Tales from the Ranch

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. If you are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man relations, please exit this page.

TALES FROM THE RANCH Copyrightc 2003 by Tulsa Driller 7. All rights reserved.

This is a story of men who have two common interests. You will see that they love the land where they live and work, but it is also the story of young men who love other men and their coming of age in a culture of prejudice and misunderstanding. It is a story, which deals with difficult and often disturbing issues but, nonetheless, issues which must be confronted in today's world.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. This work is copyrightedc by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

PLEASE: In a perfect world AIDS doesn't exist. My characters have unprotected sex. I hope you use proper precautions because I'd like you to be around the read the last chapter of this story.

Tales from the Ranch Chapter 35: Fallout

Craig's mother called shortly after the three men had finished dinner.

Dale answered the phone.

"Dale, this is Doris Bastian. Frank's on the extension. How are you fellows this evening and how is my grandson getting along? He's sure lucky you and Craig were willing to provide a home for him."

"Hi Doris, hi Frank." Dale motioned for Craig to go pick up one of the extensions. "We're doing pretty good. It's been a really long week. Craig and I should have called to tell you, but Joe passed away on Friday evening. Joey, Craig and I were there and we think he knew we were holding his hands."

"Oh Dale, I'm so sorry and so is Frank. Is there anything we can do? Craig said you had to bring some of Joey's things back to Williamsport and prepare the house to be sold."

"That's right," Dale replied. "We need to get busy on it this week, probably about Wednesday, but haven't had a real discussion about it yet. There has been a lot going on this week, to say the least."

Craig took the time to break in to the conversation. "Hi Mom, Dad. Glad you called."

"Hi son," Frank said.

"Craig. How are you this evening?" Doris asked.

"Well, as Dale said, it's been a hectic week. I think we're going to start round three of the Houston saga this week as we need to get Joey moved up here so he can start school and make sure everything we want to keep is out of the house."

Frank spoke up. "If you fellows need any help, Doris and I are available. I've made tentative arrangements to take some vacation time if you can use us and think we can be of help."

"That's really nice of you, Frank," Dale said. "We need to talk about this among the three of us. The social worker at the V.A. Center in Houston was going to get us names of estate sale people and a realtor to work with. I need to call him tomorrow morning."

"How much stuff are we talking about moving?" Frank asked.

"Not a lot. We haven't determined yet, but I thought we might take one of the pickups from the ranch and my Blazer. We're going to drive Joe's Oldsmobile back from Houston and sell it here. I think we can probably get more money for it that way, so we could also use an extra driver," Dale said.

"Depending on what you get set up, we could meet you in Houston on either Wednesday or Thursday, help you pack and load up. Then one of us could drive Joe's car back to Williamsport for you while the other drove our car," Doris said.

"Sounds like you have it all planned out for us," Craig laughed.

"No, son, not at all," Frank told them. "We just want to help and wanted to let you know we're available."

"Let us talk about this tonight, but we may not be able to make a decision until tomorrow evening," Dale said.

"That's okay, now do we get to talk to our grandson?" Doris asked.

"Sure," Dale said. "Just a minute."

He motioned Joey over. "This is Craig's parents on the telephone. They want to talk to their grandson, okay?" he asked.

"Sure," Joey told him, taking the phone.

"Hello," he said tentatively.

"Joey, this is Craig's Mom and his Dad, Frank, is on the other phone. I wanted to welcome you to the family."

"Thank you," Joey said. "Are we going to get to meet each other in Houston?"

"Most certainly, son," Frank told him. "We're planning to help you fellows later in the week."

"Thank you," Joey said. "What am I supposed to call you? You're Craig's parents," he said.

"You can either call us Doris and Frank. or if you want, you could call us Grandpa and Grandma," Doris said.

"Really?" Joey was thrilled to death. "I've never had grandparents before, at least not that I knew. That's cool. I call both Dale and Craig 'Dad' 'cause they both have taken the place of my real Dad," he told them.

Frank laughed. "I never thought we'd have grandchildren so soon, especially not one that's almost full-grown."

"And especially not from Craig," Doris put in.

Dale couldn't hear both sides of the conversation, but he was sitting there with a big smile on his face. He knew this was going well. He was really proud that Frank and Doris loved both he and Craig and had willingly added Joey to their family, too.

Craig ended the conversation. "We'll give you a call tomorrow night and let you know what's going on and what we plan to do."

"Okay, son," Frank said.

"We'll look forward to hearing from you," Doris said. "Tell Dale good-bye for us, Joey."

"Okay. good night. Grandma and Grandpa." That sounded so good to Joey.

"Okay," Dale said when everyone was back in the living room. "We've got to get 'Project Houston' underway. I'm going to get a legal pad and we're going to write down everything that we need to do each day this week."

"I'll get one for you," Craig said. He was back in a minute with a pad and pen, handing them to Dale, who wrote MONDAY at the top of the first sheet.

"First thing Monday is to call the school to tell then Joey will be starting classes a week from Monday. The second item is to find out which textbooks he might be able to use here. Three, call Jay McCormick. Four, call estate sale people and Five, call realtor. Six, call Arlen Fischer. Anybody else think of anything for tomorrow?" Dale asked.

"Have Jay call the school and make arrangements for Joey to withdraw as a student and. Joey, do you have anything you need to either pickup or leave at the school?" Craig asked.

"Yeah, my gym clothes are there and I need to clean out my locker and turn in my homework that I brought here with me."

"Okay," Dale said, heading the next sheet HOUSTON SCHOOL and writing down what Joey had just said. The next sheet was marked TUESDAY, then the rest of the days in the week. The sheet after that was labeled, JOEY'S THINGS TO WILLIAMSPORT.

Dale started in listing, talking out loud. "Clothes, models, desk, chair, pictures and posters."

Then he added, "Big screen TV, VCR, stereo equipment and videos, CD's and records. Okay, think of anything else, Joey?"

"Unnnhh, there's some games and books, too." Dale wrote those down.

The lists for each page filled up rapidly. Finally, everything each could think of had been listed on the appropriate page. Dale went back to the beginning and read the items on each page, moving several items from one page to another.

"It looks to me that depending on what information Jay can give us tomorrow, we could probably drive to Houston either Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. Then we can separate out the things Joey. and we. want to keep.

"Your parents could drive down Wednesday afternoon, then we could start loading things up on Thursday morning and come back to Williamsport that afternoon," Dale finished.

"Sounds good to me. You've really gotten this organized," Craig told him.

"All this is contingent on the estate sale people and getting a realtor. Everything could slide a day, but we should know by tomorrow evening if this will work and let your parents know," Dale said.

"Sounds good to me," Joey said. "I hate to leave my friends in Houston, but I know I'm going to like living here with you and going to school here. Oh yeah. add a line for me to call Paul to tell him that I can't be at choir practice on Wednesday."

"That reminds me, too. We can't go to cooking class on Wednesday, either," Craig said.

Dale wrote those items on the "Monday" page.

"Hey, maybe we can get Mom Bastian to give us a few cooking lessons," Dale said.

"She will and she'd probably stay for six weeks to do it right," Craig laughed.

Dale flipped back to the "Monday" page. "One other thing. We need to call and get Joey enrolled in a Drivers Ed course."

"ALL RIGHT!!!" Joey said, giving both Dale and Craig a high- five.

"We didn't say you could drive. Just that you could take the course," Dale said with his big 1000-watt grin.

"Uhn oh, Joey. Watch out. When he gets a grin like that, be careful, because you and I are both in big trouble."

"Dad. Joe, used to do that to me, too," Joey said, almost with the same identical smile and eyes twinkling.

"Oh no. two against one," Craig laughed.

"Yes, and we are going to see to it that the righteous are punished. appropriately," Dale told him, then pulling him close for a peck on the lips.

"Dads, go to your bedroom. That's gross!" Joey was in a teasing mood, too. He loved it that his Dads loved each other as well as him, too.

Bret Senior found his wife in the kitchen, baking a batch of cookies. He thought she looked mad, but he guessed she had every right to be after what had happened earlier in the evening.

"Hi," she said wearily, "would you like some cookies and something to drink to go along with them?"

"Yeah," he replied. He set the bottle of pain medication on the table.

Beth looked at the cast, feeling sorry for her husband, but still not forgiving him.

"How bad was it?"

"The outside bone, I think he called it the ulna, about 4 inches above the wrist. The doctors said it would heal more quickly than if it had been the wrist. I have to go back on Thursday, after the swelling goes down, for them to look at it again and replace this cast with another."

