Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 22:51:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: Roddy Schmidt <roddyschmidt@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bradley's Blizzard

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.
The story contains graphic descriptions of sex between
persons of the same gender. Anyone who is forbidden by
law to read such material must stop now.  This story
is being posted to the Nifty Archive solely for the
enjoyment of its readers. No part of this story may be
reproduced, cut, pasted, or otherwise transmitted  or
distributed without my expressed written permission.
Copyright application has been filed.

Brad's Blizzard

Bradley

	It started out as a crappy day.  First I was late
getting away from school.  I had planned to leave
promptly after my  1 o'clock client ... but he had
`other issues' and this being Christmas Break and we
wouldn't be seeing each other for almost a month...

	Luckily I was completely packed.   My stuff was in
the car and all I had to do was get to the the
airport.  With all the panic after 9-11 even Southwest
was having us arrive two and a half hours before our
flights left.  I was booked on Flt. 1366  nonstop to
El Paso.  Our weather looked good, but there was a
prediction of a winter storm moving down from Canada
and something about  warm moist air coming off  the
Gulf that should collide late tonight.  It was bad
enough driving at night, I didn't need precipitation
to contend with too.

	Our flight was right on time.  Good Ole Southwest.
We left the gate at just about 5:00 p.m.  The flight
time was only  an hour and a thirty-five minutes, but
we gained an hour because of the time zone, so it
would only be around 6:00 local time when I arrived,
another 30 minutes to get the car and  on the road...
I would be dark.

	The flight was uneventful until we got into the
pattern and then the Captain came on the intercom and
advised us it might be a choppy approach.  A light
rain was falling.  We had made good time, actually
gaining about 15 minutes.  We'd touched down at 5:20.

	I made my way to Hertz to see what they had for me.
I make this trip often so they are pretty good to me
and I have a lot of credit miles.   My normal routine
is to take whatever they need in Ruidoso and ferry it
for them and then when I come home bring back whatever
they need for the inventory here in El Paso.   I pay
the  minimum one-day rate and we both come out well.
It is lots cheaper than trying to get public
transportation.

	Tonight the Station Manager advised me of the weather
conditions.  So far, the storm was stalled a few miles
south Albuquerque and  and was still west of  I 25.
They expected a break and were actually predicting
blizzard conditions by midnight if not before
depending on what the warm air did and how fast it
collided with the cold front.  All this was a bit
beyond my ken, but I tried to feign both interest and
care...

	All I wanted to do is get to my cabin and veg.  It
had been a tedious semester and I wanted to get in
some skiing after a good three or four days of sleep.


	The Station Manager said that all he had were two
Bronco's and both had four wheel drive and that would
be the most needed in the inventory and he hoped I
didn't mind... That's what I have at Ruidoso on his
lot  waiting for me.

	This would be my first trip to the cabin since we
settled the rest of my dad's estate.  My brother and
his wife  live in California chose to keep the beach
house at Santa Cruz and I was more than happy to have
the Ruidoso place.  It had been the first vacation
home my folks ever owned.  While it looked rustic, it
really had all the amenities.  My dad had been a
tinkerer and so there were lots of nice little things
about the place...  Besides the great fireplace in the
gathering room, he had also installed a gas furnace so
we'd never have to wait until  the fireplace could
heat the house. It was great because the heating was
almost instantaneous once turned on.  He also had
rigged a butane operated generator in the event of
power failure to run the essentials, like blower fans,
freezer and refrigerator, well pump.  We cooked with
gas...  The thermostat kept the house from ever
freezing whether we were there to attend it or not, so
we didn't have to worry about frozen pipes and
stuff.  There were also ample kerosene lamps, in the
event of power loss; my mother had seen to that.

	All these things were racing through my mind.  I had
packed an extra shipping container of odds and ends
that I wanted to have: extra towels, some of my
favorite kinds of utensils,  since this would now be
totally my hideaway now... I'd already made a couple
of alterations last summer when I knew this was to be
mine, but now it was.

	By the time I got out on  I 10 the mist had turned
into a drizzle.  The streets were slick and all the
Christmas lights made it interesting to drive in the
late dusk.  I switched the radio recommended by the
Hertz Guy since it was supposed to give the best
weather reports, and proceeded to make my way north.
I decided to stay on the Interstates and major
highways as long as possible given the weather report.


	Although it was longer than taking State 54, but
given the prospect of snow...   I elected to make my
way west to Las Cruces and then up I 25 north to 70...
With the rain it took me about an hour to get to Las
Cruces.  As I swung onto I 25 it began to rain even
harder.  The farther north I traveled the heavier the
rain got until about  5 miles south of 70 it was
coming down in sheets and I was forced to slow my pace
so I could find the turn off.  Traffic was sparse in
either direction.

	About a mile south of the turn off it looked like
there was someone on the side of the road  thumbing a
ride!  Besides being damn cold he had to be wet,
soaked to the skin.  As I approached him I could see
he had an Army type duffel bag and a back pack.
Jeezus, what is anyone doing out in weather like this?


	I pulled on to the shoulder and lowered  the window
and asked him if he needed a lift.  He nodded his head
and I told him to stash his bags behind the seat and
climb aboard.  He climbed aboard and sat there
dripping .

	My first question was where are you going in weather
like this... to which he answered, "Albuquerque,
yeah, Albuquerque..." with all the conviction of a
totally stoned teenager.  I had to pay attention to
the road because 70 was coming up soon.  Just then a
travel alert came over the radio and said that the
storm was picking up speed and  was moving south and
east much more rapidly than had been anticipated.
Albuquerque was already under blizzard watch and I 25
would be  closed below Belen within the hour.  The
travel advisory stated the blizzard watch was for an
area as far south as Las Cruces and as far east as
Roswell and  that only necessary or emergency travel
should be attempted.

	I pulled on to the approach to 70 and on to the
shoulder.  My young friend was about in tears.  He
just sat there for a moment stared at the floor and
the puddles that were running off his clothes.

	I asked him what he wanted to do and explained that I
was on my way to Ruidoso.  There was nothing between
where we were and Las Cruces or White Sands and there
wasn't all that much in White Sands.  Albuquerque
didn't seem like much of an option.  He just sucked
in his breath and stared at the floor.

	I explained my situation.  I was on Winter Break from
school  I was going to my cabin just outside Ruidoso.
He was welcome to come with me for the night, because
right now, given the weather the way it was, I would
be very grateful for the company, and I could see
about getting him to Albuquerque as soon as the storm
cleared.

	That was the first time I really got to look at him.
I had turned on the map light to show him where I was
going, where we were and how far he was from anywhere.
Shit!  He looked about 16 or 17 and he'd really taken
a beating.  His lip was puffed on left side, but his
right side had shiner that was getting angrier by the
minute.  He had welts on his cheek and neck.  All I
could say was, "What the hell happened to you?"

	It was then that he really began to cry.  He fought
back the tears as long as he could, but he dropped his
chin to his chest and closed his eyes tight and the
tears squeezed out rolling down his tanned cheeks to
mingle with the rivulets running off his cap...

	He started to open the car door.  "Hey, man, wait...
where are you going to go?  You can't go back into
that..."

	He just sat there, his chest heaving, trying to
regain his composure.

	"Hey, hey... you are OK for now.  You need to get dry
that's for sure and we've got at least a couple of
hours drive, but I can turn up the heater in the car
and you don't have to get chilled."  I desperately
tried to think of something that would break the ice
here.

	He looked at me and all he could say was, "My father,
my father..."

	"He did this to you?"

	He just nodded.  "He kicked me out... I have no place
to go... what's going to happen to me.  Everything I
have left is in my bags back there... I have no place
to go...and I won't go back."

	"Are you running away?"

	"What else can I do?  He kicked me out!"

	"He did this to you?  Do you have anyone, your
mother...?"

	"She's dead, there's only him and me...  He hates
me... "  More tears.

	"Look, I don't know exactly what this is all about,
but I know this much... how old are you anyway?"

