kiss behind his ear. Monty was deeply moved
by Shane’s compassion, broke down and cried in Shane’s massive arms.
“There, there,
Son.” he heard Shane speak softly. “The worst part’s over.
I
remember when I was in yore' place once up on a time, not so long
ago. It was a little different for me, though. I was guilty
of some bad things I done; stupid things, and served ten years as a
slave.”
“Should I go
through the slave ritual with you, Master?” he asked through his
tears. Shane chuckled.
“Later, when we
get you settled in and our cowboy slaves have a chance to teach
you a few basics, I’d be proud and honored to have you perform the
ritual with me, but we ain’t in no hurry. Thanks for asking,
though. It tells me you wanna' try to fit in and work with us.”
“I do, Master
Shane. I promise, I won’t give you no problems, Sir.” Monty said
wiping the
tears from his eyes.
Shane introduced
him to Cole and told him to call him ‘Mr. Jenkins.’ Cole was
Master Shane’s ‘top waddie’ but Shane recently began to refer
to Cole as his ‘ramrod.’ Monty was nervous and called Cole
‘Master Jenkins.’
“I ain’t no
master, Son. I ain’t a freeman. I’m a slave jes' like you,
but
I’m a little older and our master trusts me to be his top waddie, so
jes’ refer to me as Mr. Jenkins and we’ll git along fine.”
“Yes, Sir, Mr.
Jenkins.” Monty was impressed. This man, who said he was a
slave, was wearing an expensive pair of handmade buckaroo boots.
Monty apprenticed under a local saddle and boot maker for five years
and got pretty damn good at the craft. He made several saddles
and numerous pairs of boots himself. He knew an expensive pair of
boots when he saw them. He also knew good quality Western
wear. Cole Jenkins and his master looked like they stepped out of
an expensive Western catalogue. Monty’s
Taiwanese family were gathered in the hallway of the courthouse waiting
to speak with him. Shane told him to go to them; he could tell
them where he would be living and give them the address. They
would be allowed to visit several times a year if they like.
Monty went to them and to Shane and Cole’s amazement began to speak to
them in their native language. The young man spoke Chinese
fluently.
“What the
hell...?” laughed Shane grinning at Cole. Poor old stoic Cole
couldn’t contain himself. When Shane started laughing about
anything, it would always break him up.
“Dayam,
Son! How do you do it? The unusual seem to migrate to
you. You seem like a magnet for ‘um.” Cole chuckled.
“I got me a
feel’n about this kid, Pa.” Shane said quietly shaking his head.
“Oooh, nooo...”
laughed Cole, “Here we go again. Boss Potter’s gonna’ shit his
nickers. Who was it told ju’ months ago the young man would have
a Chinese family, but he weren’t oriental? They also told you he
already had a son, but couldn’t be sure if he was alive.”
“I know.” said
Shane smiling.
Monty introduced
his family to his new master and Mr. Jenkins. The Ong family
consisted of the older male and female patriarchs in their
mid-seventies who didn’t speak a word of English. The younger Mr.
and Mrs.
Ong looked to be in their early fifties, accompanied by their
four strapping sons with their wives and children. There were
also three daughters with their Chinese husbands and their children who
were very well mannered, quiet and polite. The Ongs were a very
large family of about twenty people. Monty knew each child by
name and made a point of hugging, kissing and comforting each one,
assuring them he would be okay. After formal introductions Mr.
Ong took Shane by his arm to speak with him privately.
“Mister
Goodnight, Monty like a son to us. He brother to my children and
uncle to theirs. We love Monty. He be
good man, Sir. He make good slave for you. You no have to
worry ‘bout Monty. He have hard life; life so hard people
not believe when we tell them, but through it all he grow up with good
heart. He true cowboy. Him learn cowboy way mixed with
oriental philosophies he learn from my father. He never lie,
cheat or steal. He tell ever’body we help him lots. Truth
is, Monty help us as much as we help him. Our lives won’t be same
without Monty, Mr. Goodnight. Our hearts are in great pain, Sir.”
Mr. Ong looked to see if Monty was listening. He wasn’t. He
was engaged in conversation with the kids and two of his Chinese
brothers. “Mr. Goodnight, you must find way to see where Monty
lived. You not understand Monty until you see for yourself.
Monty not average man. Him different...very different, Mr.
Goodnight....good to power of ten but also different to power of ten.
All men think
their son’s and daughter’s smartest and brightest. Mine plenty
smart, work hard, make top grades in school, but they smart from
learning. I proud of my children, but next to Monty, they dumb as
box of rocks. Monty, he born knowing things. Show Monty
something once, and he know it. He can do it. Monty have
strange gifts, Mr. Goodnight. I see boy do things ordinary men
can’t do, but not bad things. He tutor my boy in his college math
class in elementary calculus when Monty only seven years old. He
do same with my daughter in her college advanced physics class.
He make it clear to her when teacher couldn’t. Monty good
boy. Not evil bone in boy’s body. Monty, he not know
something you should know about. We not tell him. Ruggles
woman he love is carrying his baby. Maybe best you not tell him
either.”
“Oh, lord.
No wonder Mr. Ruggles is so angry with him. Thank you for the
information, Mr. Ong. I think you’re right. It might be
best for all concerned not to tell him.” Shane agreed.
“You must see
Monty’s shack, Mr. Goodnight. Shack not right word. You not
understand Monty until you see with own eyes. You not
believe. I still not believe what Monty can do. He soaks up
knowledge like sponge and never forget a thing. He read vast
library of books on every subject. He can speak several
languages. We take care of Monty’s companion for him. My
boys go to Monty’s place on dark night and bring Dexter back to our
place. He worry about Monty, not hear from him so long. We
read him letters we get from Monty. We feed him and take care of
him. Dexter different, too. Him not human, Mr. Goodnight.”
“What do you
mean Dexter ain’t human, Mr. Ong?”
“We feed Dexter
electrical charge. Him mechanical boy, Sir.”
“Oh, Lord.”
Shane laughed and put his hand on Mr. Ong’s shoulder. “Trust me, Mr.
Ong, I know about mechanical men.” Shane smiled at the smaller man.
“You come visit,
Mr. Goodnight; you and your ramrod. You always welcome in our
home. I tell you more, but you not share our conversation with
Monty.”
“I
promise. I give you my word, Mr. Ong. Thank you,
again. I promise, we’ll take good care of him. We
sometimes have barbecues at the ranch on Sundays. We’ll let you
and your family know. You’re welcome to come, join us, bring your
whole family and spend the day with Monty if you like.”
