Him Who Made the Seven Stars

Him Who Made the Seven Stars 55

Him Who Made The Seven Stars
By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 55

"Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." - James 1:26-27
Randy was in contact every day with his big Cajun buddy, and after the second day learning to adjust to his new wings, Randy and Clyde began to teach Cletus to transport out of the cabin and back again. Finally, they made the big jump and transported back to the ranch for lunch one day. It gave Cletus a sense of freedom he never felt before except when he was on his bike. He remembered with great fondness the feelings of being completely free to go and see the world with his partner by his side. After fighting in the never ending war in the Middle-East, he became a man of the road. It was the only place he and Stan could find peace. Becoming nomadic bikers always on the go to the next city, it became a metaphor for constantly leaving the past behind and the more miles they traveled, the further away from the madness and senseless killing they imagined themselves to be traveling. Cletus was a man who lived for the goodness a simple life could provide and had no need for great sums of money or acquiring property. Since his do-over, he was growing in strength and his body was quickly filling out to its previous massive proportions. Randy and Clyde laughed at him when he stood next to Erasmus. He looked almost like the huge monster's younger brother. For all his joy at being returned to his former health and strength, he was most happy with the effect it had on his mate. Stan seemed to be walking on a cloud. Nothing could get to him.

* * * * * * *
Back at the Daniels' ranch, life was progressing at its usual unusual pace. It seemed of late with the additions to the family nothing was usual anymore. Randy and Clyde began to teach Billy to use his new apps and the cowboy-angels Garth and Mack taught him how to use his new sword Excalibur. It was deceptive in appearance, because most large flat blade swords are looked upon as defensive weapons. This sword was for offense only. It could stop any projectile moments after leaving the barrel of a gun and it would drop to the ground. It could do the same for any aggressive action against the owner who wielded the blade. It wouldn't work in the hands of another man except in the rare occasion; if its master fell in battle, it could be picked up by someone pure of heart whom the master loved, to shield both him and the master of the sword. It also came with its own set of apps which were capable of disabling a complete army without killing a single man. It was a unique and powerful tool. To call it a weapon was almost contradictory to Excalibur's primary function.  

Billy kept tabs on how Harley-Buck was doing in jail from reports from Randy, Bubba, and Jack. Randy would talk with the big cowboy in the evenings before he went to sleep and Bubba and Jack would include him when they took take-out food for Earl. Since the two men found themselves in the same boat, going down the same stream only for different reasons, it seemed like a natural consequence for them to form a limited bond as brothers for their time together and for however they might envision the future for themselves. Earl was able to wear his cowboy clothes, but Harley-Buck was still required to wear the jail sacks and slippers until he went to trial. Earl was allowed to leave the jail and accompany Bubba and Jack to the local restaurant as long as they signed for him and didn't abuse the privilege. They didn't, but Earl decided until his sentencing and Harley-Buck's trial, he preferred to stay close to the jail in deference to his cell mate. They were both expecting the worst from their court appearances.

* * * * * * *
The plans for the four enormous greenhouses were completed the week before and approved by Billy, his staff and particularly Hank and Buck. The following Monday the ground was selected, cleared of any brush, and carefully leveled by the great Earth moving equipment and a few assists from Bossman Randy's 'apps' his mistress and master taught him to use. The young boy was making himself indispensable to Billy and his project. So when Randy asked to attend the sentencing of Earl Hickson and the trial of Harley-Buck Johnson, Billy told him he could go with the family with his mother's permission. By that time, Ruth Rutherford pretty much allowed Randy to do as he pleased as long as he was under the supervision of Billy and his family. She commented to her mother-in-law she worried less about Randy and Kayla when they were with the Daniels than she did when they were alone on their own ranch. By the end of the week, the greenhouses were completed and ready for planting the first crop of the of the psycho-euphoric herbs so carefully cared for and guarded by everyone in the family. The effects were so wonderful and loved by everyone who tried them, they became almost somewhat paranoid about their safe keeping, and insisted a certain portion be set aside in the dungeon safe where much of Billy's gold was stashed. They whitewashed their paranoia by telling themselves it was better to be safe than sorry.

Wednesday morning arrived. Bossman Randy stayed over with his buddy, Clyde, and was busy getting ready for the day. Randy had an equal amount of clothing at each ranch and never worried about a change of clothes. When they were finished with their morning rituals and were dressed, the two cowboys walked downstairs to the kitchen. Everyone was there and the help, overseen by Kate, Zelma, and Roz were busy getting the last platters of food on the table and refreshing everyone's coffee. The household was up at the crack of dawn, as they planned to be at the courthouse earlier than the last time, so they might get better seats. After the last courtroom circus, the talk around town was the seats would fill up fast, and you better be there early. There was almost a party atmosphere around the table and everyone was in good spirits. Perhaps, to the casual observer, it might seem ghoulish for the family to be looking forward to the outcome of both men's fates and the potential for them to become slaves to the Daniels' family, but Billy owned so many slaves, he didn't have a place for everyone; however, with the building projects beginning, he would soon have room for them. Earl Hickson and Harley-Buck Johnson were special. They were community natives. The men speculated, it was a pretty sure bet, they would become punishment slaves, but just like Orville Higginbothem, they would be absorbed into the greater Daniels' family.

The McMartin family didn't want to miss the trial. Tom canceled everything for the day, and the family transported to the ranch to have breakfast with the rest of their family. There were so many from the Daniels' family, they would fill a third of the courtroom themselves. Once again the family was flabbergasted. People began to arrive before the sun came up, and many of them weren't from the community. They came from all over Texas and many other states. Naturally, it became a quandary for the local law enforcement. Will was on the phone before daybreak with Judge LaFleur, and the old judge made a decision: those folks who could produce proof they lived in the county would be allowed in first; then, those from the state next. If there were any seats left, they would be given on a first come first served basis. There were six Television trucks from the major news networks who insisted on being allowed to televise the proceedings. Judge LaFleur absolutely refused and told the sheriff they could televise everything going on outside the court, but there would be no cameras allowed in his courtroom. He did concede to one reporter from each of the major newspapers in Dallas, Austin, and Houston.

The sheriff, Will Tate, and the judge decided it might be prudent to rent a walk-through metal detector for the occasion. They didn't see a need to purchase such an expensive machine, because usually, there just wasn't much traffic in the court to warrant the expense of buying one. Everything went smoothly until one of the men who lived in the state was found wearing a huge sidearm under his black leather motorcycle jacket. He was one of approximately five hundred bikers who came for the proceedings and somehow managed to get one of the few remaining seats. He was a huge, good looking bald-headed man with a full beard and mustache, but he willing gave up his hog-leg shooter to the sheriff and his deputies when they carefully explained to him he would be able to reclaim it after the court hearings were over from the sheriff's station across the street. After all, Texans still held the right to carry a gun, and the stand-your-ground laws were fully in place.

The Daniels' family and associated members were given first choice of seats because they held a decided interest in the outcome of the judge's decision. They were joined by the Tates, the Breedloves including Elmer, Oatie, Perry Reed, Mick Flynn, and Elmer's granddaughter. Jethro was more interested in his job than he was the outcome of the hearing, and with both his master's consent, he stayed on Captain Nick's ship with his crew getting them ready to start clearing and laying the cornerstone for the Highland Shire's Sapphire City.

The sentencing for Earl Hickson was first on the docket. Earl was looking at five years indentured slavery and an additional five years probation. The clerk called the court to order, and everyone stood as the judge came in from his chamber. He sat down, nodded to his clerk, and the clerk told everyone to sit down. Judge LaFleur banged his gavel and announced the court was in session. He announced the first item on the docket was the sentencing of Earl Hickson and read off the items for which he was found guilty. Jack McCormack was sitting with Earl and told is client to let him answer for him unless Earl was asked a direct question by the judge. Sure enough, the first words from the judge was a question for Earl. "How was your stay in our jail, Mr. Hickson," Judge LaFleur asked.

"I'd like to thank Sheriff Tate and his deputies. I done stayed in hotels and motels what was worse than my time with the sheriff and his men, your Honor," Earl replied and a few people laughed at his honesty.

"Any last minute thoughts or observations you might have, Mr. McCormack?" the judge asked.

"No, sir, none your Honor. I think we covered everything, and my client has agreed to accept your offer of an alternate punishment for a limited indenturment as a punishment slave for the Daniels' ranch," Jack replied.

"Good. Glad to hear it. I think it would be the best for everyone concerned. Now, before anyone has a lot of speculation about what's to happen, part of the sentencing of this man is to explain how I arrived at my sentence for him. There's been rumors and much speculation circulating in our community about the possibilities of Mr. Hickson's sentence, but most of them are wrong. Mr. Hickson has been mischievous and his actions have been questionable, but he's never done anything to cause bodily harm to another. His crime was breaking and entering, trespassing, and petty theft from his best friend. Even then, it could be argued, as Mr. McCormack pointed out, he only took from his friend to set up another nefarious man in our community for the purpose of setting a trap to expose his underhandedness. The stolen property has been returned to its rightful owner, Mr. Bubba Kirkendall.

