cpc_02

Cabbage Patch Cowboy

By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 2

Fall 1940

It was a rainy evening in early September when her parents and younger sisters took her to the bus station. She waved to her folks from the window of the Continental Trailways bus. She settled back into her seat to read. The bus wasn't crowed, and no one was sitting in the seat next to her. She wedged her small handbag next to her in the seat. She set her other reading material in the cloth, pullout compartment in front of her. She turned on the overhead light and began to read her magazine. She started an article in McCalls about how a woman might make herself more attractive for her husband.

‘Her husband?’ she thought, ‘Would her young man, who asked her to marry him when he returned from the war, survive?’ She hoped with all her heart he would. She vowed to pray each night for his safe return. Her young man, her high school sweetheart, came home on leave from boot camp in his uniform and looked more wonderful than she remembered him. He always stood tall, proud and strong, but there was something about his uniform, all squared away, that made her want him all the more. As the miles passed, she found herself getting more moist than usual from her erotic thoughts of him, and made a mental note to pad herself more. He was so attractive she couldn't drink enough of him in when he came home from boot camp. She didn't want to wait until the war was over. She wanted to get married right away and have him take her the same night if they could. She was a bit embarrassed and ashamed of herself for letting her animal thoughts rule her senses, but she sensed an animal inside him who called to her.

He was different from most men. He reasoned things out a bit more. What if they got married, she got pregnant on their wedding night, and he didn't make it back? She would be left alone to raise his child on her own. She'd have a hell of a time finding another man. He couldn't do that to her. He loved her too much. She was young. If he didn't return there would be plenty of time to find a man she could love and find happiness. How selfish would he be to hold her to a bond with a dead man? She knew he wasn't trying to get out of marring her; he genuinely loved her, but he wanted the best for her, with or without him.

He was so sincere about his feelings he asked her father to sit down with him and discuss their situation. He was respectful and caring enough he asked her dad if he might have his blessing to ask her hand in marriage? Her parents thought the world of him and never worried about her when she dated him. His dad was convinced he was the man for his daughter. He told her so while wiping a couple of tears from his eyes. "I sure hope that boy makes it back, darlin,' for all our sakes. Yore’ ma and I love him almost as much as you do. It ‘ud break our hearts if some’um was to happen to him. He's a fine young man, sweetheart. They don't make 'em no better'n ‘nat boy. We already come to think on him as our son."

He made a lot of sense about having to raise a child on her own, but she wouldn't mind raising his progeny by herself. Just to see the smile on the child's face their love made, would be enough for her. She never loved anyone like she loved him. She gave herself to him the night before he left to be shipped overseas. It wasn't his idea, he wanted to wait; he promised her dad. Her dad understood his wishes and backed him up. She begged him. He thought it was as bad an idea as them getting married. "If we're gonna' do it, we may as well get married. It's certainly not 'cause I don't want to, darlin,' it's just there's a right way and a wrong way a' doing things." He was right again as usual. She felt even more frustrated. If he would just be a bit more spontaneous and throw caution to the winds. When he was convinced he was right he wasn't easily swayed. She knew he was right. He always was the strong, level headed one between them. They complemented each other that way. She was bubbly and free spirited while he was stoic, strong willed, staid, slow to anger, but filled with a quiet love. She pleaded with him. He could wear protection; she didn't mind. (He wasn't about to tell her, her own dad slipped him a couple of Trojan condoms for his wallet, just in case, then smiled and winked at him.)

He was good all through high school not to push. He never tried to take advantage of her. He told her there would be a time for love and when the time came they would be together but not until then. He wasn't overly religious, although he had a strong, basic faith. It had little to do with organized religion; it was his own personal belief system, and it was systematic and orderly. It was the cowboy way. It was his way. He told her if they waited, it would make the day they consummated their love all the more sweet for them. When they were dating, he never tried to feel her up when they were parked and kissing a little. She laughed at herself; she wished he had many times. They would go to Lookout Point, park and neck, talk softly and whisper words of love; then, he would faithfully take her home at a decent hour. If he told her parents he would have her home by ten-thirty, she was walking in the front door at ten-thirty. Her dad never looked at the clock when she was out with him. Her parents knew him and his folks well, and approved of him dating her. They knew she was safe with him. They thought as much of the young man as she did. They were looking forward to having him as a son-in-law in their family. He came from a fine well established, not wealthy, but economically sound family and was one of the most well thought of young men in their town.

She was hopelessly attracted to him. She daydreamed fantasies of raping him. One in particular she loved was tying him up after removing his clothes. She would have him on his back with his hands tied to his sides and his ankles bound tightly together. She would stand back admiring her handy work as he came to from a light sedative she slipped into his cherry-phosphate; she imagined herself a soda fountain Mata-hari. He would awake to see her with a questioning look, but he couldn't say anything because she had his mouth taped shut. He would look to see he was bound and struggle to get free. She would hold up one finger and shake it back and forth to tell him 'no-no.' When she had his attention she would take off her clothes, one piece at a time, doing a strip tease for him.

"You like that don'cha, cowboy? Is the circus coming to town 'cause I see you raised the pole for the center ring?" she asked in her fastasy.

She would finish her strip tease, then begin to lick his huge masculine body from one end to the other settling last for the little area under his balls, and then his tent pole. She would drive him crazy licking, kissing, and getting her mouth juices all over his large shaft, to ready him for riding. Finally, she imagined lowering herself onto him, moaning and groaning how good he felt and tell him she was going to ride him like a cowgirl with a new set of spurs. That would certainly get his attention, she smiled to herself.

All the men wore boots and levis to high school and somehow they would get their jeans as tight as possible. When he sat next to a girl, his well filled crotch and the outline of his huge uncut cock was all she could look at. He was so good looking, not only the boys talked about him, but the girls would giggle and ask each other just how big it was? More than one girl damn near flunked a course from not paying attention in class. Even a couple of the questionable male teachers would make sure he sat on the front row. He was so comfortable with who he was it never bothered him to have people stare at his crotch. He would catch another guy checking him out, catch his eye, and wink at him. The other boy would blush crimson because he was caught. He would smile as if to say, 'Hey, buddy! It's all right. Thanks for checking me out.' To her he was the most handsome young man in their school; their town; their state; no, the world.

She put it to him, "Have you ever...?" she asked blushing, expecting him to tell of his many conquests.

"I never have. I want you to be my first. If I'm to be your first, shouldn't you have the right to expect the same from me? I love you that much," he replied quietly.

She cried at his pledge to her, but they couldn't see the future. "What if... and you never know a woman?" she asked with tears in her eyes.

"Then, I'll die true to you, sweetheart," he replied.

"No. No. It's just to awful to think about. I won't let it happen. These are difficult times we're living in. We can't plan for the future so plans and ideals have to be reconsidered. Please. Please. To lose you and never have the memory of even one night with you is not acceptable. I can't do that. I wouldn't want to go on," she pleaded with him.

* * * * * * *
She set back in her seat and pushed the button to recline. She turned the reading lamp off and put her magazine away. She closed her eyes and remembered seeing his body naked for the first time. He was not the least shy about her seeing him, and for some strange reason, she wasn't nervous for him to see her. His assuredness and thoughtfulness comforted her. She knew he would take charge and guide them through their first time. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, dear. I'll make love to you, because you begged me, and promised me you'll wait for me," he said.

"I promise, love, I promise," she replied.

"Not a word of this to your folks. I love them too much to hurt them or have to explain. They'll never believe I let you talked me into it. You know as well as I do it's always the guy's fault. I'm not trying to put a damper on our time together, but I dearly love your folks," he said honestly.

"Can you forgive me for not knowing much about how this goes?" she asked him, "My mother tried as best she could to describe it, but she wasn't comfortable talking with me, so we stopped. I'm afraid I don't know a lot. One thing I do know is, I love you, and I need to feel you inside me," she said.

"That's why I wanted our first time to be the first for both of us, because we'll learn and grow together. I never made love to a woman before, but I know how it's suppose to go. My dad's told me about it. Let me lay you back and see if I can take us where we want to go. I'll try my best to please you, sweetheart. I promise I'll be gentle, and I won't hurt you. I know I'm probably a little larger than the average man, so I want to be certain you're not uncomfortable at any time. If you have any difficulty let me know. I may be a bit clumsy at first, but I'm sure God and nature meant for us to be together," he said. His voice was gentle and reassuring. She trusted her young man without question.