“We would like
very much, Mr. Goodnight. Most gracious of you. Thank you,
Sir.”
The love that
passed between the Ong family and Monty was palpable. The big
strapping Ong sons hugged, cried with him, and offered words of
encouragement. Their sisters
kissed him lovingly on his cheek or forehead and cried in his
arms. The kids clung to him like they didn’t want to let him
go. The elder Ong’s cried in Monty’s arms and each held him for a
long time like their hearts would break to let him go. What they
witnessed impressed the shit out of Shane and Cole. For the adult
children to come to his hearing with their children was remarkable to
the men. As Monty said his final ‘goodbyes’ to Mr. and Mrs. Ong
and very formal, almost ritualistic ‘goodbyes’ to the elder Ongs, Cole
spoke to Shane.
“What was your
intense conversation with Mr. Ong about, Son?”
“Gosh, Pa, you
ain’t gonna' believe what he done told me.” Shane shook his head.
“Not true!
You fergit, I’ve lived in your world for damn near a year now.
I’m still amazed ever’ damn day, but at this point I would believe
anything you tell me. Y’ain’t never lied to me yet.” Cole smiled
at him.
“He said the
secret to our new slave is to see where he lived his life for his first
twenty years. He said Monty is some sort of different. He
sort a' defined him as a Zen buckaroo. He
said he would tell us more if we come to visit, but he didn’t want
Monty to think he was betraying his trust. He said Monty has a
companion they’re taking care of for him named Dexter. Dexter
ain’t human, Pa. He’s a mechanical boy.”
Cole slapped his
leg and broke up laughing. “He’s been sent to you for a
purpose, Son. Ain’t no doubt in my mind. Them ancients been
work'n their butts overtime.”
“It’s like a
gathering of like souls, Pa. You used the right term, ‘magnet.’
They’re being drawn, led, herded, marched, enslaved to get to where
they will be ready to insure the survival of the fittest. H’it
ain’t just a vague term in a biology textbook no more what makes
Christianist cringe in terror. It’s a reality. What doors
will this young man open for us?” Shane asked rhetorically.
“I have no idea,
but since I been yore' slave, I sometimes think my cowboy butt should
a’ come equipped with
seatbelts.” Cole said quietly. Shane broke up laughing at his
metaphor and nodded his understanding. Cole just grinned real big
and shook his head.
* * * * * * *
Coyote John’s
trial was a bit more cut and dried. All the information was
gathered and depositions taken. There was a file presented by the
prosecution that couldn’t be refuted by John’s appointed public
defender. John thought he recognized several of the men from the
Goodnight ranch who seemed to remain for his trial after Monty’s.
He had no idea what they were doing there and just assumed his next
stop would be a Cheney camp. The only thing that really concerned
him was when the judge asked if he had anything to say in his own
defense?
“Naw, Sir,
I done what they said I done. I’m guilty. I guess I
deserve whatever you got in store for me.”
“Do you have any
regrets, Mr. Tin Penny?”
“Yes, Sir,
one. I regret I didn’t drink more and pass out before I went
crazy and decided it would be a good idea to kill ma’ cowboy brother.”
John said without humor, but there were a few chuckles in the
courtroom. He continued, “It’s a little late to be sorry about
it, but I know I’d never done such a thing if’n I’d a’ been
sober. I grow’d up with Billy Bob Russell. He was a good
friend of mine. I’m glad he lived. If I’m sorry for
anything, it’s because I won’t have him for a friend no more.”
“The defendant
will rise.” the judge motioned for John to stand.
“Coyote John Tin
Penny, I hereby sentence you to a lifetime of slavery. You have
been sold to another Goodnight ranch. Angus Goodnight is the
proprietor and will be your owner and master." Judge Anderson banged
his
gavel, and it was done. It was short and neat. It took far
less time than Monty’s trial. The deputies removed John and took
him to a holding cell. They told him he would have to wait there
for a while until the day’s court session was over. There were
several other matters concerning slaves before the court.
* * * * * * *
After the Ong
family departed, Shane and Cole
took Monty to a small records office in the courthouse and submitted
their new slave’s paperwork. The technician shot Monty with a
pneumatic gun in his arm which implanted an I.D. chip deep within
the muscle tissue of his right shoulder. They recorded all his
information and downloaded it to the chip. Then they tested it to
make sure it was working. It didn’t take long, and the men were
on their way. Monty was a little surprised he wasn’t in handcuffs
and being dragged away in chains. He was even more surprised when
Shane told him to get up into the front seat of the big truck between
him and Mr.
Jenkins to drive out to the ranch. It looked to Monty like a
brand new truck. Shane asked him a few questions, but didn’t seem
to pry into his past life too much. Mostly he asked him about any
skills he might have. When he told them about apprenticing to a
leather craftsman, saddle maker and boot maker for five years they
became very interested.
“Can you repair
saddles and tack, Son?” Mr. Jenkins asked him.
“Yes, Sir,
anything made of leather. I can resole and reheel boots, but I
need tools.”
“Did you have
any at your last home?” Shane asked.
“Yes, Sir.
I had a shop full in an old shed off my grandpap’s barn. The only
reason he let me use it was to keep his saddles, tack and boots
repaired. I had a pretty fair little business going by word of
mouth. I made and sold saddles and buckaroo boots. I got me
a half dozen saddles I finished still out there in the barn and about a
dozen pair of buckaroo boots, all different sizes.”
“You think yore’
granddad’s sold them by now?” Shane asked.
“Naw, Sir.
He don’t know where to look for ‘em. They’s hidden where he won’t
never find ‘um. I don’t think he ever come in my place when I
weren’t there. I’d a' know'd if’n he did. I took care of
all
the
Ong family’s tack, saddles and footwear. I was beginning to git
on ma’ feet. It was the first time in my life I had a steady flow
of income. T’weren’t a lot, but it was steady, and I’s beginning
to make a name for myself in the leather trade. It’s the way I
paid ma’ grandpap for let’n me stay there.”
“You had to pay
him to stay there?”
“Yes, Sir.
After I turned eighteen he was gonna' kick me out.”
Monty didn’t elaborate. Shane didn’t push.
“You think he’d
let you have them tools?”