"There's been some talk Mr. Hickson is a three time loser. That's not true. The one time he and Bubba Kirkendall were caught trespassing on the Daniels' ranch, an agreement was made between them and Billy Daniels, there would be no charges against them if they agreed to fix the fence they cut to allow them entry onto the Daniels' property. They fixed the fence, Mr. Daniels was satisfied, and dropped all charges. I was going to give Mr. Hickson a longer sentence, but after his best friend refused to testify against his brother, I have reduced the obligatory sentence of five years as a punishment cowboy-slave for the Daniels' family plus five years probation after that, to three years, with two years probation. Your family property will be held in trust managed by this court, your attorney, and a five member board of directors of the Daniels' family to make sure any mortgages are paid, and there are no leans placed on the property. It will be returned to you when you finish your period of indenturment and probation. In the meantime, your mother will be taken care of and the ranch will become a full-time working ranch again to help pay for you and your mother's keep. An agreed upon percentage of profit will be set aside for you which will become available to you upon your final release from your bond. An agreed sum has been negotiated with the Daniels' family and your sentence will start today, Mr. Hickson," the judge said. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mr. Hickson?" the judge asked.

Earl stood and looked around the room. "Thank you Judge for giving me a chance to stay out of prison. I don't expect being a cowboy-slave for the Daniels' ranch will be a walk-in-the-park, but whatever they have in mind for me will be better than living in a cell and not being able to have healthy interactions with others," Earl turned and looked at Bubba, "And Bubba, I'm real sorry about what I done. You didn't deserve it. I beg you as the brother you once loved, to find it in your big heart to forgive me, and after I complete my time, I hope and pray we can be friends again," Earl said and sat down.   

"Well said, Son," the judge said, and with a bang from his gavel, Earl Hickson became Billy Daniels' slave.

The deputies came and escorted Earl and his attorney to a couple of seats set aside in the jury section. There were other people sitting there as well so as many of the local people who wanted to attend could be there. Every seat in the courtroom was taken, and there was standing room only in the balconies. Of course there was a couple of invisible watchers, Boomer and Brute, watching over their masters. The judge called the courtroom to order again and announced they would proceed with the trial of Hello Kitty Crocker who, because of certain unusual circumstances, was given a new name of Harley-Buck Johnson, Junior.

"There has been way too much speculation as to how and why Mr. Johnson's name was changed. To simply say, it's complicated will not suffice to satisfy the many rumors and gossip surrounding this conundrum. Let's just say, due to modern medicine and genetic identification techniques available to science today his genetic information was carefully traced to his biological father, and an even higher court decided he should be given the name of his sire, whether his father would approve or not. How this was accomplished was the product of a top secret government agency which is working day and night to gather everyone's genetic information for what purpose is anyone's guess. Mr. Grover Parsnip will be representing Mr. Johnson, and we will be pronouncing judgment and sentence today as well," the judge said, nodded at Grover, "Mr. Parsnip," he nodded for Grover to proceed.

Grover stood and walked before the packed courtroom. "Judge LaFleur, Ladies, Gentlemen, and those of younger generations, I don't know of anyone who hasn't heard of the strange and rather unsettling things which went on during the late preacher, Clarence Womack's trial. My client, Harley-Buck Johnson, Junior, in a moment of anger and vengeful passion shot and killed Clarence Womack," Grover said and then shut up for a few minutes to let the seriousness of his client's actions sink in, "Or did he?" he asked, and continued his train of thought, "Before anyone could say or do anything, four giant demons and two smaller ones appeared out of thin air and spirited the preacher away never to be seen again. It was such an unusual circumstance, Mr. Johnson, out of the spirit of the old West and hyper-cowboy bravado, unholstered his other gun and shot at one of the demons; but alas, it only ricocheted off a protective field surrounding the hellish creature and found its mark in the shoulder of the Breedlove's youngest daughter, Sally. The creatures took her and Mr. Johnson with them. They also took me with them. I watched as they removed the bullet, healed Sally Breedlove, and returned her to her family. I watched as they brought Clarence Womack back to life to stand trial before the great demon beast, Satan. I was asked to represent both Mr. Womack and Mr. Johnson in a trial before the devil. Unfortunately, I can't remember much about it. They seemed to be so advanced, they could erase portions of my memory. All I know is, they told me I would be repaid for my services. When they returned me to my home, and I looked into a mirror, I saw a much younger man looking back. They took twenty years off my age and restored my health to that of a healthy fifty year old man. I must have done a good job to be paid so handsomely for my humble services," Grover said and some of the audience laughed nervously.

"I don't know what happened to Clarence Womack. I know Harley-Buck Johnson was returned to a cell in our county jail, and part of my bargain with Satan himself was, I must represent Mr. Johnson in his trial here on Earth. I asked the question of whether or not Mr. Womack is really dead? I can't answer the question. Several hundred people watched Mr. Johnson shoot him, Mr. Womack appeared to die, but was he really dead? I can't answer that question either, and I don't know if the demons brought him back to life or simply revived him and repaired his wounds. If we have no body, but an eye witness who will attest he saw Clarence Womack alive after the shooting, it would be difficult to prosecute Mr. Johnson on a murder charge on circumstantial evidence no matter how many people witnessed the shooting. As long as one person later claimed to have seen Clarence Womack alive and well, even on another plane of existence after the shooting, it brings doubt into the circumstances. I'm willing to testify under oath to the fact I saw Clarence Womack alive and well – even though, at the time, I was representing Clarence Womack. I have no ax to grind against Mr. Womack nor any need to seek Mr. Johnson's favor by testifying on his behalf. The truth is simply the truth, and it's what any attorney worth the handle should live for in the practice of law; unfortunately, many don't, but as for myself, I live by it, and I think my record of damn near fifty years as a small town attorney attests to the fact," Grover said strongly to make his point.

"Hear! Hear!" shouted Nathan Daniels.

"Hosanna!" shouted Tron Garrett.

"Hosanna, in the highest!" replied the entire Daniels' family.

The judge picked up his gavel to admonish the audience, grinned, and sat it back down again.

Grover continued, "Then, there is the question of the stand-your-ground laws. They have been distorted to the point of straying far beyond their original intent of protecting yourself using deadly force if you feel your life is being threatened in your home. As I understand it, the videos made available by some unknown source in which Womack takes advantage of another man's wife in the privacy of his own home brings into question, was Mr. Johnson so provoked and angry he saw the only solution for the invasion of his privacy and his humiliation was to terminate Clarence Womack? There are precedents in American law where a spouse was exonerated for killing a man who cuckold him. Furthermore, there are other mitigating circumstances in this case I have agreed not to go into. I have been sworn to secrecy by my client. It is information which would, most likely, show there was a strong resentment within the community toward the preacher, and Mr. Johnson was not alone in his desire to see Mr. Womack terminated. I can't and won't go into it because of client/attorney privilege afforded by every court in the land.

"It all boils down to this, there remains too many unanswered questions in this case and there are no witnesses to bring forward to testify one way or the other. Since Mr. Johnson has chosen to throw himself on the mercy of the court and agreed to our honorable judge's decision and sentence there is no jury to convince. As a final statement, I would make an appeal to the better angels of man's nature, the conscience of any man here today who can separate himself from the idea of man's laws and courts, who has lived his life by a higher principle of the 'code of the west' and 'the cowboy way,' has lived the life and considers himself an honest-to-god cowboy what's got the balls to practice what he believes and will stand behind Mr. Johnson, let him come forward or forever live with the shame of a coward with a guilty conscience," Grover said firmly.

One tall, older cowboy stood in the middle of the crowd with his hat in his hand. "Mr. Johnson ain't alone, yore' Honor – Mr. Parsnip. I'll stand behind my cowboy brother, sirs. My name is Phil Shaw and I'm as guilty, maybe more so, than this young man you's about to pass judgment on. I won't name names, but I was the leader of a group of men who wanted Clarence Womack dead. We were cowards, your honor. We drew lots as to who would do the deed, and I made sure Kit Crocker got the short straw. For a big man, Harley-Buck Johnson can be naïve and almost childlike in his attempts to become a part of and accepted by a group of older men who would look upon him as an equal and offer him honest friendship. He never had no daddy or no mentor growing up. He never learned and don't know how to relate to other men. We took advantage of him and pretended to give him what he most wanted and needed, our trust, our understanding, and our friendship to get him to do the dirty deed we were afraid to do ourselves. We done used him like a Judas goat, yore' honor.

"We was purdy dang sure Crocker, or Johnson, was just crazy enough to do the deed. That ain't fair neither. The truth is, Kit Crocker was the only man among us what truly personified the cowboy way. If he gives his word about something, you can bank on it, Kit Crocker will do what he pledged. I knew the minute he pulled the trigger to shoot Clarence Womack, we not only sinned against our God and man's laws, we done also sinned against our brother. We sold Harley-Buck into slavery just as sure as Joseph's older brothers did to their little brother when they sold him to a slave merchant headed for Egypt. For that cowboy to take the blame by his'self and to suffer at our expense, just ain't right," he said, "H'it just ain't the cowboy way, sir," he said and nodded to Grover.

