Mama was a Preacher
Chapter Nine
The Count.
Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved.

We were about an hour out of Little Rock, heading toward Memphis, creeping 
along behind the bus as it lumbered up a long steep hill when Jerry shouted 
"What in the hell is that?". I pulled my gaze from the wide white butt of 
the school bus in front of us to Jerry and saw that he was looking back 
behind us through the side view mirror on his side of the station wagon. I 
adjusted the position of my head to where I could use the mirror on my side 
and saw a strange apparition indeed. It was not much more than a reflective 
dot at the distance it was behind us, but it was closing on us at an extreme 
rate. As it neared I could see that the majority of the reflected
light was coming from a headlight; the rest from a man's head.

He was coming onto us so fast that when he disappeared from view behind the 
trailer I instinctively braced myself for impact. I looked  at Jerry. He 
was gripping the steering wheel, white knuckled, gritting his teeth, expecting 
the same as I was. When no perceivable impact was felt Jerry shouted 
"Damn! Where did he go!!!". At that Jackie, who had been snoozing in the 
back, woke up.

"Alright. What's going on?" Jackie asked, setting up, then trying to look 
behind us.

"Some nut on a bike almost clobbered the trailer! Can't you hear him back 
there?"

"Yeah... Harley I think. Could be an Indian though."

Our entourage was just beginning to pick up speed after the bus topped the 
hill. The steady drone of the motorcycle behind us suddenly erupted into a 
deafening roar. Around the trailer he shot, even though the distance to the 
next hill top was not that far. He was roaring to a speed in excess of 100 
as he passed by. The lumbering bus had already started to slow on the grade 
of the next hill as Jerry cried, "OH SHIT!," and clamped his eyes shut, 
again white knuckled on the wheel. A simi flashed past and in terror I 
straightened up so fast that I bumped my head against the roof of the 
station wagon.

"Did he make it?!!!" I screamed.

"Barely! Just barely!" Jerry answered, tension draining from his body, 
"Death wish... That jerk has got to have a death wish!"

"Well maybe yes, maybe no... There is a difference between really wanting 
to die and not being scared of death " Jackie replied. 

Jackie's observation started a chain of thoughts, all which lead towards 
the sermon to be presented in Memphis.

In my studies with Rabbi Solomon one particular philosophical difference 
between the old testament and the new was the attitude about death. All 
throughout the older collection was the view that the wages of sin was 
death. If you were a thief you died. If you slept with a woman who was not 
of your culture you died. There seemed to be no gray, only black and white. 
If you did wrong you were to be put to death. 

The old Jewish religious leaders held their people by the short hairs. In 
such a political setting it isn't surprising that Christ had met his death. 
The cultures of the Jews and the Romans had clashed, but in the end those 
in control of their people had their way.

The three of us discussed this point all the way to Memphis. Jackie pointed 
out that when two cultures clashed, it was a clashing of belief systems. It 
was like bringing a lit candle into a room full of dynamite.

Jerry questioned whether that was still the case in the modern world.

"You are Damn right it is. If you have the chance read Mitchner's book 
'HAWAII'. The Hawaiian monarchy came to an end because of a clashing of 
cultures, and that was less than a hundred years ago."

It was just past noon when we passed into the city limits, and another 20 
minutes to the vacant lot we were to use for our meetings. Ray had booked 
the same vacant lot from the Pentecostal Church that we had occupied two 
years earlier. 

The Revival Ministry had ordered a Class "A" Audio Line from Southern Bell. 
Our services would be broadcast from the first day to the last. 

The Boss had been keeping close tabs on me, paying particular attention to 
my changing philosophical viewpoint. He kept cautioning me about by sermons 
not becoming too radical. "You gotta remember you are in the Bible Belt, 
and that's gotta be the most conservative religious place on earth. You 
start talking about the Torah or Judaism and your gonna leave these people 
in the dark. Hell, most of them have never even met a Jew much less 
understand their religion.

Love, commitment, and death were the most fundamental of human events. Most 
of the bible concentrated on these three situations. Ray's starting point 
had always been the book of Matthew; mine would be more basic: Love, 
Commitment, Death. Yet, as Jackie had expounded, "Don't trample on peoples
belief systems," I would need to use caution. If I were to change 
belief systems it would need to be done slowly and cautiously. I would 
need to use every tool at my disposal. I realized that I must learn to use 
"the Thing". As my thoughts continued, I could again feel that strange 
presence. I wasn't alone. The woman in white lurked in the background.

It wasn't until after the tent had been erected, and everything made ready 
that we had a conference. We needed to "fix" what happened in Little Rock. 
Ray ALWAYS turned the meeting over to someone else to bring the services to 
a conclusion. Before mama had joined the Gregorys' it had been Sister 
Ruth's responsibility. Mama did it better. However, when mama was the 
preacher it was either Ruth or Ray that closed the meeting with the call 
for sinners.

It was my job to do the fishing; bait the hook, reel them in. But as with 
big game fish, the task of getting them on board was left to others. In 
this case it was necessary to get them on board and remove the hook without 
harming the target. Staying onboard was voluntary. The old Jews had the 
advantage; if you didn't do it their way the alternative was death.

The Boss took it back to basics. What was our goal? What did we hope to 
achieve with this tour? He pointed out that unlike the Gregory's meetings, 
our first objective was to conduct the song-fest at the end of our stay in 
each city. The next objective was conducting services which would meet the 
needs of the Revival Ministry. The last objective was to learn more about 
"the Thing", and how to use it.

Both Jackie's and my primary interests were in "the Thing". If we truly 
understood it, then it would be an important tool in achieving the first 
two objectives.

We spent many hours discussing the tool. I was convinced that it was all a 
matter of rhythm. All of our group not only listened, but contributed. 
However, Jackie and I were the prime movers. I had pointed out that if you 
moved your hand around in a tub of water, the movement would build to a 
point were you lost control.

Ho talked about the pendulum he had seen at the Griffith Park Observatory 
in Los Angeles. Once the pendulum began it's swing it took very little 
power to maintain that full swing, yet the size of the weight and the 
distance it swung was significant.

Steven contributed that's the way radio transmitters worked. You put 
electrical current into a coil-capacitor combination at specific intervals 
and the current would do pretty much the same thing as the pendulum. While 
it took very little power to sustain the oscillation, it took substantial 
amounts of power to control it. Even tuning forks worked that way. He 
pointed out that once full resonance was established the voltage values 
could be phenomenal. While the source voltage could be less than a hundred 
volts, the voltage across each of the components could be in the thousands.