"What happened back there?" she asked gently.

"That Dale guy, the one who works for the Williamson family told me that I was a pathetic mess who didn't know right from wrong and would follow Jimmy Bob anywhere without question. That made me mad and I started to take a swing at him. He grabbed my wrist and slammed my arm against the wall. You could hear the bone break."

"Did you ever stop to think that he might be right?"

"I'm confused about this. The guy looks about as macho as he could get. He doesn't look like a fag, yet he was with the rest of them this evening. I don't understand about the teenage boy he and the other guy had with them. Jimmy Bob said that they probably had recruited him to be a fag, too, and were going to train him."

"Bret, you need help. You have become obsessed with this. It's eating at our family. The kids are confused, their grades are dropping and they are scared, especially since you made Bret Junior leave this evening. You've done some real damage here tonight and it's not good for any of us. Father George saw the bruises on my arms and he knew immediately what had caused them."

"I don't know what to say. I want to believe Jimmy Bob, but I don't know if he's right or wrong," Bret said.

"I don't know either, but I did talk to the four men who were here. They certainly seemed like nice men. One was Father George, the priest from what you call the 'fag cathedral', then there was an attorney from Austin, the coach, Eddie, that is allowing Bret Junior to stay with him and the other guy, I think you called him Dale. They seemed to be gentlemen and were concerned about me and the children."

"That's what's so confusing. They don't look. or I guess. act like what Jimmy Bob says a fag is supposed to be. You know, act swishy, wear makeup, some of them wear outrageous clothes and they get all 'kissy-faced' with each other," Bret said.

"Jimmy Bob thought the nurse in the emergency room was a fag just because he was a male nurse. The guy treated us well and didn't try anything funny."

"I don't know either, but I think we both need to think about this because it's eating on you just like a cancer. You haven't been warm and loving for over a year. Now anything that happens at the church sets you off and you become mean. Lately, you've been swearing and you never did that before."

"I know. I don't know what the answer is. The church is in bad financial trouble and Jimmy Bob seems to think that it's my job to see to it that people contribute, but he's the one who is running members away. People are starting to laugh at him."

Beth took the last batch of cookies out of the oven. This was the first time that she and Bret had sat down and actually talked to each other for over a year. He seemed almost like his old self this evening; however, it was too bad that the circumstances of the evening had brought them back together this way.

The morning edition of the Austin American-Statesman had a picture of Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and Bret Jenkins, Senior along with the picture of Fr. George Tikker and Alan Zimmer. The article was titled, "Gays Won - Bigots Zero". It was an amazingly correct piece of reporting, actually supporting the gay people. Of course, the second confrontation wasn't covered in the article, but that story would make its way around Williamsport pretty quickly.

Bret arrived at the office at his usual time, not having seen the paper.

Amanda was her usual cheery self, working at he desk when Bret arrived. She immediately noticed his fuchsia-colored cast. What Bret didn't realize was that Dr. Lawrence and the R.N., Gary, were lovers and had conferred with each other, deciding to give him a cast that would stand out and be seen. They could have given him a flesh colored one, but this was more fun.

"What happened to you? The paper didn't say anything about anybody getting hurt."

"What are you talking about?" Bret asked.

Amanda handed him the paper. "Oh shit," was all he said, carrying the paper to his cubicle.

Morris Johnsmore arrived at the office about five minutes later. He stuck his head in Bret's work area. "My office - ten minutes." He didn't sound happy.

'Double shit,' thought Bret.

Morris punched in the number for the rectory. Paul answered and Morris asked for Fr. George. He had just returned to the rectory from celebrating the Monday morning low mass in the Lady Chapel.

After they exchanged pleasantries, Morris asked if Fr. George had seen the morning paper from Austin.

"Yes, and it's pretty accurate. There is a second story that's not in the paper, and I hope it won't be, but you should know about it since your employee, Bret, is involved," Fr. George said.

"Jeez, what else happened?"

Fr. George related the story of the visit to the Jenkins' residence and removing Bret Junior to a safe place, and then told the story of Bret trying to hit Dale and the resulting broken arm. Fr. George also told him that they suspected family abuse and Beth and Bret Junior both admitted that on other occasions, Bret Senior had hit them, causing bruises. He stressed that the younger children had not been involved except to witness the incidents.

"I've tried to get him to realize that his anger was going to get him in trouble. I guess that I'm going to have to demand he get help this time. Thanks for telling me about this. I'll work on it from my end here at the office. If he wants to keep his job, he has to get counseling," Morris said.

"Morris, can you insist on counseling for the entire family? They are all victims here."

"Yeah, I think our group insurance even covers it, certainly most of it, anyway."

"We'll appreciate what you can do. We have reason to suspect that Rev. Jimmy Bob has some problems that need to be addressed, too," Fr. George said.

"He's an embarrassment to the community, but I'm hopeful it involves just him and not a lot of other people, too."

"I think just church members, but we're working on it," Fr. George told him.

"Well, thanks Father. I'm going to talk to Bret in just a few minutes, but wanted to hear your viewpoint on this before I wade in," Morris said.

"You are welcome. And if you come up with any more information, I'd appreciate knowing, that is if you think it will help our people."

"I will. Thanks again."

"Good bye."

Rev. Jimmy Bob just about had a stroke when he retrieved the paper from his front porch. He had planned to have a leisurely cup of coffee before going to his church office. His wife was still asleep. He didn't know what time she came home, since they slept in separate bedrooms and always had. Jimmy Bob wanted to call someone to discuss this with and realized he didn't have anyone except his lackey, Bret Jenkins, Senior. And he wasn't too sure about him, as he had really drug his feet about putting a second mortgage on his house to help the church treasury.

Marty saw the Austin paper when he went downstairs to eat breakfast with Jason and Kevin. He couldn't help but smile, although he didn't say anything to anyone else. He'd go talk to Dale a little later to see if he knew anything about it. However, he wasn't sure that he and Craig belonged to the group.

Tom and Eddie read the article with interest and both wished the whole story had been printed. Bret Junior saw the article when they were eating breakfast.

"It didn't tell what really happened," he said.

"That's because the reporter who took the pictures was only at the rectory. I'm not sure we want to read a follow up article in the paper, but the story will get around town. Bret, you are likely to get some flack about this from some of your friends at school. Your name isn't mentioned in the article, but that won't keep the kids from making the connection, since you are Bret Junior," Tom explained.

"Yeah, I know. What should I say?"

"I'd suggest that if kids ask if that's your father, just say yes, then tell them that you don't know anything else. That's not really true, but it might keep them off your back," Eddie told them.

"Okay, thanks, I really appreciate all you've done for me. That's good advice."

Joey retrieved their paper when he let Mitsy outside. He liked to read the funnies and then do the crossword puzzle. Of course, he was surprised to see the article and pictures. He couldn't wait to show his Dads.

Mitsy scratched at the door and Joey let her in, following her to the kitchen so she could be fed. He took care of that, gave her a fresh bowl of water, and then started the coffeepot. He laid the paper on the counter where it couldn't be missed, then went to shave and shower.

Craig was the first of the Dads to go to the kitchen. He poured three glasses of orange juice and was pleased the coffeepot was about halfway through its cycle. The paper was lying beside three coffee mugs Joey had set out. Although he didn't have his contacts in, he could read things close up, and easily see the heading and pictures. He carried the paper to their bathroom.

Dale was just soaping his face in preparation to covering his beard with lather. For orneriness, he gave Craig a sloppy wet kiss, getting soap on him, too.

"Looks like us fags made the paper this morning," Craig said, holding the paper up for Dale to see.

"Jeez, we didn't need that," he said.

"Actually, according to this article, which just covers the incident at the rectory, we won and Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret Senior look like fools."

"Read it to me," Dale said. "This should be good."

Craig started, "A meeting of the Williamsport Chapter of the Dignity/Integrity group ended in a confrontation between the Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and his disciple, Bret Jenkins, Sr. and leaders of the group of gay men and women meeting at St. James rectory on Sunday evening.

"Rev. Jones and Jenkins were sitting in a minivan down the street using binoculars to help them identify those arriving for the meeting. An off duty police officer noticed the brake lights on the van were flashing. When it was discovered what was going on, backup police officers were called.

"The men were removed from the van and confessed they had intended to identify those attending the meeting and make their names public. Rev. Jones stated the people were dangerous and had too much influence on such organizations as the school board and city government.