She lay back expecting to be mounted immediately and was surprised to find his big body lying next to hers. He began kissing her gently while rubbing his hand over her. He was gentle and seemed in no hurry. He pulled her onto her side facing him, and their bodies touched as he held her tightly. He felt so good, strong, and clean. His body had a faint smell of lilacs. He made her feel safe and wanted in his arms. He began to use his mouth all over her. She never experience such ecstasy before. Her mother told her a little, but she never told her it could be this good. Her mother gave her the impression, you lie back and grit your teeth until they're through. Don't ever expect him to help you get yours. He won't. All men climax, get off, roll over, and go to sleep. Somehow, she didn't think this man saw sex the way other men did. He was tenderly kissing her again.

He gently rubbed the full lips of her vagina with his hand while still kissing her. She never felt anything so wonderful. She not only picked the biggest, strongest, alpha-male in their class, she unwittingly chose a man who sensed how a woman felt, and he was not going to force himself on her until they were in agreement they could wait no longer to feel him within her. He started inserting his fingers feeling her moisture coat his hand. She tried masturbating with various objects but his fingers felt better than anything she ever used. She didn't want to seem too forward but, damn, his gentle probing felt so good. How could he be doing this his first time with her? He was reading her mind or playing her body like finely-tuned instrument. Her whole being resonated to his touch. He leaned toward her and gently kissed her.

"Sweetheart, don't feel like you have to hold back because of modesty. What you and I do here, will only be between us. I feel you wanting to meet my fingers, but you're worried what I'll think. I love you, dear. You could do nothing wrong in my eyes. H’it’s only natural to respond to your mate," he said.

How could he read her thoughts like that? She melted under him. She felt her body become rubbery all over, and then, she just couldn't help herself, she raised her hips to meet his three fingers inviting him deeper, and he obliged. He made sweet love to her for almost an hour until she began to shake under him. He felt her one more time and she reached a peak. She was ready for him. He was waiting for her to ask. She wanted him so badly. "Now ... please, love. Take me. I need to feel you inside me. All of you," she said quietly.

He positioned himself and gently began to move the head of his big penis in and out of her. He slowly began to sink more and more of his massive cock into her. She moaned and looked into his eyes. He didn't take his away from hers. He wanted to gage the effect he was having. If she registered any pain he would stop and retract. She didn't. She grabbed a buttock in each hand and began to pull him more into her. He was about halfway in when he came to a wall. His sweetheart was, indeed, a virgin. "I have to break through, darling. Kiss me and you do it for us. I'll hold steady while you break it for us. Can you do that, sweetheart?" she smiled to him and shook her head 'no.'

"I want you to take it from me. It's important to me. I give it to you, my love. It's yours to take," she urged him.

They kissed and he began to apply more pressure. He felt the tissue stretching. Suddenly she bucked her hips forcefully upward toward his invading shaft. It was her signal for him to take her. Using his cock as a sword he lanced her virginity. She wouldn't let him stop there. With her hands she pulled him the rest of the way into her. They stopped and he lay his head beside hers. She was weeping. "Have I hurt you, darling? I'll withdraw," he offered.

"Don't you dare," she said and laughed a little, "It's so perfect. It's better than I imagined. You've made it more wonderful than I could hope. Your dad must have really had some long talks with you," she said and smiled.

He laughed at her compliment. "He told me women are not like men. That's obvious, but dad explained a woman shouldn't be rushed. Like a fine red wine shouldn't be drunk before its time, and then, only if it's allowed to sit and breathe for thirty minutes or more. He told me to remember that, and I'd do fine. Dad told me to make it best for both, a man has to consider a woman's feelings and what she's giving for his pleasure as well as hers. I only tried to do as my old man taught me, love, but there's more to follow. I'll watch you until I'm sure you're comfortable. If I hurt you in the least tell me. If it isn't good for you, it ain’t gonna’ be good for the man what loves you," he said.

"Are you...?" she asked.

"You have all of me, my darling, and you are so beautiful and special. You feel wonderful and good to me. Your love has made me welcome," he assured her.

He made the sweetest love to her; so soft and steady she found herself wanting more. She wanted him to take her harder. How was she going to ask him without appearing crass? 'Don't ask him, show him -- he told you not to hold back,' she thought to herself. She began to moved her body to meet his every thrust but began to push up to him harder, inviting him to take her harder. He responded in kind, she relaxed, and opened to him. She spoke to him. "I don't know if I can hold back much longer, darling... take me. Take me," she urged with passion, and he did. She exploded deep inside herself as she felt him empty into the condom deep within her. It was the most euphoric experience of her life, and her body sang beneath his. It sang a song of strong passionate release. A song of love and thanksgiving for the kind, gentle, caring, and loving young man who made her first time more than wonderful, more than special... he made it theirs. It was so wonderful and good; yet, she felt an emptiness. Part of her, perhaps her maternal instincts, felt cheated.

Certainly she couldn't fault him for anything. He was all she dreamed he might be and much more; however, she felt she should be carrying his ejaculate within her, but they agreed he would wear a condom. He withdrew and made love to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how wonderful and special she made the first time for him. He kissed her and told her of his love for her. He went to the bathroom to remove the condom and relieve himself. He cleaned his genitals and pubic area, returned, and she excused herself. She was sitting on the toilet and noticed the full condom in the waste basket. Should she? Without thinking, like it was the most natural thing she ever did, she reached into the waste basket, retrieved the condom and held it. She dipped her fingers in the thick greyish white fluid, pulled out a glob and shoved it as far into her as she could. ‘It probably won’t take,’ she thought to herself, ‘but if it does, at least I'll have his baby to remember him by.’

* * * * * * *
She opened her eyes as the bus pulled into another small town for a rest stop. She felt herself. She was wet. She needed to use the restroom. She arrived in Dallas and was met by her Aunt Agatha. Aunt Agatha was accompanied by her two grown daughters, living at home. One worked for Neiman Marcus and the other at the Methodist Hospital. Her cousin Zelma worked for Neiman Marcus for several years and was a floor supervisor. She offered her a job. She couldn't turn it down. A chance to work at Neiman Marcus for a girl as young as she, was almost unheard of. They usually hired older, more mature women. Her cousin Zelma was one of the youngest there. She would live with her aunt and cousins in a spare guest room while living in Dallas. She insisted on paying room and board. She reasoned with her aunt, she would have to pay if she lived somewhere else. She started work for Neimans, and she did well. She was well liked by staff and customers alike. She was polite and helpful to everyone. She even won-over the older ladies.

She missed one period, then two. After missing her third period she began to notice her clothes were beginning to feel a bit snug in the waist. She was trying to keep it from her aunt and cousins, but it's difficult to keep morning sickness quiet. Her clothes seemed to get smaller and smaller. She was so happy, yet she was melancholy. She went against her young man’s wishes and did what he was so afraid for her to do. Had she been too impulsive? Did she do the right thing?

One evening the four women were having dinner when one of her cousins, Clara, asked if she gained a little weight. "Clara! Eat your dinner, dear. She'll tell us when she's ready," Aunt Agatha gently but firmly rebuffed her daughter.

"Yes, momma. Sorry, Cousin," Clara said and dutifully obeyed her mother. Aunt Agatha smiled lovingly at Clara, then her.

'She knows,' she thought, ‘Well, no use denying it; besides, they're my family, they love me.' "I'm pregnant, Clara," she said quietly to her cousin.

The two girls were thrilled for her and so was her aunt. She was honest with them, and told them what she did. She told them everything, how she talked him into it, her removing his sperm from the condom and impregnating herself. The girls thought it was scandalous and delightful, but Aunt Agatha didn't comment. She told her she was happy for her. She could tell something bothered her aunt. She would ask her later. She knew Aunt Agatha would take her secret to her grave if that's what she wanted, and Agatha would put the fear of God into her daughters to do the same.

Agatha was her favorite aunt. She could always talk to Agatha as friend to friend and not feel her aunt would judge her. Agatha raised her own daughters to be responsible and polite but not to let anyone push them around. It was getting on toward bedtime and her cousins retired. They were working the next day. Tomorrow was Saturday, but she had the day off. She could stay up a while longer. Her aunt was cutting up some old clothes into squares for her quilting society. She got up and moved over to the hassock next to her aunt's chair.

"May I give you a hand, Aunt?" she asked.

"Certainly, Dear. There's a pair of sharps in that basket, and you may use this as a templet," her aunt replied. She took the templet from her aunt and began to cut squares. "You would tell me if you secretly married the young man, wouldn't you, dear?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, of course, Auntie Boo," she replied. 'Auntie Boo' was her childhood, endearing name for her beloved aunt.

