Date: Fri, 27 Jul 2001 13:40:55 -0700
From: Hobbyboy <hobby391@att.net>
Subject: Boy From The High Country, Chapter 13 & 14

BOY FROM THE HIGH COUNTRY - 13-14

by Hobbyboy

hobby391@att.net

DISCLAIMER: This story depicts a sexual relationship
between an underage boy and an adult male. If you are
offended by such material, or if it is illegal for you to
read such stories in your state or country, consider this
your warning. You are solely responsible for the
consequences if you continue reading. This is a work of
fiction. The narrator is a fictionalized version of the
author. Everyone else is a complete fabrication. CHAPTER
13: VALKYRIE!

All my life I have suffered from a tendency to make a
quick series of wrong choices, such as deciding to take a
short cut, then realizing it was too slow and turning
around, only to discover that a one-way street made it
take so long to get back on the original route that I
should have stayed on the short cut. I felt a little bit
like that now, driving down the road away from Jellystone
Park in the early Saturday morning light. Mrs. Watson's
mention of the police had thrown me for a loop, there was
no doubt about that. I had made a quick decision to leave
immediately for Seattle, before realizing that we were in
no immediate danger. Then I committed myself to a quick
arrival in Seattle, only later coming to grips with the
fact that nothing was in place. Kelly's legal status in
Wyoming was unresolved, the Watsons had not been
approached about the relationship between Kelly and
Freddie, there was no guarantee whatsoever that Kelly
would not end up as another child lost in the
labyrinthine foster care system.

It was all going much too fast. I could not stop this
juggernaut, but I could slow it down just a little. I
called ahead to my Thousand Trails membership campground
outside of Seattle and made a reservation for Saturday
night. The end of a long day's journey would be no time
to begin any heavy discussions with the Watsons. On the
other hand, waiting until a work day would limit our time
too severely. Sunday would be best.

We were moving up into the mountains now, and Kelly was
transfixed by the spectacular scenic views. I decided to
try an experiment. Kelly treasured the jazz his father
had loved, and his step father's church had disapproved
of all contemporary popular music. Since his taste had
not been spoiled by an excess of noise masquerading as
music, I wondered how he would respond to something quite
different. At our first stop I slipped a CD of Antonio
Respighi's "The Fountains of Rome" into the changer and
waited for a stretch of road that would bring us across
several ridges in a fairly short period of time. I
started the music as background, then gradually turned up
the volume. Of course, the music was not as well matched
to the changes in the landscape as it would have been in
a well-edited video. Still,  Respighi's way of using
successive crescendos, each beginning at a point just
slightly louder than the one before, suited the rise and
fall of the mountain peaks. The ultimate crescendo was
almost orgiastic in its intensity, with a string
sostenuto over a pulsing repeating figure in the brass,
slowly dying away with occasional diminishing repetitions
of the brass figure, into a tranquil finale. Who ever
said Ravel's "Bolero" was the only piece of music that
sounded like sex? Kelly said nothing through the entire
twenty or more minutes. Finally, as the last strains died
away, he said, "Uncle Art, that was awesome! What was
that music?"

Rather than take time with unfamiliar names, I pressed
the remote control to advance to the next disc. "If you
think that was awesome, listen to this." I cranked up the
volume, and Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"
blasted from the speakers, reminding me of the helicopter
gun run in "Apocalypse Now." For Kelly it was almost like
taking a roller coaster ride. Although he was starting to
overuse the word, he pronounced Wagner also, "Awesome!" I
just hoped the Watsons appreciated classical music!

Around ten-thirty we drove in to the lakefront park in
Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. I could  drive for hours without
stopping, but Kelly needed activity. We walked the
boardwalk, threw Frisbees on the grass, and picked up a
light lunch at a waterfront restaurant. I was spending
far too much money on restaurant food, but since I was
cutting two weeks off my vacation, I decided I could
afford it.

Back in the pickup and on our way to Spokane, I finally
gave in to a thought that had been nagging at the back of
my mind since the night before. There was still something
about the incident with Bryan in the showers at
Jellystone Park that bothered me. Was it just harmless
flirting, or was there more? I decided I had to bring it
up.