"Representatives of the group, Rev. George Tikker, an openly gay Episcopal priest and rector of St. James parish and Alan Zimmer, of the prestigious law firm of Zimmer and Fields of Austin, a firm nationally known for its efforts in gay rights legislation and work in gay adoption reform were interviewed by the police. The group also provides counseling for teens and older people needing help understanding sexual identity and also provides a safe haven for those having problems with parents.

"No charges were filed and the group dispersed peacefully."

"Well, it really doesn't tell the true story, but it does make Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret Jenkins, Sr. look like fools, doesn't it?" Dale said.

"Yeah. I wonder if other reporters will descend on our fair city to try to follow up what this article says?" Craig stated.

"It's hard to know, but you can bet that there will be more snooping around by the reporter who wrote the article because he's the one who sold this to the Austin paper," Dale told him.

What Dale and Craig didn't know at this point was that the story had been picked up from the wire services by the morning papers in Houston, Dallas, Ft. Worth, Kansas City, Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Denver and on to the west. It would make the eastern papers the next morning.

Williamsport was about to have its name put on the big map.

Bret Senior waited a full ten minutes before going to his boss's office. He stood in the doorway, just getting ready to knock when Morris motioned him in and indicated he was to sit down.

"The newspaper didn't say anything about a fight. Care to tell me your side of the story?" he asked a little testily.

"My oldest son went to the rectory to try to warn them that Jimmy Bob and I were spying on them. An off duty officer who was going to the meeting parked behind us and noticed the brake lights were flashing on and off. I guess I was bumping the pedal. Anyway, the police got there at the same time as he did. We saw him go in the house.

"The police held guns on us and made us get out of the van, then searched us for weapons. That's about all that happened there. We were allowed to leave, so I took Jimmy Bob home and then went home myself and lay down on the bed to try to get calmed down.

"I've taken my frustrations out on my wife and Bret Junior several times. He was afraid to come home, so your priest, the attorney from Austin, Eddie - I think his name is Thompson - the coach and Dale that works for the Williamson's brought him home. They were concerned for his safety and I guess they should have been because I was ready to really thrash him.

"Anyway, I heard strange voices in the house, then footsteps coming down the hall. I opened the door and yelled some derogatory remarks at them. I told my son to leave, so this Eddie took him to get his clothes and stuff, then took Bret home with him where he said he would be safe. Dale accused me of being Jimmy Bob's disciple and not knowing right from wrong. I swung at him; he grabbed my wrist and backed me into the wall. Everyone heard the bone snap.

"It's the outer bone, the ulna, that broke. I have to wear this elastic bandage and cast until Thursday when the swelling should be down. They'll replace it with one that fits better and I'll probably have to wear that for about 6 weeks."

"Well, I hope they give you one that is a little less 'gay' in appearance," Morris told him, suppressing a laugh.

Bret hadn't even thought about the color. When he did, he realized that he'd been had by Dr. Lawrence. 'Dear God,' he thought, 'is the doctor a fag, too?'

"Okay, Brett. I warned you sometime back about your obsession with homosexuals and others who don't fit into the mold that Rev. Jimmy Bob and you think is right. I also told you that the Williamsons' various businesses make up the majority of this firms work. Now I don't think that Marty is about to pull his business away from here, but it really doesn't look very good that you tried to pick a fight with his general manager. Regardless of the fact that you lost, it puts a strain on any contacts we have with each other, whether business or social.

I'm not going to fire you, because you are a very good accountant and do your job well with the one exception I just mentioned. I am, however, going to require that you go to counseling for anger management and family abuse and that your entire family attend a family-counseling group.

"Also, I know that you are the treasurer of Jimmy Bob's church. I'm not telling you anything that you don't know, but that church is in bad financial trouble. I'm on the board of Central Texas Bank and I know that our loan committee is insisting some of the more solid members of that congregation be asked to co-sign the renewal note. I'm only suggesting that you would be smart to disassociate yourself from that church before it all comes crashing down and you have to try to pick up the pieces.

"You may think that it's none of my business, and maybe it isn't, and I know you didn't ask my advice, but I'm talking to you as a friend and not as your boss right now."

"I appreciate that and I know my behavior has been bad, both here and at home. Jimmy Bob is trying to talk me into putting a second mortgage on my home to help him with 'God's plan' as he calls it, but I think I'm beginning to see through his ruse," Bret said.

"Yes, I've seen things like this happen before. The members of the congregation are left holding the bag while the minister is living in grand style, usually after stealing the church blind," Morris told him.

"What should I do?" Bret asked.

"I think for starters that you need to sit down with your wife and be honest with each other. Talk about what is going on at church, your feelings, her feelings and the feelings of your children. Talk to some of the other members and see what their feelings are. You don't have to tip your hand, but you may be in for a big surprise since that church has lost members recently. Find out why, without bullying them."

"Okay. I see your point," Bret offered.

"Well, just learn to control your temper, but you're going to have to find out why you are acting the way you are. You've been hostile and withdrawn for almost a year and are not a pleasant person to be around most of the time. I thought it was caused by problems you and your wife were having, and I'm glad to find out that it may be some other reason.

"Now, get back to work. And good luck. I'll be willing to help you as much as I can. Okay?" He rose and held out his right hand, they realized that he needed to use his left.

"Thank you, Morris. Thank you a lot," he said as he returned the shake.

"And Bret, they make casts like that in flesh color, too."

They laughed together, Bret from relief. He was already starting to feel better.

Miles Truby, the free-lance reporter/photographer had been contacted by the Austin American-Statesman. The editor asked for some background and follow-up information on Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and Bret Jenkins, Sr. and was asked to try to get statements from people who might have been attending the meeting. His editor told him that the Dallas Morning News was questioning him about sending one of their reporters to Williamsport. Miles needed to get busy; because stories paid money and he had a chance to be there first.

The first person he wanted to talk to was the Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones. He hoped that he could get some background information on him, where he went to school, his ordination, the growth of his church. He thought he would approach it from the standpoint that Jimmy Bob wouldn't talk to him the night before and he just simply reported the information he had. He would blame the editor in Austin for writing the story in favor of the gay people. He would tell him that this was his chance to set the record straight.

He drove to the church about 11 a.m. There were two cars in the parking lot, a maroon Cadillac sedan and a VW Jetta. It was obvious that the Cadillac probably belonged to the minister. He parked his old Honda in the lot and entered the building. He could hear a vacuum cleaner running down the hall to the left. The sign in the hall pointed to the right with the word "Office".

Miles walked down the hall to the door marked "Receptionist". That door was open and although the lights were on, it was obvious no one was tending the desk. He could hear talking in another office and started down a short hall toward the sound. He could see through a large floor to ceiling window. The drapes were open and an obese man, whom he realized was Jimmy Bob Jones, was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, probably listening to yesterday's sermon.

He could hear the tape clearly. Jimmy Bob was threatening the members that they could go to hell if they didn't take the opportunity to help Jimmy Bob with, as he termed it, "God's Plan".

Miles stood there and listened for a good five minutes. There was never any mention of salvation; only the threat of eternal damnation and it was a pretty grim picture. He wondered from the description if Jimmy Bob had first-hand knowledge of the place. He also wondered if he could be lucky enough to get a copy of the tape. Surely he made them available, probably for a price, to those believers who were not able to attend.

He'd heard enough. He walked to the open door and knocked on the frame. Jimmy Bob's chair rolled back and he had a hard time righting himself and reaching for the stop button on his tape player.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, but there was no one in the reception area," Miles said.

"Who are you?" Jimmy Bob questioned. The man looked vaguely familiar.

I'm Miles Truby and I'm a reporter for the Austin American- Statesman. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes."

"Get the hell outta here," Jimmy Bob yelled. "You're the one that made the fags look like they won last night."

"You are right only in that I was there to take pictures and make some notes. The editor of the Austin paper wrote the article."

"Yeah, but you gave him the information," Jimmy Bob said.

"You didn't want to answer questions last night, and I don't blame you, but I was hoping that you might give me a chance to give the paper your side of the story. There are a lot of people out there who respect you and would want you to have an equal chance," he said, trying to appeal to Jimmy Bob's vanity.

He thought for a little bit. "You are right, some people believe everything they see on TV or read in the paper. I'd welcome the chance to give them the truth," Jimmy Bob said.

Miles was thinking, 'This is going to be easier than I thought.'

"Where'd ya wanna start?" Jimmy Bob asked expectantly, running his words together.

"May I sit down?" Miles asked.

"Sure, sorry."

Miles sat down, and then pulled a small tape recorder out of his jacket pocket. "May I record this? It will go more quickly if I don't have to write everything down."

