Date: Tue, 3 Sep 2002 08:00:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Waddie Greywolf <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Cabbage Patch Cowboy Part 2"

DISCLAIMER: WARNING
This is a work of adult fiction which was written by and adult for the
amusement of other adults.  If you are under eighteen years of age or have
objections to this type of expression, please stop reading now.  The author
will not be held responsible if you continue reading beyond this warning.
(Codes: M/M M/b t/t Gay Incest Anal Oral True)  Questions/comments:
waddiebear@yahoo.com

Copyright 2002 Waddie Greywolf


==============================================================================
Cabbage Patch Cowboy Part 2


Fall 1939

It was a rainy evening in early November when her parents and younger
sister took her to the bus station.  She waved to her folks from the window
of the Continental Trailways bus.  She settled back in her seat to read.
The bus wasn't crowed and no one was sitting in the seat next to her.  She
wedged her small handbag next to her in the seat.  She sat her other
reading material in the pullout cloth compartment in front of her.

She turned on the overhead light and began to read her magazine.  She
started an article in Mc Calls about how a woman could make herself more
attractive for her husband.  "Her husband, . . ." she thought.  Would the
young man who asked her to marry him when he returned from the war,
survive.  She hoped with all her heart he would.  She vowed to pray each
night for his safe return.

Her young man, her high school sweet heart, came home on leave from boot
camp in his uniform and looked more wonderful than she remembered him.  He
always stood proud and strong but there was just something about his
uniform, all squared away, that made her want him all the more.

She found herself getting more moist than usual and had to pad herself
more.  He was so attractive to her and she couldn't drink enough of him in.
She didn't want to wait.  She wanted to get married and have him that night
if she could.  She was ashamed of herself for letting her animal thoughts
rule her senses.

He was different from most men.  He reasoned things out a bit more.  What
if they got married, she got pregnant on their wedding night and he didn't
make it back.  She'd be left to raise his kid alone.  She'd have a hell of
a time finding another man.  He couldn't do that to her.  He loved her too
much for that.  She was young.  If he didn't return there would be plenty
of time to find a man she could love and find happiness with. How selfish
would he be to hold her to a bond with a dead man.

She knew he wasn't trying to get out of marring her, he genuinely loved her
and wanted the best for her, with or without him. He was so sincere about
his feelings he ask her father to sit down with him and discuss their
situation.  He was respectful and caring enough that he asked her dad if he
might have his blessing to ask her hand in marriage?  Her parents thought
the world of him and never worried about her when she dated him.  His dad
was even more convinced he was the man for his daughter.  He told her so,
too, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I sure hope that boy makes it back, Darlin,' for all our sakes.  Your ma
and I love him almost as much as you do. It'ud break our hearts if
something happened to him.  He's a fine young man, sweet heart. They don't
make'um any better'n that boy.  We've come to think of him as our son."

He made a lot of sense about having to raise a kid on her own but she
wouldn't have minded raising his child by herself.  Just to see the smile
on the child's face that his and her love made would have been enough for
her. She'd never loved anyone like she loved him.  She gave herself to him
the night before he left to be shipped overseas.  It wasn't his idea. He
wanted to wait, he promised her Dad.  Her dad understood his wishes and
backed him up. She begged him.  He thought that was as bad as them getting
married.

"If we're gonna' do that we may as well get married.  It's certainly not
`cause I don't want to Darlin' it's just that there's a right way and a
wrong way a' doing things."  He was right again as usual.  She even felt
more frustrated.  If he would just be a bit more spontaneous; throw caution
to the winds.  When he was convinced he was right he could not be swayed
easily.

She knew he was right, he always was the strong, level headed one between
them.  They complimented each other that way. She was bubbly and free
spirited while he was strong willed and staid: slow to anger but strong in
love. She pleaded with him.  He could wear protection, she didn't mind. (He
wasn't about to tell her that her dad had slipped him a couple of Trojans
for his wallet, just in case; then smiled and winked at him.)

He'd been so good all through high school not to push.  He never tried to
take advantage of her. He told her there would be a time for love and when
the time came they would be together, but not until then.  He wasn't overly
religious; although, he had strong faith.  It had nothing to do with
religion, it was his belief system that was systematic and orderly.  He
told her if they waited, it would make that day all the more sweet for
them.

When they were dating, he never tried to feel her up when they were parked
and kissing a little.  She had to laugh at herself, she wished he had many
times.  They'd go out, park and neck and then he'd take her home at a
decent hour.  If he told her parents he'd have her home by ten-thirty, she
was walking in the front door at ten-thirty. Her dad never looked at the
clock when she was out with him.  Her parents knew him and his folks well
and approved of him dating her.  They knew she was safe with him.  They
thought as much of the young man as she did.  They were looking forward to
having him as a son-in-law in their family. He came from a fine family and
was one of the most well thought of young men in their town.

She was hopelessly attracted to him. She had fantasies of raping him.  One
in particular that she loved was tying him up after removing his clothes.
She would have him on his back with his hands tied to his sides and his
ankles tied tightly together. She would stand back admiring her handy work
as he came to from the light sedative she slipped in his cherry-phosphate;
her, a soda fountain Mata-hari.  He would awake to see her with a
questioning look but he couldn't say anything because she had his mouth
taped shut.  He would look to see he was bound and struggle to get free.
She would hold up one finger and shake it back and forth to tell him
`no-no.'  Then when she had his attention she would take off her clothes
one piece at a time doing a strip tease for him.

"You like that don'cha stud?  Is the circus coming to town `cause I see you
raised the pole for the center ring?"

She would finish her strip tease, then begin to lick his huge masculine
body from one end to the other settling last for the little area under his
balls, his balls and then his tent pole.  She would drive him crazy licking
and kissing and getting her mouth juices all over his large shaft, to ready
him for riding.  Finally, she'd lower herself onto him and moan and groan
how good he felt and tell him she was gonna' ride him like a cowgirl with a
new set of spurs.  That would certainly get his attention, she smiled to
herself.

He was so good looking and not only the boys talked but the girls would
giggle and ask each other just how big it was.  All the men wore boots and
levis to high school and somehow they would get their jeans as tight as
possible.  When he sat next to a girl, it's all she could look at.  More
than one girl damn near flunked a course from not paying attention.  Even a
couple of the questionable male teachers would make sure he sat on the
front row.  He was so comfortable with who he was it never bothered him to
have people stare at his crotch.  He'd catch another guy checking him out,
catch his eye and wink at him.  They would blush crimson because he caught
them.  He would then smile like, "Hey, buddy!  It's all right, thanks for
checking me out."

To her he was the most handsome young man in their school; their town;
their state; no, the world!  She put it to him.

"Have you ever . . .?" she asked blushing, expecting him to tell of his
many conquest.

"I never have.  I want you to be the first. If I'm to be your first
shouldn't you expect that of me? I love you that much."  She cried at his
pledge to her but they couldn't see the future.

"What if, . . . and you've never known a woman?

"Then I will die true to you, sweetheart."

"No!  No!  I won't let that happen.  These are difficult times we're living
in and we can't plan for the future so plans and ideals have to be
reconsidered.  Please!  Please!  To lose you and never have the memory of
even one night with you is not acceptable.  I can't do that."

She sat back in her seat and pushed the button to recline.  She turned the
reading light off and put her magazine away.  She closed her eyes and
remembered seeing his body naked for the first time.  He was not the least
shy about her seeing him and for some strange reason she wasn't the least
nervous for him to see her. His assuredness and thoughtfulness comforted
her. She knew he would take charge and guide them through their first time.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Dear.  I'll make love to
you, only because you begged me to, but promise me you'll wait for me."

"I promise, love.  I promise."

"And not a word of this to your folks.  I love them too much to have to
explain.  They'd never believe that you talked me into it.  You know as
well as I do it's always the guy's fault.  I'm not trying to put a damper
on out time together but I love your folks."

"Can you forgive me for not knowing too much about how this goes?  My
mother tried as best she could to describe it but she wasn't comfortable
talking with me about it so we stopped.  I'm afraid I don't know a lot.
One thing I do know, is I love you and I need you."