	"Sixteen, I'll be seventeen in April"

	"Even so, right now we've got to get you to a safe
place.  You are welcome to come with me.  I can't
leave you here anyway and there is nothing around here
for miles.  Who in hell left you off in this God
forsaken place...?"

	"Nobody, I got a ride out Mesilla up to the U in Las
Cruces.  I tried to find my friends at school... the
University... but they'd already left for Christmas
Break.  I just started walking... they live in
Albuquerque.  I didn't know what else to do."  The
last came out in a muted wail...

	"The University?   Your friends are ... I thought you
said you were 16?"

	"I am.  I  am in GT... I take classes there half day.
They were my friends, at least I think, thought,  I
don't know...they are the only real friends I have...
It's not their fault, I did it myself.  I knew
better."

	"Look, this isn't the time for self
recrimination... we have some decisions to make.  We
can talk about it later if you want, but right now,
are you comfortable  going with me to Ruidoso, to my
cabin?  I promise you will be safe.  If the telephone
is still working... hell, you can use my cell phone...
we'll call somebody and work something out.  I
don't have anything planned, I may even drive you to
Albuquerque myself..."

	"Do you mean it?"

	"Mean what?"

	"Staying with you."

	"Hell yes I mean it.  It beats sitting here beside
the road waiting for a blizzard to come down on us.
There are two bedrooms.  There's food, well not all
that great, but enough we won't starve for a day or
so...  So, Let's go, OK".

	He nodded and looked out the side window... lost in
his own thoughts and fears...

	I got back on the road and headed north west toward
White Sands and Alamagordo.  We rode in silence for
awhile.  He finally told me his name was Bradley.  I
told Bradley to rummage around in the box marked
excess baggage and there might be some towels near the
top, and for him to pull them out and dry himself off
as best he could.

	The car was getting a bit steamy.  I'd cranked the
heater up and was getting a bit warm myself.  He dug
out the towels and dried his hair  and pulled his
soaked parka off.  I had him throw it behind my seat.
His flannel shirt wasn't all that soaked, but it was
damp.  He had on a T-shirt and I suggested he take his
flannel off and lay it out over the back of the seat
behind us and maybe it would get dry.  His white
T-shirt was fairly soaked but began to dry as we
drove.  As we got to the outskirts of Alamagordo I
asked him when he had eaten last and he said he
didn't remember...

	"Are you hungry?"

	He stared straight ahead... "I don't have a lot of
money... I need to conserve what I have... "

	I interrupted him and said, "That's not what I
asked... I have enough money to feed us, ...

	"I'll pay you back... somehow, someday..somehow."
He began to tear up.

	"Hey, we haven't even eaten yet... let's not get all
worked up about that right now.  I could use some
coffee and a little something to take the edge off..."

	"I don't really have to eat yet,  I can just stay in
the car."

	"Look, let's get a few thing straight between us...
we need to be straight with each other... My guess is
you haven't eaten all day... You are probably pretty
hungry right now...  I had lunch, and I can eat
something... so let's cut through the shit.  I'd like
to get us some dinner.  I'll find a gas station, you
try to find a dry shirt, and if you don't have any,
there is a ski sweater inside my small bag.  It will
be a little big, but that's the style now days..."

	He looked over at me, and for the first time since he
got into the car, he almost smiled.  He nodded his
head...  "thanks."

	I eased off the freeway onto the entrance to
Alamagordo.  The rain was coming down heavily and
there was just the hint of slush... not quite sleet,
but some more solid stuff in the rain.  It was getting
colder.

	I noticed a State Trooper at the Texaco on the right
side of the road and I slipped into the parking area.
The traffic was extremely light and only a few cars
were out on the street.  Even though I had plenty of
gas, having used less barely more than a quarter of a
tank, I decided to top off.  I told Bradley to try to
find some dry clothes and change while I filled up.
He rummaged through his duffel bag whose contents were
dry and pulled out a shirt.  He went into the Sac `n
Pac and I filled up.

	When I came inside, the Trooper was warming himself
with coffee and I asked him about the road conditions
ahead.  I told him where I was going and he agreed
that 70 was the best way to go and definitely not try
the shorter route through Cloudcroft.  He said that
since 70 was a major east-west artery it would most
likely be cleared as much as possible.  He offered to
check the conditions up north and we went to his
cruiser as he called for the weather by radio.

	The blizzard had reached Soccoro and seemed to be
stalled or moving very slowly again;  unfortunately
that meant it was dropping heavy, wet snow and the
temperature was dropping so that the roads could get
slick.  The forecast  said it would be midnight or
later before it probably crossed significantly east
and reached Ruidoso, but it was definitely coming.
We had a good chance of beating it to the cabin.   I
thanked him for his help and he went back to drinking
his coffee.

	I needed to relieve myself so I went into the Men's
Room where Bradley was stripped to his waist  and
attempting to clean himself and carefully examining
his wounds.  This was the first time I actually saw
him in the light.

	He looked young... he had a cute face and his hair
was jet black and wet it sort of naturally spiked up.
He was gingerly bathing his face.  He wasn't all
that muscular, but in good shape for his age.  No six
pack, or definition, but soft and cute to the point
you just wanted to cuddle him.  He was putting
deodorant on and I looked him in the face and he saw
that I noticed his bruises.  He didn't say anything
but continued to get into a clean T-shirt ...

	He stood about 5' 8" or so, height and weight were
nicely proportional... maybe just a thin layer of baby
fat.  Trim, he was not, but his physique suited him
and his age.  He gave the appearance of fastidiousness
and he had scrubbed his face until it shone.  I
couldn't help but like what I saw.  He had fair
skin, slightly tanned, probably from P.E or maybe just
left over from summer... He had dark brown eyes and
his face looked like it was used to smiling, but
tonight he was more sober.

	I asked him how he felt and he replied about as good
as he could under the circumstances.  I told him he
could take his time, and reported to him what the
Trooper had told me about the blizzard.  He just
looked at me and sort of shrugged.

	We walked out and I inquired if the Furrs' Market
farther up the street might still be open, and the
grandmotherly type behind the counter said more than
likely, since they stayed open until midnight most
nights, but with a storm coming they would be there
until people stopped coming.  Nice thing about small
communities up in this neck of the woods...

	She said she'd heard me talking to the Trooper and
she added she had been listening to the weather radio
and they were predicting a really bad storm by
morning.  She said that portions I 25 was now closed
and that if we intended to make Ruidoso we didn't
have a lot of time to waste.  I agreed and we left.

	We went to Furrs'  and I laid in a load of groceries
now that I had a visitor to feed.  The store wasn't
crowded yet, but it was doing a brisk business,
probably more than usual.  Lots of people were buying
water, candles, etc.  I bought steaks, some butterfly
pork chops, five pounds of ground round, butter and a
dozen and a half of eggs.  Staples, I'd laid in over
Thanksgiving when I was here.  I even had half a baked
turkey in the freezer.  We got some bread and butter.
I got a gallon of milk and some buttermilk ... I love
pancakes and I hate to make them just for myself.
They had some nice lean bacon slabs and I got nearly
four pounds, thickly sliced and the gave me the two
ends.

	Bradley dutifully pushed the cart around and even
made some good suggestions via the "do you have
any..."  I tried to get him more involved with things
he might like to eat, but he just said he'd be content
with whatever there was.  I could tell he was feeling
self conscious about his battered condition so I got
some produce for salad. a couple sacks of apples and a
sack of potatoes and we checked out.  Bradley was very
helpful putting things into the cargo area. It was
obvious he had done this before.  He even rearranged
some of the items that, in his opinion, the bagger had
not done properly.  He made sure the eggs were secure,
the bagels close to the top as well as the bread and
bananas so they wouldn't get crushed.  I just
watched him as he took over.

	We headed back to the highway.  When we came to the
Golden Corral I pulled in and surprisingly it was
fairly empty.

	We went through the line and discovered that the
special was all you can eat steak and buffet.  We both
smiled about that and of pigged out.  I was a little
afraid to eat too much because I certainly didn't
want to get sleepy driving... I also loaded up on
coffee.

