Date: Sat, 5 Sep 2015 16:55:49 +0200
From: Nick Brady <y2kslacker@mail.com>
Subject: Marco in the Park - Part 24

Marco in the Park - Part 24

This story includes consensual sex between a teenage boy and a young man,
so you should be 18 to read it.  Actually, now that Marco is 19 it is no
longer an adult-youth story, but it is too late to shift gears.  Please
send comments to y2kslacker@mail.com and make donations to Nifty to support
the stories you enjoy.  http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Copyright 2015 by Nick Brady, all rights reserved.


------------------------------------

	"So I guess I am an art student now," Marco told me.

	"It looks like it," I replied. "How does that feel?"

	Marco smiled. "I think it feels pretty good. It feels right."

	"You know of course, that the credits you have toward the computer
degree don't go away just because you changed majors. You can always return
to that at a later time."

	"Yeah, I guess that's right. I guess I can shift gears again if I
need to."

	"Sure you can. But I have a feeling that you made the right
decision," I assured him.

	"My new classes begin next week. I will be taking Art History,
Elementary Drawing and Elementary Design," Marco explained. "I signed up to
work for a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree which I will have to have if I want
to go on to a master's degree. I can't believe I am even thinking about
that."

	That sounds great, but you already know how to draw," I
wondered. "Do you really need that?"

	Marco shrugged. "I do for the degree. And to tell you the truth, I
have never really studied these things. I probably have a lot to learn
about technique and stuff."

	"Well, that's true. You're self-taught and draw very well but that
doesn't mean you know everything you need to know," I agreed. "Let's see
how it goes."

	A month into the semester Marco had an update for me when we both
got home. "The art courses are really pretty cool," he admitted. "They are
talking about a lot of things that I kind of figured out by myself but
didn't really understand, like perspective and color theory. I guess I do
have a lot to learn. It is for sure not a waste of time."

	"Is it difficult?" I asked.

	"Oh no. It's fun. I can't believe I am going to get credit for this
stuff. I love it, and the art history is all new to me," he admitted.

	"And what about your work with Peter Vandergraff, are you going to
continue with him?" I wondered.

	"We talked about that last Wednesday. He is really pleased that I
have shifted to an art major. He told me not to worry that it seems kind of
elementary right now. He wants me to continue to work with him a little but
said not to let that interfere with the course work. I won't have as much
time now that I am taking classes again."

	"You do seem to have a talent for keeping busy," I chuckled.

	"You know, Peter has really been nice to me. He has spent a lot
more time with me than he actually charges me for. I think he is really
interested in helping me. He is more than just a teacher, he is like a
mentor or something," Marco admitted.

	"Do you think his interest in you is more than just professional?"
I asked.

	Marco frowned. "If you mean does he have the hots for me, the
answer is no. He is really a nice man. I have never gotten any vibes like
that. He has been very professional."

	"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound that way," I
apologized. "Maybe I am a little jealous of anybody who gets too close to
you. That isn't fair."

	Marco looked away. "You don't ever have to be jealous
Marty. Jealousy is a hateful thing. I still feel bad that I got so pissed
at you on New Year's Eve. That was stupid."

	"No it wasn't. I think I had that coming. It was me who did
something stupid and it scared you. I'm glad you snapped my head around and
woke me up," I admitted.

	Marco leaned over and gave me a kiss. "Don't worry about it, it's
over and done with. I love you Marty and I know you love me. We just have
to trust each other."

	"Thanks Marco. I love you more than I can say."

	"Well anyway, Peter has given me some pretty practical advice. He
suggested that since my watercolor sketches seem to sell pretty well that I
should try to do more of that and see if I can make a little money at it,"
Marco explained.

	"I'm sure your paintings will sell. You are beginning to make a
name for yourself," I agreed, and asked, "How are things going with
Luigi's? Are you going to have time to stay with that?"

	"Sure, I can do that. Luigi has been very nice to me too. I like
working there," he assured me. "Some of the regular customers are like my
friends now. We look forward to seeing each other. You know, when I stop to
think about it, it seems like I have a whole bunch of people who are all
trying to help me along. That really feels good."

	"Does Luigi know about your painting?" I wondered.

	"Yes, I told him about switching to an art major and he thought
that was cool. He likes art and music and all that stuff. I mean, he's
Italian you know? He likes that stuff," Marco said with a grin.