Robbie commented on the Atomic Bomb and how resonance was the key to a 
chain reaction.

I think it was Ho who first talked about lynchings and mob mentality. He 
felt there was a lot of similarity between the physical world and human 
behavior.

We all could see rhythm in everything we did. Music, eating, even sex.

How interrelated were the events of our lives? How did each contribute to 
the other, or were they isolated? Did the world of human behavior parallel 
the physical world? Did the same laws apply?

The first service in Memphis had been better planed. It would be my task to 
encompass music at the end of my contribution, and to transfer that full 
energy level to Jackie and the others. To do this they would need to stay 
alert to emotional levels, and be ready to merge with music at that same 
level. Like moving the gear shift in a car, you didn't want to grind the 
gears.

I had given Jackie the song list that I wanted to use that first night, but 
at the last minute I felt led to change the opening. Jackie was curious as 
to what I was going to do, but it was too late to inquire. We were about 
forty five minutes before air time. All of the seats were occupied, but 
there were still cars pulling into our lot. I took one of the hand 
microphones and went to the edge of the stage. "Friends, I want to play a 
game with you before we start the services.  I have an objective in doing 
this, and the game is really an old one that you probably played when you 
were a child."  I left the platform and walked down to a man in his early 
thirties who occupied the last seat on the right hand side of the first row. 
I asked him to stand, then said, "I am going to whisper a sentence in your 
ear. I would like for you to repeat the sentence to the person sitting 
immediately to your right. He in turn will repeat what you have told him to 
the person on his right. At the end of this row, that person will re-tell 
to the person behind him. The sentence will be passed from person to person 
traveling up the right hand section. Then at the back, the last person will 
repeat the sentence to the first person on the left section. It will 
eventually end with the last person in the front row of the left section." 
I moved the microphone away from my mouth, and whispered into the ear of the 
first man, "Johann Gutenberg invented the first practical printing press in 
the 14th century." I moved away from him, and then said to the audience, 
"If any of you are not sure that you have the sentence right, you may ask 
the person who told you, to repeat it." I moved back to the stage.

Jackie was smiling a quizzical smile. Obviously everyone wondered just what 
I was going to do.

I pointed to the last person who would hear the sentence and asked her to 
raise her hand as soon as she understood what was passed to her.

I joined the others at the piano. "This is going to take a little time, so 
lets sing."

Jackie asked what kind of a mood I wanted to establish, and I told him just 
a pleasant, happy go lucky, fun mood. Nothing too loud, just pleasant and 
uplifting.

It took almost a half hour before the young lady in the front row raised 
her hand. I asked her and the man to whom I had whispered the sentence, to 
join me on the stage. Turning to her I said, "Tell me what you were told."

She faced the audience, and said, "Guber went to Mayberry in 1944."

"Sir, what did I tell you?"

The gentlemen leaned into the microphone, "Johann Gutenberg invented the 
first practical printing press in the 14th century."

Everyone in the audience laughed.

My two guests returned to their seats.

I moved behind the podium. "Our bible is divided into two sections, the Old 
Testament, and the New Testament. Our Jewish friends limit their interest 
to the old testament. In the past two years I have been concentrating on 
the old testament, trying to understand the soil in which Christianity is 
rooted. And you know friends I have made some startling discoveries. I will 
pass those discoveries on to you a little later.  The Jewish faith is based 
on a slightly different version of the old testament called the 'Torah', 
and it is here that I first discovered the foundation. Did you know that 
the Old Testament, and the Torah are divided into three parts. They sure 
are!"

I made a point of opening my bible, then lifting it in my left hand above 
my head and continued, "The first of the three sections is the LAW OF 
GOD!", I paused, then moved towards the edge of the platform, "The second 
part is the word of the prophets," I changed my voice to a more humorous 
tone, "And the third part could be called 'Recommended Reading'."

"Now the purpose of the first section is pretty clear ... It is GODS LAW. 
And to most of us The Law is the Law.  But then of course we are not 
lawyers." That brought a chuckle from the congregation. "You might say that
the word of the prophets is a bit like the word of the supreme court. It is 
an INTERPRETATION of the Law. It defines what each law means. But WHY does 
the Law need defining? Good question. If Laws are created by man, and we 
all know MAN is imperfect, then we can understand why the Law itself is not 
definitive. But GOD is perfect. Then WHY does his word need to be 
interpreted. I'm going to leave that hot potato for a few minutes." I paused,
then laughingly said, "But you may be assured we aren't going to leave it 
at that."

I could feel a stirring out front. There was no question about it, I had 
their undivided attention. They were listening to every word I was saying. 
I was drawing the pendulum from its neutral point, lifting it toward the 
maximum point of potential energy.

"Now we come to the third part ... Recommended reading. That encompasses 
the majority of the Old Testament. Who wrote it and why? Of even greater 
interest is Who READ IT!?." I was at the edge of the stage. I pulled the 
mic far from my lips and shouted, "It was more than fourteen hundred years
AFTER the time of CHRIST that the printing press was invented. Before that 
time everything was either written by hand, or passed on by word of mouth."

I looked out front. You could have heard a pin drop. "And believe me when I 
tell you that 'Guber going to Mayberry in 1944' was NOT what I told THAT 
young man." 

The pendulum was at it's peak.

I leaped into the air and released the pendulum. "For our BIBLE to have 
survived century's of being told, and retold is the greatest miracle in the 
universe."

And I didn't believe a word of what I said. I knew there had been dozens of 
translations, most of which had been politically motivated; and that included 
the King James version ... especially the King James version. James
had been a writer and a mystic. It was under his supervision that the bible 
had been translated. He, under his own authorship, had written books on 
Kingship, Theology, and Witchcraft. 

"For the last half hour I've been trying to figure out how to say, 
succinctly what I mean without becoming offensive, and I'm afraid the best 
I can do is BS. I'm sure all of you are aware what BS means. It's what you 
step in after dark in a pasture. It's what you are exposed to everytime you 
listen to a politician. And unfortunately it's what you hear most of the 
time in church."

There was dead silence, then almost a moan came from the audience.

"Bear with me friends, and you'll see that what I am saying is not BS. 
Almost every re-teller of the scriptures has had his own particular political 
reason for interpreting the bible the way he did. OK.  I want every
person in this audience who believes in witches, to raise their hand."

I paused, and looked over the congregation, there was not a single hand 
raised.