"Well, I suppose he'll be a little more than surprised when he returns, finds he has a child, and has no choice but to marry you," Agatha said.

The thought never entered her head. The only picture in her mind was how joyous and happy he would be coming home to her and his child. Her aunt wasn't scolding her or chastising her, she was simply pointing out a fact, something she didn't considered. In her denial of her sense of wrongdoing she saw him thrilled and pleased with her she loved him enough to take the initiative. She wouldn't allow herself to consider any other reaction. 'What if he does come home and feels differently. His travels may have made him not want to settle down. We have no idea what those poor men are going through over there,' she thought to herself.

"I guess I didn't think it all the way through, Auntie Boo. I acted on a momentary impulse from the passion of my love for him. I felt so cheated his seed wasn't within me. I desperately wanted to have his baby. I love him so much, Auntie Boo," she said and started to cry, realizing she did the wrong thing.

Her stalwart aunt comforted and consoled her. "There, there, dear. What's done is done. We can't change the past. Let's live for the future. I'm sorry I asked such an inconsiderate question. I guess it weighed heavy on my mind. I apologize. It was foolish and thoughtless of me, child, forgive me. I'm being a meddlesome old woman," Aunt Agatha declared.

"No, no, Auntie, you have every right to ask the question; you of all people. I love you so dearly I would only want to share this with you. I know Clara and Zelma will be discreet," she said.

"If they know what's good for them," her aunt replied, winked at her, and chuckled. Agatha didn't have a mean bone in her body. The two of them sat and talked until almost midnight. Her aunt was supportive but kept asking her if this was what she really wanted.

"What other choice do I have, Aunt Boo?" she asked.

"I'm certainly not suggesting you do it, but there's always giving up the baby for adoption," her aunt replied.

"I don't know if I could do that, Auntie Boo," she said.

"Well, you have time to reach a decision, consider your options, and what you may lose if you keep the child. He may become angry and accuse you of having the child to entrap him. He might not say a word but always feel he didn't have a choice in the matter. You took that away from him. In a way, my dear, to put it indelicately, you snipped off his testicles. You robbed him of his male magnanimity; his need to be a man and protect you. Men like to think they're in charge and if a woman is wise, she'll let him. He may think, 'If she made such a major decision on her own, why does she need me?' He would have every right to feel that way. He was right to use a condom. He wanted a child to be a decision you made together. You left him out of the equation. I don't know the young man, but I for one, admire him for taking a strong stand. By asking you to agree for him to use a condom he wasn't leaving you out, but you very definitely left him out of your decision to have his child. You agreed he would use a condom, but you went against his wishes.

"He certainly would have every reason to ask himself if you superseded a decision you both agreed on, could he trust you as a partner and a wife? As hard as it is for me to tell you this, it would seem to me, you've done a fine young man a great disservice. He trusted you to love him enough to abide by a decision he contracted, not only with you, but with your parents as well. Are you willing to risk losing a man like him when you and he can have other children? God forbid, but suppose he doesn't come home. It's a lovely sentiment to want to have his child, but it sounds to me like he loves you enough he didn't want to place you in that situation. The man was right, there are few men willing to take on someone else's child to raise when there are many single women who will give him children of his own.

"By the same token, there are few men who would love their intended so much to try to insure their happiness if he didn't make it back. Sounds to me like you have a pearl of great value in him. The worst case I can imagine is he might believe you've been unfaithful to him, made up a story to snare him, and saddle him with a child who isn't his. You're action, as delightfully scandalous as my girls seem to think, is a bit out of the ordinary for a young girl, especially when he agreed to it only if he used a condom to prevent this from happening. You have no real proof the child is his. Perhaps the length of gestation period might convince him, but he still will never know for sure if you might have had relations with another man within days of him leaving. I'm not suggesting you do one thing or the other, sweetheart. Think about it. Let's talk some more.

"I hope for your sake and the sake of the baby, you'll consider all options and what might be best for both. You'll not only be making a huge decision for yourself but for the child as well. You should feel comfortable with any decision you make. If you don't think you would be comfortable giving the baby for adoption, consider the consequences. Above all, pray. The Almighty is used to us fallible humans finding ourselves down a road we might not have chosen if we looked harder at the street signs. Trust in him, your own sense of right and wrong, and you'll make the right decision. All I can say is, I hope he does come back and marry you, he sounds like a wonderful young man— one I would be proud to see you marry," Auntie Boo said.

"He is, Auntie Boo, but I'm afraid I've failed him, and he may not want me when he returns. I suppose when you think about it, you're right, we can have other children, but there's only one of him. It's not going to be an easy decision," she replied.

"No, it won't, my child, but whatever your decision, the girls and I will stand behind you a hundred percent. You have our support and our love," her aunt reassured her.

She cried in her auntie's arms as she kissed her goodnight. She worked until her last month of pregnancy. She asked her cousins and aunt to keep her secret from the rest of her family. She planned to have the baby in Dallas and either give it up for adoption or go home. Her aunt insisted she stay with them with the baby if she wanted, but she didn't want to put them out with a screaming child. She secretly thought her Auntie Boo would love to help care for a baby.

Her cousin who worked at the Methodist Hospital participated in finding homes for babies outside the bureaucratic red tape and endless waiting of an adoption agency. It was illegal as hell, but in those days there weren't as many checks and double checks. Nurses could change documents without anyone being the wiser. It was a simple matter. The mother wouldn't know the family the baby was going to, and they would make all the necessary arrangements. The head nurse in obstetrics would simply put the name of the receiving parents on the birth certificate, and there would be no questions. If the baby was healthy they could take the baby home that day. It was best if she not know who or where the baby was placed, but they promised a good family for the child. Likewise, the receiving parents would neither know her name nor where she lived.

The time came, and she was admitted under the name of the woman who would receive the child. She was never told the name she was admitted under. On a Wednesday, at five-thirty-five in the morning, July tenth, nineteen forty-one, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. She asked to hold him before they took him. She undid the blanket to get a good look at him. He was beautiful to behold. He even had his father's dimpled chin, deep blue eyes, and platinum blond hair. He was prefect, except on his right big toe there was a small mole and on the inside of his right leg, near his groin, he had a small port wine stain birthmark in the shape of a small but distinctly recognizable cowboy boot. She ran her fingers gently over the birthmark, the mole, and closed the blanket. She kissed him gently and reluctantly gave him to her cousin.

The head nurse knew her mother's sister's boy and his wife were looking for a baby boy to adopt. He couldn't have children. He contracted mumps as a young boy and they settled in his testicles rendering him sterile. He was tested many times, but they found no active, motile sperm. She contacted them immediately. They rushed to the hospital in Dallas to received the baby. A birth certificate was issued showing their names as the legal birth parents. Simple. Done. The baby went to a new life, and she went home to her aunt's. No one ever knew but her aunt and two cousins. They would carry her secret to their grave. She stayed with her aunt and went back to work. She made several trips home during the war years and went home to see her young man and welcome him home when he returned. He returned from the war a hero. He was the second most highly decorated man during the second World War.

* * * * * * *
1941 through 1945 ~ Waddie Claymore Lovejoy ~ Wednesday's Child

Waddie lived in a room downstairs, across the hall from his mom and dad's big room. He stayed in their room in a crib until he was two. It was almost like he was abandoned to this huge room across the hall. It was a natural transition as seen by his parents, but there seemed to be unnatural fears of rejection and separation that existed in the boy's heart. His whole world, to that point, was the two people he trusted to provide comfort and care, his mom and dad. He quickly learned to love his dad more. His mother took necessary care of him, but showed him little attention or affection. He longed to be held by her and told he was a good boy or for her to read one of his children's books to him. His brother and sister were too busy with their young adult lives to show him much attention, and when they did, it meant another rejection for him to have them go so abruptly. If it wasn't for his dad, the child would've lapsed into severe melancholia or worse, autism. He looked forward to the evenings when his dad would spend time with him, reading to him, and playing with him.

His dad asked his mother, "Do you ever play with this baby? He seems starved for affection when I come home," he asked.

"Of course I do. He's in my lap, or I'm playing with him all day long. He just likes you better than me, that's all. I can't play with him all day. I got things to do around here taking care of all of you," she replied. Morgan would shake his head.