"Sure," Jimmy Bob said. "I use one myself all the time. Saves me a lot of time writing my sermons."

"It saves me a lot of time and helps prevent people from being misquoted, too," Miles agreed.

He pushed the 'record' button. "Let's start with some background information on you so that people will better understand your position about this."

"Sounds good," Jimmy Bob answered.

"Age?"

"38"

"Where were you born?"

"Dumas, Texas. That's north of Amarillo."

"Where did you go to seminary?"

"Unnn." There was a long hesitation. "I attended Dalhart Bible College."

"And when were you ordained?"

More silence. "Well, my church really doesn't ordain anybody. We believe that we are called to witness and preach of the evil that befalls man."

'Interesting,' Miles thought.

"How long have you been in Williamsport?"

"Came here in 1978. This was Dr. Phil Arnett's church. He died about two months before I came here, this congregation called me to preach to them and direct their lives."

"Where were you before coming to Williamsport?"

"I was a Bible salesman and sold other religious books, too. Covered 6 states. Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Missouri and Kansas. I also preached on the tent revival circuit."

"Do you have a family?"

"My wife, Marlene. We met at college."

"What about this church. how many members do you have?"

"About 400, Jimmy Bob lied - a lot.

"Is the congregation growing?"

"Oh yes, we have new members every week," again lying.

"Okay, Reverend. Is there any other background information that you want to add?"

"Nope, not right now." Rev. Jimmy Bob was starting to feel comfortable with this reporter.

"Well, Rev. Jones. Williamsport has a lot of problems, such as college kids who are having trouble due to liquor and drugs, there's some prostitution and the poor people who are having a problem making ends meet. Yet, you seem to direct your crusade against homosexual men and women who you lump together as 'fags' and the problems they cause. That seems to be a minor problem compared to the ones I mentioned. In fact, I don't think I've been aware of any problems that group causes."

"They're tryin' to take over society and they have some really rich people backin' 'em, like the Williamson family. That 'fag cathedral' they belong to is the worst and the Williamson family supports it with a lot of money every year. The group we were watchin' last night benefits from some money the Williamson's gave them."

"Surely there aren't that many of 'them', as you put it, here in Williamsport," Miles said.

"Oh yeah, they're everywhere. Schoolteachers, police, bankers, that priest, nurses, cowboys, restaurant owners, people that work in convenience stores, building contractors and about another dozen we couldn't identify last night."

"Well exactly what have they done to you? I mean since you are so passionate about your battle with them."

"They're perverts. For instance, one of them is a cowboy. He and the guy that lives with him - it looks like they've recruited a young guy that they're going to train to be a fag, too."

"Train him to do what?" Miles asked.

"Well, you know, all that stuff that fags do. They suck cock and take it up the ass. They get all kissy-faced and some of them wear make up and women's clothes. It's just disgusting what they do. Then there are some fags that are women and they dress in men's clothes. Can't tell 'em apart from a real man. If fact some are tougher than the guys that try to act like women."

Miles was having a hard time believing this reasoning. He knew several gay people and had known them for several years before he found out for sure they were actually gay.

"Have any of them ever personally threatened you or made advances to you?"

"Well, last night I felt pretty threatened. When you see four police officers coming toward you with their guns drawn, that's pretty threatened."

Miles was looking around Jimmy Bob's office.

"Do you know Fred Phelps? I see you have his picture on the wall."

"We've never met, but I admire the guy. He's got balls and he takes his congregation all over the country to protest and picket these faggots. You know, disrupt funerals and march in front of offices of governments leaders who think the fags are being wronged."

"Do you have plans to have your congregation do the same?"

"Never thought about it, but I don't know if they would go unless. he thought. unless I told 'em they'd go to hell for not helping me do 'God's work'."

"I've heard you talk about hell, but I haven't heard you mention the words salvation, love, forgiveness and heaven, you know as in eternal life."

"Well, to begin with the Bible says that only a few of us are going to get to heaven, so I figure it's pretty full already. So, I can't promise them they are going there, but they know if they are not good people they are going to hell."

"So you see your role as someone who is preparing people to be condemned to hell?"

"Well, I suppose that would be a good description. People are basically bad and don't want to mend their ways. They'll pay pretty well, too, if they think there is a chance they aren't going there." He thought for a moment. "Don't quote me on that."

"What do you propose that we do with those people you call 'fags'?"

"Hell, they ought to be deported. Send 'em to Africa or maybe Australia. That's how Australia got populated. England sent all their prisoners there. We could add to the population for them. There's not that many people that live there anyway.

"What's your opinion about AIDS?"

"Oh, terrible, terrible. They all have it and are infectin' each other. Thank goodness they keep it to themselves. They may kill themselves off, yet. That makes my job easier."

'What an ignorant bigot,' Miles thought.

"Rev. Jones, I heard you listening to what sounded like a sermon when I came in."

"Oh yeah, I was reviewin' yesterday's sermon. I did pretty good. We usually sell these tapes for $10 each, but seein' as you're tryin' to help me, I'll give you one to take with you." He rolled his chair back and took one from a stack that appeared to have about 20 tapes in it.

"Here ya go," he said, handing it to Miles.

"Thanks. I'm anxious to listen to this. Maybe it will help me with my story."

"Well, I find it works best to sit in a dark room and close your eyes when you listen. Yesterday I preached for almost 45 minutes, which isn't up to my usual hour, but I think I made some pretty good points. And, our collection was up a little bit, too."

"Well, Reverend, thank you for your time. It really was a pleasure to meet you and I'll see if I can't do a good job of telling your side of the problem we're having here in Williamsport."

Jimmy Bob hoisted himself out of his chair, and then reached across his desk to shake hands. "I appreciate it, a lot. It's not easy to convince people what's going on, but I'm sure working on it."

"Thank you for talking to me. I'll do my best to see to it that your viewpoint is put before the public," Miles said.

"No, Miles, thank you. Nobody's ever interviewed me for a story before."

'I can see why,' Miles thought as they shook hands. Jimmy Bob's hands were clammy.

"Goodbye Reverend."

"Thank you again. Just leave my office door open. I have a young boy coming here in a few minutes for a counseling session."

As Miles went through the reception area, he saw a young, probably about 10-years old, blond boy sitting in a chair.

The boy asked Miles, "Are you ready for me?"

"What are you talking about?" Miles asked.

"Well, sometimes Rev. Billy Bob has another man come here when I come to see him. I thought maybe you were him."

"No, I'm just leaving. I guess you can go in now if he's expecting you," Miles said.

"Okay." The boy didn't act very excited about it.

"What's your name, son?" Miles asked him.

"Sammy Murdock."

"Okay, Sammy, how old are you?"

"I was 10 last summer."

"Okay, Sammy, it was nice meeting you."

He walked to the door and looked out through the glass. The VW Jetta was gone and a bicycle that must belong to Sammy was propped against the wall.

Something didn't seem right. He was bothered a little about the statement about another man being here. Miles decided to look for the restroom, although he really didn't need to use it. He needed to kill a little time.

The restroom was past Jimmy Bob's office. He ducked in there and stepped up to the urinal. He needed to pee worse than he thought. Trying to be quiet, he didn't flush, then slipped out the door and back to the reception area.

The lights in the reception area had been turned off, but the door was still open. Miles walked through the area to the hall where Jimmy Bob's office was located. He could see through the window from the darkened area.

What he saw made him sick to his stomach, yet he couldn't pull himself away.

Sammy had taken his clothes off and Jimmy Bob was standing there wearing only his boxer shorts. He looked like a hairy ape. Thick brown hair covered his chest and stomach and he saw that the fur also covered his back when he turned around to face Sammy.

He pulled his boxers down, dropping them on the floor, then settled back in his chair, reclining back. Sammy was standing beside the chair, facing the window and started fondling Jimmy Bob's penis, which was uncircumcised, big and ugly. The almost purple glans was emerging from the foreskin.

'Geez, and he hates fags. This fag-hater was a pedophile,' Miles thought. He was trying to figure out what to do.

Meanwhile Jimmy Bob was starting to fondle Sammy's little cock.

Miles was having trouble deciding if he should use his cell phone to call the police or if he should walk to the open door and snap a picture or two. He wondered how long this session might go on. He knew he could take a couple of pictures and get out the door, into his car and out of the parking lot with no problem. Jimmy Bob was obese and couldn't chase him. But, he also thought he needed another witness to this. He quietly slipped back to the restroom and used his cell phone to call the Desk Sergeant at the Williamsport Police Department.