	We had a good meal and Bradley very graciously
thanked me for the fine dinner, and allowed that it
was the best meal he'd had since his mom died.  I
looked at him hoping to elicit more conversation, but
he just put his seat belt on and looked out the side
window.

	When we approached the entrance to the highway the
Trooper was sitting on the shoulder.  I rolled the
passenger window down and asked him if there was
anything new I needed to know, and he said that they
had closed I 24 just south of Soccoro and it seemed
the storm had started moving south and east a little
faster than earlier reported.  He advised me to stay
on 70 and get into four wheel drive early even though
it might be less economical.  He said to watch for
plows and sand trucks because they were beginning to
pick up light snow.

	I thanked him and we drove off.

	We drove in silence, both in our own thoughts.
Bradley finally said, "For a psychologist, you don't
ask many questions..."

	I replied, that "tonight I wasn't a psychologist,
but just a guy helping another guy in a storm."

	He smiled and said, "OK., ... I got kicked out of my
house because my father thinks I am the anti-Christ."

	"I beg your pardon..."

	"My dad's a Church of Christ pastor in Mesilla... he
thinks I'm the anti-Christ.  I told you I was in GT
and take classes at NMSU half a day... well, some of
the courses I took made me think and I started
questioning the Bible.  He wanted me to stop taking
those classes and stick to reading and praying for
guidance.  There were some other issues too..."  his
voice drifted off and he stared straight ahead, and
when I looked over at him, he averted my quick glance
turning toward the side window.

	"My mom died three years ago.  He wouldn't let her
get the help she needed because he didn't believe in
some of the stuff they wanted to do...  Its not like
we didn't have the money or anything, its just he
wanted to pray about it but she needed medical help.
He's not against all medicine or stuff, but he
believes that prayer is more important.  My mom had
pneumonia and he believed in fresh air even when she
was so sick and one night she just died in her sleep.
I ... I can't... find it in my heart to forgive him...
He just kept prayin' that God would deliver her, and
then he said it was God's will... "  Tears were
spilling over his cheeks...

	I didn't know what to say, and all I could think of
was "I am sorry, I am so sorry...", but it was pretty
obvious that `I'm sorry' wasn't going to get it.

	"After the funeral I didn't have anything left.
She was my best friend.  It's hard to have normal
friends when your dad's the Hell's Fire and Brimstone
Preacher yellin' at everybody about how sinful they
are.  I couldn't even pray... I was mad at God... if
there even is one. ... Are you religious?  Are you a
Christian?"

	"Yeah, I consider myself religious, but probably not
in the same way you do... and I do consider myself a
Christian, but again probably not by your definition."

	"What do you mean?  Maybe you'd be surprised what I
believe... of don't believe.  Just because you have
that stuff pounded into you from the minute you are on
this earth doesn't mean you always believe it."

	"True, true.  What I meant was, that yes, I'm
religious, I believe in God and order in the universe
and natural law, but I don't see God as some big
Bearded old Man out there somewhere that is the master
puppeteer...  If you want to be philosophical about it
I am more like a Deist.  As far as being Christian, I
am a cultural Christian... I grew up in a
Judeo-Christian milieu and those are my values, but
that is almost accidental.  Do I believe in Jesus, as
a man, a teacher, someone around whom a whole
philosophical religious phenomenon grew?  Yes.  But is
he the only Son of God?  I'd have to be honest and
say, no.  I think there have been other manifestations
of the Incarnation...  I'm not sure that really
answers your question, but it is the best I can do off
the top of my head."

	"I'm not surprised.  When I was taking classes at
NMSU I had professors who said almost the same thing.
It makes complete sense to me.  You probably believe
in evolution too, don't you?"

	"Yes, it makes infinitely more sense to me... but
that does not mean I don't think that the Creator God
didn't work through evolution.  I can still make a
case for divine evolutionary creation..."

	"I tried to tell him that once... that's when he
called me the anti-Christ.  He then went on to accuse
me of all kinds of other things too..."

	We drove along in silence.  "What do you think about
homosexuality?"

	"What do you mean?... That's sort of vague... Do you
mean do I think there is such a thing?  I do, look
around you.  Do you mean `do I condone or condemn it?'
 Neither.  It is a condition of humankind and what I
am reading in biology, not just confined to the
humankind.  I'm not sure how you are asking the
question."

	"Yes you are... Is it O.K. or not?"

	"Again, O.K. or not, for whom?  What people do in the
privacy of their own lives is not up for debate.  It
is fine for some people.  It is not fine for others.
It is not a right or wrong  That's like asking is
being left handed wrong... I mean, look at the
preponderant majority who are right handed... are blue
eyes good or bad... being homosexual is a condition,
it is not a preference or choice.  It is a very
private kind of thing.  ..."

	"The Bible says it's wrong, that it is an
abomination..."

	"That same Bible has some other things in it that I
don't agree with either.. for instance, I don't think
that in war it is justifiable for the conquerors to
split open a pregnant woman's womb and dash the fetus'
head on a rock.  You have to take those things in the
context of when they were written and what the
circumstances were... :"

	"Have you studied the Bible?"

	"As a matter of fact I have.  I have a rather serious
interest in it and have spent some summers in
Seminary's studying the Bible. And, my father was an
Air Force Chaplain."

	We rode in silence again.  The rain was getting
lighter and there were more flakes than rain.  There
was beginning to be accumulation on the sides of the
road but the road itself was just wet.  We encountered
sand trucks spreading a thin layer of sand in the more
low lying areas.  There was very little traffic.  I
don't think we passed more than three cars in those 30
miles or so...

	""Aren't you going to ask me why he kicked me out?"

	"No.  If you want me to know you will tell me..."

	"He read a letter I wrote to a friend, the one I
tried to go to before you picked me up."

	I let it drop.

	Silence.

	"I thought I was in love with him."

	Silence.

	"I wrote about some pretty explicit feelings..."

	Silence.

	"I told him how I felt after we had been together.."

	Silence.

	"He told me I was an abomination in God's eyes and in
his.  He took a cane to me.  He beat me and I just
took it..,,"

	"Bradley, I am sorry he said that to you.  He may be
your father, but I can tell you that the God I believe
in does not consider you an abomination.  I believe
you are loved or accepted by God however you, or any
of us are.  The love of God, if there is such  an
entity, has to be unconditional or It isn't God.
What we as mortals do in the name of God is not always
what God intends, regardless of how righteous we think
we are.  As far as I am concerned, what your father
did was more an abomination in God's eyes than whether
or not you loved someone or even made love with
someone of your own gender."

	"So, according to you, if I am Gay, God still loves
me?"

	"Yeah, maybe even more than others, because very
often Gay people, or as I would rather refer to them
as, Homosexual people, need God's love more.  God
knows they have to take a lot more shit than the
predominate heterosexual population does..."

	"The guy I took Sociology from said about the same
thing.  At first I wished I could have him talk to my
dad, but it wouldn't have done any good.  He won't
listen to reason.  Anyone who doesn't accept the
Bible the way he does is wrong, a child of the Devil
and going to Hell and there are no two ways about it."

	"Did you ever think that maybe if he ever entertained
a thought or two like that his whole belief system
would come tumbling down?"

	He looked at me and grinned!  Then a stab of pain
came across his face and he winced.  "Man that hurt,
but I think you got something there."

	The rest of the trip was chatter time.  What seemed
like years of pent up ideas came tumbling out.  Some
of his ideas weren't all that maturely thought
through, but they all had the germ of insight and
truth.  Like so many bright young people he was torn
between the values of an arcane, archaic system and
what he could plainly see in reality.

	Empiricism again attacked Religion...

	By the time we got to the edge of the Mescalero
Apache Reservation saucer-sized flakes were coming
down.  The road was still easily passable, but it
would be only a matter of time before it would stick
on the road and the moisture was already beginning to
freeze.  The temperature was dropping fast.  The trees
were groaning under the weight of the wet snow.  The
sheer beauty of it made a believer out of the most
cynical... It was a wonderland.