"That's why I wanted our first time to be the first time for both of us
because we'll learn and grow together.  I've never made love to a woman
before but I know how it's suppose to go.  My dad's told me all about
it. Let me lay you back and see if I can take us where we want to go. I'll
try my best to please you, sweetheart.  I promise I'll be gentle and won't
hurt you. I know I'm probably a little larger than the average man so I
want to be certain you're not uncomfortable at any time. If you have any
difficulty let me know. I may be a bit clumsy at first but I'm sure God and
nature meant for us to be together."  His voice was gentle and she trusted
the young man without question.

She lay back expecting to be mounted immediately and was surprised to find
his big body laying next to hers. He began kissing her gently while rubbing
his hand over her.  He was so gentle and seemed in no hurry. He pulled her
on her side facing him and their bodies touched as he held her tightly.  He
felt so good, strong and clean.  He had a faint smell of Lilacs.  He made
her feel safe and wanted in his arms.

He began to use his mouth all over her.  She never experience such ecstacy
before.  Her mother told her a little but she never told her it could be
this good.  Her mother gave her the impression you lay back and grit your
teeth until they're through.  Don't ever expect him to help you get your's.
He won't.  All men climax, get off, roll over and go to sleep.

Somehow, she didn't think this man saw sex the way other men did.  He was
gently kissing her again.  He gently rubbed the full lips of her vagina
with his hand while still kissing her.  She had never felt anything so
wonderful.  She not only picked the strongest alpha-male in their class,
she unwittingly pick a man who sensed how a woman felt and he was not going
to force himself on her until they both were in agreement that they could
wait no longer to feel him inside of her.

He started inserting his fingers feeling her moisture coat his fingers.
She tried masturbating with various objects but his fingers felt better
than anything she'd ever used.  She didn't want to seem too forward but
damn his gentle probing was feeling good. How could he be doing this his
first time with her? He was reading her mind or playing her body like fine
tuned instrument.  Her body resonated with his touch. He leaned toward her
and kissed her.

"Sweet heart, don't feel like you have to hold back because of modesty.
What you and I do here, will only be between us.  I feel you wanting to
meet my fingers but you're worried what I'll think.  I love you, Dear.  You
could do nothing wrong in my eyes."

She melted under him.  She felt her body become rubbery all over and then
. . . she just couldn't help it . . . . she raised her hips to meet his
three fingers inviting him deeper and he obliged. He made sweet love to her
for almost an hour until she began to shake under him. He felt her one more
time and she had reached a peak.  She was ready for him.  He was waiting
for her to ask.  She wanted him so badly.

"Now, please, love!  Take me!  I need to feel you in me.  All of you." He
positioned himself and slowly began to move the big head of his dick in and
out.  It began to sink more and more into her.  She moaned and looked him
in the eyes.  He didn't take his away from hers.  He wanted to gage the
effect he was having.  If she registered any pain he would stop and
retract. She didn't.  She grabbed a buttock in each hand and began to pull
him more into her.  He was about half way in when he came to a wall.  His
sweet heart was indeed a virgin.

"I have to break through, Darling.  Kiss me and you do it for us.  I'll
hold it steady and you break it for both of us.  Can you do that,
sweetheart."  She smiled to him and nodded her head `no.'

"I want you to take it from me. It's important to me."

They kissed and he began to apply more pressure. He felt the tissue
stretching.  Suddenly she bucked her hips forcefully upward toward his
invading shaft.  It was her signal for him to take her.  Using his dick as
a sword he lanced her virginity.  She wouldn't let him stop there.  With
her hands she pulled him the rest of the way into her. They stopped and he
lay his head beside hers. She was weeping.

"Have I hurt you, Darling? I'll withdraw."

"Don't you dare."  She laughed a little.  It's just so beautiful.  You've
made it more wonderful than I could imagine.  Your dad must have really had
some long talks with you."  He laughed.

"He told me that women are not like men.  That's obvious but dad explained
that a woman should not be rushed. Like a fine red wine shouldn't be drunk
before it's time and then, only if it's allowed to sit and breathe for
thirty minutes or more. He told me to remember that and I would do
fine. Dad told me to make it best for both you have to consider a woman's
feelings and what she's giving for the pleasure of both.  I've only tried
to do that, love.  But there's more to follow.  I'll watch you until I sure
you're comfortable.  If I hurt you in the least tell me. If it isn't good
for you, it's not going to be good for the man who loves you.

"Are you . . . ?"

"You have all of me, my Darling, and you are so beautiful and special. You
feel so wonderful and good to me.  Your love has made me welcome."

He made the sweetest love to her.  So softly and steadily but she found
herself wanting more.  For him to take her harder.  How was she going to
ask him without appearing crass?  `Don't ask him, show him,' she thought.
She began to moved her body to meet his every thrust but began to push up
to him harder; inviting him to take her harder.  He responded, she relaxed
and opened to him.  She spoke to him.

 "I don't know, . . . if I can, . . . hold back much, . . . Darling, take
me! Take me! And he did. She exploded as she felt him empty into the condom
deep within her.  It was the most euphoric experience of her life and her
body sang beneath his.  It sang a song of pride and thanksgiving to the
kind, gentle, caring , and loving young man that had made her first time
more than wonderful; more than special; he made it their's.

It was so wonderful and good, yet, she felt an emptiness.  Part of her,
perhaps her maternal instincts, felt cheated.  Certainly she couldn't fault
him for anything.  He was all she dreamed he might be and far, far more.
She should be carrying his ejaculate within her, . . . but they had agreed.
He withdrew and made love to her, telling her how beautiful she was and how
wonderful and special she had made the first time for him.  He kissed her
and told her of his love for her.

He went to the bathroom to remove the condom and piss.  He washed himself,
came back and she excused herself.  She was sitting there and noticed the
full condom in the waste basket.  Should she?  Without thinking she reached
into the waste basket took it out and held it.  She dipped her fingers in
the thick greyish white fluid, came out with a glob and shoved it as far
into her as she could. It probably wouldn't take, she thought to herself,
but if it does, I'll have his baby to remember him by.

She opened her eyes as the bus pulled into another small town for a rest
stop.  She felt herself.  She was wet.  She had to use the rest room."


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


She arrived in Dallas and was met by her Aunt Agatha.  Aunt Agatha had two
grown daughters, living at home. One worked for Neiman Marcus and the other
at the Methodist Hospital.  Her cousin Zelma had worked at Neiman's for
several years and was a floor supervisor.  She offered her a job.  She
couldn't turn it down.  A chance to work at Neiman Marcus for a girl as
young as she was almost unheard of.  They usually hired older mature women.
Zelma was one of the youngest there.

She would live with her aunt and cousins in a spare guest room while living
in Dallas.  She insisted on paying room and board.  She would have to do
that if she lived somewhere else.  She started work for Neimans and she did
well.  She was well liked by staff and customers alike.  She was polite and
helpful to everyone.  She even won over the older ladies.

She missed one period.  Then two.  Then after missing her third she began
to notice a slight bulge.  She was trying to keep it from her aunt and
cousins but it's hard to keep morning sickness quiet.  Her clothes weren't
fitting right.  She was so happy yet she was melancholy.  She had gone
against his wishes and did what he was so afraid for her to do.  Had she
been too impulsive?  Had she done the right thing?

The evening came, they were having dinner and one of her cousins, Clara,
asked if she'd gained a little weight.

"Shut up, Clara.  Eat your dinner, Dear.  She'll tell us when she's ready."
Aunt Agatha gently but firmly dictated..

"Yes, Moma." Clara obeyed.  Aunt Agatha smiled lovingly at Clara then her.
She knew, she thought. No use denying it, besides they're my family. They
love me.

"I'm pregnant, Clara."  The two girls were thrilled for her and so was her
aunt.  She was honest with them and told them what she'd done.  She told
them everything about how she had to talk him into it, . . . to her
removing his sperm from the condom.

The two girls thought it was delightful and scandalous, but Aunt Agatha
didn't comment.  She told her she was happy for her.  She could tell
something bothered her aunt.  She would ask her later.  She knew Aunt
Agatha would take her secret to her grave if that's what she wanted and put
the fear of God into her two daughters to do the same.