Another man jumped up. "My name is Horace Reynolds, your Honor. Ever'body knows me as 'Horse.' I was one a' them other men what wanted to take the law into our own hands and make Womack pay for his sins agin us," he said, "I agree with Phil Shaw, h'it just ain't right, sir," he added.

One by one, the three other men rose and stated the same thing. They weren't going to let Harley-Buck stand alone. The younger man was so moved he openly wept into his bandanna at the men's admissions. Everyone in the courtroom was stunned. Grover got a big self-satisfied smile on his face, nodded his approval to the men, and looked to the Daniels' family for approval. He got it.  

"Are you finished, Counselor?" Judge LaFleur asked Grover.

"Yes, sir, your Honor," Grover replied.

"Sit down, Gentlemen," he instructed the five standing men. The judge wrote the names of the five men on a pad on his desk.

"Mr. Johnson, please rise and come stand before me," the judge said to Harley-Buck.

Harley-Buck looked at Grover for some sign. Grover took his hand and nodded for him to do as the judge ordered. The big cowboy walked to the tall imposing desk and stood before the judge with his hands behind his back.

"Will you five gentlemen, who were part of the group who planned the preacher's demise come, and stand behind Mr. Johnson?" he asked like it was not a negotiable question.  

The audience was deadly silent as the men left their seats and came to stand behind Harley-Buck. They couldn't imagine how this latest bit of news would play-out with the judge. Many were worried about the five men who were cornerstones in the community. Even though their wives were seduced by Clarence Womack, they never imagined these men might seek revenge in such a nefarious way. At the time, they didn't look upon their actions as nefarious. They looked upon it as old testicle justice: an eye for an eye and death to the usurper of the sanctity of their homes who used religion and scripture, their trust in him, and his position of power within their community to take advantage of them.

"It is a good thing you men came forward and confessed your sins against Clarence Womack and your brother, Harley-Buck Johnson, Junior. I now see this case in a new light, and I think it calls for some creative jurisprudence on my part to come up with a solution with which everyone can feel comfortable. I like to think of it as law outside the box. I like nothing better than to tackle a strange and interesting situation like this. Is there anyone in this courtroom who thinks this case isn't one of the most bizarre and unusual cases they ever heard about?" the old judge asked as a rhetorical question. He expected no answer, and he got none. They were too anxious to find out what the mature man was considering.

"Mr. Shaw was right. You men are just as guilty as the man who pulled the trigger and shot Clarence Womack. You were co-conspirators and stirred the flames of passion and hatred within this young man while priming him to do your dirty work for you. However, he was the one who carried out the plan. He is the primary guilty party here. He didn't have to go through with the plan, but by doing so and your honorable confessions of undue influence have made you guilty of complicity. One might beg the question is the man who made the bullet Mr. Johnson put into his gun just as guilty because he created a weapon of death? There are false equivalencies to be found in everything. What it boils down to is, Harley-Buck Johnson made his choice and now he must pay his debt to society, but as Counselor Parsnip so eloquently pointed out, without a body we don't know if he actually killed Clarence Womack or not. As a result, I can only charge him with bringing a weapon into a public meeting place, shooting it, and wounding an innocent bystander. However, Miss Sally Breedlove has refused to testify against Mr. Johnson, and I'm left with a charge of disturbing the peace and reckless endangerment by shooting firearms in public.

"Harley-Buck Johnson, my original plan was to sell you as an indentured slave to the Daniels' family for an already agreed upon price, for a period of ten years, with another five years probation after that. With this new revelation from your cowboy brothers, I am changing your sentence to five years as a punishment slave to the Daniels' family and only three years probation after that. Naturally, it will diminish your value as a slave to Billy Daniels, and his price for you will be cut in half. I'm sure Mr. Daniels won't have any problem with it," the judge said and winked at Billy. There were a few chuckles in the audience.

"As for you gentlemen, since you have claimed responsibility for having set up a situation for which we can not verify the outcome, I'm afraid you will have to contribute some time to public service, working behind the scenes to insure your chosen assassin's future is seen to and well managed. You will become the guardian posse of Harley-Buck Johnson's resources and you will work with Master Billy Daniels and his extended family's new Hill Country Grange he started up several months ago. You will be required to meet once a month to discuss Harley-Buck's progress and to vote on the handling of his property. While he's a slave, Mr. Johnson's property will be held in trust, managed, and made to function for the purpose of making a profit for Mr. Johnson with proper compensation for the incorporation and management by the Grange. Any outstanding leans or mortgages on his ranch will be paid regularly and taken from annual profits. After his service to Master Daniels' family, and his probation period, his property will be returned to him without any extra leans or fees and any profits allotted to him will be held in a separate trust account to be released to Mr. Johnson upon his completion of his sentence.

"Furthermore, I expect each of you to visit with Mr. Johnson at least once a month to spend an afternoon getting to know him and offer any sound advice or encouragement you might have. Since you chose to befriend the man to manipulate him for your purposes, I now expect you to be the son's of the west you claim to be by offering him your hand in honest friendship. Make no mistake, Gentlemen, this is no slap on the wrist for your actions. You will be monitored closely as to your willing participation and responsibility to see the youngest member of your group has a successful transition from an angry young bull of the woods to a strong, upstanding, compassionate, responsible, contributing member of our community. It can be done, and it is within your power to make it happen. Do not let me or your brother down, Gentlemen," the judge said ominously. There was no doubt in anyone's mind, Judge LaFleur was serious about his admonition to the men and his sincerity about following up on any threats if he should weigh them in the balance and find them wanting.    

"Now, if you agree to my terms, you two men on either end take Mr. Johnson's hand," he ordered. The men did as instructed. "Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Danvers please place a hand upon his shoulders," the judge said, and they did. "Mr. Shaw, since you are the leader of this group, place you right hand on the young man's head, sir," said Judge LaFleur. Phil Shaw didn't hesitate to place his right hand on Harley-Buck's head. "Now, repeat after me," he said and continued, "We so swear before God and our community of brethren to abide by the dictates of this court and promise to see to the financial and spiritual well-being of our brother, Harley-Buck Johnson, Junior," the judge said and the men repeated his words. A reverent hush came over the crowd. Many were deeply moved. Billy Daniels was so impressed, with tears in his eyes, he raise his right hand in a fist and exclaimed, "Hosanna!" and without pause this time, the entire audience followed his lead, raised their right arms, their hand in a fist, and replied, "Hosanna, in the highest!" they shouted, and it was done.

"Gentlemen, your community has spoken. They have witnessed and agreed to your commitment. You have their blessing and support. I know you will not let them down," the judged admonished them one last time, "Now, please return to your seats. I will keep in close contact with Master Billy Daniels to make sure you are fulfilling your responsibilities to him, your brother, and your community," the judge instructed them. They each shook Harley-Buck's hand and embraced him. They were moved to tears and so was the young cowboy.

"I have one further request of our community. This young man needs an older, mature male figure to mentor him in his journey into indentured slavery. Since he has no family we are aware of, we must call upon someone from our community to become his strong right arm to encourage him and give him succor during his times of trial," the judge said.

Several hands went up from a number of older, hard-working ranchers in the community including Mick Flynn, Elmer Breedlove, Tron Garrett, and another rancher from the north county area, Herb Englander; also, the huge biker in full leather held up his hand. Judge LaFleur couldn't help be intrigued by the big man. He told the men to lower their hands. He spoke directly to the biker, "You, sir, are not from our community," he said.

"Beg'n your Honor's pardon, sir, I was born in this community; however, I left many years ago after my parents died. I went into the service and never returned to Mason; however, I did returned to Texas and founded my own business and company in Houston. My name is Harlen Buckley Johnson. If I'm not mistaken, this young man is my son. After hearing about him on the news and the stunning revelation he took on my name, I thought it might be wise to check into the situation; if for no other reason, than a burning curiosity. He certainly looks like I did at his age. And, before anyone starts any rumors about me running away and abandoning a pregnant woman to raise my child on her own, I swear on the name of some unknown god, I never knew. I'll admit to having relations with a young woman with the last name of Crocker while home on leave from boot-camp, but she told me she was wearing an IUD contraceptive device. Whether she told me the truth or the device didn't do the job is a moot point at this juncture in history. Just in case it was true, I brought with me a DNA test results which may be compared to his for verification. I have heard and seen enough here today I think I might be the man to become Harley-Buck Junior's mentor," the big man said.

Randy was in love – again. He so wanted for the big biker to be his buddy's daddy. Every bone in his small body yearned for it to be so – so much, he was unconsciously grinding his back teeth together.

<< Easy, Tiger! >> he heard his big bro send to him as Billy lifted him from his chair, and set Randy on his lap to hold him.

<< Ain't enough 'hosannas' if that big man is my buddy's daddy, Bro, >> Randy sent and shuddered as a chill ran up and down his spine.

<< Calm down, little Brother. One look at the man's blood chart, and we'll know for sure one way or t'other, >> Billy soothed the boy and stole a kiss.  

Judge LaFleur didn't know where the message came from which arrive in his brain, but he had a good idea. He looked directly at Randy and winked. "Even if our Harley-Buck is your biological son, Mr. Johnson, what makes you think you would be a good mentor for him?" he asked.