"Kelly, I'd like us to talk about Bryan."

"Who?" His response was a dead giveaway. There was
something here he did not want to talk about. There was
no way he could have forgotten the boy's name.

"Now, don't go all innocent on me, Kelly. That whole
business in the shower with Bryan last night. What was
that about?"

Kelly shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno," he said.

"I'm not buying that. Was it just harmless flirting, or
were you serious?" No response from Kelly. "Let me put it
a different way. Suppose I hadn't been there. Suppose
there had been a lock on the door so no one could tell
what was going on. What would you have done?"

"What do you mean?"

"Kelly, quit it, we've got no time for bullshit! You know
exactly what I mean, so stop evading the issue. What
would you have done? Would you have wanted to have sex
with Bryan?"

"I dunno. I guess."

"Now let me get this straight. Here is a boy you have
known for about ten minutes. He's cute, right, I'll admit
that. My guess is that he is also completely sexually
inexperienced. An older boy, much more sexually aware --
you -- takes an interest in him. He looks up to the older
boy. After all, how many big kids with hair on their
dicks and everything actually pay attention to a twelve-
year-old? And you were going to use his admiration of you
to seduce him so that you could get your rocks off one
more time? Am I getting this right?"

"I guess... No... I don't know."

"Okay, let me try it another way. Suppose it's just Bryan
and me in the shower. What if I deliberately give myself
a boner and show it to him, and then start asking him if
he understands what's happening to his body. I'm pretty
experienced at working with young boys, Kelly, I could
get pretty close to him. What would you think if I ended
up masturbating Bryan in the shower?"

"You wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't I? I did it to you."

"That was different."

"Why was it different?"

"Because... because I needed you, and... and I knew what
I wanted, and..."

"So you wouldn't want me to take advantage of an
inexperienced boy, but it would be okay for you? He
admired you, Kelly, he looked up to you, right from the
start. And you were prepared to take advantage of that to
get what you wanted?"

Kelly had never looked up at me since the conversation
began, but his cheeks were beginning to flush red. "I
didn't think of that," he said quietly. I decided to
press my advantage.

"And what about Freddie?" He looked over at me sharply.
Now I really had his attention. "I thought you told me
you love Freddie."

"I do love him," he protested hotly.

"Do you? Or do you just love what it feels like when
you're in bed with him? Are you ready to put his needs
above your own? Do you want Freddie and nobody else?"

"Yes!" he nearly shouted.

"Or do you want Freddie for yourself, but still reserve
the right to have Bryan and any other cute boy who just
happens to come along?"

Silence.

"Kelly, did you know that of all the people who are
arrested for child abuse, about ninety per cent of them
were abused when they were kids? Do you see where I'm
going with this?"

"You mean you think I might end up abusing other kids?"

Deep breath. "I don't know, Kelly. I hope not. I'm just
trying to give you some things to think about. You're a
smart kid, Kel. You're basically a decent kid. I think if
you know about the possibilities, you can probably avoid
them."

"So you think I shouldn't have done anything last night?"

How I wished there was an easy answer for that one. I was
treading a fine line here. I wanted to make Kelly aware
without loading him with a lot of guilt. The burden he
carried from the years of abuse from Jason was heavy
enough. My father used to say something about being as
wise as serpents and as harmless as doves. I needed that
kind of wisdom now. "Kelly, I'm a pretty smart guy too.
I'm pretty good at helping people think through problems.
But I don't pretend to have all the right answers.
There's nothing wrong with a couple of boys swapping
stories about their boners. I wouldn't be surprised if
half the boys your age haven't experimented some with
other boys. You've never been in a situation where you
could do that, except with Freddie. Of course you're
curious about other boys and their equipment. It's just
that there's a fine line here. On one side is two boys
experimenting and learning together. On the other side is
an older guy taking a younger one to places he really
isn't ready for yet. Which side of the line were you on,
Kel?"

"I don't really think I did anything wrong."