“I doubt it,
Master Shane, my grandpap never gimme' much a’ nothing. He made
no secret about the fact he never liked me. I never figured out
why he was always so mean to me. He never come to see me in the
six months I’s in jail. I jes’ about imagine he thinks I’m
guilty; I’s a criminal. He used to tell me I’s jes’ like my
daddy and never would amount to much. I never knew my pa. I
can barely remember my ma. I don’t even know what happen to ‘em,
if'n they’s dead or still alive. He never would tell me nothing.”
“What if Mr.
Jenkins and I were to go to him and tell him we heard he had a shop
full of old leather working tools and would he consider selling ‘em?”
“I don’t know,
Sir. My grandpap understands about money real good, but he’s a
suspicious old bird. It might work, but if he gits the idea
they’s worth some'um, he’ll try’n screw you for ever’ penny he
can git.”
“Were they
yours, Son? Did you buy them?” asked Mr. Jenkins.
“I never took
nothing in my life what didn’t belong to me, Sir. I took a lot of
stuff people threw away. All them tools and machines belong to
me. What I didn’t buy on my own, the man I apprenticed under, Mr.
Culpepper, he gimme’ when he lost ever’ thing. He couldn’t sell
used machines. There jes’ ain’t no market for ‘em. He
tried, but nobody ever responded to his adds. They ain’t no use
to nobody but somebody like him or me what loves working with leather,
making saddles and boots. The Ongs can tell you. They
helped me move them machines to the shop on the back of
my grandpap’s old barn. They knew
Mr. Culpepper well. They’s the reason I got me a job with
him. They recommended me. Mr. Culpepper
took me on as his apprentice ‘cause I was mechanical and knew about
machines. I can fix anything mechanical. I repaired them
machines, sent off for parts, made parts, and kept ‘em working.
They’s all in good working condition. They was ma’ babies.
They each got their own personality. I even give ‘em names.”
Shane looked at
Cole and smiled. Cole could read Shane’s devious mind without
telepathy. Cole could envision a flight of the Bluebonnet for a
mysterious UFO midnight appropriation of some special tools. He
chuckled to himself as he drove along. Monty looked at the
handsome, middle aged man driving the new truck and wondered what he
found funny. Then he glanced at his new master and saw a funny
grin on his face as he quickly turned to look away.
“What will
happen to them tools and machines, Son?” Shane casually asked Monty.
“They’ll sit out
there and rot. He won’t do nothing with ‘um. I put on a new
roof to the back part of the barn and the shed ma’self a couple a’
years ago. It’ll protect ‘em for several years, but after that,
they’ll start to rust and go to ruin. Besides, you gotta’ use
machines like 'em ever’ day or so to keep ‘um work’n right. He
can’t sell ‘em. There ain’t nobody round these here parts what
knows anything about that sort of thing noways.”
“Were your
personal possession in that shed, too?” Mr. Jenkins asked.
“Yes, Sir, what
little I had. Mostly books I found in trash cans and
dumpsters.
You wouldn’t believe some of the things people throw away. Things
of great beauty and value. I lived out there since I’s five years
old. My ma took me to my grandpap's place, but he wouldn’t let me
in his
house. He told my ma’ to take me to the shack back of the far
barn. She took me out there, left me by myself and went to the
front house. She told me to do my best to make it on my own, and
she would be back for me in a few days. I don’t know if she left
the farm or if she died. He never told me. All I know is
she never come back, and he never so much as come out to checked on
me. I went up to his house to ask about my ma and ask him what I
should do. He yelled at me, called me a monster and told me never
to darken his door again. He said I could stay out in the shack
if’n I wanted, but never to bother him again.
I stayed hope’n
my ma would return. I didn’t have no bed, food or nothing.
Weren’t no plumbing or heating back there. I had to go to the
bathroom outside like an animal. I had to bathe and git water
from the creek. I managed to make a bed of straw from the barn
and saw birds eating berries. I figured if they’s eat’n ‘em
they couldn’t be poisonous, and they’s good enough for me. Like
any animal left on its own, I quickly learned to take care of
myself. My grandpap never allowed me in his house ‘cept’n
Christmas and Easter. Then, it was only to come onto his back
porch to git a paper plate of food he fixed for me. I always took
it and thanked him, but h’it t’werent never very good. I
could cook better. I’s never allowed beyond the porch. In
all them years I lived there I ain’t never seen the inside of his
house.”
“How did you
live? How did you survive? Where did you get food?”
“My oriental
family helped me a lot when I’s younger. Mrs. Ong would save the
older boy’s clothes for me. I never considered them as second
hand. Hell, they’s better’n what I was wear’n. I’s wild as
a coyote when I’s only five or six. You’d be amazed what you can
find if you search dumpsters behind fast food restaurants. The
Ongs caught me going though their garbage a couple of times and took
pity on me. I would a’ starved to death a couple of winters if’n
it hadn’t a been for the Ong family. I got pneumonia one time and
they nursed me back to health with Chinese herbs and teas.
Once in a while,
maybe four times a year, when his conscience bothered him, my grandpap
would buy me a sack of slave chow, some biscuits and leave ‘em by my
door. When I learned about money, I did odd jobs to git enough to
buy more. Slave chow and biscuits is cheap, and it ain’t
bad. I laughed when I heard I might become a slave, ‘cause I
don’t mind eat’n slave chow a’ tall. I grow'd up on it.
Granddad Ong taught me to
fish. I’d catch fish and prepare it like Grandma Ong taught
me. I always shared ever’ thing I caught with them. One day
my grandpap threw away an old gun. When he weren’t look’n I took
it to my shop, worked on it and fixed it, bought some shells and
learned myself to shoot. I would kill wild game once in a while
and shared it with the Ong family. I never shot nothing I didn’t
eat.
When I went to
school, I’d go in second hand clothes but nobody knew except ma’
brothers and sisters, and they were very protective of me. They
considered me one of them. Ma Ong would fix me a lunch, or they’d
all pitch in and share their
lunches with me so’s I’d have something to eat come lunchtime.
They always gimme’ more food than I could eat. They were very
good to me. I tried to be good to them to repay them over the
years. I give up on school after a couple a’ years. They’s
trying to teach me stuff I already knew. I’d get bored and go
home. I was really too busy to attend school. I didn’t have
time for that nonsense. ‘Side’s, I didn’t realize it at the time,
but I had my own teacher.