"Don't let my attire fool you, Judge. These are my escape clothes, and my Harley is my means to get away from my job. I own the largest oil exploration and drilling company in the New Theocratic Republic of Jesusland. While I feel it's crass and unnecessary to brag about wealth, let's just say I paid cash for my Harley, sir," H.B. Senior replied.

"I'm impressed," the judge said, "Did you bring the result of your blood test with you, sir?" he asked.

The big biker reached into his heavy leather jacket and retrieved a folded document.

Judge LaFleur banged his gavel, "There will be a brief recess. No one leave their seats. This won't take long. Mr. Johnson, please follow me to my chambers. Master Billy Daniels – you, Doctor Oatie Breedlove, Counselor Parsnip, and Bossman Randy Rutherford join us," the judge said. The men left the room and there was much hub-bub going on in the courtroom. No one seemed disappointed they went through the trouble to come to court that day. It wasn't quite as exciting as the previous week, but it was having its moments. After the men were in private, the judge picked up Randy, set him in his lap, and looked him in the eye. "Is Mr. Johnson telling us the truth, Son? Is he a good man? Sound of heart and mentally strong?" the judge asked the boy.

Randy smiled, "How did you know, Judge?" Randy asked and grinned.

"I know you been in contact with Harley-Buck while he's been in jail, and I know you already knew about this big man before he told me. You put the question in my head, didn't you?" he asked and smiled.

"It was only a tiny suggestion, sir. I'd never presume to tell you what to do, Judge," Randy said with remorse.

"Glad you did. Now, answer my question," the judge urged Randy.

"He has the same thought patterns my buddy has when I tickle his mind. His aura is almost identical to our Harley-Buck's. He's a good man. Solid. Secure. Compassionate. A mite too sure of himself like a rooster at dawn, but for the most part, humble and sincere," Randy gave his reading of the big biker.

"Would you gentlemen care to see my DNA document?" Harley Buck Senior asked.      

"It won't be necessary, Mr. Johnson. Gentlemen, do your thing," the judge instructed.

The big biker watched in awe as Billy, Oatie, and Grover removed their shirts and stood bare-chested before him.

<< Fear not, Mr. Johnson, they must change into their other form to test your blood, >> he heard a small voice in his head and saw a grin on Randy's face.  

<< Change into what, Son? >> he asked in return.

<< Cowboy-angels, Mr. Johnson, >> Randy replied.  

Harley-Buck, Senior, no sooner received Randy's thought when the three men disappeared and reappeared in a great flash of light, fully fledged in their handsome wings. Grover was still getting used to his and shook them several times like an old hen taking a dust bath to make them feel comfortable.

"Sweet Jesus! All them rumors! They make sense! There weren't no demons. It was you men. You can make yourselves look like anything you want. What about you, Son?" Harley Buck Senior asked Randy.

"Ain't old enough, Mr. Johnson. I got other gifts though, but I won't get my wings until puberty, sir," Randy replied and frowned.

The judge went behind his desk, opened the pen drawer and retrieved a straight pin, a shot glass, and a bottle of Johnny Walker Red. He poured a small amount into the glass and stirred it with the pin. He took a tissue and wiped it clean. "Here, that should do the trick," he said handing the pin out for Billy to take.

"May I have your hand, Mr. Johnson, we need a drop of your blood to compare your DNA with our Harley-Buck's," Billy explained.  

The big man grinned as he held out his hand. Billy quickly pricked his finger, squeezed out a drop and tasted it. He passed the big man's hand to Oatie, and he did the same. A big grin passed over their faces as they nodded to each other.

"Ain't no doubt in my mind, Judge," Billy said.

"Mine neither, sir," Oatie confirmed, "He's definitely Harley-Buck Johnson, Senior," he added.

"How can you men know from a taste of my blood?" he asked.

Grover grinned. "Go on, Master Billy, you do Senior Buck, and you do Junior Buck, Doc Oatie," he urged.

In an instant Billy morphed into an exact copy of the man standing before him and Oatie morphed into a copy of his son, Harley-Buck Junior.

"Christ a-mighty!" the big biker exclaimed, "I'm a believer!" he said, "Holy shit, am I a believer! Then you men ain't got no bad things in mind for my boy. You's trying to help him. I could tell from the way things were going down in the court a while ago. There was a great outpouring of love for my boy no matter what he done. Certainly what he done weren't right, but I don't know if I wouldn't have done the same damn thing if some man had his way with my woman behind my back. Being known as a cuckold in a small community in rural Texas castrates a man as sure as cutting his balls off," Harley Buck Senior declared. "I have to know, what happened to the preacher?" he asked.

"You's a sharp man, Mr. Johnson," Randy said and giggled, "Can I tell him, big Bro?" he asked Billy.

"Don't see why not, he's gonna' become a part of our family anyway," Billy replied.

"If you come out wiff' us to the Daniels ranch this afternoon for lunch, we'll introduce you to her," Randy said and giggled again.

"Her?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"You'll see. I'll explain it to you as you ride me out to the ranch on your Harley," Randy said and laughed. "You'll need me to get past the guard cattle anyhow," he added.

The three men morphed back to cowboys and were putting on their shirts while Randy and the judge were talking with the big biker. "Take it one step at a time, and it will become clear to you, Son," Grover said taking the huge man's arm and leading him back into the courtroom.

The men came back into the courtroom, and the judge quietly said to the big biker, "Go to your son, Mr. Johnson," and patted him on his back. The judge climbed the steps to his desk, banged his gavel, and spoke, "This court session is resumed. It has been verified beyond a doubt, this man is our Harley-Buck Johnson's father. Son meet your dad. Dad meet your son," the judge said and the men opened their arms for each other. Harlen Senior was, by far, the larger man and even though Harley-Buck was a good size man himself, he was dwarfed by the huge biker. The audience in the courtroom were reduced to tears as the two men met each other on a confirmed basis for the first time. It was a powerful moment as the men broke down and cried in each other's arms.

"I think we have found our mentor," said Judge LaFleur.

<< Now would be a good time, Bossman, >> Billy sent to Randy.

"Hosanna!" Randy shouted with his right arm raised in a fist.

"Hosanna, in the highest!" everyone in the audience replied led by Judge LaFleur.  

"Do you understand your sentence, Mr. Johnson?" the judge asked Harley-Buck.

"I do, your Honor, and I will do my best to be a good slave for Master Billy and help my brother when he needs a hand," Harley-Buck replied referring to his cell mate for the last week.

"Good. I hope I live long enough to be the judge who awards you men your freedom when your time has been served. Good luck and good health to both you men. I feel what we have done here today is right and just. I will be following your progress closely and may call upon you to give me straight answers to the way you are being treated and how you see your personal progress. You men may be paving the road for a new form of correction. We shall see," the judge said, banged his gavel, and added. "Court is adjourned!"  

It took some time for the courtroom to be emptied. Everyone wanted to come around and shake hands with the two Harley-Bucks and wish them well. Harley-Buck Jr. was in contact with Randy from the time he came into the courtroom. The big cowboy couldn't believe what a fine looking, handsome young buckaroo his little buddy made. Randy ran to him after the the judge finished and Harley-Buck grabbed him up in his arms and shamelessly stole kiss after kiss. "This young cowboy is Bossman Randy Rutherford, Dad, he came to me every night while I was in jail before I went to sleep and jawed with me a spell. He gave me courage and hope for the future. He's a remarkable young man," Harley-Buck said to his father.

"I met him in the Judge's chambers, and I agree. I promised him a ride on my hog out to the Daniels' ranch for lunch," Harley-Buck Senior said.

* * * * * * *
It was a very different scene from the time Orville Higginbothem was found guilty and led away in chains. The only humiliation for the moment was the two men were implanted with microchips which held their basic personal data and a tracking signal should they give into the mistake of trying to run. Harley-Buck was taken back to the sheriff's station and given his cowboy clothes to wear out to the ranch, but there were no special guards to push or shove the two new slaves into vehicles. They knew their fate, and Billy's family absorbed them like they were two more family members. Billy assigned Erin Mascaro to look after his old buddy Earl, and he took on the role of the old seasoned prisoner/slave, a den-brother figure, to his new brothers. Billy told him to answer any questions they might have to the best of his ability and try to calm them of any fears they might have. Considering Erin had been to the depths of hell and back in the Huntsville Penitentiary for a number of years, he had nothing but glowing praise for the way he was treated at the Daniels' ranch. Erin became their go-to slave for anything they didn't understand or feel comfortable about.

Judge LaFleur later wrote in his ground breaking book about correction versus stagnant prisons, how even the hardest of criminals, if treated with minimal respect, some common decency, and not made to feel subhuman, had a greater impact on whether the prisoner adjusted and began to accept change or built a wall of resistance and continued to feel anger against society so fiercely they couldn't give up the idea or a deeply ingrained need for personal revenge. Their vision of justice became a never ending personal battle for them against 'the man.' LaFleur observed about the Daniels' cowboy-way approach to punishment slaves, each new raw-intake slave may be treated differently than the last or next depending on their particular need for adjustment and the state of their willingness to accept change. LaFleur observed the Daniels' slaves were brought into the whole of the slave family, males and females, without feeling a need to join a smaller cult along racial prejudices and feudal hierarchies which develop in the private prison systems. Man is a social animal, and his desire or success to fit-in with any given group will mostly be decided by the group itself.