Waddie felt like he was thrown out of paradise into the cold, scary world when he was moved across the hall. It was a big room and the ceilings were over twelve feet high which gave it an ominous feeling; one of dread and foreboding. It seemed like it went on forever, and the shadows that played against the walls and ceiling from the old hackberry tree in the yard made grotesque figures and shapes. He quickly learned, if he covered his head he couldn't see the horrible shapes he imagined were surely plotting his doom. Waddie was trying hard to be a good, brave, little cowpoke, as his dad called him, but that damn tree kept talking to him. It wasn't as bad as when they first moved him into the big room. At least he had a little better grasp on life and decided to stay for a while. He was now almost four years old. He was bright, intelligent, sensitive with an insatiable appetite to learn about things. He wanted to know how things worked. He love animals and seemed to have a natural affinity for them.

It was scary in the big room. He went up against that damn tree before, but it didn't get him yet despite all its threats. On cold wintry nights, the wind would blow back and forth to make the old tree shake its branches about, like a woman shaking her hair after washing it. The old hackberry would complain to him. It would moan it was so hungry. Its voice would get louder, grumbling that its stomach was empty; it hadn't eaten in a couple of years, and what it most desired, its favorite meal, to make it strong and thrive again, was a cute little four year old cowboy. It would tell him it knew he was in there, and if it didn't come and take him while he slept in peaceful dreams, it would wait patiently until one day he felt brave enough to climb it. Then without notice, it would open wide its jaw between the branches as it shook, causing him to lose his balance and fall directly into its huge hungry maw. Then it would quickly close around him, never to be seen or heard from again

At first, like most young boys his age, he would be confused by the darkness inside the tree and start to cry. It was the sound the evil hackberry yearned to hear within its body. The boy's crying inside the large evil tree was the sound which would trigger the start of its digestive fluids. A sticky sap would begin to ooze from of its walls eventually covering the child. The boy would soon recover his bearings. He would be frightened of the dark and try to feel his way around within the tightness of his captor's digestive chamber. He couldn't sit down. He could feel the sticky fluid begin to surround him filling the cavity of the massive tree's trunk. The more he struggled the more sap he got on himself. He began to yell, then scream, but no one heard him. No one can hear a lost child surrounded by the thick wood outer shell of the monster tree. Hackberry trees are particularly ruthless. They are not kid-friendly trees.

It told him not to worry. Soon his flesh and blood would become a part of the wicked tree, and he, too, could travel from its deepest roots to catch the warm summer sun atop its highest branches. The old hackberry began to sing a song to him; a hymn of thanks and gratitude to the boy, thanking him for giving his life, so the evil tree might thrive to eat another little cowboy some day. It would explain, in a stoic manner, how he was about to become a part of it, and its gratitude to him. It boasted it could live another decade feeding on his delicious succulent young body. Once the boy died, they would live together as one. (Wicked trees aren't too original, but they're very Zen.) He was unable to move. He was completely immobile, and he felt helpless. He could feel the sticky sap rising to his chin. He couldn't yell any more or scream. The digestive juices already seeped into his porous skin and tranquilized him to accept his fate to just give in.

"Nothing will ever hurt you again, my boy. Abide with me, my tasty man-child," it sang, "close your eyes, it’s easier if you don't struggle -- that's it, relax, and let me eat you little boy," it said quietly. Then it would scream and laugh hideously in triumph.

"Daddy! Daddy! Eyeeee! Oh, oh, Daddy. It's eating me, Daddy. Oh, Daddy, it's eating me. I can't get out, Daddy. Help me. It's eating me. Help me. It's eating me. Oh, Daddy..." Waddie would yell waking himself.

"Hey, hey, hey, cowboy," Morgan said. Morgan would sit down on the side of Waddie's bed, pull the boy to him, and hold him while soothing and comforting him. Waddie would collapse into tears of fear, angry at himself, but relieved his dad was there to give him comfort. "There, there, cowboy, daddy's here. Daddy ain't gonna' let nothin' bad happen to his little buckaroo. We need him for the big roundup in the spring. We ain't gonna' let nothin' happen to our top waddie. How would we round up all them dogies?" Morgan asked.

Waddie would be wide-awake by that time, crying softly, hiccuping, then he would cry some more. He was ashamed. He felt like a coward. Once again, he let that awful tree and its influence on his dreams scare him so bad he had to yell for his dad. He thought he was getting better, stronger, less afraid, and he was, but that damned old tree was persistent, he wished it would just stop talking to him. He set his jaw, he was going to have a talk with that awful old tree tomorrow.

"Is that old hackberry tree after you again, Son?" Morgan asked.

"Uh-huh," Waddie replied amid tears and hiccups.

"You want me to cut that darn thing down? I will if you want me to," Morgan offered. Waddie thought about it for a minute then shook his head 'no.' "You don't want me to get rid of it?" Morgan asked sincerely.

It was tempting, but Waddie realized he must learn to face his own fears. Again he shook his head, 'no.' Waddie learned quickly, when he set his jaw everything around him could go to hell in a hand-basket, and his resolve would see him through. "I'm gonna' have a talk with it tomorrow," he said determinedly.

Morgan was proud of his son and kissed him lightly behind his ear. It was a sign Waddie was taking control of his life. The kid saw enough high strangeness with his ma, his brother Willie, and his sister Dorothy to shake him to his core. He knew from the beginning he was not one of them. He didn't know enough words to describe the feeling, but he understood it perfectly. They projected onto the child he was separate, only to be tolerated, a necessary nuisance. He intuitively reasoned, if he wanted to survive, he better grow up fast, or they would consume him before the damn tree. That strength of purpose cross applied to the tree. He was determined, neither would feast on his soul. To hell with that damned old tree, anyway. Sometimes his family scared him more than the tree.

"You gonna' have a talk with it?" Morgan asked in surprise. This was a new and creative approach. Morgan was stunned at Waddie's resolve. He wanted to hear more about this.

"Yes, sir," Waddie replied but didn't elaborate.

"Can you whisper to Daddy what you're gonna' tell it?" Morgan asked.

"I don't have to whisper, Dad. I don't give a damn if 'at sum’bitch hears me or not. I'm gonna' tell the big ugly bastard, if it don't stop talking to me and trying to scare me to death, I'm gonna' piss on it ever’ day until it dies. When it dies, I want it to know it was me what killed it. I want to make sure it dies a slow, horrible death, poisoned by my piss. I'll teach that piece a' shit it ain't gonna' eat me or any other kid," Waddie said with firm resolve.

Morgan chuckled to himself thinking, 'Oh, God, I can't wait 'til Buck gets home.' He hugged and kissed Waddie, telling him he supported his plan one hundred percent. He warned Waddie not to let his ma catch him pissing on it. Morgan gently put him back to bed. He couldn't resist the magnetic pull of Waddie's love. Morgan crawled in beside his boy. "You know what, cowboy?" Morgan asked.

"What, Dad?" Waddie asked in reply.

"I'm s'damn proud of you. Your mother says I shouldn't be sleeping with you like this when you get scared. I weren't going to, but fuck it. If’n you ain't gonna' let that damn tree push you around, then I ain't gonna' listen to her neither. Be all right with you if Daddy stays here with you for a while? Daddy was getting a little scared a while ago himself and a thought ran through my head. I asked myself, where would I feel the safest if I got really scared?" Morgan asked.

"You get scared, Dad?" Waddie asked and turned to his dad in surprise.

"Everybody gets scared sometime, Son. It's normal. So, you see, you're normal," Morgan replied.

"Where would you go if you got really scared, Dad?" Waddie asked.

"I done thought about it a lot, and I could only come up with one place where I know I'd be safe," Morgan replied.

"Yeah, where's that, Dad?" Waddie asked.

"In yore’ arms, cowboy," Morgan replied.

"Oh, Daddy," Waddie said in a frustrated voice. He thought his dad was pulling his leg.

"No, no, now hear me out," Morgan said and paused, "We come from God, right?" he asked.

"That's what they teach me in Sunday school. I believe we do, but I can't remember nothing before here," Waddie replied.

"Who would be closest to God as far as coming from and going back to?" Morgan asked.

Waddie mused for a minute. "A baby and an old man," he replied.

“Exactly. So you see, you're closer to God than I am, and he looks after little children even though they can't see him. My thinking would be, if he's looking out for you then maybe I'd be safe, too. See what I mean?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, Dad, it makes sense to me. That makes me feel a lot better," Waddie replied. He lay there for a minute thinking. "Daddy?" he asked.

"Yeah, Son?" Morgan answered.

"If'n you get scared you can come to me, and I'll ask God to keep both eyes on us. One for you and one for me," Waddie said sincerely.