"Good. I'll take your word for it. I just wanted you
think about it, because you're going to be making
friends, and you're going to have to decide what to do
with your feelings. I think I can give you something that
might help in the future."

"What's that?"

"It's one of the oldest ideas in human history.
Christians call it the Golden Rule, but almost all
religions have some version of it. It says that you
should treat other people in the way you would like them
to treat you. And that means thinking not about what
people want, but about what's best for them."

Kelly appeared to be thinking this over, and then he
reached across and touched my arm. "I love you, Uncle
Art," he said. This was nothing like the respoonse I
expected, but at that moment it was the best thing he
could have said.

"I love you, Kel."

I always knew that at times I could feel other people's
emotions. At this moment there was a palpable sense of
warmth and love. I let the moment stretch on for a while,
and then I broke the silence. "I have something else I
want to talk to you about, Kelly, but that's enough for
one session. What do you say we listen to a little
Chicago?"

"No."

"Glen Miller?"

"No!"

"Ride of the Valkyries?"

"Yeah!"

So with Wagner thundering in our ears we came down onto
the plateau toward Spokane, on our way toward whatever
destiny awaited us in Seattle.



CHAPTER 14: THE LAST CAMPGROUND

I had made it a policy to avoid freeway rest stops
because of the number of big rigs always parked in them.
But when we left Coeur d'Alene, I had neglected the all-
important pit stop. The three glasses of diet Coke I had
consumed with lunch were beginning to stretch my bladder
to the limit. Kelly was seeming a bit antsy as well. For
some reason I remember the saying I had once seen chalked
above the urinals in a downtown pub: "You can't buy beer,
you can only rent it." I had no choice but to pull into
the next rest stop, which fortunately was a large one so
that parked passenger cars were separated from trucks and
big RVs. We could see the truck parking area as we
approached the men's room, and I could tell Kelly was
becoming more nervous. When we walked into the restroom
he grabbed my hand and gave a quick, choking gasp.
Standing at the urinal was a large man wearing blue
jeans, a dirty blue denim shirt with a black grease mark
on the sleeve, and baseball-style company hat He had an
enormous beer belly, and an old navy tattoo on his
forearm. Whether he was a truck driver or not, he was
Kelly's worst nightmare.

Kelly was close to panic, so I quickly guided him away
from the urinals, all the way to the far end of the room
and into the last stall, the handicap-access toilet. I
didn't care what people might think if they saw two pair
of legs in one stall. I had to help my boy. His hands
were trembling so badly that he could not manage his
zipper. It was not feasible for me to help him using only
his zipper fly, so I undid his shorts completely, pulled
his pants and underwear down to his knees, and helped him
to sit down on the commode. Now he could try to pull
himself together, and relieve himself, at the same time.
He took care of the relief first, then took a few deep
shuddering breaths and smiled wanly at me. "Can you
manage the pants yourself now?" He nodded and rose
tentatively to his feet. He was still trembling, but he
managed to get everything tucked away and his shorts
properly zipped up. I took care of my own needs, and
despite his distress, Kelly stepped to one side a bit in
the large stall, apprently to get a better view. Was
there nothing that could inhibit his sexual interest? Of
course, I reminded myself, he was fourteen. I turned
slightly toward him, caught his eye and grinned, and gave
myself what one of my college roomies called the trouser
snake shake. It was strictly college frat-boy humor, and
it seemed to help Kelly recover from his earlier fright.

I had decided that I would leave first and wait a few
minutes for Kelly, but when I emerged from the stall the
room was empty, and we walked together out into the sun.
There was a drinking fountain around at the side of the
building, so having drained, we decided to refill. As we
rounded the corner, we found ourselves directly facing
the backs of three tractor-trailer rigs. Suddenly Kelly
broke away from me, stumbling across the road and into
the dry grass on the other side. He fell to his knees and
vomited, his body heaving spasmodically with the force of
his revulsion. I looked around to see what might have set
him off, and saw it. On the rear of the first truck was a
large bumper sticker that read, "GAS, GRASS, OR ASS. No
One Rides For Free."