Aunt Agatha was her favorite aunt.  She could always talk to Agatha as
friend to friend and not feel as if her aunt would judge her in anyway.
Agatha had raised her own daughters to be responsible and polite but not to
let anyone push them around.

It was getting on towards bedtime and her cousins had to retire.  They were
working tomorrow.  Tomorrow was Saturday but she had the day off.  She
could stay up a while longer.  Her aunt was cutting up some old clothes
into squares for her quilting society.  She got up and moved over to the
hassock next to her aunt's chair.

"May I give you a hand, Aunt?"

"Certainly, Dear.  There's a pair of sharps in that basket and you may use
this as a templet."  She took the templet from her aunt and began to cut
squares.

"You would've told me if you'd secretly married the young man, wouldn't
you, Dear?"

"Oh yes, Auntie Boo."  It was her childhood, endearing name for her beloved
aunt.

"Well, I suppose he'll be a little more than surprised when he returns and
finds he has a child and has no choice but to marry you."

The thought hadn't entered her head.  Her aunt wasn't scolding her nor
chastising her, she was simply pointing out a fact; something she hadn't
considered.  In her denial of her sense of wrong doing she saw him thrilled
and pleased that she loved him enough to take the initiative.  She wouldn't
allow herself to consider other reactions. "What if he does come home and
feels differently. His travels may have made him not want to settle down.
We have no idea what those poor men are going through over there."  She
thought to herself.

"I guess I didn't think it all the way through, Aunt Boo.  I acted on the
passion of my love for him at that moment and felt so cheated that his seed
was not within me. I wanted to have his baby.  I love him so much, Auntie
Boo."  She started to cry, knowing she had done the wrong thing.  Her
stalwart aunt comforted her and consoled her.

"There, there, Dear.  What's done is done.  Can't change the past. Let's
live for the future.  I'm so sorry I asked that question so soon.  I guess
it had weighed heavily on my mind.  It was inconsiderate of me child,
forgive me.  I apologize.  I'm being a meddlesome old aunt."

"No!  No!  Auntie, you had every right to ask that question; you of all
people.  I love you so dearly that I would only want to share this with
you.  I know Clara and Zelma will be discreet."

"If they know what's good for them."  Her aunt winked at her and chuckled.
She didn't have a mean bone in her body.  The two of them sat there and
talked `til almost midnight.  Her aunt was supportive but kept asking her
if this is really what she wants.

"What other choice do I have, Aunt Boo?"

"I'm certainly not suggesting you do it but there's always giving the baby
up for adoption."

"I don't know if I could do that, Auntie Boo."

"Well, you have time to reach a decision.  Consider your options and what
you may lose if you keep the child.  He may become angry and accuse you of
having the child to entrap him.  He might not say a word but always feel
that he didn't have a choice in the matter.  You took that away from him.
In a way, my Dear, to put it indelicately, you've snipped his testicles
off. You've robbed him of his male magnanimity; his need to be a man.  He
may think, `If she made that decision on her own, what does she need me
for?' He would have every right to feel that way.

He was right to use a condom.  He wanted a child to be a decision you both
made.  I don't know the young man, but I, for one, rather admire him for
that.  By asking you to agree for him to use a condom he wasn't leaving you
out.  But you've left him out of your decision to have his child.  You
agreed he would use a condom and you went against his wishes.

He certainly would have every reason to ask himself if you superseded a
decision you both agreed on, could he trust you as a partner and a wife? As
hard as it is for me to tell you this, it would seem to me, you have done a
fine young man, a great disservice.  He trusted you to love him enough to
abide by a decision he contracted, not only with you, but your parents as
well.  Are you willing to risk losing a man like that when you and he can
have other children?

God forbid, but suppose he doesn't come home. It's a lovely sentiment to
want to have his child but it sounds to me like he loves you enough he
didn't want to place you in that situation.  The man was right, there are
few men willing to take on someone else's child to raise when there are
many single women who will give him children of his own.  By the same
token, there are few men who would love their intended that much to try to
insure their happiness if he didn't make it back. Sounds to me like you
have a pearl of great value in him.

The worst case I can imagine is that he might believe you've been
unfaithful to him and made up this story to snare him and saddle him with a
child that isn't his.  You're action, as scandalous as my girls seem to
think, is a bit out of the ordinary for a young girl to do especially when
he agreed to it only using a condom to prevent this from happening.  You
have no real proof the child is his.  Perhaps the length of gestation
period might convince him but he still will never know for sure if you
might have had relations with another man within days of him leaving.

 I'm not suggesting you do one thing or the other, sweet heart.  Think
about it.  Let's talk some more.  I hope for your sake and the sake of the
baby, you'll consider all options and what might be best for both. You'll
not only be making a huge decision for yourself but for the child as well.
You should feel comfortable with any decision you make.

If you don't think you could be comfortable giving the baby for adoption,
consider the consequences.  Above all, pray.  The Almighty is use to us
fallible humans finding ourselves down a road we might not have chosen had
we looked harder at the street signs.  Trust in him and your own sense of
right and wrong and you will make the right decision.  All I can say is, I
hope he does come back and marry you, he sounds like a wonderful young man;
one I would be proud to see you marry."

"He is, Auntie Boo, but I'm afraid I've failed him and he may not want me
when he returns. I suppose when you think about it, you're right, we can
have other children but there's only one of him.  It's not going to be an
easy decision."

"No it won't, my child; however, what ever your decision the girls and I
will stand behind you a hundred percent.  You have our love."  She cried in
her auntie's arms as she kissed her goodnight.

She worked until her last month of pregnancy. She asked her cousins and
aunt to keep her secret from the rest of her family.  She planned to have
the baby in Dallas and either give it up for adoption or go home.  Her aunt
insisted she stay with them with the baby if she wanted but she didn't want
to put them out with a screaming baby.  Although, she thought secretly her
Auntie Boo would love to help care for a baby.

Her cousin who worked at the Methodist Hospital had participated in finding
homes for babies outside of the bureaucratic red tape and endless waiting
of an adoption agency. It was illegal as hell but in those days there
weren't as many checks and double checks.  Nurses could change documents
without anyone being the wiser. It was simple.  She wouldn't know the
family the baby was going to and they would make all the necessary
arrangements.  The head nurse in obstetrics would simply put the name of
the receiving parents on the birth certificate and there was no question.

If the baby was healthy they could take the baby home that day.  It was
best if she not know who nor where the baby was placed but they promised a
good family for the child.  Likewise, the receiving parents would never
know her name nor where she lived.

The time came and she was admitted under the name of the woman who would
receive the child (she was never told the name she was admitted under) On
July tenth, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.  She asked to hold him
before they took him.  She undid the blanket to get a good look at him.  He
was beautiful to behold.  He even had his father's dimpled chin. Platinum
blond hair.  He was prefect, except on his right big toe there was a small
mole and on the inside of his right leg he had a small port wine stain
birth mark in the shape of, she couldn't believe it, a tiny cowboy boot .
She ran her finger gently over the birth mark and mole and closed the
blanket.  She kissed him gently and reluctantly gave him to her cousin.

The head nurse knew that her mother's sister's boy and his wife were
looking to adopt a baby boy.  He couldn't have children.  He had mumps as a
child and they settled in his testicles rendering him sterile.  He had been
tested n many times and they found no active, motile sperm. She contacted
them immediately.  They rushed to Dallas and the hospital to received the
baby.  The birth certificate had both their names on it as the legal birth
parents. Simple!  Done!  The baby went to a new life and she went home to
her aunt's.  She never told anyone but her aunt and two cousins.  They
would carry her secret to their grave.

She stayed with her aunt and went back to work.  She made several trips
home during the war years and went home to see her young man and welcome
him home.  He returned from the war a hero.  He was the second most highly
decorated man in WWII.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1942 through 1945


Waddie had lived in a room downstairs, across the hall from his ma and
dad's big room. He stayed in their room in a crib until he was about two.
Then it was almost like he had been abandoned to this huge room across the
hall.  It was a natural transition as seen by his parents but there seemed
to be unnatural fears of rejection and separation that existed in the boy's
heart

His whole world to that point was the two people he trusted to provide
comfort and care; his ma and dad.  He quickly learned to love his dad more.
His ma took necessary care of him but showed him little attention or
affection.  He longed to be held by her and told he was a good boy or be
read to.