Morgan got a lump in his throat and couldn't swallow. He almost choked when he tried to speak. Finally he got it out. "That's s'damn sweet of you, Waddie. I'm proud to call you my son. I promise, if I get scared, you'll be the first person I run to, and by the way, cowboy, I love you," he said.

"Love you, too, Dad. Now go to sleep. Don't be afraid, Daddy. God's here now; he'll watch over us," Waddie declared. Morgan lay on his side as involuntary tears ran down his cheek onto his pillow.

'Thank you, sir.' Morgan thought in prayer, 'Don't get much better'n ‘nis and, sir, while I got chore’ attention, I know’d I asked the same thing earlier, but I’s hoping an extra prayer might help. Please send your angels to watch over my brother, Buck, wherever he is. Please God, bring him home to us. There's a little man lying next to me who needs a good buddy, and I got a feeling my brother Buck will fill the bill. Thanks, sir."

* * * * * * *
His Very Royal Highness Willie Lump Lump

About the same time Waddie was moved to the other bedroom, Morgan closed down the auto repair shop due to lack of business. He owned the building. His uncle left it to him. Morgan got a better job as a switchman on the Cotton Belt railroad. The bad thing was he had to be gone on train runs three or sometimes four days a week. This left plenty of time for the terrible troika to do their worst. Waddie lived in the downstairs room for almost two years, then his ma kept after his dad to turn the room back into a guest room and put Waddie upstairs in his own room. Morgan reluctantly agreed after being nagged day after day for two months. Willie, Waddie's stepbrother, lived upstairs. It was his kingdom, his complete domain. Waddie was never allowed to go upstairs. In his imagination Waddie began to think of the second floor as the land of his majesty, King Willie Lump Lump. (A name Waddie gave him from one of his children's books)

Willie had a haughty attitude about himself and possibly entertained the idea everyone should feel blessed he was in their presence. He came with his ma and made it perfectly clear from the first he was there under duress. Willie thought it his royal duty to tie a rope across the entrance to the stairs to make sure his little step-brother couldn't make it to the second floor and invade his territory. Waddie's sister Dorothy lived downstairs in a huge room back of the kitchen. Originally, it was a maid's room. Morgan made quick work of having the rope removed but not without some trauma. He called Willie downstairs. Willie had a way of walking that was determined. He slowly descended the stairs and stood with his arms folded looking at Morgan as if to say, 'You requested an audience, peasant?'

"Willie, what the fuck is this?" Morgan demanded.

"It's a rope across the stairway, what's it look like?" Wille answered sarcastically.

"Why is it here, Willie?" Morgan asked.

"Because I put it there," Wille answered like he didn't appreciate his action being questioned.

"For what purpose?" Morgan pressed.

"To keep that little bastard from bothering me," Willie said and raise his voice to make his point.

Morgan flashed, jumped the rope onto the stairs, grabbed Willie by the neck, and drew back his big fist. His wife, Judy, came screaming, "Morgan. Stop. I told him he could do it. Don't hit him, Morgan," she cried. Judy lied to protect Willie. She saw Willie putting up the rope but never questioned him.

"One thing at a time, woman," Morgan barked at his wife, "I'm gonna' warn you one time, Willie, and only one time. Next time, I'll put you in the hospital, 'cause I won't stop beating on you until yore’ lights go out. I better never, ever, hear you or hear of you calling my son, a bastard, again. Got that!" Morgan yelled loudly in Willie's face, "You're certainly one to talk you pompous little asshole. Do you understand me, Willie?" Morgan asked yelling at the boy.

"Yes, sir," a shaken Willie replied.

Morgan didn't let him go. "Now, you will apologize to me and Waddie for calling him a bastard. Don't look at your ma, boy. This is between you and me. I'd expect and demand the same from any son of a bitch what called him that. You refuse to apologize and all three of you can start packing immediately," Morgan said with conviction.

Morgan saw Judy nodding to Willie to apologize. "I'm sorry, Waddie, I called you a bastard. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, Morgan, I called your son a bastard," he said.

Morgan let the boy go and spoke to him over his shoulder as he walked away. "You got ten minutes to get that damn rope down and any hardware on the stairs removed. Don't you never put no rope across those stairs again. Oh, and another thing, we're putting Waddie in the big room at the end of the hall. He's gonna' live upstairs with you. I know you don't give a shit about him, but you will treat him with respect, Willie. Whether you like it or not he's your brother, and you damn well better start treating him like one. That's not a request, boy -- understand?" Morgan asked in a threatening manner.

"Yes, sir," Willie replied and got busy taking down the rope. He ran to the back porch to find a screwdriver to remove the brass eye hooks he carefully put there. He had them out in no time. Morgan was on his way back to check as Willie got the last screw out.

"Now, you get some wood filler from the shop. Fill in them holes and when they're dry you sand them smooth. Got that, Willie?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, sir," Wille replied. He scurried off like an emotionally wounded little rat to find the wood filler. Suddenly, His Royal Highness King Willie Lump Lump the first, realized he was going to have that damnable little runt living upstairs with him. 'There goes the neighborhood' he thought to himself. His kingdom was being invaded his arch nemesis. His life was ruined. That awful little kid who everyone doted over will pester him constantly. He had to come up with a plan quickly or his privacy would be compromised. They say history repeats itself. Once more the handwriting appeared on the wall; mene, mene, teakle, umpharsin; thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting; a grim pronouncement. Willie was guilty as charged. In that same act, the king was deposed, and his kingdom divided.

* * * * * * *
Before Waddie caught on to how life worked, how mean and cruel some folks can be, he worshiped Willie. All kids want to be like their big brother. Waddie wanted to be just like him. Waddie adored him, but the son of a bitch wouldn't have anything to do with him. He never allowed Waddie to get close to him. For a young pre-school kid on a ranch with no other kids your age around can be a pretty lonely existence. Waddie was alone a lot on the ranch and looked forward to sharing some time with his brother.

'We got the same mother,' Waddie kept thinking, 'that should account for some feelings of brotherly love.' He couldn't understand how Willie could be so coldly calculating and cruel. What did he do to make Willie hate him so? Waddie made him birthday cards and valentines. Willie never even opened them. He tossed them in the trash knowing Waddie would find them, and it would break the younger boy's heart. Willie never gave Waddie a Christmas or birthday present. He never even gave Waddie a card. He wouldn't give Waddie the time of day. People sometimes do to other people what they wouldn't do to a stray dog. Waddie confronted him after Willie did such a terrible thing. He wanted an explanation. As his brother, he felt he had a right to know. "Willie, why don't you love me?" Waddie asked.

"Love you? I don't even like you. Why? I don't need a reason. I just don't. I don't have to love you jes' 'cause you're my brother by marriage. Besides, you ain't worth loving," Willie replied coldly.

"But, why, Willie? I ain't never done nothing to you," Waddie pleaded.

"I gave you a reason, peabrain, I just don't like you," Willie said and sneered at Waddie.

"But, Willie, brothers are suppose to love each other," Waddie insisted on the verge of tears.

Willie looked at Waddie like he was angry at his questions and got a faint smile on his face. "You don't qualify for the position, runt," he said like the final nail in a coffin. Willie turned on his heel and walked away leaving a devastated little boy in his wake.

Waddie had no idea what he meant by not qualifying as his brother. He didn't even know what 'runt' meant. Waddie tried going to Morgan with his hurt, but his dad told him to be strong and not bother Willie. His dad didn't know how to balance fairness and place blame were it should be. Morgan was the only one in the house Waddie loved and trusted. He tried talking a couple of times with his ma, but she told Waddie in no few words he should remember his place. He was only a child, a young boy, but Willie was almost a grown man. His mother made it clear, if he knew what was good for him he would stay out of Willie's way and not bother her about it again. Willie's room was off limits to Waddie. He kept his door locked at all times. Even when he went to the shower he locked his door. When he was alone in his room doing nothing he kept his door locked to keep Waddie out. Willie would come home, talk to his mom, sister, or step-dad, ignore his little brother, go to his room and lock the door so Waddie wouldn't bother him.

When Waddie was still a small boy, five to ten years old, there would be some hellacious lightening and thunder storms in that area of Texas. Being a frightened kid, Waddie was scared to death and like any small kid wanted to crawl in bed with his big brother to have him comfort and protect him. Waddie would run to Willie's room only to find the door locked. He would knock and pound on the locked door yelling to him, "Willie! Oh, Willie! Please let me in. I'm scared, Willie. Willie! Willie! Oh, God, Willie, don't be mean to me. Please let me in," he would cry.

