WL_53

WACO’S LUMMOX
Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 53

Commander Hawkins checked out Officer Jones before they left his quarters to go the Holy Prophet’s apartments. They were both naked as was the custom for the Temple Guards. They were used to being open and free about their nudity. It was interesting how quickly the far right fringe of Christianity easily accepted the naked Temple Guards because it pleased their religious leader. Scudder claimed they were closer to God with nothing to hide. Scudder found some obscure bible passage where David, the young future king of the Jews, danced naked before his army in praise and thanks to God for their victory. If it was good enough for David it was good enough for Scudder, who was often heard to say, “Gimme’ dat old time religion.” Of course they never took into consideration David and King Saul’s son, Jonathon, carried on a torrid homosexual relationship. Jonathon’s father King Saul threw a spear at his son and accused him of sleeping with David as a woman sleeps with a man.

While in the colonies, on the Bandersnatch, Jones and Hawkins dressed as the natives depending on the occasion, but they were surprised there were as many nude events and gatherings as there were fully dressed occasions. Of course any function involving families, being clothed was usually considered appropriate, but there were also family events where people were free to be naked. If you didn’t want to be nude or see people naked, you just didn’t go to the event. The commander reached down and gently fluffed Officer Jones’ cock and balls for him. Jones returned the favor for his boss. They were set to go. They arrived at the holy prophet’s apartments in a stretch limo and were ushered in by more of the massively built Temple Guards of the Holy Order who surrounded and protected their dear leader. Scudder warmly greeted both men as did Taycious and dismissed the guards to leave them alone. After greeting him, Scudder held Brett Jones at arm’s length to look at him. “You don’t look like you’ve been ill. You look quite healthy and have a nice ruddy glow about you, but something’s different. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” he said.

“I feel just fine, Holy Father,” Jones said, “I had the best of care, food, exercise, and couldn’t have wished for a better more protective companion than the commander. I very much appreciate you letting him come to be with me. It meant so much to me,” Brett said.

Scudder was impressed with Jones. Before, he was lucky if he got a couple of words and a few grunts out of him. He seemed more open and sure of himself. ‘Maybe that’s what happens to a man when he looks his own mortality in the face,’ Scudder thought to himself. “What have you men been doing while you were gone, Commander?” Scudder addressed Hawkins.

“For the last week we were working our butts off helping to save and repair bladder whales on the surface of Venus, Holy Father. The two herds were attacked and facing extinction from a nasty group of aliens known as the ‘Grays.’ They are the classic gray critter you see in UFO magazines with huge black almond shaped eyes. They are a slave race to a more advanced race called the ‘Reptiles.’ With orders from their masters, they launched a major attack on the hapless whales to bring terror to the Venusians in an attempt to bring them back into line under reptilian authoritarian control,” Hawkins said without nuance.

Austin Taycious gasped for breath and all the blood drained away from Jerry Scudder’s face. Brett Jones offered his hand for support. He thought Scudder was going to collapse. “My God! You men know about the Grays and them Lizard reptiles?” Scudder belched.

“Yes, sir. We ain’t seen us a snake-like person yet, but we seen plenty of them dead and dying gray critters,” Jones backed up Hawkins. He continued, “Our hosts and associates heard of the attack and asked for volunteers to join them. The commander and I were in good shape and held up our hands. We thought my healing powers might come in handy. We managed to help our friends save as many of the whales as we could. Some were beyond our help, but we saved many more than died,” he said.

“Venus? You’re telling me there are animals and people on Venus?” Scudder challenged them.

“Yes, sir. The people look similar to us except they’re a bit taller, blond hair, and blue eyes, but they ain’t as big as us. They live in great caverns under the surface. Only the whales and their symbiotes live on the surface," Jones said.

“While you men were away we had a visit from one of the reptilian leaders. He gave us an ultimatum. We either submit to their rule and dominance or they plan to systematically wipe us out. You wouldn’t believe what they want and expect from us. We haven’t given them an answer yet. We have thirty days. We’ve known about the Grays since the forties, but we never knew they were slaves to another race. We got a lot of information from them by back engineering several of their saucers that crashed. We even captured a few and managed to keep them alive for several years, but we never got much out of them. They're filthy creatures, liars, and deceivers. In the early fifties they agreed to a treaty with President Eisenhower they would provide us with certain technology if they were allowed to harvest a specified number of people for testing and other things. The other things you don’t want to know about. They also wanted the freedom to steal cattle from our ranchers and farmers.

"They didn’t live up to their end of the bargain, there was an altercation in the early sixties, and communication was cut off. Since that time they’ve been doing pretty much what they damn well please, except within the last five years, the ranchers and farmers have found some way to fight back. The Grays haven’t been free to take what they want anymore without consequence. We have no idea what the ranchers are doing. Granges around the country are so closed with secret memberships and meetings they're difficult to penetrate with our agents. They just won’t trust an outsider. Unless you’ve lived in an area for years, are well known, you don’t get in, and they thoroughly investigate someone before they allow him to attend even a general meeting. They’re tighter to break into than the old KGB. We’ve heard stories from locals of the Gray ships being shot down while in the act of stealing cattle, but by the time we send our agents there’s not a trace of the downed ship anywhere and the locals claim they didn’t see nothing. Is them two angels responsible for that?”

“Naw, sir, I don't think so,” Hawkins said, “We don’t really know how they operate. We were housed in a community much like any rural community in the West, but it was by itself like it was in another dimension; like it was removed from time and space. There were only a few places you could go and then you had to pass through some kind of gate to get there. It was a technology we didn’t understand. We passed through a gate and ended up on Venus and helped their small space fleet of four ships save their whales.”

“What’s so great about some whales?” Scudder scoffed.

“Oh, Holy Father, you would have to see them and hear them to understand. They communicate with one another and others of their kind throughout the galaxy. They have great strong voices and sing the most beautiful songs. I was honored by being asked to sing with them. It was one of the greatest thrills of my life,” Officer Jones said with his eyes almost glazed in memory of his first sight of the great Chuchulack. Scudder could tell the man was deeply moved and changed by his experience. Scudder saw the same look on the faces of supposedly ‘born again’ Cafeteria Christians, what pick only the parts they like and ignored the rest of the garbage. They never lasted much longer than their plunge back into the reality of the modern world.

“There’s more we could tell you about them aliens,” continued Scudder, “but we can catch up as we go along. And you, Officer Jones, are you in good voice? Will you be able to perform at Sunday services this weekend? The public is clamoring to see and hear you again. We didn’t hear from you men in almost a week and we were beginning to worry, but it sounds like you were doing some good work. I had Austin issue statements we fabricated you were doing fine and were expected to return any day. I’m having Austin release a statement to the press this evening, but I wanted a chance to see you myself.”

“I'm ready, Holy Father. I won’t let you down,” Jones assured him.

“Are you ready to assume your other duties as well, Son?” Scudder asked in a softer voice. No one in the room missed his meaning.

“I am here to serve you, Holy Father,” Jones replied and bowed his head.

Scudder walked over to him and took Jones’ cock and balls into his hand and fondled them. Brett immediately became erect. He threw back his shoulders, spread his legs a bit and locked his arms behind his back in ‘parade rest.’ “My memory must be going. I don’t remember you being quite so large, Officer Jones,” Scudder said.

“I discovered I have another talent, sir,” Brett said.

“What’s that?” Scudder asked.

“I can adjust my size according to the Holy Father's wishes,” Jones replied.

“No!” Scudder exclaimed.

“Hold on to me, sir,” Jones invited Scudder.

Scudder held onto Jones’ cock and felt it begin to grow. He felt his lower hand growing heavier as Jones’ balls grew in proportion to his enlarged cock. Jones let it grow until it was twice its original size. “Are you watching this, Austin?” Scudder grinned.

“I can’t take my eyes away,” Taycious said.

“Holy crap, Son, that’s fantastic. I guess you really can fill my tank with your hose,” Scudder said with lust.

“As much as you need, sir, and then some. All you have to do is let me know you can use some more, and it’s yours to command,” Jones said.

“Jesus H. Christ! What hath God wrought?” Scudder remembered Alex Bell’s comment.

“Yes, yes, praaaaise Jay-zus! Glow-rie hal-lee-loo-ya!” exclaimed Taycious in a facetious parody of Katherine Kuhlman, “Now if you only had a white horse to ride in on to make your grand entrance, Norman.” Taycious giggled wickedly. Scudder shot him a look that would’ve cut off his oxygen supply.

“Shut up, you worthless faggot!” Scudder slammed him but grinned wickedly.

“What’s any person’s worth when they’re screaming for more cock, Sweetie?” Taycious burst out laughing. Jones and Hawkins had to stifle a laugh. “Seems to me like you done hit the jackpot. You got a brother at home, Officer Jones?” Austin asked.

“Naw, sir, Mr. Taycious. I’m the only one,” he replied.

“Damn! Just my luck. It just ain’t fair, Jerry. You have all the luck,” Austin said.

“My offer to build you a super-cunt is still open,” Scudder replied. That finally shut Austin up. Scudder didn’t let go of Brett’s cock and balls until Jones returned them to his normal size which was a little smaller than he originally presented himself.

“That’s amazing. I’d like to take it for a ride after while, Son,” Scudder said, not in a joking manner.

“I’m yours for the taking, sir,” Brett replied.

“Good, good. Stay around and after we have a bite to eat we’ll send these two on their way so we can be alone for a while,” Scudder said.

“Sounds good to me. You’re looking good, sir,” Jones flattered Scudder.

“Thanks, Son, I cut out sugar and junk food, and I been exercising more; slimming down and firming up.” Scudder beamed that his main man noticed his improvement. It was at that moment Jones realized what an egomaniac Scudder was. All he had to do was push the right buttons, say the magic words, perform well, and he had an easy ride to the apocalypse and his rapture.