"This is Sgt. Devlin," Robert answered the call.

"Bob, this is Miles Truby."

"Yeah, Miles, what can I do for you?" The men had known each other for quite a few years and frequently gave each other information on cases. Miles had actually helped solve one murder case for the Williamsport Police and had aided in the recovery of stolen goods several times.

"Bob, I'm doing a follow-up on the story about Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and the gay people last night."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"I came over to the Victory Temple this morning to interview Jimmy Bob and he answered questions, like he was glad to see me. Then when I got ready to leave there was a 10-year old boy in the outer office. I went to the rest room, then back to the Reverend's office because I was suspicious. Turns out I was right. Jimmy Bob is a pedophile and has the kid in his office right now. They are both naked."

"Geez. That's awful. What are you going to do?"

"I thought maybe you could send an officer over here immediately. He will have to be quiet coming in the building. I'll meet him at the door on the parking lot side. It's dark back where his office is. Thought the officer would want to see what's going on, and then I'll snap a couple of pictures. The rest is up to you."

"Yeah, I can have an officer there in about 3 minutes."

"Tell him no noise or we may not catch them in the act."

"Okay, let me handle the rest. Thanks for the tip."

Miles closed his cell phone, then silently made his way down the hall to the outside doors.

The policeman was there within two minutes. He parked out of sight on the side of the building, and then ran to the door. Miles hoped there wasn't a bell that rang when the doors were opened. Then held his breath and pushed the bar to open it.

Miles quickly explained that the area was dark, but they could see into his office and that he could probably get two pictures taken before they had time to react. The patrolman okayed the plan and they made their way down the hall and into the reception area.

By this time Sammy was sitting on Jimmy Bob's fat thighs, just above his knees, facing him. Jimmy Bob's penis looked wet, probably from precum. Sammy was stroking it with both of his small hands. Jimmy Bob was laying there, eyes closed with a smile on his face.

The patrolman thought he was going to lose it. He had a boy about Sammy's age and this made him sick to his stomach.

He whispered to Miles, "Go ahead and see if you can get a picture, then I'll arrest him."

Miles slipped to the open door, the chair was in the perfect position for a side view that pretty well showed everything. Sammy was intent on what he was doing and Jimmy Bob's eyes were still closed.

Miles zoomed in on the scene, then pushed the button. There was a flash of light.

"Jesus Christ!!" Jimmy Bob yelled.

Miles moved into the office and took another picture.

"Get the hell outta here!!!" He was trying to shove Sammy off his legs, without success. Sammy still had both hands on Jimmy Bob's penis. He needed something to hang onto to keep from falling.

"Turn loose you little faggot!! You're hurting me!!" he yelled at Sammy.

The patrolman, who Miles later found out was Dana Abbott, had used his radio to tell a patrolman in a second car that it was okay to enter the building. He stepped into the hall to motion him to the scene.

Being obese, it was hard for Jimmy Bob to get his chair into an upright position and try to stand up. Sammy was frozen in position, standing where he landed after being shoved off Jimmy Bob's knees.

Jimmy Bob was swearing a blue streak, pleading and trying to make a deal to keep himself from being arrested.

Miles had plenty of film and was taking more pictures. He was the subject of much verbal abuse from Jimmy Bob.

"I trusted you to tell the truth about me and look what you did. You're no better than the rest of the goddamned fags in this town. I bet they sent you over here, didn't they?"

Miles couldn't resist. "Oh, they'll get the truth alright. Just not the story you want told."

The first policeman, Dana, told a very meek Jimmy Bob to get dressed. The second called his dispatcher and asked to be patched through to Sgt. Devlin, who told them to bring Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones in to be booked.

Patrolman Dana Abbott read the Miranda Rights to Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones: "You have the right to remain silent."

"What's gonna happen to me?" he asked, almost pleadingly.

"I have to put you in cuffs, then take you to the headquarters," Patrolman Dana told him.

"Damn, can't we do this in private? I don't want people to see me like this. It looks bad."

"You should have thought about that before you enticed this young man into your office."

Meanwhile, the second officer was helping Sammy get dressed. He was going to take him and his bicycle to his home. Sammy said he thought his mother would be home.

Jimmy Bob managed to get his boxer shorts on, then put on his dress shirt and picked his trousers up off the floor. He had to sit down to put them on.

Miles felt sorry for him, until he remembered what had transpired last night and this morning. Then what he'd done to the young boy. That was unforgivable. He hoped that there would be a special place in Jimmy Bob's hell for him and others like him.

Patrolman Dana Abbott hated to cuff Jimmy Bob's hands behind him, he knew it was painful for him, but then remembered why they were arresting him. It took both patrolmen to get him out the door and into the backseat of the patrol car.

The second patrolman, Tommy Raye, put Sammy's bicycle in the backseat of his car and took him home. His mother was there. The patrolman explained what had happened and that they would want to talk to Sammy later. Sammy's mother, or course, was aghast at what she was told. Her husband had left that morning on a business trip and she wouldn't be able to talk to him until that evening.

Miles followed the patrol car driven by Patrolman Dana Abbott to the Police Station and parked in the visitors lot. While he was waiting for them to get Jimmy Bob out of the backseat, not an easy task, he called his editor at the Austin American-Statesman and gave him a brief rundown on the morning's happenings.

"Can you be over here by 2:30? We'll develop your pictures and I'll help you write the story so we can get it out on the wire by 4 o'clock. I'll see to it that you are well-paid for this story and pictures."

"Yes, sir, unless we have some additional events take place while the police is booking him."

"Well, keep me informed of any new developments. I'll hold space on tomorrow's front page for this story."

They managed to get a very tired and unhappy Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones into the police station. The Captain met them at the desk. He looked at the sheet of paper in his hand, and then asked the patrolman if Jimmy Bob had been read his rights.

"Yes sir," replied Patrolman Dana Abbott.

He looked at the minister. "Do you want me to read the charges against you or do you want for me to wait until your attorney gets here?"

Before he could answer, the patrolman said, "He hasn't had a chance to call anyone, yet."

"Then do you want to call an attorney or anyone else before we book you?" the Captain asked.

"I'd like to call the treasurer of my church. He'll know what to do."

"Okay, take the cuffs off him, I don't think he's dangerous," the Captain said. "Take him in the office there, pointing to a cubicle on the wall."

Patrolman Dana walked him past Miles Truby, who received a dirty look from the minister. Miles was glad that looks couldn't kill.

While Jimmy Bob was calling Bret Jenkins at his office, Miles pulled out his tape recorder, put a new tape in and dictated a long memo to himself regarding what he had seen during the morning.

Amanda answered the phone at Morris Johnsmore's office and directed the call to Bret.

"Hello."

"Bret, it's Jimmy Bob. They've arrested me."

"They surely can't arrest you for what we did last night?" he said, fearing that the police would come walking into his office any minute.

"That's not what this is about. I need your help and an attorney. I'm at the police station."

"What are the charges?" Bret couldn't think of anything that Jimmy Bob would be in trouble for.

"They are going to charge me with molesting a child - Sammy Murdock."

Bret remembered the Sunday afternoon he had gone to the church and saw Sammy going in the building as he left.

"Is it true?" Bret asked, almost panicking.

"Yes, they caught me and that reporter from last night got some pictures, too."

"Okay, I'll be right there. I'll have to figure out an attorney. Maybe I'll think of one on the way."

"I'm not going anywhere, but I don't think they will read the charges until I have somebody to help me, so it may be you."

"I'll be there in five minutes," Bret told him.

After he hung up, he tried to clear his mind. His arm was throbbing and he had a headache. He decided to see if his boss was in his office, so went down the hall. Morris was working at his desk. Bret knocked on the doorframe.

"Yes, Bret?"

"Well, you were right this morning. The shit is starting to hit the fan."

"I don't understand," Morris said.

"They just arrested Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones for molesting a child, a 10-year old boy. He and his family go to our church."

"I'm really sorry to hear that. Do you think it's true?" Morris asked.

"He admitted it to me and they have a witness and pictures, the guy who took the pictures and wrote the story about last night."

Morris sat there like he didn't believe what he was hearing. This wasn't good, but if it were true it would be the end of the Reverend Jimmy Bob Jones.

"He asked me to come to the police station. Do you know of an attorney we can call? We don't have one in our church."

"Yeah, call Marcus Streeter. He's kind of an ambulance chaser, but he's honest."

"Thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can," Bret said.

He went back to his office and called Marcus Streeter, who questioned Bret, then said he would be at the police station in 10 minutes.