I ran to the camper, grabbed a small towel and a water
bottle, and ran to Kelly's side. He had backed away from
the small pool of vomit, but was still on all fours. His
face was ashen, and his trembling was more violent than
before. I helped him to sit upright, his buttocks against
his heels. I wet the cloth with water from the bottle and
wiped away the cold sweat from his brow and his cheeks. I
did the same thing across the back of his neck, then
removed all traces of the disaster from around his mouth.
With my encouragement he rinsed his mouth and spit it out
on the ground, then again, and finally he drank deeply
from the bottle.

"I'm sorry to be such a baby, Uncle Art," he said.  His
words nearly broke my heart. I took him in my arms and
held him tight, while tears coursed down my cheeks.

"You're not a baby, Kel. You're a man. You just faced
your worst fear, and you're still here. You didn't go
away into a dream world. You didn't call up Mark or
Christopher to take the pain for you. You took it
yourself, and it hurt like hell, and you're still here.
Sometimes it's really true that if it doesn't kill us, it
makes us stronger. I love you, Kelly. You're a man among
men. Don't let anybody ever tell you anything different."

Kelly's trembling finally subsided. As I helped him to
his feet, I made sure his back was toward the truck
parking, but the offending rig was gone. Now I had a
problem. Kelly needed to rest, but there was no shade.
The camper would be too hot if we were parked, not very
safe if we were moving. I decided to place my money on
careful driving. We could not move with the camper popped
up, but there was plenty of room for Kelly once the table
was made down into a bed. The space between the rear
window of the pickup and the front window of the camper
was sealed by an inflatable plastic donut so that with
both windows open, the truck air conditioner would also
cool the camper. I settled Kelly down into the bed,
kissed him on the cheek, and closed the door.

An hour later I stopped at another waterfront park, this
one in downtown Spokane. There would not be another
worthwhile stopping point until we reached Snoqualmie
Pass. Kelly had managed to get some rest, and of course
he was hungry, so food was the first priority. Kelly had
not yet been able to get hold of Freddie, but they had
promised he would be home soon after noon. There was a
tension in Mrs. Watson's voice-Joyce, as she has asked me
to call her-a tension that I could not place, but that
vaguely disturbed me.

One Big Mac with fries later, Kelly was ready to make the
call to Seattle. I decided to take a walk so that he
could be completely free in talking with his best friend.
I wanted to stay within earshot, so I didn't go far. I
expected them to be on the phone for at least half an
hour, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes
before I heard Kelly's voice calling, "Dad!" What
happened to 'Uncle Art'? I turned quickly and saw that
Kelly had turned pale beneath his naturally brown skin
tone. He was trembling visibly. I hurried to his side.
"Kelly, what is it? What's wrong?"

There were tears in his eyes, and his breathing was
shallow. "They know," he said.

"Who knows? What?"

"They know. About me and Freddie. Shit, Dad, they know."

God, how many shocks could this kid take in one day? I
pulled his body to mine in a tight hug. To hell with what
people around might think. My boy was in pain, and I had
to hold him. At first I could think of nothing to say as
he began to cry, burying his face against my chest and
sobbing almost uncontrollably. He seemed very young and
vulnerable now, and I comforted him as one might comfort
a child. "Hush now, Kelly, it will be all right. I'm here
for you. I'll never leave you. It will be all right, I
know it will, somehow it will be all right. Dry your
tears now, everything will be all right."

Strange how those words come unbidden to our lips.
Everything will be all right. In times of crisis we need
to believe that, because that faith helps us give
strength to those who need us. Even though moments later
we may have no idea what might happen, we believe it at
the time. In my mind's eye I saw the framed calligraphy,
copied from a medieval manuscript, that hung on my wall
at home:

     And all shal be wel, And all shal be wel, And all
     maner of thynge shal be wel.

I glared defiantly back at the few people who cast
curious glances our way, and at last his shuddering sobs
came to an end. With my arm around his shoulders I
shepherded him back to the truck and helped  him clamber
in. He sat limply, dejected and defeated, as I started
the truck and started us back on our journey.