That evening Scudder did, indeed, get taken for a ride. After the wonderful sex Brett had with Basil he wondered if he’d be able to keep his interest in Scudder. For a moment he didn’t consider his major physical change and his ability to rise to any occasion. It was a simple exercise of mind over matter, and he was quickly learning to be the master of his own body. Having sex with Scudder was nothing new, and he could successfully apply one situation to another easily enough. At least he didn’t have to make love to Scudder. He was thankful for that small favor.

In all the times they had sex together Scudder never seemed interested in a lot of foreplay or hugs and kisses afterward. There was a lot of touchie-feely and hugging, but never much love making. Scudder’s idea of foreplay was to shake hands. All he wanted was Jones to fill his cunt with his big cock and ride him until Scudder got his gun, but he would sometimes reach a deep internal vaginal climax if Jones fucked him really hard to get his own climax. He would always give Jones a hug before parting and compliment him on his performance. Sometimes, if he was really good, Scudder would slip him a hundred dollar bill. Jones always took it. He never considered himself a whore. He looked upon it as a gratuity for a job well done.

This was one of those evenings when Scudder’s little pussy was starved, and it was as greedy as it was hungry. After he reached his clitoral climax, Scudder begged Jones for bigger and more. He could feel Jones growing and swelling inside him until his penis was on the boarder of being uncomfortable. Scudder pushed his cunt up tight against the base of Jones’ cock, and Brett took it as a signal to start his ride to climax. Scudder rode him like a cowboy with a new set of spurs. ‘Whoever said bigger ain’t necessarily better was a fuck’n liar!’ he thought to himself.

Just as Jones was reaching the peak of his fuck and Scudder could feel the big man’s ejaculation building within him he started fucking back, riding Jones as hard as he could. Jones called out to him, “I’m there, sir. I’m coming!” Scudder could feel Jones’ ejaculate flowing warm and full within his cunt. He open himself like he never did before and a huge euphoric warmth came over him like no other climax he ever experienced. His fluids were mingling with Jones’ to bathe his depths in the sweet flavors from the passion of hot sex. Scudder felt like every nerve in his body was alive responding to Jones’ final thrust and subsequent collapse.

Jones relaxed on top of Scudder planted deep within him like a tap root on a great oak tree. For once in his life, Scudder was fulfilled. He never had a religious experience to compare with Jones’ fuck. This was a new Jones. A bigger and better Jones than the man he sent off with the angels, wizards, or whatever the Hell they were. He wasn’t worried about them. He had bigger worries, but he was grateful they sent his toy back to him, repaired and in better shape than ever. He could forgive a few things for the fuck he just experienced and the afterglow he was feeling lying beneath Dumbo Jones.

That’s what was different. Jones no longer looked like Dumbo. It was his ears. Was his ears smaller? Yes, by God, they were definitely smaller. Could he adjust any part of his body? Why not? He would discover quite a few new things about his sex toy which would come to amuse and amaze him. They lay hooked together until they could smell their body fluids ripen and mix gently with the sweet fresh fragrance of an oncoming rain storm. Just for fun Jones enlarged his penis a bit more to max out his partner’s cunt. Scudder never felt anything so completely satisfying in his life. Jones continued to fulfill his prophet’s sea until they could hear the sound of distant thunder and rain began to fall softly on the patio outside Scudder’s apartment. It was a new rain reborn to a tired old world. It rose and fell countless times before. There is love and hope in a gentle rain, a promise of good things to come, but a hard, spiteful rain can foretell a time of great calamity.

* * * * * * *
Angus Goodnight's Ranch ~

The day was hot and Shane was working hard to finish the job his straw-boss gave him and three other cowboys. Since he returned from Venus it seemed like Ramrod Birdsall assigned him all the shit jobs. Shane Goodnight was a changed man. He wore an aura of peace and togetherness about him which was unquestionably awesome. It was like he was reborn to a greater secret in life and nothing could touch him. Shane never complained or questioned his foreman. Neither did he project any concern to Birdsall. He and the three cowboys worked hard to complete the project. One was a quiet man Shane admired and respected for years named Cole Jenkins. He learned many things from Cole about animals, husbandry, his fellow man, work ethic and how to keep good counsel with his own soul. There were many rumors about why such a seemingly good man as Cole was a slave, but no one knew the truth for sure. He never talked about his life, and Angus and Bill Birdsall respected the privacy of their slave’s past.

Cole was in his late forties and kept to himself. He worked hard and never tried to shirk work or slack off so someone else would have to carry his load. Cole was a little taller than Shane and had a body that was hard and sinewy. He was a tall, almost seven feet, massively built, fuzzy, barrel chested, strong featured, hyper-masculine man. He was the very definition of a man’s man. Some said he looked like a double for an old movie actor from the nineteen sixties, Clint Walker. Cole had the same vocal delivery as Walker when he spoke with a soft, Southern, West Texas lilt to his speech.

At twenty-eight Shane was twenty years Cole’s junior and considerably more buffed than the older man, but Shane wasn’t sure he could take Cole in a fair fight; not that it would ever happen. Aside from his relationship with his master, Bill Birdsall, and Shane's brother Angus, Cole Jenkins was the only cowboy slave for which Shane harbored a deep abiding respect and affection. He was one of a few cowboys who quietly encouraged Shane when he was a baby slave. Cole refused to offer sympathy and be manipulated by being pulled into a self-pity situation with Shane, but he always seem to be there for him when Shane needed a strong, understanding, helping hand and didn't think he could go on a minute longer.

They never talked much, but just being around Cole was a great personal and spiritual comfort for Shane. He smiled to himself as he thought no job was a 'shit' job as long as he was working side by side with the big man. Cole just seemed to exude a quiet masculine presence Shane found palpable. He was never more at peace, worked harder, and felt better about himself than when he was working with Cole. He knew without asking, Cole thought Shane was a good man and a fine cowboy.
The other two cowboy slaves were older men who tried to work, but were well past their more productive years. They took a break every thirty minutes to walk over to the water can to get a drink. Shane didn’t care. He could do the work of five men and not be breathing hard when he finished. Besides he set a law for himself. He wouldn’t go for water until Cole went.

After three trips to the water can, the two older men brought him and Cole a paper cup of water back with them. Cole stopped long enough to take the cup of water and thank the older man. He motioned for Shane to take his. They swallowed the water in one gulp and immediately went back to work. Between Shane and Cole, and what little help they got from the other two men, they finished the job ahead of schedule. They were walking back to the barn with their tools. Shane and Cole were walking together well behind the other two men. Shane glanced over at the fine looking man who slung his shirt over his shoulder revealing the brier patch of his thick chest hair. Shane wondered what it would feel like to lay his face down on his hairy rug supported by his huge slabs of pectoral muscles and with his tongue playfully lick and tickle the man’s giant teats surrounded by a proportionately large dark areola; then, plunge his head deep onto it as he sucked Cole's tit until his head imploded. He grinned at his wicked but stimulating thought. It wasn’t the first such thought he’d conjured about the big man, and he knew damn well it wouldn't be the last.

“Thanks, Cole,” Shane said quietly. Cole looked at him and smiled. He didn’t ask ‘what for,’ he knew Shane like the back of his big gnarled calloused hand. He knew Ramrod Birdsall was rough on Shane since he returned from his trip with his brother and nephew. Cole had no idea where Shane was or what he did, but he knew Birdsall wasn't happy and seemed to be holding a grudge against his young friend.

“You’re welcome, Son,” he replied.

“You know I love you, don’t you, Cole?” Shane asked quietly.

“Of course I do. I love you, too,” Cole replied without nuance.

“I know. I just needed to tell you. I needed to hear myself say it,” Shane said and smiled at him.

“Glad you did,” Cole replied quietly.

“Me, too,” Shane said with resolve.

They walked along slowly until Cole stopped and sat on a stump. He motioned for Shane to sit on another close to him. The sun was setting making the clouds look like long strokes of an artist’s paint brush. They sat for while enjoying the view of nature’s handiwork. After a minute or two Cole spoke. “You going for your hearing next week?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I don’t know what to do. Got any advice for me?” Shane asked in reply.

“Look at me, Shane," he said as a rough lament, then continued, "I'm a slave. I wasted my life. I’m the last person you want to give you advice; however, I want to tell you something, and I want you to listen good. We done worked almost everyday together for ten years, shared some good times and some bad. I’ve watched you grow up, mature, and take on a lot of responsibilities in the past several years, and I almost feel like you’s ma' own boy. If you were my son, I’d tell you not to be afraid to reclaim your freedom and take probation if the Judge decides you’re ready for it. I know you’re ready, Shane. I have faith in you. Don’t let the fear of life or the love you have in your heart for Master Birdsall, Master Angus, or any man, including me, keep you a slave for another five years. It’s gonna’ take you five years to readjust your thinking to being a free man. Don’t spend that five years as a slave and have to spend another five after that learning to be free. Do you understand what I’m saying, Son?” Cole had an almost desperate, pleading sound to his voice.

“Yes sir, Cole, I do, and I appreciate it. You’re important to me, and I respect you. I certainly mean you no disrespect, but I’ve come to look on you as the dad I never had. I was hoping you’d say something. You make a good point I ain’t considered. I promise, I’ll think on it,” Shane assured him.

“Good, that’s all I ask, but I want you to know, whatever you decide, I won’t never stop loving you,” Cole said softly.

“I know you won’t, Cole,” Shane replied.

“Good. Now, let’s us put our tools away and get cleaned up for supper.”