"I have studied the ancient Hebrew scriptures and can find NO mention of 
witches. Yet the word witches and witchcraft are in the King James version 
of the bible. You'll find it in every 'Law' book of the bible. You'll find 
witchcraft even mentioned in the New Testament. Now, where in the world did 
that come from. Well, we know that King James certainly believed in witches. 
In fact he wrote a whole book about it. We know the Catholics believed
in witches. They burned them at the stake." I leaned over towards the 
audience and whispered into the microphone. "We know that almost everyone 
believed in witches in the middle ages. Do you think that's were the idea 
of witches first entered OUR BIBLE. Doesn't that make you wonder if the 
bible is truly the word of God... Or maybe, just maybe the word of God as 
interpreted by someone else."

The pendulum was now at the other extreme. I would add the push that would 
swing it back, continuing the oscillation.

"Let's use our heads. God gave us a brain. Let's use it to shovel the BS 
out of the path of true righteousness. How many of you KNOW with a certainty 
that you are NOT DEAD? Raise your hands." Everyone raised their hands.

"Ah Ha! I've caught you.  I have yet to define what I mean by dead; your 
idea of dead may be different than mine. So let me tell you what I meant 
when I asked if you KNEW that you were NOT DEAD. That had been a 
philosophical question. I meant were you DEAD in the eyes of Mohammed. Well, 
according to the KORAN if you do not believe in their religion, you ARE DEAD. 
Interestingly, the Christians think the same way about the followers of 
Islam."

"I'll redefined DEAD to mean the loss of all vital signs, then we are all 
in agreement and can move on."

"How many of you have ever been in LOVE?  Please raise your hands."

Very few hands had been raised. "I can see you aren't going to fall into 
the same trap twice. Good. You are thinking. My definition of love is a 
total appreciation of another person. It is when two people synchronize, 
and for all intent and purposes merge into a single creature. You fill a 
need in one another. You don't want to be separated. OK, now within that 
definition I want you to raise your hands."

Almost everyone had raised their hands.

"Great, we have now defined two of the most basic terms in the life of 
human beings. Death. Love.  Is their anything in our lives that doesn't 
start with either of those two words."

"Birth comes from love. Loves comes as a result of Birth. Death is the end 
of life. But, oddly, Death does not end love. And here is another oddity, 
the bible does not DEFINE LOVE."

I looked over at Jerry and wondered if I should take the next step. Should 
I truly define love by example. I decided it would be best to wait till 
later ... much later. Even my own group wasn't ready for what I wanted to 
say next.

With purpose I decided to give the pendulum no more pushes; let it dampen 
it's self to an end.

Unlike Little Rock there would be no blow out, no flat tire. But, also 
there would be no further tool testing with the audience. I realized I 
needed to know where I was going before further exploration.

The service had come to an end. Nothing phenomenal had occurred. It was 
like a tuning fork that had been tapped.

I had started to join the others at the piano when I heard someone speak, 
"Johnny. Brother Johnny, do you have a minute?"

I looked towards the now vacant front row of seats, and there was the 
blonde boy from Little Rock. "Hi. What brings you all the way to Memphis?"

"I wanted to hear your sermon. It sounded to me like you were on a roll, 
and then suddenly you put on the breaks. Am I right?"

"Something like that.  By the way, what's your name?"

"Charlie. Charlie Rogers." He extended his hand. The grasp was firm, warm, 
and very personal.

"Well, Charlie, you are right. The whole service went in a direction I had 
not planned. And like building a house, if you don't have a set of plans, 
it just might fall down."

"I don't think I'd say that it fell down.  Just kind of left hanging in the 
air."

"How long are you going to be in Memphis?"

Charlies reply surprised me. "Until you leave."

"Well, if that's the case I'd like for you to meet the rest of the gang. 
OK?"

"That would be great." Charlie had climbed up on the platform and we 
proceeded towards the piano. The entire group was watching us.

I introduced the boy by our nicknames. "This is, The Boss, Cowboy, Ho, Jew 
Boy, and Stack. Gang this is Charlie. Charlie Rogers."

I had presented them going from left to right. The boy shook hands with 
each. "You can call me Sunshine."

Ho asked, "How'd you get a nickname like that?"

Cowboy said, "That's pretty obvious, just look at his smile."

Sunshine had long blonde hair. While it looked shaggy, it also looked like 
he brushed it frequently. His face was round. His cheeks were just a little 
on the reddish side like he blushed permanently. He was of medium height, 
but very well built. His shirt was a simple pull over in a light blue 
shade. His trousers were slacks that were neither tight nor loose. He wore 
white tennis shoes. 

Without saying a word, he had examined each of us, making instant judgments 
on our personalities and relationships.

"Sunshine attended our meetings in Little Rock, and decided he wanted more, 
so he's going to be with us for our stay in Memphis." While I had directed 
the statement at the entire group, it was Cowboys face that my eyes had 
latched on to. I had expected a sign of jealousy, and was surprised to see 
that there was none.

Stack asked the boy where he was staying.

"In the back seat of my car. I've got a sleeping bag and a car cover. Would 
it be OK if I park here?"

"I don't see why not. By the way where is June?" I asked.

Sunshine gave me an odd look, and an even weirder smile. "I thought you 
knew. She went back to her husband."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

"You didn't. After all, I did decide to follow you instead of shacking up 
with her."

Cowboy was watching this interchange. Sunshine noticed, and gave him a tap 
on the stomach. "Don't worry. You've got your territory well marked. That's 
not my area of interest."

Deep down inside I was hoping that Sunshine was not telling the truth. The 
intrigue of sex with a stranger had grasped me again as it had when I first 
met Ho. But unlike Ho, Sunshines sexuality was not openly displayed ... yet 
it was there. Intrigue is one thing, but Cowboy and I were as one. I asked 
myself that if that was true, then might not Cowboy feel as did I?

The congregation had left. It was time to tidy up the place. Jackie took 
charge assigning the menial tasks; lining up the chairs, picking up the 
litter, lowering and securing the sides of the tent.

"Johnny, you and Cowboy take the back bedroom in the trailer. Peter and Ho 
can sleep in the Bus. I'm going to visit my Grandmother, and will probably 
stay there the night. Robbie is going with me. So Steven, that leaves you 
with the couch in the trailer." He looked at Charlie. "If your car get's 
too cramped, you can put your sleeping bag in the tent."

Steven commented on the Memphis heat and humidity, and chose to sleep in 
the tent.