	I cranked up the cell phone and called Hertz... six
rings, it cycled me into call forwarding... "Hertz
Rentals, Ruidoso."  I told Mr. Steitz where I was and
asked if it was alight with him, I'd bring the car in
tomorrow first thing if I could get out, but I thought
it better to unload and sit it out overnight.  He
agreed and said that if it was the storm everyone was
predicting that I shouldn't worry about it until it
was safe to come in... no one was going to rent cars
anyway... Hertz El Paso had called and alerted him to
let them know when we arrived safely.

	When I got to the entrance of the turn off for the
Inn of the Mountain Gods I slowed down and put us into
four wheel drive.  The road where I had to turn to go
back into the cabin was a very sharp right turn and I
had to be careful to stay on the road.  The snow was
nearly a foot deep and I was careful to stay in the
middle of the road.  Three more miles of winding
snow-covered dirt road and we were there...

	Even though the moon was far from full, the white of
the snow reflected an eerie glow over the meadows and
open spaces.  Finally, we came to the bend where we
could see the cabin.  The roof was piled high with
snow.  It wasn't drifting yet since there was
virtually no wind, so the porch was clear after about
the first foot under the roof...

	I made a U-turn in the drive way and backed the
Explorer as close to the front steps as I could and
set the hand brake.  We got out and I went up and
unlocked the front door.  It was cold inside.  I
flipped on the lights.  We still had electricity.  I
went to the thermostat and turned up the heat.  The
furnace kicked in nicely and it would be just a few
minutes and we would have heat.

	I went to the fireplace and turned the gas lighter.
I always stack a fresh load of logs whenever I leave
so all I have to do is light up when I get here.  The
flames started quickly and the dry wood began to burn.
 I opened the damper and we soon had a roaring fire.

	Bradley unloaded the Explorer and carried the
groceries into the kitchen.  He even began to put them
away.  I checked out the cabin to make sure everything
was in working order.  The tarp was still snugly tied
over the half cord  of wood up on the back porch.  I
could see that between the `measurement trees'...we
had two tall Ponderosas that stood exactly 8 feet plus
 couple of inches apart.  It was as if they had been
planted,  (given their height, it would have been some
two centuries ago), for stacking cord wood between,
and that's where we'd had our wood delivered and
measured for as long as I could remember...   There
was a good two more cords out there.  Olie Mathison
must  have delivered since I was here last at
Thanksgiving.

	Explorer unloaded I secured the cabin.  I left the
downstairs shutters closed  and made some hot
chocolate.  We sat on the floor pillows in front of
the now roaring fire.  I  had to put the screen up in
front to prevent pop outs.   The great room was more
than toasty ...  We shed our shirts and took off our
shoes and put them by the front door... (old family
tradition, don't ask me why...)

	We sipped hot cocoa and stared at the fire.  Small
talk.  Finally, ...

	"You about ready for bed?"

	"Yeah, I think so."

	"Want to take a hot shower before you turn in?
There's plenty of hot water now, I just tested it when
I made the cocoa."

	"Sounds like a good idea."

	"The guest room is up there on the left"   With that
I directed him to the bathroom upstairs.  The shower
bath was upstairs, downstairs we had another bath that
had an antique tub with claw feet and the `necessary'
commode with a pull chain and an antique free-standing
basin.  There was red flocked wall paper and gaudy
crystal lamps and brass fixtures...  That was a family
tradition.   We had one of those in every house my
parents' owned.  It was my mom's only concession to
antiques... My dad called it the "Whorehouse Pissoir".
Upstairs, it was the modern bath with a nicely
enclosed double sized shower with two hand held
nozzles... the first `improvement'  I made when I knew
the cabin would be mine.  I had the shower over tub
pulled out and put a tempered glass enclosure around
the whole area.  As soon as I felt comfortable
spending the bucks it was plumbed and ready to turn
into a steam room.

	The bathroom was between the bedrooms over the
kitchen area.  The balcony allowed you space to look
into the great room as well as let the heat rise and
warm the upstairs. There was a queen sized bed in my
room, and a pair of single beds in the guest room.
The rooms were mirror identical  except for the closet
placement... the closets ran the full length of the
room under the slope of the roof.  I usually left a
Ruidoso wardrobe up here including underwear and socks
which allowed me to bring other stuff I needed or
wanted for a given trip.  This time  I had brought a
plastic locker with towels, and some utensils that I
wanted up here.

	The new Maytag over-under Nautica washer and dryer
were stacked here in this bathroom too which made it
very convenient.  The dryer was gas and the motors
were on the emergency circuit served by the the
generator if necessary.

	I told Bradley that he'd find his towels there in the
closet on his side of the bathroom.  I told him to
turn on the towel heater on the wall for a treat and
he came out and  looked at me over the railing like I
was from Mars.  Another little `luxury; my dad liked.

	When I heard the shower run for awhile, I climbed up
the stairs and went to my room.  Bradley had left the
doors open between the rooms and I watched him as he
stood before the mirror over the basin brushing his
teeth and checking his wounds.

	Since I didn't want him to think I was spying him,
which I guess I really was, I let him know I was in my
room by asking if he'd like some Bactine for those
abrasions.  His eye was nicely blackened and beginning
to close now... the lip was a little better, but still
puffy.   The welts on his neck were still angry as
were the bad, bad bruises I'd noticed on his back.  I
could only guess what his bubble butt looked like
under the towel, but I could see that the backs of his
calves were pretty bruised with diagonal stripes.

	Bradley said he'd washed them and really didn't
think it would be necessary since none of the skin was
broken. I found a bottle of Witch Hazel and suggested
he try that, which he did and then asked me if I'd do
his back.  After I did his back, he dropped the towel
to do I did his butt.  He pulled the towel back up
(after I glanced in the mirror to check him out) and
said "Thanks, that feels a lot better."   He turned
and went into his room, climbed into bed and turned
out his light.  Again he left  the door between us
open...

	I brushed my teeth, took my shower and climbed into
bed.  I left the door open too!

	I didn't have much trouble dozing off, but in my
haze I could hear Bradley sobbing.  I got to full
consciousness and listened.  He wasn't wailing or
anything, but it was a distressing cry... I'd left the
little night on in the bathroom so with the spill and
the moonlight I could see he was curled in a semi
fetal position with his back to me on the bed closest
to the bathroom.  Since it was very warm he had only
pulled the sheet up part way and one leg was out on
top... he appeared to be sleeping in the raw.

	I pulled a caftan out of the closet, one my mom had
made for me... she didn't like grown boys/men
running around in the nude regardless of how they
liked to sleep... and I pulled it over my head.

	I went into Bradley's room and said, quietly, "Are
you OK?... Are you hurting?"

	At first there was no response, then a very low,
"I'm OK... I just can't sleep, that's all."  He
didn't turn toward me... I was about to leave when
he said, "I do hurt .. could you just ... hold me?"
He was lying half under the sheet with the one leg out
on top. It presented a very provocative picture even
in the dim light.  He wasn't wearing shorts...

	My heart melted.  I climbed on his bed on top of the
sheet covering him and lay  close to him.   I put my
arm over his arm letting it hang down over his chest.
He immediately lifted his arm out from under the sheet
and took my hand and pressed it to his chin and chest
pulling me closer to him making almost full body
contact... we lay in a spoons position.

	This was getting to be  more than I could handle.  He
tried to stifle his sobs and said, "Thanks, I'm really
not this much of a baby..."

	My response was, "You'"You've gotta be hurting...
those welts..."

	He cut me off with, "The welts hurt, but not as much
as inside."

	I had a cacophony of emotions competing in my body...
nature was only to quick to respond.  What was I going
to do?  I can't let him know how desperately I want
him, I have to protect him, from me, from the world,
from himself.  I tried everything to keep from getting
boned up...

	The harder I tried to keep it limp, he would do
something to counteract my attempt...he pushed his
butt back into my crotch... I know he had to be able
to feel what was happening to me... we said nothing.
He sobbed quietly and I just held him trying to soothe
his hurt and my pain...