Nothing more was said. The weekend was approaching and Shane was looking forward to a relaxed couple of days hanging out with the other cowboy slaves. Lately he never knew what kind of mood his ramrod would be in and tried to avoid him if he was cold and sullen. He stayed in his room by himself a lot or hung out at the bunkhouse with his cowboy slave brothers. Friday morning early, Angus got him out of bed and told him to put on his work clothes. He told Shane to get into his truck, he was going to loan him out for the day, and he would take him to the job. It seemed mysterious to Shane, but he knew better than to question his master. Angus pulled out onto the gravel road to the blacktop and turned right. He handed Shane a brown paper bag. “Here’s your breakfast. Eat it on the way. There’s a bottle of OJ and a bottle of milk in there for you. There’s a thermos of coffee under the seat. Shane looked into the bag and found two thick sandwiches. One ham and eggs and one bacon and eggs. He began to eat and poured Angus and himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m taking you over to Judge Potter’s ranch for the day. He’s alone since his wife died, and he don’t get around so good no more. He needs some wood chopped for his fireplace for this winter and a couple of other small chores he needs done. I want you to do a good job, and when he’s through with you, he’ll call me. I’ll come back over and pick you up. Any questions?” Angus asked.

“Naw, sir, Master,” Shane answered with his mouth full. He was really enjoying the sandwiches. They were made just the way he liked them. At the bottom of the big sack he found a small plastic container of cottage fried potatoes and a plastic fork.

“I wanted you to have a good breakfast ‘cause I don’t know if he’ll be able to feed you, so you might not get anything to eat until suppertime when we get back, but I’ll make sure you have a good evening meal,” Angus said.

“Thanks, Master, but this should do me for a good while,” Shane replied.

“I don’t have to tell you to do a good job for the old man, do I, Slave?" Angus barked.

“I’ll do a good job, Master. I’ll make you proud of me,” Shane said without emotion, but he was thinking, ‘Gimme’ a break! How many times do you have to remind me I’m a fuck’n slave. I know what I am, and I always do my best for you.’

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Angus didn’t challenge him further.

They arrived at the Potter ranch and the old man came out to greet them. He imagined him to be in his late sixties, but he didn’t look all that old to Shane. He seemed pretty spry as he bounded down the front steps of his huge, rambling three story, vintage ranch house in his Western clothes and wearing a wide brimmed cowboy hat. Judge Clarence Joe Potter looked like many men of the old West who worked hard all their lives and had faces which looked like they could have been chiseled out of a slab of rawhide or latigo leather. Shane remembered how handsome and attractive he was sitting behind his judicial bench ten years ago at his trial when he sentenced Shane from ten to fifteen years indenturement. Since that time he saw the old Judge several times in the community and at church but never spoke to him.

Potter stuck out his big hand to Angus. “Angus Goodnight! It's good to see you again.” The men shook hands, then Angus snapped his fingers for Shane to respond.

Shane fell to his knees in front of the old Judge and kissed each of his cowboy work boots. He expected the old man to know the slave ritual, but instead the judge spoke to him. "That’s fine, Slave. Get up. Rituals make me nervous,” he said. Shane got up, bowed, and dusted himself off. Potter turned to Angus.

“Won’t you come in for a cup of coffee, Angus?” he asked.

“I appreciate the kind offer, Judge, but I gotta' git on back over to the ranch. We’re expecting some new stock and a couple of new slaves this morning. I need to be there,” Angus said.

“I understand. I can’t thank you enough for the loan of your slave today. We should be finished by early afternoon. I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll leave him with you, Judge. Use him as you see fit. Have a good day, sir.”

“Thanks, Angus. I'll look forward to seeing you this afternoon.” Potter waved to Angus as he turned his truck around and left. He turned to Shane and smiled. “Come, Son. Have you had your breakfast?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I ate on the way,” Shane replied.

“I’m just finishing up. My housekeeper arrived early this morning and fixed my breakfast. Why don’t you get started, and I’ll be out to check on you in a few minutes. Come with me,” he motioned for Shane to follow him. He walked ahead of Shane around to the back of the house and out near an old tool shed. There was a cord of firewood piled up in a big unorganized mess. It looked like someone backed a truck load into the area and dumped it. “I need that wood chopped and stacked. There’s a big axe inside that door to the tool shed. You’ll find a couple of splitting wedges on a bench. There’s an old-time foot treadle grinding wheel in there for sharpening the ax. You’ll find some sharpening oil to pour into the feed spout in the cabinet. Get started, and I’ll be back in about half an hour." The old judge instructed him.

“Yes, sir,” Shane replied. He found the old ax and a double jack for pounding wedges. He knew how to use a grinding wheel and sharpened the old ax with a keen knew edge like it hadn’t seen in years. Shane didn’t bother with the wedges or double jack. He thought if the wood was seasoned enough he could manage with the ax. He was right. The first log he split fell apart with one moderate swing of his sharp ax. He split about a quarter of the pile by the time the old Judge returned to check on him. He was carrying a large blue-stone metal pitcher of cold water with two matching metal cups. The sun was just barely up and the heat of the day hadn’t yet washed across the badlands.

The Judge seemed pleased with Shane’s progress. “Nice work, Son. Care for a drink of cold water?” Potter asked.

“Thanks, but I’m fine for now, sir,” Shane replied and split another log.

“I’ll leave it here on this table in the shade. Take a break when you need it.” The old man didn’t say more, he went about picking up the pieces of chopped wood and carried them over to the side of the shed where there were four, inch and a half by eight foot, galvanized pipes pounded into the ground which formed a dam for stacking the wood. He began to neatly pile it up. Shane stopped his splitting and began to gather wood to help him. “No, no, Son! You just keep splitting. You’re doing a fine job. You let me take care of this. I need the exercise,” he said.

Shane continued splitting and had the wood chopped within a little over two hours worth of good solid work. Only then did he take a brief break to have a drink of the cool water. The heat of the day was coming on and Shane’s shirt was already soaked with sweat. He didn’t care. The moisture kept him cooler. “Take yore’ shirt off if you’d be cooler, Son. Ain’t nobody here but us men and my housekeeper, Ms. Huggins. She’ll be leaving in a few minutes anyway,” Potter said. Shane thanked the old judge and took off his shirt. It was the first glimpse of Shane's upper development the old Judge got as he looked the young cowboy slave up and down. A small grin crossed his face as he slowly shook his head and went back to his work. The men worked together in silence to complete piling the wood next to the shed.

They were finished in no time and Shane could see the old man was pleased. “That should last me all winter. Good work, Son,” Potter complimented him.

“Thank you, Master,” Shane replied.

The old man had two older horses. He told Shane they belonged to his boy who was killed in one of the many corporate wars. Shane mucked out their stalls and put fresh hay down for them. From the amount of dung and hay piled on top of more hay, they hadn’t been mucked out in a couple of years. To his surprise the old man worked right along side Shane. He knew how to wield a pitchfork. He took a break and insisted Shane stop for a minute and have some water. The old man couldn't believe the beauty of the young slave standing before him as the sweat glistened and fell from his chiseled body. He was breathtakingly handsome. Shane seemed to have inherited all the best qualities of his parents genetic capabilities. Potter felt certain his parents couldn't have done better. As they stood there, the old man spoke, “It’s hard to keep up a place like this when you’re alone. As you get older you put off things until a week, a month, or a year’s gone by, and you still ain’t got it done.” The way the old man said it broke Shane’s sensitive heart.

“May I speak freely, Master?” Shane asked.

“Certainly. You’re free to say anything you like, Son, within the boundaries of manners and respect. I’d expect that of any man, free or slave,” Potter replied.

“I understand, sir. All you have to do is ask my master, and he’ll gladly loan me out to you anytime you need help,” Shane said.

“I appreciate that, I really do, but in a way that’s sort of accepting charity, and I just ain’t that way, Son. I guess I could pay him for your services,” he said.

“Knowing my master like I do he wouldn’t hear of it,” Shane replied and smiled at him.

“Then you see my conundrum,” Potter said and grinned at Shane.

“I love and respect my master, but he does have a head what’s almost as hard as mine, sir,” Shane said and grinned at him.

The old judge let Shane’s words sink in for a minute then spit out a mouthful of water halfway across the stall as he started laughing. “That ain’t always a bad trait, Son. I thank God for them Goodnight men's hard heads. His brother, Charlie, is the least hard headed of the bunch, but he has his moments as well. There are two prizes in that breed of men and Charlie’s boy Waco tops my list.” Potter didn’t say who the second was, but Shane didn’t ask.

“He’s an amazing young man, sir. I love my nephew with all my heart,” Shane said.

The men finished up the stalls. Shane used a wheelbarrow and carted all the muck to a flat field out behind the barn, used a heavy field leveling rake, and spread it evenly on the ground. As they were finishing up the old ponies came in from the pasture to check out their clean stalls to give their opinions. Shane noticed the younger one walked slowly and was limping. The other horse's jaw was swollen. He went to the lame horse and raised his right hind foot. His hooves had grown so long he lost one of his back shoes, and the horse's hoof curled back and was beginning to cut into his flesh. He checked out the others jaw and found a rotten tooth. It smelled bad and was causing the horse a great deal of pain.

“You know about horses?" the old man asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m a cowboy slave,” Shane said.

“Of course you are. How stupid of me,” Potter said and grinned.

“I saw some farrier tools in the shed, Master. May I use them?” Shane asked.