"Johnny, I want to talk to you a minute." The Boss walked me toward the 
trailer. "What it in holy hell were you trying to do tonight."

"I wanted to establish some basics, to prove that the bible is much more 
than a set of rules by which to live."

"Well, the only thing you succeeded in doing was proving to everyone that 
the bible was all BULL SHIT!"

"Jackie, I disagree with you. It's just that there wasn't enough time for 
me to cover all that I needed to say."

"But that's my point. And you aren't going to have a chance to correct your 
goof. I'll bet you that less than fifty percent of tomorrows audience will 
be repeats. And I can't wait to see what response the radio listeners are 
going to have. One thing for certain, today's tapes ain't going to Ray."

The others didn't seem to have an opinion. But the Boss was the Boss. I may 
have disagreed with him, but we were here today, doing what we were doing 
as a result of following him.

"Come on Robbie, let's get going. Grandma is waiting up for us."

The Boss and Jew Boy headed for the station wagon.

"Hey wait up. Our sleeping gear is in the back." Peter and Danny ran after 
them.

Charlie started towards his car. "See you guys in the morning."

Jerry and I looked at each other for just a moment. Then Jerry called after 
Sunshine, "We've got a shower in the trailer if you need it."

We slowly walked the few yards to the trailer, opened the door and then 
closed it behind us. "What do you think?" Jerry was referring to Charlie 
Rogers.

"I think he is something else. I'd love to get him into the sack with us. 
BUT the key word here is US. How do you feel about it."

"Same as you of course. I'd like to get a gander at whats under those 
clothes.  But there is something else that I can't put my finger on. I 
don't know why but I know that he doesn't pose any risk."

Jerry closed the curtains on the big glass window while I pulled down the 
covers on our bed.

"I know where you were headed with your sermon tonight. I'd have backed you 
all the way, but I sure don't think the audience would have."

Jerry started to remove his clothes, but I had beat him to it, and entered 
the shower. "Come scrub my back." I loved the way that he washed my back. 
His hands were always firm, allowing his fingernails to scratch a little as 
they moved over the skin. A brush would probably have done the same 
thing ... but a brush can't rub in the lotion of love. His fingers were 
crossing my buttocks. I spun around, grabbing him, and yanked him into the 
small shower. He was still wearing his briefs. The water had turned them 
transparent. A quick glance downward confirmed that his love was being 
fully expressed. My lips gained a purchase on his, as I drew his tongue 
fully into my mouth. The water continued to pour down over our heads and 
shoulders. My bare cock was at full attention as Jerry continued to explore 
my mouth with his tongue.

There was a knock at the door. Rapidly we regained our composure. Jerry 
hurriedly dried himself and laid upon the bed. I took his damp towel and 
wrapped it around me. My hair was still dripping as I opened the door. It 
was Sunshine. He had a towel draped over his shoulders.

"Thought I'd take you up on the offer." The blonde boy moved past me towards 
the back of the room.

"Great. I'm glad you decided to. After you're done we want to talk with 
you." I looked over at Jerry in confirmation of what I knew we both wanted.

Charlie had removed his shoes and shirt. Both Jerry and I avoided staring 
at what was to come next. Nonchalantly, he unbuckled his belt, and stepped 
out of his slacks. His tight jockey shorts hid more than they displayed. 
His lips formed a smile, as he glanced at both Jerry and myself. Then 
slowly and quite deliberately, he lowered the underwear to his ankles, 
kicked them on to our bed, and disappeared into the privacy of the shower.

I joined Jerry, pulling the sheets over our nakedness. We must have felt 
restrained, as we lay on opposite sides of the bed. But our hands 
surreptitiously joined.

The water went off. We could hear the sound of a towel moving rapidly 
across bare skin. The door opened. Charlie stepped out. His towel was 
draped around his neck. Otherwise he was absolutely naked. He had a 
beautiful butt. Jerry confirmed like feelings as his hand squeezed mine.

"Charlie, come up here between us, and let's have that talk." Jerry had 
voiced what I had thought about saying.

The boy threw his towel onto the empty couch, and sat at the foot of the 
bed, between us.

"OK. Now we need to know all there is to know about you. So start with who 
you are, where you are from, and anything else you think we should know." I 
reached for Charlies hand, and pulled him toward us so that he was now 
laying between Jerry and myself. But unlike us, his nakedness was not 
covered by a sheet. His member was flaccid and quite large. Tiny droplets 
of water still clung to his pubic hair.  Inwardly I wanted to take the 
towel and wipe away that moisture.

"Well, there is a lot to tell, I guess. Since I am going to be in your gang 
from here on out, I'll tell you all there is to be told."

My glance at Jerry conveyed a message of "He's being damned presumptuous."

Instantly, Sunshine said. "And I am not being fucking presumptuous."

We both reached over and hugged him to us. "You are a mind reader too?" 
Jerry questioned.

"You might say that. OK, let me start from the beginning. My family are 
'Travelers'. You know what that is?"

We shook our heads.

"It's a modern day version of a gypsy. Our clan consists of about fifty 
families. We travel all over the U.S. doing odd jobs, like painting, roofing, 
house or yard maintenance. But mostly we are con artists. We all have
trailers or motorhomes. When we have exhausted our welcome in one city we 
move on to the next."

"My grandparents were gypsies, as were theirs. Our entire clan are Irish. 
But grandma Conner was, is, a fortune teller. For several years the clan 
followed a circus all over the country. She explained that most of the 
fortune telling was ... ", he paused, smiled at me, and said, "Bull Shit. 
But there is enough truth to make it ring true. I'm the only other person 
in our family that has the gift. It's not difficult to get a view of 
someones past. The future is a different animal. The future is like looking 
at a hazy scene. Almost like a silhouette. The best you can do is guess 
what's in the future by what has been in the past. Past scenes can come 
into sharp focus. Johnny, remember when you had me flat on the floor in 
Little Rock, and our eyes locked for just a moment?"

I again nodded, that I did.

"Well, for the first time in my life, something pretty phenomenal happened. 
It was like a detailed movie of your life had been transferred into my 
mind. And, it is still there."

Jerry said, "How much of this is BS, Sunshine?"

"None of it." He reached down and grasped the edge of the comforter. "Want 
me to tell you about this blanket?"

My face turned red, as my memories surged the many, lovable events that our 
comforter had experienced. Even so I asked him to continue.