	We lay lie that for awhile, how long I don't know,
but it seemed like forever.  When he finally stopped
sobbing and his breathing came measured and slow, I
tried to ascertain if he was asleep.  I raised myself
to try to look at his face.  As soon as I moved he
clutched my arm closer to him and scooted back closer
against me.

	It was getting warm in the room.  Not only from the
heat from the fireplace but from the rising passions
in my loins.  I had not considered how late it was to
have built such a large fire.  It was just now peaking
and since heat rises the bedrooms would be plenty
warm, maybe too warm for good sleeping.

	I moved to get up.  Bradley stirred... "Are you
leaving?"

	"No, I'm just going to crack some windows.  It is
getting a bit hot in here, it may be what's keeping
you from falling asleep."

	"Oh... will you come back?"

	"Do you want me to?  Would you like something to help
you sleep?  I think I have some "Nighttime Tylenol" if
you think that might help... and it might sort of dull
the pain..."

	I went to the window between the two beds... I
lowered the sash from the top about two inches.  It
was still snowing.   The rain had long since stopped.
The world had been turned lumpy white and soft...

	He did not move his position.  I got a cup of water
and two Tylenol and offered the little blue pills to
him.  He popped them back, slugged the water and said,
"Thanks"...

	 I set the paper cup on the nightstand, on which lay
a very well used leather covered Bible.  I walked to
the other side of the bed and resumed my position
beside him, again in the spoon position, except I kept
a bit of air space between us this time.   He said in
a low voice, "Hold me..."

	I put my arm over him again and he immediately pulled
it and me to him but this time he gently kissed my
fingertips...  We lay there quietly each  listening to
the breathing of the other.  He began to doze off, but
he held my hand almost uncomfortably tight.  I was
getting uncomfortably tight in another region of my
anatomy too.  We both must have dozed off, because the
next thing I knew he raised and lowered himself and
rolled over to face me.  He had shed the sheet
altogether by now and his naked body was lying next to
me crotch to crotch.  He flung his free left leg over
me and snuggled down on my chest.  His left hand
rested on my right ass cheek.  By the time this little
maneuver was complete I didn't have enough skin to
close my eyes and I lay there looking out over the
room and wondering where this was all going to end.
Needless to say, I slept very intermittently if at
all.  Bradley on the other hand, with the help of his
exhaustion coupled with the Tylenol slept soundly.
During the very early hours, before dawn, he began to
erect....

	He didn't move his pelvis.. he really didn't have
to, but his corona was just under my testicles and it
proceeded to get harder and harder.  With no more than
licking his lips and a bit of `mmming' the inevitable
happened.  I almost lost it myself.  He had a copious
nocturnal emission all over the front of my once clean
caftan...

	As he faded I began to feel the effect of the room
chilling and pulled the light coverlet over us.
Bradley slept soundly.  Now I clutched him close...
The beauty of this innocence was doing a job on my
head.  I fell asleep and didn't wake up for at least
two hours when the  light from outside began to flood
the room.

	I'd not drawn the draperies because the moonlight
gave us enough light to make out shapes in the room
yet provided enough dark to sleep, but now, even with
the heavy overcast and the snow dumping on us, it was
very light.  Gently, I slipped out of bed, covering
the beautiful sleeping man-child, and crept over to
close the draperies.  Gently, I stooped over and
kissed him on the forehead, and then ever so gently on
the lips.  I staggered into the bathroom.  The now
cooled tile floor brought me wide awake.  I gently
closed the door to the bathroom, washed my face,
relieved myself and went into my hardly used bedroom.
I found some muk-luks in the closet, grabbed my cell
phone out of the charging cradle and padded
downstairs.

	 From the balcony going down I could see out of the
clearstories that about  four or five feet of snow had
fallen.  I checked the front door.  I opened the main
door only to see through the storm door that  the
Explorer was but an indistinct mound of white.  The
snow was up to the mid panel on the storm door.

	I began dialing Mr. Steitz.  My cell range is
beautiful.  There are three different towers across
our back meadow and the line of site is less than a
mile...  It rang and rang, but no answer.  On a hunch,
I looked up the cell number for Hertz and tried that.
Bingo.  In three rings, "Good Morning, Ruidoso Hertz,
how may I help you?"

	"Mr. Steitz, this is Rod Schmidt, just checking in.
I've got about 4 or five feet off my porch..."

	"Yah, that's what it is here too.  Nothing is moving.
 70 is closed but they think it will be open around
noon.  Don't worry about a thing.  I'm closed anyhow.
 Talked to Olie this morning about 7:30... (I glanced
at the clock:  9:45!...)  he said he would try to plow
 Pike about noon or as soon as he could get  his
equipment out there, but he wasn't going to worry
too much, since I told him you were safe and all."

	"Thanks.  I didn't see any lights on my way out
last night, but then I wasn't exactly looking for
anything..."

	""Nah, I don't think anyone is out there yet... The
locals, that live farther in, of course, so he's gonna
plow  anyway.  Just keep warm.  We lost the telephone
about 5 this morning, but they say it will be back
this afternoon sometime.  Nothing is open except
essential services.  Just stay where you are and keep
warm.  Do you need anything?  I could have Olie bring
you something..."

	"No, but thanks anyway.  I stopped in Alamogordo and
laid in fresh stuff... I've got enough to last us a
few days."

	"You bring somebody with you?"

	"Not exactly, I picked up a hitch hiker and ..."

	"Dammit, Dr. Schmidt... when you gonna learn?  You
can't be doin that all the time.  It's dangerous."

	"Hey, not to worry, this one is harmless, besides
he's only about 17."

	"Oh shit, Roddy, you're not doing something stupid
are you?"

	"I hope not Mr. Steitz, but I don't think so either."

	"Well, OK.  I'll have Olie stop by and check on
you.  Have some strong coffee for him when he gets
there.  You know how he uses his `medicine' to keep
him warm and we don't need no zig-zags all the way to
Florin's..."

	"Gotcha.  Thanks.  I'll talk to you later."

	I  went to the fridge to start getting breakfast laid
and saw Bradley stumbling into the kitchen.  He had
wrapped himself in the bed sheet and it looked like a
shroud come undone.  He looked rested and for the
first time,  I saw what a cheerful face he really had.
 The lip was puffy, the eye closed still, but somewhat
better and the welts on his cheek and neck glowed dark
red.

	"Hi Guy... sleep well?."

	"Yeah, I did.  Thanks."  He searched my face as
though looking for some clue or expectation of
recrimination...

	"You OK?  What's up."

	"I'm sorry about last night..."

	"Hey, man, you had one helluva day.  There is nothing
to be sorry about.  We just have to go on from here.
What are you up for for breakfast?"

	"You know what I mean..."

	I looked at him for some kind of clue... he was
staring at the floor and then to below my crotch where
the cum stains were a lot more visible than I realized
until my gaze followed his eyes...

	"No, Bradley, I don't know what you mean...  I held a
man in my arms whose life had been shattered and who
had been badly beaten both inside and out...  There is
nothing to be sorry for... or about..."

	"He is right... my dad.. I am an abomination."

	"Stop that!  Not in this house you are not an
abomination, not to me, not to God and not even to
you!  Why would you even think such a thing?  How can
what God creates be an abomination?"

	"You know... look at your ... whatever you call that
thing... the evidence is there."

	"Really?  How do you know that's all yours?"

	He looked at me sharply... "Because it's on the
outside and is to low for you..."

	"You are jumping to a lot of unmerited conclusions
here... Let's talk about it after we've both had some
coffee.  What do you want for breakfast?"

	"I don't understand you... at first I thought, ... I
know you... I am so confused... Just exactly where do
I stand with you?"

	"Right now I'd say about 7 feet away, by the fridge,
confused  about  what I don't know and making me
uncomfortable.  What else do you want to know."

	"Are you gay?"

	Pause...

	"No, I am not Gay.  I am an homosexual person.  I
don't like those short hand appelations that include
too much and don't say enough. Do I enjoy sexual
relations with members of my own gender?  Yes.   Are
you asking me if I wanted you last night.? You're damn
right I did.  It was all I could do to concentrate on
the fact that you were under my protection... that I
could under no circumstances take advantage of this
situation.  Was it hard?, no pun intended, but yes to
both... You are a very attractive young man.  But last
night was not the time nor the circumstance for me to
act on any of those impulse feelings."