The Ongs taught
me how to raise my own vegetables and chickens. Mr. Ong taught me
how to gather sacks of feed for the chickens in the fall from
weeds. What time I wasn’t spending on my projects, I’d go over to
the Ong farm and help granddad Ong and grandma Ong with their
gardens. Grandma Ong taught me to cook Sechuwan, Cantonese, and
Mandarin. I’m a very good cook. In China most great cooks
are men. I helped with all celebration foods for their
family. I learned specialty dishes very difficult to
prepare. My Sechuwan is best, ‘cept sometimes I make it too hot
for most folks.” Monty smiled. It was the first smile Shane saw
on the kid’s face. “May I ask you a personal question, Master
Shane?”
“Ask away,
Son! I ain’t got me no secrets. Well, maybe a couple, but
you’ll find out about them by an’ by. Mostly, my life’s an open
book, and ‘at’s the way I like it.” he smiled.
“You don’t look
no older’n me, Sir. How could you be a slave for ten years and
now be foreman of a big ranch?”
“Good question,
Son. I git asked that a lot by folks who don’t know me
well. I’m older than I look. I’m nine years older than
you. I’m twenty-nine. I take care of myself. I
workout ever' day. The
ramrod of ma’ brother’s ranch where I was a slave was a bodybuilder,
health enthusiast and insisted I be one, too. I became his boy,
if you know what I mean.”
“I do know what
you mean, Sir. I been another man’s boy for six months while I’s
in jail.” Monty said without prejudice.
“I heard you was
Coyote John’s cell mate. Had you ever done anything with a man
before, Son?” Shane asked casually.
“Naw, Sir,
I fooled around with a cowboy drifter once what stayed in my grandpap’s
barn for a while, but it didn’t amount to nothing more’n mutual
masturbation.” Monty replied without hesitation.
“Did John Tin
Penny rape you or force you?” Shane asked.
“I let him think
he did, but he didn’t. He weren’t the bad ass he thought he
was. He never hurt me. I just went along rather than have
to hurt him.”
“You was afraid
of hurt’n Coyote John, Son?” Cole asked. “I heard he’s a pretty
tough hombre.” he added.
“Yes, Sir, Mr.
Jenkins, 'at's what Mr. Tin Penny would like ever'body to think...he's
cock of the walk, but he ain't nothing but a toothless old hound
dog. Mr. Ong is a master of Wing Chun, Karate and
Taekwondo. I earned a black belt in each, but my master taught me
not to use my skills for aggression, only defense.”
“Is that why
Coyote John looked so banged up today?” Cole asked smiling.
“He forced me to
defend myself. I didn’t wanna’ do it. I promised him I
wouldn’t tell nobody, Mr. Jenkins.” Monty said with regret. “I
made it up to him. I give him a good blowjob, and he fucked me
real good last night. It was our last night together, and he done
put his heart into it. I come three times to his once.”
Shane and Cole
broke up laughing. The kid didn’t seem the least embarrassed
talking about sex. He was blatantly honest.
“Did you ever
learn to enjoy it, Master Shane?” Monty asked sincerely.
“Yeah, Son, I
did. Like I done told you, I was the boy of our ramrod, but I
fell in
love with another cowboy slave I worked with almost ever’ day for ten
years. He taught me ever’ thing I know about cowboy’n and being a
farrier. I come to think on him as ma’ pa. When I got
emancipated, it seemed like the right thing to do to buy the cowboy I
loved and take him with me. In case you ain’t guessed, he’s the
big, fine look’n hombre sit’n next to you. Ain’t sorry I done it
neither. Ain’t a day goes by I don’t say a word of thanks to have
him by my side. Did you learn to enjoy it with Coyote John?”
“Yes, Sir, I
did. I liked it a lot. I worry about it some ‘cause I loved
a girl so much. We had good sex. I really enjoyed it, but
there’s jes’ something about sex with Coyote John I don’t think I’ll
ever find nowhere’s else. I can’t explain it, and sometimes, I
wonder if’n I should be ashamed of ma’self for like’n it so much?”
“I think we all
wonder about it, Son, but I don’t think you should feel ashamed of
enjoying something. Like you said, sometimes we gotta’ make the
best of situations. If we find we come to like something we never
tried before, I don’t think we should deny ourselves the pleasure or
the
love that might come of it. Besides, love don’t know no
boundaries.” Shane allowed.
“You think
you’ll miss him, Son?” Mr. Jenkins asked.
“No disrespect,
Sir, but would you miss Master Shane?” Monty smiled at Cole. Cole
grinned.
“To be honest, I
can’t even imagine it, Monty.” he replied. “Hell, I don’t even wanna’
ponder it, Son.” Cole added.
“I only had six
months with Mr. Tin Penny, but I know I’m gonna’ miss him. I
already done got me a big hole in my heart when I think on him, but I
got me another feeling I’m gonna’ be too damn busy most of the time to
dwell on him a lot. A busy mind, busy hands, and a full heart
don’t leave much room to grieve.” he lamented.
“I think we got
us a keeper, Pa.” Shane smiled at Cole.
“Ain’t no doubt
in my mind, Son.” Cold grinned back.
“We got us the
perfect two cowboys to take you under their wings and show you the
ropes, Son. I cut my cowboy slave teeth suck’n them two’s dicks
and learn’n to git butt fucked by ‘em. I love ‘em so much I had
to take ‘um with me, too. They’ll turn you ever which way but
loose, and show you as much love as you can handle, but I’ll make you a
promise, cowboy to cowboy, if’n you ain’t in love with ‘em after a
week, I’ll assign you another couple of your choice.”
“Sounds good to
me, Sir.”
“Now, would you
like to tell me about Dexter?” Shane watched Monty carefully. A
great smile came across his face like he was running fond memories
through his mind.
“He’s living
with the Ongs. He’s safe and being taken good care of. I
knew they’d take him in. Ma’ brothers told me they went and got
him. I told them I didn’t think I could keep Dexter with me so
they should keep him. They promised they’d see to him until I was
a freeman again.”
“Who is Dexter,
Son?” Shane asked quietly.
“Dexter’s ma’
little brother, Master Shane.”
There was a
great moment of silence in the truck until Shane looked over at Cole
and saw him quietly laughing his ass off looking out the window so the
men couldn’t see him. Shane wanted to break up but willed himself
to be serious.
“I need a little
more information than that, Son.” Shane chuckled. “You have a little
brother?”