Willie never so much as cracked the door to tell Waddie to go away. The frightened boy would lie in front of Willie's door crying his heart out, afraid, calling out for Willie to help him. Willie refused to acknowledge there was anyone outside his door; no one he cared about, anyway. Waddie would be in such hysterics he wouldn't see two big arms reach down, pick him up, hold him close, carry him back to his own room, put him into bed, comfort him, sleep with him, and hold him for the rest of the night. His dad would kiss him, soothe him, and talk softly to him. Morgan would tell him what father's have told their kids for generations. The thunder is the devil beating his wife for putting too much salt in the bread. The next day Willie would rag Waddie's ass for being a sissy, a little girl, a namby-pamby crybaby, afraid of a little thunderstorm. He was right, Waddie was terrified of them.

Judy jumped Morgan in front of Waddie. "You're spoiling that damn kid by running to him every time he cries out at night." Morgan wasn't real pleased at Willie's performance... now this from his wife? How could anyone be so cold hearted and cruel, then have the nerve to castigate him or the boy. Morgan looked at Judy like he could run a knife through her heart. "Don't you say another Goddamn word to me about how I raise my son. You're track record ain't so damn great you should go around giving others the benefit of your advice. Look what a ruthless, coldheated, uncaring, ruthless son of a bitch you created, Mrs. Frankenstein," Morgan said gesturing toward Willie.

"You can think what you like, but in my house you'll bite your Goddamn tongue before you say anything like that again. Do you understand, woman?" he asked. Judy nodded her head and went about her business. “Furthermore, you better have a long heart-to-heart talk with that asshole son of yours; that is, if you can find his heart. As for you, Willie, I'm tired of hearing you rag my boy when you won't give him the time of day. When you speak to him, which ain't very damn often, y'aint never got a good word to say to the kid. Better keep your bags packed Willie. The next time I hear you rag him you're out of this house... no apologies accepted. You got that, peabrain?" Morgan overheard Willie call Waddie a 'peabrain' and thought he would return the favor.

"Yes, Morgan," Willie answered with bored sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes, what, Willie?" Morgan demanded.

"Yes, sir," he replied more contritely.

Waddie's ma never came to see what might be bothering Waddie in the night. If his dad was gone for a couple of days, Waddie was on his own. There was no one to come to his rescue, but children learn to adapt and survive. The worst thing for Waddie was the lightening. The rumbling and thunder he could abide, although it was difficult to sleep. It seemed the lightening went everywhere. ‘It could get him,’ he thought. Waddie discovered if he got in the back of his closet and stuffed a towel under the door the lightening couldn't get through, or so he thought.

The closet was wider than he was tall so he made himself a nice comfortable bed in the back of the closet and hid it behind some big cardboard boxes he kept his toys in so his ma wouldn't discover it. When a storm started, he would run to his closet, stuff a towel under the door, curl up, and go back to sleep. He never cried out again... until one night, all hell broke loose. There were multiple tornado warnings for the area. Morgan ran to Waddie's room to take him to the cellar. He wasn't in his bed and Morgan's heart ran down into his boots. Where could he be? Morgan yelled at the top of his voice, "WADDIE!"

He heard a faint voice reply, “In the closet, Dad.”

Morgan ran to open the closet as Waddie crawled out. "What chu’ you doing in the closet, Son?" he asked surprised.

"Getting away from the lightening," Waddie said sheepishly.

"Used to do the same damn thing when I's a kid. Good think’n, Son," Morgan said as he grabbed Waddie up and carried him to the cellar. It was one hell of a storm, but Waddie was determined not to be afraid. He was pleased to see his brother, the royal prince, was scared shitless. ‘Almost a grown man? Yeah, right!’ Waddie thought, but he didn't say anything. Waddie's dreams of having a loving, caring big brother quickly vanished. Waddie began to treat Willie the way he treated him. He ignored him.

* * * * * * *
Willie was a good looking kid. He looked enough like Morgan to be his natural son. Folks who didn't know just assumed Willie was Morgan's boy. He was almost Morgan's height and would be when he finished high school. He had the same dark olive complexion and coal black hair. Willie had one feature that scared the piss out of Waddie before he got used to him. He had a physical anomaly within his eyes. His irises were jet black. You couldn't see where the pupil began nor where the iris ended. It looked like he had two big black marbles for eyes. The doctors told his mother, one child in three million would have the anomaly and it only occurs in males. The girls and even grown women of the town found Willie to be the most handsome, exotic looking young man they ever saw. He was drop dead good looking, no doubt about it, and he knew it. Willie, was ten years old when Waddie was born. He was now fifteen and would go to high school in the fall. Willie made it to the big time, he thought, and he was convinced that very possibly his body's waste giveth forth no foul odor. Willie was small until he got to high school and his second year he began to gain height and weight. Willie topped out at six-two and became the consummate jock; at least, he thought so. He played anything there was to play with balls attached. Word was, he was pretty good.

Waddie wondered to himself if Willie was really as good as he bragged? Willie was forever bragging to his family how good a ball player he was. Waddie heard an old saying, "The King doesn't have to tell a beggar he's a wealthy man." If he's all that good why ain't a lot of other folks bragging about him? Waddie heard others say Willie thought he was a lot better than he really was. He had to be a pretty fair ball player because he played in the Texas minor leagues for several years. He even had a shot at the big leagues but something happened that kept him from realizing his dream. Willie's outer package may have been attractive, but underneath, he was a conniving, backbiting, ruthless bastard. He was livid after Morgan embarrassed the shit out of him and made him eat crow. Willie set his jaw and decided, the day his step-dad made him apologize to him and that little son of a bitch, he would do his damnedest to get back at Morgan. He hated Morgan. Willie vowed to himself, Morgan would rue the day he did that to him and yelled at Willie for teasing that worthless little piece of shit.

He would get back at Morgan anyway he could. What was the easiest target for a coward? Morgan's bastard son, Waddie. He would do everything he could to make life miserable for Waddie, and covertly get Waddie to hate Morgan. He planned it, step by ruthless step. Willie knew his mother would side with him. She would've killed for him. He knew he could get his sister to cooperate. She was a bit frazzled around the neural circuits but she loved to play 'us' against 'them.' In this case, 'them,' being a hapless little five year old boy.

Usually when a baby is born into a home with older siblings the child is more easily accepted. Many times, an older brother or sister will become nurturing and protective even though a child isn't a full sibling; that is, if the family doesn't have a symbiotic passive/aggressive personality disorder syndrome with schizoid tendencies and a mother who is a full-blown, certifiable, sociopath. Waddie always remained a step-brother. He was reminded of it daily. Judy's other two children were the 'real,' fully acknowledged, bona fide, children in the house. Waddie was a half brother so he was only worth half as much as they were. He was told repeatedly he wasn't wanted. He was told nobody in the family wanted him there. They told him his dad was only being nice to him until they could find an orphanage who would take him. Willie and his sister would laugh at him for crying because they hurt him so much. They treated him like a emotional punching bag. When his dad read "Cinderella" to him he wondered if he could trade places with her. Her life was a cakewalk compared to his. 'Waddie was there,' Willie thought, 'vulnerable, and naive. Why not make life miserable for the little bastard?'

Willie's insidious plan for vengeance against his step-dad was underway. In their eyes, all Morgan was good for was to put food in their bellies and provide a roof over their heads. Willie started by symbolically and emotionally cutting Waddie's balls off before they even had a chance to descend. There's nothing more rejecting or castrating than to be ignored. It says you aren't important enough to be acknowledged. You are nothing. Many times they treated Waddie like he wasn't even there, like he didn't exist. Willie ignored him completely. Willie would walk away from Waddie while he was trying to talk to him. Willie's older sister, Dorothy, was an early blooming, pubescent teenager. She thought she was thirteen going on twenty-one when she came with her mother to live with Morgan. She tried to act more mature than she was for her age.

She had a bit kinder attitude toward Waddie, but she developed an almost sadistic joy in giving to the boy and then taking away from him again. She would be passively accepting of him in a loving manner then aggressive and unrelenting in her rejection. On rare occasions she would show him love and keep him dangling hoping for more then forget about him and her promise. He never knew from minute to minute where he stood with her. She became a pathological liar. She would lie when the truth would do more good. The real sorrow was she came to believe her lies. Everyone saw this happening but did nothing to help her. In those days they didn't know much about personality disorders. The family hoped she'd outgrow it in time. She never did. Her only salvation was to find a man who would put up with her.