	"Has anybody discouraged you from doing this?" I asked.

	Marco shook his head from side to side. "No, nobody. When I talked
to my Mom on the phone she just said she knew I always liked to draw, and
my father paints stuff in prison. I guess everybody thinks it's a good
thing."

	"How is your father? Have you heard from him?" I wondered.

	"We have exchanged a few short letters. He said he was really glad
to know about me and he thought I was a smart kid and all that. He said he
hoped I would come see him pretty soon," Marco shrugged. "I feel bad that I
haven't been up to see him in awhile, but where is the time? I really need
to go visit him again."

	I nodded in understanding. "Maybe we can go up this weekend. We
need to get away anyway," I suggested.

	Marco looked at me with a serious face. "This is a dream,
Marty. I'm living a dream.  I don't deserve to be this happy."

	I wrapped my arms around him. "The hell you don't. If anybody ever
deserved to be happy it's you Marco. You have had your share of tough
breaks and you are due to have some good times. I think all your stars are
lined up and you are making the best of it. Good for you."

Marco smiled at me and laid his head in my lap. I stroked his hair and
kissed him on the ear. His position in my lap put his face in an
interesting proximity to my crotch and he began to nuzzle me though my
trousers. One thing led to another and we ended up making do with the sofa
again. It was a little cramped but we made the best of it. By the time we
completed that exercise we were both naked and a little winded. We decided
that it was too late to think about fixing anything for supper so called
out for pizza instead. When the delivery guy knocked on the door he was a
little surprised to see Marco standing there wearing nothing but his boxer
shorts but handed over the pie and took our money without comment.

	"I gave him a nice tip," Marco grinned.

The next Saturday we drove up to the prison in Hominy and Marco went in to
visit his dad. When he came back into the lobby from the visiting room he
was shaking his head.

	"How did it go?" I asked as we drove away.

	"I have cousins," he said with a surprised look on his face.

	"You have cousins? What do you mean?"

	"Billy has a brother living in Owasso. He is married, works for
American Airlines and has a family. I have some cousins."

	"Wow, that's a shocker. What did Billy say about him?"

	"He says that he's a good guy. I guess Billy is kind of the black
sheep in the family. He describes his brother as a real steady guy. His
name is Eugene."

	"Do you think you would like to meet him?" I asked.

	Marco shook his head. "I don't know. That's kind of scary. But I
would like to meet him and his family I guess. I never even thought about
having any cousins my age."

	"Do you know how to get in touch with him?"

	"No, but Billy said that he would write to him and tell him about
me. I guess it depends on if he wants to meet me."

	I nodded. "I guess we will just have to see what happens."

When Marco's birthday came around in late October I took him out to dinner
at the Polo Grill and we ordered a pair of rib eye steaks. After we had
feasted I pulled a small box from my pocket and handed it to him.

	"Happy 19th birthday Marco."

	He smiled broadly and asked, "What's this?"

	"Open it and see."

	He pulled the paper off and opened the box to find a really nice
Seiko wrist watch. "Wow, this is beautiful. We don't usually exchange
birthday gifts," he reminded me. "The dinner would have been plenty."

	"Well, I wanted to do something nice for you. You have had a
challenging year to say the least."

	He put the watch on his wrist and checked it from all angles. "This
is really nice Marty. Thank you," he grinned.

	I leaned forward and said quietly, "I love you Marco. You make me
very proud."

	"I love you too," he reached over and took my hand, not caring who
was watching.

	"This has been a hell of a year for you Marco, and you have carried
yourself with pride and honor. I love you and more than that, I respect
you. I am the luckiest guy in the world. Thank you Marco."

	His eyes filled with tears. "Damn Marty. Don't make me cry right
here in public."

	I leaned back and laughed. "Well, I mean it. I think you are
something else."

We split a big strawberry shortcake and then went home and fucked like
bunnies. That part was private.

He told me that he was working on something with Peter that he was excited
about but wouldn't say what it was. Near the end of the semester he asked
me to come over to Peter's studio to see it.

	Peter greeted me warmly. "Hello Marty, it is nice to see you
again. Your Marco is doing some very good work here."

	"He tells me that you have been working him hard," I replied.

	"Oh I think he is working himself hard. I am impressed with his
enthusiasm, as well as his talent."

	"I wanted Marty to see the thing I have been working on with you,"
Marco told him, and pointed me towards a large watercolor on an easel.