“Not really,
Sir. My mother had me, then I built Dexter from collected parts
to be my companion the year she left me alone. I was so alone in
the world
I needed someone. As I grew older I improved him, perfected him,
and he became my little brother. Now he’s more like a son to
me. He calls me 'daddy.'”
“Dexter’s an
android?” Shane asked.
“He started out
that way, but he ain’t no more. He’s now more of a...”
“Bio-mechanical
entity?” Shane helped him out.
“Exactly,
Sir. The more I learned about such things the more I was able to
perfect him. He’s been an ongoing project for years. How do
you
know about bio-mechanics?”
“I’ve had some
limited exposure to bio-mechanoids, but it’s been a while ago.
How could you know how to build a companion at six years old?” Shane
challenged him.
“I can’t explain
it, Master Shane. I’d have to show you. My mother left me
some metal balls, small spheres, in a metal box she said belonged to my
daddy. They’s divided into two groups of six; a dozen in
all. They tell me things. They teach me about natural
phenomenon and how to harness energy. They teach me how to build
things. Each metal sphere has a letter or symbol on it I never
have been able to decipher. If I could, I could make the last six
work and learn a lot more. The first six taught me how to build a
companion and many other things.”
“Where are these
spheres, Son?” Shane asked.
“Hidden in my
shack, but no one will ever find them without me. They only
respond to my DNA. One day I will go back and get them.”
The men arrived
at the Potter ranch and Shane watched out of the corner of his eye as
Monty’s mouth dropped open and his eyes got big as saucers.
“Oh, my God!” he
whispered almost to himself, “It’s so beautiful. I ain’t never
seen me no place like 'iss. You mean I’m gonna’ git to live and
work here for you men?”
“We hope you’ll
be happy and comfortable here, Monty. We hope you find a home
here with us.”
The kid broke
down and started sobbing his heart out. Shane put his big arm
around him and held him close.
“Guess we done
all right by the place, Pa.” Shane smiled at Cole. “Our new
slave’s reaction is about the best damn compliment we ever got.
Oh, by the way, Son, remember about Dexter and how unusual he might
seem to some folks? If you notice some unusual things about the
place jes’ keep an open mind, and it will all be explained to you in
time. Keep your eyes and ears open, but most of all keep your
heart open at all times.” Shane added. They drove slowly up and
around the big house. They could see Bobby playing in the meadow
with the ponies naked as a jay bird with Maxine bouncing around at his
boots. They looked like they were having a
ball.
“That’s our
business manager’s boy, Bobby, and the pup with him is Maxine, our
bossman’s main squeeze. Them two's become the heart of our
ranch. Maxine is very special, but you’ll find out for yourself
soon enough. Bobby caught sight of Shane’s truck, waved and
looked like he said something to the pup. They started racing up
the meadow to the foreman’s house. It was like something out of a
picture book to Monty. He felt like he was coming home for the
first time in his life. They pulled up in front of Shane and
Cole’s house and parked. They got out of the truck and helped
Monty down. By that time Bobby and Maxine were there, and it was
utter confusion.
“Capt’n
Shane! Ramrod Cole!” Bobby cried and ran to hug and kiss
them.
Monty couldn’t
believe what was happening. The dog looked him straight in his
eyes and spoke to him.
“You must be
Montana Dundee. Welcome to the Potter Ranch, Monty. My
name's Maxine Potter.” Monty
didn’t know whether to shit or go blind. Instead he just laughed
and set down on the heels of his boots to speak with Maxine. She
held up her small paw for Monty. He took it and gently shook it.
“I’m glad to be
here, Miss Maxine. Glad to make your acquaintance, ma’am.
Cain’t never recollect ever meet’n me no talk’n dog before, but it’s a
real privilege.” Monty poured on the cowboy charm. Maxine
placed her two paws on Monty’s knees, raised up and gave him a big wet
kiss right on his cheek. Monty laughed. He was in
love. “Thank you, Miss Maxine. Best damn kiss I ever got.”
“Consider
yourself officially welcomed to the Goodnight/Potter Ranch, young
man.”
Boss Potter walked up followed by a large matronly black woman.
Shane introduced Monty to Boss Potter and Mrs. Biddle. They both
welcomed him to the ranch. He was so young and innocent looking
Essmee Fay had to give him a hug. She smelled faintly of perfume,
sachet powder, spices, herbs and food; good, wonderful, exotic
food. She made Monty remember he hadn’t eaten anything all day.
“Monty’s hungry,
Cap’n Shane.” Maxine called out to Shane. “He ain’t had nothing to eat
all day.”
“How do you know
that, Maxine?” Monty laughed.
“She can read
your mind, Mr. Dundee.” Bobby told him as he shook Monty’s hand
and gave him a big hug. For a naked kid, Bobby didn’t seem the
least bit shy. He was wearing an older, well worn pair of cowboy
boots that looked like they were on their last millimeter of leather
and had almost no heel left.
“I’m sorry I
didn’t ask.” said Shane, “I’m sure you’ve had a long day. C’mon,
Son, me and pa will walk you over the hill to the bunkhouse and git
chu’ fed and settled in for the night. It’s jes’ about time for
them cowboys to sit down to supper. Since it’s our lady of the
big house’s evening off, you feel like joining us, Bossman?” Shane
spoke to Boss Potter.
“I’d enjoy that,
Foreman Goodnight. Thanks.” Potter smiled.
“Can I join you,
Cap’n Shane?” Bobby asked.
“Sure, but you
gotta’ git chore’ dad’s permission and throw on some clothes. You
know the rules about eating in the bunkhouse. Ask yore’ old man
if’n he’d like to join us. Today's Saint Patrick's day, and I
understand them cowboys is having
corned beef and cabbage for supper this evening.”
“Good. I
love corned beef and cabbage.” said Bobby.
“I ain’t had
corned beef and cabbage since... I can’t remember.” said Monty. “Sounds
wonderful to me.”
The men walked
over the hill. Bobby sprinted ahead waving to all the cowboys
standing around outside the bunkhouse as he ran by. Maxine ran to
the bunkhouse and announced Bossman Potter, Captain Shane, Mr. Jenkins
and the new slave were coming. She ran inside the bunkhouse to
say ‘hello’ to everyone, and the head cook slipped her a small piece of
corned beef. She ‘yummed’ and licked her mouth to get any juices
left. She thanked them and left to return to the big house for
her supper with Mrs. Biddle. All the slaves
walked out to meet and greet the men. There was much shaking of
hands, big, brotherly hugs and a few stolen kisses. Monty was
overwhelmed by the generosity of the men. He imagined they would
all be a depressed, angry, sullen lot, but these men were far from
that.