On the Daniels' ranch, there were no social barriers, and punishment slaves were neither looked down upon, nor shunned because of a subtle cast barrier. From the moment Earl Hickson and Harley-Buck Johnson's boots hit the ground at the Daniels' ranch, there were swarms of fine looking cowboy and cowgirl slaves gathered, not only to welcome them, but also to overwhelm them by open expressions of their concern with hugs and kisses as well a hand shake and gentle slaps on the back in a brotherly manner. There seemed to be a never ending succession of people coming up to them to express their joy in getting to meet the new men with words of encouragement and expressions of pleasure to have them come on-board. Earl and Harley-Buck could only look at each other in awe. They speculated together how living the life of an indentured slave might be for them, but the reality was certainly nothing like they were expecting.

"I know we both signed up for the complete slave package, Brother, but I have no apprehensions about it," Harley-Buck said.

"I survived the Middle-East wars, Brother. This may not be a piece of cake, but at least we won't be alone or shot at," Earl declared, "I think we can do it," he added.

* * * * * * *
The wind was blowing through Randy's hair, tears were streaming from his eyes as he leaned a bit forward in the big biker's lap. He couldn't lean too far as he was locked to the hard body of his latest big-man crush, Harley-Buck Senior, by a strapping band which went completely around the big man and his diminutive cowboy riding in front of him. It was a warm day, and the big biker left his leather jacket open so Randy could feel his body against his backside and not be afraid of the experience. He obviously didn't know Randy very well at that point. Randy was thrilled by the ride and wrapped his small arms up and around Harley-Buck Senior's to get the feeling of guiding the big bike down the road.

<< In the name of some unknown god, this is wonderful! >> Randy sent his partner without first tickling him.

Harley-Buck laughed. << I keep forget'n you can talk to my mind. What a joy it is to talk with you without yelling above the wind and having to wipe the bugs off your teeth, >> he sent back and laughed hearty. Randy laughed at the big man's bullshit. He was truly in love. << Having fun, Buckaroo? >> Harley-Buck Senior asked.

<< More fun than I can tell you. The vibration from the engine is doing something funny to me, and I'm getting an erection. I don't understand how it can happen. I usually have to play wiff' ma'self to make it hard, >> Randy sent and Mr. Johnson, the elder, almost lost control of the bike he was laughing so hard.

He reached down and cupped Randy's crotch with his big leather glove to feel his excitement and laughed harder. << Damn! Nice one for a little man, Son! Hard-on's is contagious. Now I got me one," he said. Randy did the same and felt the big man's erection. He started giggling, and they laughed together at their shared nonsense for half a mile or more. << They call a Harley-Davidson motorcycle a Milwaukee vibrator because they're made in Milwaukee, but I ain't real sure about the vibrator part. I think most men who buy Harleys ride them for the stimulation as well as transportation, >> he send back to the precocious boy.

<< Is that why you bought yours, Mr. Johnson? >> Randy asked.  

<< Not intentionally, Son. I mostly bought it because I's just too damn big for any other bike. I'm comfortable on my Harley. It's like a land-yacht on two wheels, >> he replied. They shared another laugh together. Randy waved to his big brother as his big buddy pulled out to go around him.

<< Eat your heart out, big Brother! >> Randy sent and giggled.

<< I'll get you for that, my pretty! >> Billy sent back and laughed. He sent it to both men and big Harley-Buck laughed with Randy. Randy gave Billy his hat. Billy picked it up off the seat and pretended to bite into the brim like he was going to eat it. Randy saw him and sent the image to Harley-Buck. The men shared another laugh.

Randy gave Mr. Johnson directions where to turn and where to go to get to the Daniels' ranch. They arrived well ahead of the school bus, and truck convoys. Randy told the big biker to drive right up to the guard cattle and shut off his engine. Harlen Johnson had no idea about the guard cattle and did as Randy told him. "Howdy, Mr. Yates and Mr. Dunn!" Randy hailed the two large bulls.

"Howdy, Bossman Randy. Wow! What's that you're own, Son. We ain't never seen one of them before. What's it called?" Dunn asked.

"A motorcycle, sir. More precisely a Harley-Davidson motorcycle," Randy replied.

"Cows what talk? Are you doing this, Son?" Harley Senior asked.

"Naw, Mr. Johnson. Them's our guard cattle. They won't let nobody on the ranch they don't know or ain't expecting," Randy said, "This gentleman is Mr. Harlen Buckley Johnson, sirs. He's me and Master Billy's guest at the ranch today. Will you kindly allow us to pass, good sirs?" Randy asked politely.

"Absolutely, Bossman Randy. Your word is gold with us. Besides, we done got a message from Master Billy to allow ya'll passage, sir," Yates said, and the cows began to part.

Mr. Johnson hit the starter, and the beast roared to life. The guard cattle were fascinated by the two wheeled monster and just as impressed by the huge man riding it. The two men slowly rode on up to the top of the hill, around the curve, into the busy compound of the Daniels' ranch.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Johnson Senior on first sight.

"I don't care how many times I come to this place, it always has the same effect for me. Master Billy and his slaves have put a lot of money and work fixing up the ranch. It's my second home, Mr. Johnson, and I love it," Randy declared.

"I can understand why, Son. I think I could grow to be quite fond of the place myself," he answered.   

"Where do you live, Mr. Johnson?" Randy asked.

"I have a home north of Houston known as The Woodlands. I live alone and have a staff to take care of the place and me. It's like a ranch without cattle. I have a prize Arabian stallion what was a present from the Sultan of Bahrain, and I keep some exotic chickens for fresh eggs; however, I don't take care of them. I have a full-time male secretary, grounds, and critter keeper. He also takes care of my two dogs for me when I'm away. I love dogs," he said.

"Well, that's good. Then you should love my canine lady-friend, Ms. Miranda, and her six pups. They's here today. They's visiting from the sheriff's place, but they must be helping the cowboys, or they's probably in the house begging treats from the helpers fixing lunch. They's always underfoot or fly'n over head when there's food being prepared," Randy tossed off like it was nothing. Harlen Johnson didn't know whether to ask about the flying part or not. "The pups have grow'd so much they all talk at once, and you can't hear yourself think. Me and my main man, Clyde, we's teaching them to sing," he added.

"Yeah, right!" Mr. Johnson said with a bit of sarcasm.

About that time, the front door opened and out came Mother Miranda followed by her rolley-polley family. They caught sight of Randy and started yelling his name at the top of their little high-pitched voices accentuated from time to time with a sharp yip or a goodly bark. "Bossman Randy! Bossman Randy! We's here, Bossman! We come to see you and sing some songs," they shouted. They didn't bother running down the stairs. They launched themselves from the top step into the air like a squadron of large bumble bees. Poor Miranda sat on the porch with a look of horror and exasperation. She looked frazzled from an overdose of motherhood. The pups were having a great time as they circled around the two men. Miranda yelled at them, "No! No! No! Don't fly too close! You know what happens when you do! Leave that poor man be. He's not used to you yet. Don't make me have to fly over there and ground you," she cried.

"Okay, Guys and Gals, time to land and meet our new family member," Randy said officiously. He was one of the only men on the Daniels' ranch who could get them to listen and obey. They loved themselves some Bossman Randy. They'd do anything for their song leader. There were some flat boards on either side of the stairs you could sit on in the late afternoon and enjoy a view of the ranch. The pups landed and lined up in order, except Gracie, the runt of the litter, kept trying to wiggle her smaller body between two of her big brothers. Finally, they had enough and moved apart to allow her space. Randy went down the line and introduced each pup to Mr. Johnson. They each offered their paw and Harlen dutifully shook each one and asked their names. They responded well to the big man and could tell he was a dog lover.

"I'll never doubt you again, Bossman," the big man said, "Where in the world did you men find flying dogs what can talk?" he asked

"We didn't find them. Like Master Billy and Doc Oatie can morph into you and your boy because of having your and his DNA on file in their bodies, they done the same for Ms. Miranda when she was pregnant. Master Billy enhanced her as well. Her pups were born without wings but they started growing in about the time their eyes were open. It's been nonstop hilarity since then. You think they's bad now, you should a' seen 'um a couple of weeks ago," Randy said and laughed.

"What else you got to show me, Son?" he asked.

"Lots! You barely done scratched the surface, Mr. Johnson," Randy said and laughed.

The school bus and the other members of the Daniels' family started arriving. The pups were off again to greet and meet everyone. Earl and Harley-Buck were in awe of the flying, talking dogs. Erin turned and saw the look on his brothers' faces and laughed. "Welcome to the land of Oz, Gentlemen, where every day is a new and wonderful experience. You'll work hard, and at first you'll be broken to their ways, but I can promise you there will never be a dull moment," he said and grinned.  

Billy walked over and handed Randy his cowboy hat. "Here you look naked without chore' hat, Buckaroo. You almost lost it. I was about it eat the whole dang thing myself 'cause I's so jealous of you sit'n on that big biker's lap and enjoying yourself to the max," Billy said, threw back his head, and laughed.