	"Oh, it's your buffalo," I exclaimed.

I recognized the three buffalo that Marty had sketched some time ago when
we had visited Woolaroc. There was the large bull standing just to the side
of a cow and calf who were lying in the tall grass. The animals were
sharply rendered to reveal their rough coats. From a distance they looked
quite lifelike, their dark coats touched with what might have been a splash
of morning sunlight. The blades of tall grass appeared around them in sharp
detail then faded in the background to suggest a bit of light fog. The
colors of the field and sky were muted and only suggested with the wash of
color. In the distance were what appeared at first to be faint objects of
some kind. When I looked more carefully I could see that they were a small
group of tepees, only suggested by subtle markings.

As I approached to look at the painting close up I could see that the
shaggy coats of the buffalo were indicated by small blotches of color;
brown, black, orange, even touches of red, green and tones of purple in the
shadows. What appeared so subtle at a distance was rendered with many
colors, individually clear and clean.

	I hardly knew what to say. "This is wonderful, Marco."

	Marco stood smiling. "Do you like it?"

	"Oh yes. I think it's, well it's wonderful," I turned to Peter who
was standing with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his face.

	"You have taught him well, sir," I remarked.

	Peter shook his head. "He has learned some things from me, some
techniques, some ideas about composition and about color. But I cannot
teach him to see, that comes from somewhere inside him. He has a lovely
gift, but I did not give it to him."

	I nodded and said to Peter, "We saw these buffalo up at Woolaroc
and Marco tried to paint the big bull in oil when he was at TCC, but it was
nothing like this. This is, I don't know, so fresh, so alive."

	Peter nodded. "Yes, well you see Marco likes to work quickly. His
hand is very sure and he has a marvelous appreciation for color. Watercolor
suits him much better I think."

I looked over at Marco who was standing quietly while we discussed him as
if he were not present. He looked very pleased.

	"I didn't want you to see this before it was finished. I like this
one a lot better than the one in oil," he said.

	"What are you going to do with this?" I asked. "Can you bear to
part with it?"

	Marco laughed. "Oh yes, I can part with it. Peter wants to send it
to the gallery in Dallas. He thinks it will get a better price there."

	I kept looking at the painting. The more I looked at it the more I
saw. I'm surprised you don't want to keep this. I mean, we could put it in
the apartment."

	Marco laughed. "Do you really like it that much? Let this one go. I
will do something just for you, maybe for your birthday, OK?"

	"Oh sure, I understand. This isn't a hobby for you Marco. This is
what you will be doing for a long time, maybe for your whole life. I am
just happy that you seem to love it so much."

	"I do," Marco admitted with a smile. "I don't think I could ever
feel this way about computer programming."

	Marco stepped back, sat down on a stool and sighed. "It's
interesting really. I love to paint and it feels really nice when I do
something that turns out well. But the pleasure comes in doing the thing. I
don't want to keep this stuff, I want somebody to enjoy it. It is like that
idea of 'hiding your light under a basket' that Father Hoover preaches
about sometimes. The pleasure comes from knowing that someone else loves it
enough to want to have it, even to pay good money for it. It's not really
about the money as much as for the recognition that I have done something
good."

I looked over at Peter who was smiling quietly. There was an understanding
between these two. An understanding that I did not share but appreciated.

One evening Marco came home and found a short letter from Billy. He sat
down to read it and looked surprised.

	"Whoa," he said quietly.

	"What's up?" I asked.

	"It's Eugene's address and phone number," He said.

	"Eugene?"

	"Yes, Billy's brother, my uncle I guess. He would like to meet me."

	"Are you going to call him?"

	Marco exhaled. "I don't know, I guess so."

Marco pulled out his cell phone and called the number of another man who
was previously unknown to him. I sat and waited with him for the call to be
answered.

	"Hello, my name is Marco Montgomery. You don't know me but I think
we are related. – Yes my father is Billy Cusco. – He told you about
me? – Well sir, I only recently learned that he was my father. – Yes
sir, it was a surprise to me too. – Yes, I would like to meet you, thank
you. – I am going to school and work weekend evenings but Saturday
morning would be fine. Maybe a restaurant would be good. – Yes, I can
find that. – I will look forward to meeting you, thank you. –
Goodbye."