You could feel the comradery and love flowing among
them. It was almost palpable. The last two men he met were
Phil Pie and Eli Stone. There was no doubt in his mind these were
the men his new master told him about earlier. They were two of
the most gracious men he ever met, but they were also two of the most
outrageous. Nothing was sacred with them, but
they were irreverent in very funny ways. Phil and Eli stirred
something deep within his gut, or did he wish they would
stir something? It was the same feeling he had for Coyote John
only a little stronger. They took him to their private quarters
and told him to wash up for supper. They returned and the cowboys
were already going through the serving line. The cooks
set out big bowls of salad on each table to be served family
style. You could take what you wanted.
“Will you, Boss
Potter and Ramrod Jenkins be joining us for supper, Master Shane?”
asked the head cook.
“If you’re sure
you got enough, Lee.” replied Shane.
“We got
plenty. We’d be honored to have you, the bossman and yore’ pa
join us, Sir. We done sent a runner to Mr. Morris’ cottage.
Him and Bobby should be here any minute.”
“Yeah, I told
Bobby to put on some clothes.” they all laughed.
Everyone
gathered and went through the line. No man set down until
everyone was served. It was a tradition in the bunkhouse started
by the eight lead cowboys. They joined hands around the large
hall. Even the cooks came and joined hands with them. Phil
Pie was sort of the unofficial spokesman for the cowboy slaves.
“Master Shane
would you do us the honor?”
“I would be
honored, but I’d much rather hear you speak words this evening, Poppa
Pie.”
“As you wish,
Master.” Phil grinned at him. All heads were bowed. “We are
grateful and give thanks for this good food and for the men who worked
hard to prepare it. They ain't only fine cooks, they put their
hearts and love into their work. Bless our family gathered around
these tables. Let us grow in love and comradery with one
another. We offer thanks for a new member of our family.
May he find a home here with us and may his heart find peace and
love. Bless our masters and give them the strength and health to
watch over us. Amen.”
All the men said
‘Amen’ and immediately set down to eat. Monty was deeply moved by
the big cowboy’s words and wondered if Shane asked Phil to say ‘grace’
for a reason. Talk was lively around the table. Louden
Austin and Fuzzy Daniels said a couple of off color remarks about it
being good to have fresh meat around the bunkhouse. Shane started
to respond, but before he could Bart Swinson snorted and dropped his
fork in his plate in disgust. Shane shut his mouth and decided to
wait. Shane could swear he saw steam rising above Bart’s head and
small lightening bolts shoot from his ears. It was like waiting
for a volcano to erupt.
“What the hell
are you two crackers carrying on about? You ain’t even men
yourselves yet. You’s still wet behind the ear baby slaves and
will be until me and ma’ partner, here, tells you otherwise. You
ain’t finished grow’n up, but me’n my partner plan to make damn sure
you do. A real man would never make a stupid, unappreciated,
rude, self-serving comment like that. That’s the sort of juvenile
crap you hear from grade school kids. I shore’ hope you men ain’t
entertaining no ideas about our new baby slave. That would be
most unwise of you boys. It would make me and big Telly, here, so
very unhappy with you, and you know what happens when we git
unhappy. You boys know we don’t do ‘unhappy’ well. You men
got some nerve. What makes you think you two could show an ounce
of love or encouragement to this young man? Why, that’ud be like
the blind lead’n the blind. You boys ain’t got half a brain
between ya. You ain’t what he needs right now. You leave
this young man to the real men in this bunkhouse, and don’t chu’ worry
yore’selves none about him. I promise you, we’ll take real good
care of him.” There were some chuckles, a lot of grins, but
everyone was looking into their plates trying not to break up.
There was a very pregnant silence for a moment when a soft voice spoke
up.
“Uh, excuse me,
Mr. Swinson, Sir?” Monty spoke across the table.
“Yes, Son?”
“Would ju’
pencil me in for your first free evening, Sir? I’d very much
appreciate it.” Monty asked sincerely.
Bart Swinson got
a big grin on his rugged cowboy face. The bunkhouse fell
apart. Monty earned himself a place at the table. Everyone
was laughing their asses off. Monty garnered himself several pats
on his back.
“It would be an
honor, young man.” Bart Swinson replied seriously.
“Naw, Sir, Mr.
Swinson, the honor will be mine. I could shore’ ‘nuff use me some
a’ yore’ brand of cowboy love’n and encouragement, Sir.” Monty replied
to more hoots and laughter. Louden and Fuzzy were put in their
place and nailed to their seats. They knew better than to say a
word. They were very quiet for the rest of the evening and
avoided Monty like he had the plague. Later that week when Shane,
Cole, Potter, Gil and Bobby recounted the story to Hoot and Cotton over
supper they thought they might have to call the paramedics. The
men laughed for thirty minutes. Conversation
resumed around the table, and Shane and Cole began to talk about
some of
the talents Monty talked with them about. When they got to the
conundrum of Monty’s personal possessions Boss Potter asked a few
questions and made a few comments.
“There's laws
on the books regarding slavery that clearly state in certain cases
whatever a slave possessed before he becomes a slave can be claimed by
his new owner. In many cases, it was originally used to screw a
man out of his wealth and possessions to add to the man’s whose slave
he became, but in this case, if it’s truly what our young slave would
like to do for work around here, then it could work for our mutual
benefit. Is it something you’d really enjoy doing, Son, or would
you rather just learn to be a cowboy?”
“I ain’t the
best buckaroo, Master Potter, but I know enough I can roll ma’ own went
it comes to cowboy’n. Leather work’n was my love, Sir. It
was more than work or an avocation, it became my passion. I come
to look on it as art. I can tell you where every pair of boots in
this bunkhouse came from and most times who the maker was. I
recognized Mr. Jenkin’s boots this morning as a pair made by a famous
Texas boot maker in the El Paso area. I know all the saddle
makers in the state of Texas and most in the other states as
well. There just ain’t a lot of ‘em no more. I can tell at
a glance who made most of the saddles you might have on this
ranch. How many of you
cowboy’s got tack, a pair of chaps or a saddle what needs repair?”
Monty asked for a show of hands. Almost every hand went up.
“How many got a favorite pair of old boots in the back of yore’ closet
what’s lost their soles and is so bad not even Jesus can save ‘um, but
you love ‘um so much you jes’ can’t bear to throw ‘um away?”