"Well, Jerry had his first orgasm under this blanket, and you were too 
young yet to cum. Then, Jerry gave you your first blow job." Sunshine, 
laughed, and continued, "And you Johnny Boy, got your first pussy on top of 
it."

"OK. OK. We're convinced. So tell me what you know about us." I had asked a 
question that I wasn't certain I wanted answered.

"That doesn't take a psychic to see. You guys are now, and always have 
been, and always will be in love. 'Until death do ye part,' is the operable 
phrase." Sunshine looked both of us in the eye, and then said, "Even my 
being here is because you both want me .. want me here."

Charlie moved further upon on the bed, put his arms under our heads, and 
drew us on to his shoulders. We lay there for quite a long time, just 
acclimating ourselves to this new environment.

"Johnny, there is something else. I haven't been able to put my finger on 
it, as yet. You are not by yourselves."

"What do you mean?" Jerry asked.

"It has more to do with Johnny. But there is an extra presence here. You 
are not by yourselves," he repeated.

I knew he was right. "What else can you tell me about it."

"It's a spirit. It has a great deal of work yet to do."

"You mean a ghost?"

"No, I don't think so. The feeling that I get is far more fundamental. It's 
like, if you considered God as the universe which is comprised of many 
galaxies and many solar systems. Then this spirit is like one of those 
solar systems. It is separate, yet it is part of the whole. But I'll tell 
you something else Johnny, if you had continued your sermon tonight it 
would have stopped you."

A chill ran up and down my spine. Both Jerry and Sunshine could feel my 
trembling.

"Don't worry about her. She is not a malevolent spirit. She loves both of 
you guys. I get a feeling that she has been in your shoes."

"She?" My mind took me back to Angelus Temple. Again I could see the woman 
in white float down the ramp, her cloak flowing out behind her. A warmth 
seemed to envelope me. Very personal. Very loving. Very determined.

Without being invited, Sunshine crawled under the sheet, holding us tightly 
in his arms. 

As Jerry reached up and turned off the light I glanced downward. Charlie 
was tenting. A street light added a glow to the room.

I whispered across Charlies chest, "The Boss is going to be pissed."

"No he wont. Let me handle it." The voice was Sunshines.

My left hand crept across his chest, and encountered Jerry's. Our fingers 
clasped, then together they moved downward. This was going to be a threesome.

Jerry reached down with his other hand, lifting the covers, and threw 
them up over our heads so that the bed became a tent.

I looked down at Sunshine. His hips looked gold and firm. I thought he 
looked well-defined. Soon we had our hands on his dick, it looked bigger 
than mine, but not bigger than Jerrys. He informed us that it was seven and 
a half, which confirmed that it WAS longer than my six. It really didn't 
matter.

He moved down to pecker level and took my cock all the way down his throat, 
as my lips pressed against Cowboys. My tongue sought my lovers inner most 
being, as this trilogy continued. "Geeze, you really are a cool guy," I 
said, as he moved pulling us together. He had removed his mouth from my 
prick, used his hands to bring our two dicks together, and then stretched 
his mouth over both of them.

This unique feeling which encompassed our oneness drove Jerry and I together 
like nothing else had ever done. Yet, I knew that Charlie had never done
anything like this before.

It was great and he really did find pleasure in seeing how much we 
enjoyed it; the fact that he was sucking both of us while my fingers made 
little circles in his hair brought Jerry and I to a climax in a flash. I 
was breathing deeply. Simultaneously both Jerry and I let a very large load 
of cum down his throat. He continued to suck until he was sure we were not 
going to erupt any more.

Then in all fairness, turnabout became fair play. Cowboy and I pulled 
Sunshine up on the pillow, then we slipped down to pecker level. His navel 
was cute - he had a flattish navel that kinda had a swirly pattern in it. I 
touched it. He said that was his most sensitive spot; instant hard-on. He 
didn't have a lot of hair on his body, except some around his navel and his 
groin, but he did have a couple of long thin hairs on the swirly part of 
his navel. "I just leave them there," he told me. "Once in a while I brush 
my hand over them on purpose and let them tickle my palm.." He chuckled. He 
was certainly cute. We took turns, alternating between stomach, cock, 
balls, and belly button. Suddenly it was all over; Jerry got the goodies.

"Geezus, that has got to be the first fuckin' time I have been sucked like 
that!" he exclaimed. He revealed that this was the first blow job he had 
had since he was sixteen. That first experience had been administered by an 
older traveler from another family that had joined their caravan for only a 
short while.

Afterward we cuddled and slept, our heads resting on Charlie's bare chest.

It was close to four A.M, when the man in the middle stirred, and started 
to unwrap himself from Jerry and I. "Where are you going?"

"I think it would be best if I was discovered on the coach, and not in bed 
with you two."

Sleepily I agreed, and took his place beside Cowboy. Then drifted back 
asleep.

The clock on the wall said 8:00 when I heard someone enter the trailer.

"Hey Sunshine. I wondered where you crashed." It was Steven. "I don't want 
to disturb you but I've got a problem with the Ampex Recorder that I must 
fix."

"What kind of a problem." Charlie's question surprised me.

"I get a hum when I switch the output of the board from the Brush to the 
Ampex."

The two boys carried on a technical conversation about AC and ground loops. 
As they exchanged points of view on the likely hood of the problem, it 
became evident that Sunshine knew as much about electronics as did Steven, 
if not more so.

When Jerry and I finally dressed and exited the bedroom, we saw that they 
had taken the Ampex out of it's case. Charlie was holding a flashlight, 
pointing at some wiring. "Yeah, look right there. It looks like the solder 
is shorting that shield to ground."

Jackie and Robbie were walking toward the trailer as we were heading for 
the Bus to get Stack and Ho out of the sack. 

I looked at Jackie, "You guys get a good nights sleep?"

They nodded that they had.

"Got a surprise for you.  Go on into the trailer. Looks like we've got 
ourselves a new engineer."

Stack was curled up around Ho when we entered the bus. "Come on guys. Time 
to rise and shine."

Both boys rolled over on their backs sporting enormous erections. 
Nevertheless they jumped out of bed and grabbed Jerry and I, throwing us 
onto their bed. Ho ended up on top of me. Jerry had Stack pinned to the 
mattress. Ho's cock had broken free of his boxers, and was threatening to 
spit in my face. Stack made a lunge upward, unseating Jerry, pushing Ho 
to the side.