Morris picked up the telephone to call Fr. George. He found him at the rectory.

"Fr. George, this is Morris Johnsmore."

"Hello, Morris. What can I do for you?"

"You aren't going to believe this, but Bret just got a phone call from Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones. He's at the police station. They've arrested him for molesting a child - a 10-year boy from his congregation."

"Oh no," Fr. George said. "We've had some information that something like this has been going on for several years, but those who knew about it couldn't get the parents to press charges or confront him about it."

"You said to call you, so you've been informed," Morris said.

"I wish it was better news, but it may also solve a lot of problems for a lot of people, too. Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it and so do all the other members of our organization."

They hung up after exchanging goodbyes.

Fr. George immediately called Alan Zimmer, telling the receptionist that it was urgent. Since he had identified himself as a priest, she paged him to come out of a meeting.

"Hello," Alan said.

"Alan, this is George Tikker."

"Is everything alright?" he asked since they had just seen each other the previous evening.

"I just received a phone call from Bret Jenkins, Senior's boss, who belongs to my parish. It seems that Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones has been arrested for molesting a 10-year old boy, whose family are members of his church. He's at the police station now, waiting for an attorney."

"Jeez. This story is almost like a soap opera, isn't it?"

"I don't have any more information than what I've just told you, but thought you might want to know about it," Fr. George said.

"I appreciate that. We may offer to represent the boy and his family and maybe this will make some of the others come forward."

"I hope so. If I find out anything more, I'll let you know, but thought you might want to know. By the way, that was a good article in the Austin paper this morning," Fr. George told him.

"You might be interested to know that it was picked up by most of the major papers from Texas to the west and the eastern papers will have a story tomorrow. I hope the reporter that was at the rectory last night gets to cover this. Should be a real feather in his cap."

"You're right. And, he wasn't pushy, either."

They told each other goodbye, promising to let the other know if there were any new developments.

Marcus Streeter arrived at the police station about the same time as Bret Jenkins. They had never met, but Bret did know Marcus by sight. Marcus only knew that Bret was the treasurer of the Victory Temple and that the church was having financial problems.

The police left Jimmy Bob in the cubicle where they had taken him to make his phone call. He debated about calling his wife, but other than for putting in a "happy appearance" at church for services and other events, they didn't communicate all that much. She didn't cook and part of the reason Jimmy Bob was so obese was that he ate all the wrong kinds of fast food - for every meal.

What Jimmy Bob didn't know was that his wife, Marlene, was just what she appeared to be... the loving wife of a bigoted, fundamentalist, poorly educated minister. She would follow him and smile at everyone because he was a good provider, but that was as far as it went. He didn't press her for sex, in fact they had actually only had successful sex a couple of times in the 14 years they had been married. It wasn't satisfying to either of them and the mere idea of sleeping with the fat slob her husband had become turned her stomach.

Instead she had been keeping her needs fulfilled by a series of younger men. The current one was 25 and an instructor in the Computer Science Department at Western JuCo. While she was no intellectual match for him, he had a big dick and knew how to use it, at least she was satisfied. She made no demands on him except for a romp between the sheets 3 or four times a week, which they both enjoyed. She was easily satisfied, had a good body and pert tits that he loved to lave with his tongue.

Jimmy Bob was always willing to accept her explanation that she was meeting with a ladies group, so it was never any problem for her to get away to go to his apartment.

He wouldn't have found her at home, even if he wanted to call her.

Bret and Marcus Streeter were shown into the cubicle where Jimmy Bob was sitting. He looked much older than his 38-years. The evening and the day had not been kind to him.

Marcus introduced himself and they got down to business.

"Have they charged you, yet?" he asked Jimmy Bob?

"No, they just arrested me and read me my rights. When we got here they wanted to know if I wanted an attorney and let me make a telephone call. I called Bret and you're both here now.

"Okay, do you know what the charges are going to be?"

"I don't know exactly how they'll word it, but it's for molesting a 10-year old boy," Jimmy Bob answered.

"This is client-attorney privilege and it stays in this room, but I need to know if you are guilty and before you answer that, do you want Bret to leave the room so we can talk?"

"No, he can stay. He's loyal to me. or at least he has been up to this point. Yes, I'm guilty as charged."

Bret wasn't sure he wanted to be in the room, but he was pleased that Jimmy Bob thought he could trust him.

"Okay, we can try to beat this. It isn't going to look good in your case, since you're a minister, but this won't be the first case like it and there are precedents in other courts, so we have those rulings to go on. My fee is $15,000, payable in thirds. Part at the beginning after the hearing today, a third when we start building your defense and the balance before we go to trial."

Jimmy Bob looked at Bret with sadness. He didn't know if they had the money to fight this.

"What happens if I just plead guilty now? Will it be any different if we go to trial and lose? What if the parents of the other boys file charges against me?"

Bret couldn't believe what he was hearing. "There had been other young boys?"

If we allow this to go to court, we can probably plead temporary insanity and you might serve part of your sentence in a psychiatric facility, but we're probably still looking at a total of five years. If you plead guilty and go to jail, you could still get five years, but if others take you to court, you could get a lot more time. I need to warn you that the other prisoners don't look kindly on child molesters."

Marcus thought to himself. 'He'll not live to see the end of his sentence unless they isolate him for his own safety.'

Brett felt a cold chill go down his back.

Reverend Jimmy Bob didn't know what he felt, except cold and numb.

"If you want, I'll go with you to be charged. Do you think you can raise bail? It will probably be $50,000." Bret and Jimmy Bob looked at each other again. Neither thought they could get their hands on that kind of money.

Marcus realized that they probably didn't know how a bail bond worked.

"Generally you have to put up 10% in cash or collateral. What kind of car do you have and is it clear?"

Bret said, "It's an '89 Cadillac Sedan Deville and the church owes about $5,000 on it."

"That would probably work for a bondsman. I'll talk to him if you want me to."

"That would be okay. I'm the church treasurer and we're struggling to make an upcoming mortgage payment," Bret said.

'Yeah, and after this you won't need to worry about that anymore,' Marcus thought.

The three men walked out of the cubicle. They waited for the judge to arrive and the arraignment took place. Marcus talked to the bondsman and made arrangements for him to secure the bond with the title to the Cadillac until they could make other arrangements tomorrow.

Bret took Jimmy Bob back to the church in his small Toyota Corolla, then followed him to his house. It was a major project to get him in and out of the little car. He didn't see Marlene's car.

He looked at his watch. It was 3:30. His arm was throbbing, he had a headache that wouldn't quit and he felt weary, so drove back to his office, got his pills and told Amanda he was taking the rest of the day off. Morris wasn't there, so he couldn't talk to him.

While driving home, he was mulling everything over in his mind. It was like everything had been dumped in a blender and spun around. Fragmented thoughts seemed to be leaking out of his brain and nothing made any sense.

The minivan was in the driveway, so he knew his wife was home. He didn't know what time the children got home from school.

Beth was in the kitchen. Bret walked over to kiss her on the cheek. She turned around in surprise.

"That's the first time you've done that in a year," she said.

"Has it really been that long?" he asked.

"Yes, at least. You're home way early, is everything okay?" she asked.

"No, it's not. Something really terrible happened today."

She put her hands up to her face. "You didn't get fired did you?"

"No, but Morris wasn't very happy when he came to work this morning. He ordered me and you and the kids, too, to get family counseling. I didn't realize how badly this church mess had been grinding on me until today."

"I know, you've been an entirely different person this past year. And instead of tender love, you've almost raped me when we had sex - the few times that happened, too," Beth told him.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

They hugged each other and exchanged a kiss.

"You aren't going to believe what happened today. I don't believe it myself, but Jimmy Bob admitted it to my face."

"What's that, it sounds serious."

"Serious doesn't even begin to describe it. He was caught in his office molesting Sammy Murdock just about lunch time."

Beth paled. "What?" She was stunned.

"He admitted it. He was arrested, arraigned and released on bond. He admitted his guilt to Marcus Streeter, who may represent him, and to me. I'm not sure the church can afford to defend him and word about this will drive a lot of people away who attend there."

"I find this hard to believe," Beth said.

"Jimmy Bob asked Marcus what would happen if the other boy's parents filed charges against him."

"There's been more?" Beth questioned.

"He admitted to it. Marcus said that he could get five years, with part of it in a psychiatric facility and part in jail, but he warned him that other prisoners did not look kindly on child molesters," Bret said.

"That's terrible, but if he's guilty..."