His brother and sister were too busy with their young adult lives to show
him much attention and when they did it meant another rejection for him to
have them go so abruptly.  If it weren't for his dad the child would've
lapsed into severe melancholia or worse, autism.  He looked forward to the
evenings when his dad would spend time with him, reading to him and
playing.  His dad asked his mother.

"Do you ever play with this baby.  He seems starved for affection when I
come home."

"Of course I do.  He's in my lap or I'm playing with him all day long.  He
just likes you better than me, that's all.  I can't play with him all day,
I've got things to do around here taking care of all of you."  Morgan would
just shake his head.

Waddie felt like he'd been thrown out of paradise into the cold scarey
world when he was moved across the hall.  It was a big room and the
ceilings were over twelve feet high which gave it an ominous feelings; one
of dread and foreboding.

It seemed like it went on forever and the shadows that would play against
the walls and ceiling from the old hackberry tree in the yard made
grotesque figures and shapes.  He quickly learned that if he covered his
head he couldn't see the horrible shapes who were surely plotting his doom.

Waddie was trying hard to be a good, brave, little `cowpoke,' as his dad
called him, but that damn tree kept talking to him.  It wasn't as bad as
when they first moved him in there.  At least he had a little better grasp
on life and decided to stay for a while.  He was now almost four years old.

He was bright, intelligent, sensitive with an insatiable apatite to learn
about things; how things worked. He love animals and seemed to have an
affinity for them.  It was scarey in the big room but he'd been up against
that damn tree before and it hadn't gotten him yet despite all it's
threats.

On cold wintery nights the wind would blow back and forth to make the old
tree shake it's branches about like a woman shaking her hair after washing
it.  The old hackberry would complain to him.  It would moan that it was
hungry.  It's voice would get louder, grumbling that it's stomach was
empty; it hadn't eaten in a couple of years and what it most desired, it's
favorite meal, to make it strong and thrive again, was a cute little four
year old boy.

It would tell him it knew he was in there and if it didn't come and take
him while he slept in peaceful dreams then it would wait patiently until
one day he felt brave enough to climb it.  Then without notice it would
open wide it's jaw between the branches as it shook, causing him to lose
his balance and fall directly into it's huge, empty maw.  Then it would
quickly close around him, never to be see nor heard from again.

At first, as most young boys his age, he would be confused by the darkness
inside the tree and start to cry.  That was the sound the evil hackberry
yearned to hear within it's body. That sound was the trigger frequency that
would start it's sticky digestive fluids, a sticky sap, to begin to ooze
out of it's walls eventually covering the child.

They boy would soon recover his bearings. He would be frightened of the
dark and trying to feel his way around within the tightness of his captor's
digestive chamber.  He couldn't sit down. He could feel the sticky fluid
begin to surround him filling the cavity of the massive tree's trunk.  The
more he struggled the more sap he got on himself.  He began to yell, then
scream but no one heard him.  No one can hear the lost children within the
thick wood outer shell of the tree.

It told him not to worry that soon he would be part of it and he too could
travel from it's deepest roots to catch the warm summer sun atop it's
highest branches.  The old hackberry began to sing a song to him, a hymn of
thanks and gratitude to the boy.  Thanking him for giving his life, so the
evil tree might thrive. It would explain, in a stoic manner, how he was
about to become a part of it and it's gratitude to him that it would live
another decade feeding on his young, delicious, succulent body.  They would
live together as one. (Wicked trees aren't too original but they're very
Zin.)

He felt helpless, immobile.  He could feel the sticky sap rising to his
chin.  He couldn't yell any more nor scream.  The digestive juices had all
ready seeped into his porous skin and tranquilized him to accept, . . . to
give in.

"Nothing will ever hurt you again, my boy . . . abide with me, my tasty
man-child, it sang.  Close your eyes, it's easier if you don't struggle,
that's it, . . .relax, and let me EAT YOU LITTLE BOY!

"Daaaady!  Daaady!  Aaaaiiiiieeee Oh, . . . .Oh, . .  Daaady!  It's eating
me, Daddy! Oh Daddy, it's eating me!  I can't get out, Daddy. It's eating
me! It's eating me!  Oh, Daddy . . . .

"Hey, . . .hey, . . .hey, . . .cowboy!" Morgan soothed and assured is
son. Morgan would sit down on the side of Waddie's bed, pull the boy to him
and hold him, soothing and comforting him. Waddie would collapse into tears
of fear, anger at himself, and relief that his dad was there to give him
comfort.

"There, there, cowboy, Daddy's here. Daddy ain't gonna' let nothing happen
to his little buckaroo.  We need him for the big roundup in the spring.
Couldn't let nothing happen to him.  How would we round up all them
dogies."

Waddie would be wide awake by that time, crying softly, hiccuping, then
crying some more.  He was ashamed he'd once again let that awful tree and
it's influence on his dreams scare him so badly that he had to yell for his
dad.  He thought he was getting better, stronger, less fearful, and he was,
but that damned old tree, . . .if it would just stop talking to him. He set
his jaw, he was gonna' have a talk with that awful old tree tomorrow.

 "Is that damn hackberry tree after you again, Son?"

"Uun-huh." Waddie answered amid tears and hiccups.

"You want me to cut that darn thing down?  I will if you want me to."
Waddie thought about it for a minute then shook his little head `no.'

"You don't want me to get rid of it?"  It was really tempting but he knew
he had to learn to face his own fears.  Again he shook his head, `no.'
Waddie had learned when he set his jaw, everything around him could go to
hell in a hand basket but his resolve would see him through.

"I'm gonna' have a talk with it tomorrow."  he said determinedly. Morgan
was proud of his son and kissed him lightly behind his ear. It was a sign
that Waddie was taking control of his life.  The kid had seen enough high
strangeness with his ma, Willie and Dorothy to shake him to his core.  He
knew from the beginning he was not `one of them.' He didn't know enough
words to describe the feeling but he understood it perfectly.  They
projected onto the child that he was separate.  Only to be tolerated; a
necessary nuisance.

He intuitively reasoned if he was to survive, he'd better grow up fast or
they would consume him before the damn tree.  That strength of purpose
cross applied to the tree.  He was determined neither would feast on his
soul!  To hell with that damned old tree, anyway!  Sometimes his family
scared him more than the tree.

"You're gonna' have a talk with it . . ."  This was a creative approach.
Morgan was stunned at Waddie's resolve. He had to hear more about this.

"Yes Sir."  Waddie didn't elaborate.

"Can you whisper to Daddy what you're gonna' tell it?"

"I don't have to whisper, Dad.  I don't give a damn if it hears me or not.
I'm gonna' tell that big ugly son of a bitch if it don't stop talking to me
and trying to scare me to death, I'm gonna' piss on it every day until it
dies.  When it dies, I want it to know it was me what killed it.  I want to
make sure it dies a slow, horrible death, poisoned by my piss . . . I'll
teach that piece a' shit it ain't gonna' eat me."

Morgan chuckled to himself thinking, "Oh God, I can't wait `til Buck gets
home."  He hugged and kissed Waddie, telling him he supported his plan one
hundred percent.  Just don't let his ma catch him pissing on it.  Morgan
gently put him back to bed and couldn't resist the magnetic pull of
Waddie's love for him.  Morgan crawled in beside his boy.

"You know what, cowboy?"

"What Dad?"

"I'm so proud of you.  Your mother says I shouldn't be sleeping with you
like this when you get scared.  I wasn't going to, but fuck it.  You ain't
gonna' let that damn tree push you around then I ain't gonna' listen to her
neither.  Be all right with you if Daddy stays here with you for a while?
Daddy was getting a little scared a while ago himself and the thought ran
through my head, `where would I feel the safest if I got really scared.'"

"You get scared, Dad?" Waddie turned to his dad in surprise.

"Everybody gets scared sometime, Son.  It's normal.  So, you see, you're
normal."

"Where would you go if you got really scared, Dad?"

"I've thought about it a lot lately and I could only come up with one place
where I know I'd be safe."