“Certainly. They were my boy’s tools. He went to farrier school to learn to take care of the horses on our ranch. He used to take care of them. Can you help them?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Gimme' a minute to talk with them.” The old judge looked at Shane like he was putting him on. Shane smiled and walked over to the ponies. They didn't seem the least anxious about the big man as Shane put his hand out to them. “Look, Old Friend," Shane spoke to the first pony, "I know your mouth hurts, but I can help you. If you let me pull that tooth, it will start to feel better immediately. Then, I can trim you and your mate’s hooves and make you a new set of shoes.” The horse stamped his feet and shook his head from side to side. The judge wasn’t grinning any more. The pony looked like he was responding to Shane’s words. “If you don’t let me pull it, infection might set in, and you could die. Besides, your breath smells really bad,” Shane made his argument. The lame pony whinnied and shook his head up and down in agreement. Still the older horse wasn’t having any of it. “All right, I have some tricks what will make the pain go away. I have to go to the shed for a minute for a tool. Excuse me, Master,” Shane said as he headed for the tool shed. He got inside and spoke out loud, “Kyron are you following me?”

“Always. Way ahead of you, Captain Shane. I’ve contacted Ping and she’s sending Jack and Jill to assist you. I’ve located Jesse Watkins and Utah and they’re available if you need them.”

“Much appreciated, Friend,” Shane said.

“It's nothing, Captain Shane,” Kyron said. There was a bright flash of light and Jack and Jill appeared. They ran to Shane and jumped into his big open arms.

“Thanks for coming, Guys. I need your help,” he said. They were thrilled to see their friend Captain Shane again.

<< Always, when you need us, Captain Shane, >> projected Jill.

Judge Potter’s mouth dropped open when Shane returned from the tool room with a big pair of channel locks and two beautiful brightly colored critters with him. Jill was riding on his shoulder and Jack was holding Shane’s left hand skipping and hopping along beside him. Shane was lifting him and swinging him in the air like he was a slinky toy. Potter could tell the small critter was having a ball as he would leap to take off on another flying arc.

“Master Potter, may in introduce my little brother and sister, Jack and Jill. They don’t speak, Judge. Their species never developed verbal communication. They don’t need to speak because they can hear your thoughts," Shane said as a matter-of-fact.

<< Welcome, Jack and Jill. >> The old man projected with his mind. He thought he would test them. Jack let go of Shane’s hand and bowed deeply to the old man, then offered his hand. The judge took it and looked into Jack’s beautiful eyes. The judge could swear he heard the handsome critter say, << Thank you, sir. We’re pleased to be here. >> Jill decided not to be so formal, climbed onto his shoulder, gave him a big hug and a quick peck on the cheek. The old man broke up laughing as she jumped back to Shane.

“Where did they come from?” Potter asked.

“A planet in another galaxy far from ours, Master. They are here for a while as the guests of one of my masters. They were kind enough to come to me when I called, but they had to get their parents’ permission first.” Shane said and grinned as he tickled Jill. She grabbed both arms around his head and laughed out loud.

Judge Potter laughed at her glee. “How can they help you, Son?” Potter asked.

“Similar to our skunks, they have special scent glands with which they can emit specially designed pheromones to sedate the pony long enough for me to remove his tooth. It ain’t permanent and will wear off in about thirty minutes, but enough will linger he will be a limp-biscuit for horse shoeing. It will just relax them and make everything go faster. Okay! You guys go and do your thing. We’ll stand back,” Shane said. He gently took Potter by his arm and led him well away from the corral.

The two small critters bounded away, one to each of the ponies. They approached them slowly and were in mental contact with them immediately. The horses didn’t shy away. They sniffed them but didn’t seem afraid. Jack and Jill jumped upon their backs and began to scratch the old horses. They liked that. Before they knew what was happening they zapped them with a sedative pheromone that barely left them standing. They looked like two old hippies high on pot. Jack and Jill waited a few minutes to make sure it took, then bounded away. They ran up to the old judge and each took one of his hands to watch. The old man got a big grin on his face. Shane lost no time, walked up to the horse with the bad tooth, forced his mouth open, clamped onto the tooth with a set of channel locks he found in the shed and yanked. The smelly tooth came out in one piece. It began to bleed freely and ran down the side of the animal’s jaw. That’s exactly what Shane wanted. The first blood and fluids to drain smelled awful. It was enough to gag a maggot, but eventually the blood began to flow pure. Shane knew he cleansed the major portion of infection from the horse’s mouth and the animal’s natural immunities would take care of the rest.

“If you will excuse me, Master, I must return my brother and sister to their parents, but first, I must take them to the shed,” Shane said.

“Please, allow me see them off, Son?” Potter asked.

Jack and Jill bowed gracefully to the judge, and he bowed to them in return. “Thank you for being so gracious to help my animals,” Potter said sincerely. Once again he could swear he heard in his mind two small voices saying, << You and your horses are most welcome, sir. >>

Shane lavished them with thanks, love, and more tickles. Potter was impressed Shane’s interaction with the creatures was more one of a big brother playing with his younger siblings. The love that passed between the three of them was palpable. They were giggling like school kids as they stepped away from the men.

"Jack and Jill are ready to return,” Shane didn’t have to say anymore, a great flash of light enveloped the two beautiful creatures, and they were gone.

“Can you handle that, Master Potter?” Shane asked.

The old man had a stunned look on his face. “I shouldn’t ask any questions, should I, Son?” he asked with a grin.

“Only if you need to, sir.”

“It makes me wonder how far have you traveled in ten years, Son?” Potter asked.

“More miles than you might imagine, Master,” Shane said quietly and smiled at him.

Without further ado, Shane donned a rawhide farrier’s apron he found with the tools and began to remove the old shoes from the lame horse. He clipped, cleaned, filed his hooves and fired up a small foundry he found in the shed to make the old horses a new set of shoes. While it was old and small, it was more serviceable than the old clunker he and Cole had to deal with everyday. He finished shoeing both horses in a couple of hours. In the meantime, Shane put some antibiotic cream he found into the cavity of the horse’s mouth who lost the tooth. He took a clean, damp cloth Judge Potter brought him from the house and gently cleaned the older horse’s face.

He didn’t seem to mind as the pain was completely gone. He was already feeling a lot better. Judge Potter was astounded at Shane’s knowledge and empathy working with the animals. Shane talked with them the whole time, soothing and encouraging them. Potter couldn’t get out of his mind the young man’s interaction with the beautiful ring-tailed creatures. Shane didn’t treat them like a human might treat an animal. He treated them like special members of his extended family. It occurred to Potter, Shane was treating the horses the same way. “Where did your learn to be a farrier, Son?” Potter asked him.

“Cole Jenkins takes care of our horses, and I apprenticed under him,” Shane replied.

“That’s right, I remember Cole Jenkins. One of the best farriers in these, here, parts. I think my boy apprenticed with him over to the Goodnight ranch. Good man, Cole Jenkins. Tragic story, but he’s been with Angus all these years. He’s lived a good, safe, clean, healthy, productive life.”

“He’s my mentor, Master Potter. I love Cole Jenkins like a father,” Shane said.

“It shows, Slave. Cole Jenkins is a good man to emulate. Ain’t no doubt about it.” Potter looked like he wanted to say more, but hesitated and changed the subject. “Them critters who came to you when you called; they’re more to you than just animal friends, ain’t they, Son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. They’s a part of my family. They belong to me, but more importantly, I belong to them; through my master, of course,” Shane was quick to add.

“That’s the politically correct answer, Slave, but we can cut out the middle man here since we’re speaking freely. Ain’t no doubt in my mind they're part of your personal family.”

“Yes, sir,” Shane replied humbly.

“Every man should be so blessed,” Potter said quietly. It was high noon and the sun was beating down like a blast furnace. “It’s just too damn hot!” the old man exclaimed as he removed his big cowboy hat and wiped his forehead with the arm of his shirt sleeve. “Come with me, Son! Grab that pitcher of water, them two cups, and bring ‘em with you,” Potter ordered. Shane followed him to the big house but stopped by the back door. “What’s a' matter, Boy? Come on in,” Potter said.

“I’m too dirty, Master. A slave shouldn’t enter a master’s house like 'iis. It’s just downright disrespectful, sir,” he said.

“You’re right, it is, but unusual circumstances call for unusual solutions. Look at me, Son, I’m as dirty as you. Now, obey your master and get chore’ beefy butt in this house,” he grinned good-naturedly at Shane.

“Yes, sir.” Shane came up the steps carrying the pitcher and cups and set them on a table on the porch. They went into the kitchen and on the table was a huge picnic basket and a big handmade quilt thrown over the back of one of the chairs.

“You think them horses are ready for riding?" Potter asked.

“Yes, sir. They still got enough of Jack and Jill’s magic feel good gas in ‘em they won’t mind. I just won’t bridle the one I removed the tooth. He don’t need no reins no ways, he’ll go where I tell him,” Shane said.

“Any other man I’d question, but not you, Slave. I have no doubt he will. Go back down there and saddle them two. Come back and get me when you’re done.”

It didn't take Shane but a half hour when he returned to the backdoor of the house and knocked. The old man came to the porch and almost fell over to see the horses standing behind Shane fully saddled. The toothless one had no reins and the others reins were hanging to the ground. They weren’t going anywhere. Potter smiled. “Come in, Boy! Come in,” he said. Shane entered the kitchen with his hat in his hand. "Put chore’ hat back on, Cowboy, grab that basket and that blanket. I got the rest in this here tote bag. Let’s vamoose,” he said and winked at Shane.

The men slowly rode out, down through the pasture behind the big barn, and up a steep hill to crest the summit that looked down into a beautiful valley meadow filled with wild flowers and blue bonnets. In the distance Shane could see running water and some large willow trees shading a large portion of the bank of a creek. Surrounding the area were huge oak trees that grew to enormous size because of the year round abundant supply of water. It looked like something one might see in a Porfirio Salinas painting. Somehow, Shane knew that was where the old man was headed. They rode into the shaded grove of oaks, and it was ten degrees cooler. Both men and horses were sweating profusely. Potter got down from his horse and Shane followed. They walked the rest of the way to the bank of the stream where there was a natural area just right for a picnic. They let the ponies run free to get a drink of the clear, cool, refreshing water. “Should we tether them?” Potter asked.