Beth didn't get to finish her sentence. Terry and Sally arrived home from school. They weren't comfortable that their father was in the room, but he seemed to be in a better mood than the night before.

Bret knew he had tall fences to mend.

"Terry and Sally, I'm sorry about the way I've been acting this past year. I've agreed to talk to a counselor about the problems I've been having. I realize that I've hurt all of you and want you to know I'm sorry. I'm going to do better."

Sally flew to her Dad's arms, then spied the cast for the first time.

"Daddy, I love you." She settled in his lap and gave him a kiss. "That's a neat cast. I like the color."

"It's kinda bright, isn't it?" Terry asked.

Bret returned Sally's kiss. 'Yes, but I get a new cast on Thursday. The next one is going to be the color of my skin. I'll see to it."

"You kids go change your clothes, then get started on your homework," Beth said.

They were off to their rooms, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Beth, do you think we can get Bret Junior to come home this evening?"

"I don't know. Let me call and see."

She punched in the number Eddie gave her the night before. Tom answered the phone.

"Eddie?" Beth asked. It didn't sound like him.

"This is Tom. Eddie probably won't be here for about a half hour."

"Tom, this is Beth Jenkins. My husband and I would like to talk to Bret Junior and his Dad wants to apologize to him and see if he will come home with us."

"He's doing his homework. I'll let you talk to him."

Tom handed the phone to Bret.

"Hi Mom. Errr. is everything okay?"

"Bret, your Dad wants to apologize to you and he's agreed to get help to manage his anger, he realizes what caused the problem and he's going to deal with it."

"Okay." he was hesitant.

Beth handed the phone to her husband.

"Bret, I'm sorry for what happened last night. I didn't realize until my boss talked some sense into me this morning what a fool I've been; and then this afternoon something else happened that drove the point further home. I've been an ass and I've agreed to go to a counselor to work through my problems. And Mr. Johnsmore has insisted that all of you go to a family counselor so that we can all deal with my problems and understand them together."

"Okay." He was still hesitant.

"Can your mother and I come over and talk to you? If you would come home with us, I'd like that very much. If you want to stay there another night, then that's fine, but we really want to talk to you about some things," Bret told his son.

"Let me ask Tom," he said.

"Is it okay if my parents come over to talk to me? They want me to go home with them, but said I could stay here if I felt I needed to."

"I don't know why not, but Eddie will be here in about a half hour. Tell them that we will call them as soon as he gets home. I know he will want to talk to them, too," Tom said.

"Dad?"

"Yes."

"Tom said that Eddie would be home in about a half hour. He would like for him to be here when we talk. Is that okay?"

"Yes, I think that would be fine," Bret Senior said.

"Okay. We'll call you as soon as he gets here.

"We'll be waiting. Goodbye, son."

"Bye, Dad."

"How do you feel about going back home?" asked Tom.

"He says he's sorry and is going to get some help from a counselor to deal with his anger and the rest of us are supposed to go, too. His boss is making him do it."

"How do you feel about that?" Tom asked.

"It sounds like he's trying. Can I come back here if it doesn't work out?"

"Yes, I'm just concerned that he'll go back to his old ways, but we'll just have to trust him. Right?" Tom said.

Eddie came home about that time. He gave Tom a kiss on the lips, then squeezed Bret's shoulder as he walked past. "How's my guys tonight?" Eddie was in a good mood.

Bret thought that Tom and Eddie showed a lot more love for each other than his parents did. He wondered if he, himself, was really gay or just confused.

"I'm okay," Bret said.

The TV on the kitchen counter was turned on and the 5 o'clock news from the Austin station was just starting. The lead story.

"Williamsport minister arrested on child molestation charges."

The three looked at each other in disbelief.

The story continued.

"Reverend Jimmy Bob Jones was arrested about noon today in his office at the Victory Temple in Williamsport. The incident happened shortly after the reporter responsible for the newspaper story of the confrontation between the minister and a group of gay men and women, had interviewed the minister to get his side of the story just before noon today.

"The reporter, Miles Truby is in our newsroom right now. Miles."

"Yes, Ann (the co-anchor); Last night I was present when Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and Bret Jenkins, Senior were caught spying on those attending a meeting of the Dignity/Integrity group, which is sponsored by St. James Episcopal Church in Williamsport. The two men planned to identify those attending the meeting and were going to make their names public as being, and I quote, 'dangerous to society'.

"Today, I visited with the Rev. Jones in his office at the Victory Temple where he very graciously gave me his time and explained his position on the matter. As I was leaving his office, I encountered a young boy, 10-years old, who asked me if, and I quote, 'I was ready for him.' He explained that sometimes there was another man present when he came to Rev. Jones office. My suspicions were aroused, so I killed some time in the building, then went back to the office area. All the lights have been turned off except those in the minister's office.

"Both the 10-year old boy and Rev. Jones had their clothes off and appeared to be performing a sexual act. I called the police on my cell phone from another area of the building. They sent an officer. We both witnessed what was going on. I took two pictures with my camera. The police arrested the minister; he has been arraigned and is out on $50,000 bail. The pictures I took, along with some others have been given to the District Attorney's office.

"Thank you, Miles Truby, special correspondent in Williamsport for channel 36.

There was a commercial break.

"Jeez." Tom said. "I can't believe this. Tell me it's not so."

"Well, it happened to Bret, and I can't believe it stopped after that," Eddie said.

"I wonder who the boy was?" Bret said. "Am I gonna have to talk to the police?"

"That's up to you, but I would encourage you to do so. Maybe it will help bring closure to the incident you experienced and also help your family to forgive each other, too," Eddie said.

"Should I have my folks come over here now?" he asked.

"Bret, that's up to you. If you think your Dad is sincere, you will probably be okay. If you feel you want to stay here, you are welcome to do so," Eddie told him.

"I want to talk to him. I wonder if he saw this story?" Bret asked.

"There's only one way to find out. Call him," Tom said.

Bret picked up the telephone and punched in the number. The line was busy.

The line was busy because if the Jenkins phone had been capable of handling 50 lines, they would have all been busy. After the third call, the phone was taken off the hook and allowed to beep its annoying "off hook" signal.

The first call simply said, "Are you watching the Austin NBC channel. If not, turn it on."

While Bret fielded the next two calls, Beth turned on the TV. Both were stunned at hearing Bret's name being mentioned.

After the story ran, Bret called Tom and Eddie's house. "Tom answered the phone."

"Is this Eddie Thompson?" Bret asked, looking at the card Eddie had given Beth the night before.

"No, this is Tom. Just a minute."

"Hello," Eddie said.

"Unnhh. This is Bret Jenkins. Our phone has been swamped with calls and I thought maybe you might have tried to call us."

"Yes, Bret just tried to call and got a busy signal."

"Did you see the story on the news?" he asked.

"Yes, Bret, I'm sorry that you were identified as being one of Jimmy Bob's disciples. That puts you in line to take flack that should be directed at Rev. Jones."

"Well, I can't do anything about that. Is it okay if Beth and I come over to talk to Bret Junior? I really need to apologize to him and explain all that's happened," Bret said.

"He had tried to call you to say it's okay, but couldn't get through. So come on over," Eddie told him.

"We'll be there in a few minutes," Bret told Eddie.

He and Beth told the three children (Paul had arrived home, also) that they would be back a little later and hoped that their brother would be with them. "We'll go to Tony D's for pizza after we get back home, okay?" Bret asked.

"Yea!!!" was the response.

"We're leaving the phone off the hook. You can call out, but don't answer it, okay?" Beth asked.

The three children didn't know what was going on, but agreed to the request.

Bret and Beth left in the minivan, with Beth driving. Bret's arm hurt, badly, but he was too hyped up to notice the pain.

Beth parked in front of the house, at Bret's direction. "This looks like a nice house. You'd never think that some 'fags' lived here." Bret was laughing at his own joke. Suddenly he felt freer than he had in a long time. It was like something had been released in his head.

Bret Junior opened the door as they approached the porch. The three wrapped their arms about the other, all crying tears of joy.

Tom and Eddie were standing, watching in amazement.

Finally, the group broke their clutch on each other. Eddie held the door open so they could enter the house, shaking hands with Bret and Beth, introducing themselves.

Bret was thinking, "These guys don't act like 'fags' as Jimmy Bob had told him. He was wondering what this was all about. They didn't seem any different than any other married couple, except that they were both men.

Beth was thinking about how tasteful the house was. Nice furniture and appointments.

Let's go sit in the living room," Tom suggested.

They settled in chairs, Tom and Eddie taking the love seat.