"You gotta' try it, Brother. The vibration from that mechanical beast done made me pee-pee stand up and salute like a proud warrior," Randy said, and the men gathered around laughed at Randy and Billy's exchange.  

Clyde came out of the big house carrying his fine Gibson guitar and Randy's Banjo. The pups flew over and around him. "We gonna' sing, Unca' Clyde?"

"You and Bossman Randy gonna' play for us?" Gracie asked.

"If you're very, very good and promise to mind me and Bossman Randy," Clyde replied with a big cowboy grin.

"We promise, Unca' Clyde! We promise to be good and mind," they allowed.

"Yeah, right!" Randy said as he took his banjo from his big buddy. Randy and Clyde sat on the steps and the sextet of singing pups sat on the board they were sitting on to meet Mr. Johnson.

Clyde and Randy began to play an introduction softly and with a nod from their Bossman the pups started singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you'll never know, Dear, how much I love you, don't chu' never go'n take my sunshine away," the pups were wonderful but on the second verse one of the little males got carried away and started a wailing descant above the melody which was hilarious. "No wailing! You know better'n 'nat! Sing the notes," Randy admonished him. Their innocent antics had everyone doubled over with laughter at them. They were so cute and so willing to please, they fell all over themselves to be good.   

The pups sang a couple of more songs Randy and Clyde taught them: On Top of Old Smokey, and Tell Me Why. After the last song, Kate came out and rang the triangle on the porch for lunch at the big house for family and guests. Harley-Buck and Earl were taken away to have lunch with their slave brothers. During the week, the slaves ate slave chow and a nutrient biscuit every day for lunch. No one knew whether the two new slaves would be allowed to eat only the chow and biscuits for a break-in period like Orville had to do. For the most part, he would continue his diet of slave chow until after his grand opening which would take place the following weekend. Bubba had Orville so well trained, he knew he would win the bet between him and Master Billy.

Lunch at the big house was a good time. Randy sat between his big brother and his big biker buddy. Everyone was getting confused trying to distinguish between the two Harley-Bucks.

"We gotta' do something. It's getting confusing tacking 'Junior' and 'Senior' to their names," Billy said.

"I wondered about it and how you folks came about the nickname of Harley-Buck. I ain't been called Harley-Buck since I was a young man. Only a couple of close associates from my early days refer to me as 'Harley-Buck' and only in private. When I launched my business career, I decided the name Harlen was decidedly more professional" Harlen Senior said, "Let 'Junior' be known as Harley-Buck. At this point in time, I think it fits him better than me. He's still sowing his wild oats, so to speak, except I hope now he's found a home and a group of people who will see to his maturing into an upright responsible citizen," he added.

"Harlen it is then," Billy agreed and from that moment on, there was no confusion. "We came by the name 'Harley-Buck' from information given to us by a couple of advanced races of people known as the Grigori and Irin who have been watching Earth for sometime. They're concerned about where our planet is headed. By what means have they been watching and waiting? By putting their own race of people on our planet who have lived beside us for years we call Bigfoot. They are the watchers or Grigori. They can hear our minds and have passively kept us from destroying our planet on several occasions by subtly manipulating the minds of men to keep cooler heads and consider the consequences of their actions. They were the ones who gave us the information about Harley-Buck's parentage. We ain't had time to look into it to do the research to see if we could find a match in the U.S. Even then, we probably wouldn't have taken it upon ourselves to notify you for a number of reasons. We wouldn't presume to know what response you might have about finding out you have a son you knew nothing about. Being a man of means, you might think it was a ploy to tap you for money. Harley-Buck ain't a wealthy man, but his ranch he inherited from his mother is free of encumbrances. He has made a decent living for himself and his ex-wife for several years. He's a hard worker but not much of a business man. He's been too busy trying to learn to grow-up and not enough on being a good, solid rancher. We plan to change that. We ain't gonna' wave no magic wand over him to adjust him the way we think he should be, but rather teach him, lead him, and help him understand his place in the universe. Once he's got them things down pat, the rest will fall into place like railroad cars following a powerful diesel engine," Billy allowed.

"You mean there really is such a thing as a Bigfoot?" Harlen asked.

Everyone at the table broke up laughing. "We ask them to make themselves invisible so we wouldn't scare you to death. They's out on the back porch eating their chow. They prefer slave chow and a nutrient biscuit to eating our food. They will eat our food if nothing else is available, but they find the simple diet of slave chow suits them fine," Billy explained.

"How many?" Harlen asked.

"What, people?" Billy asked his family. They started rattling off names, Boomer, Brute, Catfish, Mouse, Blackie, Blondie, Ludo, Caesar, and several others.

"What is your goal or your agenda?" Harlen asked.

"To bring about a new way of life for the many and not just the few," Billy replied.

"In today's world? Good luck with that," he said almost in an scoffing manner, "To even begin, you would need vast sums of money and not just paper money what ain't worth the paper it's printed on. I'm talking gold, silver, or other precious commodities. I don't mean to be crass or discouraging, Son, but I doubt seriously you got that kind of backing," he challenged and noted the grins which came on several of the cowboy's faces. "I just stepped in a pile of it, didn't I?" Harlen asked and grinned.

"Let's just say, without seeming crass or bragging, I have enough in the correct commodities you mentioned to buy every cowboy in this room, and every cowboy salve on my property his own Harley-Davidson motorcycle, sir," Billy said and smiled, "I also have several business ventures on the drawing board which will revolutionize our transportation systems and means of providing clean, cheap, efficient power to everyone without a carbon footprint," Billy added.

"Will you share you dream with me, Master Billy," Harlen asked.

"My dream? Yes, but not specifics. You will only be allowed to see examples of the final product but not how it might be accomplished," Billy said.

"Fair enough," Harlen said and smiled.  

Harlen sat and ate his lunch quietly as he observed the conversation around the table. He took great interest in the ladies. He certainly knew the Redbone name and was a guest in their home in Houston many times. He didn't recognize Zelma until she was introduced to him. She appeared much younger than he remembered. He heard rumors of her failing health. Not only was Zelma Redbone present but her two nephews Tom McMartin, his family, and Enoch Redbone who was very much in love with the Daniels' neighbor's son, Moss Garrett. The big man quickly began to put the pieces together and finally remembered the news story of the healing of a young boy in the parking lot at Walmart in Fredericksburg.

<< Wondered when you's gonna' figger it out, Mr. Johnson, >> he heard a small voice in his head.

<< I'm a bit slower than I used to be, Bossman, >> he returned, << And that charming lady across from me Master Billy introduced as Clarice Wombat ain't from Australia, is she? >> he asked.

<< Not originally. No, sir. However, you're like an old bloodhound what's got the scent and is about to run with it, Mr. Johnson, >> Randy said and giggle in his head.   

<< I done figgered it out, Son, and I have to say, I'm impressed. Wow! And that lovely lady to her right they call Roz is pregnant, but just beginning to show, >> Harlen observed.

<< Yes, sir, she volunteered to carry my big brother's baby he created with his watcher husband, Boomer. She's carrying Billy Daniels Junior, >> Randy sent.

<< Two males created a fetus? >> he asked.

<< You need to know more about the biology of watchers. Master Billy would have carried his son for the first half of his gestation period and Boomer would carry him for the last half in a pouch they have like marsupials. You like that sweet milk you're drinking? >> Randy asked, looked up at Harlen and grinned.

<< Yeah, very much. It's like drinking ice cream before it's frozen, >> he replied.

<< It's watcher milk from our herd of watchers we tend and help. Best natural food in the universe. It will correct what's wrong with your body and enhance other parts. Put lead in your pencil, too, >> Randy assured him and laughed again.

<< I made you a promise, didn't I? >> he asked.

<< Yes, you would never doubt me again. Wise man. Ain't no need for doubt. You'll confirm it for yourself soon enough, >> Randy replied.

<< I'm not here by accident, am I, Son? >> he asked the young boy.

<< Naw, Sir, you wouldn't be here a' tall if'n them big Grigori critters ain't seen fit to allow you into our family. Harley-Buck – your boy, needs you. We need you. You need us. While you been a highly successful business man, you're beginning to ask questions about your place in society, the world, and the universe. You ain't comfortable no more with just being successful. You want more out of life, and you're looking under every rock to find it. You never had a close relationship with anyone, female or male. Mainly because you's attracted to both. Because of your frustration and your intense desire to succeed, you shunned both to achieve your goals you set for yourself. With us, you will overcome those things and begin to invest in people. Your son will be a start. You're gonna' need us more than you might imagine within the next couple of years, but that's more'n you need to know for now, >> Randy sent.

<< How much will they share with me, Bossman? >> he asked.

<< Almost ever' thing. Master Billy told you the truth. He'll share the innovation, but you will have no clue how it's created or how it functions; however, you won't be left out. Very few know them things, >> Randy reassured him.

<< Are you a seer of the future, Son? >> Harlen asked.

<< No, I just listen and collect bits and pieces of gossip. Then, sometimes when I'm alone, I tune into the voices of the universe and listen to what they got to say. I condense the information and arrive at conclusions, >> Randy replied.

<< Why are you being so open with me, Bossman? >> Harlen asked.