	"I tried to seduce you... how can you say that it
doesn't matter?  I wanted you.  I am just like what
my dad says I am... I am a lecherous perverted
abomin...."

	I cut him off with, "This is the last time I am going
to say this, Bradley,  I do not want you to use that
term about any human being in my house again, and most
especially regarding you!  You are not an abomination.
 Horny perhaps.  You are at the perfect age for it.
Vulnerable, absolutely.  Needing love, it goes without
saying, but most of those things can be said about
lots of guys your age, and right now you have all of
that in spades.  You have been violated by someone who
should have protected you, who should have loved you.
I don't want you to use that term again.  Do we
understand each other?"  I was getting more upset than
I wanted to be...

	"I'm sorry... it's just... You... you held me like
you... I felt you....(tears)...

	"Bradley, I wanted you.  I want you now as you can
probably see, but Guy, this just isn't the time nor
place or circumstance... Please, try to understand.
You are as attractive to me as any human has ever
been.  This is difficult for me too... but it just
can't be.  We've got a lot on our plates here and it
is not a simple situation.  We've got to get you
settled in a safe place; we've got the abuse of your
father to contend with... if for no other reason, we
can't contaminate this relationship by ....  Look, as
soon as we can I have to get you examined by a
physician to document your injuries.  That is going to
be a complete examination if you catch my drift...."

	He just looked at me... searching for some meaning to
all of this.

	"Bradley, right now I am very angry at that
psalm-singing hypocrite you call your dad... and I
intend to make him pay.  And don't start quoting,
'vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord...'  It very well
may be, but I'm going to make that bastard pay and pay
good.  He hurt someone I love and I am not going to
let him get by with it, and if I can be the agent of
the Lord who accomplishes that, then so be it and I
will enjoy the experience!"

	"You love me?...."

	"Ah, ... he cut me off.  "You said you love me.  ..."

	"Bradley, how can I help but not love you?  You ,
you....  you can't lie next to a person and watch them
sleep, weep with them and have all the feelings toward
them that transpired last night an not love them.
.... God I'm not making very good sense here... Yes ,
I love you, but  ...  we have to deal with that later.
 Right now....

	He cut me off, "You love me...nobody has ever said
that to me but my mom..."  and with that he opened the
sheet he was wearing and came running to me with his
white cum stained cape, half-hard penis flopping from
side to side and threw his arms around my neck and
buried  his head in my neck and shoulder,  squeezing
me in a literal breath taking bear-hug with the sheet
en-wrapping the both of us.

	It was a tender, yet humorous moment.  It was also a
provocative moment.  His body was pressed to mine and
our pelvises literally ground into each other
producing the obvious result.  I took both of his arms
and pulled him away to a safer distance.

	I stared into his face as he searched mine...
"Bradley, I  love you, let there be no question about
that, but having said that, there are some limitations
we are going to have to observe ... at least for
awhile... You are sixteen.  I am an adult, a
professional psychologist at that.  Were I to have any
kind of sexual relationship with you it would be rape,
not just statutory rape, but rape...R-A-P-E... there
is a significant difference in our ages, our
experience our power, our status...  Please, I don't
want to go into this right now... in fact right now I
want you to go up, take a shower before I make moot
all my grand philosophizing right here on the kitchen
table!"

	"I love you too, you know..."

	"I know... I can tell... (he, like I had a raging
hard-on that stuck through the slit in the sheet...
"now what do you want for breakfast?"

	"Who can eat now?  You said you love me... you mean
it too, don't you?"

	"Yes, I mean it, now please..."

	"I'll do anything you want...I'll eat anything
you want... My father calls me Bradley, what few
friends I have call me Brad." , and with that he
bolted up the stairs, like the child he was, the sheet
flying out behind his outstretched arms like a sail
flapping behind him.

	I heard the shower run as I prepared our breakfast.
By the time I had the bacon done and the eggs
scrambled ready to pop into the pan, he was down
again, brightly scrubbed and polished.

	"What can I do to help? I'll set the table... do
you want me to make toast?"

	"Yes ..." and I poured the eggs into the pan and
sprinkled the grated cheese and chives over them.

	Breakfast was something out of a Felini movie.  His
mind and conversation bounced in a thousand
directions. Before I could adequately answer a
question he had three more posed.  It was a wonderful
experience.   The house telephone rang... I couldn't
remember having it activated... It was Olie, telling
me that he'd be plowing the road within the hour.  He
told me Mr. Steitz had had my telephone activated.
We had telephone service again, it had been restored
just minutes ago.  He inquired if I had seen the
wood... I had... he asked if I needed anything.  I
told him no.  He said the snow had all but stopped for
now but that there could still be a light dusting when
it got dark tonight.  He assured me the roads would be
passable... I said I'd have coffee ready...  We rang
off.

	Brad cleared the table and I started to stack the
dishes in the dishwasher.  He was amazed at the
amenities of the `cabin'.  I told him that it was my
parent's favorite place, and mine too, and how my
family spent entire summers here... sometimes my dad
would go back to work, and leave us up here  and come
again when he was able to get away... This was our
`home' for almost five months of the year if you added
up all the days we spent here during school breaks...
We raised our first horses here...He said his dad was
too cheap to have a dishwasher...

	Brad insisted on shoveling off the front porch and
brushing off the Explorer so we'd be all ready when
the snow plow guy came... he did  the area around the
back door so we could get more wood in too.  The fire
in the fireplace had died to just glowing embers, and
it was cooling off.  We needed to re-lay the fire.
Which he did with all the enthusiasm of a Boy Scout
building a camp fire...

	I called my long-time friend P.T. the local physician
and explained about Brad's beating.  He said to bring
him in as soon as I could, but to call first because
he would do the exam at the hospital and to meet him
there. He asked me if I had a Polaroid camera and
film, and if so to take pictures or bring it to the
hospital or he'd have to get one on the way.  I
remembered my mom's in the hall closet.  I'd bring it,
if necessary I could get film in town.

	I explained the situation to Brad, and for the first
time, it began to sink in to him just how serious this
could be.  He wasn't reluctant, but did show some
reticence to the idea.  I found my mom's old Polaroid
just where I expected to in the closet by the front
door and there were two  unopened boxes of color film
plus it looked like there was some film in the camera.

	The film was out of date, so I tried a couple of
pictures of just stuff in the kitchen and outside the
front door.  After adjusting for the light exposure,
the film seemed OK.  I told Brad that we'd need to
take pictures of all the areas that he had welts and
bruises.  He didn't mind the face, neck and chest
area and even his legs, but I also told him I needed
pictures of that `cute bubble butt' too, because he
had some bad strokes there.  He complied and then spun
around and said you might as well take this too... he
had a single very bad black and blue diagonal welt
across his groin area just above the hair line running
down to his leg.  The blow missed the right testicle
by a fraction of an inch.  He also had a round bruise,
now blackening on the other side of his pelvis from
just above the hairline to the line formed by his leg
going into his crotch.  When I asked him what the hell
had cause that, he answered, "The toe of a boot, what
else?"

	I laid the drying, developing pictures on the table
and told Brad to get dressed.  I could hardly  fathom
what had happened and was jolted by, "What are you
getting so upset about?  This is mild compared to some
I've had... I'm used to this by now, in fact I know
how to duck  so the strokes glance off and hardly
hurt.   The first time he did this to me, I couldn't
even walk... I had to stay home from school for two
days... my mom had to write a letter so I didn't
have to take P.E. so no one would see how bad it
was...  That's when he caught me jacking off..."

	I really didn't want to hear this, but somehow I
knew it would be better if I heard it from him first,
rather than in front of  P.T.

	Brad told me how his father had seen semen on the
floor of the bathroom one day that Brad had missed
cleaning up after masturbating.  After that, his dad
would check his sheets and even his shorts for the
tell-tale `'pecker tracks'.