“Naw, sir, they’ll come when I call. They’re grateful for their new shoes and the older one is glad to be relieved of his bad tooth; we be buddies now. We's family,” Shane said and grinned.

“Ain't no doubt in my mind, Son. I keep forgetting you can speak with them. How long have you had the ability?”

“Since my nephew, Master Waco, gimme’ some of his slave’s special milk to drink. Him and his slave brothers taught me,” Shane said.

“Slave brothers? Now why does that sound correct to me in context with Waco Goodnight?” he asked rhetorically. “I guess it’s sort of like Jack and Jill being your brother and sister, right?”

“Yes, sir. 'At’s about right,” Shane grinned.

Shane was amazed the water was so clear and pure you could see all the way to the bottom. It looked like an old stone quarry. He could see huge fish swimming around and a few bottom feeders now and then.

“Gimme' a hand, Son,” Potter said.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, Master, I was so taken with the beauty of the place.”

“It’s one of my favorite places. I come here by myself sometimes to get away from life. Sometimes I fish. Don’t catch much. I think them fish are too damn smart. They can see what you’re up to,” Potter said and laughed, “Here, spread this old quilt on the grass under that big tree,” he ordered. Shane did as asked, and the old man set the picnic basket down. He took off his big hat and sailed it onto the water. It floated lazily on top. Next he took off his sweaty shirt and threw it into the pool as well. He sat down and began to pull off his boots. Shane rushed to him, pulled them off for him, and set them aside. Shane pulled his socks off and the old man made a motion for Shane to throw them into the water. He did as instructed. Potter wasted no time shucking off his Wranglers, removed his belt, pocket watch, wallet, and tossed his pants into the pool. The old man stood naked before Shane. Shane was impressed. The Judge didn’t look so old without his clothes. In fact, he had a body almost identical to Cole Jenkins’ but not quite so large. He looked fit and strong. There was nothing sagging or flabby about this cowboy. His chest hair was considerably grayer than Cole’s, but he was still a very handsome and attractive man. Even his cock looked like Cole’s.

“Your turn, Slave,” Potter said and looked at Shane with a grin. Shane followed his lead exactly. He tossed his hat into the pool, next his shirt, removed his boots, tossed his socks in and finally his Wranglers. Both men stood by the pool naked as the day they were born. Potter did a double take at Shane’s body. He stood staring at the young man in awe. For a moment he was speechless. He started to say something, stopped, and just shook his head. “I know you’re a big man. It ain’t difficult to see even with your clothes on, but I had no idea you were... my God, Boy, you look like something out of one a’ them books on Greek statues of Spartan warriors,” he said.

Potter grinned from ear to ear, turned and jumped into the water. Shane was right behind him. They swam, rinsed the dust from their hats and clothes, and laid them out on some bushes to dry in the in the scorching early afternoon West Texas sun. They swam a little, had a brief water fight, and played touchy-feely grab ass games with one another. Shane let himself relax with the old man and enjoyed himself. He found himself being seduced by Judge Potter; not sexually, per se, but psychologically. More simply put, the old man was winning him over.

Potter got out of the water, walked to his tote bag, unzipped it and got out two enormous bath sheets and handed one to Shane. The men dried themselves and pulled on their boots so they wouldn’t get bullhead stickers in their feet. Besides, a cowboy is just plumb naked without his boots. Potter invited Shane to join him on the quilt. They sat in the cool of the shade naked as the day they were born except for their boots, of course. Potter didn’t bother to wrap himself with his towel and neither did Shane. The judge opened the basket and began to remove the contents. He pulled out a big plastic tub of fried chicken and various plastic containers with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, salad with two kinds of dressing, milk, and sun tea with lemon and sugar.

“My housekeeper made this up before she left this morning and packed the basket. It was mighty nice of her, but I pay her handsomely and always give her a big tip. Help yourself, Boy, eat up. We’re through for the day. I just want to spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know you better and enjoy your company. If you’re as good company this afternoon as you were this morning, it will be a fine day to remember. That’s what life is all about, Son, making as many fine days to remember as you can cram into a lifetime,” Potter allowed.

“I agree, Master Potter, but don’t a lot depend on the length of your lifetime?” Shane asked.

“True, but I don’t think about that. I know I got so few of them days left, I better make hay while the sun shines. Them religious folks talk about the great beyond, how wonderful it will be and some talk about coming back here. Funny, I can’t wrap my mind around either one. I shore’ as Hell don’t wanna’ come back here. I seen too much in this world I don’t like. It’s a beautiful world, but mankind has made it a living Hell, and it only seems to be getting worse instead of better. Maybe there’s something to all that Armageddon crap them bible thump’n fools preach about, but I doubt it. It’s real difficult for me to believe the hallucinogenic ravings of some crazy old hermit who lived his life in a cave on the Greek island of Patmos. God may move in mysterious ways, but rest assured some idiot will find a way to fuck it up.” Potter laughed. Shane grinned and nodded his agreement.

Shane piled his plastic plate full. The food was excellent and so was the company. He was having a good time and was more relaxed than he had been in a long time. He thought to himself, sometimes being a slave has its better moments. This was one of them. “May I make a suggestion, Master?” Shane asked.

“We’re speaking freely with each other, ain’t we?” Potter asked in reply.

“Yes, sir. Just mind’n my manners, Master.”

“Noted and appreciated. Now what’s your suggestion, Son?” he asked.

“Consider joining the Grange,” Shane said but didn't elaborate.

“I been to a number of Grange functions and always enjoyed 'em. I considered it, but I ain’t never been invited, Son.”

“That’s because you’re of a high political appointment, and folks don’t trust government much these days.”

“I know, and they got every right not to trust it. Maybe it’s best I don’t join, because it would place me between a rock and a hard place. It might be considered a conflict of interest. I walk a tightrope. I have to kowtow to the current government demands while trying to appease my community. I have to do some things and make some decisions I don’t agree with, but the law requires me to do it; however, today is sort of a landmark day for me. I was going to take today to make up my mind about retirement. As a matter of fact, you’re hearing next Friday is the last official decision I have to make if I decide to retire. I can live with that," he said and smiled.

“When you're retired, would you consider joining the Grange, sir?” Shane took another huge bite from a chicken leg.

“Yes, if I’m invited, I most certainly would consider it. Can you tell me what the Grange might have to offer me, but equally important, what could I possibly have to offer them? The Grange is made up of the most common of folk: by that, I mean they are the common denominators, the very salt of the Earth, the basic essence and innate goodness of what humanity should be about; like what you went out of your way to do for them animals this morning. You saw they were suffering and no matter what you had to reveal about yourself or your two secret friends, you couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I know damn well you didn’t do it for me. I should think you would only have hate and loathing in your heart for a man who sentenced you to ten years of slavery. Why would you go out of your way to do anything for me?”

Shane didn’t answer right away. He didn’t react or even look up from his plate. Potter watched him closely. He observed the same cowboy stoicism in many cowboy slaves, but it was different in the young man sitting before him. He knew Shane would answer his question, but he was taking his damn good time to formulate just the right words for the most proper response. He didn’t want to overstep his bounds this late in his slavery. “Speaking freely, and with all due respect for you and your position, sir, what I done I would do for any creature in distress, but you’re right, any creature who can’t verbalize his discomfort with whom I can communicate, I will go out of my way to provide some comfort. I don’t think of you as the man who sentenced me to ten years of slavery. I think of you as another one of nature's creatures in distress. It’s my duty, not as a slave or even as a freeman if I was one, but as a compassionate fellow traveler to reach out to you if I can and you'll let me.

"To answer your other question, you are a man of learning with the better angels of your nature in conflict with a system what might be best described as hopelessly flawed and corrupt. Boiled down to its essence, you know right from wrong, but are distressed by what you see as your increasing lack of patience and fortitude to swim upstream against the ever increasing flow of sewage that comes your way. The Grange is my family. They are my refuge against the insanity of this world. Me and my family have a need for men like you; men of sound reason. Without giving away too much of a confidential nature, I can only assure you what my family, the Grange, has to offer you is beyond your wildest imaginings. I would love to tell you more, but since my hearing is next week, it might be politically incorrect and ethically imprudent of me to share more with you.”

The old man listened to Shane’s words in shock and awe. He was stunned this young man could come up with an answer to his questions that was so straight forward and well thought out. He took Potter’s slow pitch and knocked it out of the ballpark. Potter sat for a moment in silence watching Shane shovel food into his handsome maw. Shane almost gorged himself the food was so good, but he also worked hard that morning and built up an appetite. Potter seemed to take great satisfaction watching the young man pack it away.

They finished their meal, put away the leftovers, and bagged the throwaway dishes and utensils. Potter set the basket aside and leaned back against the huge oak tree they were sitting under. He noticed Shane kept looking at him and seemed to have no shame looking at Potter’s private parts. If Potter caught his eye, Shane would look up and smile. Potter thought it was about as natural a compliment as one man might give another. Shane seemed totally comfortable being naked before him and seemed to enjoy Potter admiring his physique. From time to time he would reach down and rearrange his penis and balls to be more comfortable from the heat. Potter reached into his bag and withdrew a small silver flask. He took the top off and took a long pull. He offered it to Shane.

“I ain’t never tasted liquor since I been a slave, Master. I better not.”

“Take a small pull, Slave. That’s an order. It’s Southern Comfort. It’s medicinal. I want you relaxed. One pull will do.”