Every hand went up including Boss Potter’s, Shane and Cole’s.
“Well, I can resurrect ‘em for you and make ‘um walk again.”
“Hallelujah!
I’m sold!” laughed Phil Pie, “Now, tell me you can change water to
wine,
Son.” everyone laughed.
“Naw, Sir, but
I’s work’n on it. Bobby you still got that same pair a’ boots on
you’s wearing earlier, buddy?” Monty asked.
“Yes, Sir, Mr.
Dundee.” Bobby slipped one off and handed it to Monty.
“I can’t make
‘um look brand new, but I can give these boots another fifty thousand
miles.”
“Can you prove
them machines was yours, Son?” asked Boss Potter duly impressed by
Monty’s speech.
“I got me a
letter
from Mr. Culpepper telling me he’s glad he let me have his tools and
machines and wished me luck. Mr. Ong and his boys got photos of
us moving them from Mr. Culpepper’s to my shack on my grandpap’s
farm. Mr. Ong got a letter from Mr. Culpepper last year asking
how I’s doing with the machines he gimme.’”
“That should be
plenty to convince Judge Anderson to issue an order for seizure.
Would it take a large truck to haul ‘em, Son?” Potter asked.
“Naw, Sir.
They’s only about six of ‘em and they ain’t that large or heavy.
They’s mostly awkward. Four to six men should be plenty. A
small bobtail truck would do; one we could tie ‘em up so’s they won’t
fall over on the trip to the ranch and break something.”
* * * * * * *
After supper
Shane, Cole and Potter said their ‘goodbyes’ and thanked the men for
supper. They complimented the cooks and praised their
skills. They said ‘goodnight’ to Monty and wished him well.
They were leaving him in the good hands of Phil and Eli. The
cowboys usually went off to their own rooms after supper; however, it
was the beginning of summer, and it was still light outside.
Shane and Cole bought
a bunch of lawn chairs and tables at a yard sale for them to use to sit
outside in the evenings. It was a gentle evening and Monty joined
the mature group of cowboys who were mostly comprised of the lead
men. The several younger men were pitching horseshoes or playing
catch with a softball. A couple had a frisbee they were tossing
around. It certainly didn’t look like a salve camp to
Monty. It looked like any ordinary ranch where the cowboys were
relaxing after a hard day’s work. He was sitting with Phil, Eli,
Bart and Telly. Phil was asking him questions about how much he
knew about slave life and told him he could speak freely. There
wasn’t anything they didn’t know about slave life, and they weren’t
squeamish about discussing any aspect he might be confused about.
“Will I be
expected to have sex with my master, Boss Potter, and Mr. Jenkins?” he
asked.
“Eventually, but
they ain’t monsters about it; except, Master Shane and Mr. Jenkins are
both pretty big men.” Phil chuckled, “If’n you ain’t noticed, Master
Shane and his pa are pretty much wrapped up with each other.
They’s
pretty tight. It probably will be more of a mutual agreement
between you; just like in the bunkhouse. For the first three
months
you’ll be considered a baby slave and expected to lie down with all
eight lead cowboys, here, from time to time who will act as your
teachers, but the rest you can contract with as you please. Don’t
even worry about Loud and Fuzzy. As you heard earlier this
evening, they’s still baby slaves and according to their daddies they
got a ways to go.” the mature cowboys laughed among themselves, “As you
probably figured out from dinner, Bart and Telly, here, are their
daddies and they put you strictly off limits for them two. Has
anyone taught you about clean and safe sex with another man?”
“Naw, Sir.
I laid down with Coyote John Tin Penny for six months, but he never
said
nothing about it. I got him dirty sometimes, but I always cleaned
him up afterward. We didn’t have no hygiene equipment. I
couldn’t clean myself before hand noways.” explained Monty. “Are
you and Mr. Stone gonna’ be my daddies?” Monty smiled.
“If you feel
comfortable with us, we’d be proud to be. If not you can pick
from three other pair.” Phil told him.
“I think the
current arrangement will be quite satisfactory, Mr. Pie. Does
that mean I get to call Mr. Stone ‘Dad Stone’ and you ‘Poppa Pie’ like
Master Shane?” Monty asked with some humor in his voice.
The
other cowboys broke up. Phil and Eli laughed.
“It does,
indeed,” grinned Phil, “but for your first evening we thought we’d give
you your choice of the lead cowboys.”
“Is that really
fair to me, Poppa Pie?” Monty groaned, “How am I suppose to chose
between eight fine looking cowboys I find equally attractive?”
There were eight
stunned faces around the tables. No one expected such an
ingratiating answer from their new baby slave.
“I think you
done already picked yore’ cowboy for the evening, Son.” smiled big
Telly. “You captured the heart of this big gallute sit’n here next to
me over supper. If you don’t pick him you’ll break his gotdamn
heart and you wouldn’t wanna’ see a big man like him cry, Son.
H’it ain’t a purtty pitcher. Furthermore, I gotta' deal with
him all fuck’n night, and then, you’ll have to answer to me; I know'd
damn well you don’t want that.” Telly bellowed with laughter. He
got all the other cowboys laughing except Bart who just blushed like a
school boy with a crush.
“I meant what I
said, Mr. Ferguson. If Mr. Swinson is available this evening, it
would be my pleasure and an honor for me to lie down with him,
Sir. I would do my humble best to please him. I can’t think
of a better welcome than to share some cowboy love’n with Mr. Swinson.”
All the cowboys
went, “Awwwwh...” Bart blushed more.
“Hell, boy, I’m
jes’ loan’n him to you for the evening. Don’t go build’n no Taj
Mahal around him. He ain’t no saint, but don’t be git'n no ideas
of
branding him to run with yore’ herd. He already done got a brand
on his big cowboy butt what say’s he’s mine.” bellowed Telly like the
bull-of-the-woods and the others laughed with him.
“Meaning no
disrespect, Mr. Ferguson, but in my humble opinion, that’s a mite short
sighted on yore’ part, Sir. I never think small. I’s kind
a’ thinking my brand might look good on both you men’s big cowboy
butts.” shot back Monty. The other lead men fell out of their
chairs in laugher. Telly was left with egg on his face and just
grinned as he pointed a finger at Monty.