Ho immediately responded, sitting on Stacks chest. His cock was still at 
the ready, but now it was dripping in anticipation. We could see that 
privacy was in order, so Jerry and I asked the boys to join us in the tent 
as soon as they had accomplished their morning absolutions.

We could hear someone playing the piano as we closed the door of the bus.

Jackie was playing, but Robbie was showing him some unusual phrasing which 
sounded more middle east than American.

"Did you see Steven and Sunshine?" I asked.

"Steve wants to train him on the audio board so he can go back to Little 
Rock." Robbie expressed his observation.

"Who want's to go back to Little Rock?"

"Steven. It seems Harry has been splitting his time between the Radio 
Ministry and KLRA, and Steve is needed back there." Jackie continued kind 
of laughing, "As Ray would have put it, 'Its the hand of God."

"You mean, just like that, your going to take Sunshine on board?" I could 
see Jerry's face express wonderment at Jackie's dispensation. "For the 
moment, just temporarily. If he works out, then he'll be a real asset."

"Well, that makes seven of us. How are we going to work out the sleeping 
arrangements." I asked.

"While we are here in Memphis, Robbie and I will sleep at my Grandmothers. 
Steven and Sunshine can use the trailer. You two, Ho, and Stack can sleep 
in the Bus. You can put up a partition, and set up a separate bedroom. 
Also, I think there is a collapsible shower buried somewhere in there. If 
things workout with Charlie, then he'll leave his car at the Compound in 
Little Rock and drive the new bus."

"Boy, he sure got your confidence in a hurry." Jerry was half serious, and 
half joking.

We spent most of the day putting together the service for that evening. The 
Boss had decided that a strictly musical approach would be best. The idea 
was to choose a list of music whose rhythm matched the pacing we wanted. It 
would be chosen with the One-Two-Three pattern in mind. If I could find 
bible passages that would hammer the 'Threes' home with more power, then 
that's what we would use.  But, it was to be a totally rehearsed product, 
with only my application in tune to the audience being a variable.

The pendulum had been set to swinging. An occasional push kept it going to 
the max. When the recording equipment was turned off, we would bring the 
resonance to rest.

An incident during the earlier part of the service almost derailed me. I 
heard a loud, deep throated, motor approach, and then enter our lot. The 
light from the tent momentarily provided enough illumination to see a big 
black motorcycle. Riding the bike was a large, somewhat older man, wearing 
dark glasses, and leather jacket. His head was quite bald. There could be 
no mistaking, it was the guy who had almost tail-ended us en route from 
Little Rock.

The bike moved further along the side, and into the shadows. The headlight 
momentarily swept the stage before it was extinguished.

The evening had worked quite well. I had staid on stage, presiding over the 
congregation until everyone started to leave.

Curiously, I walked towards the spot where the bike had disappeared. I 
could make out the form of the bike as a shadow while my eyes were adjusting 
to the dimmer light.

Reclining on his bike was a bald man in his thirties. He laid back, almost 
flat on his back. A six pack of Budweiser was nestled between his knees. He 
had an open one in his hand. He half raised himself to guzzle it down in 
one single gulp. "Brother Johnny, you folks put on quite a show."

I didn't know what to say but managed, "Thanks ... I never know where it's 
going to take us." That was a stupid thing to say, so silence intervened.

"Wanta Bud?" He reached towards the six pack, but I shook my head no.

"I sure liked what I heard tonight. Is the whole week going to be along 
those same lines?"

Before I could reply, I again heard my name called. "Got a second. I need 
to talk to you." Somehow the voice was vaguely familiar.

I excused myself and moved towards the voice. A man was leaning against the 
hood of our station wagon. He was wearing tight Levis jeans, which appeared 
dirty and well worn.

"Thought you might like some of this." The man stroked a long bulge tenting 
his leg.

I looked more closely. It was Joe. He had grown much older in the past 
several years. He continued to stroke his instrument. "If I remember right, 
you really enjoyed yourself swinging on this the last time we went for a 
ride."

He moved his hands towards his fly as though he was going to extract his 
instrument. "Your boy friend sure didn't treat me right the last time I was 
here, so this time it's going to cost you a little more than a taxi ride. 
But, from what I can see, you can afford it. Come on over here and get a 
nice whiff of Junior. He can hardly wait to feel your young lips around his 
head."

I had been taken off guard by finding Joe here. But once I recovered my 
composure, I got really pissed off. "You are really a sleeze ball you know  
Joe?"

"Ah, She even remembers my name. Wonder what the newspaper would say if 
then learned that this church preaching group is nothing but a pack of 
fags."

"What the hell is going on here?" Cowboy moved next to me.

"God another Fag Boy. What you want girly?"

Cowboy lunged toward Joe, striking him hard on the jaw, knocking him off of 
the station wagon and flat onto the ground.

Joe was startled, but rapidly recovered. As he started to raise, Stack, Ho, 
and Jew Boy moved along side.

The blackmailer stood up. "Well you haven't heard the last of this. I came 
here with the idea of settling this ... friendly like. Just remember, it 
was you who decided to make it hard ... "

Joe moved toward the street. As he reached the road, the motorcycle drove 
up alongside of him, and paused. Then Joe swung himself up on the bike, and 
they turned right, heading away from Memphis.

I wasn't frightened by what had happened. The first time I had been by 
myself, but now I had people around me who truly loved me: Danny, Peter, 
Charlie, Jackie, and my beloved Cowboy.

The unpleasantness made me restless. Sleep was difficult. We still hadn't 
made changes in the sleeping arrangements, but Steve again chose to sleep 
in the tent, leaving the trailer to Charlie, Jerry, and myself.

I tossed and turned. Charlie told me not to worry about it, everything 
would work out just fine. Joe having jumped on the back of the motorcycle 
had me wondering if I was now facing two blackmailers. But the older guy 
hadn't seemed to be that kind of guy. Yet, they had rode off together.

The sun came up. Jackie and Robbie returned. The day started off slowly. 
The Boss had been pleased with the performance, and wanted to do more of 
the same. Creating those musical events required a great deal of creative 
effort from everyone.

Steve and Sunshine were in the trailer, still working on the Ampex 
Recorder. The rest of us were working at the piano.

The motorcycle turned into our lot. The bald guy had pulled the bike into 
some shade. He was alone.

Charlie came out of the trailer, and started talking with him. The man 
handed Sunshine a Bud. Their conversation seemed pleasant. They talked for 
almost a half hour. Then Charlie came into the tent. 

Jackie looked up. "Problem?"