Shane took a small sip and grimaced as the fiery liquid burned a trail down his throat. He sputtered and coughed. Shane was lying outstretched at Potter’s feet, looking up at him sitting against the tree. He wanted to reach out and touch the old man in the worst way. He kept looking at his penis and wondering how it might taste. Potter didn’t miss Shane’s attention and rearranged his cock and balls as he watched Shane do several times.

“Your answer to my question surprised and astounded me. I don’t know why I should be surprised after watching you in action this morning. I showed you what I wanted done, you took charge and with limited instructions from me did everything I wanted. If that weren’t enough, you took expert care of my animals. I guess I’ve become so jaded with the morons I deal with every day, I never expected anything quite so eloquent, coherent, or accurate from a cowboy slave. I should know better. I know some very astute and wise cowboys, but as I grow older, I’m losing my sharpness of focus. If I had you as an attorney in my court, my days would still be filled with a modicum of satisfaction. To hear one lawyer today present anything so complicated or perfectly nuanced as what you just said would send me home at the end of the day with a song in my heart.

“Unfortunately, most are certifiably bat-shit crazy. I appreciate your candor and the respectful way you presented your argument for joining the Grange. You just helped decide my own case for retirement. You’re the only one who will know this, but I plan to announce my retirement in court the afternoon of your hearing. I haven’t retired before now, because, in some small way, I’m the last bastion or fire wall, if you will, of protection against the insanity of our stacked jurisprudence system in this country. There are small things I can do to creatively navigate or circumnavigate the system.

“I wouldn’t retire if I didn’t have the option of appointing my own successor, but fortunately I do have that option and plan to appoint a younger man who has been my protegee for many years. I know he’s a man whom I can trust to carry on in the same manner. He has his own ideas, but I know he will be as fair as the system allows. It’s a good thing you weren’t being sentenced in a court by today’s standards. Instead of fifteen years you would be looking at a mandatory sentence of slavery for life, and I would have no choice but to send you to a Cheney corporate work camp.

As for your upcoming case, I’ve already made up my mind about that as well, but I need more input from you. If you ain’t guessed by now, it’s the real reason I wanted to borrow you from your master today. Your master and brother, Angus Goodnight, and his brother, Charlie Goodnight, are two of the finest men I ever had the honor to know and call my friends, but Angus is in turmoil. It’s part of the Goodnight curse of hard heads,” Potter said, laughed, then continued, “he don’t wanna' give you up as a slave; not because he needs another slave, but because he’s come to love you so deeply it will be like gnawing off his own arm to let you go.

“I can see it in his eyes ever’ damn time your name is mentioned, but it ain’t your brother’s decision. It’s mine. Oh, he could come to me with some trumped up charges and accusation against you to try to get your indenturement changed to slavery for life. It’s done all the time. It’s common practice now days, but that’s not what Angus is about. It ain’t what I’m about neither, and he knows it. I need to know what you’re thinking, your hopes and your dreams. That’s why I wanted you to have a little nip of the old elixir of truth. I wanted to loosen you up to relax and tell me the secrets of your heart. What’s going through your mind right this minute? What does your heart want most?” Potter asked.

Shane didn’t answer for a moment but continued to stare at Judge Potter’s handsome penis. It looked so good to him he swore he could almost taste it in his mouth. Finally he spoke, “Dessert,” he replied without taking his eyes off Potter’s cock.

“What? Did you say ‘dessert’?” Potter asked and laughed.

“Yes, sir. Mean'n no disrespect, Master, but why weren't there no dessert with such a wonderful lunch?” Shane asked and grinned.

Potter roared with laughter. “What on Earth would make you think of dessert at a time like this, Son?” he asked and grinned.

“Your handsome penis, sir. I been lying here listening to you, thinking how wonderful it might be to suck you off. My master trained me to always offer my services to a master whether he chooses to accept or not. We became so involved with work and conversation, I's enjoy'n myself, and I done went and forgot my place and manners. May I please pleasure you, Master? You asked me what I most wanted right at this moment, and what I most want is dessert. I want to suck my dessert out of yore' fine looking cock. Like them ponies I helped this morning, you’re in distress, and as a slave, it's my duty to offer you some relief and comfort. Once't I drain you real good, I promise your mind will let go and resolve all them pesky concerns you got float'n 'round in your handsome head. It would also provide your humble slave with great sense of pride to ride home in my master’s truck with a fresh batch of yore' sweet cowboy cream on my breath,” Shane said sincerely and grinned.

Potter smiled to watch Shane’s big cock grow to full salute. “Would you believe I ain’t never had a slave suck me off?” Potter asked.

“Yes, sir. I absolutely would believe you. Please, Master Potter, let me be your first. It would be a great honor and privilege, sir,” Shane’s cock grew even harder.

“I wondered why you were looking at my old cayuse.” Potter’s penis began its own rise to attention.

“Now you know, Master. My secret is out,” Shane smiled.

“Do you think it might be a conflict of interest, Slave?” Potter asked jokingly.

“Naw, sir. How could it be a conflict of interest? I’m interested in getting me some sweet dessert, and you're interested in feeding a starving slave. Do you think Jesus asked his disciples that question at the last supper?” Shane asked and grinned real big.

Potter threw back his handsome head and laughed out loud. “Good point, Slave! Fine precedent. Well argued. It’s been so long. I don’t know if I can give you what you need, Son. I’m afraid my dessert making machine is well past its prime,” he replied and chuckled.

“Let your slave worry about that, Master. If I don’t please you, you must tell my master so's he can punish me, or better yet, I insist you bend me over your knee and take your belt to me yourself," Shane allowed.

“Good Lord, I wouldn’t want that on my conscience. Neither would I want to deny you dessert. All right. Go ahead, chow down. Suck hard, Slave. Let’s see if you can get some dessert out of me. I’m sure I’ll be pleasantly surprised if you do,” the old Judge said and laughed.

Shane didn’t wait for Potter to change his mind. He started licking and making love to the old man’s balls. After ten years of sucking his brother and ramrod, Shane was more than a little confident he could please the old cowboy. He chased Potter’s balls around in their sacks, sucked, licked, and cleaned every inch of his masculine, sweaty balls. Then he started licking, kissing, and making love to Potter’s penis. For an older cowboy he didn’t seem to have much problem maintaining a strong erection. After Shane made love to every inch of Potter’s cock and balls a few times he stopped for a moment. "Since you ain't never had a slave suck you off before, Master, I can’t take you until you give me permission,” Shane said.

“You have my permission to take me, Slave,” Potter replied.

Shane immediately deep-throated the old man’s cock. Potter gasped for air. He came up and away from leaning against the trunk of the big oak tree. “Oh, my God! I never expected it to feel so good. Christ almighty that feels wonderful!” Potter exclaimed. He gently grabbed Shane’s head and began to rub and massage it lovingly like he was trying to transmit to the slave his feeling through his hands. Shane knew how to polish a cowboy’s saddle horn. He knew how to bring him to the brink of being bucked off and easing off for a more gentle ride. He worked Potter like the expert cocksucker he was and knew he had him almost to the point of climax several times. “Holy shit, Son! I was wrong. My dessert maker is still in working order. I got me a big-old batch of cowboy cream building up in there for you. Don’t try to make no more, Slave, I’m begging you,” Potter begged Shane and rubbed his head lovingly.

Shane knew it was time to claim his prize and get his dessert. He started fucking his own face with the old cowboy’s sweet cock, ramming it deep down his throat time after time. He was relentless until he felt Potter gasping for breath, arching his back, and began exploding into his throat. Shane swallowed once, twice, and fucked his face even harder on Potter’s penis until he got the last volley of the sweet cowboy cream the old man had to offer. Shane whipped up a good batch. Potter’s come was a little on the tart side but finished a very toothsome delight.

It satisfied Shane’s sweet tooth just fine. He continued to suck and clean the very last bits of come from Potter’s cock. He ran his tongue beneath Potter’s ample foreskin covering the big head of his cock and got the last of the bits and flavors from it. Potter was squirming like a worm in hot ashes. His cock-head was very sensitive after coming. Still holding Shane’s head in his hands he pulled him up to him and threw his arms around his neck. “That was fuck’n wonderful, Son. I don’t know if it’s good manners to thank a slave for his attentions or if a pat on the butt and a compliment will suffice,” he said.

“Either will do, sir. Dessert is my prize," Shane said and grinned. Shane lay in Potter’s arms with his head against the old man’s chest. He rolled over on his back and leaned against Potter. The old man draped his arms around Shane’s front and began playing with the young man’s well defined tits.

“You were right,” he said quietly, “I was a creature of nature in distress and you comforted me. I hope it was enough dessert for you.”

“You done got a really good scald on that batch, Master. It was fully toothsome, sweet, and satisfying. It exploded on my palate like a fine well aged wine. It hit the spot... a couple of times,” Shane said pouring on the cowboy bullshit and chuckled.

Potter laughed. “This is the time to lay our cards on the table, Son. We’re lying here, relaxed with nothing between us. We’ve shared work, food, and a little cowboy love. I need to know where you heart is about your upcoming hearing. Have you spoken with anyone about it?” Potter asked quietly.

“Yes, sir. My brother Master Charlie, my nephew Master Waco, Master Charlie’s ramrod Master Lazarus Long, and the man I mentioned earlier who I secretly think on as my dad, Cole Jenkins,” Shane replied.

“What did they tell you?” Potter asked.