“You walked
right into that one, Ferguson.” admonished his partner. “You deserved
that.” laughed Bart. “I’m available for the evening, Son, and it
would be a pleasure to welcome you for your first time. It would
be real nice to lie down with a baby slave what’s got some brains and
a heart to go along with ‘um.” the men knew Bart was referring to Loud
and Fuzzy and they agreed with him.
Phil knew Monty
would be coming to the ranch so he and Eli got him set up in the slave
room next to theirs. No one was using it. It had two beds
but they just fixed up the one bunk for him, but since he was going to
have company they pulled the two beds together and fixed them up as
one. They got Monty his own personal hygiene kit and took him to
their shower to teach him to use it. They were firm but kind with
him insisting he learn from them to practice good hygiene. They
taught him how to clean himself for his first time. Monty
maintained an erection the whole time and begged Phil and Eli to let
him suck them off. They readily complied. They were
impressed with the young man’s eagerness to please and knew Bart was in
for a good evening.
* * * * * * *
After Bart
Swinson worked his big dick all the way up into Monty’s tight little
butt
the kid let out a gentle sigh.
“What’s ‘at for,
Son?” Bart asked him quietly stealing a kiss.
“You feel so
damn good inside me, Sir. Is this the love and encouragement part
you’s talk’n about, Mr. Swinson?”
“Why, yes, I
suppose it is, Son. Cain’t chu’ feel my love and encouragement?”
he grinned taking a long, deep stroke into Monty’s ass.
“Oh, yes, Sir,
ever’ inch of it, and it feels mighty damn good. If love and
encouragement is measured in inches, then I’m gonna’ need as much as
you care to gimme,’ Mr. Swinson. I’ll take about a hunner’t
yards to start with if’n you got that much in stock, Sir.” Monty
chuckled.
“I’ll do my best
to fill you up, my sweet baby slave, one yard at a time. I ain’t
never been accused of leaving no baby slave hungry.” Bart bragged.
“I don’t know,
Mr. Swinson, you got chore’self a pretty hungry baby slave here.” Monty
chuckled.
“Work with me,
boy. I’ll keep you filled with all the love and encouragement you
can handle.” Bart Swinson promised.
“I’d have to be
a fool to say ‘no’ to you, Mr. Swinson. I only hope I can do you
as much good as you’re doing me, Sir.”
“With an
attitude like you got, we won’t have us no problems, Son. Now,
let’s us hunker down and git to work. I got me a fine piece of
baby slave ass what needs a good cowboy fuck’n.”
The sounds from
the squeaking bedspring in other room sounded like a Wanda Landowska
marathon. It went on for hours. Phil would look over at Eli
and they would either groan or break up laughing. They would hear
Bart groan and moan like he’d reached a climax, and they’d breathe a
sigh of thanks. It would stop for a while, the cowboys would
drift off to sleep; then, it would start up all over again and go on
for another hour or so.
“The poor kid
ain’t gonna’ have no ass left a’ tall after Swinson gits through with
him.” Eli whispered.
“Maybe, but I
got me a feel’n after six months with a cold duck like Coyote John Tin
Penny, old Bart is jes’ what our baby slave needs.” allowed Phil.
Phil Pie was
right. Swinson was the healing balm Monty’s spirit needed, and he
soaked up big Bart’s love like a sponge. Bart spent the whole
night with Monty and early the next morning he flipped Monty around and
took him to give him his first blowjob. Bart’s big cowboy dick
was staring Monty in the face winking at him, and he couldn’t
resist. He took Bart and they wallowed in the ecstasy of
pleasuring each other. He squeezed Bart’s leg to let him know he
was about to climax and Bart squeezed back. They erupted together
with much guttural moans of pleasure and delight. Afterwards,
Bart pulled Monty into his arms and made tender love to him as they
swapped the flavor of each others' ejaculate. Monty couldn’t get
enough of the big cowboy’s affections. Other than Monty’s last
experience with Coyote John, it was the first time a man showed him any
affection with sex and he was hungry.
“I can’t thank
you enough for the night with you, Mr. Swinson. Please tell, Mr.
Ferguson, how much I appreciate him sharing you with me for an
evening. I never imagined becoming a slave could be like
this. Maybe that judge knew what he was doing. Perhaps I
should send him a dozen roses with a ‘thank you’ card.” Monty chuckled
and got a laugh out of Bart. “I should have them deliver you a dozen
while I’m at it, Sir. I ain’t never had nobody take me before
except my girlfriend. You’s the first man whatever took me, and
it was wonderful, Sir.” Monty stole another kiss.
“It was a great
pleasure for me, too, Son. I know old Phil and Eli are gonna’ be
the perfect daddies for you. You couldn’t a’ picked no better
pair, but if you ever need some more of my brand a’ cowboy love’n you
jes’ lemme’ know. I hope you’re real happy here with us,
Son.” Bart said with all sincerity.
“I got me a
feeling I’m gonna’ be, Sir.”
* * * * * * *
There were many
big grins and a few snickers at the breakfast table the next
morning. Bart set directly across the table from Monty, and they
had a glow about them that was palpable. Even though they
said little to one another, there was a mutual affection, admiration
and respect that flowed between them the cowboys couldn’t help
notice. Fuzzy tried to be funny and said something gross about a
pair of new boots what would probably need new soles after big Bart got
through walk’n in them. Only his buddy Louden Austin
laughed. For the rest of the men at the table, his joke fell flat
and none of the other cowboys even smiled.
“That jes’ ain’t
true, Mr. Daniels.” shot back Monty, “Mr. Swinson knows how to take
good care of and break in a fine, new pair of boots quite well, thank
you. What wear he might have caused, he more’n made up for on the
owner’s other ‘soul’ which was badly in need of repair. For his
expert care and attention, I’m grateful to him. My boots are made
to
last. They’ll stand up to the toughest job. Too bad you and
Mr. Austin settled for a cheap pair. Ain’t nothing more
frustrate’n to a cowboy when he’s work’n hard to do a good job when the
boots he be walk’n in jes' won’t hold up to the task.”
"Amen to that, Son!” exclaimed big Bart as he gave Monty a verbal pat
on his
back. That broke up
every cowboy at the table. Even Loud laughed at his buddy.
Once again poor Fuzzy Daniels was put in his place. Bart wondered
to himself if they would ever grow up. With Monty around, he was
secretly hoping they wouldn’t.
End Chapter 60 ~
Waco’s Lummox
Copyright 2008 ~
Waddie Greywolf
All Rights
Reserved ~
Mail to:
waddiebear@yahoo.com