	Marco sat quietly for a moment then said, "He wants to meet me at
11:00 Saturday morning in a restaurant in Owasso and he says he will bring
his wife and kids with him. I guess I have more family than I realized."

	"How do you feel about that?" I asked.

	"Excited, scared, a little confused," Marco said quietly. "I want
you to come with me."

	"Sure, I wouldn't miss this for the world,' I said. "Life is full
of surprises."

	Marco looked distressed. "This is all happening too fast."

	"How did he sound? What kind of an impression did you get by
talking with him?" I asked.

	"I don't know. He sounded nice, he was very polite and seemed like
he really wanted to meet me."

	I hesitated. "Are you sure you want to introduce them to your gay
partner?"

	Marco looked at me. "Of course. You and I are a couple. Whatever
happens I want us to do it together. I'm not ashamed of who I am, and I'm
for sure not ashamed of you. If they don't like who we are it will be a
short meeting."

	"That works for me," I assured him.

We were to meet at a Denny's up in Owasso and left in plenty of time. We
arrived a little before 11:00 and waited for a few minutes before going
in. Once inside we looked around and spotted a group that Marco knew
immediately must be Eugene and his family. We walked towards them and they
looked at us with an expression of recognition.

	The man stood and said to Marco. "Hi, I'm Eugene. Are you Marco?"

	"Yes I am, and this is my partner Marty," Marco said, pointing at
me.

	"Nice to meet you both," he said. "This is my wife Eunice. Here is
my son Jacob, this is Joshua, and this here is my daughter Sarah."

We shook hands all around and they pulled up chairs for us to join them at
the big round table. Eugene was dark, thin and looked younger than Billy
although the family resemblance was obvious. Marco looked like both of
them. They were obviously related.

Jacob, the older boy looked quite a lot like Marco although he wore his
hair in a buzz cut. Joshua was lighter skinned and a little
heavier. Daughter Sarah was slender and very pretty. They all had black
hair. Eunice was very light, maybe not much Indian at all, and sort of
plump. She seemed shy but very sweet. I liked them.

	There was something of an embarrassed silence for a moment then
Eugene said, "Well, I guess this is kind of a surprise for all of us."

	Marco nodded. "It is. I just found out who my father was a few
months ago, and Billy only told me he had a brother the last time I visited
him."

	Eugene glanced away for a moment. "I'm ashamed to say that I
haven't been over there to see him in a long time. We have sort of lost
touch."

	"It's a hard situation. I can understand that," Marco said. "Were
you close when you were kids?"

	"We were when we were younger. Our daddy left us when Billy was 17
and I was 12. It was kind of tough right then. I stayed with Momma and
Billy tried to live with Daddy but that didn't work out. He ended up pretty
much on his own after that."

	"What did he do?" Marco wondered.

	Eugene looked thoughtful. "Billy tried to do construction work for
awhile. He never finished high school and had trouble finding a job. He
went into the Army after a couple of years and got in trouble for
drinking. When he got out I sort of lost touch with him. He would talk to
Momma sometimes and she would tell me what she knew. We neither one had
much to do with him to be honest. Then about a dozen years ago we read
where he had got into real trouble and was in prison."

	Marco looked sad. "Is your mother OK?"

	Eugene looked down. "Well, Momma died five years ago. She had
diabetes real bad and it got her."

	"I'm sorry. She would have been my grandmother I guess," Marco
reflected.

	"Yeah, that's right. Momma was good people Marco. You would have
liked her."

	"Well now I get to meet you guys. I never knew I had any family
really, and now I have an uncle, an aunt and three cousins," Marco smiled a
little.

	He straightened up and said, "I guess I should tell you a little
about myself. My mother never told me who my father was. I located Billy by
DNA stuff. My mother drank a lot and I left home when I was 16, then I met
Marty and we ended up being a couple. We are married actually." That
generated some surprised looks.

	"I am going to college now at TU and want to be an artist. Marty is
a computer programmer. We are happy and I'm doing really good," he looked
at his new cousins. Tell me about yourselves. It's kind of cool to have
some cousins."

The rest of the family had been listening intently but none had spoken
before now.

	The oldest boy said, "I'm Jacob and I'm 15 and a sophomore in
Owasso. I like to play football and I don't know, that's about it," he
managed a little smile.

	The younger boy introduced himself, "My name is Joshua and I'm in
the 8th grade. I play trumpet in the band," he smiled.