<< You and me – we's kindred spirits. With my enhancements and growing up in a large humanistic family group who ain't mentally stunted by the fear of myth or superstition, I will be much like you when I mature; however, unlike you, I will embrace my multiplicity and learn to enjoy both sexes rather than limit myself to one. As I'm coming to see it, a real cowboy should be able to satisfy his brother as well as his woman. Right now, my idol is that big bull across the table down there, Elmer Breedlove, >> Randy explained.

<< But he's obviously with a man, Son, >> Harlen said.

<< Looks can be deceiving. Yes, Vox Humana is a man, but he is a chimera with his fraternal sister sharing the same body with him. With Master Billy's help, they learned to morph into his sister and become Roxanne Humana with the female equipment to satisfy her big bull. They's get'n married here the second Sunday in June. I'm gonna' be their ring bearer. Elmer keeps both of them happy, and has a number of lonely cowboys in the community he services regularly to keep them happy. I want to be just like him, a big bull in a large pasture, >> Randy sent and smiled.

<< To be honest, h'it don't sound too bad to me, Bossman, >> Harlen said and nodded his head.  

<< That's your first baby-step, Brother Harlen, >> Randy sent and they shared a laugh.

* * * * * * *
After lunch they showed Harlen around. Bubba was with his old man, Orville Higginbothem and they were thick as thieves. Bubba didn't hide his affection for Orville from anyone, including Earl Hickson. It was the first time Earl saw the raw animal lust which flowed between them and for the first time in his adult life, he felt jealous. It became a great conundrum for him. Why was he having these feelings? He never allowed himself to think about him and Bubba becoming fuck buddies, yet here he was watching the two men sharing a tender moment, and he wanted it for himself. Earl felt crushed inside like he just missed the last train to Clarksville.

"Damn, he's hot, ain't he?" Harley-Buck asked his new buddy.

"Cain't gainsay that, Brother. I guess we'll look like him soon enough," Earl agreed.

"I'm looking forward to it. You think we'll get them rings as well?" Harley-Buck asked.

"I'd say it's a purdy-sure bet, Brother. I didn't think I might like them, but I changed my mind. They look damn good on him. Look how built up he is. He looks like some'um out a one a them muscle builder magazines," Earl said almost enviously.

"One of our team of slave handlers said they taught him how to work his body and said they'd do the same for us. I wouldn't mind looking like him. Damnation! I hear tell he's a virgin. He ain't never been butt-fucked, but all that's gonna' change next weekend. Your buddy, Bubba Kirkendall, is gonna' fuck him for his first time before an audience of men and maybe a few women. We'll get to watch," Harley-Buck said with enthusiasm.

Earl hadn't heard about it, but didn't know if it was something he wanted to watch – not because he was a prude or shy about human sexuality, but because it would be his brother with someone else. Why was he having such conflicting feelings? He knew he would never consider such a thing with Bubba even when his big brother laid his cards on the table, begged him, and had the brass balls to tell Earl he wanted to fuck his butt until his house was haunted; or until the cows came home; or the chicken's came home to roost. Bubba told Earl to take his pick, grab his ankles, lie back and enjoy the ride as he sank his big sweet cowboy cock inside him and let it soak until his ass adjusted. It wasn't a warm afternoon, but Earl started sweating watching Bubba and Orville enjoying each other's company.

They took Harlen to meet their group of watchers, and he was in awe of the huge creatures. He thought they were magnificent. He thought the watcher named Brute whom he was told belonged to Bubba Kirkendall was a fine looking beast. He even imagined keeping one for his own if some day the honor might be offered to him. Finally, he got to meet Bubba Kirkendall and his adopted surrogate dad, Orville Higginbothem. While Harlen was a huge man and sure of himself and his own masculinity, he found himself becoming nervous around Orville and Bubba. There was an unmistakable raw, animal attraction the two men held for each other that spilled out and over onto anyone who came near them. Orville's body was beginning to look like a warrior out of Greek mythology, and he was a golden bronze color. In his boots, hat, leather harness with a codpiece in front, he looked like a sexual bon-bon what needed consuming.

Billy explained Bubba and Orville's relationship and how he turned Orville over to Bubba for him to learn for himself the hands-on subtleties of slave training. "Bubba is a virgin to sex with a man and so is Orville, so they decided because of their attraction for each other to share the experience. Next Sunday afternoon will be Orville's grand opening and Bubba will do the honors. If you're free next weekend, ride your bike up Friday morning early and spend the weekend with us. You're welcome to join us. There's a bet going around. Bubba claims he can make Orville shoot his load by just butt-fuck'n him. I was a skeptic for a while, but the more they been together and as ripe as I'm beginning to see Orville become, I just may lose that bet. If I do, I'll still be a winner," Billy said.

"Will my boy and his buddy get outfitted like this slave?" Harlen asked hoping the answer would be 'yes.'

"Orville was a hard case. Originally, I didn't plan to be so severe with Earl and Harley-Buck, but they saw Orville in his harness and requested they be treated the same way. We carefully explained to them every detail, but they were still adamant they wanted the works. Who am I to deny a slave what he feels he needs. I granted their request and we will process them tomorrow. So the next time you come, they will be ringed, plugged, their cocks encased for forced chastity and ejaculation control and they will start a rigorous body building campaign over and above their required workday. There are a few other things but insignificant to the main ideals of control," Billy said.

"Are you trying to make them homosexuals?" Harlen asked.

"Not necessarily. When they finish their training, they may go the route they choose, but they will have a full understanding of how the other side feels, approaches life, and hopefully they will be considerably less likely to have unreasonable hatred or fear of gays or bisexuals," Billy said.

"I can understand that. It makes sense to me. Like walking a mile in another man's boots," Harlen said.

"Some'um like that," Billy agreed and smiled at him. "We'll leave the full tour of everything until next weekend, if you agree to return and enjoy our hospitality. You may also have a more extended visit with your son. For the rest of the afternoon, you might want to take advantage of the time and get to know your boy a bit more," Billy added.

"I would like to spend some quality one-on-one time with him. I'd like nothing better than to return next weekend. Friday morning early, you say?" he asked.

"Yes, our official weekends begin at noon on Friday. We only work our slaves four and a half days a week unless they're on a duty rotation for necessary jobs to keep the community running smoothly," Billy explained, "Get here before sunrise or come the night before and have a big ranch breakfast with us," Billy invited.

"I'll look forward to it, Master Billy," Harlen said and shook Billy's hand.

 * * * * * * *
Harlen found Harley-Buck, and they spent some quality time together. They went off into the barn to be alone and talk. The more Harlen talked with his son, the more he liked him and could see himself reflected in his personality. However, Harley-Buck was nowhere near as mature as Harlen was when he was the same age; yet, both men experienced nearly the same traumas which usually tend to sober a man in his approach to life. The difference was staring him in the face. Harlen's dad was a no nonsense cowboy who raised him to believe in the cowboy way and to shun the fears, the myths and superstition of organized religions. He taught Harlen to be honest, hard-working, and to have compassion for those who had less than himself. Harley-Buck had no one and tried his best to make it up as he went along. He had two passions in life, but sadly, his wife wasn't one of them. He loved guns and reading about the old days of cowboys. He had almost as many cheap paperback western novels as his mother had Hello Kitty collectibles. He saw himself as a man born into the wrong century.

Harlen was somewhat of a philanthropist. He gave large sums to the popular charities and was always going to some fund raising banquet or concert to raise money for some cause. He gave generously. It helped his image as a business man and gave him large write-offs on his taxes. As he sat listening to his son talk about his youth he felt an empty feeling in his gut he never experienced before. It was a combination of empathy and passion. His heart was racing faster, and he found himself getting an erection. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. He couldn't get over how much Harley-Buck looked like him at the same age. He never found himself particularly attractive except for his size and his overall appearance of being rather hyper-masculine. He certainly wasn't a narcissist. How could this be? He suddenly realized he had strong sexual feelings for his own son. He tried hard not to think about it, but it was there, growing stronger as they sat and talked together.

"What do you feel you need most from me, Son?" Harlin asked. He was treading water looking for a large log to float by to save himself, but it never appeared.

"I guess I need you to care about me, and if you find me worthy, to one day even be able to look me in the eye and tell me you're proud to call me your son and you love me, sir," Harley-Buck replied.

"Stand up, boy," Harlen said and stood up from the bale of hay they were sitting on. Harley-Buck did the same not knowing what to expect. Harlen put his arms around his boy and held him close. He moved his head down to Harley-Buck's, found his mouth, and brushed his lips across his boy's as an invitation. He didn't have to ask twice. Harley-Buck met his dad's lips and accepted his offer. He gave as much or more than Harlen asked for, but the older man didn't break it off or pull away. They stood in a strong embrace making love to each other for several minutes and finally broke it off. Harley-Buck laid his head against his dad's leather jacket and breathed in the strong scent of the leather and his dad's own personal male fragrance. Both men's cocks were roaring hard.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir," Harley-Buck said.

"My question for you is, do you want me in your life, and do you think you could come to love me, Son?" Harlen asked.

"Certainly, sir, especially if you show me love like that. I would love to lie down with you and hold you in my arms," Harley-Buck replied.