There was a moment of strained silence.

Eddie spoke up. "We saw the news. I'm sorry that your friend, Rev. Jimmy Bob got caught, but this has gone on long enough. Tom and I counseled three boys that had been abused by Jimmy Bob. We talked to the parents, but they refused to press charges. They were scared of the minister."

"I guess that we should have gone to confront him, but quite frankly, we didn't know if it would do any good since we couldn't back our information," Tom added.

"Dad. and Mom." Bret Junior was hesitant. "I had the same thing happen to me that happened to the boy at the church today."

"What!!!??" almost as one voice.

"Yes, do you remember about 5 or six years ago, when Jimmy Bob used to find things for me to do to help out around the church?"

"Yes," Beth said. "We were proud that he thought you were good help."

"That wasn't why he wanted me at the church." Bret got tears in his eyes.

"The first time it happened, I needed to go to the bathroom. He followed me in there and peed at the same time I did."

He hesitated.

"Mom. I'm sorry if I use bad words, but this is what happened."

Beth indicated that he should continue.

"Anyway, he pulled his. penis out of his boxer shorts. I'd never seen anything like it. It looked like it was huge and there was a lot of hair around it. He asked me if I wanted to touch it, so I did. He started rubbing me. down there. and it felt good. His. penis leaked a lot of slippery fluid. He made me taste it."

Beth gave an audible gasp.

"It was pretty yukky."

He paused to gather his thoughts.

"This went on for about three years. I used to try to make myself feel as good as he made me feel. Finally one day I was able to make some of that stuff squirt out of my. penis. I was so proud that this could happen to me, too.

"The next time I was with Jimmy Bob I'd just noticed that I was growing some hair around my. penis. I was anxious to show him that I now had hair, too. Anyway, he was rubbing me and I got all excited. Before I could warn him, that stuff shot out of my. penis, and it got all over him. He got mad. He told me. and he'd told me before, too. that if I ever told anybody what we did, that I'd go to hell.

Dad. Mom. I believed him. I was scared to death. I was confused because he wouldn't talk to me again and ignored me unless I was with you. I didn't know what had happened and didn't realize until the other day that he didn't want anything to do with me because I was growing up. He only liked little boys."

Bret headed to the chairs where his parents were seated and the three of them embraced each other again.

Tom and Eddie sat there with tears running down their cheeks.

Bret continued. "I thought all this time that I was queer - I guess the right word is 'gay' - because it felt good and I enjoyed him playing with me. Now I'm not sure but I've met a lot of gay people and they didn't try to recruit me to be gay, too.

Tom and Eddie laughed.

Bret Senior and Beth joined in. Then Bret Junior.

Tom spoke up. "One of the big problems gay people have is people like Jimmy Bob. Eddie and I would never think of doing something like he did, yet we catch the flack for people like him. I don't know how you would classify Jimmy Bob. I don't think he is gay, but obviously he has a problem in that he's a pedophile, liking young boys. He obviously doesn't like boys who are starting into puberty because the three boys we counseled all had the same problem as Bret. As soon as they started maturing, he dropped them, but never told them why."

"Of course, this caused all kinds of guilt and fear, since Jimmy Bob threatened them with going to hell. What boy is going to tell anyone with that hanging over their head? Hell is a mighty harsh punishment for a young boy who is really the innocent victim," Eddie added.

Bret Senior spoke up. "I'm hesitant to ask this, but are you guys. gay, I guess is the right word?"

"Since you asked a question, I think without malice, Yes, we are. But I want to clarify that we are devoted to each other. Neither of us would think of doing anything with anyone else, but a boy who was under 21 would be unthinkable. Now don't get me wrong, there are some who wouldn't hesitate, but I hope they are in the minority," Eddie said.

Tom continued. "We would like to be able to take a young boy, probably one who is gay and has been kicked out of his home by narrow-minded parents, into our home and nurture him as if he was our own son, to help him with his sexual identity - but he would be our son, not someone we would take advantage of."

"I'm confused about Dale and the guy he lives with and the boy Dale introduces as his son," Bret said.

"Joey is Dale's half-brother. Dale didn't even know that Joey existed until last Monday. Their father died on Friday evening. Again, Dale hadn't seen his father for 13 years, but he was called to his father's bedside last week, found out he had a half-brother and was asked if he would take care of him. Dale and Craig are a male couple. Joey calls both of them 'Dad' because he wants to be able to call someone by that name. He doesn't want to favor one over the other, so even though Dale is his legal guardian, they are both his new Dads," Tom explained.

"I just have a hard time with all of this 'gay stuff'. I guess I expect those people to be effeminate and yet, those of you I've seen and met the last few days are anything but that. I guess I'm confused."

"Well, I guess that's something that can easily happen. Certainly there are plenty out there like you describe, but I would say that the majority of us, certainly around Williamsport, are people you would never guess were gay. We don't go out and march in parades, we try to treat others as we want to be treated and we also try to blend into the community and do our best to make it a good place to live. What we do in the privacy of our own bedroom is our business, not yours or anyone else's, Eddie said.

"So you're telling me that you don't want to do anything with Bret. even though he stayed in your house last night?" Bret asked.

"If Bret Junior depended on us to show him about sex of any form or shape, he would very quickly starve to death. We'll be glad to answer any questions he might have, but we wouldn't touch him even if he instigated it," Tom told them.

"Tell me this. How many gay people do you think live in Williamsport?" Bret Senior asked.

"A lot more. a great many more. than you think," Eddie said.

Bret got a funny look on his face. "You mean that everybody wasn't there last night?"

Both Tom and Eddie laughed.

"No, not by any means. There are a lot who would never allow themselves to be identified as gay. Either because they live alone and keep to themselves, or in some cases, gay men who have married and raised a family because of the pressure or parents or society to do so, and then there are many more who don't discover until later in life that they really are gay. Some have refused to admit it and others may not do anything about their desires until a spouse dies," Tom told them.

"Or until children are out of high school or college and they decide that they have lived with their own lie for too long, and declare themselves to be gay. Society is much more tolerant of everyone's lifestyle now than twenty years ago, but it's still going to take many more years for everyone to respect each other. especially where bigots such as Jimmy Bob are concerned," Eddie added.

"Fellows, I have to tell you this. I've been a victim of someone else's prejudice for too long. I'm not going to promise that I'll get over it immediately. It's going to take some time. but I've never known any gay people. at least that I know about. but I'm proud to know the two of you and I hope I have a chance to apologize to the rest of your group," Bret said.

"Thanks for being honest. I think that both Tom and I appreciate your candor and willingness to sit down and talk to the two of us. I think you will find that with the rest of us, although some are as suspicious of straight people as you are of gay people," Eddie said.

All of them laughed.

"Can we still be friends?" Bret Junior asked.

"Sure, but the same rules apply as we talked about last night. We don't discuss what goes on in this house outside the doors, okay?" Tom asked.

"Deal," Bret Junior said, meaning it.

Bret Senior and Beth stood up.

"Thank you for seeing to Bret Juniors' safety last night. My boss has insisted that I go to counseling and that my family and I also see a family counselor to work through this. I think I better understand the problems I've been confronted with in the last year, and the events of the last two days have made me rethink this whole crusade that Jimmy Bob has been on," Bret Senior said.

"We'll be glad to talk to the three of you anytime you want. Just love each other and be there for the other's needs and we'll treasure your friendship," Tom said.

"Certainly," Eddie added.

The Jenkins family left to go home after Bret Junior retrieved his belongings from the room he'd used. Eddie got his bicycle out of the garage and helped Bret Junior load it in their minivan.

They stood at the curb and watched the van go down the street, Beth driving because Bret Senior's arm was still causing pain.

As they walked to the house, Eddie said, "Are you serious about taking in a young boy who is having problems?"

"Yes, I think we would be good parents and could give a lot of guidance," Tom said.

Eddie pinched him on the butt as they were walking back to the house.

"How about we make one of our own?" he leered, kissing Tom on the side of his face.

(to be continued)

Author's Note: I would appreciate your comments, criticism, suggestions, and anything else that you would care to say. All Email will be answered. If you wish to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by sending your request to the following e-mail address: TulsaDriller7@aol.com

I appreciate an alert reader taking the time to write and tell me that the "rotator cuff" is in the shoulder and not the wrist, as told in the last chapter. I think the proper term is "carpus".

Thanks for the overwhelming response to previous chapters. I have received positive replies from all over the world. My special thanks for proofreading help to Paul Daventon, who has taken time to help me catch obvious errors.