“Ever' one of 'um told me to accept probation if it’s offered, but for different reasons. Master Lazarus has need of me to take some of his responsibilities off his shoulders. He and Master Charlie got so many damn irons in the fire I couldn’t even begin to tell you about ever’ thing. I been working with and for Master Lazarus quite a bit. Master Charlie, he wants me to accept probation because he thinks it’s the right thing for me to do. He didn’t go behind his big brother’s back. He told Master Angus exactly what he was gonna’ tell me. Master Waco – well – Master Waco loves me like an older brother. He just don’t want his uncle being a slave no more, but there’s more details to these men’s opinions than I can share with you right now.

“After your retirement, I can share everything with you, and I make you a promise, I will. I know that probably ain’t too helpful, but the reason Cole Jenkins gimme’ was probably the most important. He insists I need five years probation as a freeman to get my head turned around to think’n like a freeman again and not like a slave. If I opt for five more years as a slave, he thinks I’ll spend another five years after that learning to think and act like a freeman. I think he fears if I don’t accept freedom and probation, I might never. Cole made a lot of sense to me. The question remains, how can I say ‘no’ to my beloved brother Angus?” Shane lamented.

“You never cease to amaze me, Son. You’ve impressed me since you got here this morning and you continue to amaze me; not in a bravado way, but in a deeply abiding sense of humility and self-worth few men ever develop. You’ve had a lot of input about this, but you’re pulled back and forth. You know all the ins and outs, the whys and why-nots about the situation. The question is, what do you want?” Potter stressed.

“I just don’t know, Master Potter. I know if I accept being a freeman, the law says I can’t service my brother or his ramrod no more. You talk about gnawing your own arm off; after ten years of service how am I gonna’ give that up over night?” Shane asked honestly.

“You might ask Hoot Austin and Cotton Daniels,” Potter suggested gently pinching Shane’s tit between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Shane. Then he laughed. “I get your point, sir, but it ain’t me what will be the hard-head about it. Master Bill has his reputation to protect as one of the finest slave trainers in the business and Master Angus is... well, Master Angus is Master Angus. You know him.”

“Yes, I surely do. You leave Angus Goodnight to me. I’m one of the few men who can get through to him. I know his weak spots. I get the feeling you’d like to accept probation, but rather than ‘cause a lot of heartache you might just request to remain a slave for five more years.”

“Yes, sir. That’s the quandary I’m in.”

“Do you need someone to tell you what to do? Are you incapable of making a big decision like that?” Potter asked.

“I think so, Master Potter, or I would have already done made up my mind,” Shane replied.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes decisions like 'at come to you like a bolt out of the blue. Lemme' tell you a story about your surrogate dad, Cole Jenkins. Can you keep it to yourself?” Potter asked.

“You know I can, Master Potter,” Shane replied.

“You’re right, I do. During the monetary collapse which began in 2008 and continued for damn near ten years, there were men all across our county out of work, and like it was during the great depression of the early twentieth century, a law was passed that declared all vagrants caught stealing or looting would be made slaves depending on what they stole and how much. Cole was a hard working farrier, but when the economy collapsed nobody had money to pay to get their horses shod. Cole had a family to feed, a wife and two kids; a boy and a girl. They lost everything they had including their home. They were living in one of many cardboard communities under a freeway overpass. Cole was caught breaking into one of the big mega-food chains with several other men one night to steal food for their families. He got exactly the same sentence you did, fifteen years with probation after ten if he behaved himself.

"Angus bought him to have someone to take care of his and his brother’s horses. Six months after Angus bought him, Cole Jenkin's wife died of pneumonia from malnutrition. It was common during those days. Several million people starved to death, but newly founded theocracy in the wake of Bush and Trump only believed in welfare for big corporations and the rich. What we know today as corporate communism all but wiped out the middle class. The politicians had their heads so far up the asses of the one percent of the richest in the U.S. they believed everything they dished out as gospel and thought the poor were just lazy, refused to work, and didn’t deserve to live. They easily dismissed them as unworthy because they considered them dumb and stupid; the 'unwashed unworthy masses' argument of the super rich.

"However, when it came time for voting they spent fortunes to falsely appeal to their religious side, their prejudices, and fears to sell them a worthless bill of good. It was like waving a red cape at a bull to get him to do what you want then killing him with a hidden sword. The truth was, there were no jobs worth a damn for the middle and lower classes to be had. The government funded by the rich for only the rich shipped all the jobs that commanded a decent salary out of the country because foreign labor was so much cheaper and with no unions to deal with they didn't have to pay benefits or provide retirement. They attacked and destroyed the unions which were the last strong hold against corporate autocracy. They cut funding for essentials like schools so the subsequent generations would be so under-educated, unable to reason and think for themselves they would be no threat to a rebellion. Those that tried would be reduced to non-human status and made slaves.

"Since Cole had no other family, his kids were sent to privately owned state homes, but the state kept tabs and charged the kids for their room, board, and education so when they became eighteen they were sold into indenturement to pay the state and private corporations back for their care. Cole’s son, Danny, was sold to the military for an eight year hitch, was sent to the middle East and was killed the first six months he was there. His daughter was sold to a no-good man who made her into a whore. She got AIDS and died of liver failure at the age of nineteen. Cole ultimately faced the same decision you face. He kept his nose clean and worked hard for Angus and Charlie, but when his ten years was up he decided to stay a slave for another five years. At the end of that time, he came to court with Angus and Charlie standing up for him.

"They tried to do the right thing by him. They were going to do the same for him Charlie did for Blake Tindell, but I could see the light was gone out of Cole Jenkins’ eyes. He was so broken in spirit he begged Angus in court to accept him as his slave for life. Everyone tried to plead with him to change his mind. I spoke with him privately and tried to get him to reconsider, but his mind was made up. It didn’t cost Angus anything but a small charge for paperwork, and he got himself a fine slave, a good man, for life. Cole’s been over here to help me a couple of times, and I’ve asked him if he regretted his decision. He swears to me he still thinks he made the right choice, but I wonder. As fellow cowboy slaves have you and Cole ever shared a bunk?” Potter blatantly asked.

“Naw, sir. Not because I didn’t want to, but because of him. God knows I done offered my services to the man enough. I would move heaven and Earth for just one taste of that cowboy’s fine piece of meat. Talk about dessert. I would think I done died and went to heaven if he treated me with some a' his sweet cowboy cream. I know he don’t do nothing with nobody; not even Master Angus or Master Birdsall. I don’t know why. I never asked, but I know they pretty much leave him be.”

“They have a gentleman’s agreement. It weren’t always that way, but you don’t need to know all the details. Some things are best left private. If he wants to tell you someday, it should be up to him. I’ll give you a bit of advice. Don’t give up on Cole Jenkins. He’s a good man and one you want in your corner. When the world comes down around you, Cole Jenkins will be there for you. My personal opinion is of all the advice you received, his is the best. Does Angus or Bill Birdsall know of your affection and relationship with Cole?" Potter asked.

“Naw, sir, Master Potter. They know I work with him a lot. They know we work well together. If they got a job they want done right the first time, they give it to me and Cole. They know I apprenticed as a farrier under him. Cole and me, we don’t do us a lot of jawing with each other or about one another. Both my masters asked me if I ever serviced Cole. I didn’t elaborate, but I told them the truth, I never have. They ain’t got no idea how I feel about him. There's an unspoken code I learned years ago, you don’t talk to your masters about other cowboy slaves if you wanna’ live a happy life. It just ain’t done.

“I really don’t know that much about Cole to talk about him none. All I know is there’s something real and wonderful what flows between us when we’s alone together and h'it don't need no words. I told him last week I love him. It was jes' some'um my voices told me I must do. He told me he loves me, too. I’ve know’d it all along, but for some reason, it just seemed important for me to tell him last week. It was equally important for me to hear it from him. I would do anything for that man. If I could bring him the same comfort I brought you, I would do so daily,” Shane said with conviction and longing.

“Just so’s you ain’t surprised, I want you to know I’m going to offer you manumission with five years probation. You have to figure out what you want by next week. Talk with Cole some more. Talk with your family. If you need to talk with me, all you have to do is tell your master I have another couple of chores for you to do, and I’ll back you up. Let me know so I’ll be sure to be here.”

“Thank you, Master Potter. Thanks for everything, but especially for my dessert. That was downright special. Your dessert maker works just fine, sir. I’m sure if you allowed me to service it a few more times, I could fine tune it for you and get it working like new again,” Shane bragged and they shared a laugh.

* * * * * * *
It was getting late in the afternoon. Shane retrieved their dry clothes, and the men dressed. The horses were grazing in the meadow not far from the grove of trees. Shane whistled for them. They perked their ears and slowly started to mosey back toward the men. This time there was no limp in their stride. They slowly rode back to the barn and Shane put the horses away. He rubbed them down and curried them. They loved that. They couldn’t thank him enough. It took him some time because they hadn’t been tended to in a while. Judge Potter walked back to the house and called Angus. Shane was still working on the horses when the old judge and Angus walked into the barn.

“Look at you!” Angus bellowed accusingly, “You ain't done a lick a’ work! You’re as clean as when I brought you over here this morning.” Then he and the Judge laughed. “Did you have a good day, Slave?” Angus asked in a lighter mood.

“A very good day, Master. One of the best days of my life,” Shane replied.

Potter saw them out to the truck. Shane fell to his knees in the dust and kissed each of Judge Potter’s cowboy boots. This time the old man went through the slave ritual with him and gave him a good kiss and a big hug. “You done good work today, Slave. I hope one day soon to call you my friend.” It was Judge Potter’s own, not so secret, endorsement of what Cole Jenkins told Shane. Angus didn’t miss the exchange and turned away.