	Brad lived in constant fear of being beaten for even
the hint of `abusing himself' even if it were by
nocturnal emission.  What made it so bad, was that
even when Brad's mom was still alive but too sick to
do the laundry, it fell to him the responsibility to
do the wash... he noticed that his dad often had the
tell-tale `cum spot', "the kind you get after you've
had sex and you `put it away'...They were especially
prevalent after his dad had been out making
`visitations'.   And some of them happened when his
mom lay sick and dying...  yet Brad was upset because
he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive his
father...

	I wanted to cry ...

	Brad dressed again and about that time we could hear
the snow plow moving toward us out on the road.  We
opened the front door and  were treated to the diesel
smoke belching snow blower creating a swath down the
roadway.  Olie would go out to the county line and
come back and clear both sides in one round trip.

We watched him first pass the driveway then back up
and turn in clearing a path up to the front door.
Olie cleaned off the park space in front of the
house... not exactly county road work... but...

	He came in for the cup of hot coffee I'd promised.  I
had made some "San Antonio blend that I brought up
from H.E.B. with cinnamon and the aroma was wonderful
in the crisp air... I forgot about the pictures and
Olie saw them almost immediately...

	"Jeezus H. Christ!  What the hell is this?  Is this
the kid Steitz said you had stashed away up here?  God
Damn, man, who did this?"

	Brad blushed briskly and I apologized for having Olie
see these gruesome pictures, but he said, he knew I'd
picked up a hitch hiker and all you had to do is look
at this kid and you could see, "someone kicked the
shit out of `im.  Damn, man, you goin' to the sheriff
with this?"

	"Well, I already called P.T and he's going to meet us
at the hospital.  We're going to leave as soon as we
are done here."

	"I think you better."  He gulped the last of his
coffee "You guys git goin', I'll check with you
later."  With that he took his  cup and spoon to the
sink, ran water in them, and on the way out said, "God
bless you kid, at least you can't get a  better
friend.  I've known him and his family since he was a
little shaver. You just do what he says and it'I'll be
all right.  God Damn!"

	Brad was solemn for a minute then broke out in a
kid-silly giggle.  I called Mr. Steitz then P.T and we
cranked up the Explorer.

	By the time we got back to Highway 70 the highway
itself was clear and well sanded.  Tonight it would be
black ice for sure and the trucks were sanding it down
well.  I drove straight to Hertz and exchanged
vehicles.  My bright fire-engine red Explorer had been
as usual, dutifully cleaned and stood dripping from
the spray wash.  I signed the contract and gave Mr.
Steitz my credit card and we were on our way.  It was
good to get back into my own car... I had a kick-ass
radio that got stations from the moon... My GPS was
working and the leather seats felt like butter.  Brad
liked it but was surprised at its color.  He figured
me more for like the one we came out in ... forest
green.

	I pulled into the hospital parking lot and we walked
into the emergency.  P.T. was waiting for us and we
went in to an examining room.  I was asked to step out
and a nurse interviewed me regarding the circumstances
as I knew them.  P.T and another male attendant took
Brad.

	We were there for some two and a half hours.  I was
beginning to worry...

	Finally, P.T. and Brad came out and they seemed to be
in a jovial mood.  P.T. asked me about the pictures,
and I produced them.  He asked the nurse behind the
desk to get a date stamp... she got something that had
a big `Received' and the date stamped in red and Doc
put his initials on the back of each picture.

	He then had the nurse take them and copy them on both
sides.  Meanwhile he asked if he could talk to me
privately.  Brad had no objection.  P.T. ordered some
salve and gave Brad the prescription and told him to
where the Pharmacy was.  I asked if he would need
money and P.T. said no... it would be on the bill.

	When Brad left, P.T. began to tell me about what he'd
seen.  He also told me that this was not the first
such beating that Brad had received.  He said X-rays
had revealed healing and old broken ribs and even
several bone bruisings.  The reason it took so long
was that he had to do a C.A.T. Scan that ruled out the
further need for an M.R.I.

	Brad's physical condition, other than the beatings,
was good.  He was well nourished and remarkably
healthy otherwise.  P.T. confirmed what I already
knew, that he was a very bright and resourceful kid.

	The big question was what to do about him.  We talked
about some options.  Brad was from another county
jurisdiction and to date no charges had been filed but
it would be necessary to inform his home county that
the allegations had been made.  Then there was what to
do with Brad in the mean time.  P.T. was very direct.
He wanted to know what I wanted to do.  I was candid.
I was very fond of this kid, but it would be
impropritous for me to be his guardian right now.  We
both agreed to that, but where could he go?  He had no
living relatives other than that father.

	I was beginning to hatch a plan, but it was too
nebulous to deal with at the present moment.  I
explained that to P.T. and he agreed that the best
move right now would be to come back when the storm
had cleared and we both could think this through.  I
told P.T. I was out to get the bastard... and he
agreed, but the question was how?... but he also added
knowing our combined deviousness, we could probably
work out something that would protect the kid and
stick it to the old man at the same time.  He said
he'd sit on it for a couple of days.  We agreed to
meet again after the storm cleared.  Maybe Monday or
Tuesday   I still wanted to ski. P.T. thought that was
a plan and that he was going to be up Tuesday, which
normally was his day off, or sooner depending on how
many flat-landers were breaking bones...

	We left it at that.  Brad came back with his salve.
I asked  P.T. about how to pay for this, and he said
at this point it was a County matter pending `criminal
investigation'... Brad looked at me and I just nodded
not to worry.

	By the time we left the hospital it was getting into
dusk in a hurry.  We were in the waning short days but
hadn't hit the nadir yet.  Each day got shorter and
shorter and the light left us later and later.  I
decided to go to the Furrs'  for a couple of
rotisserie chickens.  The leftovers made great salad
toppings and even soup.  Brad said that sounded great
and we hied off to the market.

	On the way home Brad held the warm chickens in his
lap.  We chatted about everything, yet nothing,
avoiding the afternoon.  Finally, we got home.  Both
sides of the road were now cleared and there was a
light dusting, like powdered sugar or flour on a brown
cake.  We left tracks wherever we drove.  Brad stamped
 our names in the snow before coming in...

	I laid dinner, Brad helping all the way.  He tore the
lettuce sliced some carrots.  I mixed a couple of
boxes of different kinds of scalloped potatoes
together and got them going and started steaming the
broccoli... We'd have ice cream for dessert tonight.

	Finally, Brad asked what was going to happen to
him... he said it with a gloomy dread... He knew
leaving was inevitable, but how soon and to where...
he was getting more anxious as we talked.

	I began to tell him about my scheme.  I had two
foci... one I was going to make his old man pay, and I
was going to keep Brad safe.  That much was sure.
Armed with the the report from the Protective Services
today and the possibility of serious criminal
prosecution, I figured I could scare the old man into
paying to keep Brad in school away from him, while at
the same time turning over parental rights ....  I
wasn't exactly sure how that would play out, but I
knew between P.T. and me and maybe Dr. Maesta in
Albuquerque, my old professor-mentor-friend, we could
work something out.  I told Brad I was not above
blackmail or deception.  My plan was to be living
together permanently by the time he turned 18 and
graduated from high school.  In the meanwhile, there
was always here... this cabin... we could be here
together during school breaks or whatever.  I hadn't
worked out yet where Brad would be taken care of, but
I had a plan for that too and when I had it fully in
place, I'd tell him.  Meanwhile, we were going to
enjoy a couple of days of skiing if he was up to it.

	All he could say, was, "I've never skied before, I
don't have any equipment.." before he broke out in a
wild  grin and said, "Man, that would be awesome"...

	The television was lousy so we watched an old
Video... we went to bed; he in his, I in mine, but as
a precaution, I got a clean caftan before I climbed
into mine. The heat was better regulated tonight and
the rooms were cool enough for sleeping.. It wasn't
until about 2:30 or 3:00 that I realized I wasn't in
bed alone... spooned up to me, buck-assed naked, with
my arm clasped to his chest, lay my love....  There
were no pekker tracks in my bed in the morning... all
we did is sleep, together, up close...