Dorothy was many times mistaken for a young Elizabeth Taylor. While she didn't have lavender eyes she nevertheless looked more than a little like her. No one could understand how a lovely girl who became a strikingly beautiful woman could get so messed up mentally. Waddie knew exactly why, but no one asked him. Morgan didn't have a clue because Judy, his wife, kept it hidden from him for years. Waddie's ma was the same damn way. In some ways, Waddie thought she was worse. Dorothy simply emulated her mother.

Judy passively went along with Willie's devious plan. She never wanted Waddie in the first place, but Morgan begged her. he told Morgan before she married him she never wanted to have any more children. She resented having to take care of Waddie. At first, he was a lot of extra work for her, and Judy was basically lazy. She became more resentful as each day passed. As Waddie grew older and became more able to care of himself, she began to separate herself from the child emotionally. In her sick mind she looked on Waddie as Morgan's child. Judy's major problem was simple. She was still in love with her first husband, and Willie grew to look just like his dad. Judy was constantly reminded she lost her handsome husband to another woman and transfered her obsession for him to her son.

She married Morgan on the rebound and for spite after she found out the father of her children remarried and was living happily with his new wife. As far as she was concerned, her two selfish ingrates could do anything they wanted to Waddie. She never cared about him. She never allowed herself to bond with him when he was a baby. As far as she was concerned, Waddie was totally Morgan's kid. If Waddie disappeared without notice, and she never saw Waddie again, Judy wouldn't care. She wouldn't shed a tear. Aside from being uncaring about Waddie and demonstrably preferential to her two older natural children, Waddie was too young to realize he was dealing with a classic sociopathic personality. Waddie didn't know the fancy name for how they acted, but he came to understand the word 'crazy' quite well.

What's a sociopath? Someone who has no conscience about anything they do to another person, emotionally or physically. They have little, if any, empathy for anyone who's been negatively effected by their behavior. Young children pick up on mental aberrations faster than adults. They may not know the fancy words or a diagnosis, but they know something's wrong. Children are nearer the center of personality development pulling in a wealth of information to form their own personal identities. They get input from their peers, other adults, and even people they meet and talk with. If some of that information comes in and tells them it doesn't balance as acceptable input, they become suspicious, threatened, confused, and back away until they can reason for themselves.

Waddie got to where he couldn't stand to be kissed or hugged by Judy. She would be warm and loving one minute until she got what she wanted, then be cold and rejecting the next. She did it to Waddie time after time. Waddie watched her do the same to Morgan, but he never confronted his dad about it. She kept her husband in a constant state of confused frustration. It was easier to control him that way. She did it to Dorothy, but her daughter wasn't the brightest bulb in the marquee and she, in turn, absorbed her mother's personality. The only child, yea, the only person she didn't do it to was Willie. Waddie was mystified. Why? Why not Willie?
Waddie was to find out later, Willie looked like a young carbon copy of his dad and Judy transferred her unhealthy obsession for her ex-husband to Willie.

From the time Waddie moved into his room Willie barged in to do whatever he pleased. Waddie told him he didn't want him in his room. He didn't want to snitch, but if he continue he would tell his dad. Willie grabbed the five year old boy in his bigger hands and began to shake him like a rag doll. "If you ever snitch on me you filthy, little cocksucker, I'll see to it you have an accident from which you will never recover. Then you'll be out my hair for good!" he shouted. Waddie started screaming and crying. His dad was out of town, but his mother never came to see what was wrong. It was just warm ups for Willie.

Willie would do something around the place Morgan told Willie many times not to do. Morgan would get pissed off ready to take him to the barn when Willie would smile sweetly. "Oh, no, Morgan, you got it all wrong, your precious son did it. Ask Dorothy or ma, they'll tell you," Willie would said with a wicked grin. Morgan would ask them, and they would swear they both saw Waddie do it. Morgan would stomp up to Waddie's room and practically drag Waddie to the barn. His son would be screaming and yelling. "Dad! Dad, what are you doing? Why are you dragging me to the barn?" Waddie pleaded.

"To give you a whipping," Morgan replied.

"What for, Dad?" Waddie asked.

"You know what you did."

"No, Dad, I don't."

"Did you do 'such and such?'" (whatever the offence)

"No, sir, I didn't!"

"Don't lie to me, Son."

"I ain't lying, Dad. You taught me not to lie."

"How did it happen then? It didn't just happen by itself."

"I don't know, Dad. I don't know, but I swear to you, I didn't do it."

"Your ma and Dorothy told me they saw you do it."

"They ain't telling the truth, Dad. I never done it."

"I ain’t a’ gonna’ have no Goddamn liar in my house. I'm gonna' whup you 'til you admit chu’ done it."

Waddie continued to protest to deaf ears. Morgan wasn't going to listen to another word. He pulled Waddie's pants down, bent him over a hay bale with a horse blanket thrown over it and started wailing on his son's butt with his big, wide western belt. Waddie would cry and yell he didn't do it, but Morgan told him he would whip him until he admitted it. Finally, it would hurt the boy so bad, he would be forced to lie and admit he did it, begging Morgan to please stop whipping him. Only then would Morgan cease. He would talk to Waddie about the importance of truth and trust. It was the last thing Waddie wanted to hear coming from his hypocritical dad. Preach one religion and practice another?

Waddie lost all respect for his dad that day. Morgan was not prepared for the hatred in his son's eyes. Waddie always looked at his dad with love and trust. That was now replaced by fear, hurt, confusion, and disillusion. The first time he took Waddie to the barn Waddie immediately owned up to his mistake and promised he would never do it again. He never did, but now he was like a different kid. He admitted he did it, why wasn't he being contrite? ‘He has hatred in his eyes, like he hates me for correcting him,’ Morgan thought, ‘I can't have this, I'm in control here,’ he told himself.

A wee small voice he couldn't quite hear spoke in a whisper, 'You gave up control when you betrayed the child's trust. You condemned him without giving him the benefit of the doubt. Are you sure they aren't lying to drive a wedge between you and your son? Without his respect, you have no control. Furthermore, you don't deserve to have control over him if he can't trust you to trust him. Trust is a two way street, Morgan. Just because Waddie's only five years old doesn't mean he's less deserving or incapable of your trust. Search your soul, Morgan. If Buck came to you and told you the whole town said they saw him do something and he told you different, who would you believe? Well?' Either Morgan couldn't hear or chose not to listen to his own voice of reason.

"I hated to do it, but it had to be done," Morgan said. Waddie refused to talk to him about it. He was emotionally distraught, physically hurt, and felt betrayed. He trusted this man and now he whipped him to make him tell a lie.

He looked at his dad and asked him, "You gonna' whip me again, Dad?" Waddie asked.

"No, why do you ask?" Morgan answered.

"For the lie you made me tell you," Waddie said. Morgan didn't answer. He didn't want to hear the point his son was making. That scene was repeated five or six more times that year. Willie knew what set Morgan off and would frame Waddie. Willie's mom and Dorothy would go along with him. The more whippings Waddie got the less he cried. Without a tear, Waddie would yell at his dad, "You had enough? You ready for me to admit I done it?" the boy would challenge his dad.

"Yes, Son, I'm ready to hear you tell me the truth," Morgan replied.

"Yeah, well, okay, Dad, h'it ain't the truth, but I'll tell you I done it. For all your empty words about the virtues of telling the truth, you're turning me into a liar 'cause it's the only way I can get you to stop beating me. You won't listen to the truth so I have to lie if I want to survive. There, you happy?" Waddie would say flatly without a trace of emotion. Once again Morgan would try to talk to Waddie. Waddie was almost five and was still a little boy at heart, but he was growing up fast. Morgan would give the boy his standard, 'This hurts me more than it hurts you,' speech. That day Waddie turned and looked at his dad with a look that sent chills down Morgan's spine. "Like hell, it does, you monster. You gonna' let me whip yore' ass now for that Goddamn lie?" Waddie noticed Morgan's cock was hard and a wet spot formed at his crotch. His dad was getting off on whipping his son's ass.

"I ain't lying to you, Son," Morgan insisted.

"Bullshit! Why should I believe you? You won't never believe me. I tell you them sum’bitches is lying to frame me, but you won't believe me. You go along with them and I get punished for some'um I didn't do. To hell with you, Dad," Waddie yelled at Morgan.