	The girl smiled shyly but didn't speak. "This here is Sarah,"
Eugene told us. "She is 9 and she is our dancer." Sarah giggled.

	"We like to do the Powwows," Eugene explained. Eunice makes the
costumes and the kids all like to dance."

	"Really? That's cool!" Marco exclaimed.

	"It's fun," Sarah spoke for the first time.

	Having been brought into the conversation, Eunice added, "We love
the Powwows. It is a nice family activity and we have made a lot of friends
there."

	"I have never been to a Powwow. I would really like to see one,"
Marco admitted.

	"There are Powwows every summer all over the state I guess. We like
to go to the big one out in Anadarko, and to the Powwow of Champions here
in Tulsa. Next time one comes up maybe you would like to go with us,"
Eugene suggested.

	"I would like that, thanks," Marco agreed.

We found we were a very congenial group and chatted long after we finished
our lunch. The cousins relaxed and began to talk more. Marco was so pleased
to meet these unknown relatives that he was very animated, and by the time
we had to leave we all agreed that we wanted to get together again
soon. Nothing was made of our status as a gay couple. It was acknowledged
and then passed on by. It was a nice first meeting. I joined in with a
little talk but was mostly a spectator.

	"Well what did you think?" I asked Marco as we drove back to our
apartment.

	"They are really nice," Marco said.

	"Were you comfortable with them?"

	"I was. Well maybe not at first, but as soon as I got to know them
I was. The kids are nice, and I'm really curious about the Powwows," Marco
was enthusiastic.

	"A lot of things are changing for you in a hurry," I observed.

	"They are," Marco agreed. "But they are good things."

It was a season of new experiences for Marco. He met his mother for lunch
every few weeks, and tried to visit his father when he could. His uncle
Eugene turned out to be a very decent fellow and invited us up to his house
for dinner one evening. Eunice prepared a nice meal and the kids were all
very curious to know more about their new cousin.

What struck me was how many things they seemed to have in common –
interests and mannerisms. That was not lost on Marco either. There was a
family resemblance among him and his cousins and Eugene remarked several
times that Marco looked a lot like his father at the same age.

It was noted very briefly that we were a gay couple and accepted without
much discussion. Marco was very interested in knowing more about the
Powwows and was informed that they included an arts and crafts show. Most
of the exhibitors were Native American and Eugene said he knew who to
contact if Marco wanted to show some of his paintings. Marco was quietly
excited with the prospect.

When it was time for our first anniversary I tried to think of something
nice but was not sure what was appropriate. I thought maybe we could do
something over the Christmas break but Marco was so busy that I wasn't sure
he would have the time to get away. The Sunday before Thanksgiving we were
at church as usual and after the service Father Hoover caught us before we
walked into the Parish Hall for the usual coffee and doughnuts.

	"And how are you two fine gentlemen today?" he asked.

	"We are fine Father. How are you?" Marco replied for us.

	"I believe this is your wedding anniversary," he observed.

	"Yes it is, thank you for remembering," I answered.

	"Has it been a good year for you?" he asked.

	I wondered why he was making small talk and also why there was not
a line of people behind us. "Yes, it has been eventful but we are doing
fine."

	He glanced behind us as if looking for something and then
nodded. "Well, let's go have some coffee," he said.

He turned and we followed him into the great hall and were greeted by a
larger than usual after church crowd, all smiling and clapping. There on
the table which normally held plates of cookies and snacks was what looked
like a small wedding cake and a bowl of punch. The cries of "Happy
Anniversary!" came from many of the happy group.

We were stunned. Here was our anniversary party all laid out for us. Our
reaction was to laugh and weep at the same time. Our mouths opened but
nothing would come out except surprised laughter.

	Father Hoover beamed. "Some of your friends wanted to wish you
well," he told us. We walked to the table shaking the hands that were
extended towards us. It was a moment that we would never forget. We never
figured out who had put this together. There were lots of suspects.

By the end of the semester Marco had racked up another string of A's to add
to his transcript. In addition he sold 6 of his small watercolors for $2500
at a gallery in Brookside and added that to his bank account. The buffaloes
sold for $6000 at a gallery in Dallas. He was paying for his art lessons
with the proceeds from his painting which I thought was pretty amazing.