The two men drove back to the Goodnight ranch in silence. Shane could feel his bother’s angst, but he felt a new strength rising within him. It suddenly came to him like the old Judge said it might. He remembered the ride home when Angus bought him for a slave. Angus was brutal. Shane understood, but he spent every day for ten years of his life making up for his mistake. He didn’t care to be brutal with his brother. He had no thoughts of revenge. He loved Angus far too much for that, but he knew he would be firm in his resolve. The rest of the pieces would come together. If not, then like he learned to be a slave, he had to adjust. Nothing would remain the same, but that didn’t mean things wouldn’t get better. After he finally submitted to the idea of being a slave, things got a lot better for him. For ten years someone else made all the choices and decisions for his life. Shane Goodnight decided to take back control of his life. He would make up his own mind. He knew at that moment he would accept the old Judge’s advice and become a freeman again.

“Did you offer yourself to my friend, Slave?” Angus asked.

“Pull the truck over, Master, and you can still smell his come on my breath.” Shane challenged Angus without emotion.

Angus couldn’t quite figure out whether Shane was being smart with him or not. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. “I guess I deserved that, didn’t I?” he asked and grinned at Shane.

“Only if you say so, Master,” Shane replied and grinned. Angus laughed again.

* * * * * * *
The days passed and most folks were happy Shane’s hearing was imminent. It was the talk of the Grange. Everyone knew he had a spotless record and would be granted his freedom. He was getting congratulations, encouragement, and pats on the back from all quarters except from those he most needed to hear it. Blake Tindell spent an afternoon with Shane telling him about his experiences adjusting to being a freeman. He didn’t sugar-coat his feelings, but he presented how he thought the good might outweigh the bad. He admitted there were times he wondered whether he made the right decision, but in the long run there was always something good that would happen, or an encouraging word from someone who would reassure him he made the right choice. Blake admitted he missed the things Shane feared he would miss most, but he also assured him those who loved him and wanted to see he made it would see he found comfort. Blake didn't elaborate but Shane already knew several of the Grange men were fucking Blake regularly and letting him suck them off when he needed it. It was just an unspoken understanding among men who owned slaves. An ex-slave needs a period to be weened away from slavery slowly. It didn't just happen overnight.

Within reason, Angus gave Shane a great deal of personal freedom to come and go as he pleased the last couple of months. He was always good to check with Angus first to gain his permission and always checked in with him regularly to give him an update as to where he was and with whom. Angus allowed Shane to go with his brother Charlie, his nephew Waco, and his cowboy brothers to Mars and Venus without Bill Birdsall. Birdsall already started to withdraw from Shane a couple of months before and things were awkward between them. Shane didn't know how to react or what he'd done to be ignored and shunned like a pariah.

During the trip to Mars and Venus, Shane spent a lot of time with Charlie, Lazarus, Waco, and his brothers. He was one of the stars of the whale rescue operation and was a minor deity on Venus and Mars. He was known and admired by everyone. Wherever he went people and critters referred to him as Captain Shane. Charlie understood what Shane was going through and promised he would have enough support from those who loved and cared about him he would survive the loss of intimacy with Bill Birdsall and Angus.

Lazarus got Shane off-world for an evening. They stayed a night in the lodge on Mars and had dinner on the balcony of the ‘Jungle Room.’ It was just him and the Admiral. “Shane, the fears you’re having about accepting your freedom are normal. Remember the first time you and I met? You were the first to see through me, and you knew who I was before anyone else. You kept my secret. You were a great comfort to me then, and you continue to be. You already are the captain of your own spaceship, and I want you to have more time to grow and mature in that position. I’ll be hog-nose blunt. We need you, Son. I need you. I see great things for you, but some sacrifices have to be made. One is leaving the comfortable womb of slavery. It ain’t gonna’ be easy. I know, I been there. You have to become reborn to freedom, Son. Furthermore, I will either backup or make sure you don't fail financially in any Earth based enterprise you choose to undertake. If you decide to accept your freedom I will buy you anything your heart desires. I will make you a present of it for becoming born again.” Lazarus stressed the last and rolled his eyes at the sound of it. They shared a laugh.

“Thank’s, Admiral, but my ship has become the apple of my eye. Ms. Maybelle and me, we get along jes’ fine. She runs a tight ship for me. The Bluebonnet wouldn’t be the same without her.”

Shane grew more weary as the week progressed and began to be haunted by thoughts of self-doubt and insecurity. As the week drew to a close, Angus and Bill Birdsall became more distant with Shane. They still treated him like a slave, but it was like they knew he was a ‘short timer’ and consciously or unconsciously started to withdraw from him. Shane understood it couldn’t be easy for Master Bill either. There was a better than good possibility he would be losing his cowboy slave boy-toy he molded and shaped to be his personal male concubine for ten years. Birdsall took his relationship with Shane for granted. He grew lazy and complacent. He never wanted to admit to himself, one day Shane might be set free. He was secretly betting Angus would never allow it. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Reality was staring him in the face, but he didn’t know how to handle it. Panic set in. If anything, he was in worse shape than Shane. He actively did guilt trips on the young man which he hated himself for later, but nevertheless the damage was done. It drove a deep, possibly irreparable wedge between him and Shane.

Bill talked privately with Angus and suggested several questionable things Shane did in the past that might get him declared a slave for life. Angus looked at his business partner and shook his head in disbelief like he was sad, disgusted, and ashamed of Bill for trying for an end run around the inevitable.

“Goddamn it! I supported you all these years, Angus!” Birdsall shouted at him out of frustration.

“Bill, Shane ain't no ordinary slave, he’s ma’ baby brother for Christ's sake!” Angus pleaded.

“That didn’t stop you from making him your slave,” Birdsall accused.

“That’s unfair, Bill, and you know it. I didn’t make Shane my slave. The court made him a slave. All I did was pull some strings so's I could buy him and take care of him. We done that for ten years, and I think we done a pretty damn good job. Now, we have to let him go, Bill,” Angus shouted back, then added, “Don’t you think this is just as hard for me? We never were in competition for his services. You had him the majority of the time. I didn’t care, but the truth is, you fell in love with him, and you don’t want to let go of your comfortable little world.”

“You mean to tell me you didn’t fall in love with him?” Birdsall asked.

“No, I ain’t saying that. I’d be a damn liar if'n I's to say I didn’t fall in love with him. We made him what we wanted him to be. That’s what happens between a master and a slave, but it just so happens he’s also my baby brother. No matter how much my old heart will break to watch him go out on his own, I won’t hold him back because of my selfish needs and neither should you. I won’t let you, Bill, is that clear?" Angus demanded.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on! I’m leaving. I’ve worked for you long enough. If Shane goes, I’m going out on my own. I expect you to buy out my half of the business. Since I’m leaving before our contract expires I will expect less than the actual worth of my shares. I’ll take a loss to get out of here.”

“Bill you don’t mean it. That’s just plumb dumb. You’re talking nonsense. We’re good for each other business-wise. You complement me, and I do the same for you. We’re tighter than just business partners. We know the secrets of each others hearts. We got history between us, Bill. You and me, we’s family, Bubba. You ain’t got no other family. For God’s sake, man, don’t throw away ever’thing we built for years together just because you might be losing your housekeeper and belly warmer. Don't let chore' cock and balls do your think'n. Couldn’t you have something on the side with Shane? I don’t plan to cut myself off from him cold turkey. Like any slave, he's gonna' have to be weened. We can get off to Mars together for a weekend. Little Bear and I sneak off once or twice a month together. So can you. It’s even easier now since Trey Vinceeth installed that big gate to Mars Port. All I gotta’ do is pack an overnight bag, meet my sweet-meat Indian slave boy on the ‘Snatch’ and we’re in heaven for an evening or a weekend.”

“It won’t be the same. It just won’t be the same,” Birdsall complained.

“Of course it won’t be the same, but in some ways it might be better.”

“You just don’t understand. Goddamn it, I love Shane!” Birdsall exclaimed.

“Now that’s complete and utter bullshit, Bill! I do understand. I understand the thought of losing your toy is ripping your goddamn guts out, and you ain’t think’n none too clearly; but, the pain in yore’ gut ain’t love, Son. The truth? You wanna' hear the real, honest-to-goodness, God’s gospel truth of the matter? If you really, truly loved Shane, you’d be proud of the job we done on him. You’d be proud of him making it through ten years without so much as a minor blot on his record. You’d give him a big-ole hug, a good solid brotherly kiss, pat him on his butt for good luck, wish him well, and send him on his way. Instead you’re in here trying to undermine the kid’s chances. That certainly ain’t the definition of love in my dictionary.

"You’re like an old mother hen what’s still scratching in the ground after all the feed’s done gone still hoping to find one small seed to grow a case against him. Give it up, Son, there ain’t none. Separating yourself or distancing yourself from him ain’t doing nothing but punishing him for something he ain’t done, and you’re only making yourself miserable at the same time. The worst part is, I’m just as guilty as you are, but by God, I swear to you and all what’s holy, I’m gonna’ fight against it. Look, just simmer down and reconsider your options. Think on it, Bill. Don’t go off half-cocked and do something we'll both regret later on. I’ll buy you another young kid of your choosing. I’ll make him a present to you, but this time we’ll get a lifer. There’s plenty of young slave meat out there who would be lucky to have us as masters.”

Birdsall settled down. What Angus said made sense. It wouldn’t be the same, but what the Hell? If Angus would buy him a new toy to replace his old one, why not? Two, three years, four at the max he could have a replacement trained and buffed out just the way he did Shane. He felt so damn embarrassed he tried to bluff his partner whom he loved more than life itself. Angus Goodnight was a god to Bill Birdsall. He knew he could never leave Angus, but there was just something about Shane he knew he would never get over; something that nagged at him deep in his gut; something he was sure he would never again have for himself.

End of Chapter 53 ~ Waco’s Lummox
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02/01/2009
02/15/2017