	We didn't bother with church on Sunday.  We slept
in, made popcorn and watched T.V.  We talked of
cutting a Christmas tree and then did... we went into
the forest on the side of the house and chopped our
own.  We spent the rest of the day going through the
attic for stored decorations that hadn't seen the
light of day in some 5 or six years... We drove into
town and bought fresh cranberry, and made
cranberry-popcorn  ropes.  We also bought tinsel and
the tree was a masterpiece.  We both shed a tear or
two, since it was the first tree for both of us since
our mother's had died and a whole flood of memories
kept us in our own silent worlds.

	Brad was less subtle about sleeping with me that
night.  He just came in after his shower and plunked
himself on `his side of the bed'.  Again, I struggled
for sleep because of insufficient of skin to close my
eyes...  we made it through the night, but got up
early to ski.

	We met P.T. on the slopes and while Brad was off in
the Snow Bunnies class, we refined and launched our
plan.  It was agreed, that I'd bring Brad in every few
days for observation and consult to make our case.  I
would go back to Mesilla and confront the old Bastard.
 P.T. would have a lawyer draw us up papers that even
if they  wouldn't survive in court would be so
embarrassing and damaging he might capitulate..  worth
the try at least.

	The plan entailed my visiting the old man in jail
after he'd been incarcerated on a child endangerment
charge, present him with the plan to support Brad,
turn over custody and stay the hell out of the kid's
life.

	When we got home that night and an exhausted boy
climbed into the downstairs tub to soak... I told him
about the plan.  His only comment was,  "He'd gladly
sign the papers to get rid of me... whether he'll
pay the money or not, I seriously doubt it, but you
never know...  Do I have to go back?"

	"To confront him?  No, but I'd sure like to have the
company on the drive back and forth... besides isn't
there anything you'd like from your room or
something...we'I'll have the whole back of the
Explorer and we can take the back seats out and leave
them here and you could fill it up "

	He thought for a moment and said he think about it.

	He awakened when the water cooled sufficiently to
notice and I told him to go to bed I had plans to
make.

	The best laid plans of mice and men... for once
worked out almost perfectly, if you can make such an
appraisal this this mess...

	I met the old Bastard in the county jail after
presenting my paperwork and `evidence' from Lincoln
County, with all the affidavits, copies of the
pictures etc.  The assigned case worker had to have
supervisorial help when we got to the `agreement' but
even that moved along... New Mexico is a poor state.
If a `good and working solution' can be worked out,
with the interests of the minor maintained then well,
It certainly wouldn't do any harm to try...
especially, if I'll pay for the medical costs
incurred and the county won't have to....

	With yet another affidavit attesting that I had
cleared the county's scrutiny, I was led back to a
very distraught and pathetic creature sitting in a
cell eagerly looking to see who the stranger was who
wanted to speak to him about his `problem'.  I
announced my self and presented him with my card:  Dr.
Roddy Schmidt, Department of Psychology...

	I made little effort to be cordial or conciliatory.
I got right to the point.  I had his son, He was in
jail.  He could clear this mess up by signing the
papers I had for him and maybe he could get out of
jail.  Had he talked to his attorney...?

	He had barely been rousted this morning.  He didn't
need an attorney, he had done nothing wrong.

	I laid it on the line.  I didn't give a rat's ass
what he thought he had or had not done.  We had the
evidence and if he thought he could survive what the
State and two counties were going to throw at him,
then fine.  We'd see him in court and ..."I promise
you I will see that this case and all its gruesome
details would be plastered in every news media in the
state... His golden goose had been cooked.  And just
for grins and giggles, I'd expose his `visitation'
exploits where it would do him the most good or
whatever however he chose to read it.

	He feigned ignorance.  I lied and said that his just
this last Tuesday night his visitee had developed
serious second thoughts especially after I had
confronted her with his current criminal situation.  I
had no idea where I was going with this.  It was one
of those who blinks first situations.  And he blinked.


	"There's nothin'...."

	"Fine, I'll have her husband visit you too."  and I
got up as to leave.

	"No, no wait,  what do you want from me?  I don't
have a lot of money."

	"I was just by your house less than an hour ago.
Bradley is collecting some of his things to take with
him to his foster home.  Don't try that bullshit on
me, Brother..."

	"You can't search my house!"

	"Uh, Brother, Does it occur to you, that who ever is
at your house with your son has the authority by
virtue of the fact that it is both a crime scene and
your son's home and that any evidence found, including
your spotty underwear, can and will be used to drag
you down?  Think about that Brother... you
white-washed tomb, you hypocrite.  You defile and
defame every God-Fearing Christian on the face of the
earth.  My father was a minister, not that it matters
to you.  I know what Ministers can be, you sorry
son-of-a-bitch, you don't deserve to be called a
Pastor."

	He began to bawl, sorry specimen that he was... "O
Lord, I have sinned..."

	"Shut up your fucking hypocrite!  Don't try that
Jimmy Swaggert shit on me.  You got the wrong guy in
here.  Now either sign or I am out of here and you can
rot for all I care."

	He begged and squirmed but was only too eager to sign
his son away.  He balked at the $850 a month child
support and I began to gather up the paperwork  again
and he asked me what I was doing... I told him, "what
the hell does it look like I'm doing, you don't want
to pay, I'm leaving.  The deal is off."

	"I'll sign, I'll sign... where do I sign for
that?"

	"OK, Brother, just listen and listen good.  You fight
any of this, you miss one payment even by one day and
you are dead in the water.  Ask your lawyer what the
statue of limitations is on this charge.  Try to leave
this state and we start right back where we started
from...  I'll have a lawyer tell you where to
deposit the checks.  You will sign over all... ALL, do
you hear me, all your pension and insurance benefits
at your death.  You play fuck around with me and
I'll see you not only hang but be exposed to the
world.  Do you read me?"

	"Please, I was just doin' what a fath...."

	"Save it, it is wasted on the likes of me.  You are a
self-serving liar and hypocrite preying on people more
ignorant than you are.  The law is on our side,
Brother and you even try to mount a religious defense
in this case and I will show you what it means to have
every liaison you ever had with every woman in this
county and where ever else you sold your snake oil
exposed.  Do you understand?

	"I do, I do... but have you no compassion?  I..."

	"I have the same compassion you had for your son,
Brother hypocrite, the same compassion you had and I
am going to exercise it the same way."  I gathered my
papers and prepared to leave.

	"Are you just going to leave me here?  How do I get
out?"

	"Call one of your girlfriends or their husbands and
get them to help you.  Or better yet, get a lawyer,
but just remember this, try, even try to overturn
these agreements and you will be the most well known
parson in this part of the State and maybe even the
nation...  I've got the pictures... didn't I show
them to you, signed by the doctor who examined your
son... and the C.A.T. Scan... as I opened yet another
manila folder.  He turned away, sobbing, mouth
drooling, wringing his hands.

	I picked Brad up.  He had taken the front wheel off
his bicycle, gathered his remaining things and had
them waiting in the foyer of his house.  He had a
special smile about him and I asked him what was so
great and he told me he'd found an album of his
mother's that had been tucked away since she died.
His father had forbade him to look at those `graven
images'...  All he'd had for over three years was a
single picture he'd managed to smuggle into his Bible
that had been taken when he was 7 or 8 years old.


	Brad was placed with my professor-mentor-friend Dr
Maestas at U.N.M.  He will live there until he turns
18 and can receive his emancipation.  So far, his
father has weathered the minor storm in his life and
as so many of these preachers do, made just enough
`confession' to make his ignorant congregation
continue to support him.  He knows that he dare not
miss a payment nor cause any waves.  The hassle he
went through to get out of jail and keep the incident
quashed, proved to him we meant business.

	He has yet to contact Brad except to deposit the
check each month to Brad's account.

	We had a glorious Spring Break in Mexico together,
and this summer here in Ruidoso has been great,
despite the jitters about the forest fires across the
highway...

	We look forward to our second `White Christmas"....
Brad went back to NMSU for a an Academic Fair during
the Spring,  but did not contact his father nor go out
to Mesilla...