"Well, look at it this way." I had to break the
oppressive silence somehow. "The cat is out of the bag.
You don't have to worry about being discovered."

"They'll never want me now," he said. "Where am I going
to go?"

"Kelly, we don't know that. We don't know how they are
going to react. I want them to see you face to face. They
love you, Kelly, I can tell that from the way Mrs. Watson
talks to you on the phone. Love can overcome a lot of
obstacles."

I glanced across at him, and was shaken by what I saw.
The light I had seen in his eyes these past few days had
gone out. His deep blue eyes seemed pale somehow. His
face was slack, his gaze was vacant. If ever I had seen
someone in the valley of death's shadow, it was Kelly. He
was sure his life was over, and there was little I could
do at this point to help him. It would be better to wait
until he wearied of rehearsing in his mind all the
terrible things that might happen. Eventually he would
reach that still point where all hope seemed pointless.
Then perhaps I might be able to reach him.

When I stopped at a park in Moses Lake, Kelly had fallen
into a restless sleep. I decided the time had come to
make the phone call I had been dreading.

"Joyce, this is Art Lowell," I said when she picked up at
the other end. "Kelly is pretty shaken up after taking
with Freddie. I wanted to hear it directly from you.
Please tell me what happened."

"Did you know that Kelly and Freddie had been... I mean
that they..."

"Let me help you with this, Joyce. Did I know that the
boys had discovered some things about their bodies
together? Yes. Kelly told me that, along with a lot of
other things about himself. I had hoped to talk with you
about these things after we got to Seattle, but it's out
in the open now. How did you find out?"

"We knew something was terribly wrong when we left
Wyoming. Freddie was completely distraught over leaving.
He begged us not to leave, and he cried almost the whole
way here. He's thirteen years old, and I haven't seen him
cry since he was about ten. We knew he would miss Kelly,
but we had no idea how much. We thought it would be good
for him to stay overnight with one of the neighbor boys
he met. They he came home last night and we told him you
had called, and he was so happy. He just blurted out,
'Oh, Mom, I love Kelly so much.' And then he looked so
shocked that we knew there was more, and we finally got
him to tell us the truth. He was too upset this morning
to even talk on the phone the first time Kelly called.
And I guess you know the rest."

I had expected anger, hysteria, perhaps complete
rejection. But Joyce sounded remarkably calm and
restrained, in spite of her evident distress. I plucked
up enough courage to ask, "What do you think about all
this, Joyce?"

"We just don't know what to think. It's all too new."

"We'll be staying overnight at a campground in North
Bend. Would you still be willing to see Kelly and talk to
him?"

She scarcely hesitated. "Of course we want to see him. Do
you want to come here?"

"Actually, I think it would be better if you met us, if
you don't mind. There will be things the boys can do
together in the campground while we talk as adults.
There's an outdoor pool here, so have Freddie bring a
swim suit. Maybe after church, around noon? I can give
you directions."

She wrote down the driving directions as I read them from
the Thousand Trails handbook. At this point I decided to
bet all my chips on one desperate gamble. "Could I speak
to Bill for a few minutes, please?"

If this failed, I would have to start over somehow. Maybe
a Cody-type story could come true after all. Maybe if I
turned around and drove back to Casper I could get
Reverend Foster to sign over guardianship to me. Maybe I
could get a foster agency in Portland to listen to a
plea. Maybe I could just invent a new identity for Kelly.
If illegal immigrants could get away with it, why not
Kelly?

Sure. And maybe pigs would fly.

"Bill, this is Art Lowell. Look, you don't know me from
Adam, but Kelly has been traveling with me since Tuesday
and I've learned a lot about his situation. We've got a
boy in real crisis here, and I'm going to ask you to take
a chance on me. Is there any way we could talk privately
for a few minutes? I'd rather not have Joyce hear every
reaction you have to what I'm going to say. You can tell
her as much about it as you want to after I hang up."

Bill took a moment to promise Joyce he would tell her
about our conversation later, and took his cordless phone
outside. "Okay, Art, what did you have to say?" He did
not seem hostile, but was not exactly warm either.