"Yeah . . .where's that, Dad?"

"In your arms, cowboy."

"Oh Daddy."  Waddie said in frustrated voice. He thought his dad was
pulling his leg.

"No!  No!  Now hear me out . . ." Morgan paused, "we come from God,
. . . right?"

"That's what they teach me in Sunday school.  I believe we do but I can't
remember anything before here."

"Who would be closest to God as far as coming from and going back to."
Morgan asked.  Waddie mused for a minute.

"A baby and an old man."  he replied.

"Exactly.  So you see, you're closer to God than I am and he looks after
little children even though they can't see him.  My thinking would be if
he's looking out for you then maybe I'd be safe too.  See what I mean?"

"Yeah, Dad!  That makes sense to me.  That makes me feel a hell of a lot
better, too."  Waddie lay there for a minute thinking.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Son?"

"If'n you get scared you can come to me and I'll ask God to keep both eyes
on us. One for you and one for me."  Morgan got a lump in his throat and
couldn't swallow.  He almost choked when he tried to speak. Finally he got
it out.

"That's so damn sweet of you, Waddie. I'm proud to call you my son.  I
promise you, if I get scared, you'll be the first person I run to and by
the way, cowboy, . . .I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad! Now go to sleep. Don't be afraid, Daddy. God's here
now, he'll watch over us."  Morgan lay on his side as involuntary tears ran
down his cheek onto his pillow.

"Thank you, Sir." Morgan thought in prayer, "don't get much better'n this
. . . .and, Sir, while I got your attention, . . .I know I asked the same
thing earlier, but I was a' hoping an extra prayer might help.  Please send
you angels to watch over my brother, Buck, where ever he is.  Please God,
bring him home to us. There's a little man laying next to me who needs a
good buddy and I have a feeling my brother Buck will fill the bill.  Thanks
Sir."

* * * * * * * * * *

About the same time Waddie was moved to the other bedroom, Morgan had to
close down the auto repair shop due to lack of business.  He owned the
building.  His uncle left it to him.  Morgan got a better job as a
switchman on the Cotton Belt railroad.  The bad thing was he had to be gone
on train runs three and sometimes four days a week.  This left plenty of
time for the terrible troika to do their worst.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 Willie Lump Lump


Waddie lived in that room for almost two years, then his ma kept after his
dad to turn that room back into a guest room and put Waddie upstairs in his
own room. Morgan reluctantly agreed after being nagged day in and day out
for two months.

 Willie, Waddie's step brother, lived upstairs.  It was his kingdom, his
complete domain. Waddie was never allowed to go upstairs.  In his
imagination Waddie began to think of the second floor as the land of his
majesty, King Willie Lump Lump. (a name Waddie gave him from one of his
children's books)

Willie had a haughty attitude about himself and possibly entertained the
idea everyone should feel blessed that he was in their presence.  He came
with his ma and made it perfectly clear from the first that he was there
under duress.

Willie thought it his royal duty to tie a rope across the entrance to the
stairs to make sure his "little brother" couldn't make it to the second
floor and invade his territory. Waddie's sister Dorothy lived downstairs in
a huge room back of the kitchen. Originally it was a maids room.

Morgan made quick work of having the rope removed but not without some
trauma.  He called Willie downstairs.  Willie had a way of walking that was
determined. He slowly descended the stairs and stood with his arms folded
looking at Morgan like, "You requested an audience, peasant?"

"What the fuck is this?"

"It's a rope across the stairway, what's it look like?"

"Why is it here, Willie?"

"Because I put it there!"

"For what purpose, Willie?"

"To keep that little bastard from bothering me."  Morgan flashed, jumped
the rope onto the stairs, grabbed Willie by the neck, and drew back his big
fist.  His wife, Judy, came screaming,

 "Morgan!  Morgan!  I told him he could do it! Don't hit him, Morgan!" Judy
lied to protect Willie. She saw Willie putting up the rope but never
questioned him.

"One thing at a time, woman!" Morgan barked at his wife, "I'm gonna' warn
you only one time, Willie!  Next time, I'll put you in the hospital `cause
I won't stop beating on you until your lights go out!  I better never, ever
hear you nor hear of you calling my son, a bastard, again.  Got that!!"
Morgan loudly yelled in Willie's face. "You're certainly one to talk you
pompous little ass hole!  Do you understand me, Wille?!"

"Yes Sir."  Morgan didn't let him go.

"Now, . . . you will apologize to me and Waddie for calling him a bastard.
Don't look at your ma, Son! This is between you and me.  I'd do this to any
son of a bitch that called him that. You refuse to apologize and all three
of you can start packing immediately."  Morgan saw Judy nodding to Willie
to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Waddie, I called you a bastard.  I didn't mean it.  I'm sorry,
Morgan I called your son a bastard."  Morgan let the boy go and spoke to
him over his shoulder as he walked away.

"You've got five minutes to get that damn rope down and any hardware on
that stairs.  Don't you never put a rope across those stairs again.  Oh,
and another thing.  We're putting Waddie in the big room at the end of the
hall.

He's gonna' live upstairs with you. I know you don't give a shit about him
but you will treat him with respect, Willie!  That's not a request, boy!
Understand?  Whether you like it or not, he is your brother and you damn
well better start treating him like one."

"Yes Sir."  Willie was busy taking the rope down and ran to the back porch
to find a screwdriver to remove the brass eye hooks he carefully put there.
He had them out in no time.  Morgan was on his way back to check as Willie
got the last screw out.

"Now, you get some wood filler from the shop.  Fill those holes and when
they dry you sand them smooth. Got that, Willie?"

"Yes Sir."  Willie scurried off like an emotionally wounded little rat to
find the wood filler.  Suddenly, H.R.H. King Willie Lump Lump the first,
realized he was going to have that damnable little runt living upstairs
with him.  There goes the neighborhood.  His life was ruined. That awful
little kid who everyone dotes over will pester him constantly.

He had to come up with a plan quick or his privacy would be compromised.
They say history repeats itself.  Once more the handwriting appeared on the
wall. A grim pronouncement.  Willie felt like he'd been weighed in the
balance and found wanting.  He was!  Guilty as charged, and . . . his
kingdom divided!


* * * * * * * *


Before Waddie caught on to how life worked; how mean and cruel some folks
can be, he worshiped Willie.  All kids want to be like their big
brother. Waddie wanted to be just like him.  Waddie adored him, but the son
of a bitch wouldn't have anything to do with him. He'd never allow Waddie
to get close to him.  For a young pre-school kid on a ranch with no other
kids your age around can be a pretty lonely existence.  Waddie was alone a
lot on the ranch and looked forward to at least sharing some things with
his brother.

"We got the same ma," Waddie kept thinking, "that should account for some
feelings of brotherly love."  He couldn't understand how Willie could be so
cold, calculating and cruel.  What had he done to make Willie hate him so.
Waddie made him birthday cards and valentines.  Willie wouldn't even open
them.  He'd toss them in the trash knowing Waddie would find them and it
would break his heart.  Willie never gave Waddie a Christmas or birthday
present.  He never even gave Waddie a card. He wouldn't give Waddie the
time of day. People sometimes do to other people what they wouldn't do to a
stray dog.  Waddie confronted him after Willie had done such a terrible
thing.  He wanted to know.  He felt he was due an explanation.

"Wille, why don't you love me?"

"I just don't!"

"But why, Willie?  I ain't never done nothing to you."

"I don't have to give you a reason, runt!  I just don't like you."  Willie
barked loudly at Waddie.

"But Willie, . . . brothers are suppose to love each other."  Willie looked
at Waddie like he was angry at him questioning him and then got a faint
little smile on his face.

"You don't qualify, runt!"  Willie turned on his heel and walked away.
Waddie had no idea what he meant.  He didn't even know what runt meant.

Waddie tried going to Morgan with his hurt and his dad told him to be
strong and just not bother Willie. His dad didn't know how to balance
fairness and put blame were it should be.  Morgan was the only one in the
house Waddie loved and trusted.

He tried talking a couple of times with his ma and she told Waddie in no
few words that he should remember his place.  He was only a boy and Willie
was almost a grown man. His mother made it clear that if he knew what was
good for him he'd stay out of Willie's way and not bother her about it
again.