"Are you comfortable with man sex, Son?" Harlen asked.

"The few times I experienced it, yes, sir. I had good sex with my wife before she cuckold me with that preacher man. I enjoyed it, but never so much as I wanted to have sex with one of them demons what took me off to visit Hell. There was one – he was sort of the main organizer for Satan – what I wanted to lie down with in the worst way and give myself to him, sir. He weren't no scary demon. He was good and thoughtful to me. He treated me like he cared about me and wanted to do what was right for me. Now you come along, and I wanted you from the first time I saw you in the courtroom. I didn't even know who you was, but I knew I wanted to know you. Do you have preferences, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, I been with both and while I enjoy bedding a good looking woman, I'm more partial to men. I'm what you might call a man's man," Harlen said. He wondered about telling his son his innermost secrets, but he felt safe with Harley-Buck. "Oh, and by the way, I done accepted the truth you are my boy, and I have no problem calling you my 'son.' Will you do me the honor of calling me 'dad' instead of sir?" Harlen asked.

"It will be an honor, Dad," Harley-Buck replied.

"Tell me, Son, what did Satan look like?" Harlen asked.

"Big, Dad! Really big with a huge set of horns like a water buffalo, and he had feet like a bull. He weren't ugly a' tall. He was attractive to me. They made me fuck the preacher in his butt..." Harley-Buck got out.

"They what?" Harlen asked and laughed.

"After they brought the preacher back to life, and we went through a trial in Hell with Mr. Parsnip acting as both our attorney's. Satan thought it would be pay-backs for me to fuck the preacher in the butt because he cuckold me and them other men. Satan said it would give Womack something to think about while he was burning in Hell. He also ordered the demon I liked to gimme' a set of horns because all men what's been cuckold must wear horns in Hell. I didn't mind. I wish't you could a' seen 'um, Dad. They was a fine looking, big pair of horns. I liked them a lot. They made me feel like a raging bull. Satan told me if I could make the preacher shoot his load while I's fuck'n him he would give me a reward. I worked him up and fucked him real good until I knew I done got him in my cross-hairs. I yelled at him to shoot, like it was an order, and he better not disobey me 'less'n he knew what was good for him. I could see him building up. I could tell he hated the idea, he was fighting really hard, but he was enjoying my fuck'n too damn much. With three big lunges into his fat ass he erupted like Popocatepetl down Mexico way. Dad Satan was right proud of me. He called me his son, and told me to call him dad. He's the one what gimme' your name. He didn't tell me you were still alive or nothing about you," Harley-Buck said.

Harlen shook his head in disbelief, but somehow, after what he experienced with the cowboy-angels and Bossman Randy, he didn't doubt a word his boy was telling him. The men began breaking down barriers between them and telling each other about their lives. They talked for several hours until Harley-Buck felt a tickle in the back of his head. "Just a minute, Dad, Bossman Randy's trying to get in touch with me," he said.

<< You both can hear me. Master Harlen, it's getting late, and we got supper ready up here to the big house. Say your goodbyes to your son and come eat. He needs to get back with his handlers. He's got a big day ahead of him tomorrow. You'll need nourishment before you set out for Houston, >> Randy sent.

<< I'll be right there, Son. Save me a place by your side, >> Harlen returned.

<< Done, sir, >> Randy replied and broke contact.

They said their goodbyes and shared another strong kiss with each other. "Have faith in me, Son, and I will have faith in you," Harlen told his boy.

"I will, Dad. If I have to be a slave, I couldn't imagine a better place or having a better mentor than my own father. I'm sure this was another gift to me from Satan. I know it sounds crazy, but I really liked the old demon bull. Ride safely back to Houston, Dad," Harley-Buck said.

They parted company and Harlen made his way to the big house. Talk was lively around the table. Most of the other guests went home. The sheriff and his family including the pups went home and so did the Breedloves. Randy was staying the rest of the week at the ranch and bunking it in with his buddy Clyde. Harlen didn't have a lot to say. He experienced so much in one day to change his life he wondered how he would be able to go back to his world. He was looking at a three hundred mile trip back to Houston and just north to his large place in The Woodlands. He had an early meeting in the morning he couldn't cancel. It was important, and he wondered how he would feel.

"Did you have a good day, Brother Harlen?" Nathan asked.

"One of the best days of my life, Mr. Daniels," he replied.

"You're awfully quiet, Son," Tron Garrett said.

"Just think'n about the six hour ride back to The Woodlands north of Houston. I got an important meeting in the morning, and I got to be at my best," Harlen lamented.   

"Ain't no problem. Bossman Randy can fix you up. He can have you home in the blink of an eye," Billy said like he was bragging about his little brother.

"Is 'zat right, Bossman, or is your big brother blowing smoke in my rear door?" Harlen asked and everyone laughed.

"Naw, he's tell'n the truth, Mr. Johnson, I can have you home in a matter of minutes, sir," Randy replied, "Motorcycle and all," he added.

"If you can, I'd be much obliged, Bossman," Harlen said.

"In fact, once't our Bossman's got a fix on your place, you don't have to spend six hours riding back for the weekend. Give him a tickle, and he'll open a gate for you to drive through," Billy said.

"Gate?" Harlen asked.

"You'll see, sir," Randy said and grinned.

After a wonderful supper and two desserts, Harlen thought he should say his goodbyes and make an exit. He thought it was probably going to be one of the hardest things he ever did in a while. There was just something about these people which made him want to stay and become a part of them; but he had a good excuse to come back and visit regularly. Everyone had a handshake, a pat on the back, a hug, or a kiss for him. He felt emotionally drained by the time Bossman Randy and his big brother walked him out to his bike.

"Got chore' cell phone wiff' you, Brother Harlen?" Randy asked.

"Rye-cheer, Son," Harlen said holding it for the men to see.

"Does your main man at your place have a cell phone, sir?" Randy asked.

"Yes, he does," Harlen replied.

"Give him a call and tell him to take his phone outside to the parking area and leave it 'on' sitting somewhere on a table, barbecue, a rock – some'um near the parking area. Then tell him to go back into the house, and you will see him in a few minutes. You will bring his phone back to him," Randy instructed.

Harlen pressed his housekeeper's number, and he answered. "Master Harlen, I been worried about you," his man said.

"Howdy, Jones. I'm all right. I need you to do something for me without questions," Harlen said.

"A little test of loyalty, sir?" Jones asked.

"Not quite, but I'll explain when I see you. I need you to take your phone out back to the garage area and leave it on the end of the rock ledge. Make sure you leave the phone on, tell me when you're about to set it down, then I'll give you further instructions," Harlen said.

"I'm on my way, sir," Jones said. It took him only a short while, "I'm here, sir," Jones said.

"Leave it on, set it on the rock, and walk back into the house. I'll be there in a minute or two," he instructed his servant.

"Done, sir, I'm on my way back into the house," Jones said.

They waited for a couple of minutes, Randy waved his hand, and a big gate of free electrons sprang up. "Jesus H. Christ a-mighty, Bossman. Is there anything you can't do?" he asked.

"Oh, shit! You done went and asked the wrong question, Brother Harlen. Now I gotta' listen to how he can't shoot his load and watch him frown with self pity for the next hour," Billy said and got them laughing. Harlen laughed the hardest.

"C'moan, big brother, let's give Brother Harlen a push," Randy said.

The three men pushed the Harley through the gate, and they were standing in the parking area of a huge estate. It weren't one of them tiny McMansions neither. It was enormous with twelve garages and stables. Billy shook hands with the big biker, pulled him into a hug, and patted him on the back.

"You's the handsome demon my boy fell in love with in a Hell you created for him and Womack, ain't chu?" Harlen whispered.

"You's a bright man, Mr. Johnson. You'd have to be to own all this. Not a word to your boy. We will bring him on-board when the time is right," Billy replied.

"He won't hear it from me, Master Billy," Harlen assured him.

"Gimme a big biker hug and lemme' steal a kiss, Brother," Randy said, and he got what he wanted.

"These arms are weary, but they don't want to let you go, Bossman. You won my heart today. Take it with you and keep it safe from harm," Harlen whispered.

"Always, Brother," Randy replied, "Just remember, I got your coordinates stored in my memory. Come Thursday e'nin or Friday morning tickle me, and I'll open the gate for you to ride through, or pack a bag and walk through. I'd rather you bring the Harley in case I might get to ride with you again," Randy said and giggled like a school boy.

"I'll keep it in mind, little Bro," Harlen said and watched as Billy picked Randy up in his big arms and walked though the wall of free electrons. A few seconds later, the gate collapsed and was gone. Harlen stood for a moment in the parking area. It was quiet. He never felt so alone in his life as he did at that moment. It was like his life was taken from him, but he knew where it was. It walked back through the gate with Billy Daniels and his little brother. Then he heard his two dogs barking trying to get out of the house. He walked over to the rock planter by the path to the house, picked up Jone's cell phone, turned it off, and headed for the back door.

End of Chapter 55 ~ Him Who Made The Seven Stars
Copyright ~ © ~ 2013 ~ 2014 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All Rights Reserved ~
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com
WC = 15948
07/27/2013
09/13/2014

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