"Bill, I'm sorry things have to go so quickly. I wish we
could have met and talked and planned a strategy first.
But I'm going to have to just plunge ahead. Kelly tells
me you already know about the way his step father treated
him."

"You mean the punishments? Kelly told us about the
pressure point stuff. We really wanted to be able to help
him, but we didn't think the child services people
would-"

"It's OK, Bill," I interrupted. "You did help him. You
helped him more than you know. He understands why you
couldn't do more. But that isn't the whole story. Did you
know that Kelly's step brother Jason raped him, and has
done so repeatedly since he was nine years old?"

There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line.
"My God," he whispered at last. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Bill. I have seen the evidence. That's how much he
came to trust me over the past few days. I think any
doctor will confirm that he has been sexually abused for
a long time."

"Why didn't he tell us? We would have-"

"He couldn't, Bill. Do you have any idea of how hard it
is to talk about something like that? He had been
punished so much already, what would his step father do
if he found out? Well, he finally did find out. He caught
Jason in the act, and he blamed in all on Kelly. That's
why he threw Kelly out. I won't even tell you everything
that Kelly went through before I found him." I paused a
moment to let that sink in.

"I have one more thing to ask, Bill, and I'm sort of
taking Kelly's life in my hands here. You don't even have
to answer me. I just want you to think about it. I really
don't know you well enough to even dare to ask this, but
it's a desperate situation and it calls for desperate
measures. Bill, think back to when you were a boy growing
up. Did you ever fool around with another boy?"

There was another long silence. "I understand what you're
driving at," he said. "Look, this is all a little bit too
much for me to take in all at once. But I will think
about what you said. We will come up tomorrow to see
you."

"Thank you, Bill. After what Kelly told me about you and
Joyce, I decided to take the chance. I'm not
disappointed. Thank you. I'm looking forward to meeting
you tomorrow. Good-bye."

I looked up, directly into Kelly's wide-open eyes. They
were alive again. "How much did you hear, Kelly?" I
asked.

"Are we really going to get to see them tomorrow?"

"Yes, Kelly, they're going to come up to the campground
around noon."

"And will I get to see Freddie?"

I gave him a broad smile. "That's affirmative, Kel."

He was out of the truck faster than I thought any human
being could move, grabbing me, kissing me on the cheeks
and the lips and the eyes, making big smacking sounds.
"Oh, God, I love you, Uncle Art! Thank you, thank you,
thank you!"

I managed to pry him off me long enough to say, "I didn't
do that much Kelly. The Watsons obviously care a great
deal about you. I don't want you to get your hopes up to
high. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. But
at least they are willing to talk about it."

My words sobered him a bit, but there was no doubt that
he was allowing himself to hope again. For the time being
at least, I had my boy back. He grinned at me once more.
"I can't believe you asked him if he ever fooled around."

I'm sure I blushed. "You weren't supposed to hear that,
Kelly. And don't you ever let on that you did hear it!"
He giggled, but said nothing. I reached for his ribs.
"I'm going to tickle you until you promise!"

"Okay, okay, I promise!" he said through gales of
laughter.

Two hours later we were securely hooked up in our camp
site at Thousand Trails. We had steak and baked potatoes
at the barbecue pit, and we swam in the outdoor pool.
Kelly was irrepressible, chattering incessantly about
mountains and music and geysers and elk, and Freddie and
Freddie and Freddie. We splashed and dunked each other in
the pool, and once he took me by surprise and pulled my
swim trunks down to my knees. I had to be a little severe
with him about that, and he promised not to do it again,
but it did not dampen his enthusiasm.

Later in the camper, we lay in each other's arms and
gently kissed as and I stroked his soft, smooth skin.
There was no spot on his body I was not encouraged to
touch, but neither of us initiated anything overtly
sexual. We had already had our last night together. This
was a bonus, and we simply enjoyed the touch of our
bodies together. Facing an uncertain tomorrow, we were
strangely content, and so at last we slept.


NEXT: Chapter 15, Seattle