Willie's room was off limits to Waddie.  He kept his door locked at all
times.  Even when he went to the shower he'd lock his door. When he was
alone in his room doing nothing he'd keep his door locked to keep Waddie
out.  Willie would come home, talk to his mom or step dad, go to his room
and lock the door so Waddie wouldn't bother him.

 When Waddie was still a small boy, three to five years old, there would be
some hellacious lightening and thunder storms in their area of Texas.
Being a frightened kid, Waddie was scared to death and wanted to crawl in
bed with his big brother to have him comfort and protect him. Waddie would
run to Willie's room only to find the door locked.  He would knock and
pound on the locked door, yelling to him.

"Willie!  Oh Willie! Please let me in.  I'm scared Willie.  Willie! Willie!
Oh God Willie don't be mean to me. Please let me in."  Willie never so much
as cracked the door to tell Waddie to go away.  He'd be crying his heart
out, so afraid, laying by Willie's door, crying out for Willie to help him.

Willie refused to acknowledge there was anyone outside his door.  No one he
cared about, anyway.  Waddie would be in such hysterics he wouldn't see two
big arms reach down, pick him up, hold him close, carry him back to
Waddie's room, put him in bed, sleep with him and hold him for the rest of
the night.  His dad would kiss him, soothe him, and comfort him.

Morgan would tell him what father's have told their kids for generations.
The thunder is the devil beating his wife for putting too much salt in the
bread.

Then the next day Willie would rag Waddie's ass for being a sissy.  A
little girl. A namby-pamby crybaby. Afraid of a little thunderstorm.  He
was right, Waddie was terrified of them.

Judy jumped Morgan in front of Waddie.  "You're spoiling that damn kid by
running to him every time he cries our at night."  Morgan wasn't real
pleased at Willie's performance; now this from his wife?  How could anyone
be so cold hearted and cruel and then have the nerve to castigate him or
the boy.  Morgan looked at Judy like he could've run a knife through her
heart.

"Don't you say another Goddamn word to me about how I raise my son! You're
track record ain't so damn great you can go around giving others the
benefit of your advice.  Look what a cold, heartless son of a bitch you've
created, Mrs. Frankenstein."  Morgan gestured toward Willie.

"You can think what you like but in my house you'll bite your damn tongue
before you say anything like that again!  Do you understand, woman?"  She
nodded her head and went about her business. "Further more, you better have
a long heart to heart talk with that ass hole son of your's; that is, if
you can find his heart.  And, Willie, I'm tired of hearing you rag my boy
when you won't give him the time of day.  Better keep your bags packed
Willie!  The next time I hear you rag him your out of this house.  No
apologies accepted.  You got that, ass hole?"

"Yes, Morgan."

"Yes!  What, Willie?"

"Yes Sir."

Waddie's ma never came to see what might be bothering Waddie in the
night. If his dad was gone a couple of days, he was on his own. There was
no one to come to his rescue.  However, children learn to adapt and
survive. The worst thing to Waddie was the lightening.  The rumbling and
thunder he could abide although it was difficult to sleep.  It seemed the
lightening went everywhere.  It could get him, he thought.

Waddie discovered if he got in the back of his closet and stuffed a towel
under the door that the lightening couldn't get through or so he thought.
The closet was wider than he was tall so he made himself a nice comfortable
bed in the back of the closet and hid it behind some big cardboard boxes he
kept his toys in so his ma couldn't see it.  Then when the storm started to
come he ran to the closet, stuffed the towel under the door, curled up and
went back to sleep.  He never cried out again.

Except one night, all hell was breaking loose.  There had been tornado
warnings for their area.  Morgan ran to Waddie's room to take him to the
cellar.  He wasn't in his bed and Morgan's heart sunk to his feet.  Where
could he be?  Morgan yelled at the top of his voice, "WADDIE!"  He heard a
faint voice reply.

"In the closet, Dad."  Morgan ran to open the closet as Waddie walked out.

"What are you doing in the closet, Son?"

"Getting away from the lightening."  Waddie said sheepishly.

"Use to do the same damn thing when I was a kid, Son.  Good thinking!"
Morgan grabbed him up and carried him to the cellar. It was one hell of a
storm and Waddie was pleased to see his royal highness, was scared shit
less.

"Almost a grown man?  Yeah, right!"  Waddie thought but he didn't say
anything.

Waddie's dreams of having a loving, caring big brother slowly
vanished. Waddie began to treat Willie the way he treated him. He ignored
him.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Willie was a good looking kid.  He looked enough like Morgan to be his
natural son.  Folks who didn't know just assumed that Willie was Morgan's
boy.  He was almost Morgan's height and would be when he finished high
school.  He had the same dark olive complection and coal black hair.

Willie had one feature that use to scare the piss out of Waddie before he
was use to him.  He had a physical anomaly within his eyes.  His irises
were jet black.  You couldn't see were the pupil began nor where the iris
ended.  It looked like he had two big black marbles for eyes. The doctors
told his mother one child in three million would have that anomaly and it
only occurs in males.  The girls and even grown women of the town found
Willie to be the most, handsome, exotic looking young man they'd ever seen.

 He was drop dead handsome, no doubt about it, and he knew it.  Tall at
six-two and the consummate jock.  Played anything there was to play with
balls attached.  Word was, he was pretty good.  Waddie wondered to himself
if Willie was as good as he bragged.  He was all the time telling the
family how good a ball player he was.

Waddie heard an old saying, "The King doesn't have to tell the peasant he's
a wealthy man."  If he's all that good why ain't a lot of other folks
bragging on him.  Waddie heard others say Willie thought he was a lot
better than he really was.

He had to be a pretty fair ball player because he played in the Texas minor
leagues for several years.  He even had a shot at the big leagues but
something happened that he didn't get it.  It might have been the federal
felony conviction and the four years in Huntsville that his little brother
helped him get.

Willie's outer package may have been attractive but underneath he was a
conniving, back biting, ruthless, bastard.  He was livid after Morgan
embarrassed the shit out of him and made him eat crow.  Willie set his jaw
the day Morgan made him apologize to him and that little son of a bitch
that he would do his damnedest to get back at Morgan.  He hated
Morgan. Willie vowed to himself, Morgan would rue the day he did that to
him and yelled at him for teasing that worthless little piece of shit.  He
would get back at Morgan anyway he could.  What was the easiest target a
coward would go for?  Morgan's son, Waddie.

He would do everything he could to make life miserable for Waddie. and
covertly get `his son' to hate Morgan.  He planned it, step by ruthless
step. Willie knew his mother would side with him. She would've killed for
him.  He knew he could get his sister to cooperate. She was a bit frazzled
around the neural circuits but she loved to play us against them. In this
case, "them," being a helpless little four year old boy.

Willie, was ten years old when Waddie was born. He was now fifteen and
would go to high school in the fall. Willie had made it to the big time (he
thought) and he was convinced that very possibly his body's waste gave
forth no odor.

Usually when a baby is born into a home with older siblings the child is
more easily accepted.  A brother or sister many times will become nurturing
and protective even though child wasn't a full sibling. That is, if the
family doesn't have a symbiotic passive/aggressive personality disorder
syndrome with schizoid tendencies and a mother who was a full blown,
certifiable, sociopath.

Waddie always remained a stepbrother. He was reminded of it daily. Judy's
other two children were the "real" fully acknowledged, bona fide, children
in the house.  Waddie was a half brother so he was worth half of what they
were.  He was told repeatedly he wasn't wanted.  He was told nobody in the
family wanted him there.  They told him his dad was only being nice to him
until they could find a orphanage to take him.  Willie and his sister would
laugh at him for crying because they hurt him so much.  They treated him
like a emotional punching bag .  "Waddie was there," they thought,
"vulnerable, and naive, why not make life miserable for the little
bastard?"

Willie's little insidious plan for vengeance against his step dad was
underway.  In their eyes, all Morgan was good for was to put food in their
belly's and a place to live. Willie started by symbolically and emotionally
cutting Waddie's balls off before they even had a chance to descend.
There's nothing more rejecting or castrating than to be ignored.  It says
you aren't important enough to be acknowledged.  You are nothing.  Many
times they treated Waddie like he wasn't even there.  Like he didn't
exist. Willie ignored him completely. Willie would walk away from Waddie
while he was trying to talk to him.