"No. Just the opposite. Come on out I want you to meet 'The Count'. He's 
quite a character."

On the side I asked about Joe and last night. Charlie put on quite a smile. 
"Boy do I have a tale to tell ya."

Our group circled the Bike. The Boss had been correct, it was an Indian. 
Introductions were made all around. There were only 4 beers left in the six 
pack so he didn't offer any.

"You know, you guy's need some security around here. You don't want ass 
holes like that guy last night messing around."

Jackie said, "That's for sure."

The Count said as he kicked the Indians engine to life, "Well that one 
won't bother you again. Guaranteed! Well, I just wanted to say howdy, and 
let you know you can forget that jerk. Shamrock is having a sale on Bud, so 
I gotta get down there before its all gone." Before we could say anything 
else, the bike was already turning onto the street.

"Come on back to the tent. I've got quite a tale to tell you." Sunshine led 
the way.

"You guy's aren't going to believe what The Count did for us. He only told 
me part of the story, but I saw the rest."

"When he left here last night, he stopped alongside of Joe and asked if 
he'd like a ride. Joe was thankful for the lift cause he thought you guys 
might come after him." 

"Well, The Count headed out into the country. Joe is hanging on to the guys 
waist, and even nudging the guy's cock. Finally they get way out in the 
country, miles away from everything and everybody. The biker is making like 
he'd like Joe to go further with the sex stuff. Joe gets naked. The Count 
ties him, across his bike, his naked white buns shinning in the moonlight. 
Then he takes a knife and CARVES a message into the cheeks of his ass. FOR 
on the left cheek, and RENT on the right. Under that he makes a left and a 
right arrow pointing to Joes ass hole. Below the arrows he added Cheap. 
Well, by now Joe is yelling and screaming. Blood is oozing out of the cuts. 
The Count takes a bottle of Tequila and bathes his cheeks. Well the alcohol 
get's him screaming again." 

"The Tequila stops the bleeding, so now he uses an indelible laundry marker 
to trace over the letters. That starts the screaming again. So he 
reaches down in his saddle bag, pulls out a tube of heavy axle grease and 
puts a giant gob of it on Joes hole. Next, he takes his fingers and starts 
finger fucking him. Joe starts getting a rod. So the Count adds more fingers; 
finally he's got his whole hand up Joe's butt, almost to the wrist.
Joe is grunting and groaning, and he's got a rod unbelievably big and hard. 
Joe drops his load. The Count slowly drops his own pants, shoves his humungus 
tool up Joes butt and fucks him. This went on for about 20 minutes
before The Count finally unloaded. But he's not done yet.  He keeps his 
dick up Joes ass until it begins to soften ... then he takes a giant piss 
up his butt. When he pulls out a stream of piss, mixed with cum starts 
flowing out of Joes Butt, and all over the back of the Indian. This pisses 
The Count off. He takes all of Joes clothes, except for his jeans, puts 
them in a pile, then pours gasoline over them and burns them. Then he takes 
the jeans, puts them over the fire, and burns out the seat. He unties Joe, 
and tell's him to put on the jeans. So now Joe's tattooed butt cheeks are 
hanging out for all to see."

"The Count still isn't done with him. He starts chasing him through the 
field on his bike. Finally, Joe falls flat on his face, and The Count yells 
at him that if he ever sees him again he's going to tattoo 'I'm a Fag' on 
his forehead."

We all laughed as we first envisioned Joe hog tied on the back of the 
Indian, and later running down the highway with his butt advertising "For 
Rent ... Cheap".

The pace of the day didn't speed up much. We continued the task of creating 
new material for the service. The strictly music approach was affective, but 
it didn't leave me with much room to develop the ability to work with an 
audience in a less structured way.

We had just opened the service with Swing Low, Sweet Chariot when I heard 
the sound of the Count's cycle swing into our lot. Again, it disappeared 
into the shadows.

As happened the night before, the rhythm of the music increased it's pace. 
The audience began to respond, contributing an ever intensifying energy 
level. The more I was exposed to the building force, the more sensitive I 
was becoming to it. Without knowing where it was coming from, I began to 
develop an ability to harness the continued pooling of power. Yet, the 
music restrained me. I was not free to unleash it.

At the end of the evening I felt frustrated and unfulfilled.

The Boss and Robbie left for Jackie's grandmothers. Ho and Stack retired to 
the Bus. Steven dragged his sleeping bag on to the stage in the tent. 
Charlie, Jerry, and I headed for the trailer.

All was quite.

As we always did, Jerry and I stripped naked, and climbed into our bed.

"I'm going for a walk." Charlie announced, as he turned and left us alone.

We had had a full day. I took my regular place, curled up around Jerry. 
Soon we were asleep.

The sun had found a leak in the curtain, and struck me square in the eye. 
Annoying as it was, the feeling of being one with my lover made me linger 
in the luxury of being where I was, and with whom I was.

The Boss had suggested an early breakfast at IHOP. I unwrapped myself from 
Jerry, and got out of bed.

"You up already." He drowsily asked. But not really, as he was already back 
asleep before I could reply.

I dressed, and moved to the front of the trailer. Charlie wasn't on the 
couch.

Curiously, I sought him. He wasn't in his car. 

Steven was still asleep in the tent. Charlie wasn't there. 

That left only the bus. I approached it listening for signs of activity. 
There were none, so I quietly entered. Charlie was sandwiched between Peter 
and Danny. Both boys had their heads on his shoulders. A replica of the 
scene that Jerry and I had experienced the night before.

Charlie was not asleep, and gave me a bright, happy smile. His only 
explanation, "They needed me last night. Their union needed tightening."

It was an odd statement, but it did say everything that needed to be said.

"Jackie should be here shortly to take us to breakfast."

Sunshine said that he knew, then asked "Is Cowboy up yet?"

I shook my head no.

"You roust him, while I get these two ready." His arms squeezed the boys 
closer to his chest. "Then I'll get Steven."

I turned, and walked back to the trailer. I could hear the shower running 
as I opened the door. 

I stuck my head through the shower curtain, "Glad you are up. Jackie should 
be here shortly."

A hand grabbed my shoulder and tugged me into the shower, soaking my shirt 
and pants. Since I was already wet I stayed there and put my arms around 
Jerry, letting the warm water flow down both of our faces. Our tongues 
immediately began fencing. But the water eventually got in the way, and I 
left him to finish his bathing.