Morgan hauled off and slapped his son hard across the mouth. He was immediately sorry for what he did, but it was too late, the damage was done. Waddie didn't yell or cry out from the hard blow to his face. He merely turned to his dad, looked him in the eye with a look of hatred so cold and strong it almost froze Morgan's heart. The five year old child looking at him, who should have the openness of love in his face for his dad, reminded Morgan of a hardened convict looking at fifty to life. Waddie spoke very purposefully to his dad. "I done lost all faith in you. I don't love you no more, Morgan," Waddie said coldly, turned, and ran out of the barn, out into the pastureland behind the barns. He ran until he was exhausted, fell to the ground, and let it all out onto the Earth.

He prayed to God to help him. He wasn't asking for wrathful vengeance, he just wanted his dad back. The old dad whom he loved, cherished, trusted, and believed in. Morgan tried to follow Waddie into the field. He never saw his boy so upset before. Morgan knew he crossed the line when he lost his temper. He realized he owed Waddie an apology for smacking him. He slowly came to where Waddie was lying in the field and could hear the boy's heaving, gut wrenching sobs. Morgan could see the red hand print forming on Waddie's small face. He knelt down and tried to take his son into his arms to comfort him. Instead Waddie reacted violently throwing wild but strong punches that had some kick to them.

"Damn you. I told you I don't love you no more. Now, keep your Goddamn hands off a' me," Waddie yelled at Morgan.

"Waddie listen to me," Morgan pleaded.

"I don't wanna' hear another pack of lies from your mouth. I done lost my taste for bullshit. You're the one what lies, not me. You preach to me to be truthful, but when I am, you drag my ass out here and beat me 'til you make me lie. Well, I hope you're happy, Dad? You made your son into a Goddamn liar, and he don't love you no more. You can do what you will to me, but you c'ain't force me to love you. You c'ain't have it both ways, Morgan," Waddie said, turned, and ran off again toward the old barn.

"Waddie," Morgan hollered after him, "you don't mean that. Come back, Son, and let's talk."

"Talk to yourself, Dad. You're the only one you'll believe, anyway. Go ahead, Dad, tell yourself another lie. Tell yourself Waddie still loves you, he's just upset. Well, he don't love you no more. But you go ahead on. If you can believe them son’s of bitches' lies over the only one in that house who gives a tinker's dam about you, go for it. You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you on the butt, Dad." Waddie was walking to the barn blinded by tears, but Morgan decided not to follow him. He decided to let him cool down, and he would come in for dinner. Waddie didn't come in for dinner. He climbed to the loft of the old barn and arranged some hay bales, got some clean horse blankets, made himself a bed under the warm hay and intended to stay the night. Morgan came out and yelled for him, but Waddie wouldn't answer. Morgan looked all over for the boy.

Morgan could sense Waddie could hear him. "Listen, Son, I'm sorry I hit you. Daddy was wrong to do that. I love you, Waddie. I can't stand to think you don't love me anymore. Come on in the house with me, Son, and have some supper. I won't try to talk to you no more. Just have something to eat, clean up, and go to bed," Morgan pleaded. Waddie didn't breathe. He wasn't about to do what his dad wanted. Morgan finally left and Waddie thought, 'Good, now I can rest.' He cried some more and thought a lot about his situation. Rather than be passive this time he decided to fight back. There was only one problem. He needed a champion. Someone to love him and believe in him. That sounded like a God request to him. Fine, he hadn't talked with the Old Man in a while. Waddie thought he probably be happy to hear from him. He heard footsteps in the barn from a big pair of boots and Waddie recognized them as his dad's. He hoped he wasn't coming out to beg him to come in the house again. He heard Morgan climb the ladder to the loft, but he didn't hear him looking for him. He could see the light from a lantern. He could hear Morgan near him.

"Waddie, I brought out a couple of blankets. I'm gonna' sleep out here with you tonight. If you want to come share my blanket, I'd love to have you by my side. I think you need your dad to hold you and tell you how sorry he is for hitting you. You need to hear me say I love you, Waddie. Whether you love me or not, I still love you," Morgan said softly. Waddie, started crying again. Morgan almost couldn't contain himself from the pain and anguish in the boy's sobs. He knew something was desperately wrong, but he still refused to believe his son over the three in the house. Maybe this rebellion against punishment was a phase Waddie was going through. Waddie got up early before sunrise and crept down the ladder from the loft. He walked to the house, climbed the stairs to his room, quietly closed the door, went to his closet, closed the door, and settled in his dark, hurt proof, corner. He stayed there for almost two weeks.

* * * * * * *
It was summer, three days before Waddie's fifth birthday. His dad came to his room. Waddie hadn't come out since his whipping, not even to eat. His dad brought him trays. He never touched a thing. He lost so much weight his levis wouldn't stay on his hips without a belt. His face looked shrunken and hollow. Morgan was worried about his son. Waddie turned his back on his dad when he came into his room. He refused to look at him. Morgan asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday.

"Find a new home," Waddie replied with no emotion. Morgan's heart was already broken but to hear this from a child he loved with all his heart was too much. He started to scold his son, but no words came out. What could he say? Scolding would only drive the confused boy further away. Was Waddie really telling him the truth? Could the three of them be doing this to turn his son away from him? Could they hate the kid that much? Morgan refused to believe anyone could be so cruel. Willie maybe, but Judy and Dorothy? Morgan could feel the resolute, desperate nature of his son's statement, and it crushed him. He thought if he could just touch his boy he could communicate he still loved him. He went to reach for his son, but Waddie pulled away, ran for his closet and tried to hide in the back corner in a fetal position.

"Don't touch me. Get away from me. Ain't chu' done enough to me? I done told you I don't love you no more, and I mean it. Go away and lemme' be. I don't want a birthday present from you or anybody. You're suppose to celebrate your birthday with folks you love who love and care about you. Nobody in this damn house loves me, and I sure as hell don't love any of you either. Now, do me a favor and get out of my room. I ain't coming out of my room again. Let that bastard, Willie, try'n frame me for something I ain't done when I been in my Goddamn room all the time," Waddie said. Morgan looked at his son and knew if he hadn't already lost him, he soon would.

"I'm sorry, Son," he said quietly.

"No, you ain't," replied Waddie softly, “or you would believe me and do some'um about it,” Waddie said.

Morgan really was sorry. He was hurting in his gut so bad he rushed to the upstairs bathroom and threw up his supper. As he ran to the bathroom, he saw Willie standing in the door with a sneer on his face. Waddie wanted to love his dad, but when his dad came around to play with him or spend time, Waddie rejected him. He told Morgan to go away. He didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He didn't want Morgan touching him. He wouldn't even look into Morgan's eyes. Waddie drew further away from Morgan. He stayed in his room for days mostly in the corner of the closet. That's where Morgan always found him with the door closed.

Waddie didn't come out of his room for two weeks. Morgan was frantic. Waddie wouldn't respond. He had nothing to eat in a week and a half and very little water. Waddie knew he was dying. He simply didn't care. There was nothing to live for without love. He decided to go home to God. He knew God would love him. Waddie prayed to God to either let his dad believe him or take him to heaven. He didn't want to live in this world anymore. This was an awful place down here where mean people hurt folks for no reason. I'm not a bad boy, God, I try to be good. Why do they hate me?

Judy could see the handwriting on the wall. Sociopaths aren't stupid people, they're just devoid of compassion. Many say they have no souls. To have a soul implies a conscience. Neither Judy nor her spawn ever heard the word let alone possessed one. They would have made fine Republicans. She gathered her two wicked step-children about her and told them to cool it for a while. She thought Morgan was near the breaking point, and if Waddie didn't come around they may get thrown out. She thought Morgan was getting suspicious.

Waddie continued to pray in the darkness of his closet. "God, nobody down here loves me. Do I have to live without love? I was told you love me. Excuse me, sir, but it's hard for me to believe. Even if my dad don't believe me, you know what the truth is and how mean my ma, Willie, and Dorothy are to me. I believe in you and love you. Can't you love me a little in return. If I can't be with you, God, send me an angel to protect me. I ain't asking for toys, a dog, or a pony, Lord. I just need help, sir.
I need somebody to believe in me and love me. Then them son's of bitches can't hurt me if I have love in my heart. Please, sir."

God heard Waddie's prayer and answered it. He sent the boy the best looking, biggest, meanest, roughest, toughest, kick-ass cowboy angel any boy could imagine. Buck Claymore came home from the War.

End of Chapter 2 ~ Cabbage Patch Cowboy
Copyright © 2004/2013 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All Rights Reserved~
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com
Proofed: 12/28/2012
WC 14805