Willie's older sister, Dorothy, was an early blooming pubescent teenager.
She thought she was twelve going on twenty-one when she came with her
mother to live with Morgan.  She tried to act more mature than she was for
her age.  She had a bit kinder attitude toward Waddie but she developed an
almost sadistic joy in giving to the boy and then taking away from him
again.  She would be passively accepting of him in a loving manner then
aggressively and unrelenting in her rejection.

On rare occasions she would show him love and keep him dangling hoping for
more then forget about him and her promise..  He never knew from minute to
minute where he stood with her. She became a pathological liar.  She would
lie when the truth would do more good.  The real sorrow was she came to
believe her lies. Everyone saw this happening but did nothing to help her.
In those days they didn't know much about personality disorders.  The
family hoped she'd outgrow it in time.  She never did.  Her only salvation
was to find a man who would put up with her.

Dorothy was many times mistaken for Elizabeth Taylor.  While she didn't
have lavender eyes she non the less looked more than a little like her.  No
one could understand how a lovely girl who became a strikingly beautiful
woman could get so messed up mentally.  Waddie knew exactly why but no one
asked him.  Morgan didn't have a clue because, Judy, his wife and Waddie's
mother, kept it hidden from him for years.  Waddie's ma was the same damn
way.  In some ways, Waddie thought she was worse.

Judy went along with Willie's plan.  She never wanted Waddie in the first
place but Morgan begged her. She resented having to take care of Waddie.
In her sick mind she looked on Waddie as Morgan's kid.  Judy was still in
love with her first husband.  As far as she was concerned, they could do
anything they wanted to Waddie.  She never cared about him.  He was totally
Morgan's kid.  If she never saw Waddie again she wouldn't care. Aside from
being uncaring about her kid, Waddie didn't realize he was dealing with a
classic sociopathic personality.

What's a sociopath?  Someone who has no conscience about anything they do
to another person; emotionally or physically.  The have little if any
empathy for anyone who's been negatively effected by their behavior.

Young children pick up on mental aberrations faster than adults.  They may
not know the fancy words or a diagnosis but they can tell it's there.
Children are nearer the center of personality development pulling in a
wealth of information to form their own personal identity.  They get input
from their peers, other adults, and even people they meet and talk to.

If some of that information comes in and tells him it doesn't balance as
acceptable input, they become suspicious, threatened and back away.  Waddie
got to where he couldn't stand to be kissed or hugged by his ma. She would
be warm and loving one minute until she got what she wanted, then be cold
and rejecting. She did it to Waddie time and time again.  She did it to
Dorothy and she, in turn, absorbed her mother's personality.  Her only
child she didn't do it to was Willie.  Waddie was mystified.  Why?  Why not
Willie?  Waddie was to find out.

>From the time Waddie moved into his room Willie barged in to do whatever
he pleased.  Waddie told him he didn't want him in his room. He didn't want
to snitch but if he continue he would tell his dad. Willie grabbed the four
year old boy in his bigger hands and began to shake him like a rag doll.

"If you ever snitch on me you filthy little cocksucker I'll see to it you
have an accident you want recover from. Then you'll be out my hair for
good!"  Waddie started screaming and crying.  His dad was out of town and
his mother never came to see what was wrong. That was just warm ups for
Willie.

Willie would do something around the place that Morgan told Willie over and
over not to do.  He'd get pissed off ready to take Willie to the barn when
he'd smile sweetly.

"Oh no, Morgan. You got it wrong, your precious son did this. Ask Dorothy
or ma, they'll tell you."  Morgan would ask them and they would swear they
both saw Waddie do it.  Morgan would stomp up to Waddie's room and
practically drag Waddie to the barn.  His son would be screaming and
yelling .

"Dad, dad! What're you doing?  Why are you dragging me to the barn."

"To give you a whipping."

"What for, dad?"

"You know what you did!"

"No, Dad, I don't!"

"Did you do `such and such?'"  (whatever the offence)

"No Sir!  I didn't!"

"Don't lie to me, Son!"

"I ain't lying, Dad.  You taught me not to lie! "

"How did it happen then? It didn't just happen by itself."

"I don't know, Dad.  I don't know, but I swear to you, I didn't do it."

"Your ma and Dorothy told me they saw you do it!"

"Their not telling the truth, Dad.  I never did it!"

 "I won't have a liar in my house. I'm gonna' whip you `til you admit you
done it."  Waddie continued to protest to deaf ears. Morgan wasn't going to
listen to another word.  He pulled Waddie's pants down, bent him over a hay
bail with a horse blanket thrown on it, and started wailing on his son's
butt with his big wide western belt.

Waddie would cry and yell he didn't do it but Morgan told him he would whip
him until he admitted it.  Finally, it would hurt the boy enough he would
be forced to lie and admit he did it begging Morgan to, please stop
whipping him.  And Morgan would.  He would then talk to Waddie about truth
and trust. It was the last thing Waddie wanted to hear coming out of his
hypocritical dad.  Preach one religion and practice another?  Waddie lost
all respect for his dad that day.  Morgan was not prepared for the hatred
in his son's eyes.  Waddie had always looked at his dad with love and trust
in his eyes.  That was now replaced by fear, hurt, confusion and
disillusion.

The one time he ever had to take Waddie to the barn he immediately owned up
to his mistake and promised he would never do it again. He never did.  But
now, . . .he was like a different kid.  He admitted he did it why isn't be
being contrite?  He had hatred in his eyes, like he hates me for correcting
him. I can't have this, I'm in control here.

A wee small voice he couldn't quite hear spoke in a whisper, "You gave up
control when you betrayed the child's trust.  You condemned him without
giving him the benefit of the doubt.  Are you sure they aren't lying to
drive a wedge between you and your son?  Without his respect, you have no
control.  Furthermore, you don't deserve to have control over him if he
can't trust you to trust him.

Trust is a two way street, Morgan.  Just because Waddie's five years old
doesn't mean he is less deserving or incapable of your trust. Search your
soul, Morgan.  If Buck came to you and told you the whole town said they
saw him do something and he told you different, who would you believe?
Well?"  Either Morgan couldn't hear or chose not to listen to his own voice
of reason.

"Well, I hated to do this but it had to be done." Morgan told him.  Waddie
refused to talk to him about it. He was emotionally confused and physically
hurt.  He trusted this man and now he whipped him to make him tell a lie.
He looked at his dad and asked him,

"You gonna' whip me again, Dad?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"For the lie you made me to tell you!!"  Morgan didn't answer.  He didn't
want to hear the point his son was making.

That scene was repeated five or six more times that year. Willie knew what
set Morgan off and would frame Waddie.  Willie's mom and Dorothy would go
along with him.  The more whippings Waddie got the less he cried. Then
without a tear he would yell at his dad.

"You had enough?  You ready for me to admit I did it?!"

"Yes Son, I'm ready to hear it."

"Yeah, . . . well, . . . okay, Dad, I did it!  There, you happy?" Waddie
would say flatly without a trace of emotion.  Once again Morgan would try
to talk to Waddie.  Waddie was almost five and was still a little boy at
heart but he was growing up fast. Morgan would give the boy his standard
this hurts me more than it hurts you speech.  That day Waddie turned and
looked at his dad with a look that sent chills down Morgan's spine.

"Like hell, it does!  You gonna' let me whip you now for that Goddamn lie!"
Waddie noticed Morgan's dick was hard and a wet spot at his crotch. His dad
was getting off on whipping his ass.

"I'm not lying to you, Son!"

"Bull shit!  Why should I believe you? You don't never believe me. I tell
you them son's of bitches is lying and you won't believe me.  To hell with
you, Dad!"  Morgan hauled off and slapped his son hard across the mouth.
He was immediately sorry for what he'd done but it was too late.  The
damage was done.