I stripped off my wet clothes, and looked in the closet for something else 
to wear. Everything was dirty except for the Panama Suit that Jackie had 
bought me when we had visited Dr. Lickman in La Jolla. Next to the suit 
was one of Jerry's bright red long sleeved silk shirts.

Jerry got out of the shower and began to dry himself, while I tried 
on his shirt and my suit. "God you look gorgeous!" was his reaction.

He put on his Levis and a bright blue long sleeved silk shirt.

We heard the station wagon drive alongside as we exited the trailer.

The rest of the group joined us. We climbed into the back seats of the wagon.

The drive to the IHOP took only 5 minutes. Surprisingly, there was no 
delay in being seated.

"Johnny, you look great in that suit. You ought to wear it during our 
services." The Boss had spoken, and the rest nodded "Yes. It was an 
improvement."

The primary reason for this breakfast meeting, was to discuss the image we 
were leaving with our audiences. First, was a concern about the Count. 
Having a beer guzzling biker would leave a bad impression. Sunshine and Ho 
said they would take care of the matter. Second, was a concern about how we 
appeared on stage. Jackie looked me over again, "We need to get you several 
suits like that one. Maybe white. Also, I like the red shirt."

I hadn't cut my hair since we had left California, and it was almost as 
shaggy as Charlie's. But it was Charlie that said, "I think Johnny should 
let his hair grow till it reaches his shoulders. The dark hair would look 
great laying against the white suit."

"Well that takes care of Johnny, but what about the rest of us? He should 
be the center of attraction, but wee need to look sharper than we have." 
Again, the Boss had spoken.

This time it was Cowboy who suggested, "Why don't we all wear Levi's and 
Blue shirts, like I have on?"

Jackie looked both Jerry and I over very carefully. "You guys stand up, 
side by side and let's see."

We stood, and were observed. "OK. Next stop is J C Penny's."

I enjoyed my order of Strawberry Waffles, but spilled some of the syrup on 
my suit in a spot where both Jerry and Sunshine offered to wipe it away.

Jackie directed an unexpected question at Charlie. "What brought you to our 
services in Little Rock?"

"My family sent me. They wanted me to find a way to horn in on your racket."

"And did you?"

Sunshine, gave us an impish grin. "Yep!"

It was close to noon when we returned to the trailer. We had again begun 
talking about the Count and his image.

As we got out of the station wagon we heard the loud, and unmistakable sound 
of a wet fart. It came from behind the trailer. As a group we walked toward 
where the sound had come. There was the Count's Indian. We all started to 
laugh. A bald head appeared behind the bike as the man sat up. There was a 
twig stuck between his right ear and head. His hand brought a sweating 
bottle of cold beer to his lips. In a single swig the entire contents 
disappeared. Then with a loud burp, he said, "Glad you guys are back."

Danny asked, "How long have you been here."

"Since last night."

"You should have gone to breakfast with us," was Ho's contribution.

"Naw. I heard you leave, but somebody's got to look after things."

With that statement, he climbed on to his bike. Kicked the starter, and was 
out of there. "See ya later."

During the rest of the week we continued to work on the material for our 
services. Charlie took charge of my hair, while Jerry made certain that I 
always had a clean, white suit, and red silk shirt.

The odd thing, was that I felt more comfortable in the white suit. It 
seemed to bring a feeling of authority. Not authority in the normal sense 
of the word; more ability to influence might be closer.

As the week wore on, you could feel more and more power build between the 
congregation and myself.

Sunshine made quite an astute observation. As the week wore on, the audience 
contained more and more people who had already contributed to the generated
power. As the week drew to a close over 90 percent of the audience were 
people already being affected by "the Thing."

Saturday night was to be our last night in Memphis. 

Saturday morning we were awakened by the deeply muffled sound of a large 
vehicle pulling into our lot. I peeked out the back window of the trailer 
and saw the new audio bus pulling up behind us.

I looked for Charlie. Again, he wasn't on the couch, so I headed for Danny 
and Peter's bed. He wasn't there either. I found him sleeping close to Steven. 
"Hey! Get your butts out of the sack. Your new toy just arrived."

As I came out into the lot I was surprised to see both mama and Ray step 
out of the vehicle. Mama rushed over to me throwing her arms around me as 
though it had been months instead of days since I had last seen her.

Ray seemed neither surprised nor concerned about Charlie being with us. I 
doubted if he would be as nonplused when and if he met the Count.

Steven and Sunshine said a quick hello, and immediately made for the new 
audio bus. It looked a lot like a Greyhound; lots of chrome, and new paint. 
The Capitol Record emblem was painted on both sides. Shortly the Capitol 
engineer came outside, and headed for the trailer. Ray, Steven, and mama 
were to return to Little Rock the first thing Sunday morning; they would be 
taking Charlie's car and the trailer with them.

The Song-Fest that night was not one of our best. Our attention had been 
subdivided: The new audio bus; mama and Ray being present; the Count 
arriving, then quietly disappearing; sleeping arrangements needed to be 
changed to accommodate our visitors.

On the other hand the regimentation imposed by the music format probably 
saved us from total disaster.

Early Sunday morning we all had breakfast at IHOP. Ray stood offering a 
prayer of thanks for our meal and fellowship. Afterward we helped them 
attach the trailer to Charlie's car, and bid them farewell.

It took us until almost two in the afternoon to stow the tent, and make
ready to get underway. Our caravan consisted of three vehicles: 
The Revival Ministry Bus, the new Capitol Bus, and the station wagon. 
Peter and Ho were in the lead trucking the tent. Next was Charlie, Jerry 
and myself in the new vehicle. Jackie and Robbie were following in the 
station wagon.

We were heading south on highway 51. The land was flat, stretching in all 
directions to the horizon. 

I could hear a roar of engines far in the distance. Far behind us birds 
were soaring upward into the sky, escaping what ever was making the sound. 
A speck grew bigger, then suddenly was behind us. In an additional surge of 
power six motorcycles passed us going at least a hundred miles an hour. 

The bikers were in an arrow head formation. In the lead was the Count. His 
arm was raised in recognition as they shot past us. Then just as quickly 
they disappeared below the horizon in front of us.

"My lord. That was the Count. Where did the others come from?" My question 
was rhetorical.

"You didn't know?" Sunshine asked. "That's his gang. They ride together. He 
never goes anywhere without them."

"Ha! Jackie has been worried about our image. Can you imagine how people 
would stay away from our meetings if they showed up?"

"Well, they wanted to, but the Count told them no; he didn't figure we 
could handle it."