The fall semester rolled into the spring semester. We drove back over to
Eureka Springs for a few days over the Christmas Holidays. We stayed at the
Cliff View hotel and mostly relaxed, visited a few interesting places and
enjoyed some good food. Johnny was pleased to see us. We returned before
the New Year and did not visit any night clubs. It was pleasantly
uneventful.

We continued to attend St. Jerome's and our friendship with Father Hoover
grew closer. Our friendship with David and Wayne declined. There simply was
not the time or the inclination to socialize.

Hoover encouraged Marco to become more involved with the church and asked
him to become a reader. Marco was reluctant at first, but at Father
Hoover's encouragement began to occasionally read one of the scripture
lessons that were part of each service. He read well and was pleased that
people complimented him on his poise and clarity. He was beginning to
consider confirmation and his involvement deepened. I was very proud of
him.

One Sunday after church Father Hoover asked if we would speak with him and
we joined him in his office. We chatted for a bit and Marco brought him up
to date on his mother and father, and told him about his uncle and cousins.

	Father Hoover listened with great interest. "It is such a blessing
to know your family," he said.

	"Yes it is, Marco agreed. "I never knew I had any family and now I
have quite a lot."

	"I wonder if you have given any thought of some family of your
own?" he asked.

	"How do you mean?" I asked.

	Father Hoover smiled. "I will be direct with you. I have some
dealings with the agency that administers foster care. They are in need of
families in which to place children of Native American heritage and I think
you would make wonderful foster parents."

	Marco hesitated. "But we are a gay couple. Besides, we live in a
small apartment. Where would we put a kid?"

	"Actually, you might be surprised to know that neither of those
things are as much of a difficulty as you might think. I can recommend you
as worthy foster parents without the slightest hesitation. And one of the
members of our parish has a rather nice three bedroom house that is
available to rent for a modest price," he explained.

	"These are details that can be worked out. The question is if you
would be interested in considering the possibility of opening your home to
some children who would otherwise not have a home. As for the financial
burden, the agency will provide some assistance. Do you think that you
might be willing to consider that?"

	Marco and I looked at each other. "We have talked about that a
little," I admitted. "But we have limited resources and Marco is still
going to school."

	Father Hoover gave us knowing smile. Would you consider praying
about it?"

	Marco sat quietly for a moment then replied. "I suppose we could. I
kind of like kids and I understand what it's like to be homeless."

	"Yes you do," Hoover agreed. "So you will think about it, pray
about it?"

Put to us that way is was difficult to say that we would not even consider
the idea. We nodded our agreement.

	On the way back home Marco shook his head. "It's too fast
Marty. Things are changing too fast. I don't know if we could do that or
not."

	"I know what you mean," I agreed. "But I didn't know how to tell
him that we wouldn't even consider it. I mean, we have talked about that a
little."

	Marco looked over at me. "Marty, I think I would love it. The
problem is the timing. Are we ready to do something like that? Do we have
the time or the patience to take on some kids?"

We walked into the apartment and sat down on the sofa to talk about the
idea.

	"What if we were a man and wife who suddenly discovered we were
going to have a baby?" I asked. "Don't you think we would have the same
questions about how ready we would be to have a family? Your paintings are
beginning to sell and I am making a good living, so it's not really about
the money. And this would be a foster kid, or kids. A lot of times that's
just a temporary situation until the kids can go back home or go live with
another relative or something. If it turns out to be impossible I guess we
could get out of it."

	Marco sat thoughtfully. "But what if the kids liked it here? If we
decided it was too much trouble or something, how would that make them
feel? I never trusted anybody until I met you. If you had kicked me out it
would have killed me."

	"I hadn't thought of it that way. I see what you mean," I
acknowledged.

	Marco went on. "Kids can be a lot of trouble, especially kids from
a broken home. If we do this, we should be ready to work through a lot of
problems. Are we willing to do that?"

	It was my turn to be thoughtful. "How many natural kids have
problems? Isn't that part of being a parent?"

	Marco laughed. "Parents! Are we really ready to be parents? That's
a lot of responsibility."

	"That's right," I agreed. "It is different talking about this kind
of thing as something in the future. Actually considering if we are ready
to do it is something else."

	We looked up at Marco's Indian. "What does he say?" I asked.

	Marco sighed. "He says to think about it. Hoover says to pray about
it. I reckon that's the same thing."

	We decided to take a shower and sleep on it.



TO BE CONTINUED


--------------------------------

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