 Waddie didn't yell nor cry out from the hard blow to his face.  He merely
turned to his dad, looked him in the eye with a look of hatred so cold and
strong it almost froze Morgan's heart.  The five year old child looking at
him, who should have the openness of love in his face looked like a
hardened convict looking at fifty to life.  Waddie spoke very purposefully
to his dad.

"I don't love you anymore, Dad."  Waddie turned and ran out of the barn out
into the pasture land behind the barns. He ran and ran until he was
exhausted then fell to the ground and let it all out onto the Earth. He
prayed to God to help him.  He wasn't asking for wrathful vengeance, he
just wanted his dad back.  The old dad whom he loved, cherished, trusted
and believed in.

Morgan tried to follow Waddie into the field.  He'd never seen the boy this
upset. Of course, he realized he owed him an apology for smacking him one.
He slowly came to where Waddie was laying in the field and could hear him
heaving gut wrenching sobs.  Morgan could see the red hand print forming on
Waddie's small face.  He knelt down and tried to pick his son up.  Instead
Waddie reacted violently throwing wild but strong punches that had some
kick to them.

"Damn you! I told you I don't love you anymore!  Now, keep your Goddamn
hand's off of me."

"Waddie listen to me . . ."

"I don't want to hear another pack of lies from your mouth.  You've
preached and preached to me to be truthful and then you drag my ass out
here and beat me `til you make me lie.  Well, you happy, Dad?  You made
your son into a Goddamn liar and he don't love you anymore."  Waddie turned
and ran off again toward the old barn.

"Waddie," Morgan hollered after him, "you don't mean that.  Come back here,
Son, and let's talk."

"Talk to yourself, Morgan!  You're the only one you'll believe, anyway! Go
ahead, Morgan! Tell yourself a lie!  Tell yourself Waddie still loves you!
Well, he don't!  But you go ahead, if you can believe them son's of
bitche's lies over the only one in that house that gives a tinker's dam
about you go for it!  You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you on the
butt, Morgan!! "  Waddie was walking to the barn now blinded by tears and
Morgan decided not to follow him.  Let him cool down and he'd be in for
dinner.

Waddie didn't come in for dinner.  He climbed to the loft and arranged some
hay bails, got some clean horse blankets, made himself a bed under the warm
hay and intended to stay there all night.  Morgan came out and yelled for
him but he wouldn't answer him.  He looked all over for him.  Morgan could
sense Waddie could hear him.

"Listen, Son.  I'm sorry I hit you.  Daddy was wrong to do that.  I love
you, Waddie.  I can't stand to think that you don't love me anymore.  Come
on in the house with me, Son.  I won't try to talk to you no more.  Just
have something to eat, clean up and go to bed."  Waddie didn't breathe.  He
wasn't about to do what his dad wanted.

Morgan finally left and Waddie thought, "Good!  Now I can rest!"  He cried
some more and thought.  Rather than be passive this time he decided to
fight back.  Only one problem.  He needed a champion! Some one to love him
and believe in him!  That sounded like a God request to him.  Fine he
hadn't talked with the Old Man in a while.  He'll probably be happy to hear
from him.

He heard footsteps in the barn from a big pair of boots and Waddie
recognized them as his dad's.  He hoped he wasn't coming out to beg him to
come in the house again.  He heard Morgan climbing the ladder to the loft
but he didn't hear him looking for him.  He could see the light from the
lantern. Then he heard Morgan near him.

"Waddie, I brought out a couple of blankets.  I'm gonna' sleep out here
with you tonight.  If you want to come share my blanket I'd love to have
you by my side.  I think you need your Dad to hold you and tell you how
sorry he is for hitting you. You need to hear me say I love you, Waddie.
Whether you love me or not, I still love you."

Waddie, started crying again.  Morgan almost couldn't contain himself from
the pain and anguish in the boy's sobs.  He knew that something was
desperately wrong but he still refused to believe his son over the three in
the house.  Maybe this rebellion against punishment was a phase Waddie was
going through.

Waddie got up early before the sunrise and crept down the ladder from the
loft.  He walked to the house, climbed the stairs to his room., quietly
closed the door, went to his closet , closed that door and settled in his
dark, hurt proof, corner.  He stayed there for almost two weeks.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


It was summer.  Two days before Waddie's birthday.  His dad came to his
room.  Waddie hadn't come out since his whipping, not even to eat. His dad
brought him trays.  He never touched a thing. He had lost so much weight
that his levis wouldn't stay on his hips.  His face looked shrunken and
hollow.  Morgan was worried about his son.  Waddie turned his back on his
dad when he came into his room. He refused to look at him. Morgan asked him
what he wanted to do for his birthday.

"Find a new home." Waddie replied flatly with no emotion.

 Morgan heart had all ready been broken but to hear this from a child he
loved with all his heart was too much.  He started to scold his son but
there were no words that would come out.  What could he say. Scolding would
only drive him further away.  Was Waddie really telling him the truth?
Could all three of them be doing this to turn his son away from him?
Morgan refused to believe anyone could be that cruel.  Willie maybe, but
Judy and Dorothy?

Morgan could feel the resolute, desperate nature of his son's statement and
it crushed him.  He thought if he could just touch his boy he could
communicate he still loved him.  He went to reach for Waddie, he pulled
away, ran for his closet and got in the back in the corner in a fetal
position.

"Don't touch me! Get away from me!  I told you I don't love you no more and
I mean it.  Go away and let me be!  I don't want a birthday from you or
anybody.  You're suppose to celebrate your birthday with folks you love and
love you.  Nobody in this damn house loves me and I don't love any of you
either. Now, do me a favor and get out of my room.  I ain't coming out of
my room again.  Let that bastard, Willie, try to frame me with something
when I been in my Goddamn room all the time."

Morgan looked at his son and knew if he hadn't all ready lost him, he soon
would.

"I'm sorry, Son." He said quietly.

"No, you're not." replied Waddie softly, "or you would've believed me."
But, Morgan really was sorry.  He was hurting in his gut so bad he rushed
to the upstairs bathroom and threw up his dinner.  As he ran to the
bathroom, he saw Willie standing in the door with a sneer on his face.

Waddie wanted to love his dad but when his dad came around to play with him
or spend time, Waddie rejected him. He told Morgan to go away.  He didn't
want nothing to do with him anymore.  He didn't want Morgan touching him.
He wouldn't even look into Morgan's eyes.

Waddie drew further away from Morgan. He stayed in his room for weeks
mostly in the corner of the closet.  That's where Morgan always found him
with the door closed.  He hadn't come out of his room in two weeks.  Morgan
was frantic. Waddie wouldn't even respond now.  He had nothing to eat in a
week and a half and very little water.  Waddie knew he was dying.  He
simply didn't care.  There was nothing to live for without love.  He'd go
home to God. He knew he would love him.

Waddie prayed to God to either let his dad believe him or take him back to
heaven.  He didn't want to live any more.  This was an awful place down
here where mean people hurt folks for no reason. I'm not a bad boy God, why
do they hate me?

Judy, Grindle's mother, could see the handwriting on the wall.  Sociopaths
aren't stupid people, they're just devoid of care.  Many say they have no
souls.  To have a soul implies a conscience.  She, nor her spawn had ever
heard the word let alone possess one.

She gathered her two wicked step children about her and told them to cool
it for a while.  Morgan's near the breaking point and if Waddie doesn't
come around they may get thrown out.  She thinks Morgan is getting
suspicious.

Waddie continued to pray in the darkness of his closet.

"God, nobody down here loves me.  Do I have to live without love, God?  I
was told you love me.  That's hard for me to believe, Sir.  Even if my dad
don't believe me you know what the truth is and how mean my ma, Willie, and
Dorothy are to me. I believe in you and love you.  Can't you love me a
little in return.

If I can't be with you, God, send me an angel to protect me. I ain't asking
for toys, a dog or a pony, Lord.  I just need help, Sir!  I need someone to
believe in me and love me.  Then these son's of bitches can't hurt me if I
have love in my heart.  Please, Sir."

And God heard Waddie's prayer and answered it. He sent him the biggest,
meanest, toughest, best looking, kick-ass angel he could find.

Buck Clayton came home from the War.



End Part 2
9/1/02
Copyright 2002
Waddie Greywolf
Questions/comments to:
waddiebear@yahoo.com